#mulder. listen to me. they both love you. and so do i. you are loved. live with it

[california-112]

Skinner: Would you slap your best friend for a thousand dollars?

Scully: I would slap Mulder for free.

Mulder, tearing up: I’m your best friend??? 🥺

[actual-changeling]

I think in like. 90% of "they're handcuffed to each other" scenarios, they would not care. It would barely affect their work at all. They'd keep them on even once they have the key because this is the perfect 'for the love of God, do NOT get kidnapped again' insurance.

However.

There are those delicious 10% right in the middle of the Diana mess that would make for the most painful, angsty, hurt/comfort fic you can imagine. Arcadia, but turned up to 11.

This was not supposed to be anything resembling said fic and instead stay a shitpost—but here we are.

———

They're fighting over who gets to be in charge of movement immediately, and they do not stop . They keep tripping because they decide to suddenly walk in two different directions, and their wrists are chafed and bloody.

They keep going like that for a while until their lack of coordination and teamwork almost gets them killed, and then they're stuck hiding in a small, dark space, forced to TALK.

Imagine a janitor's closet or a small, windowless bathroom.

First, there's silence.

Then, one of them dares to say a word, and suddenly they're at each other's throats, going straight for the jugular.

Petty fighting turns into insults, which turn into months of pent-up emotions spilling out without any control over how, and they both say things they'll definitely regret later on.

Until it finally reaches a breaking point when Mulder—annoyed, frustrated, confused—cuts her off and says, "You're making it personal again, Scully."

Her mouth closes with an audible click, and she freezes before shuffling as far away from him as she possibly can. He realises he has fucked up. A lot.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Oh, you meant it, Mulder; don't backpedal. You meant it now, and you meant it back then too."

"Scully—"

"Shut up."

She's exhausted. So fucking tired. You made me a whole person to get her to stay, and she'd believed him. Damn it all, she had believed him. Just for him to turn it into a lie and destroy her trust within seconds.

"What does it take? For this thing to come up and bite you on the ass? I saw these creatures. I saw them burst to life. You would've seen them, too, but you were infected with that virus. You were passed out over my shoulder."   "Mulder, I know what you did. I know what happened to me, but without ignoring the science, I can't… Listen, Mulder. 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. If I change now… it wouldn't be right or honest."   "I'm talking about extraterrestrial life alive on this planet in our lifetime. Forces that dwarf and precede all human history. I'm sorry, Scully, but this time your science is wrong."

He had walked away from her without a second of hesitation, and she wishes she could walk away from him now.

Six years of loyalty and trust, and for what? To end up as the second-best, easily forgotten choice? To be wanted not for herself but as a placeholder, a substitute for someone else?

Forgiveness, over and over, without hesitation, and Mulder took it for granted. Of course, she will do what he wants. Even when he goes behind her back. Even when he tricks her into it. Even when he leaves her behind with barely a word. Even when she has no reason to do it except because it's him.

Because it's personal.

It has always been personal, but suddenly it's a fallacy she spun out of nothing and not the foundation of their partnership.

"I shouldn't have said that, Scully, i—"

I'm asking you to trust my judgment. To trust me.

"Mulder, shut. up."

He hadn't trusted her. She still trusts him and hates herself for it. What's the point of trusting someone when the reward is rejection and loneliness? When he stopped trusting her God knows how long ago?

The skin on her right wrist burns with abrasions, but she refuses to budge. Pain is sharp and honest, grounding and constant. She trusts pain more than she trusts him.

Time is hard to tell in the dark, it could be minutes or hours of waiting until she can feel his fingertips brush against her palm; she suppresses the urge to flinch. Mulder's touch is warm and light, not meant to ask but to offer, and her body betrays her mind and allows him to interlace their fingers.

God, she misses him. 

Underneath all that bubbling anger and lingering betrayal, she misses her partner. She misses him and the person she knows she can be with him—lighthearted, happy, alive. Contented hours of searching through files and writing reports have become a necessary sacrifice; suffocating spans of time she counts down by the minute.

It was never about the desk. It is not about Diana, not really. 

Maybe the darkness makes them both a bit braver, a bit softer around the edges, because she lets out a deep sigh and wills the tension to leave her muscles. If they keep going the way they have in recent weeks, they will break apart sooner rather than later, and she doesn't want to lose him, she never has. 

All she wants is to get her best friend back and to keep him for however long the world will allow. Not a clean slate or a new beginning, but a second chance for both of them. 

Caught between either extending an olive branch or ending up alone, it is easy to choose. Because it's personal, always has been, and always will be.

The pressure around her wrist disappears when she stops trying to keep her arm from him, and he hesitantly squeezes her hand—she slowly squeezes back.

"I'm sorry. for all of it. I never meant to hurt you, but I did, and I'm so, so sorry."

Scully pushes herself backward so she is leaning against him again, and when she closes her eyes, she can almost pretend they're somewhere, anywhere else, and she's finally coming home.

"I know, Mulder. I know."

[randomfoggytiger]

do you happen to have any fic recs where Scully is the one to initiate msr’s first kiss? I see a lot of the opposite but scully should get to do it

Oh, yes, a ton.

Here are a few I haven't reread in a while. *ahem*

Loose chronological order below~

Little_Pumpkin_Bagel's Vive Ut Vivas

I swallow hard. Assuming by the way she’s looking at me, I’m mostly sure that whatever she’s up to will throw caution out of limits for the sake of both of us. – “And what would that be, Scully?”

She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she holds my collar and pulls me down....

Post One Breath Mulder can't quite conceal his true feelings, which leaves Scully an opening.

trustmescully's Intoxicating Darkness

"I love you too, Scully," he smiles and his eyes shine with his mouth.

S2 Mulder, depressed and suicidal, is stopped from further considerations when Scully chases after him in the freezing rain.

@danadeservesadrink/Samwritess's

Collapse (Tumblr)

But he needed her to know like she needed him to know, and there was no pretending any more.

“I know” she whispered, so quiet it was almost in her head. He nodded silently and pressed his forehead to hers, their eyes closing, hands falling intertwined again between them. 

Post Pusher Scully supports Mulder until his defeat breaks her walls.

Justin Glasser's (xphilefic) Lonely Nightmare

She brushed her knuckles over his cheek. "When are you going to start listening to me?"

Mulder felt his mouth twitch into a smile. "Scully," he said. His voice sounded like it was rubbed over sandpaper. Screaming, he thought. That's from when I was screaming.

"What, Mulder?" She was rubbing his shoulders now, trying to work the blood back into them. He was alive, so she was playing Doctor Scully, all business, rubbing their relationship back to normal as quickly as possible. Mulder wasn't sure he wanted it back to normal so quickly. Mulder wasn't sure he could handle normal right away.

"If you kiss me again, I promise not to shout."

Post Never Again Mulder and Scully slowly bridge the distance between them during an intense case of missing teens and bonfires.

@mollybecameanengineer/Sareki's My Beloved (Tumblr)

He started to rise, to apologize and leave the room, but she stopped him. “What things?” she whispered. 

Her face was open, her eyes bright. She knew what he was going to say, and it didn’t look like she was afraid of it.

Post Kaddish Mulder can't sleep, slipping into Scully's motel room for a late-night conversation.

@tatooedlaura-blog/tatooedlaura/Laura Sprys's

Max 2.0

Once her forehead touched his, she whispered, “you are not Max. You have so many people here who love you and need you and you have so much to offer them back and you do. That’s the difference between you and Max. He searched for himself. You search for me, Mulder. You search,” kissing his forehead, then quickly his mouth, “for me.”

Post Max Mulder drives Scully out of the city where they stargaze while she tries to reassure and motivate him to keep fighting.

The Warmest Thing I Own

He saw her suddenly blink, head shake, both signs she was just waking up, “what? Mulder?”

Knowing she didn’t recall anything because there was no embarrassment turning her red, no heat in her cheeks, eyes innocently confused, “nothing...."

Cancer arc Mulder and Scully skip work, spending the day together as he prepares the best gourmet steak and mushrooms he can for her. (The sequels Fancy Paper Napkins, End of the Road, and Post Moments are excellent reads, too.)

Miles to Go

"Mulder ..."

"Yeah?"

"Smile."

The camera flashed in his face, "I think this one should be labeled 'Before'."

Mulder gulped down the last of his hot dog, "before what?"

"Before I kissed you."

Post FTF Mulder and Scully take the remains of their burnt office home, falling asleep and waking to a storm outside. Scully bucks the expected in a few unexpected ways.

206 Bones

Chocking up her growing feeling of dread to exhaustion, anger and lack of any type of proper vitamin or mineral, she helped her partner search, track and eventually corner Parsons in an abandoned building fifteen minutes away, half demolished and dangerous to any and all who set foot inside.

Only seconds before getting the final word to take the building, Scully’s fear got the better of her and she turned Mulder to face her, pulling him down to her....

Scully gives Mulder a good luck kiss before they attempt to flush their suspect from a rotten building... and ends up the one worse for wear.

Anne Haynes's (xf-redux.com)

Sonnet

The kiss was sweet. Simple. Breathtaking.

Redux II Mulder is afraid Scully is dying, at last, only for his world to be turned right-side up in a multitude of ways.

Package Deal (txt)

But she ran her thumb beneath his chin, tipping his head up, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her eyes spoke a thousand sweet promises and then there was no more hesitation, no lingering gaze, no more silent questions passed back and forth between them.

Post FTF Scully is overjoyed: she and Mulder are still partnered, their story was believed, and the files are getting expanded. So overjoyed, in fact, she moves their relationship to the next level.

nabokoves's Unwritten Hymns

She mumbled his name into his shoulder, foggy with confusion. She wanted to know if he was okay. He pulled back to look at her, struggling to find something to say. He brimmed with words so corny they would make even the poets puke.

Post Redux II Mulder may hate God-- chalking up Scully's remission to science instead of his angry prayers-- but but he in no way hates God's believer, Scully.

@nowwhateinstein's (Ao3) Fic: Seeking Warmth/Seeking Warmth

I look at him. He’s regarding me with a gaze that is both familiar and thrilling. Tenderness and desire are present in his eyes. It’s the same look, I realize, he had moments before he went to kiss me in the hallway outside his apartment - a moment that seems like a lifetime ago. Then, I found myself hesitating, afraid to reciprocate his acknowledgement of a truth we’d both known. Now, however, in light of everything that’s happened in the past week, it seems like the most natural thing in the world to lean over and kiss him.

Post FTF Scully picks up where she and Mulder left off, despite her slowly recovering body and patched-up snowsuit.

@ghostbustermelanieking/skuls's ice crystals (Ao3)

He pulls her hand up and kisses the back of it in relief. Her forehead furrows and she pulls her hand out of his. Something inside him thunks. 

But the next thing he knows, she is leaning across the space between them and cupping her face in his.

Post Tithonus Mulder and Scully flesh out their frustrations and feelings as they (almost) freeze to death.

@purrykat/mylifeinshadow's

How about M&S in Boston

She joins you next to the desk, a murmured noise of acknowledgment at the ‘CANCELLED’ notice that appears next to your flight number. You brace yourself for thinly veiled frustration, but when you risk a glance, there’s a funny little twinkle in her eye instead. You’re instantly taken back to the week prior—

Post IVF Mulder mulls over the brief kiss Scully gave him after the procedure failed.

Sending you number 20 for the kiss prompts.

I think it’s safe to say that it’s not Skinner that I’m interested in.”

And there it is. You’ve been steadily climbing toward this moment for the better part of the month, neither willing to take that final leap. It’s as if the absence of height difference gives her a burst of confidence, even as it turns you into a fumbling idiot.

Mulder, very late for a meeting with Skinner, is intercepted on the stairway by Scully.

effywho's Astra Inclinant

"I say...I say we stop talking." Scully replies.

It's his turn to look down, crumbling. "Sure, I understand."

He feels her breath on his hair as she leans closer. "I'm not sure you do."

Post IVF Mulder is shocked by not only their success but also Scully's follow up after his declaration.

EvanBlack's WHITEOUT

'You have a beautiful face Mulder.'

...There was an awkward silence, then he shifted and propped his cheek on his hand.

'That's the Evening Blush talking Scully.' He smiled with his lips, but she could see his eyes were serious - and nervous.

His nerves gave her sudden courage. 

A plane crashes Mulder and Scully in the snowy mountains; and their petty squabbles become small in comparison to starvation, necessary cannibalism, and the increasing odds of death.

Xequinn's (Ao3) Playing Hookie

“Yeah let's do this” “On a count of three” she says” “One,” he responds On “Two” they adjust suddenly sweaty hands “Three!” Scully leaps off, pulling Mulder behind her

Scully has fun dragging Mulder around on her slightly manic beachside adventures.

The Trouble with Expectations - Chapter 1 (Tumblr)

“Scully of course I showed. Why did you think I hadn’t?” She didn’t answer. Just let more tears fall. He grabbed for her hand again, and she let him. “Scully I’ll always come get you”

She didn’t answer. Just lunged forward and grabbed his face and kissed him as hard as she could.

