#but poor scully getting her face all scratched up :(

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s3 episode 18 thoughts

was thinking about my evening scullynmulder time all day… and here we are <3

to be honest, i'm not sure how i feel about this episode. it was just kind of okay for me. nothing to make me loathe it (well- one thing that made me angry, but it was small, and i'll talk about it), but nothing too compelling for me plot-wise. that being said, sometimes hearing an alternate viewpoint can change my mind, or i'll put together pieces later that didn't connect right away while watching, and the light in which i view an episode can change. so no hard and fast rulings here.

i’m reading the episode description, and it seems to be about archaeological digs, and sacred items being transported where they shouldn’t be!! this is actually something i feel really strongly about!!!

(in fact, i had to cut a LOT of this episode recap down because i kept going on about anthropological ethics... then i straight up realized i needed to stfu <3)

we begin!

we are in ecuador, at a dig site. oh, a pot! and pottery shards. how exciting! someone is yelling about something they found, and everyone comes to look. i do not speak spanish but i think they are saying that this thing is a bad sign? shoutout to cognates and closed captions, two of my bestest friends

it has since started snowing since they found this thing, which dr. roosevelt proclaims to be an amaru, which is a bold sign. there is a skull in there.

anyway, the archaeologists are saying that the body of a female shaman is sacred, and that it cannot be disturbed. and i would say, yes of course! but dr. roosevelt is not chill like me, and says they aren’t disturbing her, but saving her. okay, so this is the sort of thing that has sadly been incredibly common in real life, disregard for Indigenous opinions on the treatment of their ancestors by so-called academics claiming to fight for history. he orders the archaeologists to pack it up despite their insistence that it isn’t a good idea.

a shaman appears on the mountains in the snow... which is not an auspicious sign, i would imagine.

so this dr. roosevelt is listening to his classical music while the archaeologists from the dig are conducting a ceremony with the mountain shaman. they are sipping from a spoon and passing it around. ah, it is a hallucinogen. things get all green vision-y.

something is coming… A BIG CAT!!! HAS EATEN DR. ROOSEVELT!!!!!! JAGUAR BE UPON YE!!!!!!!

deserved.

intro time. how i have come to love this pair and their blurry lil spooky scenes…. <3 

so now we are at the boston museum of natural history. a guard is about with a flashlight in the dark and i think he sees some blood?? YES LOTS OF BLOOD. literally so much blood omfg. and then behind all the blood is the amaru!!!

is it agents time? is it agents time? YAAAAAS AGENTS TIME!!!! they are investigating. and someone scully is talking to thinks that the murder victim- craig- was killed because of the project he was working on. 

OH! scully has a letter in her hands from the Secona demanding the return of their artifacts. yes yes! i hope the museum does the right thing at this urging (even though i know deep down they will not)

“it was among the antiquities we rescued last month”, says someone from the museum <- ohhhh you're going to jail for that self-righteous language. scully catches onto the “rescued” description. they claim that the area was going to undergo construction. um so i would ask why reburying it in a place slightly to the left where it wasn't going to get smashed by a pipeline wasn't considered as an option, and why we jumped straight to giving it to some dudes in boston.

mulder asks about the curse, which he is apparently well-versed in. the jaguar spirit will attack those who disturb the bones of the woman shaman. but this guy says he will NOT return the remains. a stubborn fool... 

a phd candidate helps them look at the urn, and mulder rightfully points out that if someone messed with his bones, he would also want a curse to be placed upon them. which is tea.

the phd candidate's name is mona, and she agrees that this should have been left in the ground, that craig didn’t know about the danger he was in, and she is aware of SEVERAL letters of protest. she reveals that Dr. Bilac, who was the liaison to the tribe, either resigned or was forced out by the head of the project, depending on who you ask, because he believed that “the Secona have the right to determine the fate of their ancestral remains” AS HE SHOULD!!

going to this guy’s house. he was at the dig. and frankly, i do think he is very attractive. but he seems a bit... out of it, to put it nicely. 

his house is full of artifacts and images of artifacts. he’s asking scully "who told you i was involved", and scully says mona. okay... i think it wasn’t really secret knowledge??? no need to be so defensive!

he clarifies that he objected when he felt dr. roosevelt went too far. and he says “you don’t want to know what i think happened” so mulder sits RIGHT NEXT TO HIM and clarifies that yes, yes they really would. i was sensing some undertones there.

dr. bilac says "i think whatever happened is going to keep happening until the bones are returned" <- a reasonable deduction.

he says their investigation is a waste of time. scully seems to think he is “the suspect”, suggesting that he would kill for his cause. she describes his politics as radical but... they really aren’t.

(and this was the part i mentioned objecting to in the beginning, her referring to "his politics" like that. however, i am reminded that some scientists, historians, and anthropologists genuinely take this position- that ancestral remains ought to be studied, wishes of their communities be damned- and therefore it is not entirely out of character for her to think like that, but it is something we'd get in a heated fight about)

and mulder does that thing where he puts his hand on her back. don’t think i missed that!!!!

they’re bickering about what really happened and i'm thinking, well no one knows yet, maybe it WAS a jaguar spirit.

OH! mona is on the phone saying someone is lying. and someone else is listening in. it’s dr. lewton who is eavesdropping. mona was on the phone with dr. bilac!!! so what was he lying to the agents about?!?

so lewton is saying that they have a responsibility to history and that they were doing the right thing and to ignore “the politics”... again with the politics comment. this is real-world rhetoric here that some people actually believe, but isn’t there something despicable about asking for respect for people's ancestors being called “politics”?

OH! dr. lewton is threatening mona's career…… oh! okay so he might be evil.

NO, THE DOOR CREAKS OPEN. MONA NO!! 

oh it’s just a dog :) his name is sugar :) yay i was scared for nothing :) hiii sugar ur really cute!

dr. lewton in the car. car isn’t starting!!!! that’s suspicious…. that’s weird…. he lifts up the hood. and we hear a heavy breathing and see stuff from a blurry green point of view....

the hood is full of BLOOD??? which he touches btw... NASTY! but what is even nastier is the dragging and screaming and ripping we hear now going on to him... and thus is the end of dr. lewton

(hmm are they gonna say bilac is transforming into the jaguar? and that’s why we heard a man breathing?? <- no they will not, past me, but it was a compelling guess)

scully plucks a dead rat from inside the car. “label that”, she says to a police officer, placing it in a bag. “as what?” “partial rat body part” <- i don’t know why this is making me cry laughing 

mona is being questioned. she lies and says lewton didn’t mention dr. bilac last night. LIAR. anyway! scully gives her her card and says to give her a call if anything comes to mind

mulder in the woods with the police. and the green vision-y thing sees him!!! from in a tree!!!

but then scully comes in bearing news of rats in the museum and in his car. she thinks mona knows something and is trying to protect bilac. which is also what i am thinking. perhaps scully's entrance saved mulder from the green visioned being pouncing upon him.

GASP! a drop of blood falls upon mulder’s face whilst still in the woods, and he thinks it’s rain. she wipes it off and looks up to find… ENTRAILS IN A TREE!!!!!! icky.

and is there tenderness in wiping a strange blood from an unknown source off of your partner's face while they kneel in the woods? yes.

mona is at dr. bilac’s place. he isn’t answering. oh, she calls him “lonnie”... so are they chill or something? anyway, he doesn’t seem to be in there.

EXCEPT HE IS! he was in the dark and yelled at her for trying to touch the windows. behaving like a vampire.

he has no reaction to learning that dr. lewton is dead, but he sure is sweaty and gaunt. he said he told mona not to come. aggressively.

OH! he has the stuff on the floor he had taken with the tribe with the shared spoon at the start of the episode. which he calls “vine of the soul”. she knows what that means- yaje- and does NOT like that. she grabs it and tells him he is sick and needs help. but he yells at her to get out :( and she is crying :( why are you hurting her....

AUTOPSY TIME ft. doctor scully!!! it’s a human intestine. LMAOOOO she found sunflower seeds in it and mulder says he is “a man of taste” 

oh! she says it looks like rats did the biting. love when she says unsettling stuff like that.

phone call time now. it’s mona calling scully. she’s crying at the museum, and the dog is barking as she says she feels she isn’t alone. scully deploys mulder to the scene.

there is a box that says teso dos bichos which is the name of the episode. google says it translates to "i have two bugs" but i don't fully believe that. anyway, as she goes to touch the urn the dog keeps barking. it’s a very very cute dog. 

she hears something going wild in the bathroom. like an earthquake in the toilets. and the toilets are full of RATS who are climbing OUT AT HER AND SHE SCREAMS AND YES ME TOO I AM ALSO SCREAMING????

scully at dr. bilac’s house. very tense music is playing and his door is wide open!!! she finds the bowls of the stuff while mulder is at the museum looking for mona or any sort of clues. 

mulder bumps onto the security guard, who tries to take him to mona. pls don't hurt my girl i'm rooting for her to get that phd.

scully is reading from dr. bilac’s journal, which describes a jaguar climbing from the trees, and mulder thinks well maybe that is how the intestines got up there, but she says he’s been tripping. two things can be true!! 

she says he has been invoking the curse. but as she says this, mulder rounds a corner and sees a LOT of blood. he enters the bathroom with a flourish of his gun. and finds dr. bilac! who only says “she’s dead” 

they bring him in for questioning- very suspicious for him to be in the bloody bathroom- but he claims he doesn’t know where mona is. 

oh, very very tense exchange. “i did not kill her” “then why do you have blood on your clothes?” scully is NOT messing around

he claims he was afraid for mona and tried to keep her away from this. she says point blank that he did it, but he is like no, you are dealing with a spirit. and he doesn’t know where her body is. 

mulder is troubled. he notices that all the toilets overflowed. oh! the rats were still in there. “rats. in every toilet” <- very serious show we are dealing with 

NO!!! mona's dog died :( the dog ate a cat that ate a rat that ate poison. mulder thinks this is suspicious. she says a lot of old buildings have rats. again, two things can be true!

he thinks the rats were trying to escape. and SOMEHOW bilac is gone. mulder seems to think that perhaps bilac animorphed into a rat? or he was dragged down into some old tunnels. because they did find blood!!!

tunnel time tunnel time! he tries the ladies first card but it does not work. oooh spooky dark tunnel. 

there is a creature down here!!!! with the green vision!!! a cat hisses. i mean if there are a lot of rats this is a banger place to be a cat but i’m still suspicious.

they follow a rat deeper into the tunnels and find a door. scully goes in the door but mulder went the other way. WHY DID HE DO THAT!!! NEVER SEPARATE IN THE TUNNELS.

mulder is looking at a rat. cute little dude. then calls for scully. HE HAS FOUND ALL OF THE BODIES!!! AND THEY HAVE BEEN GNAWED EEEW 

and the green vision thing sees them! oh! it is a cat. but just a little one. not a big scary one. 

OH!! a LOT OF CATS!!

NO!!! they are GETTING HER!!! LIKE SO MANY CATS!!!! and there is blood pouring from her face. despite this she finds bilac who is very dead. 

a large army of cats is trying to break in while they try to get out. he pulls her up and guides her out. 

aww her face is all scratched up :( pls test her for rabies this is soooo evil!!!

oh! the ecuadorian ambassador is coming to collect the urn. so success but at what cost.

mulder wraps up the episode. the archaeologists are reburying the urn. we see the shaman’s eyes go all green like the cats did!!!

so it was her doing the stuff!!! well. she needed to be returned home.

collecting my thoughts on the matter. 

well, first off, an ecuadorian jaguar spirit turning into a mass of wild rats and cats in boston is so funny so let’s establish that. 

second of all. i’m always hesitant to comment upon episodes that use indigenous people and beliefs as a plot point/scary thing of the week. so i’m going to have to admit i don’t know enough to comment on that. 

what i can comment upon is the very real trafficking of antiquities, destruction of archaeological sites, and above all, blatant insensitivity of academics historically thinking they are “saving” what they are plundering. it is a very real thing. and i talked about it a LOT more in the original draft of this but realized i ought to spare you. dm for reading recs tho

overall, i thought the episode was okay. i wasn’t really sure what they were doing with bilac, but i guess he was summoning the curse? but it kept going after he died. so i’m a little unclear on the rules of the curse here tbh. 

honestly not enough scully and mulder time for me, which is why it wasn't really a stand out to me, even if i thought the concept was fascinating.

but sometimes my opinions change and i'm open to hearing thoughts on the matter slash things i missed! like i'm still not fully getting the episode title so pls feel free to explain that.

[platonic-activity]

Ignis Fatuus (Chapter 2)

Ignis Fatuus  (Foolish Flame)

Rating: PG, NC-17 in some chapters

Catagory: Novel, X-Files Fanfic, Diverging universe

Spoilers: Up to Amor Fati

Chapter 2

Mulder was itchy. 

His bandage probably needed to be changed. He couldn’t scratch it and the one person he needed to come over and look at it was in Chicago looking at old evidence. She was supposed to be back by now. She had expected to only be gone for two days, three max. The world moves on and Mulder sits on his couch anxious at being cooped up. He itched to shoot some hoops, go grab something to eat that wasn’t frozen dinners or toast. He was itchy to see her again. She had wrapped up yesterday morning. Was there a storm in the Midwest or something? He bounced his leg with impatience. 

He is relieved about one thing. He can no longer hear the thoughts of his neighbors. Initially, they had been so loud, both completely consumed with concerns that the other didn’t love them anymore and neither believing it should be their responsibility to make a loving gesture, terrified that it wouldn’t be reciprocated. It was enough to make him want to sob. He had taken to sleeping on his couch again to be further away from the wall he shared with them. 

Idly he mused that listening to them for two weeks taught him more than any psych class he took at Oxford. Being sick at home was enough without the mental anguish of complete strangers. 

His ability was leaving him. 

The steady decline had begun the moment he woke up in the hospital with Scully sitting next to him. Her intense concern was so overpowering and all-consuming that he was barely able to accurately asses how he felt. He hit the morphine button to escape it drifting quickly into oblivion with his soft hand clasped in his. By the time he was home a few days later, he could only sense people nearby and the strength at which he could read her emotions had dimmed. He could at least tease them apart from his own.

He was relieved. Really, he was. It was an impossible way to live. Though he would hold the few memories of Scully’s mind in his heart for the rest of his life. The moment she finally believed him he could read her mind. The immediate shocking fear coursed through her. The painful vulnerability. He hadn’t even tried to get her to stay or to reassure her. He wanted her to get to safety as much as she did. 

He wasn’t surprised when she called him later that night asking if he could read her mind over the phone.

“You can’t check my bandage over the phone, Scully.” He had teased. She was quiet. 

“Can you control it?” She whispered

What are you afraid that I will find out, Scully?

“Only a little bit. I wish I could. If I am actively thinking about something then everything else fades away but if my mind wanders even a little bit then it is there and I can’t really prepare for it or anticipate it.” 

Silence

“You believe me.” it wasn’t a question. He knew. He would love to hear her admit it, though.  

“Well, I certainly didn’t say out loud that I was hungry and that I wanted Fretelli’s pasta.” She chuffed. “And I have a sneaking feeling that if I had been facing you, you wouldn’t have responded. You didn’t want me to know, did you?”

“For one, you always want pasta so it’s not that much of a reach,” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. “I did want you to know, to believe me. What I didn’t want was to intrude upon your privacy.” He sighs. “You know, contrary to popular belief I don’t go around profiling the people in my life.” 

They had spent the next hour talking about his poor selfish tortured neighbors. It was safe territory. 

The next week became a routine for them. Scully would stop by and actively think a conversation at him. He suspects it was her way of controlling the thoughts he could read. Then she would leave quickly, only staying to accomplish what could not be done over the phone. 45 minutes later she would call. It worked… only a little. She doesn’t need to know that. 

She would check his pulse, take his blood pressure, inspect his bandage… check that he was taking the correct medications. He had always thought that his pulse was difficult to find because she often started over again. He now knows that she loses track of what she is doing because of their close proximity. Fascinating. Apparently, the skin on the inside of his wrist is quite distracting. He wonders what else is distracting about him. 

Her subconscious thoughts rise to the surface when she is counting or listening for the diastolic and systolic heartbeats. She wonders if he will ever get up the courage to kiss her. His eyes shot up at that looking at her perfectly pink plump lips. Does she know that she just thought that? He dragged his gaze up to her wide eyes. 

That night she did not call. She definitely knows he heard it. 

Itchy. Impatient. Mentally anguished. Haunted by the waves of powerful emotion he now knows exists inside of his stoic and collected partner at all times. Astounding. Perhaps more elusive than any criptid. The flashes of her eyes leading him like a Will-o’-the-wisp into certain ruin. 

He considers his limited distractions, porn, a basketball game on TV, maybe a game of solitaire… when he finally hears shuffling at his door. He listens closely to hear a knock that never comes.

[unremarkablehouse]

Found an old interview Gillian did as the original series ended. Love that her top 6 memories are some of the most iconic romantic MSR moments 💜

——————————��——————

March 2002

Question: Now that the X-files are ending, can you tell us what are some of your favorite memories of working on the show?

GA: Some of my favorite memories of working on the show (and not necessarily in order of importance or weight or much of anything but the order in which I remembered them.)

1. Directing "all things."

2. Singing 'Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog' to Mulder in "Detour".

3. Shooting "Triangle."

4. Shooting "Cops."

5. Shooting the kiss/bee scene in the movie.

6. Shooting the scene where Mulder shows Scully how to hit a baseball in "The Unnatural."

7. Shooting "Bad Blood" but especially the autopsy scene.

8. Doing the elephant autopsy in "Fearful Symmetry."

9. In the first season the crew used to crowd around a t.v. screen on Friday nights and watch the show over lunch. That was fun and exciting for us.

10. I remember when the casting director told me I had the job after the final network audition and I had to drive a fellow auditioning actress that I knew back to her hotel knowing that I had the job and not letting on or being able to talk about it.

11. Shooting the graveside scene in the pilot in forced freezing rain at some ungodly hour in the morning and trying to remember my name let alone whole paragraphs of dialogue.

12. Shooting scenes in the snow in Vancouver wearing a skirt and high heals and trying not to slide down hill...or having to use an umbrella so that my hair did not have to be blown out before every take.

13. Telling David in his trailer that I was pregnant and him telling me that he felt his knees buckle. Blue, as a puppy was lying sick on his bed behind him, having just been spayed.

14. Watching Jim Rose do his famous genital tricks in his trailer during the shooting of Humbug.

15. In one of the very first episodes, there's a scene where Mulder and Scully are to look at red lights in the sky that may be UFO's and follow their flying path. David and I were standing on a windy hilltop looking out onto the pitch black heavens with the cameras on our faces and being directed where to look in EXACTLY the same place at the same time (up down left right)...but with NOTHING TO LOOK AT AS A GUIDE! It was absurd.

16. Shooting Scully and Mulder's final kiss scene at the end of "Existence."

17. Shooting the dance sequence at the end of "The Post-Modern Prometheus."

18. I remember sitting at a wooden table with David on the set when Pendrell was shot, and David telling me about this date he had with a woman whose name he would not tell me, but it was kind of like the tea that you drink.

19. Sitting in a luncheon booth on the North Vancouver lot with David Nutter and for the very first time going over a script with a director beat by beat and how exhilarating that was to be creative that way and have someone care what my feedback and impressions and instincts were. The script was "Beyond The Sea."

20. Shooting the scene where Scully's stomach is pumped with air in an abduction sequence and trying not to reveal that it was actually a pregnant belly being shot. I'll have to show that scene to Piper one of these years.

21. Lying in a hospital bed on set ten days after giving birth to Piper. Hooked up to tubes and wires and drifting in and out of sleep while they shot around me and being wheeled to and from the bed in a wheelchair. Surreal. I'd just been there!

22. Shooting a scene in a rowboat in the middle of a lake all by myself for hours and my lactating breasts getting so swollen that I thought I might explode.

23. Shooting a scene in an episode about cats where Scully has to be attacked in the face by a cat but I am allergic so they built a cat on a stick covered in bunny fur whose arms could be operated by some poor special effects guy. So here I am "struggling" with this fake bunny/cat in my face pretending to get scratched and be terrified when the fake fur keeps sticking to my lipstick and going up my nose and Kim Manners and I cannot stop cracking up at the ludicrousness of it all.

24. Lying on the floor eight months pregnant and being pushed by someone across the floor to simulate me "crawling" because I was so big and my belly was in the way and I could not do it myself. I think it was "Duane Barry."

25. Sitting in the back of a jeep on one of the stages pretending to be attacked by imaginary (CGI) green bugs who are going to cocoon us and suck our life out of us...flailing away at them with all my might and then whenever we cut, turning to a big garbage can to my left and throwing up because I had horrible morning sickness.

26. When Chris Carter walked into my hospital room a day or two after Piper was born and was stopped in his tracks by the sight of this living being propped up beside me. We sat in silence for a long time.

27. Talking to Chris on some payphone outside some restaurant a couple nights before I was to go back to Network for the final audition, and him giving me notes on how to dress more 'streamlined' for the Network Execs... I borrowed a suit.

28. Talking to David for the very first time outside the audition as he chatted up the girls, and commenting on the fact that I was from N.Y. and not really meaning FROM FROM, but the disappointment which flashed across his face when I qualified that I had only actually lived there a couple years. He moved on to someone else.

29. Experiencing Rob Bowman directing for the first time, setting up elaborate shots and the crew standing around thinking what is this new guy doing spending all this time with these fancy angles...cut to...the established norm. And thank God.

30. The last day of shooting in Vancouver when the make-up artist had to redo my make-up three and four times before every take cause I was crying so much. I imagine the same will be said in a little over a month. We won't get anything shot.

The End

GA: I know it seems ridiculous that I might only have thirty memories over nine years but I am afraid that is the best I can do and still have you all read it before the end of the month.

[freckleslikestars]

tell me about Me, You and A Dog Named Daggoo pls it sounds so cute

Ah, yes, Me, You and a Dog Named Daggoo, a very sweet look at Daggoo bringing Scully back home to Mulder.

He’d expected, when he’d dropped her off outside her house, dog in tow, not to hear from her again until Monday morning. That had been their pattern since working together – work on weekdays, doing their own things on weekends. It was, he assumed, her way of keeping professionally detached from him. They had a history and she had a future. For her to slip back into bad habits and bad patterns with him would not be good for either of them.

So to see her on their porch, Daggoo sat at her heel, an almost shy smile on her face, was unexpected to say the least.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey. You okay?’

‘I have a favour to ask,’ she bit her lip, turned her focus over to the meadow behind her, ‘my landlord-‘

‘Won’t let you keep the dog?’

She grimaced at him, shook her head, ‘I tried so hard. But he said no.’

‘And-?’

‘And I was wondering if…you had space for him? I’ll walk him, I’ll pay for his food, I’ll do everything. Please?’

The ‘no’ was on his lips, caught on the tip of his tongue, but all he had to do was look at her and her sweet, pleading smile, and his answer was of course going to be yes. Didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun, first, ‘I dunno, Scully. Y’know, it would be different if I actually knew the dog. And even if you’re willing to walk it, pay for it, if something were to happen it would still be my responsibility. I’d still have to look after him and you know my history with dogs.’

She frowned, crouched down next to Daggoo and rubbed his head, gave him a scratch under the chin, ‘I guess it was too much to hope for.’

‘Though, I guess, if you got him checked out by a vet, I’m sure we could have a trial run of it. We’d have to figure out the arrangements, of course.’

‘Of course.’

It would give her an excuse to come over to the house more often. Give him an excuse to see her, spend more time with her, ‘and, you know, you’d need to make sure he was house trained, make sure he knows not to expect too much from me.’

‘What are you proposing?’

‘Spend a little more time here, keeping it professional and all, you know, but making sure he’s comfortable here. Poor mutt will get abandonment issues if you just drop him off and run.’

She bit her lip, looked down at Daggoo who was staring patiently up at her, before making up her mind and looking back up to Mulder, ‘sure. What are we having for dinner, then?’

I'm actually really liking this one. I kind of forgot about it until just now. It's one of those that probably won't be done for a while, but I still go in and fiddle with it every so often.

[atths--twice]

A Medicated New Year

While on the run, Scully becomes ill as New Year's Eve approaches. Despite feeling terrible, she still wants to celebrate the holiday with Mulder.

I had not planned to write a New Year's story, but how can you ignore the muse when she stands in front of you and taps her foot impatiently, sending you ideas and waiting for you to write them down?

Hope you enjoy this bit of fluff.

December 31, 2002 Somewhere in Montana 11:15 p.m.

Mulder walked inside, shivering as he closed the door with his foot, his arms full of firewood. What had started as a simple task, for which he had not worn his coat, quickly became a “never do that again” moment. The snow had covered the stack of wood and while he had debated walking back to the house, he decided instead to push through.

Without a coat or gloves. Scully would be after him for that decision.

If she was awake, anyway.

Two weeks in the little cabin, two trips into the small town, and she had picked up a bug. Fever, cough, sore throat, body aches… she had it all. She had been in bed for two days, the medicine helping her sleep, the humidifier, he had driven to a larger town to find, running day and night.

Shivering again as he stacked the wood, the pile full enough for the next couple of days, he stood by the fire and warmed himself. The small television was on, showing Times Square and the people celebrating the quickly approaching new year, well for those not on the East Coast, knowing it had already come and gone in New York. He shook his head at the thought of freezing as he stood in such a large crowd, all to watch a giant ball drop.

But then, he smiled as he thought of New Year’s Eve in a hospital, watching the ball drop, bringing in the new millennium.

“Well, not exactly the millennium,” he said with a smile, glancing at the bedroom door, remembering Scully correctly stating that the new millennium did not officially start until 2001.

Shaking his head, he moved away from the fire, his body now warm and walked to the bedroom. Opening the door quietly, he heard her breathing, her mouth open, the blankets wrapped around her. Smiling again, he closed the door and went into the kitchen to make something to eat.

