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admiralty-xfd · 5 years

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Culmination

Mulder and Scully live separate lives but can’t seem to forget each other. They begin work on the X Files again and slowly begin to reconnect.

This is chapter 17. To go back to the beginning of the story please click here.

Side note: This is probably my favorite chapter in this story. (Read: Daggoo!)

ISOLATION

SCULLY

(pre S10/ My Struggle I)

Loneliness is a choice.

It’s a choice she’s making again, but this time it feels different. This time she feels like she has no choice. She could be lonely with him, or be lonely without him.

The thought of being lonely with Mulder was the more painful of those two choices. So she left.

Trying to adjust to a life without him has not been easy. She knew it would be a huge change, but she hadn’t anticipated how every single facet of her life would be completely new. New living space, new routine, new acquaintances, new mindset. She supposes that’s what happens when you're so utterly dependent on another person.

Scully had always vowed not to be that person, not to be someone whose very existence relied so heavily on another, let alone on a man. But she broke that vow to herself years ago, she knew it then and she knows it now. She’s left herself completely vulnerable, no safety net in sight. He was her only safety net. Extricating herself from his orbit has been more difficult than she’s comfortable admitting.

The first few days had been a relief. After that it became torture.

It was a horrible feeling, knowing he was a phone call away and she couldn’t talk to him. She had arranged with one of her doctor colleagues to check up on him weekly and refill his prescriptions, which he agreed to wordlessly. She'd told her colleague to contact her if she'd encountered any problems or was ever unable to contact him, and so far she'd heard nothing. This satisfied her, for the time being, in regards to his health.

Divorcing him was something she’d never seriously considered. She tried to convince herself she avoided the topic because she didn’t want to go through all the paperwork and rigamarole involved in dissolving their relationship legally, but she knew that wasn’t the truth. The truth was, she couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t do it. Regardless of whether or not they’d ever get back together, he’d always be joined to her somehow. The thought of adding to both their heartbreaks with such a request was unfathomable to her, at least right now.

Twenty years. Twenty years together and somehow they'd made it all go away.

She buries herself in her work every day, knowing every life saved is one more that isn't her own. She's trying to be happy, but without him, she's lost. She doesn't feel regret, or acrimony, or bitterness; just loss. She's lost the person she cares about more than anything in the world.

She hasn’t spoken to him, other than words necessary to get her things moved out of their house, in ten months. She took what she needed, left everything else behind.

She knows it’s because she secretly hopes she will be back someday, but whenever she thinks about the possibility of this she can’t bring herself to call him. It’s as if they are arguing again about Bigfoot or Big Blue or Big Whatever Else, and they both want to be right, and they can’t both be right, but neither can be proven wrong, so they’re left in an infuriatingly frustrating stalemate. She thinks about this, then, just as quickly, the desire passes and she puts the phone down and continues to learn to live without him.

She’s never gone this long without speaking to him since they met. The gravity of that fact is only setting in now.

Her phone rings. She looks at the caller ID, and doesn’t know why she picks up. She wants to be mad at him but she’s not mad at him, she’s just sad about the whole thing. She’s needed this space to re-establish herself as her own person, her own being. Someone outside of his magnetic pull. But she can’t help but miss him. She’s ignored his calls for months and he hasn’t given up. A small part of her is hopeful that he hasn’t given up.

“Hello?”

“Oh… hi. You picked up.” His voice sounds good, he sounds good. He sounds more like himself again. She’s glad to hear that. After she left she’d worried about the very real possibility he might relapse. The familiarity of his voice hits her in the gut, not to mention how sexy she’s always found it. She tries to ignore that errant thought.

“I did.”

“So… how is everything?”

She pauses. “Okay. How are you?”

“I’m doing all right. It’s been really quiet around here.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking about getting a dog.”

“You are not,” she says incredulously. She’d floated the idea of getting a dog before but he’d never bitten. He had always been more of a fish kind of person.

“No, I’m not. Just wanted to see what you’d say,” she can hear him smiling. She smiles and rolls her eyes in spite of herself.

“I’d have one by now if my apartment allowed them,” she admits.

“How’s work going?”

“Mulder, did you really just call to chat?”

“Yes. Is that so wrong?”

She’s quiet for a second. Sighs.

“Look, Scully, it’s silly for you to avoid me like this. Just because things didn’t work out for us as a couple it doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly.”

She wants to tell him that yes, actually, that’s exactly what it means. It’s only been ten months. What does he think this is, a vacation? She knows where being friendly with him will lead. It will lead to a place she doesn’t have the willpower to say no to, and then they’d be in trouble all over again.

She can’t tell him the reason they can’t be friends; she’d be admitting a weakness. He’s left her without a choice. She suspects, as usual, the motherfucker knows exactly what he’s doing. A brief flash of annoyance comes over her and she grits her teeth.

One point to Mulder.

“You’re right,” she concedes.

“Okay, friend, so how’s work?" She can practically hear him grinning on the other side of the line. She gives in, because in spite of everything she does miss him.

“It’s fine. My hours have been pretty crazy, but it’s a good thing.” She doesn’t complete the thought, that it’s a good thing because she has less spare time to think about him. But he’s probably completed the thought without her. He tends to do that.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. My hours around here are completely nuts.”

She hears a basketball bounce across the room and pictures him in their living room, probably wearing jeans and a T shirt, laying on the couch. She’s sure he’d been spinning the ball and had just lost hold of it. The place is probably a disaster without her around. She can’t help but smile.

“So what have you been up to?”

“You really want to know?”

She really does. “I really do.”

“Well, believe it or not, I’m writing a book. I’ve been following your advice.”

She’s stunned. “That’s… fantastic. I’m glad to hear that, honestly.”

“Thanks. You’re in it, you know.”

“I… really?” She hadn’t much thought about it but of course she would be. How could she not be?

“Of course, how could you not be?”

“Can I read it?” The words are out of her mouth before she gives herself a chance to think this through.

“Sure, but I’m not finished. Actually I’d really appreciate your help, I don’t have access to our files so I’m doing it mostly from memory.”

“It’s not all about UFOs, is it?”

“Well, I’m not gonna lie to you Scully, they play a part. Does that surprise you?”

She sighs. “No, it doesn’t. I’m just… done with all of that, Mulder. UFOs, aliens, all of that stuff had a stranglehold on my very existence. I’d rather not revisit it.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Well, tell me how you really feel.”

“I’m sorry, that came out wrong.” She cannot get pulled back into his world. “You know what I mean.”

“Well, would it surprise you if I told you it’s mostly about us?”

Something stirs in her belly. It’s a feeling she knows well: Comfort. Familiarity.

Love.

She wants to push it away but it’s strong.

“You mean… you and me?”

“Yeah.”

She smiles and for a moment neither of them speak. It’s such a small thing, maybe even a silly thing, but it’s so meaningful to her. His life on the X Files in a book and it’s mostly about the two of them. She’s touched.

“Well, I’ll do what I can to help.”

She can't believe she’s essentially committed to helping Mulder write a book within five minutes of being on the phone with him. Between this and getting her to agree to a friendship she starts to believe the man truly is a dark wizard of some kind.

“Thanks, Scully. That’s… that’s big of you.” He says it genuinely, no sarcasm. For a moment they just sit quietly, together and apart, breathing on either end of the line. She wants to hang up almost as desperately as she doesn’t.

“Well, I should probably go.”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

“I’ve got some work to do.”

“Scully, I miss you.”

A knot forms in her stomach. The words are out now, and they can’t be taken back. She misses him too. She’d never want him to know how much, but he’s said it now. She doesn’t speak for a long time.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know.” He sounds sincere. He’s trying. She does appreciate his effort.

