How did Mulder and Scully get from being on the run at the end of “The Truth” to living in a house together while Scully is working in a hospital at the start of “I Want to Believe?” This fic explains it with an emotional depth that’s very compelling and fitting for these two characters and their deep, entangled history.
Title:Compass Author: SeemaG (@seemaunbound) Summary: The truth was a harsh compass. Post series, pre-XF2 movie. Length: 21,324 words Classification:Post-series Rating: Teen and up Spoilers: The Truth, I Want to Believe Favorite line: They were in constant orientation and orbit, moving to and from, always finding their way, sometimes together, but always alone.
It’s not the first time he sneaks into her room so late at night. It’s not the first time he does something knowing that she’ll never accept if he asks first. And he knows this will not be the last time.
Mulder knows her. He knows her answer before he even asks. I’m fine,Mulder.She always says that. Not just to him, but to her mother, to her brother, and to herself.
Fine means she’s delicate. Fine means she’s beautiful and elegant. Oh yeah, she’s fine. Mulder’s beginning to think about fine in those terms every time Scully says she’s fine.
Mulder and Scully find themselves trapped with the only thing to do being to talk to each other while they wait for help. Things get personal, very personal.
Title:What Hands Do Author:Mish Summary: “And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.” I think that about covers it. Length: 31k (~5,550 words) Classification: M/S UST, some Angst Rating:R Spoilers: Slight one for “Fight the Future” Favorite line: Sea nymph Scully is quickly joined in my fantasy by Speedo Mulder, and things quickly deteriorate into the FBI-agent-on-vacation version of “From Here to Eternity.”
If you like historical AUs, you’ll like this one! Here a young Mulder and Scully meet in the early 1900s. Mulder’s sister Samantha is ill, and both she and Mulder become fascinated with the pretty young lady from down the road who’s living with her uncle (a doctor) and studying medicine.
Title:The Doctor’s Niece Author: AweburnPhoenix (@aweburnphoenix) Summary: Historical AU: Philadelphia, Christmas 1918. WWI is finally over, and William Mulder has returned home from combat. Unfortunately, this means his family expects him to marry Diana Fowley – a marriage he went to war to avoid. Things get even more complicated when he meets Katherine Scully, a woman ahead of her time who is studying to be a doctor at the Woman’s Medical College of Pennsylvania, and who his family disapproves of. Length: 15,976 words Classification: AU, UST to RST Rating: Teen and up Spoilers:None Favorite line: This was her first real male patient and she tried to convince herself that that was the reason for her nervousness, and it had nothing to do with the fuzzy feeling in her lower belly.
She has a big brother, a big sister, and a little brother. She has always been the responsible one; when she was eight years old, Mom had designated her to be the counter. She was to make sure that Bill, Missy, and Charlie did not wander off too far away on family outings. She always stayed close to Mom and kept her eyes on her three siblings.
Bill was not always the square he is now, and Missy could be distracted by ladybugs and kitty cats, but most of all, it was Charlie that was the hardest to keep tabs on—he was attracted to everything shiny and colorful.
Step right up to the classic fic scenario of “oh no, there’s only one hotel room left and there’s only one bed but there are two of us!”
Title:New Orleans Author:Paula Summary: Mulder and Scully get stuck sharing a hotel room. Length: 22k (~4,000 words) Classification: Mulder/Scully UST Rating:PG Spoilers:None Favorite line: Scully’s first thought on waking was that the pillow she had slept on seemed strangely hard. And warm. And muscular.
Here are some very good X-Files fics involving the OG series finale “The Truth.” Many, but not all, of the fics involve Mulder and Scully being on the run after that episode. Enjoy!
There are SO MANY fics involving “The Truth” that they’re behind a cut.
The title of this fic does not lie. You want a spin on the episode “Requiem” that has emotional pow in ways not seen on the show? Look no further!
Title:rewriting Requiem Author:@mldrgrl Summary: “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” Length: ~1,025 words Classification:MSR Rating: Not rated Spoilers:Requiem Favorite line: No, I should be right here.
The air is cold. It’s freaking April and Spring is here, but the air is cold because he can’t get Scully to see his way.
Sure, the case is silly, Mulder admits. A woman in Pennsylvania claims to have fostered cubs of mythical creatures she found in the woods behind her house, and two days ago, all the cubs vanished without a trace. Woman claims them to be griffins, which she believes will fetch a handsome price at the black market for exotic animals.
Here are some very good X-Files fics involving the OG series finale “The Truth.” Many, but not all, of the fics involve Mulder and Scully being on the run after that episode. Enjoy!
There are SO MANY fics involving “The Truth” that they’re behind a cut.
5 A.M.by@kateyes224 Five times Scully found herself awake at 5 a.m., and the one time she wasn’t alone.
Among Momentary Daysby Innisfree Mulder and Scully, one night in North Carolina, sitting on a porch, after three years on the run.
Backlash by Joann Humby Mulder and Scully are still on the run but time’s running out.
Breathe Againby@blackcoffeeandteardrops They don’t talk. Until finally, at least a little, they do. A brief MSR moment of solace while they’re on the run.
A Cabin in the Woodsby@leiascully Mulder and Scully, on the run, stay for a while in a cabin in the mountains in Montana. A series of interlacing vignettes.
The Christmas Seriesby Forte and Diana Battis Each chapter is set Christmas Day or Christmas Eve 2001-2006
Compassby SeemaG(@seemaunbound) The truth was a harsh compass. Post series, pre-XF2 movie.
Curing the Soulby@lilydalexf Picking up the morning after “The Truth” ends, Mulder and Scully spend some time in their motel room. For as few clothes as they are wearing, they sure talk a lot.
Day Trippingby diehard and ArtemisX5 Life on the run and a change in attitude
Fall On Your Kneesby@scullyitsme “Poets always say things like the snow fell silently,” Mulder said, his voice low and sleepy. Melting into her ears like warm honey, his breath tickling her neck as he leaned down to speak to her in the dark, “But it’s not totally silent. Snow has a sound.”
First Few Desperate Hoursby all_these_ghosts(@all-these-ghosts) “He’s not sure the road that brought them here is on any map.” On the road and in the shadows with Mulder & Scully.
The First Night of The Rest of Our Livesby msrstarlight Based on the fact that during The Truth (Part Two), Mulder and Scully escape the military prison wearing one set of clothes, but arrive in New Mexico wearing another set of clothes. So this fic is set during that drive and, in my guess, night in a motel.
A Flutter of Hope by a_steady_wish His soft hand on her shoulder seemed to physically ease her pain. Scully sighed and relaxed into his touch. She loved Mulder so much – this brilliant, impossible man of hers – that it hurt, and also healed.
Ghosts seriesby Anjou An early December 2002 tale, originally supposed to be a drabble, totally spun out of control. A post-series ‘what if’ where Mulder was irrevocably altered, replicants were the new reality, and the clock was ticking down to 2012.
held afloatby@kittenscully And there’s his jaw, scratchy and sweet, nudging against her cheekbone, a kiss pressed to her temple and then to the corner of her eye. His big hands framing her ribs. She’d waited in the car while he got their room key, but with the windows rolled down and the lobby door open, she’d heard him call her his wife. [in which Scully carries the ocean, even through the desert.]
Home, Homeby@onpaperfirst where seldom is heard a discouraging word, and the skies are not cloudy all day
Housewarmingby@leiascully A walk in the woods near the unremarkable house; a fall night; a fire in the fireplace.
Jump the Broomstickby Timeless_Tides One evening, several months after Mulder and Scully go on the run, the reality of their new lives is starting to wear on them. Following an honest conversation, they decide to take back some control and do something that makes them both laugh. Warning: story contains half a measure of pre-fluff angst, a sprinkling of mushiness and (hopefully) a dash of humour.
Life with Mulder andDitto by Elsie She can’t withhold anything from him except that which is important. / He’ll do anything he can to satisfy her, to keep her around, but he can’t tell her the truth.
Manistiqueby@all-these-ghosts She thinks this must be what sunlight tastes like: the bright and the tang and the sweetness.
Mexican Lamentby KatyBlue Where did Mulder and Scully go?
Only The Essentialsby DanaFox1013 Only the essentials. The words repeat like a mantra in her head. She only has a few hours and a single bag. It’s not enough to contain the products of a life.
Pavlov’s Moonby Scarlet (@flexiblefish) Mulder and Scully have been living apart, in different states, for six years, which doesn’t mean they’re still not part of each other’s lives. Co-dependency’s a bitch.
Residencyby@dashakay The house is old, half-falling apart. There’s nothing particularly remarkable about the small white house, besides needing a coat of paint. But it’s their house. Theirs. Home.
Road Markersby anythingbutgrey There are anniversaries she can’t shake. Dates have, over the years, many years, worked their way into her mind as an internal clock.
the second law of motionby@seek-its-opposite What she’d like to tell herself is that she wouldn’t have believed it, 10 years ago, if you told her this would be how she and Mulder would fall off the edge of the world: watching paint dry.
These Things Keep Us From Sinking by anythingbutgrey It takes until morning to speak again, but every time, one of them will say, “You can’t die first.”
thievesby@catarinquar post-the truth. they’re on the run, hiding out in yet another motel.
Togetherby starwalker42(@bitshortforastormtrooper) “I’m never leaving you again.” Scully hadn’t realised how badly she needed to hear those words. He’s staying. He’s staying forever. “Prove it,” she whispers.
Triangulation by Leyenn He finally tracks them down in Oxford in mid-October. Untitledby@frangipanidownunder Mulder and Scully always leave little notes for each other around the office
White Inkby Bonetree In December 2012, a battered Mulder, Scully and William know there’s much more at stake than just the end of the world.
Wilson River Roadby Aloysia_Virgata (@aloysiavirgata) “No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.” —J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
Worth Its Constancyby DarlaBlack (@sigritandtheelves) Mulder and Scully have not been alone together for a very long time. What happens when they stop at their first motel on the way to New Mexico?
The dialogue between Mulder and Scully is great in this story, little jokes and barbs as evidence of two people who very much adore each other.
Title:Meg Author: Apostrophic (@mappingthexfiles) Summary:He had lived with grief long enough to learn you did not ignore happiness whenever it came. Two scenes, one before and one after a tiny someone makes three. Post-season 11. I’m coining the tag “no angst, just love.” Length: 3,741 words Classification:Post-episode/series Rating: General Audiences Spoilers: My Struggle IV Favorite line: More often than not, though, he’d say something ridiculous, like, “Oh my God, Scully, that’s so hot, come here,” because then she would laugh or give him a shove or put a pillow over his face, but then return from the bathroom to curl up against him, resting her head and her belly like he was her pillow, and he’d try to recall something else in his life that made him feel more necessary than that.
This story is so smart, so lovely, so sad, and so hopeful. It’s beautifully written, and it handles family and faith better than the show ever did, and I think as good as anybody ever has. Also: Detective Kresge (from “Christmas Carol” and “Emily”).
Title:God’s Breath Author: Jintian (@jinjoint) Summary: May 1999. A mysterious death brings Scully’s faith and personal history to the fore. Length: 52,217 words / 293k Classification: X-File, Romance, Angst Rating:R Spoilers: None listed Favorite line: This is more a paragraph, but it was hard choosing any one line or anything not packed with spoilers: He wasalwaysdoing something like that. Pissing me off, and then letting some comment drop like he didn’t know it had the power to knock me flat with joy. Now I was picturing him sleeping in my bed – our bed, if I really admitted that he spent more time at my apartment than his anyway – sniffing the pillows and burrowing beneath my covers. I missed him.
Read the story! (And if you like it, leave kudos and/or a comment!)
This X-Files fic is very unusual. It’s from the perspective of Chief Blevins, which you rarely see in fic, and it explores a particular time in the series that doesn’t get much attention. Saying too much more about the story will spoil it. So go read now!
Title:Mere Ripple Author:Luperkal Summary: not a real ending of course, nor even a beginning. Length: 15k (~2,500 words) Classification: Vignette, Angst Rating:PG Spoilers: None listed (and I won’t spoil it by giving away any episodes) Favorite line: The complete absence of thought in my mind was remarkable, I stared at her hands clenching and unclenching the sheet in a rhythmic monotone and realized I had no more emotions left to feel and no more words left to say.
This fic is an intriguing casefile where Mulder takes Scully on a “nice trip to the forest.” Scully dreads the trip (spoiler: the trip is upsetting and dangerous), but she does meet a flirty ranger. Mulder is not so fond of this development and gets jealous. How delightful for all 3 of them to be staying in the same small tent! By which I mean delightful for the reader because this fic is a great mix of a case and the personal.
Title:Dark Water Author: Suzanne Schramm Summary: Prehistoric insects. Mothmen. Now it’s a publicity-shy tribe of murderers. Just another nice trip to the forest with Mulder. Length: 99k (~17,250 words) Classification: X-File, Angst, UST Rating:PG-13 Spoilers: Season 5, Pre “The End” Favorite line: Scully had sometimes wondered if it was the long, dry spell in her social life or just Mulder himself causing the flutters in her stomach.
There are not enough words to describe how spectacular these stories are, so suffice it to say that they beautifully, heartbreakingly, humorously, and very uniquely bring Mulder, Scully, and William together in a treasure of an X-Files fic novel.
Title:The 13th Signand7 Days in May Author: prufrock’s love Summary: Mulder saw no reason for life, death, sex, Armageddon, or emotional dysfunction to stand in the way of true love. / It might be the end of the world. Fox Mulder had a psychic vampire on the loose, a six-year-old son in tow, a ton of emotional baggage, and an FBI budget, but at least he wasn’t dead. Mulder felt things were looking up - romantically and apocalyptically. Length: 71,945 words / 93,861 words Classification: X-file, MSR, Post season 7 Rating:R Spoilers: Through season 7 Favorite line: As if these stories don’t have a favorite line practically every single paragraph.
Chapter 7: Many Times I’ve Lied; Many Times I’ve Listened
The soundtrack for this chapter is Over the Hills and Far Away, by Led Zeppelin, from their 1973 album Houses of the Holy. This song peaked as a single in July 1973, but the album was a bigger success and was #4 for the year.
Berkeley, California 88 Hours After Scully Vanishes 1999
The grad students thought their voices were much quieter than they actually were. Mulder, flat on his back on the couch in the lounge, hands covering his face, could hear them anxiously conferring in the hall.
“He’s in there? Still?”
