#earlier in the ep when he comes to scully's room and she's asleep and he just SOBS next to her. trying to muffle his cries in his hand

[carefulfears]

and the fact that mulder cries a lot makes me want to cuddle him forever 😭😭

everything is so hard for him all of the time!! i love him.

[mulderwantstobelieve]

I Don’t Want You To Go Home Tonight

I Don’t Want You To Go Home Tonight

“Mulder... why are we choosing to be alone?”

Rating: PG-13

Description: A Post-Ep for the flashbacks shown in Per Manum. Scully’s IVF treatment has failed and Mulder decides to stay with her that night to comfort her with wine and her favorite salad.

Author’s Note: Basically, this fic is my idea of what led up to their “First Time”. I love the idea of All Things being their first time, but this is my IDEAL first time story for them. I think it makes sense with the IVF story arc and with their characters. I imagine this happening somewhere between All Things and before Requiem (probably right before Requiem).

cover photo yoinked from @iddoitforfreebaabe

******

"Never give up on a miracle," Mulder told her, his forehead placed against her own. Scully sniffled as she felt some snot trying to escape her nose. She pulled him in to give him a tender kiss on the cheek and then into a hug.

Mulder's closeness made her feel she was at yet another crossroads in their partnership. Part of her, the one that felt insecure and afraid, could tell him "Go home, Mulder, I'll be fine."

She was tempted to retreat to her room and send him to worry about her somewhere else. Anywhere but in front of her. They could go back to work next week and move on from yet another traumatic event, travel to a new city or state, and they could carry on without letting each other in.

This loss, the impossibility of becoming a mother with her own flesh and blood, was making her soul the weight of a millstone. She had nothing left. Chasing monsters and fighting all the damn time wasn't keeping her alive anymore. It was making her feel old now. Hasn't it gone on long enough?

That part of her wanted him to stay, the part that felt too tired to keep going. That part of her wanted him to slow down and not leave her behind. She wanted him to stay.

Before she could speak her mind, Mulder broke the silence.

"I'm staying here for a while. To make sure you're going to be okay."

Despite the battle going on in her mind, she let him make the decision. Honestly, she was too tired and her brain was so overworked to even talk. She gave him a nod against his shoulder and pulled away to look at him.

Mulder became aware of how dry his mouth was as he felt a small pang of anxiety in his stomach. He felt the weight of the atmosphere, not just from grief of Scully's lost hope, but because he was at a crossroads of his own.

Earlier, he had sat on Scully's couch for what seemed like hours, his mind reeling with all of the choices to be made. He thoughts of two worlds: Scully is pregnant, Scully is not pregnant.

If Scully were to be pregnant, what would he do? How would he fit in to her life? They hadn’t exactly discussed that part of it. Would he be around to become crazy uncle Mulder, sharing tales of myths and Sasquatch and teaching the kid baseball? Or would he and Scully drift apart as she enters motherhood? Would he be present to watch a child grow up with her eyes and his smile, her hair and his nose, her stubbornness and his adventurous spirit... without feeling connected to them? Would he watch as their child goes through first days of school and college, one day getting married, and having children?

Would he remain on the outside as an observer, watching everything happen in montages while he goes home alone, chasing whatever the hell comes next?

But there was another option: he could be here. He could feel happy with her. He could hold her when she feels sick or insecure. He could tell her he loves her. He could hold his child in his arms.

He could be a father.

These thoughts would have scared him a few years ago, but things have changed. And even if Scully were to come home with the news that they weren't having a child, they couldn't go back to their comfortable invulnerability anymore. Not after this.

Mulder pondered these thoughts again as he and Scully stood there for another minute, his arms still wrapped around her waist. He hoped he was comforting her despite the depressing results. Though they both knew there was a high chance the IVF wouldn’t work and Scully becoming pregnant was nearly impossible, it was hard to accept that believing wasn't enough this time.

"I'm going to take a shower, I might be in there for a while. I need to be alone," Scully said as she broke their embrace. He raised a hand to her cheek, but she stared at the wall behind him.

"I'll be here." She gave him a small smile in return and disappeared down the hall.

He decided to go pick up some food from a place down the street he knows she likes. They have these strawberry poppy seed salads that she'll even eat when lacking an appetite. He could at least try whatever he could to get her mind off of this.

He picked up some wine as well, hoping that it may dull her pain. He tried to think of all the topics he could bring up to get her mind off of it, knowing it wouldn't help much, but he could make a strong effort.

A short while after he returned with their dinner, Scully came out of the bathroom. She had taken the time to blow-dry her hair, which he took note of. She still had the energy to dry her hair, which isn't a bad thig but he was aware of the fact that restless working was how she coped, so he needed to be sure she relaxed tonight.

They watched a black and white TV movie that they didn't know the name of. It wasn't interesting, but it was distracting. Mulder and Scully ate their dinner on the couch in silence. He noticed Scully smiling after seeing what he ordered her which made something in his stomach feel warm. A full-tooth smile from her always made him smile back. When the first glass of wine was poured, it became easier to have a conversation.

"Thanks for being here," Scully said after a few moments of sipping her wine. She was facing the TV, cupping the glass against her chest.

"N-no problem," he said a little too quickly, happy she was wanting to talk now. "Actually my plans for the evening were a little boring." He said, facing her direction. He slung his arm over the back of the couch, his wrist hid in her hair.

"Oh yeah, what were they?" She smiled from the inside of her cup. She turned to face him now, her expression lifted.

"It's what I do every Friday night, Scully. Stay late at the office, get Chinese takeout, think about possibly doing my dishes but instead throwing a dart at a map and calling you to tell you we're going to wherever-the-hell, Oklahoma because there's gotta be some cryptic or source waiting for us there..."

Scully began to smile wide and a small chuckle escaped her lips when she realized he was joking.

"...then I take a shower and lay in bed, wondering about the mysteries of the universe. Is that not what you do?" He said, trying to hold back a laugh.

Scully replied with another big smile, "Wow, Mulder, that's exactly my same routine!"

"I thought so!" he grinned, looking at his lap. "Where are your darts, Scully? I'm a creature of habit."

She shot him a jokingly stern look and leaned towards the coffee table to pour herself another glass.

"Actually," she began, "my plans are more like: pick up groceries, clean the bathroom, wash my hair, then get into bed... sleeping soundly because I couldn't care less about Bigfoot or sentient plant life or demons trying to nibble my toes," She giggled and Mulder rolled his eyes.

"You don't have trouble sleeping, Scully? With everything that the universe could hold? You don't even wonder?" He urged.

She shrugged. "I guess I wonder more about stuff that's in my interest. So, less mythical sea creatures and more... real life. I couldn't sleep last night for obvious reasons." She took another swig of wine.

