#doggett is largely boring on his own

[booomerangarrow]

TXF S8 is so much more unhinged than I remember it being?? Like despite the fact that they supposedly wrapped up the original mytharc in S6 and have barely referenced it since, suddenly they start resurrecting semi-familiar concepts and visuals... except that now it's different aliens and different super soldiers and also we hired Robert Patrick so obviously they have metal exoskeletons now. And the RETCONNING!! What should have been huge plot points - Mulder dying of a terminal brain disease, he and Scully ACTIVELY TRYING TO HAVE A CHILD TOGETHER - we are told happened at least a season ago via flashbacks. But it's OK because none of that actually impacts the current plot anyway - the brain disease gets cured via one sentence and never spoken of again. The failed IVF attempt leaves the audience with the same questions that we would have already had about the pregnancy given Scully's history, but then the show goes absurdly, hilariously out of its way to never discuss ANY of them until we're right smack dab in the middle of a weird-ass alien Christ child allegory. But just kidding because it was a normal human kid after all. (But also the details of all of this will continue to change multiple times over the next 15 years).

[robinallender]

Books I read in 2022

Normally I try to write an individual post about every book I read, but I didn’t manage that this year. So here is a montage of all the books I didn’t manage to post about!

I loved John Higgs’ book about The Beatles and James Bond and it was a real highlight to interview him this year for Your Own Personal Beatles. I also read John’s book William Blake vs the World, which was totally revelatory and made me feel like I understood Blake for the first time; I love the idea of Blake wandering around London and coming across the ‘large and pleasant’ village of Camberwell.

I reread Nineteen Eighty-Four, Animal Farm and Coming Up for Air for the Moon Under Water special we recorded for this year’s Orwell Festival. (I only noticed this time around that the appendix of Nineteen Eighty-Four is in the past tense, but apparently everyone has already spotted that.) I also read Dorian Lynskey’s ‘biography’ of Nineteen Eighty-Four, The Ministry of Truth, which brilliantly reckons with Orwell’s contradictions and explores the ways in which the novel has been misinterpreted and co-opted since it was published.

R. C. Sheriff’s The Fortnight in September is absolutely wonderful. A kind of Zen-like ambient novel in which a family goes on holiday to Bognor Regis – and that’s it. Similarly peril-free is Leonard and Hungry Paul, a hugely uplifting novel which is a welcome antidote to, well, everything.

I read some brilliant books about music: The Sound of Being Human by Jude Rogers is part memoir, part analysis of why music means so much to us. I found it incredibly moving. Denim and Leather by Michael Hann is an hilarious, rollicking account of a folk culture unique to our isles: The New Wave of British Heavy Metal. 

We interviewed William Boyd for the Moon Under Water (episode coming soon) and it was a pleasure to read two of his ‘whole life’ novels, Any Human Heart and The Romantic.

2022 was the year in which I finally finished Finnegans Wake (started it in 2018 and kept a Twitter thread going for four years, in case you ever get really bored). Did I understand it? No, but I loved its musicality and glimmers of meaning in the dream-like gloom. Don’t we all? 

Elif Batuman’s The Idiot was the best novel I read this year. The title character, Selin, a student at Harvard in the 1990s, is not an idiot – but she is a kind of holy fool. She’s actually incredibly perceptive at spotting other people’s idiocies and pretensions (of which student life has its fair share). Above all, The Idiot is really a novel about language; the way it conceals and reveals – and is full of glowing passages like this:

I kept thinking about the uneven quality of time – the way it was almost always so empty, and then with no warning came a few days that felt so dense and alive and real that it seemed indisputable that that was what life was, that its real nature had finally been revealed. But then time passed and unthinkably grew dead again, and it turned out that that fullness had been an aberration and might never come back.

Peter Doggett’s You Never Give Me Your Money is a superb Beatles book, and perfect if you watched Get Back and want to know what happened next. Why did The Beatles break up? Doggett has a 300-page answer for you.

The Plot is an engrossing literary thriller – although I did guess the twist. Reading Four Thousand Weeks felt like a waste of time (ironic for a time management book). I found it a bit trite, but some people loved it! More edifying was the children’s classic Carrie’s War, which is absolutely brilliant and surprisingly dark.

I ended the year by reading Salinger (again). As always, I’m amazed by how it feels like I’m back in a real place with real people whenever I read his books. I want to write something longer about The Catcher in the Rye because I think it’s one of the most profound books ever written. This time I wondered if it isn’t, in some way, about nostalgia. Holden is recalling the events of the novel a year after they happened and ends it by saying, ‘Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.’

I finally got around to reading Actual Air. David Berman was a genius. His poems feel like the (mis)apprehensions of childhood – full of dream logic, strange familiarity and familiar strangeness. He was also incredibly funny, as in the poem where he meets a choreographer in New York who claims that blue jeans are ‘pretentious nineteenth-century gold rush period’ outfits.

Speaking of strangeness, I loved The Weird and the Eerie by Mark Fisher, a brilliant study of unsettling art, from Lovecraft to Lynch. Via this book I read what I think is one of the best short stories ever written, ‘The Door in the Wall’ by H. G. Wells – an extraordinary tale of lost childhood and unattainable desire:

‘That is as well as I can remember my vision of that garden – the garden that haunts me still. Of course, I can convey nothing of that indescribable quality of translucent unreality, that difference from the common things of experience that hung about it all; but that – that is what happened. If it was a dream, I am sure it was a daytime and altogether extraordinary dream…’ 

On top of these, I read the following books:

Eclipse – John Banville Pond – Claire-Louise Bennett (again) Dance Move – Wendy Erskine Send Nudes – Saba Sams Piranesi – Susanna Clarke The Way by Swann’s – Marcel Proust Unexhausted Time – Emily Berry Transformer – Ezra Furman Some Answers Without Questions – Lavinia Greenlaw Adventures in the Skin Trade – Dylan Thomas Small Things Like These – Claire Keegan When We Cease to Understand the World – Benjamín Labatut Leave the World Behind – Rumaan Alam A Short Stay in Hell – Steven L. Peck The Apparition Phase – William Maclean

So, a total of 37! Not bad going. Next year, I plan to do things a little bit differently and will probably say farewell to this Tumblr blog (which I started in 2011!). I'm hoping to write more long-form posts, so you may see me on Substack.

Thanks for reading and happy holidays.

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (4/8)

If you’d like to read at AO3, you may do so here. 

June 4, 2018

Mulder stood in the kitchen wearing only sweatpants, the rented house quiet around him. Scully had headed to the local Meijer for supplies of every stripe, and both kids had leapt at the chance to go with her, a rare occurrence the last few years, but a clear result of forced low profile and cabin fever.

He was nursing a rare cup of caffeinated coffee and watching a black squirrel make a nuisance of itself on the residence’s sole backyard bird feeder. When his new cell phone rang, he answered it out of muscle memory.

“Hello?”