Deciding on toast and eggs, he scrambled them up quickly and ate them at the small two person table in the kitchen, reading the local paper. Getting up, he brought his dishes to the sink and turned on the water. Waiting for it to warm up, he placed a pot on the stove beside a can of chicken noodle soup for Scully if she were to wake up soon and want something to eat.

As he washed the dishes, he heard a cough and turned his head to see her standing behind him, the thick blanket wrapped around her. Hair messy, nose red, and mouth open to breathe better, she looked adorable, but he knew she would vehemently disagree if he said so out loud.

“What are you doing up?” he asked, rinsing his last dish and turning off the water. She coughed again and moaned.

He smiled and walked over to her, wrapping her in an embrace. She moaned again, her head on his chest. Even through the two shirts he wore, he could feel the heat she was emanating. Kissing the top of her head, he pulled back and looked at her.

“You’re hot.”

“Thank you,” she rasped, her eyes closed, mouth still open. Her breath was bad, but again he was smart enough to keep that comment to himself.

“You’re welcome,” he said with a chuckle. “Though that’s not what I meant.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and the heat was even greater. “I’m going to get the thermometer and the medicine. I’m sure you’re due for more.”

“Such a smooth talker,” she mumbled, her eyes opening slowly. She moaned again and sighed. He held his breath, her own truly awful.

“Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.” He started to guide her and she stopped him.

“No. I wanted to be here for the… the…” She gestured to the television and sighed again.

“The ball drop?”

“Hmm…” She nodded and closed her eyes again. “If that’s what it’s called.” He laughed softly and she whined with a cough.

“Okay, to the couch then. Come on.” He guided her over, helping her get situated before he went to get her some water, the medicines and the thermometer.

Bringing it all back to her, he put the thermometer into her mouth and opened the bottles of medicine. She kept her eyes closed as she waited for the temperature to register.

“One hundred… and two, almost three,” he said, taking it from her mouth and reading it. “That’s hot.”

“As you’ve already said,” she groaned, coughing and sighing deeply. He chuckled again and she opened her eyes. “I feel so terrible.”

“I know. Here take these.” He handed her some ibuprofen, and then some NyQuil. She took the pills and drank the liquid, making a face and reaching for the water he was ready to hand her.

“So disgusting,” she complained, shaking her head and taking another drink of water.

“How about this?” He held out a small candy cane and she smiled, taking it from him in exchange for her glass of water.

“I know. My breath is bad,” she said, opening the candy cane and putting it into her mouth.

“What? That’s not…” He shook his head and gave her what he hoped passed for an honest confused look.

“Mulder, I can taste it. I know it must smell just as bad.” She stared at him and he shrugged. “When you’re inevitably sick with this cold, I’ll be sure we still have a stock of candy canes on hand.”

“Good plan,” he said with a smile. She nodded and then groaned with a whine.

“Are you hungry? I could make you some soup…”

“No, just sit with me. Let’s bring in the new year together.” He nodded and picked up the stuff from the coffee table, grabbed a box of tissues, and joined her on the couch.

She laid down, wrapped in her blanket cocoon, her head on the pillow beside his leg. He ran his fingers through her hair as she sighed. Her head was so warm and he shook his head.

“How high of a temperature can you have before it would be necessary to go to the hospital?”

“Mulder, I’m fine, as long as the medicine is bringing it down. It’s just a cold.” She hummed as he scratched at her scalp and he smiled.

“I’m going to make sure to remind you of that.” She hummed again and they were both quiet, only the sounds of the television and the crackling fire filling the room.

“Have you ever wanted to go to Times Square...” She coughed and blew her nose with a tissue from the box he had placed on the floor. “For the holiday I mean? Not just in general.”

“Nah. I used to have a friend who lived close by there and every holiday he came back to his parents on the Vineyard to avoid the crowds of people.”

“Ohhh, poor guy forced to run to the Vineyard,” she scoffed with a groan. He laughed and nodded, moving his hand to her shoulder and rubbing her arm.

Quiet again, he thought she had fallen asleep, until he heard her crunching on the candy cane in her mouth. He smiled as she groaned loudly and sat up suddenly.

“God, I’m hot,” she said, unwrapping the blanket from around her and standing up unsteadily, kicking it off and laying back down.

“Better?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, rubbing his shin and then tucking her hand under the pillow.

“You know, we don’t have to watch this. We could just go to bed.”

“Mmm,” she groaned in disagreement and he chuckled.

“Okay.”

“I mean, I ate that candy cane. In preparation for… for…” She yawned and coughed, moaning and whining.

“Come on, honey. Let’s go to bed.” He shut the television off and the room was lit mainly by the low burning fire.

“No… we only have ten minutes. I can…” She coughed, unable to stop until he helped her sit up and she worked at catching her breath. She looked at him, her expression miserable, and he smiled softly as he rubbed her back.“Fine, let’s go to bed.”

They stood up and he held her face in his hands, staring into her eyes.

“You feel cooler. That’s good.” She nodded and closed her eyes, holding onto his forearms. “It’s technically already the new year where we’re from, so…” She opened her eyes, glassy and medicated, and nodded again with a sigh.

“I’m tired.”

“I know. Happy early New Year.”

“Hmm. You too.”

He kissed her softly and she kissed him back, leaning into him heavily as they parted. He wrapped his arms around her and they swayed in place. She coughed and he smiled, putting an arm around her shoulders, he led her to the bedroom.

Coming back to the living room, he used the old ashes in the bucket from their last fire and put out the current one. He turned out the lights and picked up the blanket she discarded. Refilling her glass of water, he went back into the bedroom.

He set the glass on the bedside table, covered her with the blanket, and checked the humidifier. Refilling it, he got into bed beside her, and she snuggled closer, the hand on his chest clasping tightly to  a tissue. His watch beeped and he smiled.

“Yay, we made it,” she slurred and he held her tightly as he kissed the top of her head.

“We did. Now sleep, Scully.”

“Hmm,” she hummed and then coughed.

It was quiet as he rubbed her back and waited for her to fall asleep, hoping it would be soon so she could get some rest.

“The candy cane didn’t help much did it?” she mumbled, smacking her lips, and making disgusted noises. He laughed and nuzzled against her head.

“Not entirely.”

“Hmm,” she agreed, coughing and then blowing her nose. “Goodnight. Happy once more that the world didn’t end.”

“Me too,” he chuckled. “Sleep, honey.” She hummed again and was asleep within minutes.

When he woke up the next morning, his throat sore and body aching, she kissed his forehead and stumbled from the bed to get the medicine and a glass of water. Groaning as he took the medicine, they laid down and went back to sleep.

The new year was put on hold in that small cabin in Montana, as the humidifier hummed quietly in the corner, and heavy snow began to fall silently outside.

[baronessblixen]

The Three Lost Children

This is my entry for the @xfilesfanficexchange Horror Fanfic Exchange. My words were lost and abandoned. Set in season 6.

The reason I’m posting it here as well as on AO3 is because this is also today’s Fictober story! Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober

Fictober Day 24

New England in autumn is a sight to be seen. Mulder drives them through the vibrant, popping colors and Scully watches, almost like a child, in silent awe. She can’t wait to stop the car, walk through the rustling leaves, take in the fresh air. Listen to the breeze of the nearby ocean. She hasn’t been to the ocean in so long and her soul aches for it. She chances a glance at Mulder. They’re both quiet, lost in their own thoughts. She wouldn’t be able to guess what he’s thinking about. Lately, this is all they’ve been; a long stretch of silence, of unspoken pains.

The longer they drive, the lonelier it becomes. She doesn’t know why they’re here, not really. Something about apparitions, something about a cold case. As so often, she just followed him, barely asking for an explanation, still trusting him with their work. Even after Diana. They’ve been inching back towards normalcy. But in her mind, it’s ever present. Before Diana, after Diana.

Mulder sets the blinker and turns onto a small, nondescript gravel path. She glances at him but he doesn’t say anything. They follow the path and Scully watches as the trees grow rarer, most of them bald, barely alive. She shivers involuntarily as a house comes into view, growing bigger and bigger. Mulder slows the car and parks at it what must have been a gate once.

“We’re here,” he says unnecessarily, turning to her. They get out of the car and Mulder stretches, holding his nose into the air, half a smile on his face. Scully watches him, half amused and, despite herself, a little bit in love with him.

“Mulder,” she says, looking at the house in front of them, abandoned and broken, “why are we here?”

“This house is said to be haunted.” Whenever he talks about haunted places, his face lights up. An enthusiasm she’s never been able to share.

“You already took me to a haunted house on Christmas Eve, Mulder.” And they almost ended up dead. Or so she thinks. The memories of that night are still hazy and untrustworthy. “I can’t keep doing this,” she says to herself but he hears her, throwing her a look she can’t decipher. They’re the only living things around here. Not a single bird is singing. The trees are watching on, dead und unmoving. Something is not right. She stops and looks around. The cold feeling is back, taking hold of her. As if someone were softly scratching her with long fingernails, making her shiver all over. She takes a step forward but the sensation remains.

Her eyes are drawn to the house. She squints, tries to see it for what it must have been once. The bricks are laid bare, the house a mere skeleton. It seems to be standing up by pure will. Part of it has crumbled to the ground, a big hole gaping in between the main house and a smaller cottage. They must have been a unit once. Now, they’re standing on their own sides, not touching, decaying by themselves, still in sync.

“Let’s go inside.”

“Mulder, wait.” He stops and turns around. “Why are we here? How is this an X-Files?”

“Just follow me.” He keeps on walking, pushing open the creaky wooden door. Scully huffs. So much for her New Year’s resolutions. There’s something about this house that repels her. She’s not going to admit it to Mulder. She barely admits it to herself. But she feels it all around her in the cool air, the eerie silence. There’s a presence here. Something rotten and evil.

“Scully?” Mulder asks from inside, his voice sounding obscured. She takes a deep breath, the smell of decomposition in the air growing stronger the closer she gets to the ajar door. She steps inside the damp, old ruin and looks around.

Mulder is on the stairs and they creak in pain with every step he takes.

“You still haven’t told me,” she says, walking through what must have been a kitchen once. There are a few cups on the table, on the counters. One day, someone walked out here and never returned. She doesn’t dare to look into the cups. One is chipped, another one has faded colors. There was life here, once.

“Told you what?” Mulder yells from upstairs.

“What we’re doing here.” Scully leaves the kitchen and finds herself in the main hall. She stares at the big, dark wooden grandfather clock in the corner. Her heart starts pounding as she realizes that it’s showing the right time. The hands are moving, tick tock, tick tock. How is it possible that this clock is ticking? How is it possible that anything is alive in this house?

“Come up here, Scully. I want to show you something.” She gives the clock one last look but it goes on steadily. It feels as if it were watching her with stern eyes, judging her. As soon as she turns around, facing away from the clock, she hears it. At first it’s soft, barely discernible. A laugh. She keeps on walking and there it is again. More laughter. It sounds like… like… children’s laughter. She turns back, gasping. There’s only the clock, mocking her with its precision. She takes a breath, reminds herself that perception can play tricks on your mind. There might be children outside, playing games. That’s what she heard. It must be.

As she ascends the stairs, the wood moaning, she touches the walls where yellow lines speak of picture frames that must have hung here once. Who lived here? She wonders. What happened to them?

“There you are,” Mulder says upstairs, his head peeking out of a small room.

“You owe me an explanation.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He touches her arm and leads her into the room. Gloomy light falls through the broken windows, fracturing this room, a child’s bedroom. Scattered toys, old and dusty, some gnawed on. Sadness engulfs her as she stands there, cold to the bone. She hugs herself but it neither brings her comfort, nor warmth.

“What are we doing here?” she asks again, the anger in her rising.

“One day in 1879, a girl named Lucy Monroe disappeared. No one expected fowl play. An accident, everyone said. The parents were devastated, left their house and moved away. No one heard from them again. Things went back to normal and no one thought about poor Lucy or her parents. That is until the next two children disappeared, a pair of siblings.” Mulder picks up a toy car and blows off the dust.

“Is this- did Lucy Monroe live in this house?” Scully looks around and her eyes linger on the wallpaper with colorful balloons and clowns.

“She didn’t,” Mulder goes on. “When Lucy disappeared, this house belonged to one Richard Watkins. His neighbors described him as an inconspicuous, religious man. He, his wife and their three children went to church every Sunday but liked to keep to themselves. Until a fire claimed the life of his wife and children. That’s when everything changed.”

“What changed?” Scully asks. Damn Mulder for knowing how to tell a story. He’s walking around in circles, still holding the small toy car. He turns to her, his face solemn.

“Richard Watkins bundled all his pain and his hate against God. He stopped going to church, stopped leaving the house altogether. People in town started talking about him. It became a dare for children to find this house and catch a glimpse of this ungodly man. The gossip started, as it always does. They said Richard Watkins turned his back on God, like he’d done to him, and worshipped Satan instead.”

Scully wants to roll her eyes, or laugh. She can’t. Mulder’s voice is mesmerizing. As is the story he’s telling. She stares at the three small beds, barely touched. She freezes. One bed, an old moldy mattress still in place, has an indentation. It almost looks like a child’s body. Scully looks away, focuses on Mulder and nothing else.

“What does this have to do with the case, Mulder?”

“Don’t you feel it, Scully? This house… it’s haunted.”

She feels it. She feels it in the strange scratching sensation that’s intensifying. She feels it in the heaviness of her bones. This house has memories and it is aching from them. She feels that same ache, too.

“I don’t feel it,” she lies. “Maybe you should have brought Diana. All I feel is a draft. I’m leaving.” She is angry with Mulder and angry with herself. Why does she continue to let herself be lured out to these places, into myths and folklores? This is not her job. She could be at home, she could be doing something of consequence. But here she is, in yet another haunted house, chasing ghosts and chasing Mulder.

This has to stop.

“I haven’t told you the rest of the story,” Mulder calls out but she’s already back on the stairs. She doesn’t reply, refuses to listen. She’s not as proficient in running away as Mulder is but she can manage.

Still on the stairs, she hears the clock in the main hall. Is that her imagination or has the noise increased? Drawn by an unknown force, Scully returns to the hall. Her eyes fall on the clock, the wood darker than she remembers it. Among all these broken, forgotten things, the clock doesn’t fit in. It doesn’t fit at all. Her eyes are trained on the hands. Maybe none of it is real, maybe she’s just imagining it, fueled by Mulder’s story. But they keep moving steadily.

The clock strikes the full hour and there’s a drawn-out creak that sounds as if someone were opening a door, but slowly. She stares at it, the clock, unmoving but for the hands. Tick tock, tick tock. The creaking stops and then everything else does, too. Scully holds her breath for a second, then lets it out. It’s all in my head, she reminds herself. She relaxes. There’s nothing wrong with this clock. Nothing at all.

Just as she’s about to leave, the clock-face crumbles, falls apart, and reveals a new face, half man, half not. Blood-red eyes meet hers for the flash of a second. An evil grin with sharp teeth, horns protruding from the forehead. She’s seen this face before. In stories, in her nightmares. It’s the face of the devil. Unable to look away, her shaky fingers search for her gun. She stops when she hears the soft, gentle sound of laughter close to her.  

Someone’s touching her. There’s pressure on her arm but as she looks down at it, there’s nothing there. Only laughter in the air. Happy, unabashed children’s laughter.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” a child’s voice singsongs. Scully makes a complete turn but she’s all alone. There’s only her and the big, dark clock that sits there unremarkably. The face, she notices, has gone back to normal.

“I’m losing my mind,” she murmurs, slowly walking backwards. She needs to get out of this room, out of this house. When her back comes into contact with something warm, something solid, she screams.

“Hey,” Mulder says, holding her by the arms. “It’s just me.”

“Did you hear it, Mulder?” she asks him.

“Hear what?”

“The children.”

“What children?”

“There was children’s laughter, there was-“ she stops. She sounds crazy. Mulder looks at her as if she’s lost her mind before he cracks a smile.

“So now you agree with me? This place is haunted.”

“Why did you bring me here?” she yells at him. All the anger and frustration she’s been feeling these last few weeks break out of her.

“I- the case, I-“ He’s stunned by her outburst. “I thought we could… I wanted to show you this house, tell you the story. I’ve been fascinated by it ever since I was a child myself.” His eyes grow soft and so does she.

“Tell me,” she says, feeling weak. “But not in here. I need fresh air.” They walk outside together, Mulder holding Scully’s hand. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this but this place is creepy, Mulder.”

He chuckles softly. “I know. Can I finish my story now?” Scully nods at him. “No one ever found out what happened to Lucy Monroe or the other two kids that disappeared. They were never found. But Richard Watkins was. The details are hazy but he slipped one night, fell down the cliffs and died. An act of God, it was later surmised. Because of what he’d been planning. They never found the kids but they found Lucy Monroe’s doll in his house, clothes that the kids had been wearing, too. They searched the whole place but no other traces could be found. It was said that Richard Watkins was planning to sacrifice the children to Satan the night he died.”

“The children,” she mumbles. She thinks of the laughter she’d heard and shivers. It can’t be. It just can’t be. There’s no such thing as haunted souls, a haunted house.

“You heard them.”

“I heard something,” she admits. “There might be children playing here somewhere that-“

“There are no children here, Scully. Listen. You heard the three lost children. That’s what folks around here call them. The three lost children. They’re said to be haunting this house. In early 1900, people tried to sell this house. Enough time had passed, they’d figured. No one has been able to stay here longer than a few weeks. The last recorded family that moved in were the Hendersons in the 50s. A newly married couple, just starting out. While Mr. Henderson never heard the children, his wife sure did. She thought she was going insane. They’d been trying for a baby and everyone, including her doctors and her husband, thought that unfulfilled wish was causing her audiovisual hallucinations.”

Is that why she heard them? Because of her own failure to conceive? She pushes the thought away.

“What happened to them?”

“They moved out. Their marriage was in shambles by the time they did. Mr. Henderson was so angry that this house, their dream house, was causing them so much misery that he destroyed half of it.” They both turn to look at the house, at the gaping middle.

“They separated?”

Mulder shakes his head. “They almost did. Their love for each other was strong though.” He stares at her, his eyes so green, so open, that she feels powerless. “They moved away. They worked on their marriage. They healed. Together. And then, not long after, Mrs. Henderson became pregnant. She gave birth to a healthy baby girl. The end.” He grins at her.

“How do you know all this, Mulder?”

“Because,” he says, taking her hand and leading her to the car. The more distance they bring between themselves and the house, the freer Scully feels. The tension leaves her body. “The Hendersons were our neighbors. That little baby girl? She grew up and used to babysit me. We came here when I was about 10 years old after I’d begged my parents. I haven’t been able to forget about this story ever since. Neither of us heard the three lost children though. But you did.”

“Mulder…”

“It’s okay. I know you don’t want to admit it. Most people don’t hear them. Only a few have reported the laughter and… feeling an evil presence in this house.” He touches her arm, strokes it gently. “Legend says only people who are pure of heart can hear the children.”

Scully snorts. “You had me until that last bit, Mulder.” He shrugs and smiles at her. “There is no case here, is there?”

“Oh, there is. But not here exactly. It’s further up north. I just wanted to take you here, share this with you. After… after everything.”

She bites her lip, but she can’t resist. “Have you ever taken Diana here?”

Mulder looks genuinely surprised. “No,” he says and she knows he’s telling the truth. “I never even thought about it.”

“Good,” she says and opens the car door. Mulder puts his hand over hers.

“I know it may take a while,” he says, his voice breaking. “But I want to win your trust back.”

“You never lost my trust,” she says. “And you and Diana… I know it’s none of my business and-“

“Of course it’s your business,” he cuts in. “It is your business. I want it to be. I thought I’d made that clear.”

“Clear, Mulder?” She raises an eyebrow. “When?”

“The hallway,” he says, his eyes fixed on hers. She blushes. “Taking you on all these adventures when we were off the X-Files. I mean it, Scully. I can’t do this alone. I don’t want to do it alone. I want you here by my side. If that’s what you want, too.”

She stares at the house, thinks about the Hendersons. He tore half of it down to repair something else, in a new place. Maybe they can too. She thinks of the laughter, of the three lost children, of the evil in this house. She doesn’t want to stay here in this place. She wants to move on, move past what’s holding her back.

Scully takes his hand and interlaces their fingers. They both stare at their hands as if they were a small wonder. Maybe they are.

“I want to be here, do this with you. I- I should probably tell you what I saw in there or what I thought I saw. Maybe there’s an X-Files here after all.”

“You don’t have to, X-Files or not.”

“I want to,” she says. “But not here. Let’s keep driving. Okay?”

He nods. “Just one thing before I lose my nerve again or before anything else happens.” He lowers his head, giving her ample time to move away. She won’t. She wants this. She’s been wanting it for so long. Their lips meet and everything around them stops mattering. It’s a soft kiss, a hesitant first. There’s still some rubble between them that they need to clean up.

There will be time to do that later.

“I’ve always wanted to make out at a haunted house,” Mulder admits when they disconnect. Her lipstick is smeared against his mouth, a bit on his cheek, too.

“Why am I not surprised?” she says with a smile.

“Let’s go. I think there’s something you wanted to tell me.”

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

10. Bathroom wall a.k.a. a queen bee, Prince in the shower and a backup Casanova (Part One)

„After all… it could be worse. It’s definitely nicer than the apartment I shared with the Friels in L.A.”

“Spare me the details…” Stone mumbles as we’re walking with our bags and suitcases to our rooms. Every second neon light is flickering, which, apart from making me tic, creates a Hitchcockian vibe here. But we have no choice, this is the only motel in the smalltown in which we are stuck for one night on our way to Charlotte. The tour bus of the crew broke down and after two hours of consultation, the drivers confirmed the case requires a car mechanic. Since we were in the late afternoon, Eric decided to cancel our hotel reservation for this night and we checked in the first and only motel we found here.

“I’m happy we only have to spend one night here. Not that I’m picky but this Bates Motel scares the hell out of me…” Judy glances around nervously, reading in my mind as usual. “It’s that a cockroach trap?” she squeaks.

“Don’t worry, I know how to deal with insects, I grew up on a farm, these bastards show up very often around animals.”

“…aaand that’s exactly why we have to worry…” Stone adds having us in stitches.

“Stoney, your only luck is that I can handle any sort of animals.” Jeff retorts grinning as he walks a few steps backwards to see Stone’s reaction but he tactically waits with his retort for him turning back.

“Oh yeah… and you can’t wait to show her your one-eyed trouser snake.” he mutters and I try to mask my snorts by faking a cough. However much I like Judy and however much I have no idea what’s going on exactly between her and Jeff, Stone’s remarks about their bashful kindergarten romance are just hilarious…

“I’ve got bugs in my room…” Ed shows up in the door we’ve just passed.

“Bugs… and no TV.” Beth puts her head out too.

“Great. All I’ve wanted was to stare random sports coverages with glazed eyes and not to think about anything…”

“Since when have you needed any outside help to do that?” Stone targets our bassist again.

“Well, Mike, you’ve won the jackpot. One night with Stone without a TV… What do you think, Jeff, how long it’ll take until he knocks on your door begging you for cutting his cochlear nerves out of his skull?” she asks raising one eyebrow.

I must admit Stone has met his match in this girl. Honestly, I can’t stand when they are yelling with each other but a healthy level of wrangling can’t hurt. At least he leaves us alone while he’s busy with hating her… and she’s not that damsel in distress what she looks like at first sight, even if Stone isn’t willing to acknowledge that.

“Why does nobody care about ME?” Stone whines. “One night without TV… in the company of Mike McCready’s infamous right hand…”

I jinxed it.

“You know, Stone, I still can strangle you with the left one…”

“EWWW!” the others groan in unison, probably visualizing the scene. Now that I think into it, it���s rude, truly…

“Mike, behave yourself, we have now a lady in the crew; we can’t act like wild boars anymore…”

“But wild boars can’t even…”

“A lady. Of course. And what I am? Or who? Wilma Flintstone?” Karrie shakes her head with folded arms standing in the next door.

“Oh, you’re such a badass that we always forget you’re a woman… Okay, that definitely sounded better in my head.” I duck my head seeing the reproving expression of the others. “What I’m trying to say is that you survived several tours with punk bands, I’m sure we’re innocent lambs in comparison to them…”

“Pure, immaculate babies…” Jeff bats his eyelashes.

“You’d better prepare for getting dirty… since there’s no shower in the rooms…”

“What?” Judy lets out a short scream that reminds me of the squeak of a random exotic bird.

“I’m serious, there’s only a toilet with a small sink.” she opens the door in her room. As I enter to peek in, the smell strikes me. Everything in the room, including the furniture, the tapestry, the curtain is saturated with the massive smell of cigarette smoke. I don’t even know if one could get rid of this level of smell… maybe by demolishing the whole building and sowing salt onto its place…

“Does that mean there’s no shower here at all?” Judy inquires one octave higher.

“No worries, it’s here…” we hear Dave’s voice from the end of the hallway. Judy drops her backpack on the ground and hurries in his direction; after a collective shrug, we decide to follow her. On entering, I count two sinks and a rickety classroom chair in the forefront; I go on with my expedition and find myself in a wider room with each four shower compartments on both sides.

“What do you think, is that the women’s shower or…” Judy wonders. We exchange an amused look before bursting out in laughter.

“Judy, I doubt there’s another one in this building.” Jeff throws one arm around her shoulder. “But I’m sure we’ll find a solution to this problem.”

“S-sure.” she reddens in a second. “D-did I mention I lived in a dorm in my first two years on Juilliard? Actually, there were separate showers for girls and boys but you could never know whom you could encounter there…” she jabbers examining the nose of her shoes.

“And which one did you visit more often?” Stone asks in a phlegmatic manner not showing much interest in the answer since he begins to discover the room with both hands in the pocket.

