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[titaniadelamer]

Was thoroughly enjoying Scully’s little red vibrator ... until I remembered how often representations of advanced technologies stand in for women’s sexual and reproductive autonomy and why we should fear it.

(this is not going to stop me from watching that final scene 400 times before bed)

[titaniadelamer]

Nightlight

Title: Nightlight

Author: Titania de la Mer

Pairing: Mulder/Scully

Rating: PG

The night is dark and the road is unfamiliar.  She trudges along the shoulder, kicking up dust, as she goes. Fields stretch out on either side of the highway, flickering gold every time a car passes.

“Mulder!” she calls, but her voice joins the wind, rushing over cornfields and rustling in the trees.

She spins, searching for signs. He was just here, but now he is gone. Spinning again and again, the fields blur into one another, becoming one great edgeless expanse.  Realizing, suddenly, that she is lost, she falls to the ground, dizzy, disoriented and defeated.

A vehicle approaches, its headlights blinding her, as she crouches amongst the pebbles and dirt. She freezes, trying her best to sink into the ground. She can’t let them save her– not before she finds him.

“Hey, Scully!” Astonished, she looks up, shielding her eyes from the truck’s high beams. A familiar silhouette is framed by white light and her spirit soars when she recognizes who it is. Relieved, she runs to meet him. Through the glare, he appears to her as he was, when they first met. His eyes are alive with mischief and his hair is soft against his forehead. She reaches out to touch it.

“Mulder!” she says, out of breath. “You disappeared.”

“Scully,” he greets, smiling. “Did you see that?”

“What, Mulder?” Her heart is racing, pounding with an excitement she hasn’t felt for years.

“Follow me,” he yells, already on his way. At his heels, she sprints to the top of a dark, dusty hill. Exhausted by the time she reaches the top, she raggedly sucks in a gallon of crisp midnight air.

“Hurry, Scully!” he shouts, from a distance. She pauses, hanging her head between her knees. Her limbs ache. Her heart hurts. Her nose is dripping.

Blood.

“Scully!” He runs to rejoin her, as she wipes her blood onto dry grass. There must have been a drought in the region, she muses, as her hands scrape against the straw-like texture.

“I can’t, Mulder,” she sighs. “I’m sick.” She stands up to face his disappointment and is surprised to see that he is laughing.

“No, you’re not, Scully!” he says, grinning from ear to ear. He grabs her wrist and pulls her along a well-trodden path. It feels like flying, she decides, even though, surely, she has never known what it feels like to fly.

He takes her to a clearing and points. “Look, Scully,” he says. “They’re dancing.” Seven – no, eight – neon balls of light circle above them, as though a giant court jester was juggling, from the plains, down below. “Do you see?”

“I see it, Mulder,” she gasps, amazed. “It’s so beautiful.” Spellbound, she watches. A cold wind breezes past her, but she keeps her eyes glued to the sky. After what could be a moment or an eternity, the lights begin to fade and she feels a surge of sadness as they vanish into the abyss.

She is alone again.

“Mulder!” she begs, panicked, her plea drowning in tears. “Mulder!”

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” says a voice from behind. Turning around, she spots a well-lit farmhouse at the base of the hill. In their haste to catch up with the lights, they must have missed it, on their way up.

“Mulder?”

“No, Mom, it’s me.” She squints, trying to make out his features. Tall…brown hair… barely fifteen. She wishes she could make-out the color of his eyes. They were blue, she remembers. Like her own. Babies’ eyes can still change shade, up to nine months, at least, she reminds herself.

“William?” she asks, her vision still hindered by darkness. If only she could see him.

“Come home, Mom,” he says, lightly, with a voice she’d know anywhere. It’s his father’s voice, only higher – yet to be burdened by the weight of time. Turning away from her with a youthful exuberance befitting of his teenage years, he gallops down the hill. She never has the chance to find out if his eyes are still blue.

Down and down, he runs. Although she tries her best to keep up, she keeps lagging behind. Suddenly, a sharp pain cuts through her abdomen and she is forced to stop and rest. Spiraling downwards, he gets smaller and smaller, away from her.

“Wait!” she cries, gripping her side as the cramp intensifies. Keeling over, she takes a breath. Once, twice, three times – willing the pain to subside. Something is sticky against her palm.

Blood. Gasping, she instinctively touches a finger to her nostril, in an effort to stop the flow. And yet, her hand remains clean. She jolts at the implication, scanning her body for wounds.  A thin red line trails down her calf, ending in a dried-up teardrop. Her eyes follow it backwards, up along her inner thigh and in between her legs.

“What…?” Ice courses through her veins, as she furrows her brow and tries to understand. Blood is caked within her pantyhose.