“Hello Fox,” said the person on the other end of the line, “aren’t you a sound for sore ears.”

It took him a moment to place the voice.

“Lauren,” he said after a moment, smiling into the receiver, “it’s good to hear from you, too. I take it you got the information I sent you?”

Mulder had had Frohike send her their contact information as they’d previously agreed, and he assumed this was the first of her planned unplanned check-ins.

“It was a little cloak and dagger, even for the District,” she said, and Mulder could hear her smile over the line.

“And I always thought you lived for the drama,” he said companionably.

“Well, I got to wear my best Carmen SanDiego hat, so I guess I can’t be mad.”

Mulder chuckled into the receiver.

“How’s it going?” Lauren asked, her tone shifting to one of sober inquiry.

“It’s going.”

“Dana okay?” her question was sincere, and Mulder marveled how time could change a person.

“She’s good,” he said, “healthy. All systems go. I’m sure she’d want me to send you her best.”

“And the kids? How are they handling it all?”

Mulder sighed.

Will was adjusting, but Lily was miserable. Lonely and bored, unable to talk to friends back home and without the specter and excitement of starting school in the fall. She’d even begged to be able to get a summer job, even as just a waitress at the local Bennigan’s, but Mulder didn’t like the idea of her being away from the house for hours at a time, and Scully wasn’t sold on their borrowed Social Security numbers passing an employment check.

“The kids are… okay.”

“Going that well, huh?” she asked.

“Lil is pretty miserable,” he admitted.

“Of course she’s miserable,” Lauren scolded him, “she’s 18 years old and stuck in a house with her well-meaning parents. She should be at the beach with friends getting day drunk on Bud Light-”

“-she would never-” Mulder interrupted, to which Lauren outright laughed in his ear.

“-I assure you, she already has!”

Mulder sighed again. “Aside from dropping her off at the lake and buying her a rack of shit beer, you got any ideas?”

“College boys in tight pants,” Lauren said.

“Excuse me?” Mulder asked, taken aback.

“Take the family to a football game Fox, you’re in a Big Ten town for Christ’s sake.”

“It’s not football season yet.”

“Just take her somewhere with a lot of people. And give her a little bit of freedom. And when it is football season?”

“Yeah?” Mulder asked.

“Take her to see the tight pants.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

 September 3, 2018

It had been months and they started to relax, maybe a bit too much. They were alert, but comfortable. Maybe complacent, Mulder couldn't tell. All he knew was that if he kept the kids in the house for much longer, they'd kill each other and possibly him and Scully in the crossfire, and it would defeat the whole purpose of their hiding out. That said, all was quiet on the homefront -- Darlene and the Gunmen, and to a lesser extent, Doggett, Reyes and Skinner -- had heard nothing with their ears to the ground.

He and Scully had discussed it, and decided that they would let the kids out of the house. They allowed them to socialize occasionally, if they promised to be careful. Will had made a couple of friends around the neighborhood, playing roller hockey in their cul de sac, but Lily hadn't had as much luck, or as much motivation. She had been quiet and keeping mostly to herself, and come September, Mulder had decided to finally take Lauren's advice. They were going to a football game.

William was beside himself with excitement which made up for Lily's lack of enthusiasm. Scully had opted out of attending, citing her increasing need of accessible bathrooms and the inevitable long lines at ladies rooms in sports arenas.

They took the bus to the edge of the MSU campus -- the first time any of them had been on it since moving to the town several months before. There were people everywhere -- most dressed in the hometown colors of green and white, but a rare few -- looking as lost on campus as the Mulders themselves -- in the brown and gold of the visiting team.

Mulder had ducked into the student union to get a campus map, whereupon William insisted he buy all three of them something supporting the hometown team. Lily opted out, but William and Mulder walked out each in a brand new ball cap, the brims stiff and flat -- in addition, William was carrying a big foam finger emblazoned with the number 1 and the gruff face of Michigan State's Spartan mascot, Sparty.

"It's this way," Mulder said, consulting his map and pointing south, and they set off following streams of people headed toward the stadium which sat in the middle of campus.

The day was delightfully mild, and while the sun shone, there were fat clouds everywhere that would cover it as soon as you were at risk of overheating. There seemed to be tailgate parties set up at increasing concentrations the closer they got to the stadium, the air thick with the scent of grilling meat and tinny stereos playing the home school's fight song.

There were frat boys throwing a football back and forth every thirty or so feet, and crowds of coeds sipping beer from green Solo cups, hovering around games of corn hole and beer pong, laughing while they clung to each other like the last few Cheerios floating in a bowl of milk.

Mulder stole a glance at Lily, who looked at them wistfully. School had just started here at Michigan State and the week before at UVA, and Mulder could tell his daughter was fairly heartbroken about not being able to attend.

Mulder pulled up short and Lily and William both stopped several steps past him and turned to look at him expectantly.

"One sec," he said and walked over to a large tent wherein an alumni organization was selling hot dogs and brats to raise funds. He bought three bratwurst and a couple of sodas and walked them back to his kids, hands full and pockets overflowing with napkins and little packets of ketchup and mustard.

He nodded toward a low stone wall that ran along the length of one of the sidewalks and they all sat down and ate sloppily, ketchup plopping to the sidewalk that they leaned over so as not to spill on their clothes. William was of course done first and snapped open his soda, slurping from it happily.

"They call it pop here," he said, raising his can and giving his father a cheeky smirk.

"No one cares, Billy," Lily said, wiping her lips delicately with a napkin and setting the last quarter of the brat on the wall beside her. "I'm stuffed," she declared.

Will happily scarfed the rest of her sausage and Mulder was about to suggest they start moving again toward the stadium when a frisbee glided through the air and scuffed to the ground at their feet. Lily jumped off the wall and picked it up, looking around to find its owner, who was trotting toward them in droopy cargo shorts and an overlarge school shirt that said "I BLEED GREEN."

Mulder shook his head as Lily pulled back and winged it back toward the guy, sailing it in a perfect arc into his waiting hands.

The kid smiled at her, teeth and all.

"Nice arm!" the kid said, giving her one more charming look before trotting back toward his friends who were waiting further across the Diag that cut through the center of campus.

Mulder glanced at Lily who was wearing a small but fading smile.

He stood, balling up the napkin and sausage detritus. He turned to Lily impulsively.

"You want a beer?" he asked her.

She almost blanched and gave him a queer look.

"A beer?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, "you're a college kid now, no reason you shouldn't enjoy a cold one before a football game like all these other coeds."

Lily gave him a suspicious look just as Will piped up, "I want a beer."

"No," Mulder said, cutting off any complaints with a sharp look and then he walked over to a fraternity tent and talked for a moment to the kid that was manning the keg. After a few words, he handed over a few bills of cash and returned to his kids, handing Lily a dripping plastic cup.

He took a sip of his own cup and inclined his head at his daughter.