“Actually, showers have great acoustics so I would use the evenings when everyone was away and sneak in with my bassoon to practice…” her face lights up. The poor girl hasn’t suspected yet what I already know: Stone will use the occasion to embarrass her all the more.

“So you practiced on your bassoon there. Finally, I’ve learned how classical musicians call it!”

“Tell me Stone, what makes you think about penis all the time?” Jeff grins while Judy is only staring in front of herself completely mortified. “We’re talking about animals… PENIS! We notice the lack of TV… PENIS! Judy mentions a musical instrument… PENIS! What would Freud think about that?” he takes his chin between his thumb and index finger and starts scratching it with them, pretending cogitation.

“We should call Amber, the guy needs urgent treatment.” Dave snorts.

“Or I can leave you alone for this evening…” I place my hand on Stone’s shoulder with a meaningful expression.

“Okay guys… I leave you alone and give you five minutes to discuss your pubescent wet dreams or to do whatever you collectively want to, I’m not interested in the details, what happens here that stays here but after the blood returns in your brain, we should decide what to do in the evening since I want to spend here as little time as possible. I saw a bar opposite the motel, maybe they have a TV or maybe we could play pool or foosball…”

“Great idea. Now leave.” Dave tosses her jokingly to the hallway.

I do like her idea, I’d be anywhere but here… but I already know the signs. The knives in my stomach… it’s coming…

***

„Look, Judy and Scully are sitting there!”

“…and that’s why we’re gonna choose another table…” Stone mumbles.

“I tell you a secret: you won’t catch leper just by sitting next to her…”

“I don’t wanna hazard, how would I look with one ear or… whatever…”

“A smaller nose wouldn’t hurt, though…”

“I must say, Stone’s right…” Dave turns back to me. “You shouldn’t breathe down her neck all the time.”

“I don’t…”

“You do.” they answer in unison and Dave goes on like he was the dating guru of the band. “If you like a girl and follow her everywhere like a puppy, she will take it for granted. But if you sometimes act casual and don’t treat her like a princess…”

“… she will have no clue whether I like her or not and nothing will happen between us in the rest of our lifetime.” I cut him off.

“No, it’s all about tactics! You show interest, then you pull back, but you’ve already piqued her curiosity so she takes the next step, then you make a move again and this time you try to get closer than last time, then you take back from the pace again making her jealous… and so on…”

“Come on, it’s not like a basketball match, I hate playing games and dancing things around, I just go and ask her out and tell her how I feel and if she rejects me, at least I can tell I didn’t run circles… I hate making a fool of myself.”

“As you want, Jeff… but one thing I know: the most exciting girls all play “the game”. All of them. I’ll grab the beers.” Dave sums up with a meaningful grin before heading to the counter.

“You should leave her alone. I mean not because of what Dave said, obviously, neither is she exciting, nor is she a player and I’m scientifically not convinced that she’s a girl at all but seriously… you can’t expect much from her…”

“I don’t really care about your opinion, you can’t stand her, fine, but I…”

“… you can’t expect much from her…” he repeats taking a deep breath “because she’s a virgin.“

“Hahaha, Jesus, Stone, forget this bullshit finally, not all decent girls are nuns or spinsters!” I shake my head glancing to the direction of the decent girl in question. Luckily, the TV screen over the counter and the broadcasting of a basketball match on it serve as unquestionable excuse for me following what’s happening at our friends’ table.

“Bashfulness is one thing… and her potato bag-like dresses weren’t designed for seduction either but… I’ve heard something…”

“What? Her reading her gynecology record?” I snort.

“Very funny… you think I’m kidding… it happened at the SNL set. Between our appearances, I went back to our dressing room and when I entered she was… begging Eddie to show her how to use a condom…” Stone gets finally to the point pushing the ash tray back and forth with his thumb.

“Are you high or what? You mean she… she… she asked Ed to grab his dong and…” I’m trying to overcome my laugh attack.

“Jesus, no!!! She wanted him to do it with a banana. Plus, Beth was there too.”

“This story is getting better and better.” I keep snickering as I bury my face in my hand, not that me tearing off my own face would bother Stone in finishing the presentation of his theory.

“Well, it sounds pretty sick at first but if you think into it… she’s inexperienced… she gets on well with Beth… who tries to enlighten her about sex stuff… and she gets the idea that her boyfriend could help her with the male side of the story…”

“Stone?”

“Yup?”

“You’re a fuckin’ perv, you watch too much threesome porn.” I lean closer looking in his eyes.

“Since when has been threesome a perverse thing?” he asks back avoiding my eyes with a lopsided smile.

“I didn’t say that. But fantasizing about Judy discussing sexual topics with a couple who happen to be our friends is definitely only the product of your twisted mind.” I poke him in the forehead with my index finger. “Anyway, this whole incubus is full of contradictions. Like, you know too that Ed can be pretty shy about certain topics, if this scene had happened the way you told, he would have got embarrassed and…”

“I know, it was weird to me too but he even began to joke about it suggesting that we should write a song about ejaculation…”

“Haha, I always thought Mike would be the first to come up with that…”

“You know, some people write songs about it, some people practice it… Anyway, admit it, it makes sense. She’s shy, she reddens all the time, she even makes up a ridiculous excuse just to avoid being kissed…”

“…which is also only your theory, let’s make it clear.” I interject but in the meantime, I catch myself observing Judy’s body language. She talks to Scully with folded arms, as if she was trying to squeeze in and take up as little space as possible. Noticing my distraction, Stone also glances towards them and goes on with his mental leap, not taking his eyes off them.

“Of course… it’s possible that I misheard them. Maybe she was talking about bandanas and I thought it was about a banana. Maybe she didn’t even say “condom.” Maybe she said bottom… or bonbon… or pontoon… or…”

“Just shut up finally!” I grunt still focusing on my target who now tucks both palms under her thighs and listens to our guitar tech with undivided attention. I wish there was a manual on the typical moves of sexually inactive girls… shit, Stone’s tactic works. As always. He’s got that annoying skill to bug with you his impossible ideas again and again until you realize he’s put a bee in your bonnet and crawled totally into your mind. “Anyway, even if you’re right, what does it change?”

“Right about what?” Dave rejoins the conversation and distributes the three bottles of beer before he sits back on his place.

“Whether Saint Judith has already popped the cherry.” Stone grins against the rim of the bottle with sassy eyebrow twitches.

“Geez, don’t you have anything better to talk about?” Dave shakes his head and I reward his reaction by clapping appreciatively. “Anyway” he goes on with a little break while he’s taking a sip “if you’re that curious, why don’t you just go and ask Karrie?”

“I’M NOT CURIOUS ABOUT IT!” I raise my voice. “Excellent idea Dave, I don’t even know why it hadn’t occurred to me before… like, “hey Karrie, has your cousin banged recently? I mean, since she was born?” After all, she would probably only tear my head off and play basketball with it stomping on my dead body. It’d be totally worth trying.”

My reaction makes Dave laugh so hard that he ends up dropping the cigarette he’s just put into the corner of his mouth. As he places it back approaching it with the lighter, I hear a female voice over my head.

“Have you got light?”

The owner of the voice is a tall, slim girl. She isn’t pretty in the conventional meaning but the contrast between her dark hair and eyes and her pale skin gives her a femme fatale look. The red lipstick she’s wearing only multiplies this image; due to the striking phenomenon, it takes me a few seconds to notice the two other girls standing behind her. They are nice but obviously not nice enough to eclipse the vibe of Lipstick Girl. After all, ladies-in-waiting have never been allowed to look better than their queen…

“Sure” mumbles Dave offering the lighter, not that he’s got any choice because Lipstick Girl has already taken place on the fourth chair after her rhetorical question.

Stone and I glance at each other confirming that we don’t have any other choice either than reaching out for each one chair at the surrounding tables and pulling them closer to ours, so that the other two girls don’t have to be standing miserably around us.

“You’re those guys from Pearl Jam, right?” Lipstick Girl inquires blowing the smoke lazily. For no reason, though, since knowing the answer, she goes on with the next question. “And where’s your singer?”

I should have known. They are interested in the famous Eddie Vedder. As ninety-nine percent of people who know the band.

“He stayed at the hotel. With his girlfriend.” I try to answer in a dark voice.

“Oh. That’s too bad. I’m Claudia, by the way.” her face lights up as she reaches out her hand to Stone and I can’t decide whether her sudden enthusiasm is real or she’s a serial killer who’s just found her backup victim.

“That Guy From Pearl Jam.” Stone shakes hands with her.

“And these are my friends, Jordan and Wendy.” she goes on with the introduction, ignoring Stone’s sarcastic response. Wendy can’t help giggling excitedly hearing her own name while Jordan sends a shy smile towards us.

“Actually, we rather call him Stone. It’s shorter and simpler. Sort of… classy.” I explain.

“Yes, and since we’re all “That Guy From Pearl Jam”, we had to find out another names, otherwise we’d never know who’s talking to whom. That’s why we call him Jeff.” Dave points at me cracking the girls up with his joke, of course Claudia’s laughter is the loudest from the trio.

“Actually, we found this dude in a dumpster. We decided to adopt him and named him Dave.” I point back at our drummer keeping our company entertained. Tit for tat. ”By the way, Stone is our guitarist…”

“Rhythm guitarist…” he feels necessary to specify the name of his position.

“Oh my god, I love rhythms.” Wendy exclaims pressing her hand against her chest.

“But Dave is our rhythm master-in-chief, he plays the drums.”

“Actually, bass belongs to the rhythm section too… by the way, I’m the bass player…” I add although I doubt they could distinguish between the types of guitars.

“And aren’t you playing a show tonight?” Jordan finally speaks up but before we could answer politely her dumb question, Claudia humiliates her saying out loud what’s probably not only on my but also my bandmate’s mind.

“Of course they aren’t, what do you think, they have clones or what? Anyway, what are you doing here?” she suddenly turns back into the chatty Catwoman, sending an irresistible smile at Stone. She must be bipolar.

“We’re just hangin’ out… talkin’ about stuff… mostly manly stuff. Porn… tuned cars…” Stone shrugs.

“Oh my god, I love tuned cars!” Wendy clucks in, obviously her sensor for sarcasm isn’t working, in case she has one at all.

“…guns…” Dave adds and despite my expectations, Wendy doesn’t express her enthusiasm this time.

“…and basketball…” I throw in my contribution but I immediately lose interest in the conversation, when Dave nudges me nodding towards Judy and Scully. I immediately decode his signal and glance there too to realize Judy is staring us. And as far as I can see, her expression is curious and confused at the same time.

“You see? It’s working…” Dave mutters between his teeth pretending to listen to the rambling of Wendy and Claudia. “Now make her clear she’s not the center of the universe, you notice other girls too…” he advises pulling out the next cigarette of the pack. As always, Stone reaches out for it too knowing Dave always spares him and pardons his grubbing.

“Wow, may I check your hands?” Claudia uses the occasion and like every time since they joined us, she does what she wants regardless to the answer, which means this time her grabbing Stones right hand and starting touching it enthusiastically. “Your hands are beautiful… how can fingers be that long? And they are so soft!” she also narrates the process, making Stone let out a silent chuckle. Despite being the sarcastic commenter of our life, he can be pretty aloof with strangers and I’m sure he’s embarrassed this time too. Driven by a sudden idea, I basically push my hands in the face of Jordan.

“Look, bassist hands look totally different!”

“Yeah… your finger seems… stronger. I like your rings…” she flushes but I find more interesting the outraged grimace of the girl behind her. Is it possible that Dave was right? She’s flailing as she’s explaining something angrily to Scully, still looking at us… Is she maybe…jealous? Yass!!!

In the meantime, music starts playing from the speakers, it’s Hot Stuff by Donna Summer. Weird choice at a pub without a real dance floor but the girls at our table don’t feel bothered by that fact since they all start screaming grabbing for each other’s hands.

“Oh my god, I love this song!” Wendy shrieks. How surprising.

“I can’t help dancing every time I hear it!” Claudia sighs and in the next second I see her pulling Stone – whose hand she’s still holding in hers ­ in the middle of the bar while our bandmate turns back and sends desperate S.O.S. signals to us.

“Yes, let’s dance!”

The two other girls follow them and they encourage us to do the same by shouting back at us. Dave silently grins at me and I immediately know what’s on his mind.

“No. No way. Forget it.”

“Come on Jeff, let’s finish what you’ve started. Everything for the cause.”

As his smile grows wider I realize I have no choice.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” I groan as I pinch the bridge of my nose, even closing my eyes tightly as if it could help me turn invisible. “Okay, let’s do it.” I exhale deeply and drag myself after Dave.

I honestly hope this works… And if it does, I’ll want to get a very generous reward for it.

***

„I gladly help you, Judy but don’t you think it’ll be too much? You want to learn everything at once. I mean, I’m not saying you’re not capable of it but I’m not sure that my experiences would be useful… even Brett’s task is closer to that of Karrie’s, so…”

“The more I work with the team the more I feel that I know nothing. N O T H I N G. Karrie’s done this job for years and I only have weeks to become her replacement… Jesus, I was a goddamn idiot when I said yes.” Judy leans her forehead against her palms with a desperate sigh. “This whole job is about physics that has never been my strength…” she lifts her bottle to her lips, which is a move she’s done very often tonight. Actually, I don’t mind it, she hasn’t been very talkative to me but seemingly, beer proves to be an effective tongue loosener at her.

“Come on, do the others look like rocket scientists?”

“Of course not. But everything what they learned by experiencing step by step, I have to compensate in like… weeks? A degree in physics or electrical engineering would be more useful than my skill to recognize chords by ear or analyze a fugue theme or…

“And why do you think that the guitar tech could introduce you into the mysterious world of sound waves and frequencies? I basically just tinker with Stone’s guitars, prepare him cold beer on the amp and hand him the towel between songs…”

“You forgot to mention your supernatural ability…”

“…which would be…?”

“First, being able no to vomit of the look of his sweaty body… and to bear him, generally. Seriously, man, you should receive the Nobel Peace Prize, it’s some achievement.” she glimpses narrow-eyed at the three-fifths of the band. It’s beginning. They don’t even need to be in any interaction to find excuses for sparring. “Sorry, I know you get on well with each other, he’s your friend, yadda-yadda… but he simply gets on my nerve and he even enjoys it.”

Actually, that’s exactly what Stone keeps telling about her too but I rather swallow my remark. When the guys arrived, I was about to wave them so that they came over but she almost broke my arm and categorically declared she couldn’t even bear the sight of him. I thought her liking the other guys could make her overcome her aversion but I was wrong.

“Karrie hasn’t allowed me yet to do anything with her soundboard during the gigs but she gives me smaller tasks at sound checks and encourages me to experiment with the setups… although I feel like I’m wasting everybody’s time and I’m just pushing buttons senselessly like a lab chimpanzee… I mean, the others tell me too if I don’t manage to do what they are asking me for but I also receive positive feedback from them when I’m accidentally doing something right. But Stone… he basically disagrees only for the sake of tension and he changes his mind in every two seconds… so even if I sometimes start feeling useful, he ruins this feeling with one single word or a smug face…” she goes on talking faster and faster, putting accent on every mentioning of Stone by beating her bottle against the table.

“I don’t want to desperate you but you’d better begin to prepare for new challenges… it’s already April, the season of outdoor gigs has just started… which means you can forget everything you’ve already learned because those are completely different than shows in smaller smoky clubs…” And they give Stone infinite number of variations for finding flaws and mistakes in her work but I keep this information for myself, seeing she’s stressed out enough even without that.

“Great. You really know how to soothe people, you know?” she remarks with a bitter half-smile. “And here we are…”

“What?” I ask and follow the direction of her look as she nods towards the guys who are now surrounded by a few girls, probably local bar beauties. “Oh, it’s nothing serious… it happens from time to time and I’m sure it’ll too more and more often. But they’re not interested in girls who are interested in rock stars.” I shrug.

“ ’Course. Not at all. Guys who are not interested in girls. Sure.”

“I’m serious, I mean, they don’t practice celibacy but neither of them is into hookups with fans.”

“That’s what I’ve heard too. And they do seem to be honest guys but who believes in fairy tales?” As we keep observing them, we witness the ladies settling down at their table and engaging into a lively conversation with them. “You see?” she comments on the scene but despite the victorious confirmation she’s right, I discover hints of other feelings on her face too… maybe… envy?

“Okay, you’re a little right. Dave is a huge flirt. He loves being surrounded by girls, complimenting them, chatting them up and apart from a few exceptions, that’s all.” I admit trying to direct the conversation to neutral fields since I suddenly realize what triggers her reaction. I’m a moron for catching on so slowly but better later than never… She obviously feels neglected by Jeff. They’ve just begun to hang out together, they’ve already had a sort-of-a-date… and now she thinks he’s lost interest in her. “But Jeff is a very loyal type, he’s like a brick wall with bimbos…” I put him on pedestal but she doesn’t seem convinced.

“Jesus, those typical, trivial girly tricks, I can’t believe he buys them.” she goes on as if she hadn’t even heard me.

“I… I wouldn’t think anyone of them is his type, I mean of course I didn’t know all of his exes but…” I babble effortlessly and my words finally reach her brain.

“What? Exes? Whose exes?” she tilts her head furrowing her eyebrows uncomprehendingly. Okay, that’s definitely not what I expected.

“Jeff’s..?” I ask back with the same helpless expression.

“Who the hell cares about Jeff?” she startles impatiently. What. The. Fuck. “I mean of course I care. About Jeff. And when I say “care” I mean “care”, like, we all care about him, right? We care about him since he’s our friend. We’re happy when he’s happy and we comfort him when he’s sad because he’s like our…”

“…brother?” I help her out since her version about the concept of care sounds more and more like the kindergarten edition of Oxford Dictionary.

“Uhmmm…” she hesitates and I’m sure she’s fast-backwarding all their interactions in her head, sorting out the potentially incestuous ones. “He’s a guy who doesn’t owe me anything.” she defines finally the situation.

Thanks, Judy, I feel a lot smarter now.

“Seriously, groping a guy’s hand??? Couldn’t she be cheaper?” she exclaims flailing outraged. As I follow her gaze, I spot a black-haired demon sitting next to Stone who’s playing with his fingers fliratiously.

“Stone??? Were you talking about him the whole time?”

“Of course, about whom else?” She rolls her eyes as if she was just explaining that one plus one is two.

“But you hate him…”

“Yup. I do.”

“Then why does it bother you?” I glance at the hand porn scene.

“It bothers me because he’s the only one of them who’s got a girlfriend and look how he’s behaving…”

“How is he behaving?”

“Are you blind, man? She’s flirting with him and he doesn’t stop her while that poor girl is waiting for him somewhere in Seattle…”

“Look, “poor girl” is the last thing I would say thinking about Amber… Anyway, you don’t even know him properly. He doesn’t encourage girls in whom he’s not interested but the fact he doesn’t take them seriously doesn’t mean he has to be rude with them either.” I defend my friend involuntarily.

“I get it, the only girl with whom he has to be rude is me.”

“What the hell does that have to do with you? And think what you want but I’m sure he’s not cheating on Amber, that girl in Utrecht was only a misunderstanding…”

Oh, fuck, I should have kept my mouth shut.

“THAT GIRL IN UTRECHT? I KNEW HE’S A WHORE!”

She’s probably trying to sound like an enraged lion but she rather reminds me of a furious kitten.

“It was just a stage diver girl… she climbed up on the stage, complimented his guitar play and asked him for a kiss… and since he only kissed her on the cheek, she stole a peck from his lips and then jumped back in the crowd, that’s all!”

Jesus, there’s no chance I get away with this.

“A peck on the lips, an orgy, what’s the difference?” she spits the words disgusted.

“He claimed she had been sweaty and smelled like cheap red wine, he shotgunned three cans of beer until he felt human again, I saw it with my own two eyes!” I lose my temper too and force her with my index and middle finger to keep eye contact with me. By this time we’re basically yelling with each other since the music got louder in the meantime and we have to outshout an evergreen disco hit of Donna Summer.

“Then be ready to spill bleach in those two eyes!” she points towards the guys and I can hardly believe what I see.

The three girls are already dancing in the middle of the bar and… Jeff, Stone and Dave… are joining them?

“Actually, Jeff is a better dancer than I thought, I would have assumed he moves like a bear… but he’s not bad at all…” Judy giggles surprised at our bassist who picked up the rhythm successfully by mixing basic disco dance steps with the moves of belly dancers. Meanwhile, Dave is swaying his hips back and forth keeping his two hands on the nape like a parody of male strippers. The girls appreciate them fooling around, apart from the black-haired one who’s too busy with activating Stone.

“But Stone… he seems to have left his dance shoes at home.” she acknowledges shaking her head with a half-smile. She’s basically reading my mind; he’s the only static feature of the scene, bobbing his head and tapping the beat with his foot, digging both hands in his pocket.

“Well, yeah… he doesn’t feel comfortable without his guitar. I remember them playing a gig in Stockholm when something went wrong with his Les Paul. He couldn’t fix it but his other guitar wasn’t tuned back… and it happened during the last song so it wouldn’t have made much sense to do it, I could have made it only by the end of it… So he put down the guitar but didn’t really know what to do, like you just don’t start to dance to Leash but standing on the stage like statue while the others are playing out of their minds looks also lame… So he tried to move to the music but to be honest, I thought he was getting an epilepsy attack…”

“Hahaha! Truly, he doesn’t seem to be familiar we the concept of dance at all…” she giggles staring at him, while he’s still standing at the same spot as if he was pinned to the ground. Only his bobbing gets more intense as the black-haired girl begins to dance him around with seductive hip circles.

“Maybe we should hang a guitar on his shoulders to make him bounce on one leg at least, as he does it at the gigs… WHOA! This so disgusting and vulgar! Look, how much he enjoys it!”

“How much?” I roar back since apart from the repeating hair flips and the constant smirk, the girl doesn’t receive much feedback from our Stoney. But for some unknown reason, Judy seems to be watching a different movie than me.

“He’s basically drooling…”

“Why? Because he’s smiling? Come on…”

In the meantime he’s forced to make a few almost dance moves in order to keep his balance since his partner decided to stimulate him by rubbing her back to his… which drives Judy completely out of control.

“GET A ROOM!” she jumps to her feet kicking her chair back. “I have to pee.” she announces with a sudden and suspicious nonchalance to compensate her outburst. But after making a few steps towards the restrooms, she turns back as if she realized she forgot to mention something. “To be exact, I also consider puking.” she adds sending a last icy look towards the target of her anger before she leaves with indignant gasps.

***

I still hate public toilets, especially those of bars. The compartments are narrow and dirty, and the bolt is mostly just a decoration without any useful purpose. Just like here. I have to hold onto the door handle, balance over the toilet bowl and try not to bang my head against the door at the same time; of course the seat is missing, not that I’d ever sit on it at a place like this one. At least I can tell I’ve done something for my abs today… Everything resonates to the pulsing rhythm of Hot Stuff; the song that have always landed on the record player whenever Effie or I or both of us have wanted to dance some shit out of ourselves… until now. It’s like it’s got stolen from me, it’s my song, it’s our song, and now they’ve desecrated it. I can’t imagine I could ever dance to it again without seeing that pathetic mating ritual in front of myself. At least the usual obscene drawings and messages on the wall distract me from playing that scene over and over again in my head. I’ve always enjoyed examining the scribbles in restrooms…. The only thing I can’t figure out is the huge amount of phone numbers, what’s the point in writing them on the toilet wall? Has anyone ever called a phone number found here? And if the answer is yes, what might the caller have said? “Hey, I saw your number at the loo while I was pooping and I immediately liked it so would you go out with me?”

Shit, that distasteful squeezing… I haven’t put much past him, anyway but somehow I thought he’s a more thoughtful guy, I mean, he’s a fuckin’ idiot but him being only a stupid fuckboy kind of surprised me. Whatever, it’s not my business. His girlfriend will be certainly happy for the “little gift” he will bring home for her, if he goes on like this…

I’m already with one leg out of the compartment when I hear the door of the room opening and the loud giggle of female voices makes me startle and pull back to cover.

“Oh my God, I still can’t believe we encountered them right here, right now!” a high-pitched voice peeps. It reminds me of the sound of a rubber chicken.

“Yes, I thought they stayed at fancy hotels and went to party to exclusive bars… and yet, they show up in our boring little town… and they are so nice guys!” someone else joins the gushing.

“Oh my God, Dave is so funny!” Rubber Chicken chirps.

Great. I’ve got trapped by the cheerleader group.

“Yes, he is… but I like Jeff the most… he’s got a good sense of humor too but he seems to be a serious guy at the same time… did you hear him mentioning he’s a painter too? Artists are very sensitive people… and Jeff alliterates with Jordan…” the speaking partner of Rubber Chicken adds sighing. “And Stone is a very handsome guy too but I don’t understand all of his jokes…”

You don’t even know how lucky you are, my child…

“That’s not a huge problem, since you won’t talk much with him, he’s mine.” a deeper, confident voice puts an end to the distribution of testosterone. She must be the Alpha Female who wrapped herself around Stone. Jesus, I don’t want to listen to them raping the guys verbally… I take a deep breath and walk out to the sinks… or I’d walk there if they weren’t blocked by the Three Graces who are very busy with fixing their makeup.

“Ahem… sorry…” I clear my throat because my silhouette showing up behind them in the mirror doesn’t really bother them in the process.

“Oh, I’m ready, come…” the admirer of Jeff turns back and sends a smile at me. She seems to be a kind girl, anyway. Alpha Female is still rubbing her eyelids, trying to remove the dark spots of superfluous mascara, while Rubber Chicken is following the procedure with undisguised wonder.

I squint in the mirror as I clean my hands under the running water. Alpha Female is tall, like, very tall, I look like a garden gnome next to her. Her skin is pale, even paler than mine but she’s not afraid to wear dark, smoky eye shadow and fiery lipstick. How do these girls do it? Every time I try to do something with my face, I feel and look like a five-year-old little girl who stole the content from her mom’s drawer. Even the tiniest change seems to be conspicuous and makes me want to tear my skin off… but she looks just gorgeous. It’s not fair.

