#scully and mulder go to the carnival

[gaycrouton]

Oversized Scrubs

season three | slight hurt/comfort | protective mulder | 1.8k | ao3

Black lace. A pink bow. Some sheer thing that haunted his dreams. He never meant to see any of it, he looked away as soon as his brain caught up to his eyes. It just sometimes took longer than he was proud of because of the southern redirection of his blood flow.

It was just something he’d gotten used to over the past few years of working with her. If Scully was doing an autopsy, chances were, he’d accidentally get a clear shot down her shirt.

The first time it happened, he almost couldn’t believe his eyes. It was like his mind was treating the creamy, pale expanse of Scully’s torso like a Rorschach test. Scully’s clothes were usually baggier, at least her suit jackets were, but for some reason, more often than not, the small woman wore scrubs that were several sizes too large for her frame. This meant the neckline would fall away from her torso if she bent down even slightly, and since he towered over her, he was always in the line of sight.

Mulder never said anything because it felt inappropriate to bring up. He knew the autopsies physically took a toll on her without making her feel like she needed to modify her posture so her pervy partner would stop looking at her breasts.

Only, that was just it. While he’d have the decency to look away, he’d often turn his head to find the local medical examiners making a similar discovery before suddenly paying a lot more attention to her than they previously had been.

Sometimes they smirked at him like getting a free peek at the unsuspecting medical doctor was an inside joke, and it made his blood boil. 

Much like it was right now.

He didn’t particularly like Officer Gonzalez to begin with, the man seemingly couldn’t differentiate confidence and arrogance and made it everyone else’s problem. Mulder hadn’t expected him to come to the autopsy bay, but apparently, the man wanted to treat the victim’s body like a carnival attraction. Mulder hadn’t been paying attention to what he was saying, but he noticed when the constant hum of the background noise came to a halt. 

When he glanced over to see if Gonzalez had left, he saw a sleazy grin had been what sealed his mouth shut. The man looked like he was trying to raise himself up on the balls of his feet, and it became painfully obvious to Mulder why that was when he glanced at Scully who was currently bent over the body as she collected debris samples.

Deep purple satin.

He immediately pulled his attention up towards her face and saw she was completely none-the-wiser to the fact Gonzalez was treating her job proficiency like a strip tease.

“I thought you were going to canvas the area for more bodies?” Mulder stated firmly, stepping in front of the officer to effectively block Scully from his line of sight.

Gonzalez smirked at him, and Mulder knew he was only chagrined because he thought he’d stepped on Mulder’s toes. “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” he replied, the real meaning of his words causing Mulder’s jaw to clench.

He stood there for a minute until he couldn’t hear the departing officer’s footsteps, but the sound of Scully’s murmured voice caused him to turn back around. “I thought he’d never leave.”

She was still hunched over, and he was still avoiding looking at the valley of her torso. A familiar weight settled uncomfortably in his chest, and he felt like a prick for not mentioning it to her sooner. Over three years of working together, there had to have been at least a couple dozen people who had leered at her without her knowing because he was too chickenshit to say anything.

“Hey Scully,” he stated, walking towards the other side of the table.

“Hm?” she hummed in reply. She glanced up when he didn’t answer, and, upon seeing the look on his face, stood up straight. “What’s wrong?”

“Um,” he sighed, stopping when he caught sight of the tape recorder hanging down from the ceiling between them. “Could you turn that thing off for a second?” he asked, gesturing to the tape recorder.

She gave him a look, but complied nonetheless. “Is something wrong?”

“Well,” he paused. Knowing he had to have this conversation didn’t help him when it came to figuring out what to say. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way.”

She cocked an eyebrow and continued to stare him down. “Then say what you mean.”

“Why are your scrubs always so big on you?” he asked.

“Because most of the places we go only have scrubs for men,” she replied, compiling his guilt. “Why do you ask?”

He bit his cheek and rubbed his chin. “I just wanted to let you know that… sometimes, when you bend over… it’s easy to see down your shirt.”

There was a moment of silence that made his balls rescind into his body in fear. “I wasn’t trying to look, it’s just-“

“I’m constantly bent over during an autopsy,” she finished flatly.

“I just thought you might want to know,” he replied, looking towards the door where Gonzalez had just exited.

When he turned around, he saw her attention had followed his and her eyes snapped back with a look of understanding. “Is that why you, in so many words, told him to get lost?”

“I also thought his cologne smelled bad,” he joked lamely. Scully looked down at herself, as if really assessing her scrubs for the first time. The collar of the shirt was so big that it effortlessly exposed her collarbones; no matter how she shifted or adjusted, the shirt dwarfed her. His gaze flickered down and he noticed a small protrusion on her hip and the way her pants legs were rolled up a few times. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having a hard time getting scrubs in your size? I could have told the morgues to have some ready for you before we fly out,” he asked.

“Mulder, you know most of the autopsies I do are spur of the moment,” she sighed. “And while that’s a sweet gesture, I already have to deal with their surprise at seeing a female pathologist. I don’t want to deal with their frustration at being requested to accommodate me.”

“I could always-“

“Is it really that bad?” she interrupted with a frown, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I’m just tall, so, uh, yeah,” he stammered awkwardly. “You don’t even have to bend over very far for it to gape.” 

Her lips pursed to one corner of her mouth as she let her head fall back in defeat. “Did someone say something to you?” she asked, her tone pitching up slightly like it did on the rare occasion she got embarrassed.

That wasn’t what he’d meant to do, and the guilty knot of pressure in his chest was beginning to creep up his throat. It was now obvious to him the large scrubs were a subtle sign she wasn’t invited into the space she had a right to, that it already was uncomfortable for her, and now he’d gone and made her self-conscious.

“I’ve caught a few guys staring,” he admitted softly. “I should’ve mentioned it earlier, I just,” he paused, taking a deep breath before exhaling, “so much time has passed that I didn’t want you to think I hadn’t said anything because I was ogling you.”

“You weren’t?” she asked. The soft inflection of her question made his eyes widen before he saw the smirk on her face. 

“You already have one potential sexual harassment complaint you could file against me from when you found all those videos in the cabinet,” he teased back.

“I would never file a complaint for that. You were just being such a good friend for holding onto Frohike’s collection for him,” she deadpanned.

Mulder openly chuckled at that, and Scully looked pretty proud of herself for it. He was relieved they were able to diffuse the tension with humor, but he knew he’d unleashed something that was bound to continue to be a problem. 

He was about to say something when he saw Scully lift the bottom of her shirt up. The action revealed to him that the drawstring of the pants was effectively useless; instead, Scully had taken a hair tie and cinched the waistband herself. He watched as she deftly removed the drawstring from the scrubs and re-cinched the waist before letting the hem of the shirt fall back down.

Scully then took the string and tied it around her waist like an apron, adjusting the fabric as needed. “How very MacGyver of you,” he teased.

She offered him a small smile before clearing her throat. Then, looking at him with the utmost expression of professionalism, she said, “I’m going to resume working now. Will you tell me if it’s bad?”

“Are you giving me permission to look down your shirt?” he asked playfully.

“One-time offer.”

Scully bent over, only this time glancing up at him as if to check if he was looking. There was an eroticism to the action he hadn’t expected and it made his breath catch in his throat. “Well?” She asked, her voice deeper from craning her neck up.

Mulder let his eyes flicker downward and was met with the sight of her collarbones peeing over the collar of her shirt. “Leer-proof,” he replied.

“Good,” she nodded, flicking the tape recorder back on and signaling the end of the conversation.

He stuck around for a while, waiting to see if she found anything notable from the external exam before deciding to take his leave. There were a few family members he needed to interview, and he still felt a little grossed out seeing the organ removal process.

Mulder let her know where he was going, but he was stopped right when he got to the door. 

“Mulder,” she called out softly, making him turn around to look at her.

“Yeah?”

He watched a sly smile spread on her lips as she continued working on the body. “Your fly’s down.”

---------------

*I promise I haven't abandoned any of my other works. I've taken a vow not to join any exchanges until I'm caught up with everything. Grad school, serotonin deprivation, and no free time just go hand-in-hand. I was typing this on my phone to be a note for later, and it just ended up writing itself so I figured I'd post it here as a little thing. Again, promise I will be updating my other WIPs as soon as I can.

#x files #fanfic #x files fanfic #mulder #scully #msr #season three #protective mulder #scully's scrubs #friendship #ust

[atths--twice]

Come With Me

While on the run, after a morning spent slightly at odds, Scully discovers that it’s Mulder’s birthday and sets out to turn the day around.

It’s 10/13! Mulder’s birthday is today! I know there are many ways he could be spending THIS day, but what about a birthday years ago? Back when days blended together and dates became meaningless. How would those days have been celebrated?

Fictober prompt for day 13- Come with me, hurry.

They had been feeling the funk. The way it got when they had been cooped up too long either in one place, or simply from being around one another for long periods of time. 

She loved him, she did, but sometimes the close quarters and the fact that they were each other’s everything became too much. 

They had been at a small cabin for two weeks, a wonderful little place set back at the end of a long road where no one drove as there were no other houses around. It was by a lake and they went out hiking and exploring nearly every day. 

But today… today they had hit that wall. 

Deciding to give him some space, Scully went for a drive, needing to feel she was in motion, even while they were standing still. 

She had no destination in mind and as she drove, her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had not eaten since breakfast. Pulling into the parking lot of a diner, she put her baseball cap on and got out, keeping her head down. 

Sitting in a back booth, she ordered a sandwich and a lemonade. Looking out the window, she saw the lot next door had a carnival set up. She watched as families entered, some of their kids dressed in Halloween costumes. 

“What’s the date today?” she whispered to herself and when the waitress came back, she asked her. 

“Oh, it’s the thirteenth of October. Were you checking out the festival there? It’s our annual Fall Harvest Festival and it’s up until November first. On Halloween, they turn it into the Haunted Fall Harvest Festival, so if you’re into that, you should come back. It’s full of mazes and scary stuff. It’s super fun.” 

“Yeah, thanks,” Scully said, a plan forming. “You know what, could I get this sandwich to go? And another one as well. Same sandwich, but without a pickle. And a large iced tea, please.” 

“Sure thing. Be ready in a few minutes.”

__________

She drove down the long road to the cabin, smiling as she took a sip of her lemonade. This plan was just the thing they needed. It would be perfect. 

Leaving the food in the car, she hurried inside and found Mulder on the back porch, staring out at the lake. 

“Hey,” she said, smiling at him and he looked at her in surprise and she understood why, remembering the way she had left. “I know it’s gonna sound crazy, but…” She held her hand out to him and wiggled her fingers. “Come with me.” 

“What?” he asked, now looking confused. 

“Come with me,” she repeated, stepping closer to him. “Hurry.” 

“Scully… what are you-”

“Just come on, let’s go.” She grabbed his hand and pulled at him until he stood up. “Consider it a peace offering. Now come on.” He looked at her skeptically, but did as she asked. 

They rode in relative silence as she drove them to the parking lot of the festival. Parking the car, she looked at him and watched his face as she waited to see what he would think. 

“A carnival?” he asked quietly. 

“A harvest festival,” she said just as quietly. “They have it every year, I’ve been told.” 

“A harvest festival,” he said, nodding as he smiled. 

“Games and rides,” she added. “What do you think?” 

“I think…” He chuckled softly and turned to look at her. “I think it’s just what we needed.” 

“I agree,” she said with a smile. “But wait, it’s more than that. Close your eyes.” He raised his eyebrows in question and then as he had done at the cabin, he did as she asked. 

She reached into the backseat and brought the bag holding their sandwiches and the special item she had inquired after. Taking it from the bag, she opened the packaging and smiled. 

“Hold out your hands, but keep your eyes closed.” 

“Okay,” he said, grinning as he put out his hands. “But if it’s a severed head, I’m gonna be very upset.” 

“It’s not,” she laughed, placing the container in his hands. “And no more Wayne’s World for you. I can’t go through that again.” 

“No way,” he said, scoffing in his best Wayne impression. 

“Way,” she replied, smiling as she stared at him. “Okay, open your eyes.” He did, looking at what he was holding. 

“A cupcake?” he asked. 

“A birthday cupcake,” she said. 

“No shit? It’s my birthday today?” He laughed and nodded, staring at the chocolate cupcake with orange and white frosting. 

“It is,” she said, smiling as he took it out and unwrapped it, taking a large bite. 

“Mmm,” he hummed, nodding as he chewed. “It’s the best cupcake I’ve ever had. Here, have a bite.” 

She leaned forward and he held it as she took a small bite, wanting him to have the majority of it. It was good and she almost wished she had gotten two of them. 

He smiled and when she swallowed her bite, he leaned closer and kissed her. She closed her eyes, a hand on his cheek as they kissed again, the sweetness of the cupcake adding to the sweetness of the kiss. 

“I’m sorry about today,” he whispered, their foreheads pressed together, their sweet breath mingling. “I know I can be… that it can be…” 

“I know,” she said, pulling back to look at him. “And it’s not you. It’s both of us. We’re both to blame at times. This was one of those times. We’ll have more and we’ll get past it.” 

“Yeah,” he whispered and she smiled, kissing him one more time. 

“Come on. Let’s eat and then go play some games. I want to win a big stuffed prize.” 

“You don’t want me to win one for you? Be all chivalrous and shit?” he asked, shoving the rest of the cupcake into his mouth. She raised her eyebrows and laughed. 

“How about I win one for you, it being your birthday and the fact that my aim is better?” she asked, taking off her seatbelt and taking the keys from the ignition.

“We’ll see what happens,” he relented, licking his fingers clean and closing the container. “What sandwiches did you get?” 

________

They ate at a picnic table, laughing and occasionally kissing, the fight and grumpiness from earlier, now in the past. 

He attempted to win her a stuffed dog, but missed as one milk bottle refused to fall, despite his pleading with it. 

“Okay. My turn,” she said, handing the man at the booth five dollars and receiving a bucket of softballs. 

She had every milk bottle down in two throws. 