"Not the best," he said, while she took a tentative sip.

She smiled over the rim of the cup but kept her eyes on the ground.

"Tastes like college," she said, and Mulder couldn't help but smile.

XxX

"Hey Frisbee," Lily heard from several feet to her right.

She stood up from the drinking fountain in a nook of the stadium in between lavatories, and used her wrist to wipe her mouth dry.

The guy who lost his frisbee at her feet while they were eating before the game was standing only yards away, a small cocksure smile on his lips. Lily tilted her head at him.

"I thought that was you," he went on.

She nodded awkwardly and stepped away from the drinking fountain so the person behind her could drink.

"I think you're in the wrong stadium," he said, and when she looked at him in confusion, he smiled kindly and pointed at her shirt.

She'd donned a UVA sweatshirt for the game out of a sense of loyalty or rebellion (she wasn't sure which, if she were being honest) and she only realized when they stepped onto campus how much it actually made her stand out.

"This isn't the UVA game?" she said mock seriously, "God, I took a left heading into Charlottesville and I guess I should have taken a right." The comment earned her a chuckle and a genuine smile. "Guess the extra ten hours in the car should have been my first clue."

The guy took a few steps toward her and held out his hand.

"Travis," he said by way of introduction, and she shook his hand politely. It was warm in hers, and his grip was firm but brief.

"Lillian," Lily said, almost forgetting to introduce herself with her cover name.

"That's pretty," Travis said, and Lily could feel herself blushing, feeling awkward that it wasn't really her name. "So you go to UVA?"

She nodded. "Deferred for a semester while my folks moved here." Her father had told her to stick as close as she could to their actual stories when telling people their covers in order to keep it all straight.

"Cool," said Travis. They stood there awkwardly for a moment.

"I should get back to my seat," she said, "halftime's almost over."

People were streaming back into the seating areas, and she could hear the marching band keeping tempo as they marched off the field.

Travis shoved his hands into his pockets and for a moment looked slightly bashful.

"Yeah," he said, turning away and taking a few steps, before turning back. "Hey, you want to hang out sometime?"

Lily thought to herself that just about anything sounded better than having to spend one more night at home playing Hearts at the dining room table.

"Sure," she said, and Travis pulled out his phone and handed it to her.

She put in the number of the phone that Darlene had given her and felt only a little weird entering "Lillian" in the name box.

When she handed Travis back the phone, he used his other hand to lightly touch her arm.

"Hey, it was nice meeting you," he said.

"You too," she smiled and wandered back to her seat, trying very hard to keep a smile off her face.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"So..." Scully started, not sure how to broach the subject, other than just to spit it out, "Lily wants to know if she can go 'hang out with a guy.'"

She was sitting at the dining room table sipping on an iced tea, the dew of condensation slippery and cold on her fingertips. She was feeling pendulous and heavy, the high of the second trimester given way to the rolling agony of the third. Her husband, as she had suspected he would, looked suddenly aghast.

"She... what?"

"She got asked out, Mulder, and would like to know if it was okay with us if she went."

William came breezing through the kitchen then, opening up the fridge door and hanging in front of it, blankly staring at its contents, unimpressed.

"Pick something or don't, Will," Mulder said testily to his current youngest, "but please stop letting all the cold out of the fridge."

Will grabbed a soda and stood while the fridge door closed on its own behind him.

"That's Billy to you," he said, mocking insult, and made his way slowly out of the kitchen, staring at Mulder who affectionately reached out as he passed and messed his red curls into an orange soda froth on the top of his head.

"You need a haircut," Mulder said, and Will lifted his nose, shaking his hair out with dignified hauteur.

"So do you," the boy said and left the room.

Scully chuckled. "Don't take it out on him," she said.

Mulder shook himself and turned back to her.

"Take what out on him?"

"That your daughter is growing up and you're not ready. You look like you did the night she went to prom with Derek Smead."

Mulder looked completely affronted.

"He didn't even come to the house! He just had the limo honk and she ran out the door. You didn't get any pictures! Who does that? No self-respecting gentleman. I honestly still don't believe he's a real person."

Scully chuckled again. "And she left him at the dance after an hour and took the limo with five friends to the Sonic drive-in. She's got a good head on her shoulders, Mulder."

"I know she does."

"So what do you think? Is it safe to let her date?"

"I don't like it."

"I didn't ask if you liked it. I asked if you thought it was safe."

Mulder blew out a raspberry. Scully knew that he was thinking the same thing she was -- they'd let Will hang out with a few new friends so long as he was careful. Lily arguably had more common sense by nature of her age (and her gender, thought Scully). She would take precautions and employ the minimal tradecraft Mulder and Scully had taught her.

"What do you think?" Mulder asked her.

"I think she's 18 years old and we're lucky she even ran it by us. If she were away at school, she'd be making these decisions for herself."

Mulder's shoulders slumped.

"As long as she's careful," he finally said.

"I'll give her some condoms," Scully muttered, an offhand remark.

"Scully!" Mulder blanched.

"I just wanted to see the look on your face," Scully laughed.

Mulder shook his head and turned to walk out of the room.

Scully was still chuckling minutes later.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Hey Frisbee," said a voice from behind her.

Lily turned to see Travis standing several feet away in the middle of the footbridge. He was wearing black flip flops, a pair of long khaki shorts and a navy blue polo shirt. His hair -- dark tousled waves, cut short but shaggy -- was poking in all directions out of a  university ball cap, which, she was relieved to see, was pristinely white without a yellowing band of sweat or scuzz. His face looked freshly shaved and he was smiling.

"Hey yourself," she said, and took a step toward him.

He reached into his pocket as she approached and pulled out a ziplock sandwich bag, filled with a gritty grey substance. She took it with some hesitation.

"Is this... a bag of oatmeal?" she asked.

He colored and put both hands up.

"Okay, so: I was going to bring your flowers, but then I thought you know what would be cute? Flour . So I went to our pantry and I'm looking at this giant bag of flour and I'm like what the hell is she going to do with a giant bag of flour? And then I saw the oatmeal and thought -- well, we're meeting on the footbridge, we could feed the ducks! ...So I brought you oatmeal. Bread is bad for ducks."

Despite the lengthy diatribe, Lily laughed. "It was nice of you to think of the ducks," she said.

"Well," he said, and walked with her to the railing of the footbridge, which crossed the Red Cedar River. "The bag itself is multipurpose. If you think it'd be fun, I thought we could rent a canoe later and go down the river?"

"What does that have to do with the bag?" she asked, leaning over the railing and looking down into the tannin-tinted water. A cluster of ducks, trained to anticipate food, swam quickly toward them.

"We can put our phones in it," he said, leaning into her shoulder a little. "I myself have been through the gauntlet of canoe training at Camp Quitcherbitchin as a young lad, but you're an unknown quantity, Frisbee. What if you dunk us? I aim to save our electronics."