“Oh my God, Claudia, that rouge looks so beautiful on you!” Rubber Chicken purrs.

So her name is Claudia. Why does that make me think of chlamydia?

“It’s beautiful and very functional.” Alpha winks as she pulls out the item in question of her purse to thicken her juicy-looking lips. “Water- and kissproof.”

Yeah, beautiful. Lipstick on a pig.

“Whadh?” Alpha freezes with slightly opened mouth.

Shit, did I say it out loud?

“Noothing… I just… sneezed…”

“Aha… hey… I shaw you adh dhe dhable widh dhadh dhudhe…”

“Really?” I ask back to win some time to decode the message behind her sloppy articulation.

“Yeah… Jeff said you’re with them too.” Alpha talks on to her own reflection before pressing her lips together for the sake of even texture. “Are you someone’s sister?”

Our eyes meet it the mirror.

“Oh yeah, I am, just like the massive majority of the female population of Earth.” I mumble as I tear a piece of paper towel.

“I mean, the sister of someone in the band or the crew, smarty-pants.” she rolls her eyes.

Oh. So we’re having a chitchat. As always, I start feeling uncomfortably of watching myself too long in the mirror so I begin to check my hair, even if it makes absolutely no sense since I braided it as tight as possible in the morning, my braids could survive even the shock wave of a nuclear explosion.

“I’m in the crew. As a member.”

Okay, I’m only the second cousin of a crew member but I doubt she would understand that degree of family relationships.

“Then you must know Stone very well.”

I know him better than I wanted to…

“Uh… yes, I kinda know him.”

“Ish he shingle?” Alpha inquires still finding tiny flaws in the artwork she’s creating.

“No, he’s got a girlfriend.” I answer quickly. “It’s a serious thing… I mean, as far as I know.”

Okay, I don’t know shit about his love life but he’s been touring for months and they are still together so it can’t be just a fling, I didn’t lie.

“Is she here too?” she turns suddenly towards me, drawing a circle with her index finger in the air.

“Oh no… no… she’s ahem, in Seattle.”

“Hahaha, then he’s single.”

Okay, I can’t really argue with this attitude properly.

“And what is he like? What type of girls he digs?” my interrogation goes on.

Should I say deaf-and-dumbs?

“Uhm… he’s an aloof weirdo so honestly, I have no idea.”

He’s the most distant member of the band and sometimes he does have an alien-like manner, so this time I didn’t lie either…

“You mean he’s shy?”

Jesus, if that’s the equivalent of “aloof weirdo” in your poor dictionary then yes, he’s shy, whatever…

“Sort of…”

“We can fix that, shyness is no problem to me… Yes, the lanky one is mine.” she smacks satisfied at her mirror image, examining the result with a content smirk.

“Do you have further questions or may I…?” I point with my thumb towards the door.

“I know everything what I need. Thanks, Peanut!”

Peanut? PEANUT??? My head is pounding as I escape back to the bar. It takes me long seconds to spot that Scully relocated to the table of the band members, he’s the only one there right now, though, since the others are standing at the counter to provide the supplies.

“Hey, what’s that?” I ask pointing at the shot glass in front of him as I plop down.

“It’s tequila but it’s mi…ne.” he waves resigned since I grab and guzzle it in the blink of an eye.

“Sorry, I needed it.” I shiver and frown. I’ve realized again that I hate tequila but it seemed like a good idea. “I met them in the restroom.”

“Whom?”

“The Slut Squad. They’re about to hunt the guys down.”

“So what? I think you’re overreacting, anyway, they are big boys and already know how to take care of themselves…”

I doubt it… The trio joins the guys and now they don’t even try to hide the official result of the sharing. Rubber Chicken and Jordan at least show some self-restraint but Claudia shifts to next gear, or maybe she even skips a few one since she laughs hysterically at every comment of Stone and tries to mesmerize him by staring at him with an irresistible smile And obviously, she uses every imaginable excuse to touch him. The guys offer their drinks gallantly to their temptresses who are now heading to us with awkward snickering. Of course Claude didn’t forget to stroke Stone’s upper arm to express her gratitude for the beer…

“Shit, they are coming… act naturally!” I nudge Scully.

“I act naturally, it’s you who’s turned into a rabid squirrel…” he grunts back.

“Shh… HI GIRLS!” I greet them hoping my voice doesn’t sound too fake and try to ignore that I can see Scully burying his face into his palms from the corner of my eye.

“Hi Peanut… and…?”

“Scully. Guitar tech.” he waves still keeping the facepalm with one hand.

“Oh my God, I love guitars!” Rubber Chicken exclaims.

“I used to love them too. But if you tune them so many times in a day that you start dreaming about them, taste changes fast, trust me. Nowadays I’m rather into trumpets.” he adds with a serious face.

“Oh… really?”

Poor Rubber Chicken, she’s obviously too slow to follow the usual pace of our conversations.

“Flea from Red Hot Chili Peppers plays the trumpet too…” Jordan remarks.

“You’re right, have you heard their latest album? It’s…” I greedily seize the first reasonable topic they throw in but Claudia insists on discussing her project.

“He seems to have taken the bait. Dear God, he’s so sexy, I can’t handle…” she moans.

“And he’s got a first-class butt…” Scully sighs dreamily, which makes me bite my lips to suppress the laughter developing in my chest.

“Don’t torture me… do you think he likes me?”

Yes, I was thinking the same about the quitting of torture, you’re monomania is pure torment to us. But how can she ignore the fact so shamelessly that he’s not independent? Not available, forbidden fruit, taboo…

“As I said he’s got a…” I’m about to remind her of the relationship status of her victim but I realize it wouldn’t make any sense. I fell into the trap of thinking her mindset is similar to mine… motivation! That’s the key, in crime series, police officers always catch the murderer only after finding out about their motivations… And her motivation is… sex, of course. “…a charm. He’s so sweet, right? A real cutie pie!” I groan with the most plastic smile I can put on. Scully freezes for a second, and then almost chokes on his beer, probably thinking I’m losing my mind, but I’ve never been saner.

“Sorry, it’s just my reflux.” he hits himself in the chest with his fist.

“Look at his smile! And his laughter…”

“Yeah, his laughter, exactly…” that is as pleasant to hear as a chalkboard scratching “It’s such a pity for him…”

“How do you mean?” she jumps immediately on my remark.

I take a deep breath. If I go on, there’ll be no way back… and I should think about the consequences… But seriously, Judith Emilia Camden, just think back how he’s treated you since you met! You’re not his doormat. He deserves it, he’d deserve even much more. As I glance at him only to see his smug grin, I already know there’s no point in hesitating, I know what to do.

“I mean such a nice guy… but with his preferences, it’s so difficult for him to find the right girl…” I pretend concern.

“His preferences? What preferences?”

Maybe it’s the anger, maybe it’s the tequila but as I go on, my tongue gets totally out of control…

[iusedtoknowwhatawishwasfor]

Queequeg's Resurrection

For: Astrid // Berenbos

QUEEQUEG

Oh my glob. Oh my glob. Oh my glob. I think that's what my human, Mommy, says. There was a big thing like another doggie but with no hair and lots of teethies. I think it wanted to eat me! I got away but he ripped out some of my feathers. My feathers are little perfect fluffy hairs on the back of my legs. That's what they are called - look it up. I swears. 

My poor feathers. BUT - I runned away and now I'm hiding. It's very wet here and the grass is higher than me. This isn't like where Mommy and me live so’s I hope I find her. She has red hair like me and always smells nice and gives me treaties. She is nice and soft to lay on when she watches the glowy box. 

I don't hear the toothy dog anymore, so I am going to see if I can move from here. I poke my nose out and sniff the air. I don't smell its weird stinky smell so I think I might be OK to walk around. I want to see if I can sniff out Mommy. I start out with one my nose to ground but I keep checking with my eyes because that doggie was so quiet. I move real slow and then I catch it - a whiff of Mommy!! Oh my glob!!

I move faster but I'm still looking a lot. Mommy's fren Muldo thinks I'm dumb. I heard him call me 'dumb dog' but I am not dumb. I am a smart doggie and I will show him. I will find Mommy. 

Mommy... Mommy... Mommy... 

If I keep saying it in my head maybe I will find her quicker. OH! I hear her. MOMMY!!

I burst out from the grasses and there she is wrapped in a binky. She is all wet - no wonder it took me some time. She is standing next to Muldo - HE is the dumb one. I arf and arf and she spins to look at me. 

"Queequeg!!" Mommy yells bending down. I run so fast I almost fall. It's my Mommy! She picks me up and I gib her all the kissies. She holds me close and she starts to cry. No cry, Mommy - I am here. Be happy!

"Holy shit - maybe you're not such a dumb dog after all." Muldo says and I want to growl at him but I am just so happy to be safe with Mommy that I don't. She gibs me more cuddles and then says "I can't believe it! You're ok." I gib her more kissies. She buries her head in my fur and gives me one last huggie. 

That was a close one! I won't be leaving Mommy's side again!!

SCULLY

I get overwhelmed when I see that little tuft of red hair coming my way. I can't believe it - my little guy is OK. I don't think I realized just how much I love him until now. Tears are welling up in my eyes and I don't even care. I hear Mulder saying something about my "dumb dog" not being so dumb but it fades in the background as I give him more hugs. I think before he entered my life, I didn't realize how much love I had to give - now I have someone to give it to and I need this little ball of floof in my life. 

"You're ok - my little floof." I murmur as I hug him to my chest and begin walking back towards the motel. Mulder trails along behind me muttering more things I don't hear in my still-shocked state.  

I unlock the door to my room and, only then, do I release him to the floor. He proceeds to hop around excitedly at my feet. My smile beams and I bend over to scratch behind his ears. Mulder has followed me into my room and sits down in the chair near the small table. He has stopped talking, probably realizing that I wasn't listening anyway. 

"Want some food, little man? I bet you're starving!" I say as I move to open a bag of kibble. I was still in too much shock to throw anything of his away yesterday. I put down his bowl and smile as he happily stuffs himself on the dry food. 

I sit down on the chair opposite to Mulder and watch Quee eat. 

"Sorry, Scully - I guess I didn't realize how much you loved him." My brows furrow as I look at him. Am I that much of a robot in his eyes? That I couldn't even love my dog? I think he knows how I took it within a second. I watch idly as Quee hops up on the bed across from us. 

"He's my dog. Of course I love him." I say flatly. 

"Hey, Scully, I didn't mean anything by it... I just..." he trails off, looking embarrassed. 

"It's fine." 

"Clearly it's not - I didn't mean you're incapable of love or anything..." Oh, Mulder, shut the fuck up before you get yourself in more trouble. I roll my eyes to the ceiling then close them. "Of course you are capable of love... like with your mom and stuff...." Has his mind left the building? I give him a look that conveys this.

"I just... it makes me think of all the things you must want for your life but don't have because of this job." 

"Mulder, I have Quee *because* of this job, remember?" 

"Yeah... but he's just one step closer to a normal life. You're just missing the husband and 2.5 kids." 

"Mulder, where is this even coming from?" 

"I don't know - our conversation out there on that rock. Am I really the stubborn captain dragging you around on a fruitless quest? I don't want you to miss out on things that could make you happy."

"Mulder. First of all, I wouldn't be here if it didn't make me happy and leave me with a sense of fulfillment. Second, you are not dragging me anywhere. I wouldn't be going with you if I didn't want to be there. I'm not Ishmael or the rest of the doomed crew. I'm my own person and make my own career and life choices." I said, somewhat offended about the way he's making ME into the hapless puppy dog of this situation.

"I didn't mean to imply that you don't have agency here... just that... I want you to be happy," He said, it's his turn to be the puppy dog with the big sad eyes.

"I am happy. I know this job can be hard and challenging but it's one of the reasons I love it so much..." I am trying to convey my truth to him in my eyes. "I was never the kind of little girl who dreamed of her wedding day or had her children's names picked out. I wanted adventure and to make a difference and I'm living that life so I'm happy. I'm happy with... you."

He gives me a shy smile. "Are you with me?"

Shit... this has taken a turn. "I... could be... if that was something we both wanted."

"Is it something you want?" It is just me or has his voice gotten deeper? Also it's gotten about 10 degrees hotter in here. I open my mouth but nothing comes. He saves, and slays, me with his next comment. "I want it."

"You do?" I squeak out. Jesus, is that even my voice? 

"I'm not going to lie and say I haven't been thinking about you and I... for a long time. I never knew what I wanted out of life as a kid. I never knew where life would take me. I certainly didn't expect you." He says with a fond smile quirking his lips. "But maybe that's the best part of life - those things that come out of nowhere and surprise you. All of a sudden, you have everything you didn't know you wanted right in front of you."

"Is that what I am to you?" I can't even believe I got those words out - I'm so shocked. This has been the most bizarre few days. I need to hear him say it - say those words - what he wants,

"Yes - you came out of nowhere and turned my life upside down. I didn't know that I would ever, or could ever, feel this way about someone. So... yes... you're all I want."

"You're all I want, too." I whisper but he must hear it because suddenly his face is right in front of mine. He moved lightning fast from his seat to kneeling in front of mine. His hands are light on my knees as he looks me straight in the eye, asking for my permission. I give a small nod and then we're kissing. I can't believe it. How did this even happen? We're kissing and his hands are in my hair and my arms are linked around his neck.

QUEEQUEG

What is dis?! He looks like he's gibbing her kissies. Only I am allowed to kiss mommy!! I have to put a stop to dis!

I jump off the bed and run at them...

MULDER

I can't believe it. I'm finally kissing Scully and it's perfect... exactly what I thought it would be. I knew we would be so good together...

JESUS!!

QUEEQUEG

I pounce!!

MULDER

Her dog is attacking us! Well... not attacking but he jumped into her lap and is now barking incessantly.

"I knew your dog hated me," I say dejectedly until I look up at her face. There is so much love and joy in those baby blues. We grin at each other and then we're laughing hysterically. This whole thing is ridiculous but I can't believe I finally got to kiss her. I'm actually giddy with it and I don't think I have ever felt this way, at any point, in my life.

“Scully, I don’t think is going to work…” I start and her face drops. “If your dog is going to jump on us every time I kiss you because I plan on doing it a lot.”

Her face lights up. “Oh two men battling for my affections!” She puts on a fake southern drawl that makes me chuckle. “I mean, Queequag does share my bed at night…”

“We’ll see for how much longer…” I lean in and give her a soft, slow kiss until the damn dog jumps up between us again. “Think you can make room for a fox, as well as a hound?”

She groans and rolls her eyes. “That was bad, even for you. But yes, I have plenty of room for both of my boys.” She gently pushes the pup off her lap and places her hands on my cheeks, her nails lightly scratching the 5 o’clock shadow there. She leans in and I meet her halfway for a kiss that somehow feels more intimate than the others before it. “Mulder, you know I love you, right?”

“I hoped, Scully, I hoped you loved me as much as I love you,” I say, touching my forehead to hers. She captures my lips again and I do my best to push the furball back. “So… when we get back… think maybe your mom can watch the hellspawn for a weekend? I really want you all to myself.” 

“Mmm… that is definitely possible.” She makes me happier and happier by the minute. 

THAT WEEKEND…

QUEEQUEG

Mommy is acting weird. Ever since we got back from the swampy place she is jittery… as jittery as me. She is walking around moving our stuff and playing with her hair. It’s really weird.

There is a knock at the door! I love visitors!! 

Mommy lets them in and OH MY GLOB! It’s grandma!! I run toward her and leap into her arms. “Hello, my little fluffy one!” she says and I gib her all my kissies. “You’re coming to stay with me for the day! How about that?”

Sounds great, gram - you gib me lots more treaties than mommy. You say it’s our secret so’s I neber tell her. 

“Dana, don’t you look nice… expecting another visitor after me?” She winks her eye at mommy.

“Mooooom…”

“Just asking, dear!” she says and throw her hand that’s not holding me up. “Just… maybe you could give me some details when you come to get furry man tomorrow.”

“We’ll see…” she said, grabbing my baggie with all my stuffs and handing it to gram. “Thanks again for watching him, mom. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” She kisses gram on the cheek and ruffles my head fur. Then gram and I are off to the place with tons of treats. We pass Muldo  in the hall and after he says ‘hey’ to gram, he ruffles my head fur too. He smells like the woods, not the swamp. I guess he’s ok. I guess I can let mommy keep him.

END.

@xfilesfanficexchange here it is!! I hope it lives up to the expectations of the prompt writer (prompter? Is that even a word?)

[ghostbustermelanieking]

praescitum chapter five

chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

casefile, season 10, season 11. part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files.

Summary: As Mulder and Scully adjust to their reassignment to the X-Files and working together in the wake of their separation, they find themselves investigating a small town and a ghost that apparently warns people of bad things to come.

note: this chapter features the most reference to babylon i will make, lmao, but it’s definitely not babylon fic. warning up front for references to murder and crime scenes (and briefly to suicide).

---

five.

december, 2015

Things are awkward in the morning. Scully should have expected that they'd be, but part of her had hoped they wouldn't. But she knows it won't be as soon as she sees Mulder, slumped over at a table in the dining room when she comes down for breakfast, glasses on his nose, stifling yawns behind his hand. He looks like he barely slept. He offers her a stiff smile when she enters, motions her over, but he doesn't have much to say. He checks his phone a lot, articles that she catches snippets of the headlines from.

Scully just eats her breakfast quietly. She doesn't know what else to do.

Sheriff O'Connell calls them after a while, asking them to come down to the police station. They snatch up the opportunity quickly; Scully can tell that Mulder is just as relieved for the potential distraction as she is. If she's being honest, Scully still isn't sure why they're there, but she's willing to throw herself into it just so she doesn't have to think. That was the whole reason she agreed to come back to Willoughby; she would've been fine with staying away, but she wanted to come so she could concentrate on something else for a while.

O'Connell and Deputy Jacobs are waiting in O’Connell’s office. Jacobs has crutches, which are leaning against the chair he's sitting in, his leg encased in a cast propped up on another chair, and he greets Mulder and Scully with more enthusiasm than O’Connell does. “Glad to hear y'all are back in town,” he says, closing the file on the desk and nodding politely.

The sheriff motions to the file with a wave of his hand. “I’ve got Kenny looking at the original Caruthers file, seeing if he can find anything new,” he says. “He was on the original case, and is much more tuned into the… supernatural aspect of things. So I'm hoping he'll have an epiphany or something.” He clears his throat. “In the meantime, I was thinking that maybe we could go check out the crime scene. You've been there before…”

“We have,” says Mulder, “but I wouldn't mind a second look.” He's got that sound in his voice, the one that gives it away: he's interested in this. He wants to fully understand it.

Scully is looking at the file on the desk. “Are the original autopsy reports in there?” she asks. Jacobs nods. “I’d love to see that, make my own observations,” she says, nearly without thinking. “Maybe I should stay back with Deputy Jacobs.”

She looks over at Mulder out of the corner of her eyes, and sees that he is nodding. “That sounds like a good idea,” he says, and she wonders if he's eager to get rid of her. “Scully’s a pathologist, a damn good one, so she's likely to see anything that was potentially missed,” he explains to Jacobs and O'Connell.

“Oh, that's good.” The sheriff nods politely. “So… you would rather stay here, Agent Scully?”

“I'd like to see the autopsy results, yes,” Scully says awkwardly, looking away from Mulder. (She wants to make this right, but she has no idea how. And going along with Sheriff O'Connell to investigate a crime scene they've already been to does not seem like the right method, not right now.)

“Sounds good.” The sheriff reaches for his keys, the metal jangling between his fingers. “You want to head on out there, Agent Mulder?”

“Sure.” Mulder's hand brushes over the small of her back, and Scully jumps. She hadn't expected him to be ready to touch her so soon. It’s not unwelcome, but it’s certainly startling, and she looks at him sheepishly.

His eyes are apologetic when he looks at her, when he says, “See you in a few?”

“Sure,” Scully says, swallowing hard. “Good luck.”

Mulder nods as he turns to follow the sheriff out of the room. “You, too.”

---

There are the same bloodstains on the floor outside the Caruthers’ apartment, the ones he remembers, and Joe shows them to Agent Mulder with a flick of his hand. “Here's where they were found,” he says. He can still remember what they looked like, a shocking, horrifying picture: blood clumped in Marion's dark hair, Ian’s eyes open like marbles. He never knew them well, but he'd seen them around town. He'd thought their baby was cute, then, and thinking of Ryan now fills Joe with guilt when he thinks of Marion and Ian’s bodies. He certainly never pictured himself hiring that baby as a babysitter years later, and then firing him and wholeheartedly believing that the kid let his dog out. He wonders what Marion and Ian would've thought of that; he wonders if they somehow know.

“So they were stabbed here,” Mulder says. “Or were they stabbed inside and dragged out here?”

Joe shrugs. “Far as I can remember, they were stabbed out here.”

“Huh.” Mulder steps inside the threshold of the empty apartment, surveying the living room and then the hall. “So they could've been trying to run from the murderer,” he says, and Joe thinks of Jared Caruthers, always a year or two behind him in school. He'd been a little bit of a black sheep growing up, but they'd still never suspected he'd do this. Jared and Ian had always been close, had always picked on their baby sister; if you'd asked a younger Joe O’Connell which of the Caruthers siblings would murder another, he would've guessed Annie. And then he would've shaken his head in dismissive disbelief, because he never would've really suspected that any of the Caruthers kids could murder somebody. Never.

“Or,” Mulder adds contemplatively, “maybe Jared wanted to make sure the bodies were found, if he planned this.”

“He ran, though,” Joe says. He remembers that part well. “Why would he run if he wanted his victims to be found?”

Mulder shrugs. “Maybe he wanted to buy some time for some reason? Maybe he was worried about what would happen to his infant nephew if no one knew the parents were dead? Or maybe there was a specific reason they were killed outside the apartment. Did Jared Caruthers ever disclose the reasoning behind that?”

Joe shrugs. “Like I told you a couple months ago, Agent Mulder, Jared was obsessed with the Specter. Maybe he thought that murdering his brother and sister-in-law was the bad thing that the Specter predicted.”

Mulder scans the living room again, his brow furrowed in thought. “So Jared saw the ghost before the murders? There was a distinct premonition to the deaths?”

Joe shrugs. “I dunno. Kenny always figured one of the three of them saw the ghost, especially after Ryan's sightings went real public years ago. Made sense. But I don't know for sure.”

“I think the key here,” says Mulder, “is to figure out the Specter’s role in the murders. Why the Specter has been haunting Ryan all these years. Because I'm guessing that when this crime was investigated in 2002, no one considered the fact that Ryan Caruthers was going to be haunted because it hadn't happened yet.”

Joe shrugs. “That's true. That's one factor that's different.”

Mulder paces around the living room in a wide circle, as if considering its bareness. Joe remembers that night at the crime scene: Kenny so green that he turned nauseous at the sight, Joe himself with a year or two under his belt but understandably horrified by all of it. He thought of his girl, and how he wanted to marry her someday. How horrible it'd be if he and Bonnie turned out like this. A social worker had been carrying Ryan out, and that poor baby was bawling his eyes out. It was one of the saddest things Joe had ever seen.

“What did you all find inside the apartment that night?” asks Mulder, startling Joe out of his stupor. He turns to the older man, who's watching him contemplatively. He raises an eyebrow. “Anything out of the ordinary?”

Joe suddenly remembers the candlelight flickering across Kenny's spooked face, and he says, “Candles. Lots of them. And there was a Ouija board on the floor. And… crosses on the wall, I think. I remember someone commented on it, because Ian and Marion didn't go to church even though they lived right down the street from one. None of the Caruthers family went to church.”

Mulder's eyes are wide in astonishment. “Wait, there was a Ouija board at the crime scene?” Joe nods. “And you said that Jared Caruthers was obsessed with the Specter.” Joe nods again.

Agent Mulder crosses his arms. “Sheriff, I know you're hesitant to believe in this stuff, but I'm starting to think the Specter had more of a hand in these murders then you realize.”

---

The autopsy reports seem fairly straightforward: Marion and Ian Caruthers were killed by multiple stab wounds, largely to the torso. A few defensive wounds and scratches, mostly on the husband, likely as a result of trying to protect his wife. Jared Caruthers was found with scratches along his arms and face, bruises; some probably from the murders, others as a result of running through the woods. The baby was unharmed. No blood inside the apartment, aside from the murder weapon, dropped on the floor as if out of horror.

“Here's the crime scene photos,” Deputy Jacobs says to Scully, sliding the pictures to her. The hall is covered in splotches of blood; the living room is filled with large white candles, crosses hung on the wall and a Bible on the dining room table and a Ouija board in the center of a circle of candles. Scully can't tell if it looks more like the site of a seance or an exorcism, but she knows that Mulder would be all over it.

“Did the brother ever disclose what they were doing that night?” she asks, tapping the photos with one finger. She thinks the next logical step is talking to Jared Caruthers to try and find out; she's going to suggest that to Mulder when he gets back.

“Not that I know of. Remember, it's been a while,” Jacobs says. “I do think Jared was pretty upset about the whole thing. Didn't want to talk about it, wouldn't really give answers. I think he regretted what he did.”

Scully bites her lower lip, considering. She knows that she has been plagued with guilt over her sister's death for years, felt as if she was responsible, and she can't imagine what it would be like to have actually been responsible. Especially if you were close to your sibling. She has no idea about how Jared Caruthers felt about his older brother, but she knows what it's like to see your sibling dead and feel like it's your fault. (In the case of Jared Caruthers, it actually is.)

“Did you find anything you think could be important, Agent Scully?” the deputy asks.

She blinks out of her stupor. “Oh… I think there's a possibility these crime scene photos could be significant,” she says, tapping the images again. “Agent Mulder would probably know more about said significance, but I definitely think it could be important. I also would like to talk to Jared Caruthers if the opportunity arises.”