Scully, assuming Mulder forgot to pick her up from the airport, is heartbroken... until Mulder wanders over from the bathroom.

@this-is-surely-tru/yours_truly's If the Fates Allow

“Tactile evidence only increases the anticipation, Mulder. It doesn’t diminish it.”

The slightly concussed look on her partner’s face was undeniably adorable, and he shook his head slightly as if to clear it while they both relaxed again into the carriage seat. “Far be it from me to argue with that, Scully.”

Mulder, stuck in New York for Christmas, surprises his partner with a rented carriage ride; and she, in turn, surprises him as well.

@alabama-metal-man's Unnamed

 She pulls back, runs her hand along his cheek, and turns away to take a long drag of her coffee. She closes her eyes, sighing contentedly.

“What was that for?” She can hear the hint of teasing, the lingering smile.

Scully is having a rotten morning until Mulder remembers her coffee order.

@admiralty-xfd/admiralty's Up in your arms - Chapter 1

He stared at her with a look she couldn’t figure out, but it wasn’t a look that said don’t. It was the furthest thing from that look she could discern. So she leaned into him, all the way in, and she felt him inhale ever so slightly as she took the biggest risk of her life.

Post Closure Mulder contemplates his new life. Scully answers at least one question for him.

And just for fun, I grabbed a few of my baronessblixen rereads:

@baronessblixen‘s (Ao3) 

Temporary Insanity (Ao3)

How many times has she cheated death this year? Two times? Three? She’s come so close that she’s stopped counting. Every time, she just picked herself up, bought a new blouse if it was torn or bloody, threw away shoes that weren’t as lucky as she was, and calmed herself down when a nightmare tried to take her under. She’s done. She feels it in her fingertips. She feels it like a current running through her body. She needs something. Something to make her feel alive.

Paper Clip Scully is spurned by her anger into more-than-professional overtures.

The Day After (Ao3)

“Kiss and make up?” Mulder says with a grin, biting his bottom lip. He at least has to try. Scully stares at him for a moment, the way she sometimes does before she tells him how crazy he is. He knows that look. But this time it’s different. 

Wetwired Mulder and Scully's discussion leads to decisive action on her part.

Never Cold With You By My Side

Feeling bold, she lets her hand wander behind his neck to play with the hair there. If he doesn’t want this – her – he can stop her before this even starts. But he doesn’t. So she pulls him to her, pressing her lips to his.

One Son Mulder and Scully spend the night locked up in Fort Marlene while she is hurt, jealous, and angry.

Dreams Are Made of This

Scully gets on her tiptoes and kisses Mulder. On the lips, just like that. Just like she’s been thinking about. It’s a quick kiss, but thorough. Like you’d kiss your husband. The person you love. All those thoughts fly through her head as she steps out the door. She stops there, realizing what she just did.

Scully, in the midst of a hopeful IVF daydream, accidentally kisses Mulder.

Five Minutes - Chapter 2 (Tumblr)

He returns with them, one in each hand, and when Scully reaches out to take hers, he shakes his head. Seeing him like this, her knight in crinkled Armani, his hands full, she can’t wait another second. She gets on tiptoes, careful not to topple over, and presses her lips to his. He tastes like coffee and the chocolate chip cookie they shared on the plane. They’ve waited long enough for this.

“We have?” Mulder, his eyes glazed over, grinning stupidly, sounds amused.

Will never not include this post IVF success story.

Candlelight Moments With You

You look like you're gonna faint. Eat something." She holds a chip up to his mouth and he accepts it, his lips closing over her finger. He can't tell what flavor the chips are, but he knows he wants more.

"More?" he asks in a whisper. She smiles at him and nods. But he doesn't get another chip. Instead, he gets a kiss.

Mulder tries to give Scully a good enough Christmas while both are practically stranded in a motel.

[atths--twice]

Imagine The X-Files reboot happens. We’re introduced to new agents working in the basement. They find themselves stumped on a case and they look at one another and nod.

Cut to a coffee shop and we see Mulder and the agents. He’s smiling, looking at the file, and thinking of so many things as he listens to them.

“Wow. The case sounds incredibly interesting. I definitely would be all in a few years ago. But now…” He checks his watch and smiles again. “I gotta pick my daughter up soon. I’ll offer what advice I can, but I can’t be late for her.”

When he leaves, we see him watching them, somewhat wistfully, but then his watch beeps with a previously set alarm to pick up his daughter. At the same time, he gets a message from Scully about dinner, asking if he’s still cooking or if he wants her to pick something up on her way home. He grins and nods his head, knowing he’s made the right choice.

And then maybe a young female agent comes to the hospital seeking out Scully, needing some additional advice. She hints at what she knows of Mulder and Scully.

“Oh,” Scully laughs softly, shaking her head. “You have no idea.”

And she crosses her arms and we see that she’s wearing a wedding ring.

These two deserve happiness and family and love- everything they haven’t been able to have. I would love to watch a new group of people working cases so long as the story is good and the chemistry is there.

And if we got to have little chances to look in to Mulder and Scully‘s life… yes please. ❤️

Let me make an addition especially for @baronessblixen because I completely agree with her. 💕💕

I want to see them with their kid. I want to see them enjoy their time with her. Maybe we see her schooling the agents somehow and Scully looks at Mulder and he looks at her and they both say “that’s all you” and then everyone laughs.

I want to see both of them interact with her together doing something as simple as just being at home. Like I NEED it so badly. If we got that, like the “what if” scenarios we saw in the revival, (minus the alien aspect of it) I would be so incredibly happy. ❤️❤️

[nachosncheezies]

Mulder, Scully, and "sibling vibes"

So a few times lately I've remarked on the sibling energy I see in early Mulder & Scully, and I think perhaps it's misunderstood. I jokingly self-identified not long ago as "not a romo, not a noromo, but a secret third thing (delighted they ended up together but wishes the whole kiss kiss kiiiiiss! thing wasn't dominant forever and always)" This applies to all my fandoms fwiw. For me the friendships generally trump everything.

The other day I added this (among some other rambling) to one of @randomfoggytiger's excellent posts about Mulder and women:

To me, these two start out as best friends, almost a "sibling" relationship at first: Mulder has been looking for Samantha, "walking into that room" everyday for many more years of his life than he wasn't, and here comes this precocious, punchy little woman who says she's looking forward to being around him. She plays with him in the rain, she laughs at him, teases him and calls him "sucker", she listens to him and is eager to learn everything he can teach her. They squabble, but always stick together. She stands next to him with her little foot stuck stubbornly out to the side and her arms folded, or her little hands on her little hips, always exuding an attitude that's surprisingly large for her little body. When he looks at her it's at the top of her head. She's even the same age as Samantha. When she panics or gets scared she turns to him, and he wraps her in a blanket and tells her stories. I know it is often interpreted as flirting, but if you were to age them down, it could just as easily be a big brother who adores his little sister and a little sister who thinks her big brother hung the moon. My personal feeling is, it would be almost impossible for him not to notice commonalities between Scully and Samantha. Perhaps that's partly why he's so comfortable sharing Samantha's story with her.

To clarify, I don't think either saw the other as an actual or replacement sibling, and I don't see it as something that is remotely incompatible or icky regardless of where they ended up. Love's a lot of things and it can change and be all of it or none of it at once.

Not a person, but a pattern

Mulder and Scully were thrown together and immediately flung themselves about as far from home as you could get without crossing an ocean, at a time when there was no internet and a long distance phone call cost a million billion dollars (adjusted for inflation)(facetious). This is more than just long hours doing stakeouts or interviewing witnesses or writing profiles or joining sting operations or whatever it is that average partners (especially green-ass newbies from Quantico) might presumably be doing. They might as well have been at sea. They'd known each other for maybe a week and suddenly had to learn to not just work together but to live together, being each other's only company and support system, etc.

Watching the way they interact particularly during the pilot could be (and it seems almost always is) interpreted as crushes and flirting. I see that too, but I'm gonna toss that aside for a sec and ask you to imagine they are children, or at the very least that they're not looking to date (other people have written some very good posts about sex not being that important to them ever, or how they use it for self-flagellation (him) or rebellion (her) etc. And as fun as fanfic is, I agree with that take. For all their smouldering - both individually and together - they're remarkably sexless. But I digress. Just imagine that the search for a date or the possibility of sex is not part of the equation at this stage.)

They're both SO influenced and informed by the patterns they've been living all the way since childhood, as most of us are.

Scully is used to following strong male personalities, living to impress her dad, being a kid sister to a man who has strong opinions about how the world is or ought to be. She's extremely capable but very young for her long list of credentials (she's presumably gone from school to school to school without much lived experience), and they give her her very first field assignment with Fox Mulder. She's heard a lot about him. She's looking forward to working with him. This is probably nothing at all like what she expected when she went to Quantico, but she wants to distinguish herself so she'll go where she's asked and do her Very Best Job at it. But he immediately absconds with her and now she's doing something fun and new, and this man they've assigned her to is quirky and weird and possibly just bat-crap crazy, but in between it all he's incredibly intelligent and he's showing her the ropes and teaching her new things and she's just so excited to be here.

Mulder had to grow up way too fast, aged 12, and maybe suffered a sort of arrested development in that sense. He was once a big brother to a girl who was 8 years old and probably a bit of a brat, as precocious 8 year olds often are (I mean the first time we actually see her she called him a buttmunch and screamed in his face because she didn't get her way). They've sent him a partner who is a remarkable overachiever; she's a biophysicist and medical doctor, a Quantico graduate, and all under age 30. Her credentials include rewriting Einstein and her job responsibilities include "tattle tale". She's gonna challenge him at every turn, but she's green and earnest enough to want his to learn from his experience. She's following him and she's hanging on his every word and she's laughing at and with him. She asks a lot of questions and openly enjoys just being there with him, just being a part of it all.

Age them down 20 years and they could just be two kids playing in the woods and the rain. That doesn't mean they see their siblings in each other, but... to me, it doesn't not mean that either. It's patterns they've carried with them their whole lives. What I'm getting at is that that sort of sibling push-and-pull would be an extremely comfortable and familiar dynamic for them both to slip into, especially considering their isolation, and it's one which also lends itself to quick and easy affection. It's not the predominant feature of their friendship, but it's a starting place, and it ripples forward across time. (Imo it also informs the lack of romance for a number of years.)

The sibling vibes fade into the background after a few episodes (although I see shades of it popping up here and there through at least Darkness Falls), and it transforms into what becomes an easy, fast friendship, and then a deep, ride-or-die best friendship.

Of course, a twisted version of it is brutally resurrected and brought to the fore in season 2, and I think that more than anything is what scuppers a move out of denial or past anything apart from best friends until at least cancer arc, but that's a whole other post.

Thanks for readiiing 💕

[azure-firecracker]

do you have any favourite txf headcanons ? show or specific to any of your fics or both!!

Oooh what a fun ask!

-I headcanoned that Scully can’t sing, and have been informed that this is actually true! But I also headcanon that when she was a kid she followed Melissa to church chorus, and got kicked out at, like, age 6 because she was so terrible, marking the first person to be kicked out of her church chorus.

-However, I think her parents would have wanted her to learn some sort of instrument, so I think she played the oboe, albeit not very well, and hated it.

-Mulder can dance, but he loses it the second the dance gets complicated (might this pop up in a later Raise Your Voices chapter? Only time will tell!)

-Scully is a hot beverage connoisseur and has just about every kind of tea under the sun stocked in her apartment, but she usually only drinks it when she’s on a day off or it’s a special occasion. Mostly she drinks coffee.

-I have seen debate over whether or not Mulder can cook. I think that he is very good at making approximately three specific dishes and terrible at making anything else.

-Scully can cook most things, but none amazingly. She’s very practical about it.

-Mulder absolutely did theater in high school, you cannot convince me otherwise. He probably only did plays and took an improv class. He has a bunch of old musical tapes hidden in his apartment that he doesn’t think Scully knows about (she does). His family listened to the musicals a lot before Samantha was taken, and he uses them as a reminder of happier times.

-Scully has a membership at the local library and is besties with all of the retired old librarians. They get her life updates every week (wait, should I write a fic about that?)

-Neither Scully nor Mulder had a lot of friends in high school. Scully was always locked into her studies and highly ambitious and didn’t put up with anybody’s BS, and people didn’t like that. Mulder was Mulder and also traumatized. He did get along with the other improv class people, but people mostly thought he was weird.

-Scully got into physics (her major!) because she loved the logical nature of mechanics, and fell in love with it because she secretly adored the mysteries and strangeness of relativity (projection from a physics girlie? Maybe).

-Mulder is not at all a STEM person. The only science classes he really liked were chemistry (so he could make stupid jokes about it), and astronomy (obviously).

-This is semi-canon but Scully is 100% an animal person. Mulder likes cats but that’s pretty much it.

-Both Scully and Mulder have seen every Alfred Hitchcock movie, and have an ongoing debate about what the best one is (Mulder says it’s The Birds, Scully says it’s Strangers on a Train - and Scully is right, just fyi).

