#making mulder's office took me like two weeks

[eslanes]

ꜱᴄᴜʟʟʏ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

my favorite scully moments from s2

after the x-files are shut down, she gets moved to teach at the academy, and in episode 1 she does a little monologue on how a person’s body is a physical manifestation of a lifetime, which one of the students describes as “spooky”

when mulder sneaks off to puerto rico in the same episode, she goes into his place to try and figure where tf he went, and prevents his sneaking about being caught by the investigators who broke into his home with the power of feeding his fish

lecturing about the dangers of eating raw steak in episode 2, then getting lost down a rabbit hole of worm science

when no one was answering the door in episode 3, she just walks in. this made me laugh hysterically, i cannot explain. both of these guys WILL enter your home.

every single time she is a bit of a medical nerd, like when she learns about the surgery that allowed people to survive without sleep in episode 4, which she describes as “incredible”

(and the freckles + flower earrings combo were also a fave)

when she scans the piece of metal that came from duane barry in a grocery store in episode 6, and the cash register goes crazy. and she denies involvement and just walks away LMAOOO <- honestly i'd do the same!!

she wakes up from her coma in episode 8 and wants to write a thank you note to the nurse that took such good care of her, only to learn no such nurse ever existed. scully got to witness the paranormal for once!!!!

in episode 9, someone brings up a volcano scientist in conversation, and she says she had heard he was brilliant, which means that somehow she is keeping up with volcano news. she is a woman of many layers.

being deeply worried about this scared looking grad student she just met, and once again not waiting for an answer to enter her room and figure out if she is okay

(and when said grad student is being consumed by a fungus, scully thinks quickly enough to get herself locked behind a door, keeping herself safe, despite being handcuffed and otherwise looking death by fungus in the face)

in episode 11, mulder walks into his office, only to learn she has been there and has been going through his stuff since 6 in the morning. queen of getting results!

in the same episode, an old man overdoses on mushroom pills, and she shifts into Doctor Mode, yelling about “ventricular fibrillation” and “milligrams of lidocaine” and it was, like every other time she goes Doctor Mode, so deeply satisfying to watch

when she meets the two cops in episode 12, and can immediately tell they are having an affair and that the detective is pregnant, and despite the detective pleading with her not to tell a soul, the absolute MILLISECOND she is reunited with mulder, she spills the tea. and he is SHOCKED! <- arguably my favorite moment in the entire series so far

(and, to make the woman feel more comfortable, she confesses to also having had feelings for coworkers before which. elaborate on that, please)

but she really does care; when the detective ends up in the hospital, scully brings her a change of clothing <3

when she is so shaken by what she sees in episode 13 that she goes to the FBI’s onsite therapist; she’s too scared to tell mulder how she feels because “i don’t want him to feel like he has to protect me”

(as if there was ever going to be a choice; he is the protector and he Will protect, it's just his nature)

((and then later sobbing into his arms, realizing she doesn’t have to always put on a front))

toads start falling from the sky in episode 14, so she rationalizes that they likely came from a nearby tornado. this is a scully-approved theory.

they’re investigating a murder in the same episode, and a teenager starts pouring her absolutely horrific trauma out to both of them, scully holds her while she sobs into her jacket

honestly any time either of them know weird information, i love it. she says that it would take hours for a snake to eat a man and then weeks for it to digest in episode 14, and mulder makes some funny remark but it’s sooo endearing to me. she knows her snake facts.

then in episode 15, she notes poison in someone’s blood, but specifically that the poison comes from pufferfish eaten in Japan… girl i’m crying, she just knows stuff!

during that same case, they get rooms near each other like always, and she knocks on a door thinking it’s mulder’s. he doesn’t answer. she walks in and hears water running, so she just talks to him through the door to the bathroom. and i love this so much. i love that they are close enough to just walk into each other’s rooms and talk from behind the door while the other showers. it’s such married behavior.

working on the case in episode 16, we see her at home wearing a flannel, checking her computer, still serving looks but now giving casual

(and seeing the art she keeps on her walls- little postcards of beach scenes <3)

in the same episode, she knows mulder left to go get himself in trouble, so she bursts into skinner’s office to ask for help. but she feels bad for barging in on skinner, so she apologizes to him. which was very sweet.

when mulder is gone, she goes to his apartment to look for clues, and falls asleep on his couch

(and when X knocks on the door, she knows he is hiding something, and screams at him to tell her where he is)

this whole monologue from episode 17, which i loved more than life itself:

“several aspects of this case remain unexplained, suggesting the possibility of paranormal phenomena. but i am convinced that to accept such conclusions is to abandon all hope of understanding the scientific events behind them. many of the things i have seen have challenged my faith and my belief in an ordered universe, but this uncertainty has only strengthened my need to know, to understand, and to apply reason, to those things which seem to defy it”

(and that is just Her, isn't it? the need to understand, to rationalize. the worldview shaped on science- if she doesn't understand something, it's because a key piece is missing, and she'll find it. because the world Has to work that way, has to be bound by a greater logic, even if it is yet to be understood. to imagine otherwise would be impossible, to imagine otherwise would be to abandon hope in everything, and she cannot abandon hope)

((and maybe the idea that the world being something she cannot perfectly comprehend is a failing of her own understanding makes me a little emotional. but still))

she says that the whole loaves and fishes deal was a parable in episode 21; she is not a biblical literalist

(she then makes some sassy remark about things generating spontaneously, and mulder laughs in the corner. good to know he thinks she is funny)

every single time she answers the phone, she says “mulder, it’s me”, and idk i just think it’s so endearing

she thinks she might have been infected with a killer disease in episode 22, but mulder calls, so she tells him she’s okay and to take care of himself out there.... those are the last words she chooses, just in case they never talk again </3

and every time she says unsettling things, like “could be the residue of burnt human flesh” or “darkness covers a multitude of sins”, both in episode 23, i eat that up

reassuring her student who has just become a detective that she is doing just fine!!!

and then going to said student's funeral when things do not turn out fine... she loves her students that she taught for like 3 months so much :(

getting pulled aside by skinner and her bosses after mulder just acted wild in episode 25, and denying that she had seen any top secret files even though they say they will fire her if she lies lmaooo <- she is a ride or die!!!

but also going to his place, demanding assurance that she is doing the right thing by assisting him, and i love that. i love a character who will break all of the rules as long as they believe they are doing the thing that is morally Right, and that definition is so deeply her own, but she is committed to it, and she'll do anything to stick by it. and he just says something about getting the code that he wants broken, and despite how awful he's being, she goes through with it anyway because it's the Right thing to do.

later, her being the one to realize that mulder should not leave the house after his father was killed because he will be the prime suspect (he does not listen to this sound advice)

he stumbles into her place with a million degree fever, and she carefully lays him down in her own bed, despite the fact that he is soaked in his dead father's blood. and she takes care of him.

this one honestly deserves its own post because it is so incredible, but: shooting mulder with enough precision to get him to knock off his wild behavior that was going to make him look like he killed his dad, but not actually HURT him, then finding out krychek was putting LSD in his water, knocking him out, and driving 2 days to New Mexico to get him where he needed to be. AFTER he had been acting wild because he was inadvertently drugged, and had accused her of spying on him and being a traitor. that level of love is deep. very very deep. she is a Lover.

[carefulfears]

top five annoying mulder moments <3

okay, i have two lists for you: annoying moments that i find endearing, and annoying moments that make me want to beat him over the head with a chair

annoying moments that i find endearing:

(as of today, these could all be different tomorrow)

1/ "you mean i might get my 29.95 worth after all?" (731)

insane thing to say with 6 minutes to live about the mail-order VHS tape that might save your life. the way he casually cracked jokes in front of that bomb haunts me. unfortunately, this joke made me laugh so hard when i first watched this episode, that it became a core memory of the show to me, and it's still one of my favorite lines

related: putting on a comedy show for the nazis in the pine bluff variant

"ooh, is this the pepsi challenge? how 'bout some fresh air, boys" "you can just call me a cab, that'd be fine" sir they are about to execute you in a field

2/ his general behavior with the neighbors in arcadia

not his behavior towards scully, that's a different thing. i'm talking about mulder showing up in a neighborhood that deeply values regulations and appearances, and dragging out his basketball hoop at 10:30 at night. kicking mailboxes. putting that plastic flamingo in the lawn.

he went undercover in this subdivision to investigate the disappearances of multiple missing families, and his entire investigative strategy, is to fuck around and find out.

the fact that the neighbors start off concerned for him, worried that the monster is going to kill him for violating the HOA rules, and trying to warn him and help him, but eventually are so irritated that they decide to just leave him to die

is without a doubt my favorite thing about this episode.

3/ running in front of a car (colony)

literally made eye contact with the driver and kept running into traffic....busted up that guy's whole windshield.....like he went THROUGH that guy's windshield.....once again, i say, do you have ANY IDEA HOW PISSED I WOULD BE to just be minding my own business driving home from work, and end up with a MULDER-SHAPED HOLE in my windshield.....and then he just mumbled something about getting the wind knocked out of him?? and got up and kept running?? you KNOW he didn't pay for that guy's car. used "i got hit by a car" as an excuse for not filing his report on time??? i love him but he is not serious people

4/ reading the articles in a porno mag at the office (the jersey devil)

the jersey devil my most beloved most watched episode ever....cannot even express to you how funny i find it that when scully got into work, he's just sitting there staring intently at porn and starts telling her about the articles. he turns the magazine so that she can see. kinda the funniest thing that he ever did.

+ scully's lil "workin hard, mulder?" and "sorry to interrupt your serious investigation" ...they're best friends

5/ "why don't you take that gun and shoot yourself in the head like you shot my father" (piper maru)

girl WHAAAAAATTTTT??

BONUS: all of his comments about religion (various episodes)

i put this one on the list and took it back off so many times but i have to speak my truth. every last one of them. i know they're mean and judgmental. i like it.

honorable mention: the mulder ditch™ (too many episodes in too many circumstances to make one of the lists but the way he constantly just leaves scully places deserves to be included. he literally has the object permanence of a 3-month old)

annoying moments that make me contemplate violence:

(only came up with 4 for now...but they're serious to me)

1/ "when he's old enough, tell the kid i went down swinging." (vienen)

me when i'm two weeks out of the grave and have purposefully endangered my ass on a boat full of killer alien goo and my idea of a funny sarcastic joke is to goad my partner into saving me by JOKING!!!! about her having to tell my baby that i'm DEAD!!!

what compelled him to say this. this is my "WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS" infographic mulder moment.

my favorite part is how scully doesn't even address it she just gives that kind of "jesus fucking christ" sigh and tells him to put doggett on the phone lol

2/ “all this because i didn’t get you a desk?” (never again)

literally god forbid a girl have an existential crisis in some FUCKING PEACEEEEE

3/ "diana saw it too. and no matter what you think, she's certainly not going to go around saying that just because science can't prove it, it isn't true." (the beginning)

lolololololol

listen, i defend him for the diana stuff, and i get it. i could write you a dissertation on the complications and emotions of it and why he says things like this or whatever. but it still annoys the ever-loving fucking hell out of me.

this one bothers me more than "scully, you're making this personal" because it's such a direct blow to the core of their dynamic and to what she tries to do for him. this comes so soon after he looked at her in the hallway and told her that her rationalism and science saved him.

which is a moment that meant so much to her and that she references in this same episode. she grabs his hand and she says "you told me that my science kept you honest. that it made you question your assumptions. that by it, i'd made you a whole person."

she has memorized everything that he's ever said and she heard him so deeply in that hallway. she stays so dedicated to offering that science and rationalism that she knows he needs, that she heard him say was best for him.

that moment in that hallway changed them for the rest of their lives, and this is when skepticism and belief start to morph from genuine ideology into roles that they play for each other.

she's doing her part, she's offering him her side, she's playing her role. and he throws it back in her face, says he'll just go play with diana then, because diana would never counter him with science.

LOLLLL okay then spooky, we'll fucking see if it's diana that comes to save your ass in the bermuda triangle

4/ "you act like you're surprised" (three words)

debated putting this one on here because everyone knows i loveeee three words and i loveeee s8 mulder and i'm obsessed with this scene, i've written multiple pieces about the fish in it, i wouldn't change a word of it

but i just have to because this is the other one that grates at me in the back of my head from time to time...because it's not that he doesn't think resurrection is surprising. it's not that he thinks it's a given that he'll always be around.

he just cannot hear and acknowledge how painful and difficult losing him was for her. because it would mean hearing and acknowledging that what he does matters, not because of what he can do or find, but because it matters that he's there. because it matters whether he lives or dies.

this episode is so heartbreakingly cruel in a way that they just aren't to each other, and that's what i love about it and what makes it stand out to me.

she's pregnant with his baby and she buried him. she was ripped off of his corpse screaming and she planned a funeral and decorated a nursery at the same time, alone. she sat in a hospital chair and held his hand for days when she knew he couldn't feel it.

for six months, he was gone. for three months, he wasn't ever coming back. that first day that they were looking for him, she teared up and whispered, "i just can't take the chance that i'm never gonna see him again," to skinner, and then she lived in a reality where she was never going to see him again. for three months.

she prayed and she prayed and she prayed and then she got to cry and laugh and hold onto him and take him home. and she tried to tell him, quietly, about the last six months. about how she doesn't think he could ever understand what it was like. about how she prayed, and about how her prayers "have been answered."

she told him how hard it was to learn he was missing, to search, to find him dead. "and now to have you back...," she smiled and said through tears.

"well, you act like you're surprised."

in less than 24 hours he is going to run towards death again and she is going to be left again with nothing to do but pray, and he cannot hear that it matters.

(y’all, remind me to do a post about mulder + humor in s8)

BONUS: referring to his mother's house as "the vineyard" (various episodes)

this one isn't that deep to me but "scully, i'm at the vineyard" just IRKS me like it gets on my NERVES. just an obnoxious ass thing to say

[jodithann827]

One Night Stand (Revised)

8/13

Chapter rated teen/ Ao3/ @today-in-fic

Scully Residence

Friday, April 16, 1993

“You’re a mom,” Mulder says, the revelation rolling off his tongue. He’s sitting on Scully’s couch, taking it all in, while holding a beer as Scully sips her white wine. The child, Emma, plays on the floor nearby, surrounded by a tower of toys. Taking a sip, the cold soothing the fire in his throat, he observes the little girl with her strawberry-blonde hair and ocean-blue eyes. Looking so much like her mother, yet slightly different. Different facial features and different coloring immediately stand out.

“I’m a mom,” she confirms, all the while thinking, and you’re a dad. How the hell do I drop that bomb?

“Is she okay? You know, from the pot?” He asks gently, flashing back to the screaming when he first entered the apartment. The screaming still ringing in his ears. After Scully had calmed her daughter down she’d opened the fridge and gave her what looked like some food item in a tube. She then explained to Mulder that she was just about to make dinner, then surprised them both by asking if he’d like to stay. Nodding, she made the meal in silence while Mulder watched the little girl play in the other room. They ate, conversation lacking, though Emma’s babbling was enough to entertain the adults. Once cleaned up, Scully asked Mulder to join her in the living room.

“She’s fine, Mulder,” she assures him, bringing him back to the present. “I think the sound frightened her more than anything because she wasn’t expecting it.”

Nodding, Mulder comes out and bluntly questions her, as she sips her wine. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a kid?” He carefully sets his beer onto a coaster on the coffee table in front of him, then draws back, looking intently at Scully. She quickly averts her eyes, looking into her wine glass, then over to her daughter.

“It was never a good time?” she asks, rather than comments, though it’s said weakly and without conviction.

“She’s cute,” he tells her, sensing her unease, to which Scully offers a smile. Tilting his head, as though thinking intensely, he continues, “How old is she?”

Scully takes another sip of wine, whether for courage or to buy time, she doesn’t know. His question seems earnest, not accusatory or as though he’s prying. Now or never, she thinks. “She was two in February. I had her in February of ‘91, about nine months after she was conceived in May of 1990…” she trails off, waiting for Mulder to connect the dots. She sees the moment, Mulder’s face registering the reason for her honesty. So much emotion befalls him in thirty seconds.

‘Scully,” he states, hoarsly.

She doesn’t know what to say to him so she keeps her eyes on Emma. After a few minutes pass, knowing she needs to say something, she begins. “When I walked into your office, Mulder, I was so taken aback, I don’t think shock conveys what I was feeling. It took my breath away. In such a short period, I had to deal with the thoughts and emotions I had ignored for so long. And then neither of us knew what to say, the moment passed, and we rushed off to Oregon.

“Scully,” he repeats, his voice steadier.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” she blurts, finally facing his scrutinizing stare.

“You got pregnant,” he says, again a statement, not a question.

“I got pregnant,” she echos, a single tear threatening to escape her otherwise neutral face. “Mulder, I had no idea how to find you, where you worked, or even what your last name was, or your first name, apparently, for that matter. We’d talked about so much that night, but nothing to give away your identity. I was completely lost and so incredibly scared. The only person who knew I was pregnant was my best friend. I kept it from everyone until about fourteen weeks when I started showing and couldn’t hide it any longer. I didn’t even tell my sister. I was nervous. I was ashamed in a way. I was about to start a new job and had no idea what to do.” For his part, Mulder only has eyes for Emma while listening to Scully’s explanation. “I weighed my options, all of them, but I knew from the moment the stick turned pink that I couldn’t go through with an abortion. My religion aside, I knew that she was made of something special, and I couldn’t do that. I’d considered adoption, but I knew the moment I saw her it would be agony giving her up. So in the end, even though I knew I was about to embark on the most difficult adventure of my life, well, there was only one choice. I fell in love with her instantaneously,” she concludes, leaving out the part where she cried and yearned for him every single day, how she’d wanted to find him so badly, how she had fallen in love with him.

“I know it’s a lot to digest,” she continues, unsure of what to say next, but anxious in the silence of the room.

“Once you met me when you walked into my office, were you ever going to tell me?” he asks, his voice steady, calm, and quiet. Scully knows she needs to choose her next words carefully.

Taking a deep breath, she continues, “Yes, but Mulder, I didn’t know how. I never meant for you to find out like this, truly. I guess I was scared and the more I put it off, the deeper I got. Our partnership is so new and a lot is riding on it working…” she trails off as Mulder stands, pacing the living room

“Muld–” she started, but he cut her off.

“I need to go,” he announces abruptly, then as an afterthought adds, “I’ll see you at work on Monday.” Before she knows what hit her, he has his coat in his arms and is out the door.

Emma toddles over to Scully, play food in her hands, and shoves a pretend ice cream cone into Scully’s face. “Heya ice ceam mama.” Scully scoops Emma up and snuggles her close, thinking about how she’ll be rocking her extra long before bed this evening.

Mulder Residence

Friday, April 16 1993

Mulder lays on his couch, tossing and turning for the last hour. His mind is racing, a bullet train speeding down the tracks. Nothing to watch on TV and hell, even his porn couldn’t cut through his feelings this evening. A baby. She’d gotten pregnant and had a baby. His baby. He has a daughter. Fuck, he thinks, I’m not a father. Millions of other thoughts rapidly fly through his mind. He wants to be angry. He wants to rage. He wants to break things from frustration and utter helplessness. But he can’t. He thinks about putting himself in her shoes for a minute, thinking about the situation she was in. No, it wasn’t planned. It was a complete accident. She hadn’t any way to get ahold of him, so what could she have done? Nothing. She did everything right, everything she could do. This situation isn’t her fault. He searches his memories of that night, trying to figure out how it had happened. They were so careful. Other thoughts invaded his brain, like how it had taken him a long time to get her out of his mind. How he had fallen hard for her. But that was then and this is now. They have to work together, in life-and-death situations. They couldn’t afford distractions. Did he want to be a father? Would she let him be a father now that he knows? There are so many questions, questions he doesn’t know the answers to. Does he even want to know the answers to them?

He rolls on his back, the smooth leather of his couch brushing against his skin. Suddenly he feels like a fool for walking out and the thought of waiting until Monday to see her was agonizingly painful. Emotions swell in his chest and he can’t contain himself. Before he registers what he’s doing, he reaches for the phone and dials the now-familiar number.

“Scully,” he hears a muffled voice on the other end. He waits a beat before responding, enamored by the mere sound of her voice.

“Hey Scully, it’s me.” He’s faced with silence from the other end so he continues. “I’m sorry for calling so late, and I’m also sorry for leaving like I did. I know it was abrupt.” He hears her breath hitch.

“It’s okay, Mulder, I understand and if I were in the same situation, I can’t say I wouldn’t have acted the same.”

“I was overcome with shock. Actually, shock isn’t even the right word. Hell, I don’t even know what the right word is. First to see that you have a child and then to find out”

“I,” she cuts him off, but everything she can say seems so inaccurate in what she’s thinking and feeling.

“Look, Scully, I know I said that I would see you Monday, but I was wondering if we could maybe get together this weekend, maybe tomorrow, and talk?” he waits with bated breath for her response, seeing their whole partnership flash before his eyes. It’s only in that minute he realizes that there’s a chance Scully doesn’t want him around her daughter, or even entertain the idea of him being in her life, or Scully’s life outside of work for that matter. Panic begins to bubble up.

“Meet us at the deli on the corner by my apartment tomorrow at, say, noon?” she offers.

“I’ll see you then,” he tells her before she can change her mind, then adds, “Good night, Mulder.”

“Night, Scully.”

[darwin-xf]

Vox Mulder; Ch. 1...

“Scully.”

Usually she answered her home phone with the more customary “Hello.” It had been a long week, though—one of many in a series of long weeks—and she’d yet to slough off her work manners.

“Hey Scully,” Mulder said. “Guess where I am?”

“Let’s see,” she said, making her way into her kitchen. “An hour ago you were next to me finishing up an expense audit. Then I looked up and-Poof!-you were gone. My guess is, the ether.”

“Incorrect.”

“The woodwork?”

“Actually, that’s very close. Didn’t mean to ditch you. You were tied up on the phone and I had an appointment.”

“Not a big deal.” she said. “It *was* five o’clock.” She’d never been one to crack jokes, but she couldn’t resist the occasional opportunity to needle Mulder. She took a water glass down from her cupboard and began running the tap.

“How did it end?” Mulder asked. “I’m breathless. On what did we spend $36.48 in the third fiscal quarter of last year?”

“First aid supplies. Gauze, ace bandages, a finger splint, aspirin, and Tylenol 3.”

“Ah, there’s some memories right there. We should bill the New Spartans. They can withdraw it from their ‘Anarchy & Mayhem’ fund. Assholes.”

“I never got all the details on that.”

“We have our whole lives, Scully. I’ve got to save some material with which to entertain you in our dotage. You don’t want me to start repeating myself.”

She wanted to laugh lightly, but his comment had knocked her off balance. Did he think neither one of them was ever going to retire? She stayed quiet.

“Thanks for finishing up the audit. Those things used to take me weeks to do. BS, that is.”

“BS?”

“Before Scully.”

“Huh. Well, someone has to do it.”

“I was not recruited for my clerical skills.”

“And I was?”

“Of course not, Scully. I’m just trying to thank you.”

Ok then. Scully dropped two ice cubes into her water and untucked her once crisp white dress shirt from her suit skirt, the phone trapped between her ear and shoulder.

“All right, Mulder, I’ll bite. Where are you?”

“Doctor’s office.”

“You feeling ok?” she asked.

“No, but I’m not sick.”

“Who doesn’t love a riddle, Mulder?”

“I’m at Dr. Parenti’s clinic, actually.”

Oh. That doctor’s office. “Great,” Scully said, trying and failing to cover anxiety and awkwardness with cheer. “How did it go? Did he answer your questions?”

“I didn’t have many. You were pretty thorough in letting me know what to expect.”

“Did you complete the paperwork?”

“Earlier this week. It took two hours. Who memorizes the height, build, blood type, and health history of each and every relative? I had to call my mom three times.”

So that was where he’d disappeared to after lunchtime Monday. Not that she’d been keeping tabs. Scully laid her suit jacket carefully over the back of a chair, took a big swig of her water, and collapsed into her sofa.

She was still on light duty between cases, still recovering from her misadventure in New York with Agent Peyton Ritter. Their most recent case, which involved murders where the hearts had been mysteriously and unaccountably extracted from victims’ bodies, had been unusually draining. It had been unsettling in more subtle ways, too.

The irony of light duty was how exhausting it felt to her. The more tedious and meaningless the work, the more it fatigued her. She propped her feet up on the coffee table.

“Did you tell your mom why you were asking?”

“Nah. She didn’t remember much. She’s not all that curious anyway.”

Sounded like his mother. When it came to Teena, Scully had to be careful in Mulder’s company not to telegraph her otherwise open scorn.

“Thanks for taking care of that Mulder. When will you go back to, uh, give a sample?”

“I’m still here. That’s up next.”

“Today?” Scully said, trying to keep the startle out of her voice.

“Time’s a wastin’,” Mulder said.

“Makes sense. You’re there anyway.”

“Yep.”

“Should I, uh, let you get going with that then?” Scully asked. Her voice seemed to have acquired a tiny squeak.

“That’s why I called. Unfortunately, I’ve hit a snag. I’m in one of the donation rooms. Have you ever been back here?”

“No. I’ve only seen the waiting room and the exam room.”

“I gotta admit, I’m not finding the atmosphere especially conducive to the task at hand.”

“So to speak,” she said.

“So to speak.”

“And why not?”

“Where to start? Let me paint you a picture, Scully. A windowless room only slightly larger than the broom closet across the hall from our office. The cheap linoleum flooring is cracked and yellowing. The furniture looks as though it’s been pilfered from a bus station.”

“Molded plastic,” Scully said. “Very chic. I’m sure that’s preferable to upholstery, though, given the purpose of the room?”

“Granted. But wait, there’s more. A pile of tacky magazines on a lopsided end table. There’s a VCR with a couple of lame tapes stacked on top. One of them is actually titled ‘Rockin’ ‘Ricans.’ I’m not normally one to object to porn on grounds of political correctness, but doesn’t that strike you as racist, Scully?”

“It does,” she said.

“Worst of all, there’s a post-it that reads ‘out of order’ over the tape slot.”

“Oh no,” Scully said with genuine concern.

“When I say tacky magazines, not only am I referring to the taste level, but also to the condition. Most of them are dog-eared, dated, and... sort of sticky.”

“Ewww.” Scully didn’t want to reinforce his apprehension, but what a nasty image.

“Not that I’ve touched them.”