Jacobs strokes his beard in thought. “Sure, we could probably work that ou—”

But he never finishes. The walkie-talkie on the desk springs to life, a female voice coming through: “Sheriff, are you there?”

Jacobs scoops up the radio and says, “This is Kenny Jacobs, Winnie. Joe's out on assignment; what's up?”

“We've got a fire out on Church Street,” the woman says. “That abandoned Willoughby Woods Apartment Building is ablaze. The site of those murders in 2002? The fire department has been called, and Deets and I are responding to the scene…”

Something about that name seems familiar. Scully is muddling over it when Deputy Jacobs turns to her with saucer-wide horrified eyes, and she realizes. From the look on his face, she knows. “Mulder,” she says, her breath leaving her in a painful burst. She feels airless, like she's been hit in the stomach. “Is that where they…”

Jacobs presses the button on his radio too hard and says, “Joe's in there, Winnie. He and an FBI agent went out there to investigate the Caruthers murder.”

“Oh my god,” the woman says with horror.

Scully is already on her feet, rushing for her bag and her keys, her heart racing. Praying that he's all right, he has to be all right. “I have to get over there,” she blurts. The jagged edge of the keys bite into her palm. She clutches them harder.

“I'll come with you.” The deputy maneuvers himself onto his crutches with admirable mobility. His face is white and worried. “That's my best friend out there.”

Mine too, Scully wants to say, but he's so much more than that, and her ring is cold against her collarbone, and she doesn't want the last thing she said to him to be a fight. A refusal to come home. She doesn't want that to be the end of things between them, she has so many things she needs to tell him. So many things she needs to apologize for. You don't know that he didn't get out, she tells herself as she moves towards the door, trying to reassure herself. You don't know that he isn't okay. But she doesn't know that he is okay, either, and she needs to get to him. She needs to get to him, she never should've stayed back this way. She moves without thinking through the police station and out to the car, Jacobs’s squeaking crutches behind her. She climbs into the driver's seat and pulls out her phone, calls Mulder as she settles into the seat. Prays and prays for him to answer as Deputy Jacobs climbs into the passenger seat. It goes straight to voicemail. “Goddamnit,” Scully hisses, dropping her phone on her lap, throwing the car into Drive and pulling away.

She tries again and again, three times before they reach Church Street, shifting her eyes frantically between her phone and the road. No answer every time. Several discordant rings, his voice saying, Hi, you've reached Fox Mulder— Hang up, try again, pray that isn't the last time she'll hear his voice.

She can see the smoke in the sky, and fear is clogging her throat. “Damn it, Joe, answer,” Jacobs is growling at his own phone, and Scully's hands feel numb around the wheel. Please, some small part of her protests. Please don't let this be it. She wants to see him, she just wants to see him. She hits Mulder's contact again with the flat of her thumb, listens to it ring as they roll down the street. The sound of Mulder's voice—Hi, you've reached Fox Mulder—fills the car again, and Scully bites back curses, blinks back furious tears.

The building is really, truly ablaze, smoke and flames pouring out of the windows, and Scully's stomach twists painfully at the sight. Jacobs gets out of the car, frantically moving towards the firefighters clustered at the edge of the lawn (far enough from the fire to be out of danger), but Scully can't move. Mulder’s contact page is still pulled up on her phone. She drops it in the cupholder, reaches up unconsciously to touch her ring through her shirt. Offers up a quick prayer, some sort of plea. Lets her eyes slip shut briefly.

And then the firefighters emerge from the building with someone held between them, smokey and coughing roughly into his elbow. Scully can't see who it is, but she begins moving immediately: pushes the car door open and nearly falls to the ground, races towards the firefighters so fast that she practically skids to a stop, her shoes kicking up frosty grass. They're lowering the rescue onto a stretcher, placing an oxygen mask over his mouth, and by now Scully can see that it's Sheriff O'Connell. Not Mulder. She catches a fireman by the arm in a hard, gaspy motion, gasps out, “Mulder, where's Mulder?”

“Ma'am, I don't know what…”

Scully gathers her strength and manages to bite out an explanation: “There was another man in there. An FBI agent. Where is he?”

The man's face fills with regret as he meets her eyes. “Ma’am, we didn't see anyone else in there.”

It's like a punch to the gut, and Scully gasps a little as she lets go of the man's arm. O’Connell is unconscious, his deputy bent over the stretcher, and she can't even ask if Mulder is in there. If Mulder is gone, if she's lost him. A combination of tears and smoke sting her eyes as she bites out, “Y-you have to go back in, you have to look…” She's ready to pull rank, ready to spit at this man that she is his wife, that she'll go in herself to find him, that he can't be dead, she won't let this be the end…

“Scully?”

The voice comes from behind her, a shouted question. She turns and she sees him standing on the edge of the lawn, cold wind biting her skin as his coat blows with it, his hair rumpled and not sooty and his eyes full of confusion, questioning.

She takes a shaky, desperate breath, like she can finally get enough air again, and starts to run. She moves towards him in an impulsive motion, throws her arms around him like they are young and stupid again and holds tighter now than she ever did then, her fingers clutching at his shirt, digging in. Questions satisfied, the firefighters move on behind her. Mulder's hand comes up tentatively to smooth her hair, his other hand against the small of her back, pushing her closer. Her face presses into his tie. “Jesus, Mulder,” she chokes out, leaning hard into him with the push of the freezing wind. “I thought you were in there. I thought you were dead.”

She wants to throw up at the thought of losing Mulder so soon after her mother, never getting a chance to apologize to him or reconcile, never seeing him again. She clutches him tighter under his coat, the smell of smoke muffled a little by his dress shirt.

“I'm okay, Scully,” he murmurs, his hand cupping the back of her head. His voice is trembling, too; he presses his mouth against her hair.

She pulls away as a firefighter approaches, telling them they have to get back so they don't get caught up in the chaos. She walks back with him, their fingers tangled messily together, until they reach the car. Streams of water hit the house. Deputy Jacobs is being helped into the back of the ambulance with Sheriff O’Connell; he waves at them and Scully nods back. She turns back to Mulder as they reach the car. “Where the hell did you go?” she asks softly.

“We didn't find anything of significance in the apartment, so I suggested we go see where the victims are buried, in the cemetery right down the street. Just in case there was anything there, any signs of paranormal activity. But just as we were leaving, the sheriff got this weird look on his face and said he had to go back in.” Mulder has a strange, contemplative look on his face. “He wanted me to come with him, but I said I’d rather just walk on down, meet him later. So I went on.”

“I called you three or four times,” she whispers, still not entirely out of the state of panic.

Guilt rushes over his face. “No reception out there. It's a dead zone.” He reaches out gently to touch her cheek, strokes it with the flat of his thumb. “I'm so sorry, Scully. I had no idea…”

“It's okay,” she says, and she's hugging him again, her face pressed into his neck. He's alive, he's not hurt, and that's all that matters. They have time. It'll be okay. “It's okay.”

He inhales sharply, maybe a little surprised, and then he's hugging her back, his arms wrapped around her waist. She sighs a little with relief, doesn't move. They stand together for a moment, frozen in the mix of December chill and heat emanating from the blaze, their arms tight around each other.

---

Joe is fine, and Kenny is more than thankful for that. Beyond relieved. He was really scared for a second there, more scared than he thinks he's ever been in the history of their career as cops. Joe is still unconscious when they arrive at the hospital, recovering from smoke inhalation, so Kenny calls Bonnie before sitting by his friend's bed until she arrives. He promises her that he'll stay with Joe.

Kenny has always believed in the ghost, ever since his grandma told him the story as a kid. When her cat died, and she swore to everyone that she had seen the ghost the night before, and he'd listened with wide eyes. He's always believed. And that belief has only strengthened since Rob saw the ghost, since he saw the ghost himself. And Joe… Joe never actually told Kenny that he saw the ghost a few days ago; Bonnie had been the one to let him in on that, and Kenny has tried to respect his friend's privacy. But Kenny's been nervous ever since Bonnie told him, about what was going to happen to Joe, or to his family. It'd been part of the reason he insisted on coming into the station to do desk work, some faux-noble sense of wanting to protect his buddy. He shouldn't have let Joe go alone to the house, but he'd figured the FBI agent could protect him better than Kenny himself. And besides, he hadn't know what the hell could happen there, hadn't expected a fourteen-year-old crime scene to be dangerous, especially in Willoughby…

Bonnie and Robbie show up, pale and tearful, and Kenny leaves them alone after giving them both hugs and reassuring that he's just a phone call away. He's intruded on too many family moments lately. “Call me when he wakes up,” he says, gives Rob another tight hug and then leaves. He takes the only taxi in town back to the station, and finds a group of deputies ready to go out to the site to investigate. “House burned to the ground,” Winnie, the deputy who called it in, says to Kenny, arms crossed over her chest. “They say it's gotta be arson. They don't know what else it could be.”

Kenny rubs his beard thoughtfully. He'd like to take a look himself, has his own theories, but there's no way he can get out there like this. “Hey, take me out there with you, wouldja?” he asks.

Winnie shoots him a disapproving look, fiddling with her hat. “C’mon, Ken. You know you're not supposed to be in the field.”

“I'll be careful,” Kenny says. He has a feeling about this, a thought that there's something important here. “C’mon, Winnie. This is barely even 'the field,’ anyhow. It's just a fire..”

Winnie sighs and gives in, takes him in her car. Kenny likes to think he's good at arguing his case.

At the scene, there's not much but ashy grass and grayed ruins, collapsed walls and piles of charred bricks. It's a little strange, the big empty space along Church Street, especially when the space is as famous as this one. The Caruthers house. It was apartments, but Kenny knows every Willoughby kid born after 2002 calls it the Caruthers house. It's Willoughby's tourist attraction, a popular Halloween destination by dumb teenagers trying to scare each other. Joe has said, before, that there was graffiti in the apartment that said something about the Caruthers family being cursed. Based off of that kid Ryan's history, and now this, Kenny is inclined to agree.

He's moving on his crutches along the ruins, around to the back, coughing a little and thinking of what could've happened to Joe today, if no one called it in. Thinking of the night they got called out here for the murders and saw it: the living room set up like an eerie movie, the kid crying as someone carried him out. And the blood; oh, god, the blood. He was so green, he almost vomited. He's thinking of Marion and Ian and Ryan, and even Jared and Annie. The poor cursed Caruthers. He's known them forever, they were all in school together. He and Joe right between Ian and Jared; they all played football together sometimes, they'd all go to the same parties or, earlier, play the same games on the playground. He never expected this.

And just as Kenny is recalling a memory from some-odd party he and Joe were at (where he saw Jared and Ian nastily drunk and nearly fighting each other, shouting, their faces red with fury), he sees it. The crumpled baseball cap on the ground.

Orioles cap. Ryan Caruthers's hat of choice.

---

Mulder and Scully aren't sure what, exactly, to do in the wake of this fire. They feel detached, uncertain. They eventually end up going to a restaurant, a little place that's slightly more high end than the diner. It feels like the best thing to do.

Scully seems distracted, staring blankly at her menu until the waitress comes and she blinks in surprise when the waitress asks what they want to eat. She keeps looking at Mulder like he's going to disappear, in a cautious, shielded way. Mulder thinks of the weight of Scully in his arms, the way she held onto him. Almost the same way she did outside of her mother's hospital room, but not quite. More panicky, more fearful. She was scared for him. She thought she had lost him, too.

“Hey,” he says when the waitress leaves, touching her hand across the table tentatively, like she might pull away. “I'm sorry I scared you today.” There's a lot he needs to apologize for, but he'll start there.

Scully sighs a little, brushing her fingers over his as she looks at him. “It's not your fault, Mulder. I just… I haven't gotten used to this again. The fear… the danger… I haven't experienced any of those feelings since 2012—” She bites off her words like she regrets them, looks at the top of the table.

Mulder squeezes her hand. He doesn't want to talk about 2012, because he knows a lot of what happened in 2012 is what led to the end of their relationship, but he's gotten to a point where he can talk about it without feeling the anger or fear or confusion he had then. He wants Scully to know that, but he senses that now isn't the time to bring it up. “I don't think you have to get used to it, Scully,” he says instead. “You shouldn't have to. Your life shouldn't be… a long string of fear and tragedy.”

“It's not, on good days.” She rubs her thumb over his knuckles, head bent in thought.

The scene from the night before replays in his head again—the things he said, the way she reacted. He pushed her, and when she didn't respond the way he expected, he lashed out. It's fucked up, and it's not what he deserved, and he's felt incredibly guilty about it. And he needs her to know. “Scully, I'm…” he starts, unsteadily. “I am so sorry for what I said last night. I wasn't being fair to you, and I never… I didn't want to drive you away like that. I wanted to be there for you. And I'm… I'm so sorry.”

Scully doesn't say anything. But she doesn't let go of his hand. She's looking right at their intertwined fingers, staring hard. “Do you remember what I said on the Monica Bannan case, seven years ago?” she asks finally. “When I said that chasing monsters in the dark wasn't my life anymore?”

He thinks about it constantly. “Yes,” he says in what he hopes is a neutral voice.

Scully pauses, her jaw working back and forth. “I think… I said it because I was scared,” she says finally. “I'm scared so often, Mulder, of so many things. I'm scared now. But I think… when I said that, then, I was just thinking about the monsters. And the fear, like the fear I felt today, when I thought I'd lost you.” Mulder’s chest clenches as she squeezes his hand tightly. “But, Mulder… this is my life again,” she adds. “And aside from moments like today… I don't hate it. I don't think I ever did. And the only reason I don't… the only reason I haven't walked away from this, that I even came back in the first place… is you.”

Mulder's eyes widen, just a little. Scully pulls his hand to her and brushes her lips over his dirty knuckles. She doesn't let go of it, either; she holds his hand against her chest, his arm stretched across the table. He lets her, his hand warm in hers. It almost aches.

She's still not looking at him, but she looks happy, he can see it behind the hair falling across her face. Not quite smiling, but the corners of her mouth lifted. Content. “I don't know, Mulder,” she says finally. “It feels like I'm always scared. Like I'm always… reacting because of it.”

It's an apology for last night; he can tell. The most of an apology she'll give because neither of them are very good at talking about things. He nudges her thumb with his, an old habit of theirs from years ago, his own quiet apology. “Take all the time you need,” he says. “I'll be here.”

---

They go to the police station after the diner, to give their statements about the fire. The officers who responded to the scene seem to belief that the fire was a result of arson, but they don't have a clear idea of who set it. Mulder confirms that he didn't see anyone in or around the apartment building during the time he was there, and they're more or less cleared to leave. “We’ll call if we have further questions,” says the deputy who takes their statements.

They go to the hospital next, to check on Sheriff O’Connell. His wife is waiting outside, asleep in a chair, but Robbie is sitting on the floor coloring. He offers them a small smile when they enter, and Scully smiles back gently. “I think Daddy's awake,” he says solemnly, selecting a red. “He says he wants to talk to you.”

“Thanks, Robbie,” Mulder says, offering a smile on his own. They enter quietly and find O'Connell sitting up in bed. He opens his mouth to greet them, but falls into coughing instead.

“Don't strain yourself, sheriff,” Scully says quickly.

O’Connell waves off their protests, wiping his mouth. “Are you okay, Agent Mulder?” he rasps.

Mulder looks startled. “Y-yeah, I'm fine,” he says.

The sheriff looks relieved. “I wasn't sure if you got out,” he says. “Or if you'd left, like we talked about.”

“You don't remember asking me to come back in with you?” asks Mulder carefully. “And me saying I'd meet you back there after I checked out the cemetery?”

The sheriff shakes his head, confused. “I can't remember anything after we left the apartment building, Agent Mulder. Last I remember, you had suggested going down to the cemetery to visit the Caruthers's graves. And then I was waking up in a hot, smoky room. I have no idea what happened in between.”

Scully's brow is furrowing, and Mulder is just as confused. “You suggested going back in, sheriff,” he says. “You don't remember that?”

O'Connell shakes his head, falling into another coughing fit. After a minute, he says, “But I do… I do remember this. The firefighters didn't find me where I first woke up. I saw the Specter.”

“You saw the Specter?” Mulder asks incredulously.

O'Connell nods. “I followed him out into the hall before I collapsed again, but the room I was in collapsed as soon as I left. And then the firemen found me,” he says roughly. He wipes his forehead, his mouth again. “I guess he is a sort of… good angel or whatever.”

Scully raises her eyebrows at Mulder, who shrugs. She says, “Well, we're relieved to hear that you were okay, Sheriff O'Connell.”

“Thank you.” The sheriff sags into the pillows, tired, coughing harshly into his elbow. “Well, I just wanted to tell y'all that, and also that I don't think there's any reason to stay unless you just want to. Seeing as how Kenny and I are both out of commission.”

Mulder exchanges a hesitant look with Scully. “You don't think this needs any more investigation?”

O’Connell coughs again, longer this time. “It's hard to say,” he manages, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “But… I know that you'll have a harder time without me or Kenny, considering the mindset of the people in this town. Besides, the fire being as destructive as it was… this may be the end of the sightings, at least for now.” He dissolves into hacking coughs once more.

“You should rest, sheriff,” says Scully quickly. “Don't strain yourself. You're lucky to be alive.”

The sheriff meets their eyes, a resigned sort of look in his eyes. A look Mulder hadn't seen the first time he met, when he hadn't exactly believed in the Specter. “I'm not sure it was luck, Agent Scully,” he says. “I don't think that it was.”

---

Mulder and Scully leave, simply because they aren't sure what else to do. They meet with Deputy Jacobs before they go, who seems distracted, like his mind is on something else. “I think people are going to be pretty preoccupied with the fire, honestly,” he says, his fingers drumming absently on the table. “The police department and the citizens. I don't think anyone is going to be thinking about the Specter much.”

So Mulder and Scully leave. “Maybe someday, something will happen here that causes us to spend more than one night at a time,” Mulder jokes as they drive out of town.

“I've said it before and I'll say it again,” Scully says. “I'm not sure if we could ever do anything here. I'm not sure what the case was. We didn't find the dog, we didn't save Sheriff O'Connell.”

What she's saying feels like a nice way of saying that this case was a waste of time, but Mulder is starting to agree. “It started out as a missing dog and ended up as a phenomenon that could be classified as a mania,” he says. “And a fire.”

She sighs, her head leaning against the window. “I don't know, Mulder. Confusion, fainting, or seizures are possible mental repercussions of smoke inhalation, but I've never heard of memory loss. Especially not the type that Sheriff O'Connell was describing.”

“It sounded more like a blackout to me,” Mulder says. “Which is impossible, because he was talking to me. He asked me to come back in with him.”

“Thank God you didn't,” Scully says with a sigh. She's fidgeting with one of the chains around her neck, but Mulder cannot tell if it's the ring or the quarter.

He has a sudden epiphany, a memory: the look in the sheriff's eyes as he announced that he wanted to go back in. It was strange, unfamiliar. “There was…  something different about O'Connell during the time he can't remember,” he says out loud. “A… weird look in his eyes or something. He almost didn't seem like himself. He changed his mind so fast, and he wouldn't explain why.”

“That is weird,” Scully says. Her fingers move at her collarbone. “I'm starting to think Willoughby is just a strange town, period. But I don't necessarily think the… ghost, or the supposed phenomenon of the ghost, is dangerous. I mean, someone certainly could've died today, or gotten hurt much worse, but no one did. People died back in 2002, but the causes were perfectly natural. The phenomenon is certainly unexplained, but it doesn't seem like anything we could prevent, or interfere with.”

“I thought our purpose here was to explain it,” says Mulder. “To understand it. That was what I had hoped to do.”

Scully shrugs. Her hand falls away from the neckline of her shirt. “Some things are just unexplainable, Mulder. Sometimes we can't look any further because there's nothing to find. If the Willoughby Specter exists, it looks like it just warns people. Robbie O’Connell about his dog, Deputy Jacobs about his accident, the sheriff about the fire.” Her voice has sort of a dark quality to it, like she doesn't want to discuss it. “It seems like there's danger, but that the danger isn't exactly linked to said paranormal phenomenon.”

Mulder’s mind is fixed on Sheriff O'Connell in that moment outside the Caruthers apartment. He hadn't lingered on it before, but now he keeps returning to it: the unsettling look in his eyes. An almost eerie look. “Everyone says that the Willoughby Specter is a good spirit,” he says. “But all it brings is death and destruction.”

“Ryan Caruthers doesn't believe it's good,” says Scully, a surprisingly hard quality to her voice. “But who knows, Mulder? Who knows if it even exists. We may never know.”

“What do you think, Scully?” Mulder asks in a soft voice. “What do you make of all this?”

She shrugs. Her eyes are on the outside window, on the incoming clouds that suggest a storm in the near future. “I don't know, Mulder. I really don't.”

---

Case #X-29336, Willoughby, Virginia

Addendum to 2002 Investigation (Case #X-43187) by Agents Doggett and Reyes

December, 2015; Agent Fox Mulder, Agent Dana Scully

There is undeniably paranormal activity in Willoughby, Virginia. This activity is attributed to the legend of a spirit who warns citizens of the town of future misfortunes to come. In 2002, there were many sightings of this spirit and noted unfortunate events, one of which has been included here [the suicide of Holly Smith; reference: report by Agents Doggett and Reyes, May, 2002]. Such events transpired again in 2015. The events that we investigated [ref: Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully] are as follows: the disappearance of a dog belonging to the O’Connell family (preceded by a sighting by Robert O'Connell), a car accident (immediately preceded by a sighting by Deputy Kenneth Jacobs), a fire (during which the spirit was sighted by Sheriff Joseph O’Connell), many other sightings by various citizens [ref: see attachment], and multiple sightings between the years 2002 and 2015 by Ryan Caruthers. No official crimes were committed. The only injuries as a result of this phenomenon were afflicted on Kenneth Jacobs and Joseph O'Connell.

While there are no clear crimes in Willoughby and no clear perpetrator to be pursued [addendum: the crime of arson and possibly attempted murder being investigated by the Willoughby Police Department, but it is assumed this crime did not occur as a result of paranormal activity], it is clear that Willoughby is filled with unexplainable events. One of the three times we were called out to Willoughby was an attempt by the sheriff [ref: Joseph O'Connell] to contain said events to protect the citizens of Willoughby, as a similar series of sightings ended in the deaths of three people [ref: report by Agents Doggett and Reyes, 2002, ref: attached summary of the murders of Marion and Ian Caruthers,]. While there is no clear crimes being committed currently as a result of the Willoughby Specter, the potential is certainly there. It has happened before, and it may happen again. There is also the question of the ghost itself. Its sightings are unable to be interpreted; the citizens of Willoughby regard it as a warning, but the events it warns them of are never able to be prevented since the victims are never explicitly informed of what is going to happen. The morals and intentions of this spirit are pulled into question as well.

Case #X-29336 remains open, pending further investigation.

---

There is a case in Texas. There are younger, baby-faced agents that amusingly remind Mulder and Scully of themselves. Scully makes a joke that harkens back to the first time they'd met and Mulder smiles. He likes to think that they are healing, the two of them.

When it's all over, Scully comes out to the house for the first time since Tad O’Malley and his circus of conspiracies. It's a stunningly warm day for December, especially considering how cold it's been lately (“Global warming,” Mulder jokes when Scully shows up in a light jacket), and they end up hand in hand, walking out into the field together. They sit out in the tall stalks of dying grass, their fingers intertwined and their faces bent up towards the sky.

“So, Scully,” Mulder says in a soft voice, when the sun has sunk a little in the sky and they've fallen into a comfortable silence. “Why'd you decide to come out here?”

She traces over the length of his fingers. “No reason,” she says, her voice thick with casualness. She squeezes his hand again, leans her head against his.

He bumps his shoulder companionably against hers. “This is an awful long way to come for no reason, Scully,” he says, nudging her thumb. He doesn't know why he is saying this, why he is pushing her, but he wants to know. He won't push any further than the distance they've more or less established since Willoughby, but he wants to know this, at least. After her aversion to coming out here, her insistence that they stay at her apartment in Bethesda and her refusal to discuss coming home, he doesn't understand why she's come here now.

He's prepared for Scully to pull away, to close herself off, but she does neither of those things. She sighs a little, her head lolling against his shoulder, grips his hand in hers like an affirmation. “I just wanted to see you, Mulder,” she says, and he can hear the purposeful lightness in her voice. “That's all.”

He smiles, just a little. Lets go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulder. “Well, I'm glad you came,” he says, his hand rubbing warmth into her shoulder. And out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he can see her smiling.

They sit together in the field, watching the clouds move across the sky.

[mldrgrl]

Do you take prompts? I have this idea rattling around in my brain and you are one of my favorite fanfic writers so here goes. Its a season 8 finale AU where Mulder and Scully raise William. William is going to his senior prom and Scully teaches him how to dance. Mulder watches from a distance, they don't know he's watching them, and then after a while Mulder comes over to "cut in".

Yes, I do take prompts.  My vision went a little differently from yours, but I hope it’s still what you want!  I set it in my Little Will universe because it could slide in there pretty easily after They Grow Up So Fast.  (And, in all honestly, will probably make more sense if you read that first)

Title: How’s About a DanceAuthor: mldrgrlRating: PGSummary: see above :D

One of the most exasperating ways that Will was like his mother, Mulder decided, was his habit of not saying anything when there was a lot to say.  Like Scully, he had this habit of evading topics and trying to make his poor father guess at what he was thinking.  But, after eleven years of being the kid’s father, and almost twenty at being Scully’s partner, he’d finally picked up a few tricks.

Number one, neither of them could stand being ignored.  When they said “I’m fine,” needling or arguing about it got him nowhere.  Shrugging his shoulders and feigning disinterest could open the floodgates.

Number two, do not ask direct questions.  Don’t ever ask what’s wrong, don’t ever ask for more information.  Wait for them to start, pepper the conversation with things like “oh?” or “yeah?”  Simple, one-word responses kept things going.