He nodded in understanding. "I guess I do the same thing," he replied.

"Yes, I know you meditate a lot about the Sasquatch, Mulder, but-" she laughed.

"No, no, not just that. Believe it or not, Scully, I am an actual living, breathing man," he laughed and she rolled her eyes. "I think about things that I want. I think about the future. I- I couldn't sleep last night either."

She looked at him, an unreadable expression on her face. "Why's that?"

He paused to form his words correctly and he felt his mouth go dry again.

"I just really wanted this to happen for you."

The lighthearted atmosphere became the familiar, heavy one they felt earlier in the day. They were both remembering what they were trying to escape tonight.

I’m sorry, Dana, but the results came back negative. You are not pregnant.

Scully could hear the words in her head. But she felt Mulder’s empathy, that he was feeling a similar pain. She realized that he lost something too; even if it was unspoken between them, she knew he saw it too. A future.

His words made her smile softly. She looked at him with a tenderness in her eyes he had only seen a handful of times. He saw it in her while she was fighting cancer, while she talked to Emily, while she was informing him of a death of a good friend, when his mother died... and now recently, through the IVF process, he had been seeing more often.

"We're still hoping, right?" He asked, giving her a tender smile.

Scully didn't answer with words. Instead, she set her wine glass on the coffee table and put her arms around him. Her head fell into his chest and they both breathed deeply.

Because of the awkward position of their legs, he decided to lean back and lay down, resting his head on a throw pillow. She accepted his gesture to lay down, remaining in the same position on his chest taking more deep breaths as she remembered the day allover again. He stroked some hair away from her face as his other arm was wrapped tightly around her.

They laid like that for a while, watching the old black and white movie which was full of music and dancing. He waited for her to speak, and if she didn't say anything, he wouldn't mind falling asleep here. Like this.

"Mulder?" Her groggy voice asked. She looked up at him and he hummed in response. "Have you ever felt like there's more? Not... in the universe. But more for you, in this life, in your life. Have you thought of having a family before? Not that it's for everybody."

He continued to gently stroke her hair and replied, "Of course I have, Scully."

Scully nodded in understanding. She didn't resent him for his freedom to start a family if he wanted to; She just wished he could see the joy of it.

There was a pause before Scully started, "At first, I wasn't sure if I wanted to have a family, but after years of traveling, seeing unimaginable things, going through some of the hardest situations of my life... I think at some point, I realized that what I really wanted was one of the most attainable things in the modern world. I can't explain it. Somehow it was the only thing that could be enough for me." She paused for a beat to look up at him. "Do you ever feel that way?"

Mulder met her eyes and rested his thumb on her cheek. He got lost in her gaze for a moment and replied, "I think I'm starting to."

He thought for a moment.

"I think after finding out what happened to my sister, I've started to see things differently. I've accepted the freedom given to me, but it feels emptier than I thought it would."

Finally, she felt a sense of unity between them. Like for the first time, they were on the same page.

Scully then propped herself up on his chest to meet his level and Mulder's arm remained wrapped tightly around her.

She evaluated their position: his arm gripping her waist, her hand on his chest, the smell of wine on his warm breath. This made her heart start thumping a little faster.

An actress in the movie they were watching started singing a song, a romantic song about moonlight and longing. The song seemed to engulf the room, and it was the only thing Scully could hear besides the blood in her ears.

He looked good tonight. Really good. The kitchen light made his features look warm and inviting. His eyes scanned her face, a soft smile appearing on his lips, and she knew she looked quite beautiful herself. She felt beautiful.

Scully then realized she had been staring a little too long without saying anything, and he gave her a subtle squeeze at her hip which reminded her he was actually there.

All this time, they've kept each other at a comfortable distance; seven long years of emotional cushion room, but closing the gap just enough to sneak longing looks and hold hands in the dark.

They could say it's their careers, or they're different people, or they have different desires. But mostly, and they both knew this, it was a shared fear of rejection - that being alone was better than searching for acceptance from someone other than themselves. And they could tell themselves it was enough for them, remaining people who keep each other at a comfortable distance, or they could give in and take a risk for something more.

Mulder swallowed and felt his heart begin to race. He couldn't believe how gorgeous she looked in low light, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her in closer. She was looking at him, almost a drunken haze in her eyes, except she'd only had a glass and a half. Her eyes were bluer than he's ever seen them, and her hair had fallen to frame her face beautifully. Everything was adding onto the emotions clouding his brain - her chest breathing against him, his thumb stroking a bit of bare skin at her hip, their stolen glances at each other's lips...

"Mulder..." she began, her voice hushed and her eyes scanning his face. "...Why are we choosing to be alone?"

Mulder processed her question for a moment. He was tucking some hair behind her ear when he noticed her cheeks were red. He wasn't sure if she was flushed from the wine, or if she was nervous to ask her question. He left his hand resting on her jaw.

If his mouth was dry before, it was a desert now. He was trying to read her face, to predict what would happen next, but only his answer would determine that. He could swear she was inching closer towards him, but it may just be the gravitational pull he felt tugging him to her.

"Are you saying... we have a choice?" He asked quietly, not-so-discreetly staring at her lips now.

She was looking at him in a way that made him dizzy. He couldn't tell if the buzz was from the glass of wine he drank or the way she was making him feel. She, too, seemed to be transfixed on his mouth now.

Scully nodded yes.

He had to remind himself to breathe.

"I-uh-.." He started to form a reply when Scully leaned in closer, not breaking her gaze from his lips. She hovered there, waiting for him to respond.

"Scully.." he said, his breath brushing her lips.

She was too hesitant of her actions, so Mulder reassured her by responding quickly. He pulled her in with the hand that was cupping her cheek, finally placing his lips onto hers. It suddenly felt like a curse broke inside both of them and each one of their fears were fleeing with every second. This kiss wasn't like they had shared for a brief moment at New Year's, this one was urgent and freeing.

His hands wove themselves in her hair, while hers clung to the nape of his neck. Their lips moved at a steady pace, only breaking away to change angles.  The hand that gripped her waist was now trailing up and down her back, catching some bare skin every now and then as her shirt rode up. They couldn't count the seconds, or the minutes, or tell how long the movie had been over since this kiss had started, but Mulder knew he didn't want it to end.

Without breaking their kiss, Scully lifted herself up and put her legs on either side of him, now straddling his waist. It gave him a bit of sobriety as to where things were heading for them tonight, so he slowly broke away. Both of his thumbs were stroking her cheeks now, him and Scully breathing heavy against each other. She was looking at him in a way he had never seen and that made his stomach stir with excitement.

"Scully, I'm-"

"I don't want you to go home tonight," she interjected firmly.

He nodded in understanding, and smiled to tell her that's what he wanted too.