-Mulder occasionally makes Scully watch old musical movies, which she pretends she hates but secretly enjoys.

These are mostly just off the top of my head! Feel free to add more in the comments/reblogs!

[slippinmickeys]

POL Prompt for you: would love to know more about Mulder’s experiences embedded with the army, and I bet Scully would too…

No beta. Just vibes. Thanks for the ask!

He presses his lips to the tight drum of her stomach, breathes in through his nose. The air is thick with the sour smell of human bodies in a warm, enclosed space, under which hovers the smell of sex and somehow, the linen and eucalyptus scent of Scully herself.  

He’d like to make love to her again, but they’re both lightheaded with hunger, so he rolls over instead, leaning his forehead and nose against the arching slats of her ribs. He reaches down and puts his hand around her knee. Her body hair has grown out, and while the copper hair on her legs is wiry and stiff, the growth on her knee is wispy and blonde. He strokes it, like he’s calming a skittish filly.

Outside the hotel they can hear bullets ripping through air nearby. The fighting is close and the sounds unnerving. 

“Tell me about your embed,” Scully says in a rough voice. He flicks his eyes to hers; they’re round and wet, blue as the Sargasso. 

“Which one?” 

“Any of them,” she says with a shaky breath. “Can you talk to me? I want to listen to you and not the sounds outside.”

“I hate to tell you this, but my embeds involved scenes pretty similar to what’s happening outside.” 

“Talk to me, Mulder,” she says. “I just want to hear your voice. Please.”

He runs his nose up the soft skin of her side, pulls her in close to his body.

“We were in the mountains,” he mumbles into her. “And it was cold.” 

Under his lips, her skin pebbles in sympathy. 

***

He’d had to leap out of a Black Hawk hovering above a rugged mountainside, hugging his camera bag to his chest in an effort to protect his camera and equipment. It had seemed to work, to the detriment of his left shoulder. The ground under the chopper was a chaotic mess of disheveled humans and gear, the rotor wash whipping dust and debris into everyone’s eyes. 

Mulder was the photographer half of a two-man team, working an article for the Times, but in the chaos and roar of their ingress, he couldn’t see Gary, the journalist who’d be doing the writing. He only hoped he’d fallen successfully, a metric applied in the loosest sense of the word – Gary was over forty and overweight – so long as he didn’t need a medic immediately and was on the ground, Captain Franklin would be happy.

The moment the last trooper hit the earth, the Black Hawk tipped backward and roared away into the night. The soldiers around him were up and on their feet immediately, Franklin barking quiet orders to hustle the men along – the chopper had given away their location. 

Operation Saber Tooth was a battalion-wide mission to root out senior rebel fighters that were hiding in and around the mountains. Franklin would hang back from the fighting with what was called the overwatch team, but First and Second Platoons would be on the front line, entering villages and searching homes, going on the offensive if attacked. 

Franklin had given Mulder and Gary the option of staying back with him and the overwatch team– who would position themselves behind the platoons’ fighting in order to monitor and command the operation–or accompanying one of the two Platoons. Mulder thought they’d get a better story and certainly better pictures if they went with the fighting forces, but it would also mean walking through the mountains at night carrying all of their gear; food, water, clothing, work equipment and sleeping bags. Each patrol would be gone for a week, patrolling, camping and trekking in the mountains. Mulder wanted to go with First Platoon, but one look at Gary’s face and he told Franklin they’d hang back with overwatch. 

Mulder had no idea what they were supposed to do next, so he followed the line of troops up a ridge and onto a small flat crest of rock thousands of feet up that abutted the mountain on one side and had a clear view of the valley on the other. The area would serve as the Tactical Operation Center for the mission. There were no tents, walls or roofs – just bare patches of rock and a few gnarled trees. As Mulder watched, the overwatch team unpacked cumbersome machines that looked like they had been airlifted from Vietnam. 

Gary came shuffling over the ridge and to Mulder’s side, breathing hard. 

“We should get some sleep,” Mulder said, unrolling his sleeping bag while Franklin and the JTACs communicated with airpower. 

A small group of rebel fighters had been spotted by the retreating Black Hawks moving towards their position, and Mulder and Gary fumbled with their equipment and tried to stay out of the way while an air attack wiped out the small force. 

When Mulder woke in the morning, First and Second Platoons were gone, but the overwatch team were still working, hunched over a speaker that was spitting out insurgent chatter from a radio intercept. 

“Bring the Dushka,” the interpreter said, repeating what he was hearing in a language no one else understood. “We can see them on the mountainside.”

The overwatch team was tense. The nearby rebels knew where they were, but not the location of either First or Second Platoon. A Dushka, Franklin explained, was a giant Russian machine gun that spit out .50 caliber bullets that could effortlessly slice through a brick wall. If the two platoons didn’t find the rebels before the rebels got the gun into position, Mulder and the men around him would be rendered to pulp and Operation Saber Tooth would be over before it began.

“Didn’t Franklin say overwatch would be the safer option?” Gary said, hunched up in his sleeping bag and looking miserable.

Mulder reached into the brown plastic of the MRE one of the soldiers had handed him and pulled out a small pack of M&Ms. 

“I think he just said there’d be less walking,” Mulder replied, popping a handful of candy into his mouth and pulling the black knit cap he was wearing lower over his ears. 

Gary began taking notes and speaking with some of the overwatch soldiers, getting down interviews, but Mulder could do nothing but take a few photos of the team against the backdrop of rock and dirt; mostly guys blowing hot air into their fists and hunching around the radio speaker.  

As dawn gave way to full daylight, Mulder’s attention strayed from the chatter of the TOC detailing the progress of the First and Second Platoons to the increasingly pressing needs of his own body; he really had to pee. 

Most of the soldiers had been relieving themselves at a rocky outcropping at the edge of the ridge upon which their small camp sat, but a gusty wind had picked up from along the valley and was now blowing up the crest of the hillside. If he peed off the side as the other soldiers had done, he would probably end up covered in his own piss courtesy of the wind. 

He decided to amble a little further off, down a short slope upon which laid the remains of a fallen tree. The area was probably too far from what Franklin had said were the boundaries of where he felt comfortable letting them go, but it was sheltered from the wind and it would only take Mulder 30 seconds to relieve himself. 

He was just zipping up when he caught a flash of movement from 40 yards away across the small valley between the mountain they were perched on and the next. When he looked up he connected eyes with a man peeking out behind a boulder, Kalashnikovs bristling up around the rock like needles in a pincushion. A group of rebel fighters. And they had seen him. 

He dove behind the single fallen tree on the slippery bit of scree behind him as the rebels opened fire. Bullets whizzed past the tree and thunked into it, spraying the air around him with bits of desiccated wood, and he could hear the shouting from the TOC and the garbled sound of the rebels yelling at each other and into their own radios. It took only moments for the Americans to begin returning fire and Mulder was absolutely pinned down, unable to do so much as move his arms up to protect his face, so close were the bullets in the air above him. And he had left his flak jacket and helmet next to his sleeping bag. 

He laid prone, eyes squeezed close as the guttural sound of combat erupted from everywhere  around him. An AC-130 circled overhead and he could hear the roar of a fighter jet scream low over the mountain. But the air support would not be able to help them, he knew; the rebels were too close to their own position and an attack on them would likely be deadly to Mulder and the rest of the overwatch team. 

Suddenly, the sounds of gunfire from the TOC position went into overdrive, and a moment later two soldiers slid onto the ground on either side of him, their comrades above laying down cover fire. 

“Let’s go, bud!” said a soldier named Martinez, who plunked a too-large army helmet onto Mulder’s head and grabbed him by the arm. 

On his other side, a private named Smyth said “We’re running in three-two-GO GO GO!” And the two soldiers hauled him up and all three of them ran all out, scrambling back up and over the ridge to the meager protection of the TOC. 

***

“Not three minutes later,” Mulder mumbles, “the rock above our heads started exploding.” 

Her fingers brush through the hair growing long down his neck. “The Dushka?” she asks.

He nods. “The Dushka. Luckily Second Platoon was almost on top of them by the time they were in position to fire and took them out before any person or any equipment was hurt. Five minutes later it was dead silence and we spent the rest of the afternoon using baby wipes to get the dust off our skin and equipment. My Canon Mark IV was never the same.”

On the street outside the hotel, the gunfire similarly halts. 

Scully inhales expansively and turns so she’s facing him. “How was Gary?” she asks. 

“A true professional,” he says, leaning forward to kiss the skin above her breast. “He grabbed my camera and took some damn fine pictures.”

“I’d like to see them someday.” Her voice is fading, sleepy. “If we ever get out of here.”

Mulder pulls the tatty sheet up and over them both. 

“You will,” he says. He’s gotten out of worse. 

[thursdayinspace]

Y'know what? I was sitting in a funk, thinking thoughts, and I thought: y'know what'll get me outta this? Listening to a mutual talk about their passions, passionately.

So, tell me: top 3 Revival moments that aren't MSRy. I wanna know layers. I wanna know intrigue. I wanna be GRIPPED by your love for that series. >:DDDDDD

thank you for this dream assignment. okay. *cracks knuckles* let's begin. i don't know if these are my *top* 3, but they're the ones that come to mind immediately.

1.

I'll start with one that you may argue is still msr, but this very specific bit is not, so hear me out. I'm talking about Scully in "Plus One" coming to Mulder's room asking him to hold her. This is all about Scully and the lessons she has had to learn the hard way about using her words, and about taking that big risk of showing vulnerability. For me, we can go all the way back here to season 2, "Irresistible," where she is shaken up to the point of going for a counseling session where she talks about herself in the second person, and then admits she doesn't want Mulder to know how much the case is getting to her. That's not about Mulder specifically. That's about Scully wanting to prove herself to her brothers as a kid. That's about being a woman in a male-dominated field - both in science and the FBI. She knows her weakness can be used against her. So putting up a facade has become second nature to her. It is also important to note that she *does not* open up to Mulder at the end of "Irresistible." She has reached a breaking point. She still doesn't talk.

In "Plus One," she asks for help. Once again she is shaken up by a case to the point where she has trouble handling it. But she is able this time to admit it. And I'm sure that is a hard-earned skill. Yes, she can open up here and ask for help because it's Mulder. But that she's admitting *at all* that she is struggling, and not even that but *asking for support*? That's big. And that has something to do with their relationship, but also not. That's Scully having learned that being scared is okay. That's Scully being more settled in her own skin, more confident, knowing her own strength and therefore being able to drop her defenses occasionally.

2.

In "Ghouli," the scene where William is on that autopsy table and Scully, thinking he's dead, explains to him all about his adoption and how affected she was by it. It's an important moment because I always felt like they completely dropped the ball on that in season 9. She gave up her kid, after it had been her biggest wish to be a mom for so long, and then the next time we hear about it is when she talks about it with Mulder in his jail cell for one minute. In between, she seems completely unaffected by it. It comes up again in IWTB, which I really liked, but I always felt like they owed Scully a real *moment*. A real moment to live in that pain and acknowledge how that changed her life and how really fucking difficult it was. As heartbreaking as that moment is and as much as I tend to simply ignore the William storyline, I think it was important.

3.

This is not a moment per se, but you know I have to mention the sushi episode. "Rm9sbG93ZXJz." There, I even looked up the proper title. It's a lot of moments in that episode that make up the whole of it. I love the creepiness of it that's created through the complete absence of other people. It's isolation dialed up to maximum. That's obviously a social commentary, but to me it's also an X Files commentary, if you will. The whole show, it's been them against the world. Very little backup. Just the two crazies from the basement. And here, they're not just isolated from the rest of the world, but for all intents and purposes, the world seems actually *empty*. Even though this episode stands somehow outside of canon to an extent, to me it's a ~vibes~ summary of the entire og myth arc. They have no one. They can't trust anyone. Everything is against them and yet they keep fighting against an enemy that seems omnipresent and undefeatable. I will talk about this episode for days if I don't stop now, so I'll leave it at that.

oh man this was fun. thank you for the question!

[xxsksxxx]

Almost Heaven

Summary:

Mulder’s attempt to find more exciting cases to investigate while stuck in the bullpen turns into another weekend trip to the forest.

Meanwhile, Scully is faced with a tempting offer that could change both her future and their lives.

This story is complete, and I’m going to post one chapter a day.

AO3 | Back to the Beginning | @today-in-fic

Chapter 11: Almost Heaven

Washington, D.C. Scully’s apartment Sunday, November 29th, 1998, 9:05 pm

Scully raised her arm and checked her watch for what must’ve been the tenth time in the last hour. With a sigh, she got up from the couch and turned the TV off. It was no use anyway. She’d tried reading, she’d tried cleaning, and she’d even gone through her closet, finally putting all the summer clothes in a suitcase and storing them in her basement. The movie she hadn’t been paying any attention to was just the last straw. Nothing made her stop thinking about calling Mulder.

Just call him, she thought, exasperated with herself. You dropped a bomb on him in the car earlier. You might as well call him now instead of waiting for your usual bedtime conversation.

