#sorry blevin I guess | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mldrgrl · 6 years

Text

In Another Life 5/7

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 Summary: See Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Mulder did his due diligence and spent the week reviewing the files as Blevins had asked. The cases intrigued him and he found himself down rabbit hole after rabbit hole of research. The frustrating thing was knowing he wasn’t able to do anything about cases that were upwards of 60 years old. They sucked up all his time and energy and he hardly gave a thought to anything else. It was only when his sister called him the night before his meeting with Blevins to remind him that Thanksgiving was two weeks away, that he remembered he had an invitation to think about. He was so consumed that he hadn’t even gotten around to telling Samantha the latest news yet.

“How can she be married?” Samantha asked.

“I’m assuming they went to a church, a priest asked do you and do you and he said yes and she said yes, and then they were married.”

“You’re hilarious, Fox.”

“So, I don’t know what I’ll do. Maybe I will go, maybe I won’t.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“You’re just saying that because you want me to come to Rhode Island.”

“True. But, I’m also saying it because she’s married.”

“Maybe I want to meet the guy for myself.”

“Bad idea, Fox.”

“I’m the king of bad ideas. But, truthfully, I haven’t even really given it much thought. I’m absorbed in something for work right now and I haven’t even thought about her.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. And I have to hang up now because I need to prep for a meeting in the morning.”

“Okay, love you.”

“You too.”

The next morning, Mulder paced the anteroom outside of Blevins’ office, waiting to be seen. The old secretary gave him the evil eye as she opened mail. Mulder stopped and sat down, thinking that perhaps the woman’s age and size, she just might be capable of stabbing him with her letter opener. Blevins admitted him a short time later and the first thing Mulder noticed was a TV and VCR on a cart in the corner, making the cramped room even more cramped.

“How did you find the x-files, Agent Mulder?”

“Fascinating, Sir. Given the opportunity, I’d like to do more work on-”

“I don’t need any speeches,” Blevins interrupted. “I want to know if you’re interested on working these cases full time.”

“What would it entail, exactly? I don’t even know what the x-files really are.”

“What do you think they are?”

“Judging by what you gave me, I’d say they are cases with am underlying paranormal element to them, or at the very least, an unexplainable phenomenon or event that warrants investigation. But, the thing is, no one has done any real investigating. They’ve just provided a record of events without any real attempt at solving anything.”

“There is real challenge in trying to solve the unsolvable, isn’t there, Agent Mulder?”

“Challenge, yes, but I believe anything is possible with enough diligence.”

“Tenacity is exactly what I’m looking for.”

The phone on Blevins’ desk buzzed and he picked it up. “Yes? Yes, send her in.”

To Mulder’s surprise, Scully opened the door a few moments later. There was equal surprise on her face when she saw Mulder, but she quickly looked away and went to shake the section chief’s hand.

“Sir,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. You’re just in time, I was about to brief Agent Mulder on a case assignment.”

“Should I wait outside?” she asked, stopping at the second empty chair in the room.

“Not at all,” Blevins answered. “You’ll be on this assignment as well.”

Scully raised a brow at Mulder as she sat down. She’d dressed for the meeting, he could tell, in a navy skirt and blazer. Her hair was more curled than usual and her makeup was a tad more obvious.

Blevins pulled the TV cart out from the corner of the room and turned the TV on. He took up a remote and then went back to his desk and pressed play on the VCR. “You’re looking at footage of a team of scientists in Alaska working on the Arctic Ice Core Project. They were sent up there by the government's Advanced Research Project Agency nearly a year ago to drill into the Arctic ice.”

On the screen was a staticky image of five men standing a beer keg, holding Dixie cups, raised up as to give a toast. The man in the middle spoke to the camera. “Team Captain John Richter here,” he said. “It's been a couple of frustrating months, but after a great deal of stick-with-it-ness, we're very proud to report that as of a half-hour ago, we surpassed the previous record for drilling down into an ice sheet.”

The men all cheered, and one tossed his ball cap up in the air. They high-fived each other and shook hands after downing the beer in their Dixie cups. Blevins paused the videotape.

“The samples they removed contained trapped gases, dust, and chemicals,” Blevins said. “Evidence that could reveal the structure of the earth's climate back to the dawn of man.”

“That would be an amazing discovery,” Scully said.

“Indeed,” Blevins agreed. “Their work was a success, nearly completed. No reports or indications of problems of any kind until roughy a week ago, this next transmission was received.” He pressed play again and a few seconds later, the screen on the TV went blue, and then the man called Richter appeared again, sitting in front of the camera. He leaned in close so that his face filled the screen.

“November 5th, 1993, I think,” Richter said, breathing hard, in some sort of distress. His speech was broken into fragments as he took deep breaths between nearly every word. “We're not who we are. We're not who we are. It goes no further than this. It stops right here, right now.”

Suddenly, Richter was pulled out of the screen by another man, so quickly that it seemed to happen in a blur. The camera fell over and the screen went blue again.

“What happened up there?” Mulder asked.

“So far,” Blevins said. “No one’s been able to reach the compound because of bad weather.”

“Is it severe isolation distress?” Scully asked.

“These are top geophysicists,” Blevins explained. “They were trained and screened for this project in every way imaginable, including psychological makeup. You’ll leave for Nome today.”

“I’m sorry,” Scully said. “Nome? Alaska?”

“From there you’ll meet with three other scientists familiar with the project, and then you’ll head north to Icy Cape. The National Weather Service reports a three-day window to get in and out before the next Arctic storm.”

“Guess I need to pack my mittens,” Mulder said.

“That’s all,” Blevins said, dismissing them both. “Mildred has your airline tickets at her desk.”

Mulder got up from his seat, followed by Scully. He held the door open for her and then smoothed his tie down his chest as he cleared his throat to get Mildred’s attention. Thankfully, the letter opener was no longer in her hand.

“You have airline tickets for us?” he asked.

Mildred handed them over and Mulder passed them to Scully while flashing the secretary a smile. Her glare was impenetrable.

“Long time, no see,” Mulder said to Scully as they waited for the elevator.

“I suppose we’ve both been busy.”

“Yeah, there’s...there’s actually something I’ve been working on that I want to tell you about.”

Scully nodded, but her focus was on the itinerary in her hand.

“What’re you thinking?” he asked.

“Alaska?” she answered. “Now?”

“Dress warm.”

******

Mulder never traveled all that much for work; not by plane, anyway. He was accustomed to rental cars and the DC Metro area, with occasional forays along the eastern seaboard. The furthest he’d ever been, for work, was Jacksonville.

He arrived at Dulles with only minutes to spare before boarding. Scully was already at the gate, in the same suit she’d been in during their meeting with Blevins. He’d changed into jeans, a thermal shirt, and a sweater while he’d gone home to pack.

“Hey, Scully,” he said, dropping his bag in the seat next to her. “Ready to explore The Last Frontier?”

“I thought that was space.”

“Some nerd you are. Space is the final frontier.”

“Oh.”

“Something wrong?” He shoved his bag aside and sat down next to her.

“Why am I being sent along?”

“I imagine it’s because those scientists are presumed dead.”

“Why wouldn’t Blevins say that?”

“No one ever wants to speak about worst case scenarios. They just plan for them silently and hope that things turn out okay.”

The agent behind the ticket counter announced boarding for their flight and they both stood. Mulder grabbed his bag. Scully retrieved a small duffel from under her seat. It didn’t look nearly large enough to accommodate winter clothing and all the things women seemed to need when traveling. Maybe she’d checked a suitcase as well.

“You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?” Scully asked, as they moved into the line with the other passengers checking in.

“I found out about it at the same time you did. What’s your seat assignment?”

“10A.”

He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “16C. Guess I’ll see you on the other side.”

Mulder settled into his aisle seat and did what he always did on airplanes; fiddled with the airflow, tested the overhead light, and rifled through the seatback pocket to see if the magazines were any good. To his surprise, Scully came down the aisle a few minutes later and stuffed her bag in the overhead bin above him.

