#and then mulder turns around and the light's back to normal and there's nobody there. rrrgrgrghh so cool

[silo1013]

what's the first thing that comes to mind when i ask "favorite krycek scene?"

in terms of "scenes with krycek in them that are not actually about him" it will always be the part at the end of apocrypha where he's expelling the black oil onto the ship and it's coming out of his eyes and everything. something about it is so disturbing, so entrancingly gross. it's almost hard to watch but that's why i like it. i used to wonder a lot how they actually pulled off that effect and so i looked it up and apparently there was like this weird mask with tubes running through it that took like an hour to put on. pretty cool

in terms of "scenes with krycek in them that actually sort of are about him" i really really like the bit in ascension of him in the operating room with the tram driver at skyland mountain. there's already a tenseness to the scene (is mulder going to make it to the top in time? is the tram going to fuck up because he's going too fast? etc) that is really well escalated by the way everything is shot. there are a lot of face close-ups--krycek, the tram driver, barry in the car, scully in the trunk--and a lot of big wide shots showing just exactly how high in the air mulder is on the tram, it makes it feel like an action movie. i love the camera work for the whole sequence; the shots of the tram operator sitting at the desk always include krycek in the background, but never his face, and at the end of the sequence, when the tram driver explains that mulder looks like he's going to make it to the top of the mountain safely, it shows krycek reaching for the gun at his waistband without changing the angle of the camera, so you maybe almost don't notice it. the little micro-movements and expressions are really good here too; krycek pistol-whips the tram operator, fixes his hair (lol), closes his eyes and sighs before reaching out to shut off the tram. the sleeve of his suit is too long, and it covers part of his hand when he turns the key. he makes his phone call in a vaguely resigned manner, maybe not overjoyed at what he's doing but definitely committed to it. mulder is calling his name over the radio--what's going on down there? do you read me? does anybody read me?--and when mulder actually does make it to the top of the mountain unharmed, even after almost falling off the tram, krycek closes his eyes and sighs again in the sort of way where you can't quite tell if he's annoyed or relieved. one of my favorite scenes of the episode, period; it's incredibly rewindable. i get excited for it whenever i rewatch -_-

[is-on-its-way]

In the name of the Father, the Skeptic and the Son

Episodes: One Son/ Two Fathers

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Epilogue

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

Chapter 5: And don't be alarmed if I fall, head over feet

WARNING: Gore

“Close your mouth Mulder” she whispered as she passed him eyeing him from below. She was breathtaking, literally. He was struggling to inhale. He forced himself to concentrate and took a steadying breath.

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

Vibe Check

Songs mentioned:

I ain’t got nobody Louis Armstrong  

La Mer

Always in My Heart - Glenn Miller

The Dress: (all black thats just the skirt shape)

The Vibe:

The Shoes:

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

She walked out of the bathroom and turned into the room. Agent Grey walked out behind her wrapping a cord around a blowdryer. Agent Grey was dressed nicely in a silky red dress, her curls pulled up in a twist, a few tendrils falling out in a haphazard if not aesthetically pleasing way. All the agents in the room were dressed well, just in case they had said, they wanted to blend in if they were needed. 

Mulder took little notice of anyone else though, as his eyes snapped onto her as soon as she appeared. Her hair was wild, big loose curls bounced around her face as she walked. Her body was hugged tightly in the black dress she’d picked out three days ago. The look on her face said she was slightly uncomfortable with her new look. Mulder was slightly uncomfortable with how much he was not uncomfortable with her new look.

It was long sleeved with a structured bodice and would’ve been conservative if not for the neckline. A v-shaped slit in the center cut down below her breasts. They were hugged by the fabrics edge. With every breath she took, they strained against the fabric. The long sleeves only brushed the edges of her shoulders, leaving her collar bones completely exposed in a way that was astoundingly, recklessly, alluring. 

He wondered how he had ever taken collar bones for granted. 

The skirt was loosely draped over around her hips. It fell to her calves, hugging her legs making a perfect hourglass silhouette. She had sheer black tights that made her legs glow and simple black pumps that flashed gold at the heels.  

Her hips and thighs were curvy, accentuated by just how tiny her waist really was. Things not normally seen in her g-woman suits. The way she walked was different. Or maybe her suits hid what he’d never fully appreciated. Her hips swayed imperceptibly on each step, shoulders followed hips in rhythm. He met her eyes as she carried her bags past him to a corner of the room.

“Close your mouth Mulder” she whispered as she passed him, eyeing him from below. Her lids had dark shadow that made the pale blue and yellow of her eyes radiate turquoise as if they were illuminated from within. Deep red lipstick, accentuated the plump pout her lips naturally rested in. Agent Grey had accentuated her Marilyn Monroe beauty mark, rather than letting her cover it up like she usually did. 

He forced himself to look away from her. Closed his mouth, thoughts racing and swallowed.

She was a light among the dreary men, and dreary equipment, and dreary mission in this dreary room. She was breathtaking, literally, he was struggling to take in air. He tried to get a grip, and concentrate on what agent Ramirez was saying as he took a steadying breath. He needed to pay attention to the briefing that was being given.

“…act like you’re there to enjoy yourself. Dance, watch people gamble at the tables. Anything goes. If you need us to come in with the cavalry, the signal is the word ‘petition’.

If you spot Cusano the word is ‘spotted’ and the location you’re at. Stay back until you see everyone in place if you can. If not just try to track him to a more private place until we get there.”

Agent Grey added “Agents Vince and Thomas will be in the ballroom with you guys as an extra set of eyes, but they’ve been hired as security by the Rossi family. Thats good because they have in ears and will be a point of contact if we need to relay anything to you. You two have the best chance of finding him as a regular couple so try not to be so lookey and make sure those mics stay hidden…”

Mulder nodded only half listening. She was pulling her skirt up her thigh and placing her leg on a chair. She took a gun and holster agent Grey had handed her, strapping it around her thigh. Pullling the elastic tight against her skin so it dug into her soft leg. He swallowed again as his stomach summersaulted. He knew this wasn’t for him, wasn’t meant to be so intoxicating. There had been more intimate moments shared between them in the past but something about this was different. Probably his disinterest and boredom with it translated into seeing her as she was without distraction.

She straightened and shimmied her dress down, the gathered fabric hiding the small bulge on her thigh. She checked her reflection in the mirror assessing whether the gun was well hidden.

What was he doing, he couldn’t afford to be this dopey in a ballroom full of dangerous people.

“Are we sure its okay to go in carrying?” Mulder said glancing at agents Ramirez, then Grey.

Agent Grey glanced over at him “Everyone in there is strapped, you guys will need it, just in case.” He nodded and took the single-gun shoulder strap from the bed. He caught Scully eyes on him as he threw it over his shoulders. She looked away to the Agents when he caught her eye.

“…We’re going to go down to the control room. When we’re connected we’ll call for you on the walkies.” Agent Grey was saying. 

“You’ll go down and scan the room for Lombardi, keep an eye on her. I don’t want any conversation about this out loud. Use your eyes do whatever you need to to not be obvious that you’re on the lookout for someone, capiche?”

“Capiche.” Mulder said as Scully nodded, fiddling with the microphone at her breast.

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

Everyone trickled out of the room to set up their positions leaving them alone for the first time since she had left him in the parking lot. 

She fiddled with her microphone looking down avoiding the gaze she felt from him.

She felt like she wanted to crawl out of this dress and her skin and run as far as possible away from him. But she couldn’t. She had to work, had to protect this last would be victim from a murderous serial killer. How long had she been begging for a normal case, now that she had it she couldn’t back out. She couldn’t leave him alone, partnerless, in danger. 

No matter how much she felt he had betrayed their partnership, or privately her trust in him. Kissing the woman who was so obviously connected to women murdered by the same thing she had gone through. It felt like a gut punch and she was angry at herself at letting it. 

He didn’t owe her who he kissed. They weren’t a couple. But they weren’t really just friends either. It was something unexplainable, the closeness and ownership she felt over him. He was so naive sometimes, and she suspected that had everything to do with how his mother had treated him after Samantha had gone missing. She saw that scared lost lonely little boy in his eyes sometimes begging for approval. She hated the way the world took advantage of him becasue of it. 

But this time. He was shutting her out, of all the people in the world to not automatically give the benefit of the doubt to, it felt so painful, to not be included. 

Just as a wave of despair threatened to ruin her makeup, he spoke.

“How bout them Yankees.”

She looked up at him to see that face that begged her to give him the acknowledgement he’d never gotten from the only people who should have. So she betrayed herself, and felt her insides writhe against everything in her nature as she offered him a small smile. Might as well start the act now, no use in throwing him off his game now. She sighed and tried to get a grip.

She was saved from having to say anything by the crackling of Agent Ramirez on the walkie talkies. 

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

They left the hotel room and walked shoulder to shoulder to the elevator at the end of a very gaudy, maroon carpeted hallway. In front of the brass doors of the elevator, Mulder turned to look at her.

“You uh, you look really nice.”

She regarded him with furrowed brow.

“I look like a five family wife” she said with derision.

Mulder smirked.

“I could never wear this in real life.” She pulled down on the skirt looking uncomfortable.

She looked up at him and caught the wistful expression he’d been staring at her with. He didn’t bother trying to wipe the well practiced look off his face.

“You… clean up nice yourself” she said fixing the pocket square tucked into his suit jacket. He tingled at her light touch.

 He had a million things he wanted to tell her. Diana and his need to defend her suddenly seemed like such a trivial thought. 

“We need to press the elevator button” She breathed, staring determinedly at his pocket.

“Right” he reached for the button not looking away from her magnificent face. 

“Dana…” he started.

“Its Maria remember Johnny?” She looked up at him brow furrowed. She pointed to her dress where he knew the mic was. Grey and Ramirez were on the other end of these. Listening to everything they said.

“Right… Maria.”

The elevator dinged and opened to an empty car. 

They walked on and Scully leaned against the back of the car, hands resting behind her back on the railing. Mulder pressed the top level and leaned next to her. She looked up at him and he met her eyes. 

“I know you’re angry with me…” He didn’t care who heard at this moment.

“Lets forget that now” Scully said half desperate. “We need to appear happily in love.” She looked up at him and he nodded reluctantly.

The elevator chimed and Scully took his hand in hers. She pulled his arm over her shoulder and entwined her fingers in his. As the doors opened, she pushed her body into his and they walked off, a couple. 

They made their way through the red carpeted landing and Mulder produced a black invitation from his breast pocket. The security looked it over and nodded to them to let them enter.

They walked into the ballroom and scanned the room. It was as if they’d walked into a gilded age casino. Gambling tables were set up around a ballroom floor in a U shape. A stage with a podium sat at the front of the glossy wood floor. Couples danced to a brass band located in the farthest corner against the windows. They played a melody that sounded like the Glenn Miller big band records his grandparents and father used to enjoy.

The walls were lined with arched windows that reached ten feet up the fifteen foot ceilings. The ceilings were deep mahogany with hand painted floral designs on the thick wood beams. Giant crystal chandeliers hung between every beam. 

“Wow” Scully whispered more to herself than anyone.

“I’ve seen better.” Mulder muttered scanning the room. 

“Sorry not everyone attended cotillions throughout their youth.” She said sarcastically.

He glanced at her, it was one of those things that alerted him he was being pretentiously obvious he was from a different background than she was. 

“Hey, I never said I enjoyed it. Being forced to escort girls to dances wasn’t exactly my adolescent fantasy.”

“How many girls Johnny?” She smiled, tilting her head.

“A respectable amount for government work.” He smirked and whipped around in front of her stopping her in her tracks. “Dance with me Maria?” he held out his hand and made a slight bow.

She shook her head and raised an eyebrow in affectionate exasperation, but took his hand. 

Mulder kept her hand aloft as they walked to the dance floor. They glanced around as they went. Everyone was well dressed in gowns and jewellery, bespoke suits and and fat gold pinky rings. They didn’t find a sign of Lucia or the ghost of Cusano. 

Mulder walked with her onto the corner of the floor and turned into her. The band was just finishing the slow melody of Rhapsody in blue, with staccato warbles from trombones and trumpets. He looked from the band down to her and saw her watching the crowd of couples, all dancing around with better skill than your typical high school reunion. 

She had that look she made when she was not completely in control of the situation she found herself in and unsure how to finesse her way out of it. She was so good at fighting when the going got tough, dancing like this, seemed to be out of her wheelhouse. Or perhaps this was too close for comfort when she seemed to be doing everything to avoid him. 

“Hey, we don’t have to do the fox trot here, lets just dance okay?”

She grimaced but then said with attempted levity “The fox trot?” fighting a smile.

“You sound like everyone in the dance classes my mother made me take.” Mulder said dryly. 

He was waiting for her, but she said “Shouldn’t you take the lead here?”.

At this permission, he took her left hand in his right, and wrapped his other arm around her, resting it between her shoulder blades. He pulled her close to him and she inhaled softly straining the tops of her dress. 

“Arm on top of mine” He muttered to her softly.

She put her hand up near his shoulder, copying the ladies on the dance floor. Her arm rested perfectly tucked into his. 

The band started paying ‘I ain’t got nobody’ with a trumpet soulfully taking the spotlight.

“Its like we stepped back into 1946” she wondered looking around, as they swayed back and forth. 

“Maybe except your outfit is much more modern thankfully.”

“Thankfully?” She said raising an eyebrow at him.

He chose not to answer this and guided her in a small circle where they stood. She followed his feet with hers easily.

“You shouldn’t have been so worried.” He smiled down at her.

“Well if a faster song comes on don’t expect me to break into the Lindy hop.”

He openly laughed at this, “No, we can go to the bar and walk around.” He said looking over her head. They were both scanning the room as they talked.

A blonde woman sitting on a stool on the side of the band, turned to the mic and started signing in a deeper more sultry voice than he expected.

Yes, I ain't got nobody, baby And there's nobody cares for me

“We should move more, try to get around the whole room.” Mulder bent his head to hers and said quietly. 

She looked up at him blinking at his breath on her face and nodded. 

Mm, I'm so sad and lonely, baby, yeah Won't somebody take a chance with me?

He guided her slowly across the back of the dance floor to the other side of the room. They both were so preoccupied with searching the ballroom they naturally fell into step with each other. Mulder made note of how she liked to step between his feet moving forward and adjusted expertly for her so she wouldn’t catch his foot.

The song ended and everyone politely clapped giving them a chance to look around at the crowd. The piano started to lead a slow tune and they came back together. Scully seemed to recognize it as he felt her shoulders tighten on her back. She looked toward the band her face stricken. Mulder searched her face and watched as she worked to push all the things she was feeling away. 

He leaned into her ear and whispered so the mics wouldn’t hear him.

“You okay?”

She nodded, but spoke as she saw the concern on his face. “This was my parents song.” Her throat dry.

The sultry blonde started singing in French 

La mer Qu'on voit danser And Scully’s shoulders relaxed. 

“Small favors.” He muttered to her and she smiled. Thank god this woman spoke French.

Mulder turned them toward the band into the sea of dancing couples to look among them.

Et d'une chanson d'amour  La mer  A bercé mon cœur pour la vie

They danced around the front of the floor and into the middle of the crowd, but saw no one they were looking for.

“What if they’re not here?” Scully asked searching the crowd casually.

“We’ve only been here for 15 minutes.” 

Scully looked surprised at this “Oh.”

“Time crawls when you want to be any place but where you are.” He said sarcastically.

“Thats not why Johnny.” she said, her cheeks flushed pink and she looked away from him as the song ended.

Clarinets announced the next song and Mulder knew it immediately. ‘A Million Dreams Ago’, an old big band song from a record his grandma and grandpa used to dance to in their living room. 

Their mother would put them on the Amtrak down to the upper east side of New York City and leave them with their grandparents whenever they had weeks off of school. After Samantha had gone she would let him stay for most of the summers. Every day before or after dinner their grandparents would dance like a couple who’d only just started dating. He could clearly envision the old stereogram cabinet record player with its wood top open, bigger than the coffee table. He and his sister would sometimes dance with them, he with grandma, Sam with grandpa. Other times, especially as they got older, they would do other things. He read on the couch, she colored or painted with watercolors. Both childishly exasperated by the daily ritual.

“You are always in my heart Even though you're far away…”

All the couples were embracing each other and swaying slowly. It was simple to follow suit, but it felt like he might’ve asked to hug an armed grenade. He looked down at her asking for permission with a glance and she returned a look that said ‘if we must’. He leaned into her and held her closer, she didn’t resist and rested her head on his chest turning away from his face, fitting perfectly underneath his chin. His heart fluttered. They were barely paying attention to the mission now, at least he wasn’t. He smiled to himself knowing she was probably still searching the crowd.

“…I can hear the music of the song of love I sang with you…"

His grandparents were one of those couples who had magically remained thoroughly in love throughout their marriage. He’d always used them as litmus test for his own relationships and had been disappointed to find he’d had even worse luck than his parents, in trying to measure up. 

At Oxford Phoebe was an expert at making him feel like he’d found the love of his life in her, but would inevitably, without fail, make sure he knew she didn’t quite requite those feelings in some way, usually involving making out with someone else. 

“…I don't know exactly when, dear But I'm sure we'll meet again…”

With Diana he might have had what they had, but he was so preoccupied at the time with his newly discovered mission and the sparked hope that he might be able to finally find Samantha he’d been completely inattentive and had practically pushed her out of his life. He’d still felt terribly when she intoned she was leaving because he had chosen work over her. He resigned to never finding what his grandparents had had when Diana left. 

Until Scully. Every day when she arrived he felt butterflies that only got more numerous as time went by, something he’d never felt before with any woman. It was a dilemma because he never wanted her to end up feeling like Diana had felt. Gambling with his ability to provide what he had proven he couldn’t, with someone as important as Scully felt like walking into a fire.

“…And my darling, 'til we do You are always in my heart…”

He’d tried to push Scully away for her own safety. For his own sanity. Give her that out Diana had taken for herself all those years ago, but Scully was as devoted to the work as he was. And he felt as devoted to her as he was to their work, more so, now that he considered it. Much more. It was so easy to acknowledge because it was just how it was, how he had always felt about her. He’d never met anyone quite like her… 

“How do you know this song?” She whispered looking up at his face, bent close enough to her lips he could feel her words on his cheek.

“What?”

“You’ve been singing along.”

“Oh… I used to listen to this big band stuff with my grandparents. Sorry Sc…Maria”

“No, you… have a nice voice.” She said looking at him with a mix of emotions.

She took a step back from him and her hand slipped from his. “Can we get a drink, Im tired of dancing.” She said not looking up at him, still scanning the room, or pretending to. He couldn’t be sure.

“Good idea.” He said, they were getting very little accomplished dancing like this.  

He put a hand on the small of her back and led them off the dance floor, as the band started a upbeat lively song Scully would’ve balked at anyway.

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

Scully leaned a shoulder against the cool glass of the window as she sipped the water with lemon the bartender had been annoyed to serve her. 

She’d wandered over to the window to look out at the view over the rooftops. Buildings twinkled in the night. Mulder had followed keeping an eye on the room while she took her break. 

She sighed as she turned around.  “I can’t see the white house from this side.” She said wistfully.

“Hey” Mulder said, hitting Scully in the hip with the back of his hand.

She looked up at him then followed his gaze through the sea of gambling tables.

The crowd parted enough to make out a dark haired woman in a red dress at a table, surrounded by men laughing at something she had said, and then a cheering erupted around her. 

“Shall we?” Scully said quietly.

They made their way through the seas of gamblers and tables to a gilded cocktail table with a marble top, next to, they could see now, a craps table. 

Scully sipped her drink elbows leaning on top of the small table. Looking out at the crowd behind Lucia.

The men surrounding her cheered again as she threw a pair of dice and the stickman called out.

Mulder strained to see past the crowd. He made eye contact with a big guard standing on the opposite side of the table. They were bringing too much attention to themselves being this conspicuous. 

“Lets sit at the table, I cant get a good look at everyone from here.”

“But we’ll have to gamble.” Scully said looking at him worried.

“Anything goes remember Maria? He took her hand and led her around the crowd. Tables around them alternated in exploded in cheers and jeers as they went.

“Mulder” She hissed in her classic exasperated tone that made him feel like they were back in the rhythm of their partnership. 

“Call me by my name Maria, we’re going steady now.” He smiled back at her with his best attempt at a boyish grin he knew she couldn’t resist. He reached his arm back for her to grab so she wasnt left behind in the squeeze. 

She pursed her lips “Johnny…” taking his arm in her hand, he gripped hers with his.

They reached the table and squeezed into an empty space by one of the dealers. The crowd cheered as the dice landed and the stickman next to them shouted 

“Seven! Front line winner!” Shouted the stickman from the middle, as he pushed the dice back to Lucia.

There were cheers as the men around her were paid their chips.

Scully stood staring, face set at this rash decision. He grinned at this, and looped his arms around her, resting his hands on the table, watching the men place their bets with interest. She placed her hands on the table in front of her demurely.

“Come on Scully this is the most exciting game at the casino.” He said whispering into her ear, lips brushing her hair. 

The boxman caught his eye “Hold on for the next game.”

Lucia had the dice in her hands now and was asking the men around her to kiss her fingers enclosing them. She was thoroughly enjoying the attention. She had a determined glisten in her eyes as she tossed the dice towards them. 

“Come on shooter” someone called from the crowd.

He pressed into her as he leaned over her shoulder to read the dice and her body stiffened against his. Then he felt her relax into him. He swallowed, forcing himself to pay attention.

The stickman called out “Eighter from Decatur!”

Some groaned but most cheered as the dealers paid out on the winning bets.

The dealer turned to him “$50 buy in.”

Mulder threw a hundred dollar bill on the table and Scully turned to him looking at him as if he lost his mind as the dealer gave him his chips. 

He shrugged and said “I still have the money its just in chips.”

She raised her eyebrows “Not if you loose the chips” she muttered

He found her ear with his mouth and muttered “We’ll see.” As he picked up his chips.

He placed some on the pass line, and Lucia rolled. Scully leaned forward to see the die as the stickman called out 

“Fiver fiver racetrack driver!”

He leaned over Scully to place a come bet on the five and she rested her elbows on the table leaning forward, giving him more space over her. The muscle in his jaw jumped.

Lucia made another show of blowing on the dice. 

He didn’t have to as the stickman called “Sixie from Dixie” but he leaned over Scully to see the dice.

This went on for a while, with groaning and cheers from all in the crowd. Lucia was having a good run of it. One seven rolled on the first roll of a new round would mean she would be out but it never came. 

The stickman was shouting out the numbers as the game went along

“Eighter from Decatur” 

“A square pair like mom and dad.” A four

“fiver fiver racetrack driver!” A five

Two by four, the lumber the number!’ A six

He made a come bet, The dealer doubled his bets on the five and took his bet from the eight. 

“a square pair, windows” an eight.

“Nein nein cried the Fraulein, that's German birth control” A nine and laughter from everyone at the table

The game ended with a shout of “seven out... One roll, no butter.” From the stickman.

The dealer handed out the winnings and Lucia started another game.

“See” he said into Scully’s hair “Not so bad.”

She said nothing in retort, genuinely invested in the game now.

They went on like this for two more rounds Mulder won back a modest amount, not betting recklessly and sticking to the numbers with the highest chances of being thrown. Then Lucia rolled a losing seven. 

The stickman shouted “Due, cinque. Arrivederci!!” A seven before the come bet, Lucias turn as shooter was over.

There was a general groan from the crowd of men and then they started clapping for her as she curtsied and bowed with playful grace. 

One man gave her a $100 chip and said “Thank you for a good game beautiful.”

Lucia took the praise in stride and seemed to be enjoying the male attention as she let one of the men kiss her cheek.

Scully stood and turned away from the table into him and scoffed “So much for staying widowed”

Mulder huffed a laugh out of his nose, smiling down at her indignant face.

“Who’s next shooter?” One of the dealers asked.

Lucia took the dice off the table and glanced up. Mulder saw her eyes flick to Scully. She walked around the table keeping them set on Scully. 

Mulder let his hands slide from around her and backed away behind her. As she turned to Lucia, she pushed her body against his. His heart skipped several beats.

Lucia stopped in front of Scully with her hand out holding the dice aloft. “I think the pretty lady should get the next shot.” 

Her eyes bore into Scully, looking through her darkened brow. Sultry, with a smirk on her face.

Mulder raised his eyebrows watching the two women. Then felt the trap and looked back up and around the room. All of the men around the table where watching the two women as if they’d just seen a mirage in the Sahara. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary, although he worried he’d have to fight off some of the men at this table.

She placed the dice in Scully’s out stretched hand and flipped around her hair whipping around as she sauntered away. Scully watched her leave and looked around at the men twisting the dice in her hand. 

She twisted around to him and looked up at him finding his eyes. She raised the dice to her lips and blew on them. He looked down at her gritting his teeth.

She pulled on his tie. He obeyed and leaned his face down to her. She moved her mouth to his ear, her chin touching his cheek. It took everything in him to grab her hand and take her away from here. She whispering “Im going to go after her” as she picked up his hand and put the dice in it, curing his fingers around them with her own. 

She turned and kissed him softly on the cheek running a hand on the opposite side down his jaw and onto his chest where it lingered only a moment.

“Okay” he said as she slipped away from him.

She followed Lucia through the hall to the bathroom next to the kitchens without a backward glance. He followed her with his eyes as she walked away from him. His cheek felt numb, remembering the place her lips had touched. Why were they even here?

“Hey are you going to throw or just stare after your woman?” One of the men at the table asked impatiently.

“Hey,” He said wistfully, shrugging. “When you’re in love you’re in love” He was watching as she entered the bathroom after Lucia, Ignoring the jeers and scornful laughter from the men around him.

He turned and threw the dice.

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

He’d gotten through a round, winning a number of the men money, and receiving slaps on the shoulder from those around him. All the while he kept an eye on the bathroom. After what felt like half an hour Lucia left the bathroom and headed for the kitchen. Scully didn’t follow. After a minute his worry overtook his orders to remain incognito. 

He shoved the dice into the mans hand to the left of him and said “Here have my turn”

As he started toward the bathroom, the dealer shouted something after him.

“Put a box on my chips” he shouted over his shoulder”

Scully still wasn’t coming out of the bathroom and his stomach was dropping the closer he got. Images of what Lucia might have done if shed found Scully spying in her flashed through his mind. Mafia women weren’t shrinking violets. Why had he let her go alone?

A sound of exasperation and relief escaped his throat as he rounded the corner of the slot machines and Scully slipped out of the bathroom. 

“Scully” he said exasperated under his breath, as she fell into step beside him. “She’s headed for the kitchen”

They looked though the circular windows of the double doors into the kitchen. And in one motion, they both reached for their guns and pushed through the swinging doors.

Lucia was straddling a man lying on the floor, back to them. She was stabbing him rhythmically arms rising above her head grasping a fork in her hands. Blood covered her hands and was running down her arms

The kitchen staff were screaming and running over each other to get out through the back doors. To Mulder, the chaos was muffled and things seems to be going in slow motion.

She was speaking with a gruff voice they hadn’t heard at the craps table. Shouting at the man on the ground in between each thrust of the utensil into the mans eye socket.

“You think” stab “you can” stab “fuck with” stab “Sonny” stab “fucking” stab “Cusano?!” stab

The man was screaming his hands bloodied, desperately clawing at her arms trying with all his might to force her off of him. But she seemed an immovable force.

Mulder was drawn out of his shock at the gruesome scene by Scully. She had circled partly around to face Lucia and yelled, eyes wide, “FBI hands up!” He watched Scully’s face full of confusion and was it fear? but gun trained on Lucia, never wavering.

He fumbled for the mic in his tie and yelled “We’re in the kitchen! Send everyone!”

At this Lucia looked up and turned her face to him, he gasped as he met her eyes and saw they were a bright glowing amber where the whites should be. 

Then in one fluid motion without looking, she thrust the arm closest to Scully out and grabbed her hands pulling her forward and then pushing her back so hard she flew into the wall five feet away. Scully yelped and fell, back against the wall. 

Mulder yelled “Scully!” and dived at Lucia. 

He grabbed her arms and made to pull her up to arrest her. But Lucia stood easily and wrenched her arms out of his grasp as if he weren’t even trying to hold them. She turned to him and her hands appeared around his neck before he knew what was happening. He grabbed at them but they were like iron, completely immovable. The next moment he was on the ground looking up at the florescent lights, wondering how he’d gotten there with a sharp pain in his hip and knee and his ears ringing.

He rolled over in time to see Lucia pick the man up bodily, pulling his arm over her shoulder, his head lolling. She walked with him dragging his feet along after her towards the back exit as if he were the weight of a small toddler. Mulder crawled to Scully feeling a knot on the back of his head forming. She was holding her chest and fighting for breath.

“You’re okay Scully. Just breathe, you’ll be okay.” He said meeting her panicked eyes. She nodded, already getting a breath in.

Agents Vince and Thomas burst through the doors and he shouted “It’s her! Its Lucia, she went out the back, she’s… she’s strong… PCP strong.” He pointed in the direction as he pulled Scully to her feet. No need to tell these men she was most likely possessed at the moment, he wanted them to take this threat seriously.

“I’m okay Mulder lets go.” She said breathlessly as she checked her gun, she’d impressively managed to keep a hold of it.

They all moved to the back of the kitchen and were met with a hallway leading to stairs. 