They both walked away with a prize, Mulder taking her hand and pulling her close, telling her how much it turned him on watching her throwing the balls. 

“I think you just like saying balls,” she whispered and he chuckled, nodding in the affirmative. 

They ate and drank, trying out different fried foods, until Scully groaned and said she could not take anymore. 

They got lost in the large corn maze, relying on the map Scully had thoughtfully grabbed as they entered. 

“I’m glad you grabbed that map. But what if it had been my plan, getting us lost,” he said, grabbing her by the belt loops of her jeans and pulling her close. He took her baseball cap off and she shook her hair free from it. “You are so beautiful. Maybe I wanted a few minutes alone with you here.” 

“Oh my god! This is not the way we came. You totally got us lost!” a woman shouted, walking past them before Scully could reply. She smiled at him as he glanced at the woman. “How could you do this?” 

“It’s a maze, Margot,” the man following her shot back. “It’s meant to be confusing.” 

“To a simpleton maybe,” she shouted over her shoulder. 

“Oh, that’s really nice,” he shouted back as they disappeared from view. 

Mulder turned his attention back to Scully, shaking his head and closing his eyes briefly. 

“Well, that’s-”

“Come on! I’ll beat you!” a little girl yelled, giggling as she ran past them. “You’re so slow!” 

“Mom said not to run. I can’t keep up with you! Wait, Ari!” another little girl called. She was younger than the other girl and she sighed as she paused for a second and then started to run. “Wait for me!” 

“Hurry up slowpoke!” 

“What were you saying about a moment alone?” Scully asked and he laughed as he bent his head to kiss her quickly before putting her hat back on. 

At sunset, they boarded the Ferris wheel, the stuffed prizes they won sitting on Mulder’s right side. Scully laid her head on his shoulder as they began to rise slowly, stopping to let others board. 

“It was a good day,” she said softly and he hummed in reply. He placed his hand on her thigh, drawing patterns upon it, his touch causing her to shiver. 

“Cold?” he asked and she shook her head. 

“No,” she whispered and he chuckled softly, his fingers slowing. She closed her eyes and focused on the patterns he drew, attempting to see if she could decipher them. 

“I’m glad we came out today. We needed this,” he said, the chair rocking slightly as they stopped once again. 

“Hmm,” she hummed, taking her hat off and placing it beside her before combing her fingers through her hair. “We did.” 

“Thank you.” 

“For what?” she asked, raising her head to look at him. 

“Being here, putting up with me.” He shrugged and she smiled. 

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” 

They stared at one another and the sadness of the cost for their seclusion, which always lived so close to the surface, nearly broke free. 

But then the ride began to move in earnest and it startled her. 

“Whoa,” she said, laughing as she clasped the bar in front of them. 

The sunset was breathtaking from the top of the Ferris wheel and they both sighed as they stared at it. 

“Beautiful,” she whispered and he hummed, his fingers tracing on her thigh again. 

She watched as he made a line of hearts, stopping mid thigh and going back towards her knee. Her stomach quivered at the image it conjured up of his tongue in that exact same spot only a few days ago.  

What that man could do with his tongue…

He traced a heart line again, slower this time, and then it changed. Letters now, and she closed her eyes, paying close attention. 

I.. L.. O.. V.. E .. Y.. O.. U 

Another heart and an exclamation mark were added and she smiled. 

On the inside of his arm, she used her nails to trace the same letters adding the number two, a heart, and two exclamation marks. 

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head as they rose to the crest of the Ferris wheel, her eyes opening to watch the setting sun as his fingers began tracing slowly once again. 

#fictober23 #fictober 2023 #xffictober23 #the x files #on the run #arguments #needing some space #driving #festivals #birthday #festival games #kissing #apologies #holding hands #love #sunsets

[agentnatesewell]

I’m here to ask very politely for any little tidbits of info you have about Suri, because I love her a lot. Mentally I’m blowing her a kiss rn 💙

Hello my most wonderful friend! I cherish and adore you very much. Yes! Would love to share some tidbits!

* After college (Rebecca got in rather swiftly with the plagiarism scandal with Bobby and shut it all down and cleared her name), Suri volunteered with UNESCO and ended up working for an NGO based out of Paris … how she ended up in Wayhaven started with her trying to get heritage protection status for her hometown

* Suri wears three-inch heels because Dana Scully wore three-inch heels when she was out on investigations … she can easily run in them. Not so easy in some parts of the forest that she’s always in now

* Speaking of Dana Scully, whenever she’s feeling the loss of her parents (Rebecca’s absence), she curls up and watches the Xfiles, with no lights on. Mulder and Scully she always thought were Rook and Rebecca (little more goofy for Rook, but you know, there’s the whole sister angle, too)

* Her favorite food is wedding cake

(There are a lot more)

* She didn’t grow up religious (though her grandfather is Muslim), but her favorite song she’s ever heard from a religious establishment is Schubert’s “Ave Maria”

* When she and Nate adopt a cute little terrier with more personality than both of them combined, she’ll name them Bishop

* She’s very, very in love with Nate Sewell. Attraction immediately, but fell in love with him during the carnival undercover (the drive home after the mirror scene)

* The NSYNC song Selfish describes how’s she’s feeling about her relationship with Nate after the not-breakup/sounds like a breakup relationship talk at the end of b3

* She knows Wayhaven inside and out, can tell you anything about everything and can walk around blindfolded and not be lost

* Suri doesn’t hate Bobby, she feels sorry for him most of the time, and tolerates/sometimes likes him. He was her first boyfriend. Speaking of exes, one of them, a sweet musician named Farr dedicated an album to her called The Jasmine Room (her middle name is Yasmine)

* She speaks/understands a smattering of languages including English, Arabic, French, Spanish, Italian, and Estonian

* She has an unspoken, semi-obvious crush on Morgan

* Her relationship with Rebecca is not good. At all. She feels as though Rebecca allowed Rook to die a second time by never, ever talking about him. A huge part of her life, hidden

Okay! I could go on but here are a few tidbits! Thank you again!

#you are so sweet thank you very much! #thank you for asking about my suri #fandom friends are the best #twc #twc detective #oc: surina batra

[sisterspooky1013]

More Than A Feeling, Chapter 5

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Chapter has a TW for pedophilia

Mornings are a slow time for the carnival staff. There are trash cans to be emptied, plush to be restocked, and ride checks to be performed before they open the gates at noon, but no one is in a hurry at 8:00 am. Cups of jet black coffee line the picnic tables, jackets and sweaters wrapped tightly around shoulders to fend off the wet chill of the night that has not yet been burned off by the still-rising sun. Some are nursing hangovers, others waiting for caffeine or stronger, less legal stimulants to find their way into bloodstreams. Conversation is sparse.

Scully sits huddled beside Mulder, using the excuse of a full table to absorb some of his body heat through their flush thighs and torsos. His hair is sticking up in all directions, eyes bloodshot and drooping. She’s always had affection for this rumpled, docile version of him that she finds at the end of a long day or when she knocks on his motel room door in the middle of the night. He’ll have to get going on breakfast prep any minute, but for now he still looks half asleep. She gently bumps against him with her shoulder and he startles, looking over at her with a dazed expression.

“Did you pull an all-nighter?” she asks, resisting the urge to reach out and comb his hair down, or rub her cold hands against his scruffy cheeks.

“Not on purpose,” he says with a sigh, taking a long drink of his coffee. “My neighbor was very…busy last night,” he finishes, glaring at Mitch, who is sidled up next to Maxie at the other end of the table.

“I see,” Scully says with a smirk. “Don’t tell Summer, it’ll break her heart.”

“Don’t tell Summer what?” Summer asks cheekily, popping her head between the two of theirs.

“How are you so chipper first thing in the morning?” Mulder asks with irritation, and Summer ruffles his hair.

“I’m just pumped about another gorgeous day fixing broken shit and dodging puke,” Summer answers. “Speaking of which, we need to figure out what’s up with the YoYo before we open, Penny. If it’s out of order another day Tami’s gonna shit a brick.”

Scully nods sleepily and moves to stand.

“What the fuck, lady?!”

Twenty heads turn as if on swivels towards the hubbub at the other end of the table, where Mitch is holding his hand over the back of his neck protectively as Madge stands behind him, nostrils flaring and jaw quivering with anger.

“We don’t need that shit here, not on our crew,” Madge spits, gesturing with the long metal spatula she has clutched in her hand.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Mitch asks, standing up and moving close to Madge so that he towers over her, assuming a posture of intimidation.

“I saw you,” she accuses, using the spatula to point at his face. “You trying to get this little girl hooked so you can pimp her out? Make her sell for you?”

“Do we have a problem, Madge?” Tami shouts from across the boneyard as she stumbles out of her trailer, pulling on a jacket with her hair still wrapped in a silk scarf.

“He’s dealing, Tami!” Madge yells back. “I watched him pass it to Maxie, the hard stuff.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Mitch asks again, looking between Madge and Tami.

While everyone else is watching the scene unfold, Scully looks beyond the melee to see Jean slip out the door of Tami’s trailer and dart over to her own, which is parked just behind it.

“Madge, I need you to calm down,” Tami says, holding up her hands. “Let’s just take a minute here. Mitch, why don’t you go back to your bunk and cool off.”

“Why do I need to cool off? I didn’t do anything!” Mitch defends, spittle gathering in the corners of his mouth.

Tami levels him with a cool, intense stare. “Just go take a minute, would you?” she says calmly, and Mitch stomps off with a huff. “Nothin’ to see here, folks,” Tami continues, disbanding the crowd of onlookers.

People drift back to their coffee or their bunk, gossiping about what Madge saw and whether Mitch is going to get fired. Tami speaks to Maxie in a tone too hushed to hear, then sends her off as well.

“Well, on the plus side, I’m awake now,” Mulder grumbles, standing and heading into the cook trailer.

Inside, Madge is slumped down in a chair in the corner, her chest still heaving with adrenaline and her fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the spatula.

“Potatoes, Buddy Boy,” she says without looking at him. “And start the sausage browning.”

He turns on the stereo and gets to work, and after a few minutes Tami enters and closes the door, leaning against it and addressing Madge.

“What happened out there?” Tami asks, her tone defeated.

“I know what I saw, Tami,” Madge says defensively. “He passed her a little packet.”

“It was Sweet ‘n Low, Madge,” Tami says softly. “For her coffee. Neither of them has done anything that makes me think they’re using, much less dealing.”

“I know what I saw,” Madge repeats, and while Mulder keeps his eyes on the prep table he can hear the tears thickening her throat.

Tami moves closer, kneeling on the floor in front of Madge. Gently, she pries the spatula from her hand and then wraps up both of Madge’s hands in her own.

“I know this time of year is hard, Madge,” Tami says quietly. “I understand, you know I do. But you can’t keep doing this.”

Madge opens her mouth to reply but she chokes out a sob instead, and Mulder is overwhelmed with empathy.

“It won’t bring him back,” Tami whispers, and Madge nods, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Take it easy today, okay?”

Tami gives Mulder a glance that asks if he will keep this between them and he nods, then watches her leave. Setting aside his prep, he takes Tami’s spot on the floor at Madge’s feet and wraps his arms around her shoulders. She leans heavy into him, barking sobs wetting his T-shirt as her arthritic hands claw at his back. He wants to say something reassuring, but there is nothing that he can say. He can’t rewrite her past or bring her son back so he just holds her, the music drowning out the wails of a woman who is doomed to spend the rest of her life wondering how things might have been different.

-

Scully and Summer make their way to the YoYo, coveralls over their jeans and a utility box in Scully’s hand while Summer carries a small boom box. Scully drops the tools near the dog house, where the jock stands while the ride is in motion, and Summer starts it up.

“I swear, the less complicated the mechanics of a ride are, the more it breaks,” Summer grumbles as she starts and stops the ride several times to observe what Barry had reported the day before.

“Was what happened with Madge this morning typical?” Scully asks casually as she watches the swings lurch too suddenly when the ride starts up and stop too abruptly when Summer turns it off.

“Yes and no,” Summer answers, frowning at the jolting swings. “She’s a pretty cool old lady, but she can get heated about hard drugs. Can you hand me that socket wrench?”

Scully hands her the tool, watching as she loosens the control panel on the side of the dog house and checks the connection of several wires.

“Is it common for people to be using stuff like that? People on staff?” Scully asks.

“Using? Most of ‘em are. But it’s dealing that gets Madge all worked up. Last summer a kid we picked up in some shit town in Ohio was selling out of the bunkhouse and Madge just about blew a gasket. Tami wasn’t planning on keeping him on anyway so she fired him, but Madge was so upset she had to take the rest of the day off. I remember because Jean made dinner.” Summer stops and looks up at Scully with sudden seriousness. “If Jean is in charge of food, run, don’t walk, to the nearest McDonald’s.”

Scully laughs at Summer’s joke, and takes the opening for a new line of questioning.

“I saw Jean come out of Tami’s trailer this morning,” she says, watching Summer’s reaction. “Early, like she’d slept there.”

Summer glances at her with a smirk, then goes about refastening the cover on the control panel.

“You know, for someone who flat out refuses to discuss your romantic interest in one of our coworkers, you sure don’t mind sticking your nose in other people’s business,” she says.

Scully feels heat rise to her cheeks but tries to appear unaffected.

“That’s because there’s nothing to discuss,” she defends, and Summer shakes her head.

“Whatever you say, Penny,” Summer retorts, then stands. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s the hydraulics. Turn on the radio, would ya? This’ll take a minute.”

Scully finds a suitable station and joins Summer in the center of the ride, where they expose the hydraulic system.

“So I know you’re not gay,” Summer says, almost to herself, as she works. “And I know you’re attracted to him, because I’ve seen you checking out the goods.”

Scully, realizing they have not moved on from the topic of Luke, steels herself, keeping her eyes on the mechanics of the ride.

“And I hear you snickering like high schoolers at your little midnight rendezvous,” Summer continues. “So that begs the question.” She stops and gives Scully a pointed look. “What’s the hold up?”