“I found 16B,” she said. “We traded.”

Mulder stepped out into the aisle to let her pass and then sat down beside her. She latched her seatbelt right away and then went through the seatback pocket as well. She moved the vomit bag from the behind the array of safety cards to the front of the pocket.

“Someone left a People at my seat,” he offered.

“I should warn you, I’m not a great flyer.”

“Okay.” Samantha wasn’t a great flyer either, but mostly during turbulence and landing. She once squeezed his hand so fiercely he thought his fingers might break. “Is it something specific? Take off? Landing? Turbulence?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath and blew out slowly. “I took a couple Dramamine after I got here. Hopefully it will help.”

Mulder wondered for a moment if she’d sacrificed the comfort of a window seat just to sit with him. Some people need to be able to see where they’re going to feel more secure. Or maybe sitting with someone she knew was what she needed.

“Hey,” he said. “How’d you get 16B to trade with you?”

“I told him we’d been separated by accident and if he wouldn’t mind, could we trade so I could sit with my partner.”

Partner? He wanted to ask, but didn’t. The cabin doors closed and no one came to claim the window seat in their row. If she wanted, she could move over and take it, but she didn’t. She stayed next to him, gripping the armrests with white knuckles when they took off, and then sleeping through meal service and two in flight movies on his shoulder. She woke slowly, minutes after the captain had announced their descent into Nome. Her head lolled slightly and she rubbed her cheek against his arm. He wanted to brush the hair away from her face, but kept his hand closed into a loose fist in his lap.

“Morning, Sunshine,” he whispered to her when she finally stretched and came to.

“Where are we?” she asked, groggy, eyelids droopy.

“About to land. You missed the riveting Last Action Hero and the critically acclaimed Free Willy. I’d like you to know the latter did not in any way tug at my heartstrings and I didn’t cry at all.”

Scully smiled slightly with her eyes closed. Her head slipped to the side again so she was resting against his shoulder, but she wasn’t asleep. He cautiously put his hand over hers where it lay on the armrest and her fingers twitched gently, but she didn’t move. They stayed that way until the plane landed, despite the alarm bells going off in Mulder’s head of how wrong it was.

******

The Nome airport was small and seemed rather desolate. Outside, Mulder could see the snow on the ground and feel the chill in the air when the cabin door opened. He pulled his jacket out of his bag and offered it to Scully, but she shook her head and said she’d change in the restroom and just be a few minutes.

The fact that she went into the airport restroom in a dress suit and heels, with a small duffel, and came out dressed in leggings, snow boots, a flannel shirt, and oversized white parka, should have probably been in one of the x-files Mulder had read over the week. All in less than five minutes too. It had to be some sort of world record.

“As if you’re not already amazing enough,” Mulder said to himself while Scully was too far off to hear him.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“Yeah, I’ll say.” He didn’t even ask how she accomplished such a feat. Some mysteries should probably remain unsolved.

They were directed to a hangar on the grounds of the airport to meet the remainder of their team and wait for their connecting flight. Two men and a woman, dressed warmly and with duffel bags of their own, were already in the hangar. They introduced themselves as Murphy, Hodge, and DaSilva; a geologist, a physician, and a toxicologist, respectively. A tall, burly man with dark curly hair came towards them and announced that he was their pilot and his name was Bear. The name suited him. Mulder saw Scully pale a bit at the sight of the single engine plane that was going to take them to Icy Cape. He put his hand on her back in support.

It was about an hour’s ride to the bunker where the ice core project made their camp. It was a bumpy ride, and Mulder kept close to Scully. She looked a little green during some of the more harrowing dips the plane took, but she bore it stoically and quietly. He noticed she was a bit shaky once her feet were on solid ground.

The landing strip was a short, five-minute walk to the entrance of the bunker. The team, including the pilot, lugged their gear across the snowy terrain. The door was stuck, iced at the seams, and it took two of them, Mulder and Hodge, to push it open. Six flashlights shined in unison into the dark room and they were greeted by the sight of two dead men on the ground, guns beside them. Mulder recognized one of them as the project leader from the tape, the man named Richter.

Scully pushed past Mulder and entered the interior chamber where the bodies lay. Her work there had begun the minute the door opened.

“Before anyone touches anything, we need to document the scene,” she said, crouching next to Richter’s body. “There’s a camera in my bag. Mulder, could you get that please. Someone try to find a way to turn the power back on.”

“Anything to get out of here,” Murphy, the geologist said, and turned to leave. He was tall, thin, and Mulder had him pegged as a nervous, anxious type.

“There are body bags on the plane,” Bear said.

“What should we do?” DaSilva asked. She was the toxicologist. Her blonde hair was tucked under a ski cap and she clapped her gloved hands together.

“Start taking pictures,” Scully answered, nodding towards her when Mulder went to hand over the camera he’d dug out of her bag.

A loud bang sounded from outside and then a light bulb suspended from the ceiling by a long electrical cord flickered on, casting a dull orange glow. Murphy came back and lingered in the doorway. Hodge kept waving his flashlight around the room. He landed on a cluster of barrels labeled Ice Cores 3,175 - 3,260.

“That’s what they were drilling for,” Mulder said.

“I need to preserve some samples,” Murphy said, pushing past Hodge to get to the barrels. Obviously, the work excited him and made him forget about the bodies.

Before he could get too far, Mulder heard a low growl and he threw his arm out, stopping Murphy from passing. “Wait,” he said.

A dog, fur standing at attention and back arched in a threatening pose, slunk into the room, teeth bared. Murphy yelped and then jumped back. The dog lunged and hit Mulder in the chest, knocking him back.

“Hey!” Bear yelled, kicking the dog off of Mulder. The dog lunged at Bear and bit his hand. Bear screamed.

Mulder yanked his jacket off and threw it over the dog’s head, subduing him. Hodge came running towards them with a hypodermic needle in his hand and plunged it into the dog’s nape. The dog yelped, whimpered, kicked his legs, and then went still.

“Are you okay?” Scully asked, cupping Mulder’s elbow.

“I’m fine.” He nodded towards Bear. “His hand is bleeding.”

“Is he rabid?” Murphy asked. “What if there are more rabid dogs here?”

Hodge, who was examining the dog, shook his head. “I don’t see any indication of glottal spasm or tetany. If it is rabies, it's certainly not a strain I'm familiar with.”

“Look at that,” Scully pointed to bottom of the dog’s paws. “Black nodules.”

“And swollen lymph nodes,” Hodge added.

“Those are symptoms of the bubonic plague,” Mulder said.

“The plague!” Murphy cried.

“Now, calm down,” Mulder told him.

Hodge stood and brushed his knees with both hands. “I’ll do a blood test. That’ll tell us more.”

“The dog’s got a skin irritation on his neck,” Mulder said. “Looks like he’s been scratching out his own hair.”

“What the hell is that?” DaSilva said, pointing to the dog’s neck.

Underneath the skin where the dog has scratched himself, a bump rippled over his vertebrae. The bump receded and then rippled again.

The small group, minus Bear who was sitting against the wall and clutching his hand to his chest, stood over the dog, puzzled and concerned.

******

Mulder and Hodge, on Scully’s orders, moved the two bodies from the interior chamber to the main laboratory, where the found the bodies of the remaining members of the ice core project. She set up a makeshift autopsy table and went to work. Each member of their little team went off to perform their own specialties. Murphy started analyzing the ice core samples. Hodge examined the bloodwork of the dog. DaSilva checked for the presence of toxins. Mulder helped Bear wrap his bleeding hand and then went poking around into areas he had no business in, that was his specialty, after all. The only noteworthy thing he found was on a bathroom mirror, written in black marker: WE ARE NOT WHO WE ARE.

“Find anything,” he asked Scully when she came out of the curtained area she’d commandeered for herself to do the autopsies.