Lily laughed again, charmed despite herself. She opened the baggie and threw a handful of oats to the waiting ducks below, which scurried as fast as they could swim for the feast. Lily offered Travis some, and he took a handful and cast it out. They fed the ducks for a minute or so of comfortable silence.

Finally, Lily asked: "Camp Quitcherbitchin?"

Travis smiled.

"Sleep-away summer camp up north. I went every year. It's actually called Camp Nageesh, but some of the counselors were somewhat less than tolerant of complaints, so the campers called it Quitcherbitchin.”

Lily chuckled. "Canoes, huh?"

"Plus sailboats, swimming and archery. I refuse to divulge which I have a higher level of competency in, in case you're some kind of polymath with a competitive bent."

"You aren't one of those guys who can't stand it when a girl is better than you at something, are you?" Lily asked.

“Are you a polymath with a competitive bent?” Travis grabbed another handful of oatmeal and threw it toward a mother with a brood of ducklings that were having trouble getting into the mix.

“I’ve got some game,” Lily said, arching an eyebrow that would have made her mother proud.

"In that case," he said, turning toward her. His eyes were a mossy green, like her father's. He  gave her a small smile, “I look forward to being outmatched."

"Well," said Lily, intrigued. She scattered out the last bit of oatmeal and, blowing some of the grit from the bag, put her phone into it and handed it to Travis for him to do the same. "Let's see what you're made of, Paddles."

XxX

"We seem to be drifting a bit to starboard," Lily called over her shoulder. Travis had taken the backseat ("Do you mind if I steer?" he'd asked). They'd managed to board and push off okay -- the bored-looking livery attendant having given them minimal instruction, but held the craft as they both lifted themselves gingerly aboard.

"I'm aware of that," said Travis, his voice a little tense for the first time.

"You said you were steering," she teased him. They were rapidly making for the opposite shore of the river, the canoe swinging sideways with the current.

"I'm aware of that too," he said back, and then a moment later, she felt the canoe sway radically, followed by a splash. She grabbed the side of the craft for dear life and then swung her head to look behind her. Travis had jumped out of the canoe and was now holding it by the triangle at the stern with one hand, paddle in the other; halting their momentum, which had been about to take them into a bramble of cedar branches hanging low over the water.

"Oh my god!" Lily squeaked. "Are you okay? Did you fall?"

"I jumped," Travis said, "If you headed home with a rat's nest of cedar sprays in your hair, you might not go out with me again."

"And they say chivalry is dead," Lily said, setting her oar down on the bottom of the canoe.

"Will you go out with me again?" Travis said hopefully, and the smile he flashed her made her want to say yes, but instead she teased:

"Too early to make that call."

"This water is really cold, Lillian," he said, and turned, pulling the canoe behind him into the water upstream and back toward the livery.

"It looks it," Lily said. "If I do go out with you again, let's stick with something land-based, huh?"

Travis threw a grin at her and kept trudging, clearly trying his best to keep the craft steady so she didn't fall in herself. She checked her pockets briefly for their phones, which she'd offered to hold on to, and watched him. The river was relatively shallow -- he was a tall guy and the water was only soaking the cuff of his shorts.

"Your parents should call Camp Quitcherbitchin and get their money back, Travis," she said, canting her face up to the sun and closing her eyes briefly. She shrieked when the canoe suddenly lurched to one side. She grabbed the side and looked at her date, who had stopped and was wearing a mischievous grin. He was still wearing the dorky orange life jacket that they'd been required to don, and the whole situation made Lily start laughing.

"Laugh it up, fuzzball," Travis said, turning again to continue the trudge back to base. "I'll have you know that I learned how to canoe on a lake. I forgot to account for one variable."

"The current?" Lily asked.

"The current," he admitted.

They made it back to shore and he helped her out of the canoe, explaining to the still benumbed livery worker that they wouldn't be back, but still throwing a soggy five dollar bill in the tip jar. After retrieving his flip flops from the bottom of the small boat, he offered to take Lily to the campus Dairy Store for ice cream.

"Your campus has a Dairy Store?" she asked him curiously.

"This is Moo U, Lillian," he explained, steering her a few blocks from the river to a large brick building beyond the main engineering hall. "This street is Farm Lane. We have cattle."

Once inside they reviewed the offerings, and Lily noticed that they had a flavor for every university in the Big Ten conference -- even their arch rivals. About which he announced, "I'll buy you anything but the Maize & Blueberry. I like you, but even I have my limits."

Once they had their cones (she with Boilermaker Brownie and he with Hoosier Daddy ("basically strawberry," he explained)), they settled onto a picnic table in the shade.

"So," Travis said, licking a drop that had melted onto his knuckle, "why'd you end up deferring this semester?"

Lily swallowed the bite in her mouth without chewing. They had prepared cover stories but she hadn't yet needed to use hers. Stick with the truth as much as you can , said her father's voice.

"My dad got a job here and my mom is pregnant. She was on bedrest for a while and needed help."

Travis was looking at her expectantly, clearly waiting for her to elaborate, but she didn't -- continuing to nervously lick her cone. After a long moment of waiting, he kindly plowed ahead, asking her about her major and telling her about his. He was a sophomore, from a town in the northern part of the state, and she found him inherently easy to talk to and interesting, and wondered, idly, if that was because he really was interesting or if she were just starved for company and attention.

When they finished up, they threw away their napkins in a nearby trash can and stood looking at each other, only a little awkwardly.

“So... “ Travis started, “still too early to make the call?”

She smiled, remembering what she’d told him in the canoe about going out with him again. “I like your chances.”

He smiled back and she felt a little thrill. “Lillian, will you go out with me again?” he asked.

“Dry land stuff?”

“The driest.”

“In that case, yes.”

She was still feeling the soft kiss he'd given her cheek hours later as she sat around the dining room table, fielding invasive questions from her father and trying to avoid her mother’s eye.

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Jenna Tooms

Jenna Tooms has 37 stories at Gossamer, plus you can find X-Files stories and more by her at AO3 (as misslucyjane). I've recced some of my favorites of her fics here before, including the MSR Christmas story An Acceptable Level of Happiness and the historical AU Katherine of Ireland. Big thanks to Jenna for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes, definitely. I had no idea there was still an active X-Files fandom.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

For the most part, it was pretty good. I made a lot of great friends that I'm still in contact with, and I think I learned a lot (by trial and error) about how to behave online.  Writing fanfic with a built-in audience did a lot for my confidence as a writer.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Message boards at first, then mostly email mailing lists.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Writing fic made me a better writer. Fandom has introduced to a lot of amazing people.

But there were some bad feelings, mostly the vitriol directed at Doggett and Reyes, towards the end of the series that ruined the rest of it for me. I've kind of held back from getting super-involved in fandom since.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I've always liked things like ghost stories and cryptozoology, so that drew me in at first. I think my first episode was The Host in summer reruns, as I was working Friday nights at the time and only learned about it from my dorm mates. We lived together again in an off-campus apartment a year or two later, and by then XF was on Sunday nights so that was our standing Sunday night appointment TV.

