#about mulder holding a baby

[carefulfears]

top 5 (or 10 if you have em) scully taking care of mulder moments <3

she said IF i have 10 😭😭😭

1/ sein und zeit

i fear i have talked about this television scene more times than anyone has ever talked about a television scene....like. one, two, three, four, i was even foolishly invited onto a podcast to talk about it more...

my tags here:

she gets down on the Ground. there's something so primal about it. there's such a lack of pretense and sense of desperation about it. the way he hits the table. we so Rarely see him lash out like that. but it's just too much to Bear. like everything in him is just Breaking the only thing that he's even remotely been able to hold onto amidst all of the unbearable loss and trauma in his life has failed. he's fumbling around for anything that might make it better. that audries fic describing him in this moment as an 'addict out of a fix' with 'newborn anger.' “this is the world? this is it?” it's the way that he spends this whole ep cooking up some elaborate mythology about missing children and how they can be found and then the last shot of the episode is that wide shot of all of the children's graves. sometimes he's just wrong. the world is so much fucking darker and uglier sometimes than the way he sees it. and that's what is crashing down around him in this moment. and she's sitting in the wreckage holding him tight.

this is such brave, brave love. i keep thinking about CSM in the following episode, standing in scully's apartment, warning her. "allow him his ignorance, it's what gives him hope."

she doesn't know what will happen to him, to her, to them, when she breaks down the only method of coping that he has. his mother lost her bedrock too, and she didn't survive. from the moment scully enters, you can watch it break her. she does it anyway. she gets down on the ground, and she cries, and she holds him. god, it all just would've been so different, if there'd been just 1 person, 27 years ago.

(thinking about mulder reaching up to hold scully when missy died, and these tags asking: did anyone hold him, when it was his sister?)

i love the show's message on grief (and trauma), in that this is all that is necessary for "closure." there is no "Truth," (and there really isn't any closure, there's no "beyond" the sea). but it matters that someone knows. it matters that someone bears witness. it matters that someone tells you the truth, even when it fucking breaks their heart. sits in the destruction with you.

the exhaustion in her voice the next morning, when she tells skinner, "it's been a hard night for him." she's still wearing her work clothes from the day before. she was up all night. she's tired, and she's scared, and she's sad. it's been a hard 7 years. it's been a hard 27 years.

it makes me tear up every time i see it, the way she blocks him in the doorway. she's not moving. this is just so scully. it's not even starbuck, it's just so scully. she would keep him in that apartment where she could cover him and control what touches him forever, if she could. (she can't, so you're not taking him anywhere without her. the way she looks her boss in the eye and tells him he better book her a flight too. brave love.)

2/ demons

god, this one just makes me sad. this might be the one that makes me saddest. she's dying. she doesn't have it in her, anymore. i talked about this in my newsletter (and i wrote a fic about it once) but this is like...the only time where she never calls him out on what he's doing. she never yells. she never rolls her eyes. she never gets frustrated with him. she doesn't have it in her. she's dying. he will be alone. she won't be here the next time. what can she even do about it?

i always think about this post:

and you know she is thinking about how if she hadn’t been there he would’ve died. and how the next time he does something like this, she won’t have enough life left in her to keep them both alive. she might not even have enough left for herself. and she’ll give whatever she does have left to him, but it won’t be enough to save either of them. she’ll die cold and pale and he’ll burn himself out. and what can she do but hold him? who will he have when she’s gone? what will he do to himself? who will he call?

and these tags:

this is so cautious and tender and apologetic. sorry for all the pain he feels constantly. and sorry that nothing can ease it. and sorry that she is dying and leaving him like this.

she started writing to him as soon as she was diagnosed, begging. begging forgiveness, begging courage, begging grace. begging for him to not feel there was anything more he could've done, to not become the next cause he is lost in. for him to keep going, as she needs to know he's "out there."

but she's seen him hold a gun to himself too many times, and she knows he's coming down with her. and it's such a loss? this is a person she gave up everything, including her life, to follow, because she believed in him and what he wanted to do in the world that much. but things are different now. he won't survive this. he won't be "out there" saving the world.

what can she do? go to rhode island at 5am, wrap him up. stay quiet, stay still, but scream and thrash at anyone who's careless with him. sink down next to him, cover him, hold him. "maybe we need every answer in the world to survive a single question: how long do we have each other?" (x)

(also, her memento mori journal, in general. she sat in that hospital alone, for days, knowing she was going to die. and she wrote letter, after letter, after letter, to him. so that he would have something. so that he wouldn’t be left alone with nothing, again.)

3/ the end

"as mulder appears. the look on his face is of a man who's seeing, smelling, and tasting the loss of everything he has worked for. it's the look of utter defeat. angle on scully at the door. she sees only mulder right now...she moves to him now. putting her arms around him, holding on to keep him from breaking. off this, we fade out. the end." (script)

i think so often about the script notes of this scene. the description of mulder, as absorbed in destruction. everything that he's worked for, literally reduced to (cigarette) ash. scully only focused on him.

in the final angle of the season, you can really see how she's standing in front of him. her fingers clutching him. but when she first grabs him, it's so tentative. it almost feels like she's trying to see if he's still there, if he exists, if his work doesn't.

this is...the whole thing! there's a reason why this was "the end." the final image of this iteration of the series, before everything changes. this is what it is all about. it's mulder walking headfirst into the devastation of the world. drenched in loss. seeing it. smelling it. tasting it. surrounded by it. and it's scully knowing what he'll find even as he's still moving (this script note, from the hallway: "reverse on scully. returning the look. knowing what mulder is going to find. and what it will mean.")

following behind. eyes on him, while he takes in the ash. just holding on for dear life; trying to keep him close, whole.

(also, i love the moment before the fire, at his apartment, after diana was shot. the way scully tells skinner that he can reach her at mulder's if he needs her, because that's where she'll be. he doesn't even have a bed, or anywhere for her to stay!! she's not leaving him.)

4/ paper hearts

oh, starbuck. we are really in it now.

paper hearts is an ahab and starbuck episode, yes. but mostly it's about grief. mostly it's about harsh awakenings. mostly it's about confrontation with fear, scully's included.

one of the most haunting moments of the series, to me, is when they speak to the father of the 14th victim, twenty-one years after his daughter went missing. and through tears, the father says, "i used to think...that missing was worse than dead, because...you never knew what happened. now that i know, i'm glad my wife's not here. she got luckier."

in that moment, as mulder looks over at the photos on the mantle, missing is not worse than dead. it is not worse than knowing. and later that day, in his first scene, roche calls it exactly as it is: "i understand you take this very personally, mulder."

i've written about this scene in the hallway so many times, because it's truly the crux of this episode (my favorite episode).

from my newsletter:

There’s something so viscerally deep about this episode that’s hard to put into words, but to me, it is most palpable in the moment in the hallway when Mulder asks Scully if she believes that his sister was abducted by aliens. And you can see in his face that he knows the answer, and he’s challenging her to come out and say it. You can see in Scully’s that she would rather admit to anything else.

he's challenging her. he's taking their entire dynamic, and throwing it in her face. not to be cruel. not to disrupt. but just to say...so what now? isn't this what you believe?

i don't think that they've ever been so fragile, as in this hallway, honestly. they rarely threaten to break it all down. their entire lives are built on him walking up to tragedy and saying: it was aliens. it was XYZ. and her following behind saying: no. it was a killer, it was a man.

what does that mean? what is she really saying?

this episode is hard on scully. mulder has never been more haunted. there has never been a bigger reminder of what they are actually doing. they are not just chasing little green men, having adventures, studying sewer worms. they are trying to make sense of something that will never make sense. they are trying to find a "truth" that they do not want to know. they are living their lives in mourning, in bereavement, in remembrance, of a missing little girl, and scully is terrified that they'll find her. that it will be exactly like roche threatens. that missing is not worse than dead.

and there is no one else. there is no one else that even knows how haunted he is. how stuck he is, in that childhood bedroom, like he said all those years ago. how deeply sad it is.

it's all of the little things. it's the "you did good work, mulder" in the beginning. it's the way she asks if he's okay to go tell the 14th victim's family. it's way she exclaims "oh my god" when roche says that he just wants to see mulder's face, when he finds samantha's body. one of the few times that we ever see scully lose control, but she just stands up and screams, opens the door and wordlessly waits for mulder to get up and get out of there.

it's the way that she hears "help me, scully" and digs in the dirt, with her bare hands.

(you can tell in his eyes here that he's been crying, and it really gets to me. there's so much that we don't see.)

in the end, they're back in the basement. nothing left but one scrap of tattered fabric, one more lost failure. it's over. she just comes down to check on him.

the progression of scully's face in this last scene is just unbelievably gut-wrenching to me. her smile, when she tells him to get some sleep, and he laughs. the way it disappears when he holds her, and can't see her anymore. with his mother, flashing that smile and hugging her was all that it took to convince her not to worry. when he repeats the same actions with scully, she looks like she could break.

this post:

Episodes like this make me think how alone - not just lonely, but truly alone - Mulder was before her. Nobody lost sleep over him falling apart under the fist of decades old trauma. Nobody grappled with him, let him wrestle his grief against them, and still stayed. Nobody visited him in the hospital, flew to Alaska, lied for him, stayed by his bed for days straight without an extra change of clothes. Nobody else knew he was suffering or wanted to, knew it more than he knew. That end of Paper hearts where she tells him to get some sleep, he laughs at the ridiculousness of it, but also out of incredulity at having someone to wish for better on his behalf. The heartbroken look on her face as he’s laughing into her waist seems to be her coming to the same realisation; “Who looked after you before? How long did you feel like this on your own?”

she is heartbroken. there is so much grief, in being starbuck. there's grief in being needed. there's grief in following ghosts. there's grief in loving someone who is so encased in pain, in loss. he will not go home and get some sleep. a well-placed joke, that smile, a hug, does not convince her that he's okay. he hurts so much, for so long, and he has one person who knows it. and all they do is keep moving: closer and closer to that breaking point that she is so afraid of, and they can't stop.

5/ redux ii

remember when dana scully lied on her death bed and looked up at mulder as he told her that he was not willing to jeopardize skinner to save himself, and she replied, "well, then, you have to lay it on me."

the way he smiles and shakes his head, chokes out "i can't...i can't do that." through tears...they are so kind to each other. all that she has left in the world is her reputation, and she says: take it. take it all. take everything.

she cries when he won't do it.

6/ herrenvolk

okay, i wanna get into some slightly lighter ones, so y'all remember when she nearly fully knocked skinner into the wall, because mulder came in with a (checks notes) scratch on his face?

this is just so scully.

she is so panicked. she just wants to slow him down, to stand between him and the world for even one moment longer.

these tags:

she's almost begging him not to go in. the extent of her worry is heartbreaking. she loves him. it frightens her to know what awaits him.

one of the biggest conflicts of scully's character is that she just cannot stop him, she cannot shield him, she cannot protect him. the way she leans up here, and pulls him to her shoulder. covers him with a blanket. this is what she can do.

there is so much grief in being starbuck!! in loving someone who walks blindly into a world that you do not trust. in following someone into the worst night of their life: over, over, over. years, years, years. in being first mate, holding the responsibility on your shoulders of having to steer in a safe direction, only having one to choose from.

(i also think it's really special, all of the little moments where she checks in. in the previous episode, in the hospital hallway, the way she says "are you okay?" so softly.

in paper clip, when she makes him stop, and says "no, wait, hold on a second...i don't think you've had time to process everything that you've been through."

remnants of the girl who told him she'll cover for him and he should just go get a beer, take some time for himself, after jersey. who suggested he talk to someone, when jerry lamana died. she's always wanted so much for him, but she understands more now. there's still room to pause, for a moment, before he carries on.)

7/ anasazi

ladies, would you shoot your man with a gun, to keep him from endangering himself, while he was being laced with LSD, and then drag him across the country singlehandedly, while he was unconscious, despite him being twice your size? and this, too, is taking care.

the way she says, "i was certain they would have killed you, mulder." and the fear in her voice, his hand on her knee. (she is so young. she really doesn't know what to do, not as often as she seems like she does). the way he says, "thank you. thank you for taking care of me." they are so kind to each other. it'll break your fucking heart.

(i remember asking y'all a few weeks ago, if mulder and scully ever say "i'm sorry," if they ever apologize to each other. and we came up with a couple of times. i'll tell you what, though: not as often as they say "thank you.")

8/ fire

girlbosses when they singlehandedly solve serial murders, to get their best friend's shitty ex away from them!!! okay, i put this one on here because we were talking about it yesterday, but scully really does handle the entire situation with phoebe so perfectly, and that's hard to do, when you're dealing with friends and abusers.

trish, i loved this part of your post yesterday:

scully gives him the space to talk about it, never says too much but she says enough. her phrasing is SO important. she repeats what he just told her in a way that frames it as wrong.

she's a little rabid, lol. we can see it on her face when she's alone, or when mulder's not looking. but around him (around phoebe too) she's calm. she listens, she addresses what he tells her as bad, without pressing. when he tells her that she's off the case, that he doesn't want to expose her to what phoebe is doing, she asks one time: are you sure you don't want help?

he says yes, and she does it anyway. she catches that fucking murderer so that this woman can go home. just, like, an inspiration to us all.

trish's tweet:

really, truly, genuinely. scully solving the case in fire was the absolute best course of action she could have taken. get that woman out of here, an ocean away from mulder. (give him freedom, let him heal, teach him what real love feels like)

(her eyes locked in on him here, phoebe behind her. the way that when phoebe leaves the room, scully says, "you alright?" instantly.)

meeting phoebe just a few months into their partnership made her so fucking crazy like...i make fun of her for being sick in the head in regards to everyone he meets (men and women alike) and never wanting anyone around him other than her but like, my god, can you blame her!!! he's such a gentle person and people are so cruel and it makes her eyes bug out of her head.

yeah, i really don't have much else to say here, you guys. she solved a murder herself, a case that she wasn't even supposed to be working, so that his old gf would go away and stop being mean to him. she doesn't play!!

(also! while we're on the subject of abusive exes, honorable mention to scully cornering diana into an empty room and telling her to "just think" about who mulder is, who he was when she met him, compared to where he is now. "and then try and stand there in front of me. look me in the eye. and tell me mulder wouldn't bust his ass trying to save you.")