***

Moonlight peered in, leaving bright lines across both of their bodies. The room was still and quiet as they laid there together, Scully softly playing with Mulder's fingers. He held her from behind, and she fit perfectly into his embrace.

"I'm glad I stayed," he hummed softly into her ear. It made her shiver a little bit.

“I’m sorry I ruined your Friday night plans,” She joked.  

“Good one.” He kissed her shoulder gently and breathed her in.

"What's work gonna be like on Monday?" She asked.

"Scully..." He groaned.

"I'm just asking, Mulder," she exclaimed, her voice sounding defensive. "We need to discuss things so they won't become problems later."

"It's going be like working, Scully, but now we have this cool secret that everyone already assumes of us anyway," he said, a touch of sarcasm in his tone. "Don't worry. Just sleep."

His arms felt warm on her belly, which in turn made her feel safe. Mulder smiled as he held her even closer.

[greekowl87]

Kiss prompt: 3?

3. Kissing so desperately that their whole body curves into the other person

A/N: I love ‘Tithonus.’ I’ve written two post ep fics for it. Well, I did a third because I freaking love that episode. Sorry, this took so long @momdadimpoppunk ! I finally have time to get to this wonderful prompt and I hope you enjoy. Sorry for any typos. Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder had been in the archives researching the lead for Scully when he knew something was wrong. He had felt the sharp stabbing pain in his gut like a knife carving out a piece of him. The pain had been so much that he had dropped the files to the ground. He knew then something was horribly wrong. He had only had felt something similar to this twice in his life: Scully’s abduction and cancer.

He wasn’t a big believer in fate despite being a believer in UFOs and little gray men. He learned to believe after Samantha’s abduction. He was open to any alternative to the truth; anything to keep a glimmer of hope alive. Ever since he met Scully, it gave him reason to hope but for a different reason. After Antarctica and everything that had conspired the past summer, she stuck with him. She was his reason he still went into the FBI every day even after they had lost everything. It was small things. A humorous smile for a sly joke slipped between background interviews. Companionable solidarity as they chased fertilizer leads across the country. He never asked why but he never took her for granted.

But right now, Mulder knew something wrong. Very wrong. He didn’t care if Kerch would chew his ass out or burn him at the stake. He needed to go to New York right now.

… …

The phone call came right before the jet left for Laguardia. 

Mulder drove his car to the airport, grabbed the backup overnight bag he kept in the trunk of his car, and paid with his own credit card for the quickest flight to New York. He picked the phone up on the first ring, somehow already knowing what the phone call was about. There was no greeting or anything. Straight to the point.

“Is this Fox Mulder?”

Mulder recognized that tone of voice. It came from a woman this time but it was just like all the others. Short and to the point. No friendly chit chat or scorning. Just getting the job done.

“This is.”

“Sir, I have you listed as the next of kin for a one Dana Scully? Is that correct.”

“It is.”

“Sir, Agent Scully was brought in earlier this afternoon with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. She’s currently in surgery.”

“What hospital is she staying at,” he demanded.

“Sir, it’s really too soon to tell or jump on a flight to New York.”

“I’m already here. What hospital is she at?”

“St. Catherine’s in Manhattan but as I told you there really is no need now.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

Mulder hung up and shoved his cellphone into his pocket without another thought. Taxi, taxi, taxi, Mulder thought desperately. Despite all their cases, his time at the FBI, and growing up on the Vineyard, he had only been to Manhattan a handful of times. He found the taxi zone and promptly ordered one straight to the hospital. As the cabbie drove, Mulder stared listlessly out the window as his brain went through countless scenarios on what could have gone wrong. Gunshot. Surgery. Was it serious? Life-threatening? Or just a scratch?

By the time he reached the hospital, Mulder was no less calm. 

He demanded information, made a scene, and almost got escorted from the hospital despite him waving his badge. Between this chaos, he was able to discern a few things: abdominal gunshot wound that should have killed her, and fired by Agent Ritter. Eventually, he was directed to the third floor, the surgery ward wherein the waiting area he found the little shit Agent Ritter. Mulder felt a burning rage. Rage against Them that orchestrated Scully’s abdication. Rage against the Smoking Man who could have cured her cancer. Rage against sonofabitch Agent Ritter for getting trigger happy and shooting Scully before even identifying the proper suspect. The difference was this time, Ritter was real and corporal in front of him. He had someone to work out his rage. He could do something.

Without the care of the consequences or what may happen, Mulder dropped his overnight bag and flew to Agent Ritter, slamming him against the wall as the picture shook. Ritter tried to struggle against him but Mulder had the element of surprise and physics on his side. Pushing his arm into Ritter’s neck, he barked, “How could you shoot another agent? Are you that stupid? Scully was right there and you shot her!”

Ritter gasped for breath. “Accident…it was…an accident.”

“Fuck that! You almost killed her!”

“Accident…”

He was so angry and desperate to do something. His rage withered and he through Ritter against the wall. “Fucking bastard,” he spat. “Get lost before I do something I regret.”

Mulder should have been reported or even arrested but Ritter bit his lip, nodded, and slouched away down the hall towards the elevator. Mulder ran his hands through his hair in anger. There wasn’t anything else to do but wait.

… … .

Seconds ticked away on the large white clock. 

The big hand inched around full circle as the little hand slowly slouched toward one a.m. How long had Mulder been here? How long had Scully been in surgery? He had pulled his tie loose and tossed his jacket over his bag.

There had been no news. He watched the hospital staff and random strangers walking the halls like ghosts. Mulder began to make up stories for everyone he saw. Skinny man was a magician that didn’t tell anyone. That nurse cross stitched cats on everything. He smiled sadly at the game he used to play with Scully. There was a doctor approaching him now. He was different from everyone else as he came towards Mulder a purpose. He looked tired and disheveled but smiled at the FBI agent. 

“Agent Mulder?”

“Yes. Is Scully all right?”

The old doctor smiled. “Agent Scully is very, very lucky to be alive.” He took a deep breath and took off his glasses. “The bullet entered right above the stomach. Hit the spleen. I’m not going to coat it lightly. She should have hemorrhaged on the apartment, in the ambulance, or on my table. She should have died but she never stopped breathing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What do you mean you’ve never seen anything like it?” Brief memories of an old man from the archived files flashed in his head. “She’s alive, right?”

“She should have died instantly.” The doctor snapped his fingers for emphasis. “But she wouldn’t give up. Just came out of surgery in the last hour. She’s in recovery and then we’ll be moving her to a room if nothing happens in the next hour.”

“I want to stay.”

“Agent Mulder, she could wake up now or 24 hours from now. I recommend you get some sleep.”

“I want to be the first thing that she sees when she wakes up.”

The exhausted doctor stared at Mulder for a moment before nodding. “I’ll have the nurse come get you when we move her.”

