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aloysiavirgata · 4 years

Text

Love’s Austere and Lonely Offices

Title: Love’s Austere and Lonely Offices

Author: Aloysia Virgata

Rating: PG

Words: 5758

Timeline: Season 9

Summary: “ A letter is in fact the only device for combining solitude and good company.” -- Jacques Barzun

Author’s Notes: This fic was written in 2015. I couldn't bear the thought of their only communication in all that time being the "Dearest Dana" letters. (Which I added to just a teeny-weeny bit. Also added a little to Scully's Carterlogue to William.) Scully quotes from (what else?) Moby Dick and Mulder from The Divine Comedy. The title is from Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden.

Fe3O4 is magnetite and R2NCl is chloramine. I know my little ads are cryptic, so there's an addendum at the end for those interested parties. (See the end of the work for more notes.)

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, May 26 2001 In this world, shipmates, Sin that pays its way can travel freely, and without a passport; whereas Virtue, if a pauper, is stopped at all frontiers. R2NCl + H2O = Bellefleur + Braddock Heights? So claims a woman with node at C5 **** Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, May 29 2001 These have not the hope to die. Developments? Nothing on my end. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 18 Jun 2001 Things are calm for now and hopefully communication can be somewhat regular for a time. I have a cash-under-the-table job at the moment and it covers basic needs. I know you wanted to come, but this is no life for a child. I will be home as soon as I am able. I know that goes without saying, but it makes me feel better to say it anyway. I have to go now. Tell me about William. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 18 Jun 2001 Mulder, It's so good to hear from you, you have no idea. Have you made any progress yet? There have been strange goings-on since you left, but I don't know what to make of any of it. I don't know whom to trust right now and just tell everyone I cannot contact you. I have not been able to make any sense of my last inquiry and am at a standstill. Please tell me everything you discover and let me know what I can do. Don't leave me in the dark on this, Mulder. You can't protect us that way. Let me be of use. Things are fine here. William eats well and sleeps less well, but I nap when I can. He's growing nicely and can focus his eyes for very long periods already and tracks objects at two feet away. His head control is excellent and he is already making deliberate reaches for objects rather than just grasping reflexively. He makes a gurgling sound if I run my finger up the midline of his foot. In addition to snapshots and videos, I have been keeping a journal of all of his changes for when you get back. My mother helps as much as she can but the truth is I prefer to be alone. She wants to talk, and doesn't understand that I just can't right now. I think she's afraid of the quiet and fills it up with noise. She talks to me but doesn't say anything. You know how to let me be silent, Mulder. I miss that. Frohike says William looks like me and Byers says he looks like you and Langly says he looks like Jack Ruby. Which is pretty much what you'd expect to hear from the three of them. Write when you can. Pictures attached. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 22 Jun 2001 He still looks like Skinner to me, your feeble protestations of fidelity aside. He's got your eyes, Scully, and I wonder whose warped sense of humor he's going to claim. I'm not surprised he's ahead of the developmental curve. You read him Brian Greene while you were pregnant. That sets the bar rather high for a baby. Let your mother in. You're all she has nearby and she won't forgive herself for everything that's happened if you don't. Smile and nod, Scully. You do it better than anyone I know. Learn to let people love you. I haven't found much yet because I don't even know what the hell I'm looking for. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 23 Jun 2001 We can only hope that his sense of humor is all his own. I think our particular brand of amusement wouldn't go over too well with the preschool set. Can you imagine Career Day, Mulder? We're going to have to be vague. Pictures of William attached, including one of him eating my hair. Have to run. Stay safe. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 28 Jun 2001 We'd be a hit at Career Day. You could tell them about your Invisible Guy Autopsy. And you know all the kids would want to hear about my time in low orbit. I'm leaving here soon, so it may be a while before I contact you again. Thank you for the pictures. I cannot believe how William has grown. He looks like his own man now instead of just a newborn. I know I once said I never saw you as a mother before, but I must not have been paying attention. You're beautiful, Scully. I miss you both constantly. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 29 Jun 2001 Mulder, I hope nothing serious has happened to necessitate this move and that you have made some headway. I am still having no luck. I'm going to start teaching at Quantico soon. I feel like I'm abandoning you in some way, Mulder. Abandoning our work. But I can't do field work like I used to - not with William - and Doggett and Reyes are doing a good job. I think you'd be impressed. William has been going to sleep at around 10 at night and sleeping until 6 or so. He is such an easy baby and already a hit with the ladies. I bring him to work sometimes and he's quite popular. Skinner gave him a stuffed McGruff the Crime Dog, but he prefers the doll you gave him and sleeps with it now. He's still rather small for the basketball, but that was never my sport anyway. I played field hockey, so free-throw instruction falls to you. Attached is a video of William laying on Skinner's desk. Stay safe. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 19 Jul 2001 He spit up on Skinner's desk? I could watch that all day. You're damned lucky it wasn't Kersh's or you'd be freezing your ass off in a Minnesota field office right now. And of course he's a hit with the ladies, Scully. Not everyone's as hard of a sell on the Mulder men as you. I made it to Wal-Mart and printed out some of those pictures you sent. Keep them coming. Don't ever feel like you're abandoning the work. The most important thing is that you and William stay safe and chasing mutants and government conspirators isn't really conducive to that. Sometimes the only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that you're okay. The job at Quantico will be good for you both. I'm doing a little air guitar of "Hot For Teacher" right now… **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 23 Jul 2001 Mulder, I'm sorry it has taken me a bit to get back to you. My mother and I took William to the beach for a couple of days. I dipped his feet in the surf and I was reminded that seawater has a similar chemical makeup to both blood and amniotic fluid. We crawled from those primordial seas so many millions of years ago and carry some of it inside of us to this day. I know you get seasick, but I think we are hardwired to crave the ocean and I want to take William sailing when he's older. I think he has the genes for it. You may not be a sailor, Mulder, but you know the unquenchable lure of the unknown and thrill of riding out a storm. I had a good time with my mom and tried to do as you suggested. She asked after you and I am confident that whatever else she thinks of my life, she accepts that you're an integral part of it. I start teaching next month and I must confess to some anxiety. It has been so long since I stood in front of a lecture hall. I've gotten used to an audience of one for my technical soliloquies. And Van Halen, Mulder? Really? What happened to the King? **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 4 Aug 2001 Was it Chincoteague, Scully? It's right around Pony Penning Day, isn't it? When he's bigger we'll get a place out in the country and let him pick out a pony of his own. And hell, I'll take some Dramamine and we'll all go sailing too. Get out your list-making paper and get to work. I'll be back soon and we'll have the rest of our lives to get it done. P.S. - I always kind of got turned on by your technical soliloquies, so you may want to be careful around some of your more discriminating students. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 5 Aug 2001 Mulder, We went to Assateague, actually, but he did see the ponies and we found horseshoe crabs washed up on the shore. Despite 445 million years of existence, they've scarcely changed at all. It makes you think, I suppose. All the work we humans do to better ourselves and horseshoe crabs have attained perfection. And a pony?! That's a pretty heavy upgrade from your fish. I was thinking we could move more slowly from Cyprinidae to Perissodactyla. Perhaps a stop at Rodentia would be appropriate if you want to venture into mammalian territory. (Are you getting turned on by this?) William holds his head up and looks around without any trouble at all. He wants desperately to sit up and is so frustrated that he can't manage it yet. Any news? **** Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, August 13, 2001 For where the instrument of intelligence is added to brute power and evil will, mankind is powerless in its own defense. Fe3O4 + R2NCl = ? **** Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, August 15, 2001 And some certain significance lurks in all things, else all things are little worth... I'll let you know if I hear anything. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 20 Aug 2001 Let me know if we can move lunch on Wednesday to 12:30. I printed out pictures from our trip and made you some copies. I will bring William's Celeste Sun toy with me at lunch if that's okay with you. Charlie, Larissa and the kids are coming in for Christmas this year. Talk to you soon. Mom **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 21 Aug 2001 Mom, That would be fine. Thank you for printing the pictures for me, and William will be fine without Celeste until Wednesday. **** Letter received on September 8, 2001 William Mulder 107 E. Cordova St. Apt. 35 Washington, DC., 01833 8-14-01 Dear William, I can only hope this finds its way to you but even if it doesn't, it's something I had to get on paper. Walking away from you and your mother is the single most difficult thing I have ever done in my life. I did it for reasons that I tell myself are right and noble, so why do I feel like I've let you both down? All I want is for you to be safe and I tell myself that leaving and searching for answers is the best way to do that. But the truth is, William, that your old man isn't making much headway here. Your mother sends me pictures and videos of you and sometimes at night I can close my eyes and recall your new-earthling smell. But it's not the same. I know your mother and I know that every night she shows you my picture and tells you I'll be home soon. I don't want to make a liar of her and I promise you both I'm doing the best I can. Every day I fight the urge to let this all go and come home, but I feel I have more to accomplish before I return. One day I hope you will understand all of this. One day I hope I will. I have no real wisdom to offer you, but let me at least tell you this. I have made many mistakes in my life, but through them all, I have tried to do what I feel is honest. And I have learned - as you doubtlessly will - that the right thing is not often the easy thing. I don't know what this world is going to be like when you are older or what role you will have in it, but to thine own self be true, William. I hope to see you soon. And in case your mother forgets to tell you: Elvis > Three Dog Night Hips before hands The Knicks will always be better than the Miami Heat Love, Your father **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 12 Sep 2001 Scully, let me know you're okay. I know you don't work at the Pentagon, but please check in. On the move again, but will write as soon as possible. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 13 Sep 2001 Mulder, We are fine and no one we know was hurt. While it feels as though the world is falling apart, knowing you're okay gives me something to hang on to. There's a long line of people waiting for this computer so I must run, but I got your letter to William. Be careful. We miss you. **** Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, September 17, 2001 There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke… Quantum suicide? **** Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, September 18, 2001 And downward to the secret things we went Biloxi MI - 6/ 86 Camden NJ - 11/91 **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 20 Sep 2001 Mulder, Thank you for your help on the case. Do you have any updates on your end? Not much to tell here. I'm enjoying teaching very much; the students are so engaged and interested. It's a nice change from the endless parade of world-weary cops and agents. Were we ever that fresh-faced and eager? Thinking of you and aching to see you. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 23 Sep 2001 It is no longer safe for me to contact you. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 24 Sep 2001 Mulder, What's going on? Please find a way to let me know what's happening. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 13 Oct 2001 Mulder, William and I baked a cake and we sang Happy Birthday to your picture. We went shopping for presents and William picked out an oven mitt. I tried to steer him towards the Yankees DVD collection, but he was adamant that you needed protective gear. I have begun to entertain theories of genetic memory. Please let us know you're all right. Many happy returns of the day. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 17 Oct 2001 Hey there partner. Wanted to thank you again for the CPR. They don't really cover that in entomology doctoral programs though, so I'm hard pressed to return the favor. I know you're a mother but I assume you still eat so let me know if you want to grab a bite next time I'm in DC. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 19 Oct 2001 Dr. Bronzino, Thank you very much for the offer, but it would not be appropriate at this time. Dana Scully **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 25 Oct 2001 Mulder, I know you can't tell me where you are and I am trying to respect what you're doing but this feels impossible sometimes. Not everything has to be a crusade, does it? You wanted to find your sister and while it wasn't the resolution you wanted, you found out the truth. Isn't that enough? We can have a life now. We have a son who needs both of his parents. Let this go, Mulder. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 4 Nov 2001 Mulder, I don't even know why I'm writing this. I don't even know if you're alive. Attached are pictures of William in his Halloween costume. He went as a skunk and can sit up perfectly. **** Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, November 21, 2001 Lost: Norwegian Elkhound Answers to Heinrich Come home, Heinrich We miss you ****