9/ deadalive

oh, you guys remember that time she raised him from the dead, right?

scully at 8 months pregnant, sitting in that hospital chair, holding his hand, for days. knowing he can’t feel it, knowing that there’s nothing that says he’ll ever wake up. that it’s impossible. that there is no science…yeah. she just sits there and holds his hand.

i love the moment when she finds out, and she comes barreling through that hallway. she hits skinner first, and starts yelling, “i want to see him. no, i need to see him,” slams her fists into his chest.

then she moves onto doggett. repeats, “i need to see him” through tears. and the way doggett says… “i know. but i wish you wouldn’t.”

she’s loved. they want to protect her, protect her image of mulder as she knew him. but they also both know she will fucking plow them down.

i always think of this fic and feel so ill:

“I pulled you six feet out of the ground,” she whispers, dangerously low. “Because I couldn’t live without you. I gave birth to your child.”

she fed his fish while he was in a casket. she planned a funeral and decorated a nursery alone, at the same time. she ran herself ragged all over the country, trying to keep his work going. she raised him from the dead.

(i also feel that i can throw in here, as related, the time that she busted him out of prison and then abandoned everything in her entire life including her career, her family, and everything she owns, to go on the run from the law and live secretly in seedy motels for years to be with him.)

10/ fight the future

there are too many contenders for my last spot, so i’m gonna keep it simple, and go with the most special movie moment. (of all movies).

from my newsletter:

“Mulder watches the spaceship as it flies overhead, his face glows with a heart-melting grin of childlike wonder and awe.”(x)

That’s exactly what it feels like to me, it’s an innocence and excitement that was so present in season one, that was all over him when he told Scully to come look in the second episode, but that’s rare to see in the later seasons. It’s rare to see at this point in their story, after all that’s happened. They are stranded in Antarctica, both of them injured, both of them freezing in the cold, and they are holding each other and gazing up at the sky. What a perfect thing in their big momentous feature, to bring it all back to what it started with.

there’s such a reverent sentimentality to it, in the simplicity. she had stopped breathing, a few minutes earlier. but when he passes out, she pulls herself up, and grabs onto him. keeps him alive, keeps them both alive, just by holding him close. that’s really the heart of it.

(also, i find it so moving that this film is the only time in the franchise that scully considers leaving, not working with him anymore, and it’s because she thinks she’s not good for him. that she’s holding him back. she never considers him as anything other than wanted, something worth believing in.)

some honorable mentions to: little green men, which i’ve written about here. (especially her secret-signaling him to their secret meet-up place, just to ask if he’s okay). the erlenmeyer flask, which i’ve talked about here. (she literally stops him in the street to tell him that she should have listened to him, and she’s sorry, because she should have trusted his instincts. that means so much, you guys). her telling colton she hopes he falls on his ass after he was making rude comments about mulder in squeeze, screaming at a serial killer that she’ll gas him into hell herself and no one will stop her, if mulder isn’t okay, in beyond the sea….she has threatened and shouted at and smacked around so many people for fucking with him, and this too is care!! (anger meaning you’re worth being angry over, etc etc)

how desperately she became frantic to find their son, after 17 years resigned to never ever looking for him, never ever endangering him that way…because she became convinced that it’s the only thing that would help mulder.

and how important samantha is to her. it matters. it matters, that sam is remembered. that someone else in the world knows. someone knows that they played baseball in the summers, that they fought over the television, that he’s looked for her in every room he’s ever been in. someone else cares about her; not as a white whale, not as a photo on a desk, as a little girl who broke her collarbone because she played on swings too hard. scully listened to her journal, and cried. listened to how much she suffered. how much she just wanted to see her big brother. (scully kept a journal like that, too, once. underwent those same tests. almost died at the hands of those same men. wrote her testimony to that same person.) it’s taking care of mulder, to love samantha. and she does.

#i got really really tired by the end but it is what it is #i want y'all to know #that i almost put 'trust no 1' on here #the way that she yells at doggett that she wants to see mulder 'SO BAD' #but in the end: writes to him that she just wants him to be okay even if she can't see him or hear from him #or even if he can't read what she sends him #and the way that she looks over at william in the stroller and puts her hand on his face #just like...that one semblance of mulder that she still has in her life and that she holds onto- in this baby #and he's growing up without his dad and she NEVER wanted that. #and mulder is writing to her that he just wants to come home to her and to will. #and how her voice shakes and she screams when she talks about how badly she just needs to see him. she feels so alone. #and there are only so many solar system onesies and star mobiles and lullabies from the florida woods that she can give #but ultimately she just wants him to be safe and alive and that's what she tells him and that's what she fights for with everyone else #but it's just so fucking unbearably sad and i couldnt do it after the first few i put on here ksjdfk #i would also say!! that her leaving him post-iwtb and their break-up was in a way taking care of him #getting the fuck out of that house. trying to save herself from that trap of grief. #then coming back when it was less haunted and he was healthier and it was able to be their home again #refusing to suffocate there just because he was. salvaging SOMETHING for him to come back to- and ALWAYS being available for that. #asks #sein und zeit #demons #the end #paper hearts #redux ii #herrenvolk #anasazi #fire #deadalive #ftf

[hvbris]

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏 💕

@omniishambles @collidingxworlds @countlessrealities @governmentofficial @thenightmareofyourdrems @ithinkim-adorable @hwknsking this isn’t exhaustive! some ships don’t have a tag yet so they haven’t been added BUT they’ll be added as soon as they get their own lil tag 💕

& omniishambles / Villanelle & Eve (oh I will ruin you it's a habit - I can't help it) & omniishambles / Gomez & Morticia (you were like some desperate howling demon. You frightened me. Do it again!) & omniishambles / Villanelle & Salomé (maybe I'm a bad bad bad... bad person. well baby I know) & omniishambles / Hannibal & Clarice (and feed me spark me up. a creature in my bloodstream chews me up.) & omniishambles / Billy & April (so if you're crazy I don't care you amaze me) & omniishambles / Billy & Salomé (I fucking hate everyone but you) & omniishambles / Hopper & Joyce (and have to look at your face everyday? i don't think so)

& collidingxworlds / Abigail & Salomé (she is a flower but she isn't soft. When her petals fall they hit like bullets) & collidingxworlds / Abigail & Clarice (she may not be what she may seem inside her shell) & collidingxworlds / Will & Noah (I especially am slow but I realized that I need you)

& countlessrealities / Summer & Salomé (come and walk on the wild side. you like your girls insane) & countlessrealities / Bill & Salomé (I'm bad as bad can be. so bad that it's hard to believe)

& governmentofficial / Mycroft & Mulder (you find out nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about) & governmentofficial / Mycroft & Hannibal (and it's a beautiful crime)

& thenightmareofyourdrems / Billy & Clarice (you're like the sun you wake me up. I might need you or I'll break) & thenightmareofyourdrems / Steve & Salomé (got to be a lot that's wrong with you to want to be with me)

& ithinkim-adorable / Dean & Eleven (there's something about his hand holding mine)

& hwknsking / Steve & Chrissy (I was lost within the darkness but then I found you)

#tag drop #& omniishambles / Villanelle & Eve (oh I will ruin you it's a habit - I can't help it) #& omniishambles / Gomez & Morticia (you were like some desperate howling demon. You frightened me. Do it again!) #& omniishambles / Villanelle & Salomé (maybe I'm a bad bad bad... bad person. well baby I know) #& omniishambles / Hannibal & Clarice (and feed me spark me up. a creature in my bloodstream chews me up.) #& omniishambles / Billy & April (so if you're crazy I don't care you amaze me) #& omniishambles / Billy & Salomé (I fucking hate everyone but you) #& omniishambles / Hopper & Joyce (and have to look at your face everyday? i don't think so) #& collidingxworlds / Abigail & Salomé (she is a flower but she isn't soft. When her petals fall they hit like bullets) #& collidingxworlds / Abigail & Clarice (she may not be what she may seem inside her shell) #& collidingxworlds / Will & Noah (I especially am slow but I realized that I need you) #& countlessrealities / Summer & Salomé (come and walk on the wild side. you like your girls insane) #& countlessrealities / Bill & Salomé (I'm bad as bad can be. so bad that it's hard to believe) #& governmentofficial / Mycroft & Mulder (you find out nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about) #& governmentofficial / Mycroft & Hannibal (and it's a beautiful crime) #& thenightmareofyourdrems / Billy & Clarice (you're like the sun you wake me up. I might need you or I'll break) #& thenightmareofyourdrems / Steve & Salomé (got to be a lot that's wrong with you to want to be with me) #& ithinkim-adorable / Dean & Eleven (there's something about his hand holding mine) #& hwknsking / Steve & Chrissy (I was lost within the darkness but then I found you)

[cutemothman]

oh to be a fly on the wall at the fbi watercooler after the word got around that special agent spooky fox mulder literally rose from the dead after being (allegedly) abducted by aliens like "yeah i heard they dug him up and he was still alive" "no fucking way man, he was buried for THREE MONTHS. there's no way he'd still be alive. i think he faked the whole thing" "no, i SWEAR i saw the coffin and everything" and then tim from payroll pops in like "do you think mrs. spooky did some kind of necromancy to bring him back? i mean, i'm sure she's learned a lot about that kind of stuff being around him all these years" then someone else nods and goes "it makes sense, i'd be pissed too if some guy knocked me up and then went and got his ass abducted by aliens--" "i thought it wasn't confirmed that it was his baby?" "oh come on brenda open your fucking eyes" and i'm there holding my little paper cup of water just living for this drama

#txf #the x files #msr #fox mulder #dana scully

[aloysiavirgata]

(if you are accepting prompts!) what iffffff you wrote a soft gentle little fic in which Scully has a spectacularly unlovely head cold and after some grouching Mulder looks after her? There are so many moments of peril on x files that sometimes it’s nice when the enemy is just a simple rhinovirus, lol.

He doesn’t even attempt to make it himself. Calls ahead to Loeb’s with his order, which he accepts from a stylish young Mexican man whose name tag reads Pierre.

“A sheynem dank,” Mulder says, echoing the grandmother who called Samantha a shaineh maideleh.

Pierre nods. “Bitte, baby,” he says. “De nada.”

***

Mulder clomps up her stairs with Puritan determination. He feels that since he did not cook the food himself he must exert some other effort for it. His soul is at eternal war with itself.

He doesn’t knock; lets himself in with the Home Depot key Scully had made for him around the time that Tooms wanted into her pants for all the wrong reasons. It sticks a little still, even after so many years. He’s rarely had to use it - when aren’t they together?

A hacking noise from her bedroom, something wet being coughed. Spat.

Mulder helps himself to a bowl, a plate, a spoon.

“I’b arbed,” she rasps from down the hall. “I’b a Federal Agent.”

“Don’t shoot,” Mulder calls back, hunting down a napkin. “I am a poor boy from a poor family.” Her mother wears Revlon and his wears Guerlain.

He tips some soup and two of the matzo balls into a bowl, wedges one of the challah rolls next to it. He puts the leftovers in the fridge.

Mulder carries the plate down the hall, the nearly-full bowl sloshing dangerously atop.

He enters Scully’s bedroom. She’s been upgrading over the past couple of years, replacing her IKEA basics with good secondhand finds in cherry and walnut. The candle she’s lit smells like white flowers with thick, creamy petals.

Scully is tucked into bed like an Austen heroine, all delicate pallor and genteel unhappiness. Her nose is pink-tipped and raw, hair in a ponytail. She’s wearing a gray sweatshirt instead of her usual pajamas.

Mulder sets the food down on her nightstand, next to a vase of dried roses and her Yaqui slide holster. A speed loader. There’s a well-framed Monet print over the bed.

Pat Conroy’s Beach Music is open face down on her lap, surrounded by crumpled tissues. She doesn’t look happy to see him, her purple-shadowed eyes narrowing a bit.

“Go away,” she says. Sneezes.

“Brought you some soup,” he says, unnecessarily. Points at it, also unnecessarily.

“Bulder,” she sniffs. “Go hobe. I don’t like being fussed over. I hab a cold, dot Ebola.”

“Too bad,” he says. “I’m going to. Do you have Vick’s Vapor Rub? You really should have Vick’s Vapor Rub.”

She closes her eyes. Pinches the bridge of her nose, centering herself. “It’s dot your fault I’b sick,” she says, looking back over at him after a moment.

“I dragged you into the woods again. You fell down a hole full of corpses! You’ve been in remission for like…twenty minutes.” He jabs the spoon at her.

She rolls her eyes. “You don’t get a cold frob being in the woods. Or frob being chilly. You get a cold frob a virus.”

He feigns outrage. “Excuse me, but are you contradicting noted excellent mother-slash-world-class-epidemiologist Doctor Teena Mulder MD?”

This sends Scully into a flurry of coughing. She swats at him in annoyance. “Ugh,” she says at last. “You see why I can’t hab you here, you’re a lousy durse.”

Mulder takes her hand, pale as a kid glove. He shoves the spoon into it, squeezes her fingers about the handle. “Eat the soup or I’m calling your mom. I’m calling BILL.”

She narrows her eyes again. “You wouldn’t.”

“I think you’re well aware that I’m capable of being overly dramatic when the wind is southerly and the fancy strikes.” He holds the plate before her like an offering to a goddess.

Scully considers him. “You did get us out ob the teabwork sebidar,” she observes. “Techdically.”

“I did,” he agrees.

“You bade be sing,” she adds. Reproachful.

He grins. “The angels all were singing out of tune, And hoarse with having little else to do, Excepting to wind up the sun and moon, Or curb a runaway young star or two.”

Scully looks at the spoon in her hand for the first time, as though wondering how it got there.

“Byron,” she says, a little smile. She picks up the roll, examines it. Peers at the soup. Sneezes again. “Mad, bad, and dangerous to know.”

“Caroline Lamb,”Mulder replies. He doesn’t point out that Caroline Lamb had been Byron’s lover, that she’d sent him a clipping of her pubic hair in the mail. He certainly doesn’t think of the juncture between Scully’s thighs at all, whether it matches the drapes, whether it tastes like kettle corn and Vineyard whitecaps in July. Lobster rolls and saltwater taffy.

He’d meant it, about the sleeping bag. He wishes there had been a sleeping bag and he is so, so grateful there was no sleeping bag.

Scully sniffles again, defeated. “You got be batzo ball soup?”

He thumbs an escaped tendril of hair back from the sweep of her extraordinary cheekbone.