“This may come as a shock to you, Summer,” Scully says tartly, “but it is possible to be attracted to someone and enjoy their company, but not sleep with them.”

“So you admit you’re attracted to him?” Summer shoots back, and Scully scoffs.

“You sound like my sister,” Scully says, shaking her head.

“Well, we can’t both be wrong, now can we?” Summer says, victorious. “Does she live back in St. Joseph? Tell her to drive out so she can help me pull your head out of your ass.”

Scully’s smile fades, and she feels preemptive guilt for bringing down the tone of the conversation.

“She died a few years ago, actually,” she says, and Summer’s face falls.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she says, laying a hand on Scully’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Scully says.

“Well,” Summer says, returning to her chipper demeanor, “I’ll just have to pull your head out of your ass myself, in her honor.”

Scully laughs out loud at that, and they get back to work. The YoYo is back up and running smoothly just before the gates open and the ride jock, Barry, approaches with a beaming smile as they test out the stop and start several times.

“Hey, you fixed it!” he says, his thin, combed-over hair ruffling in the breeze.

“Yup, we’ll come back and check on it in a bit and make sure it’s riding smooth,” Summer says, tossing tools back into the utility box.

“That’s great,” Barry says. “The kids love this one. They were so sad yesterday when it was out of order.”

Scully considers him in his too-tight khakis and weathered polo.

“You like kids, Barry?” she asks, and he gives her a perplexed look.

“Of course, who doesn’t?” he answers.

Summer and Scully collect their gear and make their way back to the maintenance shed to put away their tools and get ready to open.

“Does he seem a little off to you?” Scully asks.

“Barry?” Summer clarifies, and Scully nods. “Yeah I’d say he’s a stone cold creeper. Maybe we can plant some drugs on him so he’ll go the way of Dylan.”

“Dylan?” Scully asks, confused.

“That kid who got fired for dealing last year,” Summer elaborates. “His name was Dylan. Local hire, total gazoonie. Didn’t even make it the full week.”

Scully feels a flush of adrenaline, recalling the profile of the teenager who went missing last summer after working for the carnival. His mother and sister said he went out for his last day of work and never came home.

-

It’s just past 5:00 pm, which is peak time for family visits before the crowd shifts to the late-night fare of rowdy teens and couples on dates. Mulder is taking his evening break, during which he usually does a circuit of the fair to see if he’ll cross paths with Scully. By the time they meet up at the end of the night, he only catches low-light glimpses of her dirty hands and the dust clinging to her brow. He’s found himself growing increasingly fond of this blue-collar version of her with blonde eyelashes and pale pink lips, and he always jumps at the opportunity to see it in the full light of midday.

Sadly, he doesn’t spot Scully, nor Summer, but as he’s headed back towards the cook trailer he does see Barry. The older man is walking down the midway holding the hand of a little girl who can’t be more than five or six. The girl has tear streaks down her cherubic little face and Barry is smiling at her, speaking animatedly. Mulder watches them for a moment, expecting Barry to take the child up to the ticket booth, as is the protocol for lost children, but when they take a hard left and head towards the boneyard, he starts jogging to catch up with them.

“Hey!” he shouts. “Barry, wait up!”

Barry freezes and turns around slowly, that same smarmy smile plastered on his face as always. As Mulder runs the final few yards before he reaches them, he spots Scully and Summer rounding the corner from the concessions and waves them over.

“Hey, who’s this?” Mulder asks breathlessly, looking down at the little girl. Her ponytail is loose and frizzy, her overalls covered in dirt.

“This is my friend Jenny,” Barry answers, his face pleasant but his voice holding an edge of irritation. “We were just going to go find her mommy, right Jenny?”

“Mommy goed to work,” Jenny says mournfully.

Mulder crouches down so he’s eye level with the child just as Summer and Scully reach them.

“Did your mommy leave you here alone?” he asks the child, and she nods.

“Don’t worry, Jenny,” Mulder says softly. “This is my friend Penny, and she can help you find your mommy, okay?”

Scully steps forward and offers her hand to the child.

“Let’s go see if we can call her, okay?” Scully says, and Jenny drops Barry’s hand and takes Scully’s.

Mulder and Scully exchange a significant look, and he waits until she and Jenny are out of earshot before he turns back and addresses Barry.

“Where were you off to there, Barry?” Mulder asks levelly, and Summer steps up beside him so that they are shoulder-to-shoulder.

Barry blinks, pushing his mouth into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Just going to take her to the lost child station,” he says with a noncommittal shrug.

“Is that right? Because the lost child station is up by the ticket booth, and it looked to me like you were headed for the boneyard,” Mulder says, and Barry swallows but doesn’t say anything in response. “Summer, why don’t you go get Tami?” Mulder suggests, not taking his eyes off Barry.

“She and Jean are in town,” Summer answers, her voice dripping with vitriol. “But we can hold him in the maintenance trailer. It locks from the outside.”

Mulder wraps his hand around Barry’s bicep, and the man flinches but doesn’t resist. They walk back down the midway, Summer and Mulder flanking him like the perp that he is, until they arrive at the maintenance trailer. Mulder shoves Barry inside and Summer slips a thick padlock through the door at the back.

“That fucker ain’t going nowhere,” she spits, sitting on the ground in front of the door.

Scully comes jogging up to them, a look of concern on her face.

“Where’d he go?” she asks, and Summer hitches a thumb over her shoulder.

“In here until Tami gets back,” she says resolutely.

“I just saw Jean’s truck pull in a minute ago,” Scully says.

“I’ll stay here,” Summer says, looking between the two of them to gauge their confidence in her perp-watching abilities.

They nod and walk away from the maintenance trailer, heading back to the boneyard.

“What happened to the girl?” Mulder asks, and Scully heaves a sigh.

“Dani at the ticket booth said her mom drops her off every day when we open and comes back for her just before we close. I told her to call the police and child protective services.”

They find Tami and Jean unloading a truck full of groceries for the cook trailer, and when they retell the events of the last fifteen minutes, the color drains from Tami’s face.

“Where is he?” she asks, and Mulder and Scully lead her to the maintenance trailer.

When they arrive, the back door hangs open and Barry is gone, as is Summer.

The four of them exchange looks of panic and confusion, but before they have a chance to form a plan, Summer comes running up, breathless and gape-mouthed. She stares at the open door of the maintenance trailer and then looks at her bosses and her coworkers.

“Where’d he go?” she asks fearfully.

“You were supposed to be watching him!” Mulder admonishes her, and Summer balks.

“There was an emergency on the Tilt A Whirl,” she defends. “Some kid had his arm stuck and—I was gone for like three minutes!”

“Well, I doubt he’ll be coming back here,” Tami says grimly. “I’ll call the local PD and report it.”

“They’re probably already here,” Scully explains. “I called them to come pick up the little girl.”

“Motherfucker,” Tami says under her breath. She kicks at the ground with the tip of her shoe for a moment and then looks up, addressing the three of them while Jean stands quietly behind her. “Listen, let’s keep this with us, okay? All anyone else needs to know is that a little girl got left. If Barry were here, I’d give him up in a heartbeat, but if this gets out they won’t let us come back next year.”

There is a loaded pause filled with the shrill screams of passengers on The Ring of Fire, and finally they all nod in acceptance of this request.

“Thank you. You all did the right thing,” Tami says, looking at them each in turn. “You did good.”

Tami and Jean head back to the boneyard, and Mulder turns to Summer.

“How could he have gotten out, Summer? Is there another door?” he questions, and she shakes her head.

“I don’t know,” she says, “I was seriously gone for two minutes, tops.”

His break long since over, Mulder returns to the cook trailer and a very irate Madge.

“Well look who decided to grace us with his presence,” Madge says derisively, tossing scraps of chicken at a wiry-haired brown dog that sits at her feet.

“Sorry, mom, something came up,” he says contritely, and drops down onto the bench beside her. “What’s with the dog?”

“Oh, we get strays showing up now and again. I think they follow the smell of the deep fryers. This guy just wandered over a few minutes ago. He’s kinda cute, huh?” Madge explains, her mood lifting as she looks at the dog.

Mulder is admittedly not a dog person, but he considers the mid-sized pup. He doesn’t appear underfed, and sports a tuft of hair on top of his head between his ears that looks out of place. Mulder lifts his hand to pet the dog, and it recoils as though expecting to be struck.

“Oh, did somebody hurt you sweetie?” Madge coos, scratching the dog behind its ears. She turns to Mulder and her tone shifts. “You better get shakin’, Buddy Boy. Bellies to fill, people to feed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mulder says with military precision, and heads into the cook trailer.

-

Scully waits on the ferris wheel, her short legs dangling over the side of the bench making her wish Mulder would hurry up and get here, both because she’s hungry and because she needs a push. The day was long and strange, Barry’s disappearance made all the more baffling when they discovered his car still parked in the lot by the boneyard and all his possessions untouched.

“Sorry,” Mulder says as he jogs up and drops heavily into the car beside her, setting it off swinging. “Tami didn’t want to go too heavy on the groceries given that we slough tomorrow night, but she did splurge on something that’s a bit more in line with your usual tastes,” he explains as he reveals a bowl overflowing with fresh berries.

Scully makes a little appreciative noise and takes it from him, popping a perfectly ripe blueberry in her mouth.

“So, what are you thinking?” she asks around a mouthful. “About the whole Barry situation?”

Mulder shakes his head softly.

“Something isn’t adding up. Did you notice that Lenny and Picker were conspicuously absent today?” he asks, snagging a strawberry.

“Were they off?” Scully asks.

“I don’t know,” Mulder says with a shrug. “I haven’t seen them at all, not even at breakfast.”

“So…what?” Scully goads him to elaborate.

“So, I know they aren’t big fans of Barry, they were wary of him from day one. What about Summer?”

“What about her?” Scully asks defensively.

“Well, might she have let him go?” Mulder posits.

“No,” Scully says emphatically, offended. “Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know,” Mulder admits, and they are quiet for a beat.

“What about Madge?” Scully asks. “She got pretty heated with Mitch this morning, and Summer said she’s flown off the handle like that before.”

Mulder turns to give her a deadpan expression that she knows all too well.

“Madge is pushing seventy, Penny. She has diminished strength as a result of her stroke, not to mention her arthritis. I think the worst she could do is whack someone over the head with a spatula,” he says lightly.

That earns him a chuckle, and Scully acquiesces.

“I guess we have to wait and see if he turns up, at home or otherwise. Maybe his car will be gone by morning. We don’t have enough information to conclude that he’s disappeared,” Scully says into the cool night air, and Mulder nods.

They pick through the berries, Scully taking the sweetest ones and leaving the under ripe raspberries for Mulder, and he kicks off again every few minutes to keep the car swaying forward and back. She catches him watching her from the corner of her eye but doesn’t look at him right away, waiting to see how long he’ll keep his eyes on her. Nearly a full minute passes, or at least it feels that long, and finally she turns her head toward him.

“What?” she asks, and his lips curl up into a guilty smile.

He shrugs, and she lifts her eyebrows, which is a Scully-version of repeating the question.

“You’re different here,” he says, and she quirks her head at him.

“Yes, that was the intention,” she says playfully.

“No, not just that,” he elaborates. “Even right now, when you’re you, you’re just different.”

“In a bad way or a good way?” she questions.

He looks at her for a beat, considering how to respond, and suddenly the lights on the wheel come to life, followed by the whir of the motor. They look at one another, mirroring confused faces, and then there is a sudden lurch as the ride begins to move, carrying them backwards away from the platform. Mulder lifts his feet, tucking them into the trough at the bottom so they aren’t dangling over the ground, and Scully reaches up to grab the lap bar and slam it into place as they move further into the air.

“This is weird, right?” Mulder asks, but the way her eyes are darting around them with panic is all the answer he needs.

When they reach the highest point on the wheel it slows to a stop, suspending them over the park. They look at each other, and then peer over the sides of the car looking for some explanation as to why and how they have found themselves on a midnight ferris wheel ride. The speaker mounted to the spindle crackles and screeches, and then the sultry notes of “Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton start to wail loudly across the stock-still fairgrounds, darkened aside from the lights on the ferris wheel.

A flush of irritation and mortification washes through Scully’s belly. “Goddamn it, Summer,” she mutters under her breath, and Mulder shoots her a look. Scully sighs, not looking at him as she offers an explanation. “Summer is trying to set us up,” she starts, her cheeks burning. “She thinks that we—that there’s something between us. Jesus, this is embarrassing.”

“Ah,” Mulder says, looking over the side of the car towards the dog house below.

The car lurches again, carrying them forward and down the other side of the wheel. As they pass by the dog house, they see not only Summer, but Madge as well as Jean, Tami and a handful of others looking on with hopeful smiles. Scully openly glares at Summer, who winks at her and puckers her mouth to throw several air kisses her way. Just as soon as they’ve passed by the group, they are carried up towards the top of the wheel again.

“I mean…it’s not a bad idea,” Mulder says, laying his arm across the back of the bench behind her.

She gives him an incredulous look.

“What isn’t a bad idea?” she questions.

“People already think there’s something going on, if we just let them think there is it might help our cover. We can meet in your trailer, for one, instead of out in the open like this,” he says, gesturing around them. They pass by the dog house again, where Mickey cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “Make an honest woman out of her, Luke!”

“Okay,” Scully says, slowly coming around to the idea. “So we just tell them we’re…dating?”

“Well, yeah, but I think we might have to do a little more than just say it,” he offers.

She tucks her chin, trying to interpret his half-formed idea.

“I don’t think they’re going to let us off this ride until I kiss you, at least,” he finishes, and the expression on his face is one she’s never really seen before. If she had to guess, he looks nervous.

“Right,” she says in an unreadable tone, though her heart is hammering in her chest.

“So, Penny,” he says, scooting closer to her end of the bench, and every hair on her body stands on end. “Will you be my girl?” He flashes her a smile that makes her mouth go dry and her mind go blank, and while she knows this is just part of the bit, her body is reacting to it like it’s actually happening.

“Um, okay,” she replies, “sure.”