She can’t let this phone call take that kind of turn. She can’t get sucked back in. So she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She needs to let him go, now.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay. Bye.”

She clicks the phone off and sits at her kitchen table. It’s a small table, the smallest one she could find, but it’s still meant for two.

***

Scully goes to the mirror and cleans up the spots of blood on her neck from the surgery she’d been performing. She quickly removes her scrubs in the locker room and changes into her street clothes. She touches up her makeup and straightens her hair. It’s the quickest she’s ever had to prepare for anything resembling a date. Last but not least, she pulls out her black Jimmy Choos and slips them on, replacing them in her locker with the sneakers she’d been standing on for hours.

God, she could use a drink.

She’d tried to go out with other men over the last year or so. After nearly two years without Mulder she thought she might be ready. She’d made a solid effort to find someone who could fill the gaping hole she created when she removed him from her life. But it would always go the same way: some perfectly nice guy engaging her in some perfectly boring conversation which, in the end, could never be a substitute for what she and Mulder shared. Always just some guy who wasn’t Mulder.

She could accept no substitutes. There was no relief in a silhouette.

It won’t stop her from trying. She’ll be damned if she can’t beat this. She beat cancer, for God’s sake.

She exits the hospital and Tad O’Malley is waiting for her, holding the door open to his limousine. She smiles and allows him to help her inside. They sit down and he immediately pours two flutes of Dom Pérignon. She’s impressed, in spite of herself.

“So… tell me more about your work on the X Files, Dana. I’m extremely interested.”

Christ. She doesn’t want to disappoint him the second this thing begins so she decides to indulge him for a bit. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, how do you feel about all this? Do you believe in the paranormal?”

A memory stirs and she thinks of Mulder, young and eager, asking her basically the same question over twenty years ago. Why can’t she stop these memories from persisting?

“I was assigned to the X Files as a scientist, so I come at things from a more rational perspective. But over the years I’ve had… experiences that defy explanation.” She’s recited this mantra so many times she wants to laugh.

“What kinds of experiences?”

She’s not sure where to start. The truth is, the most amazing thing she experienced was Mulder. But she can’t tell him that, especially after the way she practically badmouthed him to Tad earlier. She feels a little bad about that now.

She digs up a couple stories to placate him, and after a few minutes they are chatting companionably, sipping champagne. It feels like the beginning of a nice date. Until:

“And what about Fox Mulder? Does he really believe in these things? He seems a little disillusioned. Not what I expected, actually.”

She hesitates, not sure where to take this. “And what did you expect, Mr. ‘O'Malley?”

“Please, call me Tad.”

“What did you expect, Tad?”

“From what I’ve heard, he’s… passionate, driven, dedicated. Earlier today he just seemed a little… lost. Standoffish.”

Scully tenses a bit. This is unexpected, something she hadn’t anticipated. “He’s... had a rough few years. It’s been rough for us both.”

She’s instantly uncomfortable, not sure how much she wants to reveal. Unfortunately she fears she’s given too much away already.

“So… you two were in a relationship.”

She looks at him. “Is this really what you’re trying to ask me? Because you could have just asked me, so we can move on.”

“I’m sorry, Dana. I didn’t know it was a sensitive subject.”

She doesn’t want him to know how rattled she is. “It’s fine. Mulder is just… whenever these sorts of things take hold of him, he goes somewhere that it’s very hard for him to come back from. I worry about the effect it has on his health, that’s all.”

He looks confused. “But you two are… not together anymore, right?”

She looks Tad directly in the eye. “He’s been my whole world for the better part of two decades. I’ll always worry about him, whether we’re together or not.”

He looks a little chagrined. “I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to denigrate anything. Just trying to figure out where I stand here, is all,” he grins.

She smiles at him. Tad isn’t a bad guy, and he’s nice. He’s good looking, and charming. He’s a fucking Republican, it would never work for the two of them in any long term sense, but maybe just for tonight he could make her forget about everything else.

She tries to imagine what it would be like to wrap her legs around his face but as usual these thoughts always morph into Mulder being there instead. She flushes at a thousand memories that leap to her mind, and one very specific memory of the two of them in a limousine very much like this one.

“Do you need me to turn the air conditioning on? You look warm,” Tad offers.

She looks away towards the tinted glass. “I’m fine,” she replies.

Dana Scully is always fine.

MULDER

(S10/ post-Babylon)

Living without her has been nearly impossible. Actually impossible.

More than impossible.

As with most impossible occurrences in his life, Mulder has been forced to believe it, and motivated to search for the answer. He doesn’t have her with him this time, so it will be harder.

Waiting until he’d surfaced from his depression to leave him was such a Scully thing to do, it brought him comfort in a strange way. He knew she’d worry about him, and she was careful to leave him a lifeline. Her colleague had been courteous, punctual, and efficient, just like Scully always was, and he felt so guilty for hurting her enough to make her leave that he’d done everything the doctor asked of him to keep Scully’s mind at ease.

He didn't want to add to her pain. He hadn’t wanted to be the cause of it in the first place. He hadn't wanted to become the burden he’d so desperately desired her to be rid of.

It was strange… taking the meds and doing what he was supposed to do to get healthy was easier after she left, not harder. He wanted to be better. His only goal in mind was to make everything okay again, to get her to come back to him. It was all he thought about every day. It consumed his waking mind.

How do I make this right? What can I do to deserve her?

It wasn’t a new thought; it was something he’d thought about many times in the past. He’d never truly felt worthy of her and she finally told him with her actions he hadn’t been.

When she told him how she’d felt that night in his jail cell he felt something awaken inside him; something he’d known for a long time but hadn’t allowed himself to truly feel: he needed to earn her. Even though he’d allowed himself to be with her, to love her and let her love him, he knew he had work to do. He'd allowed his obsession to take hold of him in a way that should only have been reserved for her.

He doesn't fully understand this yet, but he's trying to. He will try as long as it takes, until he gets this right. Until he gets her back.

***

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Scully laments as they drive towards the airport, the scruffy little dog in a cage in the backseat. “My building manager is never going to let me keep him.”

“Why’d you take him, then?” Mulder isn’t angry, or annoyed. Just curious.

“I don’t know, his name is Daggoo. It’s like he was meant for me. I couldn’t just leave him there all alone.”

They’ve been back on the X Files for a few months now and Mulder feels a sense of relief that things are starting to feel somewhat normal again. Well, as normal as things can be when the woman you love isn’t in love with you anymore, but is working with you; isn’t living with you, but is still married to you. That kind of normal.

He should be used to that kind of normal by now.

At least they’ve fallen back into the work as if they’d never left. He’s been needing something to focus on, and when Skinner asked them both back he didn’t hesitate. Scully didn’t either, though for understandably different reasons.

Getting officially reinstated into the Bureau was not the ordeal Mulder had feared it might be. A couple signatures here, some training courses they’d had to retake there, and they were officially FBI agents again. It was strange after having been on the run from this very organization for so long to be back in its midst, being given the trust he thought he’d lost so many years ago. He’s hardly certain he wants to give them his own trust again. But he feels content; back where he belongs. It’s nice to be Agent Mulder once more.

It was awkward when he had to disclose their marriage to the Bureau, however. The FBI doesn’t have an official policy stating partnered agents couldn’t be married, but Mulder was forced to admit they weren’t together anymore even though they hadn’t signed any dissolution documents. Skinner seemed genuinely disappointed by this turn of events, which Mulder found somewhat comforting.