She’d tried all day to not succumb to the temptation to pick up the phone. If she wanted to keep being in Mulder’s life, things needed to change. She’d drive herself crazy if she kept up being caught in the middle between her hopes and reality. He was her best friend, the person she wanted to find truths with and uncover lies. But she had to learn how to accept that what she felt wasn’t the way he thought about her. He needed her in his life as his touchstone—and she wanted him as her romantic partner. And if she didn’t want to end up getting hurt, she needed to get back to treating him like a friend and not like a potential lover.

The thought that they would never be what she had hoped for only a few days ago, pierced her heart, and she swallowed. I’m not a lovesick teenager. I’m going to be alright, she assured herself. They’d been friends for years, and she had loved their relationship. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to be just as happy if things went back to the way they had been.

She checked her watch again and shook her head at herself. This was getting ridiculous, she was torturing herself for no reason.

With determent steps, Scully walked towards her phone and carried the portable to her living room window, looking outside. The parked cars lining the street were illuminated by the streetlamps, the wet roofs from the earlier November rain reflecting the light like sparkling stars.

For a second, she thought one of the cars looked like Mulder’s and squinted her eyes, trying to check if she could find her partner. You’re losing your mind, Dana, she thought. Stop seeing him everywhere and just call him already. You’re starting to see ghosts!

With a deep sigh, she pressed speed dial 1 and listened to the phone connect. Mulder picked up after the second ring.

“Hello?” he asked, his voice tense. She had been right, Mulder had probably been agonizing all afternoon about their conversation, and she closed her eyes against the sudden realization that she was the cause of his anguish. I should’ve called him right away, she thought guiltily.

“Mulder, it’s me,” she replied quietly, suddenly as anxious as Mulder, even though she didn’t know why.

“Hey, Scully, everything ok?” he asked immediately, and she kept her tone light.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I know this is not our usual time to call. I hope I’m not interrupting whatever you’re doing?”

“No, no, you’re not interrupting. I was just thinking about the case. You were right. The gunmen couldn’t find anything more on the sighting. It turns out Mr. Murphy is kind of known for having seen—,” he trailed off. “Phenomena.” She could hear the defeat in his voice and wished he was sitting in front of her now so she could touch him. With a shake of her head, she ruthlessly squashed that thought. This was exactly what had gotten her into trouble this weekend. He was her friend. Friends didn’t want to stroke each other’s hair, hug and hold each other, kiss, and touch each other’s bodies. With an internal sigh, she admitted to herself that she had still a long way to go before she was truly going to be in a place where she would be ok with just being Mulder’s friend.

She realized she’d been quiet for a while and focused back on Mulder’s breathing coming through the line.

“I’m sorry, Mulder,” she said seriously. Mulder grunted in acknowledgment, both knowing that there wasn’t much to say about the case anymore.

“So, what have you been up to? Did you have a good rest of the day?” he asked tightly, fishing for any information he could about what she was going to do. She heard a crack through the line and realized that he was eating sunflower seeds.

“Not much, did some chores, did a bit of reading. Pretty uneventful.”

“Did the medical journals have any new interesting mutants?” he joked, and she felt warmth spread through her, happy that he knew her this well.

“Nothing that would be considered an X-File, I’m afraid,” she joked back, feeling the tension slowly dissipate. It was going to be alright, she decided.

The crack of another sunflower seed being snapped open came through the line, and she smiled.

“I made a decision, Mulder,” she said calmly, reminding herself why she had called. “I’m not going to take the job offer.”

Mulder didn’t reply, and she felt the urge to fill the silence with an explanation. “I thought about it and tried to imagine what it would be like. And I realized that I couldn't even imagine it.”

She gripped the phone tighter, feeling her sweaty hand slip on the receiver, uncomfortable to be this open about her feelings. “And I thought about everything we’ve experienced, Mulder. All the things I still want to find, the questions I want answers to.” She took a deep breath and soldiered on. “We’ve got things to get done, Mulder. And I don’t want to do it without you either—not even temporarily,” she finished quietly.

There was a long pause, and finally, she could hear Mulder let out a long breath. “I’m glad, Scully,” he said earnestly, and Scully closed her eyes.

“Well, I’ll let you go then, Mulder,” she breathed, the relief making her nearly dizzy. She waited a moment for his reply, but when it didn’t come, she added a soft ’Good night’ and hung up the phone.

Scully placed the receiver back in its place on the side table and made her way into her bathroom, preparing to get ready for bed. She was exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of the last few days.

Scully was just brushing her teeth and pulling the jar with her nighttime cream from her cabinet, a headband holding her hair back when a soft knock sounded on her front door, and she turned in surprise.

She hardly got unexpected visitors. At least not the ones that knocked, she thought wryly. The only one who ever dropped by this late was—Mulder. Of course. But how could that be? She’d been on the phone with him only ten minutes ago. There was no way he could’ve driven over here in that short amount of time.

She hurried over to the door, and after a brief check through her door viewer, she pulled it open. “Mulder?”

Mulder pushed past her without looking at her, and she closed the door behind him, turning around in surprise. “How did you get here so fast? Did something happen?”

“I was sitting in my car when you called, trying to get up the nerve to come up here,” he explained, starting to pace her living room. She leaned back against the doorjamb, watching him, her brow furrowed.

He suddenly stopped and turned to her, his eyes brimming with emotion. “Why, Scully?” he asked. “I don’t understand. Why did you even have to make a choice?” He pushed his hair back with his fingers and shook his head. “I just don’t get it. You’ve been the one who’s told me that we shouldn’t give up. That we would get the X-Files back if we played our cards right. And Skinner makes one job offer, and you’re doubting everything?” He looked at her with wide, questioning eyes, and she turned her own eyes to the floor.

How could she explain to him that it wasn’t just about that? She did believe they’d get the X-Files back, but she had felt like that was no longer enough. Not anymore. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, struggling for the right words. How could she explain that she had tricked herself into believing she could have it all this weekend—that she had wanted what Dana dreamed of when she was sitting alone on her sofa on lonely Saturday nights? But that was completely on her. How could he have known? “I don’t know, Mulder. I guess—I guess I just felt—like I wanted something else.”

Mulder watched her wordlessly for a moment. “I thought I had made it clear. Back in my hallway a few months ago,” he began, and her eyes flew up to his. “Not just your importance to the X-Files—but also to me. Personally.” His eyes didn’t shy away from hers, and she could see his anguish. “I thought you felt it too.”

Scully’s eyes searched his face for what he was talking about. Of course, she remembered the hallway and everything that nearly happened there. How could she forget? “Felt what too?”

“Oh, come on, Scully. If I remember correctly, you wanted that kiss just as much as I did. Because if you didn’t, let me tell you, you were sure sending mixed signals!” He put his hands on his hips, his body language a clear challenge.

“Yes, Mulder. Yes, I wanted to kiss you. But what does that have to do with this? Why are you here?”

“I just want to understand! How can you even think about walking away from this, from us after everything—after what I told you—” His voice trailed off, and for a moment Scully could see the young boy he must’ve been. His eyes were huge and sad, and despite his confrontational words, she could still hear the vulnerability in his voice.

She took a step forward and placed her hand on his chest, looking up at him. “I wanted that kiss very much, Mulder. But I just don’t understand you sometimes.”

He leaned closer, almost as if he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t miss a word of what she was saying, and that gave her the courage to go on. “Why did you invite me to come along to West Virginia this weekend?”

“Because the gunmen had found Mr. Murphy’s message on an internet site and his memories of the Mothman seemed accurate,” he explained slowly, clearly still not getting where she was going with this.

Scully nodded, her thoughts confirmed. He’d never intended anything personal to happen during the weekend.

Mulder was still watching her, his eyes darting between hers. But he kept silent, so she tried a different route to make him understand. “Mulder, why did you brush me off last night, when I came over to your motel room?” She searched his face, trying to see the truth in his reaction. But Mulder looked utterly confused.

“Brush you off? What do you mean?”

“When I came over to your room, Mulder, when I asked you if you wanted to take a break, spend time together, go out to dinner, maybe go to the movies?” She realized her voice had started to get an edge to it and took a deep breath to calm herself down. This was not Mulder’s fault, she reminded herself. Just because she had thought he’d finally made a move to turn their almost kiss into a getaway weekend with hopefully a real kiss or two, didn’t mean that’s what had been on his mind.

Mulder’s eyes softened, and he brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Because I thought we could maybe spend some time together, looking for that Mothman. Reconnect. Remember how much fun we had when we were investigating these cases? How you’d call me crazy—and then go on a boat with me anyway to find Big Blue?” he smiled sadly. “I wanted to see you smile, and have some fun for a change, instead of all the shit details we’re stuck with every day now.” He placed his palm against the side of her face, his thumb stroking her cheek, almost tenderly. “Remember when we were in that cemetery in Bellefleur, Oregon? Our first case? The way you were shaking from the cold and the rain, your lips were blue. And yet you were so excited,” he smiled affectionately at her. “And your laugh. Despite it all, you laughed like you were the happiest person on the planet.” Mulder shook his head and took a deep breath. “Something changed for me that day, Scully. I knew I never wanted to ever do this alone again—and I wanted to have that this weekend. I didn’t want it to end, keep investigating until we were laughing about this case like we did back then.”

He let his arm drop and took a step back. “I guess that’s why I asked you if you wanted to come along. I just wanted to spend the weekend with you. Make you smile, do something exciting together, and maybe even show you a Mothman.”

Scully snorted, and Mulder laughed, reaching over and taking her hand in his. “That’s what I don’t get. You seemed to look forward to the weekend as much as I did. But then something changed. And it seems to be about—,” he paused, looking at her uncertainly, “not being in the mood for pizza?”

Scully just shook her head, squeezed his hand, and pulled him over to her sofa. They sat down together, never letting go of each other’s hands. “It’s not about pizza, Mulder. I guess we didn’t have such different ideas about the weekend after all. I wanted to spend time with you as well. And that Mothman did sound interesting—at least until it started to rain, and I was freezing—in the wrong clothes,” she explained, and Mulder looked chagrined.

“I should’ve told you that you would need hiking gear, shouldn’t I have?” He grimaced, and Scully nodded but didn’t reply. That wasn’t the point she wanted to make, though. “Why didn’t you want me to touch you?” she asked quietly, and Mulder’s brows drew in confusion.

“Didn’t want you—. Scully, what are you talking about?” He grabbed her other hand as well and pulled her closer, their faces only inches apart. “I don’t understand. And I really, really want to. When did I say I did not want you to touch me?”

“When I wanted to see if you’d gotten hurt. You moved away from me so fast, you’d think I’d burned you.” She bent her head down, ashamed of her neediness. She felt like a child, getting rejected over wanting a hug.

Mulder let go of her hand and put his fingers under her chin, lifting her face back to his. “Scully look at me.” When her eyes met his, she could feel them fill with tears, and she swallowed, trying not to let them spill over. This whole emotional roller coaster of a weekend was catching up with her at that moment. “There is never any time when I would not want you to touch me. Trust me on that,” Mulder said earnestly. “The reason I moved away was because I did hit my head pretty hard in the forest, and I didn’t want you to make me go to a hospital to get checked for a concussion.” He gave her a crooked smile.

Scully stared at him in disbelief. “Mulder—,” she started, but he put his finger against her lips to silence her and then bent his head down. “Scully, would you mind checking my head? I think I hit it pretty hard yesterday,” he said quietly, but his voice trembled slightly.

Scully stared at him until a slow smile broke out over her face. She placed her hand on his shoulder and kneeled next to him on the sofa, tenderly brushing her fingers through his hair, carefully inspecting the bump. She gave the back of his neck a little scratch while she was at it, and he raised his face to her, only inches away. Scully let her hands glide to his face, cradling it between her palms. “Your head seems to be fine, Mulder. Although—,” she whispered, but before she could finish whatever she had meant to say, he leaned in and softly covered her lips with his.

With a moan, she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Mulder didn’t waste any time and lifted her off the couch and into his lap. She felt her heart thunder in her ears and straddled his legs, gripping his hair with both of her hands. He moaned into her mouth and pressed her hips closer to his, jerking against her. This was what she had been hoping for all weekend. It’s still the weekend, her mind filled in helpfully, and she ruthlessly squashed the thought down, far too busy trying to get another moan like the one before out of Mulder.

She felt his hand sneaking under her sweater, stroking up her back, and a wave of heat coursed through him. Scully pulled back slightly, trying to catch her breath while Mulder reached out to pull her in for another kiss, but she put her hand against his chest, softly stopping him from moving in again.

“That’s why, Mulder. That’s what I thought I could never have.” She gave him a soft kiss on his upper lip and followed it with a nibble on his lower lip. “I wasn’t sure if I could keep going day after day, knowing that you didn’t feel for me what I feel for you.”