“Did she go up or down?” Agent Thomas asked.

“Wait everybody be quiet.” Mulder said

They listened to echoing footsteps and heard clanging and groans coming from above them. 

They all ran to the stairs leading to the roof. Mulder taking the stairs two at a time, effortlessly faster than everyone else with shorter legs or several extra pounds on him. 

He pushed through the door swinging in the wind at the roof and was met with Lucia dragging the man towards the edge. 

“Lucia! Don’t do this.” He ran to her but stayed out of her arms length.

She either couldn’t hear him or ignored him, as the rest of the team caught up to him. 

“Stay back!” He said to the men in warning. He didn’t need to though they saw what he and Scully were seeing. The woman had the strength of a far larger person. And her eyes were glowing in the evening darkness. 

“What the hell?” Agent Thomas muttered gun trained on her. 

“Lucia!” Mulder said again. “You have to fight this if you can hear me. We don’t want to have to shoot you.” 

She continued walking to the roofs edge. The man over her shoulder groaned. 

“Mr. Cusano!” 

Mulder and Lucia whipped around at the same time to look at Scully. Scully reflected the shock Mulder had for her, but hers seemed to be for herself or maybe for Lucia at actually listening to her. 

“Mr. Cusano, you don’t have to do this.” She continued “He’s… He’s already dead or will be in a minute. You can rest now. Come out of her. Exire… ab ea.” 

It was as if a spell had been broken. At her words Mulder whipped his head back around to catch the light go from Lucias eyes and her body crumple to the ground. The man fell on top of her.

Scully ran past him to the man and said “Mulder help me with him” as she grunted at the weight.

He bent down in a daze at what he’d just witnessed and helped her drag the man off of Lucia. 

Agents Thomas and Vince, along with backup of the tactical unit who’d appeared seemingly from nowhere jumped on top of her. They cuffed her arms and ankles and four men grabbed an extremity each, to carry her downstairs.

Mulder stood up watching Scully work. His hip seared and his head throbbed. 

Scully was bent over the man. “Sir, can you hear me?” She rasped.

He moaned as she placed a hand on his bleeding neck. She spoke into her mic at her chest 

“We need an ambulance ten seventy one. We’ve got a man down, bleeding out.”

She looked up to see the familiar faces of Grey and Ramirez and relief flooded hers. 

“Call for a bus!” She said commandingly.

Agent Grey nodded and walked away while speaking into her walkie.

Mulder was nursing the knot on his head, it was bleeding. A steady stream of blood trickled through Scully’s hands onto the floor by her knees.

“Sir, stay with me sir” His eyes were bloody messes, clear goopy liquid was leaking from one of them. She looked up, away from him finding mulder in the crowd of people. She shook her head imperceptibly. He understood. It was probably a small mercy this man would not survive his wounds. It was one thing to see this kind of damage in a corpse but when the person was breathing and in pain it was an entirely different experience. 

The man put a hand to his face.

“Don’t touch your face sir” Scully said gently pulling his hand down. “Help is on the way.”

“Se jodio esto” Ramirez said rubbing his chin, pulling down at his five o’clock shadow.

Agent Grey looked down at the groaning man with horror and turned around. 

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

They all watched as the man was loaded into the back of an ambulance. Scully had yielded her care to the paramedic in the back of the van as she hoped down from the stretcher. She had loaded onto the stretcher right on top of him preforming CPR, when he had lost consciousness in the freight elevator. One paramedic kept a hand on the mans throat all the other was pumping a re-sus bag into his mouth.  Mulder couldn’t help but be impressed at her dedication, he felt a swelling of pride in his chest as he watched her work the whole way down the elevator. 

She pushed the hair out of her face with the back of her hand and smeared blood on her forehead as she did. 

She looked up at Mulder as she approached him.

You spoke latin to her? 

Yes

“Where did you learn latin?”

Every good catholic girl reads the bible in latin didn’t you know?

He furrowed his brow, confused

She shrugged “I read the Vulgate when I was thirteen. I was interested in what people were saying in the 16th century.”

Mulder had never looked more confused and surprised. 

“I was advanced for my age. It wasn’t anything special I wanted to read it in the original Koine Greek but I had trouble finding a Koine to english dictionary” She shrugged.

Mulder nodded looking like he wasn’t understanding anything shed just said. Eyes narrowed like he was going to have more questions at a later date once he absorbed this information.

“Why would an obscure latin bible phrase have any effect on her?” He pondered 

“You don't believe?” She was toying with him a smirk on her lips

“Its not that I… what you said, it worked.”

“Mulder I said it in English as well. I said what I though a psychotic woman believed.”

“Scully thats not what you…” 

“What Mulder do you want me to admit that was a possession and the words of Paul chapter four verse thirty two expelled a demon from her body? Not even you would believe that.”

“I…”

She was looking concerned now

He didn’t want to believe it no. Religion was a waste of time and every religion before the current ones, had proven to die out in time. But she had said those words and the spirit had been extinguished all the same he couldn't deny that.

“I don’t know” he conceded

“Is that what you want me to say?” She asked shifting her weight away from him to study his face.

“Lets say this religious verse did affect that her in some way. Maybe its because the spirit possessing her, an Italian definitely also a catholic probably attended a couple latin masses in his day…”

“Mulder…” Scully said exasperated and suddenly exhausted. 

He changed the subject, “Come see this.” He put a hand behind her, leading her to where Agents Grey and Ramirez stood looking down at a slumped figure. 

Lucia was sitting on the curb limp, legs splayed, looking utterly bewildered. 

“She has no memory of any of it.”

“A psychotic break.” She said confident.

“Scully, you saw her eyes.”

“Yeah” She faltered and then admitted “They were bright yellow”

“They were glowing Scully.”

“Well jaundice can…” she trailed off. Her eyes had been more than bright, they had glowed  

“I can’t explain it Mulder.” She said. 

“She was a lemures, that dead goombah actually possessed her.” Mulder said in disbelief, staring at Lucia with clinical interest.

She looked at him exasperated and he caught her eye with a smirk ready for her naysays. “Mulder… I think its a bit of a stretch to jump to conclusions without running at least some tests.”

Explain her strength, her eyes. It all fits.”

Hyper strength can be easily explained with psychosis. Ever heard of the woman who lifted up a car when her baby was trapped under it? You even suggested PCP as a possible cause”

“I said that because I wanted those agents to take us seriously.” 

“Do you want it to be a biblical possession?”

“Is that what you want me to say?”

They looked awkwardly at each other and she rubbed her head 

“Did she hurt you?”

“No, Im fine just sore”

He searched her eyes trying to figure out what really was wrong, Im fine never meant the face of it.

It was her turn to change the subject.

“I don’t get it, all this time she’s escaped detection and done every killing evading detection and law enforcement, why did she do this one in the middle of a busy party in a kitchen full of workers?”

Ramirez turned to them “This guy she attacked, its the first times he’s been in public since everything started. He thought he’d be safe with us in the building.” He said with a grimace. “He was one of them who contacted us about the killings initially.”

Mulder grunted an understanding. “What are you going to do with her?”

 “Book her into a padded cell tonight and go from there. We should be able to transport her back to the city for the crimes she’s committed by next week.”

Mulder scoffed. “You can’t leave her just anywhere. What about the next new moon when she’s possessed again?”

“She’ll be locked up, no one to harm in solitary.” Ramirez shrugged.

Two officers came over to Lucia and picked her up under the shoulders and started bundling her into the back of an SUV.

“But this is an x file”

“Maybe” Ramirez shrugged nonchalantly, “but in New York its a Tuesday.”

He held out a hand for Mulder to shake “Listen, thanks for your help.”

“She’s a danger to everyone.” He said as he shook Ramirez’s hand.

“That’s for the psych eval to sort out.” Ramirez slapped a hand to Mulder’s shoulder. “We’re good here Agent Mulder, take your partner home.” 

He glanced at the exhaustion on her face as he held out a hand to her. She shook it. 

“Thank you for your guys’es help, we’ll be noting how integral you were to this case in our reports. 

Mulder wanted to argue this cause further but Agent Ramirez spoke before he could. 

“We got it from here, really.” he patted Mulder’s shoulder conspiratorially as he walked to an officer and asked about transport for Lucia. 

Agent Grey turned to the both of them and said. 

“Once we get her back to the city, I have a father I’m going to call for a favour.” She winked up at Mulder.

“Have you seen this before?” Mulder asked curiously.

“This exact M.O.? No. But something that needed a priest's help? Yeah, for sure”

“Did it help?” He asked.

It depends on who you ask, I suppose.” Agent Grey said, thoughtful. 

A skeptical sound escaped his throat as Agent Grey turned to Scully. 

“You can keep that dress, it looks better on you than it will on anyone else. Its technically destroyed anyway, you got so much blood on it.”

She reached a hand up to her forehead and rubbed the spot of blood. Scully closed her eyes at the touch and said “Thank you”.

Agent Grey smiled and offered her her hand.

“It was nice working with another female for once. Especially one so competent.”

Scully made a surprised face and said “Thank you Agent Grey, same to you.”

“Stella, please.”

“Dana”  Scully said automatically. 

Mulder stared. 

Agent Grey slipped a card into her hand. “If you guys ever come to New York, i’ll be very insulted if you don’t look us up.” She said without even a cursory glance at Mulder.

She flashed a smile and Scully smiled back and nodded saying “Okay, thanks.”

Agent Grey joined her partner and Scully turned to Mulder 

“I don’t think shell be a danger anymore…”

Mulder stood beside her, staring down at her, only slightly aware of his budding jealousy. 

He caught her eye and raised an eyebrow 

Scully exasperated, whispered “Shut up Mulder” as she slipped the card into the bodice of her dress. A knot in his chest formed at the small smile playing on her lips.

“What were you saying?” He offered.

“Lucia evaded detection for months, whether she planned it herself or she was having psychotic episodes”

“Or she was possessed” he interrupted.

“Right.” She glanced at him. “This feels like the magnum opus of her obsessive desires. Perhaps she didn't care if she was caught as long as she got her final mark.”

“Maybe. If he survives I have a feeling she’ll find a way to finish what she started.”

She sighed, looking defeated. “Im going to go take a shower, will you wait for me?”

“Of course, I’ll come up with you, I want to change out of this.”  

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

They climbed into the empty elevator from the empty lobby. Scully went to the far side of the elevator as Mulder to the button panel. He leaned against his side studying her as they ascended. She had her head down. Blood covered her hands and her sleeves were damp. There was dried blood smudged on her chest and forehead where agent Grey had tried to clean her off. She looked agonizingly defeated.

“Okay, listen.” He reached to the panel, pulled the emergency stop button as a ringing sounded. She looked at him eyes widening as he crossed to her, opening the top buttons of his shirt and ripping the mic wire out of the pack without caring if her broke it.

“Were going to talk this out now.” He said with an authority that made his ears burn but he was feeling like risking it all right now.

He moved to her, reached to her side were he knew the mic pack was. She inhaled sharply at his touch, and put a hand to his bent shoulder. He felt for the switch through the fabric and clicked it off. He pulled back leaning his head down apologetic at his small flicker of dominance. He felt his cheeks go hot and he added

“Okay?”

She let the breath that she had held go as she melted at his softened question, nodding “Okay”

“Okay”

“I’m sorry about everything. I didn’t realize how much the women of MUFON effected you. I should have, it was so stupid of me. So stupid to dismiss you like I did. I could’ve just explained myself. I just feel…” he glanced sheepishly at her “we’ve gotten so much closer recently, and I was hurt you didn’t trust my judgement on something… personal.” 

“She’s manipulating you Mulder.” Scully said listlessly staring at his chest.

“I… I can see how that could be. But I don’t think its anything more than her wanting to… for more personal reasons.”

Scully looked up at him resignation and anguish etched on her face as she nodded and said softly “I understand”

He furrowed his brow in confusion at first and then shook his head. “I don’t want her Scully.” He said in a soft voice, “It was never a choice.” He extended his hand to brush the taught bodice of her dress against her stomach. 

He’d stopped short of saying between you and her. His cheeks burned, at his own worry of the effect his words would have on her. He was scared of saying things out loud that would cause her to run. But now was not the time to cave to fear. He wanted to be clear with her, so if she did decide to leave him because of how he’d been behaving, she’d carry the full picture with her.

She searched his eyes then nodded, biting her lip as her chin trembled. He was overtaken by a desire to kiss the constellation of dimples there and make everything better. 

Instead he said, “You asked me what I really think of you? The impression you’ve given me over the years of working with me. I… Scully, I know you’d fall on your sword for me. You’ve tried before. I have, I have trouble with that because I don’t deserve it, and… I would trade all of your pain, all of the suffering this cause has given you, in a heartbeat, if I could.” He finished in a whisper, taking her hand. She let him.

She searched his face tears building in her eyes. “Mulder, one day you’re going to realize you do deserve to be happy, and, that you are not responsible for all the worlds burdens, or mine.” Her voice broke as she said “Your partnership, the way you care for me, has been the”, she faltered and he thought she might have lost her nerve. But she spoke in a strangled voce as if everything inside her was fighting against what she was doing “best, most meaningful years of my life.”

She slipped from behind him, not looking at him, crossed to push the emergency stop in and it lurched upward. She stood in front of the doors looking down. He crashed against the back wall to steady himself, watching her, letting the weight of her words wash over him. It felt like one of those imperceptible moments in their partnership that hid a seismic shift in their relationship. They were sinking deeper into the fault line enveloping them, more than they were ever willing to acknowledge. He wanted to though, sometimes, when he was feeling reckless, when his laser focus on the mission they shared, ebbed with the pull of her celestial allure. In those moments, he wanted to take her hand and jump into the depths with her and forget everything.

The doors opened and she stalked off down the hall without a look back. The gold of her heels glinted with each step she took. Mulder stood in the elevator, frozen watching her as she walked transfixed by what she’d said and by her departing figure. The doors started to close bringing him out of his reprieve. He put an arm out and when they reopened, followed after her slowly. She was already in the bathroom with the shower on when he got to the door. She’d left the guard bar propped open. Even in her frustration with him she remained his partner.

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

Notes: My headcanon is Scully was a child prodigy and started med school and college real real early age 15 or 16 early. But as some prodigies do when faced with so much pressure to succeed and the loss of social and emotional learning with peers of their own age group, she had a life crisis and went to pathology because its safe and she couldn’t loose patients and the nice structure of the FBI. So yeah she read the entire latin bible when she was 13 lol. Call her Hermione, call it cliche. She’s high achieving of her own accord in the series.

More meta on this theory and her dating history of older men in power over her, here

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

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Epilogue

@today-in-fic ✨

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Narrow Beds

Oh, it’s been awhile ... fingers creaked as I began to type ... brain hurt trying to remember words ... I have forgotten how much I love to write over the last few months but I think I will begin again ... 

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&

He really should have obeyed more traffic laws getting to the house but he didn’t: thought he saw a cop, began immediately planning alternate route hairpin turns and concocted stories of plunder and raze but in the end, it was just a car with two old ladies and a penchant for drinking their coffee in a parked vehicle as opposed to speeding precariously on the highway.

Regardless, he arrived without incident and knocking on Maggie Scully’s door, fiddled with the keys in his hand until the front door opened up, “Fox. That was quick.”

Desperate to grab her by the arms and ask, in that panicked tone he tried not to let anyone know he had, where Scully was, he instead held himself in check, jamming hands in pockets and rocking on his feet no more than two inches back and forth, “I didn’t catch any red lights.”

Mama Scully half-wondered if he’d driven on the sidewalks part of the way but keeping the traffic lecture to herself, she stepped aside, gesturing towards the steps, “she came in, said ‘I’m fine’ and disappeared upstairs.” Reaching for his elbow, she touched it lightly, “what happened?”

Normally she didn’t ask, knowing their history of diluting the horrors of their day for her benefit, but the look on her daughter’s face when she’d brushed past had her calling Mulder before she heard the bedroom door shut.

He’d been in the car on his way to Scully’s so a detour hadn’t been difficult: two lefts, one right at ‘Oops, I cut it again’ salon and minutes later, he was here.

Fourteen to be exact.

But who was really keeping track.

“We had a bad case. I asked about dinner but she said she just needed a bath and a nap.” Pointing up the stairs to move things along, “she in her old room?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Fox.” Watching his already retreating form, “let me know if you need anything.”

All she got was a wave over his shoulder.

It was enough.

&&&&&&&&&

Having been to her childhood room several times, he knew which door would lead him there instead of the bathroom and knocking lightly, he waited, listening for acceptance or denial of his request.

Instead he got, “I’m fine.”

Opening the door slowly, “you are a big, fat liar.”

She didn’t even flinch at the intrusion that wasn’t her mom, instead simply half-rolling towards him, hands crossed on her stomach, “mom wouldn’t have known that.”

“Your mom is the least dumb person we have ever met. It was your first, ‘I’m fine’ that made her call me and ask what the hell was wrong.”

Instead of denial and irritation at his implication that her world was not all peachy-keen, she stared at him for a long moment, looking from his rumpled t-shirt to his tired eyes, biting her bottom lip in debate and then in resignation at asking for the only thing in the world she wanted at the moment , “are you wearing your shoes?”

Taking the question in stride, “no. I left them downstairs by the door. Why?”

“Because mom doesn’t like shoes on the bed.” Scooting as close to the wall as she could, given she was an adult in a single bed, “would you mind shutting the door and laying down with me, please?”

Shutting as ordered, he maneuvered, with maximum confusion and minimal jostling, to lay behind her on the narrow mattress, “I have forgotten, in my adult years, how much I have grown in relation to my childhood.”

Practically smushed against the wall, she felt an almost-need to try to smile but the mood passed instantly, morose overtaking with lightning speed, “you know, the last person in this bed with me was Melissa; a few weeks before she left for college.”

Not sure where to put his arm, he held it awkwardly against his side, wondering with every passing moment if taking a deep breath would send himself crashing to the floor, “she was decidedly less …” wiggling slightly, his jeans twisted around his knees, “hulking than me.”

The only thing keeping her nose from pressing against the wall was her hand, “she was definitely smaller than you, I won’t argue.”

He’d shared a bed with her before, well, not so much a bed as a quiet corner in some snowed-in airport outside Fargo but whatever.

At least this time, he had the option of covers if necessary.

If only half his body wasn’t hanging off the side of the mattress.

He gave up.

“I’m coming closer.”

For one bless-ed moment, she forgot her churning black cloud in favor of wonderment, “Is that even possible?”

“Hopefully.” Sliding eight millimeters at best, he was now pressed solidly against her from upper chest to ankle, “much better.”

And for some reason, it was the extra warmth, the simultaneous heartbeats, the overwhelming air of another’s existence so close to hers, that made her crumble.

He heard the walls fall, crashing in voided silence and arm be damned, he moved it from himself to her, hand slipping beneath her elbow to rest on her belly, mouth moving as close to her neck as his nose would allow, “it wasn’t our fault.”

“It’s always our fault, Mulder. Every time we go out the door, it’s our fault.”

Moving enough so it was his forehead resting against the back of her head and not his nose, he found himself staring down at the minor flaw in her otherwise perfect neck, “we didn’t know. I didn’t know and you sure as hell didn’t know.”

“Nobody knows anything ahead of time, Mulder but if I had just waited a quarter of a second, a blink of a fucking eye, I would have noticed him. At the academy, the first thing they tell you about handling a gun is always know what’s behind your target. You look behind the damned target before you shoot.”

“No one, not even … shit, not even Superman and his super peepers … would have noticed Jamison under that table. It was pitch black down there. We were doing our job. We did our job and now it’s done and we’re home and jammed into this bed and it wasn’t your fault.” Emphasizing his point, he, for a brief moment, tightened his arm, sinking into cotton-covered stomach, “it wasn’t your fault.” He felt her muscles tighten, knowing full well she was trying to sit up, turn to him, argue his reasoning and he stopped her, quietly, his words drifting over her shoulder, “if you make me fall off this bed with all your arm flailing and point making, I am taking you with me which will just bring your mom up here and then you’ll get in trouble for having a boy in your bed.”

Tensed but debating, she settled back down, logic winning for the shortest possible moment, movement stilled but voice quavering, “I shot and killed a man. Somebody’s husband, Mulder, somebody’s son, somebody’s father. How do I justify that with a simply phrase of ‘it wasn’t my fault’?” Cracking words, her breath hitched violently, chest jumping, abdomen contracting with the effort of not wailing at the top of her lungs, “it was my fault, Mulder. He was hiding under a table. He’d managed to free himself and in trying to escape, heard the raid, crawled under a table and for all his efforts, he died anyway.”

Her last words trailed in a sob and Mulder, ignoring wedged-in bed etiquette, sat up as best he could, wiggled his arm under her neck and finally holding her from both sides, hugged her, kissing each bump of her spine from hairline to neckline, knowing it was time for him to be quiet, to listen, to ache for her.

And when it was time to hold the edge of the mattress as she tried to move closer. Needing any and all leverage he could get to stay on the bed, he simultaneously vee’d his knees, pushing hers forward as well, accidentally-on-purpose spooning to the best of his ability.

She didn’t argue, burrowing into her cocoon of Mulder-heat, vaguely wondering, as the tears flowed out of her and consequently onto him, if it would be, while not scientifically likely, metaphorically possible to crawl inside him, live there protected from the world, for the next few seconds to several hundred years of their combined life.

Choosing to focus on that rather than the harsh reality of now, it still took quite a while for her tears to taper off. Feeling her heart slow its rat-a-tat pace, she whispered into the crook of his elbow, “how do I get through this?”

“Just like we are now. You hold me, I hold you; tomorrow, we do it again.”

It was only now that she began to register how cramped they were, how un-professional they were, how perfect they were, at this very moment and doing a most un-Scully like thing, she let herself sink into the moment, “We should probably find a bigger bed then.”

Hearing just a little of the humor he loved, he chuckled once against her, repositioning his head, deciding both would benefit from a little nap, “I’m not worried about it right now.”

Finding his hand, she ran fingers over crooked knuckles, as close to a handhold as she could manage at the moment, “I wonder if I’ll get grounded if mom finds you here in the morning?”

Already headed to dreamland and taking her with him, “I think we should find out.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Myth: falling asleep.

Fact: waking up.

Confusion: setting in quickly.

Resolution: someone was mumbling beside him.

Follow-through: Once he’d realized he was indeed awake and for some reason in a bed that was seven to eight times too small for two people, he carefully rolled to his side, creating a precious hands-width of space between him and the mumbler.

About to ask if she was alright, he instead, being the terrible person that he was, eavesdropped.

Because … just … because.

And all he heard was a shopping list.

Sleeping next to him and she dreams of chocolate chips and bacon.

He couldn’t help his smile.

Then she hit ‘lube’ and ‘batteries’ and his interest sky-rocketed.

His smile widened.

Oil change and toilet paper should have bought him back to Earth but it didn’t and he listened to her talk another few moments before silence settled again in the time-locked room.

Continuing to stare at her and the dark grey wall behind her instead of going back to sleep, he began thinking in Mulder-type fits and spurts about time and space and awareness and his infinitesimally small space in the universe.

Did the universe still exist outside the room?

Had he been granted his desire to wake beside her only to have the rest of existence forget about them and consequently, forget about existence in the process?

What if Scully’s God had raptured the world and left them behind, alone but together?

Outside the door could be nothing, a vast void of blackness stretching out beyond infinity?

He wasn’t supposed to be here. This was just a rest stop between today and tomorrow. He ought to have been at home on his couch, comfortably hugged by warm leather and soft cotton.

Instead, he was in some weirdly light, hollow, empty, anticipating place.

He could feel the room around him. Everything in it, except him, resting their weary constructs: dust motes, drafts, deliciously warm partners. It unsettled him. This was the snowed in airport at 3am when he had to get up to go to the bathroom and fought it because the empty, dim hallways made his heart beat faster and put him on an edge he didn’t enjoy.

“Scully?”

Another mumble and what he would describe as a weirdly purring throat noise, later, she opened one eye in his direction, “trash bags.”

Another soul awake. Aware. He took a deep breath but continued his whispering, “I’ll add it to the list.”

Finally grasping some sort of faculties, she opened the other eye, brought him into focus as best she could, “why are you in bed with me?”

“You invited me here, remember?”

It took a second to recall but she got there and the smile desperate to cross her lips showed itself at the corners of her mouth but she didn’t let it win, “oh yeah.” Pausing for deep breath, she shut her eyes again, stretching as best she could and very narrowly using him as a full-body pillow in her quest for more sleep, “why did you wake me up?”

“Because I’m an adult freaking out about the dark and infinity and weird spaces where time doesn’t seem to exist and frankly, I’m worried that we are the only two people left in the universe and that we are floating in an utter blackness void even of stars and …”

He stopped because her hand was now covering his mouth, “Mulder … I swear to you. Outside is still outside.”

Talking through her hand, “Then why do I feel so strange? This never happens when I wake up at my own place in the middle of the night.”

Knowing sleep was now officially at least a few minutes away, she removed her hand but kept her eyes shut, thinking that if sleep accidently floated by, she could catch it, “you, my friend, are caught in a ‘liminal space’”

Liminal space. He felt he should remember that from somewhere but his 2am still spiralling mind couldn’t organize, “what?”

“I will be writing this down as the day I knew something you didn’t. Remind me to play the lottery later.”

Smart-ass-ness was starkly evident this later/early in the day but he liked her so he didn’t tell her about the ‘lube’ comment, “this isn’t helpful.”

“Sorry.” Finally looking at him, eyes dilating wide in the dark, “liminal spaces are kind of like waiting areas between one thing and the next. After one point in time and space and before the other.”

He was remembering now, “where magic happens and anything is possible.”

“Or where you begin to doubt universal existence and are afraid of the dark.”

“I am not afraid of the dark.”

She really hadn’t meant it to sound like it did and in apology, she rested a finger in the dimple on his chin, “I know. I just meant … when I was a kid, I’d wake up just like you and wonder if mom and dad were still in their beds. If Missy and Bill and Charlie were going to be at breakfast the next morning or had the darkness snatched them away?”

“But I’m an adult and I know better.”

“No one knows better at 3am or whatever the hell time it is.” Figuring the best way to fix this was to show him and she struggled to sit up, she accepted an assistance shove from her Mulder, “come on. We’re going downstairs.”

Now he was just starting to feel silly and for Mulder to feel silly required quite a bit of silliness, “it’s okay. We should probably just go back to sleep.”

“No.” Taking his hand and tugging until he was standing beside her, thankful for socks against the chilly floor, “I want to show you something.”

Giving in because she was her, he followed, inaudible sigh of relief he would never admit to once the bedroom door was open and he saw that, indeed, the rest of the house still stood. Shuffling across wood floor and creeping down the stairs, avoiding, under Scully’s direction, the creaky seventh step, she took him to the couch, pushing on his chest lightly to get him to sit. Once settled, several afghans piled over their legs, he waited as long as he could before asking, “what are we doing?”

“We are learning to love liminal spaces.”

“We are?”

“Yeah.” Quiet for another moment to gather her explanation, “we are witnessing timelessness. Enjoy it.”

So he sat, hand in hers, until he mused, half to himself, “liminal spaces should be an X-File.”

“No. I’m not letting you file these away. I have fallen in love with them and don’t want them categorized and easily referenced. They are meant to be discovered by accident and left alone when done.”

Sliding somewhat down the cushions to rest his head against the back of the couch, “do these spaces make you feel better?”

Knowing the question behind the question, “this space is making me feel better right now. It was still my fault but I think I’ll have to accept it and move on.” Matching his slide, she went one better and shifted her head to lean on his shoulder, “how are you feeling?”

“Better about the universe and about liminal magic.”

“Liminal magic?”

Turning his head, he first kissed her forehead, then shifted enough to brush his lips against hers, impulsive and unassuming, “that right there was liminal magic.”

With a smile, she let her hand drift to his knee, then his thigh, squeezing before coming to a rest slightly higher than strictly friends defined, “shush.”

“Shushing now.”

&&&&&&&&&

Maggie found them prone on the couch the next morning, smushed together on something even more narrow than the bed they’d occupied earlier. Scully, true to form, using him as a pillow while he held onto her dear life, fearful even in sleep of falling to the ground and leaving her behind.

It was then that she knew her daughter’s answer of ‘I’m fine’ later on would be a genuine one and moving to the kitchen, she decided chocolate chip waffles and bacon would be the order of the day. 

[scullysexual]

*Prompt request for AU where Mulder gets Scully pregnant in high school and they are “forced” to marry but fall in love.*

A Baby Is Forever: Part Two. 

Read Part One Here. Part One is also on AO3. Part Two will be joining soon.  I’m really enjoying this. Warning for teen pregnancy. @today-in-fic

- - -

“Just fireball him!”

“No, it will kill him.”

“Good. That’s what we want to do.”

“No, it’s better to take him hostage so we can find out there the others are.”

“What makes you think there are others?”

“There are always others,” Mulder says. 

Dana approaches the door to the classroom. Her hunch about Mulder being in the games room was right. He’s there along with Langly, Frohike, and Byers. She knocks against the open door, not wanting to intrude but needing to speak with Mulder.

They all turn towards the door and Mulder’s face lights up when he sees her.

“Scully!” he shouts, standing up from his chair and heading towards her, all long-limbs bashing against chairs along the way. “You want to play?” he asks.

Dana takes her head. “I need to talk to you actually.”

“What about?”