“C’mon Mulder, you’ve got intrepid fingers.”

“And how would you know, Scully?”

“What I mean is, I’ve seen you swipe at many a vile looking unidentified oozing substance. Once you even tasted it.”

“That was because I wanted to identify it! Cases don’t solve themselves Scully. It’s part of the work.”

“Okay,” she said. “I hear you.” The volume and timbre of Mulder’s voice tended to serve as a rough metric for his anxiety. He had been particularly serene all week, available for her to lean on in the wake of the Padgett debacle. But his voice had been steadily rising since their conversation began.

“Any oozing substance I’d find in here I sure as hell wouldn’t taste. Not to judge anyone who would.”

“Of course not,” Scully said. Especially if the substance in question was his own, Scully mused. He probably would encourage tasting, in that instance. She was speculating, of course.

“I have my limits.”

“That’s good to know, Mulder. But in my experience, that office has been immaculately clean. Don’t you think they sanitize the donation rooms between, uh, uses?”

“I thought about that. You’re a scientist. How would you go about sanitizing a magazine?”

“Mulder, listen. They gave you a sample cup, right, as they presumably do with the other men? That’s the whole point, if I’m not mistaken. Given that, the magazines should be relatively unscathed.”

“Have you ever seen a toilet seat in a men’s room Scully? Not everyone has good aim. And this cup is tiny. Like it’s been scaled down for the likes of Frohike.”

“Mulder, I’ve come to appreciate the charms of Melvin. But summoning his image in this context has got to be a step in the wrong direction.”

“Good point.”

“Unless there’s something between the two of you I should know about?”

“Funny stuff, Scully,” he said humorlessly. “And why did they put this room next to the staff break room? Separated by more of a divider than an actual wall, no less. The microwave chimes every few minutes and the whole place smells like scalded cup-o-soup with an undersmell of rubbing alcohol. The combination is nauseating.”

Undersmell? He certainly was overstimulated. Just not in the way he needed to be.

“As we speak, I can hear the nurses laughing uproariously. I can’t get the idea out of my head that they’ve carved a peephole and are watching my pathetic attempts. Just for yuks.”

“Are you, um, attempting, right now?” Scully said, trying to mask her alarm.

“No! Jesus Scully. I’m complaining. And pacing. Which ain’t easy given the cramped confines.” Then, glumly: “I gave it a shot a few minutes ago and got nowhere.”

“Look Mulder…”

“You want to know the very worst feature of this room?”

“Why not?” She said.

“They pipe in muzak, allegedly to relax you. Also to drown out the buzz of fluorescent lights and the heckling nurses, I suppose. I ask you Scully: What kind of pervert would enjoy jerking off to Pachelbel's Canon in D minor?”

Oh no. When that big bad beautiful brain of his got moving in the wrong direction, it could be a challenge to slow the roll. Scully tore her own mind from contemplating Newton’s First Law of Motion and how it could be applied to non-corporeal processes. He needed help.

[atths--twice]

Art in All Its Forms

Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, neighbors and friends, find that they each have been wanting more and this Christmas they will get all they have wished for.

Fox heard the slow jingle of the bells on her shoes and he smiled. Putting his paintbrush down onto the easel, he walked to the door and opened it just as Dana reached the top step. Sighing as she looked up at him, her long puffy coat lying over her arm, she took off her Santa hat and shook her head. 

“How you doing?” he asked, though he could see the answer on her face. 

“I keep telling myself: It’s only three more days. You can make it. But then, I think… ugh, it’s three more days and I don’t know if I can.” 

“You can,” he said with a chuckle. “You want to come in for a drink?” 

“God, I would love that,” she answered and walked into his apartment. 

He stared at the back of her, at the silly elf costume she had been wearing for the past three weeks, and he smiled. She might slap him for it, but he thought she looked absolutely adorable in the costume, especially the drawn on freckles decorating her face and the wide-eyed look created by her eye makeup. 

She was simply adorable. 

“What would you like? Pick your poison.” 

“Whatever you have will be fine with me,” she said as she took off the backpack she wore and dropped it and her coat onto the floor. Collapsing onto the couch with a heavy sigh, she tossed her Santa hat onto the coffee table. 

“Sure you don’t have any preference?” 

“Nah, I don’t care.” 

In the kitchen, he poured them each a small glass of scotch, bringing it out to her as she yawned and settled further into the couch. 

“Thank you,” she said softly, taking the glass from him, sitting back again, and closing her eyes. “Today was rough. Two kids threw up, causing others to gag and throw up. It was so disgusting, I nearly vomited.” She took a sip of the scotch and made a face, coughing a little. 

“Is it too much?” 

“No, it’s fine. It’s just me.” She coughed again before she took another sip, able to keep from coughing this time. “See, no problem.” He laughed and sat in the chair beside her, watching her drinking with her eyes closed. 

Her long red hair was in two braids tonight and tied at the end with candy cane striped bows. She had her feet up on the coffee table, her jingly shoes off, her stockinged toes wiggling. 

“If I didn’t need the money, I would quit tonight. But a girl’s gotta eat, right?” she said with a sigh. 

“And pay the bills and the rent,” he replied, his lips quirking up in a smile. 

“Don’t remind me,” she whined. She opened her eyes and stared at him. “Why is being an adult so difficult? And expensive?” 

“That’s life, Toots,” he said and she groaned, closing her eyes again as she took another sip of her drink. 

“You know,” she said with a sigh. “I can handle the kids. I can handle the screaming and crying because they’re over stimulated, over warm, doing something different in an unknown environment so they’re bound to cry and kick up a fuss. But the parents…” She shook her head and opened her eyes again. “Especially the moms. Some of them are the absolute worst. They talk as if we aren’t there or they do see us and demand more for their sitting because little Timmy deserves more than “that tacky backdrop. Don’t you have something else to choose from?” Bitch, this is the North Pole. We’re in Santa’s workshop office. That’s the fucking scene.” She waved her hand around in exasperation and Fox chuckled as she shook her head. 

“That was way too specific. Did that happen today too?” 

“Yesterday,” she said, sighing deeply. “Patricia didn’t feel that it was good enough for her children. “Everyone else has that backdrop. It will be in everyone’s picture. What can you do to make mine stand out? I’ll pay more. Money is no object.” I was about ready to scream at her, but her children were so excited to see Santa, I couldn’t ruin that for them.” 

“You’re an elf, of course you couldn’t,” he said and she smiled as she took another drink. “Did you also tell her that it’s not a backdrop or something interchangeable, but it’s a scene specifically set up to create an atmosphere of Christmas?” 

“Pfft,” she said, shaking her head. “You think she would have heard any of that? That she would have cared? She’s Patricia Draper.” 

“Who’s that?” he asked with a smile. 

“How the fuck should I know?!” she asked, throwing a hand up in the air as he laughed. She shook her head and took another drink. “But… as much as it’s bad, it’s good. I love to see the excitement in the children’s eyes when they get closer. Watch them jump up and down or dance with happiness. I love to see the older ones telling their siblings about when they were little and seeing Santa for the first time. I love the shy children who perk up and tell Santa what they want for Christmas. And oh…” She shook her head and smiled. “The babies…” 

“Babies?” 

“Mmhmm. They’re my favorite. The little girls dressed in velvet dresses or as angels. The boys in little suits with bow ties or suspenders. Oh my god… one little boy had both and it was just… so adorable.” She smiled as her eyes saw things he could not and he smiled back. “Paul, I mean Santa, is so good with all of them. He’s gentle and slow and talks to them quietly. He’s the best Santa. He really seems like the real deal.” 

“What are you saying right now?” Fox said in a quiet voice. “Are you saying he’s not the real Santa? I’m… I can’t… What?!” 

“Shut up,” she said, tossing a couch pillow at him. He caught it and she shook her head. “You knew what I meant.”

“Maybe.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed, nodding as she looked down at her drink. Raising it to her lips, she finished it in one gulp. Breathing in deeply, she let it out and placed the glass on the coffee table as she stood up and stretched. “I need to bathe, eat something, and go to bed. Maybe eat first, but those three things. I’m exhausted. Thanks for the drink and letting me vent. I’ll get my jingle toes out of here now.” 

“You’re welcome,” he said, standing as well and picking up her Santa hat. “Don’t forget this.” She stared at him and he smiled as he placed it on her head, laying the pointed bit down with the white pom pom beside her left ear. “Ahh, there we go.” 

“Three more days,” she breathed, closing her eyes. “Just three more days.” 

“Nearly there,” he said and she sighed as she opened her eyes. 

Putting on her shoes, she picked up her backpack and coat and walked towards the door, her shoes jingling with every step. 

She opened the door and stepped through it with another sigh. She walked to her apartment directly across from his, stopped at her door, and turned around. 

“Will you do me a favor?” she asked and he nodded. “Can you call me in thirty minutes to make sure I haven’t fallen asleep in the tub?” 

“Sure,” he said with a chuckle. 

“I’m just so tired.” 

“Setting the timer now,” he said and she nodded. 

“Good man. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Jingle Toes.” 

She smiled and shook a leg as she unlocked the door and he chuckled again. She waved as she closed the door and he did the same.  

Setting a timer on his phone, he called her when it rang and she answered with a sleepy voice, promising him her bath was done and she was going to eat and sleep. 

“Thank you for calling though,” she said, yawning as he heard the fridge opening and closing. 

“Thanks for asking.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed and he smiled. 

“Goodnight again, JT,” he teased and she laughed softly. 

“Night.” 

_____________

Glancing at his watch, he waited at the door for the sound of Dana leaving for work, a tumbler of coffee held in his hands. When he heard her, he let out a breath and opened his own door. 

“Good morning,” he said softly as she turned and began walking towards him. 

“It’s morning. That’s for sure,” she said, putting her keys in the pocket of her long puffy coat. “I’m still tired, but the walk will definitely wake me up.” 

“If it doesn’t, this might help,” he said, offering her the tumbler. “Dark roast, teaspoon of sugar, cinnamon flavored cream added until it reached a light tan color.” 

“You fabulous human being,” she said, taking the cup from him and taking a long sniff. “God, it smells delicious.” She took a sip and moaned as her eyes closed. “It’s perfect.” 

“Good. That should help you this morning.” 

“Better than the coffee at the diner.” 

“Obviously,” he agreed with a snort and she laughed through her nose as she opened her eyes and took another drink. “So today you’ll be at the diner, then onto being an elf?” 

“Yup,” she said with a nod. “Got my costume in my backpack. What about you? You’re at the art gallery today?” 

“I will be later, yeah. Gotta help at the exhibition tonight and then tomorrow morning, I’ll start setting up for mine.” 

“I’m so excited to see what you’ve done this time. The last show was great. I loved the wildflower painting you did. Every time I looked at it that night, I felt like I was in the field amongst the flowers.” She closed her eyes, smiling as she swayed slightly. “Like I was a small fairy or an animal with the beautiful flowers surrounding me.” 

“With those jingle bells on your shoes, you’d have fit right in as a fairy for sure,” he teased and she opened her eyes, her smile growing as she shook her backpack and the shoes inside of it jingled faintly. “See? Tinkerbell herself would approve.” She smiled and nodded as she took another sip of coffee. 

“Okay. My jingle toes and fairy wings have to get going. I won’t see you tonight, but good luck with your endeavors today. Thank you for the coffee.” She tipped the tumbler at him and he smiled with a nod. 

“You’re most welcome. Enjoy your day.” 

“I shall aim to do my best, but there’s people out there.” She raised her eyebrows and he laughed with a nod. “Thank you again. See you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah,” he said with a nod as she started towards the stairs. “Tomorrow.” She waved as she walked down the stairs, humming We Wish You A Merry Christmas. With another laugh, he went inside to get ready for his day. 

______________

He missed her the next morning, his night running late. When he opened his eyes and saw it was already half past nine, he jumped out of bed, his heart and mind racing. 

Tomorrow was his showing and he felt that he still had so much to do. Taking a quick shower, he was getting dressed when he looked at his phone for the first time. There were two messages from Dana and he grinned when he saw them. 

One was a gif of a tired little girl not wanting to wake up and he understood how she felt. 

The other message had him hurrying to the door. 

Good morning. I came home exhausted and then had a second wind. I got a craving for cranberry oatmeal muffins and so I made some before I crashed for the night. I left some for you on your doorstep, along with your travel tumbler. Alas, there is no coffee inside, but it is clean. Hope the muffins help to sustain you through the day. See you tonight? 🤞🏼

Opening his door, he saw a paper lunch bag inside of a plastic bag sitting on his welcome mat. He grinned as he picked it up and brought it inside. 

“Oh…” he exclaimed when he saw the four muffins had thin strips of white icing crisscrossed along the top. He took a bite and closed his eyes as he hummed. “Delicious. Absolutely delicious.” 

Filling his tumbler with coffee, he set it and a muffin aside as he finished getting ready. 

As he was leaving, he sent a quick text of thanks, knowing it would be awhile before she saw it. The diner was always busy, but especially early in the morning. 

Thanks for the muffins. They’re delicious. Exactly what I needed for today. 

I’ll be home late tonight. If you’re up for some company, I’m game. I’ll text you when I’m home. If I don’t hear back, I’ll know you’ve succumbed to the mistress we call sleep. Either way, I’ll definitely see you tomorrow evening. 🎨🖼️

Smiling as he pressed send, he grabbed his things and headed out the door. 

________________

“Fox?” 

“Yes?” 

“Could I steal you away for a moment?” 

“Of course.”

He smiled as he stepped away from the painting he had just hung up and turned to Marilee Miles, the owner of the small art gallery in which his exhibit would take place. 

She was “dressed down” for the day, as she liked to say, in a flowing aqua floral kaftan, her graying hair tied in a silky matching bandana. Her many golden bangles sounded as she walked around in her black ballet flats. She was a character and he really liked her. 

“What can I help you with, Marilee?” 

“I just wanted to double check your guest list. You only have one person on it. You can invite more you know. However many you like,” she said, looking down at the clipboard she held. “In fact, it’s the same person you had last time. Just the one?” 

“I don’t really have others close by. And honestly, she’s the only one I really want. The opinion I hold highest.” He smiled and Marilee looked at him over her half moon glasses. “Not that I don’t value your opinion, Marilee. It’s not that at all.” He shook his head and she smiled. 

“Of course not, dear boy,” she said with a chuckle, shaking her head and causing the large gold earrings she was wearing to move. “I know what you mean. I just wanted to be sure that you knew you could have more people if you’d like.” 

“I’m good with just her.” 

“Hmm,” Marilee hummed, writing something down on her clipboard. “Okay. She’s on the list. Stop by my office before you leave, okay?” 

“You got it.” 

Marilee nodded and smiled at him. Glancing at the artwork in her sight, she nodded again. 

“I really like these. You did so well with them.” 

“Thank you,” he said. “I enjoyed working on them.” 

“My office. Don’t forget.” 

“I won’t.” 

______________

Later than he had anticipated, he made his way up the stairs. He was tired, but very happy with how everything had come together. Tomorrow evening would be busy, but he felt confident that he would both enjoy his time and sell many of his paintings. 

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Marilee had said when they left and she had been locking up. “People tend to feel more giving on Christmas Eve. Exactly why I planned it that way. You make money, I make money. It’s a win-win.” 

“It is at that,” he had laughed and she had smiled. “See you tomorrow, Marilee.” 

“Merry Christmas Eve Eve, dear boy. See you tomorrow.” 

He smiled and then yawned as he reached the last step. Glancing at Dana’s door, he tapped the envelope he held in his hand against his other hand and debated approaching her door. He had said he would text her when he got home and she had sent back a screen effect of thumbs up emojis hours ago, but nothing since. 

He knew she was tired from working two jobs, but he also wanted to see her. Deciding on leaving her undisturbed, he walked quietly to her door, bent down and pushed the envelope through the small space between floor and door. 

Standing up, he walked to his door and waited for a second, watching to see if she would happen to see the envelope. When nearly a minute had passed, he unlocked his door and walked inside. 

_________ 

A soft knock woke him and he was surprised to discover that he had fallen asleep on the couch. Standing up, he groaned as he stretched and then yawned as he stumbled to the door. 

Dana stood on the other side of it, a smile on her face, her backpack on the ground behind her, and a gift wrapped in shiny green paper held in her hands. 

“Merry Christmas Eve,” she said and he smiled before yawning again. “However, this particular gift isn’t for Christmas. This is a happy exhibition day gift. You’ll get your other gift tomorrow on Christmas.” 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said, taking the slim box from her and shaking his head. 

“I don’t wanna hear that. Of course I did. We’re friends, neighbors, confidants… People like that deserve a gift,” she said, fiddling with the zipper on her coat and rolling her eyes goodnaturedly. “This gift is a little…“wish you luck” present.” She shrugged and he nodded as he smiled. 

“Should I open it now?” 

“Uh… duh. Why do you think I’m still standing here? Rip that sucker open!” 

He laughed as he ripped the paper off the box and let it fall to the floor to be picked up later. Lifting the lid of the white box, he then pulled back the red tissue paper and his eyes widened. 

“Dana,” he said softly as he looked at the black tie with small white snowflakes. “This is… wait… what? Are these…?” 

“They’re cufflinks,” she said quietly. “Are they too much?” 

“No,” he said, taking one of the silver cufflinks out and looking at it. It was a palette with seven small spots for paint and three paint brushes stuck through the center. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. Where did you…” He looked at her and saw that her cheeks had become flushed and she was worrying the zipper on her coat again. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been working extra to pay for these or for the tie. I-”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve been working extra simply to get ahead for the new year. I found those at the market on Third Street back in September. I was going to give them to you for your birthday, but since by then I knew you were doing the exhibit, I thought I would wait and they would be more fitting for today.” 

“I’ve never owned a pair of cufflinks.” 

“Never?” 

“No,” he said with a smile. 

“I know they’re usually more… reserved. But…” 

“Reserved wouldn’t fit for me.” 

“No,” she agreed with a laugh. “No, it wouldn’t.” 

“I…” He shook his head and looked at her. “Thank you. Truly. That…” He put the cufflink back and closed the box. Holding it tightly, he stepped closer and put his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. 

It was not the first time he had hugged her, but it had definitely been awhile. He had forgotten how petite she truly was, her winter clothing hiding it well. She smelled like coconut and he smiled at the memory of her smelling the same when she had come over for a barbecue one hot summer night and she had danced past him on the way to the fridge to get each of them another beer. 

He had discovered that night that he really liked the scent of coconut. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he held her. “I really love them.” 

“You’re welcome,” she whispered back, her arms wrapped around his waist. “I hadn’t even planned to go to the market that day, but something was nagging at me to go. When I saw those I knew why.” 

“Fated,” he said with a quiet chuckle, pulling back and looking into her eyes. 

“Something like that,” she agreed, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Hmm,” he hummed, reaching up to brush a strand of hair off of her cheek. 

Her expression changed immediately and he felt her arms on his waist tighten. His eyes dropped to her lips and the desire to kiss her was overwhelming. 

But then her phone chimed and the moment was broken. She let go of him to get it from her pocket, her breath shaky as she exhaled. 

“I… I have to go. I set a timer for myself to be sure I left on time. The diner waits for no man. Or woman,” she said, silencing her phone. 

“Smart,” he said. She glanced at him and he smiled. “Hey, it’s your last day as an elf. Oh… I should have gotten you something.” 

“Turning the costume in at the end of my shift later will be gift enough for me,” she said, picking up her backpack and putting it on. “I’ve enjoyed and hated it equally. I’ll be so glad when I’m finally a free elf.” 

“Goodbye Jingle Toes. Hello Dobby,” he teased and she laughed. 

“Just about. Okay, I have to go. Not quite free yet, but in about thirteen hours… oh yeah. I’m glad you like your gifts.” 

“I love them,” he corrected her and she nodded. 

“I’ll see you later. Hopefully not too far into the evening. Bye,” she said with a wave and a smile. 

“Bye,” he said as she walked towards the stairs. 

“Oh,” she said, stopping on the top step, her eyes on her hand holding onto the railing. “Thank you for the invitation you dropped off last night. I know you had already asked and I am going, but it was a beautiful invitation and there’s something about being addressed as Miss Scully and knowing that I’ll be out at a fancy art gallery later this evening.” She looked at him and smiled. “It feels so grown up. And in a much better way than paying bills and rent.” 

“There'll also be free booze there,” he said, grinning at her. 

“Holy shit. I’m pretty sure you failed to mention that. I’m gonna be there as soon as humanly possible. No hanging around after elf hours.” 

“Good plan,” he said with a chuckle. “Thank you again for the gifts. See you later.” 

“Goodbye, Fox.”

“Bye, Dana.” 

He waved and she smiled as she continued down the stairs. He waited until she was out of sight before he picked up the paper from the floor and walked back inside.

__________________

The gallery was full of people, most of them from the wealthier parts of town, looking to find some new art for the holidays. They were dressed to the nines and in his new suit with the snowflake tie Dana had given him, knotted extra carefully, he felt as though he could almost pass as one of them. 

He felt inside the sleeve of his jacket and ran a finger over the cufflink and he smiled. Others there may have ones that cost more, but in his opinion, the ones Dana had given him were priceless. 

“Fox,” Marilee said, walking up to him with a glass of champagne in her hand. “Mr. Loen would like to speak to you about one of your paintings.” 

“Oh, great,” he said and she slipped her arm through his to lead him to said Mr. Loen. 

“He has his eye on Lincoln Street but so does Mrs. Sweets and I’ve never not seen that woman get what she wanted,” Marilee told him conspiratorially. “We’re about to up the ante.” 

“Let’s see what we can do,” he said quietly, nodding at a few people as they walked by. 

After he had spoken to Mr. Loen, which had drawn Mrs. Sweets over, prompting a bidding match which Mr. Loen had graciously bowed out from once his wife had called for him to see another painting, Fox stepped away to let Marilee handle the monetary transactions. 

He scanned the room, still not seeing Dana. He knew she would be later than the prompt start of seven, but it was nearly eight now and he was getting worried. 

As he glanced around, he turned and looked twice at the woman standing in front of his second favorite painting. She was wearing a short sleeved black dress that cinched at the waist with a thin belt and fell just below her knees and black heels that were past their fashion date, but looked perfect with her dress. Her red hair was done up in an elaborate looking knot that had a careless ease about it. 

“Dana?” he asked as he stepped closer and she turned around with a smile on her face. 

“Fox,” she said quietly, walking towards him and looking him up and down before she put her arms around his neck and hugged him. He closed his eyes briefly as he hugged her back, both of them letting go quickly. 

Two hugs in one day, he thought. I could get used to that.

“You look beautiful,” he said and she flushed as she gestured to him. 

“The tie suits you well. I didn’t want it to be too much of a design, but just enough.”

“You achieved it,” he said, smoothing his tie as she smiled. 

“And you have achieved this,” she said, looking around the room. “These are all so beautiful. I’ve seen some of them, or at least as works in progress, but…” She shook her head and smiled as she looked back at the painting behind her. “It’s the market, but at Christmas time.” 

“Yeah,” he said, looking at the painting. 

“It’s beautiful. Truly beautiful. The way you’ve captured the people and the stalls. The fairy lights. That one little girl with the ornament. The color of the sky. Oh… I love it.” 

“As much as the wildflower painting?” he teased and she laughed softly. 

“I don’t feel like a fairy holding on in the breeze, but it makes me feel warm and safe. Like… I’m a kid and the entire world is all at this one market. My own little corner of the world.” 

He smiled as he placed a hand on her back and he leaned closer to her, placing a kiss on her cheek. She looked at him in surprise, her eyes wide. 

“Thank you. I don’t think I could have been paid a higher compliment,” he said. 

“Oh, I’m sure… I’m sure someone could put it more eloquently.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” he whispered and even in the soft light, he saw her cheeks flush. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest.” He held out his hand and even though she appeared hesitant, she took it and he led her around the gallery. 

She sighed and gasped, stayed quiet, or had a lot to say about the different paintings, a glass of champagne held in her hand. So many other people had told him how they enjoyed his paintings, but her opinion was all that mattered to him. He loved experiencing what he created through her eyes, to discover the details that stood out to her. 

“Sold another,” Marilee said, coming up behind him and placing a red dot sticker on the wall beside First Snowfall. “It’s going so well.”

“Yeah,” he replied with a happy nod. 

“Hello again, Dana,” Marilee said, smiling at Dana. “You look very elegant tonight. I love your hair.” 

“Thank you,” Dana said. “A girl at work did it for me.” 

“It suits you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to grab some more red stickers.” She winked at them and Dana laughed. 

“I like her,” she said and Fox smiled. 

“Me too.” 

“Any more to see?” 

“A few more,” he said and she nodded, setting her empty glass down and taking his hand, gesturing for him to continue on. 

When they came around the corner of the last painting, his heart stopped beating for a second. 

“Oh that’s… I… wait…” She stepped closer, dropping his hand and letting out a breath. “It’s me… but not me me. Oh… Fox.” 

A coffee table took up a large portion of the painting. The point of view was from the front of it where a discarded Santa hat was on top of it as well as a pair of small striped stockinged feet, crossed at the ankle. There were also tiny little elves painted throughout doing day-to-day activities as though unfazed by the large world around them. 

Two elves were laughing, a male and female, and a barbecue with two steaks cooking on it stood between them. The male was alone and painting at an easel. The two were sitting on a couch with a bowl of popcorn on each of their laps, obviously watching a movie. The female stood wearing an apron and holding a notepad in one hand and a pencil in another. The two sat at a counter eating pie straight from the pie tin. The two sat on a different couch, the female asleep with her head on the male's shoulder. 

“It’s… is it… us?” Dana asked, turning her head to look at him. “The barbecue this summer, you painting, me at the diner, the pie from your birthday, Fox…” 

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s us. And your stockinged feet above us.” 

“It’s…” She laughed and then drew in a shaky breath, a hand going to her mouth. “You painted us… as elves. We look so happy. I love the barbecue one. That was a fun day. We…” She looked at him and he watched her eyes travel across his face, stopping at his lips before looking back into his eyes. “I went home that day and I thought… maybe we’d… but then…” She shook her head and looked back at the painting. 