December 3, 2001

Mulder,

I am so concerned for your safety right now that it is overwhelming. I am trying not to be angry with you - truly I am - but it isn't easy. I know what you've told me, I know we discussed all of this and I know we agreed it was for the best, but the reality is proving far different than the theory. As a scientist, I ought to have expected it and yet I was completely blindsided.

I asked you once years ago if we could just get out of the car and you looked at me like I was crazy and you kept driving. And I stayed. Hundreds of thousands of miles I've traveled with you, Mulder. Endless black ribbons of highways full of nightmares and lost souls and we went after them with badges and guns because we had a job to do.

But I'm asking you now - not as your partner, but as the mother of your child - to get out of the goddamned car. I can't live like this anymore, Mulder, and I will not subject William to it.

I love you but I cannot do this for the rest of my life.

I have nowhere to send this letter.

****

December 15, 2001

Mulder,

William said "Da" when he saw your picture today. I have a video.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 20 Dec 2001

Hey Danes -

Our gang's catching an earlier flight from Puerto Vallarta and I wanted to see if you'd be free for dinner. I'm trusting you to pick a not-shitty restaurant because last time I left it up to Bill he said he knew of a "really good Italian place" and took us to the fucking Olive Garden and I swear to God Tara put some of those breadsticks in her purse.

Can't wait to meet my new nephew (you have a kid, Danes!) and see if either of my rugrats is taller than you yet. They're growing like weeds and Larissa's firm is keeping us in Mexico until the resort's finished, so they're all sun-kissed and blonde and I'm mostly a giant freckle.

Mom specifically told me not to ask about William's father, so I'm asking. This Fox guy…what's up with him? Is he good to you? Bill paints him as a kind of Anton LeVay meets Forrest Gump character, but Bill thinks condoms are Satan's party balloons, so what the hell does he know about relationships?

I'm bringing a case of fine champanya to ring in the new year.