“From the autopsies, it's clear that these men killed each other,” she answered, peeling off her gloves. “There are contusions around the throat areas of three men, evidence of strangulation. Richter and Campbell killed themselves. I also found tissue damage due to fever.”

“Did any of them have black spots like the dog?” Murphy asked.

“No. None of them had the black nodules.”

“Then those spots didn’t have anything to do with those guys killing each other?” Bear asked. He sat in the corner of the room, sweaty and pale. He looked like he might be sick.

“I wouldn't rule it out,” Hodge replied, pushing past a set of plastic flaps that separated one part of the lab from the other. “I just reexamined the dog. The nodules are gone.”

“What does that mean?” Mulder asked.

“Well, it could mean that the spots are a symptom of some disease at an early stage.”

“There’s one other thing that should be noted,” Scully said. “Hodge, you might want to take a look at it.”

“What?” he asked.

“There seems to be a presence of ammonium hydroxide in Richter's blood sample.”

“That’s impossible. Ammonia would vaporize at human body temperature.”

“I’ve analyzed two samples already.”

Hodge narrowed his eyes and followed Scully to a worktable with a high-powered microscope on it. DaSilva emerged from the hall that led to the sleeping quarters, followed by Murphy.

“I didn’t find any evidence of toxins in the air filtration systems,” she announced.

“But, I did,” Murphy countered. “In the ice. I found a high ratio of ammonia to water in the ice core. The earth's atmosphere could never have produced such high levels, not even a quarter of a million years ago.”

“Not unless a foreign object was introduced into that environment,” Scully said.

Murphy nodded and asked to take over the microscope. He exchanged the slide that Scully and Hodge were analyzing for one of his own, made some adjustments to the focus, and then offered the lens back to Scully. She peered into it and then looked up like she was startled.

“Tell me that’s not a foreign object,” Murphy said.

Hodge took a look after Scully and then Mulder had his turn. To him, it looked like some sort of worm was wiggling around on the slide, flipping its tail back and forth. He moved away so DaSilva could look as well.

“That same thing is in Richter’s blood,” Scully said, she walked around the table as though she was talking a theory out to herself. “What if that single-celled organism is the larval stage of a larger animal?”

“Kind of a leap, don’t you think?” Hodge said, taking another turn at the microscope.

“The evidence is right there,” she argued, pointing at the slides on the table.

“Maybe the organism in the ice core somehow got into the men,” Murphy offered.

“Come on,” DaSilva scoffed. “Nothing can survive subzero temperatures for a quarter of a million years.”

“That we know of,” Scully said, looking at Mulder, who nodded.

“Unless that’s how it lives,” he said.

Bear stumbled to his feet, interrupting the pow-wow over the worm. “Look here,” he grumbled. “I don't see why you're squabbling over some bug. You said it yourself, Scully, those men killed each other. That's it. You all found what you came for, now let's just get the hell out of here.”

“I agree.” Hodge nodded. “We can have the bodies sent to a facility where they can make a definitive diagnosis in the event that something was missed, Agent Scully.”

Mulder saw Scully bristle. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared up into Hodge’s face. “If those bodies are infected with an unknown organism, we can't remove them, Doctor Hodge,” she said. “We can't go back without proper quarantine procedures. We can't risk bringing back the next plague.”

“Let's say you're right,” Bear interjected, wiping sweat off his brow. “They came down with something. We haven't, and I ain't waiting around until we do.”

“I think it's perfectly safe to go back,” Hodge added. “We've taken all the necessary biological safeguards. There’s no reason to suspect we’re infected.”

“But, the dog bit Bear,” Murphy pointed out.

“It jumped on Mulder too!” Bear yelled.

“It didn’t break the skin,” Mulder argued.

Bear snarled and took a few aggressive steps towards Mulder, but both Hodge and Scully intervened and pushed him back.

“Listen,” Scully said, holding her arms out as though refereeing both sides of the room. “There's only one way to proceed, here. We have to eliminate every possibility and determine if any of us is infected.”

“Parasitic diagnostic procedure requires that each of us provide a blood and a stool sample,” Hodge told her, raising his brows.

Not to be deterred, Scully went over to a shelf in the lab and came back with an armful of sterile jars. She placed them down on the table and glared at Hodge, almost daring him to challenge her.

“Anyone got the morning sports section?” Mulder asked, attempting the break the tension in the room. He grabbed one of the jars and nodded to Hodge.

“I ain’t dropping my cargo for no one,” Bear growled, swiping up one of the jars and hurling it at the wall where it shattered on impact.

Both Murphy and DaSilva jumped and yelped.

“What I'm doing is getting my gear, getting my plane and flying the hell out of here.”

“You can’t do that,” Mulder said. “The dog bit you.”

“I got hired to fly you up here and fly you back. No one said this might be part of the deal. So, the deal is over.”

Bear stormed off to the sleeping quarters, where they’d all found a place to put their things. Scully moved to go after him, but Mulder put a hand on her shoulder and held her back. He was fairly certain Bear was sick, if not infected. There was no telling what he might do.

“We can't let him leave without being checked,” Scully said, shrugging Mulder’s hand off her shoulder.

“Who’s going to stop him?” Murphy asked.

“We have to,” Scully argued. “We can’t risk infecting the population.”

“If he gets on that plane, I’m going with him,” DaSilva said.

“We don’t have time to argue about this!” Scully hissed. “You want a majority rule on this? Fine, let’s take a vote. Whoever thinks we should confine Bear until he’s been examined, raise your hand.”

Murphy’s hand was the first one to shoot up in the air, followed by Scully. She looked at Mulder with a tight expression on her face, one that said, ‘if you don’t raise your hand, I will not hesitate to kill you,’ so he slowly put his hand in the air as well. Hodge sighed and then raised his hand. The only hold out was DaSilva.

“I guess that takes care of that,” Mulder said. He removed his weapon from his holster and flipped the safety off. Beside him, Scully did the same.

Bear stomped into the lab dragging a black bag with him and his coat over his arm. Scully trained her gun at him and he snorted.

“Bear,” Mulder said, using the even tone he’d been taught in hostage negotiation tactics. “We just want to check you out. If we don’t find any trace of a parasite or virus, we’ll let you go. We’ll all go.”

“Gimme the damn jar,” Bear growled.

Mulder holstered his gun and picked up one the jars. He handed it to Bear who stared at it for a few moments and then without warning, smashed it into Mulder’s head. Mulder groaned, but he instinctively brought the flat of his hand up into Bear’s nose. Bear yelled and stumbled back, giving Mulder the time and advantage he needed. He grabbed his arm, twisted it back behind him, and slammed Bear’s head down onto the worktable. He had a strong grip on Bear’s wrist and thumb, so that when he tried to wrestle free, his arm and hand bent back in opposing directions, maximizing his pain.

“Handcuffs would be nice right now,” Mulder complained. His temple throbbed where Bear had hit him.

“I have rope,” Scully announced.

As she worked to secure Bear’s hands, DaSilva stepped up next to Mulder and gasped. “Oh my god!” she cried. Mulder looked at the back of Bear’s neck where the skin rippled just like the dog’s had.

“Get my bag!” Hodge cried, pressing his hand down on Bear’s neck just below the ripple.

“What’re you doing?” Mulder yelled.

“I’m gonna cut it out!”

“We don’t know enough about it!”

“It’s killing him! Help me!”

Scully had grabbed a pair of gloves in the pandemonium, and she leaned over Mulder’s arm and hold the skin on Bear’s neck taut. Hodge grabbed a scalpel from the bag DaSilva brought him and began to slice through the skin. Mulder turned his head, gagging a little. Beneath him, Bear was screaming and spasming.

“Forceps!” Hodge yelled.

When Mulder turned to look again, Hodge was slowly easing a worm-like creature from the back of Bear’s neck. The worm writhed, pinched in the beak of the forceps, and splattered Bear’s neck with drops of black liquid.

“Hold still, Bear,” Mulder said. “You’re gonna be okay.”