She glances nervously at the Gunmen who sit staring and listening in. This isn’t something she wants them to know yet.

Mulder, realising, turns back to his friends. “I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Once out of the doorway and tucked away in a corner, Dana feels like she can finally tell him. 

“So, what is?” he asks.

She does one final sweep of the corridor, making sure that there was nobody around and sighs. Mulder waits expectantly, all hunched over, unused to his lankiness, hands in his pockets and leaning against the wall, eyes boring into hers. 

Could they do it, Dana wonders? By some miracle, could they raise a baby and do it well? Part of her thinks maybe they could.

“Mulder…” at the last second she pulls her eyes away, focusing upon something on the floor. “I’m pregnant.”

There’s a pause. Dana slowly moves her eyes back to meet his and she catches the moment the floor drops from beneath him, the way his own eyes widen as they move to her stomach. 

“You’re…” He frowns, thinking. “And it’s…It’s mine?” He meets her eyes and Dana nods. She’s 100% certain of that.

“But…we- I pulled out. You said…How?”

“There’s always that chance,” Dana says.

“A baby…” A small smile breaks across his face. “What are you gonna do with it?”

“I’m keeping it.” 

Perhaps she’s a little too quick, a little too certain, but this is her baby and nobody is taking it away from her.

“Okay,” says Mulder, nodding.

They stand in awkward silence for a moment, neither one knowing what to say next.

“So…” Mulder begins.

“I just thought you had a right to know,” says Dana, cutting him off.

Mulder nods again. “Well, …thanks.”

She smiles more awkwardness.

“I should probably get back before the Gunmen decide to kill the Sorcerer,” he says.

Dana nods, amazed at out he’s just going to go back to his life even after this surprise. She guesses he has that option unlike her.

“Have fun,” Dana says.

Before he goes, however, he asks. “Scully, will I be apart of the baby’s life?”

Dana thinks for a moment before answering as honestly as she can. 

“I don’t know, Mulder.”

Mulder nods and they both part their ways.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

There will be no white dresses. No months of preparations, no handwritten invitations. She wouldn’t even be married in a church.

It was a lot to take in at first, just as everything concerning this pregnancy has, but Dana understood, it was a marriage of necessity, and Dana knew better than to argue.

Ahab hadn’t been pleased. The moment Maggie called him he was getting on the first flight back home. When he got home, he took one look at Dana and disappeared upstairs. A few hours later, he came back down with an action plan: Dana was getting married in November, no objections were to be made.

She sits in her living room; she sat on one couch, Mulder sat on the other. Muffled voices drift in from the kitchen, an occasional rise of a voice. Dana plays with her fingers in her lap. It was strange not to be apart of a meeting that concerned you.

“My parents were shocked when I told them,” Mulder says. They had been sat in silence, for the most part, only now choosing to speak. “They thought I was joking.”

Dana smiles slightly, a quick movement of her lips before her expression resumes to how it was.

“Mine was just disappointed. They still are.”

Mulder smiles sadly. 

They fall quiet once more. They weren’t that close but there had been an equal attractive before, that is was lead to this after all but then it fizzled out, they made a promise that it wouldn’t happen again. Yet, now they’re having a baby, now they’re to be married. What does that mean for their relationship? For any future relationships? Dana doesn’t want to think about it…

“I have a doctor's appointment on Thursday,” Dana says.

Mulder looks worried. “Is something wrong?”

She smiles. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s just a check-up. We get to see the baby, too.”

“We?” 

Dana nods. “I want you to come with me.”

“Really?” he almost sounds surprised.

Dana nods again. She decided soon after telling him about the baby that she did want him to be apart of it. Somehow, they’ll work it out. It’s as much his baby as it is hers and she shouldn’t keep it away from him.

Mulder looks to the floor then nods. “Sure,” he says smiling.

The kitchen door opens, with the Mulders exiting first looking unhappy about whatever they’ve just been speaking about. 

“It’s for the best,” Dana’s father says. Mr. Mulder just hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Mulder grabs his bag, says goodbye to Dana with a promise that he’ll be there Thursday and leaves with his parents. Once gone, Dana looks towards her father who smiles.

“They agreed to the marriage,” is all he says before disappearing off.

It’s happening.

.:.:.:.:.:.

He wonders what he’s supposed to wear to these appointments.

Does he dress up nicely or just as he normally would? Should he make a good impression? They’ll be judged because they're young, he shouldn’t make it worse by turning up looking like a scruff. Should he leave his glasses? They make him look younger than he is. But if he does that he might not be able to see the baby.

Mulder stops.

The baby. Their baby to be exact. It still makes him giddy, still has a big grin forming across his face at the thought. He had gone back into the games room with a massive smile on his face after being told the news. The Gunmen had looked at strangely, asked what was making him so happy, but Mulder couldn’t tell them so he made some lie up.

Scully said she liked me.

It wasn’t that far from the truth.

But a baby. An actual little human growing inside Scully that belongs to him. He could laugh.

He wasn’t so cool on the marriage. Some warped arranged marriage that he only ever heard happen in History way back. People have babies unmarried all the time, right? Why couldn’t that just apply to them, too? But if the marriage was to happen then he’d do it, for the little human.

He’s scared, though. Imagines Scully’s probably even more scared. They’re really about to be responsible for a human. Of course, that’s if Scully allows him to even be involved. He has his hopes, supported by being allowed to go to this appointment with her. He doesn’t want to mess it up. Doesn’t want to do anything that will make her think that he isn’t ready. He wants to be ready. He wants to do this.

.:.:.:.:.:.

The doctor is nice enough. If she knows, she makes no comment about their ages, she just smiles at them when they enter and waits for Scully to climb onto the chair.

Mulder has no idea where he’s supposed to go. Mrs. Scully sits on the only other chair in the room and Mulder’s left to stand awkwardly in the middle. He thinks he should stand near the wall, be out of the way, and goes to do that when the doctor begins speaking to him.

“You can stand next to her,” she says.

Mulder looks to Scully, seeking her permission. She nods and he moves towards her chair.

With both hands holding onto the inside of the armrest, Scully’s arm lays on the armrest beneath his wrists. He’s mindful of their skin not to touch as the doctor prepares the gel.

“It might be cold,” she says. Scully jumps when the gel makes contact with her skin and laughs slightly.

Mulder’s eyes flick down to her stomach. She had been wearing baggier clothes recently, Mulder had wondered if it was to hide the bump or something but when he looks down he sees that her stomach is still mostly flat. Maybe it’s because she’s self-conscious or something but Mulder wants to tell her she’s beautiful, carrying a baby or not.

“There it is,” the doctor says.

Scully’s hand grips his. His focus is taken from her stomach to her hand holding his. Briefly struck by the image he forgets about the scan until Scully’s squeezing his hand and his eyes move towards the screen.

And…he sees nothing. He squints and still sees nothing.

“Where’s the baby?” he asks.

The doctor- and Scully- laugh.

“It’s too early to see anything yet but it’s in there.” She points to a dot on the screen.

“Oh,” says Mulder. “When will we see the baby?” 

“Come back in twelve weeks, there should be something to see.”

Twelve weeks, that was ages away.

“And we’ll get a picture?” He remembers the pictures. He saw pictures of Sam.

The doctor smiles, “Yes, you’ll get a picture,” she says. 

They leave the room shortly after the doctor has told Scully (and him) that the baby is fine, everything is where it should be. 

Mrs. Scully walks slightly ahead of them and Mulder takes the opportunity to grab Scully’s hand and pull her to the wall. He’s seen the baby now, knows that there really is something growing inside of her, something that they have made together.

He holds her hands in his own, his thumb absent-mindedly rubbing her knuckles, his head bowed down close to hers.

“I promise I’ll do anything for you and this baby,” he says, really trying to mean it. “I’m not going anywhere. I want to be there every step of the way. Every appointment, every moment, I want to be there. I don’t want to miss anything.” He has no idea where this is coming from but he means it, he really, really means it with every word uttered. “And even after, when the baby’s born and it won’t sleep, I want to be there.”

Scully looks up at him, her big blue eyes wide and trusting, believing every word he’s saying.

“I don’t want you to do this alone, Scully,” he whispers.

[shibasparklez]

The Ouija Board

(This idea’s been in my head ever since I started X Files, since I love stuff involving Ouija boards. So I combined that with my want to kiss Scully.) 

“How close are we?” Scully asked, her voice closer than I expected. 

“Oh! Um...we’re nearly there.” I stammered, keeping my eyes on the dirt path. 

“Do you need more sunscreen? Your face is red.” She grasped my arm softly. “Extended exposure to the sun is dangerous for someone with your complexion.” 

“I-I’m fine. Just a little hot, I put on sunscreen earlier. Don’t worry, I know I’m pale.” I laughed awkwardly. “You put some on too, right?”

“I always do before cases like this. Sometimes I forget in cloudier areas, but here...you can just feel the sunburn before it even happens.” She grasped the loop on the top of my backpack, almost guiding me. 

Southern Arizona, my childhood home. Where even the winter sun had a way of wearing you down to nothing but sweat and regrets. There had been reports of drivers being swerved off of the road by...something. Everyone who survived told investigators about catching a glimpse of a ghostly apparition. A woman, holding out one hand in front of their car with her mouth open wide. Nobody reported hearing any screams. After they crashed, there was no sign of the woman anywhere. 

I was hired to do something about what they assumed were a series of unfortunate deer attacks. Though I assumed they just wanted the case out of their hair. I had no idea why my higher ups continuously assumed I was some kind of animal whisperer. Yes, I knew why animals acted the way they did. I couldn’t speak their language. At first I treated this as a normal attempt for my boss to get me out of the way with something small. 

Until I did a little more research. 

Every victim of the incident eventually admitted to officials that they had been speeding that night. I sat on the side of the road, watching hundreds of others drive by at all hours of the day with no issue. After digging through obituaries in the area, I learned the truth. Just a year prior, a woman was run over by a speeding driver in the dead of night. The mother owned a secluded house in the middle of a grassy field, less than a mile away from the main road. At that point, I knew I needed some extra help. 

“Can I ask you something?” Scully broke me out of my thoughts. 

“Sure! What is it?” I stopped entirely in my tracks. 

“What made you come to me instead of Mulder? You know my thoughts on spirits, right?” She made direct eye contact, and I found myself frozen in the gaze of her gorgeous blue eyes. 

“Well, it’s...a little hard to explain.” I grabbed one of my braids, twirling my hair around a finger. “You know his reputation, and I’m sure you know mine. If he’s caught working with me, both of our reputations are gone. You kind of balance us both out. Plus...his theories can be a little...”

“A lot. Trust me, I know.” She smiled softly. 

“Admittedly I’m already nervous about this. So having him to confirm everything I’m anxious about...I don’t think I would function well.” I chewed on my cheek, averting my gaze. 

“Well, acting as your voice of reason is easy for me.” She laughed, before lightly pushing on my backpack. “Come on, we should get there before the sun sets. I know how you are about the dark.” 

“Yeah!” I laughed with her, until my eyes widened. “...how did you know that?” 

“Do you really think I wouldn’t notice you turn the light on when you thought I fell asleep last night?” She lightly grasped one of my braids as she walked in front of me, letting it fall when she was entirely ahead of me. “Don’t worry about it, I understand.” 

I stood there for a moment, cheeks ablaze. Yet I had to snap myself out of it. Shaking my head, I sped up to catch up with her. There was no way she knew about my feelings for her. Even if she did, it was basically impossible that she felt the same. I had accepted that back when I just had a simple crush. Now that I knew that my feelings were more than that, I decided to just enjoy the moments I got to share with her. Most girls like me didn’t even get that much. 

“Now, tell me more about the toy we’re using.” Her tone of voice hadn’t changed, but I knew she was teasing me. 

“W-well...it’s not a toy!” I huffed, grasping the straps of my bag. 

“Of course, it’s only sold in toy stores as a front. Heard it all before.” She smirked, and I knew not to try to rebuttal her. 

“It’s sold in toy stores because if you follow the directions right, nothing bad will happen. Basically it’s an intense way to teach kids to follow directions.” I instinctively felt for the board in my bag, sighing in relief when my hands met the familiar rectangular shape. 

“Follow the directions or what? A ghost comes and...floats there?” She shook her head with a smile. 

“Well, that depends on who you’re trying to contact. Not that you’ll believe me either way.” I crossed my arms. “Y’know, I have a similar question for you. Why did you come along with me when you know you don’t believe any of this? I told you everything up front, I didn’t pull a Mulder.” 

For a moment, she was completely silent. I let her think, I knew that I had issues answering her question earlier. Though in my case, I needed to find a way to tell the truth without revealing my feelings to her. The cottonwood’s shadows stretched along the ground, lining with the small path perfectly. Fall winds swirled the yellowing grass around pleasingly. The house was just starting to appear over the horizon. 

“I’ve always wanted to work on a case with you. Whenever you’re assigned on the same case as us, you pique my interest. The first time we met, you were crawling around on all fours. I’ve learned through years of working with Mulder that nobody is truly how they seem up front. So...I suppose this is as much an investigation of you as it is on this case.” She admitted, taking off her blazer and tying it around her waist. 

“Oh, I remember that first case! You basically spanked me in front of the entire team.” I needed a turn to tease her. 

“Now, you know that’s not true.” She still laughed. “You had dirt all over you, and your boss was approaching. I was doing you a favor.” 

“That was the beginning of your investigation. You had to see if I had a tail.” I wiggled my hips around, purposefully being playful. “How’s that going, by the way? You know my phylum yet?” 

“Not yet, you’re a complete enigma. Are you secretly an alien? Maybe I should call Mulder.” She poked my side, laughing when I let out a squeak. “You’re that ticklish still? How old are you?”

“I-immortal! That’s the real reason why I didn’t call Mulder, I was scared he’d get me probed.” I giggled, proud of myself for that save. 

“He can’t while I’m around. I have to investigate you thoroughly first.” She shook her head, but still smiled subtly. 

“...considering your job, that’s not reassuring.” I decided to go with the non flirty response, even though I absolutely had one. 

As we approached the house, the for sale sign caught my eye. The paint was chipped, I could barely read the name of the relator. Scully knelt down to investigate the grass surrounding the post. I found myself too distracted by the sight of her bare arms, usually covered by a blazer. She had rolled down the sleeves of her dress shirt up to her elbows. At least until she stood back up and handed me a piece of chipped paint. I raised an eyebrow, before noticing how long the piece was. 

“This was purposefully scratched off. Do you recognize the claw marks?” She pointed to the sign. 

“Oh! Right!” I forgot my job for a moment. “Well...there’s two kinds of wild cats in this region. Clearly these are too large for a domestic house cat. Now that I’m closer, I can see four of the same scratches on this sign. So there’s no chance of this being an attempt to hunt by a hawk or eagle. Though...that would be pretty funny. I’m assuming this was done by a bobcat or mountain lion.” 

“Oh? No ghostly activity?” She smirked, and I avoided her gaze. 

“N-not yet! That’ll show up more when we enter the house.” I took a deep breath, anticipating going inside. 

“Why are we doing this game inside when the accident occurred almost a mile away?” She asked, watching me match the chipped paint to the marks on the sign. 

“A few reasons. Ghosts don’t just haunt one spot. Some do, but others can move around pretty freely. Most of them haunt an entire area, not a specific place. Also, lighting candles near this dry grass is an extreme fire hazard. Not only that, but a mountain lion would be drawn to us if we were in such an open area. While they’re not known to hunt humans, we could be near a mother’s babies.” I didn’t even realize I was talking too much, Scully was such a natural listener. 

“Then we need to be inside and set up before the sun sets. You’ll need a clear head to conduct this ritual.” She placed her hand on my backpack, and I dwelled on the fact that her hand would be on my back if my bag wasn’t in the way.  

I had been inside of the house before. Yet, the same fixtures that comforted me in the morning frightened me at night. Or maybe I was noticing the cow’s skull on the other side of the front door at just that moment. The house was a classic ranch style. Clearly having been renovated, giving me memories of the western styled restaurants I’d eat at with my family. A light had been turned on upstairs. Though I swore the place had no electricity. 

“O-okay...” I sat down on the floor, taking off my bag. “When I place the board down, could you light some of these candles? Just around the board. I have to do a couple of things to prep.” 

“Of course, do what you need to.” She took the lighter that I handed her. 

I stood still for a moment, breathing deeply. Scully was right, I needed to keep my thoughts clear. I had to lead, I knew all of the rules by heart. Going for my bag, I fished out a tube of salt. I noticed Scully’s bewildered expression as I made a circle of salt on the ground a few paces to the side of us. Her eyes showed so much emotion that I never had to fret in my mind about how she was feeling. 

“That’s for protection...if anything goes wrong.” I gulped, trying not to show too much fear. 

“Wouldn’t we want the salt surrounding us?” She finished lighting the final candle. 

“Not if we want to talk to the ghost.” I sat down, pulling out a jug of water. “That’s for hydration...and if we knock a candle over.” 

“Is that everything?” She rolled her sleeves back over her arms. 

“Yep! Now, place your hands on the other side of mine.” I blushed when her fingertips touched mine. “N-not that close! I mean...we want to see the letters, right?” 

“You have a point.” She let out a short laugh, moving her fingers to the other side of the glass. 

“Now, move this around the letters to spell your name. Oh, and say your name too!” I found myself distracted, but not out of fear. 

“First or last name?” She raised an eyebrow. 

“Uh...” I spent way too long figuring out the answer. “First would work best probably.” 

There was a long silence, where Scully stared right at me. Her eyes transfixed on my face, and especially on my...lips? Though I was probably just seeing things. 

“Oh, right! My name is Dana.” She effortlessly spelled her first name on the board. 

“A-and my name is Lilith...” I was much slower, wondering what had distracted her.  

“Did you spell your name wrong?” Scully was even more confused. 

“I...well...the format is different! N-now it’s too late to correct it. My name is Liliht.” I gulped, my hands starting to shake. “Can you tell us your name?” 

The board stayed completely still. I jumped from the sound of the wind blowing through the open windows. Scully let one of her fingers slide across and touch mine. I wondered if that was on purpose, though I assumed that she was just focusing on the letters closely. Once I was about to ask a second question, finally the spirit was beginning to spell something out. 

“There we go!” I gasped with excitement. “S...U...C...K...E...R...what does that spell?”

“Oh, Candy...now I feel bad. That was me.” Scully admitted, squeezing my hand. 

“Jeez, I didn’t see you as the pranking type!” I giggled, relaxing slightly. “You’re so delicate, I couldn’t even feel you pushing anything!” 

“Well, I have to be for my job.” She let her fingers linger on my hand for a moment as she returned to the same position as before. 

“Okay, I don’t think the spirit wants to answer that question! So I’ll ask another one. Are you here with us?” I stated the question more confidently than before. “Oh, it’s moving again! U..H...and it’s still coming towards me? Is the spirit confused?” 

No letters were underneath the glass anymore. Maybe the spirit was moving towards yes or no? I thought that until the glass was over the word Ouija. Then even more past that, until suddenly...

Crash!

“Eek!” I squeaked as I was suddenly knocked over, with Scully on top of me. “H-huh?!” 

“Candy! I’m sorry, are you alright?” She instantly pressed one of her hands against my forehead. 

“D-do you think the ghost gave me a fever?” I shivered, we were so close. 

“No, no I was just checking on you.” Her hand was still on my face, though she quickly moved to my cheek. “Did something push you?” 

“M-maybe? Everything happened so fast that I...I...” Her fingers brushing against my cheek were too much, I could barely focus. 

Scully clearly couldn’t either. Her other hand was on my wrist, grasping softly. She gently traced my jawline, all the way down to my chin. Her startlingly blue eyes staying directly on me. I felt like I was being examined by her, she seemed to want every detail of my face in her mind. My heart pounded, to the point that I was sure she could feel it. Trying to calm myself down, I closed my eyes. Taking a deep breath. Just as I was about to open them, Scully pressed a soft kiss to my lips. 

There were stars in my eyes. Goosebumps ran down my arms, making my fingertips tingle. My first kiss...I never thought I would get to share it with another woman. Especially not with someone as gorgeous and charismatic as Scully. Her lips were so soft, and I knew her striking red lipstick would linger on my lips after. Just as fast as she went in for the kiss, she pulled away. Making me whine unconsciously. 

“I...I’m sorry Lilith. I...I can go. I’ll go.” She quickly sat up. 

“Wait!” I grasped her hand, kissing her back. “Y-you can’t leave me like that! Especially when you took my first kiss.” 

“Was that your first?” Her eyes widened, as she slowly let both of her hands slide over mine. “I’m shocked. A girl as cute as you should’ve had your first kiss...years ago.” 

“Well I’m picky.” I giggled, kissing her nose. 

“Do I meet your standards?” Her expression softened, and she pressed her forehead against mine. 

“Y-yeah. More than meet them. You rush past them. In a car. A sports car! One of those fancy ones with the line through it.” I rambled, stopping as she kissed me again. 

“Should we get back to work, Candy?” She smiled, pinching my cheek. “Or are you too distracted?”

“Oh, I’m way too distracted. I think I need about...ten more kisses. Or maybe more.” I leaned against her shoulder. 

“Well, I’m happy to help you focus.” She cupped my cheek, kissing me again. 

[ghostbustermelanieking]

phantom weights chapter seven

one, two, three, four, five, six

season 11, post my struggle iv. part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files.

Summary: In the wake of their second encounter, Mulder, Scully, and Jackson reconnect (both by accident and on purpose.)

thanks to @reasonandfaithinharmony for advice on this chapter, and the suggestion of the type of thing mulder should say towards the end of this chapter.

---

On an evening nearly three weeks after Lily was born, Mulder was sitting out on the porch with her and watching the sun set. Scully was inside, asleep on the couch; her sleeping schedule had grown sporadic and spotty in recent days, and she tried to sleep when the baby was sleeping, but those periods didn't always overlap, and Mulder hated to wake her up, even if it was an odd time to nap. Anytime she could sleep for more than twenty minutes before being woken up seemed like a blessing to him.

Lily was staring at Mulder with a focused sort of look, like she was concentrating hard, when he saw a car rolling down the driveway, Jackson at the wheel. His son's face illuminated by the orange light of the sinking sun, his expression unreadable. Mulder was overjoyed and nervous to see him all at once.

"There's your big brother," he whispered to Lily, who grabbed at his nose determinedly. He chuckled and moved her down to the crook of one arm as he stood, lifting his opposite hand in a wave. He absently wondered how long Jackson would be here this time.

Jackson gathered a bundle of plastic bags from the car and jogged up to the porch. "Hey," he said as he mounted the stairs, breathing hard. "I-I brought you guys some takeout. Japanese. Figured you wouldn't want to cook, right?"

Surprised, Mulder said, "Right." He didn't mind cooking, of course, and even Scully tried to take a turn or two when he himself was asleep, but it would be nice not to have to cook or drive into town for food. (Delivery only went so far out, and they seemed to be past the realm of reasonable delivery. And no one liked to deal with the damned gate.) The baby started to fuss and he shushed her, rocking back and forth awkwardly.

"Hey, kid," Jackson said, addressing Lily. She continued to whimper, her face half-turned into Mulder's shirt. "She's happy to see me," he said dryly. "Is she hungry?"

"Probably." Mulder held her against his chest, whispering soothing things against her downy head. He should probably go wake up Scully; Lily needed to eat, and she'd want to see Jackson. "D-do you wanna come in, Jackson?" he asked, hoping desperately his voice was welcoming. He was happy to see him, incredibly so, and he hated the little bit of hesitance inside of him. He smiled at his son, bouncing his daughter up and down gently, but the smile felt a little thin, and he hated that. He tried to smile harder.

He couldn't tell if Jackson noticed. He nodded eagerly, heading for the door. "Yeah, that… that'd be great, thanks."

---

It was Sarah's break-in that had done it, really. Had convinced him that nothing was happening, that it was all in his head.

Jackson had been back and forth on the whole issue since Lily's birth. It was clear that he had misinterpreted the situation; he could see the whole situation a little clearer now, after the whole thing was over, and when he'd gotten home to Richmond and saw that Mulder's panic was a result of fear and past trauma. He hadn't been there when Jackson had been born and found it hard to see Dana in pain, he'd had to fight his way through a crowd of strangers in a strange place to get to them after the birth. It was no wonder he was scared and suspicious of everyone who came into Dana's hospital room, especially considering the increased risk of having a child at her age. The realization that they'd both had an overreaction made Jackson feel a little foolish, but it was also sort of relieving, knowing they hadn't been in danger. (The fact that no one had come for the baby was very reassuring. Jackson still got flashes of his birth sometimes, of that strange, dusty place, strangers packed around the bed, staring at him, Dana screaming, "This is my baby! You can't have him!" He'd been terrified that it would happen to his sister—and considering Mulder's panic, he hadn't been the only one.)

The fear hadn't dissipated; when he'd ran, he had been worried that they were still coming for him. But the false alarm had left Jackson wary, wary of his paranoia. He'd overreacted as much as Mulder, and the things that had set him off in the past seemed arbitrary in comparison. Both times he'd feared they were targeting people to get to him—the break-in at Sarah's house, and the people watching Mulder and Dana at the beach—nothing seemed to come of the threats. He checked in on Sarah every now and then, just to see that she was okay, and she was always fine. No more break-ins, that he could see, and no attempts to take her, no one following her… Of course, he didn't see everything, it felt wrong to be in his ex-girlfriend's head after everything, but from what he saw, it seemed okay. She seemed okay, seemed happy. And he checked in on Bri, every now and then, and saw more of the same. Normality. They'd left him behind, and he knew it was for the best.

Nobody was going after Bri or Sarah, and nobody seemed to be going after his family—he'd checked in with his grandmother, the one who hated him now, and his Aunt Ursula, and his uncle who was some hunter up in Alaska or whatever. And no one after Mulder and Dana, either, and they seemed like the obvious choice. They were the ones mixed up in all of this. They were the ones bringing another kid like him into the world. But no one seemed to be coming for them, either. Not since that trip to the beach, and even then, those people had never directly gone after them. They'd just hung back, taking pictures. They hadn't gone after Jackson when he ran, and they hadn't gone after Mulder and Dana while he was gone… So what had they wanted, if not him? Why hadn't they chased him? Why hadn't they gone after Mulder and Dana if they wanted them?

Mulder thought this was all over. He'd said as much, back in July, when Jackson had asked about the people coming after him, who'd come all their lives. I'm inclined to believe this is all over, he'd said. Jackson hadn't believed him at the time, but what if he was right?

And then Jackson's Google alert had pinged. He'd gotten an email that he saw at the library. They caught the guy who robbed Sarah's house. He was a kid who had a crush on her younger sister, and was annoyed that she wouldn't give him the time of day. Apparently he'd been breaking into places for years, apparently he wanted to scare Sarah's sister as revenge, and all the stolen shit was just a bonus. Not a trained assassin, just a stupid asshole who liked break-ins. Maybe it was a cover for the assassins, but Jackson didn't think it was. It didn't feel like it was.  

It had made him think about things. The break-in was a coincidence, just like the thing with Mulder and Dana had been a coincidence. And it made him start thinking about what happened at the beach. He'd reached, and he landed on a memory, the morning after he'd been a total asshole and then ran out. Dana taking Daggoo out to pee, and the neighbors coming to talk to her. They weren't assassins or agents, at least not according to what they'd said to Dana. They had recognized Dana and Mulder from that jackass Tad O'Malley's web show. They were fans, not assassins; they were taking pictures because they recognized Dana and Mulder from that show. That was why they were watching, and that was why they didn't ever come for them.

Maybe it was all a coincidence. Jackson lodged that idea firmly in his mind and didn't let it go. He couldn't let his guard down, not again. But thinking back to everything that had happened put things into perspective. He had been staying in one place for months, and they hadn't found him. Sure, he'd been careful, he used aliases, but he'd used aliases on the run, when he was constantly moving and hiding, and they still found him. Why hadn't they found him now? If they wanted him, why hadn't they come? It was easier to get to him now than ever before. They could've come, but they hadn't, and maybe that meant it was really over.

Jackson didn't know for sure. But he had been trying to let go of his paranoia, at least a little. He didn't want to be so closed off from people. It was a lonely fucking way to live. He didn't exactly know who he could reconnect with, but he needed someone. He couldn't keep living alone, on edge. He couldn't do it. He was torturing himself, living in constant paranoia, constantly worrying. He couldn't take it. Who could fucking take it?

And besides that, he wanted to see the kid again. He'd promised he would come back, and he intended to keep that promise. It was time he checked in, made sure Lily was getting along okay. It was time he tried to make amends with Dana and Mulder.

So he'd driven up to Farrs Corner, stopped and got some food—a peace offering, maybe—and made the long trek out to their house. He found Mulder and the kid out on the porch, and felt the same wave of relief and welcoming that he usually felt from his apparent birth father. But layered under it was a sense of wariness, of caution, small but stunning.

Jackson yanked back from Mulder's mind as he clambered up the steps and into the house.

---

Inside, Mulder bent over the couch, touching a gentle hand to Scully's head to wake her up. She'd been sleeping lightly lately, to the point where he was a little surprised the bang of the screen door hadn't woken her. She woke slowly, blinking sleepily as she sat up. He still held Lily in the crook of his arm, and Scully smiled and whispered, "Hey, sweetheart," and leaned in to kiss the top of her head.

"You get some rest?" Mulder asked, offering his free hand to help her up.