“It’s only been thirty minutes.”
“What’s the new photo of?” He thought that was Eujung’s voice. She was one of the new additions to the pool of grad students floating around, helping Anish and Georgette work on whatever it was they were so intently and furtively working on.
“A sign for some dance studio in Cape Cod,” whispered Anish. “Near where he’s from.”
“So that means she…”
“Shhhhhh,” Anish whispered. “Yes. It means she’s there for sure.”
It meant more than that. It meant something else. Something so hard to hold in his head that Mulder was having a hard time parsing through it himself, much less explaining it to the grad students or Skinner.
late s3 (idk what the timeline is like tbh, but according to fandom wiki page on Holly, Pusher happened in November of 1995??) | tagging @today-in-ficand@whumpay2022, tysm! :D
Scully is alone in the office in late February, 1996, when there’s a hesitant knock at the door. It’s Saturday, she’s already got plans for the weekend — she’s meeting up with Mulder tonight to catch him up on the case she’s been studying while he was out complainingly recovering from a sprained ankle, then dinner with her mother tomorrow, because it’s her birthday and Maggie wanted to do something. She only came into the office to collect some of her things that she’d forgotten the evening before, then got distracted trying to organize the scattered papers across the desk.
(She would love to blame Mulder for that, but the fact is that she leaves things behind, often untidy, almost but not quite as much as he does. It’s a gamble as to which of them will eventually tidy things, though, and to how they’ll be organized.)
She looks up, surprised to see someone else down here on a weekend, with the beginnings of a reproach on her lips if Mulder has decided to come in when he’d been expressly told — ordered by Skinner, Scully, and another doctor who’d agreed with her — to stay out of the office at least until Monday. Instead, Scully is surprised to see another agent she recognizes standing in the doorway and looking like she was about to head home.
I tried to write one set during Irresistible but I really struggled. So instead Scully’s Walkman comes to the rescue with a sea themed medley set during “that one where they get all wrinkly on a boat”.
prompt: “you have the most amazing tits in the world, Scully.”
“You have the most amazing tits in the world, Scully,” he mumbles as he takes one into his mouth ravenously. “Exquisite. Awe-inspiring.”
Moaning in his lap, Scully clenches her inner muscles and rides his fingers harder. “Mulder, stop talking.”
Mulder chuckles and moves to her other breast but misses as her tits bounce gracelessly and frantically. He can tell Scully is close by the familiar fluttering of her cunt, and as he nips his teeth to try and bite down on a nipple, he succeeds.
“Mulder!” It’s a desperate cry followed by a grunt of semi-annoyance, semi-don’t-you-fucking-stop. Scully slams her eyes shut and rides out the waves that are getting her closer and closer to utter, delicious destruction.
Sticking out his tongue, Mulder sloppily soothes the reddened, puckered nipple of his partner as she continues to thrust up and down. He hums as her thighs quiver, and cups her other tit with his free hand, making her squirt.
“Fuck, Scully. You’re so close, I can feel you. So fucking sexy. You haven’t done that for me in so long.”
Scully whispers out a high-pitched expletive of her own at Mulder’s words and the memory they’re both thinking of. Before she left the unremarkable house and things had still been great between them, she had come all over his cock as she rubbed her clit and squirted all over the sheets.
Now, she thinks of how much she wants him inside of her when she comes the second time, and how much she wants his wet cock in her mouth. The thought of him coming down her throat makes her head spin and she can’t help but grind her clit into his soaked palm.
As warmth begins to spread throughout her body, Scully opens her eyes, needing the connection. Locking them with Mulder’s, she licks her lips and opens her mouth to cry out a silent whimper. This is the first time she’s ridden his fingers since they’ve gotten back together and that fact isn’t lost on either of them as she comes undone.
Tilting her head of long red hair back, Scully cries out Mulder’s name continuously. His lips are on her neck, sucking and kissing, and his hand hasn’t stopped squeezing her breast and pinching her nipple roughly.
“Mulder… Mulder!” Her voice is ragged and laced with desire.
It’s home and it’s a deep love that has never wavered. And though they’re so much older this time, as Scully collapses on his lap and kisses Mulder’s lips, she knows it will work out this time. He has always been her home.
“You’re incredible, Scully,” he whispers into her ear, causing the baby hairs at her nape to move with the puff of his breath.
They both know he wants to say more, but this is still so new between them again, so delicate, and neither of them dares to speak about their feelings just yet. Instead, Scully wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him close, and Mulder does the same with her waist.
It’s quiet in the home they’ve shared once before, but it isn’t her home anymore. Though they don’t know it yet, in nine months’ time, it will house more than just Mulder – it will be home to the three of them: Mulder and Scully and their little baby girl.
As Scully kisses the scruff of his jaw and moves to his lips, she meets his eyes one more time. “Take me to bed,” she requests softly, and then squeals with a giggle as Mulder lifts her and carries her upstairs.
Need something angsty and cathartic to read while you will your comatose partner back to life? Here are some season 2 fics that actually address Scully’s abduction arc trauma:
Right Hand Return by humphreywrites - AU in which Scully is returned from her abduction with a baby and serious PTSD
Only the Lightby@scullydubois - AU in which Melissa moves in with Scully post abduction arc as she recovers, WIP.
Time Can Healby@scullysexual - AU in which Scully doesn’t return to the X-Files post abduction arc, WIP.
Will-o’-the-wisp by breakfastsandwich - post-One Breath, the first night home from the hospital.
Stolen Timeby@dreamingofscully - post Firewalker, Scully struggles with unpartnerly thoughts during quarantine with a bored Mulder, NSFW.
Day After Tomorrow by skuls - post Firewalker. She almost died a few weeks ago. But she is here, alive. And her partner has kissed her.
Seeds of Synchronicity by Mountainphile - great casefile follow up to Aubrey set 6 years later when Mulder and Scully are in a pre-established relationship and dealing with Scully’s infertility and grief over Emily.
Untitledby@o6666666 - post Irresistible AU, Scully needs something Ethan can’t give her
She woke him in the dead of night, stumbling over him, making it to the toilet with inches to spare. By the time he woke enough to call to her, ask her if she was okay, her only response was, “we’re adding beef stroganoff to the list of things we are not eating until Beans two and three are born.”
“Duly noted.” Shuffling his way into the bathroom, he handed her a towel, “need some water?”
Holding out her hand so he could help her stand, “nope. Just my toothbrush, please.”
Once back in bed, Mulder bunched her up in front of him, 3:30am entirely too early for her to have left him in the first place, vomit or not, “do you think we can tell the mothers yet? The Skinner?”
Staring into the darkened bathroom, she ignored her sore knees, bruised from her drop to the hard tile floor 10 minutes earlier, “given I’m throwing up at all hours this time around, I imagine they’ll notice tonight when I drop my winning hand and puke on your shoes.”
With a smile and a kiss to the back of her head, “that takes care of that set of parentals. What about my mom?”
Warm and comfortable, she answered with a murmured, “we could always have her down for Thanksgiving.”
“Thanksgiving is at Maggie’s.”
“We can take her with us. Scare her a little with the sheer amount of people we can fit around the kitchen table.”
Mulder snorted, shifting fine hairs on her neck and making her smile, “she’s never seen more than three people at a dinner table.”
“Then maybe it’s high time she does.” Rolling over without unseating his heavy arms, “we’ll just have to warn them not to initiate her.”
“Oh, Lord.”
“You stole my line.”
&&&&&&&&&&
Scully dressed Will in his ‘Big Brother’ onesie yet again but instead of Maggie changing him, Skinner volunteered to do it, whisking the boy into the living room before Scully could do more than draw a breath of objection. Shooting a look at Mulder, who shrugged and gave her a quick, close-lipped smirk, both waited quietly to see just what their overly tall, imposingly large boss might do as he dealt with his 15-pound grandson.
It took only a moment, but instead of a calm, rational, ‘pardon me, have I read this small fry’s belly correctly,’ it was a whooping, “hot damn!”
Scully snorted, Mulder boomed out a laugh, and the rest of the ladies shot looks back and forth just short the speed of sound. Skinner arrived in the doorway a few moments later, Will slung over one arm, facing out, shirt declaring the Mulder-Scully family news for the world to see.
There was more whooping once the information about double the baby came out two minutes later.
&&&&&&&&&&
Scully’s regular pants could only hold out so long. She expanded faster with the latest additions and sliding on her stretchy, elastic, ‘oh thank God the button breaking isn’t going to kill whomever is in front of me’ pants, she sighed in relief, “I have a feeling these kids are going to come out weighing a combined 30 pounds, with full sets of teeth and obscene amounts of hair. Fingers crossed they don’t split me in two.”
Mulder witnessed all of this from the door to their bedroom, holding a wiggling Will in his arms, and ignoring the hair and teeth diatribe, “those pants are going to come in handy with all the food we’ll be eating today.”
Her stomach roiled for a moment, then calmed, “want to borrow a pair?”
“Don’t tempt me.” Handing Will to her, “give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Take your time. I’m going to have to pee again in a few minutes anyways.”
“Are you sure there aren’t three kids in there?” She gave him a good, old-fashioned Scully look and he grinned, “I recall something about wanting five or six kids anyway.”
“Not all at once.”
Once in the car, Scully groped for his phone nestled against the shifter, then held it out to him, “you should call your mom.”
Mrs. Mulder had declined their invitation, citing the long drive and feeling slightly rundown. Mulder, sitting carefully upright, the containers of food stacked on his lap warming his legs through their thermal bags, “I can do it tonight.”
Knowing him as she did, she knew he’d be in some sort of food coma and needing a nap before he finished chewing the last forkful of sweet potatoes, “I love you but you’ll forget by tonight, and besides, she should hear about Bean 2 & 3.”
Knowing she was right, he took the phone, “hey, mom, it’s me.”
The conversation lasted beyond Scully parking the car, turning off the ignition, and leaning back, twisting slightly to watch him finish his conversation. He called his mother almost every Saturday, from the road or the living room, but today’s exchange made him smile wider than normal and ending with, “I will call on Saturday and figure things out, okay?” A moment later, the still oddly-stilted even after decades ‘love you, have a good night’ would never cease to have her putting her hand on his arm, fingers squeezing gently.
“What are we figuring out?”
Mulder, staring from the phone to his wife, then smiling again, “she would like to come for Christmas.”
&&&&&&&&&&&
This Thanksgiving was by far the largest dinner Maggie had hosted to date. Bill was in town, the Gunmen arrived with flaming pudding and bags of homemade rolls, Betty showed up with her mild-mannered husband Jonathan, and the surprise of the evening, John Doggett waved a friendly hello from his station at the stove, where he had been given the job of mashing at least 30 pounds of taters.
There was barely a pause before Mulder waved back and Scully called hello. Skinner, tactful as always, whispered a minute later than Maggie had invited him the night before, when she had answered the house phone that Doggett had accidently called.
Scully grinned, “does she have enough chairs for everybody?”
“She says pregnant people and guests get dibs on chairs but for the rest of us, it’s every man for himself.”
Mulder opened his mouth but Scully stopped him, “no, my pregnancy does not carry over to you.”
Fake punching her in the chin with Will’s little fist, “then you better save me a seat.”
Nibbling Will’s tiny fingers, she looked at her husband with a grin, “sorry buddy, can’t save seats in Maggie’s kitchen.”
He kissed her nose, “you have moved off my favorite person list.”
An hour later, the table was groaning under the weight of the feast and Maggie, after prayers, threatened each and every present occupant of the kitchen, those standing at the counters and those who managed to get seats, “if anyone throws, flings, whips, chucks, whings, or launches anything that should not be naturally in the air, I will not be a happy camper and if anyone here remembers the incident of 1992 first-hand or via re-telling, do not push me on this.”
23 people nodded simultaneously.
Mulder wanted to laugh but feared for his life as well as his dinner. He hadn’t managed to get a seat so he was standing beside Skinner at the kitchen island, but he had a good vantage point of those behind Maggie, who were grinning at her statement but managed to go straight-faced when she whipped round to address them with pointed finger, “I am not kidding.”
Charlie, who had snagged a seat by pushing his eldest to the ground, “yes, mother.”
Jake, who had been picked up off the floor by Mulder, and was now eating on Mulder’s other side, “yes, grandma.”
Maggie bounced her look between the two, “you are both going to give me gray hair.” Settling into her chair, which everyone had wisely left empty for her, “in the immortal words of your late father, grandfather, and uncle, ‘he who eats the fastest, gets the mostest!”
Everyone moved at once, bowls passing from hand to hand, slowly emptying and miraculously being refilled from the many overflow pots and pans in the oven and on the stove. Mulder, wanting another roll, called out to Charlie, who was hording the bread basket, “hey, Charlie, can you send the rolls up here?”
And Charlie, being Charlie, quick as lightning grabbed the requested bread and under his mother’s speechless gaze, slow-tossed it the ten feet to Mulder in a perfect arc, directly over Maggie’s head.
Maggie’s mouth opened to deliver some choice words but Charlie stopped her with his disarming grin and a Scully-pointer finger directed at her, “you can’t yell at me. That was a toss. I tossed the roll to Mulder. You said we couldn’t throw, fling, whip, chuck, whing, or launch. I didn’t do any of those things. I tossed.”
His mother’s squinted stare should have melted his skin off, burned a hole through his skull but he squinted right back at her and all of a sudden, her chin wobbled, then, half-a-moment later, a grin burst forth, a hearty chuckle following which led immediately to out-and-out laughter, tears rolling soon after.
Charlie leaned back and bit into another roll, “love you, mom.”
A spoonful of mashed potatoes smacked him in the center of the forehead and stuck there while he continued to chew.
Maggie, still laughing, licked her now-empty spoon, thankful her aim had been dead-on, “don’t mess with me, boy.”
Once everyone had returned to their normal state of eating, Mulder felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Stealing a look at the number, he excused himself and headed to the living room, waving away Scully’s sudden concerned look, whispering, “it’s just mom.”
Mulder returned a few minutes later, heading back to his plate but looking not quite as jovial as he had when he left. He joined back in the conversation, diving into the discussion of the current football season with Matt and Doggett, who was standing across from him.
&&&&&&&&&&&
It took another hour but finally the table was cleared, the dishes were done, and dessert was displayed but intact on the table, waiting until there had been some digestion before delving back in. Scully looked around, realizing quickly that Mulder was gone. Handing a milk-drunk Will to Joanna, she went in search of him, finding him upstairs in her old room, sitting quietly in the dark on the bed.