Number three, and this one was tricky, do not offer advice without being asked.  Nothing could shut down a conversation faster than a well-meaning “maybe you should…”

And so, Mulder was pretty well-prepared when Will came poking around in his office, pretending to quietly browse the books on the shelves while casting less-than-furtive glances in his dad’s direction.  Mulder continued working on his article and ignored his son.  He wasn’t really ignoring him though.  In fact, he’d typed the same sentence more than once because he couldn’t really focus knowing something was wrong and not knowing what it was.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” Will asked.

“New article on the myths of the Salem witch trials,” Mulder answered.

“Cool.”  Will nodded and ran his index finger along the side edge of Mulder’s desk.  “Can we go to Salem one day?”

“Sure.”

“Cool.  Oh hey, I got a 95 on my vocab test.”

“What’d you miss?”

“Utmost versus upmost.”

“Thought you knew that one.”

“I did, until both sentences made total sense.

“You can’t ace ‘em all, pal.”

Will sighed.  “Ruined my streak though, which really pi…ticks me off.”

“Yeah, I hear ya.”

Will turned and ran his finger the opposite way along Mulder’s desk.  Missing a question or two on a test always annoyed Will, but Mulder knew that wasn’t the problem.  He typed some more and then studied his scribblings on one of his notepads.  

“So, um,” Will said.  “Sixth grade is kinda different.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you know, the different classes and stuff.  All the different teachers.”

“Sure.”  Mulder nodded, glanced at Will, and then flipped the page over on his notepad.  Now, they were getting somewhere.  Something to do with school, maybe a teacher, maybe a bully, but definitely school.

“And they do stuff, you know, like dances and stuff.”

Aha!  “Yeah, I remember those.”

“Do you?”

Mulder looked at Will over the top of his glasses.  “I’m not that old, son.”

“I mean, I didn’t know you had dances in school.  You never said.”

“Guess I didn’t think about it.”

“Oh.”  Will chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, the same way his mother did when she was trying to formulate a thought.

Mulder itched to ask him to elaborate.  He missed the days when he could pull the boy onto his lap and tickle the trouble away.  Growing up was a bittersweet thing.  As much as he loved seeing his son mature, he also missed the silly, cuddly little toddler he once was.  And the days where the most complicated problem to solve was a broken crayon.

The conversation stalled, so Mulder took a chance.  “When is it?” he asked.

“When is what?”

“The dance.”

“Oh.  Um, next Friday.”

“Well, if you need me to sign a permission slip to attend, I’ll sign it.  As long as your homework’s done.”

“Da-ad.”  Will rolled his eyes a little.

“What?”

“I always do my homework.”

“I know you do.”

There was a lull in the conversation again, but Mulder felt more confident there was more to come and he wouldn’t have to prompt Will any further.  Sure enough, the silence that followed was short-lived.

“I’m gonna ask Lexi to go with me,” Will blurted out, his voice a little higher than normal.  

All things considered, Mulder’s first thought was that he deserved an award for keeping the expression on his face so neutral.  He was both laughing and crying inside, but he couldn’t let it show.  He bobbed his head a little awkwardly for a few moments and had to clear his throat before his voice would work.

“That’s great, buddy.”

“I mean, you know…”  Will dropped his eyes and scratched at the corner of Mulder’s desk.  “Some of the guys think it’s kind of lame.”

Cody Prescott, probably, Mulder thought.  With his fucking bowtie.  “Well, what do you think?” he asked.

Will chewed his lip again and Scully’s look of distress came over his face.  “It’s just that, I don’t know how to dance, you know?  I don’t want to look stupid and I don’t want Lexi to think I’m lame.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“Come on, come with me.”  

Mulder pulled his glasses off, threw his notepad down on his desk and stood.  He put his hand on Will’s shoulder and steered him out the door towards the living room.  When he’d gone into his office that morning, Scully had been engrossed with something on her tablet as she lounged on the couch.  She was still there, still engrossed, but she looked up when Mulder and Will shuffled in.

“We need you,” Mulder said, holding his hand out to his wife and beckoning her up from the couch.

“I told you,” she said, batting his hand away.  “You’re on your own for lunch, I’ll broil the salmon for dinner.”

“It’s not about lunch.”

“Is this a trick?”  She shot a skeptical eyebrow up and looked from Mulder to Will.

Mulder grabbed her hand and gave it a tug.  “Get over here, Scully.”

Scully let Mulder pull her to her feet.  He locked their fingers together and held her hand up high by her shoulder before he set his other hand on her hip and walked her backwards, away from the couch.

“First lesson, Will,” Mulder said.  “Never look at your feet.  You look at your feet, it’s over.”

“What are we doing?” Scully asked.

“The boy wonder over there is in need of some dance lessons.”

“Why is he in need of dance lessons?”

“He has a dance to go to.”

“A dance?”  Scully tried to break free from Mulder, but he squeezed her hand and pulled her closer, shaking his head a little.

“Watch and learn, junior.”

Mulder swayed Scully slowly.  She was distracted, trying to look past him at Will, but he would purposefully shift and block her view.  Finally, he took his hand off her hip and brushed a curled finger under her chin to get her attention.

“Don’t look at your feet,” Mulder reiterated.  “Keep your eyes on your partner.  It’ll help you not to get tripped up and the view is much nicer.”

Scully rolled her eyes, but fortunately her back was to Will.  Mulder winked at him and danced them back away from the couch, then forward again.

“Your job is to lead and trust her to follow,” Mulder said, dancing them closer to Will.

Will had his bottom lip caught between his teeth, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he watched his father’s feet.  His arm was slightly up, wrist tipped back and fingers spread and curved like he was holding an invisible hand.  He shuffled back and forth with small steps next to the couch, moving without going anywhere.  Mulder let go of Scully’s hip and turned her away from him.  When his arm cleared her head and she was facing Will, he released her hand and stepped away.

“Your turn, buddy,” Mulder said.

“What?” Will asked, blinking up at Mulder.

“Can’t learn without trying.  Dance with your mom.”

“Da-ad.”  Will’s cheeks darkened with embarrassment.

“Hey,” Scully said, putting her hand up for Will to take.  “I happen to be an excellent partner.”

“She is,” Mulder agreed.  “The best of the best.  How can you dance with Lexi if you can’t even dance with mom?”

“Lexi!”  Scully smiled broadly as Will ducked his head.  “Did you ask Lexi to the dance?”

“Yeah,” Will mumbled.  “You don’t have to make a big deal about it.”

“No one’s making a big deal about anything,” Mulder said, shaking his head at Scully in warning.  He took Will’s hand and put it on Scully’s hip and brought Scully’s hand to Will’s shoulder.  The boy was still slightly smaller than Scully by about two inches, but he had Mulder’s lankiness which implied he was going to shoot up soon.

“Now what?”  Will’s arms were stiff and straight.  He was standing too far from Scully, but he looked wary of moving closer.

“Relax,” Mulder said, shaking Will’s arms from behind him to loosen him up.  When that didn’t work, he tickled his sides, which caused him to break apart and laugh.  He drew his arms into his sides to protect himself from the assault and Mulder hugged him from behind for a brief moment and patted his arms.

Scully cleared her throat, arms still in a dance frame.  “I believe I’m owed a dance here.”

Will put his hand back on Scully’s hip and laced his fingers with hers.  He was much more relaxed the second time around and not so stiff.

“Do I have to get all close and stuff?” Will asked.

“No,” Mulder said.  “You can dance closer when you’re…taller.”

Scully chuckled.  

“Do I step forward or backward?” Will asked.

“Try forward to start with,” Mulder answered.  “Remember, look at your partner, not at your feet.  Lead with your eyes.  Be confident.”

Will hesitantly moved his feet, second-guessing every step he took.  Scully tried to follow his lead, but it didn’t work so well when he didn’t know where he was going.  They stepped on each other’s feet several times and Will kept apologizing, his cheeks growing pinker by the second.  

“I suck at this,” Will declared.

“It’s your first dance,” Mulder said.  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“You’re doing great,” Scully added, laughing when Will tripped into her before she even finished the compliment.

Will laughed along with Scully, giving up on letting his stumbles bother him.  They more they both laughed, the less he messed up.  He finally grinned when a full minute passed without him stepping on one of Scully’s feet.

“I think I can do it!” Will cried.

Mulder tapped on his son’s shoulder.  “May I cut in?” he asked.

“That means you want to dance with mom too, right?”

“Sure does.”

Wil stopped, but his brows came together as he let Scully’s hand go.  “If some guy asks if he can cut in and you don’t want him to, what do you say?”

“Depends on how good your aim is,” Mulder answered.

“Mulder!” Scully scolded, smacking him on the arm as he wrapped them around her waist.  She turned to Will even as she swayed in Mulder’s arms.  “The best thing to do would be to ask your partner if she minds.  Leave it up to her.”

“What if she says okay?”

“Cut back in on the next one,” Mulder said.  “Pray that the other guy has two left feet.”

“I’m gonna go practice.”  Will put his arms up and danced his way out of the room.

“Lexi?” Scully asked when Will was out of earshot.  “He asked her?  She said yes?”

“Seems so.”

“Hm.”  

“Something wrong?”

“Well, you know, I don’t want it to ruin their friendship.”

Mulder groaned.  “Where have I heard that argument before?”

“It’s important to think about.”

“It’s a school dance.  Besides, you know, Mulder men like the slow burn.  We only make moves every seven years.”

Scully tipped her head back and her brows lifted.  “Are you insinuating that you made the first move?”

“You were just picking up on all the signals I was sending.”

“Sure.”

“How are you feeling?”

Scully moved a hand down to her abdomen and splayed her fingers over the small bump low on her belly that had only recently begun to show.  “Not as queasy as I was this morning.  The crackers helped.”

“Mm.”  Mulder put his hand over Scully’s and leaned down to rest his forehead against hers.

“I think we should tell Will after the next appointment.”

“That’s the ultrasound?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t wait until this one’s ready for his or her first school dance to do this again, okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been awhile since we’ve done this.”

Mulder curled his fingers through Scully’s and brought her hand up to kiss the underside of her wrist.  She laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes as they continued to dance.

The End

[greekowl87]

Fic: Unexpected Circumstances

I still haven’t watched the last episode but I’ve been watching what’s been going on the Tumblr so I’m aware of the ‘Is Scully pregnant again???’ drama. But I needed to write this and get this idea out of my head before anything else. So an AU post S9 ‘William’ ending that has been driving me nuts since last week. Shout out to @mulders-boyish-enthousiasm for listening to my rambling. 

Sorry for the typos. No beta.

Tagging @today-in-fic

Scully felt her gut churning like an unrelentless sea caught in a hurricane summoned by some ungodly force. She was at wit’s end. Her mind was racing trying to compare this motherly devotion to protect her son to something while simultaneously wishing Mulder was here to help guide her or just…just hold so she could let go and feel vulnerable while he held her up. The decision for him to leave was their decision, they made it together.

They did everything together.

Scully sat in the darkness of her living room, only the dim glow of her TV play ‘MAD TV’ in the late night providing the only illumination and mocking her. She gazed towards her son’s room. The slightly ajar door standing silently not moving by some unknown force. Nothing was moving without some unknown force. She moved to clutch a throw pillow to her chest, a poor excuse for human contact, as she shut her eyes tightly and took a slow breath, trying to steady her racing nerves.

I can’t keep him safe. Why did I let Mulder leave? I can’t keep him safe. I’ve failed. I’ve failed both of them.

She cast the throw pillow aside angrily and buried her face in her hands, her tears singeing her skin. She had nothing else left. She was backed into the corner with nothing. Normally, Scully would build her walls and carry on but there was William. Her…their miracle. She took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. But there was suddenly a weak rasp as knuckles dragged across the wooden door.

Her own drowning emotions forgotten, Scully reached behind her and pulled out her Sig Sauer P-228. With a slight flick of her finger, the safety was off, and her weapon hung loosely at her side. She had witnessed a man try to smother her son that she killed. A scarred and bedraggled Jeffery Spender inject her son with something. She had failed then but like hell, she was going to fail now. She leaned against the frame as she heard fingers claw at the door. Her finger was on the trigger, ready to wrench open the door and shoot the intruder until she heard something that made her heart stop.

“Scully. It’s me. Scully?”

A voice rung out like a beam of light in the storm. As she set the weapon aside next to her potted plant, she kicked open the door silently cursing as her fingers stumbled on the chain lock. As she pulled back the door, she saw him, haggardly leaning against the door frame. His face was slightly gaunt with bags under his eyes. There was a faded bruise on his left temple. His face unshaven and was already sporting the beginnings of a wild beard.

“Mulder?”

“Sorry I gave no noticed,” he joked lamely.

She rushed forward, taking him into her arms. He hissed slightly in response as he readjusted himself in her embrace before hugging her in return. Tears streamed down her eyes kissed his neck hungrily and pulled back. Scully framed his face in her hands. “I don’t care.” She kissed him again. And again as if her next breath depended on him. “You’re here.” He nodded weakly and almost lost his balance, leaning heavily on her. “You’re hurt.”

“Just some broken ribs from a week ago.”

She raked her fingers through his hair possessively before pulling him into her apartment and locking the door behind them.

… .

Mulder thought he was dreaming when he woke up. He found himself in a comfortable in a bed, one that he thought he had forgotten. He kept his eyes closed taking in the moment: the softness of the bed, the lightness of the Egyptian cotton sheets, the scent…Scully’s scent. This must be a dream. This had to be a dream. Then he heard a baby cry fussily somewhere off in the distance and a woman hush it soothingly.

“Ssshhh, William, daddy needs to sleep.”

Scully. Scully’s voice. Now he knew for certain this had to be a dream. Mulder had dreamed about this a lot since he had gone on the run to keep his new baby son and Scully safe. He dreamed of still being home in Scully’s apartment, cooking her breakfast in bed while his son watched him play the air guitar to 'Sweet Home Alabama.’ But it was just that; a dream. He heard the baby make another noise again, perhaps denoting sleepiness. He tried to listen to this wonderful dream and pretend it was his son and Scully. Light footsteps. A door opening and closing. The footsteps came towards him, a door opening and closing behind him. He slowed his breathing, trying to prolong this dream. Someone was sitting next to him, soft fingertips raking through his hair, and this dream smelled like Scully, and felt like her too.

“Mulder, I know you’re awake.”

“This is a dream.”

“Mulder,” she chuckled softly. “Open your eyes.”

Knowing that when he woke up and find himself in some seedy hotel in Utah, he decided it was time to get back to reality. Upon opening his eyes, Mulder saw Scully leaning over him with a sad smile, her crystal blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “This is a dream,” he murmured again.

She leaned over him, her hand gently cupping his cheek. “A very realistic dream, wouldn’t you say? Do you remember coming here? Knocking on my door?”

He closed his eyes for a moment and nodded slightly. “It doesn’t seem real.”

“It is. It was.” She peeled back the blankets and her healing hands traced his bruised chest and broken ribs. “How are you feeling? Do you want some aspirin?”

He shook his head and pushed himself up in bed with her help. Mulder grimaced and took a look around the room, Scully’s bedroom. The later afternoon light danced through the windows and he took a moment to fully take her in. Her hair was longer and a deeper shade of red, her face seemed softer somehow but he still saw the love she had for him. Finally, he let himself believe. “No. I just…” He reached out, touching her cross hesitantly but desperation made him pull her to him into an earth-shattering kiss. She wrapped her arms around him, deepening the kiss. “I’ve missed you, Scully. I’ve missed you.”

“I know, Mulder,” she whispered, holding him tightly. “I know. I’ve missed you too, more than you can ever know.”

A screaming baby’s wail caused Scully to break away and smile as tears strolled down her cheeks. “I uh, give me a second, Mulder. He’s been fussy lately.” She got up reluctantly and paused at the door. “He’s just like you in the remark. Incredibly clingy and doesn’t like to be left alone. I’ll be right back.”

With that, she disappeared back out into the apartment and he arched an eyebrow curiously. Weakly, he got out of bed, noting the yellow pajama pants he was wearing. He looked around her room and saw one of his old Knick’s shirts on her chair. He picked it up and brought it to his nose, inhaling Scully’s scent, which brought a smile to his face. He slipped the shirt on and padded out to the sound of the baby.

The guest room was a beautiful nursery with a cartoon UFO painted on the wall but other than that, he noticed the lack of decorations, stuffed animals, or anything personal. But his heart stopped seeing Scully bounce a baby with his brown hair and her eyes. “Is that?” he managed.

Scully spun in surprise. “I didn’t…um, yes.” She swallowed as William quieted instantly, watching Mulder stand in the doorway as if unsure what to do. She glanced at their son and back to Mulder. “Do you want to hold your son, Mulder? Maybe we can forgo the nap today for him.”

He nodded weakly and Scully gave a weak smile and gingerly placed William in his arms. The last time Mulder had held his son was when William was less than two days old but now, here he was, almost a full year. “He’s uh, gotten big,” Mulder said, unsure of how to hold William.

Scully smiled sadly. “I know. Just support his head. See if you can get him back to sleep.” She pointed to the rocker in the corner. “I’ll make you something to eat.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and quietly left Mulder standing with a baby in his arm.

His son shoved a fist into his mouth and smiled at Mulder. As if already knowing who he was, William rested his head against Mulder’s shoulder, staring expectantly at him. “I guess I should tell you where I’ve been, huh, bud?” Mulder whispered, kissing the downy hair of his son.

… .

Scully stood over her counter with a grilled cheese and some chicken noodle soup, trying to choke back her tears. She needed to tell Mulder the truth, that she couldn’t keep William safe and that the only choice was to give him a life she couldn’t, a life of safety and happiness. She needed to do so much…reconnect to Mulder, tell him the truth about William’s uniqueness, her hopelessness, everything. She needed to make him understand that giving William up was the best thing, for all of them.

She wiped away the tears and forced a smile as Mulder reentered the rest of the apartment and walked slowly towards the kitchen. “Little man is out, I think,” Mulder said. “He’s grown so much, Scully.”

She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “He has. Have a seat. I made you something easy.”

She heard the scratching of the chair being pulled out from the kitchen table and his grunting as he sat gingerly down. She turned around and carried the soup and grilled cheese to him. “Do you want something to drink too, Mulder?”

“Water’s fine, Scully. Thank you.” He smiled appreciatively. “This looks better than Campbell’s.”

“I’ve been trying to cook more. I, uh, made it. Mom’s recipe though.”

“It smells delicious.”

“Thank you.”

Scully robotically filled a glass of tap water and set it in front of him before sitting next to him. An uneasy silence filled in between them. “So,” Scully sighed, tenting her fingers in front of her, “are you going to tell me what happened? You haven’t emailed me for a month.”

“I tried,” Mulder sighed, pausing as he sipped the soup. “The email server the Gunmen set up was down. Speaking of which…”

He doesn’t know, Scully thought sadly. She closed her eyes. He had been surprised when he came back to the dead, barely having time to adjust to the idea of being a father before he had to go on the run again. But now, with the Gunmen dead. “Mulder,” she began, reaching for his hand, “they died, recently. They’re buried in Arlington, a hero’s funeral.”

Mulder’s spoon clattered against the bowl and plate and Scully raced to grab his hand. “I’m fine,” he choked suddenly.

“Mulder. Mulder!”

Scully squeezed his hand and quietly he looked at her and saw the pain etched into her face. Mulder squeezed her hand in affirmation. “I’m okay,” his choked before clearing his throat half-heartedly. He freed his hand and tried to go back to his soup. “I still have you and William. After I couldn’t get a hold of you, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to come back to you, I was worried. I should have never left. I tried to keep a low profile but I got mugged in Atlantic City, hence, the bruised ribs. I honestly don’t remember coming back except when the door opened and it was you. You were there.”

Scully bowed her head. “You’ve missed a lot. My emails…weren’t entirely accurate. William…William is special, Mulder.”

“Of course he is,” he replied. “He’s our miracle.”

“No. Yes.” She closed her eyes painfully.  It was now or never. “He moved his mobile, Mulder. Telepathically. He moved his mobile. I think. He was kidnapped by an alien cult. Agent Reyes helped me get him back. Mulder, I don’t know what to do. I can’t keep him safe! I’ve failed him and you! The only way to keep him safe is I need to give him up. Mulder, do you understand what I am saying?”

Mulder froze biting the grilled cheese. The words hit him all at once, like waves pounding the shore and he was drowning too. Of course, he had heard her. “What do you mean he is different, Scully?”

Genetic mutation? Experimentation? But William was conceived naturally. But then there was his parents, him and Scully. Alien abductions were a part of the genetics. Her abduction. Him reading minds because of an alien artifact. His own abduction. They were just different.“He just is. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Her voice was eerily calm and it scared him.

“After all we’ve been through, Scully?” he asked softly, reaching for her hand. “You know what it is.”

Scully had missed this. She missed how Mulder had grounded her and anchored her in moments like this. She knew it. She denied it. But it took him simply to say it to just affirm her confidence to believe it and verify her worst fears. “I can’t keep him safe, Mulder.”

“We can,” he murmured, leaning forward.

With his other hand, his reached around to pull her close. Scully closed her eyes, relishing his touch. Although his fingers were greasy from the grilled cheese, she relished the warmth of his touch as it ran up and down the back of her neck soothingly, always lingering over the scar of her chip.

“I’m home, Scully. We can keep him safe. I should have never left you or William. I made a mistake.”

“You did what you thought was best, Mulder.”

He shook his head. “No. I should have been here. For you. For William. But I’m here now, Scully. Don’t take my son for me before I have a chance to know him. Please.”

She pulled back violently as if he had burned her hand. What had caused her visceral reaction? “Scully?”

“I can’t do this again. I have no other choice, Mulder. You have no idea what I have gone through trying to keep him safe, how much I have failed him.”

Grunting, he flattened his arm against his side and broken ribs as he shifted closer to her, trying to take in her face. She buried her face in her hands unable to gaze at him. “I don’t know what else to do, Mulder!” she hissed silently trying not to wake William. She looked at him and Mulder saw her defeated and all hope was gone. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“When was the last time you slept,” he whispered. His hand trailed through her red hair and she unconsciously leaned into his touch. “Scully?”

She stared blankly at him and shook her head. “I can’t remember,” she whispered.

“Go to bed, get some sleep. We can try this conversation again.”

“My mind is made up,” she murmured uselessly. “He needs to be safe.” Mulder was already pulling her up and guiding her back to the bedroom. “William. You’ll wake me if he needs…”

“Yes,” he lied.

Scully was exhausted and spent. Her mind was already lulling into letting her find comfort with Mulder’s presence, his warm hands pulling back the blankets on the bed where he had previously laid. His scent surrounded her and the sheets were cool. Scully felt her body relax instantly. He tucked her in and she sighed. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” she sighed.

“You’ve been strong enough,” he said. “Rest.”

He bent over and kissed her tenderly as her eyes closed. She was asleep within minutes. Despite still being sore, Mulder had never felt more at peace in the month since he left. Those months on the run had been tough as he purposely kept a low profile, there had been a few close calls, nightmares of his abductions plagued him and kept him up at night. The only things that would keep the nightmares and fears away were dreaming about Scully and William. Now those fears threatening to spill over on what should be a happy homecoming as Mulder questioned the legitimacy of Scully giving their son up. Quietly, he got up and wandered into his son’s bedroom to find the almost one-year-old smiling toothily at him as he sat up in the crib. As Mulder smiled and came closer, William instinctively held his arms upward, the universal sign to be picked up.

“Hey, there, buddy,” Mulder whispered.

This is something he had dreamed: coming home to his son smiling at him, wanting to be held. Despite his broken ribs, he gently picked up William and the baby smiled, drool dripping down the corner of his small mouth. What amazed Mulder the most was how welcoming and trusting William was with him. His son was nothing but short of amazing. But holding his boy snuggled against his chest, finally kissing William’s head as the baby cooed in approval, he felt the fears that had tightened around his heart disappear. Mulder closed his eyes, taking in the moment of the warm body snug in his embrace, his son somehow smelling like Scully and new baby smell brought a smile to his lips.

“Let’s go keep mommy company,” he whispered.

… .

Scully was having a nightmare, a familiar one where William was taken from her, Mulder lay dead at her feet, and her cursed immortality left her alone for centuries because she could not die. It had been plaguing her more over the past weeks since the cult stole her son but nothing could stop it. She began to swim to consciousness when she heard Mulder’s musical voice reciting quietly, “And they made him king of all the wild things.” His voice went to a higher pitch. “'And now,’ cried Max, 'let the wild rumpus start!’” A page turned and she heard Mulder making weird noised before the high pitch voice returned. “'Now stop,’ Max said.’”

She could hear William giggling in response.

“Oh, you like that, William,” he chuckled.

She opened her eyes and saw Mulder sitting the rocking chair in the corner of his room with William on his lap reading 'Where the Wild Things Are.’ William rolled his head back and watched Mulder continue to read out loud. Then her heart broke because this sweet image she had dreamed for months was going to end. Mulder heard her sob. Looking up from the book, he saw her trying to hide the tears and the heartbreak. She was already trying to learn to live with the idea of giving up her son but this, this she couldn’t handle anymore.

“Mulder,” she said, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Why not,” he asked, shifting William. “If we’re separated, we fail.”

She shook her head as Mulder carried himself and William to the bed on the other side. Scully was shaking her head, her emotions returning like a hurricane. William grunted something like 'ma’ and reached for Scully. She took their son and then looked longingly at Mulder as he carefully encompassed her and their son in a hug. She closed her eyes and let a let another wave of emotion encompass her as the thought of putting William up for adoption vanished. Mulder was here, holding both of them, them as a family.

“Okay,” she whispered, running her hand through William’s soft hair. She turned her head and kissed him hungrily. “Okay.”

He smiled. “I’m glad I came home. You’d be lost without me. I know I’ve been lost without you.”