Mulder leaned his forehead against Scully’s. “You’ll never have to wonder about that again, Scully. Not as long as I’m alive.” He leaned in for another kiss, and she could feel his smile against her lips. Before he could deepen the kiss again, she got off of his lap and held out her hand to him. “Why don’t we move this to the bedroom, Mulder? I feel like we’ve done enough talking.”

Mulder didn’t need to be told twice.

[baronessblixen]

O Holy No (4/10)

Today's prompt: Christmas carolers

Summary: Will Mulder and Scully finally kiss? (wc: 1,208)

Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder is in heaven. Or something very similar to it. He and Scully are running through the deserted Hoover building, giggling like children. Her hand is in his and it doesn’t matter where they’re going because they’re together. And after last night, he couldn’t have known it would turn out this way. As much as he’d hoped for it.

He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t have a great night. At first, he considered sleeping in his car. It seemed reasonable. There was no way he was going back to his apartment. In case Diana hadn’t listened and was still there. Eventually, he went to the Gunmen who took him in without question and let him sleep on their couch. Except he didn’t sleep. He thought about Scully all night long. Trying to come up with ways to make her see what he was feeling. Just like he had been trying for months.

After their baseball date that one starry night, he was convinced he had succeeded. That was before someone decided to crack his skull open and play hide and seek with his brain. They got through that, too. Once again it was Diana who almost broke them. He doesn’t know what – or who – convinced Scully last night, but he’s thanking every deity in the sky for his luck.

He arrived at the Christmas party with the simplest of plans: find her in the crowd, confess his love for her and hope for the best. The best has happened without him having to lift a finger. He grins, letting Scully lead. That has always been the way to her heart.

“Where are we going?” he asks her.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Just- away.”

That’s enough for him. They’re standing in front of the elevator, waiting. Their hands till entwined, they turn to each other. They’re both slightly out of breath, but breathing in sync. The smile on Scully’s face is carefree and reckless. He doesn’t know what he looks like, can’t even begin to guess, but he knows he’s full of love for her.

She said she’s scared and he’s taking it to heart. He won’t confess his love for her now, or here. The words want out, but he can keep them inside a while longer. Until she’s ready to hear them and not give him another “Oh, brother”. He knows what she’s feeling. He knows it’s love. He’s seen it in bright colors, has heard it loud and clear when he could read her mind. For now, that’s all he needs.

“Away sounds good,” he says, stepping closer to her. The elevator is taking its time. Standing here in a hallway isn’t the most romantic setting for a first kiss. Her only stipulation though was for them to get away from their ex-partners. What were the chances of Diana and Ethan being there? They could have avoided this if only they’d talked beforehand. But they’ll never learn.

“Why are you smiling?” she asks, sporting a smile herself.

“You,” he says simply. “You make me smile.” She blushes furiously and it makes him hold her closer. Anyone could see them here but so far, she doesn’t seem to mind. He, of course, couldn’t care less who sees them.

“Where is that damn elevator?” she mumbles, slipping from his embrace and pressing the button a few more times. He follows her, needing to be close.

“Hey you,” he says quietly and it sounds loud here with no one around. She turns to him and tips up her face. He’s been reading her expressions for years. He knows this one; it’s impatience. She, too, wants this. Their first kiss. All they have to do is take that last step. But Mulder hesitates. Should he just plunge in or resist and wait until they’re out of here?

“Mulder?” He’s been thinking so hard, analyzing this to death, that he hasn’t noticed how close they’ve come. Like magnets, they’ve drawn close. Their bodies have no doubts or tribulations. They know exactly what they want. Their heads are the problems.

“I can’t wait,” he says, his eyes fluttering shut. Their heads move closer and there she is; he can smell her. Her breath comes fast, and so does his. Their noses bump together in their blind approach and they both giggle. Mulder cracks one eye open to see hers closed, and her mouth open slightly. An invitation. She, too, doesn’t want to wait any longer.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yes,” she breathes and he can taste the word on his lips. This is the moment. This is it. His heart is hammering against his chest and his whole body buzzes. There’s music somewhere in his head, growing louder and louder. Their lips brush for the first time and then, in that same instance, the elevator dings and the doors open. They jump apart flustered and come face to face with the smiling faces of a group of Christmas carolers dressed as elves and reindeer.

“Silver Bells,” one of them sings, and the others join in, “It’s Christmas time in the city. Ring-a-ling, hear them ring.” Mulder stares at the carolers, dressed in green and red before his eyes find Scully. She’s biting her lip, her cheeks red as ripe tomatoes, and her eyes full of glee. He smiles, touching his lips absent-mindedly. They tingle in anticipation of what’s to come. But first, he takes a deep breath, and when the carolers are back on the chorus, he joins in.

“Ring-a-ling,” the carolers sing and Mulder answers with a slightly out-of-tune “ring-a-ling" of his own. He grins at Scully all the while, and she looks at him as if he’s hung the moon. They may not be kissing yet, but this moment is theirs all the same.

“Hey, you should join us.” One of the carolers shakes his hand after the song. “We’re here for the Christmas party.”

“Maybe next year,” Mulder says. “I have a date.” The whole group turns to look at Scully, who’s slipping away into the elevator, barely waiting for Mulder to join her.

“We need to get out of here,” she says.

“I will follow wherever you go,” Mulder says. The elevator takes them downstairs, and then, a few glorious moments later, they’re outside. “I took a cab here.”

“So did I,” Scully says.

“Should we-” He doesn’t get to ask his question because just then, a snowflake lands on his nose. Then another, and another, and another. Scully lifts her face to the sky, snowflakes catching in her lashes. He’s been waiting for the perfect moment, and he doesn’t know who he has to thank, but he knows he won’t wait another second.

He touches her arm and she turns to him, her mouth turned upwards. He pulls her close and she crashes into his chest. He lowers his head, their mouths meeting halfway. Finally. Their lips moving against each other, their tongues getting acquainted, he thinks he hears music again. But he only smiles, kissing her until they’re both out of breath.

“I’d ask to take you home,” Mulder says, not letting her out of his arms, “but-”

“I’m taking you home with me,” Scully says and it’s settled.

He’s going home with Scully.

[carefulfears]

memento mori might be the most loving episode of the series, i think…like, just, transcendently so. ever since i rewatched it again a couple weeks ago, i keep thinking of skinner walking into work, and mulder just sitting in his office. and it makes me laugh to see because, he’s a gremlin, and he’d just been sitting there, for god knows how long. but also, he just found out his best friend is going to die, and where else can he go? where can he go for help? for somewhere to sit in the morning. the way that he says he wants to talk to CSM about scully, and skinner says, no. not under any circumstances. “you can’t ask the truth of a man who trades in lies. i won’t let you.” and then the final moment of the episode: not mulder, not scully, but skinner surrounded in smoke. having offered himself up instead, sold his soul to the devil, to save those two weirdos who work for him in the basement. he doesn’t owe them anything. but he gives up everything. and they would/have/will do the same, for him. the lone gunmen…these 3 boys…frohike, who brought scully flowers when she was in a coma, who sat at her kitchen table when mulder was missing. byers, who debates government ops with her, calls her for help from vegas, or the bermuda triangle. langly, who was hacking fake entry codes for her the first day they met. they listen, they provide information, they pack up to do some government facility heists, to find anything they can to help. penny northern, the woman that scully can look to for both her past and her future, the woman that recognizes her from the missing time of their lives. “i held you and comforted you in that place.” penny goes first, with dana by her side, inspires hope and will in her. the x-files is about love, yes, but not just because mulder and scully are full of it, because they’re surrounded by it. even when it feels like they’re alone against the world.

[disappearinginq]

I’m so excited you like Steve Crain too! He’s been a favorite character of mine for years at this point, and doesn’t deserve the hate he gets.

It bothers me when people don’t recognize the responsibility that weighs on characters. They essentially lost both of their parents at the same time, and you know Steve had to be the one to step up.

This isn’t just applicable to Haunting of Hill House, of course. But I’ve noticed that fans vilify the characters that aren’t victimized as obviously / aren’t the main character.

Anyways, just wanted to share with a fellow Steve-enjoyed lol

New Bestie - same. I got into a very heated discussion about how if the Crain siblings are supposed to represent the 5 stages of grief, the fandom has Steve and Shirley switched around, because everyone says that Steve is Denial and Shirley is Bargaining.

Meanwhile, in the show, Steve spends his adult life going around not necessarily trying to debunk ghosts, but hoping that maybe this time, it will be ghosts, because then maybe his family will just be a different kind of crazy. He says his mom and his sister are sick, and they needed help. He reminds me more of Fox Mulder - the "I want to believe" vibe. But he also is in the unique position of seeing ghosts and not knowing about it. All of his ghosts are people with jobs, moving around the house like normal people. Everyone hears the dogs at night, not just him. He doesn't hear banging on the walls, he doesn't see creepy zombies in the basement, he doesn't have his future self freaking the hell out of him his entire life. He sees his mom - and as far as he's concerned (because this is a horror show, not supernatural, the world he occupies is the one we're in - no vampires and ghosts, etc, and that is Understood) it's just the mental illness that has gone through his whole family finally catching up with him. Anyone in this world who has a family member swear they're being stalked by a faceless ghost while they're high on drugs is going to come to same conclusion Steve does, which is that they're nuts. BUT - he looks for any signs that he is wrong. And I'm still mad that they cut out part of the first episode that has Steve refusing to write about his family anymore, no matter the price, while driving by an accident where he sees multiple people standing around, but when he turns away and the camera is the only one on the accident, you only see the firefighters/first responders.

Meanwhile, Shirley is 100% in denial about everything, including what her own ghosts were. In her House Nightmare at the end, she even denies what actually happened - in her version, she doesn't have an affair. The House actually calls her out on "But that's not what happened, is it?" When Steve is doing CPR on his dying brother, Shirley's first words are "This isn't real". She denies Luke from going to Nell's wedding. She denies that their mother had anything wrong with her, she's in denial that she's running her own business into the ground, she's in denial about the death of the kittens, she's in denial about ghosts too - even though she has much more explicit contact with them with the knocking, and with a witness both times (Theo). She's in denial about the night that they had to flee Hill House. Like if she says it often enough, then it will be true that her family is fine and nothing is wrong.

Sorry. Long rant. But I love this character and this show so much and no one ever wants to talk about it (except @amandagaelic, and she has listened to me for literally hours at this point). One of these days, I will actually finish the Haunting of Hill House fic I have, and it will be posted.

We might all be dead from old age, or so senile we don't even remember the source material, but I'll stipulate in my will that it has to be posted. :-D

AND YES - people have a weird habit of like...picking one character to defend and that's the end of it. No one else can do any right and that character can do no wrong. I see it in Yellowstone fandom a lot. Or in Marvel (the Steve/Tony argument made me leave it altogether). I don't know if it's because fandoms are now predominantly younger, louder/more obnoxious from the safety net of internet anonymity or what, but Seeing Things from Someone Else's Point of View seems to be a lost art in both media and reality.

[cecilysass]

20 Questions for 20 Writers

tagged by @baronessblixen and @randomfoggytiger

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 24

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 364,789

3. What fandoms do you write for? Only X-Files, although sometimes I have thoughts.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Chicken Dinner, Pause, The Kaleidoscope, The Boy on the Beach, The Marriage Spectacular

5. Do you respond to comments? Not every time. I do in bursts. I feel guilty if I respond to some and not others, so sometimes I just respond to none, especially if it's a long story and I'm posting chapters everyday. I wish it were otherwise, because I sincerely do like engaging with comments.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I've answered this question before, and I think I decided it was either (1) Opposition and Synthesis, which is a post-Requiem fic that no one has read, written between season 7 and 8, on Gossamer or (2) Ice Water, which was a fic I wrote for an exchange, also beginning of season 8, which is on AO3. Both of them have the same source of angst, which is the season 8 overall angst: missing Mulder.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of my fics have happy endings. I do try not to sew things up too tightly--I prefer to keep it a little open-ended, with the possibility that things could still be complicated, because I guess that feels more real to me. And more in universe, I suppose.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not very often. Sometimes. There was someone recently on a fic who went on a rant about me hating Mulder, but it mostly made me laugh. (Y'all. Let me assure you. This girl does not hate Mulder. She is a ridiculous Mulder champion.) I haven't been that upset by hate on my fics. I've been more upset by seeing hate on other people's.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I have. It's always a struggle for me, possibly because I'm not a super visually oriented person. I have betas who help me with this a lot, and I'm grateful to them. I do tend to want smut to feel organic to the story; I don't like when it feels tacked on. (Although listen, I don't judge anyone who wants that either; fanfic is for fun lol.)

10. Do you write crossovers? No.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don't think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Someone asked me if they could translate one of my fics to Russian once. I assume that happened.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not yet, but mulling that over with some co-authors now.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? Mulder and Scully. Sometimes I admit I will also read some Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have many WIPs. Maybe 8-10. I don't post WIPs any more because that experience is too stressful for me; I prefer to wait until the whole thing is done and post then.