“Loving the enthusiasm,” he jokes. “I’m gonna kiss you now…okay?”

She is marginally aware of their continuous rotations around the wheel, and the encouraging whoops of the staff, but she zeroes in on Mulder as he leans towards her and waits. She licks her lips and stares at his mouth, that mouth that she’s considered at great length, and just how it might feel on each part of her body. She nods softly and he touches her cheek, his eyes searching her face before he leans the rest of the way and presses his lips to hers.

Summer screeches, a victory cry that could shatter glass, and there is a cacophony of cheers and clapping from the ground. Mulder begins to pull away and she leans into him, her lips slightly parted as she kisses him back. His tongue grazes the inside of her bottom lip and she feels her belly drop out from under her, so she sits back and sees that they are falling down the descending side of the wheel.

Mulder blinks at her, a mildly shocked expression on his face, and Summer slows the ride to a stop as they pass by the platform. They rise from the car on unsteady legs, greeted by a group of smiling carnies and a very smug Summer. Mulder loops his arm around Scully’s waist and she startles, looking up at him to give a warning but seeing a very intentional look in his eye. Play the part, it says, and she understands that this is how it will be now. She knows what it’s like to kiss Mulder, and she’ll come to know what it’s like to be casually touched by him the way she might expect if they were a couple.

But they aren’t. It’s all a charade, and one she suspects won’t make it any easier to ignore the fact that she’s been waiting to kiss him for years.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #xfiles #case fic #case file

[xfilesfanficexchange]

Let’s Go For A Ride

Author: @unicornscully​

For: @fridaysat9​

Mulder asks Scully to go on some carnival rides and Scully finds a ride of her own.

Link Here

#XF2Close4Comfort2022 26/26

#XF2Close4Comfort2022 #mulder #scully #msr #fanfic #x files #x files fanfic

[baronessblixen]

Scully and Mulder go on a case near Niagara Falls, and promise each other to go see the actual waterfall right after the case because neither of them have been there before. They buy rain ponchos, Mulder thinks Scully looks adorably small in it and she thinks he looks adorably tall in his. They take pictures like real tourists on the platforms, then finish their day at the Carnival where they share corn dogs before going back home.

This is so cute! Mulder and Scully blending in as tourists. I love it. They deserve this, anon. They really do. Thanks for this sweet scene!

#lovely anons #i can just picture them in their rain ponchos #they'd look so cute #they'd be actual tourists #i can see it

[freckleslikestars]

prompt: mulder & scully at a carnival :)

Thank you so much!

Fun fact: growing up I hated going to the carnival my village held each year - it was too busy and too loud and I'd always have to be on one of the parade floats and the straw bales we had to sit on were always itchy. I don't enjoy fairground rides because I don't like heights and I get motion sick. I dreaded it every year. However, I love the concept and aesthetic of carnivals and funfairs.

1155 words, read here on AO3

‘Come on, Scully, it will be fun!’

‘Mulder, no. We’ve got an early flight in the morning and it’s been a long week. We should go back to the motel, pack our bags, and get some sleep.’

Mulder pouted, face lit by the strings of rainbow bulbs hung everywhere in the dusk, ‘y’know, we’re never going to be able to sleep with this music. You can hear it halfway across town. Just half an hour, Scully? Please?’

She sighed, rolled her eyes. If she said no he’d just dig his heels in, go alone and walk back to the motel, calling her when he got lost. And he was right, the music was obnoxiously loud.

The carnival had popped up overnight, making their missing persons case harder to work as they navigated around streets closed for the parade and sought out witnesses and suspects when the whole town had apparently been joining in with the festivities.

Ellingbrow wasn’t a big place, a small farming community in west Ohio of 2,978 residents, and every single one of them could, at one point or another throughout the day, have been found at the funfair or taking part in the parade.

‘Fine,’ she huffed, shaking her head, ‘half an hour. But only half an hour.’

In truth, part of her was relieved they weren’t going straight back to the muggy heat of their unairconditioned motel rooms, and she watched as her partner shed his jacket, swallowing thickly as he loosened his tie and undid his top buttons.

Averting her eyes and shucking off her own blazer, she tried to cool the heat in her cheeks. Briefcases and outerwear were deposited in their rental.

‘So,’ she cleared her throat, ‘what first?’

‘First, cotton candy!’ a grin split across his face, eyes lighting up as he grabbed her hand and dragged her onto the field crowded full of attractions and people, weaving in and out between laughing teenagers and drunk twenty-somethings to find the stall and join the short queue, releasing her hand.

‘You know this is pure sugar, don’t you, Mulder?’ she grinned when he handed her a stick of candy floss, accepting one for himself and handing over a couple of dollars.

‘That’s what makes it so good,’ he took a bite, looked around over the heads of others, gasping with joy, ‘there’s a ghost train over there! We’re going on it, come on!’ his hand found hers again as if it were second nature for them to be linked. If she weren’t being rushed through throngs of people by her long-legged partner, she would have taken the time to contemplate just how comfortable he seemed holding her hand.

One ghost train ride later, he was crowing with laughter and she was smiling indulgently up at him. Whilst she wouldn’t admit it on a later date, she was enjoying herself, if only through watching Mulder enjoy himself. Another thing she wouldn’t admit at a later date was how deep she was realising her feelings for her partner really went. Since the discovery and loss of her daughter, since her remission, since maybe even before her cancer diagnosis, she’d found herself falling more and more for him, and what had started as curiosity and lust had evolved to friendship, admiration and love. Time away from him was spent thinking about him. And when she was close to him, she felt it; wanted to be closer.

‘...wheel?’

‘Hmm?’ she blinked up at him, shaking herself out of her reverie.

He laughed, shook his head and nodded over to the Ferris wheel, ‘wanna see the entire town?’

She smirked as he guided her over to it, ‘that’s not exactly hard.’

‘What is it you don’t like about small-town America, Scully?’

‘Who says I don’t like small-town America?’

He smiled and shrugged, holding out the carriage door for Scully to step into, ‘it’s just something I’ve noticed over the years, you never seem happy out in the sticks. I wondered why that is.’

‘I dunno. I guess I grew up a navy brat, so we always lived in base housing that...it was like we were in this isolated community. It wasn’t bad or anything, I just...as soon as I went to college, moved to the city-proper I decided that was what I wanted, where I wanted to live. I don’t like the idea of everyone knowing you, everyone knowing your business, you know? There’s an anonymity to the city that I like.’

‘I can understand that,’ he nodded slowly.

‘So, why do you like them?’

‘I like the sense of community. The idea that there’s always someone watching out for you, always someone to lend a jug of milk or a bag of flour.’

‘You taking up baking, Mulder?’

‘No, but you know what I mean.’

Scully nodded, rested her head on his shoulder as they looked out across the lights of the town, ‘I do know what you mean. I think that’s probably a myth, though. I mean, how many towns like this have we had cases in? Terrible, horrible cases?’

‘Point taken. But then, how many more towns never have even so much as a case of joyriding.’

‘I know you, Mulder. You’d get bored, restless.’

‘Hmm, maybe. Maybe not.’

By the time they disembarked, the speakers had dropped in volume just slightly and were now playing slow, soft Elvis.

‘Dance, Scully?’

‘Why not?’ she smiled, noticing his hand already in her own, trying to remember when exactly he had taken ahold of it again.

They stood out, somewhat, dancing slowly in their suits amongst the crowds of people in denim cutoffs and flannel shirts and graphic tees. But then, when didn’t they stand out?

‘When we were kids, living in San Diego, Missy and I used to catch a bus down to the boardwalk in the evenings sometimes. We’d spend the month saving up all the loose change we could for those evenings. We’d eat fairground food and both pretend not to like it, we’d go on the Ferris wheel and hang out in the arcade. She’d find a booth to get my palm read, or my cards, whatever there was. She was into that sort of stuff.’

‘I know. She had a lot of healing crystals with her when you were returned. Where’d she pick that up from?’

Scully shrugged, laid her head against his chest, ‘I don’t know. She was always the believer. When we were kids she believed in fairies and monsters and dragons. I never did.’

‘No. No, I don’t imagine you ever did,’ he smiled and pressed his lips to her crown. ‘You know I wouldn’t want you any other way though, right?’

‘You don’t wish I believed things more readily?’

‘Sometimes, in the moment, I do. But mostly? No. No, you wouldn’t be Scully if you didn’t challenge me.’

‘Mulder?’

‘Mm?’

‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘For tonight. And...for everything.’

Tagging @today-in-fic

#my writing #scully and mulder go to the carnival #funfair #msr #xf fanart #set mid season 5 #txf #x files

[lilydalexf]

Thank you for the nice words! Here are some very good X-Files fics set fully or partly in New Orleans. Enjoy! At a Loss for Words by Karen Rasch Mulder and Scully head for the Big Easy for a little R & R. But things don’t work out precisely as they had planned. The ghost of a long dead courtesan feels that Scully would be the perfect host for her spirit. And Mulder needs to find a way past his own fears to save them both. [Part 7 of the Words series.] Divided We Fall by Dianora Scully becomes fed up with Mulder and the X-Files, and takes a leave of absence to work things through. Dominion by aka "Jake" "So what's in New Orleans, Mulder?" His slanting smile widened into an all-out, cat-who-ate-the-canary grin, producing a seldom seen dimple in his unshaved cheek. "The third in a series of decapitations, Scully. Ritualistic overtones." He waggled his eyebrows. "The heads are still missing." Every Sparrow Falling by Alloway Horror. Deadly birds, mysterious soldiers and abandoned carnivals lead Mulder and Scully to small-town America, where they discover that dwelling on the past can be a very dangerous thing. First Few Desperate Hours by @all-these-ghosts "He’s not sure the road that brought them here is on any map." On the road and in the shadows with Mulder & Scully. Gazebo by Mish Let's just say, it's post "all things", and it has smut. Go Be by Invisivellum Flickfic; Continuation (sorta) of the last scene between M & S; Third-person POV; Scully gets the opportunity to just “go be a doctor” for a while... Goin' Nowhere by Nicole Perry Mulder and Scully are on the run, pursued by common enemies and able to trust no one but each other. Will they find the truth they seek before it is too late? [Unfinished, but ends with some closure] Letters of Transit by Loch Ness It's 1999-- The Date has come and gone, the "Project" is underway and deadly bees have been unleashed on North America. With the world coming apart and people scrambling to get away from the swarm. Mulder faces fateful decisions about his own role in events to come-- and about Scully. Louisiana by Terma99 Moisture in the air and bath can lead to steam. New Orleans by Paula Mulder and Scully get stuck sharing a hotel room. No Quarter Given series by Mish She wants to feel alive. Partial Abandon by MoJo Scully takes a twelve hour break in the Big Easy with Mulder for some pure MSR. Reflections of the Unknown by Sophos Scully and Mulder investigate serial killers in New Orleans, and reflect upon their feelings for each other. [There is a sequel] She Walks at Night by @fragilevixenfic Mulder’s knack for getting himself and Scully into sticky situations leads them to the heart of NOLA at the tail end of Hurricane season after barely surviving a Floridian storm—to investigate a rumor of a notable Voodoo Queen and missing girls trying to bring her back. Skeleton by @lilydalexf A skeleton's talking, and Mulder and Scully are investigating. As far as casefiles go, this one is on the fluffy side since our agents are pretty busy paying attention to each other. Smoke on the Water by Miss Elise While on a case that takes them to Louisiana, Scully considers the men she has loved in her life. Solving the murder of Ophelia Washington will take all the strength Scully has. Split the Lark by @syntax6 Scully and Mulder deal with a traumatic event. Victim Soul by prufrock's love The case of a purported 'victim soul' - a comatose girl who suffers for and heals others - sends Mulder and Scully, still coming to terms with her cancer, to New Orleans. What Hands Do by Mish "And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand." I think that about covers it.

#fic rec #roundup #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #new orleans #anon #asks #the most surprising thing about this ask was discovering #i wrote a fic set in new orleans #i totally forgot that #it's included in this list even though i don't mean to label my own fic as very good

[lotzzoforangezoutside]

THE LIST II

THE LIST I (111 stories) -updated 7/1/2021

& MASTERLIST I (LONG VERSION, W/ SUMMARIES)

Original Series

Between Michigan and Maine  |  Team Building  |  Last Christmas  |  Secret  |  The Waterbed  |  The Mayor and the Idiot  |  Furry Fairy  |  Langly’s Birthday Party  |  Jellyfish  |  The Terms  |  The Spooky Twins  |  Wearing You  |  Perpetual  |  Brotherly Love  |  The Dearest  |  He Said, She Said  |  37  |  Spotless Mind  |  From the Attic  |  The Sixth  |  Home Alone  |  Ice Ice Baby  | The Sun and the Moon  |  Precious  |  The Glow of Day  |  Geek  |  New  |  You  |  The Puppy  |  Truth or Dare  |  The Bedroom  |  Text to Cancel  |  Chinese for Breakfast  |  Honey Milk  |  The Guessing Game  |  The Cat and the Cantaloupe  |  Building an UFO  | Visiting the Boys  |  Ark  |  Models  |  Curiosity  |  Never Ever  |  Fathers  |  Routed  |  Playing Doctor  |  White  |  Maybe  |  Report Card  |  The Field Where I  |  A Gift of Just Because  |  Trouble |  Say Anything  | The Boy and the Dog  |   Just as Sweet  |  Suspenders and Smoker  |   Game Changer  |  The Fall Fun Carnival  |  The Pool  |  The Things He Knew He Knew  |  Spring Cleaning  |  Meet Arcadia  |  On Melancholy Hill  |  Before It Gets Out of Hands  |  In the Granite State  |  God Bless Mom  |  The King of the Castle and the Dirty Rascal  |  Come with Me and We’ll Be  |  Radar Love  |  Pudding  |  How to Catch a Manatee  |  Rumbly Tumbly  |  Welcome to the Judgment-Free Zone  |  Come and Go With Me  |  Drunks  |  Hook  |

AU

Emily AU: Green-Eyed  |  Chop-Chop  |  The Moon Child  |  Fox Day  |  Band-Aid  |  Before You Go-Go  |  Nightmare |  Flowers and Kisses  |  What I Like about You  |  Homework  |  Girls’ Night  |  Mockingbird  |  Big Ouie  |  Miss Scully  |  Family Picnic  |  All My Life  |  The Time to Hesitate is Through  |  What I Want, You’ve Got  |

Cricket Universe

Mulder’s Time Machine  |  Déjà Vu  |  What Does the Fox Say  |  Characters  |  Four  |  Horse  |  Crack  |  The Soothsayer’s Tea  |  Coincidental  |  The Season of the Soul  |  The Exchange  |  One  |  First Kisses  |  Jellyfish II  |  Jellyfish III  | The Traits of Mulder  |  Dancing about Architecture  |  Kitsune  |  Revelation  |  Meow  |  A Promise to Last  |  Juno Uno Love Song  |  The Most Precious Thing He Owns  |  In the Blackest of Rooms  |

Conversation in the Very Very Late at Night…. eleven  |  twelve  |

3X…. eight / nine / ten /

Short shorts & snapshots

drabbles…..Kappa | Lambda | mu | nu | xi | omicron |  pi | rho | sigma |

“fanfic ideas that will never”

Summer memories  |  Haunted House

(updated November 1)    

#MASTERLIST #the short list #will do a long version with summaries #lotsoforangesoutside #my fic #fanfic #x-files fanfic #the x files #msr #all the way baby #122 stories

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 1: A Revelatory Papercut

AO3 Link - MSR, rating pending 

It all started with a paper cut.