She took it but didn't stand, yawning. "A little. I'm still so tired. I'm so tired, Mulder."

"I know." He bent to kiss her forehead, squeezing her hand. "So someone dropped in a few minutes ago," he offered, shifting Lily to curl up against his shoulder. She was already getting sleepy again, her eyes lolling shut, and he figured they could put her down for a little while so they could eat. "And he brought some food."

Scully turned towards the kitchen and found Jackson, standing beside the counter. A grin spread over her face, to which he offered an awkward smile in return. "Hi, Jackson," she said, getting to her feet. "It's so good to see you."

She'd cried when they found him gone that morning. She'd been exhausted and hormonal, and probably still in pain, but she'd still cried. Finding the note he left had helped a lot—had seemed to cheer her up—but Mulder could still remember the hurt on her face when they found him gone again. Could feel the hesitance on her now, even as happy as she was. The same hesitance he had.

It made him feel guilty and horrible, the way he had when he'd felt this way at the beach—after everything he'd been through, everything he had missed with William, every moment he'd hated himself for letting him go, how could he ever hesitate at spending time with him? But then he thought of the things he had said in that beach house, the way Scully had burst into tears when he was gone, and the feelings only seemed to grow. He didn't want his son to leave—god, he didn't want that—but he did want things to be easy. He wanted Jackson to be theirs, really be theirs, and he didn't want to constantly be on edge, wondering when his son was going to up and disappear, or say something to hurt his wife. He wanted things to be simple, but he knew they probably wouldn't ever be.

But still, it was amazing to see him, as it was every time—would it never not be amazing to see his son, his grown son? He could tell Scully was overjoyed, even though her emotions were conflicting. And even as Mulder worried, it made him feel a little better when Jackson asked how Scully was feeling. Lily was nearly asleep, her fingers in her mouth, and so he took her upstairs to put her down and gave Scully and Jackson a moment to talk.

They didn't talk much over dinner; Mulder and Scully were both too exhausted to make much conversation. They ate in the living room, and Jackson found a channel that was airing horror movies in honor of the upcoming Halloween season, and Scully smiled. Mulder watched the two of them absently, the flickering light of the TV on their faces. They looked alike in this light; they had the same eyes, even if they were different colors.

Mulder got up to throw away the trash when they were done, taking the Styrofoam boxes and the crumpled napkins into the kitchen. "Oh, uh, I can help with that," Jackson said when he saw him, scrambling to his feet like he had something to compensate for.

"No, no, don't worry about it," said Mulder. "I've got it."

Jackson nodded and collapsed back into the chair, sagging into it. He seemed as uncomfortable as they were, fidgeting where he sat. As Mulder stuffed the boxes into the couch, he spotted his wallet on the counter, and his sleep-lacking mind seemed to remember: he should pay his son for the food. He retrieved two twenties and passed them to Jackson as he sat back down. "For the food."

"Thank you so much for bringing it," Scully added. "You didn't have to do that."

"It… was the least I could do," Jackson said, and he shoved the money back at Mulder, who shook his head.

"Take it, sweetie," Scully said, and Mulder could see her slight flinch. He knew she was trying to back off, trying not to suffocate him with unwanted mothering (her words), and he knew it was difficult. Of course it was difficult. "I-I know Burger King can't be paying you very much," she added quickly, trying to recover.  

Jackson laughed, maybe a little uneasily, and tucked the money in his pocket. "They're not," he said. "Uh, thanks."

"Thank you," Scully said gently.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, the Halloween score filling it, until they heard Lily wailing from upstairs. "That's my cue," Scully said with a little sigh, getting to her feet. "I'm heading to bed after I feed her." She leaned down to kiss Mulder goodnight.

"I'll be up in a minute," he said, squeezing her hand.

Scully nodded, turning towards the stairs. "Goodnight, Jackson," she added gently.

Jackson swallowed heavily, shifting in place. "Night, Dana."

As her footsteps retreated upstairs, Mulder turned to face his son. He was watching as Michael Myers stalked across the screen, his face lit up by the light of the television. His expression was as unreadable as always.

Mulder swallowed hard, hating himself for even asking the question, but knowing that he had to know for sure. He said, “So, Jack… how long do you think you’ll be here?” It sounded cruel to his ears, selfish and unwelcoming, and he was stricken with a sudden fear that these words were going to be enough to drive Jackson away.

Jackson didn’t look at him, but Mulder could hear a touch of discomfort in his voice when he said, “Uh, I have work on Sunday, so probably either tomorrow night or early that morning. You know.”

“Right,” said Mulder, his mouth dry, guilt clogging his throat. He had no idea how to navigate this, walk the line between protecting Scully’s feelings and trying to make his son feel welcome. He could try to reach out and risk getting hurt, or he could be distant and risk hurting Jackson, but really, neither option sounded very good. “Of course, you’re always welcome here,” he added in a rush. “I just… wondered…”

“Yeah, no, definitely,” Jackson said quietly. “It’ll be Saturday or Sunday, I can tell you for sure later.”

“Okay.” Mulder bit back a yawn, exhaustion overtaking him. “I-I’m going to bed. I apologize in advance if the kid keeps you up.” He tried to make his voice sound light and breezy, like he wasn’t upset. (He didn’t have any right to be upset.)

Jackson finally turned to look at him, the shadows of the darkening room hiding his eyes. “It’s okay. I don’t sleep a lot anyway.”

Mulder locked the door before he went upstairs, and it seemed to him that, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jackson throwing him a grateful look. It stuck out to him for some reason as significant, that Jackson seemed grateful that he was locking the door, but he was so tired, his mind foggy, that he barely had the energy to think about it.

He found Scully upstairs in bed, covers tucked around her, feeding Lily with pillows layered across her lap. (It was still fairly hot for October, but Scully managed to be cold in almost any form of weather.) “Hey,” he murmured, walking across the room to the dresser so he could change.

Scully yawned in reply. “Thank goodness she didn’t inherit your sleeping patterns,” she murmured, stroking the top of their daughter’s head. “She’s gone down so well every night, even if it doesn’t last more than a couple hours.”

“Most newborns spend the majority of their day sleeping,” Mulder said absently, pulling a t-shirt over his head. “Even Mulder newborns.”

She had a thoughtful sort of look on her face, looking down at the baby. “William never went down very easy,” she said softly. “I’d have to rock him… sing to him, talk to him… for what felt like hours.”

Mulder looked down at the floor, the rug he was standing on. He could still make out the patterns despite the dimness of the room, could still remember the day they’d picked this rug out. It was still hard to hear about everything he’d missed, even now, and even harder considering how the night had gone. “Maybe she’ll stay like this,” he commented to the floor.  

“Maybe.” Scully’s voice was soft, not entirely unhappy, and when he looked up, she was smiling sleepily down at the baby.

He smiled, too, and went to sit on the bed beside her. Lily was nearly asleep, curled against her mother with her eyes half-closed, and he reached down to hold her hand in his, his head tipping forward until his cheek was resting against Scully’s shoulder. “I’ll give her a bottle when she wakes up,” he whispered. “You sleep.”

She snorted. “Easier said than done,” she said, but he heard the thanks in her voice. He sat up straight and pushed hair away from her face, behind her ear. She smiled a little again, turning her face into his palm. “How’s he doing?” she asked him softly.

“He’s okay.” Mulder swallowed hard, looking back down at Lily, snuffling in her half-asleep state. “He said he had work Sunday, so he’d leave tomorrow night or the next morning.”

“Okay.” Scully yawned again, wider this time. “That’s good to know.”

“Yeah.”

“He… He seems like he might not be as mad at us,” Scully said softly. When Mulder looked over at her questioningly, she added, “He… seems like he’s trying.”

“Yeah,” Mulder said again. He could see the note he had left last time still sitting on Scully’s bedside table, creased from being folded up.

“He genuinely seemed worried about me and the baby, when he came a few weeks ago.” Scully yawned once again, this time trying to talk around it. “And in the note… he thanked us…”

Lily was already asleep on Scully’s lap, so Mulder reached down to scoop her up, moving her to the crib. “We should get some sleep,” he whispered, moving back to lie down beside Scully, draping an arm over her shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll still be here when we wake up tomorrow.” He said it even though he wasn’t completely sure, even though he halfway expected to find the house empty besides them tomorrow, note or no note.

But in the morning, Jackson was still there, asleep sprawled out on the couch when Mulder went down to let Daggoo out. He felt shame twisting in his chest, and then relief, genuine relief. He was so relieved to find his son still there.

---

The day following was more or less uneventful—maybe more so than Scully would’ve liked. A part of her still felt the need to entertain Jackson, to convince him that, yes, it was worth it to have a relationship with them, past lending money and buying food. It was kind of a ridiculous line of thinking, considering that in the past, they hadn’t done much more than go get lunch or go down to the beach—and besides that, they were too exhausted for much else, and Jackson had always sort of done his own thing, anyway. But she still felt strangely guilty, like a parent of divorce who never saw their kid, for not having anything very interesting to offer her son.

Jackson seemed pretty okay with it, though. He ate the breakfast that Mulder made, and offered awkwardly to help clean up after. He took Daggoo for several long walks (runs, he called them, although Scully suspected that Daggoo’s little legs wouldn’t hold out for a long run), and found movies on TV for the three of them to watch. He borrowed Scully’s laptop and played some sort of game on it, which Scully might’ve minded in a different state of mind—she had a lot of idle research saved on there—but in this context, she couldn’t really bring herself to care. He offered to watch Lily after lunch, which Mulder seemed a little apprehensive about, but agreed to, either because he knew they both needed a break, or because he didn’t want to offend Jackson, or both. Scully felt a little guilty about it herself, as much as she relished the chance to get some rest. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asked gingerly, balancing Lily in the crook of one arm. She seemed as ready for a nap as they were, which boded well for Jackson, but it still seemed a bit odd to stick a teenager with a newborn. “She’ll probably just sleep the whole time.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” he said mildly. “I mean, what else am I gonna do?” He motioned to the TV and the computer.

Scully bit her lower lip and nodded, putting Lily down in the little bassinet thing they’d gotten for downstairs. “Just keep an eye on her,” she said. “If she wakes up, we’ve got bottles in the fridge, and diapers upstairs… Do you know how to change diapers?” she asked a little helplessly.

She was relieved when Jackson nodded, a little uncertainly. “We stayed with a friend of my mom’s who had a baby last summer, and I got put on diaper duty a couple times,” he said. “So I guess I’ve, uh, done it before.”

“Okay,” she said. “Well, uh, if you have questions or need help with anything, come right on up and get us.”

“Anything,” Mulder added. “We don’t mind.”

“Okay.” Jackson’s attention was halfway turned to the TV, but he nodded at them.

Mulder still seemed a little nervous at the prospect, which was understandable on Scully’s—it had little to do with Jackson, at least from her perspective, and more to do with the anxiety that came with Lily being with someone who wasn’t one of them; she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling it a bit herself—but they still managed to get upstairs and crawl into bed. They slept for almost three uninterrupted hours, waking in the late afternoon and going down to find Jackson still on the couch, Lily’s bassinet pulled up beside him as he watched TV. “She, uh, she stayed asleep, mostly,” he said nervously when they came down, like he was worried they were going to be upset about something. “She woke up once, but she didn’t really cry, so I didn’t do anything. Was that right?”

Scully went to the smaller bassinet and scooped her daughter up, who had woken up at the sound of them coming downstairs and was beginning to whimper. “She looks fine to me,” she said, sitting down on the couch and easing Lily into the crook of one arm. “I think she’s probably hungry… Thank you for watching her,” she said to Jackson.

“We really appreciate it,” Mulder added. “We needed the rest.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Jackson got to his feet, saying, “She’s a good kid,” again, as if he wanted to remind them. He rocked back on his heels and added, “I’m gonna go upstairs for a while.”

“Okay,” Scully said. Jackson was disappearing up the stairs almost immediately then, not quite running, but not quite walking, either. “I guess the actual babysitting freaked him out a lot more than the concept,” she said to Mulder, reaching up to pull aside her shirt. She was surprised at how casual her voice sounded, like Jackson had always been their child, and he was reacting to a new sister with the typical behavior of older siblings.

“Probably.” Mulder sounded amused as she was. He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I’m going to go pick up some dinner, okay? Subs sound okay to you?”

“It sounds excellent,” she said, already hungry—lunch seemed more like it was months ago then just hours. “Thank you.”

“Course.” He squeezed her hand before moving away, going to the counter to retrieve his keys before heading out the door.

The sudden quiet was almost relieving, and Scully reached down to change the channel on the TV as Lily began to feed. She still felt a little sleepy after her nap, well-rested, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t happy about the prospect of a few minutes to herself. But before she landed on a channel she liked, a loud sound sliced through the air, seeming to echo through the rooms of their house and cinching tight around Scully’s chest.

Her first thought was gunshot, and she tensed in panic, pressing a hand over Lily’s head and hunching over protectively. Her mind was racing, searching for answers—Mulder, was Mulder okay, was Jackson?—and crying out in protest. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could barely hear Lily’s startled cries; she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. It took a few moments, and the rumbling sound of Mulder’s car, for her to process that it wasn’t a gunshot. His engine had backfired.

She readjusted her shirt with a trembling hand, getting to her feet and trying to shush Lily as she walked to the window and looked out. No sign of assassins at their doorstep, or soldiers on the lawn, just the back end of Mulder’s car rolling down the driveway. She took a shaky breath, and then another, pressing her lips to Lily’s head and whispering, Shhh, shhh again. Nothing to worry about, she was okay.

She was turning away from the window when she heard the next sound: thundering, frantic footsteps from above. Jackson was running towards, his feet pounding the floorboards, and before she could ask what was going on, she heard his voice, tight and frightened and booming. “Dana?” he bellowed. “Mulder?”

He stumbled to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes widening when he saw her standing by the window. He looked frantic, his hands balled into fists, his chin trembling, and Scully realized in an instant that she wasn’t the only one who’d heard a gunshot a few moments ago.

He was shaking, the way she had been a second ago, his face twisted with fury and fear, and he stammered out angrily, “A-a-are you…?”

“I’m okay,” she said quickly, remembering. (The shots, the bodies sprawled on the floor of a kitchen she’d never been in, but recognized from her dreams. The third gunshot from upstairs…) “We’re okay, we’re okay. I-it was just Mulder’s car backfiring.”

Jackson’s eyes widened in understanding, his limbs going limp as the panic left his body. “Oh,” he muttered, sagging in a chair, sprawling out and leaning his face forward in his hands.

Scully wanted to go and comfort him, but she didn’t know if he even wanted that from her. And besides, there was still Lily, screaming so loud it would be hard to talk with him. She began to rock her back and forth, whispering and shushing and humming under her breath. Lily began to calm, her sobs subsiding into hiccups. When she finally quieted, Scully went to sit on the couch, on the side closest to Jackson’s chair. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

Jackson seemed to have calmed, the fear and tension gone, but he still wasn’t looking at her. He still had his forehead in his hands. “I-I thought it was a gun…” he replied softly.

“I know,” said Scully. “I did, too.” She’d heard enough gunshots and threatening sounds to jump at a car backfire, she could still remember people breaking down her front door to come and kill her and Mulder.

Jackson’s voice was sharp when he spoke, like he was embarrassed. “I thought they were coming to—” He cut himself off abruptly, shaking his head hard, gritting his teeth. He looked towards another corner of the room, away from her. “Are they are going to fucking stop?” His voice sounded as if it was wrenched from his throat, raw. “Are they going to stop coming for me? Am I ever going to be fucking safe? Goddamnit!” He kicked the coffee table, hard enough to nearly topple it over, and it landed back in place with a bang.

Scully looked at Lily, worried the loud sound would startle her, but she still looked miraculously calm. Not on the verge of tears. She looked back to her son and saw tears welling in his eyes, shining in the light of the room. “I never wanted this for you, you know,” she said, her voice low. “Never. I… I wanted you to have a different life than this.”

Jackson laughed bitterly, thumping his foot softer against the coffee table. “Not your fault.”

“It is,” Scully said, a little bitterly herself, because she knew it was. She shifted her eyes to the ground. “It is, and I… I just want you to understand that—”

“No, it’s not,” he interrupted her, his voice stony and serious. When she looked back at him, he was looking back at her solemnly. Maybe angry or maybe reassuring, she couldn’t tell. But he was looking at her. “I know it’s not.”

It stunned Scully, just a little bit, because she had thought all this time that he blamed her, and she opened her mouth to reply, but he was still talking. “I… I shouldn’t have said that stuff at the beach,” he added, still in that sharp tone. Apologetic. “I shouldn’t have.”

Scully didn’t know what to say. They fell into silence, sitting side by side, Jackson leaned forward so his stomach was against his knees, and Scully shifting Lily against her. She seemed uninterested in eating now, her face buried in the side of Scully’s shirt, so Scully left her alone.

Jackson spoke first, finally, sitting up straight. “How’s the kid doing?” he asked, motioning to Lily. “Like, in general?”

Scully smiled a little. “Good. She’s good. She’s healthy.” She had her suspicions about Lily, that she was like Jackson—she’d found things shifted from where she’d left them, things out of place, and wondered—but she couldn’t be sure. And the concept didn’t scare her nearly as much this time as it had last time. It was still scary, sure, but not quite as scary. At least now they had some idea of what to do.

She saw Jackson looking at the baby, leaning towards them a little, and she asked carefully, “Do you want to hold her?” She had just realized that she didn’t think Jackson had held her yet; their interactions had been limited, and Jackson had indicated that he hadn’t really picked her up when they’d been alone.

Jackson looked very briefly terrified, but he nodded cautiously. Scully leaned down and set Lily gently in the circle of Jackson's arms. He was stiff and frozen in place, staring down at the baby like she was going to break. “I'm not very good with kids,” he said as Scully showed him how to cradle the head. He looked nervous, cupping her head with a large hand. “My mom's friend… she made me hold that kid, the one whose diapers I had to change, but he screamed the entire time I held him. I don't think kids like me.”

Lily yawned, a little smacking sound, her eyes half-closed. “She likes you,” Scully said in her reserved-for-babies voice, and resisted the urge to add, Your sister. Your sister likes you.

“Hmm.” Jackson was watching the baby. Scully heard the flicker of a word in Jackson's voice at the back of her mind, somehow silent—Hi—and Lily’s eyes slid closed contentedly. Scully thought that she must have heard him, too.

“I don’t want her life to be like mine,” he said finally, nudging her hand open with one finger. Lily yawned again. Scully nodded, understanding. Jackson looked up from his sister, meeting her eyes, and said in that same solemn manner, “I’m going to make sure it’s not.”

Scully nodded again. She reached out tentatively to touch her son’s arm, brushing her fingers over his forearm before pulling back, not wanting to overstep. “We both will,” she said.

They sat there in silence then, Scully and her children, clustered together in the living room until Mulder returned.

---

Jackson left the next morning, as he reminded them he’d do the night before. Once again, they found his bedroom empty in the morning. It still stung, just a little, but not nearly as much as all the times before.

---

If someone asked Jackson what the hell he was doing with his birth parents, he wouldn’t have been able to answer them. He didn’t entirely know himself. He’d been back and forth so much on whether or not he could have some kind of relationship with them that he was starting to confuse himself. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing, and he didn’t know why he’d said that stuff to Ginger that night. (Except that he kept thinking about the caution in Mulder’s mind when he’d shown up, about the hurt he’d felt from Dana when she’d said it was her fault that his life was so fucked up.)

He didn’t mean to keep in touch with them, but it just happened, and it happened mostly because of the kid. Because he wanted to keep in touch with her, even though she was still kind of a potato, and probably barely even knew he existed. But she was like him. He knew that she was like him, and he knew that she needed him, the way he had needed someone when he was a kid. Even if she had Dana and Mulder, who seemed surprisingly capable of taking care of her.

(It wasn’t that he doubted their parenting skills, but he also did. Of fucking course he did. No matter how sorry they were, they had given him up. But it was becoming more and more clear that they were capable, and probably had been capable of taking care of him. At least as capable as his parents.)

(The horrible, treacherous thought came to him one night, after waking up from a nightmare of white-masked doctors holding him back as he screamed and cried for his parents: maybe he would’ve been safer with Mulder and Dana. Maybe they could’ve protected him, if only because they knew what to expect. The idea made him nauseous and guilty, sick to his stomach, but it was strangely reassuring when it came to the potato. It made him think to himself, Maybe she’ll be okay. He and Dana had promised that she would be.)

But anyways, whatever the reason, the kid—Lily—was most of his motivation for going back. He wanted a sister, once, and he’d gotten one (another one, if you counted the little girl buried in California—which he couldn’t help but do). So he had to go back for her, if nothing else. That was, ultimately, the best reason for him to go back.

But aside from Lily, there seemed to be one other reason, if less significant than the first, to go back. It was the reason that he least wanted to acknowledge, but it kept coming up anyway. His mind kept lingering over that moment of slight recoil from Mulder. The hurt, the nervousness, the caution from them both. It shouldn't have bothered him—it was what he had wanted, after all—but for some reason, it did. Two more people to flinch away from him, to be afraid or resentful. It shouldn't have bothered him, but it did. It kept poking at him, a frequent jab in the back of his mind. You did it, asshole, you pushed them away. They hate you now. They don't want you there. He didn't think it was completely true, but he didn't want to fool himself. The emotions were there, even if they were small. And he couldn't quite let it go.

So he kept going back, if only because he couldn't quite help it. His apartment was too lonely, and sometimes, he got echoes of his sister's midnight wailing in the back of his head. He woke up one chilly Saturday in October, and knew immediately that it was Mulder's birthday, hearing a glimpse of Scully's voice. He tried not to think too much before he left, knowing only that he should go. He was on his way to Farrs Corner within the next hour and a half.

---

Jackson found Mulder at the house, halfway up the long, winding driveway, Daggoo at the end of a leash. He yipped excitedly and jumped at the car as Jackson pulled sideways onto the lawn and threw the car into Park.

Mulder shielded his eyes from the sun and smiled squintingly. "Jackson," he called out, lifting his hand in a wave.

"Hey," said Jackson, slipping out of the car and locking it behind him. He could tell without reaching too hard that the smile was genuine, cautious but genuine. He pulled back, crossing his arms over his chest, his shoulder against the car door. "Uh, happy birthday."

"Thank you." He smiled a little wider, letting up his grip on the leash a little so Daggoo could greet him, jumping at his legs. Jackson crouched to scratch his head. "We haven't heard from you in a couple weeks… how are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm, uh, fine," he said, mentally cycling through the habitual pleasantries he'd always kind of hated. "How are you guys? How's the kid?"

"We're good. Kid's good." The leash slipped out of Mulder's hand, and Jackson automatically scooped it up. "She's good at screaming," he added. "I keep telling Scully that she should try out for horror movies when she gets older."

"That must drive you crazy." Jackson scooped up Daggoo, holding him like a baby as he wriggled and barked excitedly. He didn't know how to look at Mulder, so he looked at the dog, letting him lick his face. The dog was almost worth the visit in itself; he would've gotten one of his own if it was at all practical.

He remembered, suddenly, why he was there, and put Daggoo down, feeling the obvious need to speak the reasoning out loud. "Uh, do you guys mind if I stay a couple nights?" he asked. (He didn't have to work until Monday.) "I could, uh, watch the kid some, give you guys some time to yourself… Date night or whatever," he added lamely, biting back a flinch.

Mulder chuckled. "I don't know about a date night, but… of course you can stay, Jackson. You're always welcome here."

I don't think that's true, he thought reflexively, and then remembered that Mulder could hear him now, sometimes. "Uh, thanks," he said, turning the leash over and over in his hands.

"Thanks for coming into town," Mulder said, and Jackson could feel guilt under the surface of his words, like he felt as bad about the whole situation as Jackson did. The two of them started walking down the driveway towards the house, Daggoo prancing in front of him. "I couldn't think of a better birthday than one spent with—" He cut himself off, chuckling nervously. "I-I'm sorry. I know that's corny."

"It is," Jackson said, and was relieved to hear Mulder laughing. He laughed, too.

They walked in silence for a few moments, their shoes stirring up dust from the driveway. The wind was blowing, stirring the long grass out in the field, and Jackson shivered, shoving his free hand in his pocket. He was trying to stay out of Mulder's mind, to not hear things he didn't want to hear, but the silence was almost unbearable, enough to make him uncomfortable, and he spoke on a sudden impulse: "Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened at the beach. W-what I said."

There was another pause after that, one that probably didn't last very long, but seemed to Jackson to last forever. He felt his face growing hot with embarrassment, and he kept his head down even as Mulder said, "You… you don't have to be sorry. If anyone should be sorry, it's—"

"I am," he said roughly, not understanding how his birth parents could still be so apologetic, so self-blaming, when he was the asshole. "I am sorry, and I at least owe you an explanation. I shouldn't have said that stuff." He balled his hand into a fist in his pocket, wanting to hit something and knowing there was nothing he could hit. He kicked a rock in the road instead. He was pissed off, and speaking without thinking, the words spilling out of his mouth. "Y-you remember those people a-at the beach house? Taking pictures? I guess they recognized you from that douchebag's web show."

Mulder laughed nervously, like he at least agreed that O'Malley was a douchebag. "Y-yeah, I remember."

Jackson sighed, kicking at another rock. He hadn't wanted to say this to them, but he didn't think he had a choice now. "I… I thought they were there for me," he said bitterly. "I thought they were with… the people who killed my parents." He felt tears welling up, his throat thickening, and he bit his tongue hard to stave them off. "Someone broke into my girlfriend's place about a month before that trip, and I thought it was because of me. And I… I didn't want what happened to my parents to happen again." He sniffled and tried to hide it, scrubbing at his face with one long sleeve. "I was going to stop coming around, to keep you guys safe," he admitted to his shoes. They'd stopped walking, and Daggoo was tugging at the leash, but he didn't know if he could move. "That was… kind of the last straw. I had to go, and I didn't want you coming after me. So I… I said that stuff to make sure you wouldn't."

There was a stunned sort of silence there. Jackson didn't look up, even as Daggoo coiled the leash around his legs, running around him eagerly. "Jackson…" Mulder finally started, his voice thick. He felt his birth father's hand on his shoulder.

"I couldn't do it, okay?" he snapped, and kicked the ground harder than he should have. "I know it wasn't the right thing to do, but I couldn't do that again. Not again. I… can't let anyone else die because of me." He sniffled again, biting down on his tongue harder. He hated crying; he was sick of it. He was regretting ever starting this.

"Jackson…" Mulder tried again, his voice faltering.

"That's why I came here after Lily was born, cause I thought something had come for you." Jackson chewed at his lip, staring hard at the top of his worn shoes. He needed to buy new ones. "But it wasn't real," he added. "The… the break-in was nothing, and so was the thing at the beach. I… I don't think it's dangerous. Anymore." He bit too hard and felt a burst of copper in his mouth that made him flinch. "But I shouldn't have done it, and I'm sorry. Okay?"

"Jackson, listen to me," said Mulder, in a voice so serious it made Jackson look at him, if only out of surprise. His expression was calm, understanding. "I understand the way you're feeling," he said. "Probably better than most."

Jackson bit his lip again instinctively, right in the sore spot. "Because they took your sister, right?"

Mulder nodded, and Jackson could feel decades worth of pain tightening like a knot in his head. "But it wasn't just her," he said. "Not-not exactly. They took her because my father made my mother choose, and I guess Samantha was the one she chose. So I guess it was because of me, but only indirectly. I don't blame anyone but my father and the bastards he worked with for Samantha." His face darkened a little, like it was hard to remember. "But there's plenty more to blame myself for."

Jackson swallowed hard. "Like what?"

"They murdered my father years later. I've always believed the motivation had to do with my inability to let things go. When my mother died, I thought it was murder, too. It wasn't, but—" His voice broke, and he looked away. "But the blame falls the most with me over… what happened to your mother. And what happened to you."

Jackson didn't know what to say to that. He looked back at the ground, at Daggoo's pleading face.

"I-I don't know how many times I pushed Scully away in an attempt to keep her safe," Mulder said, his voice lilting. "T-they kept hurting her because of me. To get to me. They killed her sister, which never would've happened if she hadn't been working with me. They did… countless things. And you…" His voice broke, trembling. "You were always in danger because of me. T-that's why I left less than a week after you were born. I wanted to keep you and your mother safe, and that seemed like the only way to do it. And look what happened." His voice was full of bitterness. "They didn't stop coming. You weren't any safer because of it. And I lost you because of it. Leaving didn't do a thing except make it worse."

Jackson didn't know what to say to that. He felt like he couldn't speak at all. He was gripping the leash too hard, his knuckles whitened with the effort, his head spinning. And then he felt Mulder's hand on his shoulder again.

"I'm not trying to hurt you, or to make this worse," he continued, his voice gentler now. "God knows I want more than anyone to leave this stuff behind. I just wanted you to know that I get it. I've been there."

Jackson cleared his throat once, twice, and looked up at him. His birth father. "What made it stop?" he asked, quietly.

Mulder squeezed his shoulder before letting go. "I used to think running away was the answer," he said. "But it's not. It may work, and it may amount to nothing, but either way… you run the risk of isolating yourself."