… … .

The staff moved Scully sometime around three a.m to a private room. The nurses must have taken pity on Mulder because they left him with a blanket and small pillow to use with the recliner that was in the private room. By four a.m, Scully was still passed out and Mulder made a vain attempt to get comfortable by turning the room’s tv on low and stretching his lanky body out in the chair next to her. He reached for her hand and simply held it.

Mulder turned onto his side slightly and watched as the early morning light began to show through the blinds. The rays danced across Scully’s face and mused red hair. He thought he could already seeing color coming back to her face. The steady beat of her heart on the monitor lulled his exhausted mind asleep.

… … . .

Mulder dreamed of kissing Scully.

He dreamed of her a lot ever since the first time he had almost lost her the first time. His own dreams began to grow more adventurous. He would kiss her so much that his own body would curve around her. He dreamed of kissing her like there was no tomorrow. She suffered so much and she deserved the world. She deserved everything. Mulder dreamed of showing Scully how much he cared for her, wanted her, and how much she deserved better. From him, from everyone. Of course, in his dreams, he was able to do it right and take care of her. But not in real life. A new image of Scully appeared in his dreams, bloody, crumpled, and starring lifelessly off into the distance.

No, no, no!

He dropped to his knees and pressed his hands to her abdominal wound. The blood leaked through his fingers. Her eyes looked for him and he saw fear. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Scully, you hear me? We’re going to be okay.”

“Mulder,” she whispered. “I’m afraid. I’m afraid.”

“I know, I know.” His mind raced as he pulled her against him. “You don’t die though, Scully. The doctor said you are going to be fine.”

“Mulder, I saw him. I saw death.”

“Stop talking like that.”  He could feel his own tears running hot down his face. “You can’t leave like this. It isn’t fair to either of us.”

“Tell me. “Her weak bloody hand cupped his cheek and forced him to look at her. “Tell me, Mulder.”

“I love you,” he whispered and kissed her as if that was enough to save her.

… … .

Something was weakly squeezing Mulder’s hand as he awoke from his nightmare. He jumped awkwardly in the recliner but the weak hand grasp anchored him. He immediately remembered his bedridden partner who was likely still asleep and unconscious. He turned his bewildered gaze onto Scully who, beneath the hospital blankets and machinery, watched him sleepily.

“You were talking in your sleep.” Her voice sounded so small. “I would have woken you but you kept saying, ‘I love you.’ I thought you might have been dreaming about sunflower seeds.”

“No,” he said through his laughter. Tears were streaming down his cheeks again and he didn’t know why. “You’re awake.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Of course I am.” She tried to shift in the hospital bed and winced in pain. “Where am I?”

“Still New York.”

Mulder got up, never letting go of her hand. He could not contain himself anymore. He bowed over her and kissed her. Within the kiss, he poured ever possible emotion and feeling he had for her. Scully pulled him closer as much as her injuries would allow. “Wow,” she chuckled. “Talk about the breath of life.”

“I almost lost you,” he whispered. He sat on the edge of the bed. “I should have been there.”

Scully watched him as he tried to get comfortable next to her on the bed and shifted this way and that, left and right, until she stilled him with her other hand. “Just be here now, Mulder.” She looked down to her abdomen where under the blanket hid her hospital gown, the bandage, and her wound. “I imagine you have already given Ritter a piece of your mind.”

He gave a weak smile. “I’m surprised I’m still here.”

She nodded. “You were crying too in your sleep.”

“Just a bad dream. It’s better now.” Mulder did not care anymore and threw caution to the wind. He kissed her again and again. “I’m just glad you are going to be okay.”

Scully smiled weakly and encouraged him to lounge back beside her. He gave her an easy smile and nuzzled her hair. Both of them turned their gaze to the window and the morning light. “Do you want me to close the blinds for you, Scully so you can get some more sleep?”

“No, this is good. This is perfect.”

[baronessblixen]

I am SO needing a tender Scully caring for a hurt/sick Mulder, with lots of whispers and soft smiles and loving touches and I think you are just the one to give me this. What do you think? Can you see this?

Probably not exactly what you meant... sorry. It’s a post-ep for “Millennium”. 

"I'm supposed to go to my mother's, Mulder." Scully sounds as disappointed as he feels. The smile falls from his face, seems to land at her feet. He cradles his hurt arm, grimacing. 

"If you have to go, you have to go." He's just done the unimaginable: he asked her to stay. For no other reason than wanting to spend time with her. That and the fact that he's injured. Again. And that kiss. He can't forget about the kiss they shared mere hours ago. Their first one. He watches her stand there between his living room and kitchen, worrying the buttons on her coat. 

"I just came here to check up on you. Your apartment is on the way."

"It's fine, Scully. Go spend the day with your mother. I'll just go back to sleep. I need this shoulder to get better, don't I?" He tries to lift it, but it hurts, so he stops halfway. He looks like a butler waiting for his next command.  

"We could – you could…" If Scully knows what she wants to say, she doesn't share it with him. The apartment is quiet while she silently contemplates, while he impatiently waits. 

"Could what?" He'd never been good at waiting. 

"You could come with me. To my mom's." Her eyes land on his. Her hands are still, no longer nervously picking at her clothes. 

"Would she – she wouldn't mind?"

"My mother loves you, Mulder. Come on, let's get you dressed. This way I have an excuse for being late." Then she winks at him. If he wasn't sold before, he is now. For a moment he forgets to blink, to breathe, how to walk, as she passes him and goes straight into his bedroom. Seconds tick away before he follows her. 

The sight that greets him is one to behold: Scully going through his clothes. She's touching his jeans, but deems them inappropriate for the occasion. In the end she picks dark trousers that he doesn't remember owning. She holds them up to gauge his reaction. Mulder nods knowing it doesn't really matter what he thinks anyway. With his good hand he tries to get his sweatpants down. He hobbles on his feet, unable to get them off.

"Let me help you with that." Scully's voice is devoid of any amusement as she walks over and easily slides his sweatpants down. He should feel embarrassed, but doesn't. Neither does he feel the need to turn this into a joking matter. It’s like this now. "Underwear?" She asks him.

"It's clean," he answers quickly; he managed to do that himself earlier today. "I put it on this morning. I swear." Scully pats his chest before her search for perfect clothes continues. 

"Scully?" She turns to him. "My pants?" He points at the garment, forgotten on the bed. 

"Right," her face is pink, slightly flushed. But the smile she gives him is radiant. They're doing everything backwards. But as of yesterday, they're doing it; taking steps forward, that is. He blushes, too, even though he knows Scully can't possibly know what he's thinking. She's speaking softly, asking him to lift one leg, then the other. His good hand is on her shoulder for balance. Her own hands, warm and gentle, touch his legs here and there, always fleetingly. But he feels it on his skin every time, sizzling. Once she's done, he is positively out of breath; there's not enough air here in his bedroom. He sits down on the bed, breathing quickly.