He was a little ashamed that he was still susceptible to the pull of his obsession, however, and was worried that all that Sveta stuff had rubbed Scully the wrong way. But he knew Scully understood that there was something going on that was important, perhaps even important enough to put aside their differences and work together on the X Files as they always had to find a common goal; to search for a common truth.

He isn't sure yet if they share another common goal, which is finding their way back to one another. He feels as if this reassignment to the X Files was somehow fated; that it means something, not only for the X Files but for the two of them. He can only hope she can find it in herself to feel the same way.

Now they are driving in their rental car with a couple suitcases and a dog, like a family headed home from vacation. And apparently this dog is not going to have a home when they get back.

Scully’s hand is on her brow, looking sadly out the window. The sight of her in this state makes Mulder react more quickly than he expects.

“I’ll keep him,” he offers.

She looks at him, upset, and shakes her head. “Oh please, Mulder. You hate dogs.”

“I do not hate dogs,” he responds, somewhat affronted.

“You never wanted one when we were together.”

“There were a lot of things I didn’t do when we were together,” he says, turning his head to look at her.

She stares at him with her hands in her lap. He’s noticed this lately, she keeps her hands very close to her body most of the time, as if she can’t trust them around him.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says quietly. “I’ll find someone to take him.”

For a moment he decides to maybe just let her find someone else. He doesn’t really want a dog, he’s just trying to be helpful. He just wants that sad look on her face to go away. If it were anyone else he’d never have said a thing. But then he realizes what this could mean for them. If he takes her dog, and she allows him to, that could be a sign that she’s open to seeing him socially. If she wants to see the dog, she has to see him. It would be worth all the hair and the drool and the shit to get to see her at all.

He’s decided. He’s the one who’s going to take her dog, dammit.

“He’s going to live with me, Scully.”

She lifts her head up, wearily. “Are you really serious? Can you even care for a dog?”

“Scully, I had a dog once. I think. Plus we have- I have that big yard. He’s going to love it.”

He can tell she’s in already, but she’s faking mulling it over. He just keeps on driving because he knows she won’t say no.

“Okay.” She smiles at him. “Maybe this will be good for you. Dogs are great company.”

“I know you worry about me all alone in our little house,” he points out. He doesn’t correct himself and neither does she. It is their house. Both their names are still on the deed.

“You never cease to amaze me, Mulder.”

***

Daggoo has been great company, and no one is more pleasantly surprised than Mulder. The dog is perfect. He listens, is housebroken, and he doesn’t even shed. It’s as if he’s Scully in canine form.

Maybe that’s why Mulder loves him already.

“Daggoo! Here, boy!” He takes the dog out into the front yard and throws a tennis ball for him. It’s hard to do this on the weekdays, but weekends have become surprisingly filled with Daggoo-related activities. It’s nice to have something to put his energy into that isn’t self-destructive.

Weeks have passed and the two of them have fallen into a comfortable routine. They wake up together, Mulder lets him into the yard and feeds him, and just before he leaves for work Daggoo climbs the stairs and snuggles into Scully’s old side of the bed, napping for most of the day. It’s where he spends most of the day, most every day. Mulder never showed him where to sleep; the dog decided this was his place. The symbolism is not lost on him.

Mulder’s plan has worked; Scully visits at least once a week. For the first few weeks she focused on the dog, bringing food and treats and toys, maybe out of obligation or guilt that she’d saddled Mulder with this animal. But after a few weeks her focus is back on him. Some days he will sit out on the porch and see a familiar SUV pull up without any warning, Daggoo fast asleep upstairs. She doesn’t ask about the dog. Those are the visits he lives for; when she arrives for him.

They are slowly becoming friends again, partners again, and definitely not out of obligation. She wants to be there. Daggoo has become a buffer, an excuse for her to come visit, and he’s grateful for it.

“So it looks like you two have been getting along nicely?” Scully asks one day as they sit on the porch together, Daggoo running around the yard.

"Yeah, I guess I’m a dog person after all.”

“You see?” She smiles. “You look good, Mulder. You look really good. I’m glad.”

He grins at her, relaxed and happy. “I feel good.”

“How are you doing with your meds?”

“Stopped. Two weeks ago.”

She’s quiet and looks at him. “Are you sure that’s the wisest course?”

“I’m doing okay, Scully. I feel like I’ve found my way again. I haven’t felt this good in years.”

She looks genuinely happy, and tilts her head a bit. “I’m glad to hear that, really.”

He looks her right in the eye and says it. “I’m doing it for you, you know.”

She looks away, uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter. He will not give up, not ever.

She gazes out across the yard at Daggoo, jumping and biting at flying bugs. “He doesn’t try to run away?” she asks idly.

Mulder hasn’t moved his eyes from her face. “No. I think he might like it here.”

She finally looks back at him. “Dogs are simple creatures, with simple needs. I’m sure you can give him everything he could possibly want.”

“I guess so. He’s stuck around so far.”

This is what they do. This is how they operate. Dancing around a topic they need to discuss but cannot get down to it. He’s used to it, frustrated by it, but he can’t push her now. This needs to be on her timetable.

She holds all the cards. He only has a dog.

“I’m glad he seems to be happy here. I really appreciate you giving him a home.”

Mulder nods. “Anytime.”

Hours later, after she’s been gone for awhile, Mulder lays in bed and thinks about her. He does this every night, every night since she left. He imagines her laying next to him the way she used to, and he can almost sense her presence until Daggoo hops up onto the bed and reminds him she is gone.

The dog nestles into his side and falls asleep more promptly than any sentient being should be able to. Mulder scratches Daggoo’s head and tries to remember a time when he wasn’t so lonely, a time when she needed him the way this dog does. A time when he should have taken better care.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes. He’s on a mission. He’s going to make her see she needs him again too.

***

So much has happened and yet nothing has happened. Maggie Scully passed away, and Scully had asked him to go the funeral with her, but the sadness of the event had weighed upon them both far too much for him to consider any improvement in their relationship.

He’d been close to Maggie, especially since he and Scully married. It was an unforeseen side effect of marriage he enjoyed immensely: gaining back a family.

A large chunk of time had passed where they hadn't spoken to any of the Scullys while they were in hiding, and it’s one more thing Mulder can’t help but feel guilty about. She’d given up seeing her own family so that she could be his.

William’s adoption had been the last straw for Bill Jr., however. They’d seen Bill and his family once since they got married. As usual, he blamed Mulder for his family’s misfortune and as usual, Mulder took it to heart. He couldn’t deny responsibility even when Scully defended him. Bill Jr. and his family had been stationed in Germany years ago and he and Scully had kept their distance.

Maggie, however, had always cared for him like her own son, like he suspected a mother is supposed to. And he cared for her. After they’d come out of hiding she’d become his family too, and he loved having a real family again.

Now that she’s gone, it should be another reason for Scully to bring her walls down. But she hasn’t. She lets him support her however he can, but he can’t help but wonder if it’s only because she has no choice: he’s literally all she has left now.

He hates to see Scully hurting, especially when they are in this state of limbo, where he doesn’t know how to comfort her. He doesn’t know the right way. He will do anything and everything she needs, as long as she’s willing to tell him what that is.

The only thing he feels comfortable doing is listening, and holding her. She allows him to. So it’s what he does.

***

The months go by comfortably, although he can’t help but notice the time passing. Every time he and Scully see each other, be it at work or when she visits Daggoo, they fall more and more back into the way they used to be. At least, the way they used to be before Scully came into his bedroom that night and changed both their worlds forever. It’s hard for him to believe something so meaningful that took so long to happen could be undone so easily.

Being here again in this place, however, feels like a step backward this time rather than merely an interim because he knows their potential. He knows how great they can be when they are everything to each other.