Jackson gulped, averting his eyes once again. Mulder patted his shoulder reassuringly. "I could've pushed your mother away a long time ago, and maybe she'd be happier," he said. "Or maybe she wouldn't. It's impossible to ask yourself questions like that; you'll drive yourself crazy trying to figure it out. But I know this: as much as I regret everything your mother has gone through because of me, I can't regret staying with her. Because I wouldn't have her. And I wouldn't have your sister, or you."

Jackson swallowed again, again, and spoke unevenly. "That… that is really corny, too, Mulder," he said, and offered a wobbly smirk.

He was relieved when Mulder laughed "You're right," he said. "And Jackson… I won't tell you what to do. But I will tell you this. I promise you, you don't need to protect us. You don't need to worry about it. That's not your job, okay?"

Jackson wrapped the leash around his palm, unraveled it. He mumbled, "Okay."

Mulder smiled, reaching out and taking the leash in his own hand. "Come on back to the house," he offered. "It's chilly out here."

"Sure." Jackson followed him down the road, walking slowly like he was reluctant, even though he didn't think he was. (He was… something. He couldn't put his finger on what.) "Only because I assume there's cake," he added, and Mulder laughed again.

---

They had dinner that night, a casserole that Dana claimed was the only thing she was good at cooking. (Mulder tried to tell her that wasn't true, and she replied with, "I'm going to remind you of the time you threw out that spaghetti because you thought it was old takeout, and a hazard.") They had the cake after, accompanied by a bad rendition of Happy Birthday, because Dana apparently couldn't sing, and Jackson knew he'd inherited that from her.

It was as corny as all that shit Mulder had said down on the driveway, and it hurt a little, because it reminded Jackson of nights he'd spent with his parents. But it wasn't bad. It was one of the first things he experienced with his birth parents that didn't make him want to run.

[mldrgrl]

In Another Life 7/7

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 (at the most) Summary: See Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

On Monday, Mulder went to work with a bucket of cleaning supplies and starting clearing and somewhat organizing the files in the basement.  The storage room was actually fairly large, and once he’d sorted some things out, moved boxes, and got rid of a lot of excess junk, he had a lot of room to work with.  It took nearly all week, and by the time he was finished, it had started to dawn on him that instead of bringing the files upstairs, he might as well just move his office where the files were.

He got approval from AD Skinner, who looked at him like he was crazy, but still signed off on his requisition for a desk.  The deliverymen thought it had been a mistake and called him several times to confirm the desk was being brought to the basement?  Are you sure?

After he was settled, he was actually pleased with the space.  Sure, it was a basement, but he had a nice skylight and two rooms.  He’d found a few boxes of old equipment which still worked and though someone else found useless, he set it up in the secondary room that had once gated off whatever someone felt was important enough to gate off in storage.  He now had his own slide projector, lightboard, and a large magnifier that clamped onto a table.

What took him the most time, and would continue to take weeks or months, was classifying and cataloging the x-files into something that might be easily referenced.  He’d started out with general categories, but the more he found, the more he’d had to break those into smaller subgenres.  It wasn’t enough to label a pile PARANORMAL, he had to then separate sets of files into HAUNTINGS, POLTERGEISTS, ECTOPLASM, and PSYCHICS.  

The missing persons stack is the one that really bothered him.  There were hundreds of accounts of people just vanishing off the face of the earth.  At least a dozen of these files, eye witnesses reported seeing strange lights in the sky the night someone vanished.  He separated those files into a group he tentatively labeled ALIEN ABDUCTION.

Even though he poured all of his energy into the x-files, every night Mulder went home, he played Scully’s message on his answering machine until he had it memorized.  Sometimes he would pick up his phone and dial part of her number before hanging up.

******

Mulder’s in depth review of his alien abduction and UFO sightings files turned out to be extremely valuable in the first two cases he was assigned as x-files.  The first was investigating reports from a space program employee on possible sabotage of recent launches.  What he found was an astronaut haunted by his previous missions and his belief that an alien entity had possessed him.  The sabotage was his way of protecting other astronauts from suffering the same fate.  Mulder suspected PTSD and ordered him into immediate psychiatric care.

“You believe him?” Skinner asked, when he filed his report.

“It doesn’t matter whether I believe him,” Mulder answered.  “It matters that he believes.”

And that was his philosophy going into his next case.  A man claiming to be a multiple abductee was arrested sneaking into a crash site of a military test flight.  Everything Mulder had read about in his files encompassed this one man, Max Fenig.  He was so thorough in his story that he almost had Mulder convinced it was true.  When Mulder started a deep dive into Fenig’s life, trying to corroborate his account of events, the jittery guy vanished without a trace.  Only this time, it was Mulder who could attest to seeing strange lights in the sky the night Max Fenig disappeared.

“Is this really how you want to spend your time?” Skinner asked.  “Chasing lights in the sky?”

“Sometimes it’s the journey that’s the reward,” Mulder answered.

“Holly has your new file.  No little green men in it, I’m afraid.”

“Grey.”

“Hm?”

“You said green.  A Reticulan’s skin tone is actually grey.  Allegedly due to iron depletion in the Reticulan Galaxy.”

Skinner’s eyes twitched behind his glasses and he started at Mulder.  Mulder gave him a slight smile.

“Makes you wonder what liver and onions goes for on Reticula, doesn’t it, Sir?” Mulder asked.

“Go get your file, Agent Mulder.”

******

Mulder gets two more cases in before everything shuts down for Christmas and New Years.  Both cases bring him back to Quantico, where the halls feel empty to him without Scully there.  He knocks on her door, ‘shave and a haircut,’ but no one answers.  It’s not like he expected to find her there, but his heart still pounded with a nervous, quick-flutter of anticipation.

One of the cases, in addition to forcing him to deal with a childhood fear of fire, also put him in contact with a classmate from Oxford.  He hadn’t known Inspector Phoebe Green very well in school, mostly because she was a year ahead of him and they didn’t travel in the same social circles, but universities are like small worlds, and he certainly knew of her.  She apparently knew of him as well and asked for his assistance on a matter in Boston, where she was acting as security for a British ambassador.  

Inspector Green made no secret of the fact she was interested in Mulder, and let him know she’d had a crush on him in school.  They attempted a date, which consisted of an awkward dinner at his hotel that was interrupted by a fire alarm, and when it turned out she happened to be sleeping with her married boss, amongst a variety of other men, it was just as well that Mulder was too preoccupied with daydreams of Scully to care very much.

On Christmas Eve, Mulder headed to The Headless Woman for a drink before heading home.  The place was packed, something of an agent hangout, and by the looks of it, they all had the same idea.  He tossed one back with a guy he used to work with in VCU and they played a game of catch up.  He showed Mulder a picture of his daughter, told him his wife was expecting next month, which reminded him that he needed to call Samantha.

After parting ways with his old friend, Mulder took a seat at the bar to finish his beer and order one more.  He caught AD Skinner’s eye when he sat down, and his boss nodded and then approached, taking the seat next to Mulder.

“Sir,” Mulder said.  “Happy holidays.”

“You as well, Agent.”

“Can I buy you one?”

“It’s on me, actually.”  Skinner flashed two fingers at the bartender.

“Thanks.”

“I’m glad I caught you in here, actually.  I just spoke to the British Ambassador regarding your arsonist case.”

“Did the Marsden’s get back to England alright?”

“As far as I know.  They’re requesting we extradite L’Ively to stand trial in England.”

“We’d only have him for attempted murder here.  They can pin six murders on him back in jolly old England.”

“Attempted murder of a federal agent.”

“The burns are minor.”  Mulder shrugged and took a sip of his fresh beer.

“According to Inspector Green, you ran into a burning house.”

“There were kids upstairs.”

“You need to think about getting a partner, Agent Mulder.”

“There’s only one person that qualifies, Sir, and she’s unavailable.”

“You’re referring to Agent Scully, I take it?”

“I am.”

“I see.”

“And in the interim?  Should I let you get yourself killed?”

“Like I said, the burns are minor.”

“Luck runs out eventually.  You need someone to watch your back.”

“I know.  But, I happen to think she’s worth waiting for.”

“If you don’t get yourself killed in the meantime.  Do you even know if she would want to take this on?  She’s a pathologist, not a field agent.”

“Something tells me she would.”

Skinner sighed and downed a generous swig of his beer.  He pushed off the barstool and opened his wallet, taking out a few bills and tossing them onto the bartop.  He looked like he wanted to say more, but he put his wallet away and rested his hand on Mulder’s shoulder for a moment.

“I need to get home to my wife,” he said.  “Enjoy the holidays.”

“I didn’t know you were married.”

“20 years.”

“Happy holidays to you and your wife.”

“See you in the new year, Agent.”

******

Mulder’s favorite piece of equipment, by far, was his slide projector.  He liked standing in front of magnified images in the half-dark, focusing on details might normally be lost to the naked eye.  It helped him put information together and visual a crime scene better.  And it was just fun to click through each image.  He even enjoyed the click and shuffle sound the projector made when he changed slides.

It was just after New Years and he was sorting his slides on his lightboard, numbering and marking them to drop into the carrel.  There was a knock on his door, which was unusual.  Someone must be lost, he thought.

“Nobody down here but the FBI’s most unwanted,” he called, without even looking up from his slides.

He was sure whoever it was on the other side would go away, but the door opened, and he heard the tap of high heels approach.  He looked up and felt his cheeks burn with the pull of a suppressed grin.

“You lost?” he asked.

“No,” Scully answered.  “I’ve been assigned to work with you.”

“Who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?”

“Actually, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Well, isn’t it nice to suddenly be so highly regarded.”

“I’ve always regarded you highly, Agent Mulder.”

“Likewise, Scully.”  He didn’t stop the smile from spreading this time.

A moment passed where they gazed at one another in silence and then Scully turned her head slightly to inspect the room.  She walked it slowly, touching his equipment with her fingertips, leaning closer to get a better look at the photos he’d tacked to a corkboard.  She looked up at the skylight and then turned back around to face him.

“Well, I’d say you moved up in the world,” she said.  “But, that’s not really the case.”

“It’s still the nicest office I’ve ever had.”

“It’s a little small.”

“Well, don’t worry, I’m sure we can squeeze another desk down here, maybe put them face to face and we can play a nice game of Battleship.”

Scully chuckled.  She looked past his shoulder at the poster behind his desk and moved closer to it.  It was of a blurry UFO in flight with the words I WANT TO BELIEVE underneath.

“That’s interesting,” she said.

“I found it in a head shop on Avenue M,” he answered.  “Seemed appropriate for the new digs.”

“I like it.”

He had a million questions for her.  How was she?  What had she been doing the past two months?  Did she really want this job?  Was she still with Daniel?  Did everyone eat the pumpkin pie after he’d stormed out?  She turned away from him like she knew what he was thinking and inspected the second cork board next to his poster.

“You know,” he said.  “I was told I’d have final say on who they assigned down here.”

“Would you like to see my resume?” she murmured, fingering the corner of the Jersey devil tacked to the lower left side of the board.

“How about a test?”

“I was always pretty good at pop quizzes.”

“I bet you were,” he answered, loading the carrel on top of the projector.  “Could you kill the lights?”

Scully crossed in front of the light of the projector, creating a silhouette of herself on the screen.  When the room was dark, Mulder dropped the first slide.  It was a photo of a young girl.  He clicked his remote to move to the next slide, a photo of a young man.

“Elizabeth Hawley and James Summers,” he said.  “Both 19.  Two days ago, they were reported missing from Jackson University.  One year ago, another couple went missing from Duke University.  One week later, they found the bodies of both students.”

As he spoke, he shuffled through a few more slides from the Duke University murders.  Photos of the bodies, the crime scene, a newspaper headline.

“The Duke kids were kept alive,” he continued.  “Tortured throughout their seven day ordeal, before they were killed.”

“You think we’re looking for a serial killer or a copycat?” she asked.

“No arrests were ever made.  Police believed it to be a one-time offender at the time.  It now appears it may be a serial.”

“If he holds true to form, that only gives us five days to find these students.”

“Pretty grim deadline.”

“I’ll say.”

“Well, here’s another grim deadline.”  Mulder handed Scully a file before he clicked to another photo of a death row inmate.  “In one week, Luther Lee Boggs will take a seat in the North Carolina gas chamber.”

Scully looked up briefly at the slide and then perused the file in her hand in the light from the projector.  Her head was bent over and the spotlight caught her cheek in a way that made her look ethereal.  Mulder swallowed, losing his train of thought.

“How is he related?” Scully finally asked, lifting her head.

“Uh, he claims to have information relating to the kidnapping,” Mulder said, touching his wrist.  “He described Hawley's bracelet down to the last detail, information that only family members could have known.”

“I don’t understand.  Is he the killer?”

“Not likely.  He’s been in prison for the last seven years.  My profile actually put him there.”

“Maybe he’s orchestrating the killings from the inside.”

“He claims to have obtained this information through psychic transmission.”

“Psychic transmission?”  Scully closed the file in her hands and crossed her arms.  She raised her brows at Mulder in the habit he’d grown accustomed to.

“Do I detect a hint of skepticism?”

“No, I can’t imagine why you’d think that.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t believe it either.”

“Really?”

Mulder shrugged.  “Boggs has been in the chamber before. He was actually strapped to the chair before receiving an executive stay.  He claims that this experience activated in him the ability to channel spirits and demons.”

“That’s what you don’t believe.”

“There are scores of x-files on psychic ability.  I have to believe there’s some truth there, even if it can’t be proved.  But, not in this case.  Not Boggs.”

“And I take it you’ve read all those files.”

“I did.”  Mulder waved his hand towards the filing cabinets in the shadows behind him.  “They’re all there, in alphabetical order if you want to take a look.”

“That might prove helpful.  So, if you believe in the phenomenon, why not Boggs?”

Mulder raised his finger and brushed past Scully to turn the lights back on.  He took the file she’d closed from under her arm and flipped the pages until he found the one he wanted.  He folded the page back and gave the file back to Scully.

“At the age of six, Luther Boggs slaughtered every pet animal in his housing project,” she read out loud.  “When he was 30, he strangled five family members over Thanksgiving dinner and then sat down to watch the fourth quarter of the Detroit-Green Bay game.  Some killers are projects of society.  Some act out past abuses.  Boggs kills because he likes it.  This is from your profile?”

“It is.  Boggs has read it and he believes I'm the only one who truly understands what he is.  Anyway, I leave for Raleigh this afternoon.  But...”

“But?”

“I only put in a travel req for one ticket.  We’ll have to grab another TRA.”

“Do I have the job then?”

“You have the job.”

Scully smiled a little and looked down at her feet for a moment.  “I should tell you, so you’re aware, I left Daniel.  I’ve filed for divorce.”

Mulder opened his mouth, but hesitated to say anything.  He was glad, but he couldn’t tell her that.  “I’m sorry, Scully.”

“I’m not.”  She looked up at him and gave a swift shake of her head.  “It needed to be done.”

“Still though.”

She stared up at him with a passive smile.  Her eyes held his and he found it impossible to look away.  The air between them felt thick.  He wished the lights were still off so he could see her in the glow of the projector again.  He wondered if her cheek was as soft as it looked and he reached up to touch it.

“I am sorry,” he said, softly.  

“And I’m not,” she said again, reaching up to put her hand over Mulder’s.

“I told myself it would be enough to just see you again, to work with you, and nothing more.”

“You tend to believe some pretty fantastic things.”

“This is probably the only time I’ll ever say this, but I hope you prove me wrong.”

“I think I’ll make proving you wrong a part of my job description.”

“I don’t want to be a rebound for you, Scully.  So, whatever time you need, whatever space-”

“If you need time and space, Mulder, that’s alright with me, but I don’t.  I didn’t leave Daniel for you, I left him for me.  You were right.  It’s something that I needed to do.  And what I want now is to be with someone who likes who I am.”

“Oh, I definitely like who you are.  A lot.  A lot, a lot, a lot.”

She smiled and pressed her cheek a little more firmly into his hand.  He pressed his lips together and swallowed.  He wanted to kiss her, but she had a way of throwing his confidence off-kilter.  It probably wasn’t the time or place, either.  They were at work, they had a case to solve.  They had to be able to focus and if his lips were introduced to hers, he knew he wouldn’t be able to think.

“I guess we better get to the airport,” he said.

“I guess so.”

He nodded and started to pull his hand away.

“There is just one more thing though,” she said, reaching up to curl her hand over the back of his neck.  She pulled his head down and tipped her face up to press her lips to his.  Their mouths moved open to each other at the same time, no coaxing or hesitation.  Both her arms went around his neck and his around her back.  She had to arch and he had to bend so that their bodies pressed flush against each other.

For however long it lasted, too long and not long enough, Mulder felt the whimper she gave vibrate from her chest to his.  It made him gasp and their mouths broke apart, but they stayed locked together, her forehead pressed to his cheek and her breath on his jaw.

“Sorry if that was unprofessional,” she breathed.  “But, I had to.”

“I won’t be filing a complaint with HR any time soon.”

They both took a few more moments to breathe and then relaxed their holds on each other in increments.  Scully finally stepped back and immediately he felt the loss of her.  She ran her finger along the bottom of her lip where her lipstick had smudged, which he knew she’d have to fix before they left, but he also kind of didn’t want her to.  And then she was reaching up and rubbing her thumb against the corner of his mouth and he couldn’t keep the stupid grin off his face.

“Do you think Blevins had this in mind when he assigned you down here?” he asked.

“Blevins didn’t assign me, AD Skinner did.”

“Skinner?”

“He called me yesterday.  Asked me to meet with him when I returned from my leave.”

“If you need more time.”

“I do not need more time.  I had to get some things sorted out, but I am back where I want to be.”

“It isn’t pathology.”

“My place is here with you now.  On the x-files.  Where I choose to be.”

“Raleigh, then?”

“After you.”

“Got your Dramamine?”

“I think I’ll be okay.”

“I should call the airline.  Ask them if they can book us seats together.”

“If they can’t, I’ll just ask the person in the middle to switch.  I’ll tell them I need to sit with my partner.”

“Wait.”  Mulder stopped just before they went through the door and went back to his filing cabinet.  He searched for a file labeled DC-X-167512 - VISIONARY ENCOUNTERS WITH THE DEAD and took it out, along with a few files behind it.  He gave them to Scully.  “Some light reading for the plane.”

“This is going to be a hell of an adventure.”

“Sometimes the journey is the reward, so some wise woman once said.”

“Sounds like you know a lot of wise women.”

“I guess I’m just pretty damn lucky in this life.”

“Come on, Mulder.  Take me to Raleigh.”

The End

[frangipanidownunder]

So just a heads up, I did sent this prompt to someone else too. Since I am pretty obsessed with dad!Mulder I was thinking along the lines of a fic where it's primarily him interacting with his new daughter. The idea was that around 8-10 years old she comes home upset and Mulder weasels it out of her that she's being bulled at school because her dad is "old". In my head Mulder is probably fitter in his 60's than most 30-40 something dads, but hey ho. Kids can be cruel!

This turned out much longer than I expected so it’s under a cut. I hope you like it! It’s not exactly as you described, but this is what came out! Tagging @today-in-fic

Different

The note was ripped into four pieces, scattered between theold newspapers and a yellowing file of fake Bigfoot sightings he’d spilledcoffee over. The recycling needed to be emptied and when he picked up the box,the contents fell out. He recognised Esther’s writing - that determined cursiveshe delivered usually with her tongue caught between her lips and her mother’slight frown of concentration. He taped the note together and sat looking at it asit lay on his desk, the golden spool of light from his lamp illuminating thecrinkles and shadowing his daughter’s careful letters.

              To Mom and Dad

           You’re invited to Grade 5A’sParents’ Day on Tuesday at 11 o’clock. Bringsomething from your job or from home that tells us about you or just share astory or two.

           Esther S Scully-Mulder

Scully fingered the tape and sighed. “Why wouldn’t she let usknow? One of us always used to go to these things at her other school.”

              “She’s been alittle down, lately. Don’t you think?” He’d offered to pitch for her at theweekend but she looked at the bat and shook her head, telling him she had somereading to do. When he checked in on her later, she wasn’t in her room and hefound her outside tipping a load of ancient toys and puzzles, books and clothesinto garbage bags.

“She’s changing,” Scully said. “Kidsdevelop quicker these days.”

“She’s twelve, Scully.”

“And she’s not your baby girl anymore, Mulder. The scholarship means she’s got more work to do. She’s having tonegotiate hormones and study and the murky depths of the online world andthings you don’t even want to think about. It’s a lot, these days. A lot.”

He swung around on the chair. Sometimeshe fondly remembered hunting monsters and aliens and figured that job waseasier than negotiating the travails of parenthood. He rubbed the bridge of hisnose.

“Nobody said this would be easy,Mulder,” she said, slipping her arms around his neck.

“Nobody doesn’t know what he or she istalking about,” he said, reaching up to kiss her cheek. “Nobody isn’t nearly 70and a parent of a child still in grade school. What the hell were we thinking,Scully?”

She laughed, the sound still girlish,and he remembered her in that moment, hair copper-bright, eyes filled with anostalgic passion that he recognised instantly, those perfect lips slightlyapart. She had wrapped herself around him in that motel like she intended todevour him. The realms of possibility extended to infinity and together, onthose starched foreign sheets, they lost years and rediscovered something ofthemselves. He hadn’t expected it. But it had changed them in ways they hadn’tbeen able to articulate. And then there was Esther.

Their daughter had been a balm overthe festering sore that was William’s disappearance. On that damp and dismalpier, in a single heartbeat, when Scully had told him what the smoking bastardhad revealed, Mulder’s life had been reduced to the icy fear of irrelevancy.But with her next breath, the realisation that he was going to be a father hadtaken root inside him and grown slowly and ever more warmly. He’d beenfrightened when she was born. Frightened of the tiniest, most fragile beinghe’d ever seen. The day they brought her home, he stepped into a new world.Everything that was important was right there, in his arms and in his heart.And just when he thought his heart couldn’t stretch or grow any more, Esther didsomething new.

Now, he pulled Scully down and the olddesk chair squeaked. “Thinking is overrated.” He kissed her and she wriggled onhis lap and the spark flared. It took him a little longer these days but shedidn’t seem to mind.

“Ewwwww,” came the disgusted young voicefrom the doorway. “You two are so gross.” The way she crinkled her nosereminded him so much of Samantha. It ached to think about how much more hisloss was magnified now he understood the lengths and breadths of parental love.

Scully’s giggle was slightly temperedby frustration and she slid from his grasp. He sighed as he watched her loop herarm through Esther’s and leave him to wallow in what might have been.

Over the next week, Esther shut herself in her room for most ofeach evening. She rolled her eyes in the worst Scully way when Mulder offeredto take her Squatchin’. Her suit hung next to his on the hook by the back doorand her boots still bore the muddy splatters from their previous encounter withdark shadows and mysterious noises. He tried talking to her, teasing her,baking her favourite muffins, showing her old photos of him and her mother intheir ridiculous coats. None of his usual father-daughter favourites worked.

              “I just wantto read, Dad.”

              “What are youreading?” he asked, hoping that she’d pat the end of the bed and let him sitwith her a while.

              “Nothing you’dknow,” she said. He looked at the cover of the book. It was matte silver withan image of a downcast young woman half-turned away. The title and author namewere too small for him to read without his glasses.

              “I guessyou’ve moved on from the Harry Potters?”

              She looked upat him and tried for a polite smile but it was more of a patient grimace. “Inever really liked them. All that wizardry and witchcraft stuff is not mything.”

              He tucked hisopinion away and reached for the door.

              “Dad,” shesaid after a beat. He turned round with a hopeful smile. “Can you shut the dooron the way out?”

On Monday evening, after a painfully quiet meal where Estherpushed her food around her plate, Scully waited for her to shut her bedroomdoor and said, “We shouldn’t just show up tomorrow, if she doesn’t want us tocome.”

              “But she mightbe the only kid there without parents. Wouldn’t that make it even harder? She’snew. Familiar faces will help, surely?”

              Scully put thedishes next to the sink. “I don’t know what to do, Mulder. She’s always been soclose with us – with you especially - and now she’s just drifting away. If weshow up without her consent, she’ll be angry. If we don’t show up, and this wasjust a cry for help, then we risk validating her already fragileself-confidence. We need to talk to her, find out what’s bothering her.”

              Mulder stoodbehind her and massaged her tense shoulders. “She’s so much like you, Scully –reserved, self-contained. You must remember how hard it is to pull yourself outof that mindset.”

              “I do.” Shedotted soap suds on his nose and smiled sadly. “Get ready for some serioussparks, then.”

Esther’s room had the best view of the yard. Mulder had installeda windmill and when the sun was setting it filtered through the blades. Whenshe was younger and looked forward to the end of the day when he’d read to heror run through a sanitised version of one of their cases, he’d sit on her bedand tell her that the golden shafts were her big brother William’s way ofcommunicating with his family.

              “He’s sending thewarmest rays as a way of hugging you, Esther. He wishes he could be here but hecan’t right now. This is the best he can do.”

              “I think it’spretty good,” she’d say and she’d hug him, extra tight.

              Now, the sun’srays were hitting the glass and he watched her for a moment, combing herfingers through the dusty slant of light. She hadn’t heard him come in and shegasped when he sat on the bed.

              “Sorry, honey.I just wanted to see if you were okay. You were talking to Will?”

              She shook herhead. “I don’t believe in that stuff any more, Dad.”

              “That’s ashame,” he said, “because opening your mind to the possibilities of life makesit seem less hard.”

              Her jaw lockedand she swung her legs round to sit on the edge of the bed. “Life is finewithout all the voodoo mind control and mumbo jumbo telepathy crap. I’m not alittle kid any more. You know what I think about when I see broken sunlight? Ithink about how my big brother is a selfish shit who won’t come back to sayhello to his family.”

              “Esther!”Scully joined them and stood with her hands on her hips. “It’s not like that.”

              “You two areso dumb sometimes. You hide behind all the things you used to do, ‘back in theday’, and you have no idea what’s really going on under your noses. Will isnever going to come back. You don’t really talk to him. It’s not real. You justthink you do to make yourself feel better. It’s cruel to Dad really, to makehim think that you have those conversations.

“And I was an accident. I know aboutEmily and I know about that smoking man and I know about all the stuff that wasdone to you both ‘back in the day’. Your lives were shitty and they were weirdand now you’re stuck with me, out here in Nowhereville, compensating for allthe bad things you went through. I don’t have any super powers. I don’t havealien blood. I’m just normal and boring and you can’t rescue me from anythingso you’ve sent me to a school I don’t like because you have to make me specialin some way. You just want me to be different. But I don’t. I don’t want to bedifferent.”

              “How do youknow about that stuff, Esther? We haven’t told you some of that.” Scully’svoice cracked and Mulder brushed her cheek, putting his thumb over her lips andshaking his head slightly.

              “I don’t know.Maybe Will told me,” she said, blazing. “But, wait. It couldn’t be, becauseguess what? People don’t communicate by telepathy!”

              Mulder turnedto his daughter. “Esther, you don’t need super powers or alien blood to be special.Do you know why we think you’re special, why we know you’re different? It’sbecause you’re you and you’re still here with us. You’re still here.”

              Scully turnedaway. Esther’s shoulders slumped.

“And tomorrow, when we come to yourparent’s day, we can talk to the Principal about pulling you out, if that’swhat you really want.”

              “Please don’tcome tomorrow. I don’t need you to be there. I’ll be fine,” she grabbed a bunchof her duvet cover in her hands and squeezed it. “You don’t understand whatit’s like.” Her voice was a fragile whisper. “You’re just…”

              “Just what,Esther?”

              She shook herhead and the sun sunk lower, orange flames lighting up her room.

Through the window, Mulder could see Esther sitting towards theback of the library room. She was slightly apart from the other girls aroundher, who were chatting and giggling. Rows of chairs lined the sides. Outsidethe room, the other parents were variously in work clothes, casual dress,talking on cellphones, chatting comfortably with each other. Mulder and Scullyseemed to be one of only three couples. A smartly dressed woman approachedthem, extending her hand.

              “I’m Brenna, Alexia’smother. I had to send my parents last year, couldn’t get away from a businessconference. Life is so busy, isn’t it? Getting time off to come to thesespecial days gets harder and harder. It’s wonderful when the extended familycan step in. Who’s your grandchild?”

              The dooropened at that moment and the teacher ushered the parents in. Mulder whisperedin Scully’s ear, “I told you I should have used that GreyBeGone stuff. Silverfoxes are so 2018.”

              “Hey,” shewhispered back, “Silver or not, you’re my fox - 1993 to infinity.”

              As they foundseats midway up, Mulder saw Esther staring at them. Her face turned red and shecuffed away angry tears before faking her best smile at the girl sitting nextto her.

              The teachersmiled at Mulder and Scully. “Esther, your parents are here after all, whydon’t you come to the front and let’s hear a little bit about your family.”

As they got into position there was acollective giggle and he heard one child say she though they were thegrandparents. Mulder watched his daughter tilt her chin up higher, despite herclenched fists. In that moment, he saw himself, all the humiliations, thebackhanded comments, the disbelief and headshaking he’d endured. Scully musthave sensed his guilt because she squeezed his hand as they stood at the frontof the room.

The teacher clapped her hands and theclass fell silent. “These are Esther’s parents. I’m sorry, I can’t rememberyour names.

“This is Dana and my name is Fox,” hesaid and watched twenty kids smirk in unison.

A girl put her hand up and Muldernodded to her. “Are you kidding?”

His eyebrows shot up as quickly asEsther’s lowered. “No, it’s on my birth certificate and everything,” he said.“What’s your name?”