“I’m terrible at expressing myself sometimes,” he said, stepping closer to her. “I loved… love spending time with you and I didn’t want to chance that ending if you… if we…” He shook his head and sighed. “I thought I was happy enough with being friends and then you came home wearing that elf costume and you laughed and laughed and I… Jesus…” He shook his head again and stared at her. “I wished I could have expressed it to you. But that night, I started sketching this out. It was… the fastest painting I’ve ever done. It felt like someone else was painting as I watched and told them what I wanted. I remembered the heat of summer and the scent of your coconut sunscreen when I painted the barbecue elves. The way you screamed and spilled your popcorn when we watched Signs. The taste of the apple pie you made for me. I wanted to include more, but these moments in particular were the ones when I wished I’d been bolder. Been more assertive in speaking up. Because if I had, maybe…” 

“Maybe what?” Dana asked, tears shining in her eyes. 

“Maybe I would have…” he said, stepping closer, his eyes dropping to her lips. 

“You would have…?” she whispered, leaning towards him, her hands landing lightly on his chest. 

“I would have kissed you,” he whispered, his mouth hovering over hers. 

“Could have done a lot more than that,” she breathed and he paused, pulling back to look at her, but she was not having it. Her hand went to the back of his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his, her other arm joining the first. 

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Fox heard Marilee say and he and Dana quickly pulled apart. “I truly hate to interrupt but…” She grinned at them and shook her head. “Fuck it, it’s Christmas Eve. I’ll give you five minutes, but then you need to speak to everyone and thank them for coming out tonight. Five minutes and then you’re free to do whatever you like.” 

“Yes, Marilee,” Fox said, grinning as he took Dana’s hand and pulled her away from the gallery showroom. 

Five minutes later, the taste of Dana’s kisses on his slightly swollen lips, he stood before the room of people and spoke, though he remembered nothing that he said. He only saw Dana and her beautiful smile. 

They held hands as they walked home through the recently fallen snow an hour later, her heels switched for the boots in her backpack. When they trudged up the stairs, she tugged him towards her apartment, her smile suddenly shy. 

He kissed her, pressing her against the door, both of them breathing hard when they pulled apart and she managed to get the door open to let them inside. 

“It’s a shame that painting sold,” she said later, her head on his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair. “I feel like this moment should be added to it.” 

“I can do that,” he said, kissing the top of her head. 

“How?” she asked, leaning up to look at him. 

“Because no one bought it. Marilee put that sticker beside it to make it seem like it was purchased. It’s your Christmas present,” he said, smiling at her as he brushed her hair back. 

She smiled as she leaned forward to kiss him and ended up astride him, his hands holding lightly to her naked waist, her breasts pulling his attention like a magnet. 

“How risqué are you willing to paint it?” she asked. “Would our elf selves painted to look like this be going too far?” 

“Absolutely not,” he said, one hand moving up to cup her breast. “Or I could paint something new. You could be my model.” 

“No elf costume?” she teased and he smiled. 

“No more elf costume. You are freeee,” he said and she threw her head back and laughed and laughed. 

[cecilysass]

The Boy on the Beach (2/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging@today-in-fic

Chapter 2: Touchstone, With Casserole

Four Weeks Before Scully Vanishes 1999 Alexandria, Virginia She came to his apartment that day to check in on him, cradling a casserole dish of warm rigatoni in her arms, a baguette tucked under her elbow. She was there to show her care with a home cooked meal, the way her mother had taught her. Or so went the story she told herself.

That day, Scully wasn’t wearing black. That day, her shirt was soft and light blue, like sky, like open sea. Her face was still browned and freckled from her time in the sun on the beach in the Cote d’ Ivoire.

“You’re kidding. A casserole?” he crowed with delight, eyes on the pan, stepping aside to let her in. “I really must have been close to death, because she decided it went beyond takeout.”

“It’s not that exciting,” Scully said, flushing a little. “It’s rigatoni.”

Mulder took the pan from her, making a point of inhaling it dramatically. “It smells amazing. And … this is an actual casserole pan? You own a casserole pan?”

“I’m Maggie Scully’s daughter,” Scully said. “Of course I own a freaking casserole pan.”

Mulder laughed at that, and she felt her face bloom into a smile, too. He still had the bandage swaddling his skull, of course, but he looked very good, considering: well-rested, dressed, freshly-shaved. As he moved into his kitchen carrying the rigatoni, she followed him, trying to visually assess the state of the gauze around his head. Did it look clean, well-tended?

“You’re staying for dinner, right?” he said. “Two plates? Two glasses?”

“No wine,” Scully said. “You shouldn’t drink.”

“I know, Doc,” Mulder said, rolling his eyes. “I’m a model brain surgery recovery patient.”

“If that’s true, I’d find it very surprising.”

“Just serving up water tonight,” he said lightly. “Hey, it’s good you’re staying to eat. I have something I want to run by you. Something I’ve been thinking about.”

Scully, edging past him in the kitchen, found a cutting board and began slicing the baguette, her face composed. “Sounds pretty serious,” she said. “It’s always dangerous to give you time at home.”

“Oh, Scully,” Mulder said, nudging her with his hip. “You know I can be dangerous wherever I am.”

“Right,” she nodded, concealing a smile. “So what’s on your mind?”

“Is that a brain surgery joke?”

“Absolutely not.” Scully shot him a look.

“It’s … just a project I think will be perfect for getting me back into the swing of things at the office.”

She stopped cutting for a moment, her eyes on the bread. “This is about work?” she said.

He huffed a little laugh. “What else, Scully? This is me we’re talking about. I’ve got to get back to the calling.”

“Right,” she said, resuming her slicing, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

*** They ate the rigatoni and bread off plates on their laps sitting on his couch, the same place they had eaten countless dinners from takeout containers and pizza boxes.

Mulder finished speeding through his second helping— his appetite, apparently, having recovered nicely— and placed the plate on the coffee table. He stretched back on the sofa, folded his hands behind his bandaged head, and fixed his eyes at a point on the wall.

Scully, feeling something coming, continued to eat her dinner and waited, her eyes trained on him.

“So you know, Scully, I had these … visions while I was in surgery,” he said, as though he were considering where to begin.

“You mentioned,” Scully replied. “Of choosing another life. A more comfortable life, where you had your sister.”

“I was married to Diana in that life,” he added. “We even had children. We lived in some perfect suburban neighborhood, where everyone knew everyone else. Almost like the Falls at Arcadia.”

Scully placed her fork on her plate very slowly, very carefully, so that it made no sound.

Belatedly, Mulder seemed to realize that this might be a delicate topic. “You have to understand that it was all a lie, Scully. It was meant to be a lie. Not my real path.”

But it was meant to be a beautiful lie, Scully thought. A temptation. Something you should not choose, but that you desperately want. Not this fate you have ended up with. Not this damaged partner.

She quickly blinked her eyes to keep Mulder from noticing any involuntary telltale evidence of her reaction, but he wasn’t watching her anyway.

“There was another part to the vision, too,” Mulder said. “It was just me on a beach, watching a little boy building something in the sand. I keep thinking about this part of the vision, because I think it’s harder to interpret, and I think it means something important.”

“What little boy?” Scully said. She cleared her throat. “Did you know him?”

“No,” Mulder said. “I didn’t. Although he did ... feel familiar. His project in the sand kept getting destroyed by the sea. And I told him he could rebuild it. In the end, I realized the little boy was building a giant spaceship.”

“A boy on a beach,” Scully repeated. She studied his face. “What do you think it meant?”

“Children in dreams and visions normally represent our own pasts, the parts of us that are still children,” Mulder said. “It could mean that for me -- you know understanding my past is so important to me. But then I got a call from a scientist, Scully, and I realized ... the child might represent something more specific, something relevant to what this man studies.”

Scully shifted in her seat, suddenly restless and uncomfortable. She knew what was coming, and she was trying not to feel despair. Some outsider offering Mulder some magical hope. Another sparkly white whale.

“His name is Dr. Simeon Hays,” Mulder said. “Neurobiology department at University of California at Berkeley. And he says, Scully, that he can make it possible that an investigator can go into someone’s mind and revisit their memories.”

*** It was clear that Mulder adored Simeon Hays. It was, he said, the freakiest research on the brain out there.

“You’ll love it, too,” he told Scully. “So much of what we have taken to be ‘supernatural’ in origin he says we can understand just through a better conception of the poorly understood areas of our brains. So much of what the artifact brought out in my own brain activity.”

Scully was trying, she really was. She could tell Mulder wanted her curiosity, at least, if not her enthusiasm.

“Let me guess,” Scully said. “His work would help explain everything in the X-files.”

“Not everything, but yes, a great deal of it,” Mulder said earnestly. “And he thinks if his lab works with the F.B.I., we can pioneer a kind of investigative technique that allows a law enforcement officer to revisit a crime scene in someone’s mind, mentally, psychically, and observe a crime in the past. Imagine the potential. You can see who the perp is firsthand and search for relevant evidence.”

“Time travel,” Scully said, scowling. “Or telepathy?”

“Both,” Mulder said. “Sort of. I can show you the work, Scully. I’ll come in Monday and show you the slide show.”

“No work for you yet,” Scully said firmly.

“I might as well recover sitting in the basement as sitting at home, right? You’re a doctor. I’m actually safer with you.”

“When is your next follow up, Mulder?” Scully said. “What has your doctor been saying about inflammation?”

“I’m healing well,” he said, his eyes soft and pleading. “Scully, I need a project.”

Don’t need a project, she begged internally. Stay home. I will stay with you, tuck you into bed, lie beside you, and check your head for infection until I can breathe easy again.

“You shouldn’t be working on a case yet,” Scully insisted. “Skinner won’t agree.”

“It’s not a case,” Mulder replied. “It’s an experimental investigative technique with relevance to the X-files. Skinner agreed we could look into it.”

Scully slumped down a little on the sofa, feeling defeated, betrayed by Skinner.

“Tell me. What do you know about hyperthymesia?” Mulder said, standing up, starting to pace.

“Is there anything I can do to stop this, Mulder? Anything at all?”

“Hyperthymesia?” he said. “From the Greek roots hyper, meaning excessive, and thymesia, memory.”

“It’s the ability to recall the details of one’s own life with an unusual degree of accuracy,” Scully sighed, reluctantly. “Not to remember details from an image, say, as in an eidetic memory, but specifically the chronology of your own life.”

“Precisely.” He smiled at her, delighted, and her stomach flipped in a way it really shouldn’t. It really, really, shouldn’t.

This had always been one of her favorite versions of Mulder: Mulder presenting the facts. Brimming with energy and wit and anecdote and flirtatious riposte.

Mulder with fast-blinking bright eyes. Mulder with some carefully-curated slide show of curiosities. Mulder slyly tracking her every word, her every expression. It was the first version of Mulder she met, in the basement, back when neither of them understood the significance of the pattern they were setting.

It was also, probably, the happiest version of Mulder. And it also suggested intriguing clues as to what he might be like as a lover. Eager. Endearing. Engaging. Hyper attentive. Mulder in bed, Mulder as someone’s besotted boyfriend or spouse -- a possibly even happier version of Mulder, she thought speculatively.

Was it wrong that Scully had hoped she might see that Mulder? That she was frustrated that the slide show seemed stuck, that it couldn’t quite advance?

Perhaps that was the version of himself he saw living in his dream, married to a woman who was not Scully—a woman who was now dead, she realized. Perhaps that version of Mulder was dead now, too.

“What is the difference, Scully, between revisiting a memory and actually traveling back into the past?”

“I would say it’s a considerable difference,” she said. “It’s the difference between perception of an experience and having an actual experience, which is significant.”

Mulder nodded, a little smile, as if he expected this answer. He picked up a baseball from the desk, and he began tossing it in the air.

“Hays has been studying people with extreme hyperthymesia,” he said. “These are people whose recall of events go beyond even the impressive recall of typical hyperthymesia.”

“How so?”

“With typical hyperthymesia, a person might remember what she ate for lunch fifteen years ago, and what time her doctor’s appointment was on June 2, 1989. But Hays’ subjects, with this extreme hyperthymesia, could also remember the people they passed on the street that day. What other items were on the menu at the restaurant. What songs were playing on the radio in the waiting room.”

“That sounds more like eidetic memory,” Scully commented.

“No, it’s more like telepathy,” Mulder said, throwing the baseball up triumphantly and catching it. “Telepathy with the past!”

“I assume that isn’t a technical neurological term.”

“When these extreme hyperthymesia patients are recalling a memory, the same parts of their brains are activated as … me, when I was Mr. Mind Reader,” Mulder said. “And documented psychics and telepaths. This extreme hyperthymesia is somehow related to telepathic ability.”

Scully frowned. She was imagining Mulder’s hopes for this all too clearly.

“So you can imagine, Scully—a person with this capability who was in the vicinity of a crime, who could be used as a witness? That person could be asked to call up memories to observe details, people present, cars parked in the area, whatever you want.”

“Mulder, I thought typical hyperthymesia was fairly rare,” Scully said. “Fewer than one hundred known cases.”

“That’s right,” Mulder said, smiling charmingly. He tossed the baseball again.

“Let’s assume for a moment the science on Hays’s theory checks out,” Scully said. “How does this play out realistically for an actual investigation? We would need to employ the services of someone with this extreme hyperthymesia, which I assume is even rarer?”

“No,” Mulder said. “This is the genius part. Hays thinks he can activate, using mild electric stimulus, this region of the brain in anyone. So a brave FBI agent and a witness together could enter into that person’s memories, and could see the scene of the crime themselves.”

Scully said nothing. She ran her hand over the scratchy surface of the patterned blanket that always sat at the end of Mulder’s couch.

“It’s at least interesting, isn’t it?” Mulder said. “Worth looking into?”

“Of course,” Scully said. “So long as we take it slow. And your expectations are low.”

There was a pause. It was obviously too late for keeping expectations low. She could almost feel Mulder’s heightened hopes, making the air thicker around them, making it hard to breathe.

“You have some reservations, I take it?”

“This is about new investigative techniques,” she said. “But obviously... it’s about your own personal quest, too?”

Mulder smiled sheepishly. “I know, I know, you’re thinking about holes drilled in my head. And yeah, obviously, Scully, any technique that improves memory and recall makes me think I might be able to get closer to my questions about my past,” he said. “But this has hard data behind it. You can talk to Dr. Hays yourself. Until you’re satisfied.”

“Until I’m satisfied,” Scully repeated. “You promise?”

“Of course,” Mulder said.

She smiled at him, pretending like it was a good enough answer. He threw his baseball into the air and was fooled. He was always fooled.

***

Later, when she was leaving with her empty casserole pan and a hollow feeling in her chest, she thought about the boy on the beach again. She didn’t entirely understand why Mulder thought the boy was necessarily connected to Hays’ research, but she couldn’t bear to ask him follow-up questions about it.

She didn’t want to hear his madcap theories about what the boy symbolized, about what youth stood for in dreams, about memory and the past and hyperthymesia.

Not when his theories were wrong. Not when it was obvious to her who the boy could be, should be. Might be.

It was unfair to be upset with Mulder for not seeing what she did. She had not yet mentioned the idea of doing IVF to him, not told him she had looked into it, gone to appointments, thought through possibilities. He didn’t know she had the biggest question of her life on the tip of her tongue, a question she might never work up the nerve to ask.

But even not knowing any of that, Scully thought, as she slid into her car, he should have seen the boy on the beach didn’t just relate to him. That part wasn’t hidden. That was obvious.

She and the little boy had been the same, hadn’t they? Digging a spaceship for him on a beach, searching for a way to wake him up. She and the little boy were working in symmetry, in connection. Whoever the little boy was, he was linked to her, too.

As she started her car, she thought about Mulder, always circling back again to the same ideas in a different form. Her human ouroboros. He saw his answers as lying somewhere buried in the past waiting to be found, hidden under some layer of sand. But what if he were wrong? What if the answer was something he was supposed to build? If it was, could she ever convince him?

[lovesicks4pphic]

Effective Communication

Rating: E

Summary: No longer assigned to the X-Files, Mulder and Scully must attend a team-building conference with the rest of their department. As late additions, they are forced to share the one remaining room.

Written for @xfilesfanficexchange

Read on AO3 here. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

They were in Kersh’s office, a frequent occurrence these days. For once, they hadn’t been called in here to be berated, although it was heading in that direction. Mulder was clearly pissed off regardless.

Scully drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair and stared straight ahead, ignoring Mulder’s outburst. They were already in deep shit after the whole Bermuda Triangle debacle two weeks ago. The last thing she needed was to spend another morning arguing with her superiors and digging her ever-defiant partner out of whatever hole he’d gotten himself into.

“Agent Mulder.” Kersh warned.

“Sir-”

“I will say this wasn’t an easy decision, Agent Mulder. I’d much rather you be at your desk where I can see you. However, I think some time with your team could benefit you both.”

“They’re not my team.” Mulder muttered.

Scully glanced at him then, watching him huff and readjust himself in his seat. They locked eyes for a split second and she tried to subtly shake her head, warn him not to push it. Kersh sighed loudly and their heads snapped back up.

“Whether you like it or not, Mulder, yourself and Agent Scully are part of the Domestic Terrorism department now. You will be attending this conference.”

“Sir, you can’t seriously think this is a good use of our time?”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t think, Mulder. Besides, I know full well the two of you bailed on the last seminar you were supposed to attend.”

Scully felt Mulder’s eyes dart in her direction.

“Mark my words, there will be none of that tomorrow.” Kersh leaned forward across his desk and gave them a pointed look over his glasses. “Your flight leaves at 7am. You will get on it, you will go to the conference, you will come home. Understood?”

Silence. Scully cleared her throat.

“Yes, sir.”

Kersh nodded, then looked at Mulder.

“Fine. Sir.”

It was blatantly sarcastic but it must have been enough to appease Kersh. Either that or the man simply couldn’t be bothered to entertain this conversation a moment longer.  

“You’re dismissed.”

With that, the agents stood and let themselves out. Mulder held the door for Scully, letting her lead, but his hand was notably absent from its usual spot on her lower back. She could feel the annoyance radiating off of him, a prickle of tension in the air.

As they rounded the corner, she broke the silence.

“That could’ve gone worse, I suppose.”

Mulder stopped, took her forearm in his grasp and pulled her to the side of the hall.

“Scully.” He said. She looked up. God, he was so close, towering over her like this. “They’re making fucking fools out of us. First they take us off the X-Files and now this team-building, team-bonding, kumbaya shit.”

“It’s not just us, Mulder, all the agents from our department have to go.”

“Our department.” He repeated with a scoff. “This thing was organized months ago and we’ve been tagged on at the last minute as some sick kind of punishment. Besides, we’ve been working together for years, we don’t need to work on our communication.”

Scully sighed.

“I know. I can think of a million things I’d rather be doing tomorrow but I don’t think we have a choice.”

It was true. The thought of building furniture towers and making small talk with their colleagues, most of whom found Mulder bizarre and her somehow even more so for willingly associating herself with him, made her want to stick pins in her eyes.

What bothered her more though, what sank and settled as a knot in her stomach, was the idea of ‘bonding time’ with Mulder. Since Diana had appeared on the scene, Scully was aware she had distanced herself from Mulder. Feelings like doubt, like inadequacy and jealousy, seeped out of her into the space between them, pushing him further away as they grew and grew.

Thoughts of that last conference, of wine and cheese, of jokes about sleeping bags and songs about bullfrogs swirled in her mind. The image of her partner curled up in her lap. How things had changed and yet hadn’t at all.

She thought of her tattoo. Constantly moving but never forward. A never-ending cycle always leading her back to the exact same place.

She pushed past Mulder and headed back to her desk.

Their flight out to Florida was severely delayed. On the plus side, it meant they would actually miss half the conference through no fault of their own. Unfortunately, they still had to get up earlier than usual and Scully had to spend four hours in an airport lounge with a very bored and very impatient Mulder.

He had, of course, brought along some files he definitely shouldn’t have access to and read them beside Scully, who interjected with questions and the occasional eye roll. She sipped her second coffee and debated snatching away the bag of sunflower seeds he was holding. He was grazing on them almost unconsciously as he read, files sprawled across his lap. The constant spitting into his empty coffee cup was starting to grate on her but the way he brought his fingers to his lips and swirled his tongue around inside his mouth was causing a whole different kind of frustration.

When they eventually arrived in Tallahassee, they took a cab from the airport rather than a rental. Scully argued that the latter might look suspicious on their expense reports, might make it look like they wanted to take their own route or sneak off. Mulder sighed but ultimately agreed. It had been a long day already.

They finally got to the hotel around 2pm. It was practically empty, save for a couple in the corner who were wrestling with a giant map.

“Are you sure the cabbie dropped us at the right place, Scully?”

Scully looked at the sign on the wall and then down at the documents in her hand. She frowned. It was definitely the correct hotel.

“Can I help you?” The receptionist called over.

Scully picked up her bag and headed to the desk. Mulder followed closely behind her.

“We’re here for the FBI conference?” She explained, though it sounded more like a question. “Our flight was delayed. Agents Scully and Mulder.”

“Oh! Yes, you’re a little late but that’s no problem. Let me see here…”

The receptionist, Jennifer, according to her name tag, tapped away at her keyboard.

“Hm.”

She frowned, licked her thumb, and started flicking rapidly through a stack of papers beside the computer. Scully glanced at the large clock behind the desk. Her foot unconsciously tapped against the tiles.

“Is there a problem?” She asked.

“Yes… I can’t find… Nevermind!” Jennifer pulled a sheet out from the pile. “Dana Scully and Fox Mulder, Washington DC?”

“That’s us.” Mulder flashed her a smile.

Scully thought she saw Jennifer’s cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink. She couldn’t blame her. For someone so solitary he could be so charming when he wanted to be.

Scully wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to meet him under different circumstances. For him to see her as a stranger, a woman, an object of desire, not his dependable, stubborn little Scully. Would she seduce him? Ask to see his apartment? Let him take her roughly against the wall like she had with Jerse?

“So.” Jennifer started, bringing Scully back to reality. “I can see here that a last-minute request was made for your rooms, however we are actually at full capacity right now.”

“Ok…” Scully replied cautiously. Were they going to have to find somewhere else to stay?

Mulder leaned over, his lips brushing against Scully’s ear.

“Feels like a sign we shouldn’t be here.”

He pulled away and smirked. She ignored him.

Jennifer started typing again.

“Ok!” She clapped her hands together. “We’ve actually had a cancellation for tonight so we should be able to squeeze you in.”

“Great.” Scully said, a little too hastily, eyeing the clock once more.

“However, it is just the one room. I’m so sorry, it’s the best I can do.”

Scully went to accept but Jennifer spoke again.

“I should also mention, it’s a queen room. Is that- are you both comfortable with that?”

Shit.

“Scully.” Mulder turned away from Jennifer again, murmuring directly into Scully’s ear. “I think we should find somewhere else.”

“We’re already running late, Mulder.” Scully said under her breath. “We don’t have time to find another hotel and I will not voluntarily subject myself to Kersh’s wrath when he finds out we missed the conference.”

The whole situation was quickly turning into a nightmare and neither option was looking appealing to her. The prospect of sharing a bed with Mulder made her feel light-headed but she refused to let her feelings for Mulder get her into trouble. Again. They were grown adults. They had survived much worse.

“Scully-”

“We’ll figure it out later. I’m sure there’ll be a solution.”

Mulder’s face was unreadable but Scully’s decision was made.

“We’ll take it, thank you.”

Jennifer smiled, scribbled something on the piece of paper and then ducked underneath the desk to retrieve their keys.

“Ok so you’ve got two keys here. Your room is on the 7th floor and your conference is on floors 2 and 3. When you’re ready, head to the Jefferson room on floor 2 to sign in.”

Keys successfully collected, they thanked Jennifer, and headed for the elevator. They rode to the 7th floor in silence.

“Home, sweet home.” Mulder pushed open the door. Their door.

The room was actually larger than Scully expected and she felt a wave of relief as they stepped inside and set their bags down. They would figure something out.

“I’m just gonna-.” Mulder nodded in the direction of the bathroom. “Meet you down there?”

“Sure.”

After signing in and collecting her pass, Scully slipped into the conference room and found a spot at the back. A few of the agents in front of her turned as she entered and she smiled politely back at them.

Just as the speaker stepped up to the podium, Mulder appeared at her side.

“Buckle up, Scully.” He muttered.

It was a fair warning as the two hours that followed were beyond dull. The topic of the tedious lecture in question was effective communication, which felt slightly ironic.

Scully found herself wishing she were back in that stale airport lounge reading stolen files. In fact, watching paint dry would probably be more enjoyable. All this so Kersh wouldn’t kick off. Right now, she’d rather be yelled at and done with it than sit through another minute of this.

Though she’d be reluctant to admit it, Mulder was the only thing keeping her from total, mind-numbing boredom. Every so often, he’d bump his knee against hers and raise an eyebrow as if to say ‘get a load of this guy’. In some instances, he’d lean in and whisper a sarcastic comment and she’d smile despite herself.

It reminded her of that first year they’d spent together, before her abduction, when things were simpler and her little crush on him had been just that. She didn’t have regrets, couldn’t have regrets. Everything that had happened to her was a consequence of her own decisions, as much as Mulder might argue he was to blame. But if she thought about it for too long, a distinct ache formed in her chest. A nostalgia for how hopeful they’d been. A longing for feelings so uncomplicated.

Finally, finally, the lecture came to a close and the agents were guided into an anteroom so the main room could be reset. At least there were refreshments. Scully poured herself a coffee.  

She winced as she took her first sip. It wasn’t the worst she’d had but it was certainly up there.

“Pretty vile, huh?” Mulder said from behind her. His ability to seek her out never seemed to fail him.

“Mm.” She grimaced but took another sip. If the next few hours were anything like the last then she needed more caffeine.

They only got a few minutes to finish their drinks before one of the organizers tapped his mic and cleared his throat loudly.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll now be moving onto our afternoon activities.” Mulder looked at Scully and pulled a face. “If you could please find your name on the board and sit at your assigned table. The teams have been switched up from the ice-breakers this morning so please do double check.”

They shuffled back into the hall with the rest of the crowd and approached the board, inching closer as other people found their names and dispersed.

“What table are you on?” Mulder asked, scanning the sheets of paper with a frown. He tapped his finger against one of them. “Ah. There I am. Team 5.”

“I’m on Team 1.” Scully responded as she caught sight of her name.

“I’d expect nothing less.” He smirked. “See you later, partner.”

“Enjoy.”

“I won’t.”

The next hour and a half consisted of a whole host of team-building activities. Whilst organized fun wasn’t Scully’s favorite thing in the world, her competitive streak was a mile long and she couldn’t help but take each challenge seriously.