Actually, that’s not entirely true.

Fox Mulder had seen this coming from a long way off. Years, really. He knew in the back of his mind that his growing attachment to Dana Scully would eventually entangle him beyond hope of release; that his fondness and respect for her would deepen to the point of devotion. That his attraction to her would ripen into a passion that he could neither act on nor contain. He’s been in free-fall since the day they met, and is only just now hitting the ground.

It isn’t a matter of if, but when.

And the when happens to be Thursday, February twelfth, 1998, at eleven twenty-nine A.M, when Special Agent Dana Scully sits opposite him at their desk, leafing through a sheaf of papers, and slices her index finger on one.

“Shit,” she mutters, observing the droplet of blood gathering outside the cut and reflexively popping her finger into her mouth.

Mulder, slouching over his own stack of documents, looks up at her in surprise at her utterance and promptly falls in love. Hard.

The sensation rolling through his body reminds him of going to a shitty carnival on the Vineyard one summer when he was eleven. He has a distinct physical recollection of riding a rickety old rollercoaster that had no business operating with human passengers, anticipation building with the climb of the car on the tracks. He can still feel the euphoria of cresting the rise and dropping down the other side, a vortex of giddiness twisting in his stomach.

Only now he is experiencing this as a thirty-six year old federal agent in an office chair, across a cluttered desk from the most beautiful, resilient, and achingly unattainable woman he’s ever known.

“You okay, Mulder?” Scully asks, rising from her chair and crossing the room to fetch their first aid kit from a cabinet. “You look a little flushed.”

“Hypoglycemia,” he says quickly, then mentally kicking himself because she’s a goddamn doctor and knows better than him what the symptoms of severe low blood sugar are. Symptoms he certainly doesn’t have. “I skipped breakfast.”

“Uh huh,” she replies absently, wrapping a bandage around her fingertip. “Well, once we finish this report we can go to lunch.”

He wants to take a bite out of her. Instead he picks up a pen and watches letters and numerals swim across the page in front of him.

He’s finally, absolutely in love with Scully. And he has no idea what to do about it.

Mulder stays late at the office that night, tossing pencils upwards at the ceiling before realizing Scully will notice them tomorrow and know he wasn’t buried in research or catching up on paperwork like he claimed.

Falling in love is pretty inconvenient, which is probably why he put it off for so long. He had overlooked his growing feelings in much the same way he’d ignored a hairline crack forming in one of his favorite mugs a few months ago. He kept using the mug until one day he found coffee seeping out the bottom of the cup and onto his newspaper, soaking the pages together. He had foolishly thought the crack would hold, and felt stupid for being even momentarily surprised.

He spins lazily in his office chair, listening to the bolts squeak.

In reality, he has only two clear options.

One: he could sit back and do nothing. Pine for her quietly, nurse an ache in his chest so deep that it cuts him in half right down the middle. Sleep alone on his sofa until he draws his last breath, never uttering a word to her because she deserves more than him, deserves better than he could ever provide.

But he knows and respects her. After everything that’s been taken away from Scully, the last thing he wants to do is deny her agency or choice. And because he’s an asshole, he desperately, selfishly hopes that she chooses him.

So that leads to option two: do… something.

This is where he falters; he hasn’t wooed a woman in years. And if he thinks on it, his last two relationships were fairly heavily driven by the female participant; almost as though he were just along for the ride.

But Scully is different; Scully challenges him, excites him, brings him peace. She keeps him in line while simultaneously setting him free. Sometimes she even smiles at his jokes. He’s never had the privilege of someone else’s trust and confidence in that way before.

Mulder doesn’t know if she wants him the way he wants her. Hell, it seems impossible for anyone to want another person that much, but here he is, chewing on the eraser end of a #2 pencil, ready to upset the entire balance of his professional and personal life on the off chance she might.

It’s worth a shot. She’s worth a shot.

He only hopes he’s worth one in return.

#I'm not posting at midnight wtf??? #anyway yeah #my fic #FMCR #Fox Mulder Closet Romantic #xfiles #txf fic #Season 5 canon divergence #msr

[starsarestars]

❤️ for Teresa and Marisol please x

Teresa + Marisol

“Adina said he’d chat all this shit about how he and Marisol were meant to be, had everyone in on it ‘cause of course they didn’t fucking know...”

Teresa’s voice drifts over from the bean bags in an angered hiss, the boys groaning sympathetically.

“So if you honestly want my opinion of Graham? I think he’s a complete twat. Everything about him is shit and- and I- I can’t stand him.”

“Do you not think she did it ‘cause she’s scared? That maybe she wants to stay in the game before she invests everything in something that isn’t certain?” Says Ibrahim, an imperious twinkle in his deep brown eyes. Ibrahim delves into a vein of rationality that Teresa’s anger can’t quite reach around. The lads can sense it from the muddled look in her eyes and the way she turns her head, defiant in every sense of the word.

“I don’t know. I don’t really care, either. I’m over Marisol, anyway.”

None of them seem wholly convinced when she says this, not even Teresa herself. She forces on a wobbly smile, tears brimming in her eyes as she focuses on gnarls in the astroturf rather than the strained attempts at pleasant conversation that pass her ears.

Their dynamic in the drafts of She’s A Carnival (the Teresol fic) and what little bit I’ve got of the Noah Oneshot Painted Bird is one that I’m very interested in. There’s a certain twee way about most of the pairings I have because I’m quite idealistic, but the two of these suffer from incurable will-they-won’t-they Mulder and Scully-itis. Marisol pairs well with introverts who kinda go with her pop psychology and intellectualism as well as the whole push and pull, but Teresa is the absolute opposite - If someone is making absolutely nonsensical hot takes, she’s not afraid to call them out on it. As much as she is a bit of an antagonistic and downright vicious person at times, Teresa when chipped away to her core is somebody who is actually quite vulnerable and causes as many problems as possible to distract people from her own shortcomings. She goes into Love Island with the intention of faking as much of it as possible to prove to the people around her that she was something she wasn’t and instead she finds out more about herself than she bargained for and that, truth be told, she was capable of loving somebody in a way that has her feeling like she can be vulnerable without being scared. The major element of their relationship at first is fear: fear of judgement, fear of going against the expectations set for them, fear of just about everything you could imagine. Things mellow out over time and the two of them wonder why it was ever like that in the first place and why they were so content with things being that way for so long. Once Marisol becomes a lawyer and Teresa finally gets her degree in Astrophysics, things between them are so content and happy - It’s liberating to finally be with somebody who just gets them. Expect countless duvet days, art gallery dates, nonsensical arguments about anything they can think of that end with fits of giggles, cosy nights in watching the rain while bundled in blankets while the cats pad around the flat and clumsy slow dances to a half remembered song tunelessly hummed in the kitchen at 3am while the coffee machine chirrs away.

There’s a load of old songs that remind me of them but I think the Siouxsie and the Banshees cover of Dear Prudence is their song.

#litg marisol #OC Teresa #litg s2 #litg season 2

[leiascully]

OctoberFicFest Day 6: The Fair

Tagging @xffictober

Dust hung like fog, low in the air.  It coated Scully’s shoes.  She’d been in the morgue all day: suspended animation, frozen in the cold air and colder lighting.  At least they’d had a locker room with a shower.  She’d stood under the needling spray, so fine it always felt chilly, until she felt scoured.  Her hair was still damp, though she’d crouched under the roaring hand dryer, too short to turn the nozzle upward.  Mulder appeared out of the late summer dim like a stranger in an urban legend, hazy around the edges.  He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and produced a twenty dollar bill with a feint like a magician.

Scully tipped her head and looked at him.

“Can’t you hear it?” he said, and suddenly, she could, her mind untangling layers of background noise: traffic, crickets, frogs, cicadas, and beneath it all, the Pied Piper lilt of carnival music, half-heard like the fair itself was balanced between worlds.  She’d read stories like this when she was younger.  Some barrier between mundane and magic thinned and a fair appeared, replete with wonderous prizes and the kind of people one would never see again.  

Her stomach growled.  She gestured to her rebellious belly, to her general sodden fatigue.

“All the corn dogs and funnel cake you can bear to eat,” he promised.  “Frozen lemonade.”

“Not frozen,” she said.

“Regular lemonade,” he amended.

“Fine,” she said.  “But we’re going on the Spaceship to Mars.”

“Of course we are,” he said.  “And the Scrambler.”

“Pre-corn dog,” she negotiated.

“Of course,” he said solemnly, and opened the car door for her.  The mechanical lights of the car seemed strange after the organic luminescence of dusk.  They were suspended in some odd enchanted carriage, winging their way to the fair.  Mulder parked in a field and waited while Scully changed back into her morgue sneakers, incongruous with her work trousers but less likely to slip off than her pumps, and less likely to cause her to turn an ankle on the way across the pitted field.  The carnival was a blaze of light, a cacophony of sound and scent: the jangling calliope music from dozens of stalls, the carousel, the Zipper, the grunts and earthy wafts from the barn, the aroma of sizzling oil and fried dough.  There was enough dust in the air to soften the edges of everything, a firefly haze.  Mulder grinned at her, a fey light in his eyes.  

The changeling teen in the booth bound their wrists with plastic and gave Mulder a reel of tickets.  Strange currency for a strange land.  They wandered among the other patrons at the fair: clusters of teens, families with their children on leashes, young swaggering farm folk with tight jeans and hats screwed on.  There weren’t many other professionals approaching middle age.  Too much sense, she thought, too wise to walk among the fair folk, so to speak.  But she and Mulder had left sense behind years ago, discarded in the detritus of a hundred crime scenes.

The inside of the Spaceship to Mars smelled like they always did: machine grease and well-abused vinyl.  Mulder took her hand as the thing spun up.  The force pressed them back into the cushions and notched the bones of their hands together.  It didn’t escape her noticed that it was a perfect fit.  She was reminded of their skeletons in the haunted house, the phalanges and metacarpals jumbled into a heap, the two of them finally inseparable.  Scully let centrifugal force mash her into the tired old padding.  Her back popped, at last.

When they rode the Scrambler, her hair whipped around her face as their hips jostled in the narrow car.  He reached up and smoothed his hands over her head, cradling her skull as the ride slung them around and around.  His palms were still and steady, holding her hair in place.  Scully laughed.  She couldn’t help laughing.  It bubbled up in her, an enchanted effervescence.  

When they could walk straight again, they wove their way to the food stalls.  Everything fried, everything sugary, and she had more appetite than she’d had in years.  They sampled the promised corn dogs and funnel cake, plus all the local specialties: fried butter, fried Oreo, fried Twinkie, fried Cheetos, fried pies both savory and sweet.  

“Mulder, half of these things are already fried,” she murmured.

“Roll with it, Scully,” he said. 

“How many years in the underworld?” she asked, licking powdered sugar off her fingers.

“We’ve served our sentence already,” he said.  “Either that, or we’ve doomed ourselves to an eternity in the shadows.”

“There are worse things,’ she said, and let the magic sweep her away.

#octoberficfest #fantober2020 #my fic #why do i live on the edge and write these directly in the text box

[mldrgrl]

Prompt: Mulder and Scully investigate a case in a carnival and get trapped with a fortune teller. Early seasons.

Getting There

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Note: I’m setting this right after Two Fathers/One Son.  I know the request was for early seasons, but I wanted to separate it, in an emotional sense of where they’re at in their partnership, from Humbug.

Bright lights.  Beeping, hissing, clanging, sirens.  Screams that ebb and flow.  The smell of deep fried food everywhere.  Sawdust and straw underfoot.

“Remind me again why we’re here,” Scully says.

“12-year old Faye Rawlings,” Mulder answers, holding up the 3x5 school picture-day photo cupped in his hand and scanning the crowd for a blonde little girl with a pixie cut and explosion of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks.  “Disappeared in 1977 at the Oklahoma state fair.  She went into the fun house with her 9-year old brother, Tommy, and never came out.  Tommy claims he was separated from his sister in the hall of mirrors and that one minute he was holding her hand and the next, Faye was gone from his side, but she was still in the reflections of all the mirrors.  The local authorities classified it as a kidnapping, but the case has been cold since she first went missing 20 years ago.”

Scully scans the crowd along with Mulder and pivots several times for a 360 degree view.  She holds up an identical photo to the one Mulder has, drops it again and gives an impatient sigh.

“And what’s your interest in this case?” she asks.  “We’ve had the x-files back for barely a month and this is not an x-file.”

“Sure it is.  Missing 12-year olds don’t go popping up 20 years later at traveling carnivals.”