“Hey you. You feel okay?” Looking up at her, she finally saw the anguish in his eyes. Sitting quickly beside him, “what happened? What did your mom tell you when she called?”
“It, uh … it wasn’t my mom who called. It was my aunt.” Leaning forward on his bended knees, he held his chin as he told her quietly, “my mom died about an hour before Veronica called me.”
This time, she was the one offering the multiple ‘holy shit’s’ in the living room.
“Holy Shit, Mulder.”
He shook his head at her, still stunned, “yeah, that’s what keeps running through my head as well.” Dropping back into the couch cushions, Will settled quietly on his lap, baby feet tapping a sporadic rhythm on Mulder’s belly, “she was an odd duck but not in a Layla odd way or a Dogget odd way. We talked for several hours and she believes everything I do and then some. I mean,” picking up Will and planting a kiss on his nose, received a giggle and a kiss right back, much stickier given the applesauce he had been eating when Mulder arrived home, “it’s like if you took all my ghosts, goblins, demons, and darkness and smashed them together with your ‘God does weird shit, don’t mess with him’ beliefs.” Wiping off the sticky kiss, “essentially, Monica Reyes is our fully formed love child.”
“That’s disturbing.”
Mulder’s hands went up, then moved to grip his head, fingers tugging at his hair, “I know! If she were to actually get this to work, she’d need somebody more disbelieving, yet easygoing, than Doggett to keep her in check. I mean … God …” he let his smile curve half his face, “it’s finally catching on.”
Scully couldn’t smile back at the moment, “you want to go with her, don’t you?”
He gave her a look that would be comical in any other circumstance, “what? No.” Comical moved to concrete, “I’ve got you and the youngling and two more beans on the way.” He raised a well-learned imitation Scully eyebrow at her, “now, if for some reason, I hadn’t managed to get you to fall in love with me and reproduce, I would think that you would be a pretty good fit to work with her at first. You’d be able to argue her religious leanings even though you believe them.”
“Are you saying that, if I hadn’t finally allowed you the pleasure of seeing me naked and doing the reproducing, you would have shipped me to southern Louisiana without a second thought?”
Standing, he retrieved a bag of M&Ms from the cupboard, handing them to her, red mixed with all the other colors, “do we need to review the contents of this bag and their meaning, young lady?”
By now, she was grinning, Will safely resting against her hip, “maybe later, once the kid is sound asleep.”
Mulder kissed her, first on the forehead, then, because he was totally allowed without getting smacked, on her mouth, “I am not going anywhere. You are not going anywhere. But I can’t guarantee things aren’t going to get a little weird here for awhile if I need to go for a week or so, just to see what she has down there.” Kissing her again, “maybe I’ll even bring you with me. Leave Will in the charge of his Gunmen uncles. Eat beignets naked in the jacuzzi, lick excess powdered sugar off your thighs, wander a little around the city without crutches and stitches and concussions, oh my.”
Shifting Will a little, she leaned up, kissing the dent in his chin, “when do we leave?”
“No comments on the Gunmen uncles?”
“Not right now. I will probably have some later but right now, I’m thinking I’d like to take your pants off.”
“Always my pants with you.”
&&&&&&&&&
Two a.m. and both were awake, room dark, mattress soft, voices low, “if this works, Scully … if she finds a partner and solves some things, and honestly, doesn’t get killed in the process, this will be phenomenal.”
“I know it will but it’s going to take awhile. She’s going to need someone she trusts who can do the medical side of all this, and she’s going to have to find them on her own.”
“You were assigned to me.”
“Yeah, and remember how much fun that was at the beginning. It took a few years for you to trust me.”
“Naw, I trusted you from the beginning.”
Poking him in the side, she moved to run her fingers lightly over his ribs, enjoying the hot skin under her hand, “you tolerated me from the beginning. You thought I was ‘hot’ from the beginning. You wanted me naked from the beginning. You didn’t trust me from the beginning.”
Mulder rolled to his side, his own hand gliding over her ribs and down over her bare ass, “you let me see you naked from the beginning so that one doesn’t count against me.”
“Half-naked.”
“Not in my mind.”
Scooting herself up against him, she closed her eyes, deep breath in signaling sleep not far away, “your version, my version, and, if you don’t mind, I’d like to not be talking about Monica Reyes while legitimately naked this time.”
He wiggled himself down until he could get her nipple into his mouth, hand still firmly on her ass, debating a finger slide in, “have I ever told you what I thought about doing after you barged into my room in that cute little bra?”
“Is it anything like what you’re thinking about doing now?”
“Not quite. Had I been debating fingering your ass like I am now,” finger indeed toying and dipping, “I would have definitely kicked you out of the room and gotten off in like a minute and a half.”
Scully was quite awake again and hips moving unconsciously, “then what were you thinking?”
“That there was a possibility, that if I could just get you to believe me, just once …” finger diving deeper, slipping easier, “then maybe I could get up enough courage to ask you out on a date.”
Her own hand maneuvered to her clit, just as wet as the rest of her, “there would have been a distinct possibility that if you had told me how good you were with your hands, I’d have said ‘yes’ even if I didn’t believe you.”
Mulder rolled her over, finger never wavering, until she was on her back and he had easier access. Shifting to his knees, he crouched over her, watching her, adoring her, “can you come?”
Hips bucking up, “are you kidding?”
With a laugh, he moved as deep as possible, her muscles spasming moments later around him, choking the blood flow to his finger for a few seconds until everything relaxed, the sheen of sweat on her forehead and chest making him grin, “good round one?”
Pretense gone, “go wash your hand.”
He did not argue.
By three, Mulder was pulling out of her, twice for him, three for her, towel underneath them soaked, her hair a damp, fluffy mass, his arm muscles shaking, bite marks to his collar bone stinging, bruises to her hips darkening from his iron grip as he pounded into her with enough force to knock the headboard against the wall.
“How did we not wake up small fry?”
Heart finally slowing, “no idea but don’t question it.” Getting her rolling eyeballs under control, “thank you.”
Collapsing beside her, “are you kidding? We left a dent in the wall. Thank you.”
“Do you think we made the twins seasick?”
Mulder laughed, “at least they won’t remember it.”
Mulder looked from the monitor to Scully and back to the monitor, fingers nervously touching the screen, then pulling back quickly, wondering if touching the image would make it disappear, “but … there’s two.”
Having regained her faculties, she bumped shoulders with him, losing the connection to her belly but not minding, given she had already captured the picture, “maybe that’s why I’m more vomit-y than with Will.”
He didn’t even call her on the use of the word vomit-y, “How did you not see the first time we did this?”
“All I can think of is one was hiding behind the other and besides, they aren’t that big. Lima Bean 2 may have looked like an air bubble.”
Squinting at her in wonder, “what will you give me to get me to promise never to tell one of our children that for the first two months of their life, you thought they were a fart bubble?”
Wiping the goo off her belly, sliding her shirt back down, “it’ll give them character. I’m fine with it.”
“You’re getting a shirt.”
As she stood up, “I’ll wear it with pride but first,” already moving down the hall, “I’m going to throw up.”
&&&&&&&&&
True to his word, he had a shirt for her which read, “I thought my baby was a fart bubble,” by the time he came home from work the next day but Scully chose not to wear it trick-or-treating, “I don’t want to go declaring things until I’m further along.”
“I know but I think it will go under your sweater just fine.”
Seeing the shine in his eyes and his ‘you’re gonna cave’ grin, she shook her head and pulled sweater off, leaving exposed slightly not so flat belly, “I am going to be huge by the end of May.” She stopped suddenly, “what if they have the same birthday as Will?”
“I know a guy who knows a guy who could do a spell or at least cast a charm that would totally make that happen.”
Oh my God, she honestly thought she might know the guy he was talking about, and with a serious notionative thought that would have scared the bejeesus out of her a few years early, she actually debated on whether to have Mulder get him on the phone.
Sometimes she stopped and wondered what in the world had happened to her straight and narrow life.
He saw first the debate and reached for his pocket, phone within inches, number already floating through the slag to the surface of his consistently cluttered mind, but then he noticed the two seconds of sheer doubt in the entire world and he stopped, reaching into his other pocket instead, to produce a red M&M. Picking off lint, he held it out to her, “this is for you so you remember why you like me.”
Scully ate it from his fingertips, “momentary lapse of reason. It’s gone now.”
Trick-or-treating went well. Scully, Mulder, Dave, and Skinner traveled with the pack while the other parents stayed to pass out candy at Maggie’s. Will pulled in a good haul simply because the alien costume Mulder had made was incredibly adorable, with its green fuzzy material and it hood with giant eyes. Mulder had demanded gray but Scully won, telling him no one would know what he was if the costume was gray.
As a reward for winning, she agreed to share a quarter of her son’s take with his father, “a quarter? What the hell?”
Whispering to him, “three mouths to feed. I get three-quarters.”
He contemplated, then conceded, following with a cocked head, “we’ll have to do things to burn off the sugar high, won’t we?”
“Indeed we will.”
Skinner simply shook his head at the whispering and the giggling of his agents trailing behind, “keep up with the rest of the class, kids. I don’t want you getting lost back there.”
Taking Scully’s hand, pushing the stroller with the other, “come on. Dad doesn’t want us to get lost.”
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Mulder walked off the elevator the following morning, immediately bombarded by the smell of patchouli and cigarette smoke. Neither smell was to his liking and he entered the office asking, in an irritated voice, “what the hell is that smell?”
A dark-haired woman turned around, answering him in a no-nonsense clip that he would have appreciated had he not already decided she was a pain in his ass given that the smell of smoke that clung to her was even worse once he was in the room, “my name is Monica Reyes.”
Neither Doggett nor Harrison were anywhere to be seen and Mulder narrowed his gaze at her, “how can I help you, Monica Reyes, because there are only roughly nine people who know we exist down here and you are not one of them.”
Non-plussed by the closed and suspicious tone of one Fox Mulder, she held out her hand, never blinking, never looking away, “you must be Agent Mulder. John’s told me a lot about you.”
Ignoring her hand and knowing he was being rude, he continued, “what brand of cigarettes do you smoke?”
Monica tilted her head at him, finally become irritated, “none. The smell on me is from two days of staying with my stepmother. She smokes Marlboro, not that it’s any of your business, while I have never so much as thought about smoking anything, given she has lung cancer and is on track to die a slow, suffocating death. Her name is Patricia. You could call and ask her yourself but that may be hard, given she breathes, and smokes, through a tube in her neck.”
Mulder felt sufficiently horrible by now and shutting his eyes, he regrouped, this time meeting her hand that continued to hover between them, “I’m sorry. I have innate suspicions.”
“Of smokers? Strangers? Women named Patricia?”
All in, “yes.”
“Are you done being an asshole?”
“Probably not but I’ll do my best to keep it to a minimum.” It felt weird to be called out by someone who wasn’t his wife or his boss, “what can I do for you, Miss Reyes?”
“It’s actually Agent Reyes. I’m up here from New Orleans to talk to both you and to my friend, John.”
He was having a fine morning, “can we maybe start over? Let me come back in here and be … less … total dipshit?”
Monica laughed, “you’re fine. John informed me of your incredibly low tolerance for anyone who wasn’t Agent Scully. I actually expected this exchange to be worse.”
Shaking his head, “for what it’s worth, I’m sorry again and,” looking around, “moving on, where is Doggett? He would have had to let you in here.”
“He’s up stealing us the good Danish. It seems the third floor has the best in the building.”
Mulder’s stomach growled loudly, “I hope he steals enough for everyone.” It finally sank in where she was from, “New Orleans, you said, right? Did you come up here to escape Halloween in the city?”
“I love Halloween in the city. It’s almost as much fun as Mardi Gras but without so many boobs and beads but the best is actually tonight, which is ‘Day of the Dead.’ I’m missing one of the best parties of the year to be here.”
Offering her a seat and heading to his behind the desk, “should I be honored?”
“More like informative.” Sitting, back straight, arms loosely crossed, “I’d like to start an X-Files division down south.”
It was a quiet Thursday, a peaceful Thursday during which Scully decided to have her fun. She’d gotten her two-lined, pink, positive ‘so you’re having a baby, now what?’ plastic perfection results an hour earlier and the plan was set.
Hell, it wasn’t so much a plan as a onesie she needed to go find and had six hours with which to purchase and, oh yes, the baby store did not disappoint. One onesie purchased, she grocery shopped, then headed home, getting Will all spiffy in his new outfit so she could spring her surprise when Mulder got home.
He rolled in about 5:30pm, happy in the idea that, while there was no Thursday card party, he’d get to have his own tiny party of three, complete with spitting up baby, slightly tired Scully, possibly garlic breadsticks and ranch-drenched salad (she’d converted him to the point where he did not internally gag at the thought of salad so score one for Scully).
“What in the world is wrong with you today?”
Scully, who kept losing the fight with her face, grinning unexpectedly every few minutes, shook her head at him, “nothing a little chocolate cake couldn’t cure.”
She was weird.
He told her so.
She smiled again.
He gave up and grinned back as he asked, “what would you like for dinner? I was having fairly good fantasies about breadsticks and salad on my way home.”
Honestly not caring, “works for me.”
“Wysinski’s Pizza Palace or John’s Slices and Sticks?”
She’d purposely gotten Will’s lunch on his shirt and handing him to Mulder, “John’s sounds good. Why don’t you go change his shirt and I’ll order.”
“Ranch, please.”
Fiddling with the phone, she snuck up, standing silent in the doorway to watch Mulder with his large hands, flip and flop their 14-pound son around like he weighed approximately four ounces. Then all movement stopped.
She watched the back of Mulder’s head tilt one way, then the other, then back to first position. Holding Will up at eye-level, he brought the boy closer, then moved him about a foot away. Scully could almost see the squint on Mulder’s face and, biting her tongue to keep from laughing, she instead watched Will giggle when he caught her eye, flailing tiny fists around in ‘I see my mama!’ glee.
Without turning around, Mulder asked Will, “is your mother behind us?”
Will responded with a raspberry.
“I see.” Mulder continued to regard his son, “and it’s pretty safe to assume you did not drive to the store yourself today to buy this particular piece of clothing, yes?”
Wet fist to Mulder’s cheek.
“Okay. Well, then, I guess I should just ask, given I believe you will tell me the truth, if you are indeed going to be a big brother or if this is some randomly cruel joke you have decided to play on your father without your mother’s consent?”