"What's the matter?" She touches his face, cups his cheek. 

"Just… too much, I think."

"Maybe this isn't a good idea. I'll call my mom and tell her I can't come."

"No, Scully. I want you to go." She looks pained, uncertain. "I want us both to go," he adds. "You might just need to up my painkiller dose." 

"You'll be high as kite," she whispers, stroking his face. She doesn't even pretend it's for any reason. They both know she's doing it because she wants to do it. Mulder has no complaints. 

"It'll be fun. I can embarrass you in front of your mom," he whispers back, his grin big and genuine.

"And the rest of my family."

"It's not just your mom?" She shakes her head, her hand still on his face. She takes it away, but only to run it through his hair. It feels good, it feels soothing. Part of him wants to ask her to stay here after all, do this all day long. He wants nothing more than to feel her hands on his body, anywhere. 

"We don't have to this today, Mulder. You can stay here and I'll be back later." 

"I want to spend the day with you," he pouts and as soon as he realizes what he's let slip, his cheeks turn red, his face ablaze with embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she whispers again; her voice makes him sleepy, makes him want to curl into a tiny ball, like a kitten. "When I made those plans, I didn't know that we'd… that we would have done this." 

"We haven't done anything," Mulder reminds her. He adds a "yet" in his mind. But Scully's face darkens and Mulder regrets his words. 

"You don't… remember?" He's sweating. Profusely. He's searching her eyes. They were at the hospital. When the ball dropped, he swallowed all his fear, leaned over and kissed her. Scully took him home, whispered she'd see him in the morning and he fell asleep. What did he miss? 

"I- I am not sure? I remember kissing you in the hospital and-"

"So you do remember," Scully says, the relief in her voice obvious. She's smiling at him, her face open and vulnerable. The soft pink hue is still on her cheeks, reminding him how new all of this is. 

"You thought I'd forget kissing you? Never." His eyes drift from hers to her mouth, half open in an invitation. Or so he thinks. 

"We need to get you dressed, Mulder," Scully mumbles before he has a chance to lean forward and do it again. Kiss her. Right now that's all he wants. If he passes out after, if she leaves him here all alone for hours, he won't care. As long as he gets one more kiss.

"I do want to take you with me, if you're up for it." She motions for him to lift his good arm and he does so. As carefully as she can, Scully drags the shirt over his head and then extricates his bad shoulder. He winces despite himself. She coos into his ear, promises him that it'll be all right. Mulder squeezes his eyes shut anyway. 

"I'm up for it," he croaks out, feeling cold without his shirt. Scully is right there and they do the same thing again, just the other way around. "Can I go in this t-shirt?" His eyes are still closed when he asks her.

"No." Scully is close, he feels the words as a breath against his ear, his cheek.

"But I'll be extra careful, I promise." And she is. Not that he ever doubted it. He lets her use him like a marionette. There's a short sting in his shoulder as his arm goes through. The rest is easy. He opens his eyes as she buttons up his shirt. Up until now, they've been quiet. The only sounds their uneven breathing, Mulder's occasional painful hiss.

"Was this as good for you as it was for me?" He jokes, the exertion still evident in his voice. This is definitely new; Scully doesn't shoot him down, but giggles instead.

"It will be much better for both of us once your shoulder is healed," she says as she reaches the last button. Her hand remains there on his chest a moment longer than necessary. She must feel his heart beat against it, as if it wanted to jump out and greet her personally. 

"How soon is-" 

"Let's start slowly, hm?" Mulder nods carefully. He can wait. He can. "Like this," Scully whispers and her lips are on his. Their second kiss. Still gentle, still soft, but so much more. They’re still learning how to do this, but he has faith; they’re both great students.

[baronessblixen]

At Long Last

My post-ep. The last one. I didn't feel like writing after this shit show, but... tagging @today-in-fic

Scully breaks down the minute they step inside the house. All Mulder can do is catch her. Violent sobs tear through her, through him. She shakes in his arms and he tightens his around her. They slip to the ground, together, arm in arm, grief shared.

"Our son, Mulder," she sobs, cries, "our son." He puts his hand on her stomach. A miracle. Another one. Or the first one? His own tears stain his cheeks, fall freely into her hair. He thinks of William. The boy he saw in the hotel room. What did he see in his face? His nose. Scully's lips. He saw himself in the boy's face, felt it in his lean frame. The boy is taller than he is. Was. William was. All he ever wanted, for all of William's life, was for the boy to be all right. Now he's gone. Just gone. His son. Scully's words come back to him, unasked. No miracle, an experiment. Their son. Mulder presses his lips into her hair. She smells sweet. How can she smell like sugar, like flowers after all of this? He closes his eyes against the pain, against the emotions that threaten to overwhelm him.

"Our son," Mulder repeats back to her. William is his son (was, his mind chimes, was) and hers. Whatever short moments they had, whatever happened.

"He told me... you, I thought. I thought it was you when... he said, he said he knows I love him. Oh, Mulder. I am so sorry. So sorry." He takes the words from her lips, the kiss one of comfort.

"Of course he knows, Scully. He knows."

"He is our son, Mulder. I'm sorry I-" Mulder doesn't let her finish and traces her lips with his finger. He wipes away her tears, but they keep coming; too many to kiss away, the pain too deep.

"I shouldn't have said that-"

"Sssh, I know, Scully. I know." He understands. Of course, he does. There is no way to prove that William is theirs, his and hers. If only their son was here, now. How can they start a new family with a new baby after all this? It's impossible. They're too old, it's too... there is no explanation. A simple twist of fate. Ironic, really.

"Mulder, this pregnancy... I don't know if-" Scully trails off as new tears fill her eyes. He remembers her telling him when she was pregnant with William, when he was missing, after he was dead, how she was scared her sadness would be transferred to William. This pregnancy, he fears, this miracle will be similar. Only this time he'll be here every step of the way, for every appointment, for every doubt she has. To ease the pain, the sadness.

"We'll work it out, Scully. We always do."

"What would I even do without you?" He forces a smile and it's enough for her, it seems. She, too, smiles and Mulder bites the inside of his cheek; this smile, he's seen it not long ago. On their son's face.

"Let's get some sleep. Let's..." Mulder doesn't finish. Tomorrow is a new day. The day they start healing, maybe. A fresh start. They're good at that, starting anew. He lifts her up easily and Scully lets him. He carries her upstairs like a new bride, but there's no giddiness, no happiness.

Scully is asleep in his arms, heavy as his heart. He puts her down, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Our baby... babies... William...," she mumbles half asleep, already lost in a dream. Mulder lies next to her, holds her. There are gunshots in his ears, a splash in the water. William, William, William. His eyes drift close, his eyelids like lead.