She smiled, nuzzling him. “We’d be lost without you.”

Mulder smiled. “William’s our miracle. Know what will be a true miracle? Raising him into a teenager with our stubbornness.”

She smiled. “I’ve always imagined this.”

“What?”

“Our happy ending.”

“I’m home,” he whispered, “and I’m not leaving.”

William cooed happily as Scully hugged him close and thoughts of adaptation vanished from her mind to be replaced with a vision of the future as a family with her, Mulder, and William.

“But,” he sighed. “We may need a bigger home.”

Scully laughed and kissed him again, happiness melting into her bones. “We can start tomorrow.”

[nostalgicphile]

As much as I love the frequency of Gillian’s social media messages, I do miss the lengthier fan messages that she used to post on GAWS. The post below was one of my favourites - and appropriate for today. I love how she includes some of our favourite MSR scenes...and, of course, when it got moist in the anteroom. ;)

***

March 2002 Question: Now that the X-files are ending, can you tell us what are some of your favorite memories of working on the show? Answer: Some of my favorite memories of working on the show (and not necessarily in order of importance or weight or much of anything but the order in which I remembered them.)

Directing "all things."

Singing 'Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog' to Mulder in "Detour".

Shooting "Triangle."

Shooting "Cops."

Shooting the kiss/bee scene in the movie.

Shooting the scene where Mulder shows Scully how to hit a baseball in "The Unnatural."

Shooting "Bad Blood" but especially the autopsy scene.

Doing the elephant autopsy in "Fearful Symmetry."

In the first season the crew used to crowd around a t.v. screen on Friday nights and watch the show over lunch. That was fun and exciting for us.

I remember when the casting director told me I had the job after the final network audition and I had to drive a fellow auditioning actress that I knew back to her hotel knowing that I had the job and not letting on or being able to talk about it.

Shooting the graveside scene in the pilot in forced freezing rain at some ungodly hour in the morning and trying to remember my name let alone whole paragraphs of dialogue.

Shooting scenes in the snow in Vancouver wearing a skirt and high heals and trying not to slide down hill...or having to use an umbrella so that my hair did not have to be blown out before every take.

Telling David in his trailer that I was pregnant and him telling me that he felt his knees buckle. Blue, as a puppy was lying sick on his bed behind him, having just been spayed.

Watching Jim Rose do his famous genital tricks in his trailer during the shooting of Humbug.

In one of the very first episodes, there's a scene where Mulder and Scully are to look at red lights in the sky that may be UFO's and follow their flying path. David and I were standing on a windy hilltop looking out onto the pitch black heavens with the cameras on our faces and being directed where to look in EXACTLY the same place at the same time (up down left right)...but with NOTHING TO LOOK AT AS A GUIDE! It was absurd.

Shooting Scully and Mulder's final kiss scene at the end of "Existence."

Shooting the dance sequence at the end of "The Post-Modern Prometheus."

I remember sitting at a wooden table with David on the set when Pendrell was shot, and David telling me about this date he had with a woman whose name he would not tell me, but it was kind of like the tea that you drink.

Sitting in a luncheon booth on the North Vancouver lot with David Nutter and for the very first time going over a script with a director beat by beat and how exhilarating that was to be creative that way and have someone care what my feedback and impressions and instincts were. The script was "Beyond The Sea."

Shooting the scene where Scully's stomach is pumped with air in an abduction sequence and trying not to reveal that it was actually a pregnant belly being shot. I'll have to show that scene to Piper one of these years.

Lying in a hospital bed on set ten days after giving birth to Piper. Hooked up to tubes and wires and drifting in and out of sleep while they shot around me and being wheeled to and from the bed in a wheelchair. Surreal. I'd just been there!

Shooting a scene in a rowboat in the middle of a lake all by myself for hours and my lactating breasts getting so swollen that I thought I might explode.

Shooting a scene in an episode about cats where Scully has to be attacked in the face by a cat but I am allergic so they built a cat on a stick covered in bunny fur whose arms could be operated by some poor special effects guy. So here I am "struggling" with this fake bunny/cat in my face pretending to get scratched and be terrified when the fake fur keeps sticking to my lipstick and going up my nose and Kim Manners and I cannot stop cracking up at the ludicrousness of it all.

Lying on the floor eight months pregnant and being pushed by someone across the floor to simulate me "crawling" because I was so big and my belly was in the way and I could not do it myself. I think it was "Duane Barry."

Sitting in the back of a jeep on one of the stages pretending to be attacked by imaginary (CGI) green bugs who are going to cocoon us and suck our life out of us...flailing away at them with all my might and then whenever we cut, turning to a big garbage can to my left and throwing up because I had horrible morning sickness.

When Chris Carter walked into my hospital room a day or two after Piper was born and was stopped in his tracks by the sight of this living being propped up beside me. We sat in silence for a long time.

Talking to Chris on some payphone outside some restaurant a couple nights before I was to go back to Network for the final audition, and him giving me notes on how to dress more 'streamlined' for the Network Execs... I borrowed a suit.

Talking to David for the very first time outside the audition as he chatted up the girls, and commenting on the fact that I was from N.Y. and not really meaning FROM FROM, but the disappointment which flashed across his face when I qualified that I had only actually lived there a couple years. He moved on to someone else.

 Experiencing Rob Bowman directing for the first time, setting up elaborate shots and the crew standing around thinking what is this new guy doing spending all this time with these fancy angles...cut to...the established norm. And thank God.

The last day of shooting in Vancouver when the make-up artist had to redo my make-up three and four times before every take cause I was crying so much. I imagine the same will be said in a little over a month. We won't get anything shot.

The End

I know it seems ridiculous that I might only have thirty memories over nine years but I am afraid that is the best I can do and still have you all read it before the end of the month.

http://www.gilliananderson.ws/messages/archive.shtml

[barbarashershey]

all i want for christmas

Author: @gilliankatic  [x] [x] Rating: T Series: x-files Pairing: mulder/scully

Mulder receives information from one of his confidential sources, the he-has-to-leave-now kind of information. The problem? It’s the holiday season and his relationship with Scully is on the rocks. And, what does William Scully want for Christmas? For his parents to be together.

It was well after midnight when Scully watched the headlights retreat through the window, the street light across the road streaking a fluorescent glow through the tinted glass. Her fingers toyed with the lace fabric of the curtain before allowing it to fall back to its respective place. With a sigh, Scully pulled her coat closer against her shivering frame and made her way towards the kitchen, where her now cool cup of tea sat lonely on the wooden countertop.

She started to wipe down the benches with a linen cloth. What was she going to tell William? He is going to be so disappointed that Mulder isn’t going to make it back in time for them all to open their presents together.

He’d promised that he’d be gone for - at the most - 2 weeks. Including Christmas.

So the days passed quickly with no contact from Mulder. Scully wasn’t surprised, not really, but she couldn’t stop the twinge of disappointment in her stomach stomping down on the butterflies when she closed her empty inbox.

Scully wasn’t the only one who was in a sullen mood, William had been moping about the house since she’d told him that Mulder had to leave for ‘an urgent business trip’ and she’d focused on putting all of her energy into keeping William’s spirits up. But his stubbornness was hereditary, refusing to smile or laugh, the corners of his mouth flickering upwards for a millisecond before drawing his eyebrows together into a scowl once again.

By the end of week one, Scully had resorted to putting on Christmas themed movies in the hopes that at least one of them would bring a smile to his face. Half-way through The Santa Clause, he started to nod off,  his forehead colliding with her arm and drooling onto the green fabric of the christmas jumper she was wearing.

She didn’t mind. It was Mulder’s afteral. She’d donned the material because it smelled like him and she missed him. The ugly print of a cartoon reindeer being abducted with a ufo hovering above it an odd comfort.

She smiled down at William, her stomach riddled in untangable knots of guilt and anger and worry. He mumbled against the crook of her elbow and she smiled softly. But mostly she felt an overwhelming amount of love for the little boy nestled against her.

Scully pressed a palm to the small of William’s shoulder until his body shifted and his head tilted back until he was leaning gently against the back of the couch. Now able to move more freely, she scooted forward and reached for the remote on the coffee table to mute the television. The screen was bright and painted the room in a bright blue hue.

Scully slowly stood and turned towards her sleeping son, she gently brushed a few strands of auburn hair away from his eyes. William was a heavy sleeper and didn’t seem affected by the gentle caress. After a moment Scully rested her knee on the edge of the couch, one arm sliding under his legs and the other craning his neck in support as she lifted him before re-adjusting his head to rest on her shoulder.

William mumbled in his sleep, one arm now wrapped around her neck, but other than that he was undisturbed by her moving him. Now all she had to was make it up those damn steps in her work heels, cursing Mulder - who usually was the one to carry their son to bed and cursing herself for not taking them off earlier. God, he’s heavy.

-

Early the next morning, on the Friday, William came bounding into the kitchen, nearly bowling over his grandmother just inside the archway.

“Careful, William!” Maggie chastises him.

Scully was taking a sip of her third cup of coffee, quirking her lips at William’s embarrassed and slightly bashful gaze. Maggie offered her hand to William asking him if he’d like to help her make some reindeer cookies and his face lit up for the first time since she’d broken the news to him about their changed Christmas plans.

She managed to do some last minute Christmas shopping, grabbing a few items that she’d forgotten to add to her list: mint jelly, the christmas star that had broken and a few items that she’d run out of: cards, cellophane and tape.

Later that night, after an hour of wrapping Scully had just placed a decorative bow on the meticulously wrapped present when she heard a knock on her bedroom door. She not-so-subtly slid the present under her bed, clearly in view when her duvet had been pulled up from the side of the bed. But, she couldn’t do much about it now that the door was creaking open.

The younger woman tucked a strand of fiery red hair behind her ear and breathed a sigh of relief when she realised who it was.

“I thought you were the jolly man himself.” She said with a laugh.

Maggie shook her head, her lips twitching but not acknowledging the poor joke. Her eyes drifted to the foot of the bed where at least a dozen presents were wrapped in plain view from the now open doorway.

She clicked the door shut before making her way over to her daughter and motioning to the bed.

“May I?”

Scully raised an eyebrow, clearly baffled at her mother’s tentativeness.

“Uh… yeah of course.”

Scully moved the wrapping paper, scissors and tape aside so that Maggie could settle herself comfortably on the end of her bed.

She regarded her mother with a raised eyebrow, who was surveying her in a very similar demeanour.

“Is everything okay?” Scully asked slowly, “Where’s William?”

Maggie tugged on Scully’s arm when her daughter stood quickly, quite ready to run from the room and lay eyes on her son.

“He’s fine, Dana,” She tugged on her arm again, “William is sleeping,” and this time Scully allowed her to pull her back down on the edge of the bed.

“What’s going on?” Scully demanded.

Maggie cleared her throat before sliding her fingers into the front of her coat pocket and retrieving a small envelope and holding it out to her daughter. Scully hesitated, looking from the letter and back to her mother, confusion clouding her thoughts.

“He wrote a letter.”

“He? Mulder?!”

Scully turned the envelope over in her hands but at the very familiar chicken scratch writing, she felt a lump form in her throat: To Santa.

“Oh…” She breathed out.

“William wanted me to address it and send it to Santa.”

Turning the envelope back around in her hands, she slid her finger underneath the paper wing and opened it. The blue lined paper was folded over and Scully felt tears begin to prick at her eyes as she read hastily written words, smudges of pencil that showed clear evidence that quite a few tears had fallen whilst her son had written this.

She knew she shouldn’t read it but all parents read their kids letters to santa, right?

The tugging of her heartstrings told her otherwise.

santa.

my name is william scully and i am 7 years old

most kids ask for toys and stuff but all i want for christmas is

my dad to come home.

my mum has been sad and shes been crying, i heard her.

i don’t want her to be sad.

william

Scully felt a reassuring hand squeeze her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, she crumbled in on herself and covered her eyes, tears streaking black tracks down pale cheeks.

“It’s going to be okay, Dana.” Her mother soothed her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Scully hadn’t been able to sleep much that night, her mind repeating the words of the letter back to her over and over again. all i want for Christmas is from my dad to come home. She felt sick to her stomach. My mum has been sad and shes been crying. Children aren’t supposed to be worrying about these kinds of things.

She rolled over onto her side for what must of been the twentieth time since she climbed into bed and eyed her computer sitting on the hardwood desk in the corner.

This was gnawing away at her insides - she had to do something. Huffing out an exasperated sigh, she made a split-second decision.

Sitting albeit impatiently in her computer chair, she tapped her fingers against the desk as it began to hum to life, taking it’s sweet time to start up. Finally, finally, she was able to sign in and connect to the internet. She brought up her emails and not surprisingly there still wasn’t an email from Mulder.

Opening a new message, she began typing wildly, furiously, her frustration boiling over. If anybody looked at her now she wouldn’t be surprised if there was steam coming out of her ears.

I know you need to do this... to follow these leads that seem to almost always lead us nowhere. But William needs you, I need you.

Please come home,

Dana.

p.s: he asked santa to bring you home for christmas.

Scully’s fingers twitched above the keyboard while she read and re-read what she had wrote. It was short, straightforward and got to the point.

Her eyes darted to the corner of the computer screen to check the time: 3:08am. She cursed silently under her breath. It was late, that would have to do. She clicked the send button before she could dwell on it any longer.

-

The last few days leading up to Christmas were intense. She hadn’t heard back from Mulder and that had fuelled her worry and frustration to an intense 8 out of 10. She knew if something bad had happened to him that she would of heard about it by now, probably. But still, no amount of reasoning could get her to think logically when it came to Mulder.

So her emotions kept bouncing between worry and irritability concerning the man who held her heart.

On the Saturday, her mother’s Christmas dinner went off without a hitch, a few close relatives and their kids talking animatedly whilst Scully stared forlornly into her wine glass.

“How are you doing, Dana?” Father McCue asked.

Scully’s fingers traced the stem of her wine glass as she tried to piece together her thoughts well enough to form a coherent sentence. It was the holiday season, nobody wanted to know you’re not having a good time. You pasted on a smile, complimented the host and drank eggnog whilst playing asinine holiday themed games.

“I’m doing fine, thank you Father McCue,” She answered with a small smile and a shrug of her shoulders.

Scully raised the crystal to her lips and took a hearty sip of the red liquid before turning to focus her attention on Father McCue.

“How’s the church?”

The rest of the evening was spent in continual, meaningless, pointless conversations and Scully could feel it starting to take a toll on her. Usually having Mulder there as a buffer meant she could take breaks from the incessant chatter but at least she had William to check in on every now and again and that appeased the crawling ache in her chest.

It was Christmas Eve, finally.

She knew that when a tiny ball of excitement jumped up and down on her bed shrieking.

“It’s Chris’mas eve!!” William squealed, “Eve! Eve! Eve!” He chanted

Scully would of rolled her eyes if she wasn’t so pleased to see William with a wide smile on his lips and bright sparkling eyes filled with barely contained excitement. She had been worried for a moment there. Okay, maybe two moments.

And though, she knew that Mulder wouldn’t be turning up until at least Thursday she was happy that she got to spend the holidays with at least one of her two favourite boys in the world.

As William continued to bounce across her mattress, she flung the covers off and reached for the squirming seven year old and trapped him in a tight embrace.

“Noo!” He wailed, though the wide smile on his face proved otherwise.

Scully chuckled, pulling him down so that she could snuggle him close to her chest. He wiggled to try and get out of her embrace for a good 30 seconds before breathing out an exaggerated sigh and relaxing in her arms.

“What have you been inhaling this morning? A bowl of sugar?”

A figure walked through her open door way at that exact moment with a chuckle, “Might as well have.” Maggie pointed at her grandson who hid his face in the crook of Scully’s shoulder.

“He raided the Christmas cookies.”

Scully let out a faux gasp as though she were shocked to her very core.

“What?! Not the cookies!” She placed her palm against her forehead in mock shock, “What ever shall we do now?”

Maggie clucked her tongue at her daughter in disapproval when William giggled from the safety of Scully’s arms.

“Really, Dana? I suppose you don’t want coffee after all.”

Scully’s eyes widened at the slight threat in her mother’s words.

“I...I mean-” She sputtered as Maggie stood there with her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised in amusement.

Scully’s eyes darted between her mother and the door to her bedroom. There was a pregnant pause and then- releasing her son she dashed towards the door with all the grace of a newborn fawn.

“He’s all yours!” She called as she stumbled through the doorway and made her escape to the kitchen.

Maggie rolled her eyes at her daughter’s child-like behaviour. “She spends too much time around your father.”

William laughed as he crawled underneath the covers, his grin half covered by the duvet.

Scully, William and Maggie spent most of the day re-making the cookies. Maggie kept a hawk-eye on her grandson the whole time, and then her daughter when she caught her sneaking William a cookie on the sly.

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips as she turned back to her tea and pretended that she hadn’t caught them with their hands in the cookie jar.

Maggie left Scully and William sometime after lunch to make her way to the afternoon Mass, so that she could deliver some of the treats that they’d made. She pressed a kiss to William’s head and squeezed her daughter’s hand before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Are you sure you don’t want to attend the Mass, Dana? I’m sure everybody would love to see you and William.” She prodded, concerned lines pulling between her brows.

“I’m sure.” She replied as William scurried off to his room.

Scully took a step closer towards her mother and spoke quieter, her voice almost a whisper.

“Really. It’s fine. You can go...thank you.” She said sincerely.

Maggie nodded, releasing the grip on Scully’s hands before reaching for the platters that were laid out on the table and making her way out the open doorway.

Scully leaned against the door-frame until the car disappeared from her sight and she let out a quiet breath that she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding in. She clicked the door shut and locked it, just in case, and made her way upstairs to check on William.

She didn’t feel as safe, as secure, when Mulder wasn’t around. She knew how to defend herself and protect her family - past circumstances have proven that. But, the comfort of having him near her felt like a different kind of security that she hadn’t even realised she needed - craved, until he wasn’t able to give that to her.

She dozed off on the couch in the living room for a few hours after having to replace some christmas lights that had started to short out - the room flickering inconsistently in fluorescent lights. She was fairly sure neither of them were epileptic but she didn’t want to take any chances.

Then, she was falling, falling and she couldn’t- no, she was drowning. She couldn’t breathe, the harsh force of the waves were pulling her under. She couldn’t breathe. Her foot got caught between two rocks - digging painfully into the skin of her heel, the waves were still pummelling down against her, she was shaking, shaking. She could hear William calling out to her…

Mum!

Her eyes fluttered shut and the darkness claimed her.

“Wake up!” Scully was still being shaken. “Mum! Wake up!” The voice repeated.

Her eyes shot open and she took a deep breath, as though she were being starved of oxygen. Her lungs were burning, her eyes were watering. She turned her head, eyes darting around the corners of the room to try and access her surroundings.

William’s wide concerned eyes were watching her, biting down on his thumb as he shifted from one foot to another.

She let out a breath. She was home.

William looked at her quizzically as he moved to sit on the corner of the couch.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly.

She forced a smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes, tucking an errant strand behind her ear.

“I’m okay.”

His eyebrows raised as though he didn’t believe her.

“Really,” She attempted to reassure him, “It was just a bad dream.”

Scully pressed an open palm to the side of his face, her finger sweeping across his cheekbone before pressing her forehead against his. William nodded, his forehead gently nudging hers.

Pulling away from the warmth of her embrace, William laughed when Scully’s stomach grumbled.

“I think your tummy is trying to tell you something.”

Scully flashed him a grin, a laugh falling from her lips as well, “Yeah. I think so too.”

William set the table whilst Scully busied herself in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of red as she waited for the water on the stove to boil. She decided on peperonata pasta, it was quick and easy and they would be sitting down to eat in under 20 minutes.

She poured William a glass of water before settling down in her respective seat at the dinner table.

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

He’d set the table like he usually did - with 3 place sets. She bit down on her lip, averting her gaze from where Mulder usually sat down on her right side and took a heady sip of her drink.

Dinner was mostly silent, both Scully’s casting their gazes at the current absentees chair every now and again. It wasn’t uncomfortable but it didn’t feel like home. Something was missing. A very important something. A very important someone.

Scully cleared the table and filled the sink to get started on the washing up. She quickly darted to the lounge room to setup a movie for William to watch before returning to the kitchen.

She lost herself within the methodical pace of washing the dishes, it was calming in a way, she didn’t have to think too much. The same method over and over again. Dip, wash, rinse, repeat. Altering the style depending on the size.

Her mind started to wander. Where was Mulder, right now? Was he thinking of them? She looked out the window over the sink and gazed at the twinkling stars. Was he looking at the same stars she was at this very moment?

She shook her head. “Don’t be stupid” She muttered to herself.

Scully retrieved the plug from the sink and started to dry the dishes with a dish towel. She continued drying the dishes and put them away in the cabinet. She then started to wipe down the benches and the table, arranging the items that had been moved about during the day. There was a lot more of a mess than normal: flour in the cracks of the bench, coffee stains on the table, chocolate melted on the stove top.

Once Scully was happy with the end result, she made her way through the archway and towards the lounge room. She must of gotten caught up because it looked like William was nearly at the end of the movie she’d set up.

“Do you want a hot chocolate?” She asked, resting her arms against the back of the couch.

William’s eyes were glued to the screen, sitting right on the edge of his seat.

“What? Uh...no. I’m good. Thanks.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t contain the small smile from flickering across her lips.

“Don’t sit too close to the television.”

“I won’t.”

Scully went upstairs and started organising the presents into different sections. She had the presents that they would open at home, the presents she would be taking to her mother’s when she saw Bill, Tara and Matthew. Long distant relatives that she forgot to send greetings cards to. Her present for Skinner. Mulder’s present.

Her fingers traced the simple silver wrapping paper, fingers caressing the corners of the present as she looked for wear and tear marks. There weren’t any. She made a small noise of contentment before turning towards the greeting cards pile that she’d forgotten about.

So, maybe some of her relatives would be giving her the cold shoulder for the first few months of the year because she sent out late cards. She was used to that kind of treatment at work lately, anyway.

After an hour, her wrist started to throb and she heard a knock on her bedroom door.

She stood up quickly and made her way over just as the door opened, the hinges creaked as she held the door with her left hand and leaned against the door frame with her right, blocking most of her room from sight.

“Hey honey, what’s wrong?” She asked.

She was a little nervous, usually Mulder helped her with the hiding of the presents (she wouldn’t let him set his hands on the wrapping paper though...what a tragedy that would be) - so she was kind of out of her element a little bit.

“Nothing.” William shrugged, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand. “I watched a few movies but I think I’m going to go read.”

Scully nodded, reaching out caressing his cheek briefly before he pulled away and started to trudge down the hallway.

“Don’t stay up too late!” She called after him.

The only answer back she got way a slight grumble before his door clicked shut behind him.

How was it her seven year old had such an attitude already? She shuddered to think of what the teenage years would entail.

Scully made her way outside her bedroom and clicked on the hallway light, making her way downstairs and pouring herself another glass of wine. She took a hearty sip and sighed quietly to nothing and nobody in particular.

It had been a rough couple of days, she’d admit that, she may have not planned as well as she was capable of but she had been thoroughly distracted these last few weeks. Nothing but taking care of her son and thinking about Mulder, everything else being put on the back burners.

She sat at the kitchen table for a little while, fingers toying with the ring of condensation at the bottom of her glass before she begrudgingly made her way back up the stairs with a fresh glass of wine to finish what she’d started.

It was late now. She’d stopped at three glasses of wine over the progression of the night, needing to keep her wits about her. The last thing she needed was to write sloppy inebriated happy holidays on the cards.

Scully heard a door shut and her head whipped up at the sound, dropping her pen to the desk with a clatter. She stood still for a moment, waiting, when she didn’t hear anything for a few minutes she moved closer to her bedroom door.

She silently cursed under her breath. Her gun was in the safe downstairs.

Creak.

Creak.

She felt gooseflesh appear on the back on her neck and across her arms as she became hyper aware of her surroundings. It felt like there were loose wires tangling in her stomach. She could do this. You know your goddamn house better than any intruder.

Releasing the breath she’d been holding in, Scully slowly turned the doorknob on her door and pushed it open, she stopped it just before the point where the hinges would squeak.

She sidled her way through the small space and tiptoed the small distance to William’s room to check on him. Scully breathed a sigh of relief after she’d opened the door quietly and saw that he was snoring slightly, undisturbed.

Closing the door, Scully turned around and made her way back in the direction of her bedroom and towards the stairs. The hallway light was dimmed  but most of the lights were off downstairs except for the bathroom and the kitchen. She made sure to avoid certain steps that would alert their intruder to her presence and stuck to the shadows.

It took her about 20 minutes to investigate every room in the house only to discover that she must of been imagining the noises. She sighed in frustration, wiping at the beads of sweat resting against her collarbone.

Paranoid.

Standing in front of the Christmas tree, the lights were dancing against the walls of the room. Scully followed the flickering patterns with a soft smile, enjoying the serenity of the moment.

“Mulder, you must be rubbing off on me.” She muttered.

“Well, not yet.”

Scully whipped around at the sound of the quiet voice behind her, the large figure took a step forward, almost closing the distance between them when she elbowed him in the solar plexus - knocking him backwards and off balance before sweeping her leg underneath him and causing his knees to buckle and crash to the floor landing on his back.

With swift movement, Scully straddled...Santa Claus?

Scully made sure that the man’s movements were constricted by the grip she held his wrists above his head and against the floor. But, quirked an eyebrow in confusion when she felt a chuckle from beneath her, his body shaking in quiet laughter.

“Oh God, Scully.” He sighed, “I should have known better.”

Wait...she knew that voice.

She removed one hand and pressed the other against both wrists before she leaned forward in the semi-darkness and pulled at the beard gently, a shocked expression appearing across her features briefly when it was evident that it was fake.

She snapped the beard back into place and released her hold on Mulder’s wrists before shoving his shoulders hard, she heard the slight thump of his back connecting with the ground and a small smug smile flickered across her lips at the action.