Will wiggled ecstatically, throwing another gummy grin in Scully’s direction before coming in fast to gnaw on the end of Mulder’s nose.
“I will take that as a ‘no, this is not a cruel joke.’”
Will squeezed Mulder’s face with pudgy hands.
Mulder’s voice rose a notch, “I know you’re back there so you might as well just come in and explain yourself, young lady.”
Pushing gently off the doorway she’d been leaning on, “I didn’t think there was much to explain.”
Turning, Mulder held up Will in her direction, so she could clearly see the onesie stating ‘big brother’ on it, “you will explain how you waited a whole half-day to tell me this little tidbit.” His smile lit up the room, “and it better have only been half a day because if you kept this to yourself any longer than that, we’d be having words.”
“8:15 this morning, after you left. I had my suspicions, of course,” moving to stand in front of him, taking the tiny, wriggling, bearer of beautiful news, in her arms, “but I didn’t want to tell you anything until I knew for sure.”
Long kiss to her forehead, then her mouth, “you are forgiven for 9 hours of indiscriminate lying, and what? Two weeks of secrets? One week? Three weeks?” He looked at her, eyebrows up, “how long before suspicion turns into peeing on a stick?”
“About two weeks.”
Forgetting pizza, clean shirts, and current squirming baby, he squished her in a hug, “it was that Mexican night on the couch, wasn’t it?”
Chuckling as she pulled back a little to give her son some breathing space, “I think it was. Then or the next morning, when you decided the lean me over the kitchen table.”
For the love of Pete, he looked proud, “nice.”
“Oh, my, God, you are such a Mulder.”
His own chuckle escaped, “so are you now, in theory, and don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy either encounter.”
She could only shrug, half-smile hidden by Will’s head, “new plan. You order, I feed little monster here and then, maybe, after he falls asleep, we can re-enact a few things.”
“Do I get to lick ranch off of you?”
“I was thinking more about the chocolate pudding I made yesterday, but, I mean, to each their own.”
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
The clock has just turned over to 10 when Mulder sat back, pudding spread from cheek to cheek, licking his lips, “that is possibly the most erotically odd flavor combination in the world. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat pudding again in the company of anyone but you.”
Splayed in front of him, towel under her ass to catch pudding run-off, she gave him a slack-jawed smile, “you should come up here and let me taste it.”
Another few minutes later, Scully pulled back a little, “I have a suggestion.”
Licking her collarbone because it was what he could reach at the moment, “yes?”
“Let me go pee and shower quick, then I come back and give you a taste of your own medicine.”
He bobbed back up to attention in seconds, “can I come shower with you?”
“You can, but you’re just going to need another one by the time I’m done.”
Leaving a pudding ring around her nipple, “three showers in one day never killed a guy.”
&&&&&&&&&&
Third shower done by 11, Mulder snuggled up behind Scully, sleepy and dry, pudding-free and warm, “two kids, Scully. We’re going to have two kids. Two kids in diapers, two kids demanding food, two college tuitions, two sets of new shoes every six months … two rugrat Mulder-Scully’s to argue with over clean socks and dirty underwear.”
“Who said we’re stopping at two?”
He hugged her tightly to his chest, a happy squiggle vibrating up his spine, “are we going to go for a full baseball team?”
“So, what are you going to do with Walter on Saturday?”
He’d forgotten he was in charge of the stepfather-in-law, “shit.”
“You can always just take him to work, have him watch you look up stuff, steal books from various locations in the Hoover Building. I’ve done it. It’s a very scintillating Saturday activity.”
Taking the book from her lap and tossing it over his shoulder, he crawled up her body, settling nicely between thighs, nose buried beside ear, “when do I get to have sex with you again?”
“Did the word ‘scintillating’ do it for you?”
“Your eyes, your voice, your smell, your breathing did it for me but yeah, scintillating just ramped it up a notch or two.”
Knowing Will was in the bedroom with baby monitor on, she slid her hands down the back of his cut-off sweats, elastic shot, easy access, fingers squeezing before he comprehended, “you should take these off.”
Well, now, that overwhelmed any and all capacity for free thinking so he simply followed orders, stripping himself then her of all impeding clothing, sliding into her slowly, carefully, knowing she’d stop him if something was wrong but something must have been right because the sound lowing from the back of her throat made him dizzy, drove his hips forward, lips attached to the pulsing vein in her neck, debating for the briefest of moments if he ever really had to leave such a perfect heaven, to eat, to drink, to breathe.
Then Scully’s hips shifted, legs pulling him just a little bit closer, pushing a little bit further, driving a little bit harder …
How he had survived these last months without this, he’d never know.
As he relished in the wet warmth, Scully began talking to him, low things, dirty things, shifting from sentences to fragments to single-word filth, what she’d been dreaming of, awake and asleep, for several months and centuries, words punctuated with deeper thrusts and heavier breaths, one bead of sweat leading to pools and rivers, skin sliding, invoking God and Mulder and God again, endless string of ramped up conversation, Mulder joining, describing, seeing stars, blinking amazement, closing eyes to everything but her, slapping thwap to make her find the edge, fly over, fall down in gasping growl as he followed, filling, finishing, dropping back, forehead against her collar bone, her fingers drawing across smooth muscle and hot skin, “I love you.”
“Not as much as I love you.”
&&&&&&&&&
It was only after they’d gotten up for midnight snacks and to feed Will, the pair sitting on the couch, dim and quiet, baby in her arms still eating in his sleep, that Mulder returned to the question posed several hours earlier, “you know, maybe we’ll just take the kids to the zoo or the aquarium. Skinner’ll like that and it’ll kill the whole day and the kids won’t be running around while everybody gets ready.”
“I think he’ll like that, too, and you’ll get to see the manatees and the turtles.”
“And the stingrays. Don’t forget the stingrays.”
“And the stingrays.” Giving him a smile, “you’re going to buy a stuffed stingray, aren’t you?”
“Darn tootin’, little miss.” Lightly wiggling Will’s toes, “the boy here needs to start his collection of stuff-ed vicious sea animals.” Given the dark and the 11:45pm time frame, he kept hold of his son’s feet while glancing up at her through half-closed lids, “so, I have a question and you have to promise not to yell or get all pissy about it.”
“Are you going to ask me something that will guarantee me to break my promise?”
“I don’t think so but you never know.”
Shifting the baby, she gave him a side-eye glance, “fire away, poor boy.”
“We just had sex and it was really, really good sex but we didn’t use any protection and what … well, what if we just made Will there a little brother or sister?”
She had been expecting a monumental nonsense or fiery death daggers from the sky type question and hearing this instead, she gave him a smile, “then I get a little rounder and clumsier and hungrier and eventually we buy a house.”
“But what about work?”
“As you have told me, on multiple occasions and with varying displays of our bank account, I don’t need to work to live anymore.” Wiggling her feet in his direction until he let go of his son’s and took his wife’s, “and while I love what I do, I will gladly give it up for my kids … our kids.”
He had been expecting vast amounts of brimstone to descend from the heavens instead of quiet exchange in regards to his second question and asking his third, “will you expect me to do the same?”
“I expect you to remain safely out of harm’s way. You will think of your kid or kids first and foremost and come home every night whole and perfect like you are right now.” Tilting her head towards him, eye twinkling, “well, except for that mustard on your chin. You can probably clean that off whenever you like.”
After removing mustard, he licked his finger, then gave her a smile, “so should we try to have another one then? ‘Cause we can go give it a whirl right now.”
And out came her little grimace, “I think I need a day to recover a little. Rusty muscles and all.”
“We are totally naming our band ‘Rusty Muscles’ and you can’t stop me.”
&&&&&&&&&
They had to borrow the Gunmen’s van to get everybody to the aquarium, Mulder riding shotgun, because, as Skinner emphatically put it while holding out his hands for the keys, “I’ve seen you drive the Beltway. Hand them over.”
And hand them he did, wishing he could argue the comment but, knowing full well he did drive the Beltway like a man possessed but so did the rest of the assholes surrounding him doing 90, he kept his mouth shut and relished the idea of not having to do anything but discuss verboten things like monsters and aliens with those in the car under the age of 14.
“Does everybody have their buddy? Do you know your buddy’s name? Does your buddy know your name?”
Hannah held up her hand, firmly grasping Toby, “I have my buddy and I’m calling him Iggy today.”
“Does he know his name is Iggy?”
Toby responded with a giggle, “I’m Iggy and she’s Sprinkles.”
“What’s with the name change? Witness protection?”
Sam answered before Hannah could, “we all got new names last night. I’m Phineas Fartmonger. Iggy is Ignatius Popperton …”
Mulder laughed, “Iggy Pop. That was your dad’s doing.”
“Yeah but he wouldn’t let us listen to any of the songs.”
“Smart man.”
Sam continued, pointing to Jake, “he’s Peterson J. Jabberwocky. Hannah’s is the best, she’s ‘Sassy Sprinklepants’. Betsy is ‘Big Money Lil’ Bets.” Aiming at poor Graham beside him, “he’s Donald X. Angryeyebrows.”
Graham interjected, “I wasn’t having a very good day.”
“Matt, tell him yours.”
Matt, a head taller than the rest of the kids, shrugged, a half-smile playing on his lips, “Betty Sue Freemont-Freeloader.”
Mulder couldn’t breathe by now and vowed to call them all by their new names until roughly the end of time, “you are all getting t-shirts with your names for Christmas. Swear to Scully’s God.”
Toby, most excellent small fry, “You shouldn’t swear, Uncle Mudler. Mama says you’ll burn in hell if you swear.”
Toby got to eat Mulder’s whipped cream during their afternoon ice cream break.
Finishing pairing up, Betsy claimed Uncle Skimmer, Graham claimed Jake and Jake claimed Graham, leaving Mulder, Matt and Sam to be a manly team that didn’t hold hands but hovered in an orderly fashion around the rest of them, herding wandering pairs back to the crowd and keeping any and all from drowning in the stingray pond.
Skinner never inquired as to why he and Mulder were day-tripping to the aquarium, going along without question or comment, wiping faces, holding sticky hands, eating leftover breadcrusts and sharing popsicles with both Betsy and Toby. He did, however, lean over to Mulder as they were waiting for the kids to finish their last bathroom breaks, “so, should they get some kind of final reward for not spilling whatever beans they’re keeping in?”
Mulder shrugged, “they deserve a gold medal but they’ll be happy with what’s coming.”
Skinner gave him another look, eyebrow raised, “there’d better be pie.”
Rubbing his hands together with a wicked grin, “and adult beverages for later.”
“Thank God.”
&&&&&&&&
Party proclaimed a success by all invited, it was nearly midnight before Will fell asleep in the kitchen in the beat-up, overused, built to last basinet that Maggie kept for all visitors under the age of 1. Mulder parked his son in the corner by the island and turned to his wife, the swaying red-head who had taken her first sip of Punch a scant 25 minutes ago, “drunk yet?”
“I do not get drunk, Mulder, I get tipsy.” And tip she did, feet not receiving walking orders after her body heard them loud and clear. Luckily, the wall and Skinner caught her, “see, tipsy.”
“Oh, my God.” With a grin, he gently took her arms and sat her down in a chair, “you should not be this weird already. You’ve only had half a glass.”
“But I have been without the liquors for almost a year. My body has forgotten.” Sticking her tongue out, “is it blue?”
“Oh, it’s blue, all right, and you had the liquors a week and a half ago.”
“It takes years of practice, Mudler. One night of the liquors does not a tolerant system make.” Sticking her tongue back out, “it is blue. Can you imagine if I breast-fed Will right now? He would be blue.” Giggling, she slapped Mulder’s thigh, “he would be blue, Mudler. Blue!”
Sometimes, he wished he had a video camera to capture these precious moments, “yes, very blue and the lovely protective services people would come and take him away because we made him blue.” Leaving her to discuss the merits of blue babies with herself, he turned to Maggie, “your daughter manages to say ‘one night of the liquors does not a tolerant system make’ but can’t remember my name.” Sitting down at the table, “where the hell did she come from?”
Home after dark, waking up in the dark, getting dressed, eating, changing a wayward diaper, double locking front door, Mulder stretched as he walked towards the car, wondering just how long his day would be quiet.
Not as long as he expected.
Apparently, his day was good for 1 hour, 22 minutes then hell arrived in the form of short, blond pep.
He’d called Agent Harrison as soon as he made it to the office, leaving her a message saying he’d like to meet with her sometime in the next day or two to discuss her file and the work of the X-Files. Instead of calling, setting up a time, following protocol, she arrived in the basement with a speedy click of heels and teeth … lots of white, smiling teeth.
That’s all he saw of her at first: rows of white, pearly teeth, straight, shiny.
Then her hand arrived, out to shake before he managed to stand up straight, brush off his donut crumbs, remember how to focus on something more than four inches from his face. Taken aback, he stared at the tiny hand, cheap watch, sleeve of suit jacket pulled up above narrow wrist …
Holy fuck …
Scully had re-enlisted in the form of Leyla Harrison.
Just, as he would learn in the next two minutes, a little, well, hell, a shitload more, enthusiastic.
Scully had begun arguing with him within the first two minutes.
Agent Harrison gushed about the X-Files and all their virtues and beauty for the first five minutes before he finally cut her off, “hi. You must be Agent Harrison. I didn’t expect you here quite so quickly. Would you like to sit down?”
Oh, God, as soon as the words left his mouth, he cringed. He offered her a chair. A place to settle in, talk until she used all the air in the room, suffocated him with words of undying devotion.
He let her ramble a few more minutes before pulling her back in again, “I’m sorry, Agent Harrison, would you like a cup of tea, coffee?”
Giving her something to hold did the trick, her hands occupied, her mouth slowing until he could process the words and sentences rolling towards him, “yes, thank you, Agent Mulder, coffee, please. I’m sorry.” Looking down at the cup he handed her moments later, “I have a tendency to blather, a lot, when I meet people I admire.”
And with that, she held her tongue.
Good lord, he actually liked her.
He really’d been hoping he wouldn’t.
But he did.
At least for now.
&&&&&&&&&&&&
She left an hour and a half later and the first thing Mulder did was shut the door and call Scully, “what did you do to me?”
And feeling just a little bit saucy and a wee bit riled up, “nothing today but I have plans for you that’ll make your eyes roll back in your head.”