“I did,” he murmurs back. He sets the plate down between them. He peels the roll open, yeasty and fragrant, and dunks it into the golden broth.

He raises it to her mouth.

Scully sucks at it, draws it past her lips. She bites. Chews, swallows. She holds his eyes with hers. She catches an escaped droplet with her tongue.

“Good,” she mumbles. Watches him dip the dry part back into the bowl. “Thank you.”

He feeds her another bite. Her mouth opens like a snapdragon, like an oyster in the tide. She drops her gaze this time. Her guard.

They complete the entire roll this way, and one matzo ball. Silent, slurpy. Scully’s lids droop, her lashes brushing her cheeks.

“Sleepy,” she mumbles, curling onto her side. Her paperback falls to the floor.

Mulder returns the food to the night table. He strokes her hair until she’s out cold, snoring a little. He curls into the bed as well, his nose to hers. He touches her philtrum with his pointer finger. He traces the tender pink whelk of her ear.

They sleep for hours until she coughs awake, gasping, her thin chest heaving. Mulder rubs circles between her scapulae.

“Go hobe,” she says, knees drawn, leaning against his chest. “You deed to sleep.”

He puts his arms around her, drops a kiss on her tangled head. “Okay,” he agrees.

She’s out again in moments. He holds her upright until he drifts off as well.

They sleep until morning. He feeds her soup for breakfast, calls into work with a case of Ebola.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr #my fic #sick fics #detour post episode #fluff #inbox #prompt

[shopcat]

mutual 1: it's time that we must come together to inseminate the ghost of bruce springsteen

Replies

bruce springsteen isn't dead

he will be when i'm through with him

mutual 2: Hi rveryvody i killed a hare with my bare hands today and got kind of horney after when i was washing the blood off is this a rabies simpsons

mutual 3: when squidward looks at spongebob at 12:16 in season 57 a same sex pair of jellyfish fly past the window isn't that cutes 🥰

mutual 4: me if you even care

mutual 5: ohhhhh i get it. it stands for "transgender dick"

mutual 6: you know when those guys like wire their guitars through different objects and it makes a cool new sound i think if you attached one of those clamps to my girl nipples a perfectly legible cover of upside down by jack johnson would come out

mutual 7: im going to shave my initials into my bear boyfriends chest hair so he doesn't get lost

mutual 8: [picture of their cat] does everyone love him (2.7k notes)

mutual 9: can you guys stop ignoring me when i talk about my anime boyfriend i keep cutting my fingers when i finger him because of the pixels

mutual 10: Isn't she sooooo pretty ☺️ [picture of a 48 year old man]

mutual 11: riddle me this. i have the mind of a goldfish and the body of an ape and the heart of a newborn puppy and the penis of a guy with a small penis what am i ❓

mutual 12: [beautiful picture] [beautiful picture] sorry i couldn't post much today i was practicing the one of 4 languages i'm learning and i think i'm getting pretty good 😊 Everybody have a great day okay i need to get back to my 9-5 at the fish monger

mutual 13: UGH [fancam downloaded from tiktok] (0 notes)

mutual 14: Do you think fox mulder peed sitting down

mutual 15: i fucking hate peoole talking about going to the club the only club i go to is club sandwich am i right ladies. Hey man can i get a drink with that. yeah no i don't want sparkling water it hurts my tummy. i said it hurts my tummy. It makes my tummy upset. what aren't you understanding here. it hurts it

mutual 16: i think my fursonas would have sex with each other and the baby it creates would be a new thing no one has ever seen before

mutual 17: rowan

mutual 18: I have a headacheeeee :( can someone shoot me through the heart and change the trajectory of my life forever as i learn to live without the chains of love that holds me under the ceaseless grip of cupids cruel hands

mutual 19: Omg i think i have a crush 😊😊😊😊

mutual 20: can someone let me inside please i'm so cold my bush could be used as a wire scrubber

mutual 21: Nah i thought russia was in the dang north pole 😭😭😭😭😭😭

mutual 22: sorry i was late posting the suicide note today i finally decided on whicu font i'm going to use ^_^

mutual 23: "frotting" sounds like what looking for frogs in swampy areas would mean. but it doesn't

mutual 24: blood as lube with your vampire girlfriend would be CRAZY but blood as lube with your werewolf girlfriend would get you pregnant

mutual 25: Hail mary full of grace the lord is with thee blessed are thou among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb jesus holy mary mother of god pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death bazinga

Replies

not how it goes

not how it goes

mutual 26: [picture of a graveyard]

mutual 27: [gifs of clothed pro wrestlers tagged "nsfw"]

mutual 28: dave grohl pussy reveal call that dave growl

#got carried away my bad #🐾 #ns4w #do you guys know i went to catholic school #the ability to recite entire prayers is always kind of funny

[baronessblixen]

Prompt: 2. "Don't worry, I got you."

Fluff, rewrite of the last scene in "Existence": Mulder asks Scully what she's going to name the baby. (wc: 1,101)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 12: The Easiest Choice

Mulder unlocks the door to Scully’s apartment and steps inside. She gave him that key years ago, but he’s never felt comfortable using it. Today it’s a must. In case the baby is sleeping. Part of him can’t believe that there’s a baby now. A real, healthy baby boy. The greatest miracle he’s ever seen. Mulder pockets the key, making his way to Scully’s bedroom on tiptoes. He doesn’t want to make a single mistake. He knows he’ll make them in the days, weeks, and years to come. But today, he wants everything to be perfect.

He sees the Gunmen and the look in their eyes is one of pure wonder.

“Had to see him with your own eyes?” Mulder asks quietly, grinning from ear to ear.

“We’re still in awe,” Byers says. “The baby and you- you finding Scully in time.”

“I saw a light,” Mulder says with a shrug. “I followed it.”

“Of course you did,” Frohike says with a shake of his head, but his friend is still smiling. As much as he loves them, and enjoys their company, he wants them to leave Scully’s apartment. This is their moment.

“Let’s go, guys. Congrats,” Byers says with a small wink and Mulder can’t stop grinning. He waits until he hears the door close behind them. Only then does he dare to round the corner where soft light peeking through the open blinds greets him. His eyes find Scully sitting up in bed, the baby in her arms. Has he ever felt love like this? It’s in his every bone. His whole body is jittery as he walks closer, unable to stay away any longer. He’s seen the baby in the cabin, and on the way to the hospital, but there wasn’t enough time. He wonders if there will ever be enough time. Will he ever tire of looking at this tiny human being?

Scully, trustful as always, hands him the baby and despite the boy's feather-light weight, Mulder’s convinced he’s holding the whole world. His and Scully’s world.

“Hey you,” he says softly, smiling down at the infant, who starts waving his little fists around, beginning to fuss.

“None of that.” Mulder starts swaying him softly from side to side and the baby visibly calms in his arms. “Don’t worry, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.” He hears a soft sniff and first thinks it’s the baby. When he lifts his eyes, and they meet Scully’s, he sees that it’s her.

“You okay? Come on, let’s sit down. You shouldn’t be standing.” She shuffles back to the bed and he follows her, aware of every step he takes because he's got the baby in his arms.

“It’s the hormones and- and everything. It’s a lot,” she says with a short laugh before she wipes away a few tears. “But I’m okay. Better than okay. I’m happy.” Their eyes meet and he feels high on emotions. High on love. He wants to ask her to marry him right now, to ask her to get out of the car, to move in together, and to have a dozen more babies. But he keeps every one of his thoughts to himself. There will be a time for that later. One step at a time.

He looks back down at the baby, who too seems happy now in Mulder’s arms. In his father’s arms. He’s a father now. A dad. One day, this boy will run up to him and call him that. His heart soars, just thinking about it.

“Do you know what you’re gonna call him?” Mulder asks, tearing his eyes away from the baby.

“William,” Scully says without hesitation, looking at him. “I want him to be named after his father who I know doesn’t want his son to be another Fox. So it’s William.” Mulder just stares at her, scared to blink. In case all of this is just a dream and he’s going to wake up any second now. His eyes fill with tears; a mirror of Scully’s.

“That couldn’t have been an easy decision,” Mulder says, not knowing what else to say.

“It was the easiest decision I ever made.”

“Thank you,” he mouths at her before he returns his gaze back to the baby – his son. “Welcome to the world, William Scully. Your uncle is going to love this.” Both he and Scully laugh softly. William starts fussing again and after having read most of the literature, Mulder is pretty sure he knows what this means. “I think he’s hungry,” he says and Scully nods, getting ready to nurse. Mulder holds on to William until she’s ready, holding out her arms. He stands there awkwardly, unsure where to go – or look.

“Sit with us,” Scully says, her voice gentle. William is rooting around and Scully helps him find his target. He latches on and starts suckling noisily, making Mulder chuckle.

“He’s the cutest baby I’ve ever seen,” he marvels.

“How many babies have you seen?”

“Are you saying there are babies out there cuter than ours?”

“No,” Scully says, turning her head to Mulder. “He’s the most beautiful baby.” Now that he’s close, he sees exhaustion in her face. He leans forward and kisses her nose. She sighs, making him feel brave, so he presses another kiss to her mouth, staying there a moment longer. Soon enough, it’s going to get crazy. Everyday life will tighten its grip on them. William will keep them up at night. They’ll worry and drive each other insane. But Mulder can’t wait to start this new adventure. With her by his side.

“He has your coloring,” he says, his finger carefully touching the soft patch of hair. “And your eyes.”

“All babies have blue eyes, Mulder,” Scully says and yawns. “I think he’ll have your eyes.”

“Better my eyes than my nose.”

“I happen to love your nose. He has your mouth too.”

“He does?”

“Hmmm.”

“Hey, how about I give our son a tour of the apartment while you take a nap? You’re supposed to sleep when the baby sleeps.”

“You really read the books?” she asks him, stifling another yawn.

“Of course, I read the books.” He read the books long before she was even pregnant. But she doesn’t need to know that yet.

“Just five minutes,” she says, her eyes falling close as soon as she hands him William.

“Take all the time you need,” Mulder whispers, kissing her warm cheek. “I’m going to spend some time with our son.”

Our son. Two words he never thought he’d say. Two words that mean the whole world.

#fictober23 #fluffy fluff-fluff #i know this has been written #pretty sure I have written it before too #but i wanted to write it again #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

[randomfoggytiger]

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XIV): When Nature Turns So Cruel

Leading into the cancer arc, Scully begins to grapple with the bigger questions: her place in Mulder's life, and what she wants that place to be.

In Season 4, not only does Mulder express himself more openly-- crying on her shoulder for the first time in Herrenvolk, voicing his fantasy of a better life in Home, relying on her completely in Teliko, anguishing over soulmates in The Field Where I Died, hugging her proudly in Terma, leaning on her solely in Paper Hearts-- but the cases themselves no longer bear a passing resemblance: they directly mirror her current experiences. It creates an inescapable glass to look into and constantly compare with: which decisions led her here, and how (and if) she can escape them.

The files are Scully's job, but her loyalty lies with Mulder (her vow in Tooms proves that quite clearly); and insecurity over that loyalty harkens back to her childhood dynamic with the late Captain Scully: "There are other fathers," she tells Ed Jerse darkly in Never Again.

However. I wanted to focus this analysis on the slowly begun but quickly ended arc supplanted by Never Again and the events after Memento Mori.

THE HEART OF THE HOME

Home is a complex episode, factoring in not only Scully’s family dynamics but Mulder’s as well (to be discussed at length another time.)

After the closeted baby autopsy, Scully and Mulder walk out of the sheriff’s department just as a happy family and their giggly baby stroll by. Scully’s first remarks, however, are filtered out through the lens of mangled hopes and cruel twists of life. 

“Imagine how a woman’s hopes and dreams for her child, and then Nature turns so cruel. What must a mother go through?” she ruminates in a distanced tone, indicating that this is the first time she's given serious thought to the subject.

What must a mother go through particularly stands out: Scully hadn’t forayed into these maternal or domestic waters before, it seems-- working hard to achieve medical school, then a doctor’s degree, then recruitment, then field agent with the FBI’s best and brightest. In The Jersey Devil, she was shown to be good with kids; but it was Ellen who pushed her towards planning the next step, and Scully who stated she’d need a man first. So, Dana Scully is over three years in on the files with at least three relationships under her belt (discounting Ethan Minette and whatever she and Mulder have) but still hadn’t paused to ponder or plan what motherhood and its hopes and dreams would hold for her… until today. And to have this brought to her attention now, during these dire circumstances, hits closer to home than Scully would like. 

“Apparently not much in this case if she’d just throw it out with the trash,” Mulder counters, quietly waiting for his partner’s response when she maintains eye contact while slowly sitting down.

Scully remains/is momentarily silent, sorting through the real reason this case and these hopes are so impactful. 

“I guess I was just… projecting on myself,” she admits-- vulnerably honest.

Mulder is immediately puzzled and concerned-- and his first question isn’t 'You want kids?' but instead, “Why, is there a history of genetic abnormalities in your family?” It’s a blend of his usual curiosity, morbid fascination, and something else. 

Scully picks up on that something else, “No”ing his question softly and staring at him with more personal interest. 

He then gives her a crack-- “Well, just find yourself a man with a spotless genetic makeup and a really high tolerance for being second-guessed and start pumping out the little uber scullies”-- a smile, and a light backrub to soothe away any lingering worries.

In a turnabout equal to an Olympic gold medalist, Scully twists the question around on him: “What about your family?” 

“Hm?” Mulder responds, testing to see if his nonanswer will shake her off his tail. 

It doesn’t: Scully remains locked onto his face, expecting a straight answer. One might say, needing one. 

“Well, aside from the need for corrective lenses and the tendency to be abducted by extraterrestrials--” here Scully turns away, grinning to herself over Mulder’s Mulderness reasserting itself, “--involved in an international governmental conspiracy--” here a shade of disappointment passes over her face, “--the Mulder family passes genetic muster,” here he finishes, adding a comedic muscle flex to farm a smile from his partner.   

She smiles, soaking in his unspoken subtext. 

In his own way, Mulder has stated exactly where he stands: he can fantasize about settling down in a place like Home, tease her about pumping out the uber scullies, even include his family genetics in with the joke, but all under the context of hypotheticals. Mulder can’t have a normal life until he’s righted the wrongs of his past, saved the world, and gotten the girl. (It’s not until The Unnatural and Amor Fati that he finds "the mystery of the heart" and "another life, another world" can coincide with this one.) Most importantly, Mulder himself is not ready: playing with a baseball while she takes notes, bantering about family history while Scully turns reflectively inward, planning for unreachable hypotheticals (with her in them, yes, but unreachable all the same), and joking them both out of more dangerous, personal topics they've yet to address.