16. What are your writing strengths? I revise and rewrite a lot. Dialogue. I used to think I was bad at plotting, but I'm getting better.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I get certain phrases and words in my head and keep reusing them without thinking about it. Then my beta makes fun of me for saying "scowl" 150 times in one chapter. Also, I struggle with visualizing a space and how characters are moving in it. My betas are always like: "What side of the table is he sitting on?" "Where is her leg?" "Is she on the side of the couch with the fish tank or no?" I don't think of these things very well naturally.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? All of my fic is in English, my first and best (by far) language. I would never write in another language unless I had a native speaker willing to help me with this. I included a few lines of Spanish in one fic, but I double and triple checked that. (And it was almost nothing! )

19. First fandom you wrote for? X-Files, unless you count things I wrote as a kid about books.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? This is hard, but I do love Boy on the Beach, which I researched quite a bit and very carefully plotted out. I also like We're Not Here To Talk About Personal Problems, which was the first fic I wrote for an exchange, an X-Cops post-ep, and really felt like me getting back into new fic.

Randomfoggytiger's additional questions:

1. Is writing a hobby or way of life?

A hobby, but also kind of a way of life, as it's tangential to how I make money, and it's always something I've done regularly.

2. A journal full of writing notes or a clean, completed manuscript?

Is this what I prefer? Clean, completed manuscript then. I don't like paper journals at all, so while I do have notes, they're only in Google Docs.

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration?

I don't have a specific event, person, or work of art. I will say I think I am influenced by having had some training writing for the stage. I often write dialogue first and then fill in everything else around it. And I think about plays I've read or seen a lot when I write.

4.Which is worse: someone you "idolize" reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

First draft. I revise a lot. And I'm an amazing singer, or at least I am so far as you know.

5. Has writing from someone else's POV ever changed your own perspective?

I feel like I should say yes, but no, not that I can remember specifically.

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

AO3

7. AO3 wordcount, and are you satisfied with it?

364,789 - Am I satisfied? I don't know. Do I win something at a particular number? Assuming no, the number doesn't really matter to me. I would be sad if I never posted anything again though, because I enjoy it.

8. What movie/book/fic gripped you irrevocably? I really loved From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler when I was a kid.

9. What's the highest compliment you could ever be given, and have you been given it? I've received such generous feedback on my fic of every kind, and honestly I could never hope to say which kind was the best. I'm grateful for that. I will say that someone told me on Pause that my D.C. geography was spot on, and I was really thrilled about that, since I spent quite a bit of time "driving" from Georgetown to Alexandria on Google Maps / Street View to see what it would be like.

10. What defines your writing style?

Dialogue. Angst. I don't know. What else? It's hard for me to see!

Tagging: @phillippadgettwrites @atths--twice

[unremarkablehouse]

Thoughts from my FTF Day rewatch:

I would be passed out by the 20min mark if I followed the drinking game rules

Both Mulder and Scully have amazing hair in this movie

Scully evacuating the entire building in less than 5 minutes is awesome

Mulder thinks the building is about to explode and his instinct is to try and run back in, smh. Scully yelling at him ‘no’, like a bad puppy, only to have him listen is an underrated shipping moment

I know this is fiction, but I’m offended they’re trying to scapegoat Scully. If they hadn’t found the bomb everyone in the building would have died, I’m not following the logic of how they can be blamed.

Scully handing Mulder his suit jacket before his OPR hearing is such a wife move…

‘One is the loneliest number’, Mulder’s lack of game is adorable

Mulder shows up to Scully’s drunk at 3am and begs her to put clothes on. Worst. Booty call. Ever.

Also Mulder’s deflection “what are you implying?!” when Scully calls him on the fact that he’s shown up to her apartment drunk at 3am

“Take away that which he cannot live without…” so nice foreshadowing that you’re going to abduct Scully… but the bee was a total fluke, the consortium got lucky. This movie is confusing

Mulder and Scully talking to kids never fails to amuse me. Mom and Dad vibes all the way.

Tanker Trucks is said so many times in this movie it loses all meaning

Am I the only one distracted by how long Mulder and Scully go without changing clothes in this movie? Admittedly, I love that Scully went to her OPR meeting with corn husks in her hair and Skinner just looks at her like she’s doing the walk of shame…

It’s weird watching the hallway scene without them making out

Mulder’s so sweet when he’s rubbing Scully’s bee sting. His little apology when he thought Scully pulled away is such a cute vulnerable moment

Wait, if Mulder and Scully were both infected with the virus and then given the same vaccine, why was Mulder the only one affected by the artifact? The mythology arc is so confusing.

I feel ripped off that we never get to see how Mulder got to Antarctica.

It’s alarming how many times they inject each other with unknown substances on this show

‘I had you big time..’ ok, cute call back but does that mean Scully faked dying to get mouth to mouth?

Scully totally said ‘I see it..’ when the spaceship rose up

Aww, Mulder and Scully handholding got me in the feels

Happy FTF Day!!

[queeenpersephone]

‘the truth is out there... but so are lies’ is honestly, to me, the most impactful moment of the entire x files series, and definitely the most impactful in terms of the quest. because mulder wants to believe so badly - he’d trust anyone, listen to anyone, follow any lead - though ‘you make me a whole person’ is a romantic overture, it also represents how mulder is only half of the investigative team. he wants the truth by searching for the truth. scully, on the other hand, tries to find the truth by searching for the lie. the lies that mulder has been told, the lies of everyone who isn’t mulder, the one person she trusts. the government’s lies. diana’s lies. and the way he stops, listens to her, and says ‘thank you’ before doing what he’s going to do anyways? i think you could read that response as flippant, but to me it’s genuine. he says thank you because he’s not going to change. his stubbornness and willingness to believe in spite of everything and everyone against him is his best and worst trait. he’s going to do what he does, especially this early in the series, no matter what scully says. but he’s going to listen. he’s going to thank her for looking for deception, because it’s not just discovering the truth that will move them forward - it’s also discovering the lies. 

narratively, i love that scully says this in s1. i think this is something that it takes the whole original series to really sink in for mulder. that the more they search, the more murky things are instead of clearer. you can sink your entire life into this impenetrable mask of truths and lies. but the truths and lies out there might be bigger but will never be as meaningful, as mulder finally realizes in s8, as the truth they both know. anyways tldr frank spotniz was right

[randomfoggytiger]

The Hospital Where You Slept

Wherein I, a non-romcomist, repurpose While You Were Sleeping (including bits of dialogue) for my own ingenious reasons.

This was a beast to write.

****

Perchance

I perished in an arrogant self-reliance

Ages ago…

That life was blotted out-- not so completely

But scattered wrecks enough of it remain,

Dim memories, as now, when once more seems

The goal in sight again. All which, indeed,

Is foolish, and only means-- the flesh I wear,

The earth I tread, are not more clear to me

Than my belief, explained to you or no.

-Robert Browning

*****

The world shrank to his beating heart, desperate inhalations, and freezing sweat. Endless hallways stretched incomprehensible distances and shot up into staircases, groaning under the desperation of his pace.

Melissa Rydell had a cup to her lips, chin trembling, when Mulder burst through the door, yelling at her to put it down, yelling at Vernon Ephesian to put his hands in the air.

Vernon turned, figure glazed by the searing sun, and smiled. “We escape the judgment.” And collapsed.

An exhalation, the release of the pressure towards the precipice, before Melissa dropped the cup and began to convulse.

“Paramedics, now!” Mulder yelled, vaulting forward and pumping, pumping, pumping to keep her soul from leaving once more.

*****

The ER was teeming with blood and broken limbs and bendable bodies stuffed into thin, unforgiving waiting chairs. He kept wild-eyed pace with the gurney until paramedics forced him aside, one staying back to force his limbs away when Mulder was assaulted with the pungent stink of vomit, Melissa’s vomit, and nearly collapsed against the wall.

*****

Skinner had let him sit, unaccompanied, while their star witness's stomach was pumped. Mulder figured it had something to do with an unexplained marriage of his own, but both kept their own council and avoided each other's eyes.

The scent of coffee snapped him from the endless bend of his thoughts. White hospital styrofoam floated a few inches from his face, and a few inches from that miracle were two very blue, very serious eyes. Mulder blinked, shut out the clamor of Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die, and refocused.

“I was passing by and thought you needed a black coffee.” Dr. Dana Scully; and her eyes were still serious and his hands were still shaking.

He took it and nodded. “Thank you.”

She nodded in turn, politely. “I saw what happened earlier and couldn’t help but wonder if your wife was okay.”

Mulder jolted as sickening dread clawed its screaming way into his throat. “My wife?”

Dr. Dana Scully’s eyebrows pulled down and her arm shot out to steady him. “Have you been checked for injuries, too? Head trauma? Do you have a headache or feel nauseous in any way?”

“I’m fine,” he breathed, bending forward to hide behind his hands. Dr. Scully and the hospital and poisoned soulmates melted briefly behind the consuming process of regular breathing. “She’s not my wife. I’m just an agent assigned to her case.”

“I’m….” Mulder looked up, the confusion in her voice catching his harried attention. “I’m sorry. You were insistent she was your wife when you both came in.”

“Did I say that?”

“Yes, you were quite insistent.” She paused, eyes darting back and forth while she puzzled over his sincerity. “Most likely shock, if you don’t remember.”

“I think I-- she’s not my wife. Now.”

“Hmm. But you love her?”

He wheezed, amused. “More than life itself.”

*****

Angry threats and a shot tumbled down from the desk area; and Mulder reached for his gun and ran down towards the unfolding chaos. A disheveled man, grimed and desperate, was waving a weapon and demanding “Drugs! Painkillers! Anything!” at a small group of medical staff.

Dr. Scully stood in front, her serious eyes burning as she commanded Jerry to listen. “Jerry, put it down. The police will be here any minute; and it’ll be easier to explain if you aren’t armed.”

Mulder slowed, leveled his gun, and called, “Jerry! FBI, put your hands in the--”

In a split second, the crowbar was flying down towards the doctor’s head and a bullet was crashing through the air towards the addict's chest. Metal and man collapsed to the ground with a clang and a thud.

*****

Midnight heralded majestic calm to the intensive care unit, quiet and cold as nurses softly made their rounds and Mulder kept his vigil by Melissa’s bed. She lay attached to and surrounded by wires and machines and stiff, antiseptic sheets.

Skinner had demanded an update, sighed heavily over the expected “A coma, Sir, and difficulty in assessing the extent of the damage to her organs”, and insisted Mulder get some sleep. Neither believed he would.

Too keyed to sit, he rose and walked a lap around the room, studying Melissa’s face from different angles and trying, trying, to unlock more memories with a squint or a stare. Coming to a halt by her side, he reached out to clutch her hand before drawing back. It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.

“Melissa-- Sarah. It’s me, Sullivan. Mulder.”

He shivered, torn; and sagged back into his seat, too weary to continue this conversation while standing.

“I feel that my soul has been searching for years. In my arrogant self-reliance, I’d assumed that search was for the answers to my sister’s disappearance, that with her had vanished any sense of rest or peace. And before finding you, I’ve been….”

He stopped, jaw clenching. “When I was a kid, I’d dreamt of a normal life-- y’know, spaceships and baseball and family. Life didn’t… life hasn’t worked out that way, for me. I have, I have fish; and an apartment; and complete control of the remote-- though that might not mean much to you, Sarah, if you’re listening, but it’s important to a guy like me.”

The machines beeped, beeped in time with her heartbeat. “But… I don’t have anybody to laugh with; or share what I find every day in my work-- people or creatures no one can begin to quantify. I’m Spooky Mulder to everyone else: a joke they keep around to drag out of the basement when they can’t solve their own problems fast enough; and that's all they want to see.

“I think our souls found each other, bound across time and always searching; and I think we were destined to find each other now when we have no one else. To fix the mistakes of our past, Sarah. To make it right.”

*****

Dr. Scully announced her entrance by the click of her approaching heels; and, smiling, he turned in time to see her sweep aside the partition curtain and give him a sympathetic head tilt.

“How’s the arm?”

“Seen better days,” she admitted, self-consciously nudging the sleeve back for inspection. An ugly blue-and-blackening mark smeared the underside of her forearm; and he winced as she shrugged and covered it back up. “I wanted to thank you-- it’s not every day an FBI agent saves me from a deranged pill addict.”

“And it’s not every day I get to be on the other side of a tactical negotiation. You did pretty good under pressure.”

“Well I should, since it comes with the territory,” she replied, and smirked when he chuffed acknowledgement. “I was headed home but wanted to see how you two were doing.”

“I’ve been told she’s going to be sleeping for a while. Coma.”

“Coma? Do you know how serious?”

“'Not expected to wake for a while' serious.”

“Do you mind if I take a look at her chart?”

Deflating from his affirmative, Mulder stuttered. “I don’t... know if she’d be comfortable with that.”

“Right. Sorry.” She ducked her head, embarrassed, and made a show of looking at her watch. “It’s getting late, so I’d better….”

“Dr. Scully--”

“Dana’s fine, Mr. Mulder--”

“Mulder.”

“Excuse me?”