I feel old.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I knew what fanfic was, more or less, and had been writing since Star Wars: A New Hope was originally released. When I first wanted to get involved in XF fandom I went looking for other fans, and found the OBSSE (Order of the Blessed Saint Scully the Enigmatic) newsletter, which had fanfic recs. I can't remember what story it was specifically but I'm pretty sure it was by MustangSally.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Like an ex whose good times were very, very good, but whose bad times were horrid.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I've been involved, to various degrees, in Harry Potter, Supernatural, Doctor Who/Torchwood, MCU, and Sherlock fandoms, and dabbled in a few smaller ones.

I've also playing in a multi-fandom role-play game since 2004, that introduced me to some great fandoms and some amazing people. The game is kind of a fandom in itself, and is the only thing I've been as intensely involved in as X-Files.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Dana Scully, Steve Rogers, Sherlock Holmes (any incarnation), Deadpool, Sansa Stark, Aang, Groot, Peter Parker, Wonder Woman. Yes, I am looking at my Funko Pops :).

I tend to like characters who are trying to do good in the world, or who stay strong in the face of adversity. I have no explanation for Deadpool except that he's Deadpool.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

No, not really. I haven't watched the new series or any of the movies since the first one. I think of Mulder and Scully fondly, but I don't feel the need to revisit them.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

X-Files, no. If I come along something promising in a fandom I'm interested in like the MCU or Sherlock, or if something is recommended by someone whose taste I trust or written by an author I ready like, then I'll read it.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I really liked bugs, Rachel Anton, David Hearne, Plausible Deniability, Penumbra, Terma99, and OneMillionStars, I think their pen name was? [Lilydale note: I think this is Onemillionandnine.] Some stories I liked are "Condemned to Repeat It" [Lilydale note: by Branwell], "Cherry Ripe" by Rachel Anton [Lilydale note: co-written with Laura Blaurosen], "Cadenza" (part 1, part 2) by Terma99, and "Twelve Inches" by Federal Dust. There were more but all my saved files were lost several computers ago. 

[Lilydale note: try as I might, I could not find “Twelve Inches” online, not even a mention of it. However, I have a copy saved from 2003 (!!). It’s a season 8 story with the summary “In trying to understand his own feelings about women and relationships, Doggett inadvertently helps Scully understand Mulder.���]. 

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Favorite X-Files fic is Draw Down the Moon, a Scully/Doggett post-canon AU.

Favorite in general is Apocalyptic Love Songs, a Supernatural Dean/Castial fic I wrote for a Big Bang challenge. I'd had the idea for a modern-day Grail quest for a long time -- originally as an XF fic, in fact -- but could never figure out how to do it until Supernatural came along.

(Because of the actions of some unscrupulous persons, all my fic on AO3 is locked to members.)

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

No, I don't see that happening.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I write a little fanfic now and then, mostly for Yuletide or other challenges that catch my eye.

I have been writing and publishing original work since 2007 with a small publisher that is now shut down. I'm now publishing independently.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

It's hard to say. Sometimes I hear a line or two of dialogue in my head and want to see where the conversation goes. Sometimes I just have a random thought of "What if..." and have to find the answer to that question.

What's the story behind your pen name?

I get bored of names easily so I've changed it a few times. I currently write fic as Misslucyjane, which is a nickname my mother calls me.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

They knew I write it, they don't know the content. I'm okay with that.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Fanfic is at misslucyjane.me (though I haven't updated it in ages) and Archive of Our Own (as misslucyjane). Original fiction, largely M/M romance, is posted or linked at jennalynnbrown.com. I hang out on Twitter as @misslucyjane.

(Posted by Lilydale on September 22, 2020)

[atths--twice]

Okay... here is the continuation of the funeral of Maggie. I love these three chapters so very much, as sad as they are. I hope you enjoy them too. 

Chapter Twenty Seven

Sharing the Grief 

Mulder has arrived to take care of Scully and share in the grief of losing her mother.

February 2016

Mulder held Scully in the foyer of her mother's home, as she sobbed in his arms. “Breathe, Scully,” he whispered into her hair as he stroked her back. “There you go, deep breaths, it’s okay.” He could feel her breathing deeper and relaxing against him.  

He closed his eyes as he felt her shudder, her hands clinging to him tightly. “You’re okay, Scully. That’s it.” Stroking her hair, he waited as she finally was able to breathe easily. Pulling back, he looked at her, wiping her eyes, and holding her face in his hands.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered, and he nodded.

“Do you want to go? I could take you home-”

“No!” she said forcefully. “I want to stay.”

“Okay,” he smiled softly. “Okay.”

He turned and led her up the stairs to the room they usually stayed in whenever they slept over in the past. Turning on the light, he guided her to the bed, knelt down in front of her and took off her shoes, setting them to the side. Looking up at her, he reached for her hands and pulled her to her feet.

“I don’t … I don’t have any clothes to change into, and I don’t want to sleep in this dress,” she said, looking at him with tears in her eyes. “I can’t wear my mother’s clothes, Mulder, and I have nothing else to change into.” She started to cry, and he held her again before pulling back and giving her a small smile.

He took off his coat and then his suit jacket, laying them on the bed with his tie following shortly thereafter. Unbuttoning his shirt, he took it off and laid it down. He took off his undershirt and handed it to her, staring into her eyes. She took it with a nod, tears falling down her cheeks. She gripped his hand for a second before she walked into the bathroom to change.

He watched her and sighed, his heart hurting for her. He picked up his dress shirt and put it back on, buttoning it up, except a few at the top. He moved his jackets and his tie, folding them and putting them on top of the dresser. His shoes were taken off and placed beside hers as he looked at the bathroom door, waiting for her to come back in the room.

Hearing a sob, he walked toward the door and knocked. “Scully? You okay?” She cried again and he turned the doorknob, not waiting for an answer.

She was sitting on the side of the tub, her dress in a puddle on the floor. His shirt was on her knees and her face was in her hands as she cried. He sighed as he walked over to her and moved her dress out of the way, laying it across the towel rack. He knelt down in front of her and gently tugged at his shirt. She moved her arms as he took it, shook it out, and readied it to go over her head.

Seeing she still had her bra on, he stopped what he was doing, laid his shirt on the tub, and reached to unhook it for her. It slid down her shoulders and he moved it down to her elbow, gently pulling her hand from her face to pull the strap down completely.

She raised her face to his, and he smiled softly at her. Once one strap was removed, he went to the other one, sliding it down and off, holding her bra in his hands. Setting it on the floor beside him, he reached for his shirt and readied it again. He placed it over her head and waited for her to put her arms inside the holes before he pulled it down, covering her chest. Not once did his eyes stray anywhere but her face.