His mouth went dry for the slightest second then, grinning, “tell me more.”
Watching her son finish his bottle, she stood and headed into the kitchen, “I will once you get home but for right now, what did I do to you that I don’t know I did to you?”
“You sent me a woman who is enthusiastic, doesn’t shut up, adores everything about anything weird, supernatural, or out there, and thinks that both you and I are the shit.”
“Sorry. I’ll keep combing the files. There has to be somebody out there who hates you with every fiber of their being. I’ll find them. Don’t worry.”
“Sarcasm is your thing, Scully, let me tell you.” Sitting back in his chair, looking up at the sparse pencils still stuck in his ceiling, he made a mental note to add more in the future, “I will say though, once I began sifting through her babble, I found some good theories, ideas, directions I might not have taken.”
“Did you show her some cases?”
“Yeah. She did pretty well given she’s only every really worked in accounting. She’ll need a lot of handholding in the field but I’m seriously considering trying her out.” Because she was Scully and he was Mulder, he answered her before she could even ask, “but she doesn’t hold a candle to you.”
Seriously, she had to get these hormones under control, “I was going to ask if she believed in Big Blue.”
“Uh-huh. Sure you were. So, you want to hear about her?”
“No. It’ll be more fun with a live re-enactment.”
Not wanting to let her go just yet, “then tell me what you’re doing with that kid of ours.”
“We got up late so he just finished his bottle and I’m about to eat,” having warmed frozen pancakes and rolled them around some science-oven sausages, “dirty things for breakfast.”
“Sausages in sweaters! Without me? How dare you.”
She liked to make him smile.
&&&&&&&&&
John Doggett, on the other hand, called back and set up a time to meet, the next day, 1:30 in the afternoon.
He arrived 3 minutes, 10 seconds early and stepped off the elevator with about as much trepidation as a seasoned police officer could muster surrounded by copy paper, handcarts, and the prospect of working with Fox Mulder. Namely, he figured he’d get to see what all the fuss was about surrounding the X-files and what he hoped would be a decent cup of coffee. He’d been searching out re-assignment to the DC area, looking for a change of scenery, a change of boss, a change of his life in general …
And why not do the interview? It would be a temporary assignment, get him used to the city, allow him to meet other agents, see if the Hoover Building tickled his fancy.
Then he registered the yelling.
But it wasn’t angry yelling …
It was a good old-fashioned shouting match argument like the ones he used to have with his guys back before the Bureau.
Eyebrow raising slightly then dropping back in place, he listened to mention of bats, invisible snakes, bite marks, and some science-y jargon he could neither spell nor repeat even with gun to head. Wondering if he should just get the hell out now, the voices suddenly stopped, then the door opened further, “ahhh, see, I told you I thought I heard the elevator.”
John Doggett was confronted with a cautiously friendly Scully smile as she stepped slightly aside, “come on in … welcome to the basement.” Holding out her hand once he was inside, “I’m Agent Dana Scully and my partner there is Fox Mulder. If you heard mention of giant vampire bats, don’t hold it against him, the bite marks are remarkable similar.”
Mulder moved to shake his hand yet directed his words at Scully, “so you admit vampire bats exist, just not giant ones?”
Leaning over the car seat stationed safely dead center of a cluttered desk, she made sure their arguing hadn’t woken Will, “I never said they didn’t, Mulder. Common, hairy-legged, and white winged are well document in their species and while I don’t subscribe to there being ones with six-foot wingspans and the ability to drain a person of their entire blood supply, their faces have a slight resemblance to pigs and that amuses me enough to allow you to ramble on without me killing you with a stapler.”
Glancing sidelong at a silent Doggett, “he’s still here.”
“That’s a good sign.” Finally turning her attention to the new guy, “would you like a cup of coffee?”
&&&&&&&&&
They talked to him for over an hour, drilling him about cases, opinions, past alliances, and why he drank his coffee black. Mulder analyzed every little quirking finger twitch, non-invasive nose scratch, and random, rapid blink. Scully kept Mulder reigned in enough to not send Doggett screaming into the hallway.
Doggett wondered what the hell kind of circus ride he might be getting himself into and how long it would be before both the agents in front of him were carted off by the lovely men in white coats with caged-lined vans.
Finally, the pair seemed to have finished their interrogation and Doggett got to open his mouth, his first sentence being, “I think the pair of you are thick as thieves and crazy to boot.”
Honest-to-God, Scully liked him and she thought that maybe Mulder might, too, “I keep his crazy in check.”
“She needs a little crazy every now and then. It works well for both of us.”
Doggett couldn’t help it. He had to smile, hang his head while doing it mind you, but smile, “I can only promise that I’ll do my best to solve these cases. I won’t be buying into the whole paranormal thing and I will never believe that Casper or Chuckie did it in the basement with magic herbs and a summoning circle but I will catch the bad guys, I guarantee it.”
Mulder folded his arm in a loose gesture of agreement to Scully’s unspoken question hanging between them, “he knows what a summoning circle is and whether he learned it on TV or from his hippie big sister, he used it properly in the sentence.”
“Mulder.”
Holding his hand out to Doggett, “feel like giving it a trial run?”
Without hesitation, he shook back, “when do I start?”
Life is back, jam-packed with M&Ms, Scully family shenanigans, terrible things, and wonderous ones … this series picks up maybe two weeks to a month after series three finished …
Sorry for the delay … life happens … hope you enjoy :)
“About ten minutes but at my rate of anger, I could make it there in four if I ran.”
Scully, baby strapped to her chest, paper plate of apples resting on his sleeping noggin as she read paperwork, “do you need to go to the shooting range before you get here? Take out some aggression on paper bad guys and ballistic foam?”
Mulder, for his part, was sitting in summer traffic, sweltering in the heat, Jeep air turned off to save gas given his empty light came on 24 miles ago and panic not yet overtaking anger at sullen, bitching temporary agents who told him, the ballsy pair they were, that they didn’t think a job in the basement would lead to anything but a dead end.
“I do not need the shooting range but I do need a hefty glass of something cold and to hold the kid for a few minutes. You, too, if available, but at least the kid.”
“Starting to regret this whole ‘find minions so you can come home alive’ scenario yet?”
“Ask me once,” car horn blaring and Mulder yelling obscenities out the windows, colorful and plentiful before coming back on the line, “I’ve showered and gotten gas.”
“How low are you?”
“I’ve got about three miles left in the golden zone, then I might be calling for a refill. Prep the baby for a rescue mission.”
“I’m using him to balance my apples right now but afterwards I’ll put on his cape and we’ll be good to go.”
Finally smiling, having seen the apple balancing act before, “have you read the files yet?”
“Going through them again now. I hate to say it but that Doggett guy is starting to look really good. There’s also a woman named Harrison in here that seems decent as well. Doggett would be the gritty, no-nonsense one and she could play the role of you.” Finishing her last bite, she tossed the plate on the counter and smudge-wiped apple juice drippings from her son’s nose, “we’ll argue it when you get home.”
Finally, finally, finally having pulled far enough along in traffic to coast his way into the gas station, he breathed a stifling sigh of humidity-laden relief, “it’s fucking hot out here. Why aren’t we at the beach again?”
Hearing the sound of the gas pump, she sighed herself at not having to perform requested rescue mission in the 100-degree heat, “give me twenty minutes to pack and we can be on the road by 7. I’ll bring the files, you bring the lead foot.”
“Don’t wave that temptation in my face, young lady. Too hot to fight it.”
“Who said I was kidding?”
&&&&&&&&
Good to her word, she met him at the door twenty minutes later, baby stuff, her stuff, his stuff, food stuff, all that stuff he liked ‘cause it was stuff, piled beside her, “go change your pants. We leave in five.”
He stopped on the front stoop, “you were waiting for me.”
“Always.” Smiling and kissing him as she reached out to pull him inside, “now get your ass upstairs.”
He would have done more to her but given they were on the front porch and in broad daylight and he was soaked to his socks and underwear in sweat and there was a baby between them and stuff would be poking him in the back and his parts, he simply returned the kiss and hauled up the steps.
Sooner than later, he was back in the car, driving east, feeling the pull of a cottage and his family together, work disappearing behind him in the distance, except for the pile of files Scully had stashed in her bag and they weren’t talking about those just yet. Will was sleeping in his seat, facing away from them, mirror showing he was still there and not crawling through the luggage in the trunk. Scully was offering peanut M&Ms to Mulder one at a time, intermingling red licorice twists and grapes, an odd mix in general but highly enjoyed because he had the chance to kiss her fingers, lick her knuckles, taste her skin, “are you trying to make me fat?”
“Trying to keep you awake … besides, the grapes are healthy. It all evens out in the end.”
“I remember a time when you were better at math and made me eat more salad.”
“Would you like me to throw the M&Ms out the window?”
“God, no. Feed me more.”
&&&&&&&&&
Pulling over once for diaper changing and once for real food, they rolled up to the house just before midnight, the ocean air filling the car 20 minutes before they found the driveway, the waves waiting to greet them until he’d shut off the Jeep, giving an instant, relaxed atmosphere and friendly darkness to the late night.
“Did you pack my suit?”
“Don’t want to swim naked in the ocean?”
Reaching across and poking her cheek, “you are saucy as hell today which I love but sand issues notwithstanding, I don’t want fish and sharks nibbling on my balls.”
She couldn’t respond to that except to nod, her grin giddy and free, “I have your suit, never fear. I remember the diatribe on sharks and your balls, believe me.”
“Want me to empty the car before you bring Will in?”
“All you have to grab is his crib, his diaper bag and that red suitcase. Everything else can wait until tomorrow.”
“Aye, aye, cap’n.”
He carried the necessary stuffs in in one major armful and Scully followed with Will, all three soon in respective beds, sheets changed, windows open, baby snoring lightly on his back, Scully snuggled into Mulder, thin pajama barrier between them, “I’ve forgotten how much I love it here.”
Moving her head back to kiss his chin, she kept her voice low, “We need to come here more often so that doesn’t happen.”
“Are you proposing we winter-fy this place and move permanently?”
“Remember what happens when either of us it tempted?”
“We get married; we make babies; we take spur of the moment trips to our seaside shack …”
Interrupting briefly as she guided his hand to her mouth then down her neck, “you buy seaside shacks and show up in the middle of Iowa with stuff and say we’re going on a road trip …”
“I am quite wonderful, aren’t I?”
Lifting her head enough to make sure Will was good and asleep, she wiggled and shifted, turned and waggled until pajamas hit the ground in a silent earthquake of things to come, “a few more weeks and I’ll be able to show you just how wonderful you are but for right now, I can still do plenty of things to you.”
Glad to be able to just touch her, the prospect of anything more made him grin, “two weeks.”
&&&&&&&&&&
“It’s the end of June. Why is the water not warm?”
“Have your toes frozen off yet?”
“Well, no, but …”
Mulder grinned, digging his feet into the sand, “then it’s warm enough.”
“Not for a month-old baby, it’s not.”
“Well, he’ll get his water wings next summer or at the earliest, you’ll both be in by August. The ocean’s a big place, woman, it needs time to heat.”
Wishing she could swim, she instead handed Will to Mulder, gave him that defiant look that sent every one of his molecules into overdrive, then walked into the waves, going as far as her shorts hem would allow, then racing backwards out of reach of the waves. Coming back to him, legs wet, toes coated in sand, “I never said it was too cold for me.”
Glancing no further than her nipples showing through her tank top, “it’s a little too cold for them.”
Head back, laughing, “you have a one-track mind, Agent Mulder.”
“And it’s tracked on you. Now, we’ve got things to do: sunnin’ things and swimmin’ things and eatin’ things and nappin’ things. Which do you propose we do first?”
Settling Will in his shaded nest, “the sunnin’ things. Lotion me up.”
He saw her sitting halfway up the bleachers, amidst yelling parents and clapping children. He knew she’d gone outside a good 15 minutes ago but since she’d neglected to come back, he though he’d better go and collect her. He didn’t move fast, more at his usual long-strided amble given there wasn’t much to hurry about anymore. Since the police station was next to the elementary school fields, he didn’t have far to walk; soon standing beside the rickety aluminum riser seats.
She didn’t notice him at first but when she did a general sweep of her surroundings, as was natural habit at this point, she lit on his face staring up at her and with a barely noticed head-tilt, she gave him a half smile.
Figuring this was an invite of the most discreet kind, he picked his way through the scattered crowd, settling next to her without a word. Silently, they sat together through the last minutes of the game as well as through the exodus of people, kids, strollers and family dogs.
It wasn’t until the last person stepped off the field that Mulder turned to her, squinting against the late afternoon sun, “hi.”
Pushing her hair back, only to have the light breeze ruffle it again, “hi.”
“So, got a little tired of Sheriff Blowhard and his parade of blightless minions?”
“A little. There’s only so much blowharding and blightlessness one can take. Besides,” nodding towards the now deserted field, "they looked like they needed another fan.”
Knocking shoulders with her gently, “you know, if we get our paperwork done, we can get the hell out of Dodge.”
Holding silent for a moment, “promise me our next case won’t be like this. I don’t think I can do this again anytime soon.”
“Well, I’ll try to order us up a nice, juicy monster but don’t hold your breath.”
“Just promise to try. That’s all I ask.”
One glance into her tired, dull eyes made him nod, “promise.”
“All right then.” Standing and holding her hand out to him, “let’s, as you put it, get the hell out of Dodge.”
“If only the place was actually called Dodge.”
“Getting the hell out of Parson Village doesn’t exactly have the same ring to it, does it?”
Finally down on the ground, they walked back across the parking lot, “not really.”
&&&&&&&&&
Working through the last of the forms, they said good-bye and left, glad to be leaving the place behind them. The drive back to the hotel was quiet but a companionable quiet, one where Mulder left the radio off and Scully stared out the open window, enjoying the fresh air and the colors of the setting sun.
Back at the hotel, “do you still want to leave now or wait until the morning?”
He knew she would prefer to go than stay and since he wasn’t tired, “now works for me.” Checking out went by in a flash and once Mulder had made a not so secretive trip to the vending machines, they were off, “you sure you want to drive first? I’m awake.”
Scully just turned the car on, “I’m good for now. I’ll let you know when it’s your turn.”
“Fair enough.” Putting his seat back to a decent incline, he settled in, “mind if we keep the windows open for awhile?”
She gave him a smile, “as long as you don’t mind me having the wind blown look.”