After the typical introductions and ‘interesting fact about yourself’, where to even begin with that, they started with a game called Human Knot, with the fastest team to untangle themselves winning the point. There were a few other physical activities, then some that involved drawing or matching up bits of paper, and lastly a quiz. Scully, fired-up and ready to kick some ass, naturally assigned herself as scribe for that last one.

When Team 3 were announced as the winners, Scully whipped her head round and glared. There were a couple of assholes from Washington on that team who she’d overheard say some unpleasant things about Mulder on a number of occasions. Whatever. Have fun at your stupid, free dinner, Scully thought to herself. Hope you choke.

“Now for this last activity, we’d like you to get into pairs with your work partner.” The same organizer as earlier announced. “Buddy up and spread out and we’ll explain the rules in a moment.”

Mulder and Scully found a spot near the back of the room, used to working in their own space. Mulder draped his jacket over the back of a nearby chair and rolled up his sleeves. It was getting pretty warm in there despite the AC. Scully dropped her gaze to his forearms but quickly looked away, swallowing thickly.

Another organizer appeared and handed them some tape and a stack of old newspapers. Then the main organizer spoke again.

“For your final task, you’ll need to build a table using only the tape and paper you’ve been provided with. You will be given 20 minutes and the pair whose table holds the most weight at the end of that time will win. You may begin.”

Mulder sat down on the ground cross-legged and began rolling up bits of paper and wrapping them haphazardly with tape. For someone who claimed not to care about this stuff a few hours ago, he appeared to be approaching this task with remarkable enthusiasm.

“Wait, Mulder. Hold on.” Scully knelt down on the carpet beside him. “We need to think about the structure and plan it.”

“I’ve got this, Scully, don’t worry.”

“Mulder, I’ve done these things before.”

He wasn’t paying any attention, instead plowing on with his chaotic approach that made Scully’s inner physics major cringe. She glanced around at the other teams, all of whom seemed to be making a fair bit of progress already. Meanwhile, Mulder had merely created some random wads of paper and tape. Scully really didn’t understand what his plan was here.

They continued to bicker back and forth, their frustration at one another mounting. Maybe they really did need to work on their communication.

“Mulder, hand me the tape.”

“I’m getting there, Scully. Just let me do this.”

That pissed her off. Why was he completely taking over and doing it all himself? Why didn’t he trust her enough to help? Did he think she’d mess it up?

“Mulder, will you just listen to me?”

“Just trust me on this Scully, OK?”

“No. You need to trust me .”

“It goes both ways, Scully.”

God, this man was infuriating sometimes. Scully couldn’t believe they were arguing over a paper fucking table. Deep down, of course, she knew this wasn’t about the table. This whole exercise was merely a physical reflection of their relationship, a vessel for all the anger that had been simmering under the surface since she had shown up.

Before Scully could process the words, they were out of her mouth.

“I suppose you’d rather be doing this with Diana.” She muttered.

“What?”

Mulder looked up. It was clear in his expression that he hadn’t heard her. Thank God.

“Nothing.”

She knew that had been a petty thing to say, that she sounded like a scorned wife, but she couldn’t help wondering if it were true. When Diana walked into their lives, or rather back into Mulder’s, it was clear that there was a connection. A history. A shared belief. Was that connection deeper than the one Scully had with him?

Scully had always thought that she and Mulder complemented each other, that they balanced each other out. Not long ago, he had implied something similar and told her that her science kept him honest. But maybe what he really wanted, what he really needed, was somebody on the same wavelength. Somebody like Diana.

He was so defensive of Diana, wouldn’t abandon his faith in her even when Scully tried to make him see. At that point, Scully felt like she was asking him to choose: who did he trust more? It felt like he had chosen Diana.

Their conversation in his hallway haunted her. She really believed him at the time, his eyes so imploring, convincing her he couldn’t do this without her, begging her to stay. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment. After all, he’d also nearly kissed her so perhaps he wasn’t in his right mind. Scully though, she had never been able to see so clearly. She had wanted him more than anything, had leaned in with her heart pounding and tears in her eyes.

They hadn’t spoken about it since. Her mother had always said actions spoke louder than words anyway. His actions led her to believe it had been a mistake.

“Look, Scully, here.” Mulder interrupted her thoughts and held out a roll of tape. A peace offering. “You take the top section and I’ll carry on with these legs.”

Those were supposed to be legs?

She sighed in resignation.

“OK, fine. Hand me some paper.”

They quietly worked on their respective sections, occasionally motioning for the other to pass them something. When the final five minutes were announced, Scully took the ‘legs’ from Mulder and started piecing everything together. She tore off some more tape with her teeth to make the final adjustments.

“OK, everyone. Time’s up!”

Scully eyed their joint effort wearily. At least it was standing.

Everyone watched as the organizers made their way round the pairs, stacking weights on the tables until they collapsed. Some fell apart before their turn even came about but others only broke under the weight of a fair few pounds.

As Mulder and Scully had tucked themselves away in the corner, it was no surprise that they were left until last.

“OK guys, you’ve got a whopping 5 pounds to beat.” One of the organizers said. He was close enough that Scully could read his badge. George.

George placed the first weight on and to Scully’s surprise it held.

“So far so good.” He said and then placed another. And another. Until there were exactly 5 pounds on the table.

“This is the deciding weight, everybody.” George said to the room. “If they get this, they win.”

“It won’t hold.” Scully murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

“Such a skeptic.”

She glanced at Mulder. The corners of his lips quirked, his comment clearly meant to be light-hearted.

They both held their breaths as George placed the final weight. A beat passed and then he beamed at the pair of them.

“We have our winners!”

The other agents applauded politely as Mulder and Scully simply stared at their table in shock. George handed them some stationary, their prize.

“Congratulations, guys. That’s some pretty impressive teamwork, you must make a great pair out in the field.”

We used to, Scully thought.

The main organizer clapped his hands.

“OK! Thank you everybody for taking part today. We’ll now be moving to the bar for some drinks.” He pointed to the double doors behind Mulder and Scully. “If you could all head on through that way, please.”

Mulder gave Scully a small smile.

“Come on, Scully. I’ll buy you a drink.”

True to his word, Mulder bought her a glass of wine and they managed to find an empty booth to sit in. He cracked a few of his usual jokes here and there and she smiled in response each time but it never met her eyes. There was still a lingering tension and something inside her felt heavy.

As he sipped at his drink, Mulder glanced around at their fellow agents, people watching. Ever the profiler. She couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he looked at that moment. As he looked away, the dim lighting accentuated his profile, the strong line of his jaw. She wondered, not for the first time, what it would feel like to cradle his face in her hands as she kissed him.

A part of her wished he would try and kiss her again. That desire had never fully disappeared, no matter how hard she’d tried to put some distance between them. Maybe she should threaten to leave the FBI again, she thought wryly. Maybe that would prompt him to attempt another kiss. Or maybe he would just let her leave. Now that he had gotten his original partner back. His real partner.

The thought made her stomach plummet and she excused herself from the booth, realizing she had made herself feel quite nauseous.

“You OK, Scully?” Mulder frowned.

“I’m fine, I just have a headache.”

His expression turned from confusion to concern and it was heart-wrenching. Ever since her cancer, every headache, every illness or exhaustion caused a worried look to cross his features and made her wonder just how bad things must have been for him when she was sick.

“I think I’m just gonna head up.”

“Sure, OK.” He nodded. “You take the bed and I’ll ask at reception for a rollaway or something.”

Shit. She had totally forgotten about their shared room situation.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He insisted.

She felt awful that he was being so sympathetic towards her. Here he was, anxious that she was unwell, when really she was just an expert at breaking her own heart.

“OK.” She said quietly. “Thank you.”

He reached out and squeezed her hand.

“Go get some rest.”

She nodded and squeezed his hand in return before letting it drop.

“Goodnight, Mulder.”

“Night, Scully.”

Scully completed her nightly routine in a trance. It took every ounce of strength she had not to burst into tears. She was so exhausted when she finally crawled into bed that sleep came easier than she’d expected, one minute her head was hitting the pillow and the next she was blinking awake again. Except it wasn’t the next morning when she woke, no it was still dark outside.

The clock beside the bed told her it had been less than an hour since she’d lay down. Confused, she pushed herself up and switched on the lamp.

Across the room, she saw what had woken her. Mulder was climbing into the armchair in the corner, dressed only in a pair of pajama pants and a loose t-shirt.

“Mulder?” She murmured sleepily.

His head whipped round.

“Shit. Sorry, Scully, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Where’s your bed?”

“They didn’t have any rollaways but it’s OK, go back to sleep.”

She sat up a little further, the sheet slipping down to her waist and exposing her camisole.

“Mulder, you can’t sleep over there, don’t be ridiculous. You’ll get a crick in your neck.”

He looked at her blankly, he obviously didn’t want to assume anything. Scully sighed and pulled back the covers in invitation.

“I don’t want to deal with your whining in the morning.” She said by way of explanation.

Apparently too tired to argue, he slipped in beside her.

“Thanks.”

Scully rolled onto her side, turning her back to him. Despite not facing him, she could still feel him watching her. Her heart rate steadily started to pick up. She no longer felt tired. She felt nervous being this close to him. There was something dangerous about it. She sighed and her breath came out shaky.

“Scully.” Mulder said, his voice low and dark. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine, Mulder.” She replied quickly.

There was a pause. She could hear him thinking.

“Are we OK?” His voice had dropped even lower.

Scully’s responding silence was deafening. Mulder reached out and cautiously touched her arm, prompting her to roll over and face him. She swallowed. It was now or never.

“Why won’t you trust me?” She asked quietly.

“I do trust you, Scully.” He said, soft but insistent. “With my life.”

That didn’t answer her question. Either she wasn’t doing a very good job of this or he was totally oblivious. She decided to try a different approach.

“Why did you never tell me about Diana?”

“Diana?” Mulder frowned. “Scully, my history with her is just that. History. It never felt relevant.”

“You’re not getting it, Mulder.” Scully sighed, frustrated. “I always thought that we had something special, that the X-Files were ours, that we were in this together, me and you. But now… now I can’t help but wonder if I was just a placeholder, a stop along the way in your real journey. With her.”

“Scully.” Mulder whispered, his face falling.

“I know you said my science saved you, that it made you a whole person, but I feel like you only tell me what you think I want to hear when you’re scared you might lose me.” She bit her lip, shrugged. “I don’t know. It would certainly be easier to have a partner who isn’t constantly challenging you.”

Mulder stared at her and then swallowed. Some kind of internal processing complete, a decision made.

“Scully.” He said. “It isn’t just your science, it’s you. You make me a whole person.”

“Mulder, that’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.” He touched her arm again, his hand warm and firm against her skin. “This isn’t about the X-Files, this is personal. Me and you.”

“What do you mean?”

She could feel a nervousness forming in her stomach, unsure where this was going.

“Do you remember the other day?” He asked. “In the hospital. I told you that I love you.”

Scully rolled her eyes.

“Sure, Mulder. When you were high as a kite talking about me saving the world from Nazis.”

“I meant it, Scully. It wasn’t the drugs.” He insisted. “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Oh.

“I am so so sorry that you’ve ever had to question my faith in you, Scully. You are everything to me, professionally, personally. Everything.”

Scully exhaled shakily. She had not expected this today.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Mulder pressed on, starting to ramble now. “If you don’t feel the same way, I can live with that, but you’re it for me, Scully. I’ve known that for quite some time.”

“Mulder.” Scully breathed.

He began to move away and she instantly missed his warmth, his touch.

“If you need some space, I understand-”

Scully reached out and cupped his face.

“Shut up, Mulder.” She murmured. And then she was kissing him, gently pressing her lips against his. They were even softer than she’d imagined.

She could feel his shock, his body unmoving, lips frozen beneath hers. He pulled away after a moment, gaze searching her face. Their eyes met and her heart thrummed in her chest. He must have found the confirmation he needed. His lips crashed against hers. Passion and desperation and devotion, the yearning finally giving way to desire now that they had been given permission to feel it.

He coaxed her lips open and then their tongues were meeting, his hands sliding into her hair. She surrendered to his touch, letting him lead. At last, she was getting what she wanted but never believed she could have. He wasn’t just choosing her, he was claiming her. She was his.

She rubbed her thumbs against his cheeks, loving the feeling of his stubble scratching against her skin. She wanted to feel it everywhere. Her neck, her chest, her stomach, her thighs.

He rolled on top of her and she felt arousal swoop low in her stomach. He squeezed her hips over her shorts then slid his hands higher, under her top, to her waist. His palms practically spanned her body. She felt dizzy.

Scully sucked at his bottom lip and then took it between her teeth, nipping at it lightly. She had dreamed of this. The noises he made in the back of his throat made her giddy and increased her hunger for him tenfold. She rocked up into him, needing to be closer, and his thigh met her center unexpectedly. She broke away with a gasp.

“Fuck, Scully.” Mulder groaned. “I want you so much.”

Scully whimpered in response, her hips twitching unconsciously.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

Instead of answering him with words, she held his gaze and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, dragging it down, down, until she was sliding his hand into her pajama shorts and under her panties.

“Jesus Christ.”

He kissed her again and they both moaned as he pressed his fingers against her. He moved them lower, dipping them inside and then dragging them back up, spreading her wetness over her clit. She could feel the ease with which his fingertips were gliding over her and she knew she must be soaked.

He set a steady pace, circling her clit with the perfect amount of pressure as if they’d been doing this forever. She wrapped an arm around his neck, holding him to her as her hips began to rock into his hand. Her breaths were becoming pants, little hitched moans right in his ear that had him groaning into her skin.

He slipped inside once again and then pulled back and she whined at the loss.

“I need to taste you.” He said, his voice thick with lust.

She stared up at him, temporarily rendered speechless by the wave of arousal that coursed through her at his words. She shook herself.

“Yeah. Yeah, OK.”

She sprang into action, scrambling to get her bottoms off and removing her top while she was at it. He followed suit and quickly stripped down to his boxers.

Draping himself back on top of her, he began trailing kisses down her neck and across her collarbones, nipping at the base of her throat. She had no idea she was so sensitive there. She didn’t even recognise the needy whimpers escaping her. Maybe it was him. Or years of sexual frustration. Or both.

When his lips reached her breasts and a tongue flicked against a nipple, she gasped. Now this sensitivity she was aware of. He must have realized because he spent a while there, licking and sucking, alternating between breasts while his fingers tweaked at the nipple not currently occupied by his mouth. It felt fucking incredible.

She should have known he’d be good at this, that he’d get off on it just as much as her. She’d never met a man so orally fixated. All that practise with sunflower seeds, straws, the erasers on the ends of pencils, even forensic evidence. And now, at last, she was reaping the rewards of his obsession.

“More. Please, Mulder.”

He reluctantly pulled away from her breasts and made his way down her stomach, mouthing at her skin and making her twitch beneath him. She threaded her fingers through his hair.

“Mulder.” She urged. If he didn’t hurry the fuck up, she felt like she might die.

He grinned up at her, clearly pleased with the needy mess he had made out of her and she had half a mind to smack him. But then his lips were pressed against her clit and the thought was gone. If she did die right now, she’d die the happiest woman alive.

He gently traced his tongue over her and she sighed contently, tugging him closer. Just when the teasing was starting to get too much again, he pressed his tongue inside her and she moaned loudly, bucking her hips into his face. His responding groan was muffled against her and only heightened the sensation. Taking the hint, he slid one then two fingers inside her and curled them just right.

“Oh fuck, right there.” She gasped.

Encouraged, he doubled down on his efforts. He thrust inside her and his tongue returned to her clit with equal enthusiasm. It wasn’t long before her thighs started to quake around his head.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

He didn’t let up and soon she was coming, her spine arching off the bed as if pulled by some invisible force. Despite his lack of oxygen and Scully’s fists tightening in his hair, Mulder continued until she was pushing him away.

He reappeared above her with the biggest smile on his face. Scully, blissed out and reclined against the bed, couldn’t even bring herself to take him down a peg. He more than deserved the bragging rights.

“You’re incredible.” He said, leaning down to kiss her. She could taste herself on his lips but she didn’t mind. In fact, as she ground her hips against him, she realized she was still insanely aroused. So was he.

His erection bumped against her, the first time she’d properly felt it, and they both moaned. Enough messing about. Impatient to feel him properly, she tugged at his boxers. He got the idea and slid off the bed to remove them.

Scully sat up on her elbows and drank in the sight of him. Jesus. She had seen hints of his cock over the years, a glimpse of a stray bulge in his slacks late at night, a distinct outline against a jean-clad thigh, and of course, though she’d tried not not to look, she’d seen him in his boxers when stripping him down due to sickness or injury. All enough to assume he’d be impressive but Christ .

“All look OK to you, doc?” Mulder joked, looking slightly nervous beneath her gaze.

She blushed, embarrassed to be caught staring. She was quick to reassure him.

“You have a gorgeous body, Mulder.”

He smiled.

“Likewise.”

He kissed her again, slower than before, more gentle, and she felt a little shy all of a sudden. They were really doing this. She was having sex with Mulder. Mulder . It simultaneously thrilled and terrified her. It felt so sudden and yet not at all. He was her partner, her best friend, and she could not afford to fuck this up. If he had been pining for her for as long as she had been for him then this had been a very long time coming. She hoped he was as rusty at this as she was.  

He cupped her face and stroked his thumbs over her cheekbones, clearly sensing her hesitation.

“You OK?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, smiling at his concern. “It’s just been a while for me.”

“Me too.” He replied. “We’ll take it slow, OK?”

Relieved at his understanding, she tilted her chin up so he could kiss her again. He met her lips gently, true to his word, and she was touched by his tenderness. He loves you, a little voice in her head reminded her and she smiled into the kiss, feeling his own lips twitch against hers in response.

“Ready?” He asked.

His hands were on her thighs, fingertips stroking the delicate skin there.

“Yeah.” She breathed, shifting her legs further apart beneath him.

He wrapped a hand around himself and stroked a few times before lining himself up. Scully stared, the fantasies she’d had about watching him touch himself suddenly flashing at the forefront of her mind. She filed them away again, vowing to fulfill them another day.

Mulder pressed his forehead against hers, their lips brushing, one of her hands clutching at the back of his neck and the other at his shoulder, and then he was pushing slowly inside her.

“Oh, fuck.” Scully groaned, her eyes rolling back in her head. The sensation of being stretched was just the right balance of pleasure and pain.

He paused, giving her a moment to adjust, and then she was nodding, mumbling against his lips and asking for ‘more’ and ‘please’.

With her consent, he slipped in further, deeper. She gasped and clenched around him.

“Fuck, Scully.” He groaned. “You feel so good.”

She nodded, biting her lip to hold back another fierce moan.

He kept going, inch by inch, until his pelvis was flush against her. Mulder was watching her face, an expression of awe written across his own. She knew the feeling. The sensation of him inside her, filling her so perfectly. Nothing had ever felt so right.

“Move, Mulder. Please. Fuck me.”

With one hand beside her head on the pillow and the other resting on her hip, he began to draw back and then push inside her again, slowly at first, then gradually a little faster with each thrust. As his speed increased, he brought his other arm up, now using both limbs for leverage.

She was starting to get lost in the slick sound of her around him, the rhythmic meeting of their hips over and over again.

“Right there, yes, yes.” She chanted in time with his continued pounding.

“What do you need, Scully?” He asked, his voice had taken on a quality that she’d never heard from him. “Tell me.”

“Harder.” She managed to gasp out.

He sat back, sliding his hands over her hips and squeezing before moving them round further, lifting her ass slightly and pulling her harder onto his cock. This was exactly what she needed. The way he grabbed at her flesh was almost possessive and she fucking loved it. On a particularly deep thrust, he hit a spot that had her crying out and clutching his arms.

Her clit throbbed and she dropped a hand between her legs. The other went to her breast, grasping it hard and rubbing her thumb over her nipple.

“Oh, fuck yes.” Mulder groaned, hands squeezing her ass tighter. “Touch yourself for me.”

Scully moaned loudly.

“Tell me how it feels.”

Jesus. She shouldn’t have been surprised at his proclivity for dirty talk, both the doing of it and the encouragement for her to do the same. He could never shut up outside the bedroom, of course that wouldn’t change just because they were fucking. She couldn’t deny how much it turned her on though. Hearing him make demands of her in that voice was outdoing anything she’d ever imagined. All those lonely nights spent thinking about him with her hand down her pants. If only she’d known how much better reality would be.

“So good, Mulder.” She moaned. “So fucking good.”

Her fingers moved faster and harder against her clit as Mulder continued his relentless thrusting. He fell forward slightly, bracing one of his hands against the headboard. It was slamming against the wall in loud, repetitive bangs. Scully couldn’t even bring herself to care. She glanced down her body, hypnotized by the sight of him pounding into her. She knew she couldn’t hold out much longer. Her eyes fluttered shut.

“I’m close.” She whispered.

“Look at me.”

She forced her eyes back open, meeting his. It felt like he was staring right into her soul and it was the final push she needed. Her body began to shake. Her breath escaped in continuous moans and gasps that she couldn’t control.

“Come for me, Scully.”  He said. “I wanna see you come again.”

“Want you to come with me.”  

“I will.”

With that she let go. Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream and her head tipped back as she came with an intensity she had never experienced. She could feel her walls pulsing around Mulder’s cock, his rhythm never ceasing, and then he was coming too. Through the ringing in her ears, she could hear him swearing as he spilled inside her and it only prolonged the sensations coursing through her.

They were both panting, covered in a sheen of sweat, but Scully had never felt more at peace.

“Come here.” She mumbled, tugging at Mulder’s arm.

He slowly lowered himself, careful not to crush her, and wrapped her up in his arms, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. They stayed like that for a moment, just breathing each other in, before Mulder shifted his hips and slid out of her. Scully whined softly in protest and he quietened her with another kiss.

“I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a washcloth, gently cleaning them both off. When he was done, he crawled back into bed beside her and she curled up into his side. He tucked her hair behind her ear, cradling her head with his palm as he pressed his lips to her forehead, her cheek and finally her lips. She lifted her chin to meet him, her eyes drifting closed.

When they parted, he was smiling at her. He slid his hand down her face and pressed the tip of his thumb to her lips. She kissed it and smiled softly back at him.

“I’m so in love with you.” He whispered. “You’re all I want.”

“I’m all yours.” Scully whispered back, voicing her thought from earlier. “I always have been.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm.” She nodded.

His smile widened.

“Kinda crazy, huh?” He wondered aloud. “That we finally got here.”

“Must be an X-File.”

“Remind me to get Kersh a card.”

Scully huffed out a laugh. She turned in his arms so that he was spooning her. He kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer by her waist.

“Love you.” She whispered, twisting to give him one last kiss.

Feeling lighter than she had in a very long time, she closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 24

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

June 1999

The air smells wet and woody, birdsongs trilling in the early morning sun that trickles through a sky light. She stretches, then disentangles her legs from the sheets and stands, walking to the window.

There is a giant soaking tub in the corner of the room, flanked by two windowed walls that afford a sweeping view of the Cascade mountains, green carpeted hillsides meeting with a baby-blue sky.

She can still recall her mother’s face when they told her the wedding would be in Washington State. “But...we don’t even know anyone in Washington, Dana,” she’d said with a bemused expression, lamenting the length of their flights with a nine-month-old in tow.

Her mother’s reaction paled in comparison to Mulder’s excitement when she’d suggested the idea; she would spend their honeymoon relaxing with a book in the tub, and he could spend it traipsing through the woods looking for Sasquatch, or ‘squatchin’ as he called it. They would reunite in the afternoon, hiking, making love, catching up on all the conversations they’d missed while in the trenches of parenting a new baby. Mom would stay at the same resort with Molly so they could see her every day, while having precious nights to themselves; something they haven’t done since she was born.

She turns the tap on the bath, a blast of water thundering into the empty basin. When it’s full nearly to the brim, she disrobes and eases in, breathing deeply to inhale the juniper-scented steam, courtesy of the resort-provided bath salts. Closing her eyes, she thinks back over it all; their chance meeting, how she was drawn to him by a force that seemed to be bigger than them both, the anguish of wanting him but feeling like she owed it to Ethan to stay together. Her eyes snap open, a memory long-buried in the recesses of her mind springing forth like a trebuchet.

The day she met Mulder, she’d been planning to take the day off to go to a book signing for an author she admires. The signing was cancelled due to a scheduling conflict and she almost took the day off anyway, but had a last minute pang of guilt knowing that the workload that week was already heavy and Trudy would struggle to manage it all on her own. So she’d gone in, she’d performed that autopsy that should have been on Trudy’s docket, and she’d filled out the paperwork, and she’d met Mulder. How delicate the balance of the universe that such an insignificant choice completely changed the course of her life.

She suddenly misses him acutely, and a bundle of nerves and excitement flutters in her belly thinking about when she’ll see him next. She’d scoffed at the idea of them spending last night apart; they live together and have a child so the performative chastity seemed to be a bit much. He said it was like a fast, that a little time apart would make it even more special when they saw each other at the ceremony, and she ultimately acquiesced.

“Meet me on a mountain top at 4 o’clock tomorrow?” he’d asked as he backed out of her room, pulling away from the desperate kisses she was planting all over his face.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied with a smile, and they said goodnight.

She smiles again, sinking down until the water slips into her ears. She can’t wait to marry him.

———

He sits up and arches his back, his spine protesting the cramped accommodations. Looking over at Byers and Missy curled up in the king size bed, he regrets his decision to crash on the couch here instead of staying with Scully in their room. Not only because he slept like shit with his legs hanging over the end, but also because work takes him away from his girls so often, he’s an idiot to add another day to it if he doesn’t have to.

He stands, hands on his hips as he twists to stretch his angry muscles, and walks to the window, taking in the dense green hills and valleys that surround them. He smiles, because she could have asked to go to Mexico, or France, or anywhere on the entire Earth and he would have given her what she wanted, but she chose the place she knew he wanted to go. Selfless and giving to a fault, his Scully. Soon to be his wife.

He quietly slips on his running shoes and sneaks out of the room, hitting the hard-packed dirt trail the concierge had told him about. The quiet forest is the perfect place to be alone with his thoughts, nothing but the thud of his feet striking the ground and the twitter of waking birds to distract him. He thinks about his life, about being a child who was lonely and alone, with parents who provided food and shelter but not much more. He thinks about Molly, and how she will never know that kind of pain, that there will never be a day of her life that she is not told how much she is loved. He wonders if his dad ever felt about his mom the way he feels about Scully, and he knows it’s not possible that he did, because if so they would still be together.