He wants to get back there, desperately. But for now, he can only be content with their friendship. They’re spending most of their time together nowadays, and he can’t complain. It feels like old times, whether they are in the field chasing after a Band-Aid Nose man or strolling quietly around the house discussing heavenly trumpets. It feels like everything is settling down.

“What are you up to tonight, Scully?” he asks as he puts some files into their office cabinet and closes it, another long work day over. They’d spent the past three evenings together and he was hoping to make it four.

“I think I’m going to head back to my place tonight, Mulder. I’ve got some things to take care of.”

He tries not to be disappointed, but he has a sneaking suspicion she wants to keep some distance between them. He can’t decide if she’s just sick of him, or if she’s keeping some kind of arbitrary boundary. He doesn’t think they are quite in a place where they’d be in danger of crossing some physical line, but he’s not in her head.

Her feet are up on the desk and she’s perusing some autopsy photos from earlier that day. She tilts her head up and grabs the side of her neck, stretching it. Hearing her wince in pain, Mulder seizes an opportunity.

“Let me get that.”

Before she can protest, his hands are on her shoulders, kneading them the same way he would when she’d arrive home from a long day at the hospital. She puts her feet and her photos down but doesn’t try to stop him. He knows she won’t make him stop. A bath and a neck massage are the two indulgences even a Flukeman couldn’t get in her way of.

She breathes deeply and allows him to make her feel better. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He knows they’re both actively trying not to think about where such an activity would typically lead them. Considering they haven’t said a thing regarding the status of their relationship, the concern seems to be unjustified, at least for the moment.

As he kneads the tension out of her shoulders he feels her relaxing. It’s been so long, so long since he’s been able to touch her like this and he misses it so much. He misses her so much.

“That feel okay?” he asks.

Her eyes are closed and she hums a bit. “No, you’re terrible at this.”

“You realize it’s a serious crime to lie to an FBI agent.”

“Okay, it’s wonderful. Thank you.”

He doesn’t want to say anything, he wants to just enjoy what’s happening but he can’t help himself.

“How do you like living alone?”

She doesn’t respond for a moment. “It’s been fine.”

Of course she’d say that. She’s always fine.

“I haven’t thought it was fine. Not for a long time. But having Daggoo around has been really nice.”

“I’m really glad that worked out.”

He can sense she’s not going to offer much, but he can also sense she’s open to hearing what he has to say, so he goes on. “It’s kind of like having you around again. He’s clean, and he likes to cuddle.”

“He’s like me? Does that mean he bites?”

“No. He kisses me when I get home from work, though.”

He isn’t sure how long they can continue this particular round of bantering before crossing into awkward territory. But then she does something he is not expecting. She reaches up to her shoulder and puts her hand over his. She pulls his hand into her cheek and slightly tilts her head into it.

“I’ll bet he'd never leave you.”

His heart stops. He knows it’s not possible but it feels that way. He can’t see her face, so he just looks at the back of her head. He squeezes her hand.

“He doesn’t have a reason to.”

They stay that way for what feels like a long time but is probably only a few seconds. Time always seems to slow down when clarity comes to the forefront.

She squeezes his hand back and then the moment is over. She stands and heads towards the door to get her jacket.

“Thanks for the back rub, Mulder. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gives him a gentle smile, her eyes not hiding the sadness there.

“See you.”

She heads out the door and he just stands there, not moving an inch until he hears the elevator door closing.

***

He turns his key in the lock and enters the darkness of the house. The usual clattering of doggy nails doesn’t reach his ears and he instantly feels a sharp jolt of fear.

“Daggoo? Here, boy!”

Nothing.

Mulder’s long work hours required him to leave a doggy door for Daggoo to go out and do his business, but the dog always returned. He had never gotten around to building a fence because he’d simply never felt the need.

He goes from room to room, searching, but Daggoo is nowhere to be found. He goes upstairs to see his usual spot on the bed, a tiny indentation against Scully’s pillow.

Vacant. For the second time.

The sight of it brings him to the floor. He weeps for his lost friend but mostly for what his disappearance represents.

***

He must have fallen asleep because he wakes to Scully’s hand on his shoulder.

“Mulder? Mulder, it’s me.”

He opens his eyes and it’s still dark. She’s still in her work clothes.

“Scully? What are you doing here?”

“I… I changed my mind. I didn’t want to be alone after all.”

He smiles, then remembers Daggoo. How is he going to tell her?

“What’s wrong, Mulder? Why are you asleep on the floor?”

He can only pull her into a hug. She lets him and they sit together on the floor.

“I- I lost Daggoo.”

“Oh, Mulder,” she says, and just lets him hold her. “I’m so sorry.”

This entire thing is so confusing. Daggoo is his dog, but also hers. They share the burden, as always. But the walls won’t come down. The goddamn walls won’t come down. Someone has to start removing bricks.

“I don't know what I'm doing, Scully. I don't know how to do this. I miss you so much,” he cries into her shoulder. “This is so hard, I just wish you could feel what I’m feeling.”

Her arms go around him and she holds him close. After a moment she responds. “I miss you too, Mulder. I do.” Like any time she sees him break down, he knows she is crying now too. “Please don’t be upset. I’m here, okay? I’m right here.”

Her hands go to the back of his neck and she brings his forehead to hers. It’s a start, a real start, the way they have always started.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you for coming.”

She kisses his forehead and squeezes him tightly again. Something has changed, something has shifted. Daggoo may be gone, but Scully is here, and for now, that’s enough.

Thanks for reading! I’ll be posting a story about what happened to Daggoo later today :)

#txf #msr #msr fanfic #post breakup #daggoo #culmination #idiots in love #things will get better soon

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weneverlearn · 6 years

Text

"Our kids were conceived to that one.”

Chewing the fat with Marshall Crenshaw about his 1983 classic, just reissued on Intervention Records

It’s not often you get one of your all time favorite albums from your dentist.

So I’m in 9th grade, and making back and forths in the parents’ station wagon to the dental school at Case Western Reserve University because my four top front teeth were all agog. (My mom figured it was because I’d fallen down the basement stairs when I was one and landed on my face.) Numerous visits that included poking, prodding, and endless numbing shots into the inside of the top jaw was no way to enter the high school years. But having a hep craw doc helped.

Dr. Sasthma (”It’s like asthma, but with an S” -- funny guy) was his name, and between spit suction and implorations to floss more, we fit in fun music discussions. On the last visit right before the big pulling and twisting procedure, Sasthma sits me down and says, “This one today ain’t gonna be easy, but I’ve got a little prize for you afterwards.” And for the next hour and a half, I sat there with my mouth open (some would say that would not be out of the ordinary), while the doc poked around and made chin-scratching/brow-furrowing decisions, all while my jaw muscles started to atrophy.

Finally, when it was done, he reaches behind the giant dentist chair claw machine thing and pulls out Marshall Crenshaw’s debut album (Warner Bros., 1982). After I had regaled him with how much I liked “Someday, Someway” at the previous visit, he said he tracked down the album for me, though the shrink wrap had been peeled. “Well, I had to give it a listen, and yeah, it’s great!”

L-R: Robert Crenshaw, Marshall Crenshaw, Chris Donato - Photographer unknown

Not only did that little act make me much more tolerant of dentist visits going forward, it gave me one of my favorite albums. Crenshaw’s revived Buddy Holly-meets-nervous with opening pickup lines pop classicism was like a fresh, new toothbrush over all the dreary, dusty, classic rock of my Cleveland radio dial depression, until I took a sharp left into college radio that summer where I first heard Crenshaw, and a lot more. (Thanks WCSB, WRUW, and WUJC!)