“Thank you,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. He nodded and smiled softly again, picking up her bra as he stood up. Reaching for her hand, he helped her stand up, his shirt falling into place at her thighs. He added her bra to her dress and stepped aside to let her walk out of the bathroom.

Following her out, he watched her pull the covers back on the bed and then look back at him, silently asking him to join her. He turned off the bedroom light, leaving the door open and the hall light on, as he walked to the other side of the bed and pulled the covers back. They laid down, covered up, and as soon as they did, she turned onto her side and reached for him.

He held her with her face buried in his neck as she began to cry again. “I can’t believe she’s gone,” she sobbed. “I need her, Mulder.”

“I know, Scully,” he whispered, stroking her hair and closing his eyes. He took a breath and then he was crying. All day he had been strong for her, but now, here in this house, holding her in his arms, he could not hold back anymore.

The woman he loved like his own mother was gone. The one who cared for and loved him like a son. He would no longer see her smile at one of his dumb jokes, hear her laugh, watch her victory dance, or eat another one of her delicious peach cobblers. Her voice would not be the one he heard when the phone rang, letting him know she was on her way over, or making sure he was okay.

Why? Why did it have to be her? Someone so loved and needed? Scully pulled him closer and they cried together as he held her tighter to him. No words were said, just tears shared, as they mourned their loss together.

As Scully’s tears subsided, Mulder felt her grow heavy against him. Soon her soft breathing could be heard in place of her tears. An occasional sob still escaped, but he knew she was asleep. As tired as he was, he would not let sleep claim him yet. He wanted to be sure she stayed asleep and was as emotionally comfortable as possible before he did.

He kept a hold of her as he thought of the past few days. The sadness he saw in Scully, after they left the hospital and continued working on their case. Work had distracted her, but as soon as they slowed down, he saw her falter. When the case was wrapped up, she came over to the house in tears, and he held her on the couch as she cried.

In the morning, as she sat on the couch wrapped in a blanket, he had made her toast and eggs, bringing it over to her. She was unable to eat more than five bites before looking at him with sad eyes. She left shortly after that, but called him later and talked to him until she fell asleep.

Showing up at the funeral home, he knew he had surprised her, but he could not let her do that on her own. He handled his mother’s estate largely on his own and remembered wishing that he had leaned on Scully more when she had offered to help him. No chance would he leave her to face those decisions and sadness alone. He owed her and Mrs. Scully that, and so much more.

He sighed, Scully sleeping soundly against him, as he thought of earlier that morning. When he woke, it had felt as if the day itself was heavy. As if it knew there were people waking up with broken hearts. He had taken a shower and gotten ready, taking special care with his grooming. His suit was fresh from the dry cleaners and his tie was the one he had purchased for his recent birthday dinner with Mrs. Scully. He tied it carefully, showing his respect in all the small ways he could.

As he had gotten ready, he thought of one of the last times she had been out to the house, the day after Christmas, just a few weeks ago. After visiting and giving him his Christmas gifts, she turned to him with a smile. “Merry Christmas again, Fox,” she said, buttoning up her coat. “I hope you enjoy your gifts.” She winked at him, and he laughed, the gifts she gave him sitting on the dining room table: a plush alien and a four pack set of Sasquatch drinking glasses and plates. He could not wait to use them.

“Yes, I will definitely get a lot of use from the gifts you’ve given me this year. Thank you,” he said with a grin. Bending to kiss her cheek, she chuckled, patting his face as he did.

“Thank you for my gifts as well, Fox,” she said, touching the scarf he gave her. It was pale blue and seemed like a ‘Mrs. Scully’ type color to him.

He also gave her an Apollo 11 key chain. A frantic and long search online, had finally led him to where he could purchase one, and it almost did not make it on time. He told her he gave one to Scully for her birthday years ago. The confused expression on Mrs. Scully’s face made him laugh as he explained the history of it.

“It was just a key chain at first, and also a bit of a silly joke that went back to a case we worked on years ago,” he shrugged as she smiled curiously. “I was overly excited about this case as it involved space and Scully was nearly bored to tears. But, once again, she respected the journey and didn’t laugh too hard at my silly boyish happiness.” Mrs. Scully laughed and he smiled. “But, from a simple hokey gift, Scully found so much more meaning and symbolism, it was hard to argue once I really thought about it.”

He took the key chain from Mrs. Scully, and stared at it, smiling as he remembered finding the one he had given Scully when he was searching for John Doggett, and how he accused her of re-gifting.

“Scully gave hers to Agent Doggett. You remember him? Of course you do,” he said when Mrs. Scully nodded. “I felt … weird to say the least, but she was right to have given it to him. As I thought about it, her words from so long ago echoed in my mind: ‘That you must dare to dream, but that there's no substitute for perseverance and hard work. And teamwork, because no one gets there alone.’  No one gets there alone,” he repeated, handing it back to her and she had tears in her eyes. “I’m here today, in large part because of your care. I wouldn’t have gotten here alone, so I’m giving this to you to commemorate an achievement that could be deemed as impossible as putting a man on the moon.” She laughed and pulled him in for a hug.

“Thank you, Fox,” she whispered and he chuckled.

She left not long after and the last time he spoke to her was the night she brought over pie and they discussed he and Scully going back to the bureau. He was thankful for that night. Thankful he had that memory of her, the happiness he saw on her face, knowing he and Scully were possibly moving forward, back where they belonged.

He exhaled, shook his head, and shifted in the bed. Scully was holding tight to him, not wanting to let him go too far, even in her sleep. That was fine with him as he wished he never had to let her go again. Closing his eyes, he breathed in her scent and let his exhausted body finally fall asleep.

He woke to the sun just beginning to rise, Scully pressed against him, her back to his front. He had his arms wrapped around her and her leg was draped over his, a familiar position they slept in many times. He pulled her closer, hoping to fall back to sleep.

She moved and stretched, before she turned over and faced him, her eyes so blue and beautiful. She put a hand on his face and breathed his name, looking into his eyes. He bent his forehead to hers and whispered her name, as she sighed shakily.

“Thank you for staying with me. For coming back,” she whispered, her hand still on his face.

“I didn’t leave,” he said quietly, putting a hand on her hip. Pulling her head back, she stared at him. He shrugged and smiled slightly. “I waited until you went back inside and turned around. I wasn’t going to leave you like that, Scully.” She came back into his embrace and he felt her tears on his neck.

They lay in the warm bed, holding each other for a while longer, before she moved and stared at him. She sighed as she pulled back and left the bed, heading into the bathroom. He lay back and closed his eyes, scrubbing a hand down his face.

He got out of bed, turned off the hall light, and headed downstairs. Using the bathroom down there, he then headed to the kitchen. Filling the coffee pot with water, he added the coffee and turned it on. Taking out mugs for each of them, he opened the fridge to see if there was any milk or cream.