“Naw, you wear it well.”
“Okay, now you’re just buttering me up.”
With a laugh, he rested one arm at his side, the other on the middle compartment, hand dangling by the shifter, “just say thanks, Scully.”
“Thanks, Mulder.”
He was feeling a bit mischievous but held off until they had been on the road for a few minutes. From his position, he could tell no one else was on the quiet country road and in a fairly nonchalant way, he made like he was turning on the radio but instead, pushed the shifter forward into neutral.
The engine revved, Scully looked around in panic, then saw Mulder’s hand beside the stick, “what the hell?” Shoving it back in drive, she swung and hit him near full force in the chest, “are you insane?”
Now for the fun part.
Wincing, he curled his arms to his chest, pretending the blow had actually hurt him, “damn. I was just gonna turn the radio on. I bumped it on accident.” Plastering an appropriate grimace on his face, “there’s less painful ways to kill me, you know.”
Her face scrunching in honest apology, “I’m so sorry. I thought you did it on purpose. I … I’m sorry.”
Rubbing his chest for good measure, “remind me to ask before moving next time.” The urge to laugh nearly won but he held it in, “I feel extremely sorry for any suspects on the receiving end of your fist.”
Automatically reaching over, she wrapped her hand around his forearm, “I’m sorry.”
“S'okay.” Wondering how long she’d keep her hand there, “was kind of funny though, wasn’t it?”
She shrugged, “maybe it will be later but right now, I just feel bad.”
“No harm, no foul, right?”
Keeping her hand on him with no sign of letting go, “right.”
&&&&&&&&&
They switched places a few hours later, Scully beginning to yawn and stretch to keep herself awake. Mulder, who’d managed a nap, readjusted the seat and mirrors before looking over at her, “all set?” Head already lolling on the seat and eyes closed, she only nodded. As always amused by the swiftness she could fall asleep, he pulled the car out of the gas station and back on the freeway.She slept for about a half-hour, then woke again when he hit a bump in the road, “sorry.”
Shaking the cobwebs from her brain, “no, it’s okay.” After re-positioning the seat back, she stared out the window for a minute before, “where are we, anyway?”
When he turned to look around, she swiftly reached over, flipping a small switch on the dash, “we’re about 10 miles from the middle of nowhere.”
“That’s specific.”
He gave her a lopsided grin before looking back through the windshield.
She wondered how long it would take for him to notice.
Not long, she soon discovered.
Taking a cursory glance at the speedometer, he slammed on the brakes, throwing them both forward slightly, “what the hell?” When he had looked, he saw in horror that he was doing 120. Still talking to himself, “there’s no way in hell I was doing 120.”
Playing along, “what?! You’re going 120? I don’t need to die tonight, Mulder.”
“I didn’t realize …”
“Just slow the hell down!!”
He shrank into the seat and heart pounding, he brought his speed back to 75 but when looking out the window, he would swear they were nearly crawling. She then watched him look from the speedometer to the road to the speedometer once again, then to the smile she couldn’t contain, “why the hell are all the gauges in metrics now?”
Reaching over, she re-flipped the switch, turning everything back to normal, “did you really think I’d let the neutral thing go unanswered?”
Instead of being annoyed, he looked at her admirably, “nice.”
&&&&&&&&&
She was sound asleep again an hour later when Mulder discovered he was contemplating how long he could shut his eyes before it got dangerous. Poking his finger into Scully’s thigh, “hey, you awake?”
When she only mumbled, he knew they were both done for the night but with only an hour left to go, he debated pushing it.
Until he heard his tires running on the rumble strip.
Yeah, it was time to stop.
Especially when he saw it … a bright beacon of hope in the distance.
Wal-Mart.
24-hour, anyone can sleep in the damn parking lot, beautiful, shiny Wal-Mart.
He pulled off the exit ramp and soon, he stopped the car in the center of a vast expanse of parking lot. Cracking the windows so they wouldn’t suffocate, he put his seat back, stretched and promptly fell asleep.
A blissful sleep that lasted almost a full two hours, until, “what the hell?”
The sound of her voice jolted him upright and his hand caught the horn, beeping it obnoxiously as he blinked against the painfully bright light in his eyes, “huh?”
By now, she was rolling down the window and being the least polite he’d ever heard her, “what!?”
The flashlight lowered but all Mulder could see was the spot it had burned into his retinas. The spot spoke in a low, male voice, “evenin’ folks.”
Again, Scully rolled off with, “what!?!”
“Just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
He could feel Scully building rapidly towards some other, more improper phrases and heading her off with a hand on her arm, “we were tired and thought we’d take a nap instead of wrapping ourselves around a telephone pole.” As the spot began to fade, he could make out an older gentleman behind the lowered flashlight, “I thought people could park and sleep here for the night?”
“RVs can park but ya’ll aren’t in an RV so I thought maybe you were havin’ some trouble.”
Hearing Scully sigh resignedly through her nose, he spoke again, “no trouble, sir. Just tired.”
“Well, ya’ll be careful.”
As he turned and walked away, Mulder looked at her irate expression, “hi.”
“You’re coming with me.”
“Where?”
Unbuckling her belt, “I have to go to the bathroom and you’re coming with me.”
Opening his door, “why are you pissed at me? I didn’t scare the shit out of you with a flashlight.”
“Just come on.”
She stalked across the parking lot, Mulder trotting to catch up, then settling into an easy gait until they got to the store entrance, “are you gonna make me come in with you or do I get to wait outside the door?”
With eyes narrowed, she left him in the entryway and disappeared into the ladies room. Deciding to go himself, he still beat her back and was leaning on the wall when she came out drying her hands on her jeans. She seemed calmer and leaning next to him, “I’m hungry.”
Gesturing through the doors that led to the actual store, “I bet there’s something in there, if you’re willing to risk it.”
“Lead the way, partner.” Both were shocked by the amount of people in the store, “what time is it anyway?”
Finding her wrist with his hand, he twisted her watch around until he could read it, “um, 1:15.”
“Why are all these people here? Don’t they have homes and beds?”
“Insomniacs make the best shoppers.”
She let a small chuckle escape her nose, “just find me something to eat.”
Well, she should have known not to A) shop when she was hungry and 2) shop with Mulder. She should have also put her foot down when he suggested getting a cart.
An hour later, they were finally through the checkout.
Scully had found some sandwiches, drinks and chips for them both, then stupidly gave Mulder control of the cart. He immediately steered towards the entertainment section and was soon pawing through the $3.99 DVD bin.
That killed a half-hour right there. Damn those bins and their B-movie classics.
After he’d found several handfuls of movies, he veered through men’s clothing for socks, housewares for a new shower curtain (which Scully silently thanked God about), hardware to replace the two flashlights he’d left in their hotel rooms, back to menswear for the underwear he’d forgot on the first trip (black boxer briefs, much to Scully’s amusement), then finally through women’s clothing, where he stopped in front of a rack of slogan t-shirts.
Standing for a moment, he studied them, then picked one up with an alien beside a spaceship who was pointing out and stating, “maybe WE don’t believe in you.” Holding it against her for a second, he tossed it in the cart and finally moved to the check-out.
She followed, dumbfounded by the last hour of her life, “Mulder … why …?”
“Shhhh, it’s too late to argue and too early to win.”
Whatever the hell that meant, she graciously allowed him to pay for their food, along with the industrial size Payday bar she tossed in at the last minute.
&&&&&&&&&&&
As they ate their makeshift dinner sitting in the car, “why did you buy me that t-shirt? Do you really think I’m gonna wear it?”
Grinning with a mouthful of half-chewed turkey, “you will. You’ll be getting dressed for something and you’ll just get the urge to put it on. So you will and you’ll realize you like it and that’ll be that.”
“Is this how you get your shopping done because I can see why your cupboards are bare.”
“Never ask about a man’s shopping habits.”
“Mulder?”
“Yeah?”
“Trade you sandwiches?”
He handed the rest of his sandwich to her immediately, taking her partially eaten roast beef in its place, “no dressing?”
“Nope.”
“So much to teach you, grasshopper.”
&&&&&&&&&
“I’ll drive if you want me to.”
Scully shook her head, “naw, I’m fine.”
“Well, I’m not tired now so I’ll keep you awake.”
With a grin in his direction, “God help me.”
“God’s probably asleep Scully. All you got is me.”
“Again, God help me.”
&&&&&&&&&&
They were finally navigating Washington’s outskirts by 3:30. He watched her staring ahead and fought the demon lurking inside him.
He really shouldn’t.
He really, really shouldn’t.
It would be evil and wrong and cruel and more than likely funny as all hell … if she didn’t kill him afterwards.
…
He’d risk it.
Waiting another minute or so, he spied a light blinking in the distance and as they approached it, he braced his feet against the floor. Once they were about 10 feet away, he yelled, gripping the dashboard and the doorframe, “blinking yellow!!!”
She locked up the brakes, as expected, and bought the car to a screeching halt. The stop flung both forward, then back against their seats, with Scully screaming in his ear, “son of a bitch … it’s yellow Mulder! I don’t have to stop for a blinking yellow!”
Looking at her with as much seriousness as he could muster, “I didn’t tell you to stop.”
“Then why the hell did you yell ‘blinking yellow’ in my ear!?”
“I didn’t know if you saw it.”
He had never witnessed her nostrils flaring before and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, she looked kind of cute doing it but … “are you trying to get us killed?”
He was now smiling despite the fact she had steam shooting out her ears, “there was no one behind us. I checked.”
Another nostril flare came his way before she turned the car off, still sitting in the middle of the intersection, got out and moving to his side of the car, pulled open the door, “drive.”
Still grinning, he scrambled over the gearshift, Scully sliding smoothly into his seat, putting her head back and closing her eyes.
Silence, he had not expected. Yelling, hitting, yes but not quiet. Quiet from Scully meant planning, concocting, calculating, organizing … quiet meant bad things … quiet meant very deep piles of shit with him underneath.
“Scully …”
“Home.”
Suddenly sober, he restarted the car, “I was just playing.”
“Home,” she repeated, then, instead of returning to sleep, she dug some gum from the glove compartment and proceeded to chew a wad of it, very loudly.
Now, he could take bullets, he could take slime, he could take beratement of the highest degree and, as demonstrated, he could even take bile but he absolutely despised the cud-chewing noises she was making. He withstood it for a long as humanly possible before, “could you please get rid of that? You sound like a damn cow.”
“You want me to get rid of the gum?”
“Yes!”
“Where do you want me to put it?”
His mistake was answering too quickly, “anywhere. I don’t care. Just stop chewing it.”
“Okay then.” Undoing her seatbelt, she twisted so she faced him, and in a gracefully disgusting move, she rolled the gum in her fingers, then proceeded to push it up his nose.
He knew something was coming and completely powerless to stop it, he just sat there as a thumb-size chunk of grape Hubba-Bubba was fitted into his right nostril.
She then calmly sat back down and re-buckled herself in.
He left the gum there as he turned to her, “Scully?”
“Yes, Mulder.”
“I believe we’re even now.”
Her belly laugh echoed off the windows and he began laughing as well, slipping the gum from his nose and putting it in his mouth.
Through her laughter, she grimaced, “eww, that’s disgusting.”
“But it’s grape.”
&&&&&&&&&
They finally made it to Mulder’s apartment and since her brain had drifted completely, she didn’t really notice where they were until he stopped the car, “why are we here?”
“Literally or existentially because I don’t think I can take a metaphysical discussion at the moment?”
“Literal.”
“You drove. You drop me off then drive yourself home.”
“Where’s your car, Mulder?”
Pointing to where he always parked, he saw an empty spot, “your house.” His head dropped to the steering wheel, “damn.” Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, “I’ll take you home.”
“No. I want out of the damn car and I want to go to sleep. Right now.”
“Then grab the bags from the store … I’ll get the suitcases.” They managed to make it in his door before dropping everything simultaneously. Mulder then re-picked up her bag and set it in his bedroom, “I’ll take the couch.”
“No, I will. I shoved gum up your nose.”
“And I yelled ‘blinking yellow’.”
Contemplating for a half second, “you’re right.”
He gave her a grin, “just help me change the sheets first.” Nodding, she had the bed stripped by the time he came back with a clean set. They finished in no time and he stepped back, nodding his head, “two people make that way faster.”
“Anytime Mulder but for now, I’m using your bathroom then going to bed.”
“Aye, aye captain.”
Meeting him in the hall on the way back from the bathroom, “g’night, Mulder.”
“’Morning, Scully.”
Before going to the bedroom, she grabbed one last thing, then changed, crawled under the clean sheets and was out before her head hit the pillow.
&&&&&&&&&&
He woke up leisurely. The phone hadn’t rung, no one had knocked on his door, obnoxious garbage men hadn’t rattled the dumpsters … he had woken up because he had finally caught up on his sleep. Marveling at the idea, he stood and moved silently towards his bedroom to check to see if she was awake yet.
Finding her spread eagle on her stomach, covers twisted around her and bare leg sticking out, foot hanging off the side of the bed, he nearly laughed when he saw her wearing the neon green t-shirt he’d bought the night before.
Deciding to let her sleep, he went to the bathroom, then made himself a bowl of cereal. By the time he’d sat down with his second helping, he heard the creak of his bedroom door. Looking up, he saw her standing there, hair tousled, eyes partially open, wearing only the t-shirt, which fell to mid-thigh. Swallowing the frogs in her throat, “’morning.”
After a glance at the DVD player’s clock, “afternoon.” Without comment, she padded across the cool floor and dropped down next to him, curling her legs underneath her. Covering them with his blanket, she reached over, took the spoon and helped herself to a large spoonful of cereal. Shaking the milk off, she had it nearly to her mouth when he finally spoke, “I thought you said you’d never wear that shirt?”
As the cereal entered her mouth, her lips quivered in the slightest of smiles, “shut up, Mulder.”
First thing back was her sense of smell. It took nearly a week but suddenly, as she walked, unannounced but never unwelcome into his apartment, she stopped, the look of surprise on her face made him immediately laugh, then tilt his head, “you shouldn’t be that surprised to see me here. It’s my apartment.”
Ignoring his statement, she quick-stepped his way, burying her face first in his shirt, then, pulling him to her level, into his neck, sniffing like a bloodhound on the trail of some erstwhile criminal with a bag of treats. So taken aback by the invasion, he simply stood there, letting her take several deep inhales before finally reaching for her shoulders, “you keep breathing like that and you’ll pass out.”