Scully is amused at his antics; but she is also searching for something from him he can’t (she assumes) provide. It’s wisest not to take his oddities or indiscretions personally, to smile over his endless unquenchable, unattached zest for life; but there is a loneliness-- one that is a choice-- that feels isolating, that leads her to question her own choices and outcomes (i.e. Never Again, Milagro, all things.) “You are Ahab”, she told him once on a rock; and her self-inflicted sacrifices to that cycle (posts here and here) stem back to being Captain William Scully, Sr.’s best first mate-- “There are other fathers”, after all. 

Mulder watches her closely; and, sensing her withdrawal, opens up, revealing that he does, indeed, understand more than he lets on.  

“Scully, that child inside is a tragedy." It's a simple statement spoken with feeling; and Scully responds to it.  

But his theory over young, scared kids abandoning their unwanted child switches her gears; and she pivots their conversation quickly into her disagreements. 

For the second time, family talk pops up in Mayberry. 

Scully, having wrapped up the adult conversation for the night, glances over at her boy-in-a-thiry-some-year-old-body partner wrangling with the fuzzy tv set, smiling in spite of herself.  

At her approach, Mulder puts distance between them-- but not because of romantically blurred lines, no, no; but because she might mess with the static on his chosen channel. 

Thoroughly unimpressed, Scully cracks, “You still planning on making a home here?” 

“Not if I can’t get the Knicks game,” he deflects, pointing the antennae carefully at her forehead for maximum kid antics. 

Having had enough for the night, she walks off.  “Well, just as long as brutal infanticide doesn’t weigh into your decision.” 

He picks up on, and is annoyed by, her undercurrent of condescension, shooting a “Goodnight, Mom,” parting shot. 

Scully is pulled up short, her eyes asking if he’d said what he’d said and challenging him to repeat it. Mulder turns away-- not interested in further petty sniping but refusing to give up the ground he’s gained. 

She doesn’t call his bluff, deciding to drop further antagonism and just go to bed. 

However, there is a snag. 

“Mulder, this lock is broken,” she says, head down as she fidgets it back and forth.  

Her partner whips back around, lowering his arms for the first time in a defensive, attentive position. He plays it off with a joke-- “You don’t have to lock your doors around here”-- and Scully buys it; but his posture reflects how aware he is of the sudden lack of boundaries in this cozy, folksy, family-livin’ town. 

After she shuts the door behind her, Mulder doesn’t stop looking at the lock (visibly weighing his options by stretching out the antenna.) Blinking away his thoughts, he moves quickly over to the table, grabbing and wedging a chair under the opportunity of temptation. 

If that’s not symbolism for the next few years for Scully, I don’t know what else is. 

The third mention of family-- specifically, of Scully’s family-- occurs in the Peacocks’ field. 

“There some secret farmer trick to gettin’ these things moving?” Mulder grunts, giving another forceful shove against the mountain of pigs they have to move. 

“I don’t know,” she whispers, exasperated, before receiving a stroke of genius. “Na ram you!” she warbles, louder for the second, “Na ram you!” 

“Yeah, that’ll work,” Mulder pipes from behind a particularly large hog. 

“I babysat my nephew this weekend,” she explains, applying more force to the hind quarters in front of her. “He watches Babe fifteen times a day.” 

“And people call me ‘Spooky’.” 

Besides a cameo in Beyond the Sea, this is the first canonical reference Scully has made to her nephew. Although there was a profound lack of show bible on The X-Files, the details-- or lack thereof-- that they retained are interesting to gnaw on. 

As discussed in the previous parts here and here, Scully’s two brothers were at her father’s funeral with their wives; but as we know in A Christmas Carol, Bill Scully has yet to have children (unless one got bushwacked and we were never told.) If that’s the case, then nephew Scully has to be Charlie’s boy… which leaves the other boy at the funeral unaccounted for. (Is he Forgotten Nephew? Step Nephew? Who knows?) 

Once inside the house, Mulder zeroes in on an Elvis Presley article and Mrs. Peacock’s skid marks while Scully pieces together who Mrs. Peacock is-- another example of their disparate frequencies. 

“Mrs. Peacock?” Scully begins. “Mrs. Peacock… you are in immediate need of medical attention. Agent Mulder and I are here to help you.” 

“This is our home! Why leave it?” 

After the argument for medical attention leads them nowhere, Mrs. Peacock stares into the middle distance, fondly (and a bit lustfully) talking about her sons. “They’re such good boys.” 

“Mrs. Peacock, they murdered Sheriff Taylor and his wife. And Deputy Pastor.”

Fired up, Mrs. Peacock rebukes, “I can tell you don’t have no children.”

Scully withdraws, a mixture of stinging confusion and horrified disgusts playing across her face.    

“Maybe one day you’ll learn,” the matriarch continues, “the pride. The love. When you know your boy would do anything for his mother.” 

Disgust outweighing everything, Scully looks away and licks her lips to compose herself. 

Then the boys break in; and chaos ensues. 

There is no resolution here about family for Mulder and Scully, the topic and undertones being dropped in favor of a death brawl and subsequent escape. But mothers and their children, death and loss ties very neatly into her and her mom's conversation in Memento Mori. Nature’s cruel twists of life, uh, find a way. 

REMEMBER DEATH

While not tangentially related to the Scully family, her opening monologue in Memento Mori sets the stage for Scully's equal parts reticence and openness in the cancer arc, culminating in the interactions between her, Maggie, and Bill in Gethsemane and both Redux episodes.

"For the first time I feel time like a heartbeat. The seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning. The ruminous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth, but only in it's passage.' I feel these words as if their meaning were weight being lifted from me, knowing that you will read them and share my burden as I have come to trust no other. That you should know my heart, look into it, finding there the memory and experience 'that belong to you, that are you, is a comfort to me now as I feel the tethers loose and the prospects darken for a continuance of a journey that began not so long ago, and which began again with a faith shaken and strengthened by your convictions. If not for which I might never have been so strong now as I cross to face you and look at you incomplete, hoping that you will forgive me for not making the rest of the journey with you."

Scully is diagnosed with brain cancer; and calls Mulder to jump headlong into an investigation regarding the dying MUFON women she’d met last year-- all without calling her mother or family first. We find out in Gethsemane that she hadn’t wanted any of her family told, and are left to assume Maggie found out only because of how debilitating Dr. Scanlon’s chemo treatment was expected to be. Their confrontation here is extremely telling: it reveals how much Maggie relies on her daughter, how aware Scully is of this, and how the chasm between them begins to grow as Scully attempts to always be her mother’s “strong one.” 

Scully tells Mulder she needs him to bring over her travel bag and “to call my mother and ask her to bring up some things to the hospital.” 

Thus enters Maggie: hurt and angry and terrified. “Dana!” she greets, soft and breathless. 

“Hi, Mom,” Scully responds, her voice younger as she slips back into mother-daughter comfortability.

Overwhelmed, her mother waits until Scully introduces her to Dr. Scanlon, then begins rambling. “I drove,” she explains, trying to disguise the shake in her voice by talking a bit faster. “I was gonna take the shuttle but it’s only an hour or more by car. Can you imagine?” Dropping off her bag, Maggie draws back to her daughter’s bedside while nervously fiddling with her ear and sniffling. 

“Mom, I’m fine,” Scully assures.  

At that, Maggie’s face drops-- perhaps relief, perhaps fury at Scully’s denial. Or both.

“I’m going to be fine-- I’m just here for treatment,” Dana continues, gracefully gliding over the change of expression. When Dr. Scalon announces his departure, she gives him a tight, polite smile, well-trained and mannered even in a crisis.

Maggie, however, doesn’t react, letting the man pass without so much as a cursory glance over. 

The two Scully women are alone; and Dana shifts her eyes away, then drops her head, steels her shoulders, and lifts her eyes back up to Maggie, anticipating a storm. And she's right. 

“Mom, I know what you’re gonna say, but… I don’t have any experience being sick,” she stalls, knowing her mother’s wrath is coming in hot. 

Maggie remains silent, taking off her coat and folding it with heavy, precise movements while looking down.  

Scully scoots froward, trying to reassure her with a little, unconcerned shrug.  

Looking up, Maggie locks eyes, holding herself tightly. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell me.”

Embarrassed and guilty, Scully looks down, swallowing as she prepares herself for what’s coming. 

“I don’t know why you didn’t tell me immediately!” her mother explodes, betrayal radiating from her stiff spine and locked jaw as she slams her coat on her purse.  

Chastised, Scully looks down once more, willing to let Maggie vent the anger that has accumulated since Mulder’s call the night before. It takes the wind out of Mrs. Scully’s sails; and she folds in on herself, trying again to regain control.   

“I wanted to get all the answers first,” Scully says, quietly; and Maggie walks over slowly, nodding as she takes a closer stand by her daughter’s side. 

“And you found them here?”

Scully hasn’t. “I have found some clarity,” she cryptically replies. “And maybe a way to fight back.” With that, she raises her head and waits for her mother to look back at her again. 

Quite the interesting shift we observe here: we the audience know Scully always run to Mulder-- or Melissa-- before her mother (i.e. The Blessing Way and A Christmas Carol, respectively); but Maggie, it appears, wasn’t aware of this dynamic. To Maggie, her baby girl always came to her first for love and advice or council; and she doted on her baby accordingly. She likely didn’t support Dana’s transfer to the FBI but still helped mend her daughter and her husband’s relationship; she trusted her youngest daughter’s judge of character in Fox Mulder, Albert Hosteen, and Walter Skinner (posts here and here); and she talked her daughter down from a paranoid episode when Dana ran to her for safety (post here.) But last night, she found where she placed on Scully’s priority list: second, if unavoidable. And that crushed her.  

Flexing her jaw against the trembling in her lips, Maggie finally looks back at her daughter. “I don’t want to be kept in the dark,” she warns, refusing to let the matter rest, no matter how much Dana is skirting it. 

Scully lets a bit of her control go, allowing a shade of vulnerability to peer through her eyes. “I know, Mom.” 

Maggie, unable to hold back her fear any longer, covers her mouth before leaning in for kiss on the cheek. 

Unable to keep her own self-control complete once enveloped in a hug, Scully almost cracks, clutching desperately at her mom’s shirt for a split second to battle away the impulse to cry. 

“You have always been the strong one,” Maggie affirms: a blessing and a burden for Dana Scully. Beginning to sob, she adds, “But you are my only daughter now.” 

“I know,” Scully answers, resolved. 

To Maggie, strength is not separate from open emotions, tears, and vulnerability; but to Scully, fragile emotions are akin to weakness. This, therefore, places mother and daughter in opposite positions-- mother wanting to share in grief and weakness, and daughter wanting to shield them both against it. Maggie desperately wants Scully to open herself, needing that mother-daughter relationship she has only with Dana now; and Scully desperately seeks to avoid that openness, viewing it as dangerously unstable territory while she gathers strength to help her loved ones. 

In canon, it's hard to find Scully harboring blame for Melissa's death after her initial burst of blame in Paper Clip. The knowledge that her sister was killed in her place must weigh heavily; but inferences have to be made about the level of guilt she carries, if at all. She was given a form of closure by turning in Luis Cardinale-- though imperfect, since his was killed before facing justice-- and we know she has fond memories of her sister in A Christmas Carol and a shade of remembrance in all things. Most often, the body count of the mission falls on Mulder's shoulders, with Scully firmly convinced the men who pull the trigger are the ones that bear responsibility.

Knowing all this, it would not, however, be easy to face her mother's pain and fright after her abduction, disgraced disappearance, sister's death, and government-inflicted brain cancer.

Maggie Scully breaks down, clinging to her daughter in anguish.

CONCLUSION

There is none, really-- other than the knowledge that this mini arc pales in comparison to the other family work tackled in Season 4.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #meta #The Scully Family In-Depth #In-Depth #Part XIV #When Nature Turns So Cruel #Scully #Mulder #Maggie Scully #S4 #Home #Memento Mori #xfiles #x-files #the x files #xf meta #mine #thoughts

[vampirewalterskinner]

Walter Skinner

Placed his life and job on the line for Scully and Mulder countless times throughout the series.

Refused to deny that Mulder was abducted by aliens, dismissed any theory that Mulder had staged his abduction adamantly, and tirelessly searched for him.

Was maced and beat up by a (hypnotized? I guess we should say) female coworker, but he still used his manners when speaking to her afterward and said, “please, excuse me” before leaving his own office.

Held the hands of fallen soldiers in Vietnam. (Fun note! When Doggett was comatose and laying in the hospital, Skinner was originally supposed to hold Doggett’s hand when he told Reyes about holding dying/injured soldier’s hands. 🫠 Why did they take that away from us)

Dirtied his hands working for CSM to get a cure for Scully’s cancer so Mulder wouldn’t have to.

Procured three gravesites for The Lone Gunmen in the Arlington National Cemetery as repayment for helping him track down Mulder after his abduction.

John Doggett

Derailed his own career to ensure the safety of the X-Files while Mulder was gone and Scully on medical leave.

GENUINELY cared for Scully from the beginning and protected her, always put her first. “My concern is only ever for you, Scully.”

Put his own life in danger to save Mulder the same day they finally met and Mulder shoved him and called him names.

Soft ™️ Held Scully while she was injured and crying the second or third day of knowing each other. Cried in front of Skinner and poured his heart out to him after knowing him for only a few weeks.

Threw around and threatened to kill Spender for touching Scully’s baby.

Chased down Krycek on foot, jumped onto a moving vehicle, and attacked ratboy in hopes of getting a cure for Mulder.

Please, add more if you think of them 🥰

#walter skinner #john doggett #gifs #the x files #my polls #my post

[internet-sadass]

Can't Keep My Mind (Or Hands) Off You (Fox Mulder x pregnant!female reader)

Blurb: Mulder can't keep his mind, or hands, off you now he's got you pregnant, which leads to a little lunch break fun in his car.