“32, Mulder.  She’d be 32-years old by now.”

“I know.  That’s what makes it so weird that nine witnesses have reported spotting 12-year old Faye Rawlings in the last three months.”

“Is your theory alien abduction?”

“I don’t have a theory.  Yet.”

“I still don’t believe it’s an x-file.  Someone is simply playing a cruel prank.”

“Nine separate witnesses, Scully.  The first in Broken Arrow, the last in Enid.  The only thing they have in common is that they were all reported at this traveling carnival.”

“Mulder, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that while finding Faye Rawlings isn’t outside the realm of possibility, finding a 12-year old Faye Rawlings stands contrary to reason.”

“That’s what we’re in Lawton to find out.”

Scully sighs again and Mulder moves off towards the concessions area.  He flashes his badge and the photo of Faye at the vendors, but receives a shake of the head in response when he asks if anyone has seen this girl.  It’s a no from the hot dog cookers, the cotton candy spinners, the candy apple dippers, the pretzel salters, the churro fryers, and the corn-on-the-cob roasters.  Moving on, it’s the same no sir, haven’t seen her, sir, from the barkers trying to entice customers into ring tosses, popping balloons with darts, throwing ping pong balls into tiny glass fish bowls, or shooting jets of water into clowns’ mouths.

“Where’s the Fun House?” Mulder asks, trying to peer through the chaos of bummer cars, Tilt-a-Whirls, and carousels.

“Left?” Scully asks, pointing towards a row of string lights at the top of a wooden building.

They head left through narrow, but well-trodden paths created by the haphazard barriers from ride to ride.  No matter where they zig-zag, they can’t escape the constant assault of organ grinder music and screaming children.

“It’s the Tunnel of Love,” Mulder says, stopping in front of the building with the string lights.

“The other end.”  Scully points to the right where another building stands.

“Try here first so we don’t have to backtrack.”

They wait in the short line, standing out like sore thumbs amongst giggly teenagers holding hands.  A wave of nostalgia comes over Scully and she catches herself smiling a little wistfully as she remembers summer nights at the fair with friends from high school.  Mulder bumps his elbow into her arm a few times and gives her a quizzical look.  She lets the smile fade and shakes her head a little.  They keep moving forward until they’re the next in line.

“Eight tickets,” the operator says.  He’s tall and skinny with dark, greasy hair that he flips out of his eyes every so often.  He’s also barely older than the giggly teens he’s been shepherding two at a time into the tiny red boats.

Even though Mulder already has his badge out, he still produces a roll of tickets and hands them over to the operator.  “Agents Mulder and Scully,” he tells the kid.  “We’re investigating a missing persons matter.  Have you seen this girl?”

“I see a lot of girls, man.”

“Could you take a look?”

“Never seen her.”

“You didn’t even look.”

“In or out, man?  Gotta keep the line moving.”

“Come on, Mulder.”  Scully tugs at the elbow of Mulder’s suit jacket.

“Thanks for your help,” Mulder answers with thinly veiled sarcasm.  To Scully’s surprise, instead of moving towards the exit gate, he ushers her towards the tiny red boat.

“Mulder?”

“Get in.”

Confused, Scully steps into the boat and sits down.  Mulder squeezes in beside her.  The operator drops a bar across their laps and gives it a yank.

“Hands and arms inside the boat at all times,” he says.

The boat jerks forward towards a heart-shaped entrance into a tunnel and then they’re submerged in darkness.  They float along slowly and twinkle lights begin to blink in the ceiling and walls.

“What are we looking for?” Scully asks, dropping her voice when it echoes loudly in the darkness.

“Nothing,” Mulder answers.  “Didn’t want to waste tickets.”

She shifts uncomfortably.  As small in stature as she is, she still feels oversized in this small boat, wedged in so tightly next to Mulder.  He shifts as well and then stretches his arm along the back of the boat behind her shoulders.  The boat jerks to the side as they take a curve and jostles them into each other.  Reflexively, Mulder grabs onto her arm and pulls her close.  Reflexively, she tries to grab something to steady herself, which happens to be his thigh.

“Sorry,” she whispers, letting go so quickly that she falls deeper into his side.  He merely squeezes her shoulder.

As the ride continues, Scully becomes more and more uncomfortable to the point of feeling flustered and angry without exactly knowing why.  She just knows she can’t wait to get out of the boat and get away from Mulder.  And suddenly, she thinks, wouldn’t he much rather be in here in the dark with Agent Fowley?  And she knows exactly why she’s flustered and angry.

Finally, they emerge from the tunnel back to where they started and the bar across their laps pops up before they come to a stop.  Mulder lumbars out of the boat and turns to take her hand, which she ignores and steps out on her own.  He furrows his brows a little and then follows behind her as she tries not to stomp down the metal ramp to the exit in her haste to leave.

They head to the Fun House without a word.  There is no line there, just a mother and father with three small children trying to make it past the large, slowly spinning barrel into the rest of the attraction.  The kids are laughing and falling all over themselves trying to keep standing as long as possible as the barrel inches them higher.

Mulder breaks off the appropriate number of tickets from his roll and slides them under the glass partition to the ticket taker.  She barely looks up from the book she’s reading and he begrudgingly flashes his badge and the photo of Faye Rawlings.  She looks up, annoyed, and shakes her head before going back to her book.

They both walk through the spinning barrel quickly with little effort, although Mulder does keep his hand at Scully’s back.  He takes her hand as they meander through dozens of hanging punching bags.  She tries to pull away, but he holds tight.

“Don’t want to get separated,” he says.

“Why, Mulder?  You afraid I’ll disappear?”

He comes to an abrupt stop and she bumps into him.  He glances down at her, purses his lips slightly, and then slowly relaxes his grip on her hand and lets go.  “Can we just stick together, please?” he asks.

“I’m here aren’t I?”

“Barely,” he mutters and then moves off without her towards an undulating suspension bridge.

Scully is forced to hold onto both sides of the railing as she tries to make her way across the bridge as it tips and tilts from left to right.  There’s a doorway at the other side that leads into the hall of mirrors.  Mulder is waiting for her at the entrance.  They walk past the line of distortion mirrors that make them wide or tall, squat and elongated in all sort of ways, directly into the maze.

They head left and hit an immediate dead end with Mulder bumping into a mirror.  They head right and Scully bumps into a mirror as well.  They shift again, going forward, slipping along angled corridors with their infinite selves in front or to the sides of them at all times.

Scully hears the laughter of a small child and turns around, but sees nothing.  Mulder turns as well and a thousand Mulders turn with him, looking over her shoulder  She catches his eyes in the mirror and looks away, but she can still see him.  Everywhere she looks, she can see him, watching her from hundreds of different angles.  She feels overwhelmed and exposed.

Taking a deep breath, Scully closes her eyes for a moment and when she opens them, Mulder is gone.  A panicky, sick feeling comes over her and she whirls around to where he’d just been standing behind her.  When she moves left, she bumps into a mirror.  When she moves right, she bumps into another.  Her heart starts to pound and she holds her arms out, searching for open space.

“Mulder!” she calls.

She hears the child’s laughter again and when she turns around, this time a blonde little girl with a pixie haircut crosses in front of her.  “Mulder!” she calls out again.  When she turns, the little girl is in front of her, staring directly at her.  She reaches out to her and moves forward only to bump into a mirror.  When she steps back, she’s alone again.

“Faye?”  She turns in all directions, searching.  She whirls and whirls, but there’s no one but her and then she feels a hand at her wrist and she gasps.

“This way,” Mulder says, tugging her with him to the right.

“Mulder, did you…?”

“What is it?”  He glances back at her, but doesn’t stop moving her through the twists and turns of the maze.

“I thought I saw…”  

“What did you see?”

“Nothing.  Nevermind.”

They exit out of the mirrors to a set of stairs, half the steps on one side, half on the other.  Both sides move up and down in opposite ways.  When the footholds on the right move up, the footholds on the left move down and vice versa.  Mulder grabs onto the rails and heads up with ease.  Scully, still a little shaky from the mirrors, takes a little longer to climb up.

They move through an alley of spinning floor tiles and have to push through more punching bags until they come to a platform overlooking the entirety of the carnival.  They stand together at the ledge, silently watching from above.

“What did you mean when you said I was barely here?” she asks.

Mulder takes his time answering.  He stares out at the carnival and then he finally turns and looks at her.  “You’re here physically,” he says.  “You show up.  You do your job.  I’m just not sure you’re altogether present.  I’m not sure you want to be back on the x-files.”

“How can you say that?  Mulder, how can you say that after everything we’ve been through to get them back?”

Mulder holds up his hand in defense and shakes his head.  “Correction.  I’m not sure you want to be back on the x-files with me.”

“Oh.”  Scully looks away and out at the blinking lights and activity below.

“I notice you’re not disagreeing with me on that front.”

“I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“I wouldn’t blame you.  But, if you don’t trust me-”

“Dammit, Mulder, why is it always about whether or not I trust you?  What if the problem is you not trusting me?”

“Of course I trust you.”

“No, you don’t.  You trust Agent Fowley, but you don’t trust me.”

“I thought we were past this.”

“Apparently we’re not.”

Mulder grips the railing tightly and hunches his body as he lowers his head.  He stands up again after a few moments and blows air from his puffed cheeks.

“Would you rather have her as your partner?” Scully asks.  She’s been terrified to find out the answer to this question and so she’s been avoiding asking it, but it feels like a breaking point.

“Diana is gone.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”  

Scully turns and walks away from the platform.  She balls her hands into fists and shakes the tension out of her shoulders as she crosses the final gauntlet of rollers across the floor.  Without stopping to check on Mulder or wait for him to catch up, she crouches down and pulls herself into the spiral slide and lands on the mat at the bottom.

Standing with her back to the exit and her arms crossed, Scully waits for Mulder to come out.  A little boy and a little girl tumble out of the slide together before he does.  He pats dust from his knees and then they wordlessly walk away.  They head down a street of games promising oversized teddy bears for guessing the weight of an object or being able to ring a bell with the strength of the swing of a sledgehammer.  There’s a magic booth and a dunk tank.  Mulder diligently holds up the photo of Faye Rawlings at each station with no success.

They reach the small tent of Madam Zarina, Fortunes Told and Read.  An older woman with black, curly hair and olive skin sits outside.  She’s wearing silk scarves and a long, flowing skirt and gold hoop earrings and Scully thinks she looks the epitome of a cliche.

“Would you be Madam Zarina?” Mulder asks the woman, pulling his badge out of his pocket.

“I am Madam Zarina,” she answers.  

“We’re looking for a missing girl.”

“Come, come,” Madam Zarina beckons, pulling back the beaded curtain into her tent.  “I have something to tell you.”

“Ma’am my name is Agent Mulder, this is my partner, Agent Scully.”

“This way,” she answers.

Mulder steps into the tent and Scully reluctantly follows.  There are small bells attached to Madam Zarina’s skirt that tinkle lightly as she swishes past them to a small, round table covered with a blue cloth.  In the center is a crystal ball and a stack of tarot cards.

Scully remembers her sister Melissa dragging her to a psychic once in Venice Beach.  Melissa was a senior in high school at the time, eager to get out of the house, eager to start her life, and she was desperate for someone to tell her she was going to fulfill all her wildest dreams, which, at that time, had included being allowed to feather her hair like Farrah Fawcett which their father had expressly forbidden, wearing bellbottoms to school instead of her stuffy Catholic school uniform, backpacking through Europe as soon as she graduated, and becoming the next Sonny & Cher with her boyfriend, Todd.  

Melissa had excitedly plunked down a five dollar bill for the disappointing news that she was an unhappy girl that would never settle.  Still, though, she had taken it as a sign that she needed to be in more control of her destiny and as a result, quit school a short time later and she and Todd jumped on a flight to Spain only to break up two weeks later and part ways at a hostel in Italy.  Melissa was back in San Diego within a month, but she never regretted it, not for a minute.  

On that day, Melissa had also convinced Scully to reluctantly part with her hard-earned babysitting money and have her own reading done.  And she hadn’t forgotten what the stern-looking woman with the cigarette hanging off her lip, dropping ashes onto the table every time she spoke, said to her.  ‘You feel you are destined for greatness.  But, you’ll never reach it unless you stand up for yourself.  Don’t let anyone tell you what path to take.’  She’d remembered it when she was considering joining the FBI, but it had been a long time since she’d thought about it.

“Sit, sit,” Madam Zarina says, pointing to the two chairs in front of her.

“We’re with the FBI,” Mulder says, holding out his photo of Faye Rawlings.  “I want to know if you’ve seen this little girl at all.”

“Are you sure that’s what you’ve come here for?”

“Pretty sure.  Not much of a psychic, are you?”  Mulder snorts, tucking his badge and the picture back into his breast pocket.

“I read fortunes, I don’t claim visions of the future.”

“What’s the difference?” Scully asks.

“You have a question, the cards will tell you the answers.  I tell you what the cards say.”

“I don’t suppose you can activate that crystal ball there and let me show my photo to it, can you?” Mulder asks, flippantly.

Madam Zarina narrows her eyes a little and then with a flourish, removes her wig to reveal thinning, mousy brown hair.  She drops the wig over the back of her chair and then pulls off her clip-on earrings as well.

“People like the show.  They think a fortune teller is a gypsy, and that this is what a gypsy looks like.  You think anyone wants their cards read by Phyllis Davidson from Stillwater, Kansas?  Or the dark and mysterious Madam Zarina?”

“Sorry to have wasted your time,” Mulder answers.

“I’d like a reading,” Scully says.

Mulder turns to Scully with his brows raised.  Scully ignores him and slips into one of the chairs.  After a few moments of hesitation, Mulder sits in the other.

“Ten dollars,” Phyllis says.

Scully moves to get her wallet, but Mulder beats her to it and waves her hands away, slipping the bill over to the fortune teller.  Phyllis folds the bill and slips it inside the front of her shirt, tucking it under her bra strap.  She slides the stack of tarot cards over to Scully.  They’re larger than playing cards, well-worn and soft.  The cover is a faded navy blue background with gilded sun, stars, and moons printed on them.