DaSilva pushed a jar into the foray and Hodge dropped the worm inside, sealing it quickly. Bear stopped squirming and let out a sigh akin to relief, and then went limp on the table. He’d passed out.

******

The CB radio in the bunker was at a little station off the side of the laboratory. Mulder flipped it on and sent out a distress call. “This is the AICP Investigative Team calling Doolittle Airfield,” he said. “Come in, Doolittle Airfield.”

“DAF responding,” came the reply.

“This is Agent Mulder, we have a serious biological hazard on our hands. Request air pick-up and quarantine procedures, over.” The radio replied with static, and Mulder tried again. “Come in, Doolittle Airfield.”

“We copy, Agent Mulder. Your area is under a heavy storm and no aircraft can get out until the next day. Maybe the military base in Kotzebue can set up a quarantine. Advise immediate evacuation, the Arctic storm is bearing in your direction, over.”

“We were told we would have three clear days of weather, over.”

“Welcome to the top of the world, Agent Mulder. Over.”

Mulder tipped the microphone over onto the table in frustration. He laced his fingers together and brought them to the back of his head. His temple throbbed endlessly. He pushed out of his chair and went back into the lab.

“Is Bear in any condition to fly?” he asked. “If we don’t get out of here within an hour, we won’t be getting out for days.”

Scully looked down at her gloved hands. They were covered in blood. Hodge turned away.

“Bear’s dead,” Scully said.

******

Scully and Hodge spent the next hour studying the worm while Mulder, with the assistance of both squeamish and jittery Murphy and DaSilva, moved the bodies of the research team, and Bear, into the frigid interior chamber. It was difficult and laborious and it made Mulder’s head hurt even more. Hodge and Scully sat at the worktable comparing notes when the last body bag had been laid out.

“Well,” Hodge explained. “It's similar to a tapeworm in that it has a scolex with suckers and hooks.”

“It’s a tapeworm?” Murphy asked. “Then you know what to do about it.”

“I said similar to a tapeworm. But, also, very different from any organism that I know of.”

“Have you figured out how it’s transmitted yet?” Mulder asked.

“Exchange of fluids, touch, air, all of the above? I don't know.” Hodge shrugged.

Scully slid a jar across the table. “All of the other dead bodies had the creature,” she said. “This is the only one that's still alive.”

“Were they all in the spine?” Mulder asked.

“No. It appears that they were in the hypothalamus gland deep in the brain.”

Murphy closed his eyes. “Hypothalamus? That’s the…”

“It's a gland that secretes hormones,” Hodge supplied. “I don't know why a parasite would want to attach to it.”

“The hypothalamus releases acetylcholine, which produces violent, aggressive behavior,” Scully theorized. She paused for a moment and then nodded to herself. “That might be the connection. Everybody that's been infected certainly seems to act aggressively. Maybe the worm feeds on the acetylcholine which floods our capacity to control violent behavior.”

“A parasite shouldn’t want to kill its host,” Mulder said.

“It doesn't kill you until it's extracted,” Hodge said. “Then it releases a poison.”

“You're saying it's possible that the worm makes you want to kill other people, which is maybe what happened to the first team.”

“What if it happens to us?” DaSilva asked.

Hodge put up his hands to alleviate any worries. “This is just a theory. We don’t have any definitive proof of anything.”

“Except five dead men,” Murphy reminded them.

“But,” Hodge countered at Scully. “If the worm makes people violently aggressive, why did Richter and the other guy we found in the chamber-”

“Campbell,” Scully supplied, tiredly rubbing her forehead.

“Why did they kill themselves?”

“Maybe they did it to save us,” Mulder said.

No one responded. They all looked around at each other in awkward silence.

“Why don’t we get some sleep,” Mulder suggested. “I think we’re all a little wired and hypersensitive. We can get a fresh start in the morning.”

“I need to check the bodies,” Scully said. “Maybe I missed something.”

******

Mulder waited until the rest of the group had gone to bed to join Scully in the chamber. She was bent over the unzipped body bag that Bear had been placed in, cheeks ruddy from the cold. He crouched down next to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Why don’t you get some sleep, Scully?”

“I’m too tired to sleep, Mulder.”

“You should try. It’ll do you good.”

“I don’t want to waste a second trying to figure out what this thing is.”

“Look, I want to kill it too-”

“I don’t want to kill it.” She looked up at him and cocked her head. “I want to study it.”

“But…”

“Mulder, this area of the ice sheet was formed over a meteor crater. The thing, whatever it is, lived in ammonia. It survived sub-zero temperatures. Theorists in alternative life-designs believe in ammonia-supported life systems on planets with freezing temperatures.”

“Are you telling me you think that thing is some kind of alien?” Mulder nearly chuckled, but her face was stony and serious.

“I’m saying that the meteor that crashed here a quarter of a million years ago may have carried that type of life to Earth.”

“Scully, Bear developed surface symptoms within a few minutes. I saw him change. He was sweaty and agitated. He looked flu-like. Within a few hours, that parasite had total control. What would happen if this got into the population? A city the size of New York could be infected within a few days.”

“Exactly. But what do we know about it? This organism might be lying dormant in another crater. We need to study it, to find out how it works, so we know how to deal with it in the future, if another one surfaces.”

“I don’t want to run the risk of ending up like Richter and Campbell. Do you?”

“No.” She lowered her eyes and gave her head a few shakes from side to side.

“I think we need to take those bodies, worms and all, and incinerate them.”

“Mulder, you told me you believed that a scientist persists, and that’s why new discoveries are made every day. You even told me you thought I could be the one to make such a discovery.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t…”

“You don’t believe that? Or you were just telling me something you thought I wanted to hear?”

“I do believe it. I just think this might be a little more dangerous than...than...I don’t know what. I don’t want you to get hurt. I mean, I don’t want any of us to get hurt.”

Scully got to her feet and stared down at Mulder. “Don’t patronize me, Agent Mulder,” she spat.

“Hey!” Mulder jumped up and followed at her heels into the laboratory. He stopped short when Hodge and DaSilva blocked their way. Both had their arms crossed like disappointed parents.

“You okay, Agent Scully?” DaSilva asked. “You seem a bit stressed.”

“I’m fi...just what the hell are you implying?”

“Everybody calm down,” Mulder urged. “We’re all tired and scared, but that’s no reason to turn on one another.”

“She got Bear’s blood on her,” DaSilva accused.

“We all just need to get some sleep,” Mulder said.

“You kidding?” Hodge scoffed. “You think any of us could sleep right now? Let's face it, we've got to check for spots. Any person or persons who has them should be confined. Are we agreed on that?”

“Are you doing the exams?” DaSilva asked.

“No,” Scully said, sharply. “We do them on each other.

******

“Before anyone passes judgement, may I remind you we are in the Arctic,” Mulder told Hodge and Murphy as he undid his belt. Getting naked in front of two strange men was not high on his list of things to do, but for the threat of biological contamination, he’d do what he had to do. Hodge examined both Mulder and Murphy and Mulder examined Hodge. They did not find any evidence of black spots or ripples under their skin.

Throughout the process, Mulder was less concerned for himself than he was for Scully. In case either Murphy or Hodge had turned out to be infected, he had backup in the whoever wasn’t contaminated, but Scully only had herself. He waited for the results of their examinations rather impatiently, trying not to let his level of agitation show.

When they all came back clear, the team seemed to noticeably relax a bit and agreed that they should head to bed. The rooms Mulder and Scully had dropped their bags in were across from one another. Mulder held her back a little as they all shuffled off to the sleeping quarters and stood next to her door as she opened it.

“Hey,” he said, quietly. “If you thought I was implying that you couldn’t take care of yourself earlier, it isn’t what I meant.”

“I know that. I apologize for snapping, I’m just…”

“On a short fuse right now. I think we all are.”

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“Well,” he said, crossing the hall to his own door. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” he said, wryly.

“Mulder,” she said, waiting until he’d turned back to look at her. “Don’t forget, the spots on the dog went away.”