“You asshole!” She hissed quietly.

Mulder chucked again as she stood up and followed her movements, his back already beginning to throb and definitely not in the good way.

Scully pulled her nightgown closer as a chill breeze flowed through one of the screened windows. Mulder moved closer and despite being furious with him, she couldn’t help but gravitate towards the warmth of him behind her.

“Where did you get the costume?” She murmured quietly.

Mulder gently traced the point of Scully’s elbow as another breeze flowed through the window and Scully’s scent invaded his nostrils. It was a welcome intrusion.

“Someone owed me a favour.”

She turned to face him, pressing her body closer to the warmth of his, gently cupping his cheek.

“What are you doing here?” She asked Mulder quietly.

Mulder traced the shell of her ear with this thumb before sliding his fingers against the back of her neck and into the mess of locks there.

“Someone needed me.”

His hand traced the small of her back, warmth bleeding through the fabric of her nightgown as she slowly closed the small distance between them and gently pressed her lips to his. Their kiss was slow and languid until his hand dug against her waist causing a moan to escape from slightly parted lips.

Mulder’s tongue darted into the willing cavern of Scully’s mouth and she sagged in his arms briefly, before turning him and pushing him backwards, the thrumming between her legs fuelling her more than her mind. Scully moved closer to him, framing his face with both of her hands as she gently bit against Mulder’s enticing lower lip, sucking it into her mouth greedily when there was a loud crash!

Mulder’s back had collided with the Christmas tree and sent it flying, as the tree came crashing to the ground Scully lost her footing and toppled on top of Mulder.

The two agents entangled together laughed, their chests still heaving and their legs entangled. It was the lightest she’d felt in weeks and from the flush travelling across Mulder’s face, she dare say it’s the lightest he’s felt too.

“Mum? Why are you on top of Santa Claus?”

[muldertxf]

Dark Fear, Chapter 1

A case file fic. Mulder and Scully investigate a couple's unique encounter with a spooky black-eyed being in Nevada. Set during season 5.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Bright pink neon bounced excitedly off the face of Dan Lemmings. Propped by one arm against the metal support beam of the rest stop sign, he stood at a slight angle, admiring his surroundings in pure glee. Any other night, he’d have donned a cap out of embarrassment to mask his balding cranium, but tonight was different. The stars were out. A warm, playful breeze dusted the bare ground. He and his wife had just been on a wonderful vacation. An aura of bliss was spread on the air like a lovely thick butter. He basked in it.

“Cheryl, you out yet?” His gaze floated to the bright restrooms, that sat canopied against the neon by a cluster of palm trees. The doors had male and female aliens painted on them coinciding with the sex of the restroom. Nevada crickets chirped merrily against the peaceful backdrop. “Damn,” he mumbled, smiling. If he had to wait out here for another twenty minutes, he wouldn’t be too opposed.

Dan Lemmings’ mind floated to that of baseball. His favorite player was Chuck Finley. Dan visualized himself in the place of Finley. The pale metal support beam he leaned on was a giant baseball bat. The copious trilling that the crickets swarmed him with at that very moment was rapturous applause. The pink flash of neon was a camera’s bulb. He chuckled.

“Danny?” A woman meekly beckoned, emerging from the little aliens’ room. She clacked over to Dan, her purple pumps echoing eagerly off the cooled pavement. She gazed down briefly, straightening out her leather skirt, then smiled at Dan. “Decor never gets old, eh?” She joked, gesturing over to the restroom doors.

After living in Reno, Nevada for nearly 15 years together, one can grow accustomed to the extraterrestrial aesthetic that store owners cling to for tourist money. Dan looked up, his baseball bat falling to the wayside, and the neon sign returning to its normal, non-camera bulb state. The crickets grew less excited.

The woman’s cold, manicured grasp extended out to Dan, and stroked his right cheek. Her eyesight was trained on his forest green parka. A bent, tiny yellow tag stuck out from a bulky sleeve on his parka. “You never pulled the tag off, dear?” She said, batting a lock of bleached blonde hair out of her face. Her heel enhanced height left her at a disadvantaged, and she lobbed them off to her right. The dense plastic clicked against cement. She knelt down a bit, examining the tag. “We can pull that off right here,” The woman said, the r in “right” rolling off her tongue like a mischievous rattlesnake.

The crickets silenced.

Dan gritted his teeth. “Look at me.” The woman ignored him, continuing to fiddle with the tag. He cleared his throat. “I said, look at me.” The choleric tone in his voice ripped voraciously through the bubble of silence like a greedy child. The woman slowly raised her head to meet his. Her eyes were pure black. “Y-you-you’re not. Cheryl. You are not Cheryl!”

Dan Lemmings stumbled backward, further into the small garden he had been standing in that held the sign. Adrenaline strangled him. He gasped sharply against the dry dirt as he collapsed into it, unable to look away from the pool of black that recided in the being’s eye sockets. The thing stood stagnant, flecks of happy pink reflecting in its dark eyeballs. Fear loomed over Dan with an axe at its side, a vengeful grip on the handle. A numbness torpedoed down his spine. With one final vehement sigh, he head dropped with an empty thud to the dirt. He drew his last breath.

The black-eyed being eyed Dan blankly. The man lay motionless among the pushed up daisies that surrounded his body. The small daisies bent around his form in concern, like a team of surgeons quarreling beneath hospital light. Meanwhile, crickets were still shocked into silence.

The being’s gaze finally relinquished the man. With an abrupt flick of the wrist and waist bend, it quickly collected the purple heels. Not-Cheryl dashed with a slight skip outside of the familiar glow of the rest stop, and into the opaque inkiness of the desert. The stars didn’t dare to touch it.

Billboards raced with wispy streaks of clouds, as power lines hopped and leaped cheerily under the overbearing sun. Scully droped her head tiredly with a thump against the rental car’s headrest. She thought back to the Flukeman case that they’d encountered four years ago. She’d take that one in a heartbeat right now, she thought, tapping her manicured digits on the dashboard. Her stomach flip-flopped as they hit a pothole, and her rhythmic tapping snaps Mulder out of his steely squint to see the road.

“We’re in Reno, Nevada, Scully.”

She doesn’t look at him, instead choosing to scratch her damp scalp. Her glance drifts over to the horribly disfigured bumper of the vehicle adjacent to theirs. She wouldn’t be surprised if the disfigurement had happened as a result of the simmering temperature, and not a collision. Her head turned to him, finally. “I can see that, Mulder. I can feel it, too,” She grumbled, a smile hinted at her lips. “You know, just admit it. We’re only out here because of the proximity to Area 51. You could have taken any of the other cases A.D. Skinner recommended to us. But you chose this one.”

Mulder turned back to the bright strip of grey that stretched to the horizon. It was beginning to look almost white to him. “Hey, can I have my sunglasses?”

Scully shuddered internally, because she knew the exact ones he was referring to. The gigantic, obnoxious lensed pair that had a thin navy wire to hold it all together. She rifled through his duffel bag that sat between them, on the dusty floor. Sure enough, between a pair of black dress pants and atop a baby blue t-shirt, lay the wretched pair. He had told her that he thought they oozed a “mysterious appeal.” Scully knew that was Mulder-talk for “I think they make me look like a cool alien.”

Scully let out an exasperated sigh, and tapped the pair to the narrow steering wheel to get his attention. He quickly looked over, then threw them on in relief. “Mysterious?”

“Foolish,” Scully said, unsuccessfully stifling a grin. “Anyway...the case,” She said, now gripping the file that had been carelessly thrown to the floor an hour ago, “A man claims he saw a black eyed being masquerading as his wife while she was in the restroom. The man described a horrible dread washing over him along with a strong sense of fear that he has, quote, ‘never felt before’ un-quote, in his life. He dies on the scene, only to miraculously come to life a day later. His wife never saw a thing.” She looked up from the casefile, and back at her partner once more. “Well, what do you make of this?” Mulder stared ahead at the grey stretch, wordless. “Mulder…”

“In short? I think this casefile is promising for extraterrestrial meat.” Mulder said, popping a sunflower seed into his mouth with his left hand. “The police officer that filed the report also said he was at the scene and saw a bizarre object in the sky, hovering just approximately 50 feet off the ground. This is the stuff of Project Blue Book.”

Scully smiled into her own reflection in the passenger side window. “Please don’t ever utter the words ‘extraterrestrial meat’ in my presence ever again.”

Mulder looked at her again, turning the car into a side street. “What do you think of the man dying of fright, then coming back to life, though? Pretty uncommon, almost supernatural. Like the rising of Jesus. That must interest you from a medical stand-point.”

Buildings and dwellings began to crop up like weeds. The generic desert backdrop began to fade, and in its place, a town began to take form. It was a nice respite from the drab desert scenery, that was for sure.

“Uncommon, yes, supernatural, no.” She side-eyed him, raising an eyebrow. “The massive rush of adrenaline that Dan Lemmings experienced in his fright temporarily stunned his cardiac heart muscle into inaction. Lemmings is also of age 57, and overweight, thus putting him even moreso at risk for this sort of unfortunate occurance. Any highly emotional event whether positive or negative can set this kind of thing off. The human body is amazingly resilient, sometimes it can bounce back even aft--”

“But we don’t know what ‘highly emotional event’ did this to this man,” Mulder interrupted, easing the car into a big, bright neighborhood.

“And you think it’s aliens.”

The tall agent simply offered a shrug. With their trek over, he yanked the keys out of the ignition, threw his long limbs out of the car with a loud sigh of relief, and shot straight up. It felt good to be out of that hot box. He looked back at his partner. The poor-red head drenched in sweat. Her normally tidy, copper locks were now frizzy and damp, and he looked down at the hot pavement, guilty.

She flung open the car door in defeat.

“Well, we should question them now, shouldn’t we?”

[atths--twice]

Blissful Early Mornings

I recently saw a collection of pictures of Scully in different sets of pajamas. In one of them, the one below, she looks like she’s wearing Mulder’s dress shirt. I mean, I know she’s not, but hey, we can dream, right? 

She stretches languidly with a sigh, not quite ready to wake up, the bed warm and comfortable. Her eyes closed, she breathes deeply and she smiles; the smell of fresh laundry and the unmistakable scent of the man who sleeps in the bed, filling her senses.

She reaches out and finds that the other side of the bed is rather cool to the touch, signaling it has been unoccupied for quite some time. Her fingertips tracing up where his chest should be, she grabs his pillow, holding it close and breathing deeply again.

Her legs slide across to his side, the coolness of the sheets shockingly different than the warmth of her own. With a soft intake of breath, she smiles as she thinks of the feel of his legs entwined with hers last night, the way the hair on his contrasted to the smoothness of her own.

“Softer than anything I’ve ever touched,” he had whispered in her ear from behind, as her leg slid across his again, and he trailed the backs of his fingers over her stomach and around her navel. Her muscles had quivered as she moaned softly. “So goddamn soft, Scully.”

He had been hard against her and she shifted, allowing him to slip inside of her, her leg moving to lay across his, high on his hip.

“And wet,” he had breathed. “Soft and wet.”

“Mmm… Mulder,” she had moaned as he pulled nearly all the way out, before pushing back in as she thrust with him.

“No. Slow…” he had whispered, his mouth on her ear, his teeth scraping across her lobe. “I wanna go slow. Make it good for you.”

“It’s… ohhh… it’s always good for me. You… Mm… Mulder… yes, like that.”

And he had obliged. Making her moan and gasp his name as his fingers danced and teased, setting a tandem rhythm with his thrusts. She had fallen over the edge, twice, his desire to go slow adding to her pleasure, the anticipation of release causing her heart to feel as though it might burst from her chest.

He was an incredibly attentive lover, but of course she had known he would be. He could bounce quickly from subject to subject, but when he was truly focused on something, his attention remained rapt and intense. And his center of attention of late, resided between her legs.

Everywhere on her body really, but sweet Jesus, that man made her legs weak when his fingers touched or his tongue licked, drawing out cries from her as though collecting them in a mental glass jar; keeping them safe and able to call back on later. His smile, when she was able to once again focus on his face, could almost be described as a smirk, if his utter happiness did not bleed through.

Rolling over, now feeling slightly aroused, she sighs as she opens her eyes and lets go of his pillow. Cotton and down are a poor substitute for the real thing, which must be somewhere in the apartment.

Maybe he’s making me breakfast, she thinks with a small chuckle, along with a roll of her eyes, as she stretches and sits up, completely naked. With a smile, she stands up and stretches further, her muscles deliciously sore.

Feeling her hair, she shakes her head, knowing there is no point in attempting to fix it as it does not matter to either of them. With other men, she had taken the time in the mornings after lovemaking, to touch up her hair or makeup, but now she does not care. He has seen her at her worst. But, tousle haired and warm from his bed, that is the best look she feels she has ever had.

Deciding to not simply walk out in her naked glory, she bends down and picks up her underwear from the floor; the lacy lilac ones that had dropped him to his knees last night. Seeing his white dress shirt lying a couple of steps away and knowing her shirt is somewhere in the living room, she picks it up and slides it on along with her underwear. Buttoning only two buttons, the shirttails hitting the backs of her thighs, she rolls up the sleeves and inhales his scent.

God, he smells so good.

Walking into the bathroom, she picks up her toothbrush, the pink one he presented her with two days ago, after they had watched a movie. Well, not so much watched, as listened while they had discussed their recent case. Her hand had been in his, his thumb rubbing circles along the top of hers, driving her crazy with desire.

He had left the room to use the bathroom and she followed him a minute later, turning off the television as she left, no longer feeling the need to pretend that she had been paying attention to the movie. Or was it a show he had recorded? She had not known and did not care.

Walking to the threshold of the bathroom, he eyes had locked onto hers as he looked in the mirror, his toothbrush in hand. She had smiled at him as he had stared at her.

“You’re staying?” he had asked, hopeful but not expectant. She had nodded, as the craving she had for him, settled like a blazing fire low in her belly.

He had smiled with a nod and glanced down and to the side before raising his eyes again. Her eyes had followed his glance as she stepped closer to him. There, in the cup where he kept his own toothbrush, was another one- a pink one, the same brand she always chose. Smiling slowly, she had looked at him and he shrugged with an adorably awkward smile. I just thought… so you don’t need to bring a bag up every time.”

“Hmm…” she had hummed, reaching for the toothbrush and licking her lips. She bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath. The simple act of him buying her a toothbrush made her heart race.

God, she loved him so much.

“Thank you,” she had whispered, blinking her eyes quickly, as sudden tears pricked at the backs of them.

“It’s just a toothbrush,” he had said with a shrug and she raised her eyes to his in the mirror.

She could have easily turned her head to look at him, her shoulder brushing his arm as they stood so close. But looking at him in the mirror felt more intimate in an odd way, as though she was truly seeing him. Silently, she had told him that it was not just a toothbrush. He had nodded and smiled softly, reaching for the toothpaste and handing it to her first.

“It’s a nice toothbrush,” she had said as she placed the toothpaste on it and then handed it back to him. Turning on the water, she wet her toothbrush before beginning to brush her teeth.

“Well, I was going to buy blue, not wanting to assign gender to anything, even a simple toothbrush,” he explained, placing the toothpaste on his own toothbrush. “But as I stood there, I couldn't remember if my toothbrush was blue. Not wanting to take a chance of them getting mixed up and accidentally using the others, I decided on the only other available color choice: pink.”

He had grinned before brushing his own teeth and she had taken a deep breath, finishing her brushing and staring at him.

As soon as the cup had once again held their two toothbrushes, she had wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly on the lips; his kiss tasting of mint. His hands had slid under her shirt, his fingertips on the skin of her back, adding fuel to that constant fire that seemed to constantly burn within her.

Her shirt had come off and landed somewhere on the floor as he had hummed out a chuckle. He had lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist, as he walked them into the bedroom, where they had fallen onto the bed.

Humming out a breath, she shakes her head and takes a deep breath, smiling at the memory before she brushes her teeth and rinses her face. Patting her face dry, she looks at herself in the mirror and smiles. Fluffing her hair just a little, she steps out of the bathroom and crosses his room to search for him.

Opening the door, she finds him sitting forward on the couch in a pair of plaid pajama pants and one of the dark grey shirts she loves so much. A cup of steaming coffee sits on the coffee table in front of him along with an open case file. He looks up at her with a happy smile and she sighs as she steps over to him.

She bumps his legs, silently asking him to move them and make some space. He sits back and she stands in front of him, the case file blocked by her body. He hums as he runs his hands up her thighs and moans softly when he hits her ass, coming up to her waist and bringing her closer. His dress shirt opens a little and he kisses her bare stomach and it is her turn to moan.

“I like seeing you in my shirt,” he says in a gravelly voice as he rubs his slightly stubbly cheek across her skin, causing her to draw in a sharp breath.

“Hmm… well as I was not one hundred percent sure of the whereabouts of my own shirt, I figured this was better than appearing completely in the nude,” she teases, running her fingers slowly through his hair.

“I wouldn’t say I like seeing you in it that much,” he mumbles against her navel and she chuckles, before gasping as he softly nibbles at her flesh, his thumbs rubbing at her hip bones.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks softly, her fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp.

“No. And I didn’t want to wake you, too. You looked so peaceful.”

“Well, I slept really well. I suppose good lovin’ will do that to a person,” she teases, tugging at his hair gently. He smiles as he leans his head back and looks up at her. She smiles back, telling him that while said in a teasing tone, her words are quite sincere.

“Hmm,” he hums, wrapping his arms around her waist, his hands locking together. “I feel the same and slept very well myself… well, for a while anyway.”

“As you should have,” she states with a smirk and he nods, his hazel eyes searching her face. Raising her eyebrows, she asks him a silent question.

“It’s just something about this case was niggling at me when I woke up and, like I said, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Hmm...” She brushes his hair back, his eyes closing as she does. “Perhaps the questions that seem to be niggling at you will keep and we could look at it together… later.”

“Later?” he asks, opening his eyes and staring up at her, a smile tugging at his lips.  

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, her fingernails running lightly down his face as he begins to stroke her back and the top of her ass. “I woke up naked and alone in your bed. Alone, Mulder. And did I mention I was completely naked?”

“Scully,” he groans, his eyes closing briefly, as his hands move to the backs of her thighs, bringing her even closer to him, his lips once more kissing her stomach.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, her fingers moving to the top of his head, closing her eyes as his tongue runs across the top of her underwear. “Mulder.” She squeezes his head as she pitches forward with a shaky moan and he grips her thighs.

“So… it seems I made a mistake,” he says softly as he raises his head, his eyes shining and his mouth curving into a smile. She smiles back, her hands moving to his face and running her thumbs across his lips. “Leaving such a beautiful woman alone… and naked… it should be a crime.”

“I agree.”

“Hmm…” he hums with a smile, softly kissing her thumbs. “What can I possibly do to rectify such a heinous crime?”

She smiles as she raises her eyebrows, knowing exactly what she wants from him. He grins slowly, as though reading her mind, his hands stroking up and down the backs of her thighs once more, goosebumps of anticipation rising in their wake.

“Oh, I know you know I’ve already thought of something.”

He grins with a slight nod as she bends her head, her lips landing on his as her heart races and that constant fire within her, begins to rise.

[baronessblixen]

Berries

Day 19 for @thexmasfileschallenge: holly

Fluff, yes. Kids, no! Plus Maggie Scully and Bill Jr. 

There are two possibilities.

Either Scully will be late - again - for Christmas Eve with her family or she'll take Mulder with her. One glance at her partner and the decision is made. There is no way Mulder can, or should, be left alone tonight. Her family, or rather one member of her family, will have to suck it up and accept Mulder's presence. 

Mulder stares out the window in wonderment. He looks like a little boy seeing snow for the first time in his life. The reality is that Mulder is high. High on painkillers. He'd been fidgeting so much in the ER that they accidentally, or not, gave him a higher dose than strictly necessary. Now Mulder sits there doe-eyed, everything a wonder, everything a surprise.

"Scully, the road looks like it's paved with silver!" She chuckles, shakes her head. Tomorrow he probably won't remember a single thing.

"You know Mulder, it really does." She indulges him. Out of the corner of her eyes she sees him stare at her, grin brightly. Taking him with her, she decides, is the right decision. Bill be damned.

When he opens the door to them, her big brother's smile falls off his face like a cheap, plastic mask.  

"Hi Bill." Scully tries to sound as cheerful as she can possibly muster. The smile she slaps on her face is fake, hurts her cheeks. 

"Dana, I'm glad you could make it," he keeps staring at Mulder, who is slightly swaying as if he were dancing to a music only he can hear, "and Mulder." Bill's voice darkens.

"Hi there." Mulder grins and hold out his hand. His aim is off and he pokes Bill in the chest instead. He giggles and does it again. Before he can do it a third time, Scully takes his hand into hers. 

"He's not feeling well." She explains but Bill just narrows his eyes. He blocks the doorway, unwilling to let Mulder inside, until she shoots him a raised eyebrow.

"She's lying," Mulder says to Bill, leaning close to him as if confiding a secret, "I'm feeling awesome!" He spits the last word and Bill's face turns red; redder than her hair. Scully ushers Mulder's uncooperative body inside.

"Oh look!" Mulder stops and points at the Christmas decorations, the lights. "It's so beautiful!" He gasps. 

"Is that..." Maggie Scully appears from the kitchen and her smile is genuine when she spots her daughter and then her partner, "Fox! I knew that voice sounded familiar."

"Mrs. Scully." Scully can only watch as Mulder engulfs her mother in a tight hug, almost lifting her off the ground. She squeals and then laughs. 

"Is he drunk?" Bill mutters into Scully's ear.

"No," Scully tells him and wonders if she's maybe said it too quickly, "he hurt himself on a case and they gave him too many painkillers." 

"You expect me to believe that?" It does sound stupid, she realizes. Yet, it is the truth. Bill stomps off as Mulder and her mother giggle over something.

"I'm happy you're here, Fox. There's always room for one more." She quickly hugs her daughter and kisses her cheek softly.

"Thank you, Mrs. Scully. I'm sorry I keep Dana away from her family all the time. I know we-"

"Mulder, it's enough," blushing, she tugs at Mulder's arm, but he just ignores her.

"I know we work too much - I make her work too much. We - I mean Dana - would have been here much sooner. It was my fault. Got hurt." He points at his shoulder.

"What did you do? Do you need anything?" Her mother eyes Scully, who shakes her head. Mulder could use a shower, but she doesn't trust him not to slip and fall. What he really should do is lie down. Sleep it off. That would be the best for all of them.

"He's fine, mom. He just needs rest."

"Come sit in the living room, Fox. I'll prepare the guest room for you in a bit. Tara is in there now, taking a nap."

"Is she all right?" Scully asks following her mother and Mulder into the living room. 

"Tara is fine. She was just exhausted." As if he were her own son, Maggie Scully sits Mulder down and he grins up at her. If only his face wasn't so beautiful, Scully thinks, and his grin so winning. Both Scully women smile at this man who is so high on painkillers that he's most likely walking on clouds. 

"Are you hungry?" Her mother looks back and forth between them. Mulder nods. "I'll see what I can find. You just sit here and relax, all right, Fox?" He nods like an obedient child. Scully, in desperate need of a conversation with someone who is in their right mind, follows her mother into the kitchen.

"Poor Fox," her mother says, opening the fridge, "What happened to him?"

"He ran in front of a car." 

"What?!"

"He's fine, mom. He was running after a suspect. We got him, too." To her mother, apparently, none of what she just said is 'fine'. 

"Shouldn't he be at the hospital?"

"We were. That's why I'm so late and why I brought him with me. He can't be by himself tonight." Her mother nods absent-mindedly preparing a turkey sandwich. Scully's stomach grumbles. 

"He's always welcome here, Dana. You know that." 

"What in the hell are you doing?" Bill's boisterous voice sounds from the living room. Scully is on her feet in an instant. Her brother, hands on his hips as if about to scold his son, glares at Mulder. 

"What happened?" Scully checks Mulder from head to toe, runs her fingers through his hair, scratches his cheek, his chest. There's a peculiar smell about him. Like... like... she can't describe it. Somehow it smells... green.

"He was munching on the decoration!" Bill hollers. "This is holly!" He yells at Mulder, who just blinks. "You don't fucking snack on holly berries!" 

"Bill! Language." Maggie Scully reminds him and all fight goes out of him. He nods, looks apologetic. 

"Mulder, open your mouth," Scully says and he does, "Holly berries are toxic." She explains and her fingers go into his mouth, extract two half chewed berries. There's no telling how many he's already swallowed. Another trio to the ER, she sighs inwardly. But when she looks into Mulder's puppy eyes, she can't even be angry with him. 

"When he was a baby, Bill did the same." 

"What?" Both Scully siblings say in unison. Their mother nods, a hand on Mulder's shoulder. 

"He ate a berry or maybe two. Oh, he had the worst case of diarrhea." She shakes her head in memory. 

"You never told me that." Bill says, a soft pink blush appearing on his cheeks.  

"I must have forgotten. But Fox will be fine." Scully looks at her partner. He's no longer grinning but looks exhausted. He'll be even more exhausted once the vomiting starts, Scully thinks, and the diarrhea. It'll be a long, long night.

"I'll take him to my room," Bill gasps but everyone ignores him, "if it gets worse we'll go to the ER, Mulder." He hangs his head, nods. 

"I'm sorry, Scully." He says when she helps him up. "The berries were so pretty. Like your hair. Your hair is so pretty, Scully. The prettiest." Someone chuckles, someone grunts. Scully bites her lip and just leads Mulder upstairs.

"Who knew I'd ever have anything in common with your brother, eh?" He chuckles, finds himself very funny. Then, halfway up the stairs, he stops and turns serious.

"There is something else we have in common, your brother and I," Mulder says, "we both love you. Though not in the same way, believe me." With that he leaves her there, at a loss for words, and keeps walking upstairs.