He comes to a break in the trees and pauses, breath heaving and lungs burning as he watches a hawk gliding through the valley below, hunting for breakfast. How easily he could have missed this moment, he thinks. Even one small change to the trajectory of his life, and he never would have walked into the autopsy bay that day. If the courier hadn’t been sick, if he hadn’t stopped by Kirkbride’s office when he did. Even further back, if he hadn’t stayed with the bureau with the X files were closed, if Valerie hadn’t been there to encourage him, or if he hadn’t met Valerie one random Tuesday at a record store. The path was long and winding, and it led to her. It led to him on this mountaintop in a sweat-soaked T-shirt, smiling at the thought of his baby daughter, his almost-wife.

He picks up running again, the smile staying on his lips. He’s always felt like he was running away; from his painful past, his regrets, his bad decisions. Now he realizes he’s running towards; his future, a thousand opportunities yet unseen, a kind of happiness he never thought he’d know. He can’t wait for the rest of his life to start.

———

He stands in a clearing near the edge of a cliff, the lush green landscape toeing up against the horizon looking like crooked teeth. Frohike stands beside him in khaki pants and a white linen shirt, a leather folio clasped in his hands. Mulder is also dressed fairly casually, in slacks and a blue Oxford shirt, the sleeves cuffed and the top button undone.

Scully wanted this to be as non-traditional as possible, to make it their own. There is no wedding party, no tuxedo, no flower girl or garter toss. No one will walk her down the aisle, as no one but herself has the ownership to give her away. The guests are small in number; immediate family only, plus the gunmen. Monica and Dahlia are house-sitting back in DC, minding Priscilla as well as the dog, King, that joined the family after the purchase of their house in March. Bucking the idea of arranging guests by whose “side” they are on, they all sit in a small cluster, and Scully will enter from the side.

He looks out and waves at Molly, who is standing on Missy’s lap, holding her hands and bouncing up and down forcefully. She squeals and shouts “dah, dah, dah!” which he chooses to interpret as “Daddy” even though Scully told him it’s just a nonsense syllable and doesn’t mean anything.

Langly gets the signal from Frohike and hits play on a small boom box, piping an instrumental version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” up into the branches of the towering evergreen trees. He expected to feel nervous at this moment, but all he feels is excitement as Maggie scurries out from behind a line of trees and takes her place beside Bill, giving him a smile and a wink.

Scully appears from around the same group of trees and he grins broadly. He’s seen the dress, they picked it out together, but the full effect is stunning. Her hair, now grown well past her shoulder blades, is curled softly and pinned half up, brilliant red tendrils shimmering in the midday sun against her porcelain shoulders. Her dress is full length pearl satin, a slim sheath cut with off the shoulder straps. She is holding a small bouquet of pink peonies in her hands, and holding his eye with a playful smirk.

She arrives beside him and before the music stops, before Frohike has a chance to begin, he steps forward and takes her by the waist, kissing her fully. The guests laugh and he pulls away to see a confused smile on her face.

“I couldn’t wait,” he says simply.

They move through the ceremony, exchanging rings and vowing to love each other forever; promises they’ve already made to each other a hundred times. As they near the part that Scully understands to be the end, Frohike goes off script.

“Mulder has prepared some words of his own, he’ll read them now,” he says, nodding toward his friend.

Scully’s eyebrows lift in a surprised and confused expression.

“Mulder, we didn’t talk about writing our own vows,” she whispers, afraid she’s failed to complete the assignment.

“It’s okay, these are for both of us,” he whispers, and then, taking her hands in his, he reads a passage from her favorite book from memory.

“I have for the first time found what I can truly love; I have found you. You are my sympathy, my better self, my good angel; I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely. A fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my center and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

The tear that slips down her cheek is borne only of happiness. She looks into his green eyes and sees contentment and love, and desire. It’s not a spark, what they have, nor an ember. It’s a wildfire, a white-hot torch, an eternal flame that binds them together inseparably. They were forged in fire the moment he laid eyes on her in that autopsy bay, maybe even before.

Frohike concludes, “by the power invested in me by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride…again.”

He wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her up as he kisses her deeply, a gust of warm summer wind picking up pine needles and tossing them in a mini-tornado that surrounds them both. Molly squeals “dah dah dah!” and claps for her parents.

———

She stands at the mirror, brushing her teeth. Her hair is combed out, her makeup removed, the white dress hanging in the corner of the room with the hem now tinged brown from the dirt that served as their dance floor.

Mulder appears behind her, an arm snaking around the waist of her satin nightgown. She smiles at the sight of his newly ring-adorned hand pressed flat against her belly, then leans forward to rinse.

“Ready for bed?” he asks softly, and she nods.

They slip beneath the cool sheets, curling around one another face-to-face; her leg threaded between his, his arms around her back, foreheads touching. She draws in a big breath and lets it out slowly, contentment settling deep in her bones.

“Do you ever think about all the things that had to happen in exactly the way they did to lead us here?” he asks, and she pulls back a little to look at his face.

“Yes, I was actually just thinking about that earlier,” she says with a curious lilt.

“Makes you wonder, huh, what lives we’d be leading if even just one detail were changed,” he says, tracing his finger along her shoulder blade.

“I don’t think it would have mattered, actually,” she says, and he gives her a quizzical look, silently asking her to elaborate. “I know this will sound a little far-fetched coming from me,” she begins with a self-conscious smile, “but I think it was always going to end up this way. Even if we hadn’t met when we did, we would have crossed paths some other way. Looking back over everything, it just seems like this was meant to be the outcome, even if the path to get here could have gone in a lot of different directions.”

He ponders this, remembering a conversation they had over coffee when, against all odds, she reappeared in his life.

“Like there was only one choice, and signs along the way to pay attention to,” he says contemplatively, lifting his hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly,” she replies, pressing her lips to his briefly, “it was always going to be you.”

END

[gaycrouton]

Ray of Light

For the first time since being back, he felt the heaviness weighing him down start to fade away. The fog had lifted and he could see the life he’d actually come back to — one where the love of his life was carrying his child. Not a life that had gone on without him, but one that desperately needed him there.

Alternatively; Mulder and Scully's first time after he's returned.

angst and pregnancy smut | discussions of trauma | msr | 7k | ao3 | dedicated to the wonderful @sclly​

Before Mulder had been abducted, he was finally in a relationship with Scully, or at least that's what he thought of it as. They didn't use the words dating or boyfriend and girlfriend, but they spent every night together, they were intimate in every possible sense of the word, and he'd never felt more loved in his entire life.

When he returned, she was pregnant, had a new partner at work, and on his first night back she drove back to her apartment and left him alone.

Looking back, he knew she was respecting the fact he said he needed time to process everything, but she had no idea how much it added to his confusion. He was uncertain of where he stood with Scully, so he buried himself in his work since it's where he felt most secure, despite her protests. Mulder knew people thought he was being rude, hell even he did at times, but every time he looked into Scully's eyes, he saw nothing but worry and sympathy.

Yesterday he'd broken into the census bureau with Agent Doggett, only for it to be a bust. They'd been laying low at Scully's apartment ever since, and the awkward tension between them just kept mounting. He tried to think of what to say, only to end up feeling like anything he said would come across as curt, and he wanted to avoid saying something else that might hurt her. The last thing he ever wanted was him coming back from the dead just to continue making her sad.

The first thing he noticed about his apartment was that it didn't look like the apartment of a man who'd been missing for months. It was spotless. Cleaner than he'd ever seen it. It made his heart ache thinking of the Scully who was so firm in her convictions he'd come back that she had clearly spent a lot of time making the apartment look great for his return. It made him feel even worse thinking of what response she'd imagined he'd have upon seeing it, only to be met with pure apathy.

As soon as he realized the molly was dead it just felt like a cosmic kick while he was already down. It might've just been one fish that could easily be replaced for $2, but that particular fish was part of a pair Scully had given him early in their partnership when she wasn't sure what he'd like as a gift. She'd been shy and sweet when she presented the black and white duo swimming together in a bag. "These were the only two left and I didn't want to split them up." He'd put them in the tank and, while the black one blended in with the others he had, the white one always swam around and reminded him of her. Now he couldn't even have that.

Despite the lack of communication happening right now, and how much work had been put into making him feel like his space was ready for him to come back, he still found himself staying at her apartment most nights. That first night he spent alone in his place was filled with dream after dream getting tortured — saws going into his chest, his skin being pulled from his body, the pain he could still feel resonating in his bones like a phantom limb. He'd wake up every few hours to the sounds of his own screams resonating off the empty apartment walls. There was always a pause where he waited for her to roll over or for the sounds of her footsteps to rush down the hallway, but it never came. The only thing that brought him comfort was that the bed smelled like her.

It didn't matter how clean his apartment was because that was never what he was coming back to. Scully was his home, and without her, he felt lost. Yesterday he never made a move to leave and she never asked him to. He wasn't sure if he was welcome in her bed, so he purposefully stayed up later than her and passed out on her couch. As had been their rapport as of late, she didn't say anything, but he could tell from her hurt expression that he'd made the wrong decision.

Luckily he could always trust Scully to know how to be his ray of light whenever he managed to lose his footing in the darkness.

"I know how you feel," she murmured lightly while sitting next to him on the couch.

It was so out of the blue he wasn't sure what to respond. The show they'd been watching had gone to commercial break and, apparently, so had them pretending everything was normal. He turned to her, wanting her to know he was giving her his full attention.

"When I came back, I um," she paused, her fingers starting to play with the silken edge of a maternity pajama top. "I felt so out of place within my own life. I felt like I didn't know how to be myself in a world that had gone on without me."

The irony was not lost on him that what he remembered most of those few months after she came back was how frustrated he'd been with her pushing herself. She'd taken a mere week off to recover from they didn't even know what injuries, and she was demanding to work as if all was fine. Mulder recognized it as a diversion tactic, it was more comfortable to focus on work than to process trauma, but he'd gotten frustrated with her, and here he was doing the same thing. The only difference seemed to be she knew from experience it didn't help.

"It took me years to feel like I'd caught up. I still have a hard time grappling with those months I was gone, and that I'll never get that time back. All the things I might've done in that time that were robbed from me. I remember when three months passed since I'd been returned, when I'd been back as long as I'd been missing, I still didn't feel fully like myself. Every external factor was the same, it was just me having a hard time adapting."

He listened to her, entranced by her admission. When he asked how she was doing back then, he'd gotten a lot of 'fines,' and he ended up not asking anymore in fear he was prying and annoying her. To hear her speak so candidly about her experience made him want to go back in time and hug the young woman who felt like he did now. He knew he was empathizing as best he could back then, but now having experienced what it's like, he realized there was no way he could have fully understood the depth and complexity of her emotions.

Scully turned to him with a deep breath and took his hand in her own. "I couldn't imagine coming back to every aspect of my life being different. I at least had the comfort of familiarity when I returned, and I could assimilate back into my old life while trying to process my trauma. I'm sorry if I was rushing you earlier when you said you were having problems processing and figuring out how you fit in."

Her ability to articulate what he was feeling was a relief, and almost eerie. Mulder knew he should say something so she didn't feel like she was talking to a brick wall, but she was saying it better than he ever could and he had missed the sound of her voice.

"I guess what got me through your absence was imagining your return," she admitted, confirming his earlier belief about her being at his apartment which now felt like a diorama of her grief. "I hate it when you're sad, so I didn't want to imagine you that way. It was wrong of me to cling to an image of you who'd come back and react like everything is fine when I know firsthand how unrealistic of an expectation that is to meet."

Mulder knew it was a sensitive question to ask, but he wanted to know. "How did you get through it when you thought I was dead? When it didn't seem like there was a possibility of me coming back?"

Scully's hold on his hand tightened as her face crumpled slightly. He squeezed her hand and stroked the skin on the back of her hand encouragingly. "I tried not to think of how you looked laying in that field," she stated, her voice quivering before a sharp staccato inhalation.

Shit. He hadn't even thought of the fact Scully might have seen his body like that. It made sense she'd want to see it and confirm for herself, Scully was a scientist who needed proof above all else, but he'd imagined her mourning his body on an autopsy table in the comfort of her own domain. Not that she'd seen him in whatever state he was crudely discarded in.

Mulder didn't think he could ever voice to her what he would have done if the situation was reversed and he had found her body dead in a field.

He could tell from her response that it was an image that had traumatized her, something that would no doubt haunt her for the rest of her life; but she managed to close her eyes, take a deep breath, and turn to him to continue.

There would never be a moment in his life where he wasn't astounded by her strength.

"I spent a lot of time in Karen Kosseff's office, and I just tried to focus on staying alive for the baby," she said, putting her other hand on her stomach.

His attention was drawn to the hand rubbing her stomach and that familiar knot of jealousy formed in his throat, threatening to choke him. Someone else had granted her the miracle he wanted to give her and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't even know if it was his place to be upset about it or if he was overstepping. The first time she'd done IVF, when she'd asked him, he felt included — like no matter what, he'd be a part of her and the baby's life. But clearly, she did it again and it made him feel like he hadn't actually needed to be a part of the process. That his involvement wasn't expected or, even worse, truly wanted.

While their conversation had made him feel better, it was that bump underneath her clothes that made him feel like he wasn't invited to a part of her life he wanted to be in more than she knew. Mulder wanted to tell her he'd raise the baby like his own if she'd let him, but the thought of her saying no felt like the last thing he could take right now.

"You can always touch me. You know that, right?" she asked softly off his look.

His hand itched to reach out, but it stayed in his lap. "I'm glad the IVF finally worked for you," he replied, putting all his effort into smiling to show he meant it.

Smiling looked like the furthest thing from her mind. "What?" Scully replied, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"What?" he repeated, confused by her confusion.

Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as she bit it in concentration, a look of pain passing her face. "Mulder," she stated hesitantly. "Do you really believe this baby isn't yours?" she asked, hurt she was trying to hide leaking through her words.

Mulder shook his head, dumbstruck. "How could it be?"

"You were right," she shrugged. "I just couldn't give up on a miracle."

"I thought the in-vitro didn't work?" he replied.

"You do remember all the sex we were having before you were taken, right?" she deadpanned. "I trust you got the birds and the bees talk?"

"It's mine," he whispered in shock.

"It's yours," she confirmed with so much conviction his knees would have given out if he was standing. Then, with a layer of vulnerability, she added softly, "You didn't really think…"

Mulder's mind was reeling, but he could still tell she was hurt by his unspoken implication that she'd move on so quickly after how long it had taken them to get together, but he just hadn't known.

"I thought you tried in-vitro again. I thought maybe you asked someone else," he answered weakly, the statement out loud sounding ridiculous to his own ears.

"Who else do you think I'd ask? Skinner?" she asked.

He wasn't going to admit it, but he'd considered it. When he was in the hospital he saw how protective Skinner was of her, how close they seemed to have gotten since he'd been gone. Retrospectively he could see that they likely didn't have many people they could turn to when they were looking for him, so it made sense they would have gotten closer.

"I thought maybe an anonymous donor," he answered with a grimace.

"I could barely get out of bed when you were taken, let alone decide it would be a great time to have a baby," she replied. "Though I will say, I'm glad I had a part of you with me to get me through this. I'm not sure how I would have handled it if I wasn't so concerned with keeping myself healthy for the baby. If I even could have."

Mulder couldn't handle thinking about that, so he focused on her delicate hand resting in his own, the hands that had healed him in more ways than he could count. He pulled it up to his lips and kissed her fingers, inhaling the smell of her lotion as he reveled in the feeling of her skin on his lips once more. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I-I just thought since it didn't work that time and then I saw you pregnant that maybe it was my fault it failed in the first place. I didn't mean to make you feel like I resented you. I never did for a second. I was just depressed that the life I'd been wanting for you and I was happening without me."

Her fingers tightened around his as he pressed their joined hands to his heart. "You're here now," she replied with an encouraging smile.

For the first time since being back, he felt the heaviness weighing him down start to fade away. The fog had lifted and he could see the life he'd actually come back to — one where the love of his life was carrying his child. Not a life that had gone on without him, but one that desperately needed him there.

He looked down at her swollen stomach and felt a smile break out on his face. Scully was pregnant with their baby. The words didn't even feel real. It felt too good to be true. She tugged his hand towards her and brought it to her stomach, pressing it against her bulge while splaying out his fingers. When Mulder looked up, she was smiling back at him and he realized how much he'd missed seeing that. He had never touched a pregnant woman's stomach before, and he was shocked at how firm it was. "What does it feel like?" he asked, astonished.

"At times, lovely, but most of the time I'm exhausted, feel disgusting, and look like an elephant," she chuckled.

He looked up at her and took note of how long and shiny her hair looked and how she truly exemplified that pregnancy 'glow' he always heard people talk about. She was absolutely radiant.

"You're beautiful, Scully," he murmured firmly. "Always."

He watched as tears immediately pooled in her eyes and her lip quiver. "Hey, hey, hey," he replied, scooting over and wrapping an arm around her to pull her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into the crook of his neck, pressing kisses to his skin after littering it with her tears. She smelled like cocoa butter and her skin felt unimaginably smooth. "Are you okay?" he murmured into her shoulder.

Scully pulled away slightly with a chuckle and shook her head. "Yeah, I've just been so emotional because of the hormones and I've hated how things were between us and I'm just so happy you're here," she explained, her voice quivering near the end. Without a moment's hesitation, he closed the gap between them, pressing his mouth to hers as if the mere act could be his benediction — a plea for an absolution only she could give.

She met him with equal fervor and for the first time in days, he was home, he finally felt alive.

It was different, kissing her while she was pregnant. It took more maneuvering than he was used to, but he liked it. Every time her stomach grazed his, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and overwhelming affection for her. "I missed you," she whispered against his lips between kisses. "So much."

He let his hands roam through her hair as they kissed, amazed at how thick it was and how the longer strands felt weaving like water in and out of his fingers. Mulder was surprised at the tonal change, but he figured it made sense. They deserved this little piece of heaven after the hell they'd just been through. Being in her arms was exactly where he wanted to be.

Somewhere between Scully pulling on his shirt and their legs shifting against each other, they ended up with Scully laying on her back on the couch while Mulder hovered above her. He was being mindful of not putting any weight on her stomach as he began kissing one of the tendons of her neck, smiling as he felt her pulse thrum under his tongue. A shiver went down his spine as he felt her rake her long fingernails sensually down his back. He moved to the other side of her neck and kissed the vibrations of her moan.

The moment he registered something tickle his inner thigh, she already began palming him through the front of his grey sweatpants, eliciting a hearty groan. He felt his eyes flutter shut in ecstasy as she deftly moved her wrist, stroking him firmly through the fabric. "Scully," he rasped between clenched teeth, burrowing his face into her neck while pumping against her hand.

"Mulder," she rasped.

He pulled away to look at her and watched as she turned away and coughed. Realizing her rasp was out of a lack of breath and not lust, he sat back on his legs out of concern he'd been pressing on her. "Are you okay?" he panted.

She reached out for his arm and he pulled her up into a sitting position. "Yeah," she nodded with a smile. "The baby just smashes my lungs if I'm on my back for too long."

"Do you want to stop?' he asked, rubbing her arms.

"Absolutely not," she replied firmly before she all but pulled him off his feet and led him by the hand to the bedroom.

"What they say about pregnant women's sex drives must be true then, huh?" he teased, following behind her with his own bounding footsteps.

Upon entering her room she turned to him with a mock-severe look, "You have no idea."

Her intensity and the hunger in her eyes made his cock twitch. Mulder pulled her to him, pressing his arousal to her stomach. "I think I can help with that," he murmured.

He brought his hands up in between them and started undoing the buttons of her nightshirt, noting how her nipples were protruding against the fabric. When he'd done research after she initially brought up in-vitro and having a baby, he learned about how much more sensitive women's bodies became. Out of curiosity, he let one finger stray from his mission to flick one nipple teasingly.

His eyes widened with the intensity of her gasp. "Sorry, my breasts are sensitive," she chuckled breathily, confirming his suspicions.

"I didn't even know that was a possibility for you," he teased, knowing he'd made her come from breast play alone before. Not wanting to neglect the other side, he let the back of his index finger graze over the other pebbled nipple and watched as it seemed to become impossibly harder, her breath almost becoming labored from just that.

This was going to be fun.

When the last button was undone, he raked his fingers up her body in between the flaps of fabric. He gently touched the darker line that was running up the middle of her stomach, only pausing to lightly touch her now protruding belly button.

She laughed huskily and did a little pivot sway away from him. "That tickles," she chastised playfully.

He chuckled along with her as he went to her shoulders, sliding his hands under the fabric so that it slid down her arms behind her, fluttering down in a heap at her feet. The sight of her standing shirtless while pregnant in front of him was enough to take his breath away.

It was initially almost imperceivable, but he saw her hands instinctively go to cover herself, only to hesitate and join self-consciously in front of her stomach. At that moment it struck him that it hadn't been a one-off comment in the living room: she really felt insecure about herself. She was trying to hide it, her trust for him feeling like the greatest honor, but he could still see it in her demeanor change. "You have no idea how sexy you are," he praised when he caught her eye.

"Mulder, you don't ha-" she began with a slight shake of her head.

"Don't," he whispered. Mulder raised his hands and cupped her jaw in his palms, coaxing her to look at him fully and see his sincerity. "I love your body. You're carrying our baby, and I'm in awe of you. Scully, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my entire life, and that most certainly hasn't changed. I don't want to see you doubt yourself."

He was glad to see he hadn't lost the ability to make her blush since he'd been gone. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were misty again. "Thank you," she mouthed, her voice a ghost of a whisper. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, each cheek, and the tip of her nose before finally resting on her lips, hoping to convey his earnest adoration.

Scully's tongue slid into his mouth to deepen the kiss as her hands wrapped around him, sliding up under his shirt to play with the skin of his lower back. His hands slid away from her jaw and one entangled itself in her hair while the other reached around to cup the back of her neck.

However, where he anticipated meeting the slightly raised line of where he knew her little implant scar was, he felt something that felt significantly more raised. His eyes shot open as he pulled away, all other thoughts temporarily forgotten. Scully had a slightly chagrined expression on her face as her eyes tentatively peeked open.

He didn't wait before walking around her, gently moving her hair aside so he could have a better look at the back of her neck. The ghost of the white little scar he was anticipating had suddenly become paired with a raised, red, and angry scar next to her old one, only this one was far newer and deeper.

This was one of his favorite spots on her body. The tiny little scar was a reminder of her strength. He liked to kiss and touch the spot he knew held the miracle that helped keep her alive. Seeing this new wound right next to it made his heart race and his body go numb. "D-did someone cut out your chip?" he asked. Immeasurable guilt started to fill him at the knowledge that someone hurt her while he wasn't there. That someone tried to take something so important. Would her cancer come back?

She turned around quickly and reached up to mirror the centering touch he'd just given her as she cupped his face with her hands, her fingers gently scratching the fine hairs near his ears.

"No. No one tried to cut out my chip," she replied firmly.

"But did they inadvertently do so? What happened?" he asked, falling into his reflexive habit of becoming one-track-minded where Scully's safety was concerned.

"It's still there. I had them x-ray me when I got to the hospital. I promise, I'm okay," she pressed. "I can fill you in on all the cases you missed later, okay?"

There must've been something on his face that made her realize he'd be focused on it until he got a little more assurance than that. With a sigh, she stroked the skin of his cheeks and stated, "I initially had a hard time letting myself trust Doggett so I went on a case alone and some cultists tried to make me a host for their God. I'm not going to go into details right now because it's gross and I'm trying to have sex right now, but Doggett found me and I had to have him cut something out of me because we were running out of time. I promise it's not as bad as it looks."

"Doggett did that to you?" he repeated, the image of the man cutting her burning into his mind.

She rolled her eyes and looked at him pointedly. "I think you missed the part where I said I told him to. He saved my life, Mulder." She moved her hands down to rest on his chest, roaming his muscles with clear appreciation. Then she looked up at him with big eyes while teasingly pouting her lip. "I don't want to talk about Doggett or cases right now. I've missed you so much and I thought about this for months. Please don't make me wait anymore. I promise I'm okay and I'll fill you in on everything later. Just be here with me," she pleaded.

Mulder could never say no to her when she asked like that, so despite his curiosity, he smiled and nodded. They were in no rush, they had plenty of time. He'd ask questions tomorrow.

Tonight was for her.

"Okay," he replied, tucking an errant hair behind her ear.

"Good," she smirked triumphantly, a devilish gleam twinkling in her eye. "I don't want to be the only one half-naked anymore," she demanded.

His hands slid down her body and he smirked when he felt goosebumps arise in their wake. "You're right, you should be fully naked," he replied, tugging on the elastic waistband of her pajama pants. She let him slide the silk shorts down her legs, no underwear much to his delight, and she was visibly shivering in excitement as he palmed her bare hips in his hands as he stood back up.

Not wanting to dismiss her wishes though, he quickly rid himself of his shirt and his sweatpants so they were both standing nude. "Get on the bed," he commanded lowly.

She hummed in appreciation and crawled onto the bed, the roundness of her stomach visible between her thighs as she made her way up to the headboard and her arousal glistening prominently. She was so wet it was already leaking onto her inner thighs and he felt proud to have been the cause. His erection that had weaned when they were talking about her injury had sprung back in full force upon seeing her fully naked again. God, he missed her.

Despite his arousal and excitement, he couldn't help but feel robbed of the opportunity to see these developments occur over time. Mulder wished he could have seen her body slowly change and develop as new life grew inside her. Suddenly he painfully related to her earlier sentiment regarding feeling indignant about the time that had been taken and all the moments he was robbed of. He wanted to hold her hair back when she had morning sickness, he wanted her to jump his bones anytime she wanted because of her hormones, and he wanted to be there every time she had a moment of doubt that told her she was anything other than beautiful so he could tell her how wrong she was.

They'd made love quite a lot in their short time together between her coming to his bed that night he got back from England and his being abducted, but as far as intimate relationships went, it was all still relatively new. He had only just started feeling confident he was proficient in the body and pleasure of Dana Scully. He'd been cataloging every freckle, memorizing every moan and gasp in the hopes of recreating them, and now he felt out of practice. Her body had changed and he was determined tonight to worship her and become reacquainted with her. He wanted to know the intricacies of Dana Scully both inside and out.