Twisting her head, she gave him a quick kiss, then dropped back flat-footed, forcing him to once again look down at her while she looked up, “I haven’t been able to smell you since day 12 of ‘IT’ so I’m making up for lost time.”
She’d told him, finally, after he’d repeatedly offered her tempting foods to try to coax some weight back on her bony frame, that she hadn’t been able to smell anything, and therefore, taste anything, for awhile but she’d never stated the exact day until now and standing there, already changed into jeans and a t-shirt, an epiphany of sorts smacked him hard upside the head, “what? Day 12?” Ignorant idiocy settling in, “Shit. You sat through a steak, my famous garlic mushrooms, six tubs of ice cream, and all those M&Ms I kept feeding you and you couldn’t taste a thing? The amount of money I could have saved during those months I tempted you with anything I could find while, really, it all tasted like sawdust.” Feigning irritation but failing miserably as he scooted closer, kissing her forehead, “what a crock of shit.”
“I got …” being generous for his sake, “hints of flavor.”
“Fuck, woman, we’re having a steak and ice cream orgy tonight. I’m going shopping.”
She stopped his movements with hands on arms, “hey, let me go taste something and see if that came back as well before you waste all your money on cow foods.”
Following her to his kitchen, “both things really do involve cows. That’s rather unnerving, actually.”
With a grin, she found a cookie, then, tasting it, she shook her head, “I’d save the cow for another day.”
Mulder, wondering if his earlier suggestion of Mexican for dinner was still appropriate, he decided ‘no’, then, “well, how about we taking a smelling tour of DC and eat toast for dinner?”
He got a well-deserved backhand to his chest, “we are eating at Papadapoulous’ House of Salsa tonight because you’ve been talking about that place ad nauseum all week. Get your coat.” When he didn’t move, she nodded, giving him a smile, “we can do the smelling tour after, okay?”
“Deal.”
&&&&&&&&&&&
Taste came back ten days later. Just as Mulder came out of her bathroom, about to announce that no one should go in there for 35 to 45 minutes, Scully took a sip of his ice tea and spit it right back out, soaking her shirt and the floor in front of her. Mulder forgot his comment and flew over to her, socks sliding on the polished wood floor, “what happened?”
Feeling like a complete and utter moron, she first retrieved a towel to mop both herself and the floor, then looked at her partner, “I stole some of your ice tea and I could taste it and it scared me, if you can believe it. I wasn’t expecting anything and suddenly there was something and my first reaction,” beginning to laugh at the whole situation, “I spit it out. I didn’t even think to swallow it.”
Mulder shook his head, “are you sure we’re still talking about ice tea and not dirty things?”
He could almost hear her brain suddenly shift gears, brakes squeaking, mind two steps behind, “what?”
It was his turn to laugh, pulling her into a hug, soaking wet shirt and all, “I’ll give you two minutes to think about it, then I’ll explain if necessary.”
It took almost four seconds before, “I’ve never been a spitter, Mulder.”
That worked entirely too well for him and dismissing all but his hairy-moled, make-up caked fourth-grade teacher from his mind, he held her another minute then moved back, calmed down again, “you should go change your shirt.”
“No wet t-shirt comments?” Her sassy retort told him both that she knew what her swallowing comment had done to him and what the wet t-shirt mention would. She was evil. She knew it. He knew it. He loved it.
“Just go change. Tonight, we shop for steak.”
Loving him to pieces, she reached for his elbow, playing with the sharp bent end, “so, I know we just had Mexican a few days back but now that I can taste things, I desperately want salsa and a Margarita.”
“Large?”
“The biggest one they fucking sell, pardon my French.”
Their kiss was much longer this time, Scully’s fingers firmly twirled in his shirt by the time they were done, Mulder’s hands curled around her ass, “then can I make you mushrooms this weekend?”
“Pounds of them. Extra garlic and butter,” suddenly swallowing, “yeah, we need to go eat.”
“Lead the way.”
&&&&&&&&&&
His arrival at her house that Friday night with grocery bags was, oddly, the first time her body reacted to him. They’d been making out, to use the juvenile-y appropriate term, but nothing more, Scully still recovering, Mulder still nervous about 12000 things between and surrounding them both.
But seeing him standing there, in her door, goofy smile and slipping bottle of wine in hand, she felt something. It was a fast twinge but it was familiar but surprising and her widening eyes told him something but he wasn’t sure what and he didn’t ask.
Had he asked, he may have gotten an answer that would have necessitated bringing fourth-grade teacher back … but instead, he walked in, setting bags on counter before turning, “hungry?”
For the first time in months, she appreciated the underlying double-meaning he hadn’t intended, “yes. Very much so. How long do the mushrooms take to cook?”
“At least a few hours.” Pulling things from bags, “but I bought appetizers and,” holding up several National Enquirers, “reading material. Let’s see if we can find a case somewhere in the tropics. I could use a ‘vacation’.”
Only Mulder.
Mushrooms cleaned and slow-cooking, they nibbled their way through eight different kinds of cheeses, each one a symphony to Scully’s previously deadened tongue. She may have let slip a ‘hhhmmm’ that could have possibly been interpreted as a moan by one Fox Mulder but he didn’t comment and she kept doing it.
He was glad he wore the looser jeans tonight.
They chuckled and argued in tandem while thumbing through the papers Mulder brought: telling stories, tossing theories, debunking nonsense. Finishing the first bottle of wine slowly, Mulder offered a second but Scully shook her head, “save it for dinner.”
Agreeing, he moved to stir the crockpot, then returned, towel over his shoulder, licking his fingers from the buttery sample he’d eaten in the kitchen, “They’re getting there.”
Second twinge, this one longer, had her lower abdomen contracting in a tickling giggle kind of way. The shiver up her spine caused her to visibly vibrate for a moment but Mulder, luckily or unluckily, not noticing, sat back down, returning to the ‘Owl that carried off a family of four in their camper van’ story on page 26.
What the hell.
Then again, he was licking his fingers.
The third zing when she returned to this thought was not as strong as the second but made her smile nonetheless, which Mulder actually did notice, “what?”
She pinked-up instantly, having forgotten the heat of a blush across her skin, and hands to cheeks suddenly, “just … a little too much wine.”
He moved his hand to her pulled up knee, squeezing it, “we don’t have to open the second one. It’ll keep.”
“No. No. I, uh, I, … I’m fine. I … I’m fine.”
Gibbering idiot more like it but whatever.
&&&&&&&&&&
If sex were food, Scully decided, it would be that steak. Mulder went for broke, filet and strip, buttery smooth, medium rare, warm, pink, juicy, perfect blend of garlic and butter, rosemary and pepper. Between the taste; the sight of Mulder across the table; the smell of wine and smoke; the look of him, messy-haired and smiling, relaxed three feet from her; the feel of impending summer breezes through the window, she tipped into sensory overload, eyes shutting as she tried to bring herself back to some kind of alignment.
Then, eyes still closed, she heard his voice, “hey, you. Ya’llright?”
The tinging vibration hit her full-force, arm hair standing on end, neck flushing, nipples tightening, a thousand images of him and her, himandher, flashing through her mind, driving the feeling shooting from stomach to clit to soul in speed of light, circuitous fashion, “yeah. Yeah. Just enjoying.”
Her voice was all over the damn map with those four words and Mulder, knowing her better than he knew himself, tilted his head, finally understanding exactly what was happening, “I can see that.”
Quaking quieting somewhat, she shifted in her chair, hoping to relieve some of the pressure she was feeling, pressing down on the cushion like she was seventeen and at the movie theater with her boyfriend, begging silently for him to touch her and simultaneously thinking about touching herself when she got home. Not able to look him in the eye, however, she cut another piece of her steak, praying she wouldn’t choke.
Shifting himself as well, watching her hips search for a good spot against the chair, he kept any comment to himself. He hadn’t pushed anything these last weeks, knowing she was recovering, finding herself again, situating ‘us’ and ‘we’ into a previously accepted solitary status quo of ‘I’ and ‘me’.
But, fuck, he had been tempted and tonight, seeing her like this, pushed his resolve to the breaking point. If she made one more sound in her throat, he truly believed he’d explode under the table, a quiet yet uncontrollable manifestation of four years and infinite wishes. “More wine?”
“Yes, please.”
She fought herself the rest of the meal, making stilted, dinner time conversation that they both saw through, both breathed through, both suffered through.
Dish cleanup and pajama changing quieted her down, her mind focused on other things for a little while but once they’d sat down on the couch, lights off, movie in, ice cream waiting in the freezer for later, she became acutely aware of his proximity to her. He’d offered her half the afghan, shifted the coffee table a little closer for her feet to rest on if she wanted, kissed the top of her head just as the opening credits began. She, in turn, had to keep reminding herself how to breathe evenly.
Sensory overload was kicking in again, the smell of him, his radiating heat, his voice as he contributed oft-placed comments on police procedurals happening on the TV. Her hand found its way to his thigh, fingers playing with the inside seam of his cut-off sweats. His own landed on her flannel pants, roughly same distance between allowable knee and forbidden juncture.
Her voice surprised her, “Mulder?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s your stance on third base?”
Slowly, he found the remote and paused before swinging his gaze in her direction, “Yankees or something else?”
Her inhale shuddered, “not the Yankees.”
His hand immediately slid from allowable to not-so-forbidden now, caught between viced thighs, “this third base?”
Confession tumbled from her lips, “I haven’t done anything or felt anything, really, in months and suddenly you walked in today with grocery bags and that stupid grin of yours and you smell fantastic and something kicked in and,” wiggling out of necessity to attempt to … whatever …, “I don’t recall the last time I was this …”
Mulder finished her sentence with a grin, “horny?”
“Yes!”
Somehow, he lifted her bodily onto his lap, his chest to her back, hand sliding effortlessly down the front of her pajamas, finding the sweet spot before she had time to so much as offer the feeble word of ‘bed’.
Then she didn’t care.
At all.
Focusing mainly on his fingers, warm, quick, unexperienced but willing to learn. Instead of following, she led, whispering once to move a little to the left, whispering again to go harder, arching her back as she came in under a minute, body shuddering, twitching, before settling back down.
Over her shoulder, his husky voice sounded in her ear, “can I be next?”
It took all of nine seconds to stand up, drop her clothes to the floor, order him to lift up, pull his pants off, then climb on, already wet, already slick, already taking him inside with a slip and a slide.
&&&&&&&&&&&
Her giggles made him smile, her rosy cheeks made him happy, her warm skin within lips reach made him dizzy but above all else, her panting breath against his neck made him ecstatic, knowing she was alive and well and would be for the foreseeable future. When she finally calmed down, knees digging into the couch springs, skin glued to skin, she pulled herself back, sweat running down Mulder’s chest where they had been pressed together moments earlier, “I had planned for that to be a little … less …” waving her hands around in wordless definition, “that.”
“Was perfect to me.”
Kissing him lightly, then resting forehead to his, “one day, this will all be organized and we’ll make it to the bedroom.”
Hands back on her bare ass, “highly doubt that but it’s nice to have a plan.”
Sitting back, she reached out to him, lightly running her fingers along his hairline, feather-touch making his eyes shut, “I think we should do that again later.”
About to ask why not now, he had an epiphany of sorts and looking at her, square and jokingly judging, “you want ice cream, don’t you?”
This time, her nose scrunched up when she smiled, nodding with enthusiasm, “kind of. But I promise, you’ll always beat out ice cream after today … mostly.”
Pulling her down for a kiss, he then squeezed her thighs to nudge her off him, “come on, woman. Let’s go clean up so we can have dessert.”
He put her through hell the next two weeks and finally, seeing her on the other side of the hospital window, he splintered, leaning forward, unable to breath, overwhelming sorrow manifesting in yelled demands of people who couldn’t answer his pleas.
He thought he was quiet at her bedside that night, the world bearing down on both of them, but as he sobbed into her sheets, he felt her hand drift though his hair, nails lightly scratching scalp, “it might be a little tight, but I think we’ll both fit if we try.”
Mess that he was, he stood, dragged his hands over his face to clear away at least some of the nonsense before disappearing to blow his nose on some toilet paper from the bathroom. Coming back in, he shuffled towards her, whispering, “I snuck in. What if I fall asleep and can’t sneak back out?”
“I’m dying, Mulder. I can do what I want and right now, I want you in here with me.”
Deep breath of acceptance at her now-undeniable retort, he did as ordered, wedging himself behind her, back to front, arm hesitant over her belly, full length curl around her. He could feel her ribs against his forearm, her bony hip under his elbow, sharp shoulder blades pressing his chest, “we need to get you a milkshake.”
“If I could keep one down, I’d send you right now but puking up ice cream will just ruin it.”
“I see your point.” Sniffing latent snot back up his nose, he apologized, then, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
Soaking up his warmth like a sponge, “I’m not sleeping that well these days anyway, and …” running off into oblivion, she finished the sentence a moment later, “well, I’d rather spend all the time I can with you, even if it’s at whatever the hell time it is and in a hospital bed.”
“A good cuddle does have its merits.”
That got a smile from her, “thank you.”
“For what?”
This time she found the words she couldn’t after he made her dinner, “for doing all those things that a partner would do; that a husband, a best friend, that family would do.”
Well, that made his heart break for the hundredth time that day, and mouth to neck yet again, his words rustled her hair and vibrated her soul, “well, you are my partner and my best friend, which makes us family and I think I fit the category of work husband so I’ve got all the bases covered.”
Reaching for his hand, she pulled it up to her face, kissing his knuckles before tucking it under her cheek, “we need to talk about a few things.”
“No, we really don’t.”
“Yes, we do. Let me take the fall, please? I need to know you’re okay once I’m gone.”
Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!
“We can have that argument tomorrow. Right now, just let me enjoy this, all right?”
She heard his mental screams of ‘Stop It!’ and she did, nodding against his hand, “all right but tomorrow, you’re listening to me.”
Wanting to cocoon her, tuck her inside himself, hide her away so the cancer and the fear and the reality of it all couldn’t find her, he hugged her closer, spooned behind her tight, “maybe.” That’s as good as she would get tonight and accepting it, she did her best to forget everything but the moment. A pleasant ‘hmm’ purred out a minute later and, hearing it as well as feeling it against his chest, “what was that for?”
Not realizing she’d made the sound until it was too late, “living in my moment, Mulder.”
“Our moment.”