"Mulder. Mulder, wake up." Scully shakes his shoulder, her eyes wide awake and crazy. There's the shadow of a smile around her lips.

"What is it? Are you sick? The ba- the baby?"

"It's William." Her voice is so full of hope, love. "I feel him, Mulder. He's alive. I feel him." She puts her hand on her chest, right over her heart.

"Scully, I know you want to believe that-" She shakes her head, her belief too strong. She takes his hand and makes him get up.

"I feel him, Mulder. I feel it." The stairs squeak under their feet as they go downstairs. It's dark outside, but dawn is almost there, the hope of a new day in the sky, in the air. Scully opens the door and a cool breeze hits him into the chest. Or maybe it's pain.

Scully stands there, hope apparent in every fiber of her body. He wants to hug her, wants to take the pain off her.

"Mulder, look." Mulder follows her voice, her eyes. There in the distance, out of the darkness, is a shadow. His heart misses a beat before it beats faster. William, it says. William, William.

"It's him. It's our son." Scully's words disappear into the air as she walks towards the boy. He speeds up, too, and Mulder is frozen in place on the porch. He watches as Scully hauls William into her arms. They're both crying and Mulder knows he must be crying, too. The words Scully said earlier, on the docks, he erases them from his mind. He knew then she didn't mean them, not a single one. William is their son, her baby. She's a mother, always has been. He's a father, too.

In tentative steps, he joins them. William glances at him, his eyes red.

"He is so tall," Scully sobs, but there's no more sadness, "you look like your dad, you look like Mulder."

"Come inside," Mulder says, his arms around his son, the love of his life, and their unborn miracle, "come inside, William. You're home now. You're safe." This time the boy trusts him, not saying a word. Scully takes his hand, Mulder the other one. They're connected, a family. Together, at last.

[baronessblixen]

I don't know of a more eloquent way of saying this, but when you write fluff it makes my soul happy. Could I please request some fluff from early seasons that includes scully not being able to resist cuddling a warm and comforting freshly showered tshirt clad mulder, and then oh no, they have to share a bed!

Anon, my sweet, sweet anon. I’ve wanted to write this as soon as I got this ask. Then my muse took off with all the words and I was left alone. This is not exactly what you asked for, I fear. I hope you like it anyway. Sorry it took so long. It’s a post-ep kind of thing for “Our Town”.

Tagging @today-in-fic

“Doyou want me to start on the report?” They’re sitting in a diner, somewhereout of Dudley, Arkansas, just the two of them and a waitress that pays them noattention. Mulder fiddles with a napkin, tears off little pieces and makes themrain on his plate like confetti. If he really wants to start writing thatreport, he figures, he’ll have to do it on said napkin. All their belongingsare in the trunk of the car, waiting. Haphazardly thrown into their bags whenthe hotel not so nicely informed them that they’d have to leave. Right now. Scully,mute, sits across from him like a still painting, unmoving yet luminous. Astrand of hair clings to the cut on her forehead and she either doesn’t noticeor doesn’t care. Mulder leans forward to gently brush it away. Her eyes land onhis, alert now.

“Hey.”He smiles softly, but Scully’s face remains stoic. She was fine earlier. Shesaid so, anyway. It dawns on him that maybe, just maybe, she might throw the wordat him every now and then without meaning it. “You didn’t hear me, didyou?”

“Didn’thear you?”

“Iasked you if you wanted me to start on the report,” Mulder repeats andleans back against the chair. It squeaks softly.

“Inhere? Why now?”

“Itwas just…” He wants to do something. Needs to. This case, this throwawaycase that in the grand scheme of life and their work means nothing, almost costhim Scully. Again. How often will they end up here? Today it’s a sleazy diner,tomorrow it might be a dark, endless road. Today it’s a small cut, a bruise.Tomorrow, though… what is going to happen tomorrow? He told Scully she shouldtake off more time. Ever since she’s come back, to life, to him and their work,danger has clung to her like a bad smell.

“Mulder,why are we here?” Her question gives him pause. He observes her face; hermouth half-open in a question she doesn’t know how to ask yet. Her eyes areexhausted, seem empty. Why are they here, indeed. Because of me, he thinks. Asalways. One day he’ll lose her, he thinks as she blinks at him. One day he’llbe too late. He’ll sit in a diner like this, his guilt gnawing and tearing athim, without her. That’s why they’re here; as fine as she seemed early, Mulder isanything but. His hands shaking after he got her back into the car, barely ableto hold the steering wheel, he stopped at the first sign of civilization. That’snot something he cares to admit to her right now, though.

“Weneed to find a place to stay for the night. There aren’t any flights out thislate.”

“Pleasetell me we’re not staying at this diner for the night.” Her face, henotices now, seems a little green. She needs sleep and rest. He suggested adoctor earlier, but she only threw him ‘a don’t be ridiculous, Mulder’ look andhe hasn’t mentioned it again. The least he can do is find her a somewhatcomfortable room.

“No.But maybe they can tell us where to find a hotel.”

Thehotel, it turns out, is just down the road. What the waitress didn’t tell him, however,is that they’re solidly booked. Except for one room. With a double bed. Glancingat Scully, who is out of it again, he nods and carries both their overnightbags inside the small, smelly room.

“Homesweet home,” Mulder mumbles as both bags slip from his hand and land onthe carpet with a gentle thud. “You can have the bathroom first,Scully.” With any luck she’ll be asleep once he’s showered. Her answer isa soft hmm and she rummages through her bag before she disappears into thebathroom. Only after the door closes behind her does Mulder take a deep breath.He stares at the bed in front of him. There’s no way they can both sleep inthere. Ignoring that particular conundrum for the moment he zips open his ownbag to search for something he can wear tonight. A t-shirt and boxers will haveto do. A look at the questionable carpet and he sighs. He’s probably touched,and slept on, worse things, he decides.

Scullyreturns ten minutes later smelling like peaches. She throws him a small smileas she walks over to the bed. Her face freshly scrubbed, the cut on herforehead looks more prominent. One of his hands lands on her arm, the othergently touches the cut. She doesn’t even flinch.

“Doesn’thurt, Mulder.” Her voice is soft as if to reassure him that she’s finewithout saying the words this time. He nods, unable to form any words. Couldhave lost you, he thinks. Could have lost you again. Before he can make a fool ofhimself, he grabs his clothes and disappears into the bathroom. He takes histime under the shower, tries to wash off the picture of Scully kneeling on theground unable to move, trapped like a wild animal. But they refuse to leave andMulder gives up when the water loses its steam and turns cold.