He nodded, but the warning was clear. No one was out of the woods yet. He closed the door softly behind him and then leaned against it for a long time before he crawled into bed.

******

Mulder woke with a start, his eyes flying open to the shadows on the ceiling. The desk lamp he’d left on still glowed. His gun was still on the table where he left it. He heard a noise, like the sound of a door closing, and he swung his legs out of bed and searched the floor for his shoes. It was probably nothing, maybe one of the others using the facilities, but he decided to check it out anyway. He was down to his thermal shirt and jeans, but he was warm from sleep and didn’t bother with his sweater.

Slowly, Mulder crept down the hall, his gun at his hip and flashlight guiding the way. He saw that Murphy’s door was open, but the rest were closed. As he passed by, he shined the light inside the room, but it was empty. The lights in the lab were still on so he tucked his flashlight in his pocket and looked around. The infected dog, having been confined to a kennel after being subdued and examined, was now awake, growling low in the corner. He hears something, like a leaky faucet, and he looks around for the source.

Beneath the large, walk-in freezer, something dripped steadily into a small puddle on the floor. Mulder eyed the dark liquid with trepidation and then opened the freezer. Murphy’s body, throat slashed and still oozing blood, fell out onto him. He yelped and lowered the body to the ground, just as Scully, Hodge and DaSilva ran in.

“Mulder!” Scully cried. “What are you doing?”

“Murphy’s dead,” he said, nodding down at the body in his arms.

“You killed him?” Hodge accused.

“I found him like this! I heard a door close and I came out to check. It’s one of you.”

“You’re lying,” DaSilva said.

“He could’ve done it and not even known,” Hodge said.

“No, he said he didn’t do it,” Scully defended.

“I don’t have any of the symptoms,” Mulder added.

“You examined him yourself, Hodge,” Scully reminded.

Hodge scoffed. “Six hours ago.”

“It was one of you!” Exhausted and angry at the accusations being thrown at him, Mulder jumped to his feet and took a few steps at Hodge, whipping his gun out and pointing it at him. Scully intervened so that she was standing between the two men.

“Stop it!” she yelled. “Stop it right now. Mulder, put the gun down and let Hodge give you a blood test.”

“So he could doctor the results? I’m not letting him near me with a needle, he could be infected!”

“He has to be confined, right now,” Hodge ordered.

“Turn around and let us look at your neck,” Scully said.

All this time he’d thought Scully was the only one he trusted, but she was siding with Hodge and DaSilva. It was disappointing and his feelings were hurt. He waved his gun and shook his head.

“I'm not turning my back on anyone! As far as I'm concerned, you're all infected!”

“Hodge is right,” DaSilva said. “We need to lock him up.”

While Mulder was distracted by glaring at DaSilva, Hodge had grabbed a crowbar from the worktable and lunged and Mulder. Mulder jumped back and aimed his gun at Hodge. Scully pulled her gun out and aimed it at Mulder, much to his shock and dismay.

“Mulder!” she yelled.

“Scully, get that gun off me!”

“Listen to me,” she pleaded.

“Put it down!”

“You put it down first!”

“Scully, for god’s sake it’s me!”

“You may not be who you are.” She begged him with her eyes to lower his weapon.

It was a struggle, and he broke into a sweat fighting his impulses, but he put his arm down and turned his weapon over to Scully, holding the butt out to her. She holstered it and kept her own aimed at him.

“The storage room,” Hodge said.

“Come on.” Scully nodded, moving forwards while Mulder moved backwards towards the little room off the side of the lab. He was still not about to turn his back on any of them.

DaSilva ran ahead and opened the sliding door to the room. Mulder shifted his body to a bit of an angle so he could see every one of them as he backed into the room. He pulled the string for the overhead light bulb and it swayed above him. He caught Scully’s gaze and held it.

“In here,” he said. “I’ll be safer than you.”

Someone slid the door shut between them and he heard them drop the bolt in the lock. Scully still hadn’t lowered her gun. It was devastating.

******

Hours passed. Exactly how long, Mulder wasn’t sure. At a certain point, he’d turned off the light and sat in the dark, sulking and brooding. His initial anger became sadness, and he’d even shed a few tears, which then turned to frustration and back to anger. By the time the door slid open again, he was feeling resigned and woozy. He scrambled to his feet and squinted in the sudden flood of light that illuminated the small storage room.

He was alone with Scully, and if things weren’t so tense and awkward, he might be inclined to believe he’d fallen asleep and was dreaming. His situation wasn’t a dream, however, it was a damn nightmare.

“It’s just you?” Mulder asked, eyes not quite fully adjusted.

“It’s just me.”

“It’s one of them,” he insisted.

Scully stood at least two feet away from him, her body perpendicular to his. She only looked at him sideways with her head down. He could see her chest rising and falling with the rapid breath of fear, though she was trying to hide it. It made him feel both smug and irritated. She should be afraid, but not of him. He stepped closer to her and she flinched and leaned away.

“Mulder, no one’s been killed since you’ve been in here.”

“So?”

“We’ve found a way to kill it. Two worms in one host will kill each other.”

“You give me one worm, you’ll kill me!” he snarled, leaning down into her face.

She swallowed. He could practically hear her heart thumping against her chest. She smelled of lingering perfume and anxiety. Her eyes darted around the floor below her, but never bounced to Mulder.

“Okay,” she whispered. “If that’s true, why wouldn’t you let us inspect you?”

“I would have, but you pulled a gun on me,” he whispered back, through gritted teeth. “I don’t trust them. I want to trust you.”

“They’re not in here right now.

Mulder stared into Scully’s face until she turned her eyes towards him, head still bent. He straightened and turned his back to her, pulling his collar down to his shoulders, presenting her with his neck. It took a few moments, but he felt her move close. He could feel her breath on his skin and it stirred his gut and his groin. Then, her hand passed across the expanse between his shoulder blades and the breath went out of him. Her hand was warm and soft, moving down his spine and up to his nape in a slow caress. He wanted to push her up against the boxes in the corner and drive the anxiety out of her until she proclaimed her loyalty to him and only him.

He should’ve been ashamed of himself just then, but he wasn’t. He was still angry, but he was also aroused. He only hated her because he loved her. It was wrong, he knew it was wrong to want her, but he couldn’t help it. If her hand continued to sweep across his back so softly, he just might forget that she was married.

She stopped though, and gave a nervous laugh. Her head bowed and bumped his back softly. He stood completely still while her hands dropped to his hips.

“You’re fine,” she murmured, to him or to herself, he wasn’t sure. And then she let go.

The loss of her body heat hit him in the gut. He whipped around, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her back to him. She tried to turn her head to look at him, but he touched the side of her face and gently turned it back. He pulled softly at the collar of her flannel shirt, exposing the top of her back and neck to his greedy hands.

He brushed her hair up and out of his way and his let his fingers trail through the soft curls at the back of her neck. He palmed her nape and swept his thumb from side to side across her vertebrae. He wanted to kiss each and every bump of her spine from neck to tailbone. She breathed deeply and sighed.

“You’re fine,” he said.

“Mulder,” she whispered.

He raised her collar up and lightly rested his hands on her shoulders. “It’s one of them.”

“Stay behind me. Let me do the talking.”

The anger he’d had evaporated. Deep down, he’d known all along that she was protecting him, and putting herself in danger to do it. Now, she wanted to lead a possible battle. It made him want to pull her back to him again and wrap his arms around her. It made him want to press his face into her neck and not come up for air until he had to.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

Scully hesitated and then stepped to the door. She gave two swift bangs and then it slid open. DaSilva and Hodge both backed up as Mulder and Scully walked out.

“I’ve examined him,” Scully said. “He’s not infected.”

“Neither is she,” Mulder added.

“Which means it must be one of you.”

“Okay,” Hodge said. “But, I still want to check him out myself, and then he can examine both of us.”