Anxious to keep him within her sight, she looks up to see him, now at the bottom of the hill. He waves to her from the farmhouse. She raises her arm to wave back, but before she can say goodbye, he disappears inside, turning out the lights.

And once again, the night is dark.

She stands in the doorway, as her pupils adjust. An otherworldly neon glow emanates from the nightlight she’d placed in the hallway, right before she’d left.

“I’m awake,” he mumbles, from the bed, responding to her unasked question.

Pulling back the sheets he never uses, she crawls in next to him and burrows her face into his back. She breathes in deep, drawing him inside of her. Once, twice, three times. With every exhale, she laments their feeble human bodies that make it impossible to every truly get their fill.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks her, turning around and scooping her up into his arms.

“Mmm,” she replies, as his mouth descends onto hers.

“That’s okay,” he teases.  “I was waiting up.” It’s after three in the morning and she hasn’t been home for eighteen days.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers.

“I’ve missed you too.”

She knows that she owes him an explanation, but when she tries to give him one, only a sob emerges, in its place. He shakes his head and presses two fingers into her lips. Unable to accept defeat, she shakily inhales and tries again.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes as his lips caress her eyelids.

“You drove all the way here, in this?” he asks, ignoring her apology as his fingers gently release the buttons on her nightshirt.

She laughs softly, loving him for his way of always knowing how to put her at ease.

Satin slides off shoulders and is tossed aside. His hands work with such care and devotion, as though undressing her were an act of worship.

Skin to skin, at last, they hold one another. In the dark, neither of them utters a word. Intimacy is unconscious, for the two of them, albeit never routine. As partners they’d learned how to make love, years before sharing a bed. His hands mold her body, smoothing out the edges until her true form remains. By now, he has found her so many times that his touch is steeped in memory.

He pushes. She resists. Sighing. No, Mulder. There’s no such thing as ghosts. He prods her gently and she lets him take her with him. Come on, Scully. It’ll be a nice trip to the forest.  She smiles. She loves him, but she won’t say it. Not yet. He senses her hesitation and makes a bad joke, making her laugh, in spite of herself. He pushes again. Harder, this time. Oh, God. She follows him, as he expected her to, all along. Exhilarated, her heart thumps, yearning to liberate itself from its corporeal confines. Before long, she’s gone, lost within him. Embodying his search for the truth, she knows him, inside-out.

She pushes. He resists. Groaning. No, Scully. Science has nothing to do with this. She muffles his protests with a kiss. Before long, the rest of the world disappears and it’s just the two of them, together, in the dark. Nothing else matters, anymore.

They hold one another, knowing that their time is running low. Life is fragile, fleeting, unfair. His hands caress her abdomen and the memory of the life they made together ripples throughout her body and into his. She tries to escape it, but he tightens his hold.

Safe, once more, she begins to feel herself slipping away. She lets it happen, knowing that, no matter where she ends up, he’ll know where to find her.

“I love you.”

He kisses her damp cheeks – one and then the other – as he catches his breath. “You going to stay a while?” he asks, in jest, although she knows that his whole life hangs on her answer. Reading her mind, or the expression of guilt washed across her face, he soothes her. “I understand,” he says, pushing a strand of hair off her forehead.

She doesn’t deserve him, she thinks.

“Shh,” he hushes, once again, reading her thoughts. “I love you.”

“I’m coming home,” she whispers and he smiles, pulling up the covers he never uses and kissing her goodnight.

“Were you really waiting up?” she asks, as her eyelids close.

“Nah,” he murmurs sleepily into her hair. “I was already awake.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks, yawning.

“No,” he replies, as his arms encircle her in an embrace. “Too many dreams.”

[titaniadelamer]

Everyone Was Watching

Title: Everyone Was Watching Author: Titania de la Mer Pairing: Mulder/Scully Rating: PG

Everything is sky.

The Earth tilts and sways, as they stroll, side by side. It's dark on the path and she looks up to the stars, as though summoned into their midst. She's floating among them, now, in the way that she'd learned how, many years ago.

"Take me, too," she'd whisper to the souls beaming down on her. Squeezing out the tears from her eyes and obscuring the world around her, she would have let them take her. She would have gone, then and there, if not for the tiny foot, kicking from within - their son, growing inside of her, anchoring her down to where she'd needed to stay.

On this night, it's a hand, tugging gently at her own, keeping her grounded, while she lets herself float, peacefully, through the night. That light would never die, she reminds herself. Starlight was forever.

"They're watching," he says, playfully, and she rolls her eyes, even though, after so many years together, she finally believes it to be true. They were, indeed.

"From which one?"

"Depends." He pulls on her arm, drawing her into his warmth, as he guides her towards a clearing.

"Greys," he whispers, words tickling her ears as he points to an inconspicuous speckle, peeking out from behind the trees. "Government," he says, gesturing, grandly, to an unnaturally bright ball of white light. She giggles, softly, as he comes up behind her and lifts her arm into a goofy wave. The government flickers in response.