Mulder wanted to take his time. Crawling onto the bed after her, he approached her sitting form and kissed her while on his hands and knees. He knew there were going to be many new pregnancy-related changes, but now he was going to look out for any new scars or injuries that happened since they were last together. He just wanted to know so he could start to create a new future. Her skin was pale and delicate, her veins pale and blue underneath her skin like the blue lines on pulpy parchment. He wanted to use his tongue to write odes on her skin, he wanted to fill the spaces between the lines with 'I love you's, pink scrapes of his stubble, hickies left in his mouth's wake — he wanted her body to be a diary of his love. It was his goal to replace the memory of harsh, cruel hands and evil intentions and leave behind nothing but reassurances of his love and affection for her.

He pulled back, enjoying the way her body leaned forward instinctively to keep them connected, and watched as a content expression crossed her face. Her eyes fluttered open and she grinned impishly at him.

"What positions work best for you?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied in amusement. "I've never had pregnancy sex before."

"We're like virgins," he joked.

"Oh absolutely," she deadpanned, placing a hand on her severely pregnant stomach for emphasis.

Mulder snickered before he maneuvered onto his back, his cock bobbing in the air emphatically. He was adjusting himself when he felt Scully's knee come to nestle against his hip, her other going over him so she was sitting on his lap. Pausing his movements, he watched as she grabbed his erection and brought it closer to herself. However, instead of easing up on her knees and guiding him inside of her like he thought she was doing, she rocked back and forth while pressing his cock against her folds, rubbing his head against her clit with each movement.

"Fuck," he moaned, his hips inadvertently snapping up from pleasure and causing her to moan at the unexpected contact.

She continued her ministrations until her knees had his hips in a death grip and her movements were becoming erratic as her orgasm built. Mulder watched as she lifted herself up, but he pivoted his hips before she could sink onto him.

"Wait," he rasped.

"Mulder," she whined, dragging out his name as she pouted.

The sight amused him, and he nearly gave in. "There's something I need to do first," he explained.

"Do you have to do it right no-"

"Scoot up here and grab the headboard," he instructed.

Her pout quickly turned into a smile and an enthusiastic, "Oh!"

Doing as he instructed, she made her way up his body until she was straddling his face. "It's weird not being able to look down and watch you," she remarked once she braced her hands against the headboard.

Utilizing the way her stomach eclipsed his head underneath her to his advantage, he latched his mouth onto her clit without warning and added suction. "Shit!" she gasped, her body jerking in surprise. He reached his arms around her thighs so she was locked in place as he ran his tongue along her seam. She was so wet the mere contact had already drenched the lower half of his face. Her labia was swollen red from arousal and if her movements a moment ago were any indication, she was close to coming already.

He plunged his tongue inside of her and curved it so he was pressing against her inner wall, alternating between the pointed tip of his tongue and the flat of it when it was relaxed. He licked his lips and savored the taste of her. It was distinguishably Scully, but slightly different, sweeter, than he remembered. Even though his arms were around her thighs, she was still squirming as best she could. Knowing going back to her clit was what was going to send her over the edge, he swirled around it teasingly. Once, twice, then he latched on with suction while flicking the pointed edge of his tongue mercilessly against her clit.

A gasp tore from her lungs and was immediately followed by her panting his name with so much reverence it sounded like a prayer. Mulder felt her thighs start shaking and quivering against him with the power of her orgasm, and he didn't stop until she jerked away from him and placed a hand on his shoulder to signal she was too sensitive.

Scully adjusted herself so she was back in her original position, only stopping once to give him a deep kiss on the mouth. Mulder was too focused on what she was going earlier to notice much more, but now that she was sitting on his lap in the glow of the lamp, he realized her breasts were fuller now. Sitting up without dislodging her, he brought his hands up to cup them, playing with their weight in his hands. Scully's eyes shut in pleasure as her head rolled to her shoulder, leaning forward into his touch.

Mulder bent his head down and flicked his tongue over a pebbled nipple before taking the darkened areola into his mouth and sucking. "Mmm," she moaned, squirming against him in desperation for any contact. His cock was grinding into the flesh of her ass as she ground her clit desperately into his pubic bone.

He let go of one nipple to take a few deep breaths before moving onto the other one to give it the same attention. One hand was resting on the curve of her hip, stabilizing Scully, while the other rubbed her other breast and sternum. Mulder was so focused on playing with her, that he didn't fully register her grab his forearm so she could bring his hand to her face until he felt her lips clamp around his thumb. He felt his cock throb at the feeling of her hot, wet mouth sucking on his thumb.

Mulder released her breast with an audible suction as he looked up at her. If he let himself, he could have come from the look in her eyes alone. Scully kept her gaze even as she swirled her tongue around his thumb lewdly. He playfully bent it in her mouth and watched as her lips opened into a breathy chuckle. Pulling his hand away, he lowered it so he could spread her saliva around both her nipples, blowing a stream of cool air on them to make her shiver. He watched her nipples tighten in front of him before resting his hand on her inner thigh so he could swirl his thumb around her swollen clit.

"I want you," she gasped as she swiveled her hips to compliment his ministrations.

"Like this?" he asked.

"No," she mused. Then with displeasure added, "My knees are starting to hurt."

"Try laying on your side," he suggested, easing himself up as she got off him.

She laid down and faced the wall, presuming he was going to spoon up behind her. "What're you doing?" she asked when she saw him at her knees.

"Face the other way," he replied, straddling her bottom leg while bringing the other to rest against his hip. This way she could lay down on her side and wouldn't have to exert herself as much.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked.

While she was still laying on her side, she was pivoting slightly so she could face him. "Yeah," she replied while rubbing her top leg against his encouragingly.

He reached down and grabbed his shaft, rubbing the tip tauntingly between her folds before slowly easing himself into her. He watched her face to make sure he wasn't hurting her, but all he saw was an expression of content bliss. "You feel so good," she sighed, tilting her hips to give him room to go deeper.

"Jesus, Scully," he groaned in ecstasy as her walls clamped down around him like a vice.

One of her hands went to one of his legs and she began grasping at him, seemingly just wanting to touch him in any way she could. "More," she demanded.

As much as he wanted this to last for as long as possible, he was in no condition to deny her. He began pumping his hips against her, feeling her walls stretch to accommodate him as he slid in and out of her. Her breasts were bouncing tantalizingly and he watched as she brought her other hand up and began cupping herself, moving from one breast to the other haphazardly.

Leaning forward slightly, Mulder let his hand roam across her stomach, feeling the way it moved with each thrust. It was an odd experience, but insanely erotic at the same time. He repositioned his knees a little bit so he could angle his hips to try to hit her g-spot. Mulder had been pretty proficient at finding it before, but he felt his spongy head rubbing against the grooves of her front walls and he hadn't heard her telltale gasp yet.

He rocked his hips a little differently, trying a little farther back, and he saw her body tense as her breathing hitched. There it is. "Please don't stop," she begged breathlessly, her hands moving to grab fistfuls of the bedspread. He picked up the pace, hitting the same area repeatedly with the tip of his cock while sounds of pleasure flew out of her mouth mindlessly. "Yes. Need. Please. So good. More. Mulder," variants of those words at different volumes and tones with intermittent moans.

He felt a coil start to tighten in his abdomen and he knew he was close. Scully was too as she reached around her stomach to rub her clit with her middle and ring fingers. "That's it, Scully," he praised, locking eyes with her while their mutual bliss grew.

With one quick snap of his hips, he watched as her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open as her body trembled with her orgasm. It was clearly taking a conscious amount of effort to keep her eyes open, and he was grateful for it because seeing her come undone was the single most beautiful and erotic thing he'd ever seen. The visual combined with the feeling of her spasming around him caused him to come right after her.

Scully stroked his hair as he caught his breath. "You mean so much to me," she mused out loud, her hand moving to cup his jaw while her thumbs carefully brushed over the scars on his face.

He still felt self-conscious about them, even though he knew it was silly and Scully herself said they'd heal soon. Trying to ignore his insecurities, he bent down to kiss her before he moved so that he was spooning her from behind, pulling a light blanket over them as he put his arm around her.

"Thank you, Scully," he murmured into her hair.

"I think you're the one who deserves the thank you. My knees would have given out a long time ago," she replied, placing her hand on top of the hand he'd placed on her stomach.

He chuckled lightly before shaking his head. "I wasn't talking about that, though I think you deserve some appreciation anyway," he remarked, kissing the crown of her head.

"Then what for?" she yawned.

"Everything," he stated simply.

He felt her about to say something but he interrupted her with a gasp when he felt something press against his palm. "Did you feel that?" she replied excitedly, her hand pressing into his and moving it slightly.

"Was that-"

"The baby kicked," she replied, the smile audible in her tone.

"Did it hurt?" he asked, it felt pretty strong against his hand, he couldn't imagine the internal version of that.

"Not really. It's oddly comforting unless it's on my bladder," she replied. "It's probably going to happen again."

They both laid in silence together for a moment in anticipation, only to simultaneously disrupt it with excited laughs when the baby kicked again. "That's amazing," he replied in awe.

"It really is," she mused in kind.

"Do you know what it reminds me of?" he asked.

"You better not say-"

"- the movie Alien," he replied, smiling when he heard her amused sigh.

He rubbed her stomach gently, both to touch Scully and to start trying to connect with the kid. "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" he asked.

"Maybe, but I won't tell," she lilted cheekily.

"That's evil, Scully," he tsked, nudging her lightly with his knee. "I guess it doesn't matter. No matter what, the minute their little arms can hold up a bat I'm going to teach them how to play ball. You can help me since you've received top-notch training from the best," he declared.

Instead of responding, she turned so that she could look at him, and he realized she was crying. "Hey, hey. It's okay," he stammered, moving to stroke her hair and wipe away her tears.

"I'm so relieved you're here. I missed you so much and I was so scared I was going to have to do this alone," she sobbed, clutching his hand like he was going to disappear again if she let go.

Mulder felt his throat start to tighten in sympathy and he held her tighter while kissing her temple. He'd suffered so much when he was taken, but so had she. They were only ever going to get through the emotional scars if they were together. "I'm here, Scully, I promise. I'm yours forever."

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 10: One With Everything

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Thursday, April 30.

Mulder and Scully don’t often get to spend a day in court; it almost feels like a treat. An exhausting, headache-inducing, occasionally disheartening treat.

The only real upside is that they usually drive together.

They’re in Baltimore, and even though the drive back to the office is less than an hour, Mulder can feel his energy flagging.

“You hungry?” Mulder asks, sliding into the driver’s seat. “We can grab dinner before we head back.”

“Mulder, I’m wiped out,” Scully sighs.

“Alright,” he replies, subdued. He puts the keys in the ignition and starts the car.

They’ve gone two blocks when Scully speaks again. “I could go for pizza,” she says softly.

Mulder takes a steadying breath. This is progress.

It’s only been a week since the Great Mark Implosion, and things between Mulder and Scully have been thawing slowly. There’s residual awkwardness around them, like the last compacted piles of old snow in the shady places on the sides of the road. Slow to melt, but not a real impediment.

They find a little brick hole-in-the-wall pizza shop not far from the district courthouse. Scully took an appraising sniff when they walked in, declared the scent inside “pizza enough”, and they proceeded to make their order.

“So, how’ve you been?” Mulder asks. It’s a stupid question, but he’s hungry and tired and a little nervous, picking the mushrooms off of his slice of pizza before taking a bite. Scully always insists on ordering one with everything. Thank god she hates anchovies.

“You tell me,” she replies. “You’ve seen me practically every day for the past week.” She takes a first bite of pizza and moans softly. Mulder’s cheeks warm at the sound.

“I mean… in regards to what happened last Wednesday,” he clarifies. Broaching this subject feels suddenly dangerous, and he wants to take his words back.

“You can say break-up, Mulder,” she says gently. “It’s not a secret. And I’m fine,” she says, chewing, then raises a finger. “I know historically I say that when I’m not fine, but I mean it this time,” she explains. “I’m not hurt, just… disappointed. Tired. A little annoyed.”

“With him, or me, or both?” Mulder asks.

She shrugs. “Both,” she says candidly. “But you provided me with sustenance, so my annoyance with you is diminishing.” She takes a sip of diet Coke before she continues. “I’ve been thinking, and I’ve determined that the part of this that bothers me the most is the fact that Mark, or anyone, would base their summation of my character off my sexual history. I’m thirty-four years old, a fully-matured and capable human being, and yet I felt like I was stuck in a web of high school gossip. It’s insulting, being subjected to outdated moral codes by men who have no business passing judgement.”

“I have an impertinent question,” Mulder says. “You don’t have to answer.”

“I’m bracing myself,” she replies, taking another bite of pizza.

“From an outsider’s perspective, these outdated moral codes and judgment seem like a fundamental part of Catholicism. So I guess I’m wondering… why are you still Catholic?”

Her answering sigh is deep and slow. “That’s a big question, Mulder; one I ask myself all the time. I think it boils down to faith. I believe in God; everything else is just window dressing. My relationship with my faith, with religion, is complicated. But ultimately, that’s between me and God. Everyone else, namely Mark, can fuck off.”

He loves her so much in this moment, this tiny self-possessed scientist voraciously eating pizza. “Fair enough,” he says, removing another mushroom from his slice of pizza and putting on the edge of her plate. “So faith in God is intact; faith in men, however…”

Scully chuckles. “It’s at a low plateau,” she jokes, “and yet this may actually be the best break-up I’ve ever had.”

“Ouch,” Mulder says with a wince. “I’d hate to imagine the worst.”

“I egged a guy’s car once,” she says around a bite of pizza.

“No, really?” Mulder asks in surprise. “What’d he do?”

She swallows, wipes her fingers on a crumpled napkin. “Let me be clear, this was when I was in high school,” she says, “So all the emotions were heightened. My boyfriend cheated on me,” she explains. “I was seventeen and wanted to wait to have sex, and he didn’t. It was pretty traumatic for teenage Dana, so I reacted with criminal mischief.”

“Did you get caught?”

Scully shakes her head, picking up one of the stray mushrooms on her plate and popping it in her mouth. “No. I was stealthy,” she says. “And a good church girl. I think most people assumed it was a dumb teenage prank by some local boys.” She pauses. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone this,” she says in realization.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Mulder vows, passing her another mushroom.

“So what about you?” she asks, serving herself another slice of pizza. “What sort of romantic entanglements did you get into in high school? Any horror stories?”

“Not much,” Mulder says with a shrug. “Though I was pretty in love with a girl when I was sixteen or so. Her name was Laura and she was the older sister of one of my friends; I think she was probably 18? I was at their house all the time but I hardly ever talked to her.”

“Why not?”

“I was, uh, actually pretty shy back then,” he admits. “Especially with girls. She was really pretty and kind, but every time I opened my mouth to speak I’d get nervous and end up just saying nothing. Once I almost threw up.”

“That’s actually very sweet,” Scully assures him. “Trust me, she probably thought you were adorable.” She chews thoughtfully. “Did you ever tell her how you felt?”

Mulder shakes his head. “Not really. I wrote her a letter confessing my feelings and was halfway to their house to leave it in the mailbox when I chickened out. I took it home and burned it in the kitchen sink. Then she left for college.”

Scully hums in understanding. “A tale as old as time.”

“I looked her up once, after I finished at Oxford. She was married with a baby,” Mulder says, chewing a piece of crust. “Nothing would have happened if she weren’t, but part of me kind of wondered.”

Scully is silent, and when he looks up at her she’s got her cheek cradled in her hand, a soft smile on her lips, watching him.

“What?” he asks, suddenly self-conscious.

Her eyes are gleaming. “I don’t know why it never occurred to me before, but… you’re a romantic, Mulder.”

He swallows. “Is that... is that a bad thing?”

She drops her hand, shakes her head. “No, it’s not a bad thing at all,” she says softly.

Scully’s face is awash with blue and red from the neon sign in the window, and her eyes are deep and glimmering. He has to look away to steady himself before he says something he’s not ready for her to hear.

“I think I assumed you dislike romance,” he says, dipping a toe into shallower, yet unexplored waters. “It seems to me that science is somewhat at odds with the concept, when you can explain away all these feelings as chemical reactions with evolutionary precedent.”

“These feelings?” she asks, and he freezes.

“Romantic feelings in general,” he clarifies, recovering quickly. “The heart palpitations, fluttering stomach, desire for physical contact, all those things we felt as teenagers.” All those things I’m feeling right now.

“Some things aren’t meant to be examined through a purely scientific lens,” she counters. “I also firmly believe in instinct and trusting your gut in certain cases. Hell, that’s why I broke things off with Mark. No matter what he said, I knew things didn’t feel right.”

Mulder’s puzzled. “What he said?” he asks.

Scully licks her lip. “When I called him after work,” she explains. “I told him what you told me, and he claimed you twisted his words. A misunderstanding, coupled with manipulation born of jealousy,” Scully sighs.

Mulder’s heart stutters. “And you didn’t believe him?”

“No, I didn’t. It was his word against yours,” she says, voice gentle and firm. “There was no question.”

Mulder feels the weight of her words drape over his shoulders like a warm blanket. She trusts him, believes in him, chooses him.

He’s floored.

“Scully, that offer to elope still stands,” he says with a grin, and she smiles back.

Scully predictably falls asleep on the drive back to DC. Mulder glances over at her periodically, drinking in the sight of his partner curled up in the passenger seat. Her head is resting against the window, rosy cheek pillowed on a small hand.

Scully trusts him, rests in his presence, weighs his words. He doesn’t deserve what she gives him, but he realizes then what he needs to do anyway; fear and uncertainty be damned.

She deserves the truth; she is the truth.

[teiasviago]

Hey, loaf! Based on that post from the other day, would you be up for writing something where Scully finds out she is infertile in s2?

Yeah, I can do that for you, loaf. 💓 I definitely took this prompt and ran away with it kjsdhfjsdhf. The first section fulfills the prompt but the rest leads into an AU because I decided that I don’t want to hurt my Scullybaby <3.

Branched

The doctors all agreed that once her body readjusted, her menstrual cycle would follow suit. It was irregular before due to birth control but she’s been off it since she was... Scully hates to even think the word. It’s been months since Mulder stopped looking at her as if a simple hand on her back could break her, and her menstrual cycle isn’t even irregular—she just doesn’t have one anymore.

It’s baffled all the doctor’s she’s seen. Scully writes it off as an effect of whatever experiments were done to her and accepts her doctors’ conclusions that there’s nothing to be done about it unless she’s interested in having children.

The idea hasn’t crossed her mind much, aside from a distant yearning when she’s with her godson. She always assumed that she’d have kids one day after she fell in love with the right guy. Scully doesn’t know what she wants for her future anymore. All she knows is that she wants justice, and she wants the truth—both for herself and for Mulder.

Her newfound infertility is...something. She doesn’t want more pity. If she was stifled after her—if she was stifled before, Scully can only imagine that if she tells Mulder and her family that she can’t get pregnant it’ll be worse. The—what happened to her is something she can move on from, but this is not.

—

She’s experiencing early menopause, her doctor declares. It seems so final. She cries herself to sleep and goes into work the next day as if the shards of her future haven’t been ground to dust.

Though she’d tried not to give any of this much thought, she’d somehow assumed that the chip had been inhibiting the release of her ova for an unknown reason—maybe propagation is counterintuitive to Their agenda, who knows—but to find out that she didn’t have any, that all her chances at motherhood were gone... It’s a grief unlike any other.

—

Allentown. The name sends shivers down her spine if she so much as thinks of it. Flashes of her abduction (say it say it say it, don’t let them control you, you’re stronger than the trauma) and the knowledge that all the women at the MUFON meeting had chips and fertility issues and cancer... She takes off the next day and books an appointment with an oncologist.

The scans come back negative. The women said it could take up to two years to appear, though. Scully prays to God that it never happens.

—

She’ll never be a mother. Some days it hits harder than others. Some days she wishes that she could lay her head down and wake up in a world where she and Mulder have the lives they always wanted. She feels so violated and so disrespected, some days. On those days, she lashes out at Mulder, tries to leave him and this life of lies behind, but she can’t.

He’s not someone she can just walk away from.

These are the days that she smokes. These are the days that she calls up Ellen and asks for all the gossip she’s amassed. These are the days she gets drunk over the phone with her friend and spills secrets that no one else gets to know. Trent’s turning eight, Danes. I’m infertile, El. It’s funny how the person she sees the least knows the most about what’s happened to her.

These are also the days when she hits the town and drinks until she forgets. Sometimes she’ll go home with someone for the night and leave early in the morning, Mulder on her mind. He doesn’t know. He can’t know. It would break him even though it’s not about him, even though it’s not his fucking life.

—

She wakes up to a nosebleed and prays to God that he’ll give her a few more months to live. Just until Mulder’s ready, she thinks, tears running down her face as she holds a wad of tissues to her nose. Just until he’s ready to let go. He’s been such a constant in her life, such a tether. When things get bad, they go their separate ways, but they always come back to each other and find their balance.

It makes sense for him to be the first person to see confirmation of her cancer. It feels like the final blow. First, they take away her ability to make life, and then they take away her own life. She’s made her peace with it.

Mulder hasn’t—he refuses to do so. Standing there in the hospital hallway days later, Scully lets herself love him. His lips are soft against her chapped ones and her edges feel burned and frayed, but his love keeps her together.

“I found something, Scully,” he murmurs when their kiss has faded into an embrace with her head on his chest.

Her brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“I found your ova.” There’s so much going on in that four letter sentence that it bowls her over.

“You—you did?”

“I took as many vials as I could and got them into a freezing container. I shipped them off to the Gunmen before I came here. They can keep them safe for when you get better.”

Scully’s chin starts to tremble and she presses her face into Mulder’s chest. “What if I never do?”

He cups her cheeks and gently makes her face him. “I won’t let that happen.”

She wants to believe him with all her heart. “I want to believe...” she whispers, a tear streaking down her cheek.

“Give me your fear,” he tells her, “and believe. I need you to believe.”

She nods against his chest.

—

Scully cries when she gives him the news of her remission, pulling Mulder into her embrace and showering his head with kisses and thank yous. He’s given her a second chance at life, but more than that, a chance at motherhood.

(“Dana, I have excellent news for you: your cancer is shrinking. You’re going into remission.” And then, when the shock and the joy had run their immediate courses: “It also seems that, in due time, your menstrual cycle will resume, so no worries on that end.”)

It’ll be months before she can truly start the process but she already feels lighter than ever before.

—

She waits a week after her return to work to ask him. They’re at his apartment, Scully curled against him as the movie’s credits roll. “Mulder,” she whispers, checking to see if he’s asleep.

“Hm?” He rolls his head to crack his neck.

“Will you make a baby with me?”

He looks down at her, eyes wide. “What?”

“I’ve been seeing a fertility doctor, a friend of mine. She’s examined the ova—along with several of her colleagues—and declared them viable.” Scully can’t keep the tremulous smile off her face as she gives him the news. “She said that I just have to secure a donor to begin the treatment plan. I want that donor to be you. I mean, you practically threw yourself at me in Home last year...”

She traces her finger along the back of his hand, looking away to give him some space. After a moment, he says, “You want me to...to be part of that equation?”

Scully takes a deep breath and sits up so that their faces are level, shaking her head. “I want to have kids with you.” She maneuvers one leg between his thigh and the arm of the couch so she’s straddling him, and sits down on his thighs. “I want you to be the father of my kids.”

Mulder gazes at her like a lost puppy until she reaches out to wipe away a tear trailing along his cheek. “Me?”

She nods and cups his cheeks. “You.”

He nods with her, a smile spreading across his lips. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Yeah.”

They’ve been reduced to monosyllabic words in their joy, giving up on words all together as they fade into deliriously happy teary-eyed laughter. Scully leans forward and kisses him.

—

To no one’s surprise and Bill’s chagrin, she tugs Mulder along to her family’s Christmas gathering at her brother’s place in San Diego. Emily’s existence only reaffirms their decision to do IVF together and their relationship. They’ve been more of a team than ever, and perhaps that’s what saves Emily in the end.

Mulder and Scully put off all the major changes they were planning to make in favor of giving Em time to adjust to her new life. She clings to them until she gets familiarized with everything, until “Dana” and “Mul’er” phase into “Mommy” and “Daddy”.

He learns how to make chocolate chip pancakes with his eyes half-closed at six in the morning. They both learn car seats like the back of their hands. They get used to this new life where the only reason they wake up in the middle of the night is to comfort their daughter and not board a red-eye flight for a case.

—

Scully’s known that Mulder’s a thorough person when he wants to be since they met. What she didn’t know is that he’s also extremely sappy. He kisses her frequently for no reason in the office, and his porn mag collection has been replaced by a stack of books on IVF and pregnancy and childhood developmental stages. He has a calendar tacked to the wall next to his door with all the important dates on it.

They tell Skinner about their relationship and the IVF in confidence, filling him in on all the relevant things to their decision to leave the X-Files. The department must go on, but they can’t be the ones to breath life into them with Emily and a baby. Skinner says he knows “some excellent agents” that can fill their roles.

Mulder goes with her to every appointment, even if he can only sit outside in the waiting room until he’s called in. He holds her hand during every comprehensive pregnancy test that’s done, and kisses away her tears when they come back negative.

They look at apartments together when they find the time between Emily and their new assignments, and sometime between moving in and starting Em with her new pre-school, something wonderful happens. When the test comes back positive, they both start crying at the clinic.

“Mulder...”

“Scully...”

—

“You’re really okay with passing on the torch?” she asks in bed that night once Emily’s sacked out.

He nods against her forehead, his hand on her belly. “I’ve spent my whole life looking for Samantha, but I’ve never let her move on. Maybe she doesn’t want to be found. Maybe she’s dead. Maybe I’ll never find out. But I can’t pursue the answer to the question of what happened to her at the cost of everything else. You’re the one who taught me that there’s more to life than trying to solve mysteries.”

Scully nuzzles his nose. “You taught me something, too.”

“Oh?”

“You taught me how to have the courage to believe.”

[cardiophileanonymous]

Late Night Errands Chapter 1

Mulder x Reader

Summary: The reader is a paralegal preparing to help defend her client on trial in a week. The stress has finally convinced her to go out and get a stethoscope to help calm her down. Little does she know a certain agent was watching her out while she was out late at night, and it makes her a prime suspect in his eyes.

Y/n= your name

Y/f/n Y/l/n= your first and last name

B/f/n= your best friend’s name

...