Mulder nodded once. The next few seconds happened in a blur. Hodge lunged at him and knocked him into a stack of boxes. DaSilva rushed at Scully and shoved her back into the storage room and locked the door. Mulder fought back at Hodge, wrestling him across the floor. They traded the upperhand multiple times, slamming into equipment, knocking things off shelves.

Hodge had Mulder pinned, his forearm across his neck, while Mulder kicked to free himself. DaSilva rushed over with the forceps, the worm dangling ominously from between the pinchers.

“No!” Mulder yelled.

“Do it!” Hodge ordered.

Mulder saw the worm come down towards his ear. He screamed and bucked, but Hodge had him locked down tight. Suddenly, his grip went slack and he shoved DaSilva to the side. Mulder rolled out from under him and skittered back.

“Mulder, it’s her!” Hodge yelled.

DaSilva seemed to make a break with sanity at that point. She screamed high and long, darting around the room and shoving things off the table, breaking glasses, pulling down shelves. Hodge ran to the storage room door to let Scully out and Mulder retrieved the forceps with the worm still held in its grip.

“It’s her,” Hodge told Scully. “It’s DaSilva.”

DaSilva managed to find a gun in the chaos and waved it around the room, screaming hysterically. She fired off a shot that one of the glass cases of equipment and shattered it. Hodge, Mulder, and Scully ducked.

“Take this,” Mulder said, handing Hodge the forceps. “On my go.”

“Be careful,” Scully told him.

Mulder jumped up and DaSilva spun around with the gun extended. Before she fired a second shot that hit the ceiling, Mulder tackled her to the ground, knocking the gun out of her hand. She screamed in his face and it felt like his eardrum might burst. Scully was suddenly there on the other side, holding DaSilva down where Mulder couldn’t. Hodge hovered over them and dropped the worm into her ear. She arched up off the ground, the tendons in her neck bursting and pulsing, face red. And then she went limp and whimpered.

“You’re okay,” Scully whispered, soothingly. “You’re okay.”

******

The storm that was supposed to blow through the area fizzled out, and a rescue plane touched down mere hours after DaSilva had been subdued. They’d moved her to the sleeping quarters where Hodge kept watch over her until paramedics took over and loaded her into the plane. They’d all been hustled as quickly as possible out of the facility and back to Nome, where they waited for flights home.

“She's being put in quarantine along with the dog,” Hodge said, as they watched DaSilva being loaded into a containment unit. “We'll keep her there until we're sure she won't infect the rest of the population.”

“We should go back,” Mulder said. “If we had the proper equipment, knowing what we know now, we could poss-”

“Don’t you know?” Hodge interrupted.

“Know what?”

“45 minutes after they evacuated us, they torched the place. There's nothing left.”

Mulder looked to Scully who had her brow furrowed. “Who did that?” she asked.

“Military, CDC, you’d know better than I would. They’re your people.” Hodge shrugged and then squinted up at the sunlight breaking through the clouds. He slung his bag over his shoulder and then walked away without a goodbye.

“It’s still there, Mulder,” Scully said, looking up at him. “200,000 years down in the ice.”

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

She inhaled swiftly through her nose and then reached down to pick up the bag at her feet. “Leave it,” she said.

He nodded in agreement, though if she’d said she wanted to drill, he’d grab a shovel and do it himself if he had to.

******

The flight home wasn’t even half-full. Actually, it was a flight to Vancouver, and then on to DC, but the handful of passengers who’d deplaned in British Columbia, were replaced with a handful of passengers headed to DC. Seeing as how they had their pick of seats, Mulder waited until everyone had boarded to head down the aisle to Scully’s row.

“Excuse me,” he told the woman seated in the aisle seat. “There was a mistake when our tickets were issued. Would you mind if I sat with my partner?”

“Oh, no, of course not,” said the woman. She unhooked her seatbelt and smiled at Mulder and then at Scully as she got up.

“Do you have a bag?” he asked. “I’d be happy to move it for you.”

“Oh, aren’t you sweet. Yes, the blue one.”

Mulder took the woman’s bag from the overhead bin and walked it down to the bin above his old seat. He traded her bag for his and then went back down to Scully. She watched him with a half-lidded gaze. Instead of stretching out in his aisle seat, he sat in the middle, next to her.

“Did you take your Dramamine?” he asked her.

“Yep.”

“I heard the stewardess tell someone one of the inflight movies is going to be Groundhog Day. You’re gonna miss it.”

“I’ll live.”

“I’ll give you a summary when we land.”

Scully yawned and nodded. She had her head leaned against the wall next to the window, but she shifted in her seat and rested it on Mulder’s shoulder instead.

“Is this okay?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Scully. You tell me.”

She was quiet for a few moments. “Have you thought about where you’ll go for Thanksgiving?”

“Yes.”

“Have you made a decision.”

“Yes.”

“Are you gonna tell me what it is?” She yawned again and her eyes closed.

“I’ll come.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad. I’ll…” she paused to yawn and stretched against his arm. “I’ll send the time and place to your email address.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

She yawned again and didn’t answer. Minutes later, she was asleep. This time, she missed Groundhog Day and Benny & Joon. Mulder thought both of them were terrible.

******

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #msr #season 1 #slow burn

111 notes · View notes

frangipanidownunder · 6 years

Text

Salve: fic

Last instalment of the blind date universe. Read Tingle Shiver and Burn. Thanks for coming along for the ride.

Tagging @today-in-fic

The shoes skitter across the floor, one sliding under the sofa, the other find a resting point against the coffee table leg. She flings her belt and it wraps over the ridiculously pompous lampshade Bill gave her as a housewarming and then slithers down, pulling the frilled monstrosity with it. There’s a satisfying crunch. And it’s not Mulder’s neck. What had he said? Something about busting down her walls. Well, buster, this little firecracker is about ready to explode, walls and all.

Her bed is strewn with rejected clothes. At this moment, she’s not exactly sure why she cared so much. The velvet body still holds the shape of her. She removes her blouse and launches it at the bed, crumpling the body until its flat and two-dimensional. What was she thinking? What was Tash thinking? She’ll have to see Blevins on Monday. She shimmies out of her pants and kicks them off her feet. The blisters sting and she curses.

“Fucking Fox Mulder and his fucking arrogant fucking beautiful fucking face.”

Pillow scrunched to her chest and face, she lies on her side alternately trying to remember the tingle and forget the burn of the worst. blind. date. ever.

Nightmarish images dance behind her eyes. Mulder brushing away a lock of her hair, dabbing at her cheek with a napkin, dancing with her in black and white, shooting her, kissing her, peeking through the swaddling at a baby. She shoots up, sweat beading between her breasts, hair on end. A baby? The clock says 3.37am. How did it go from the tender hair thing to a baby? And no fucking? Where was the fucking? She scrambles out of the tangled sheets and it isn’t until she’s on her second glass of water that she realises there’s someone knocking at her door.

“Mulder?” She doesn’t know why she’s questioning it. Only that egotistical, self-absorbed bastard would rock up to her place after the evening they’d had and present her with a bunch of flowers.

“I like what you’ve done with your hair,” he says, walking past her. She flattens it down and follows him. He’s standing by the lamp that lies lifeless like a corpse on the floor. “Cause of death?” he asks, sinking to an easy squat and holding up the crooked shade.

“Why are you here?” She doesn’t have the wits to indulge is sense of humour.

“I just thought I’d swing by and see whether it’s true that Dana Scully wears only her perfume and the strips of skin of the agents who cross her to bed. But I guess the water cooler gossip is incorrect.”

Looking down, she sees her panties and bra, black, lacy, date-y. She brings the roses in front of her and glares at him. He holds up his arms in surrender.

“I fucked up. I’m sorry, Scully.”

He has the grace to look at the floor. His voice is softer, genuine. She feels her neck and shoulders unknot. The aroma of the flowers wafts under her nose.

“These are certainly not what I was expecting,” she says.