Charlie

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 20 Dec 2001

Charlie,

I can't wait to see you all! It's been far too long since your jet-setting crew has ventured this way. Things with William's father are complicated, but it's due to factors beyond either of our control. I don't mean to be curt, but that's all I can say right now.

Dinner would be great. William still doesn't go to bed until fairly late and can be kept happy with a steady supply of food. He has an excellent pincer grasp.

Did Bill really take you to the Olive Garden? That's classic.

****

December 31, 2001

Mulder,

We celebrated Christmas at my mother's and Bill and Charlie and their families flew in. I have lots of pictures to show you of all of the kids together. William is babbling like a champion and I gave him a crayon to draw a picture for you on the back of this card, so turn it over. I remember New Year's Eve two years ago. Zombies, Mulder. And then you kissed me and here I am wishing maybe the world had ended after all because I'm remembering zombies with fondness and what the hell is wrong with my life and my God I miss you.

There was half a bottle of champagne left and now I'm drunk.

Happy New Year

Putting this card with your other unsent mail.

****

January 1, 2002 Dear William,

One day, you'll ask me to speak of a truth - of the miracle of your birth. To explain what is unexplained. And if I falter or fail on this day, know there is an answer, my child, a sacred imperishable truth, but one you may never hope to find alone. Chance meeting your perfect other, your perfect opposite, your protector and endangerer. Chance embarking with this other on the greatest of journeys; a search for truths fugitive and imponderable. If one day this chance may befall you, my son, do not fail or falter to seize it. The truths are out there. And if one day you should behold a miracle, as I have in you, you will learn the truth is not found in science, or on some unseen plane, but by looking into your own heart. And in that moment you will be blessed - and stricken. For the truest truths are what hold us together, or keep us painfully, desperately apart.

Know this, William, for it is the most important thing I can hope to teach you: It is not a weakness to love someone. There may come a time when it will be the only strength you have.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 07 Jan 2002

Dearest Dana

I've resisted contacting you for reasons I know you continue to appreciate. But, to be honest, some unexpected dimensions of my new life are eating away at any resolve I have left. I'm lonely, Dana, uncertain of my ability to live like this. I want to come home. To you, and to William.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 07 Jan 2002

I am physically shaking right now seeing your words - wishing it were you speaking them to me. I want so badly to see you too, but you are still not safe here. You don't sound like yourself, Mulder, and it's frightening me.

Where in the world have you been?

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 07 Jan 2002

I've seen things I cannot accept and don't know how to change. I feel like the fight has gone out of me and all I want is to come back and put this time behind us.

I will be home soon.

Details to follow in the usual manner.

****

Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, January 8, 2002

It was evening here But upon earth the very noon of night.

ncrl

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 10 Jan 2002

Mulder,

I hold no hope you can respond to this. Or that it reaches you. I only hope that you are alive.

I cannot help believing that you jumped off that train because you knew what I now know - that these "super-soldiers" - if that's what they are - can in fact be destroyed. That the key to their destruction lies in the iron compound at that quarry.

I am scared for you, Mulder. And for William. The forces against us are unrelenting. But so is my determination to see you again. To regain the comfort and safety we shared for so brief a time. Until then, I remain forever yours,

Dana

****

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, January 14, 2002

The whale, like all things that are mighty, wears a false brow to the common world.

Fe3O4

****

Letter received on January 27, 2002

Dana Scully 107 E. Cordova St. Apt. 35 Washington, DC., 01833

1-16-02

Not much time to write Sorry so short saw your note Agreed on Fe3O3 though not sure how yet Love to you both

****

February 2, 2002

Mulder,

I got your last letter and nearly wept with relief to hear from you. I hope this can all end soon. I pray you stay safe until then.

Not sure what the weather is like where you are, but the most beautiful snow has fallen here. William and I have been playing in it at every opportunity and there's a respectable snowman in front of my building now. William likes to eat the snow and blinks when the flakes cling to his eyelashes. He looks more like you every day.

I send regards from Skinner and the Gunmen and my mother lights candles for you.

I wish I had an address to send this to.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 11 Feb 2002

Mulder,

I am hesitant to contact you in this way because I know it is a risk, but I am beginning to fear the worst for William. I don't know what he is but someone does and they are trying to hurt him. I have been working with Reyes and we suspect it all goes back to that artifact I found in Africa, though I can't say I truly understand it. My mother says our son is a miracle and that I must simply accept him as that. But how can I do that, Mulder? After what happened to Emily, how can I not want to know how he came to be whatever he is?

William has been taken from me twice now and I am starting to despair of ever being able to protect him. All the sacrifices we're making right now - what if it comes to nothing? I don't know what to do.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 11 Feb 2002

Sorry, we were unable to deliver your message to the following address.