Vanilla coffee cream was all he found, but looking at the food in there, he knew they would need to clean it out before they left today. He looked up as he heard Scully come into the room. She had changed from his shirt back into her dress, though she was barefoot.

She smiled softly as she glanced toward the coffee. “That smells good. I don’t know if there is much food in the fridge, but maybe there’s something in the freezer.” She walked over to check and found waffles inside and syrup in the fridge.

Their simple meal eaten, he suggested they clean out the fridge and she nodded. “We should do the pantry too. I’ll go get some boxes,” he said, standing up and going to get his jacket and shoes.

He drove to the closest moving company and bought some boxes. Heading back, he felt better going to the house today than he did yesterday, but it still felt weird to walk in and not find Mrs. Scully there waiting for him.

Scully had cleared most of the pantry by the time he walked back in the house. He got the boxes ready and started to load them up. “Separate them out between the two of us, I’ll never eat all this food,” she said and he nodded.

They worked in silence, getting the job done, before he loaded the car with the boxes, while she went upstairs to grab her shoes. She came down the stairs with his coat, tie, and undershirt on her arm, her shoes hanging on her fingers.

He took his things from her, planning on adding his shirt to one of the boxes she would take home, giving her something for comfort. He helped her with her coat and with a last look around, they headed out the door, Scully locking it behind them.

It was a quiet drive to her place, but a few minutes in, she reached for his hand and held it for the rest of the journey. She kept her head turned toward the window and said nothing, but occasionally squeezed his hand gently.

Pulling into her complex, he parked in the visitor spot and they unloaded the car. On the second trip up, he put his undershirt in the box and hid it under some boxes of crackers. He brought the box up and set it on her kitchen counter. She came out of her room, holding envelopes.

“This is yours and … this one is for William,” she said, holding out both letters. “I can’t have that one here for him. I … it’s too tempting to know what she had to say to him. What she might tell him … about me, you … I can’t have it here or I’ll read it.”

“I don’t think she’d-”

“No. I want to save it for him,” she said, staring at him. “Just … just in case.” She sighed and he nodded. “Could you take it home and keep it there? Put it in the safe?”

“For safekeeping?” he asked, trying to make her smile, as he took both letters from her. She exhaled, but did not smile. “Yes, Scully, I will put it in the safe.” She nodded and smiled at him.

“You want me to help you put this stuff away?” he asked, putting the letters in his inside jacket pocket and gesturing toward the food.

“No, that’s okay, I can get it done. Thank you for your help and for everything else,” she said, looking at him and he nodded. He sighed and knew he had to tell her now.

“Scully, I need to tell you something,” he sighed again and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, she was watching and waiting for him to continue. “After you left … about a week after, your mom came over to the house. I was in the shower and I missed her, but she left a basket of food- lasagna and that lemon cake she made that was so good.” He paused as he thought of that day and how broken he felt. “That first basket of food was just the beginning. She came back the next day with more, fed me, went out and bought groceries … hugged me and then came back the next week. And the week after. For almost two years.” She stood staring at him with her mouth open and tears on her cheeks.

“Never, not once did she make me feel anything but loved by her. She was there to help, not shame. I was to blame for what happened between us, Scully-”

“Mulder-”

“Scully,” he said, shaking his head. “We can argue about it, but the majority of the problems rested on my shoulders. Your mom … she never placed blame, but encouraged me to get better, found projects to fill the day, and suggested I see a therapist. She pushed me, but also allowed me to heal at my own pace. I owe her so much. You Scully women ... you don’t back down from a challenge and you love fiercely. The world needs more women like you.” He smiled at her and she wiped her eyes before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him.

“I had no idea she was doing that, not once did she say anything about it,” she whispered into his chest. “I’m happy she was there for you. Of course she would be, she loved you so much. Mulder, I’m so sorry-”

“Scully, it was the right thing to do, it was,” he said, hugging her tightly. They fell silent as they stood there holding onto one another. She tipped her head back and smiled, tears still on her face. He moved his hands and held her face, wiping her tears with his thumbs. She closed her eyes and he kissed her forehead.

“I should get going,” he whispered, his forehead now resting against hers. “I’ve got a car full of perishables that I don’t want to spoil.” She laughed softly as she stepped back and took a deep breath. He smiled at her and nodded before picking up his keys and heading for the door.

“If you need anything, Scully, anything at all,” he said and she nodded.

“I’ll call, I promise. But, I think I’ll be okay,” she smiled and he returned it. Opening the door, he walked out, turning to wave goodbye before she closed the door.

When he arrived home, he brought in his loose clothing and laid it on a dining room chair. He took off his jacket and added it to the pile before he began to bring in the boxes of food and put them away. The cupboards were fairly bursting and he shook his head, thinking that even after she died, Mrs. Scully was still seeing to it that he was fed.

Sighing, he reached for his jacket and the letters held within. He sat down at the table, looking at the familiar handwriting, and his eyes filled with tears. He set William’s aside and opened his own, knowing this letter was going to hurt.

Fox,

I’ve sat here for ten minutes trying to figure out how to write this letter to you. It seems so odd to be writing a goodbye when I saw you just a few days ago.

I hope beyond hope that this letter is not read for years, but life is uncertain and so I would rather be prepared than leave this earth with worries on my mind.

Fox, right now, I know things seem like they are stuck and you don’t know if they will move forward, but I pray that is not the case. I have been praying for it. You two belong together, in this life and the next.

The night Dana brought you to dinner all those years ago, I knew. I saw the love you two had for one another, even if it would take years for you to realize it. You are the only person I would trust to keep my daughter safe.

We’ve had discussions about the past and you said you wouldn’t change anything that’s happened, because it’s led to the now. Even if it hurts, even if there is pain that feels never ending, I know you would still knowingly choose the path you are on now. One slight deviation and who knows where either of you would have been? This was the plan, the path chosen, and you will continue down it, believing the end will be worth it.

I know it will be. I have faith.

Fox, I love you. I’ve told you before, but I want it said here so you can look back on it anytime you need to see it. You are my son, my family. I love you.

Family is what matters. They are the people who hold you accountable, the ones who have your back, and the ones who show up when you need them. It’s what family does.

Fox, thank you for being my family and being the man worthy of my girl.

I love you.

Maggie (Mrs. Scully)

He laughed through his tears at her closing, knowing she must have had a good chuckle over that when she wrote it. He could see the sly look on her face, making a joke at his expense.

Reading her letter again, he shook his head and wiped his eyes. Taking a shaky breath, he folded it up and put it back in the envelope. He touched his name written on the outside and shook his head again. Standing up from the table, he picked up William’s letter and walked to the safe in the office.

Opening it, he found their passports, birth certificates, and other important papers. He added William’s letter and closed the safe. He hoped one day William would have a chance to read what his grandmother had written for him.

Walking back to the table, he stared at the seat Mrs. Scully always sat in, and he closed his eyes briefly. He picked up his tie from his pile of clothing and walked to her chair. Draping his tie across it, his fingers grazed the back of the chair.