“Fuck.” He stands up and closes the gap between them. She’s acutely aware of her lack of clothes and the way her skin prickles in his presence. Her nipples harden and she presses the flowers closer. The tingle is back. He puts a hand on her cheek and she hears herself swallow. His eyes take on that look he wears when he’s talking with victims, that deep empathy he possesses. His voice is just above a whisper. “You were hoping for the pizza?”

Miss Firecracker spits and sizzles. “Fuck you, Mulder. Why are you like this? What is wrong with you? You come over here in the middle of the night and you can’t even be serious for one minute. I told you this was a mistake. I think you should leave.”

His hands curl over her shoulders. “You think? Or you want?”

There’s a warmth in his palms that resonates through her skin. The rhythm of his massaging takes away some of the burn in her gut. “You need to leave.”

“When I got here, I could hear you. You sounded like you were having a nightmare. Are you okay, Scully?”

She’s standing before him in her underwear. It’s not like he hasn’t seen this before. But it’s not the physical exposure that’s leaving her feeling so vulnerable. It’s being laid emotionally bare. Showing her fear. How does he do this? How does he stretch you to the edge of sanity then snap you back to wanting to fall into his arms?

“I’m fine, Mulder. But you really need to leave. It’s late.”

He checks his watch. “It’s early. Bean is about to open. Wanna share a cream cheese bagel?” He smiles gently.

The tingle resonates through her and she’s awake. “Real cream cheese?”

“Tash knows our orders,” he says, then taps his chest, “by heart.”

Her own heart drums a beat and she turns to the kitchen to find a vase for the roses. She spreads the stems out and puts them on the table. She takes one last long inhale of the floral aroma and looks up at Mulder. “Ready?”

He nods, then holds up her belt and shoes. “You might want to get dressed first though.”

She dies. There and then. Shrivels to dust in her own living room. A meeting with Blevins can’t come soon enough. When she opens her eyes to chance a look at the MulderGrin, he’s already taken off his shirt and he’s unbuckling his belt, unzipping his fly. His pants slip over his hips and he’s standing there in her living room in black silk boxers. That have green alien heads all over them. He’s grinning. In fact, he’s laughing. And that tingle goes into overdrive, thrumming up and down her spine and through her groins.

“If this is what it takes to get you to chill, Scully, then I’m all for it. Even at too early on a Sunday. Come here,” he says and she’s in his arms in a microsecond, face pressed against the hair on his chest with an uncontrollable urge to lick his nipples. He swoops his head down and captures her mouth in his, kissing her urgently before pulling back and exploring her neck, where the noise from his own throat sends shockwaves of want through her. He’s at her collar bones, butterflying kisses along the ridge and she’s dipping her fingers into his boxers and staving off the compulsion to run her tongue along his length, mirroring his own movements.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Yes,” she says.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Never been less sure of anything, Mulder, but you’re impulsiveness is rubbing off on me.”

The thickness of the air tells her it later in the day. She wakes with an arm protectively wrapped around her breasts, and his nose digging into the nexus of her neck and shoulder. He’s warmly heavy, snoring lightly and he smells of her.

“Does this date constitute an X File, Scully?” he says later, sitting at her table, half-hidden behind the roses.”

“Walking into the unknown, danger, pain, opening your mind to the possibilities,” she says. “Stamp it with a red X and file it away.”

He frowns. “You don’t want to follow it up?”

She giggles as she sits down, nursing a black coffee. “You’re serious?”

His fingers touch hers and there’s a spark. “I think we’ve got something. I want to see where it goes. Don’t you?”

Yes, yes she does. “Maybe.”

He stands up, ready to leave. She’s caught between relief and disappointment. “Lunch at Bean tomorrow?”

“Yes, no.” Dammit.

“Scully?”

“I’ve got an appointment. An old friend from the Academy wants to talk about a case he’s working on.”

He opens the door and stands under the frame. “Anyone I know?”

She shakes her head. “Don’t think so. See you later tomorrow?”

He kisses her and she feels the tingle, but it’s cooler. Like a salve. As she watches him saunter away she thinks that Tom Colton’s case better be worth missing lunch with Fox Mulder.

#txf fanfic #my fanfiction #todayinfic #blind date universe

129 notes · View notes

contrivedcoincidences6 · 7 years

Text

Leather and Lace

So that “Mulder is married to Diana” story really took off and has now evolved into something totally new. I’ve named it Leather and Lace after the Stevie Nicks song that perfectly describes Mulder and Scully. So this is technically chapter three! Thank you to @edierone for editing this so quickly since I was freaking out to get it posted! One, Two

Last time:

“You’re not in trouble Agent Mulder, you’re being assigned a new partner.” Walter Skinner informed him.

Mulder rubbed his hand down his face and sighed, “Is that really necessary sir?”

“It’s out of my hands.” He said, only half interested, and opened the file in front of him.

“Have you ever heard of an agent named Dana Scully?”

The whole day, she keeps her eyes peeled for him, not knowing what she would do if she saw him.

She quickly involves herself in the pile of work on her desk and jumps a little when the phone rings — it’s Section Chief Blevins’s secretary, informing her that the SC wants to see her in an hour. After she hangs up, Dana struggles not to stare at the clock for the next hour.

“Agent Scully, thank you for coming on such short notice. Please…” Blevins motions for her to take a seat; Dana tries to project confidence, despite the presence of several other men in the room.

“We see you’ve been with us just over two years.”

“Yes, sir.” Dana responds as if she knows exactly what this mysterious meeting is about.

“You went to medical school but you chose not to practice. How’d you come to work for the FBI?”

This summary of her career confuses her, but she replies, “Well, sir, I was recruited out of medical school. Um, my parents still think it was an act of rebellion, but uh… I saw the FBI as a place where I could distinguish myself.”

“Are you familiar with an agent named Fox Mulder?” a man sitting next to Blevins asks. Dana answers swiftly despite the quickening of her heart.

“Yes, I am.”

All three men share a look that makes Dana nervous.

“How so?”

“By reputation,” she lies. “He’s an Oxford educated Psychologist, who wrote a monograph on serial killers and the occult, that helped to catch Monty Props in 1988. Generally thought of as the best analyst in the violent crimes section.” She wonders if she sounded like his biographer so she adds, “He has a nickname at the academy… Spooky Mulder.”

The man with the cigarette then gives her a look that instantly makes her uncomfortable.

Blevins goes on to ask her about the X Files and then tells her that he wants her to work with Mulder -- to spy on him.

It all washes over her quickly and she finds herself on autopilot for the rest of the meeting. Not knowing what else to do afterward, she decides to face things head on, with a visit to the basement. On the elevator down, Dana’s heart beats fast — what she will say to him? She curses herself for sleeping with someone at the FBI, vowing then and there that next time she goes looking for a casual fuck she’ll steer clear of anyone she might cross paths with again.

She wants to be able to call it a mistake in her mind, but the memory of his passionate, hazel eyes, and capable hands made it impossible.

She knocks awkwardly at the office door and steels herself.

“Sorry, nobody down here but the FBI’s most unwanted.” He yells from the other side of the door. Smiling, Dana opens the door but he doesn’t look up. She takes that moment to look around the office. It’s exactly as people have described it, cluttered and crazy.

He turns suddenly to look at her and the room fills with electricity.

“Agent Mulder.” She says with a meaningful smile and sticks out her hand, “I’m Dana Scully, I’ve been assigned to work with you.”

Mulder shares her knowing look, “Oh, isn’t it nice to be suddenly so highly regarded?”

She is slightly disarmed by how damn handsome he looks with his glasses on and shirtsleeves rolled up. He acts so calm and collected — she wonders how he’s managing it.

He casually goes back to his slides as if this is perfectly normal. “So, who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?”

He punctuates her last name and Dana is instantly put off. She matches his sarcasm through the rest of the conversation and soon she finds herself more turned on than aggravated, which irritates her in and of itself.

He pulls her thesis from the bottom of a pile; she grows warm with the knowledge that he had found it and read it some time ago when he was wondering about her.