Ittakes him a moment to realize that something is wrong when he steps back intothe room. Another moment before he notices Scully huddled into the corner bythe window. In two quick strides, he is by her side and helps her up. She’sshivering, staring up at him with horror in her eyes.

“Hey,it’s all right. It’s me. I’m here. You’re safe.” Scully huffs; a defiantsound that almost makes him smile. The look in her eyes changes, settles.

“Mulder?”Her voice is as unsteady as he feels. He nods, encouraging her to go on.  "I, um, can you…" She turns,stares at the bed. She’s trying to ask him to sleep somewhere else. Although hehadn’t planned on sharing the bed with her anyway, the unasked question stingsjust a bit.

“Ofcourse, Scully. I’ll sleep on the floor, I’ll-”

“No,that’s not… not at all what I meant.” She bites her lip as her eyes fillwith tears. He’s never wanted to be able to read minds as badly as now. Talk tome, Scully, he pleads with his eyes because his voice isn’t cooperating.

“Canyou- could you hold me? Please? Just hold me?” Mulder counts to threebefore he puts his arms around her and holds her as tightly as he can. If hecould, he’d never let go. He’d put her in his pocket and make sure she’d alwaysbe safe. She is tiny, so tiny, in his arms and yet not tiny enough to carry aroundin his pocket. She giggles against his chest as her hand strokes his back; whois comforting who, he wonders briefly.

“I’mglad I don’t fit into your pocket, Mulder,” she whispers against hischest. Oh, he said that out loud. He leaves a kiss on the crown of her head,reveling in her unique scent. “Let’s go to bed, okay? I’d like to forgetthis day ever happened.” Scully takes his hand and leads him over to thebed like a new, blushing bride. They don’t speak, don’t rationalize, as theyboth lay down on their respective sides. Mulder turns off the light and as hetries to get comfortable without jostling Scully around, without touching hertoo much, she scoots closer. Her name catches in his throat as she puts herhead on his chest.

“Relax,Mulder,” she whispers with a hand over his thundering heart, strokingsoftly. “Please just hold me.” Her words feel like a kiss and disappearinto the cotton of his t-shirt. Carefully, as if she were made of glass, he slideshis arm around her, holds her to him. Just to try it, he closes his eyes. Heexpects pictures to explode behind his eyes. Scully on the ground, Scullyscreaming for help. Being too late. Always being too late. But they don’t come.There’s just the faint smell of peaches, the warm weight of Scully against himand the reassuring sound of her even breathing. Tonight he’ll sleep knowing Scullyis safe. Whatever happens tomorrow, today he couldn’t ask for more.  

[baronessblixen]

It got long so you get a read more. Prompt was “I don’t want to have a baby”. This has been on my mind for DAYS. A mid-ep kind of thingy I suppose for “Home”. 

"I don't want to have a baby." Melissa's voice tears through the darkness and startles her sister. Dana turns around, causing the chair to squeak loudly, further disturbing the quiet like a warning signal. She can't see Melissa in the yellowish light her desk lamp provides. Her sister is bathed in darkness instead, hidden in the shadows.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh you know… things."

"Very random things, Melissa. Why are you even thinking about babies? You should be thinking about college or finding work." All Dana is thinking about these days is college. Doing well. Becoming a medical doctor. She's trying to get a glimpse of her older sister sitting there on the bed, but all she sees, or thinks she sees, is a silhouette. Her long hair falls into her face and she brushes it away quickly, almost angrily. She needs to get it cut and soon. It's not practical and Dana is practical – or wants to be anyway. Long, wavy hair is for girls who spent their days at the beach. Dana is no longer that girl.

"A career is not the most important thing in the world." The sheets rustle and Melissa comes into sight. She smiles secretively and leans over Dana's shoulder to look at her homework. Who does homework on a Friday night? She shakes her head gently in disbelief before she sits back down on the bed again. Melissa's hair is long and unruly. Dana used to be so jealous of her soft curls. Melissa has never tried to tame them and only ever laughed at their mother when she suggested a different hair cut. Dana touches her own hair now. She's going to miss it, she thinks, wearing it short.

"You need to earn money, Melissa," Dana flinches; sometimes she sounds just like their parents, "before you can even start a family."

"That's just it, though. I don't want that. I just want to see the world. You know?" The two sisters stare at each other. Once or twice an aunt will mix them up at a family gathering and they both end up giggling. Dana loves her sister fiercely; these months without her while Melissa was out travelling, doing her thing (throwing her life away, their father has grumbled once), have been hard. Just having her here now, even when Dana can't keep away from studying, feels right. But sometimes, times like right now, Dana is not sure she understands her sister; wonders if they grew up in the same household with the same parents.

"You can still change your mind. You don't have to do what mom did and have babies this young." Melissa smiles at something only she can see. Dana feels like she should turn around and try to figure out what exactly it is her sister is looking at.

"I don't want to have a baby, Dana." There's determination in her voice and Dana startles; she gets it now. Her heart starts beating faster as her homework is forgotten for the moment. This is real life, she realizes; not numbers, not some theory she can pick apart. Her sister is confiding something real even if she's not saying the words.

"Oh my god, Melissa…" she whispers. She doesn't know what else to say or do right now. She's heard about girls who got into trouble; that's how the adults would always put it. Got into trouble. Her sister nods as if to confirm it. She puts her legs under her and for a moment Dana wonders what her sister would look like pregnant. She'd be an aunt. The thought seems foreign to her still. They're both just so young.

"I'm so proud of you, Dana. For doing what you do. Going to college and doing exactly what you want to do. Don't let mom or dad ever push you, all right?" Dana is frozen in place; she can't move, can barely think. She has so many questions for her sister and yet she can't ask any of them. Not now. Not in her childhood room, not in the house where their parents sleep.

"Forget I said anything, Dana."

"I can't, Melissa. This is… this is… have you talked to anyone? Maybe there's a different way? What about the… you know?" Melissa shoots her one of her 'oh Dana' looks before she puts on a bright smile. Her sister, the enigma.

"It was a fling, Dana. Never more. It's all taken care of. I don't want a baby. Now or possibly ever. It's not something I can just talk about over breakfast with mom and dad."

"But…"

"You on the other hand," Melissa sighs, getting up; Dana knows she is going to leave now. Not to her own bedroom, but somewhere. Melissa always goes somewhere. "You're going to be a great mother one day. A wonderful doctor and an even better mother. Trust me, Dana. I know it." And she's just gone.

Scully wakes with a gasp. She needs a moment to remember where she is; she's not in her home, not in her bed. No, she is in Home, Pennsylvania, in a hotel room. She takes a few deep breaths, relaxes again. A glance at her watch tells it's shortly after midnight. Scully rubs her eyes but the images of Melissa on that night remain with her. She hasn't thought about it in ages. Pushed it from her mind like so many things. They never talked about it again; Scully immersing herself in her studies and Melissa, like she'd planned, travelling the world. Now, though, she thinks about it with a heavy heart. Melissa hadn't wanted a child back then. A child, Scully realizes, that would now be an orphan.