< [email protected] >

****

Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, February 23, 2002

O lady, you in whom my hope gains strength, you who, for my salvation, have allowed your footsteps to be left in Hell, in all the things that I have seen, I recognize the grace and benefit that I, depending upon your power and goodness, have received. You drew me out from slavery to freedom by all those paths, by all those means that were within your power. Do, in me, preserve your generosity, so that my soul, which you have healed, when it is set loose from my body, be a soul that you will welcome.

****

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, February 24, 2002

Let faith oust fact; let fancy oust memory; I look deep down and do believe.

****

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, March 20, 2002

All men live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever-present perils of life.

Gunmen dead.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 26 Mar 2002

John,

My thoughts are with you and Barbara at this time. Take care.

Dana Scully

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 26 Mar 2002

Thanks Dana. It's been hard but the closure has come as a relief after all this time. I hope you are coming to terms with your own loss as well. They were the good guys.

John Doggett

****

April 20, 2002

Mulder,

I have come to an act of desperation. I have had no way of contacting you - no way to talk this over with you - and so I had to make this choice alone. I have had assurances that our information is to be expunged from every record and I tell myself moment by moment that this is his only chance at a normal life, but what if I have made a mistake that can never be undone?

I vacillate between thinking I have sacrificed my own happiness for his and thinking I have sacrificed him because I am not strong enough to accept what he is. What if that's the case? What if I was just too afraid to see him suffer? Watching Emily die slowly through the glass left me so cold I thought I'd freeze everything I touched, but I didn't know how to grieve for her. They had no right to take those ova from me, no right to create her, and no right to destroy her. She was supposed to be mine and whatever other children were created should have been mine also. But by the time I came to terms with the fact that I was truly her mother, she was already gone. What if the same fate was in store for William? I don't know that I could have stood it.

All I wanted was a child - your child, as the years went on - and I just cannot understand why anyone would create these lives for the express purpose of later destroying them. I don't think we can ever fully know what William means to the Project, but they wanted him dead, Mulder. They wanted to take our son and kill him and would have in time and came close even as I watched over him, and all this before he turned a year old. Jeffrey Spender came to me - terrible things have been done to him - and said that no matter what he did to undo the changes to his little body, William would never have any peace from the men who have been working towards the ends you and I have been fighting.

I believed him, Mulder. I looked into his ruined face and I believe he was telling me the truth and I believe it still. I did the only thing I could think of to protect our son and I can only hope now that you can forgive me.

I don't know what else to do but keep going. It's all I've ever known how to do.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 22 Apr 2002

Dana, what in the hell have you done? Pick up your goddamned phone.

I just got off the phone with mom a little while ago and she's half-hysterical and I'm not far from it myself. What were you thinking? You put your son up for adoption, Dana? That really struck you as the best possible solution? That's what you have a family for. To help you. And no matter how bad things were you should have come to us. I don't know what has happened to you over the years and I don't think I even know who you are anymore, because my sister would never have done something so insane.

We could have taken him in for you if you couldn't deal with being a single mother. God knows where Fox is and why you put up with the crap he dishes out is beyond me, but he has molded you into a woman I don't recognize and I think there is something severely wrong with both of you.

I have faith that you are not beyond salvation, Dana, but you need to cut your ties with him. Come out to San Diego and stay with us. I have already contacted an attorney about having the adoption reversed and because of the extreme emotional duress you've been under he thinks there's a very good shot that Tara and I can get temporary custody while you get your life back together.

It's not too late for you. We love you and want to help, but you have to let us. I am praying for you.

Your brother,

Bill

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 22 Apr 2002

Hey Squirt. Just got an earful from Bill. Mom's too freaked out to be coherent.

I don't know what the fuck is up with you the past few years Danes, but the shit seems to have royally hit the fan of your life. Despite what Bill thinks, you were always the smartest one of us and if this is what you thought was right, well, I guess I have to trust that. I'm just so sorry that you're dealing with this.

We're moving to Marrakech in June for a restaurant Larissa's designing and we have this awesome house with plenty of room for decompressing Feds. Take some leave and come stay for a while.

Worried about you, big sister.

Charlie

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 24 Apr 2002

Dana, I am so worried about you and I think you might need some professional help. Please return my calls. We need to talk.

I love you.

Mom

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 25 Apr 2002

Dana

Please call if you ever need to talk. I am here for you.

Monica

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 25 Apr 2002

Monica,

Thank you for your concern. I'm going to be fine. I will be back to work on Monday.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 25 Apr 2002

I hope this finds you well. Just wanted to see how you were doing.