Y/n slammed the door shut then started to punch the sides of the steering wheel. What in the world was going through her mind? Of course this store wouldn’t have any stethoscopes! Even if it was a pharmacy. People don’t have stuff like that lying around in their homes. Not normal people, anyway. What was she gonna say to the employee when they inevitably asked why she was looking for one? “Oh, I don’t need one, I just want it for my weird-ass heartbeat kink!” Yeah, that was one conversation she didn’t want to have.

She silently stared at the moon for a few brief moments. Why couldn’t she have a normal kink like everyone else? Like feet, maybe. It still would’ve been weird, but dammit, at least she’d be able to find porn of it. The best she could find easily was cardiophilia fanfiction, and even then, it was scarce.

She snuck glances around the parking lot. Nobody in sight. So hopefully, nobody would notice the blush on her face when she brought up an hour long “asmr heartbeat” video for the sake of calming herself down.

She smiled in bliss. When a heartbeat was in the background, it was like everything melted away. She groaned in frustration when she heard a text from her friend, B/f/n.

Don’t forget we’re having lunch tomorrow! I’m taking your mind off that trial if it’s the last thing I do!

She was double pissed now that the stress of last week filled her head. She was a paralegal, and one of her clients was set to go on trial less than a week from now. It was the oddest case she’d ever seen. The case of Bill Brown.

The man had killed exactly one-hundred people in the span of less than half a year. And the details he gave were chilling. They were vivid and graphic. So, he must’ve been a sociopath or something, right? Well he was super remorseful. And upon turning himself in, that’s right, turning himself in, he sobbed for three days straight. What’s strangest was he claimed he didn’t know they happened until the memories came back to him that night.

She wouldn’t have believed it either, if he didn’t point to bodies that hadn’t been found yet. He helped officers uncover at least a quarter of his victims.

It gave everyone working in his defense a headache. Argue innocence and a false confession? He flat out admitted details the public didn’t know. Did they argue insanity? He seemed pretty fucking sane during interviews and psych evaluations. Self defense? Not in a million years.

What got at her was the genuine feeling he was innocent, and that someone, or something, could be out there. The idea of being out there in the city alone with it out and about gave her the creeps.

“Whatever,” she whispered, turning the audio up so she could return to her blissful ignorant state. Where everything melted away. Where she was actually pretty happy with a smile on her face. With that, she began to drive away.

…

All she could think about when she finished getting dressed was the trial. The trial, the trial, the trial. This was gonna be the biggest train wreck she would ever see in her career, and she had only become a paralegal a mere three years ago. She didn’t envy the defense attorneys she was working under.

Her thoughts were interrupted by three knocks at the door. Strange, she wasn’t expecting anyone today, except for B/f/n, and she was always late for everything.

She looked through the peephole to see two people in fancy clothing outside. She opened the door just a crack.

“H-hello…?”

“Y/f/n Y/l/n,” the man asked. Y/n nodded hesitantly. The man speaking held up the badge and the woman behind him did the same. “Agents Mulder and Skully, FBI. We have a few questions about your client. The one who’s set to go on trial next week.”

She turned her head to the side.

“I’m sorry, I think you might be mistaken. I-I’m not an attorney, I’m just a paralegal.”

“Oh, we’re not mistaken. That’s exactly why we wanted to talk to you.”

She looked inside her apartment real quick, then back at them.

“Okay… come on in. Just come in quickly so the cat doesn’t get out. She has a habit of running outside.”

She was internally grateful that her friend talked her into going out for lunch. She would’ve felt embarrassed if she had had to talk to these well dressed professionals in her pajamas. Skully knelt down, petting Y/n’s cat that had just walked up to the two.

“Um… would you like tea or anything? I’m about to make some for myself now.”

Skully lifted up one of her hands while she let the small animal nuzzle into her other one.

“That won’t be necessary. We plan to be out as soon as possible.”

“O-okay… um... I’m guessing you’re here to ask about Bill Brown?”

Mulder nodded.

“That’s correct.”

“I… don’t really understand. He’s set to go on trial less than a week from now. Why is the FBI getting involved? I thought this was settled, more or less.”

“We think he may be the wrong guy. We’re investigating a series of murders strikingly similar to the ones he supposedly committed a year and a half ago. We need to look at some of the previous evidence and cross examine it with the crimes happening now.”

She still seemed unconvinced.

“Why haven’t you gone to my firm? Or better yet, the police? I-I’m sure they have everything on file.”

Mulder shook his head.

“The lawyers won’t speak to us. And the police department doesn’t want to reopen the investigation when they’re so close to closing it. They don’t want to cause panic.”

She nodded. That actually wasn’t that hard a story to believe, considering the people she worked with on a daily basis. She just looked around the room.

“Okay… you might want to rethink my offer about the tea, then. And have a seat. Because this’ll take a long time.”

...

She presented them with a long list of documents. Some images, most legal papers. She pulled out the two things that were most of interest to her, a map of where the killings took place as well as a few images of supposed murder weapons.

“I’m not really sure what you’re looking for, so here's everything, I guess.”

Skully started flipping through the legal papers, reading passages of the man’s confession. Y/n’s cat slipped under Skully’s arms and laid on her lap as she continued to read. Mulder took a keen eye to the map.

“When did these murders take place?”

“Um, September 14th through February 10th, sir.”

“And he moved here the day these murders started, correct?”

“C-c-correct. You… didn’t already know this?”

“Oh I did. I just wanted to make sure you did. Encyclopedic knowledge of a case is the sign of a good paralegal, don’t you think?”

“Oh!” She let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Thanks…”

“Tell me, Y/n. What do you think happened?”

“Well, the evidence clearly shows he’s guilty, so… we are going to be arguing that he did these crimes due to mania and insanity.”

“No, Y/n. What do you really think?”

She looked down, and started to get finicky. She sat up straight.

“I think he’s innocent… and I have a theory about what happened. But… I don’t think anyone would believe me.”

Skully raised an eyebrow.

“Why haven’t you brought it up with any of the defense attorneys?”

She looked away, then back at the both of them.

“You won’t… tell anyone, right? I don’t wanna lose my job because everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

Mulder nodded expectantly.

“Of course not. Now, what did you find?”

She flipped through the papers.

“While they were at his house… they found a lot of these DVDs.” She was somewhat mumbling under her breath. When she pulled out the image she presented it to Mulder. “I’ve looked them up and they’re all from a lesser known hypnotist.”

Mulder read the bottom of the DVD covers.

“Hannah Martin?”

“...yes. I’ve tried to find those specific DVDs myself, on her website or Amazon or whatnot, but, uh, I can’t find them.”

“Why do you find these significant?”

“Um… Skully, was it? May I please have the written interview?”

She handed it to her. Now that her hands were free, Skully began to pet the cat sitting on her legs, who purred in appreciation. She cleared her throat and began to read.

“Bill said ‘I moved to start a new life, I tried to smile every day, I helped my neighbors, I listened to hypnosis videos every night before bed to make me a better person. I did my best to turn my life around… but I guess I was a monster this whole time. Last night, my memories came back to me in my dreams. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…’”

Mulder nodded.

“So you think that the hypnosis videos he watched before bed may have mind controlled or influenced him into committing these crimes overnight?”

Her face began to turn red and a wave of feeling stupid hit her.

“I’m sorry! I know that sounds insane!”

“No, not to me.” She was in awe. He was actually entertaining her insane supernatural idea? “How far have you looked into this Hanna Martin?”

“You have to pay at least five-hundred dollars for her to create a hundred and fifty custom sessions to send to you personally through DVDs. Um, the first alleged murder was one hundred and forty-nine days before the last alleged murder. That day he confessed would be day one hundred and fifty.”

Mulder seemed incredibly interested. He gazed down at the image he was holding.

“Thank you for bringing this information to my attention. Can you please scan this and make a copy for me? I want to see if I can track down these DVDs.”

“O-okay!”

She was a little excited that her idea was being entertained. And, aside from that, this agent was very cute! So he was cute and as conspiracy crazy as she was?! She smiled like a dope when she was no longer being watched, her back to the two. She began making the copy.

“Another question for you, Y/n.”

She gulped. Something about this man saying her name made her stomach drop.

“Y-yeah…?”

“Do you go out at night often?”

The feeling of her stomach dropping was now from fear.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw your car parked outside the local drugstore late last night, any reason for it?”

She swallowed, hard. She was going for ulterior motives, but she was relieved she had something to fall back on.

“I was getting my medication. Um, I can show you if you want proof?”

“There’s no need to. But midnight is fairly late to be running errands like that, don’t you think?”

She breathed in.

“I couldn’t sleep. So I thought I might as well do something productive.”

He nodded. She turned to look at him, but she couldn’t quite read his face. Was he insinuating what she thought he was? Or was this all in her head? If he thought she was involved, he was probably crazy. She just laid out all this evidence to prove her client innocent, and possibly even helped point to the real killer, yet he thought she might be the guilty one?

“Did you happen to purchase anything from this hypnotist?”

“No, I don’t have that kind of money… and besides, i-if I am right, I don’t know if I would want to get anything from her.”

“Mhm.”

Her dopey smile and blush was gone by the time she handed the copied image to Mulder.

“I’m not sure about the legality of this…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll deal with it.”

She was a bit angry when they left. B/f/n was a bit confused walking in.

“What happened?”

“Ugh! The stupid FBI is involved in the case now. They wanted to see some stuff.”

She tilted her head to the side and her nose crinkled in disbelief.

“The FBI?”

“I don’t know either! Just… help me pick up these papers. Actually, don’t! I need to make sure they’re all in order before court in a few days!”

She nodded as Y/n began to put everything as they were supposed to be.

“...that guy was kind of cute.”

She sighed.

“I thought that, too. But actually, he’s a dick.”

[mulderist]

Five Times Mulder Got Scully Coffee, And One Time He Didn’t

MSR || 2k words || @today-in-fic

A/N: I wrote this on the fly based on a post about types of intimacy including knowing your partner’s coffee order.

1 “we leave for the very plausible state of Oregon at 8 a.m.”

It was her first assignment with Spooky Mulder; a crisp Wednesday morning in September. From the backseat she checked her boarding pass once more while the taxi arrived at Dulles International. The red-orange sunrise broke through the distinct wing-like architecture of the main terminal building. The driver idled then popped the trunk and hoisted out her carry-on letting the wheels click to the pavement. She knew she over packed. She thanked him and adjusted the strap on her leather satchel as the cab pulled into the congested river of departure drop-offs. 

The sliding doors opened with a breeze of recirculated air and she paused to let a cluster of businessmen pass by. She scanned the corridor and saw Mulder hovering near the escalators, a duffle bag at his feet. He was wearing a smart light blue shirt with a striped tie. She grinned at the fact that his dark grey suit jacket didn’t fully match his lighter dress pants. On her approach she noticed a particular boyish charm to the curl of his hair. He caught her eye and gave a wave. She quickly smiled and shifted her shoulder bag once again while she pulled her carry-on behind her.

“Good morning sunshine,” he stated while balancing two cups in a flimsy caddy, “I hope you don’t mind but I grabbed some coffee.”

“Thank you, Mulder.” She was genuinely surprised. He set the caddy down on the lid of the square trash can and pulled out a cup, handing it to her.

“How do you take it?”

“Uh, just cream and sugar.” Mulder fished around in the middle of the caddy and found her accoutrements. She slowly removed the lid and doctored up her drink. 

“Not too early for you is it?” He asked after taking a sip from his cup.

“Reminds me of residency,” she said, shaking her head with a smile and pouring a splash of cream. “The line between late night and early morning was pretty hard to differentiate at times.”

“I find it’s when I’m my most productive. However the T.V. choices leave a lot to be desired,” he said with a shrug, reaching down for his well-travelled duffle bag. He unzipped it and pulled out a folder.

“Is this my debriefing?” Scully asked.

“A little light reading for the flight,” Mulder replied, watching her tuck the documents in the pocket of her shoulder bag. “C’mon, looks like we’re at the C gates.” She followed him down the corridor and to the entrance of the shuttles.    

2 “I’ve heard the truth, Mulder. Now what I want are the answers.”

He offered to drive her home. She was exhausted but insisted she was fine. He squeezed her hand when she left to go find her car in the hospital parking deck. 

Restlessness had set in when he arrived at home. Eyes darted to his cell phone on the desk, making sure he hadn’t missed a call. She’d call if she needed to. He shuffled through a stack of files he took from the office, looking for a particular case that matched a tip from Frohike. He flipped it open and returned to the computer keyboard, adding to the paragraph he was working on. The TV droned on in the background, coffee finished its brew cycle in the tiny kitchen. 

Three taps on the door. He turned down the TV and listened then heard three more. He walked across the room and peered into the peephole then quickly flipped the lock and opened the door 

“Hi,” she began, “I’m sorry I didn’t call.” She sucked her lower lip. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Come in,” he said stepping aside. She exhaled and slowly entered his apartment, brushing a wave of hair behind her ear. He quickly stacked his work and moved the pillows on the couch. She took a seat, fingers knitted tightly together in her lap. Her eyes closed as she climatized to his space. He gave her a minute and stepped into the kitchen. When returned she had pulled her hand away from her face, gracefully dabbing at her eye with her knuckle. He set two mugs down on the table and joined her. 

“If you want to talk..”

“I don’t,” she said curtly, not intending to sound that short with him. “Not..not yet.” Her anger was still fresh. She was a raw nerve. He pressed his lips together and was patient. He had all the time in the world for her. Another slow exhale to steady herself and she reached for a mug. Cream and sugar. Warmth from the ceramic radiated against her hand; she felt another wave ready to break. He saw the downturn and gently took the mug from her, placing it next to his. She fought so hard but reluctantly crumbled. He embraced her; a shelter from the storm.

3 “Oh I don’t know Mulder, some things are better left unexplained.”

“So tell me more about this talking doll you found,” Mulder stated. Scully swallowed her bite of food and blinked at him.

“I never said it was a talking doll, Mulder. And besides, that was weeks ago, why are you still hung up on it?” He tossed the brown end of a french fry back into the bag and licked the salt from his thumb. 

“Color me jealous.” 

She stuffed a napkin in the empty fry container and added it to the trash on the table.

“Please tell me this hasn’t kept you up at night.”

“Not more so than usual,” he said with a shrug collecting their fast food wrappers. They left the outdoor seating area and started to walk down E Street. The lunch dates were a little more frequent than before. Her remission and recovery brought them closer together. Scully didn’t want to assume he missed her when she took a well-deserved weekend to herself but Mulder was shit at hiding how clingy he could be. It was all part of the process. He tapped the back of her arm and pointed at a coffee shop window. She agreed and he held the door. The wonderful aroma of roasted beans and steamed milk hit her senses. She peeked at the bakery case as he went to place their order. Mulder soon presented her with a cafe au lait and a wink. Her lips pursed as she blew on it. His gaze shifted to the perfect “o” of her mouth complimented by a subtle glossy lip tint. He then proceeded to burn his tongue as he eagerly went to drink his Sumatra roast, snapping him back to reality.

4 “Get over here, Scully”

The lights in the office were dim. He had set-up the slideshow reel to provide visual aid to a fairly vague case detail. However the only detail he was concerned with at the moment was the taste of her lips. A hint of honey from her lip balm, the whisper of milky coffee. Their cups grew cold and lonely sitting on his desk while they turned up the heat hiding amongst the shadows. 

She was needy and pulled no punches. Hand rested firmly against his cheek as tongues danced and twisted. His stubble coarse against her fingertips. Last night at the ball field had ignited a spark. Remembering the feeling of his hands on her hips, cheek to cheek in the cool night air. His weight against her with each swing of the bat. He held her close once again; entwined together in a dark corner of the basement office.

“Remind me to bore you with slideshows more often,” he said, catching his breath. A warm smile crossed his face as he admired her. 

“Shut up, Mulder,” she said before kissing him once again.  

     5 “What if there was only one choice and all the other ones were wrong?”

Three weeks had passed. Scully discovered she was leaving small items behind; a toothbrush, a sweatshirt, a travel sized hairbrush. Evening was still the preferred time of day. Dinner, maybe a beer or a glass of wine followed by ignoring the T.V. Mulder knew just the right amount of pressure to put on the tired muscles of her neck. A rush of circulation flowed through her. She leaned back against his chest and his hands wandered followed by his lips. She loved how he tenderly nipped at her earlobe, He was hard against her lower back and she worked her advantage between his legs. Clothes were shed like new skin. He was swift to carry her from the couch into more comfortable surroundings. 

The linens held her scent, the walls held their cries. Deep and passionate. Primal. Two become one. He broke first and she was quick to chase him down. Chest heaving, muscles aching in the best way. They lay together as heart rates slowed. He traced her jawline, a thumb laid claim to her full lower lip. Lust-laden eyes blinked heavily. She decided to stay. Naked, satisfied, and loved.

Morning arrived with a deep yellow glow. She slowly shook off her slumber and reached beside her, feeling an empty bed. Her ear perked up listening for the shower but heard nothing. She slid to his side of the bed and glanced at the clock. Two hours before work. Her hand clutched the bedclothes to her chest and she heard keys hit the wood table in the other room. Mulder nudged the bedroom door open. Scully smiled and ran a hand through her hair, sitting upright. 

“Morning,” she said. He approached and kissed the top of her head. 

“I got us some coffee. Cream and sugar, of course.”

“You’re too good to me,” she said before realizing it. There was always so much unspoken between them. Affection was a given but rarely vocalized; arousal and desire usually won out. They operated well without words. She blushed and swung her legs over the edge of the bed tucking the sheet closer. 

“Hey. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said. 

6 “We will find him -- I have to.”

She needed an out. It was too much too fast and the fuel from her anger was on fumes. Scully dried her hands on the edge of her jacket and stormed down the corridor towards the elevator. That might have been the first time she actually threw a drink at someone. A bit dramatic but she would deal with that later, right now she needed to leave. 

   Her cell phone chirped and she promptly ignored it. The car shuddered as it idled in the parking deck, her head lay back against the headrest, a hand on her belly. She fought against an angry sob. The caller was persistent. She tried to collect herself. Another series of rings and she finally answered.

“Agent Scully? It’s Skinner.”

“Sir?”

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m on my way home. Is something the matter?” she questioned.

“You tell me,” Skinner replied with concern. She closed her eyes and slowly caressed her belly once again. He was the only one she could trust right now. He was trying to be a friend. She exhaled and asked if he could meet her in Georgetown.

Scully sat down at a familiar cafe with small outdoor tables nervously fidgeting with her phone. She didn’t want to deal with the questions, she just wanted to find him. She wanted to talk to him about what was going on and they could figure things out together. She needed to find him. Her attention shifted as a couple walked past with a friendly golden retriever. The animal bumped its nose into her leg then happily licked her hand before it’s owners chuckled and led him back down the sidewalk.

Skinner arrived and set down two cups of coffee along with a handful of sugar packets.

“I got you decaf.” he said sincerely as he took a seat, “hope that’s alright.”

“That’s fine. Thanks,” she said, reaching for the cup then removing the lid and adding half a sugar packet. Her heart ached and she was sure Skinner could see it. He was quiet, not wanting to overstep his boundaries.

“I uh, I just want you to know that I’m your ally in all of this. And if you need to talk…” he trailed off when he saw the change in her expression. She pressed her lips together.

“That means a lot, sir. Thank you.” She brushed away an errant tear and swallowed hard. They had much to discuss.

[mldrgrl]

Broken Things 17/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

November approaches quickly.  The surveyor is due to arrive in only a handful of weeks.  The horses are coming along just fine with their training.  Mulder’s relationship with Katherine feels like it’s moving forward at a pleasant pace.  Just before the last weekend of the month, he asks her if he might accompany her into town that Friday.

“Of course,” she says.  “But, you don’t need to ask.”

“You might have plans with your friends and I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“I would like to call on Susannah and Monica and Doctor Black, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome to join me.”

“Then, I will accept your invitation.”

“My invitation?  You invited yourself.”

“Did I?”

Probably the only thing he finds more delightful than when she raises her eyebrow at him is when she rolls her eyes at him.

He asks if she’d like to attempt to drive the wagon into town, but she declines.  She feels that she’s only just mastered the carriage and has not had any wagon lessons yet.  She’s more than happy to have him drive them.

Their first stop is the mercantile.  Susannah rushes out to greet them and pulls Katherine inside by looping her arm through hers.

“We’ve got the prettiest new fabric in that will suit you so well,” she says.  “I’ve been hoping you’d come by and held it just for you.”

“John,” Mulder greets, as he enters the store.

“Mulder, what timing.  The denim trousers you ordered arrived just this week.”

“Thank you, I’ll take them now if you’ll wrap them.”

“Already done.”

“Katherine has our supply list, but it looks like your wife has absconded with her.”

“Yes, she’s been waiting for her to come in.”

“I’ll just take a look at the catalog in the meantime, I may have a few other things to order.”

“Certainly.”  John slides the thick book of merchandise across the counter to Mulder.  “We saw Melvin ride through town a few weeks ago and take Doctor Black back with him to the ranch.  Heard you had taken a tumble from a wagon.”

“Just a little shoulder damage.  That does remind me, if you have any liniment, I’ll take a couple tins off you.”

“We’ve got Sloan’s.  The oil.”

“That’s fine, two bottles.  No, make it three.  I’ll bring one to the Doc.”

“He said Katherine patched you right up and did about as good of job with it as he would’ve done.”

“I guess if I had to compare the two, I much prefer the bedside manner of my wife.”

Mulder chuckles as John blushes and fumbles with the bottles of liniment.  He’s saved from any further conversation of his shoulder when Katherine appears with Susannah and some bolts of cotton fabric with a blue paisley pattern.

“Kate, you have our list?” Mulder asks.

“Oh, yes.”  She opens the little drawstring bag at her wrist and gives John the paper.

“Now that Katherine’s taken over from Melvin, you don’t have to translate his hieroglyphics any longer.”

“Yes, lovely handwriting.”  John nods and then starts to collect items from the list, all business.

“I was just needling your wife about that Sunday dinner get-together we promised,” Susannah says.  “You be sure not to keep her so busy she can’t do some proper visiting.”

“She is more than free to ride out at any time to come calling, but it has been a bit hectic lately.”

“Oh, we heard about your fall.  Doctor Black said Katherine did all the doctoring for him and he didn’t lift a finger.”

“It was a mild concussion and a shoulder dislocation,” Katherine explains.  “Just required a re-set of the shoulder and a good deal of rest.”

“John, put in for five of these undershirts here on page 67.  Kate, is there anything you might want from Montgomery Ward?”

“I don’t know.”

“Take a gander and put in for whatever you find with John.  I’m going to head across the way to the lumber mill just for a few minutes.”

“Alright.”

Mulder leaves Katherine at the mercantile and goes across the road to the mill.  It’s a noisy place with a lot of sawing and yelling and hammering.  The smell of sawdust is everywhere.  The air is thick with it and Mulder can swear he feels it clinging to him as soon as he gets within five feet of the place.

“Mr. Hartwell,” he shouts, waving his hat to get the foreman’s attention.

Mr. Hartwell leaves the saw he’s working with stuck in the lumber he’s cutting and takes his gloves off to shake hands.  “Mr. Mulder, good to see you,” he says.

“I’m soon to be in need of some lumber.”

“Oh?”

“I took over Old Man Goodwin’s plot and I’ve got a surveyor coming out a little more than a week from now.  He’s supposed to get me some plans for a bigger barn, new stables, and we’ll be doing a new bunkhouse and expanding the house eventually.”

“Is that right?  When might you be needing your order?”

“I hope to break ground by winter.  At least on the corral.  I’ve been clearing trees on the property and we can recycle some of what we’ve already got.  You still have a record on the build on my current plot?”

“I reckon so.”

“Let’s start with that same amount.  I’m about to run down to the bank.  I’ll tell Mr. Skinner you’ll be giving him an estimate and he can advance anything you need and I’ll take what I can get by let’s say, mid-December?”

“Well alright then.”  Mr. Hartwell nods.

“I’ll also be in the market to hire labor, so if you have anyone in mind you can point my way, I’d be most grateful.”

“I’ll ask around.”

“Thank you.”

The two men shake hands again and Mulder heads back to the mercantile.  John Jr. is loading up the wagon with their purchases.  He gives Mulder a wave.

“How are things with your sweetheart?” Mulder asks, helping to load the last of the crates from the porch.

John Jr. sighs.  “She broke off with me a couple weeks ago.”

“Well, now, that’s a shame.”

“She said I was boring and then the next day she was holding hands with Luke Doggett.”

“That the Sheriff’s boy?”

“Yes, Sir.  I can’t even be mad over it because Luke’s a nice guy.”

“Be patient.  You’re a hard worker and you’re not boring at all, you’re stable, like your father.  You’ll find a great girl one day that’ll appreciate that.”

“Naw, I think I’m done with girls for awhile.  I’m gonna save up and get a horse.”

“Well, horses are good too.  When you’re ready to buy, you come see me.  I’ll give you a good deal.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Mulder chuckles to himself as he walks away from John Jr. and goes back into the mercantile.  Katherine gives him a smile that makes him want to wrap his arms around her.  He puts his hand at the small of her back instead.

“Ready?” he asks.

Katherine and Susannah say their goodbyes.  Mulder helps his wife up into the wagon seat and then they head to the bank.  He leaves Katherine at the line to the teller’s window and waves to Skinner who motions him into the office.

“I wanted to let you know that we’re moving forward on the expansion,” Mulder tells him.  “Mr. Hartwell should be coming by with an estimate for lumber.  I told him to speak with you and you’d arrange to advance him anything he might need.”

“I can do that.”

“I also, uh…”  Mulder turns his hat over in his hands for a few moments and then he glances out into the foyer of the bank before he shuts the door to Skinner’s office for a bit of privacy.  “If you can get word to my lawyers through the branch in Fort Worth that I’d like to update my will, I would appreciate it.”

“Certainly, if that’s what you want.”

“I’m sure I’ll need an update of my account holdings, so whatever they need they can have time to put it together.”

“What brought this on, if I may ask?”

“Had a fall from a wagon a few weeks ago.  Nothing drastic, mind you, it just got me thinking and I’d like to make sure that if...well, if anything should happen, there’s no question of what my wishes are.”

“Your wife would be protected, by law.”

“Not well enough.  I want to make damn sure the ranch will stay with her, and I want to make sure Melvin will be taken care of as well.”