“Alexia,” the girl said, “but anyonewho’s anyone calls me Alex.”

Mulder nodded and turned to Scully andhis daughter. “Well, Alex,” he said, “I hope you don’t mind me calling youthat, because back in the day, I was someone. And so was Dana. I was FoxFreaking Mulder. And she was the Enigmatic Doctor Scully. And I promise you mybirth name is Fox and having thatname made me really good at two things. Anyone care to guess what they were?”

Esther’s impatient sigh cut throughhim, but a couple of kids raised their hands, so he pointed to a young boy witha mop of black curls springing from his head.

“Fighting?”

Mulder laughed with the rest of theclass. But Esther’s expression remained grim. When they’d settled, he said,“Pretty good, I was going to say running, because violence is never really theanswer to bullying. And having that name also made me good at being different.And being different has served me, and my family, well over the years.”

There was a look of mild confusion onEsther’s face and he almost saw her soften a little but when Alex asked whatthey did for a living, she scowled again.

“We used to be FBI agentsinvestigating paranormal cases.”

“That must have been a hundred yearsago. You’ve got to be retired,” Alex said. Esther shrugged her hands deeperinto her pockets and looked at the floor like she hoped it might crack open andswallow her.

“We did retire. Well,” he looked atScully, “we were asked to leave. Kind of like being expelled.”

There was a murmur around the room.The girl spoke again. “What did you do to get kicked out? Fail your eyesighttest?”

The teacher went to cut in but held uphis hand. He looked over to where the girl’s mother sat, but she was busy onher phone. “It is true that there are physical requirements to being an agent.Being able to see who to arrest is pretty important. But the reason we left theBureau was because we had a habit of not following the rules. Of doing things alittle differently.”

Mulder smiled at his daughter. Hehoped the small flicker of her lips was a good sign. “Scully and I,” he startedand it resulted in more giggling from the kids. Esther remained silent.

Scully held up her hand. “Mulder and Inever did anything conventionally. We call each other by our last names. Weinvestigated cases that required us to follow some pretty strange leads –photos of UFOs, sightings of Bigfoot, meeting alien abductees, breaking intosecret government storage facilities.”

There was a round of oohs and aaahsfrom the audience which made Esther look up.

“I’m a scientist and I was assigned tokeep Mulder on track, by providing reports and scrutiny…”

“She spied on me,” he said, and someof the kids laughed.

“Our division was called the X-Filesand I learned pretty quickly that science didn’t always offer the answers I wasexpecting. I had to learn to think a little differently.”

“And,” Mulder added, looking atEsther. “I had to learn to be a little less selfish and share my work with theclass. Or at least with Scully. It took me a while to get used to having apartner who questioned everything, who got me out of some sticky situations andwho still showed up day after day. Someone who supported me through everything.That was a new experience for me.”

Esther shut her eyes and Scully pulledher closer.

“Did you ever meet an alien?” the boywith the curly hair asked. He was leaning forward, chin on his hands and eyeswide with rapt attention. “Cos that would be so cool.”

“We did,” Mulder said.

“Not really,” Scully said at the sametime.

“What about Will?” Esther said. Sheseemed shocked to have spoken.

“Who’s Will?” Alex asked.

“My older brother,” Esther said, hervoice growing stronger. “He has alien DNA.”

Mulder’s heart swelled a little and helooked at Scully, who lowered her eyes to her feet with a slow smile. “It’strue that both Esther’s mother and our son have some unusual blood work. But aswe’ve said, being different doesn’t mean you’re less.”

“Will speaks to my mothertelepathically,” Esther said. And instantly the mood in the class changed. Thekids sat up, leant forward. Some of the parents shuffled in their seats andwhispered to each other. The teacher clutched at her pearls. “And I feel him inthe rays of the setting sun. My Mom and Dad have told me stories of the strangethings that happened to them over the years but they gave up that life so thatI could live a normal one. They’ve always told me I was a miracle, but I don’treally think that’s true,” she looked at them and blinked back tears. Her voicesoftened again, but she managed to finish. “I think it’s a miracle that they’remy parents.”

There was a weighted silence in theroom. A couple of polite coughs as they made their way back to their seats.Somebody said ‘spooky’ and Esther smiled at her Dad as she sat back with therest of the kids. The boy with the hair patted her on the back and grinned.Alex looked straight ahead and shook her head when the teacher announced it washer mother’s turn to speak.

There was a fireball in the sky that night and they all decampedto Esther’s room to watch the sun sink lower and lower. The blades of thewindmill creaked slowly round on the building breeze.

              “Despite ouradvancing age and the need to have a nap straight after class, I think the kidsthought we were pretty cool in the end,” Mulder said.

              “Will saysyou’re nuts,” Scully added.

              “Tell him notto be such a giant douchebag and to come home occasionally,” Esther said, lyingback on her bed.

              Scully satdown. “You could tell him yourself.”

              Her browcrinkled. Mulder put his hand on Scully’s shoulder and nodded. “You should,Esther.”

              “How can I dothat? I’m not special.” She used air quotes and a tone not dissimilar tosceptical Scully ‘back in the day’.

              Scully pattedher knees. “When we said you were a miracle, we meant it. A child born to abarren, ageing mother.”

              “So? That’snot a miracle. It’s more an anomaly. Surely you searched for the logical,rational and oh so scientific answer to my birth.”

              “We did andguess what? There was no logical, rational or scientific answer. I had no eggs.I was 54. I shouldn’t have been able to conceive. And yet here you are.”

              “But thatdoesn’t mean I can communicate with my mysterious brother who might well be onthe moon for all we know. I don’t know how.”

              Mulderchuckled. Scully shook her head. “He’s not on the moon, Esther. And all youhave to do is open yourself up to the realms of extreme possibility.”

              Esther’s headlolled back and she took in a deep breath, but no sooner had she done that, thanshe gasped and sat up, clutching her temples. “Oh. My. God. No!” she said.“He’s not on the moon. He’s in Wyoming.”

[contrivedcoincidences6]

Leather and Lace

So that “Mulder is married to Diana” story really took off and has now evolved into something totally new. I’ve named it Leather and Lace after the Stevie Nicks song that perfectly describes Mulder and Scully.  So this is technically chapter three! Thank you to @edierone for editing this so quickly since I was freaking out to get it posted!  One, Two

Last time:

“You’re not in trouble Agent Mulder, you’re being assigned a new partner.” Walter Skinner informed him.

Mulder rubbed his hand down his face and sighed, “Is that really necessary sir?”

“It’s out of my hands.” He said, only half interested, and opened the file in front of him.

“Have you ever heard of an agent named Dana Scully?”

The whole day, she keeps her eyes peeled for him, not knowing what she would do if she saw him.

She quickly involves herself in the pile of work on her desk and jumps a little when the phone rings — it’s Section Chief Blevins’s secretary, informing her that the SC wants to see her in an hour. After she hangs up, Dana struggles not to stare at the clock for the next hour.

“Agent Scully, thank you for coming on such short notice. Please…” Blevins motions for her to take a seat; Dana tries to project confidence, despite the presence of several other men in the room.

“We see you’ve been with us just over two years.”

“Yes, sir.” Dana responds as if she knows exactly what this mysterious meeting is about.

“You went to medical school but you chose not to practice. How’d you come to work for the FBI?”

This summary of her career confuses her, but she replies, “Well, sir, I was recruited out of medical school. Um, my parents still think it was an act of rebellion, but uh… I saw the FBI as a place where I could distinguish myself.”

“Are you familiar with an agent named Fox Mulder?” a man sitting next to Blevins asks. Dana answers swiftly despite the quickening of her heart.

“Yes, I am.”

All three men share a look that makes Dana nervous.

“How so?”

“By reputation,” she lies. “He’s an Oxford educated Psychologist, who wrote a monograph on serial killers and the occult, that helped to catch Monty Props in 1988. Generally thought of as the best analyst in the violent crimes section.” She wonders if she sounded like his biographer so she adds, “He has a nickname at the academy… Spooky Mulder.”

The man with the cigarette then gives her a look that instantly makes her uncomfortable.

Blevins goes on to ask her about the X Files and then tells her that he wants her to work with Mulder --  to spy on him.

It all washes over her quickly and she finds herself on autopilot for the rest of the meeting. Not knowing what else to do afterward, she decides to face things head on, with a visit to the basement. On the elevator down, Dana’s heart beats fast — what she will say to him? She curses herself for sleeping with someone at the FBI, vowing then and there that next time she goes looking for a casual fuck she’ll steer clear of anyone she might cross paths with again.

She wants to be able to call it a mistake in her mind, but the memory of his passionate, hazel eyes, and capable hands made it impossible.

She knocks awkwardly at the office door and steels herself.

“Sorry, nobody down here but the FBI’s most unwanted.” He yells from the other side of the door. Smiling, Dana opens the door but he doesn’t look up. She takes that moment to look around the office. It’s exactly as people have described it, cluttered and crazy.

He turns suddenly to look at her and the room fills with electricity.

“Agent Mulder.” She says with a meaningful smile and sticks out her hand, “I’m Dana Scully, I’ve been assigned to work with you.”

Mulder shares her knowing look, “Oh, isn’t it nice to be suddenly so highly regarded?”

She is slightly disarmed by how damn handsome he looks with his glasses on and shirtsleeves rolled up. He acts so calm and collected — she wonders how he’s managing it.

He casually goes back to his slides as if this is perfectly normal. “So, who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?”

He punctuates her last name and Dana is instantly put off. She matches his sarcasm through the rest of the conversation and soon she finds herself more turned on than aggravated, which irritates her in and of itself.

He pulls her thesis from the bottom of a pile; she grows warm with the knowledge that he had found it and read it some time ago when he was wondering about her.

When he turns off the lights the room suddenly feels smaller but she plasters on a face of indifference. He moves so close to her, their bodies are like magnets being pulled together and she once again wonders how he can act so cavalier.

But it’s down to business right away, and Dana quickly finds herself sucked into the case. They battle for a couple minutes until finally Mulder tells her that they’re leaving for Oregon in the morning.

He’s flirty and impossible but still she finds herself drawn to him. He calls her Scully again, rankling her, but she finds herself smiling at his back before letting herself out. Despite everything, she is looking forward to this.

He calls her Scully. He can’t find it in him to call her Dana, not here, not now that they’re partners — it reminds him of the last time he’d called her that, moaned it into the skin of her breasts. Mulder wonders if she has been in on it this whole time, if Friday night had all been a part of a devious plan to hook him — but from what he can tell, she’s just as surprised and uncomfortable by the turn of events as he is. They muddle through it together and fall into a somewhat comfortable rhythm.

There is something oddly arousing to him about watching Scully work in her full doctor’s garb. Mulder scurries around her, taking photos of the dead creature, invading her space whenever he can. He finds a certain comfort when he’s near her that he doesn’t want to question too much.

She is smart, quick, and curious, and Mulder is filled with near glee that he has someone who is interested in the work. Diana had begun to disengage months ago, but then, she’d never been as interested in the work.

She’d believed him, which had been nice, but sometimes he got the feeling that she only went with him as some kind of favor to him rather than because she found it stimulating herself. With Scully it’s different; he can see the spark of interest with every new discovery, and Mulder sees a bit of himself reflected there.

Even when they argue, it’s with passion and interest, instead of actual rancor.

So when it’s 4:30 in the morning and he sees her light on as he passes to go for a run, he invites her to go. She looks adorable and far too young in her baggy tee shirt, and Mulder is tempted to ask to come in rather than ask her to come out.

Her passion burns him when they leave Peggy O’Dell.

“How did you know that girl was going to have the marks?” she asks breathlessly.

Mulder can see she’s serious but can’t help but tease her, “I don’t know, lucky guess?”

“Damn it, Mulder, cut the crap.” Mulder is disturbed by how much he is turned on by her anger and lets her continue on her rant.

“What is going on here? What do you know about those marks? What are they?”

He takes that arousal and turns it into condescension, “Why? So you can put it down in your little report? I don’t think you’re ready for what I think.”

He slows and meets the fire in her eyes.

“I’m here to solve this case, Mulder, I want the truth.”

So Mulder lobs what he thinks might be the truth at her, believing that she would get even angrier or even laugh at him.

“The truth? I think those kids have been abducted.”

She calms down, stops, and sounds thoughtful, “By who?”

He’s momentarily thrown off by this but continues, “By what.”

Now she sighs and gives a slight smile.

“You don’t really believe that?”

“Do you have a better explanation?”

“I’ll buy that girl is suffering some kind of pronounced psychosis. Whether it’s organic or the result of those marks, I can’t say.” Her anger builds with every word, “But to say that they’ve been riding around in flying saucers, it’s crazy, Mulder, there is nothing to support that.”

Mulder feels himself shutting down and he narrows his eyes.

“Nothing scientific, you mean.”

“There has got to be an explanation.” She takes breath to calm down, “You’ve got four victims. All of them died in or near the woods. They found Karen Swenson’s body in the forest in her pajamas, ten miles from her house. How did she get there? What were those kids doing out there in the forest?”

Mulder just stares at her blandly, “Those are great questions Scully. Let’s go to the forest and find out.”

She just looks at him and shakes her head, “What aren’t you telling me?”

Mulder begins to walk away as she’s talking and she runs to catch up.

“Nothing you won’t find crazy,” Mulder throws over his shoulder.

They are blocked from the crime scene, mysteriously, by Detective Miles; Scully seems to have forgotten her irritation in all the excitement.

Mulder, however, is focused on his compass and watch. Vaguely he hears Scully voice a theory of the occult but he ignores it and waits to hit the spot he’d marked earlier.

“You okay Mulder?” she asks casually.

He’s looking up out the window, waiting for something to happen, trying to figure out how to explain it to Scully.

“Yeah, I’m just, eh…”

“What are you looking for?”

Right then a bright light fills the car and it happens.

They lose time and Mulder is thrilled. He runs out into the rain to find his mark on the road and begins to try to explain it to Scully. Dancing in the rain like a child, Mulder finds the ‘x’ in the road.

“… People who have made UFO sightings, they’ve reported unexplained time loss.”

“Come on.” Scully says dismissing him and starting back for the car.

“Gone!” He yells, recapturing her attention, “Just like that!”

Scully paces back and forth a couple steps.

“No, wait a minute. You’re saying that, that time disappeared. Time can’t just disappear! It’s, it’s, it’s a universal invariant!” she yells and Mulder smiles at her, delighted — right as the car starts and the headlights turn on.

“Not in this zip code.”

She supposes that it was inevitable that they would end up here again, bodies pushed together, skin against skin, making love; she just didn’t think it would happen so fast 

It’s the feeling of his fingers on her skin below the mosquito bites, the beat of his heart beneath her head when she hugs him that reignites the passion in her.

This sit in silence for a few minutes until he asks her if she needs water. They both get up at the same time and are so close in that moment and all she can think about is how nicely they moved together.

They kiss and it turns passionate in an instant, both of them ready after the day of arguing and flirting. His hands slip inside her robe and around her waist so he can pull her closer as it falls open. She’s standing on her tip toes, pulled right up against his body and it feels so right.

She works at his belt and he takes off his shirt.

The back of her legs hit the bed and she pulls him, now only clad in boxers, down on top of her.

That is when she becomes Scully, as his lips, tongue, teeth mark her and she runs her fingers through his damp silky hair.

It’s different than it was the first time because this time there is risk, and that makes it even more enticing.

“Do you have a condom?” she asks as he takes her nipple into his mouth.

He nods his head and she laughs lightly.

“That’s pretty confident of you.”

“I’m an eternal optimist,” he jokes, going back to his work.

While his mouth is occupied his fingers move into her panties, find her clit, and take it gently between his index and middle finger. He moves his fingers around the slippery flesh in smooth, soft circles that soon leave Scully out of breath.

His mouth keeps moving south though; she is surprised but doesn’t protest. She’s watched him eat a whole bag of sunflower seeds between the plane and the car — she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious.

Mulder puts the same care into cunnilingus as he does into investigating. He spends a lengthy amount of time running his tongue everywhere except her clit, to the point where she almost grabs his head and forces him there — which is exactly what he wants. But right when it’s becoming too much, he lightly flicks the bundle of nerves and she jumps slightly, taking fistfuls of his hair. He then takes up a very pleasing rhythm going between movements of the tongue and lips.  

Scully silently thanks whoever taught him how to do this. He seems to be enjoying himself too as he eats her like an ice cream cone, and it’s incredibly erotic to watch. When she opens her eyes and glances down at him she is met by his intense hazel gaze. He takes her hands in his and their fingers intertwine, and in that moment she feels fully connected to him. There is something unbreakable between them then.

And she comes, hard.

Her back arches up off the bed and she shouts his name, her fingernails digging into the backs of his hands. He holds her down and keeps an even pace, prolonging it. She doesn’t know how long it lasts, it feels like hours and seconds at the same time, but eventually the feeling of his mouth on her is too much and she’s pulling him up.

She kisses him, tastes her own salty taste on him, and it turns her on even more. Scully wants him now, needs him, inside of her.

Mulder seems to feel the same and he rolls to the other side of the bed to open his drawer and retrieve a condom. She lets out a small laugh again and he smiles at her, face still wet from her arousal, and hair spiked up from her clutching hands.

He is inside her within seconds, both of them sighing with relief. Neither will admit it but they’ve both been thinking of this all day.

[leiascully]

Fic:  At the FBI Ball

Rating:  PG-13 Author’s Note:  Part One?  Maybe?  Anyway, I couldn’t wait.  All praise to @avocadoave for that manip.  It’s been so long I don’t even know what my headers look like anymore. 

Scully fumbled her keys out of her clutch and turned to lock the door of her apartment.  She didn't stay there all the time anymore, since she and Mulder had gotten back together, but she kept it anyway.   A safety net, insurance, a place to be alone for a day or two: it felt like an adult decision.  Besides, here her clothes didn't have to jostle for space with Mulder's, which mattered when it came to a green velvet dress that went all the way to the floor.   

The keys jangled in her hand as she tried to sort through them without scratching her manicure.  She finally got the door locked and slipped her keys back into her clutch, shrugging the shoulders of her trench coat back into place as she turned.

At the curb waited a black limousine, the windows tinted impossibly dark.

Scully froze.  

The door of the limo swung open.

She didn't move for a long moment, weighing her options, and then curiosity overcame her.  She took two brisk, business-like steps toward the limo, steady as a rock on her elaborate heels, and ducked her head to glance into the limo.

"Champagne?" Mulder deadpanned, holding out a flute full of bubbly.

She sighed.  "Yes, please, thank you."

"Did you like my Tad impersonation?" he asked, steadying her as she climbed in and situated herself, and then handing her the glass.

"Not even a little," Scully told him.  

"What if I had been Tad?" Mulder asked, pouring himself some champagne.

"I would have politely requested that you go to hell, and if you stuck around, I would have stabbed you with my shoe."  Scully beamed at Mulder and batted her eyes at him.

He chuckled.  "That's the Scully I know and love."

She raised her glass.  "Here's to a completely normal evening."

"Come on, Scully," Mulder said, tipping his glass to meet hers, "is the FBI ball ever a completely normal evening?"

"Maybe this time," she said, and sipped her champagne.

The limo slid through the streets of DC as if the streets were greased, swift and nearly silent.  They went easy on the champagne, chatting amiably as if they hadn't seen each other the day before, retreading the well-worn tracks of their usual topics of conversation.  The driver didn't try to speak to them, and the hush in the passenger compartment was almost velvety.  Scully leaned back into the seat and enjoyed the luxury, trying not to imagine fifteen different ways the driver might have been suborned into a variety of national or international cabals bent on delivering them into the hands of their co-conspirators.  The champagne helped distract her, and Mulder's hand on her knee helped too.  

The Bureau had rented out the ballroom of a local hotel.  Light poured out across the sidewalk, golden and gleaming.  Mulder offered Scully an arm as they walked into the lobby.  She took a moment to give him a long and careful onceover before she accepted.  She'd seen Mulder in a tux a number of times, but he always made an impression.

"Shall we?" he asked.

"Why the hell not?" she retorted, and took his arm.

The ballroom was decorated in a surprisingly tasteful scheme.  Agents in formal dress mingled and eddied around the edges of the room, leaving the center floor open for dancing.  Scully handed Mulder her clutch as they stepped up to the coat check.  She unbuttoned her trench coat slowly, pausing before she slipped it off her shoulders and handed it to the attendant, a young woman whose dark eyes widened appreciatively as she gazed at Scully.  

"Uh," Mulder said.  

Scully smirked to herself.  The green velvet had been a daring choice, an homage of sorts to their early days in the fashionblind 90s, but it was certainly updated by the adventurous neckline and the frankly daring panel of lace that covered almost her entire back.  She turned her head to look over her shoulder at Mulder, who still seemed stunned.

"Damn, Scully," he said.  "That's a hell of a dress."

"This old thing?" she said loftily.  

"Just got it out of storage, huh?" he asked, taking her arm again.

"Basic black just wasn't called for tonight," she said.  "I'm out of uniform."

"Oh, you will be," he murmured.

They drank.  They danced.  They even chatted amiably with their colleagues.  The intervening decades had made Mulder's fringe views more mainstream and his conspiracy theories had transformed from paranoia to common knowledge.  Yes, of course, there were shadow governments that controlled and plotted against the people of the world.  Yes, absolutely, corporations were willing to poison people.  Kuru in Arkansas?  Commonplace.  Bigfoot?  Saw him at the natural foods store last week buying organic granola.  Alien retrovirus?  Wouldn't be the weirdest thing my kid's picked up at school this year.

It was strange and refreshing.  Mulder put his hand possessively on Scully's back and nobody said a thing.  People even smiled at them.  The band played jazz standards and slow dreamy numbers.  

"Are we in a parallel dimension?" Scully whispered.

"I thought we were back in Arcadia," Mulder said.

"Not yuppie enough," Scully said.  "Giant mushroom?"

"The sequels are never as good," Mulder said.  "If you melt into ooze, I'll let you know."

"Thank you," Scully said.  

"Another drink?" he offered.  

"Why not?" she said, tipping her head back and letting her eyes sparkle at him.  "I'm not driving."

Mulder leaned forward.  "I'm enjoying this dreamscape," he whispered in her ear, his lips just barely grazing her skin.  She shivered.  The set of his shoulders looked smug as he sauntered away toward the bar, hands in his pockets.  She stood by herself at the little table, alone but not isolated, and thought briefly about checking her email on her phone out of habit.  Instead, she looked around the room and caught the gleam of light on a familiar bald head.

"Assistant Director Skinner, I presume," she said.

"Agent," he said.  

"This is quite the event," she said.  

"You could say that," he said in that grumbly voice she'd heard so often as he looked over another fantastical report.

"Not enjoying yourself?" she asked.  

"May I have this dance?" Skinner asked, not quite looking at her.

"Of course," she said.  

He held out his hand and she let him escort her onto the dance floor and into his arms.  The band was playing an upbeat number.  She wasn't sure what they were doing could really be classified as dancing, but they moved to the music.  

"You look...nice," Skinner said.

"Walter, it's a good thing I've known you long enough not to take offense at that pause," Scully said dryly.

His cheeks colored slightly.  "I just meant you look nice."

"Yes, you've said," Scully teased him.  

"We don't usually see each other in situations like this," he said, automatically scanning the room over her shoulder.

"No, we don't," she agreed.  "Anyway.  You look nice too."

He smiled down at her.  "We clean up all right."

"Can I cut in?" Mulder said, appearing at her elbow with a drink in each hand.

"No, I don't think so," Skinner said, spinning Scully away slightly.  

She shrugged at Mulder, raising her eyebrows.  "Looks like you've already got your hands full."

"That makes two of us," Skinner joked.  

"Making a move on my girl, Walter?" Mulder said, his smile easy but that muscle jumping at his jawline.

"That's up to her," Skinner said, dipping Scully dramatically.

"Scully?" Mulder said.

"He asked," she said, still upside down.  Skinner swept her back upright.  She watched Mulder's face as he took in her mussed hair and flushed cheeks.  He would want to prove to her later why he was the one she'd chosen.  That was more than all right with her.

"You can have the next dance," Skinner said.  "Don't worry, Mulder, I saved you a spot on my dance card."

"That's all I ever wanted, sir," Mulder said, but there was an edge to the humor in his voice.  He retreated to their table to set down the drinks and lurked at the edges of the floor.  

"I didn't know you had it in you, sir," Scully said.

"Yes, you did," he said, smiling to himself.

"Well," she said.  "I had a suspicion."

"I would expect nothing less from an agent of your caliber," he said, the smile reaching his eyes.  

The song ended a minute or two later.  Skinner kissed her on the cheek and held out his arms to Mulder, who reluctantly stepped into them, and they two-stepped cordially around the floor as Scully sipped at her vodka and tonic and memorialized the event with her phone camera.  Skinner walked back to the table with Mulder on his arm.

"I brought him back safe and sound," he said.  Mulder's face was sulky, but less than it had been.

"I appreciate your diligence, Assistant Director," Scully said.  She handed Mulder his drink.  "You look a little hot under the collar.  This will cool you down."

Skinner grinned.  "Agents.  Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That covers a multitude of sins and then some," Mulder said, lifting his whiskey sour to his lips.  

Skinner smirked and shrugged.  "Perks of the job."

"Have a good night," Scully said.

"You too," Skinner told her, and melted into the crowd of black jackets.  

"Green looks good on you, Mulder," Scully said, gently bumping her shoulder against his.

"Not as good as it looks on you," he mumbled.  

"You don't really think I'd go home with Skinner," she murmured, letting her fingers trail over the soft exposed skin of his wrist.

"I've always entertained extreme possibilities, Scully," Mulder told her.

"If we can find a quiet corner, I can think of a few more for you to entertain," she said.  

"Scully, are you coming onto me?" he murmured, delight in his voice.  

"Stranger things have happened," she said, and took his hand.  "Come on.  We'll go and find the shadows for once, instead of the other way around."

"Please don't let this be a mushroom-induced hallucination," Mulder said as if it were a prayer, and they walked away from the crowd hand in hand.

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

X-Files Fic: Reminiscence, Chapter Six

Well. THAT was an experience to write.

Thanks, everyone, for reading, and for trusting me enough to fuck with everybody’s minds and stress y’all out just a little bit!  Enjoy!

Previous chapters: one | two | three | four | five

Mulder feels as though he's been swiftly transported right back to square one, with the whiplash to prove it.

Was Scully compelled against her will to get out of bed, inject Mulder with a memory-altering drug, and drive her car to an undisclosed location?  Or did she leave of her own free will?  Has she decided that she's had enough, that she's finally through following him through the dark on an unlit path?  It makes sense to him that, if Scully were ever to leave him for good, she would see the attraction in making him forget her all together, knowing that otherwise, he would stop at nothing to get her back.

His heart tells him no.  His heart insists that Scully would never do this to him, that she would never abandon him like this.  Her strict moral code would simply never allow her to lie to him like this, much less to drug him and toy with his memories against his will.  She knows firsthand what it's like to be left unable to trust her own recollections, and in his heart, he strongly believes she would never put someone else through that.  Certainly not him.

But the darker part of his mind- the part that once kept him locked in a dark house, alone, for over a year, while his world had collapsed around him and Scully had temporarily fled in search of light and sanity- whispers malevolently to him that maybe, just maybe, this was the only way out that she could think of. The most diseased parts of his psyche hiss at him that his obsessive behavior has finally gotten to be too much for her, and that the only way she could truly escape his orbit entirely.

The Gunmen remind him, again and again, to reserve judgement, to wait until Scully is standing in front of them before coming to any conclusions.  After all, between the drugs, the electronic memory re-programming devices, and the chip in her neck, whoever has Scully has more means at their disposal to control her than they'd had to control him.

But it's hard, so hard, with Amanda insisting that Scully is free to leave anytime she wishes, to keep an open mind.

At the very least, they now have an address.  They're piled into the Gunmen's replacement for their beloved Volkswagen bus, a plain white panel van that, Langly laments repeatedly, lacks the character of their old vehicle.  It has the advantage, however, of being unobtrusive and easily-forgettable- not to mention the fact that it seats all seven of them comfortably.

They're driving north, to an address on the outskirts of Washington, which, Amanda has told them, is a three-story medical office building.  She's agreed to go with them, if only to prove to them that Scully is not being held against her will.  Her keycard will get them into the building- though, she's warned them, she doesn't have access to the higher-security areas, and it's likely that those areas are precisely where Scully is the most likely to be found.

"Is there some sort of intercom system?" Skinner asks, as they hurtle northwards on the interstate.  "Can you page her and get her to come to a more accessible place?"

"Preferably somewhere private," Byers puts in.  "We don't know what Agent Scully's reaction is going to be, one way or the other.  We don't want to draw attention to ourselves."

"I don't see how we're going to avoid attention," grumbles Skinner.  "Anyone connected to a project like this is going to know what Mulder looks like.  Chances are, they've been warned that he might show up.  And there's every possibility that they know what I look like, as well."

"What if we could get her to come outside, somehow?" Frohike suggests.  "Get her to come really close to the van?  Maybe we could-"

"What, grab her and kidnap her back?" Mulder scoffs.  "I'm not taking Scully against her will.  Not if there's a chance she really wants to be there."

"You don't really believe that," says Frohike quietly.  "Scully wouldn't leave you."