“Shuffle the cards in whatever way you feel comfortable with,” Phyllis instructs.  “When you’re finished, place them face-down here on the table.  While you’re shuffling, think of what you’d like the cards to tell you.  Is there something you’re fearful about?  Is a relationship causing you trouble?  Do you need career advice?”

“I’d like to know how to repair a fractured partnership,” Scully says, picking up the cards.  “If it’s even salvageable.”

Phyllis nods and Scully shuffles.  Mulder shifts uncomfortably in his chair.  When Scully is done, she sets the cards down and takes a glance at Mulder.  He is nervously stroking his mouth and chin.

“With your left hand, fan the cards across the table and then choose the first card from anywhere that feels right.  Pull a total of five cards and give them to me.”

Scully does as she’s told and then slides a card out from the fanned pile.  She hands it to Phyllis who positions it in front of her.  She selects four more, giving each of them to the woman across the table, one by one, after she slides them out.  The cards are ordered with three across, one at the top, and one at the bottom.  Phyllis turns the card in the middle.  It’s a colorful drawing that Scully can’t quite make out.

“The Page of Swords is telling me that you feel what you’re not getting right now is honesty.  The truth is very important to you, something you value, and what you’d really like from your partner.”

Scully licks the curve of her upper lip, but says nothing.  Beside her, Mulder begins to bounce his knee.  Phyllis turns the card left of the middle.

“The Moon is telling me you feel you’ve been deceived in some way.  You feel that what you once believed to be true was an illusion and that is keeping you from moving forward right now.”

Scully nods a little, unconsciously.  Phyllis turns the card to the right.

“The Five of Cups.”  Phyllis pauses and takes a glance at Scully.  “In this instance, the card is reversed, which is a good sign.  It means that whatever happens, you will be able to find forgiveness and acceptance, regardless of outcome.”

“What does that mean, regardless of outcome?” Mulder asks.

“Whether the partnership is repaired or if it remains fractured, she may grieve the loss of something that once was, but ultimately move on and be free of negativity.”

The fourth card Phyllis turns over is obvious the second Scully sees it.

“The Devil,” Phyllis says, shaking her head in dismay.  “This reinforces the strong feelings you have about being deceived.  Someone has driven a powerful wedge into your partnership.  This person is inherently dishonest, not to be trusted.  The root cause of how you feel and it appears as though you have every reason to be wary.”

Scully can’t help but feel disappointed with this answer.  What it means to her is that as long as Diana Fowley is out there, the wedge between herself and Mulder will exist.  Not that she needs a fortune teller to give her that information, but it makes it sink in just a little more.

“Oh,” Phyllis says, turning the last card.  “This is good news.  The Star.  What The Star tells me here is that after the struggle is over, you will be left with a renewed sense of self and of faith.  When you come out onto the other side of what’s currently making you feel so uncertain, you’re going to know yourself much better and enter a phase of calm, one that will be peaceful and loving.  This is very good.”

Scully is relieved, almost pleased.  She’s been so caught up in anger and turmoil lately that she couldn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel.  Even though she really doesn’t believe in fortune telling, she still finds herself comforted by what she’s heard.

“Thank you, Phyllis,” Scully says, standing.

Phyllis sweeps the cards up and pulls them back together in a stack.  Mulder stands as well and follows Scully through the curtain and out of the tent.

“Well,” he says.  “That was certainly...interesting.  You don’t actually believe in all that stuff back there, do you, Scully?”

“Of course not,” she says.  “They see what people are interested in and then just tell them what they think we want to hear.”

“Is that...is that what you wanted to hear?”

Scully stops walking and Mulder stops as well.  She looks up at him.  The flashing lights of the Gravitron play across his face.  The screams of thrill-seekers make it difficult to hear.

“What I want to hear isn’t going to come from a fortune teller,” she says.

“You want me to tell you that I choose you over Diana.”

“You make me sound like a jealous girlfriend.”

“You honesty, right, Scully?  Sometimes, that’s how it feels.”

“Jesus, I don’t want to have this conversation in the middle of a carnival!”

“I don’t think you want to have it at all!”

“Mulder, mere weeks ago you wouldn’t even hear me out when I handed you proof that Agent Fowley did not have your best interests or the best interests of the x-files at heart.  You refused to hear anything to the contrary.”

“Because you weren’t showing me proof of anything.  All you had was conjecture.”

“I have plenty of proof, you’re just unwilling to connect the dots.”

“You’re seeing what you want to see.”

“Then tell me, Mulder, where is she now?  She wasn’t amongst the bodies found at El Rico airforce base, so where is she?  And where is the Cancerman?  It doesn’t strike you as suspicious that they are the only two people unaccounted for after the massacre?”

“I don’t know where they are, but I know I’m not going to jump to any conclusions.”

“Then you’re just blind to what you don’t want to see.”

They seem to reach an impasse.  Scully has said everything that needs to be said about Diana Fowley and she’s tired of even thinking about her.  She looks away, puts her hands on her hips, licks her lips.  People pass them by lost in their own excitement, paying them no mind.  She’s embarrassed by the outburst, but feels less angry than she has been.  She feels a little more melancholy also.

“I choose you,” Mulder says, brushing a knuckle lightly under her chin to get her to look at him.  “I choose you, Scully.  I want you here.  I want you as my partner.  I just don’t know how to make you believe it.”

“You can’t choose me and refuse to trust my judgment,” she answers, pulling her chin away.  “It doesn’t work like that.”

“We won’t work if you keep punishing me because I disagree with you about Diana.”

“You’re right.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

“I want…”  Scully breaks off, unable to articulate what she really feels.  She wants to know that her importance in Mulder’s life means as much to him as he does to her, but in this moment, she’s unwilling to make herself more vulnerable than she already has.

“Scully?”

“I just want to do the job,” she answers, lowering her gaze.  “I want to get back on track with our work and I want us to be on the same page again.”

“Oh, is that all?”  Mulder smiles a little, trying to catch her eye.  “When exactly have we ever been on the same page to begin with?  I’m always like, Scully, obviously Leprechauns have committed this crime, and you’re always like, Mulder, you’re crazy.”

Scully smiles a little in spite of herself and scuffs her boot into the sawdust at her feet.  “Leprechauns don’t exist, Mulder.”

“See, there we go.  Back on track already.”

Their problems aren’t going to be solved in one night, but at least they can put them aside to focus on the task at hand.  That’s something she feels they can do.  There is one more thing she feels like she needs to say, though.  As Mulder starts to walk away, she grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“When we were in the Fun House, I thought I saw Faye Rawlings,” she says.  “In the hall of mirrors.”

“You saw her?”

“I thought I did.  And then when I looked again, she was gone.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I don’t know.  Because I felt scared and foolish and I know my mind was just playing tricks on me.  Because I don’t believe we’re going to find a 12-year old girl out here no matter how hard we look.  And, I don’t think you do either.”

Mulder nods slightly.  “I know it’s implausible, I just…”

“You want to hold on to that hope.”

He swallows and nods again.

“I know you, Mulder.”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yeah, I do.”

On the way out, Mulder gives the rest of his tickets to a little girl on her way in, holding the hand of what appears to be an older brother.

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #angstier than I originally intended #for that I apologize #sorrynotsorry #frangipanidownunder #side note: I am not a tarot expert #nor do I claim to be #if anyone who is thinks I should interpret the reading in the story any differently please let me know

[seek-its-opposite]

this was an ask from @o6666666 but the formatting got messed up! thank you!!

42. “His ego is so visible; I can almost watch it grow.” 44. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” 100. “I adore you.”

hall of mirrors (early season 4)

****

Scully is honest-to-God pacing when Mulder gets to the office, two hot cups of coffee in his hands. Twenty minutes later her coffee is getting cold, and he put cinnamon in it and everything.

“Mulder,” Scully pouts, “I’d really rather you not be here for this.” She hunches over the desk, spinning a card from her Rolodex between two fingers. Her shoulder pads are almost at her ears.

He’s loving this.

“Come on, Scully. Who doesn’t want to be Tom Sawyer at his own funeral?”

She purses her lips when she smiles. “I never saw the appeal.”

“Liar.”

Mulder leans back into the chair across from her and tucks his foot against the front edge of the desk, staring at her over his knee. He waits.

Scully rubs her temple, sighs, and dials.

“Hey,” he says, like the idea just occurred to him, “why don’t you put J. Edgar Junior on speakerphone?”

She, dry as bone, replies, “Absolutely not.”

She opens the file in front of her and sits up straight, raising her chin.

“Special Agent Dana Scully calling for Supervisory Special Agent Marty Neil, please,” she begins. All business.

“No, he’s not expecting my call.”

A pause. Scully drums her nails on the open file.

“Marty, hi!” she exclaims. “It’s Dana Scully.”

The intensity of her charm, the suddenness of it, catches Mulder off guard. It’s like watching a cheetah pounce. He takes his foot off the desk.

“I know, it has been too long. I hear you’ve been doing well for yourself,” she fawns.

That gets Marty talking. Scully plays with the coils in the phone cord while he brags.

“That’s great, Marty,” she says at last. “Congratulations.”

She nods over the phone.

“Yeah, Spooky Mulder, can you believe it?”

She locks eyes with Mulder across the desk.

“Yeah, still.”

Mulder almost chokes to keep from laughing out loud. Scully, finally, cracks a full smile.

“Oh, you have no idea how insufferable he is.”

She shoots him a daring look.

“He doesn’t even need proof. Whenever I can’t disprove that it’s little green men—”

“Grey,” Mulder whispers.

Scully puts her finger to her lips and continues, “His ego is so visible I can almost watch it grow.”

Mulder feigns being shot through the heart.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Scully says. She’s really enjoying herself now. “It’s good to know I’m so needed.”

The face she makes at Mulder reminds him, shamelessly, You asked for this.

“So listen, Marty.” Scully glances back down at the file, going in for the kill. “I hear you’re working the Volkov case in Jersey.”

With her nail she pries up a corner of the file’s label and smooths it back down again.

“That’s fascinating,” Scully vamps.

She looks up at Mulder and sticks out her tongue.

“No, no. But I was hoping you’d be able to help me settle a bet.”

She nods.

“Uh-huh. Mulder believes that all the victims at the carnival were previous abductees.”

This is not true, but he appreciates that she’s keeping his actual theory between them. The victims—three adults and four teenagers—were all found dead of radiation burns in a small-town carnival’s hall of mirrors. What the public doesn’t know is that one man, a Russian national, Ivan Volkov, walked out completely unharmed. Obviously Mulder suspects black oil.

“Right, but without access to all of their names, I have no way to prove him wrong,” she prods. “And I would really love to prove him wrong on this one. If you could get me the file, just between us, you would be doing me such a favor.”

A minute later, Scully looks up at the ceiling and clenches her fist.

“Oh, Marty, you’re a champ. It’s 202-555-0197.”

She scoots the chair closer to the phone.

“Of course,” she says. “I owe you one.”

She looks ready to wrap up the call, but J. Edgar Junior has something else to say. Scully closes her eyes.

“I’ll think about that,” she says tightly. “Have a good day, Marty.”

She hangs up and lets out a long breath.

“What did I say?” Mulder throws his arms open dramatically. “You got the file, didn’t you?”

“He’s faxing it over.”

“I knew you could do it.” His little spy, after all. He stands, spreads his palms out on the desk, and leans forward, closing in on her. “Can you see my ego growing?” he asks, voice low.

“Mulder, shut up.”

“Hey Scully, did you ever think you were gonna marry that guy? Not that I think you should have, but come on: power couple.”

She looks at her empty hands in her lap. And then Scully, surprising them both, starts to cry.

“Oh no,” Mulder softens. “It was a bad joke. I didn’t mean it.”

He fumbles for the Kleenex and shoves the whole box toward her.

“No, I’m okay.” She stands up and retreats to the back of the office, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Mulder pockets a tissue and trails after her. “What did he say?”

She turns to face him. “He offered to put in a good word for me in counterintelligence.”

“And?”

“That I deserve better than you,” Scully whispers.

“Scully,” Mulder says. He wraps his hands around her biceps, holding her firmly. “Scully.”

“Don’t you dare say that I do,” she sniffs.

Mulder grins and brushes the hair from her cheek. “I adore you,” he says. The only words he has left.

Scully, small and split open, reaches out to trace a stripe on his tie. She taps his chest. “Next time I call out your ego I want to mean it,” she tells him, hushed.

He hands her the tissue. “We’ll do it differently next time.”

#god wtf was that formatting #anyway thank you!!!! #txf #msr #my fic #o6666666

[xfilesfanficexchange]

✨Trivia for “Humbug”✨

-  Gillian Anderson's character Scully was supposed to eat a cricket in front of Mulder. After Scully picked it up, the scene was to be stopped so a candy bug could replace the real one. However, before "cut" could be called, Anderson immediately placed the real bug in her mouth and ate it, and it stayed in the final cut. David Duchovny's off-screen gross out can be seen in one of the many "Making of the X-Files" featurettes.

-  The setting, Gibsonton, Florida, is a real town in Florida. It is mainly populated by circus performers, who originally resided there in the circus off-season. This circus performer population is due to its proximity to the Ringling Bros. Circus winter home in Tampa and Sarasota and due to its liberal zoning laws that allowed the storage of such things as elephants and circus trailers on front lawns.

-  Jim Rose and The Enigma are part of an actual circus, The Jim Rose Circus, founded in Seattle by Jim Rose in the early 1990s. They came to prominence as The Jim Rose Circus Sideshow while performing on the second stage at the 1992 Lollapalooza festival .

-  While this episode is set in Florida, it was actually filmed in White Rock, British Columbia, Canada during the winter. The production team removed all the snow from the park to make it look like Florida, and The Enigma actually swam in a river that was freezing cold.

-  In the background of Hepcat Helm's studio, the costume of the "Flukeman" can be seen from The Host.