Warnings: smut, car sex, pregnant sex?, breeding kink

A/N: If anything about pregnancy in here is not realistic, oops, I have not been pregnant and I tried my best to research the symptoms etc. Also, the reader works at with the FBI but doesn't work with Mulder on the X Files. She does come and do admin work for him (like photocopying and bringing him coffee) because that's what a good partner does 😘

"Okay, so I managed to photocopy these photographs for you. They're not the best quality, but I'd say they're passable. I mean, you can still make out the shape of a figure in the tree line. I'm guessing that's what you need them for, right? Identifying weird humanoid figures." 

Mulder nearly dropped the folder he was holding. 

"You're not wearing a bra." He stated, completely matter-of-factly, despite how he stared at you.

It was true: you had forgone a bra that morning and opted for a white vest under your blouse instead. Your breasts were constantly aching now you were well and truly into your first trimester. Wearing a bra meant you would wince all day and be unable to focus on anything except how sore your chest was and how much you couldn't wait to tear your bra off as soon as you got into your car at the end of the day. But today, you weren't in the mood to suffer hours of feeling like someone was squashing your already tender breasts constantly, so no-bra it was.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully at Mulder as you set the thick pile of photocopies on his desk.

"You're observant this morning. Did you listen to anything I just said? Or do you need me to repeat that all while you," You tilted his chin up so his eyes met yours rather than admiring the twin peaks of your pert nipples against your blouse. "Keep your eyes up here." 

Mulder placed his hands on your waist, running them down over your hips. Since you'd shown him the four identical positive tests and the doctor had confirmed that you were indeed pregnant, he'd found it incredibly hard to keep his hands away from you. Everything he'd loved about you and your body was amplified tenfold now. And right this instant, your significantly fuller breasts, the healthy flush across your cheeks, and your pretty eyes staring up at him were destroying his normally undying devotion to his job. 

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you, don't worry. The photocopies. Thank you, sweetheart." You were pulled closer to him, very much breaking the 'no touching' rule you had agreed on to prevent the pair of you from losing your jobs over inappropriate workplace behaviour. "More important is, why aren't you wearing a bra? You're not, you know,” He lowered his voice, “lactating?" 

You laughed, shaking your head.

"Nope, not yet. Going to be another few months before that happens. They're just sore, that's all, and wearing a bra is getting pretty intolerable. So, no bra." 

As you explained, Mulder’s hands wandered over the changing contours of your body, settling, as they always did, on the subtle hump of your pregnant belly. Even if he couldn't feel anything, since the baby was no bigger than a plum at this stage, he felt an instinctual need to place his hands protectively over the warmth of your lower stomach. Sometimes, he swore he felt something stirring within you, but he knew it was just his very wishful thinking. 

Snapping back into the present moment, Mulder recalled that you said that your chest was hurting.

"Can I make them hurt less? Please." He whispered, hands drifting up to cup just below your breasts. He leaned close to you, kissing your cheek so softly that his lips barely met your skin. 

You shivered at his touch, wanting nothing more than to feel his hands on your sensitive flesh, to have his mouth on your skin, kissing over your sensitive areolas. Another kiss was placed on your cheek, making you groan. As much as you, and presumably Mulder, wanted to take the day off and spend the whole time rolling around in bed, you knew that would have to remain a fantasy. 

"Later. I promise. As soon as we get home, I'm all yours." You placed your hands on his chest, smoothing his shirt. "We can last until the end of the day, can't we?"

Mulder wasn't sure he could last that long. How could he if you were walking about looking so damn irresistible and beautiful and full? 

Clearing his throat, he finally released your body from his protective grasp. 

"We can, yes." He lifted the photocopies you'd made. "Especially if I have to go take a look at this sasquatch. Keep my mind occupied." 

‘And off your gorgeous body’ , He added mentally. 

***

"Oh, please be gentle- ah, careful!- please be gentle with me, Fox." You whimpered, arching your back against Mulder's torso as he pulled your vest up over your breasts, catching on your nipples, making them sting. His hands settled on your breasts, cupping them, weighing them in his hands. They certainly felt bigger to him, filling up more of his hands than before. 

"I'll be gentle, don't worry. I'll be so gentle with you, doll." He whispered back to you, brushing a thumb over one of your nipples, making you keen and squirm against him. After many hours of being unable to think of anything but you, he was glad to finally get his hands on your body and touch it as much as he (and you, of course) wanted. As much as it was your body that was making him harder and harder every passing second, the way you begged him to be gentle with you and your heightened reactions to his touch only added fuel to the fires of his arousal. 

The pair of you hadn't made it to the end of the day. When Mulder got a minute, he found you and nearly dragged you out to his car. He'd driven to a slightly more private place than the bureau car park, and both of you moved to the backseat, kissing each other like a pair of teens who'd finally got the house to themselves and were free from the prying eyes of their parents. Now you sat on Mulder’s lap as he touched you, drawing all sorts of pretty sounds and whispers from you by just lightly touching your tender and aching chest. 

Every caress, every careful touch of your tender breasts was a sweet mix of painful and pleasurable. You were in ecstasy, arching your back, grinding against Mulder's thighs, begging him to ‘stop’ and ‘keep going’ simultaneously. The sensation of him sucking and kissing at your neck only made you more desperate and aroused. Though you winced whenever your flesh was squeezed, your eyes almost rolled back into your head when he rolled his thumbs over your nipples, drawing circles on them just as he did with your clit every time you two got intimate. Your climax felt embarrassingly close, considering he’d done nothing more but grope your breasts and kiss your neck. The fact you could feel his erection, so hard it was almost painful for you to be sitting on, only added to how turned on you were. 

"P-please...I want more of you. Touch me more." You panted out, seizing one of Mulder’s hands and moving down under your hiked-up pencil skirt. He pushed your panties aside and slid the tips of his fingers along your leaking slit. Thick, creamy arousal gathered on his fingers and leaked onto his trousers, staining them with a prominent damp patch. 

"God, you're so wet." Mulder mused as he slid two fingers into you. There was no resistance whatsoever, as your insides welcomed the intrusion of his fingers, twitching around them. You groaned and bucked against his fingers as they pressed up into the most sensitive part of your insides. 

"A-all because of you." You said, struggling to speak as you couldn't focus on much else except how good it felt to have your pussy spread open by Mulder’s fingers. 

He chuckled, scissoring inside you before pumping his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace. 

"That's not true; it's not all my doing. It's because of your hormones, too." 

As he toyed with your pussy and rolled your clit under his thumb, slick leaked out, soaking his hand and the leg of his trousers. You writhed about on his lap, grinding against his stiff length. It was Mulder’s turn to moan as your movements threatened to make more pre-cum leak from his slit and wet his boxers. He wanted to be inside you so badly, especially as he could feel how wet and pliable your pussy was right now. A whine left your lips as he slid his fingers out of you.

“You’re so needy, aren't you? It’s cute.” He mumbled as he guided you to lie across the backseat. Placing one knee on either side of your hips, he straddled you, leaning down to kiss you as he undid his belt.

You smirked against his kisses.

“Speak for yourself. You can’t even pause to take your pants off. That desperate to be inside me.” You whispered back to him. 

Mulder didn’t fight back with words. Inside, he moved his mouth from your lips to your nipples, running his tongue over one of them, swirling around the hard nub. You winced and groaned, your body unable to decide whether it liked the sting of your oversensitive buds being touched in such a way. Seeing your reaction, he moved to the other nipple, bringing a hand up to gently squeeze your breast and circle his thumb over your now wet nipple. You writhed about under him, switching between arching your back, pressing your chest up to him, and shrinking away, trying to escape but finding no way to roll away from him without falling off the seat. 

Feeling as though he had ‘tortured’ you enough and got his fill of toying with your gorgeous chest that had been distracting that whole day, Mulder lifted your hips, lining your entrance up with his weeping tip. He entered you, earning a sharp gasp of pleasure from you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, forcing him to stay hilted deep inside you. 

This was what Mulder had been thinking about all morning. Even with a particularly promising case to chase up, all he could think about was you and being inside your intoxicating tight, wet heat. As much as he wanted to draw out the process of rutting into your velvety insides and feeling you clamp around him as you said his name over and over, he simply couldn’t hold back. He pounded into you, filling the car with the slap of skin on skin and the sickenly wet sounds of his cock spearing open your soaking lips. You looked so perfect below him; your pupils blown out, your skin sheening with a light layer of sweat, your neat office makeup beginning to run as tears squeezed from your eyes, your full breasts bouncing with every thrust of his hips. To top off the view of you, looking more beautiful than ever, the way you were saying his name every time he hit your deepest and most sensitive spot was something he knew he’d replay in his head whenever he couldn't be with you. You swung from breathing out his name in pants to calling it out to barely whispering it as your orgasm broke and made you fall apart under him. He already knew he loved you, but at that moment, as you said his name in a barely audible tone and looked up at him with doe-eyes full of adoration, it felt like that love grew tenfold.

“O-oh, god, fuck, I love you.” 

Words fell out of Mulder’s mouth, very much beyond his control, as he felt the heat of his orgasm spread from his lower belly and along his length. He felt himself fill you with spurt after spurt of his hot seed, his cock pulsing as it emptied its load into you. Reluctantly, he pulled out of you, smearing his tip over your swollen folds, unwilling to let any of his cum go to waste. 

You sat up, a wave of dizziness washing over you. Clearly, so much excitement and activity had put your delicate body under some strain, and it struggled to cope. You looked down at yourself, noticing the gradually growing puddle of cum leaking out of your entrance. The more you sat up, the more that leaked out. You groaned at the sight; it almost made you want to go another round. 

“God, you always cum so much. No wonder I got pregnant the second time we tried. Your car seats are ruined now.” You said, laughing as you forced yourself to sit fully upright and start making yourself look presentable again.

Mulder shook his head at you, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“They’re leather, so that won’t stain or mark them. And aren't you glad we didn’t have to keep on trying to get you pregnant?” He said, nudging you.

You rolled your eyes in mock annoyance at his remark.

“I don’t think either of us would have minded it taking more than just two times without a condom. Not that we need condoms or an excuse to fuck like rabbits anymore.” You joked, helping re-do Mulder’s tie for him, kissing the tip of his nose.

***

Scully was waiting for Mulder when he rushed back into his office, still looking much more dishevelled than a man coming back from a completely average and normal lunch break should look. 

"Mulder, where were you?" She asked, looking him up and down, folding her arms like a parent would do to a misbehaving child.

"Um...Lunch." Mulder fumbled with his answer, knowing as soon as it left his mouth that there was no way in hell that Scully would believe that he’d just been away getting lunch.

"For over an hour? It took you that long to get lunch?" She pressed, closing the door to his office as he searched about his desk for the photocopies of the sasquatch you’d made him earlier. 

There was a long and uncomfortable pause as Mulder stared at the photocopies in his hand, trying to think of a way to answer Scully’s question. At this point, he knew it was basically pointless to carry on giving her excuses; she had worked out what he’d been up to the minute she saw him. Finally, he thought of a (pathetic) reason for why he’d disappeared for nearly two hours. 

"There was a queue. A long one." 

#fox mulder #fox mulder x female reader #fox mulder x you #fox mulder x reader #mulder x reader smut #agent mulder #the x files #fox mulder x reader smut #fox mulder imagine #the x files fanfic #fox mulder smut #mulder smut #mulder fanfic #fox mulder fanfic #mulder x you #mulder x reader

[koithelittle]

cg!mulder moodboard + headcanons!!

note; can you tell I love bunnies?? anyways- I made this absolutely agessss ago, started the headcanons after I made the moodboard but I've been in and out of the mindset to write/write agere stuff since I've been struggling with my regression lately but!! I'm here and I have plans to write more and I've got ideas. my inbox and requests are open!!

paci credits; littlemothshop on ig

navigation

other moodboards

(headcanons below the cut !!)

• the sweetest when he finds out about your regression, he's patient with you, kind and considerate. he'll sit there and listen to every word as you explain it, and he's especially patient and soft if he finds out because you impurely regressed. perhaps a meltdown after a really bad case, something that triggered you and caused you to break after a build up of stress.

• he'll rest his hands on the sides of your upper arms and just smile and hum and nod as you talk.

• he loves resting his fingers and hands on your face. during cuddles he'll rub your cheeks or forehead with his thumb, and he loves playing with your hair.

• if you have hair long enough for it, he'll put little braids and styles of the like in it for you, sitting you between his legs and just styling it!!

• little forehead kisses as reassurance

• records your favorite episodes of your TV shows on VHS so he can watch it with you or have it on for you (his personal favorite of your favorites is beakmans world, obvs)

• he loves getting to wrap you up in blankets and just hold you

• he's a smidge bit overprotective, when you're little he tends to keep you away from anything that could possibly danger you and helps you with any task that you could get hurt with

• so, crafts? safety scissors only. and he has to watch you. cooking? nope, only with close supervision. you can get ingredients, though no cutting or stirring over the stove. that's *his* job.

• he doesn't really mind any sort of nickname you give him but he always favors foxy or baba. daddy is okay too, but he likes the other two the most.

• has little sensory bins for you both to play in (he's a child at heart, also- autism)

• there's a rice box, sand box and a moon dough box. he has them all set up as little sort of dioramas. little toys stuck in them, some play shovels or anything that you can play in it with.

• he's a sucker for your pouts. one simple whine and a poke out of your lip and he is *melted*

• he has a hard time putting his foot down on rules he may have (maimly bedtimes and candy since those are the ones you fight the most)

• he just loves seeing you happy and giggly

• stims when you stims, and dances around with you in whatever room you're in

• at work, if you start to feel smaller, he tends to notice quickly and always makes note to keep a closer eye on you. and if you're in reach, he'll pull you in to lean against him or pull you into a hug

• when you dress up in his clothes for fun (usually his suit) he adores it. just awes at you and coos at you and tells you how adorable and sweet of a baby you are!

• loves cooking for you. he's not horrible at it, but he learned how to make/prep all of your safe foods so he has those recipes in hand all the time!

• he has a whole box of pacis/teethers/treats/toys/etc just for when you're little, calls it your baby-box

• loves having you in his lap while he works at the dining table. he'll have his work in front of him and just be rubbing your back with his hand as you cuddle up to him and babble and coo.

taglist; (lmk if you want to be added!)