It’s hard to imagine today, hearing Crenshaw’s should-couldabeen power pop nuggets, but his clean looks and simple two-minute tunes made him a little too throwback odd for mainstream radio back then. Who knows or cares, as he still piled up an impressive major label canon before furthering into a long-running career of solid albums and consistent touring. The days of figuring out the whys and hows of mainstream radio play now seems about as useful as wondering how to get better reception on your TV.

Crenshaw’s sophomore album, Field Day (Warner Bros., 1983)? Maybe even better, filled with a slightly wider songwriting palette and production to match it. The term “sophomore album” never fit better for me, as it landed right around my sophomore year, and was a perfect companion on my journey into hook-heavy rock’n’roll obsession and mythical, sun-setting summer romance mythology/reality.

So imagine my excitement when I got a press release about an impending reissue of Field Day. Despite it’s initial hefty, if brief, publicity push, Top 40-sniffing hit single (”Whenever You’re on My Mind”), and big time producer (Steve Lillywhite), the record didn’t (say it with me) “sell as much as hoped for.” And though Crenshaw did not fall into the usual “got dropped” holes (three more major label albums followed), Field Day did lag just a bit behind the CD explosion, having fallen out of print, and was never given a proper CD version for a few years.

I only point this out because, goddamn it, it’s a perfect guitar pop record and is one of the best of that fleeting, early-80s moment where bright-eyed corners of the record industry hoped the world might once again embrace melancholy-flecked, otherwise blue-sky singalong songs. ‘Twas that “skinny tie” moment where loads of slacks-sporting Midwesterners parlayed punk’s energy into their pre-teen guitar lessons filled with Beatles covers. And in even that, Crenshaw did not exactly fit -- kind of the front tooth along my otherwise straight top row.

Upstart vinyl reissue label, Intervention Records -- who seem to have a knack for snaring ol’ major label titles from oblivion -- recently released a fine, vinyl-only edition of Field Day, including an extra 12″ EP of remix and live stuff, and different artwork.

I caught up with Crenshaw internet-wise to get his take on the new update of his old classic.

If memory serves, I saw you play "High School" by the MC5 at an outdoor BBQ fest thing in downtown Cleveland in, like, 1985/6. Any memories of that, and did you cover that tune often?

I remember that event in Cleveland, like a fried-chicken festival, right? I remember that we used "The Greasy Chicken,” by Andre Williams as walk-on music that day (and on other days). The MC5 song would've been "Tonight.” I never played "High School,” except with DKT-MC5 in 2004. I played "Tonight" a lot over the years. I grew up in the Detroit area, was a big MC5 fan. "Tonight" was sort of a local hit single, got played on CKLW. A band that I was in played it at an audition for a dance at our high school, and I can still picture a girl sitting in front of me watching me play and sing that song, really enthralled by what we were doing. That girl was Ione. She and I are still together.

You grew up in Detroit, right? When did you move, and what were some early influences from living in Detroit, music and otherwise?

I lived in the Detroit area from birth (1953) until 1977, grew up with Rock and Roll music all around me, fell in love with the music during childhood. Detroit was a big test market for records. There were lots of regional hits, on national and local labels. Two that immediately come to mind are, "When You Walk In the Room" by Jackie DeShannon, and "Mind Over Matter" by Nolan Strong and The Diablos -- both massive Detroit hits, both part of my musical DNA. As far as influences besides music go, I don't know where to start. That could turn into a book.

Though the only book Crenshaw has done so far was this excellent compendium of rock’n’roll movies; also, his musical knowledge goes deep. If you can do so, track down this amazing hillbilly compilation he put together in 1989.

Field Day, in title and cover art, was a reference to high school, I assume. But I remember some reviews saying that that record was a kind of more mature version of you -- bigger production, some more serious themes, etc. So what was your inspiration for the high school nod?

I had nothing whatsoever to do with creating the packaging for that record. When we finished recording, I went on vacation with Ione and Robert to visit Robert's girlfriend at the time. She was working on location outside Prague on the movie Amadeus (which I've still never seen. I should see it, I saw it being made). And when I got back, the album cover had been put together by my then-manager. His father co-owned a big company that published magazines. My manager had worked for that company for a minute, and thought that the presentation of images was something that he knew something about. I hated the album’s front cover, got talked into approving it. OOPS! I don't think Warners was pleased that instead of using their art department, he'd hired an expensive design firm to create such a dodgy end-product. He came up with the title; I do like the title, didn't think of high school when he suggested it. "Having a field day" is just a figure of speech, doesn't refer to high school, necessarily. It just means "having a great time,” and indeed we really had a great time making the album.

It said the art for this reissue is how you originally intended.

I wanted to change the front cover for the reissue, was extremely happy that Intervention Records was into the idea. The only thing that made sense was to use some pre-existing artwork from the time period, namely the front of the picture sleeve for the "Whenever You're On My Mind” 7″.

I just loved Field Day when it came out. I am sure you are more than aware of the "debates" over the production -- which to me made total sense for those songs and that point of your career. What is your take on what you asked of Steve Lillywhite, and how you felt it turned out, back then?

I'm really glad that you like it. I know that the album was "controversial" in the day. I think that all the criticism it got back then was completely lame. When I listened to the first playback of the finished mixes, I had my feet up on the edge of the console; I thought, “This is an album that can kick the world's ass.” We all loved working with Steve. He was the only producer that I talked to going in, my first choice. He said yes right away, and that was that.

I'll assume you were involved in this reissue. What were your thoughts on revisiting it?

I heard about the reissue project after it was already underway, and was just delighted about it. I'd even say that I felt a sense of gratitude that somebody wanted to honor the album, which is what Intervention has done. As a career experience, "Field Day" was an instance where the party-train just ran right into the ditch. I loved the album, didn't get why some people were perplexed by it. I got the test pressing from Intervention and was knocked out. It's just a unique and beautiful Rock and Roll record, if you ask me. And the people at Intervention love it as much as I do.

Your’s truly probably bugging Crenshaw about the MC5 again, post-back alley gig, August, 2012, NYC

Any good stories during the recording of Field Day? In-studio disputes, after-session shenanigans, anything like that?

I don't remember any disputes until after the record was done -- then the shit-storm began. We had nothing but fun while doing it, and there was a festive atmosphere at the sessions. They were all at night, and afterwards we'd go out. I remember going one night to the Roxy Roller Rink disco on the West Side with Steve and a couple of the other guys. This was when hip-hop was first starting to come downtown. When we finally got out of there it was broad daylight. "Monday Morning Rock" was partly inspired by that night...

"Whenever You're on My Mind" was a demo for awhile before it appeared on Field Day, right? How come it didn't make it onto the debut?

I wrote that one before I wrote most of the songs on my first album. When I did the first album I wanted to do all the newer ones first. I'm always most excited about whatever the new thing is. But then, going into "Field Day," I was really glad to have "Whenever" in reserve. And I'm glad that it got recorded when it did, under those circumstances.

The instrumental of "Blues is King" from that era is one of my favorite instrumentals, and just has one of those, maybe accidental, gorgeous, simple demo production vibes. Was that originally an instrumental and you decided to add lyrics later, or what?

I did that instrumental version after I'd written the music; the lyrics didn't happen until a few months later. I do like it as just a piece of instrumental music. And those are Mosrite guitars, which I love the sound of.

Field Day standout, "Our Town" -- when you made Field Day, I believe you'd been living in NYC for awhile. Did you pine to get on a train back to Detroit sometimes? What were the bad and good things about trying to get your music career going in NYC in the very early 1980s?