“I even made my parents call me Mulder, so.” He shrugged. “Mulder.”

Her smile downturned, tamping a quiet laugh; and the cold began to recede, anguish slinking away as fear turned back to fouler places.

“Scully," he began again, "do you believe in love at first sight? Or have you ever seen somebody that you knew would love the real you if they knew you? That they'd do anything to spend eternity with you? Have you ever fallen in love with somebody you haven’t even talked to?”

She squared her shoulders; and Mulder got the distinct impression she’d be crossing her arms if one wasn’t already injured.

“Logically, I would have to say no. Love at first sight is usually driven by hormones and attraction more than deep or lasting connection.”

“But if you know they’re the one, if your soul is crying out for them in a way you can’t possibly understand or quantify-- in a way that science can’t explain-- would you still think that feeling was only hormones or attraction or something larger than yourself?”

“What? Fate? Destiny?”

“Maybe-- or maybe something as simple as two souls reuniting across each lifetime.”

Mulder was surprised Scully seemed to be weighing his words, watching her mind work through different routes of attack before her gaze landed on Melissa. Her face softened; her posture relaxed.

“Mulder, there are explanations that science offers to these questions; and I believe the answers are there. But I don’t know what you believe and… and it’s late, and I need to go home.”

He nodded, smiled for her sake; and she smiled for his, nodded, and slowly turned back to pull the curtain.

“My next shift is tomorrow night, if you don’t mind me looking in on you.”

“I’ll be here,” he answered, good-naturedly patting the arm of his chair.

Scully pushed up an eyebrow, gave an enigmatic twist of her lips, and vanished, heels tapping further and further into the distance.

*****

Someone was shrieking at him. Mulder bolted upright, arms reaching simultaneously for his gun and Melissa before the fog in his head cleared and he found himself thronged by two small boys and four strangers. Doubling over in relief, he heard excitement turn to anxiety and mild horror.

“Oh, we’re so sorry--”

“Morgan! Conner! Get off of Mr. Mulder’s arm--”

“We didn’t mean to scare you--”

“--just dropping in and didn’t think--”

“--they jumped you, rather excited bunch--”

“Dana said that you had--”

Scully burst through, parting the Red Sea of cross and crucifix necklaces. “Mom, don’t crowd him-- Charlie, keep the boys from the wires-- Hessa, could you please pass me the blanket he dropped? Mulder--” she wheeled back around, caught between exasperation and nervous energy, “--sorry. My family heard about our exploits yesterday and insisted on coming here and thanking you in person--”

“We hope we didn’t disturb you,” said one of two brown-haired women Mulder assumed was Mom. “The boys were excited to meet a real FBI agent and escaped before Charlie could wrangle them into order.”

“But Grandma--”

“Grandma, we didn’t--!”

“Both of you hush,” the younger, black-haired woman cut in. “Mr. Mulder, we’re very sorry. They must have given you a heart attack.”

“Well, they, uh,” he chuckled, rubbing at his chest, “they put a new meaning in ‘up and at it’.”

“We’re sorry, Mr. Mulder.”

Scully swiped the blanket from the boys’ mother, folding it neatly as she primly replied, “He prefers to be called Mulder, Conner. And now,” she added, plopping her handiwork carefully over Melissa’s feet, “that we’ve scared him half to death, I think it’s time we all packed up--”

“Mulder? Name’s Charlie Scully. Pleasure to meet you.” Charlie Scully stuck an arm over his sister’s shoulder, grinning when her shrug off wasn’t tall enough to nudge him away; and Mulder shook it warmly, fond of this domestic display now that the buzz had dissipated from his ears. “We were all headed out for an early lunch-- care to join us? Get some fresh air and some good food in you?”

A good meal turned out to be a McDonald’s drive-through, American-red and glistening off a land-of-the-free highway; but Mulder ate it down, contentedly listening to the family chatter until Scully’s voice cut in with a sharp, “Mulder, is this your motel?” Gouging the sleep from his eyes with a ketchup-scented fist, he peered out the side window while both Scully boys rotated, anti-gravity style, somewhere further behind him.

It was his motel, alright: grungy and garish, morbid and foreboding. Even a particularly unlucky window had cracks and patches that eerily lined up with the horizontal scratches etched a couple feet wide into one of the separating walls.

“Charlie, keep driving. We’re going back to Dana’s place.”

“Mrs. Scully--”

“No arguments. There’s no way I can leave you here in good conscience, Fox, when Dana has a guest bed you can use.”

Scully, passive, didn’t disagree; and Mulder couldn’t think of a reason that didn’t begin and end in an argument.

*****

Mulder’s stakeout was disrupted again by the advent of Scully’s kitten heels.

“Mi casa es su casa,” he said, listening to her abruptly halt, then figure out and take in stride his astute hearing.

“Hopefully not for much longer.” Consolingly, she added, “Her vitals look good. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Yeah.”

A crinkle and crunch caught his attention, pulling his eyes away from Melissa’s respirator to the burrito that Scully was carefully unwrapping as nonchalantly as she could.

“Scully, are you snacking on the job?”

“It’s my lunch break. I’m running on four hours of sleep and just enough adrenaline to feel a bit rebellious.”

“I’m sure there’s a federal offense somewhere prohibiting that behavior.”

“Well, now you’re my accomplice; so, I don’t rate prison very highly on my list of concerns.”

“Partners in crime. I like it.”

“Hmm.” She chewed slowly, peeling back another paper layer. “I was thinking about what you said last night-- falling in love at first sight. I did, once. And it ended in heartbreak.”

“How so?” Leaning back, Mulder tried to stretch the cramp out of his right leg, mostly to no avail.

“It was a profession, not a person. When I was in medical school, I had… aspirations to leave it all behind. The FBI recruited me, and I almost accepted.”

“You were recruited? Scully.”

“I know. Melissa-- my sister, Melissa-- never lets me live it down.”

Mulder watched her methodically peel another layer away with more than necessary attention. “Did you accept?”

Softly clearing her throat, she answered, “No, uh, no. Things were complicated at home; and I didn’t think it was wise to add to the… complications by disappointing my parents. They would have considered it as an act of rebellion, you see.”

“I see.” He thumbed the blanket still folded on Melissa’s feet. “Was it?”

“No. I don’t think so, anyway. I wanted to make a difference in the world, prove myself beyond medicine, if I could. High ambitions, possibly unrealistic ones; but…” Looking down at the half-finished burrito, Scully smiled to herself and handed it over. “Sometimes we bite off more than we can chew. At least in medicine I get to meet FBI agents without the commitment.”

Snickering, he prodded, “What happened after recruitment? You decided medicine in Tennessee was enough for you?”

“Oh, no-- I moved here after my father’s death. No reason, really; I just... had to get away from the sea. It was coast to coast my whole life, and the allure of that lifestyle wore thin after….” her fingers made a sweeping motion, “Everything.”

“I see. Was Tennessee far enough away?”

“I suppose. Not as 'big city' as I’m used to, though.”

“Aw, it’s not so bad. Graceland’s tucked away around here somewhere.”

“You're an Elvis fan?”

“Mmhm.”

“You put the ‘fan’ in ‘fanatic’?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“That’s what all Elvis fans say. It begins with the music and ends with the conspiracies.”

“That’s what I like about you, Scully, you cling to your science despite all evidence to the contrary. Elvis is out there, and he’ll prove it to you someday.”

“And so is Bigfoot, the Mothman, and the Chupacabra.”

Mulder sat up, transfixed. “Everyone’s got their faith, Scully, and you’ve just spoken mine.”

“I have two rowdy nephews who I’m making up for lost time with, Mulder. Learning about things that go bump in the night are the least of my troubles.”

“Well, if you ever want to investigate those interests further, march right back to the FBI recruitment office and get partnered up with me.”

“Yes, Sir,” she teased.

Even so, another sort of feeling shot through Mulder-- the bitter cry of an old, loyal friend electrifying the gooseflesh on his dying skin-- and left him silent, shaken.

*****

It was the fourth day of pulling the night shift with Scully and sleeping it off in the guest room-- grabbing a simple breakfast with Maggie, Charlie, and the family before bed-- when Melissa, her sister Melissa, flew in with aplomb.

“It’s nice to meet you, Fox. Mulder,” she rectified, shooting a patient smile at Scully’s sharp glance. “I’ve been told not to call you 'Fox'.”

“Melissa, turn on your tact switch, please.”

“Hello to you, too, little brother.”

Amidst the rushed “hello”s, Mulder caught a softer, “Dana, you’re glowing-- I haven’t seen you this happy in years,” before he dashed away to get ready.

“Bill and Tara are only a couple hours behind me, Mom, so we should all be packed in by midnight. Hope you have the room, Day.”

“Clearly,” Scully dryly responded while Maggie twisted around to give her eldest daughter a more welcoming “You always have a home here, Melissa.”

Sweeping by, Mulder stooped to whisper, “Very generous woman, your Mom,” to Scully, and waited a second for her rejoining, “Always generous with what isn’t hers” before sailing away for his shoes.

Melissa saw them off at the door, her smile less enigmatic, more cunning. “Have a nice night Dana,” she waved, blowing a kiss after both of them and shutting up the household chatter with a swift slam of the door.

“That’s a first.”

His partner-in-crime’s acquiescing “Yes” was less jovial, more ruminative.

*****

“Mom wants to throw a celebration for when Melissa wakes up,” Scully amended, yawning her way through a forkful of salad and croutons.

Melissa Rydell, Mulder noted, was hooked up to less machinery, though its mechanical clackery still hummed in alternating soothing or nerve-wracking chatter. Today, he supposed, it was the latter.

“Mulder?”

“Hm? Oh, that’s… that’s good.”

“Mulder.” Melissa’s heart beat between them, calmly, incessantly. Stronger every day. “Why don’t you ever talk about her?”

“About who?”

“Melissa-- you always avoid the topic or give one-word answers. I don’t know anything about her other than she’s the love of your life, that you’re devoted to her, and that we sit here, day after day, waiting for her to wake up. I mean, you’ve never even touched her hand while she’s been here.”

Mulder wanted to shift away from her chair, but that would scoot him closer to Melissa’s bed. He settled for sliding forward, changing his mind, and sliding backwards. “She’s very important to me.”

“I’m not trying to make you prove anything to me, I just--” Scully grabbed the second blanket she’d stored at Melissa’s feet and attempted to sweep it over her shoulders. Mulder watched her struggle for a bit before reaching over and carefully adjusting it himself. “Thank you. I want to know her, Mulder-- as a person, not a patient.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Well… what’s her favorite ice cream?”

“Ben and Jerry’s.”

“Ben and Jerry’s…?”

“Ben and Jerry’s.”

“Mulder, that’s a brand, not a flavor.”

“I never thought to ask.”

“We’ve spent almost five days side by side and you already know how I prefer my coffee, what vending machine I don’t like, and which breakfast sides I’ve marked as the greasiest; but you don’t know Melissa’s favorite ice cream flavor.”

“I don’t, Scully. What else?”

“Fine.” There was a calculating look in her eye that didn’t bode well. “When’s your anniversary?”

“We have a couple different ones.”

Sharp, palpable anger settled between them, heat building under his collar as his palms sweat and her face solidified into immovable reproof.

“Mulder--”

“No, Scully.”

“Will you just hear me, please.” She waited for his nod. He gave it, grudgingly; and she continued. “I don’t believe you know anything about this woman other than an ideal or fantasy you’ve built up in your mind. You don’t need to tell me about the case or how you met or even what drew you to each other for me to know that you are pursuing the wrong path.

"Do you really know her-- Melissa Rydell; not Melissa, the woman fell in love with at first sight?”

*****

They spent the rest of the shift apart, meeting up when it was time to leave and pensively filing into their respective seats in Scully’s modest car.

Bill and Melissa were at the door when Mulder drove up; and he wished this were any other morning when the distance between himself and their younger sister could be more easily disguised.

“Billy, this is Fo-- Mulder; Mulder this is Billy; and Dana, this is Billy and Mulder.”

“Har har,” Scully huffed, hauling herself past Melissa into Bill’s arms, past him to the shoe rack.

“Mulder,” Bill Scully said, sizing him up before offering a handshake. “Heard you’re part of the family now.”

“‘Fraid so,” Mulder quipped, then winced when Scully flinched.

“Bill, don’t jockey him for your old room back. Mulder didn’t even know the concept of a guest room existed until Mom practically threw it at him.”

Melissa whistled, looking between the two of them. “C’mon, Dana, we’ve got a nice cream cheese bagel with your name on it.”

*****

The guest room had been stifling-- the antique clock’s thick ticking thrust him back into the heavy, methodical beeping of Melissa Rydell’s life support-- and Mulder, overheating in the thinnest cotton layers he could find, sought solace in Scully’s car. It was an old ritual formed from long stakeouts with a roster of unsociable partners that lasted mere weeks before leaving Spooky to his dusty theories and dustier passenger seat. This time he was the passenger, cranking up the aircon and ripping out whatever cash he had in his wallet to toss onto her side of the glove compartment. He could lose a dollar or two in exchange for needed space.