"She left once before," Mulder says, before he can stop himself, before he can shut that part of himself up.

"Not for good," says Skinner.  "Once you got your head out of your ass, she came back."

"Not completely," Mulder says.  And suddenly, he finds himself voicing his darkest fear.  "What if she's finally had enough?"  He swallows, ashamed to feel tears stinging his eyes.  "What if this was the only way out that she could see?"

The silence that follows is tense, uncomfortable... until it's broken by the last person Mulder would have expected.

"Scully once took on a hospital full of doctors when she thought you were in danger," Diana suddenly pipes up from the back of the van.  "She flew to Africa on the slightest chance that she could find a cure for you there.  She took me on, in the hallway of the Hoover building, when she thought that I knew where you'd been taken.  She went toe-to-toe against the men who murdered her sister for you and barely batted an eye."  Diana shakes her head and looks out the window, her expression dark.  "Somehow I don't think she's suddenly decided now that she wants to get away from you."

"She's right, Mulder," says Skinner.  "You're talking about a woman who helped break you out of a military prison and went on the run with you.  If that didn't drive her away, a few months partnered back up with you at the Bureau isn't going to scare her off.  Not Scully.  Not ever."

He wants so badly to believe them, but it's hard, so hard, when all he can see in his mind is her face the day she'd finally decided that she couldn't take any more, that she had to leave him, at least for a while.  "For your own good, Mulder," she'd said, tears spilling down her cheeks.  "I can't always be a crutch for you to lean on.  You've got to learn to stand on your own."

And he had... eventually.  He'd made the appointments, he'd gotten himself to all of them, he'd mulled over his dark and difficult past with the most understanding therapists he could find, he'd accepted the prescriptions, he'd taken the medications, and bit by bit, he'd pulled himself back above the surface.

And finally, she'd come back.  Not entirely- she still has the apartment in DC- but the lease is up in three months, and it had seemed to Mulder as though it had been understood that she wouldn't be renewing it.

"So what do we do?" asks Diana, breaking through his reverie.  She looks to Amanda.  "Does Scully stay at this office building full-time?"

"I think so," Amanda says.  "There are apartments in the building, for the scientists that are there every day.  So they can keep an eye on test subjects overnight, you know?"

"So if we can find her apartment, and get inside somehow," says Mulder, "we can wait for her."

"And then what?" asks Langly.  "We don't have any of the antidote to give her.  How do we convince her to go anywhere with us?"  

"We're going to have to make it up as we go along," says Mulder.  

"Great," says Langly.  "Just like old times."

---------------------

At nine o'clock on a Friday night, the parking lot in front of the building is nearly deserted.  Several white vans are positioned not far from the front entrance, distinguishable from the one they're driving only by a pharmaceutical logo painted on the sides.  Langly pulls their van up alongside them and kills the engine, then turns to look at the others.

"Now what?" he asks.  Mulder turns to Amanda.

"Tell me what the security situation is like," he says.

"There's a night guard," she says.  "He mans a desk off the front lobby.  Makes periodic walking rounds."

"That's it?" Mulder asks.  He finds this tough to believe; in his experience, men like this prefer beefed-up security.  As a matter of fact, in his experience, labs like this tend to be located in secret military bases, not in suburban medical office buildings.  But Amanda is nodding.

"Nobody is here by force, Agent Mulder," she says.  "The employees come and go as they please."

"And what about keeping other people out?"

"Like who?" Amanda asks.  "People don't know this is anything other than an ordinary office building.  It's not listed as government property.  There's almost no reason anyone would come poking around."  She quirks an eyebrow at him.  "Except for you, apparently."

"Think about it, Fox," says Diana.  "This building is unobtrusive, easy to overlook.  Heavy security- patrolling guards, fences, lots of cameras- is only going to make passers-by wonder what's going on in here."

"I guess that works in our favor, at least," Mulder sighs.  "That, and, they don't know to expect us."  He looks pointedly at Amanda.  "Do they?  Are they expecting any sort of status update from you?"

"Not tonight," she says.  "As far as they know, everything is normal."

"Good," says Mulder.  "So... who goes in, and who stays with the van?"

"All three of us need to go in," says Frohike, indicating himself and the other two Gunmen.  "We've got some big plans for their mainframe, if we can access it."  Mulder whips his head around to stare at Frohike.

"You never mentioned anything about that," he says accusingly.

"Think about it, Mulder," Frohike says.  "Once you've got Scully, we need these people disabled as much as possible if we wanna keep them from coming right back after her, am I right?"  Mulder has to concede that this makes sense.

"I have to go in, obviously," says Amanda, though she looks terrified at the prospect.  "I'm the only one who's actually supposed to be here.  And you'll need my keycard to get through the front door, not to mention operate the elevators."

"I think I should stay with the van," says Skinner.  "If things go south, I'm the one with the best access to backup."  Mulder nods his agreement, then turns to Diana.

"And you?" he asks.  Diana looks as though she'd like nothing better than to simply throw open the door of the van and take off into the night, but she steels herself, swallowing hard.

"Going with you," she says.  "You may need backup, and it sounds like those three-" she indicates the Gunmen- "are going to have their hands full."

"How's Scully going to react to you being there?" Skinner asks.

"That's going to depend," says Mulder, "on what they've made her remember.  Or forget."  He clenches his jaw.  "If they've done anything to her memory at all."

-----------------

Mulder has to admit to himself that, out of all the times he's broken in somewhere, either alone or with Scully, he's never before employed a tactic as straightforward as simply strolling up to the door.  But now, that's exactly what he finds himself doing.  Granted, it's a rear entrance, not the front door that Amanda is currently using, but still... it seems like total madness.  The plan is, they'll wait here, off to the side and out of sight of the camera aimed at the back door, and wait while Amanda lets herself in the front, using her keycard.  She'll tell the guard that there's a strange vehicle parked outside (in the opposite side of the lot from the van) to get him away from his bank of monitors, and as soon as he's out the door, she'll come and let them in.

It all goes off without a hitch, and in seconds, Mulder, Diana, the Gunmen, and their tote bag full of computer equipment are standing in an empty hallway with Amanda, less then a hundred feet from where, she's told them, there are a handful of small apartments- and one of them, she promises Mulder, should contain Scully.

Mulder focuses on this... and not on what happens after.

"Okay, Mulder, this is where we leave you," says Frohike.  "Our target's in the basement."  From the depths of the tote bag he pulls out a radio and hands it to Mulder, who raises his eyebrows.

"Melvin, I've got my cell phone," he says.  "Can't you just call me if something goes wrong?"

"Call me old-fashioned, Mulder," Frohike responds.  "This is quicker.  Tell me when you've got her and you're heading back out to the van."  He pats Mulder on the shoulder.  "Good luck," he says, and seconds later, he and the Gunmen have disappeared down a stairwell.  With a deep breath, Mulder turns back to Amanda.

"Lead the way," he says.

After nearly four days of nearly non-stop panic and terror, he's standing here, at a plain, unassuming door, empty save for a small sign reading "Dr. Dana Scully."  As frightened as he is, Mulder can't help but chuckle to himself.  He reaches out and slides the sign carefully from its metal holder, tucking it into his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Diana whispers, frowning.

"Scully will understand," he says.  "At least, I hope she will."  He looks at Amanda.  "Ready when you are."

He doesn't breathe as Amanda knocks; he simply steps off to one side, and Diana stands behind him, so that when the door is opened, they won't be visible from inside the apartment.  At first, there's silence, and Mulder begins to panic.  What if she's not here?  By now the security guard is most likely seated in front of his monitors; they can't wander the building trying to figure out where she is.  And what if she's not in this building at all?  

Amanda knocks again, a little louder this time, and Mulder's heart stops all together as he hears, from within, the one voice he knows better than any other.

"Just a second!" Scully shouts, and moments later, the door opens.  "Amanda!  I didn't think you were supposed to be here tonight!"

They don't give her any longer than that.  Amanda pushes into the apartment, and Mulder and Diana quickly follow, slamming the door behind them.  Mulder throws the lock and turns....

...and sees Scully frozen in shock, staring at him with a look of abject horror on her face.  She backs slowly away until she hits the wall of her living room.

"No," she rasps, her voice weak.  "You can't... you're not... this is impossible."

"Scully," says Mulder, his voice calm, gentle.  He can scarcely remember the last time he's seen her this terrified.  "It's me, Scully."  She shakes her head violently, covering her eyes.

"No, no, no no no...."  She looks up at him.  "You're not real," she says, as though trying to convince herself.  "You're dead, Mulder.  You're dead."  

"Of course I'm not dead, Scully," he says.  He wants desperately to rush at her, to take her in his arms and crush her against his chest, but he doesn't dare touch her, doesn't even dare to move closer when she's so obviously frightened.

"Yes, you are," Scully wails.  "You've been dead for years.  Robert Patrick Modell forced you to shoot yourself in 1996.  I was there.  I saw it happen... I tried to stop it...."  She turns to Amanda.  "Whoever this man has told you he is, he's lying," she says.  "He's impersonating someone who's been dead for twenty years."

And that's it: the confirmation Mulder needs.  In spite of the horror he knows Scully is feeling, in spite of the pain he knows the false memory of his death must be causing her, more than anything else, he feels the most tremendous sense of relief.

She hasn't left him.  She didn't go of her own free will.  Whatever reasons she has for staying here, it's not because she's hiding from him.  He could nearly weep from the joy of it.

"Scully," he says, "I promise you, it's me.  Someone's done something to you to make you think that I'm dead, that I've been dead for a long time.  They tried to do the same thing to me- they tried to make me think that you had died, on Skyland Mountain in 1994."  She's squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head again, as though she can will him to disappear.  "It's all a trick, Scully.  They've drugged you, just like they drugged me."  Scully looks to Amanda again.

"I don't know why you've brought him here," she says, "but I want security up here to arrest him now."

"He's telling the truth, Dr. Scully," says Amanda.  "I don't know if they've drugged you, but I do know they were drugging Agent Mulder.  And Agent Fowley, too."  Scully notices Diana for the first time, but there's not even a glimmer of recognition.

"Who are you?" she demands, and Diana laughs humorlessly.

"They must have really upped her dosage, if she's not trying to kill me on sight," she mutters.

"I lied to you, Dr. Scully," says Amanda.  "I'm not a graduate student doing an internship here.  I've been hired to pose as this woman's daughter, and she's been planted in your office at the FBI to take your place."

"I haven't had an office at the FBI for a very long time," Scully insists.  "This is madness."

"How long have you been working here?" Mulder asks, seeing an easy hole to punch in the story that's been implanted in Scully's head.

"Over ten years," she says.  "Since I left the Bureau."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Scully, but that's not true," says Amanda.  "You've been here less than a week.  I was told that you were in hiding, that you were trying to get away from the people that you worked with.  That's why I was hired- to help keep up your replacement's cover story."  Scully looks from Amanda, to Mulder, to Diana, and back to Mulder in confusion.

"Scully, please," he begs.  "It's really me.  I promise you it is."  She searches his eyes, still pressed up against the wall, leaning on it as though she might collapse without its support.  Mulder's about to try approaching her again, when suddenly, the radio on his belt crackles.

"Mulder, come in."  Frohike's voice is mildly panicked.  Mulder grabs the radio and depresses the "speak" button.

"I'm here, Melvin," he says.  "What's going on?"

"You find her yet?"  There's a good deal of crashing and swearing in the background.

"Yeah, we've found Scully," Mulder says.  "What's all that noise?"

"You're gonna wanna grab her and get outta here, pronto," says Frohike, over the sounds of Byers and Langly yelling at each other.  "Some of the labs are right next to the server room, and it turns out that some of the shit they're storing here is... uh... flammable."  More shouting, and a loud crash.

"Melvin," says Mulder, "are you telling me the building's on fire?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you, Mulder," Frohike says.  "We're making for the van before the fire alarm goes off.  I suggest you do the same."  The radio goes silent, and Mulder turns back to face the others, dismayed.

"There's a fire?" Scully asks, stepping away from the wall for the first time.  "In one of the labs?"

"Sounds like it," says Mulder.  Scully looks panicked.

"Then we need to get out," she says.  "Now.  There are large quantities of highly combustible substances in those labs, and if they ignite, the entire building could explode."  The question of Mulder's identity forgotten, she rushes to the door and unlocks it.  Mulder follows her out, the others behind him.  In the hallway, Scully stops just long enough to pull the fire alarm, and Mulder can't help it: he laughs.  As they rush to the exit, Scully gives him a queer look.

"What's so funny?" she demands, and her dubious expression is so familiar, so beloved he could almost cry.  "There are other people working here tonight.  They need to get out, too."

"It's not funny, not really," Mulder yells over the noise of the alarm.  "It's just... that's how you saved me from Modell.  You pulled the fire alarm.  You broke his concentration, broke his hold over me."  For the space of a heartbeat, there's a flicker of recognition... and then she shakes her head, and it's gone.

"We need to go out the back door again," Amanda yells, pulling ahead of them.  "For all we know, someone in the front could recognize Agent Mulder."  Mulder nods his assent, and the four of them barrel down the hallway and back out the entrance they'd used on the way in.  They run full-out to the van, and as they approach, Mulder sees the side door standing open, the Gunmen already inside waiting.  Beside him, Scully freezes in her tracks.

"Wait a moment," she says, staring at the Gunmen.  All three grin sheepishly at her.

"Hey, Scully," says Frohike, waving from the seat where he's been securing his bag of computer equipment.

"What are you three doing here?"  The three men exchange grins.

"Nice to see someone who doesn't think we've come back from the dead," quips Langly.

"We're here to help rescue you, of course," says Byers.  There's a noise from out of sight, and Skinner pokes his head out of the van.  Scully yelps in surprise.

"If we're going, we need to go now," says Skinner.  Looking behind the van, Mulder can see more cars pulling into the parking lot.  Skinner is right- they need to move."

"Scully," he says, turning to face her, "if you don't believe it's really me, if you don't trust me... you can trust Skinner, right?  You can trust the guys?"  She looks at the four other men, who nod at her encouragingly.  "And they're telling you we gotta go.  Please, listen to them, Scully.  Let us get you out of here.  Sooner or later the drugs they have you on are gonna wear off, and when they do, everything's going to make sense."

"I somehow doubt that very much," Scully says... but she sighs, and climbs into the van.

Mulder nearly sobs with relief.

The door is slammed, Skinner leaps behind the wheel, and in seconds, they're tearing out of the parking lot.

Before they're even a mile down the road, a massive fireball blooms on the horizon as the building explodes.

------------------

It's been two days.

Two long, agonizing days of pacing around the farmhouse, waiting.  Scully has consented to come back to the house to wait for the drugs to wear off, under the condition that the Gunmen come, too, as well as Amanda, and that Skinner comes in the evenings when he's finished at the Bureau.  Diana is here, too, but her presence seems to agitate Scully- most likely because she's the one person whom Scully can't place at all in her memory as living or dead- so she stays mostly out of sight.

"I'm thinking it may be time for me to move on," she confesses to Mulder as they sit out on the porch as the second full day of waiting is drawing to a close.  "We have no idea how much the loss of that building hurt these people.  We don't even know who these people are, not really.  The only thing we can guarantee is that if there are any of them left, they're going to be looking for me."  She sighs.  "I need to get the largest head start that I can.  And anyway," she glances back at the house, "I don't really want to be here when Scully gets her memory back.  I don't think she'd be that happy to see me."

"She might, Diana," says Mulder.  "She never did get to thank you for helping her save me from Spender."  He smiles at her.  "I never got to thank you."  Diana shrugs, embarrassed.

"It was the right thing to do," she says.  

"So was helping me get Scully back," he says.  "I owe you for that, as well."

"No, you don't," Diana protests.

"I owe you my help, at least," he insists.  "The Gunmen and I can help you disappear."  He smiles at her sadly.  "I'd ask you to keep in touch, but... it doesn't really seem like the best idea."

"No," murmurs Diana.  "Probably not."  They embrace, just once, as old friends, and in spite of everything, Mulder feels more at peace with their past than he ever has before.

She leaves before sunrise the next morning, and to Mulder's surprise, Amanda goes with her.  It's a wise choice for both of them, he thinks- Diana will help protect the younger girl, and she'll keep Diana from being lonely.  They leave equipped with a full set of forged documents, courtesy of the Gunmen, and enough money to get them far away, courtesy of Mulder.

He would have given them his truck, but it's still in the garage of a DC townhouse, and by now, it's probably smelling pretty bad.

--------------------

Five days gone.

Scully is upset most of the time now.  She's accepted that her memories have been tampered with, finally- Skinner's and the Gunmen's reassurances failed to convince her, but when her brother Bill had called, panicking because he'd arrived back on his base in Germany and suddenly realized that he'd been hallucinating for over a week that his sister had been dead since 1994, she'd finally believed.

She can't quite bring herself to accept Mulder.  She claims to understand that it's really him, that he's alive, that she'd stopped Modell from making him kill himself all those years ago... but in the total absence of the memories of their life together, she has no idea what to say to him.  She often finds it difficult to be in the same room as him.

"They must have given her a much stronger dose than the one you got," Frohike hypothesizes.  "I'm betting they got her where they wanted her, and she tried to leave and get back to you right away... so they dosed her until she stopped trying.  They probably would've done the same to you, if they'd found out that the drugs and the electronic bugs weren't working the way they were supposed to."

"Let's give it a few more days," Langly suggests, and Mulder agrees.

It's not like they have much of a choice.

----------------------

A week.

Scully seems to spend most of her time in tears.  She says that she can almost sense the memories she's missing, that she can feel them like a gaping void inside of her.  She still has all the false recollections, but now that she knows that they're false, they've taken on a sinister quality in her mind.  Skinner sits with her most of the time.  He tries to tell her stories of the years she's spent by Mulder's side, but it frustrates her too much when none of it is familiar, and finally, he gives up.

The Gunmen have tried to get in contact with their source, to see if they can obtain one last dose of the antidote, but whoever the man is, he seems to have gone to ground.  Mulder isn't surprised by this: the destruction of their base is likely to have thrown the entire operation into chaos, and there's every chance the source no longer has access to the antidote.  For all they know, all existing doses may have burned along with the building.

"I think there's another possibility that we need to acknowledge," says Byers quietly on the eighth day.

"What's that?" asks Langly.  But Mulder already knows.  He's been thinking about it for days and it's been making him almost constantly sick to his stomach.

"The chip," he says dully.  "In her neck."  Frohike grimaces.

"You think they used that to alter her memories?" he asks.

"It makes sense," says Mulder.  "If the medication and the bugs didn't work, they might have activated something in the chip, as well."

"In which case the only way to reverse the damage would be to-"

"No," says Mulder.  "That's out of the question."  Byers looks pained.

"We should at least ask her, Mulder," he says.  "She's suffering right now.  You know she is.  We can always keep the chip and put it back in if-"

"I said NO," Mulder repeats.

"You're talking about the chip in the back of my neck?  The one I had after I came back?  After I... disappeared?"  The four of them whirl around.  Scully and Skinner are standing together in the doorway.

"You know about the chip?" Mulder asks.  He can't quite put his finger on when she'd initially had her doctor remove it, but he's pretty sure it had been prior to the incident with Modell.  Scully nods.

"It showed up on a scan, not long before you...."  Her voice trails off.

"Before the time they made you think I'd died," Mulder says encouragingly.

"My doctor asked if I wanted him to remove it, and I told him not to," she continues.  The men exchange glances.  "Is that not right?"

"You did have him remove it," says Mulder.  "The one that's in your neck now isn't the same one you had when you were returned."

"So why don't we try taking it out?" she asks.  "Like Byers suggested?  We can take it out and see if-"

"When you took it out before, Scully," Mulder says, his voice strained, "you developed terminal cancer."  She looks stricken.  "A brain tumor.  You nearly died.  The only thing that saved your life was putting another chip in the first one's place."  He shakes his head sadly.  "I'm sorry, Scully.  It's just not worth the risk."  Tears well up in Scully's eyes.

"Please," she says.  "I feel like I'm losing my mind.  Like half my life has been stolen from me, and I'm never getting it back.  I'll do anything to make this feeling go away.  I don't care what happens next."

"Give me one more week, Scully," Mulder pleads.  "Just wait one more week."

-------------------

It's a last-ditch effort.

Mulder has promised Scully: if what he has in mind doesn't work, they'll remove the chip from her neck and let whatever's going to happen, happen.  She's hesitant about the trip- especially given that he won't tell her where they're going.  She's even more upset that he won't let Skinner or the Gunmen come with them.

"This is for us, and us alone, Scully," is all the explanation he'll provide.

He would have liked to drive the whole way, in hopes that the long hours in the car might jog something in her memory, but it hasn't gotten any easier for her to be in close quarters with him, and so they fly, and rent a car from the airport.  Mulder spends the entire trip trying desperately not to think about what will happen if this doesn't work.  He tries to focus, instead, on what he’s got planned for when she does get her memories back.

Before they’d destroyed the computer mainframe, the Gunmen had managed to upload a significant amount of data onto one of their portable hard drives.  They’d discovered, in studying it, that the vaccine that Mulder and Scully had, after her arrival at their headquarters, been tested on human subjects, and had been found to be effective in every case.

If this works... they can get started on making as many doses of the vaccine as possible.  Just in case.

But it's been two and a half weeks, and for the past five days, Scully has been totally listless, lying in bed almost constantly, barely eating.

He can't stand to see her like this.  It's killing him as surely as the loss of her memories is killing her.

And so, once again, Mulder finds himself driving along Nolan Avenue in the tiny town of Kaycee, Wyoming, heading for the Invasion Bar and Cafe.  But this time, Scully is in the passenger seat next to him, gazing out of the window, not speaking, most likely trying very hard to make herself forget that he's even there.

It's almost four in the afternoon when Mulder pulls into the parking lot.  Unlike before, he doesn't go into the restaurant.  Instead, he leads Scully to the bench on the front porch and sits back, watching the road.  Eventually, Scully turns to look at him.

"What are we doing here?" she asks, her voice flat.

"Waiting," he says.

"For what?"

"For the one thing I can think of that might jog your memory," he says.  "The one thing that I honestly think they could never completely erase, no matter what they did to you."

"And what's that?" she asks, sounding as though she honestly couldn't care less.  In answer, Mulder nods at the road behind her.

"Here he comes now," he says.

The boys look much the same as they'd looked when Mulder had seen them last, almost a month ago.  They're laughing as they cross the parking lot to the restaurant, and this time, they're toting baseball equipment.  Mulder can't help but grin at the sight of his son- their son- tossing a ball in the air as he walks, catching it in a well-worn mitt.  He glances down at Scully, his heart in his throat.

She's zeroed in on him instantly.  Somehow, he'd known she would.  She stares at William, her mouth open, her blue eyes- exactly the same as his- suddenly full of tears.  The boys draw level with them and incline their heads politely, displaying their small-town midwestern manners, and then they've passed, filing into the restaurant.  The door swings shut behind them... and the silence they leave behind is deafening.

It's shattered, however, when Scully abruptly breaks into the most violent sobbing he's ever seen from her.  She buries her face in her hands, rocking herself back and forth on the wooden bench, shaking with the force of her tears.  Mulder is hesitant to touch her, unsure of how she'll react... but when he carefully lays his hand on her shoulder, she turns and throws herself into his arms, clawing desperately at his neck and burying her face in his chest.  He crushes her to him, just as he'd longed to do the moment he'd rushed into her apartment in the medical building and had seen her, and he's not surprised to find that he's sobbing, as well.

When their tears have died down, when they can both breathe again, when Mulder's certain the owner of the restaurant is probably two seconds from calling the police to report the insane out-of-town couple crying on their porch, Scully draws back enough to look up at Mulder.  Her eyes are full of a boundless joy.

"Mulder," she says, her voice hoarse, "I remember."

[h0ldthiscat]

Rain Check

Written for the XF Missing Scene Challenge. Read it on AO3. Many thanks to @scienceandmysticism for wise counsel and superb feedback. u got me fam

Their footsteps scuff across the parking lot, nearly empty even though it’s only half past four. The Bureau isn’t the only government office where people like to duck out early on Fridays, Scully thinks. With the drive they have ahead of them in rush hour traffic, she’ll be lucky if she gets home before seven.

“Rain check?” Mulder asks as they head to the car. They’d taken his since they were only going into Maryland.

Scully sniffs and looks up from the case file they’d received inside from the Carroll County Police. “What?”

“Couple weeks ago, I decided to stay in New Jersey and you had to drive all the way back to DC by yourself.” He scratches his head. “You know, you drove up there to bail me out of jail?”

Scully finds herself trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah, I remember, Mulder.”

“I owe you a car ride in Friday night traffic. Can this be my rain check?”

“Sure,” she says absently, flipping back and forth between two police reports in the file.

It’s nearing rush hour and the November sky is growing dusky pink around the edges, making the clouds almost glow. They’ll be driving directly into the sun heading down the parkway, she thinks grumpily.

The heat in Mulder’s car dries her eyes out, so she flips the blower down. At least the floorboard is warm. It’s colder than she thought it would be today. She hasn’t pulled her warmest coat out of the bureau yet, but might have to soon. It’s supposed to frost tonight. Her mother called her this morning to remind her to leave her taps dripping tonight so the pipes don’t freeze.

God, when did she become so dull? Somewhere between med school and the Academy she’s become the kind of adult she’d always rolled her eyes at as a child: the kind who has strong opinions on the five day forecast and the quickest route to get to work.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Mulder says from the driver’s seat. He cracks something between his teeth.

“What is that?” she asks.

“Sunflower seeds, want one?” He pulls a bag from the cup holder on his door.

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Mulder flips on the radio with a flourish of his long fingers and fiddles around for a moment until he settles on something Scully hasn’t heard before. She tries to peek at the file in her lap again but starts to get a headache.

“I’ll up the ante and offer you a nickel,” Mulder says after a few minutes. He flicks on the headlights.

“Hm?”

“I offered you a penny for your thoughts but you weren’t biting, so I’ll up it to a nickel if you spill the beans.” His normally monotone voice slips into a caricature of an old New York cop and he talks out the side of his mouth.

Scully cracks a smile. “See here, sonny,” she plays along, “I ain’t tellin’ nothin’ to nobody!”

Mulder laughs out loud, a raucous boom that makes her jump and then giggle at her own silliness. She doesn’t know if she’s heard him laugh like this before. They’ve only been working together for two months, but time spent with Mulder feels a bit like dog years. When she leaves the office at the end of the day she feels as if she’s worked a whole week, filled her brain with more monsters and cryptids than she’d even known existed. And then she goes home to her little apartment, makes a filling but bland meal, takes a shower, goes to sleep, and does the whole thing again the next day and the next.

“I was just thinking,” she admits finally, “about how boring I’ve become.”

“Are you joking?” Mulder asks. He merges into a lane of cars following signs for 32 East. “What about all those dates and birthday parties you’re expected at?”

Scully smirks and bites the inside of her cheek. “Work is--difficult to talk about with people.”

“I get that.” Mulder nods. He’s drumming out something on the steering wheel. It takes Scully a moment to realize he’s playing along with the song on the radio, another one she hasn’t heard. He continues, “I come from a long line of WASPs, though, so I’m used to it.”

Scully smiles. “Me too. Although--is there a word for WASPs who are Catholic?”

“Irish?” Mulder tries, pointing at her hair.

“Mostly German, actually.” Scully feathers a hand through her hair, suddenly self-conscious.

“Oh ho ho. The redheaded genes snuck through somehow?”

Mulder, she has noticed, is the kind of person who doesn’t back down when he’s made someone uncomfortable. It is maddening. It is refreshing.

“Well it’s a recessive trait--” She stops herself. This isn’t a presentation, Dana. Nobody wants to see your scrap paper with Punnett Squares. But when she looks at Mulder she sees he’s studying her intently, listening. He’s just as big of a geek, she supposes. Just about different things.

“Nevermind,” she says anyway.

“No, seriously. What is it, something like two percent of the human population?” He cracks another seed. “I’m dying to know how the Scully clan managed to pass down one of the rarest traits in the Human Genome.”

He’s genuine, which is so unusual in Washington, or anywhere, really. It still catches her off guard. She takes a breath, then says, “That’s just it, neither my mother nor my father have red hair, so both of them must carry the recessive gene.”

He gives a nod of remembrance “Are you the only one with red hair in your family? Does your brother--you have a brother, right, Scully?”

She nods. “I have two. And a sister.”

“That’s almost half a baseball team.”

“Trust me, I’ve heard all the shortstop jokes you can think of,” she jokes, and Mulder laughs again, big and booming.

“Where do you fall in the lineup?” he asks her.

“Third.” She ticks off her fingers. “Bill, Missy, me, and Charlie.”

“All redheads?”

“Just the girls.”

“Christmas photos must have been a nightmare.”

Scully laughs and says ominously, “We do not speak of such things.” This time when he pops another sunflower seed in his mouth she holds out her hand and he gives her a few.

After she cracks the first one she asks, “What about you? It’s just you and your si--”

Instantly, Scully starts to sweat. When she speaks her words are garbled around the shell in her mouth. “Sorry, I just meant--you don’t have any other--God, sorry.”

Mulder smiles. “It’s okay, Scully, really.” He cracks a seed. “Yeah, it was just me and Samantha.”

The car falls silent. Scully recognizes the song on the radio this time. She is about to ask who sings it when Mulder says, “Neither of us are redheads though.”