When he turns off the lights the room suddenly feels smaller but she plasters on a face of indifference. He moves so close to her, their bodies are like magnets being pulled together and she once again wonders how he can act so cavalier.

But it’s down to business right away, and Dana quickly finds herself sucked into the case. They battle for a couple minutes until finally Mulder tells her that they’re leaving for Oregon in the morning.

He’s flirty and impossible but still she finds herself drawn to him. He calls her Scully again, rankling her, but she finds herself smiling at his back before letting herself out. Despite everything, she is looking forward to this.

He calls her Scully. He can’t find it in him to call her Dana, not here, not now that they’re partners — it reminds him of the last time he’d called her that, moaned it into the skin of her breasts. Mulder wonders if she has been in on it this whole time, if Friday night had all been a part of a devious plan to hook him — but from what he can tell, she’s just as surprised and uncomfortable by the turn of events as he is. They muddle through it together and fall into a somewhat comfortable rhythm.

There is something oddly arousing to him about watching Scully work in her full doctor’s garb. Mulder scurries around her, taking photos of the dead creature, invading her space whenever he can. He finds a certain comfort when he’s near her that he doesn’t want to question too much.

She is smart, quick, and curious, and Mulder is filled with near glee that he has someone who is interested in the work. Diana had begun to disengage months ago, but then, she’d never been as interested in the work.

She’d believed him, which had been nice, but sometimes he got the feeling that she only went with him as some kind of favor to him rather than because she found it stimulating herself. With Scully it’s different; he can see the spark of interest with every new discovery, and Mulder sees a bit of himself reflected there.

Even when they argue, it’s with passion and interest, instead of actual rancor.

So when it’s 4:30 in the morning and he sees her light on as he passes to go for a run, he invites her to go. She looks adorable and far too young in her baggy tee shirt, and Mulder is tempted to ask to come in rather than ask her to come out.

Her passion burns him when they leave Peggy O’Dell.

“How did you know that girl was going to have the marks?” she asks breathlessly.

Mulder can see she’s serious but can’t help but tease her, “I don’t know, lucky guess?”

“Damn it, Mulder, cut the crap.” Mulder is disturbed by how much he is turned on by her anger and lets her continue on her rant.

“What is going on here? What do you know about those marks? What are they?”

He takes that arousal and turns it into condescension, “Why? So you can put it down in your little report? I don’t think you’re ready for what I think.”

He slows and meets the fire in her eyes.

“I’m here to solve this case, Mulder, I want the truth.”

So Mulder lobs what he thinks might be the truth at her, believing that she would get even angrier or even laugh at him.

“The truth? I think those kids have been abducted.”

She calms down, stops, and sounds thoughtful, “By who?”

He’s momentarily thrown off by this but continues, “By what.”

Now she sighs and gives a slight smile.

“You don’t really believe that?”

“Do you have a better explanation?”

“I’ll buy that girl is suffering some kind of pronounced psychosis. Whether it’s organic or the result of those marks, I can’t say.” Her anger builds with every word, “But to say that they’ve been riding around in flying saucers, it’s crazy, Mulder, there is nothing to support that.”

Mulder feels himself shutting down and he narrows his eyes.

“Nothing scientific, you mean.”

“There has got to be an explanation.” She takes breath to calm down, “You’ve got four victims. All of them died in or near the woods. They found Karen Swenson’s body in the forest in her pajamas, ten miles from her house. How did she get there? What were those kids doing out there in the forest?”

Mulder just stares at her blandly, “Those are great questions Scully. Let’s go to the forest and find out.”

She just looks at him and shakes her head, “What aren’t you telling me?”

Mulder begins to walk away as she’s talking and she runs to catch up.

“Nothing you won’t find crazy,” Mulder throws over his shoulder.

They are blocked from the crime scene, mysteriously, by Detective Miles; Scully seems to have forgotten her irritation in all the excitement.

Mulder, however, is focused on his compass and watch. Vaguely he hears Scully voice a theory of the occult but he ignores it and waits to hit the spot he’d marked earlier.

“You okay Mulder?” she asks casually.

He’s looking up out the window, waiting for something to happen, trying to figure out how to explain it to Scully.

“Yeah, I’m just, eh…”

“What are you looking for?”

Right then a bright light fills the car and it happens.

They lose time and Mulder is thrilled. He runs out into the rain to find his mark on the road and begins to try to explain it to Scully. Dancing in the rain like a child, Mulder finds the ‘x’ in the road.

“… People who have made UFO sightings, they’ve reported unexplained time loss.”

“Come on.” Scully says dismissing him and starting back for the car.

“Gone!” He yells, recapturing her attention, “Just like that!”

Scully paces back and forth a couple steps.

“No, wait a minute. You’re saying that, that time disappeared. Time can’t just disappear! It’s, it’s, it’s a universal invariant!” she yells and Mulder smiles at her, delighted — right as the car starts and the headlights turn on.

“Not in this zip code.”

She supposes that it was inevitable that they would end up here again, bodies pushed together, skin against skin, making love; she just didn’t think it would happen so fast

It’s the feeling of his fingers on her skin below the mosquito bites, the beat of his heart beneath her head when she hugs him that reignites the passion in her.

This sit in silence for a few minutes until he asks her if she needs water. They both get up at the same time and are so close in that moment and all she can think about is how nicely they moved together.

They kiss and it turns passionate in an instant, both of them ready after the day of arguing and flirting. His hands slip inside her robe and around her waist so he can pull her closer as it falls open. She’s standing on her tip toes, pulled right up against his body and it feels so right.

She works at his belt and he takes off his shirt.

The back of her legs hit the bed and she pulls him, now only clad in boxers, down on top of her.

That is when she becomes Scully, as his lips, tongue, teeth mark her and she runs her fingers through his damp silky hair.

It’s different than it was the first time because this time there is risk, and that makes it even more enticing.

“Do you have a condom?” she asks as he takes her nipple into his mouth.

He nods his head and she laughs lightly.

“That’s pretty confident of you.”

“I’m an eternal optimist,” he jokes, going back to his work.

While his mouth is occupied his fingers move into her panties, find her clit, and take it gently between his index and middle finger. He moves his fingers around the slippery flesh in smooth, soft circles that soon leave Scully out of breath.

His mouth keeps moving south though; she is surprised but doesn’t protest. She’s watched him eat a whole bag of sunflower seeds between the plane and the car — she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious.

Mulder puts the same care into cunnilingus as he does into investigating. He spends a lengthy amount of time running his tongue everywhere except her clit, to the point where she almost grabs his head and forces him there — which is exactly what he wants. But right when it’s becoming too much, he lightly flicks the bundle of nerves and she jumps slightly, taking fistfuls of his hair. He then takes up a very pleasing rhythm going between movements of the tongue and lips.

Scully silently thanks whoever taught him how to do this. He seems to be enjoying himself too as he eats her like an ice cream cone, and it’s incredibly erotic to watch. When she opens her eyes and glances down at him she is met by his intense hazel gaze. He takes her hands in his and their fingers intertwine, and in that moment she feels fully connected to him. There is something unbreakable between them then.

And she comes, hard.

Her back arches up off the bed and she shouts his name, her fingernails digging into the backs of his hands. He holds her down and keeps an even pace, prolonging it. She doesn’t know how long it lasts, it feels like hours and seconds at the same time, but eventually the feeling of his mouth on her is too much and she’s pulling him up.

She kisses him, tastes her own salty taste on him, and it turns her on even more. Scully wants him now, needs him, inside of her.

Mulder seems to feel the same and he rolls to the other side of the bed to open his drawer and retrieve a condom. She lets out a small laugh again and he smiles at her, face still wet from her arousal, and hair spiked up from her clutching hands.

He is inside her within seconds, both of them sighing with relief. Neither will admit it but they’ve both been thinking of this all day.

#i wrote this #leather and lace #txf fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #txf #msr #Dana Scully #Fox Mulder #diana fowley

116 notes · View notes