John Doggett

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 25 Apr 2002

John,

Thank you for your concern. I'm going to be fine. I will be back to work on Monday.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 9 May 2002

Dr. Scully,

My name is John Reits and I am a parapsychologist. I'd like to meet with you concerning a former patient of mine. Please contact me at this address or give me a call at 714-555-0146.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 19 May 2002

Scully -

Do you ever answer your phone anymore? I need to see you in my office at once. Drop what you are doing and get over here now.

It's about Mulder.

****

The End

****

Notes:

Addendum:

R2NCl + H2O = Bellefleur + Braddock Heights? So claims a woman with node at C5

The Warrior Princess Super-Soldier chick had a node on the back of her neck (around the C5 vertebra) and had informed Scully that chloramine was being introduced into the water supply to transform the populace into super-soldiers. Scully was reminded of the water tampering in Braddock Heights (Wetwired).

****

Fe3O4 + R2NCl = ?

Mulder has discovered evidence of a connection between chloramine and magnetite, but isn't sure what it is.

****

Quantum suicide?

Scully's hoping to get some help on the case from 4D. Quantum suicide - as it pertains to the many-worlds interpretation and the case - encompasses the idea that all moments (however unlikely) with possibilities of occurrence greater than zero are experienced in some dimension.

Mulder's reply is just directing her to some related case files. Which I made up.

****

It was evening here But upon earth the very noon of night.

ncrl

Mulder's train will arrive at the New Carrollton train station at midnight

#my fic #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #season 9 #epistolary

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softspaceboibrian · 5 years

Text

Journeys End in Lovers Meeting (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Professor!Gwilym Lee x reader

Summary: Reader is a new student at Harvard University and, on her first day, she does something she might regret. Or maybe not.

Warnings: none

Wc: 2700

A/N: okay, so, not as many people as I thought read the first chapter, which is sad since I thought it was good. but yeah, I'll keep posting it anyway and, hopefully, it will gain readers with time

Other chapters: 1 - 3 - 4 - 5

“Gosh, you’re soaking wet… get inside the car” He sounded worried and confused. You didn’t let him beg for you to actually do it. You didn’t know why, but you trusted him enough to get instantly inside his car, even though you had known him for, what? Less than a day? “What happened to you? I thought you were going to go home by bus.”

“Well, the bus didn’t come, I don’t have money for a cab, my flat mate is still working, I don’t know if I left my keys at home or if I lost them. Oh, and it started raining.” You explained without managing to look him in the eyes. You were embarrassed because of all that happened to you in less than ten minutes.

“You can stay at my place till your friend gets home.” His voice was soft, his smile sincere.

“Oh, no. Don’t worry. You can just drop me off at the library or, I don’t know, a café. I really don’t mean to bother you.” You started rumbling on, really not wanting to be a weight for him.

“You are not bothering me. I live alone with my dog, and she loves people. You’re more than welcome, trust me.” He smiled gently, before starting the car. Apparently, you didn’t have much of a say in it. He just decided that you were going home with him and, for some reason, that didn’t bother you, at all. The drive wasn’t long and surely a lot less embarrassing than the walk they had together to get to his office a few hours before. It was filled with funny comments and stories of embarrassing students hitting in him during lesson or trying to kiss him during office hours. After fifteen minutes or so, the car stopped in front of a beautiful townhouse, which reminded you of London.

“Make yourself at home” said the man while letting you in. The house smelled of cinnamon, books, coffee and cranberry. You looked around, noticing that that place looked exactly how you expected the house of an English literature professor to look like: books everywhere, papers full of notes and stains of coffee, tons of used notebooks, numerous bookshelves filled with every kind of book you could ever think of, the desk and the coffee table submerged with papers and, yes, you guessed it, more books. “I’m really sorry for the mess, we were obviously not expecting any visit anytime soon.” He laughed. The way he talked about himself and his dog warmed your heart.

“Don’t worry, my home is a lot worse. I mean, two girls leaving all by themselves, without any parent to remind them to tidy up the room. I think you can imagine how that looks like.” You giggled, putting your bag down and taking off your shoes. Immediately afterward, you felt something touching your leg and, when you turned around, you saw a furry ball sitting right in front of you, with two beautiful blue eyes, and a ball in her mouth.

“Lady, don’t bother our guest” Said the man, getting closer to them, probably to take the dog away. But you got down on your knees, petting the dog before taking the toy from her mouth.

“Lady, that’s a beautiful name” You commented, starting to play with her, throwing the toy and waiting for the dog to bring it back to you.

The man didn’t answer. He just smiled and disappeared in a room, coming out of it a few minutes later in some more comfortable clothes. “You’re still wet, maybe you want to take a shower and change into some warm, clean clothes.” His voice was so gentle it almost gave you shivers.