I never pined to get back to Detroit (although I like visiting there now). That song was written about New York. I'd been on the road for most of a year when I wrote it. I did take a train to Detroit once, from NYC. It was during the last days when Michigan Central Station was still being used by Amtrak. I'd never seen the station during it's heyday, but when I got there it looked not that different than what it looks like now, like an absolute wreck. I still remember the look on my mother's face standing there waiting for me. She looked like she felt ashamed, and like, "You had to take the train and make me go through this, right?" Getting my music career going in NYC in the early '80s was a blast. The scene embraced us right away. It was like dying and going to heaven.

Did you find yourself attracted to the CBGB scene at the time?

Yes, we played CBGB many times. I think we even held an attendance record there for a minute, or maybe I dreamt that. But our last couple shows there were mob scenes. I really had my ears and mind open in all different directions during those years in New York, and I can't overstate how much I loved the NY scene then, with all it's diversity, innovation, etc. I'm still proud to have been part of it. And I'm including NY radio in this declaration. I had lots of great go-to stations like WBLS and WKTU ("urban"), WLIB (Caribbean music), WFMU (free-form), WKCR (Jazz), WNYU, with "The Afternoon Show,” and the "Wavebreaker" countdown on Fridays, WNEW ('cause they played us). On and on...

There were a ton of "skinny tie" power pop bands around in the very early '80s too, many from the Midwest. Did you play with the Shoes, Knack, Romantics, Plimsouls, etc.? Were there ones that stuck out for you? I feel like you weren't roped into that signing frenzy trend though.

I played with The Plimsouls in NY once. I loved them, became friends with Peter [Case] back then. But one of my fears in those days was that anybody might lump us in with that Anglophile “skinny tie” thing. I hated most of it, not all of it. I didn't like The Knack, didn't identify with what they were doing, didn't want anybody to identify us with what they were doing. I feel bad saying so, but I'm answering your question. Again, we came out of the NY club scene which was really diverse and eclectic. I wanted our stuff to reflect that as best I could. Another one of my fears, since we took off so fast in NY, was that somebody might tag us as the "Next Big Thing,” and unfortunately that did happen. I had a real sense of doom when I read all that stuff about my first album in Rolling Stone.

Oh, also, we were never part of any signing frenzy. We got our record deal by packing out every NY club we played at, getting our stuff on "mainstream" FM rock radio when they never played local bands on indie labels. We earned it the way you did back then.

"What Time Is It?" -- how did you decide on that cover? I assume you were a big doo wop fan. Once you got to NYC, did you get to play with or meet any old doo wop favorites?

I don't think that happened, but now I wish that it had. It would've been great to meet Randy and The Rainbows, for instance. "Denise" is one of those records that gets me every time. Or Eugene Pitt of The Jive Five. It's too bad I never met him, even after I covered their tune (actually a Feldman-Goldstein-Gottehrer tune, but anyway).

Can you tell me about the making of the "Whenever You're on My Mind" video? Were you one of those who was suspicious of videos back then?

Hahahahaha! By the time we did that one I was really enthusiastic about videos, wanted us to get on that bandwagon. It seemed like most of my favorite ones were British, so we went over there and found a British director. I'm laughing thinking about it now. We tried.

Finally, where would you rank Field Day in your catalog?

I was really on my game just then. It was some kind of a pinnacle, as far as that moment in my life goes. And it seems to be my most beloved album. People tell me all kinds of things about it, like, "Our kids were conceived to that one.”

youtube

#MarshallCrenshaw #power pop #field day #warner bros #intervention records

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minijenn · 7 years

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🐺, UF Dipper with him slowly turning into a werewolf please

(Painful transformation)

(So I do indeed have the idea in mind to do a chapterabout this in the sequel, but hey, that’s a long way off, so I figured why notdo a little drabble for it now. So remember how the other night I said that, atleast in UF, vampires in Gravity Falls are rather… different? Well same forwerewolfs, only they’re a little more direct visually to how they usually are.Instead, the transformation and duration is what’s different. So when you getbitten by a Gravity Falls werewolf, it’s a gradual, slow (hey you asked forslow, so I figured that’s what I’d roll with) and indeed painful process thatspreads across the course of several days until bam: you’re full werewolf. Andinstead of only being in that form during the full moon or whatever, you’re awerewolf all the time, except for the full moon when you turn back intoa human and that’s pretty much the only time you get to be a human, so yeah…the entire process… kinda sucks a lot. But hey, ya’ll a bunch of sadisticfucks who like it when I systematically torture my favorite son, so… here wego, I guess)

(NOTE: This isn’t done. I kinda got burnt out on writingit halfway through and its already fucking LONG as shit, but I really do likethe concept, so I’ll probably revisit it someday if somebody asks. Chances areI’ll use this as the base for the werewolf chapter in the sequel, but I’llprobably take it in a little different of a direction than this… I dunno we’llsee, but again to clarify, this ain’t done. So… yeah. Enjoy!)

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold everything!” Mabelexclaimed, looking between Steven and Dipper in apt disbelief. “What didyou just say?”

“I said,” Steven began, just as anxious andworried as he had been when the boys had arrived at the shack. “Dipperjust got bit by a werewolf!”

“Steven, for the last time,” Dipper interjected,rolling his eyes as he cut off Mabel’s awestruck gasp. “It wasn’t awerewolf. It was just a regular wolf.”

“Oh yeah? Then how come my spit wasn’t able to healit?” Steven asked dubiously.

“B-because…” Dipper said, glancing to the fairlysizable, still-bleeding bitemarks on his upper arm, ones that still hurt agreat deal, even despite his meager attempts to staunch the wound with hisother hand. “I… I don’t know. Maybe it was just like, a fluke orsomething.”

“But I tried to heal you three times and itnever worked!” The young Gem protested fretfully. “Plus, that ‘wolf’sure didn’t look any wolf I’ve ever seen before. It was huge and hadthese eyes that looked almost… human… It was creepy.”

“Well, whatever it was, it wasn’t a-”

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Mabel cutin, practically squealing with excitement as she hopped out of her seat andgrabbed her brother’s hands, not even hearing his pained gasp as she jerked hisinjured arm forward. “Dipper! Do you realize what’s happening?! You’regonna turn into a super-cool, super-buff werewolf, just like in the movies!You’re finally gonna have chest hair, and plenty of it, just like you alwayswanted! Isn’t it exciting?”

“No, because it isn’t happening,” Dipper scoffed,pulling himself away from Mabel. “Like I said, I wasn’t bitten by any 'werewolf’or anything like that, so I’m definitely not going to turn into one,ok?”

“Pfft, sounds to me like somebody’s just in denialabout all of the totally awesome werewolf powers he’s about to get,” Mabelpouted as she crossed her arms.

“Dipper, are you sure?” Steven asked, still quiteconcerned. “I mean, if it really was a werewolf, then maybe the Gems orMr. Ford could-”

“No,” Dipper staunchly refused, covering up hiswound a bit more as he turned to leave the room. “We’re not tellingany of them about this. If we do, they’ll just think I was being recklessagain. So as far as I’m concerned, none of them need to know. After all, it’snot like this is even a real problem or anything.”

“Yeah, but what if-” Steven found himself abruptlycut off as Dipper suddenly spun around again, apparently snarling as he glaredat the young Gem fiercely, his teeth bared and his hands clenched into tightfists. For a moment, all Steven and Mabel could do was exchange a glance ofsurprise at this, before both of them looked back to Dipper with shared,newfound concern. “Uh… are you… growling at me?” Steven asked,raising a confused, wary eyebrow.