"What about that one?"

"Oh, that," he replies, as though it were obvious. She turns to face him, eyebrow raised and challenging him to an age-old duel. "Shertans," he states, finally.

"Shertans?" she repeats, playing up the skepticism for his benefit.

"Humanoid, in form, but an otherwise non-threatening species with an average intelligence comparable to that of the domestic cat."

"No kidding."

"No kidding."

She gazes up, squinting at the home of the Shertans, a tiny yellow star, light years away and watching them with the vengeful eyes of an underestimated feline.

She nearly tumbles over him.

"Mulder?"

"Marry me."

He's grinning so wide, she thinks she must have missed the joke. She scans her recent memory, searching for clues. A heartbeat rises in volume, drowning out her trusted analytical processes. All she can do is stare at him, wide- eyed and incredulous. It's a look he's all too familiar with.

"Mulder, you can't be serious." He's kneeling at her feet.

"Was that a 'no'?" he asks, dryly, although she can tell he's making fun of her.

"You want to marry me?" she asks, cautiously, still seeking the punch line.

He nods.

"Now?"

He nods, again. "Right now," he says. "While everyone's watching."

"Mulder - "

"I, Mulder," he cuts-in, leaping up from the ground and dragging her into a messy backwards hug. She breathes him in and smiles her permission. "I, Mulder take thee..." His voice trails off and she waits, bemused, as he debates over whether or not to use her given name. "Scully," he decides and she chuckles at the wonderful absurdity of it. "To be my partner in crime, conspiracy and ..."

"Aliens?" she offers, with a smirk. The surrounding galaxies twinkle in approval.

"Aliens," he agrees, kissing her temple and letting his lips caress her cheek as they creep, innocently, towards her mouth.

"You don't get to kiss me, yet," she teases and he groans. Story of their lives.

"In sickness and in health," he continues and she falls quiet, remembering how he'd held her in that sterile white corridor, lingering there, as though it would somehow grant them extra time. She'd walked away, then, consoling her weakened spirit and willing herself to let it be. Every night, she would resolve to accept that someone else would love him, after she was gone, but every morning, she'd wake, defeated. Even on her deathbed, she'd dreamed of him. It seems like eons ago, now.

"I will follow you to the ends of the Earth," his voice soothes, temporarily interrupting her flashback. She offers her hand and he takes it, tracing her ring finger in a circular motion and branding it gently with a touch that she already knows by heart.

"What would you do, when you got to the end of Earth, Mulder?" she murmurs, closing her eyes and leaning into him, as he leads her in a slow, silent dance.

He draws nearer, his lips brushing against hers, as he speaks. "I'd get the hell off my SnowCat and take a ride on a spaceship, until I found you, again."

She giggles. "It wasn't a spaceship, Mul - " His kiss stifles her signature rebuttal.

"Oops," he says, as their lips part. "Broke the rules."

She inhales, deeply, marvelling at the way his kiss can still leave her breathless, so many years later. He releases her hand and she takes the opportunity to even the playing field. "I guess we should hurry," she coos, prodding a single shirt button and rubbing her palm against bare skin underneath.

"Your turn," he rasps. She smugly acknowledges the effect she still has on him.

"Okay," she agrees, momentarily suspending her pleasure as she considers how to proceed. "I, Scully..." she begins, solemn and contemplative. Glancing up, briefly, she catches the twinkle in his eyes and she laughs, nervously, in spite of herself.

"Serious, Scully," he feigns his disapproval, puckering his lips in a way that begs her to kiss them.

She swallows the urge and starts again. "I, Scully, take you, Mulder..."

"Yes...?" he says, his eyes gleaming with adoration and mischief.

"I...." She's never had the right words. Not for him. Seven years of unvoiced emotion and even now, every once in a while, she still finds herself speechless in his presence.

She closes her eyes and imagines her life without him. It's more memory than fantasy, she recalls, although it's tucked away in a painful part of history that she's left out of the books. Wet tears escape, without warning, and she feels his arms wrap, protectively, around her waist.

"I love you, Mulder," she whispers, eyes still closed. When she opens them, he's gazing down at her, smiling brightly through the dark, starry night. "I do," she promises, interlocking their fingers and clutching his hand against her chest.

He nods, gathering her into his arms, once more. He motions to the stars above them. "I think they just pronounced us husband and wife," he says.

"How can you be so sure?" She has to ask. He wouldn't accept anything less of her.

"I think they have a pretty good concept of 'forever.'" That light would never die.

They kiss. The Earth tilts and sways as she floats, safe within his embrace. If no one, down here, would ever know, it wouldn't matter. As far as she could see, everyone was watching.

And everything was sky.

End.