“Ehm… yes, thank you. If that not a problem with you.” You got up from the floor, leaving Lady alone and walking towards him.

Twenty minutes later you walked into the kitchen wearing warm clothes that were definitely too big for you, your hair had been pulled up in a messy bun, but at least you were no longer soaking wet because of the rain. The kitchen smelled even more of coffee than the living room did, inviting you to get inside and take a seat at the table where the Professor was working. The last thing you wanted to do was to disturb him. But as soon as you sat down, he looked up from the laptop, laying his eyes on you, that soft smile that showed the little wrinkles around his eyes made its way on his face, making you blush for no particular reason. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you.” You smiled, lowering your gaze on the table, while you started fidgeting with your hands.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“I actually prefer tea”

“Black?”

“Yes, please”

“Coming” He winked, going immediately to the stove to prepare you tea. It amazed you how different he looked there, at home, where no one could see him, where he simply was Gwilym, the nice guy next door with an adorable puppy and amazing taste in books. “I’m working on an article.” He said breaking the silence. “I write for an online newspaper. I take care of the literature section. I review new books, I write about recently deceased authors, but this kind of article I’m working on right now is by far my favourite: I have to work on a theme, analyse it through different works, authors, countries, genres.”

“And what is the theme of this article in particular?” You asked, being sincerely curious.

“Don John. You know, the famous Spanish womanizer.” He turned around, arms crossed in front of his chest. “I started by analysing the first drama ever written about him, then I compared it to the Romantic version. Then, I talked about Mozart’s and Byron’s plays and Kierkegaard’s theory of the three phases of life.” He explained with a proud grin on his lips, until he got unexpectedly cut off.

“Did you consider writing about Wilde’s Dorian Gray as modern Don John?” You asked, tilting your head to the side, laying your cheek on the palm of your hand.

He looked at you speechless. “No, I did not…” You had surprised him, positively surprised him.

“Well, you see, they are more alike than one would ever imagine: they both care about appearance more than everything, they like to seduce people – here’s the first difference, Dorian seduces not only women, but also men. Then, for example, look at the characters and the object: Sybil is Doña Ines, Sybil’s brother is Don Gonzalo, the picture is the statue. Easy.” He was amazed by the girl in front of him and her knowledge. “Why modern, you might ask. Well, you see, when the story was first written, it was set in Seville, Spain, one of the most glorious reigns of those times. When Wilde wrote The Picture of Dorian Gray, England was the most powerful country in the world and geographically the centre of the world. Don John used to go out drinking, Dorian is known for using drugs, such as opium.” You kept rambling on for several minutes, stopping only to thank the man for the tea.

When you finished presenting your theory, Gwilym remained silent for a couple more moments, still astonished by your intelligence. “You know Spanish literature too?”

“And Anglo-American, German, Italian, Scandinavian and a little French and Russian.” You replied, right before taking a sip of your no-longer-too-hot tea.

“You will never stop to surprise me, won’t you?”

You giggled, hiding your now rosy cheeks behind the mug, not really knowing what to answer. “You can use my idea, if you want.”

He sat down across from you, setting his mug down on the table right on a small pile of papers. That’s why there's stains pretty much on each paper on his house. “You should write for a blog or a magazine yourself.” His voice was gentle, just as his smile.

“Oh no, writing articles isn’t my thing. I’m more into poetry and novels.” You shook your head, crossing your legs on the chair. “But, I’m serious, use it. If your readers find it interesting, all you need to do is thank me.” You giggled, putting down the mug on the table.

But, at that point, the article was long forgotten, the laptop went on standby mode. “Are you staying over for dinner?”

The next day you woke up at the sound of your alarm going off. You reached for the phone, without finding it. It must have fallen from the nightstand or something, or at least that was what you thought. When you finally managed to open your eyes, the view of a room you had never seen before appeared in front of you, leaving you perplexed. You finally found her phone, which was on the nightstand, charging. A just not your nightstand. It was only when you read Rose’s text messages that it all hit you.

[9:47 pm] Honey, I’m so sorry if I didn’t answer. I was still working. Hope you’re fine.

[9:48 pm] Oh, I see, you’re with Prof Charming.

[10:14 pm] Yes, your keys are home. I’ll leave the spare one under the mat outside the door.

[6:45 am] You’re not home? Are you already out or did you sleep at your teacher house?

[7:01 am] I’m actually a little worried. Text me asap, so I know that you’re okay.