Scully stammers, “What?”

“Me and Samantha,” he clarifies. “Neither of us are redheads.”

“Oh.” She manages a nervous titter when she realizes he’s making a joke. It’s kind of him, after her clumsy faux pas. He’s a very kind person, she decides. It would be so easy for him to be hard and cynical but somehow he’s the opposite.

“I was, however, one of those babies who was born blonde and then grew up to have dark hair,” he continues.

“I’d be interested to see the statistics about redheaded babies who mysteriously grow up to blend in with the other 98% of the population,” Scully says, raising her eyebrows. “Sounds like an x-file to me.”

“There’s actually a creature called a changeling mentioned in the folklore of many ancient cultures, although the Celts are usually credited with its creation,” Mulder says excitedly. “Parents believed a baby prone to sickness or colic must actually be a changeling, brought by the fairies and--”

“Switched with the real baby when no one was looking,” Scully finishes.

“Someone’s brushed up on their cryptids.” He seems proud.

“We used to tell Charlie he was a changeling,” she explains. “My aunt was a big storyteller, she unknowingly gave us a lot of fodder for harmless torture amongst siblings.”

“I always wanted a big family. As a kid,” he amends. “Both my parents were only children.”

“The grass is always greener,” she offers. “I’ve got more cousins than I can count, and now they’ve all got kids. It’s a lot to keep up with.”

“Nieces and nephews?”

“Nope, but Bill just got married, so he and his wife will probably start trying soon.”

They fall into a comfortable silence and Scully tries not to focus on the mile markers alongside the road. They blur and smear, green beacons guiding them to the parkway as they coast through the beginning of traffic. Left to her own devices Scully can’t help but think of the impending holidays; three weeks until Thanksgiving, seven until Christmas, eight until New Years… she feels nauseous all of sudden and rolls down her window.

“I can turn down the heat,” Mulder offers, fiddling with something. His car is surprisingly neat, the dashboard free of dust, the floorboards clean save for a scattering of seed shells. His fingers pause a moment over the temperature knob, as if it’s been so long since he’s driven his own car that he has to reacquaint himself with its functions.

Scully waves a hand at him before he can make an adjustment. “No, it’s fine, I’m just feeling a little sick, that’s all.”

“We can pull off here and get something to eat.”

Scully lifts her hand to stop him, but then looks ahead at the oncoming sea of brake lights headed for the parkway and acquiesces. Mulder pulls into the parking lot of a 7-11 and declares, “It’s been years since I’ve had a footlong weiner.”

Coming from anyone else she would have tsked her disapproval, but there is something so non-threatening about the way Mulder says it that she almost giggles. A young girl with dark eyeliner whose nametag says Ashlynn rings them up for two hot dogs and two Diet Cokes. Outside, the wind whips Scully’s hair into her mouth as she struggles to open the mustard packet on the back of Mulder’s car. After an aggressive tug the slippery plastic finally gives way, her thumb slips, and she squirts mustard on the sleeve of her coat.

“Awww,” Mulder sympathizes through a mouthful of hot dog.

Scully swears and dabs at the blob with a napkin, hoping that it won’t stain. She’d just gotten this coat, too. They eat their hot dogs in silence, trying not to chew with their mouths open. Scully feels her headache slowly dissipating. Things become clearer around the edges. It is one of those acute Maryland evenings right before winter, with air just cold enough to remind you you’re alive, but this beats another night on her couch. Tomorrow she will go for a run, wake up as early as she can and make herself keep going until every breath is sharp as glass and her legs feel like jello.

“There’s something I want you to have,” Mulder says suddenly, fishing through his pocket next to her.

“Oh?”

“You gave me yours ages ago and I finally got around to returning the favor.” He pulls out an angular brass key and places it in the palm of her hand. “Apartment 42. It’s down at the end.”

“Oh, thank you.” It’s heavier than she expects, which is strange. All house keys weigh the same, she thinks. She pulls out her own keys and jams her nail in between the cheap metal rings, trying to make space for the surprisingly thick addition.

“Technically you didn’t give yours to me so much as I found it,” Mulder says. He takes a sip of his soda.

“Sitting on the desk,” she remembers. “That was my spare.”

“Well it’s lucky I’m a nosy bastard and scooped it up.”

Lucky indeed. Scully shivers at the thought of Tooms in her house, snaking along the floor. To somehow not be safe even with all your windows and doors locked was unnerving to say the least. She’d slept at a friend’s for two nights after that. She’d never told Mulder. She’d never really thanked him, either.

“Thank you,” she says, then takes a sip of her Diet Coke. “For stealing my spare key and for coming that night. I don’t, ah, I don’t know what I would have--”

“You would have been fine,” Mulder assures her, but she doesn’t believe him. She believes that he believes himself, though, and that is sort of reassuring. She burrows further into the popped collar of her coat. Mulder doesn’t look cold at all. He doesn’t have gloves or a hat. She tries to picture Mulder in a hat and chuckles.

“What?” he asks.

“Just picturing you in one of those-- sheepskin hats with the ear flaps.” She mimes pulling the ear flaps down and tying them under her chin.

Mulder laughs. “Just ball caps for me, that’s all that’ll fit on this noggin.”

“Too many cases in there,” Scully says. In a gesture of unprecedented familiarity, she tousles his hair. She can’t quite reach the top of his head, of course, but she gets the side nice and messy. The pad of her thumb accidentally grazes his earlobe on the way down.

“Probably,” he agrees good-naturedly, shrugging a shoulder and flattening his hair back down. Scully fears for a moment that she has grossly overstepped the line, and then he says, “Should we get back?”

It’s not a statement, we should get back, the awkward conversation-ender. It’s a question. He genuinely wants her opinion. On this and, seemingly, all things.

“You’re a good partner, Mulder,” she says quietly. Her eyes water, stinging from the wind. Before she can stop herself, she adopts that goofy voice again, the old school New York copper. “Ya got gumption and spirit, kid.”

“So do you,” Mulder replies, completely serious. And then in the next instant he is playing along, miming a cigar and grumbling, “We gotta make like a banana and split.”

They hurry to get into the car, cheeks raw, lips pebbly and dry. The 7-11 drinks barely squeeze into Mulder’s cupholders. The bases fit, but the cups lean out at an angle, too wide at the top to sit evenly. This town ain’t big enough for the both of us, Scully thinks. She pictures herself and Mulder in denim and horsehide, two no-nonsense sheriffs keeping a small prairie town in line, protecting its inhabitants from dust devils and flesh-eating locusts. Her hair is long and she has a braid. She thinks about growing it out as the car picks up speed and the parkway stretches out before them, a black ribbon dotted with red and yellow lights.

[greyelven]

Fandom 5k Letter

Dear Writer,

To begin with, thank you for writing for me! I really appreciate the time and effort, especially for this exchange, and I want to emphasise that I’m going to love whatever you come up with, so write what you want to write and don’t stress about it. All I ever really want from exchanges is more fic about my favourite characters so I’m very easy to please. The genre tags I’ve picked are probably bordering on the excessive but that’s just me liking a lot of different things. As always, prompts are just there if you need a little inspiration, if you already have your own idea then go for it. My previous letters can be found here; I’ve recycled a lot of old prompts in this letter but you’re welcome to draw on any I haven’t as well.

Likes – AU settings (modern, steampunk, sci-fi etc, go wild!), canon divergence AUs, grey morality, gothic vibes, fantasy elements (creepy fairies, enchantments etc), character studies, backstory, banter, road trips, found family, femslash, ladies working together, ladies kicking ass (literally or figuratively)

Dislikes – torture, depictions of rape/dubcon/sexual assault (implied/discussed is fine), pregnancy, homophobia

Ghostbusters

Erin/Holtzmann, Abby & Erin & Holtzmann & Patty

This movie was such an unexpected delight and I just want more of these ladies, kicking spectral ass and being friends and not giving a damn about what anyone else thinks of them. I loved the light tone of the movie but I also love creepy ghost stories so feel free to take these prompts in any direction.

-what’s one of their most memorable busts? Are there any particularly scary or irritating ghosts? Do they ever go beyond New York? Perhaps to investigate a ghost town, or abandoned buildings in the middle of nowhere…

-how does their ghost research progress after the events of the movie? Any big scientific breakthroughs? Do they find out more about the world through the portal? Any big mishaps that lead to more ghosts rather than less? I wouldn’t be surprised if Holtz’s unstable equipment malfunctioned somehow

-the team hanging out in their downtime (movie nights, celebrating each other’s birthdays, Patty taking them to interesting historical sites around the city…)

-there are a lot of genre AUs I’d love to see for this fandom but the first ones that spring to mind are Victorian gothic (ghost hunting would fit so perfectly) and cosmic horror (what creatures live on the other side of the portal?)

All of those could have an Erin/Holtz bent but for some more specifically shippy prompts:

-everyday moments between the two of them, slowly getting closer the longer they work together - cleaning off slime after a tough bust, late nights at the lab, long uneventful stakeouts of ghosts that may or may not be there

-established relationship moments - lazy mornings, date nights (bound to be some odd ones with Holtzmann around), culinary adventures, trips away together

-I’m dying for a San Junipero au of these two, if you’ve seen it (if you haven’t, it’s a standalone piece and a really lovely story - Black Mirror season 3, episode 4)

HTGAWM

Annalise/Bonnie

I’m not caught up on the second half of season 3 but I will be soon, though tbh I’m here for character dynamics - there are so many freaking plot twists I’ve forgotten much of what happened earlier in the show anyway. What I love about this pairing is how complicated and co-dependent it is; their personal relationship and working relationship bleed into one another, it’s messy as hell and it’s never not going to be like that.

In the meantime, shameless copying and pasting of prompts from the last exchange I did, with a few new ideas:

- they finally kissed and then the freaking house burned down, so maybe a quiet moment between those things happening when Annalise is wide awake and sober (seriously that whole situation was so ficcy, with Bonnie taking care of her – might as well mine it to its full potential)

- I like how effective a team they are as lawyers and the contrast with their complex messy personal relationship, so like, maybe casefic with a side of dysfunction

- backstory! all the backstory! good moments, bad moments, just anything exploring how their relationship came to be as it is

-assuming Bonnie gets Annalise out of jail, how does their relationship change going forward?

-in terms of genre shift, I would love a political au - Annalise runs for office, or maybe she’s a career politician, with Bonnie as her right-hand woman (of course), and they take a similar approach as they do to law - occasional good intentions, regularly dirty methods, a string of bodies in their wake

Rogue One

Jyn/Leia, Jyn & Leia

All I want from Star Wars is a proper relationship between two women and it has yet to materialise. So give me Jyn and Leia as friends, girlfriends, reluctant allies, whatever, as long as they’re interacting. They’re from very different backgrounds - polished princess and petty criminal - but they’ve both been trained for rebellion from a young age, and if they met around the time of A New Hope, they’d both be grappling with loss; there’s a lot of potential to mine.

-they’re sent on a mission together at some point during the war - how well do they function as a team? Who’s in charge? How does the other deal with that?

-Jyn surviving Scarif and standing beside Leia when the Death Star gets destroyed - what does it mean for each of them? What would Jyn’s involvement in the rebellion be like going forward?

-building on that, what would Jyn do if she were still alive during the Force Awakens? Would Leia turn to an old friend/old flame for support after losing Han?

-college au, where they’re both involved in student activism but have very different methods of getting shit done (Leia working from within the institution, getting elected to various student offices and delivering impassioned speeches at committee meetings, while Jyn goes for more subversive tactics)

Wolf 359

Lovelace, Minkowski, Lovelace/Minkowski, Eiffel & Minkowski

My new favourite thing! I started listening about a month ago and was immediately hooked. I love the show’s effortless switching between humour and much darker material, the insular character dynamics set against the big empty galaxy, and the bleak underlying scenario of being stuck on a spaceship that’s falling apart while nobody on Earth really seems to care.

I requested my favourite characters and combinations of characters but I like Hera and Hilbert too and most of the prompts could apply to the Hephaestus crew as a whole, so if you want to take more of a group approach that’s totally cool. What I’m really interested in is how the characters function and develop meaningful relationships under the circumstances.

(I’m less a fan of the SI-5 team; the angle I’m interested in there is the disruption they present for the original crew , so if you want to include them in that capacity, go ahead. Also, feel free to ignore the whole Lovelace = alien thing cos that’s mostly what I’ve been doing.)

Prompts!

-if the crew do make it back to Earth, what then? Do they stay in touch or drift apart? Is it difficult to re-adjust to ‘normal’ life? Or for a lighter approach, the crew indulging in all the things they’ve missed most about Earth

-wacky space shenanigans! The first time Minkowski brought out the jetpack and Eiffel got excited, an experiment of Hilbert’s going wrong and everyone helping with damage control, ways Eiffel has attempted to alleviate his boredom...

-exploring pre-canon - the characters’ first weeks of life in space and how it was the same/different from what they thought it would be, moments where characters realised their first impressions of each other weren’t quite accurate, etc

The X-Files

-what I’m really after here is casefic, weird happenings with a side of Mulder & Scully banter. One of my favourite things about the show is how many genres it managed to incorporate so effortlessly, sci-fi/horror/thriller etc, and I love the monster of the week episodes that their own distinctive feel - the claustrophobia of Ice or the melancholy of the Field Where I Died. Some of my favourite X-Files tropes are small creepy towns, isolated mountain forests and strange lights in the sky, if that helps :)

-I’m not a huge fan of the revival - I think it was a missed opportunity, because it was a) a mess and b) didn’t really use aspects of the 2010s that make the show still relevant today - government spying, distrust of authority, etc. So a modern au done right would be really nice.

-the show’s pretty noir-ish already but I would love a full-blown noir au, Scully as the straight-laced detective who gets reluctantly entangled in her partner’s wild goose chase

-or complete opposite direction, take out the aliens and have Mulder & Scully as office co-workers

[frangipanidownunder]

In Plain Sight: XI and XII Final

Mulder and Scully are investigating the disappearances of three young women from a drop in centre. Set during the cancer arc. (Written for a prompt from @crossedbeams  - Mulder and Scully are in a room with a crowd of people, every time X happens, someone vanishes...) Read the previous parts here: [I]  [II] [III and IV] [V and VI] [VII and VIII] [IX and X]

XI

Selina Sandoval backed into the room until she was butting up against the small desk. Mulder crossed his arms. Scully pinched the bridge of her nose. The already stifling air in the small room smelled like stale garlic and cheap tobacco. Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance. Scully could feel the pressure pushing against her temples.

           “Where have you been, Ms Sandoval?” Mulder’s voice was soft against the grating wheeze of the fan on the floor in the corner.

           The young woman said nothing, but tucked her hair behind her ears. It was shorter than the poster they’d seen days earlier.        

           “You were reported missing,” Scully said.

           “I work here every day. I clean. I wash. I buy food,” Selina said. She looked at the manager. He coughed hard and dug a dirty hanky out of his shirt pocket.

           “People were worried about you,” Scully said.

           “I don’t understand why people think I was missing. Who reported me?”

           Mulder looked at Scully. Scully couldn’t recall the detail of the report. “Marshall Comans. Do you remember him?”

           Selina flushed. “Of course. He was my friend.”

           “But you didn’t tell him you were leaving.”

           She clasped the crucifix around her neck and Scully reflexively did the same. “I didn’t think he would care that much. And I didn’t go anywhere. I just didn’t go back to the centre.”

           “And why was that?” Mulder said, staring at the manager who was chewing at the skin on the side of his thumb.

           “I…it was…”

           Scully squeezed her eyes shut as a crack of thunder hit overhead. When she opened her eyes again, Selina was crying quietly. Mulder turned on his empathetic expression and stepped towards her.

           “What was it, Selina? Why didn’t you go back there? What happened?”

           “Marshall…he…”

           “Did he cheat on you, Selina?”

           Selina rushed past. Scully followed her into the hallway. Lightning lit up the dankness. “Selina! It’s okay. You can tell me what happened. You’re not in any trouble.”

The young woman bawled for a few minutes and Scully stood, unsure whether to comfort her or to wait like the professional she should. Mulder would not have hesitated to step closer and embrace this woman. But he was talking on the phone in sharp tones. Thunder rolled around then burst in static spurts.

“Marshall told me he wanted to marry me. He said he would wait until I was 18 and then we would move away and have kids and a house. We used to go to the magic shows at the centre. They always made me feel that anything was possible, you know?”

Hopes, dreams, illusions. Where do you draw the line? Scully handed Selina another tissue. Mulder slipped his phone back in to his pocket and joined them.

“What happened?” Scully asked.

“That last show, there was a new trick. The lights went out, like so black it was as though the magician had sucked all the light out. I couldn’t see anything. I blinked and held my breath and when I opened my eyes Marshall was gone. I looked around. People were laughing and chatting like nothing unusual had happened. I went out of the room and saw him going out of the building. I followed. I saw him with another girl.”

Selina sniffed and shuddered out a breath. Her eyes were puffy and shiny, even in the miserable light of the hallway. A pair of young punk girls, arm in arm, walked past, knocking into Scully. Mulder grimaced and tapped his nose. She felt the ooze and bunched a tissue under her nose.

“He didn’t even tried to hide. It was like he was seeing this other girl all the time, right under my nose. In plain sight. I felt stupid. I believed him. But he was a liar and I wanted to run away. But that didn’t go so well the last time. So I stayed. Right here.”

“In plain sight,” Mulder said to her, but keeping his eyes on Scully. He lifted his chin up slightly, silently asking her if she was okay.

“The police investigated, Selina, when you were reported missing. We’ve seen the reports.”

“The police don’t care. They would have asked like three people in the centre if they’d seen me and then they would have stopped looking. People like me, we can just disappear. Nobody cares. We are invisible.”

XII FINAL

Back at the motel, heavy rain pelted the windows with a monotony that Scully found comforting. She fanned her face with the out of date attractions magazine and twisted her feet around to release the pressure in her calves. Mulder had told her the bones under the hall were animal, likely a dog, buried years before construction. Selina Sandoval was never missing. Maybe the other girls were here too, or maybe they just didn’t want to be found or saved or even to go on. The police could do more than they could. Should do more.

           The door opened and Mulder walked in with a take out bag containing chicken burritos and two bottles of Coke. She lay on the bed, her body working overtime to cool her. He put the food on the small table and sat down on the end of her bed unknotting his tie and dropping it over the bobbly bedspread.

“What do you think Scully?”

“About what?” She sat up to sip the soda and felt it track down her gullet. Out of sight but most definitely doing its job, fizzing and cooling, supplying her body with a quick hit of sugar.

He handed her a burrito. “Ami and Riley. Carol Arwen. Grunge girl?”

“I think we see what we want to see, we hear what we want to hear. We observe and we ignore, we weigh and measure and we interpret and we add meaning where there is none. Not always consciously but because humans love to tell stories to explain things, to understand, to cope.”

The spicy chicken was tender and she realised how hungry she was, how much her body needed the fuel. It was working overtime not just to cool her, but to kill her. The cancer cells constantly dividing. The normal cells trying to save her.

“You might not always be able to see things happening, but it doesn’t mean it’s not taking place.”

Mulder put his burrito down and turned to her. His eyes were heavy with sadness. He always understood. That was the problem.

“I’m sorry, Mulder.”

“Don’t…”

She scooted forward and took his hand in hers. His was warm, heavy. “You have to face it. I have to face it. I want you to promise me that you won’t self-destruct. That you won’t lose yourself again. I need you to promise me.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t. But this isn’t going to defeat us…you. I’m still looking. I have to keep looking.”

She pulled his head to her chest and let him breathe onto her skin. His hot breath, the softness of his lips against her made her feel a rush of emotion, of hope even. “I know.  I wouldn’t expect you to do anything but.”

“When you were taken, I was wild with anger. It was so meaningless, everything. But you came back then. Nobody saw you. You just appeared.”

“Like magic,” she said, chuffing out a small laugh into his hair.

“It was the best trick, Scully.” He looked up at her and kissed her. She stiffened at first, but her body relaxed and she kissed him back until she couldn’t breathe.

When they pulled apart, his eyes glistened with tears.

“Let’s go home, Scully.”

[frangipanidownunder]

What Happened in Bradshaw, Stays in Bradshaw: Part Four

How did Mulder injure his arm and how did Scully break her leg? Part one   Part two  Part three

Skinner folds his arms around his broad chest. Scully looks at Mulder. Mulder looks at Scully. Mulder speaks.

“We arrived in Bradshaw, checked in to our motel room, met with the Officer in charge and visited the crime scene.”

***

Bradshaw was insignificant for many reasons. It was small, a blip on the map. Its built environment was bland, brown and grey. Its main street was as generic as its folk. It was a ghastly reminder of why town planning ideology is actually important for the social cohesion of humankind. But, as Mulder pointed out, even the bland can be memorable. He looked at her then and she wasn’t sure to what, or to whom, he was referring. She let it go, despite the hot buzz in her guts.

“Scully, you’re not bland. If that’s what’s ticked you off.”

“I’m not ticked off, Mulder. I’m tired.”

“You do this thing when you’re annoyed in the car. You have a certain length of time that you hold your breath and I can hear your mind debating whether to argue or let it slide, and then you turn to the window and breathe out. Twenty-five years, partner. Twenty-five years.”

“So you should know that I expect a full explanation of why we’re here in this town, for want of a better description, investigating what appears to be nothing more than a series of inconsistent witness statements about what appears to be nothing more than drunken pranks.”

He grinned as he pulled up outside the police department. Which was really just a house on the main street. Which was really just one road containing a gas station, a motel, a grocery store and a drugstore. “Does this town look like it’s full of drunks, Scully? There isn’t even a bar.”

“And nobody drinks anywhere outside of a bar, do they?” She pushed open the door and let him walk through.

Officer Pinkerton spent more time talking to her breasts than to Mulder, who was actually asking the questions. His ruddy pock-marked skin and wide nose suggested a fondness for drinking outside of bars. He wasn’t aggressive exactly, but his tone bordered on the unhelpful.

“There are always lights before these things happen. And a foul odor. And then the people go crazy. Normal people doing abnormal things.”

Scully felt like bending down to meet his eyes. Instead, she puffed out a short sigh and pulled her jacket tighter.

“What kinds of things?” Mulder said, hiding his amusement at her growing frustration behind his hand as he rubbed the stubble between his nose and his lips. Scully stared at him. At his mouth. Mulder carried on talking but all she could see was the way his lips moved. Such a graceful, fluid motion.

“Scully? Scully?”

“Hm?”

“Officer Pinkerton has offered to show us the latest crime scene.”

“Right.”

Mulder grinned at her. “It’s in the motel. Where we’re going to be staying. So that’s cool, right?”

Pinkerton dragged his eyes away from her chest to give Mulder an arch of his caterpillar brows. “I think you might find the accommodation is more plain than cool, Agent.”

He was right. The room behind the police tape was beige and grey.  And would have been plain, if it hadn’t have been for the bloom of blood across the beige bed covers and the crimson splatters on the walls.

“Maurice Willett, a travelling salesman…”

“What did he sell?” Mulder asked.

“Does it matter?” Pinkerton replied.

“It might.”

Pinkerton flipped through his notepad. “It says here ETDUs.”

“Extra-terrestrial detection units,” Mulder said, winking at Scully.

Winking?

“They sell like you wouldn’t believe. It’s a huge market.”

Pinkerton looked at Scully, silently asking her face this time if her partner was sane. She’d been on the receiving end of that look more than a few times. She tried to remain impassive. Mulder had an impressive collection of ETDUs in the garage.

“Murder weapon?” she asked.

“Broken bottle, found it in the trash can.”

“What was it?” Mulder asked, leaning over the bin.

“Does it matter?”

“It might.”

Pinkerton sighed. “Bourbon.”

“Figures,” Mulder said, bending down in front of the bar fridge.

“Why?” Scully asked, impatience getting the better of her.

She admired the round of Mulder’s back as he leaned into the fridge, his ass in those pants. She licked her lips. In her periphery she saw Pinkerton lick his own lips and she shuddered in disgust.

“It’s missing,” Mulder said, standing and showing her the inside of the fridge with a theatrical wave of his arms.

She shook her head. He pouted.

Those blessedly beautiful lips. Those fucking god damned delicious lips.

A blood curdling scream shattered her fantasy. Mulder was outside the unit before Pinkerton could even think about removing his weapon from its holster.

***

“We saw the suspect running across the parking lot towards the wooded area behind. We gave chase.”

“In your car?” Skinner clarifies.

Mulder clears his throat. “The car malfunctioned…I believe due to external forces” “External forces, Mulder?” “My theory...” he begins, as Skinner narrows his eyes. “Is that somehow the strange atmosphere in the town that night - the lights and the foul smell - interfered with the electrics. And the out of control car caused both the damage to the motel and our injuries.”

Scully rubs her hand over her face. Her foot is throbbing. The whole story is so damned flimsy that her younger self would have a field day picking it apart. Skinner is getting impatient. Skinner is her younger self. The story Mulder is weaving is so fantastic. And he’s leaving out all the best bits.

[frangipanidownunder]

It’s a nice idea

This is a missing scene fic for @xfspeechie who wanted to know when Scully told Ellen that Mulder was cute... Ellen flopped her head back against the seat of the couch. She was sitting on the floor, a bowl of chips in her lap and a half-empty wine glass on the coffee table in front of her.

           ‘So, you haven’t mentioned your partner at all, Dana. What gives?’

           ‘What’s to talk about? He’s a good partner.’

           ‘Good?’

           Scully sipped her wine, knowing where Ellen was going with this. Ever the match-maker, she would press her like a ripe orange until she was pulped for details.

           ‘He’s…focused.’

           ‘Focused?’

           ‘Are you just going to repeat everything I say?’

           ‘I will until you give me something to work with here. I need hard evidence, G-Woman.’

           Holding back her initial random thoughts was tricky. The wine was opening her up, turning her back into her teen self. The Dana who ran her mouth off without the checks and balances that adulthood, seven years of college and more than a few revelatory humiliations had provided.

           Impetuous, arrogant, self-absorbed. Brilliant, empathetic, incisive.

           ‘Mulder has a back-story like a South American soap opera. He is on a personal quest that drives him further and further away from any sense of normality – so far sometimes that he goes past the boundaries of common sense without a thought for the consequences.’

           Ellen shifted her legs up and hugged her knees. ‘For you, you mean? He’s putting you in danger?’

           ‘No! Nothing like that. Well, not yet, at any rate. But he’s passionate, he’s tenacious, he’s determined.’

           ‘They’re good traits, Dana. A guy who knows what he wants is hard to find.’

           Scully swirled the last dregs of wine around the glass watching purple liquid smear the inside like waves unfurling on a beach. ‘But it’s like he’s blinded to the life he could have. There’s a fine line between passion and obsession, Ellen, and at the moment, I don’t think Mulder’s aware that he’s crossing it. Or even cares.’

           ‘So,’ Ellen said with a wicked smile, ‘are you going to make it your job to keep him this side of the line?’

           Tucking her legs under her, Scully grabbed a handful of chips. ‘And how should I do that?’

           ‘You’re an imaginative woman, Dana. And an attractive one. A trained agent. Surely you’ve learned many strategies to keep people on the straight and narrow.’

           ‘And Mulder is an imaginative man. A trained agent. A psychologist. And he’s more experienced than I am. I’m pretty sure he would resist all my attempts to keep him on the straight and narrow. And loudly. Besides the X-Files are hardly the straight and narrow of FBI units. I’m already the skeptical spy, remember?’

           Ellen grabbed another bottle of wine and refilled their glasses. ‘But you could have fun trying.’

           Snorting, Scully rested her forehead on her hand. ‘Aside from the fact that Mulder rarely does anything I say, or his superiors say, or,’ she screwed up her nose, ‘anything anyone says, you are forgetting one thing.’

           ‘And what’s that?’

           ‘He’s my partner.’

           And he can be moody, rude, obnoxious, infuriating.

           ‘Okay, but are there actual rules that prevent partners from…’

           ‘From what? Ellen! Are you suggesting that I sleep with Mulder? Because…’

           ‘Because what? I’m sure you said he was hot.’

           ‘What!’ Scully nearly spit out her wine. ‘I said no such thing. And I don’t just jump into bed with the men I work with.’

           ‘Well,’ Ellen said, ‘not all of them.’ She waited a beat before bursting into a cackle of laughter.

           Scully rolled her lips together. Had she really told Ellen that Mulder was hot? Maybe the last time they got drunk together. She rifled through her memory banks but her mind flicked back to that first meeting with Mulder instead.

Floppy hair, interesting nose, glasses hiding eyes that would change from green to grey to black according to the light, jawline so sharp she could use it to file her nails. Looked damned fine in a shirt and suit pants.

           ‘Nobody down here but the FBI’s most unwanted.’

           ‘What?’ Ellen said.

           ‘Oh,’ Scully said. ‘I said that out loud.’ She tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘That was what he said when I first met him. Then he called me Scully with more than just a hint of superiority, challenged me to fail his first test and spent that entire case trying out my loyalty.’

           ‘But you thought he was hot, though?’

           ‘It’s complicated.’

           ‘You think he’s cute?’

           ‘He’s cute,’ Scully sighed.

           ‘And there’s an attraction.’

           Scully took a long, contemplative swallow of her wine, enjoying the burn as it tracked down her throat. ‘There might even be more than an attraction,’ she conceded. ‘It’s a nice idea. But it’s not going to happen.’