“I’ll get word and if anything comes back from your lawyers, I will let you know.”

“Thank you.”

“Does she even know?  Who she really married?  How much you’re worth?”

“No.”

“You might want to tell her sometime.”

“When the time is right.”

↭

Katherine feels more confident this time when she pays the mortgage.  The teller is polite, calls her Mrs. Mulder, slides the card to her that she needs to sign with a fountain pen and she doesn’t hesitate this time to write Katherine Mulder next to the date.

She’s finished before Mulder is done speaking with Mr. Skinner, so she waits for him outside by the wagon.  She’s never really gotten a good look at the town before.  The row of businesses stretches long and wide.  If the bank is the end point, the mercantile is the start.  In between there’s a sawmill, a blacksmith, the saloon, an icehouse, a cafe, a flour mill, a bath house, a meeting house, the sheriff’s office, a barber, a boarding house, a livery, a laundry, and the house of ill repute, as Mulder referred to it.

She knows there’s a church somewhere and a school, but they must be hidden in the outskirts of the town.  Doctor Black must have his practice somewhere off the main road as well.  Monica had said she lives off the road that veers left from the bank and she wonders how many other homes are out there and where everyone lives.  The Byers may make their home as part of their store, but presumably Mr. Skinner does not sleep in the bank.  And she remembers that Susannah said he had a wife.

Mulder comes outside and stands next to her.  “When I first got here about the only things that existed were the mercantile and the saloon,” he says.  “Sometimes it seems like all this just sprang up overnight.”

“Susannah was telling me today that a Wells Fargo office is coming in next year.”

“Long overdue for that, if you ask me.  Nearest place to send a telegram is either Abilene or Fort Worth, depending on where you’re at.”

“How many folks live here?”

“I can’t say I know for sure.  If I were to wager a guess, maybe fifty or so in town.  There’s a lot of ranches around these parts that do their business here, so if you consider them to be part of the town, there’s got to be at least another hundred.”

“It’s strange, but I grew up in a city of twenty thousand people and it always felt very small to me.  But, standing here, on a street you can probably walk up and back in a quarter of an hour, it feels enormous.”

“Well, they say everything is bigger in Texas.”

“I have heard that.”

“Where to now, fair Kate?”

“Where does the Doctor live?”

“Up that way behind the boardinghouse.”

“I’d like to drop in on Monica first then, since the Doc is on the way back.”

Katherine takes Mulder’s hand to climb into the wagon and he drives them down the road, over a short bridge, and then past a grove of trees.  A house appears as soon as they clear the trees, like an island in a sea of bluebonnets.

“Goodness,” Katherine says.  “Monica said you can’t miss it.”

The rumble of the wagon must have alerted her friend.  Monica comes out to the porch, wiping her hands on a dishrag.  She waves and jumps down the steps to greet them as they come down the lane.

“I hope you don’t mind us dropping in,” Katherine says as she climbs down from the wagon.  “We were in town so I wanted to say hello.”

“Are you kidding?  I’m thrilled.”  Monica hugs Katherine hard and keeps an arm around her shoulders as she waves to Mulder.  “I’ve got cornbread in the oven that’ll be done soon.  You’ll stay and have a cut before I bring dinner out to John, won’t you?”

“Well, that sounds too good to pass up,” Mulder answers.

“Come on in.”

The Doggett residence is similar to the ranch house.  There’s a dogtrot that runs from the front to the back, but the left side of the house is all kitchen and dining area, presumably bedrooms are on the right.  Monica offers them chairs at the table and then checks on the cornbread.  Mulder holds a chair out for Katherine as she loosens her hat and removes her gloves, but he doesn’t sit down right away.  He moves over to a breakfront along the wall and runs his hand over the smooth wood.

“This is a beauty,” he says.

“My boy built that,” Monica answers, proudly.

“The Sheriff did this?”

“No, our son Luke.  I swear he was swinging a hammer before he could toddle.”

Mulder nods and continues to run his hand down the side and across the front.  “How old might Luke be?”

“Fifteen.  Just had a birthday on the 13th of October.”

“That’s funny, we have the same birthday.”

“Your birthday was the 13th?” Katherine asks.  She’s mildly embarrassed that she had no idea her own husband’s birthday had passed.

“I didn’t even remember myself until just now.”

“What year were you born?” Monica asks.

“1861.”

Monica closes her eyes and tilts her head for a few moments.  “You’re a three,” she says, with a brief nod.

“A three?”

“Yes, in numerology.  Your life path number is a three.  It means you like to inspire others and make them smile.  But, if you feel you’ve been misinterpreted you can become sullen and withdrawn.”

“Is that right?”  Mulder grins as he looks at Katherine and she raises her eyebrow.  “But, I thought I was blue and red.  Now I’m a number?”

“Oh, you told him about his aura?”  Monica beams.

“I um…”  Katherine can feel the heat rising to her cheeks as though she were caught gossipping.  Mulder must sense her discomfort for he finally sits down beside her and takes her hand before hanging his hat on his bent knee.

“One day I’d like to hear all about it,” he says, squeezing Katherine’s hand.  “I was just wondering though, Mrs. Doggett-”

“Oh, call me Monica, please.”

“Monica, that’s really high quality work your boy does.  How would you feel about letting him come out this winter and work on an expansion out at my ranch?  I’d pay him, of course.”

“I’d have to speak with my husband about it, but I’m sure Luke would be thrilled at the prospect.  He’s been at us to quit school for the last few years.”

“Oh, but he can’t quit school,” Katherine says.

“Well, most of the kids around here quit by the age of twelve.  They’re needed at their farms or ranches.  Luke’s been the oldest in the schoolhouse for the last two years and he’s been pretty anxious to move on.  John wouldn’t let him since we don’t have a farm and he’s certainly not going to allow his son to take on a job at the saloon, which is about the only place that’d hire a boy his age.”

“I’m going to be looking to hire quite a few men starting next month or so,” Mulder says.  “There’s plenty of room in the bunkhouse for him and I’ll see to it he comes home for the week’s end.  Your husband is welcome to ride out any time to check in.”

“I would keep my eye on him as well, if you’re at all concerned about that,” Katherine adds.

“Oh.”  Monica puts her hand on Katherine’s arm and smiles.  “I don’t doubt that.  My, what a lovely ring!”

“Thank you.”  Katherine runs her thumb along the side of her ring band with her thumb.  “My husband got it for me.”

They spend the next half of an hour with Monica Doggett, sharing a slice of cornbread and chatting amicably.  Mulder asks her more about this numerology thing and she happily shares with him more about his life path based on his birth date.  When it’s time for them to take their leave, Mulder offers to drive Monica to the Sheriff’s office, but she says she would much rather walk.  It’s just about her only time to herself and she enjoys it.

They ride back up into town and Mulder passes the bank to go down a smaller road behind the north side of the town.  He points out a house up the ways with a sign hanging at the front that simply says ‘DOC’ etched in wood.

For some reason, Katherine feels nervous on the way up to the doctor’s porch.  She knows she already made a good impression on the doctor, but still wonders if that was just politeness.  The doctors she knew from nurse’s training were mercurial.  Someone bearing a compliment one day could come bearing condescension the next, or worse.  

Mulder opens the door to usher her inside.  Doctor Black peeks out from behind a curtain and smiles broadly.

“Just my luck,” the doctor says.  “I’ve just set a broken bone and could surely use your assistance while I mix a plaster.”

“Of course,” Katherine says.  She immediately takes her gloves off and hands them to Mulder.  

There’s a young boy perched at the edge of the exam table, no more than five or six, sniffling and sullen.  Katherine moves to him and right away she can see that his left wrist is broken.  She smiles at him and takes a gentle hold on his arm, cradling his wrist in her hands so the doctor can get to work on mixing a plaster.

“My name is Katherine,” she says to the boy.  “Who might you be?”

“Joey Skinner.”

“Is Walter Skinner your father, son?” Mulder asks.  

Joey nods and then wipes his nose with the back of his good hand.

“Has anyone gone to fetch Mr. Skinner?” Mulder asks Doctor Black.  “I could run over to the bank right now.”

“Yes, why don’t you do that.”  Doctor Black nods to Mulder and then hands Katherine a roll of gauze.  “I trust you can wrap up that wrist.”

“Certainly.”  She deftly holds Joey’s arm with one hand and uses her thumb to pin the edge of the gauze down and begins to wrap.  “Joey, you tell me if this hurts, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, how did this happen?”

“I was playing tag with Grace and Emma and Isaac and I was ‘It’ and I was running and I tripped on a rock and I felled down and my hand hurted real bad.  Grace yelled for Miss Holly and Miss Holly bringed me to the doc.”

“Well, I think you’re a very brave boy and we’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

“Now,” Doctor Black says, rolling a small table over with a bowl of milky liquid and wrappings.  “Joey, this might feel a little cold, but you do your best to hold still, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Excellent wrapping,” the doctor tells Katherine.  “Would you like to do the plaster?”

Katherine nods and the doctor moves the table to her side so she can work.  She runs the wrapping through the liquid and winds it around Joey’s small wrist and arm, moving methodically.  She has experience with setting and wrapping broken bones, but never on a child.  She’s cautious, but tries to be quick for Joey’s sake.  Doctor Black provides her with a few short instructions as she goes.

“Beautiful work,” Doctor Black says when Katherine is wiping her hands dry.  “Joey, is there any pain in your wrist now or in your arm.”

“It’s kinda itchy.”

“Yes, it might be, but you can’t scratch right now, I’m sorry.  We’re going to let it dry and when it’s done it’ll be hard as a rock and keep your wrist in place so it can heal.”

Joey’s bottom lip begins to tremble.  “Is it gonna be on my arm forever and ever?”

Katherine puts her arm around Joey and rubs his shoulder.  “Not forever, sweetheart, just a few weeks is all.  And the doctor will probably check on it a time or two to make sure it’s healing properly.”

“That’s right,” Doctor Black says.

“Joey!?  Joey!?”  Walter Skinner bursts through the door with Mulder behind him.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Joey.”  Mr. Skinner rushes over and for a moment, Katherine is afraid he’s going to grab the boy up in a fit of panic before the cast sets.  

“Everything’s alright,” Katherine says.

“What happened, son?”

“I was playing tag…”

As soon as Joey starts up with his story again, Katherine slips away from the exam table to go to Mulder.  “He okay?” Mulder asks.

“It wasn’t a bad break.”

“Good.”  He pulls Katherine’s gloves from his pocket and hands them to her.

Doctor Black comes up to the two of them and he and Mulder shake hands.  Mulder gives him the extra bottle of liniment he bought at the mercantile and the doctor thanks him.

“Looks as though your shoulder’s healed nicely,” Doctor Black says.

“Yes, well, I happened to have a very strict nursemaid to see me through.”  Mulder chuckles and Katherine demurs a little.

“If you think you could spare your wife for a few days a month, I’d be happy to have the help here.”

“Oh, I really couldn’t,” Katherine answers.

“Why couldn’t you?” Mulder asks.

“Well, there’s just so much to do.  And the expansion is coming up, so…”

“I’m sure we can work something out.”  Mulder nods to the doctor and at Katherine.  “Good skills should never go to waste.”

Katherine is all but rendered speechless.  She doesn’t know if she’s shocked or grateful or why she should even be so surprised.  Mulder’s the only man she’s ever known that doesn’t seem to want to control her in some way, who seems to want her to have independence as much as she wants it.  And she doesn’t just think he’s putting on airs of a generous husband in front of the doctor.  She believes that he means what he says.

“We’ll talk it over,” she says.

“Joey.”  Mulder produces a quarter and walks over and hands it to the boy.  “Next time you’re in the Byers mercantile, you tell Mr. Byers you want a bag of his best penny candy.”

“Gee, thank you, Sir!”

After they leave the doctor’s place and get back into the wagon, Katherine sits close to Mulder and holds his arm as he drives.  “Did you know Mr. Skinner had a boy?” she asks.

“Hell, until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even know he had a wife.  He doesn’t talk much.”

“I think that minor panic may have caused him to lose what little hair he’s got left.”

Mulder roars with laughter.

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (1/8)

This is the sequel to “Of the Eight Winds,” which began from a small simple prompt from Sunflowerdeedsandscience: “Mulder is unhappily married when Scully is partnered with him, and while he doesn't cheat (because sorry that's not romantic), he falls for her so hard that he finally gets the courage to end the marriage and start fresh.” That prompt took on a life of its own that became ‘Of the Eight Winds.’ This fic immediately follows the events of that piece — I would encourage reading it first if you haven’t.

This is not written in the same Rashomon structure as the original — it is absolutely linear. Hope that doesn’t throw anyone.

I’ll be posting the first two chapters today, and then one chapter a day until next Monday. You can also find it on AO3 here.

PROLOGUE

They say in the heat of the moment, you have five seconds to make a decision. Five seconds between right and wrong. Five seconds between life and death. As Mulder stood watching one gun pointed at his children and another pointed at an immensely pregnant Scully, five seconds seemed an eternity.

XxXxXxXxXxX

6 Months Earlier

She watched the house from the shadows. Occasionally from her car. It was harder to follow the woman as she worked at a secure government facility, but the man was easy. He had a small private psychology practice in a townhouse in Old Town. He usually ate lunch at a Panera near the office or brown bagged it from home.

The kids both attended a private prep school out in McLean. The girl drove herself and her brother most days. The boy would often stay late for sports practice (ice hockey, if the equipment was any indication) and the man would usually pick him up. Their lives were pretty routine.

After two weeks, she finally made an appointment with the man’s scheduling service and waited nervously in the outer office. Right on time, he opened the door.

“Olivia?” Dr. Mulder smiled at her, “come on back.”

She passed him through the doorway and settled into a plush leather couch.

He sat down in a chair across from her and crossed his leg, looking relaxed. Up close, she noticed that his hair was starting to grey at the temples, but he still looked fit, and conveyed an easy manner.

“Thank you for seeing me,” she said, trying to calm her nerves.

“Of course,” he said, looking down at his notebook, “I see you were referred to me by Dr. Heitz Werber?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself,” he said.

She took a breath.

“I grew up here in DC. After grad school… My father worked for the State Department and I, uh, went into the family business.”

Dr. Mulder nodded, his expression neutral.

“I can imagine that’s pretty stressful work,” he said.

“It was,” she said, “I don’t do it anymore.”

He nodded again, waiting for her to fill the silence. She went on.

“The work I did… it hurt people. And I’m… I’m trying to make amends.”

His expression gave nothing away. She steeled herself, took a deep breath.

“Dr. Mulder, my name is Olivia Kurtzweil. Our fathers knew each other a long time ago. I’m here to warn you. You and your family are in danger. Your wife and her baby…”

His nostrils flared, but he maintained his composure.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out several pictures.

“I can prove it,” she said, “This is me and my father, this is me and your sister Samantha. And this is our fathers together.”

“I think you need to leave,” he said, his voice tight for the first time. He was not looking at the pictures.  

She rose.

“There’s not a lot of time.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with a phone number on it, set it next to the pictures, which she left on the office’s small coffee table. “Call me at this number. Soon. I’ll tell you all I can.”

With that she left, her heart hammering in her chest.

CHAPTER ONE

Arlington Cemetery May 2nd, 2018

Mulder descended the stairs quickly, the leather bottoms of his dress shoes scraping loudly on the dusty grit of the steps. The occupants of the underground lair were the perfect people to call when you needed information, but good housekeepers they were not.

He entered the code on the security box at the door at the bottom of the staircase, and the door swung open.

“Guys?” he called into the cavernous space once the door sealed shut behind him.

“In here!” he heard a muffled call from near the back.

He stepped around gunmetal shelves awash in circuitry and computer parts and turned right into the sanctum sanctorum of the place: the desktop on which sat the AMD Threadripper 3000. Two men were hunched over the screen, one sitting, one standing just behind him.

Grease-stained napkins were wadded up next to the keyboard and crinkled butcher paper sat nearby, sporting the red-splotched remains of marinara sauce and a few errant banana peppers.

“You want a meatball sub, Mulder?” came the nasally voice of the man standing, “We got extra.”

“I don’t relish the thought of being up all night with heartburn, Langly, but thanks,” Mulder said, and Frohike turned from the chair, his wispy hair now more white than grey.

“They’re from Gino’s,” he said around a mouthful, “you’re missing out.”

“Tell that to Gino,” Mulder said, “didn’t he die of a heart attack in ‘04?”

“His wife is still running the place, bursting with health,” Frohike said, and reached for a styrofoam cup.

“But she doesn’t eat the subs,” said Mulder, and swung into a nearby chair. “Where’s Byers?”

“Staying with Suzanne for the weekend,” Langly said, like he couldn’t imagine why.

“Is that safe?” Mulder asked. The Gunmen had been hiding out in a government-built safehouse under their own graves in Arlington Cemetery for more than a decade.

Langly shrugged.

The three men looked at each other for a moment. Finally, Mulder spoke again.

“What did you find?”

“Enough,” said Frohike, turning back to the screen. Mulder stood and walked up behind him.

Frohike tapped a picture on the screen.

“Olivia Kurtzweil,” he said, “born December 4th, 1963, daughter of Dr. Alvin Kurtzweil and Ruth O’Brien Kurtzweil. Graduated from Sidwell Friends School in Washington DC in 1981, got a PhD in both Biology and Virology from Boston University in 1987. Employment records get kind of muddled after that, but it would make sense if she worked for the State Department, though what a Biologist/Virologist would be doing for State is troubling.”

Mulder leaned back. It was the same woman who’d been in his office earlier that day.

“And the pictures?” he asked, “of our fathers together? Of her and Samantha?”

“The real McCoy,” Langly said, “they don’t appear to be altered in any way. Sent them to Chuck Burks, too. He concurs.”

Mulder sighed heavily.

“What’s going on, Mulder?” Frohike asked, his tone serious.

“She came to my office today, Olivia Kurtzweil,” he said, nodding at the screen, “she told me that Scully is in danger.”

“In danger?” Langly said, puzzled, “how?”

“Scully is…” Mulder paused, “she’s pregnant,” he said, and he saw both men’s eyebrows go up. “This woman told me that our family... that Scully and the baby are in danger.”

Frohike and Langly traded looks.

“We haven’t told anyone about the pregnancy,” Mulder went on, “and Scully’s OB is an old friend from med school that she trusts implicitly. This Kurtzweil woman knows about the baby and insists it’s in danger. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Firstly,” said Frohike, who stood and put a hand on Mulder’s shoulder, “Mazel tov.” Mulder smiled at him. “Secondly,” he went on, “it appears as though this woman is telling the truth -- at least about who she is -- I would talk to her. See what you can find out.”

“How’s Scully taking this?” Langly asked.

“I haven’t told her yet,” Mulder said, and the boys traded another look. “I didn’t want to scare her without knowing more.”

Frohike squeezed his shoulder again and then let his arm fall.

“Let us know, huh?” he said, “However we can help.”

Mulder nodded and drifted back toward the door, a ball of worry sitting heavy in his gut.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Where are the kids?” he asked as soon as he walked in the kitchen. He hadn’t even taken off his coat.

“I had a good day, thanks for asking,” said Scully with a grin. She was loading the dishwasher and turned to look at him. Her face fell, turning serious. “The kids are upstairs. What’s wrong?”

“I had a patient come in today…” he started, and her features softened. She probably thought it was just empathy for one of his patients, a tough case. “Scully, she showed me a picture of herself as a kid. With Samantha.”

“What?” Scully said, standing up straight, “how?”

“I don’t know,” he said, and moved past her and into the living room, making for the bookshelf that held old family photo albums. He pulled one out and skimmed through it. Pulled out another. Halfway through, something caught his eye and he flipped back a couple of pages until he saw it. A picture from the same 70’s-era party at his childhood home on the Vineyard that Olivia had shown him. There was his father standing next to Alvin Kurtzweil, and down in the corner, both wearing swimsuits and gap-toothed smiles, pigtails frizzy and wet, sat Samantha and a 7 year-old Olivia Kurtzweil.

He felt his breath leave him.

Scully had come up quietly behind him, put her hand on his arm.

“Mulder?” she said.

“I need to make a call,” he said.

He pulled the note Olivia had left with him out of his pocket. She picked up on the first ring.

“Olivia, this is Dr. Mulder,” he said. “We need to talk.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

The next morning at 9:00am, they found themselves sitting across their kitchen table from Olivia Kurtzweil, Special Agent Monica Reyes, ASAC John Doggett and Assistant Director Walter Skinner.

Scully was sitting, arms crossed in front of her defensively, at the head of the table. Reyes sat next to her, looking at Kurtzweil with an equal amount of curiosity and distrust. Doggett was too amped up to sit and paced through their kitchen. Skinner sat, quiet and still, looking as menacing as ever at the far end of the table.

Mulder felt a certain odd protectiveness toward Olivia, and couldn’t help but treat her a bit like a patient.

“Olivia,” he said calmly, “why don’t you start at the beginning.”

The tale she spun was as fantastic as anything they’d ever heard in their years on the X-Files. Olivia had been groomed from childhood to work on what she called “The Project.” When Samantha Mulder had been abducted, The Project had used her DNA to create alien-human hybrids. Throughout the years, these hybrids had been used by different factions of The Project to further their agendas in relation to a colonization project that Olivia said once threatened the world. She had fought with others to bring it down and now, The Project’s last ditch effort to resurrect itself lay in the cells of the child Scully was carrying.

“How was my father involved?” Mulder said, his voice like ice.

“Your father did everything he could to protect you and your sister,” Olivia said after a pause. “He was the person I initially approached when I became disenchanted. He and I worked together for years dismantling everything we could.”

Mulder narrowed his eyes at her.

“You were at my father’s funeral a couple years ago,” he said, recognition dawning on him, “I saw you at his wake.”

Olivia nodded.

“He couldn’t save your sister,” she said, “but he saved you. And in the end, he saved me.”

“My sister,” Mulder said, his stomach feeling as though it were in his feet, “is she alive?”

“No,” Olivia said, “I’m so sorry. And that’s the problem. Your sister’s DNA was the only one that was able to create viable hybrids. Her DNA was the key. And the last living hybrid sacrificed herself before a rogue faction could get her. That rogue faction is after Scully and your baby for the DNA markers particular to your family.”

“Then why aren’t they after me?”

“The particular markers they’re looking for are rendered dormant after a baby is born. The genetic material they can use is only found in--”

Scully spoke for the first time, finishing Olivia’s explanation. “Embryonic stem cells from our baby.”

Olivia looked pained and nodded. “It’s their last, best hope for restarting the program,” she said.

“How do they even know about the pregnancy? We haven’t told a soul.”

“A hack on your medical records is my guess. HIPAA means nothing to these people.”

“I’m less concerned with the how and more concerned with the why,” Mulder said. “You say embryonic cells. That means they’re on a clock, right? Once the baby is born...”

“Destroy the umbilical cord. The placenta. Those cells are only found in a few places. Destroy anything they might be able to use. After that… you and your baby will be safe.”

“So no one else in our family is in danger?” Scully asked. Her eyes darted unconsciously to a family picture that was framed on the wall above Olivia. It was a candid photo, taken the year before when they had hired a photographer to take Lily’s senior portraits. In it, Mulder and Scully were holding hands, looking at their two kids who were laughing about something Will had said. They were all smiling and carefree. In the moment, it felt like a world away.

“I know the technology and the biology it draws from,” Olivia said, “I helped design it. Their only hope is getting their hands on the embryonic stem cells from your baby. If you were planning on getting an amniocentesis test -- don’t.”

“Why not?” Skinner asked, “why not just give them what they want?”

“Because they’ll never stop,” Reyes said.

Olivia shook her head sadly. “She’s right. They take and they take, and they don’t care who gets hurt or what is lost.” She looked to Mulder. “Your father and I worked for years to shut it down. Finish it. Hide your wife. Protect your baby. Once it’s born, you should all be out of danger.”

“Tell me about this rogue faction,” Doggett���s voice coming from the corner of the kitchen startled everyone.

“Mercs for hire,” Olivia said, “Only one of them that I know of is familiar with the working pieces of The Project. I don’t know him well. I only ever saw him in the periphery.”

“Do you have a name?” Doggett asked.

“I doubt it’s his real one,” Olivia said.

“We’ll take whatever you can give us,” said Reyes, who shot a look to Doggett.

“I only ever heard him called ‘Krycek,’” she said.

Mulder felt his gut drop.

XxX

“What do you think?” Mulder asked Scully, as they sat together around their empty dining room table. Doggett, Reyes and Skinner had left and it was nearly noon, the sun bright outside their windows. Nevertheless, the room felt cold. Mulder could feel anxiety press on him from all sides as though he were under water.

“I don’t know what to think,” Scully said, a hand resting unconsciously on her stomach, which had just started to push out. “Mulder, for almost fifteen years our lives have been ordinary, calm. After all this time…? It strains credulity.”

“Scully I would agree with you. But… some of the things we saw when we were on the X-Files… We know credible threats. This feels like a credible threat.”

“Do you really believe everything she said? About your sister?” He could see her skeptical reserve crumbling.

Mulder let that question sit in the air for several long moments. “Just tell me if the science checks out,” he finally said.

Scully huffed an almost amused sigh. “I couldn’t even begin to-” she started.

“Scully, you yourself were filling in the blanks of Olivia’s story. If what she says is true, does the science check out?”

Scully gave him a long look. “Yes,” she finally said.

He held her gaze, a feeling of overwhelming affection coming over him. “Scully,” he said quietly, “we have to get you somewhere safe.”

She looked down, added another hand to her abdomen so she was cradling it with both. On the countertop, there was a half drunk bottle of Deer Park and a single yellowing banana. Someone had left their iPhone headphones sitting in a semi-coiled loop, and there were crumbs in front of the toaster, dishes in the sink. They sat in the middle of a half-lived life.

“I won’t leave without you,” she finally said, “without you and the kids. We all do this together. If the threat is really what Kurtzweil says it is, I couldn’t bear the thought of them trying to use you or the kids to get to me.”

Mulder nodded curtly.

“I’ll go to the guys,” he said, “see what they can do for us. Skinner and Doggett and Reyes will do what they can to protect us, but I think given everything we’ve heard, it’s best to avoid… governmental oversight.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Scully said.

“We need to leave soon. We can’t wait.”

Apgar jumped on the table then, looking for affection. Scully, who normally wouldn’t tolerate a cat on any eating surface, reached out and pet the cat absently, her eyes far away.

“Where are we even going to go?” she asked.