Of course, upon being called out, Dipper instantly silencedhimself, regaining his composure as he looked away from the pair, clearlyembarrassed and also suddenly quite unnerved. “I, uh… I wasn’t… I-I…I gotta go!” Without sparing another word, he rushed out, leaving Stevenand Mabel behind, both of them rather disconcerted by what had just happened.

“Well, there’s no doubt about it,” Mabelconcluded, her hands on her hips as she met Steven’s worried frown evenly.“He’s totally turning into a werewolf.”

Dipper let out an uneven breath as he finished cleaning anddressing the bite wound on his arm, surprised that it still hurt just as muchas much as it did when the wolf that had attacked him and Steven in the woodsfirst bit him. As much as he didn’t think Steven and Mabel’s simultaneousconcern and excitement had any real merit, he still couldn’t deny that he was justthe slightest bit on edge after how he had actually growled at them earlier, animpulse he had never, ever had before now. Still, he knew that wasn’t anywherenear enough to actually confirm that he had indeed been bitten by a werewolf asthey thought. It wasn’t as if he didn’t believe that werewolves existed inGravity Falls, of all places; after all, he had seen Ford’s notes about them injournal 1 himself. But what he didn’t want to believe was that he had fallenvictim to one, and he especially didn’t want to believe was eventually going toturn into one himself.

Still, even if Dipper wasn’t convinced such a thing wasgoing to happen, he figured that there really wouldn’t be any way of knowinguntil the next full moon, which was several days away at best. Chances werethat by then, all of this werewolf business would be forgotten about anyway,largely since he knew it to be nothing more than just Steven and Mabel’s wildspeculation, something that usually held little weight in reality. Certainly,in a few days’ time, his bite wound would heal and be just another scar to addto the admittedly impressive collection or them he had accumulated over thecourse of the summer.

However, just as Dipper was about to head downstairs toprofess his confidence on the matter to Mabel and Steven, a very sudden, verysharp pain erupted near the base of his spine, one that enough to elicit a loudcry of agony as it only grew more and more intense. Of course, Steven and Mabelclearly heard this from the den downstairs, and, with both of them alreadyquite concerned for Dipper, they didn’t hesitate to hurry upstairs and burstinto the bathroom without any delay. They were, however, quick to stop at thedoor in unified shock at what the saw.

Dipper was in the midst of picking himself off the floor,his pained cry now replaced with shallow, exhausted breathing as he tried torecover from what he had just gone through. But what was even more alarming wasthe large, long, furry tail that now curled up behind him. “Uh…guys?” He began weakly, glancing to his new tail with apt fear. “I-Ithink this might be a problem after all…”

“No way…” Steven breathed, completely stunned asMabel hurried to help Dipper stand up. “Dipper! You have a tail!”

“Oh gee, I didn’t know that, Steven,” Dipperdeadpanned crossly, his tail flickering in annoyance. “It’s not like Ifelt it grow out of my spine or anything. Oh wait, I did. And it hurt, a ton.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, bro-bro, your tail is sosoft and so pretty!” Mabel gushed, stroking the light brown furhappily before Dipper abruptly pulled it away from her.

“Mabel, cut that out!” He exclaimed, holding hisnew appendage protectively as he blushed in embarrassment over it.

“W-well I think it’s safe to say that wolf really was awerewolf after all, huh?” Steven spoke up worriedly. “But uh… Ithought that if you were bit by one, you only transform during the full moon,like in the all the movies…”

“That’s what I thought too…” Dipper mused,frowning as he looked to his tail again. “Maybe werewolves in GravityFalls are different somehow?”

“Well I’m sure Grunkle Ford would know about all thiswerewolf biz,” Mabel suggested. “Why don’t we go ask him?”

“W-we can’t!” Dipper protested, flustered.“Like I said, I don’t want him to think I was being dumb and reckless byletting something like this happen to me. He’ll probably say I’m tooirresponsible to handle paranormal stuff anymore, and t-then he won’t let me goon investigations or anything else with him ever again! And I can’t let thathappen!”

“Seriously, Dipper?” Mabel raised an eyebrow.“That’s what you’re worried about right now? In case you haven’tnoticed, you kinda grew a tail. And chances are you’re probably gonna growpaws, and teeth, and fur, and who knows what else. And as cool I think as allthat is, your silly pride should probably come second to all that.”

“It’s not about pride!” Dipper argued, even if heknew that was exactly what it was about. “Look, we don’t need Great UncleFord’s help with this. We can figure out a cure all by ourselves.”

“Wait, we can?” Steven asked, uncertain.

“Of course we can,” Dipper assured, trying toconvince himself of this as well. “After all, how hard can curingwerewolfism be?”

“Probably about as hard as its gonna be for you to hidethis adorable tail from everyone,” Mabel smirked sardonically asshe started playfully petting it once more.

“Ok, seriously, Mabel,” Dipper scowled, yankinghis tail out of her hands once again. “Stop doing that.”

As it turned out, finding a cure for warewolfism was goingto be a lot harder than any of them could have anticipated. While Dipper wasn’ttoo keen on telling Ford about the situation, or anyone else for that matter,he did manage to slip journal 1 out of the author’s study while Mabel andSteven kept him distracted. Unfortunately, as was the case throughout manyentries across all three of the journals, Ford’s research on werewolves wasapparently incomplete, with no known cure or reversal for the condition to befound, something that Dipper apprehensively reported to Steven and Mabel asthey all congregated in the attic.

“So… there’s no way to fix this?” Steven askedwith concern as he glanced over what the journal had to say for himself.

“N-no, no, there’s gotta be something we can do,”Dipper shook his head as he paced around the attic almost frantically, his longtail dragging behind him. “There has to be some kind of cure GreatUncle Ford didn’t know about. We have to find it, no matter what!”

“Geez, bro-bro, calm down a sec,” Mabel remarkedrather casually. “So you’ll turn into a cute, fluffy werewolf every fullmoon. What’s really so bad about that?”

“Mabel, did you even read what the journal saidabout werewolves?!” Dipper asked hotly, his entire manner tense and deeplyfrightened. “Werewolves here in Gravity Falls really are different! I-it’salmost like they’re backwards or something! They transform slowly, over thecourse of several days, and then, once they’re full werewolf, they stay likethat, pretty much all the time, except for during full moons!”

“Wait…” Mabel sat up on her bed with growingfear. “So… so if we don’t find a way to reverse this…”

“Then the only time Dipper will get to be human isduring full moons…” Steven finished grimly, having just read over thesame information in the journal and reeling at its implications.

“And that’s not all…” Dipper practically muttered, ignoringthe looks of deep worry and sympathy the pair was giving him as he looked tohis feet instead. “If we can’t find a cure before I… I fully transform… then…then there won’t be any fixing this at all… I’ll be a werewolf… f-forever…”

“Oh, Dipper…” Mabel gasped softly, already on her feet andrunning over to pull him into a tight embrace. The thought that he might onlyget to be himself as opposed to a vicious, wild monster few weeks was nearlyenough to drive Dipper to the same tears that Mabel had already started toshed, but he refused to let them come, especially in front of her. So instead,he decided to put his own crippling fear and dread for now, if only to keep herat ease over what was, by all accounts, an incredibly terrifying, heartbreakingsituation.

“I-its ok,” Dipper said, taking in a deep breath as hegently pulled away from Mabel. “Like I said, we’re going to find a cure, nomatter how hard it might be. And besides,” his reassuring smile faltered a bitas he felt the tip of his tail absently curl around his ankle. “W-we still havea few days before… y-you know. That’s plenty of time to figure something out.”

“You know what? You’re right, Dipper!” Steven chimed in withnewfound enthusiasm. “After all, we’ve made it through stuff just as bad asthis before, so we’re bound to find a way through this!”