When the driver’s side door opened, he bolted upright, blearily assuming he’d overslept; and was confused when the wrong Scully sister dropped into view.

“Fox, Mulder, whatever, I need to talk with you. Just a minute?”

“Um.” Half-expecting Melissa to park herself wherever she liked anyway, he shuffled upright and waved a hand at her. “Come in.”

She stooped then stopped, catching a swirling dollar with her fingertips. “Why’re there bills everywhere?”

“Because the gas is on.”

“Okay.” Swishing uselessly here and there, Melissa gave up and slammed the front door. Mulder wondered if the impulse to hit all the locks was paranoia or prescience before she slid back a few feet, opened the back door, and scooted in, perturbed but seated.

“Dana’s been… off today. And I’m not trying to get involved in your affairs, but I really think you should tell her.”

“Tell her what.”

“I really think you should. She’s feeling displaced and unprioritized; and sooner or later she’s going to decide this back and forth isn’t worth the effort and cut her losses.” She bobbed her head to scout him out through the rear view mirror. “Dana came home subdued and grieved; and her feelings for you are really raw--”

“What--” Mulder bent his head feverishly until he found her in the mirror, too. “Melissa, Dana and I do not love each other. Dana is not in love with me-- and everyone knows I’m in love with Melissa and waiting for her to wake up.”

“Please, you haven’t been in love with her since the moment I arrived. You’ve been conflicted, and those conflicted feelings have been clouding your judgment to--”

“Melissa, I don’t want to hear your... this. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get some more sleep before I have to drive back to the hospital.”

She sat back, studied him a long moment, then sighed, defeated. “Maybe I was just crazy, or hopeful, or I noticed something between you that neither of you will recognize--” shooting him a pointed look, “--but it’s hard to think of your baby sister going it alone, y’know? Even if she chooses to do so.”

Almost a week of emotional roller coasters and somehow, someway, Mulder gathered, a cruel trick of the universe was about to toss him down another dip. “'Go it alone'... how?”

“I haven’t had a chance to talk it over with her, but after some educated guess work and some spying of my own,” Melissa smirked at him, joyless, “I’m pretty sure she’s pregnant.”

Down the dip he goes.

“And Dana’s more than capable of taking on single motherhood alone, but….”

Somehow, someway he found his voice. “She’s been drinking coffee... so, so, I don’t think she’d be….”

“She hasn’t, Mulder. I’ve been watching. Have you seen her, at the hospital?”

He hadn’t.

“I’m never wrong about Dana, as much as she wishes I were.” Melissa tapped his shoulder and popped open the door again. “And I really think you should tell her.”

*****

The restaurant was packed, families and singles escaping the hot June weather with the promise of swift customer service and big, cheap meals stacked on impossibly large plates. Scully, of all people, had suggested it, wanting to show off the “local grub” to Bill and Tara, flicking Charlie when he whined about being an afterthought now. The sizzling smell of grease and fatty meat and salty snacks and rich desserts burrowed into the thick, tightly woven green carpet and practically varnished the sturdy, simply carved wood paneling that stretched from the floor to the bottom of each window.

It was Heaven to a man like Mulder and the Slough of Despond to a woman like Scully; yet she tucked away a modest serving while he limped half-heartedly through his meal, watching her untouched coffee cool and stale with the blooming conviction that he was going to lose the undivided attention of the one person who hadn’t grown sick of his company. His eyes met Melissa’s across the table, and she nodded slightly at him, convincing him that she was convinced this was another sign of his lovelornity.

Well, tough-- for her and for him. He was flying back to Washington D.C. at some point; and whatever friendship he and Scully had recently formed would likely have disintegrated with distance, regardless. Melissa would dote on the newest family member while making moon eyes over ‘what could have been’ and Bill would get his guestroom back and Maggie would move back into the room he, Mulder, vacated; and wouldn’t they all be one hunky dory, happy-go-lucky family?

He’d wait long enough for Melissa to wake up, and recover, and they’d….

The last of his appetite was gone.

*****

Having accepted the probability of an uber Scully, Mulder packed his resentment judiciously away with any expectation beyond a kind but temporary friendship; and pulled out chairs and opened doors with a vengeance. Everyone else raised eyebrows or exchanged surprised glances except Melissa, who watched them drive off with doom and acceptance in her eyes.

The evening haunt now alternated with vigils at Melissa’s bedside and more frequent trips from Scully’s favorite vending machine-- down the hall, up a floor, back down the elevator-- to the ICU common area where he would loiter with water or a snack for Dr. Scully to grab as she passed. By eleven, most of his offerings were piled on her seat in Melissa’s room and he was questioning how medical staff made it through their repetitive rounds with little time in-between for breaks.

Activity on the ward slowed around 1 A.M., leaving room, Mulder noticed, for Scully's suspicions to be awakened.

“Is this the fourth bottle of water?” she asked, sidling up slowly, intercepting his zeal with an outstretched hand.

“Fifth. Drank the last one.”

Sighing, Scully led the way back to Melissa’s room, her sneakers-- this was the first night he’d seen her without heels-- squeaking across the freshly mopped floor with punctuating emphasis. She practically groaned when the leaning tower of snack bars came into view.

“Mulder, if this is about last night, let’s just-- move past it.”

He nodded, eyeing the stack as it slowly slid into staircase formation.

She sighed again. “What is going on here, Mulder? And I don’t intend to let this go until you tell me the truth.”

“Melissa followed me out to the car this afternoon. She told me.”

Those serious, blue eyes had widened, sweeping over his face before looking away. “What did she tell you?”

“That she thought you were… pregnant.”

“What?” Scully snapped forward, ramrod straight, sneakers stamped unthinkingly on the front of his shoes, seeking secure footholds with the grace of two concrete bricks. She stepped back, aware, when Mulder crinkled his right eye in pain. “Sorry. I’m not-- why…”

“You’re not?”

“I’m not.” Her hand reached out, assuring. “I’m not.”

Another flash of Scully or someone like her bent over him, dragging what he knew to be his dying body across the earth. Companionship. Trust. No man left behind.

“I wanted to try IVF.”

The vision was gone; but the peace remained. Scully still stood by his side-- littler, now-- gripping his arm supportively as she slowly and succinctly kept him grounded. “The treatments are expensive, and grueling; and they’re not guaranteed to work. Bill and Tara have been trying for almost two years, without success.”

Mulder nodded, encouraged. “Hm.”

“I don’t know how Melissa could have figured that out, though.”

“You weren’t drinking your coffee.”

Her head dipped, chin tilted out. “I’ve been tapering off, because….”

“You were weaning yourself in preparation.”

“Anyway, now that that’s cleared up….” Embarrassed, Scully walked to the snack pile, grabbed a protein bar, and routinely unwrapped it.

A long pause-- as such pauses are before life-altering decisions-- bridged the gap between her confession and his admittance; and, steeling himself, Mulder sat, swiped up the little tower, and motioned for her to sit, too. A little quid pro quo.

“I was twelve when it happened. My sister was 8. She just… disappeared out of her bed one night. Just gone, vanished."

*****

Melissa Rydell woke on the thirteenth day, gargling past her intubation tube, wailing and screaming for Vernon Ephesian.

*****

“Agent Mulder--”

“Sir, she’ll know me, she has to, we just have to bring in someone who can help her unlock her memories--”

“Repressed memories are very different from brain damage, Agent. And might I remind you that the extent of her damage is so severe that I expect you to tread very carefully. There are already compromising questions being asked about your involvement in this case--”

“Like what? That I’m manipulating a vulnerable woman to prove an egomaniacal theory? That I’m using my influence to mold her into my beliefs, like Ephesian did? Like they think I want to do?”

“You will stand down on this, Mulder. If you wish to see that woman recover enough to make a statement on behalf of the late members of the Church of Seven Stars, then I suggest you direct your anger towards a productive course of action.”

“And what’s that, Sir? Let her lose that side of herself because no one here wants to admit that Spooky was onto something? That the FBI was able to save one alive from Ephesian's second attempted mass suicide because of my theories? Is that not good enough for your report--”

“Mulder!” Scully appeared abruptly to his right, anchoring her hand on his arm as she swiveled from one red face to the other.

Both men heaved, locked into position in case either of them decided Agent Mulder was going to do something stupid.

“Mulder, I need to speak with you-- privately.”

The gridlock eased, Special Agent tugged slowly away from Assistant Director with future intent etched in the straight edge of each tight shoulder. She walked him to an empty hospital room; and both politely waited for the door to shut before turning on each other.

“Mulder, you are compromising your position on this case when Melissa Rydell has barely woken from her coma, let alone remembered any pertinent evidence to prove your assumption?”

“Scully, you've heard what I found-- the dates, the testimony, the pictures--”

“And what I’ve heard is circumstantial evidence that is moot without her corroborating testimony. Look, I’m not happy about this, either, but you can’t fit this woman or her memories into what you want her to believe."

“Scully, it’s not what I want her to believe, it’s the truth! Do you expect me to deny it because it’s inconvenient? That’s not who I am.”

“Mulder, I’ve seen things that I can’t explain, too-- I’ve witnessed them with my own eyes. My father--” Scully’s face fell, but she recovered momentum in a blink, “--appeared to me minutes before my mother called to announce his death. I know. I know! But it might not be what really happened-- and if it is, it might not be the whole truth of what happened. Just because you saw it or felt it, doesn’t mean it’s what you understand it to be. The truth is out there, Mulder. But so are lies. And the ones we tell ourselves are often the easiest to mistake for the truth.”

*****

Mulder spent his last night in a Tennessean motel, meeting up in the odd, early hours of the morning with the Scullys for breakfast. Red-rimmed eyes, disheveled hair, and pillow creases at odd sides of his face marked a night of exhaustive, useless effort.

The Scully boys gave him bacon bits from their plates, the Scully brothers kept the coffee coming, and the Scully women fussed and distracted at the appropriate moments. Breakfast eaten, they clung to the silence, knowing only that they didn’t want to break it. Then Mulder made a motion towards his watch and skidded out of the booth, Morgan and Conner following close behind. The Spooky Mulder Fan Club: members, two. It was bittersweet; and he gripped them on either side as they walked to the van and drove to the airport.

Maggie pulled him aside before he could check in. “Fox, I want you to call as soon as you land. Promise me, fresh from the plane. I remember how it was for my husband to return to his base, alone, with his family thousands of miles away. One of us’ll be waiting; and Charlie and I’ll be flying back to Maryland in a week or two, and I don’t want you to even think of avoiding us. Drive down and I’ll have some good cooking ready for you.” And she hugged him and he hugged back, murmuring wordless noises between them.

“Don’t forget to give us a ring, too, Mulder,” Charlie added, cutting in for a goodbye shake while the boys ping-ponged back and forth between both for hugs and hair ruffles. Bill gave a decent nod and an approving grip while Melissa and Tara and Hessa traded off with slow approaches and graceful scuffles away.

Scully was last, of course. “You call,” she whispered. He nodded.

*****

“Scully.”

“Hey, Scully, it’s me.”

“...Mulder?”

“Yeah. I called because I just got back from a case-- real gruesome one involving sorcery and plastic surgery, you’d ’ve loved it.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, I, uh, wanted to check-in and say, that… I reached my apartment, safely.”

“No kidding.”

“And that I hope your mom got my first message, fresh off the plane.”

“She did. I heard she liked it.”

“That’s good.”

“...Mulder, is there a point to this particular ‘check-in’?”

“Uh huh. I was wondering if you were flying up with Melissa and Bill and Tara for-- any time soon.”

“Uh… no. I’m not, any time soon.”

“Oh.”

“But I thought, maybe, you would be flying down for a statement for the Ephesian case. I read it's still wrapping up.”

“I could. Is Dunk ‘N Fry still keeping its heavenly, greasy doors open?”

“It should be.”

“And I could cross-reference some casefile notes with you. Got an interesting one on a goat man sighting.”

“El Chupacabra?”

“No-- that’s an animal, not a goat man, Scully. This one’s the real deal.”

“Uh huh.”

“So, I’ll-- I could touch down in… two days.”

“They must really need you back in Tennessee for the case.”

“Well, Scully, I have to confess a little something.”

“...Sure, okay.”

“There’s this girl I want to see.”

“...Does she have a name?”

“Yeah, but she prefers I not call her by it.”

“I see.”

“And there’s a place-- a very special place-- to me that I want to show her. A sabbatical of sorts, to reconnect and… get to know her better.”

“Don’t you know each other pretty well?”

“Pretty well. But I’d like to know her better.”

“I’ll bet she wants to know you better, too.”

“I hope she doesn’t mind a road trip. It’s part of my nature to wander.”

“No, I don’t think she will. I think she’d like to wander around a bit, too.”

“Does two days sound too fast, too soon?”

“Two days sounds perfect.”

“Okay.”

“Just a second.... Gotta go, duty calls.”

“Go save the world, Scully.”

“I'd need a lot more than two days' time, Mulder."

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

******

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

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