You unlocked you phone and immediately responded Rose’s messages. Yes, you had spent the night there, but you didn’t recall falling asleep in that bed. That was extremely confusing. At that point you got up, taking your phone with her and walking outside of the room, following the scent of black tea and coffee coming from the kitchen, finally finding the tall man, who was standing in front of the stove, waiting for the coffee to be ready, printed papers in his hands. You just walked in, looking at him and greeting him, waiting for him to realize you were actually there. And when he finally raised his eyes from the papers to meet your gaze, a soft smile formed on his lips. “Good morning.” His voice was still a little raspy, he had probably just woke up himself. “Did you sleep well? I made you tea, and here you have toasts with jam or butter, granola, cookies, fruit. Take whatever you want.”

You sat down at the table, still looking at him, hoping he would say something that could remind you how you ended up waking up in his bed. Like, did you drink so much that now you couldn’t even remember doing it? Did you have sex? What happened?!

“Last night you were watching TV and you fell asleep on the couch” He said, as if he could read your mind. “So I picked you up, took you to my room and let you sleep in my bed, while I slept on the couch instead.”

You looked at him in silence for a second, waiting to finish chewing the cookie you had started to eat. “You didn’t have to. You could have woken me up and driven me home, or even just let me sleep on the couch.”

“That’s okay, don’t worry.” He smiled in that gentle way, like he always did, that kind of smile that reassures you, makes you feel comfortable. “Do you need me to drive you to your place so that you can change before going to University?”

“Yes, but you could just drop me off there and then I could take the bus, you don’t need to wait for me.”

“I insist.” His voice was soft, soothing, in a way. He had only known you for less than a day and he was already so caring and thoughtful. And the was weird for you because never in your experience someone did that just because they wanted to. Back in high school, people always wanted something in exchange. They treated you kindly and then they wanted you to do their homework; they invited you to parties, and then they wanted you to vote for them; they invited you over to their place to study together, and then they wanted to have sex. “Come on, I’m just trying to be nice. After all, we’re going to work together now.”

You didn’t let him go on for a lot more. You trusted him, even though you weren’t sure why. In his eyes you see that something that ha led you to accept his ride the day before. You trusted him, and that was the reason why you eventually gave in. And there you were, twenty minutes later, in front of your apartment, finally opening the door and letting the man in. “I’m really sorry for the mess.” You giggled, immediately running towards your flatmate’s room to close the door – it looked like a bomb had exploded inside that room, there were clothes all over the floor, open books on the bed and shoes on the desk, nothing was where it should have been. Luckily, the rest of the house wasn’t that bad, still a mess, but it could have definitely been worse. The living room wasn’t that big, the couch took up most of the space, all of her books were still inside those big cardboard boxes, only a couple of notebooks were lying on the coffee table with some other papers, most of them covered in tea and mug stains. Your room, on the other hand, had a reason for it to be a mess: it was still a work in progress, there were still boxes out, you hadn’t put all the books on the shelves nor all the clothes inside the closet, but that was just because you would usually have something else to do in the afternoon or in your spare time instead of tidying up.

“You can wait here, on the couch” You smiled, right before vanishing inside your bathroom. It didn’t take you long and fifteen minutes later you had showered and were now wearing some dark wash mom jeans, a loose navy blue turtleneck with white stripes, a cream coloured long cardigan and white sneakers. As simple as it could be. You put on some lip balm and walked out of the bathroom, picking up your bag and going back to the living room. There you immediately met those blue eyes that almost sent shivers down your spine, before going back to what they were looking at before. There was something about that man, something that you couldn’t yet understand but that still made you want to spend time with him as if he was a simple friend.

“Your poems are breath-taking. I didn’t expect you to be this good.” He commented, his eyes still on an open notebook. “I mean, I imagined you were probably really good, but I didn’t think you were this good.” When you finally realised what he was holding in his hands, you let you bag fall to ground with a big thud, before running towards him, taking the notebook from his hands and closing it immediately. He looked puzzled, why should someone this good hide her talent? “I’m really sorry, I found it there, on the coffee table. It was open, and I peeked. It’s impressive what you can do.”

“I never show my poems to anyone.” You whispered, hiding the notebook behind your back.

“I don’t get it? Why not share it with the word? Those are wonderful.” His voice was soft, sincere, his eyes tried to meet yours, which were now looking at your shoes.

“I don’t… I don’t think people would actually like them.”

He looked at you in silence for a while, before crossing his arms in front of his chest. “The Romantics, am I right? Those are the poets you look up to. Keats is probably your favourite.”

“Yes”

“Well, that explains a lot.” And you knew exactly what he meant by that, so you just kept your eyes low, trying to hide the peachy colour of your cheeks. “We should get going.” Said the man after taking a quick glance at his watch.

#gwilym lee #professor gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee x you #professor!gwilym lee #journeys end in lovers meeting #jeilm #softspaceboibrian writings

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