She knows she won't be able to fall back asleep. Mulder. The thought of him pushes forward in her brain. At least he knows what it's like to wake from nightmares. As she gets up, reality and dream merge together: Melissa telling her she'll be a wonderful mother, Mulder with his intense glare telling her he's never seen her as one before. Him mockingly calling her mom. A noise on the other side of the wall tells her that Mulder is still awake just like she suspected. She puts a shirt over her tank top and runs her hands through her hair, unnecessarily as it's only Mulder, before she goes to his room, knocks quietly. There is some shuffling and then Mulder opens the door. Unlike her, he apparently didn't think about putting on a shirt. He raises his eyebrows at her, obviously surprised she's still awake.

"Did I keep you up, Scully? I'm sorry, I was just watching this documentary – it's the only station I could make work. I'll turn it down."

"No, Mulder. I couldn't – I just woke up," he stares at her trying to figure out if she's telling the truth, "I had a – can I come in?" Now he's even more surprised but he steps away to let her in. True to his word, there is a documentary flickering on the screen. Scully doesn't pay much attention to it, doesn't care. There is something on her mind, it seems, and she'll never sleep if she doesn't talk about it.

"Too quiet for you to sleep here?" Mulder chuckles at his own bad joke. He still doesn't think about putting on a shirt. Of course Scully has seen his naked chest plenty of times (she's seen much more than just his naked chest), but right now it adds to her anxiety.

"I slept just fine, actually," she replies feeling weary; Mulder tends to plant himself on every piece of furniture whether it's in her hotel rooms or her home. This time she decides to do the same and she sits on the unused side of his bed while he watches her from across the room.

"I had a bad dream." Scully finally admits. "Or maybe not a bad one just… it woke me up." He nods, understanding. Slowly, as if expecting her to stop him, he walks over to his bed and glances at her, still waiting for her to tell him to sit somewhere else, and when she remains quiet, sits down himself.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks without looking into her direction.

"No." Scully immediately answers. She doesn't want to talk about Melissa, or babies. I never saw you as a mother before, he said earlier. The words ring in her ears unwanted. She wonders how he does see her. As a partner. His colleague. His friend, most likely. Does he even see her as a woman? She chances a glance over at him; he's chewing on sunflower seeds, his eyes directed at the screen, but she is absolutely certain that his mind is somewhere else. She runs her hand through her hair again and she sighs. Her hair is short, it's practical; just like she'd planned it years and years ago in college.

"You can watch this thing with me," Mulder tells her, "I swear it has no mutants, aliens or even babies." So much for not thinking about those.

"Mulder?"

"Hm?" But he's still not looking at her.

"Could you really live in a place like this?" His head turns to her and he doesn't even need to think about his answer.

"Yeah," there is no mockery inside his voice, nothing to indicate he's not truthful, "I'd love to live in a place like this. If things were… different." His sister, she thinks. If he didn't have to look for his sister, he'd move to some one-horse town in the middle of nowhere.

"You wouldn't live here alone." It's not a question. Scully tries to picture a tall brunette business woman living in a place like this. She can't. Then again, she can't really imagine Mulder living here either. Without his suits, without a cell phone; just an average man. Mulder might be many things, but average is not one of them.

"I guess not." Is all he says, putting another sunflower seed into his mouth and cracking it loudly.

"You'd have a wife, children and a dog. A normal life." Again, not a question. Scully knows she should stop; realizes it when he slowly turns to her, his expression unreadable.

"Isn't that what everyone wants? A normal life. Where would you live, Scully? If you didn't have to put up with your spooky partner."

"I like my life, Mulder. I like living where I live." It's the truth, she realizes, even if she's never pictured herself living in a city. She used to think she'd move to the suburbs, live the picket fence dream with 2.5 children and a husband, a cat and a dog. You're going to be a great mother one day, Melissa had told her. Dana had believed her; Scully on the other hand wasn't sure her life was still set on that path. Or if she still wanted it. The thought tugged at something deep inside of her. Just like a small child might tug at her hand demanding her attention.

"You wouldn't want to live in a place like this and raise your Über-Scullys? You want to raise them in the city?"

"I haven't exactly put much thought into where I would want to raise my hypothetical children, Mulder." It's a lie, but Mulder nods anyway.

"You should think about it, Scully." He tells her, his eyes dark and intense. Scully can't look away. It's as if he's trying to make her see something, but she feels blind. Or blinded by him.

"Think about where I want to raise children I may never have?" Mulder nods again.

"You'll have them," he says decidedly, "I know you will." Scully thinks she detects sadness in his voice. She doesn't understand why.

"I thought you didn't see me as a mother." He smiles; not at her, no, at the screen. The smile, though, it reminds her of Melissa. Seeing things she herself can't.

"Mulder." She says, hoping he'll look at her; he doesn't. She touches his hand that's next to her on the bed. He's warm, feels solid. He tilts his head and blinks at her.

"I try not to see you as a lot of things, Scully." His voice is gentle, his smile exhausted and shy. "But you're going to be a wonderful mother one day." He adds, nodding to himself. The same words. The same words Melissa used.

"Why, Mulder?" She whispers; he can't know what Melissa said back then. He doesn't know about the baby that never was. The words escape her without her consent. Mulder shrugs next to her, unaware of the emotional turmoil inside of her.

"You're my partner, Scully." She waits for him to continue and when he doesn't she decides to let it go. It's enough for tonight. She yawns and Mulder grins at her; for a split second her mind plays a trick on her. She sees a small boy with that same grin, the same set of lips, the strong chin. He's calling out for her, yelling mommy and squeaking happily, while Mulder is chasing after him, their joint laughter a heavenly sound.

"What is this documentary anyway, Mulder?" Scully tears herself away from the image, makes the mental bubble pop; she's got to be practical now, get some sleep. She snuggles deeper into the bed, ignoring the fact that this is Mulder's hotel room, and closes her eyes tentatively.  

"Oh, it's about cacti. Did you know that some cacti can live up to 300 years?"

"Hm. Tell me more about cacti." Scully mumbles. She knows she should go back to her own room, sleep in her own bed, but it's too comfortable here. The steady hum of the TV, Mulder's beautiful voice and his warmth right next to her. They don't need to lock the door here, not when Mulder is by her side; there's no need to be scared of anything. You're going to be a great mother, the voice now a blend of Mulder's and Melissa's. A smile appears on Scully's face as she listens to the soft rumble of Mulder's voice.

Her last thought before sleep overwhelms her is how she should have told Mulder that he's going to be a great father, too. One day.