#koimoodboards #koiheadcanons #fox mulder #cg!fox mulder #cg!fox mulder x reader #cg!fox mulder moodboard #cg!fox mulder headcanons #fox mulder agere #xfiles #xfiles agere #sfw agere #sfw agere blog #sfw agere moodboard #sfw agere headcanons

[carefulfears]

thoughts on revival mulder pretending his name is bob at starbucks because he’s tired of explaining he is named after an animal ?

i just think he is a cute old man.

i actually wrote a whole thing based on this once skjdfh but he is CUTE!!! my favorite thing about it is the way scully teases him ("fox doesn't exist in coffee shops") but she genuinely looks like she's gonna melt looking at him. she just adores him so bad, 25 years in even the silly little things still get to her.

and i've always really loved these small eccentricities that mulder's characterization was so rich with, i love how those types of things matured and developed as the series continued

#when the coffee shop guy is like 'hey bob' and hes just like 'hi :)' #he is CUTE. #asks #ghouli #ALSO #scully LEARNING things about him #things she didn't know after a couple of years apart #he was relearning how to be...a person...and exist...after years trapped in that house and in grief and depression #and she was relearning who he is and the new little eccentricities of the person he's becoming #and i think that's really nice too #he's in his 50s but he's also 12 and 33 and 40 and holding his baby for the first time and he's trying #i love that about mulder in the revival too. he's just trying. #and it's special as well to have gotten to see him as older #i don't know that anyone expected him to be in his 50s and hoarding VHS tapes and telling scully she looks sooo adorbs #but he is and it's nice

[scullysexual]

You're Never Just Anything To Me (11)

@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter

A look into Mulder and Scully’s relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.

XI. Theef.

A baby grows inside of her. She touches her still flat stomach and can feel its life force beneath the skin.

“We should move,” says Scully. Her mind has wandered again, thinking of scenarios where they are successful. Her latest appointment with Dr Parenti had brought her more hope that this IVF route could work.

“We should move in together, get a house.”

She feels Mulder freeze beneath her.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty. The sound of it tugs her chest and Scully sits up.

“Of course. Are you okay with that?”

A massive grin breaks out across his face. “Of course I am, Scully. I’d love to move in with you.”

Her own smile breaks through. “Not far, though. Somewhere close to my mother and work so you don’t have to waste unnecessary time commuting in.”

“What about you?” he asks.

His face has fallen slightly and this, Scully had spent the past couple of weeks thinking about.

“I think I’d go back to teaching.”

Mulder nods but his mood has shifted slightly. He seems disappointed. He looks away.

“Hey,” Scully says, her hand on his face, bringing his attention back to her. “I’ll still be there to argue against your ridiculous theories.” It restores the smile on his face. “And you’ll see me at home.” Home. Their home.“And then you won’t get sick of seeing me.”

“I never get sick of seeing you.”

They spend the rest of the night talking about it, all properly for the first time. Talking about it earlier felt taboo, like they were going to jinx something (not that Scully believes in jinxes or anything of the kind) but this was something she didn’t want to tempt. Now, she is so sure she has nothing to worry about. For the first time in a long time there is excitement, there is hope, something to look forward to.

…

It feels like the flooring of the hospital has given out beneath her.

The words take a moment to process fully and when they do, they hit her like a ton of bricks.

I’m sorry, Dana. There was no success this time.

No success.

There is no baby. There is nothing growing inside her. No baby to hold or nurture later on, nothing to tether her and Mulder together. There will be no house.

Scully wails. Folds in on herself on the floor of the hospital and wails so loud she disturbs the other patients. Dr Parenti stands there looking on, detached and emotionless, not even human.

…

Mulder spins the ring between his fingers.

He only got here an hour ago but it felt like he had been waiting a lifetime.

The front door clicks and Mulder jumps, hastily shoving the ring into the pocket of his jeans. Scully emerges and instantly Mulder knows something is off. His heart beats wildly in his chest, his stomach shrouded in anxiety.

“It didn’t take, did it?”

She shakes her head and crumples before him. Mulder can’t tell what hurts him more- the knowledge that it didn’t work or the way she falls apart in ways he’s never witnessed before.

He pulls her into his arms and she goes with no struggle, completely engulfing her in his embrace. He is crying, too. Before now, he never realised just how much he wanted it and how much he wanted to be the one to give it to her. He would give her the entire world, wrap it up in a little bow if she asked, but he can’t even give her something as simple as this.

“There has to be other ways,” he says, immediately searching for a solution. “Adoption or surrogacy, or…something.”

But Scully shakes her head. “There’s nothing. That was my last and only chance.”

He doesn’t want to believe that this is the end.

“But adoption, Scully.” He thinks about all the kids they’ve encountered on their cases, parentless the majority of them there, how they would attach themselves to Scully (and even sometimes himself) longing for a parent to care for them. “So many kids who need love and you can give it to them, they can become as much as ours as any biological—”

She shakes her head, pulling away from him, tear-stained cheeks and red-eyes. She looks exhausted. She looks hopeless.

“They didn’t even let me adopt my own child. They would never let me near somebody else’s.”

“But that was different. It’s the two of us now, you won’t be a single mother—”

“Mulder, stop.” He does stop, he comes to a sudden halt. “I don’t want to hope anymore. All it does is make you hurt.”

She pulls away from him completely then, floating away towards her bedroom. Mulder stands, feeling robbed of everything, watching the door to her bedroom close gently behind her.

…

Her period arrives and it paralyses her.

It’s flow unpredictable every time, this time she bleeds through and stains her sheets. She can do nothing but watch as Mulder changes the sheets at 2am, red-eyed and groggy.

Scully changes in the bathroom, her abdomen cramping painfully. She tries to dissociate from it all, opening the cabinet and pulling out the packet of paracetamol as if it wasn’t her doing it.

There’s a rap against the door.

“The bed is ready, Scully.”

She takes one pill and then the others. She thinks about taking a third, a fourth, a fifth, taking the entire packet until the pain all goes, until she feels something else.

There’s another rap.

“You okay in there, Scully?”

She exits the bathroom only having consumed two pills. She holds a hot water bottle in her arms, filled and warm, and looks at Mulder sitting in her bed.

“You might as well go Mulder,” she says as she climbs in. She keeps her back to him, her distance from him and seeks the hot water bottle out for comfort instead. “Find somebody else who can give you whatever you want. I’m broken.”

His arms fall around her and as much as she wants to pull away her body is a traitor and nestles into him instead.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “You’re what I want.”

She sinks further against him and his lips press kisses along her shoulder and neck. She’s so tired, the energy completely drained from her that she closes her eyes, begins to drift off…

“Marry me.”

She thinks she made it up.

She startles awake.

“What?” Her body turns towards him.

“Marry me.” Even in the darkness she can see his pleading eyes. “Please.”

Her mind is full but she can’t form her thoughts to make sense.

“I…”

She watches as he recedes into himself.

“It was stupid, just ignore it,” Mulder dismisses.

But she can’t, he has said it now.

“One day,” she promises and Mulder nods.

His hands join hers at her stomach, pressing the hot water bottle into her skin, holding it like the baby they can never have.

“Never give up on a miracle,” he whispers into her ear.

Scully closes her eyes, a thief steals their baby.

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #soss #season 7 #scullysexualwrites

[freckleslikestars]

as you are, as you were

@imasquint made this post. I wrote something for the first time in...months

Post-series Halloween discussion of vampires and a 25 year old argument

1504 words, read here on AO3

She’s tearing around the house, cape flying out behind her, and it’s clear she’s had far too much candy already, but Scully can only hope that it’ll wear her little body out and she’ll sleep through the night for once. Of course, it’s an unrealistic hope - the kid inherited her father’s distaste for sleep, and she’s all but given up on expecting early nights and lay-ins. Fake fangs sink into her wrist and she looks down with the intent to scold, only to soften at the mischievous hazel eyes gazing up at her. ‘No biting, kiddo.’

‘But I’m a vampire!’ She lisps, and, honestly, what hope is there for the world with the amount of cuteness before her going into it. Maybe she’s getting soft in her old age, but Scully’s convinced that her daughter could take over the whole world with just a sly smile and a flash of innocent eyes. 

‘Yes, you are, darling,’ she lifts her onto her hip, ‘but vampires don’t bite their mommies.’

‘Actually, Renesmee did,’ Jackson points out, ruffling his sister’s hair as he passes, chucking her a chocolate kiss as he takes one for himself from the bowl.

And of course that’s when Mulder has to stick his head around the corner, ‘firstly, Renesmee was only half vampire. And secondly, more importantly, she was fictional. Twilight vampires don’t count.’ 

‘How come? What makes one vampire design more valid than another?’

‘They’re glittery , Jackson.’

‘And? Maybe, Stephanie Meyer was actually being incredibly clever and you’re just prejudiced.’

Scully frowns, ‘isn’t she pro-life and mormon? Either way, please don’t get your father upset about vampires again.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ they cry out in harmony, flinging hands into the air. 

‘I do not get upset about vampires.’ Scully raises an eyebrow at him, and he holds up a defensive hand, ‘I’m merely passionate.’ He’s outdone himself with the family’s costumes this year, a clan of vampires in thrifted old suits and deep red gowns, black capes with red lace stitched around the collar. It surprised Scully when he suggested the first year that he wanted to try and make a Halloween costume for the baby, surprised her even more when he taught himself to sew with YouTube videos and presented her with a tiny astronaut costume. And each year since he’s improved, making whatever the kid asks for. ‘You’re not dressed.’

‘It’s a dress and a cape, Mulder, it’s not going to take me five minutes. Besides, we’ve still got an hour before the party, and the more you get her excited, the more riled up she’s gonna be in the car.’

‘She’s fine, aren’t you, Beanieboo,’ he kisses her forehead before she squirms out of her mother’s arms, dropping to the floor and going back to running circles around the living room. ‘There’s green contacts on the counter in the bathroom. Jackson, there’s some for you, too, if you want.’

He looks up at his parents sceptically, ‘you know, I don’t think green eyes are part of the lore.’

‘Vampires have green eyes, Jackson. I know: I’ve seen them.’

Scully sighs, shakes her head, ‘vampires can have whatever colour eyes you want them to, because they’re not real.’

Mulder groans and drops his head back, yelling out to the ceiling, ‘how are you still denying it after all these years? We met them. You had a thing for one.’

‘Sheriff Hartwell was not a vampire. And, more importantly, I didn’t have a thing for him.’

‘Oh, my god. Then how do you explain what happened?’ it’s like nothing’s changed. They’re married and they live in a little house with a meadow and two kids, it’s twenty five years later, but they’re still having the same old argument, and he for one wouldn’t change a thing.

She looks at him, disbelieving, ‘we were drugged, Mulder. Chloral hydrate. I even have the lab reports to prove it.’

‘Doesn’t explain how Ronnie Strickland survived a stake to the heart.’

‘As I stated in my report at the time, we can fairly confidently hypothesise that you missed his heart.’

‘Oh, we can “fairly confidently hypothesise,” can we? You declared him dead.’ 

‘Yes, and for that, I am gravely sorry. As I did back then, I theorise that he went into shock, his heart stopped for a moment whilst I was checking for his pulse, and then, perhaps, his heart…restarted again.’

‘Spontaneously?’

‘Potentially…’

‘Oh, and nobody noticed? Not the paramedics, not the mortuary staff?’

‘He was in a coma. His life signs were so low they didn’t register, but he was still ticking over, in the background.’

Mulder scoffs, shakes his head, ‘and you think that’s likely?’

‘Well, stranger things have happened.’

‘I mean, it does seem pretty implausible,’ Jackson comments from his perch on the back of the sofa. He’s grabbed a bag of popcorn from the kitchen and is feeding it to his sister as they watch the debate.

The glare Jackson gets from his mother is like nothing he’s seen before, ‘oh, so you’re more willing to believe in vampires?’

He shrugs, ‘I exist.’

‘You’re a miracle, that’s different.’

‘Now, how come miracles exist, but vampires don’t?’ Mulder asks, stealing a handful of popcorn.

‘Miracles are an act of God.’

Jackson shakes his head, ‘nun-uh, can’t use God as a get out of jail free card; it’s too Descartesian.’

‘“Too Descartesian”? How is it “too Descartesian” ?’

Mulder gives her a shit-eating grin and high-fives his son, ‘Descartes had a habit of using God to get out of sticky fallacies. Ergo , it’s too Descartesian.’

‘So, by your logic, if I can’t use God to justify unexplained happenings, you can’t use vampires?’

‘Nope. I have rational reason to believe the population of Chainey, Texas were, in fact, vampires.’

‘What rational reason could you possibly have?’

‘Fang marks.’

‘Ronnie was wearing fake fangs, Mulder. Less convincing ones, might I add, than you’ve made for all of us.’

‘Okay. Just the fact that there were bite marks, that it was very clear they were drinking people's blood.’

‘ Simulated bite marks. Besides, cannibalism doesn’t necessitate vampirism.’

At this point, the five-year-old asks a whispered ‘what’s cabinateism?’ To her brother, and he grins, gnashes his teeth as he tickles her, and hisses, ‘it means eating people, like I’m gonna do to you when I’ve fattened you up nicely with all this candy.’ She squeals and runs away, peels of laughter following her around the living room as he lopes off to chase her, and the vampire debate halts for a moment for both parents to watch, a mix of amusement and concern playing across each of their faces. 

‘Do you think she’s too young to hear all this?’

‘Mm. Probably. Do you think it’s why she doesn’t sleep?’

‘Mm. Probably not. She doesn’t have nightmares.’

‘She’s fine, right?’

‘She’s laughing.’

‘Yeah, she’s fine,’ he pulls his wife in for a kiss, grins when she pulls back.

‘The population of the town of Dudley, Arkansas, were eating people, and they weren’t vampires.’

‘No, but they did have extended lifespans. It’s an interesting possibility to consider, though; the idea that cannibalism and vampirism could be linked. I mean, Barbara Beaumont looked like she was in her early thirties when she was eighty.’

‘She was a mentally ill woman who was heading a cult.’

‘Okay. What about Countess Báthory? She bathed in the virginal blood of young girls to keep her young.’

‘Mulder, firstly, no, she didn’t. There’s no mention in the historical texts of bathing in young girls blood until many years after her death. Secondly, whilst, yes, she probably did torture and murder some girls, the voracity with which she reportedly did so has probably been greatly overstated. And, thirdly, she was fifty when she was arrested, and wealthy. Any reports of her remaining youthful probably had to do with the fact that she wasn’t living in poverty, and most of the witnesses were. What are you looking at?’

He’s grinning at her, boyish and charming still to this day, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to you than I am right now.’