“Thank you, for everything,” he whispered, before picking up his letter and his phone, and heading upstairs.

It was still early, but he was exhausted. The days had merged together and had been emotionally draining. Going to bed early felt like a great idea.

He stripped, took a shower, and put on some pajama bottoms. He made sure his phone was plugged in and the volume up high in case Scully called. Pulling back the blankets, he laid down in a bed that smelled of sunshine and held the memory of the feel of Mrs. Scully’s arm around his waist as they stood together and watched the sheets blowing in the wind.

_____________________________________________________

Jesus ... I’m not gonna lie that these three particular chapters are some of my favorites. It might sound odd, but they have helped me find closure with things I didn’t know needed closing. Things in my life I have no control over seemed to leave me as I wrote this, knowing we cannot control others, only ourselves.

I hope that while incredibly sad, these chapters may have helped you as well. If so, let me know. It would make me feel so good, knowing a piece of you has been healed in some way. ❤️

Group hug!

[myassbrokethefall]

14, 26 and 37.

14. Favorite episode(s)? Why?

My favorite episode is One Breath. I’ve talked a lot about it before, but basically the reason it is my favorite is that it’s such a beautiful story and such a beautiful character piece. I love the way it undercuts the climax, that it builds to Mulder’s revenge and then that just dissolves as he goes to sit with Scully instead. I love how angry Mulder is when he finds her and how quiet and miserable he is when they’re discussing pulling the plug. I love what a realistically heartbreaking discussion it is and how Maggie includes Mulder in it. I love (in an angsty way) the moment when Scully is in the boat, staring at Mulder and Melissa on the bank, just staring, aware of them, and Mulder says “She’s not here.” I love how Mulder is completely, unblinkingly ready to give up the X-Files and his quest and everything else to find out who hurt Scully. I love how Melissa says “why is it so much easier to run around getting even instead of just expressing to her how you feel” (the crux of the whole episode tbh) and when he gets to the hospital he starts speaking with “I feel, Scully…” like it’s a response, like he’s had that in his brain the whole time. I love the heartbreaking moment when Mulder gets home to his trashed apartment and just sinks to the floor and cries quietly. I love love LOVE the moment when Scully starts to wake up and she’s in the forest and it slowly fades out bit by bit. I love the beginning with little Dana shooting a snake and then crying and trying to bring it back to life, and her mother looking back at this defining and sorrowful moment for her child like it was yesterday. I just always expect this episode to somehow get old for me and it never does. I love it even though Gillian isn’t in it that much (poor kid). It is what made me a fan of Morgan and Wong. 

26. List some season 7 MSR headcanons

Season 7, season 7. Shit, I don’t have these episodes ingrained in my brain as much as I do some of the earlier ones. 

God, you guys, I suck so much at headcanons. Let me see. 

Mulder and Scully are so comfortable with each other by S7 that it’s like they were never not together. Whether they’re having sex or not (I personally do not think they had the sex until all things) is almost immaterial. They are together, they belong to each other, and they both take that for granted – even if they don’t talk about it. They’re terrible at talking about it. But they don’t really have to talk about it and that’s such a comfort to both of them. It’s S7 where they start getting bolder with each other, more obviously flirty, but by this point it’s so inevitable to them that they’ll end up together that it’s not as fraught with transgression or tension as it might have been in the earlier days. It’s like they know it’s gonna happen and they’re just relaxed waiting for it to show up eventually. They are past their early-days crushes, Mulder’s past his “a girl like her would never like someone like me” self-deprecation, Scully’s past her “I’m too staid and boring for someone like Fox Mulder” shyness. Each of them knows the depths of the other one’s esteem and the doubt is basically gone. They know what they mean to each other. They have been through Scully’s cancer and come out the other side. They’ve been through Antarctica. They’ve been through the Emily situation. They’ve been through Mulder’s crisis of faith in Two Fathers/One Son. They’ve experienced a beautiful spring night where Mulder brought her out to hit baseballs just because. They were trapped in a haunted house together and thought they shot each other, but it was just a trick or a dream, and instead they sat together on Mulder’s couch on Christmas Eve and giggled over the presents they got each other. They huddled in the forest together in Florida and Mulder knew Scully would protect him from the mothman. Mulder went back to 1939…or thought he did…and met another Scully and kissed her just in case he never got another chance. 

They are good, and when Mulder impulsively kisses Scully on New Year’s Eve, it’s not a shock or a revelation to either of them, but an inevitability. They both know where they’re going, and it’s not that they don’t want to get there, but they have all kinds of other stuff to do on the way, so it’s like, they’re holding hands and walking together through life and they’re together anyway, so what’s the hurry? Then after Scully runs into Daniel and has the cold-water shock of remembering her old life and who she used to be, it crystallizes things for her a little. She has never ever thought that being on the X-Files was a mistake, and certainly not that meeting Mulder was, but she has had a certain amount of ambivalence that her professional life has gone this way and that she’s sacrificed her personal life to some degree as well to chase monsters in the dark with Mulder – not that she doesn’t like it, but she somehow feels she should be expecting more of herself or following some more conventional path. After seeing Daniel and his stupid mustache again, she has a moment to consciously take stock of where she is, and she realizes that, by and large, she’s where she wants to be. They sit together on his couch and talk about life, and it’s quiet and they’re just both filled with that sense of peace and rightness, and she’s so comfortable that she falls asleep. When she wakes up later and finds herself covered in the blanket, she could stay there on the couch, or she could get up and leave, but it’s time, and it’s right, they’ve arrived, their own particular pace taking them where they need to be when they need to get there, and she goes into his room and gets in his bed and that’s where they are in Season 7. Also Mulder had a brain disease

I can’t answer things briefly so that is why it takes me forever to do these. Sorry.

37. Do you have any fic recs?

I always get anxious about giving fic recs, because I’m a compulsive completist and I sort of feel like in order to answer I have to review every single XF fic ever written and comprehensively rank them and soul-search to arrive at which is the best and which I can in good conscience recommend. Plus I always forget good ones and think of super random ones. 

That said, I WHOLEHEARTEDLY RECOMMEND Machines of Freedom by Amal Nahurriyeh. I think the best place to read it is at her LiveJournal. The header post is here. Please, please do not spoil yourself before reading. It deals with 2012 very completely, but is not a bleak post-col fic (not that there’s anything wrong with those, but they are not to everyone’s taste). Mulder and Scully are parents (they have had a daughter since IWTB, who is a delight, and William shows up before too long as well) and there are some precious Dad!Mulder moments but it’s not overwhelmingly kidficcy. Reyes and Doggett and even Drummy from IWTB are in it. The issue of Will’s adoption and his adoptive parents who love him is dealt with compassionately and empathetically. Mulder and Scully are badass and competent and loving and difficult and scared and heroic and human. If I could have ordered Season 10 I would have done it like this.