“B-but what if we don’t?”Mabel asked, still rather distraught as she looked to Dipper fretfully. “Whatif we aren’t fast enough and you… you really do…?” she trailed off, unable toeven finish the thought.

“I won’t,” Dipper assured, putting a hand on his sister’sshoulder. “I promise, we’ll-” He abruptly cut himself off with a loud, painedgasp, his hands flying to his ears, almost as if he was hearing somethingincredibly loud and he was trying to shield them from it. In reality though, itwas as though his hearing had been stolen from him entirely, replaced withnothing more than a shrill ringing that blocked out Steven and Mabel’s sharedcalls of concern.

“Dipper!” Mabel shouted, grabbing him by his shoulderstightly as he began to stumble backwards, though she didn’t let him fall. “Dipper,what’s wrong?!”

Of course, Dipper wasn’t able to hear her at all, and evenif he had heard her, he would have paid her no mind amidst unbearable burningsensation his ears were currently enduring. But that wasn’t all; a splittingpain had also emerged near the crown of his head, one that felt very similar towhat he had felt when his tail first appeared. Mabel still held him upright,with Steven rushing to help, as he a sharp scream of agony, one that almostsounded a bit like a howl, tore from his throat, one that died out just asgradually as the pain did. The pair noticed that he was visibly panting, muchlike a dog would, tongue stuck out and all as he shuddered into silence, hisclosed eyes finally opening as looked to them, clearly distressed. He noticedthat Steven was saying something to him, saw his mouth move, but all he couldhear was muffled, undiscernible mumblings, almost as if something was stillcovering his ears, even though his hands weren’t anymore.

“W-what?” Dipper asked, still shaken as he found he wasbarely even able to hear his own voice. “Steven, what did you-”

“Ohhhhh!” Mabel exclaimed in understanding, and it was loudenough for him to mostly hear it. He didn’t catch what she said next, but shedid make sure to clarify it for him as she pointed to his ears. Or at least,where they had been. As Dipper reached up to touch them, he let out a gasp ofalarm, finding that he couldn’t feel them out at all; instead, the only thinghis fingers were skimming was hair, or rather fur, short, coarse, and rough, and thankfully just the right shadeof brown to blend in with his hair, but still fur nonetheless. Frighteninglyenough, the fur seemed to spread down past where his ears used to be, all theway down to his neck, which it had covered the back of completely. And whilethere would be plenty of time for him to panic over that later, Dipper had another,much more prominent concern at the moment.

“M-my ears!” he exclaimed, distraught as he still tried tofeel them beyond the layer of fur. “What happened to-”

He cut himself off as Mabel suddenly took his hat off,looking up at the top of his head in surprise for a moment before giving him aknowing look. “You’re turning into a werewolf, dummy,” she remarked, and thistime he was able to hear her completely clearly. “What do you think happened tothem?”

“No…” Dipper gasped once more, not even needing to feel hisnew ears as they flatten themselves against his head in tune with his emotions.All the same, he rushed over to the mirror to confirm that, sure enough, thathis now wolf-like ears were now positioned at the sides of his scalp, standingupright, fur-covered, and pointed amidst the rest of his hair. Steven and Mabeljoined him over at the mirror a moment later, both of them putting a hand onhis shoulder as a sign of what little comfort they were really able to give,something that Dipper quickly shook off as he remembered his earlier resolve. “O-ok,so… that was kind of unexpected, but its fine! We still have plenty of timeleft to find a cure.”

“How can you be so sure?” Mabel asked anxiously as sheglanced between his ears and his tail. “At this rate, by the end of today youcould have a muzzle and be walking on all fours! Look,” she paused, looking tothe ground apprehensively as she tried her best to keep calm. “I know you don’twant to, but… maybe it’s time we talk to Grunkle Ford about this, or the Gems.This… doesn’t seem like the sorta thing we should be taking our chances with,especially if you could end up staying a-a werewolf for… forever…”

“Mabel, I already told you,” Dipper began, exasperated. “Wecan figure this out on our own. Besides, if there’s nothing about a curewritten in the journal, then chances are Great Uncle Ford still doesn’t knowhow to fix this.”

“But maybe he could at least help somehow?” Steven suggestedearnestly.

“We don’t need help!”Dipper protested, his ears and tail both twitching in frustration as he turnedaway bitterly.

“But Dipper, you could-” Mabel’s attempt at reasoning withher brother was cut off as he let out a low, angry growl, his shoulders hitchedand his ears pinned all the way back. She froze, startled as he snapped a glareover his shoulder at her, his eyes strangely distant and his pupils much too largeas he continued snarling, not even stopping as he turned around to face herfully. “D-Dipper?” Mabel asked nervously, her eyes wide as she took a smallstep back, one that he countered by stepping forward aggressively until he wasessentially right up in her face, his teeth still bared as he glared at herrelentlessly. “Dipper!” she shouted, more boldly this time as she forced herfear away. “Back off!”

Without any warning, she shoved him, pushing him away fromher and landing him on the ground hard. Mabel and Steven both were still onedge as they kept their distance from Dipper, who was seemingly in the midst ofreturning to his right mind after his bout of instinctual aggression. “M-Mabel?”he asked with concern as he met her still quite frightened gaze. “What just…?”he trailed off as he put the pieces of what he had just missed together tocreate a picture that filled him with both terror and regret. “Oh no…” Heslowly stood, his tail and ears drooping as he took a small, apologetic step towardshis sister. “Mabel, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t-”

“You know what? Fine,” Mabel sighed in acceptance, hurriedlybrushing her approaching tears away as she met his gaze squarely and almostcoldly. “If you don’t want any help, then that’s ok with me. I’m totally finewith not helping you at all if you’re gonna just growl at me for nothing!”

“Mabel, n-no, I-”

“You know, I bet you’ll be wishing you just let someone helpyou when you’re a wolf basically all the time!” Mabel finished as she stormedout of the attic, visibly upset and clearly not willing to listen to anything herbrother had to say. Steven hurried after her, thinking that Dipper wasn’t toofar behind, but instead he simply remained where he was, stunned and ashamed bywhat he had unknowingly done. Absently, he reached up and gently touched theside of one of his new wolfish ears, his heart sinking as he realized that thiswas only going to get worse before it got better, on all levels. The physicaltransformation would continue, and in time, he’d likely gain, among other newfeatures, sharp claws deadly teeth, both things that could do so much harm ifhe wasn’t careful. But how could he really be careful when his mental stabilityand human tendencies already seemed to be wavering into a feral, animalistic attitudethat he had no control over whatsoever? Growling at Mabel was one thing, butwhat it he actually did end up hurting her somehow, on more than just anemotional level? What if, once he turned full werewolf, he lost all sanity to awild lust for blood and, not having the slightest clue about what he was doing,actually ended up-

Dipper was quick to shake such a dark thought out of hismind. Of course he wasn’t going to end up hurting Mabel, he never would, atleast not intentionally. All he really had to do was make sure he could findthat elusive, unknown cure to his condition long before such a thing could evenhappen. However, with his transformation already steadily progressing and hishumanity already starting to fade from the inside out, he knew that findingthat cure would be a race against time if there ever was one.

(So yeah, like I said this one isn’t done but eh I capped it off at a place that would want you leaving more, which is cool. Still, I’m a huge sucker for slow transformation stories, so writing this got me back to my roots (I used to write a LOT of slow/painful transformation scenarios in my Zelda stories) So now that its done I only have like one more of these angst prompts to top off and then its time for The Return! Woo!)

#jen writes #universe falls #unfinished #drabble prompts #requests

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