‘Oh yeah?’ she quirks an eyebrow, gives a sly smirk. There’s a crimson gown hanging up in their wardrobe that he’s been talking about for months. She’s going to powder her face and curl her hair and wear red lace panties underneath. She’s going to put in the fangs he’s made for her, and ignore how itchy the coloured contacts are, and spend the whole night encouraging her kid to hurtle around the Halloween party at full speed so that when they come home, she sleeps, and they have a guaranteed four hours in which they can lock the bedroom door. ‘So what you’re saying is, I really don’t need to go and put on my costume?’ His face falls, and her grin widens as she pats him on the chest, ‘don’t worry, I’m heading up now. Hey, why don’t you tell the kids about the Flukeman whilst you wait?’ 

tagging @today-in-fic

#my writing #<- jeez it's been a while since I've used that tag #txf #xf fanfic #the x files #msr #x files #yes that is a nirvana lyric in the title... my only justification is that i currently spend a lot of time hanging out with a band who sing #lot of nirvana #i can't actually remember how to tag fics so...I'mm just shoving it out into the wild and disappearing back into my cave now I think #shoo shoo little fic go run off into the wild be freeee

[slippinmickeys]

Three Part Harmony (17/?)

The rest of the story can be found here.

The date, Rhonda thought, had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now that she’d gone out with Jerry, he was more persistent than ever that she go out with him again. It made going in to work–where she knew he’d be waiting for her–even more nerve wracking than life in the last week and half already was.

She pulled into her normal parking spot next to the dumpster behind the diner and took a deep, cleansing breath. The dark sedan that had been her constant shadow was no longer tailing her so far as she could tell, and she had been watching diligently.

The dry goods from her grocery store jaunt were still tucked safely in the trunk of her car in case she got a chance to head back to the cabin, but she had not felt confident enough in her safety–and that of Mulder and Scully and little William–to yet try.

She grabbed her purse and headed in through the back door of the diner and on through to her locker, avoiding the ever watchful eye of Fred when she clocked in. Rhonda was only scheduled to work the lunch shift today, and the end of the breakfast rush was still humming along if the noise and clatter from the dining room was any indication. She was just closing up her locker when the door opened and Clarice walked in.

“Oh!” said the younger woman. “Ron, I almost forgot you were working today.”

Rhonda smiled at her and shrugged.

“I don’t suppose Jerry thinks the same thing?” she hedged hopefully. “That I’m not on today and maybe he’s drinking coffee at home?”

Clarice smiled at her sympathetically.

“‘Fraid not,” she said. “He’s holding court and waiting for you, just like always.”

Rhonda felt her shoulder slump, but sighed, resigned to her fate. “Anyway,” Clarice went on. “There’s no way he would have left yet today anyway. Not with all the excitement going on.”

A dart of unease piercing her chest, Rhonda raised an eyebrow.

“Excitement?”

Clarice’s eyes lit up. Whatever she was about to tell Rhonda, she’d been dying to share.

“That couple that took that baby last week? That those FBI agents were in here about? They caught ‘im.”

Rhonda felt the blood drain from her face.

“They found the baby?” she asked, her voice oddly high pitched.

Clarice shook her head, disappointed. “No. Just the man. Joe was in here this morning,” she went on, referring to Joe Watson, one of the local Sheriff’s deputies. “Said they caught the guy up at the Walmart in Rover. Buying supplies. Diapers and everything. Redhanded.”

Clarice was clearly riding the high of the sensational drama and wanted to dish, but Rhonda could feel her stomach sinking to her toes, and she lowered herself to sit on the small bench in front of the lockers.

“Guess that means the baby must be okay,” Rhonda said distractedly.

“Yeah,” Clarice agreed. “Though they haven’t found that poor thing yet. Or the guy’s wife. Hey, you okay?”

Rhonda was not okay. Her thoughts were a swirling miasma of terror and regret and shame. She had failed that little family. Suddenly, the meager breakfast she’d eaten that morning started rushing up her esophagus. She lurched past Clarice and into the first stall, retching what remained of the food into the cold white bowl.

Clarice made a concerned noise from behind her, but Rhonda straightened and wiped the back of her hand across her chin, standing.

“I’ve gotta go,” she said suddenly, pushing past the other waitress to rinse off her hands in the sink.

“Oh my god, yes of course,” Clarice said, her brows knitted together in worry. “You’re sick. I’ll take your shift. Tomorrow’s too.”

Rhonda gave her a grateful look in the mirror, then rushed over to her locker and grabbed her purse and coat. She paused in the doorway, wanting to say something to the younger woman, but instead just nodded at her and rushed out the back of the restaurant.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully paced in front of the big bay windows, somewhat confident in their safety while William napped in his back bedroom. She had several major problems, and no real way of dealing with any of them.

She hadn’t the faintest notion how to go about getting Mulder back, if he had really and truly been captured—and with their supplies nearly out and their only mode of transportation gone, Scully and William were in a pretty serious situation; they had almost nothing to eat and no way of going out to get something.

There was a landline to the cottage, but no one had yet called it, and the only numbers she could think to call herself were likely being monitored.

The bottom line was, she was in deep shit.

As she stood, contemplating the merits of walking out to the road with her son in a baby carrier and trying her hand at hitchhiking, the sound of a car engine once again carried in from the front of the cabin.

She whipped her head toward the sound, fearing a return of the dark sedan, hoping for a glimpse of Mulder in the Grand Prix, but what she saw instead was Rhonda’s old Datsun, flying down the rutted drive at entirely too fast a pace. Scully watched as the car skidded to halt on the frozen dirt, and the next thing she knew, Rhonda stumbled through the door and looked as though she were about to collapse upon seeing Scully.

“Oh thank God!” the older woman quailed, closing the gap and throwing her arms around Scully in a simpering relief.

Scully, quite relieved herself at seeing her waitress-shaped salvation, clung tightly to her for a long moment before the older woman pulled back.

“Honey, I don't know how to say this,” Rhonda said, bringing her hands up to cup Scully’s cheeks. “But…”

“They have Mulder,” Scully whispered, hating the awful truth of saying it out loud. “I know.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder sat in the small interview room in the Sheriff’s office with metal handcuffs biting into his wrists. It had been nothing more than rotten luck and bad timing, and Mulder had no one to blame but himself.

He’d thought he was home free–had made it into the superstore with no issues and bought everything he needed, paying with cash and loading the car without a single person in the parking lot so much as looking in his direction. He’d breathed a sigh of relief and pulled out of the Walmart parking lot, the needle of his inner compass pointing toward his waiting family.

What he hadn’t done, and what he was now kicking himself for, was to pop the rear fender with his fist before he got in the car, as the man who had sold him the Grand Prix told him to do in order to avoid having the driver’s side tail light blink out while on the road. And not a half-block from the parking lot, that’s exactly what the car’s tail light did. And was spotted by a local cop, who had nothing better to do that morning than pull Mulder over.

He no doubt had Mulder and Scully’s wanted pictures sitting on his passenger seat, as quick as he was to pull his gun on Mulder and ask him to step out of the vehicle. The man was no doubt now collecting congratulatory back thumps out in the bullpen from every cop in the tristate area.

The only law enforcement officer who didn’t have a smile on his face upon seeing Mulder being frogmarched through the Sheriff’s department after his arrest had been FBI Assistant Director Walter Skinner, who had followed Mulder’s progress through the booking process with the searing disappointment of a father watching their kid stumble through the front door four hours after curfew.

He wore the same expression now, as he walked through the door to the interview room and lowered himself into the chair opposite Mulder with a weary sigh.

Neither man spoke for several long moments, the chains of Mulder’s cuffs making the only sound in the plain gray room.

“A tail light,” Skinner finally exhaled, popping his eyes up to Mulder’s.

Mulder could do naught but shrug. “They got Capone on taxes.”

“This isn’t funny, Mulder.”

“Do you see me laughing?”

Skinner leaned back in the chair and rubbed a hand over his bald pate. “Where’s Scully?”

At this, Mulder did actually laugh. “I think we can dispense with questions that you know for a fact I’ll never answer.”

Skinner could only look at him. “We’re not being recorded or monitored.”

“Well in that case, Walter, I’ll tell you everything I know.” Mulder couldn’t help but let the sarcasm drip from his words.

His former boss sighed again. “Is she safe?”

“So far.” Mulder thought of where she was now, marooned in the Tetons. He fought a swell of anger, at himself, at Skinner.

“And the boy?”

“You mean my son?” Mulder couldn’t help but be prickly. Skinner may have warned them about the danger the boy faced, but he also appeared to be leading the charge on bringing them all in. Mulder was pretty sure his motivations were from a place of wanting to help, but he was also in a curious and precarious position with regard to his day job, and at some point, Mulder figured, self-preservation was bound to kick in.

Skinner’s shoulders sagged.

“Is he okay? He wasn’t hurt? At the farmhouse?”

“He’s okay,” Mulder said.

“That was a hell of a thing we walked into.”

“You’re telling me.”

Skinner leveled a look at him and then threw one over his shoulder as if making sure the interview room door was closed.

“It’s out of my hands what they end up charging you with, Mulder,” he said, turning back to him, his voice low, almost pleading. “You’re officially still wanted for Knowle Rohrer’s death. Escaping military custody.” Skinner leaned forward. “But I need to know, how many counts of murder are they going to tack on?”

“Depends,” Mulder said, thinking of the two men in the nursery that William had held in suspended animation. “How many bodies did you find?”

Skinner gave him a confused look.

Mulder knew he would never get a fair shake from any other cop that came through the interview room door, but Skinner of all people would believe him, and he wanted to set the story straight at least once. Trusting that Skinner was being honest about their conversation not being listened to, Mulder leaned forward earnestly.

“I’m not being glib, sir,” he explained. “And going forward, I will be exercising my right to remain silent. But when we left that house, I’m not sure how many bodies we left behind.”

“Explain,” his former superior said, throwing another look over his shoulder. They probably didn’t have much time.

“The parents were already dead when we arrived,” Mulder said, and Skinner nodded grimly. He probably had already suspected as much. “And they’d managed to take out one of their attackers.”

“The shotgun victim?” Skinner asked.

Mulder nodded brusquely. “And I was attacked not long after we arrived. I defended myself.” He could still feel his hands around the man’s neck, the dark satisfaction of squeezing, of exacting the rage he felt at all the injustices he’d suffered while doing the best he could for his infant son.

Skinner’s jaw tightened, but he nodded at Mulder to go on.

“When we got to the nursery…” Mulder paused, picturing the terrifying scene in his head. “The mother was already gone. And the two other bodies there…I don’t know what William did to them, but…”

Skinner suddenly looked puzzled.

“There weren’t two men there? Dead on the floor?” Mulder asked, remembering the way they’d crumpled to the floor when Scully had scooped up their wailing son.

“There was only the mother,” Skinner said. He narrowed his eyes. “What did William do?”

A heavy weight suddenly pressed on Mulder’s chest. “He’s capable of more than anyone can dream,” he said quickly. “And they know it now. You have to protect him, sir.”

Mulder watched as the man’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he opened his mouth to say something when there was a sharp rap at the door.

Skinner turned and stood as a dark complexioned man in a suit took a step inside the room, his look expectant.

“No more questioning, Agent Bryson,” Skinner said, which earned him a less than cheery look. “He’s asking for counsel.”

Skinner made his way to the door and stared the other agent down, who gave Mulder an almost murderous look before turning to leave. Skinner followed him out and the door snapped shut behind them with a terrifying finality.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #wip

[atths--twice]

Adding to the Fund

Working in a restaurant can be stressful and tiring, but it can also lead to a relationship that was not expected.

Fictober Day 14

Prompt- That's all? Easy.

Sunrise and Sunset, the restaurant on Baker Street was packed. Sundays were always busy, and sometimes stressful, but thankfully the patrons tipped better on those days. 

Well, some of them, Dana Scully thought, rolling her eyes as she picked up the tip from table nineteen. 

It had been a group of older women who had complained about nearly everything: the amount of ice in their glasses of water, the lack of a butter substitute, the temperature of the coffee, and their meals- all for different reasons. 

“Young lady,” one of the women had said, crooking her finger at Dana to come closer. “This bread is far too toasted. I can’t eat this. Take it back and bring me a new sandwich.” 

She had taken the sandwich to the back, swearing as she replaced only the top slice of toasted bread. Waiting a minute to calm down, she had smiled as she brought it back to the woman. 

“Hope this is okay,” she had said and the woman only hummed in reply, her eyebrows raised. 

But she ate everything on the plate, didn’t she? Dana thought, shaking her head. 

Bringing the dishes to the back, she sighed as she added the receipt to the paperwork for the day. 

“Any tip from that party?” a voice asked and she turned to look at Fox Mulder, a fellow worker, his arms laden with plates. 

“Yeah. Two whole dollars. On a sixty eight dollar tab, I might add. Oh, and they also left me a note.” 

“To join them at their church?” he asked, shuddering as he set the plates down. 

“Not this time, no,” she laughed, knowing how often it did happen on a Sunday. “Here.” She handed him the note and he read it out loud. 

“My grandson works in a law firm. He’s very busy and finds looking for a girlfriend to be tedious. I’m sure he would enjoy your company, once he got to know you. 574-1296.” He looked at her, his eyes wide. “Oh, well this one deserves to go up on the board.” 

“No, Fox,” she said, trying to take it from him. 

“Why not?” he asked, holding it out of her reach. “You're not going to call him are you?” His mouth dropped open in mock horror and she shook her head. 

“Not for many reasons, but especially because with that many red flags, you know he’s a douchebag of a person.” 

“Then why? You have others up there. And so do I.” He pointed to the bulletin board on the wall where notes from patrons were kept, especially when they were particularly cringy or funny. “I think this one could make it to the top.” 

“No,” she said, stepping closer to him to take the note out of his hand. “This one just… it makes me feel… I don’t like it. I don’t like thinking that they could treat me shitty the entire time they were here and then suggest I call their grandson, who finds dating tedious. Like I deserve less than from a man who is apparently better than me. It’s gross.” 

“It is. I’m sorry I joked about it,” he said and she nodded as she tore up the obnoxious note and threw it away. 

“There. Gone. Reset,” she said, letting out a deep breath. “Their two dollars will gladly join the Dana Scully eats tonight fund.” He smiled and she smiled back. 

“Fox! Tables twelve and fifteen, orders up. Look alive,” Raul, the head cook called out. 