For half a second, she wanted to cry, “You’re right. Our moment.”
&&&&&&&&&
He was gone when she woke up, the nurse checking on her telling her quietly, “he snuck out about 20 minutes ago.” Seeing her still sleepy look of disappointment, she smiled, “I’ve seen the way he looks at you; he’ll be back.”
Alone a moment later, she tried to work herself into a rage because he left without saying good-bye and without talking to her like she’d asked but, in the end, it was Mulder and she really should have expected it. Returning to her side, facing the door, she shut her eyes, imagining he was still behind her.
&&&&&&&&&&
He appeared the next day, glass vial offering a last-ditch effort in his fight to save her. He watched her argue with her family, fight her doctors, grasp onto a fading hope without which, she would be forced to make him sit, discuss funeral arrangements, ask him to give up while holding her hand.
&&&&&&&&&&
First Skinner left her room, then her brother, then, finally, Maggie, who gave him a hug and told him, without words but the slightest of head nods, that Scully was inside waiting for him. He gave it another minute, still processing, still gripping the bloody picture, still marveling at the news that was, indeed, real.
Opening her door slowly, the first thing he saw was not a smile but her piercing gaze that ranged in interpretation, over the years, from raging irritation to unbridled happiness. Todays was more of a confused relief bordering on reserved elation, “Mom says you’ve been sitting in the hallway.”
“Your mother deserved the first hug.”
“Are you going to be my third?”
“Patience, woman. I give you a hug now, we’ll both be crying for the next hour.” Shooting her his first mischievous grin in months, “I am breaking all kinds of rules still being here. Three people have asked me to leave already.”
She’d been prepared to talk for a few minutes, then go to sleep but suddenly, that wasn’t cutting it anymore, “You want to go for a drive?”
Finally approaching her, he pressed his thighs against the edge of the bed, leaning just enough forward but keeping his hands in his pockets, schoolboy asking a question of his favorite girl, “your place or mine?”
She hadn’t even thought that far ahead in the discussion but now that it was out there, hanging in the air, she gave him a smile, “your place. We haven’t been there in awhile.”
“Luckily I just changed the sheets a few days ago.”
Holding eye contact, swearing for one second she could actually see into his soul, she found herself moving her legs, bumping into Mulder as she sat upright, slid off the bed, “go find me my clothes.”
They didn’t so much sneak from the hospital as walk out, quietly, Scully’s bag in Mulder’s one hand, Mulder’s other on her back, pressed to muscle and bone, fingers loose-gripping the back of her shirt. No one said a word, elevator their immediate destination, anywhere else in the world their quest. The air was balmy, the breeze light, and Scully stopped the moment the automatic doors shut behind her, inhaling deep.
Mulder, nearly knocking her over, suddenly panicked, “what? What’s wrong?”
Her head spun, giddy and light, “just … overwhelmed for a minute.”
“Do you need to go back inside?”
Shaking her head vehemently, “no … no, I just … your place, please.”
“Food first?”
“No. I … that’s too much right now.” Looking up at her partner, suddenly exhausted, “a bed would be nice and some drugs when we get to your place.”
“Home it is, then.” He valeted the car, tucked her inside, and drove away, aiming towards his apartment. She was dozing by the second turn and fully asleep by the time he pulled up to the curb. Crouching beside her open passenger door, hand on thigh, voice low, he began coaxing her in a soft voice reserved for just such occasions, “hey, Scully? Wake up. We’re here and you’ve gotta stay awake long enough to deal with the front steps and the elevator.”
Blinking her eyes open, they rolled around for a moment before focusing, “okay. Don’t let me fall down.”
“Never.”
He wanted to laugh at her swaying walk, likening it to her drunken trek a year ago at her mother’s surprise birthday party. Not saying that aloud, however, he steered her to his door then inside.
He set her bag down, then took her coat, hanging it before heading toward the kitchen for a glass of water so she could take her meds and lay down. Asking over his shoulder what type of pain killer she wanted, he glanced back when she didn’t answer. Finding her still rooted to her spot beside the hat rack, he stopped, took in the tears already rolling, then held out his hand, waving her towards him, “come here.” She did, shuffling, leaving shoes behind and walking into him, the collision backing him up a few steps. Accepting the momentum, he continued moving, sitting down on the arm of the couch, level with her now, arms tight around her neck, her face hidden in his shirt, “what’s wrong?”
“It can’t be real, Mulder. It can’t. It shouldn’t have worked.”
“But it did. You saw the scans.”
“But what if I go to sleep tonight and wake up tomorrow and it’s back?”
Shifting her away, he settled hands on cheeks, thumbs against eyebrows, painting over them lightly, absently, as he tilted her head to meet her tear-y gaze, “it won’t be but if it is, but it won’t be, we will figure it out … together … all right? We got here once and we can do it again … but we won’t have to, so don’t worry about it.”
Her hands were around his wrists, “I think you just gave me a headache.”
“I’ve been giving you headaches for four years now. What’s new?”
“This.” Leaning in, she kissed him, barely brushing his lips but setting his world on fire in the process, “I’ve got, to sound trite, a new lease on life and I’m not wasting it.” Kissing him again, before swaying dangerously to one side, “but I am going to ask that we sleep through a little bit of it because if I don’t lay down soon, I’m going to end up on your floor.”
He wiped the few remaining tears from her cheeks before he kissed her back, light but claiming, “do you mind some company?”
“I have never minded your company.” Yawning, she turned white, an immediate sweat beading on her upper lip, “but I need to lay down … now.”
Walking her to the bed, he gave her a shirt and some shorts, some drugs and a glass of water, then, “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Returning with a second blanket, he found her curled, body imprint stamped on ‘her’ side of the bed forevermore. His giddiness in the moment nearly made him laugh but containing it, he settled beside her, spare blanket at their feet. His hand went to her forehead, thumb in gentle circles between her eyebrows.
It was gone.
He had her back.
And he wasn’t going to waste a minute of the time they had left.
Which was a lot longer than they’d had mere hours earlier.
He didn’t fall asleep for hours.
Watching her breathe.
&&&&&&&&&&
Neither should have been awake but when Mulder opened his eyes, he found himself staring at an empty pillow and equally empty bed. Squinting towards the dawn-grey living room and the darkened bathroom, he looked over his shoulder, finding his target standing by the open window, leaning on the frame.
Rolling over, he tucked the pillow under his head, yawning, then watching her for a minute before she felt his eyes on her and turned towards him, quiet.
His mind was open and slow, filters off, walls down, and in that very moment, the only thing he had left in the world to say was “I love you.”
Her slow spreading smile lit up the darkening room, thunder rumbling as a storm moved in. It stopped just shy of a full-on grin, then dropped back to slightly upturn lip curl, sigh deep, eyes closing for a moment to collect the proper words from the universe, before sending them drifting across to him slow and steady, “and I … finally have the time … to love you back.”
Mulder’s smile spread at the same speed hers did, pushing into the pillow, squashing face glowing, “is this another one of our moments?”
“They are all our moments from now on, Mulder. All of them.”
He actually slept, his mind calm, until he heard her whispering in his ear, “what are you cooking and when will it be ready?”
Opening his eyes, he saw hers staring at him, awake and bright, “what?”
“I’m hungry and I saw the crockpot plugged in.”
He broke into a grin, more from her proximity than anything else and forcing himself not to look at her mouth, not to think of that kiss, “mushrooms. Garlicy, buttery mushrooms that have been slow cooking in the crockpot,” looking over her head at the clock, “for four hours.” Sitting up quickly, “shit. I have to go stir them.”
Rolling off the bed, he disappeared down the hall, Scully close behind, “they won’t burn.”
“I’ll feel better when I see for myself.” Finally in the kitchen, he opened the crockpot, stirred with the big spoon, and glad to see the mushrooms soft and unburned, offered Scully a taste. Refusing with an, ‘I’d like to wait for dinner,’ he nodded towards the fridge, “go grab the steak, would you?”
They ate like civilized people, at the kitchen table, forks, knives, fancy paper napkins …
… “I refuse to use cloth ones because they’re too damn hard to clean.”
… “Did I say anything?”
… “No.”
… “Then why are you arguing at me?”
and a bottle of not-so-cheap wine Mulder found in his travels through Scully’s cupboards.
“I shouldn’t drink this.”
“Will it lower your inhibitions? Will you sweep off the coffee table and dance on it if I wave a bunch of ones at you? Will you tell me all your secrets?”
She couldn’t keep her hand from shaking as she poured them both glasses, “mostly I’m thinking that it’ll make me fall asleep even early that I probably would have already.”
Ignoring the tremor, “as long as you stay awake enough for ice cream.”
“I will do my best.”
She made it through half the steak, a bowl of mushroom, and three spoons of mashed potatoes, before finally giving in, trading her plate for Mulder’s empty, who continued to eat without pause. Watching him, she had to smile, “thank you.”
“For finishing your food? No problem.”
Not able to articulate at that particular moment that she was actually thanking him for a thousand things at once, she simply agreed, wondering if he’d figure it out on his own, “yeah, I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”
Giving her a grin, he finished her food, then stood, “give me ten minutes to do dishes and put everything away, then we’ll argue about movies.”
“Let me load the dishwasher, at least. You won’t do it right and I’ll just have to redo it when you’re not looking.” Standing as well, she bumped hips with him as she walked past, “save me the trouble.”
Twisting up his leg, he hit her on the butt with his stocking foot, “smartass.”
They finally settled on several movies but still sitting on the couch, facing a blank TV and a window with a sunset just beginning to tint the room pink, Mulder gently poked her in the side, “how’re you doing?”
Feeling the urge to move, to take advantage of feeling okay for the moment, “I think I’d like to go for a walk.”
Up immediately, he leaned in, kissing the tip of her nose, “any destination in mind?”
“Just … around.”
“Around it is.”
&&&&&&&&&
Warm enough to wander without jackets, they headed out her front door and turned left, bare arm brushing bare arm as they walked. They didn’t say much, commenting on scurrying squirrels here, a cute cat in the window there, Mulder catching a waywardly stumbling child tripping past, “geez, if I had known we were going to be experiencing a Norman Rockwell painting, I would have combed my hair and put on a clean shirt.”
Her laughter hit his ears like his favorite song and reaching over, he took her hand, never asking, never letting go as they circled and turned, ambled and veered. She didn’t argue, her thin, cool fingers enjoying his warmth.
But even on her best days lately, she gave in quicker than she’d have liked, 45 being the magic number of minutes she lasted until, “I think I’m ready for some ice cream.”
Giving her hand a squeeze, “ice cream it is. What kind should we start with?”
Discussion ensued and by the time they were in their pajamas, they’d settled on dark fudge and peanut butter swirl to begin with. Two spoons dove in, two spoons sampled, occasionally Scully would pull her loaded spoon out and looking at Mulder, found his mouth wide open, waiting expectantly.
And by God, she fed him.
The first time felt a little weird but by the third time he did it, she was laughing, “can you not feed yourself fast enough?”
“Nope.”
That was good enough for her.
Once the gorging finished, they’d had at least one spoonful out of each carton Mulder had bought, six in all, the flavors running the gambit and Scully full and happy and sleepy. “Are you going to be able to sleep with all that sugar in your system?”
Mulder grinned, chocolate rimming his lips, “if not, I’ll have a TV to keep me company while you drool all over your pillow.” A relieved sigh, one she didn’t know she was holding, escaped, and Mulder cocked his head, suddenly worried, “y’a’right?”?”
And deciding there was no reason not to tell him, “I think I was nervous you were going to go home tonight and,” another sigh, this one embarrassed, “it’s been a really nice day and if you went home, it would be over and,” slight wobbly smile appearing, “I don’t want it to be over just yet.”
Knowing something funny was in order, he raised an eyebrow in her direction, “is that some veiled attempt at asking me to move in here?”
Her smile steadied, “just go start the movie.”
&&&&&&&&&
Midnight rolled around and even though Scully had given in and gone to bed, Mulder was still awake and indeed watching TV, some cooking show he’d never admit to enjoying but enjoyed nonetheless. The sound was off and suddenly, the quiet of the darkened apartment was broken by Scully calling from the bedroom, “Mulder?”
It didn’t sound like a nightmare which, in his mind, could only mean she needed help. Jogging down the hall, he was in her doorway a second later, “yeah? You okay?”
Still laying down, she met his nervous gaze, her own a unique brand of terrified confusion, “am I still here?”
Immediately walking to the other side of the bed, he crawled under the covers, his hand meeting her cheek after she rolled over to face him, “yeah. You’re right here, in your bed.” When her terror didn’t fade, he continued, quieter, moving to meet her forehead with his, “you’re with me, in your apartment,” hand moving to the back of her neck, “whatever you dreamt wasn’t real.”
“It will be.” Feeling the bed shake as she hitched a silent sob, she managed a cracked whisper, “I don’t want to die.” Her fingers ran over his cheek, his ear, “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”
The tear escaped before he could blink it away but he kept the others in, reservoir full but holding, “we’re gonna beat this. I guarantee it.”
She couldn’t bring herself to believe him anymore and she couldn’t keep up the lie at this hour, “you don’t know that.”
“But I choose to believe it.” Hand in her hair by now, he pulled her close enough that their noses were smushed together and eyelashes tangled, “I need to believe it.”
Maybe she could pretend a little more after all, “do you believe enough for both of us?”
“I believe enough for this whole damn world. You should know that by now.”
She could only nod against him, bringing their mouths to millimeter distances but refraining, crippling fear not a good enough reason to cross the line between them, “can you stay right here with me, tonight?”
He crossed it for them, a quick brush of lips, a quick nuzzle of noses, “I won’t move until you do.”
“I don’t want you to leave me alone.”
Both knew the translation of that:
I don’t want to die alone.
&&&&&&&&
The next morning, Scully opened her eyes to find Mulder still sharing her pillow, not touching anymore but close enough to have him blurry in front of her instead of clear. For five seconds, she forgot her world and felt warm fuzzies chasing through her, up and down her spine, settling low.
Then, reality set in with a resounding thud.
Pulling back, she sat up, turning quickly so he wouldn’t see the tears racing down her face. Neither could ignore the echoing sob, however and Mulder, already half-awake, sat up, confusion clearing in a heartbeat as he slid across the mattress, arm around her front, hugging her back to his chest. Kissing her neck and that hated, fucking scar, “we’re gonna win. I swear to God, we’re gonna win.”