- Mr. Nutt's dog, Commodore, was the same dog used in Fire, where Cecil threatened to skin the dog alive for digging up the previous caretaker.

-  Unusually for one of the show's writers, Darin Morgan remained on set throughout the filming to help ensure that the comedic tone was observed. Kim Manners welcomed his presence as this was essentially the first "funny" X-Files episode to be made.

-  In between takes, Jim Rose would entertain the cast and crew with his skills in Organ Origami, i.e. twisting his genitalia into odd shapes.

-  The condition that the character Jerald Glazebrook suffered from, harlequin icthyosis, is a real genetic condition. Epidermal skin cells divide so rapidly that the outer-layer skin cells cannot be shed fast enough, thus causing the skin to develop severe diamond-shape cracked scales like that of the Glazebrook character. The disease is almost always fatal within 2-7 days of birth: most infant victims die of starvation due the body's inability to cope with the high nutritional demands of such rapidly dividing skin cells or due to massive systemic infections of the exposed cracks. However, in a dozen cases worldwide, sufferers have managed to survive into adulthood. A topical solution of Retin-A or other retinosteroids usually help. But sufferers must always be careful to avoid infection, because even a simple skin infection can easily be life-threatening. Sufferers must also maintain a strict high-calorie Atkins-like diet rich in lean proteins.

-  First solo writing credit of Darin Morgan for the series.

-  Michael J. Anderson and David Duchovny were both in another paranormal thriller series, Twin Peaks (1990), though they never appeared in the same scene there.

-  In this episode, Michael J. Anderson's character, Mr. Nutt, is offended when Mulder mistakes him for a carnival worker. In Carnivàle (2003), Anderson plays the head of a traveling carnival.

-  Writer Darin Morgan included his usual tribute to Orson Welles: the fun-house mirror scene is based on The Lady from Shanghai (1947).

-  Alex Diakun who appears as The Curator would go on to star in further episodes of The X Files; playing the Tarot Dealer in Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose (season 3), Dr. Fingers in Jose Chung's 'From Outer Space' (season 3), the Manager in Mulder & Scully Meet The Were-Monster (season 10) and as Buddy/Devil in The Lost Art Of Forhead Sweat (season 11). He also starred as Gaunt Man in The X Files: I Want To Believe.

-  The parasitic twin that is the villain of this episode was "played" by a series of puppets which were strapped onto a cast made of Vincent Schiavelli's torso. Schiavelli later joked that he was "never going to work with that guy again".

- No Small Parts: Vincent Schiavelli (2014) (TV Episode):Clips pf "Humbug" are shown.

-  "Humbug" was the first explicitly comedic episode in the series, and Morgan would go on to contribute five more scripts that furthered his comic take on the show.

-  According to critical analysis of the episode, "Humbug" explored themes of "Otherness" and difference.

-  "Humbug" was nominated for an Edgar Award and a Cinema Audio Society Award.

-  "Humbug" was written by Darin Morgan; it was his first script for the series. Earlier in the second season, he appeared in the second episode "The Host" as the Flukeman. He also helped his brother Glen Morgan—already a regular writer on The X-Files—with the script for the following episode, "Blood"

-  Series creator Chris Carter offered Darin Morgan a permanent place on The X-Files writing team, which he reluctantly accepted. Morgan said he was uncomfortable initially, stating "One of the reasons I was uncomfortable joining the staff is that I'm a comedy writer and this isn't a comedy show, so I was trying more or less to have an episode with a little bit of humor, without telling anybody what I was doing."

- David Duchovny later commented, "what I loved about Darin Morgan's scripts was that he seemed to be trying to destroy the show."

#X files #mulder #scully #humbug #season two #2x20 #darin morgan #kim manners #gillian anderson #david duchovny #trivia

[admiralty-xfd]

#45 Hegal Place

There’s never a dull moment when Special Agent Fox Mulder is your neighbor.

written by @admiralty-xfd​ and @scullymakesmefeelautopsyturvy​

CHAPTER ONE- EINSTEIN

November 1993

Mulder watched Ellen Reardon tear the photograph with steady hands and coolly discard eight year old Cindy’s image into the fire. The glossy coating bubbled as the paper twisted and melted amidst the searing flames. To his left, he saw Scully take a deep breath, heard her swallow hard. Neither of them said anything beyond the necessary pleasantries, making their excuses as they awkwardly vacated the Reardon household for the final time.

Scully carefully navigated the steps down from the porch and cut across the lawn with a slow, defeated gait. Mulder headed to the driver side door without discussion.

He broke the silence as they headed towards the airport.

“She seemed awfully quick to dismiss the daughter she loved and raised for eight years, don’t you think?”

Scully dragged her eyes away from the hundred yard stare that had heretofore been aimed out of the passenger window, her elbow neatly tucked onto the door ledge. She turned her face towards him, thoughtfully slow, her pouted lips peeling away from the forefinger that had been pressed against them. She sighed and shrugged.

“Grief can manifest in a lot of different ways, Mulder. She’s still processing everything. She just found out her own child murdered her husband. We don’t know what she’s feeling.”

Mulder nodded regretfully. Scully returned her gaze to the passing view, crooking her finger beneath her nose now. The pout returned. Mulder knew this meant she was mulling something over.

“You ever think about having kids, Mulder?”

This was so unexpected he laughed. Not a loud laugh but an airy, shocked chuff. He did a double take to check whether or not she was serious. She turned to consider him again, her face calm, her eyes steady. She was serious. His cheeks rounded as he attempted to form a response.

“No, I can’t say I have ever thought about it, Scully. To be honest I don’t even know if I could keep a pet alive. I think it helps to pass that test first before you consider being responsible for other humans.”

They drove the rest of the way to the airport without speaking. It didn’t even occur to him to ask if she ever thought about the subject herself.

December, 1993

Mulder surreptitiously watched Scully slide the last of her papers into her briefcase and clip it shut. She lifted her winter coat over her shoulders, letting it hang open over her skirt suit as he busied himself peering at a set of negatives through a loupe.

“You going to be at home in a couple hours Mulder? I wanted to swing by. I, ah, I have a little something for you.”

He looked up from his light box with some surprise.

“A gift? For me?”

“Yeah,” Scully answered, letting out a shallow breath, her eyes darting off to the side, her chin tilting up. She fingered a coat button at her waist.

“A couple hours? Better give me three,” Mulder hedged, thinking of the places that might possibly be open past five p.m. on a Thursday night two days before Christmas, and where he could buy a suitable festive offering for Scully.

Some time later, he’d just finished hastily wrapping the best thing he’d been able to find at such short notice when he heard a soft knock at his apartment door. He tugged it open, still holding the scissors in one hand. Scully stood in the hallway with her arms behind her back and a slightly self-conscious look on her face.

“Come on in,” he motioned to her. “This is all very mysterious.”

Scully quirked a playful eyebrow at him as she stepped inside, crab-walking into the living room with her back turned away from him to keep the contents of her hands concealed.

“I didn’t wrap it,” she said, apologetically. She stood still, hesitating.

“That’s okay, Scully, I’ll let you make it up to me somehow.”

She stared at him for a few seconds then shook her head a little, seeming to remember why she had come. She pulled her right hand out from behind her hip and presented him with an empty glass bowl. He nodded in thanks, but couldn’t conceal the confusion that played across his brow.

“And, ah, this,” she added, producing a clear plastic bag filled with water, clutched in her left fist. In the center of the turgid offering floated a bright orange goldfish; its tail twitching from side to side, its mouth lazily bobbing open and shut. He took it and lifted it up to better catch the light.

“Carnival in town?” he joked, grinning. “How many targets did you have to shoot down to win this for me, Scully? Isn’t it cheating if you have a firearms certificate?”

She smiled back.

“It’s so you can practice keeping something alive. Pass your test before you consider any…. further responsibilities.”

Was she blushing, he wondered? He couldn’t properly tell because she hid her face from his peering gaze almost immediately, looking down as she reached into her overcoat pockets. She lifted out some fish flakes, a bag of brightly colored pebbles, and a slim paperback entitled Practical Fishkeeping: A Beginner’s Guide .

She rested the last of his gifts down on the coffee table and looked up at him with an awkward, tight little smirk. He stood there balancing the fish and the bowl, just holding her gaze and smiling. She blinked and looked down at the empty glass orb, suddenly reaching out to take it back.

“Let me fill this up for you,” she offered, swiftly walking off through the dining room and into the kitchen. He followed.

At the sink, she placed the bowl down and turned on the cold water. She motioned for him to come closer.

“The guy at the pet store said you’re supposed to half fill it with new water, and the other half with the water from the bag. But you should let this get to room temperature first, then float the baggie in it for a while before making the transfer.”

Scully shut off the faucet and lifted the bowl from the sink, the water gently swishing from side to side. She slid it towards the back of the kitchen counter, next to the knife block, and reached out to take the bag from Mulder’s grip, gently placing it where the bowl had just been sitting. She reached up to tear some paper towels off the roll that was suspended under the cupboards, wiping up a few drops that had escaped, then padded the damp sheets together and turned to toss them into the trash can.

Mulder watched this whole domestic performance with quiet awe. The way Scully moved about his kitchen with ease, confidently knowing where things belonged and happy to take charge of them, pleased him greatly. It made him feel more at home than he’d ever felt while alone in his own space.

He realized he was staring at her. Scully took a deep breath and looked away, her eyes skipping past him into the next room, drawn to the lumpy package sitting on the dining table. It was gift-wrapped in cheap, gaudy paper featuring snowmen dancing pas de deux with eerily satanic elves: the only roll they’d had left at the gas station where he’d stopped in desperation.

“Is that for me?” she queried, gently.

“Oh, yeah,” he confirmed, dashing over to pick it up. He held it out for her to take, and she thanked him as she did, tucking it under her arm.

“You’re not going to open it?” he asked.

“It’s not Christmas yet, Mulder,” she said, teasingly. “I’ll take it to my parents’ house and put it under the tree to open Christmas morning.”

“But I opened mine,” he countered. His mind flashed to the image of Scully unwrapping his gift in front of her parents and siblings before Christmas Day Mass. It was a wall mounted key rack topped by a cat figurine with beady little humanoid eyes banded across its face. He'd panic-bought it at the gas station car wash gift shop. Women liked cats, right? He cringed, second-guessing his hasty decision, but it was too late now.

“It’s a fish, Mulder. I couldn’t wrap a fish.”

“Okay,” he relented, regretfully. Scully’s family were going to think he was such an ass.

“Anyway, I should get going,” she said with a sigh. “My sister just told me my little brother announced he’s not coming home for the holidays. She’s working on him but I gotta call my mom and talk her off a ledge just in case.”

He nodded. Began walking her to the door. As he pulled it open for her he reached out two fingers and a thumb, gently tugging at the sleeve of her coat. She hadn’t even taken it off. She looked back at him.

“Thanks for the gift, Scully. It’ll be nice to have some company at home as well as in the office now.”

Scully smiled shyly, stepping into the hallway.

They both looked up at the sound of the elevator doors opening at the other end of the hallway. Three men stepped out and approached the apartment directly opposite Mulder’s.

Number forty-five. It had been unoccupied for weeks.

They made for an odd trio: Mulder’s balding African American building manager in a folksy blue checked shirt, starting up what sounded like sales patter as he fiddled with the lock; a tall, white, clean shaven formal type with a vaguely unnerved expression, a fussy silk tie and nary a hair out of place, and a cherubic Asian American man whose only facial definition was provided by a thin line of beard along his jawline, dressed down in a chunky woollen sweater and cargo pants. The latter two waited patiently as the key proved sticky and awkward to turn, the super rattling the handle with some frustration. They turned their faces in languid unison to return Mulder and Scully’s curious gazes.

The taller man nodded upwards briefly in greeting, his silvered coif catching the light from the overhead bulbs. First Mulder, then Scully, returned the gesture with polite smiles and nods of their own, and the shorter man grinned, the rounded apples of his cheeks shining as he tilted his head downwards, looking directly at Mulder for a few seconds through notably long eyelashes.

The super got the door open, disappearing inside as he announced that the unit was available immediately, but fussy tie and chunky sweater lingered for a moment in the hallway, their eyes roaming over the length of Scully. Or Mulder. Or perhaps both. After a few seconds, the taller man, the one with the greying hair, softly reached for the elbow of his companion, looping his arm around the crook of it and tugging him through the open door, leading the way.

Just before he vanished from sight, the younger man lifted his hand and fluttered his fingers in their direction, mouthing but not verbalizing a quick, flirtatious “’bye.”

Mulder and Scully looked at one another in amused bewilderment. Scully raised her eyebrows and tilted her chin.

“New neighbors, huh?” Her eyes sparkled momentarily.

Mulder nodded, commenting, “Guess so,” while emitting a breathy chuckle.

They moved on.

She shoved her hands deep into her pockets, her left elbow squeezing her present against her ribs. “Okay, well, you should avoid feeding the fish for the first twenty-four hours while it settles in. And keep the lights dim.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” he grinned.

Scully looked at him a bit playfully. “So… are you gonna give it a name?”

The thought hadn’t crossed his mind. He felt a bit put on the spot. “Well, I don’t know Scully,” he hedged. “I’ll have to give it some consideration. Naming is a very important part of the pet keeping process.”

Scully’s eyes danced with the matching grin she was only half suppressing. After a beat, she spoke. “You can do it, Mulder, I believe in you.”

He bowed his head in gratitude, his hand gliding down the edge of the door.

Scully allowed herself to give him a satisfied smile, then turned on one heel and swept down the hall. At the elevator, she pushed the button before turning back.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder,” she offered, with a shy smile.

“Merry Christmas, Scully,” he said in a low voice, leaning into the doorframe.

Well past midnight, Mulder reached the final page of the fishkeeping manual and closed the book. He reached over and placed it on the coffee table, turning onto his side ready for sleep. He lifted his head one last time, watching the little orange molly now happily exploring the confines of its bowl on top of the chest of drawers in the apartment entryway.

“Hey, Einstein,” he murmured into the gloom. “What do you say we get you a partner?”

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