“Coming,” Fox called back and Dana walked with him. He gave her a confused look and she smiled. 

“I’m heading back out. I’ll help you then see to my tables.” 

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he said, picking up the plates and lining them up his arm. “I’ve got fifteen. You’ll like twelve better.” 

“Okay,” she laughed, setting the plates along her arm as well and carrying the last plate in her hand. 

At the door, he nodded for her to go first and she smiled her thanks. 

When she was walking to table twelve, she saw why he had given it to her. There was a chubby, bald headed baby sitting in a high chair biting on a plastic toy and a little boy who was drawing on the back of the kids menu. 

“Hello, I’m Dana,” she said as she stood at the table. “Fox was busy so I offered to help him out. Who had the ham and cheese omelet?” 

“Right here,” the husband said, reaching for the plate. “My wife has the French toast and Davy here has the pancakes and bacon.” 

“Perfect. Here you all go,” she said, setting their plates down. She smiled at the boy who looked up at her and kept staring, his green eyes wide. 

“You look like Ariel,” he said in awe. 

“Oh!” she said in surprise. 

“I’m so sorry,” his dad said quickly. “Davy, you don’t just-”

“That’s okay,” Dana said, smiling at Davy. 

“But Ariel’s hair is down, not up,” Davy said. “But it’s red like yours. Do you have blue eyes?” 

“Davy!” his mom admonished him, but Dana only laughed. She squatted down beside him, smiling as she looked at him. 

“Well?” she asked and he leaned forward, looking into her eyes and smiling. 

“You do,” he whispered. “Are you a mermaid?” 

“Not at the moment, because I’m in a restaurant,” she whispered back. “But when I get into the water…” Her eyes widened and then she winked. 

“Like magic?” 

“Like magic,” she nodded and Davy’s smile grew. “But you can’t tell anyone except your mom and dad, promise?” 

“Promise,” he said, nodding emphatically. 

“Will you do the special mermaid handshake to bind the promise and keep my secret safe?” 

“Yes! Yes, I will!” He clapped excitedly and Dana smiled. 

“Okay. So, we do it like this.” 

She took his hand and shook it, then locked their fingers together, thumbs pointing up, then released his hand, waving her fingers up and down like a mermaid tail swimming away. 

“Show me again,” he whispered and she smiled, taking his small hand into hers again, perfecting the handshake before leaving their table to check on her own section. 

Back in the kitchen with her next set of orders, she smiled at Fox who nodded with a wink. 

At her break, she stepped outside behind the restaurant, needing a moment of fresh air. Standing in the sunshine, her head tilted back and her eyes closed, she heard the door open and close. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey yourself,” she said and Fox chuckled as he came to stand beside her. She opened her eyes and he smiled at her. “Thank you for giving me that table earlier. It’s just what I needed after-”

“Two bucks, Betty?” 

“Exactly,” she said with a laugh. 

“Good. I’m glad it helped.” 

“The little boy thought I looked like Ariel.” 

“Hmm,” Fox hummed, staring into her eyes. “He’s not wrong. But you’re much prettier.” 

“Because I’m not an animated drawing?” she teased and he laughed, his fingers brushing against hers before locking together loosely, causing her heart rate to increase. 

“That and you just are.” 

“Okay.”

“I really wanna kiss you,” he whispered, his grip on her fingers tightening slightly. 

“After you didn’t last night, which was a huge mistake by the way-” 

“I agree completely,” he said, nodding his head vigorously. “I… I hesitated too long.” 

“You did,” she agreed. 

“I was nervous. I thought maybe it was just me who was feeling…” He stopped talking when she smiled and shook her head. She squeezed his fingers, interlocking their hands further. 

“It’s not just you,” she admitted and he exhaled as he nodded. “I thought being in a group setting like we were, would help me loosen up enough to at least ask you to dance.”

“Which it did.” 

“Well, the alcohol definitely helped with that,” she said with a laugh. 

“That’s all it takes?” he teased. 

“Easy,” she warned and he laughed, both of them then falling silent. 

“I thought you said you wanted to kiss me,” she said quietly and he drew in a deep breath. 

“I do. Very much.” 

“Well, my break will be over soon and so will yours. You might-”

His lips touched hers softly, then more firmly as their kiss deepened. He let go of her hand and placed it onto the back of her neck, holding her close. She moaned as she wound her arms around his neck, her heart pounding. 

“Hmm,” she hummed when they broke from the kiss, his forehead pressed gently against hers. “That was good.” 

“It was,” he said with a quiet chuckle and she smiled. 

They sat down at the picnic table bench provided for employees to use during their breaks, talking and kissing until their break was over. 

Taking her hand, he pulled her to her feet, kissed her one more time, and walked to the door. 

“Oh,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “The family with the little boy asked me to give this to you.” He handed her the kids menu that had been folded into a small square. “I’m sure this one will be better than the one you got earlier.” 

She smiled as she opened it and then gasped when she found ten dollars inside. 

“Oh,” he said in delighted surprise as she began to read the note that was written in blue crayon. 

“Thank you for showing me the special mermaid handshake. I won’t tell anyone your secret. I hope I can see you again some time. Love, Davy. P.S. I’m four and a half. Oh, isn’t that just…?” She sniffled, blinking back tears as she read it to herself again. 

“A much better note,” he said and she laughed softly, tracing her fingers over the drawing of a mermaid that Davy had made. She had big blue eyes and red hair drawn in a similar style to Dana’s. 

“An incredibly kind note,” she replied, folding it back up, with the money inside, and placing it into her pocket. 

“And the money adds to the Dana Scully eats tonight fund,” he said and she shook her head. 

“No, this money will go into a different fund.” 

“Which fund is that?” he asked as they walked inside and put on their aprons. 

“The… Dating Fox Mulder fund?” she asked tentatively and he paused as he was tying the strings of the apron behind his back. Grinning, he nodded as he finished the task. 

“Only if it can be combined with the one I already have.” 

“Which is that?” she asked, tying her own strings. 

“The Just ask her out already fund,” he said with a grin. 

She laughed loudly, covering her mouth and looking around, but no one had noticed. 

“Yes,” she agreed, stepping close and squeezing his hand. “We can combine them.” 

“Good,” he said, squeezing back. “And it will be my treat tonight because I’ve got quite a bit in there. It pays to be somewhat of a nervous coward.” 

She laughed and shook her head, walking beside him to the kitchen, as his hand rubbed gently at the small of her back. 

#fictober23 #fictober 2023 #xffictober23 #alternate universe #diners #rude customers #teasing #fun #friendship/love #new relationship #kissing #first kiss #plans for a date

[baronessblixen]

I used a prompt from this list today: 10. “It’s alright, I’m here now.”

Diana/IVF angst (with a soft ending): Scully is already upset about a colleague's pregnancy and then Diana shows up and makes things worse. (wc: 1,549)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 3: The Deepest Cut

Those damn hormones.

Scully wipes the tears from the corner of her eyes, careful not to smudge her carefully applied make-up. It’s one thing to break down in the sanctity of her home. It’s entirely different to have it happen at work. There was no way to prepare herself. One moment she and Mulder were getting lunch and the next, everyone was congratulating Agent Winman on her pregnancy.

She felt Mulder’s hand on her back in the aftermath, a steady reminder that he was there for her. She doesn’t remember what she said to the other agent, but she must have said something. And then there was Diana. Who – even though she hardly knew the other woman – was the loudest and the most cheerful. Who, upon declaring that there’s nothing better than babies, looked straight at Mulder and winked.

Scully excused herself, pressing her untouched lunch into Mulder’s hand. She heard him try to ask if she was okay, but she wasn’t, and she knew she couldn't stay and explain. Because of the hormones. There won’t be a baby growing inside her, but her body is as quick to catch up as her brain. Her doctor told her it would take a while for her hormones to return back to normal. Right now, she’s losing her patience. She shouldn’t have tried. She shouldn’t have hoped. How silly of her. But how could she not have tied, not have hoped? A boy – or girl – with Mulder’s smile and his pouty lips. With a thirst for knowledge, a tender heart, and a stubborn head.

She looks at herself in the mirror, her cheeks rosy and full. And for what? Her dream child disappears and all that’s left is her own face and the tears that threaten to fall again.

“Get a grip,” she says to her reflection, wiping under her eyes. She can’t face Mulder like this. One look at her and he’ll know she cried. And she doesn’t have the strength to explain it to him. To shoulder his grief, too.

The door to the bathroom opens and Scully startles, trying to hide the tissues and every piece of evidence of her breakdown.

“Oh, Agent Scully.” There’s disdain in Diana Fowley’s voice as she says her name. Of all of the people in the Hoover Building, it has to be her. Of all the bathrooms she could have chosen, she walks in here, with a smirk on her face.

“Fox was wondering where you’d gone.”

“Just needed the restroom,” Scully says, turning on the water.

“Hmm. Isn’t it just wonderful news, though?” Scully remains quiet. “Agent Winman,” Diana explains needlessly. She’s just standing here, gloating. She doesn’t need the restroom at all. She must have followed her here. Bile rises in Scully’s throat.

“Wonderful news,” she says, turning away from Diana to dry her hands on a bunch of paper towels.

“You know,” Diana says wistfully, “I never thought I’d want children, but now I’m reconsidering it. All you need is the right man.” Her laugh sounds like a Rottweiler’s bark. “And I think I know who’d be perfect.”

“That’s great,” Scully says, trying to sound disinterested. Don’t say his name, she pleads. Don’t say his name. Just as she lifts her head and her eyes meet Diana’s, the other woman opens her mouth.

“Fox will make a great father, don’t you think?”

Will. Not would. As if she’s sure of it. As if she’s sure that she and Mulder will have children. Scully grabs the countertop and holds on tight. If she doesn’t, she might faint. Her dream child, the one with her nose and Mulder’s mouth disappears and is replaced by another one. That boy has Mulder’s mouth and his smile. Just like she’d always dreamed it. But he has Diana’s eyes, her dark hair, and her nose.

“Agent Scully? Did I say something wrong? You look pale.” Her voice drips with satisfaction.

“No, I’m fine,” she says. “I’m just-”

“You’re sad you can’t give him children, hm?” Scully’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh yes, I know. Everyone knows.” Another laugh. This one cuts even deeper and tears Scully’s insides apart. How does she know? How could she have possibly found out about her and Mulder doing IVF? Unless. No, it can’t be. Mulder wouldn’t have told her. Not this. Not her.

“And you know what, Agent Scully?” Her face is so close that Scully can smell her perfume. The unsubtle, expensive scent tickles her nose and makes her sick. “I can. I can give him children. I can be a mother.” Just as she says this, the door to the bathroom opens and Mulder’s head pops inside.

“There you are. I had a pretty embarrassing run-in with Skinner’s secretary just now. Scully, are you-” for the second time that day, she doesn’t let him finish his question, and runs off. She doesn’t care where she’s going, and she can’t see well. She lets the tears fall freely, not caring anymore.

*

“Hey, don’t run again, okay?” Mulder’s voice is soft and his steps toward her as timid. He looks as if he were trying to catch a scared kitten.

“I won’t,” she promises, trying to keep the tears at bay. It’s no use. The closer Mulder comes, the fast her walls crumble. By the time he puts his arms around her, she’s full-on crying.

“It’s all right,” he whispers into her hair. “I’m here now.” His words and his tenderness make her cry harder. She thinks of that night, of the glimmer of hope in his eyes before she told him that it hadn’t worked. That there wouldn’t be a baby. He held her all night, whispering things to her, trying to share his hope and his beliefs with her. Trying to make her see that once again he wouldn’t give up. That he’d shoot for the moon, try and catch it for her, make that miracle come true after all.

“What happened there?” he asks gently, stroking her hair. And she lets him. They’re at work and anyone could walk in. Diana Fowley could see them like this and report them. The thought makes her shiver which in turn makes Mulder draw her closer, his arms tightening around her.

“Mulder, I can’t-” What Diana said to her returns with a vengeance and she frees herself of Mulder’s embrace. He lets her go, his arms slipping away and hanging by his side as if useless when not holding her. “How did Diana know?” she asks out loud, her thoughts going too fast for her.

“How did Diana know what?”

“That I did IVF. That I can’t have children.” The surprise on Mulder’s face is genuine. He’s taken aback by her question and Scully feels almost guilty that she even suspected he’d say something to her.

“I- I have no idea, Scully. I didn’t tell her.”

“You didn’t.” She has to make sure.

“I swear to you I didn’t. What did she say to you? That got you so worked up.” He comes closer again and she lets him in.

“It doesn’t- it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he says, searching her face. “She said something that hurt you.”

“She said you’ll make a great father.” Mulder’s eyes narrow in confusion. “She, um, she wants to have children with you.” “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. She hates children. Maybe hate is a strong- no, she hates them. I remember her saying that once. She said she even hated children when she was a child herself.” Scully scoffs; she can see that.

“And hey.” She doesn’t dare look at him, but Mulder wouldn’t be Mulder if he didn’t try everything in his power. He tips up her chin. Her eyes are swimming with tears again – or still – but she sees the love in his eyes, in all of his face. They don’t need to exchange those three little words for her to know them, and to feel them deep inside.

“Even if she didn’t,” Mulder says. “Even if she loved children, even if she wanted a dozen of them… I don’t want any with her. That thought never even crossed my mind. I’ll talk to her and-”

“Don’t,” Scully says. “Please.”

“If that’s what you want.” She nods. “I’ll try to keep my mouth shut. You know how hard that is for me.” He gives her a sweet smile and she chokes out a laugh, too. Her sadness weighs heavily on her, but with Mulder here, it feels a bit lighter.

"I can't believe she'd say that to you. I'm sorry, Scully. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," she says in a small voice knowing it's far from okay. She herself is far from okay. “I’m sorry that we-” He shakes his head, still smiling.

“Remember what I said?” As if she could ever forget it.

“Never give up on a miracle,” she repeats quietly, as if afraid to speak it out loud, to tempt fate once again.

“I won’t if you won’t.” He kisses her temple, letting his lips linger. Her eyes flutter close and she soaks in it all in. His words. His love for her. His unbending hope.

It doesn't matter what Diana says or does. She'll never have this. She'll never have Scully's Mulder.

#this one was fun to write #writing feels more like fun #at least it did yesterday and today #i better not jinx it #hope you guys like it too :) #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic