#scully's recovery'

[randomfoggytiger]

I have an idea!! We all love it when Scully borrows(/steals) Mulder’s clothes in fic, but what about Mulder borrowing(/stealing) Scully’s clothes?

Mulder had been a good boy, restlessly applying himself to complete recovery after waking with the scars of smoked-out beetles in his throat. A little over ten days in the hospital-- a record, barring their previous quarantines-- a little under one for the flight home, a little over two to sleep off the return trip, and (he'd assumed) a few more days, a few more meds, a few more teasing touches and everything would be business as usual.

Today had not been a good day.

He'd woken coughing up an ecosystem, lungs burning and head throbbing with each heaving inhalation. Scully had insisted he stay in bed, repositioning him away from the puddle of sweat pooling under his back and mopping away the gunk he spat into his hand. She'd pulled them both back from the vivid recollection of that hand spattered with blood two weeks ago: "Excess mucous production, Mulder-- the membranes in your respiratory tract are irritated. You'll be fine." And she'd willed it so, handing him the full dosage they'd tapered off yesterday and only leaving because he'd insisted she head in to work.

Three hours in, Mulder found his second wind through sheer desperation.

Scooting and sliding his way to the bathroom, the stink of sweat and acidic saliva oozed from every pore of his skin, collected in every fiber of his clothing. His clothes hit the tile with a half-damp plop; and he gripped the sink with one hand while splashing messy water rivulets down his face and back with the other. Too exhausted to pat himself dry, Mulder monkey-branched from the wall to the doorknob, bracing himself for the incoming change in temperature. His cough predictably hacked in rebellion-- not as violently as it had for reveille, but enough to halt his forward progress in fits and stops.

He refused to go back to the swamp bed, shivering towards the closet for something quick to throw on. Clutching the hangers feebly for balance, Mulder darted from shirt to shirt, wondering if he'd rather freeze than attempt to stretch one over his head.

Hello. That was new.

There was a giant men's coat tucked away in the far-left corner where he knew that Scully knew he knew coats no longer belonged. He scowled-- shivering, sweating, trembling body forgotten-- and made a grab for it, twisting the cuffs around to look for a stitched identification or insignia. There were none.

On closer inspection, it wasn't a giant men's coat, after all: it was a giant, fluffy men's robe.

Hungrily pulling it off the rack, Mulder wrapped himself up in a slice of heaven and resumed his shuffle to the couch. It defied all known laws of nature, leeching the sickness from his body, the aches from his muscles, the pounding from his head. He decided not to question it.

Mulder propped up against his favored arm rest, wiggling his toes until sleep began to fuzzily descend. Before the tide pulled him completely away, Scully's key clicked and turned the lock. Earlier than her usual lunch hour.

"Mulder...?" floated softly into the room; and, at peace, he dreamed.

*****

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic

#txf #fic #prompts #writing #mine #dating timeline #Mulder stealing Scully's clothes #in this case: her secret man's robe #S7 #Brand X #did you not complete recovery from that level of damage-- lungs/chest/etc.-- is only possible if the patient is incredibly healthy? #I mean ridiculously healthy #hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm #brain disease go away #try your shenanigans another day #xfiles #x-files #the x files #xf fanfic #randomfoggytiger's fic

[figureofdismay]

G-d it's really 3 different times that mulder has almost certainly had to launch protracted 'getting scully to eat' campaigns, after her abduction when she was 'maintained' who knows how for 3 months and had to get back on her feet, with the cancer and treatments and recovery 2 years later and again with the gut shot 2 years after that. How many times do you think he sat by her bed and tried to distract her while she struggled through a protein drink? Did the 'oh I just accidentally made too many sandwiches or pieces of toast or they put in extra fries or "free" dumplings maybe you'll take these off my hands' or planted them in a diner until she ate some soup and crackers or a plate of scrambled eggs or a milkshake while trying not to seem to insist too much, ie enough to trigger an "I'm fine" and a stalking off. No wonder he's hung up on the non-fat yogurt cups and salads with a teaspoon of dressing after multiple times of joining in to will her back from half starvation in order to get her strong enough to recover from near death experiences. Like, we have done this when it was unavoidable due to miserable circumstances, why are you doing it yourself on purpose?? 😥

Though perhaps that's a reason for her, the familiarity of completely utilitarian food that's always 'safe.'

#txf #msr #tw disordered eating #character theory: scully #i have both sensory issues with food and history with an eating disorder so it's an aspect that stands out for me #but it's interesting #and I would love to see more of mulder being there for her and trying to help manage her sub clinical medically induced food issues #like I do appreciate seeing it show up in fics but I mostly see the dramatic signs of failing health version #instead of them dealing with the background noise of the long slow slog of recovery #the oh g-d i just don't want to I'm tired of dealing with food again mulder/cmon just take half my sandwich you can't live on peanut m&ms #of it all #i bet he's also good at the hey let's sit up and watch this movie together (with snacks)(the distraction makes digesting easier) maneuver #because eating and sleeping are both easier when they aren't on purpose for some reason #and he would very much know that

[the-spooky-alien]

For whatever reasons, I was thinking about how Scully's cancer affected her post-remission. About how tasting blood must make her gag now that she knows what it's like to live with it constantly. About how she must be terrified of learning she's sick again. About how, in the weeks following her remission, she stares at her face in the mirror and wonders when it will hit her again. She can't even cling to science because she doesn't know why she's not dead. She doesn't know what let her live.

Does Mulder stare at her when she falters slightly, when she's tired, when she's pale, with a pit of dread swallowing him whole ? Does Scully's hands shake when her nose bleeds again ? Does she have to chase away a wave of panic when she feels dizzy or when she has a headache ?

She's been so close to death. And it's not like being threatened with a gun or a bomb or whatever she's been threatened with in the past. The cancer was slow but steadfast, taking over her body without her noticing at first. The moment she learned of her diagnosis, she understood she was going to die. She's been facing death for months.

How can you come back from this unscathed ? How can you learn to live again when you've been convinced you were going to die ?

#txf #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #i'm tagging this as msr because you cannot convince me Mulder wasn't here for every steps towards her recovery #Scully needs a hug and oh boy is Mulder ready to give her one #the cancer arc is making me emotional again #incoherent rambling

[sunflowernyx]

I keep having thoughts about Scully's immortality, because it's always sort of brought up as an afterthought. It's just an observation from Bruckman here, or Mulder mentioning the doctors were astonished at her recovery rate, or Scully herself joking about it in s10, but... 2's a coincidence and 3's a pattern, and Carter is well.. Carter so....

What if Scully's immortality plays in with Mulder's reincarnation?

Mulder is cursed to reincarnate until he gets it right, and Scully is now able to be there until he does.

But more than that...

Mulder suggests that "death finds you when you look for its opposite".

And I don't think that is about life. Because the character that was cursed with immortality was cursed because he turned his face away from the sufferings of others, from a person who cared for him when he was in pain. He rejected her pain and her death, callously, heartlessly, and so death cursed him.

And the moment he wanted to save someone, Scully; the moment he cared enough to not wish death upon them, and looked straight at her as she was shot, wished for her to have his gift, not so he could die, but so she would survive, death transferred the curse to Scully.

Even in mythology (and I think we can assume that Carter knows his mythology by now), the opposite of death isn't life. It's love.

The opposite to Thanatos is Eros

So if Mulder has to get it right to lose his reincarnation curse, and Scully has to look for [love] to die, then their solution would be each other. What they would've been searching for always would've been each other. The truth would be their love for each other.

So maybe together they'd be able to clasp hands and cross that final boundary of reason, and I think that is beautiful in a way that is also deeply tragic.

#txf #the x files #meta? #meta #I promised myself I wouldn't do this but on the other hand I couldn't find anyone else to reblog something similar from so here we are #msr #fox mulder #dana scully

[is-on-its-way]

Bathtub

Post-Fight the Future

A moment in Scully's recovery from Antarctica after being released from a Buenos Aires hospital.

Inspired by this insane "blooper" video. and a tweet asking for a fic about said moment.

There was a soft knock at the door and Mulder said “Scully?” through it. 

“Come in Mulder” she called. 

There was a pause and she yelled out again with a smile “Im not indecent”. She was covered in bubbles after all, he wouldn’t be able to see anything below her shoulders.

He opened the door and slid his face through it apprehensively but when he saw she was covered completely, he relaxed and moved halfway across the frame.

She smiled up at him as she swallowed a retort of “Nothing you haven't seen before”, not wanting to make him needlessly uncomfortable. He had seemed like he’d been held together by a fine thread, under constant threat of loosing what little composure he’d been keeping together for her since she had woken up in the hospital in Buenos Aires. 

They had been in an airy third floor walk up on a street full of colourful buildings, with bare trees lining the cobble stones, since she’d been released from the hospital a couple of days ago. She’d been throughly enjoying wandering around Palermo with him, looking at the old architecture that rivalled DC, listening to live music in the evenings, sitting at a corner cafe sipping wonderful warm coffee, not thinking about work for what felt like the first time in a long while. 

He hadn’t mentioned anything about what had happened yet, letting her take the lead, but she could tell he was itching to. He had so much on his mind and she would have to get the full accounting eventually. But here in this cozy old stone building, in a bathtub from at least 1920, with a weathered door that wouldn’t lock, she felt like she was in a different lifetime. A sanctuary away from the x files and what they would have to return to in Washington in two days. 

“Hey” he said eyes lingering on her face, no chance of impropriety there. She loved him for it.

“Skinner called, he’s glad you’re out of the hospital and he said to call as soon as you can, so…”

“No dilly dallying?”

He smiled at the term and said “Right, I don’t think we should keep him waiting he’s uh… well, annoyed would be a generous interpretation”

She laughed, “Okay, Ill be out in a minute.”

He turned out of the door then back to her “I was going to order some late breakfast, what do you want?”

“You can order in Spanish over the phone?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Well…” He shrugged throwing his hands out. The bottle cap he’d been playing with slipped from his fingers, hit the water, and sank with a tink to the bottom of the tub. 

“Sorry” he said quickly, passing all the way through the threshold and stooping down over the tub. Before she could think to move, he slipped his arm between her legs and was fishing on the bottom of the tub for it. She swallowed the gasp in her throat as his arm brushed her inner thigh and her back straightened imperceptibly in response.

She followed his arm down with her eyes and shifted her legs open so he could reach it, where she could feel it had fallen, under her leg. She looked up at his face, lips parted, in surprise. He seemed truly concentrated on finding the thing. Was he just so comfortable with her now, almost kissing her in hallways, and carrying her half naked across the arctic that this was just what their partnership had evolved into? She wondered what he would do next, imagined what he would do next, hoped at what he would do next. 

“Got it” he said and looked up at her, his hand dripping over the water. Their eyes met and she swallowed as she saw him register the desire she had been too slow to hide. She could see the moment flicker behind his eyes as he realised what he had done. His cheeks burned red as he leaned back, closing his hand around it in a tight fist. “Im sorry Scully, I don’t know what I was thinking doing that.”

She shook her head, setting her face in a casual expression, and ran her tongue over her dry lips. “Thats okay Mulder.” 

They both waited for the other to speak and when neither did, she decided to end his agony. Her mouth spread in a wide smile and then she was giggling. He looked at her and chanced a smile. 

“Mulder” she said sweetly. The water sloshed as she put her hands up in front of her, resting her fingers on the hollow between her clavicles, covering her breasts. She leaned onto the side of the tub, closing the distance he'd put between them. She looked up into his face. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before anyway.” She said it as a comfort, not in jest.

Mulder’s face was flushed but he smiled at her with such gentle affection, she could’ve stood up and thrown her arms around him in a sudsy wet hug. 

Instead she said “Can we go out to that cafe again? I think I need to get the blood flowing with a walk.” Not that that wasn’t already happening right now, but she wanted to be outside, she’d felt slightly suffocated being inside since Antarctica.

“Of course, anything you want, Scully” He said in that stoic tone she loved, as he stood and made his way out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

End. 

@today-in-fic

#msr fanfic #msr #x files #mulder and scully #mulder x scully #dana scully #fox mulder #every loop of that video I go a little bit more insane

[unremarkablehouse]

Never forget, while Mulder might have missed the implications of Scully showing up to his hotel room with wine and cheese, the very next episode he asked her to dance. It’s all about the recovery for those of us who may take a little longer to pick up on social cues…

#the x files #txf #fox mulder #dana scully #msr #post modern prometheus #txf meta #life lessons from Mulder

[thatfragilecapricorn30]

laughing gas

msr, gen, humor | 1k words | ao3 | tagging @today-in-fic

Scully was in the office, catching up on some paperwork while Mulder was at the dentist. He had asked her yesterday, sheepishly, if she could drive him home after his root canal. It was so like Mulder to ask her last minute, but since it was during the workday, she didn’t have any other plans. Scully timed it so she would arrive at the dentist around the time Mulder finished up and was in recovery. He told her he was getting nitrous oxide and might be a little loopy after the procedure.

After she checked in with the receptionist, a cheerful nurse escorted her to Mulder. “Your husband’s been asking for you,” the nurse commented over her shoulder as she led Scully down the hallway.

Scully opened her mouth to correct the nurse, but then thought better of it. Most of the time, her protestations fell on deaf ears. When her and Mulder first started working together, those comments were weird, but now when someone mistook them for a couple, Scully got a little thrill, which usually turned to disappointment pretty quickly. It was what she wanted but knew she couldn’t have, so she just ignored the comments.

Mulder was in the recovery room, reclined in a leather chair, with a dazed look on his face. When he spotted Scully, he gave her a big smile. Well, as big of a smile as he could manage with a mouth full of gauze. Despite herself, Scully could feel her heart skip a beat. She knew it was the drugs, but seeing how happy Mulder looked when she walked in filled her with warmth.

“Scully!” he exclaimed; her name slightly garbled.

She made her way to his side and sat down in the small chair next to him.

“You made it!” he mumbled.

“Well, I said I would be here. It’s time to go home soon," Scully said slowly, like she was speaking to a child.

He stared deep into her eyes, his gaze a thousand yards. “You’re so pretty. You’re the prettiest princess in the castle.”

Scully wrinkled her nose. “Princess, Mulder?” She wasn’t even into princesses as a little girl and certainly not now as an adult.

Mulder appeared deep in thought and then exclaimed, “The most beautiful president America has ever elected!”

Scully had to hold back a laugh. “Yes, that’s better, Mulder, thank you.”

He kept going, “The smartest Supreme Court justice on the bench!”

This time Scully had to turn away so she could hide her laugh as a cough. She patted his shoulder, “Okay, Mulder, that’s enough for today.”

Luckily, at that moment the nurse came in with a wheelchair to take Mulder out to the car. He insisted on holding Scully’s hand during the trip through the hallway. The nurse smiled at them, still thinking they were a married couple.

“I can tell he really loves you,” she said.

Scully’s mouth dropped open, while the nurse kept going, “Some people aren’t that nice when their inhibitions are lowered. But your husband couldn’t stop talking about you and complimenting you. You're a lucky lady," she said with a wink.

A wave of affection swept through Scully. She looked down at Mulder, who seemed ready to fall asleep, and squeezed his hand. Even though his eyes were mostly closed, he still smiled and squeezed her hand back. Oh boy, was Scully in trouble now. She had been in love with him for some time now but seeing him act so sweet and happy towards her was making all her buried feelings rush to the surface in an overwhelming swarm of emotion.

Scully drove Mulder to his apartment and decided to wait around for the nitrous oxide to wear off. Who knew what kind of hijinks he would get up to without her supervision? Plus, she wanted to spend time with him and try to figure him out. In the span of a few minutes, Mulder called her smart and beautiful and whatever else he said to the nurse. Did he really think those things? Could he have feelings for her? She hoped so, because each day it was becoming harder and harder for her to hide her own feelings.

Scully let Mulder doze on his couch for a few hours, while she puttered around his place. When he finally started stirring, she brought him over a glass of water and ibuprofen since the dentist said he might experience some pain after the procedure. Mulder woke up fully and smiled at her, the same way he did earlier that day.

“How are you feeling?” Scully asked.

“Kinda tired,” he answered. “And my mouth hurts a little.”

“There’s some ibuprofen for you,” Scully pointed out and Mulder took the tablets and drank half the glass of water.

“So, I didn't say anything embarrassing earlier, did I?” Mulder asked, setting the cup back on the coffee table.

“Not really,” Scully answered, trying to hide a smile.

Mulder looked skeptical, a rare expression for him. “‘Not really’? What did I say?”

“Just that you thought I should be president. And a Supreme Court justice,” she said with a chuckle.

“Oh, is that all?” Mulder snorted, laying back on the couch. “I think just one of those jobs is more than enough. Not that I don't think you're capable, Scully.”

After a minute, he looked over at her to confirm: “So, nothing else?”

Scully decided to take a chance and said, “Well, you told the nurse that you loved me.”

Mulder shot up like a bullet. “What?!”

Scully doubled over laughing, not trying to hide it this time. “Relax, Mulder. I know it was the drugs.”

He still looked nervous. After a pause, he asked, “What if it wasn’t?’

Scully abruptly stopped laughing. “Wasn’t what?” she asked.

“Wasn’t the drugs,” Mulder responded, finally making eye contact.

“Are you being serious?”

“Well, it shouldn't be that suprising. it’s not the first time I’ve told you that,” he said.

“Yes, but you had a head injury that time,” Scully insisted. "And this time you were under the influence of nitrous oxide."

“It doesn’t mean it’s not true. And it’s a lot more than I’ve gotten from you,” Mulder pointed out. “You’ve never said anything, so I wasn’t sure…” he trailed off, looking apprehensive about what she was going to say.

Mulder was right. It wasn’t fair that she was so good at hiding her feelings that he was afraid to take a risk and tell her how he felt. Though, she thought that she had given him plenty of hints along the way. Scully got up to sit next to Mulder on the couch.

“You’re right,” she said. “I’m not good with words… and expressing things. I’m better at showing them.” Scully turned to Mulder, ready to kiss him and hoping that would convey her feelings.

As soon as she got close, Mulder leapt back. Scully was a little annoyed at the rejection.

“My mouth,” Mulder said, bringing his hand up to cover his face. “I don’t think this is a good time for a first kiss.”

Scully shook her head and laughed. Naturally, they had terrible timing. “Rain check?” she asked, starting to stand up from the couch.

Mulder tugged her back down next to him. “Where are you going? Just because we can’t kiss doesn’t mean there aren’t other things we can do.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Mulder!” she exclaimed, surprised at his forwardness.

He started cracking up at her outrage. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he insisted. “Unless…?”

She shoved him playfully and stood up. “I’m going home. We’ll talk once your mouth is healed,” she said with a smirk.

Mulder flopped back dramatically on the couch. “I don’t think I can wait that long.”

And he didn't have to - she came back later that night.

#my.txf #txf fic #the x-files #txf #the x files #msr

[sixhours]

Morning Sickness

Rating: Teen Word count: 1.2k

Notes: Post-ep for season 11. That “season finale” inspired me to try to make sense of the nonsense, and maybe give Mulder and Scully a chance to start to deal with the shit they’ve been dragged through.

Originally posted to AO3, Mar. 26 2018

It's dawn when Mulder shifts the car into park. A drizzle mists the windshield, muddying the house’s looming form, the dim glow of the porch light their only welcome. Next to him, Scully sleeps deeply, his jacket tucked into the crook of her neck.

He reaches across the console to touch her cheek. "We're home."

She stirs, blinking, before fumbling at the door handle in a rush. She's out of the car before he can offer to help, making her way to the house. He watches with concern as she pauses at the foot of the steps, leaning on the porch railing for a moment as if to catch her breath, before disappearing around the side of the house. He winces when he hears retching.

Skinner was going to make it, they said; a lumbar spinal fracture and two broken legs meant he had a long recovery ahead, but he was alive.

Reyes hadn't been so lucky. Mulder found her slumped in the driver's seat of Spender's car, blood pooling in the corner of her eye. Scully had moaned softly behind him, turned, vomited bile onto the pavement.

It wasn't until later that he remembered; Reyes had delivered William, had held him as he'd taken his first breath.

Mulder shudders, stumbling forward to check on Scully, finds her crouched over the overgrown garden. There's a lone rhubarb stalk struggling to greet the day, leaves beaded with rain, a survivor among the bittercress and chickweed.

"You OK?" he asks, feeling helpless.

"I need to eat," she murmurs, standing. "The nausea is worse if I don't."

He reaches for her hand, takes it, guides them inside. She shrugs off her coat, then ducks into the bathroom and closes the door.

Mulder stands in the kitchen, unsure where to begin. It had felt good -- too good -- to put aside reason, to put his finger on the trigger, aim, and let the bullets do the rest. He thinks of gunpowder residue and blood spatter, pushes up his sleeves and scrubs his hands until they're raw.

When that's done, he opens the fridge. She needs to eat. Bread, lettuce, turkey; this, he can manage. As he works, he doesn't think about the water lapping at the dock, doesn't think about watching himself fall backwards, doesn't think about the bullet lodged between his son's eyes.

He cuts the sandwich in half and sets it on the table with a glass of milk. She doesn't like milk, but it's good for the baby, right?

The baby. Christ.

He sinks into a chair as the weight of the day hits him. When she comes out, bathrobe cinched around her waist, he's staring at the table with his head propped in his hands.

"Thank you," she murmurs, sitting down, picking up half the sandwich and taking a small bite. Her expression is distant and closed, the dark circles under her eyes betraying her exhaustion. It's a long time before she speaks again, and when she does, her voice is almost inaudible.

"I had a...a vision," she murmurs, sipping her milk. "I saw William."

Mulder's pulse throbs, a glimmer of hope expanding in his chest. "You...he's alive? You're sure?"

She nods, avoiding his eyes. Bite, chew, swallow, sip. Repeat.

"How...?" he leans forward.

"I don't know," she sighs.

"If it's true, there's still a chance we could find him," Mulder says, thinking aloud. "We could--"

"Mulder, stop. Not now, I can't..." She trails off, ducking her chin, and he thinks of the warmth of her stomach against his blood-flecked palm. "He can't be another quest. You have to let him go."

Mulder swallows. "But...he's alive."

She nods, pushing the plate back. "He's weak, but he's safe. For now."

"Then he'll find us," he says, more to himself than to her. "Someday. When he's ready."

She presses her lips together. When she answers, her voice is hollow. "I'm going to bed."

"Scully..."

But she's already on her feet, moving toward the stairs. He watches her go, feeling lost, unmoored.

He's alive.

Mulder wraps the untouched half of the sandwich and puts it in the fridge, pours the leftover milk in the sink.

He finds her in the upstairs bathroom, staring into the mirror, her reflection haunted and pale. Steaming water runs into the basin, unnoticed.

"Scully?"

She startles, meeting his eyes before reaching for a cloth, but doesn't answer.

"Talk to me, Scully," he says, wishing for a church, for the ease they found over a prayer candle.

"Everything," she frowns, rubbing at her face with the cloth until the freckles across her nose burn pink. "Everything I tried to prevent for him, everything -- it came true."

She dabs lotion on her chin, under her eyes, punctuating each word with angry, jerky movements. "I lived with the guilt of his adoption, but there's nothing I could have done," she says, turning and striding past him to stuff the cloth into the hamper. "I never had a choice."

"Scully--"

"They used me, Mulder," she whirls on him, voice rising. "They used my body to make monsters. And I loved them, and they were taken from me. How can I bring another child into the world with that on my conscience? What hope do I have of keeping them safe, when everything that's come before has been ripped from my hands?"

She breaks off, her breath ragged, swiping at the corners of her eyes.

"What they did to you is unforgivable," he says, approaching her. "But this...this is different. You have a choice."

"I can't do it again," she breathes, eyes pressed shut. "Damnit, Mulder. It's not fair."

"No. No, it's not. But you don't have to do it alone," he whispers, taking her face in his palms, searching her eyes. "Do you want this, Scully?"

"I do," she says, her voice cracking as the tears pool in the whorls of his thumbs. "I do, so much. But I wish I didn't."

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. "So we'll make it work."

He imagines he can feel her eye-roll against his chest, but she softens. "Just like that, huh?"

"Just like that. I'll trade in the Mustang for a minivan, we'll get a Baby Björn--"

She sniffs. "What the fuck is a Baby Björn?"

"I have no idea," he admits, chuckling. "But if the number of missed calls on my phone from Kersh is any indication, we'll have a lot of free time to figure that out."

"I'm fifty-four, Mulder," she sighs, her voice small.

"And your breasts will be the envy of every grandma at the AARP."

She barks a laugh into his chest, fists gripping the fabric of his shirt as her laughter dissolves into a sob. He nuzzles the hair at her temple, kisses it, sways with her until the storm passes.

"What can I do?" he murmurs when her breathing has calmed.

"Just...hold me."

"That's what got us into this mess," he says, nudging her cheek with his nose, eliciting a tired smile. He pulls back the covers and follows her into bed, pulling her back against his chest. His fingers trace the line of her hip.

Tentatively his hand slides forward to her abdomen, barely touching, asking permission. She places her palm over his in answer, pressing down, guiding him to the spot just above her pubic bone where a gentle swell has already formed. He swallows hard, overcome with love and sadness and fatigue.

"I don't have it in me to hope for this, Mulder," she murmurs, her voice rough.

He kisses her cheek, whispering a prayer to the nape of her neck. "Sleep. I'll find enough hope for the both of us."

#the x-files #fanfic #season 11 #fox mulder #dana scully #fox mulder x dana scully #post-episode

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

A Roundup of the Kate Conspiracy Theories from Twitter

So you don't have to go down the rabbit hole. Some of them are dark; I'll put those at the end below the cut so anyone who wants to scroll away can scroll away.

(My favorites in bold)

She had a BBL (Brazilian Butt Lift).

She's Banksy.

Botched cosmetic procedure, needed urgent fixing.

William cheated with Rose again and she left him, taking the kids with her.

Hysterectomy + tummy tuck = botched.

Bad haircut/dye job.

Kept a pregnancy secret, delivered by c-section.

Diana's revenge

William lost his temper and beat her so badly that they're keeping her hidden till the bruises/broken bones are healed.

William kicked her out because he doesn't want her to be Queen.

Divorce of the Wales Part Two because William cheated

Bottom surgery

Kate grew a conscience so they had to kill her and are now replacing her brain with AI.

Shelly Miscavige'd

She abandoned and fled to a tropical beach.

She quit the royal family and is touring Britain in a converted transit van, selling dreamcatchers made from her own hair on Etsy to make ends meet.

Kate donated a kidney to Charles in return for becoming Queen soon.

Boob job

She went through a cosmic wormhole and left the Milky Way Galaxy.

Female 007

She's the one with cancer, Charles is faking it so everyone leaves her alone.

Took the kids and moved to Scotland

Growing out bad bangs

Meghan's karmic revenge

They're building a robot clone of her so she doesn't have to work anymore.

Trying to reach the end of YouTube shorts

Coma from botched surgery

The press knows but are under a gag order/injunction and can't report

She was never in the hospital.

William threw something at her, it hit her in the face, needs corrective surgery

Complications from pregnancy and on bed rest

Cholecystectomy/gall bladder surgery

Spontaneously combusted

Tragic accident a la Diana, better cover-up this time.

Charles actually died, it's just an actor walking around until the Waleses are ready to take the throne officially.

Botched BBL using her own stomach fat.

Rehab for alcoholism

Being reprogrammed to accept mistresses

She's playing Celebrity Big Brother

IVF transfer and first trimester HG recovery

Banished/handled by Camilla

Facelift

Bad botox/filler, waiting for it to dissolve

Put out to pasture by the royal family because she's finished having children.

Abducted by aliens

William didn't want to start his reign married to someone he hated, so he left her and is forcing a divorce.

She ran away to Italy

Argument over where George would go to school, William made it physical, she tried to leave

She's in the Princess Protection Program

At Chili's chugging margaritas

Binged too much at Christmas, now trying to lose weight

She wandered off during the Glasgow Willy Wonka Experience and is stuck to the ceiling after drinking the fizzy lifting drink and they can't get her down.

Smuggled to America

Mental breakdown from William's cheating

Inpatient treatment for eating disorder

Complicated miscarriage

CPTSD breakdown (complex post-traumatic stress)

All the people that Twitter suggested we need to call to investigate Kate's whereabouts:

Sherlock Holmes (Benedict Cumberbatch edition)

Scully and Mulder (X Files)

Captain Olivia Benson (L&O:SVU)

Charlie from It's Always Sunny

Nanny Jo Frost

Steve and Blue (Blue's Clues)

Sergent Catherine Cawood (Happy Valley)

Rustin Chole (Matthew McConaughey from True Detective)

Harriet the Spy

Luther (Idris Elba edition)

Trevor Rainbolt

Jaz Singh (British Traitors edition)

One final reminder: The really dark theories about Kate are below the cut here.

William went into a drunk alcoholic rage and killed her.

Staph infection/sepsis from the trampoline injury that caused paralysis/amputation

Family annihilation by William

Severely injured in shooting accident at Sandringham shortly after Christmas when an ambulance was rushed to hospital from the royal estate.

Suicide attempt and mental health treatment

William beat her into a coma

#brf #theories #waleses

[actual-changeling]

one thing i really really like about txf is that they aren't afraid to kill off characters.

in most shows, melissa would make a miraculous recovery, mulder probably wouldn't lose both his parents, and there are all the episode-specific characters that are killed simply because

a) it fits right into the plot

b) they can and

c) it adds a layer of realism to it.

if you never kill any of the characters—even minor side characters/npcs—then at some point, the dangers will feel less dangerous, less real, because you know everyone will be fine anyway. but not here.

the stakes ARE real and we are shown and told so over and over again.

scully loses her dad, melissa gets killed in her apartment, mulder's dad is killed, mulder's mom kills herself, there is no miraculous, perfect return of samantha, scully gets cancer, OTHER (returning) characters get sick and die, and the list goes on.

nowadays, way too many people are incapable of consuming anything that isn't 99% "everything will be fine" because processing complex emotions requires complex thinking, and boy are people refusing to develop that skill.

ironic to say, but txf is refreshing in regards to that AND has better representation that most shows and movies being created in recent years. do you know how fucking rare it is to have disabled characters that simply exist? whose disability is right there, it's real, they're not somehow hiding it or trying to make it less obvious.

they are like any other characters, and unless it is in some way relevant to the plot, it's usually not even brought up or mentioned. no misery or inspiration porn, no weird "you're not disabled, you're [insert term that's fucking horrible]", nothing.

even with episodes like gender bender, there is no transphobia, no caricatures, it's treated like any other case with any other people.

you'd expect a lot of ableism in a show about the paranormal since "crazy mentally ill person is a danger to everyone" is a popular trope (disappointing but not surprising), yet as someone who has highly stigmatized disorders—not just in general, specifically in the medical field too—I don't think I have ever felt uncomfortable with any of the cases.

people look back on older shows and start criticizing the language but not only were the terms and concepts named differently and have evolved, i'd rather have a show use "bad" or incorrect language but have genuine, caring representation than someone using all the buzzwords and thinking that makes whatever they do not offensive.

(side note: language moves fast, especially in psychiatry but also in other scientific circles, and the same applies to what i'll loosely call 'community language'. as long as there's good intent and an open ear, i couldn't give less of a fuck if they say transgender, transsexual, or transvestite)

i'm rewatching 'the field where i died' and this episode has one of the best, most accurate portrayals of DID i've seen in probably. ever. is it played up a bit? yeah sure, but it doesn't feel mocking or otherwise disrespectful and it refuses to play into any existing stereotypes.

this post got away from me, but bottom line is that this show is genuinely good in a way few shows are.

#alex watches x files #txf #the x files #x files #msr #txf meta #x files meta

[jodithann827]

He Said What?!?

Rated: General / Posted on Ao3 / @today-in-fic

Summary: What would happen if he heard something he wasn’t supposed to?

Huntsville, Alabama

December 18th, 1998

Motel 6

The slow and steady hum of the radiator vibrates across the cramped confines of the not quite dingy, but not quite pristine motel room. The sun, having set hours before and taking what little warmth the day offered with it, left the room dark, save for the two beside lights and the standard desk lamp which emits a soft glow. The sound of water gargling flows through the closed bathroom door while Assistant Director Walter Skinner sits on one bed, waiting to wash the stink of the day off. Shaking his head slowly, he thinks back to the previous morning. His commute had been a breeze, his secretary was finally back after a detestable stomach flu had held her captive the week before, the Director of the Bureau was in a relatively good mood, and all of the agents under his watch were performing as needed. Yes, it had been the perfect start to the day. Perfect until Fox Mulder barreled into his office (he really needs to put a stop to that) spouting off about alien abductions and mysterious disappearances. The day went so well until 9:48. Why he entertained Mulder’s crazy ideas is beyond his comprehension. Well, that’s not entirely true. As strange as Muder is, Skinner genuinely likes him—not that he would ever divulge that tidbit of information—and, crazy or not, Mulder has proven himself to be an exceptional agent.

As Mulder spouted and Skinner listened, removing his glasses ever so slowly and rubbing his temples at the thought of the impending headache, he thought back to the previous weeks. Weeks in which Mulder killed a man and faked his death, only to reemerge and blow one giant metaphorical hole right in the center of a government conspiracy. That’s not to mention the almost-death and then amazing recovery of Agent Scully, which Skinner still isn’t sure he understands. He’s just thankful that Agent Scully is at home recovering, and will be ready to get back to work in a matter of weeks. Unfortunately, he knew he wouldn’t have the same luck taming the beast that is Fox Mulder as Scully would.

When Mulder finally got to the point and asked Skinner to sign off on the 302, Skinner could hear Scully in the back of his head. Don’t let him go, Sir. He shouldn’t go alone, Skinner. You know what’s going to happen if I’m not there. He found himself nodding at her words, though Mulder mistook his nodding as permission granted. He profusely thanked him and, with the look of a kid on Christmas morning, mentioned something about booking the first flight out and going home to pack before Skinner realized what had transpired. So, out of respect for Agent Scully and a concern for Agent Mulder, that’s what brought him to Huntsville; a crazy X-file with an even crazier agent. Of course, Mulder’d booked the trip so quickly that the only vacant motel in the area had one room, which is how Skinner finds himself with a roommate.

The bathroom door opens, tugging Skinner from his thoughts. Mulder walks out, thankfully dressed in plaid pajama pants and an old shirt, as puffs of steam follow him.

“Bathroom’s free,” he announces, striding over to the black duffle bag placed haphazardly on the side table chair. He rummages around for a minute, then steps back and falls onto his motel bed.

“You know I could have handled this one on my own, Sir,” Mulder insists, as he had the whole plane ride to Alabama, the car ride to the local station, and again on the way to the motel. Skinner glances in his direction and makes a weak attempt to raise his eyebrow like Scully does, which Mulder of course doesn’t notice..

“Two days, Mulder. I’ll give you two days,” Skinner responds, once again shaking his head, as he gets up and departs for the bathroom.

***

Later, as they lay in their beds, not quite ready for sleep, Skinner looks up at the pale white ceiling of the motel room and sighs. “I know you could have handled this on your own, Mulder,” he admits. Even though it’s dark and he isn’t looking in his direction, he knows Mulder is smiling.

“You promised Scully you’d go with me,” Mulder half asks, half states. Skinner chuckles, or at least as much of a chuckle as he’s willing to emit in front of an agent. “I understand, sir,” Mulder assures him. “I know she worries when she can’t be there to have my back. I know I sometimes make rash decisions…” he pauses when Skinner huffs. “Okay, maybe a lot of the time. Thank you, sir, for being willing to come with me instead of denying the case. I appreciate it, and I know Scully does as well.”

“How’s she doing?” Skinner asks, carefully, as he doesn’t like to speak of agents who aren’t present.

He’s been concerned about her since her remission. She called him a week and a half after her discharge, indicating she was fine and ready to be back at work. Skinner had to bite his tongue from saying something he would regret, like Have you completely lost your mind, and then told her in no uncertain terms that she is not to grace the doors of the Hoover building for at least another four weeks, and only then with a doctor's note. She’s still so weak, physically. Even when she returns, he knows she won’t be ready to be in the field right away. He makes a mental note to check for any upcoming conferences he can send them to upon her return, maybe ease her back into work.

“She’s getting stronger every day. I’m pretty sure she kicked her sweet and well-meaning mother out of her house by the second week of her recovery,” Mulder laughs.

Skinner is amazed and wonders how the agents accomplish anything, being two of the most stubborn individuals he has ever had the pleasure of meeting.

“That’s good,” he tells him, then adds, “It’ll be good to have her back. Well, goodnight, Agent Mulder.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

***

Hours later, Skinner awakens to a sound. Unable to identify it at first, he lies motionless, straining his ears. He hears it again. After a few moments, he realizes it’s Mulder, whimpering in his sleep. Recognizing the agent is dreaming and they aren’t in imminent danger, he rolls to his side and tries to go back to sleep. As he’s about to doze off, Mulder’s whimpers become more frenzied.

“Please, no,” Skinner hears from the next bed. He raises his head a bit, checking to see if Mulder has woken up, but the man’s closed eyes and pained expression assures Skinner that he is very much asleep. Unsure of how much longer Mulder’s dream will go on, Skinner attempts to sleep, but is incapable.

“No… can’t. Please… understand,” whines Mulder. Skinner wonders what is going on in that brain of his. He’s using a voice Skinner has never heard. He sounds scared, young, unsure.

“Mm lost,” Mulder continues, and Skinner hears a hitch in his voice. He wonders if Mulder will start crying in his sleep. Maybe he’s dreaming about his sister.

“Without you,” Mulder states.

Nope, Skinner immediately knows who Mulder is thinking about, and he longs for sleep. Of course, he’s suspected it for years. But without evidence, he never wanted to make a big deal out of it. He knows there are tons of wagers and bets floating around the bureau regarding the status of Mulder and Scully’s relationship, but he usually doesn’t pay too much attention to those things.

“Need you,” Mulder's voice pulls Skinner from his thoughts. “Best friend… No die. No happen”.

Skinner realizes Mulder is thinking back to the cancer. He wants to wake him, tell him it’s all okay; Scully is fine and she’s not going anywhere. But he also doesn’t want to startle him or cause him any embarrassment, though there isn’t anything to be embarrassed about, at least not yet.

“Promise me,” he mumbles, followed by a string of gibberish from Mulder’s dream-induced mouth. “Scully… please…love you… me.” Skinner prays sleep takes him that very instant. He knows more than he needs to, more than he should. Apparently, something in Mulder’s dream has calmed him, which Skinner doesn’t care to know, nor does he want to speculate. He realizes Mulder’s breathing has evened out and he is slumbering once more.

Unfortunately, Skinner is now wide awake and can’t get his agents out of his mind. Now that he knows, even though he tells himself there really isn’t anything to know, he quickly decides not to do anything about it. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, as much of a pain in the ass as they—well, he— can be, are his best agents and their dynamic is something not to be messed with. He rolls over again, imploring that he’ll forget every word by morning, but knowing the sounds are burned into his brain forever.

***

Skinner wakes the next morning, wishing and hoping it was a dream, but upon seeing Mulder exit the bathroom, dressed in his suit and ready for the day, he knows it was anything but.

“How did you sleep, sir?” asks Mulder, a look of complete innocence on his face.

“I never sleep as well on the road as I do at home,” Skinner replies, sitting up and stretching. The morning sun is attempting to peek through the drawn curtains. Well, now or never, Skinner thinks to himself. “Hey, Mulder,” he says, his voice strong, but slightly tentative, as if testing the waters. Mulder looks in his direction, eyebrows knit, waiting for him to speak. Oh to hell with it, he thinks. “Mulder, did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Mulder’s eyebrows reach so high they almost touch the top of his forehead as his eyes bulge from their sockets. I’ll take that as a no, Skinner muses. Mulder stares at his boss for a minute, and Skinner almost feels sorry for him seeing the terrified look of pure dread adorning his face.

“What did I, uh… did I say anything, uh…” he fumbles over his words, trying to find the right ones to ask.

Skinner smiles slightly and decides that as much fun as this could be, he’ll go easy on Mulder, just this once. “You said a few words and mumbled a bit. I’m surprised no one has mentioned it to you before. I just thought you should know.”

Lifting himself from the bed, he staggers toward the bathroom to get ready for whatever this ridiculous day has in store for him. He turns slightly to look at the younger man. They’re idiots, these agents of his, but they’re his idiots, and for now, Mulder's secret is safe with him. He’ll be ready whenever Mulder feels free enough to talk about it.

#fox mulder #dana scully #the x files fanfic #msr #walter skinner #talking in his sleep #he said what?

[randomfoggytiger]

An Evolution of Mulder and Scully's Forehead Kisses

Irresistible-- Mulder sows the seeds for a forehead kiss while opening his arms for the second time to Scully:

Memento Mori-- Mulder's first forehead kiss, a victorious celebration of Scully's determination and courage:

Redux II-- A forehead kiss of sorts-- Mulder changed to cheek kisses on Scully's death bed; but changed back after her recovery:

Fight the Future-- Scully gives Mulder his first forehead kiss after reassurance that he needs her; but more were put on pause after Diana Fowley, insecurities, and clashes over a "normal life."

Per Manum-- Mulder reinitiates their ritual after the IVF failure; and Scully, touched, almost makes a further move before deciding not to reshake their newly shifting relationship (a lot was still left unsaid):

Post Amor Fati-- Mulder tells Scully she belongs with him, always; and Scully finally gives him a second forehead kiss, secure with a place forever at his side:

And, as we know, Millennium happened; and the rest is history~.

(Note: Mulder's forehead kisses are directly correlated to his journey with more open physical affection--post here-- while Scully's are linked to her waxing and waning security in their relationship.)

#An Evolution of Mulder and Scully's Forehead Kisses #txf #xf meta #xfiles #x-files #the x files #screenshots #Mulder #Scully #mine #analysis

[figureofdismay]

okay, my Skinner/Member of the Scully family pitch is actually 'somehow Skinner intercepts Melissa at Scully's apartment bc he's heard that Scully is in danger there, and takes her to a 3rd location (maybe a safe house or maybe even home with his wife???) and warns her to lay low until the standoff with the Syndicate is resolved, thus unwittingly saving her life. Melissa recognizes that Skinner is a man trapped by circumstances and in a grave moral crisis, on the brink of big changes etc, so she makes an effort to keep in touch and befriend him and is eventually 'there for him' when he's adrift during his divorce and Sharon's injury.

Which Scully doesn't find out about until she and Mulder are investigating Skinner and the frame up around the dead escort, only to find Melissa in the mix as well, all "Walter and I made a real connection last year, I know he wouldn't do this thing," while Scully's stuck on "Melissa?? Walter????"

Sharon also Doesn't Die, btw, and even though Melissa has become emotionally involved with Walter, she offers to mediate between him and Sharon bc she "senses" that Sharon regrets letting their marriage disintegrate to that point instead of pushing him to communicate when it could have made a difference, but Sharon's like "you know what, this is too weird, I don't need the psychic sister of one of my husband's agents involved in my potential reconciliation, I need to focus on my recovery and finding myself," and takes off for Taos or something. So Missy capitalizes on Walter's mandatory leave and takes him up to a friend's spiritual retreat center at an old farm in New Hampshire where they can make ceramics and ride horses and sleep late and 'make the most of' of the well appointed guest cabins -- he thinks he's insane for agreeing to this but it's also a nice break after being almost arrested for murder and Melissa is even more appealingly insane than her sister while being 1000% less likely to point a gun at him, which is a nice change of pace.

(Her sister is unaware of any of this and is off sinking a boat, getting stranded, and being menace by megafauna.)

Melissa brings Walter to thanksgiving dinner that year to the shock of everyone besides Maggie, who was the only one she thought to warn. Scully manages to scramble her way through a polite "we don't have to work, do we?? what the hell are you doing here, sir??" only to be met with, "I thought Melissa would have told you," and "Where's Mulder? I thought sure he'd be here, too," which causes her to bluescreen for a moment before exclaiming that she and Mulder aren't dating. Which no one believes, probably not even Scully herself. Melissa shoves a big drink in her hand and drags her aside to tell her how much complexity and conflict there is under her boss's gruff exterior, "and you know he can be a really funny guy. Considerate! We want to have you and Fox over for dinner some time, wouldn't you two like that? Provided that everyone agreed to show up unarmed."

#txf #the x files #i mean no disrespect to the maggie/skinner folks that's definitely funny too!! #but i accidentally persuaded myself on melissa/walter in a 'crack treated way too seriously' way and now i'm Invested #msr #walter skinner #melissa scully #to be honest i have no earthly idea how to tag this #........will the first txf fic i finish in 20 years be crack pairing instead of msr? the potential is there XD

[sisterspooky1013]

The Wonder That’s Keeping the Stars Apart: Chapter 1/3

Rated Teen | Read it here on AO3

Written as a gift for @jodithann827 for the fanfic exchange

It’s cracking cold. So cold that his coffee cup isn’t sufficiently warming his fingers, so he passes it from one hand to the other as he alternates burying his fist in the pocket of his wool coat. Scully is prattling away beside him, seemingly unbothered by her wind-whipped cheeks and cherry red nose. She’s wearing a burgundy beanie pulled down low to cover her ears, and she’s telling him about some article she read, or maybe a segment she saw on the news, he’s not entirely sure. He just keeps looking over at her as they meander down the sidewalk near her apartment, nodding along, completely transfixed by the developing roundness in her cheeks and the way the corners of her mouth seem to be perpetually upturned.

He still can’t quite believe that she’s here, that she’s healthy. In some ways, life returned to normal shockingly quickly after her miraculous recovery. In other ways, he feels like he’s been completely changed, like he’ll never be the same again. Having confronted the possibility of spending the rest of his life mourning her—-while carrying the weight of the knowledge that she’d still be here if she’d never met him—-has turned him into a disturbingly fearful person.

It’s not death that he fears. He is no more afraid to put his own safety at risk than he’s ever been, and he knows well enough at this point not to try to dictate to Scully what risks she should or should not take with her own life. What terrifies him, what keeps him awake at night, is the prospect of living. Really living, which he only recently realized is something he’s not very good at. Not living to find Samantha, or to avenge her, or to hold accountable the men and women who destroy families the way they destroyed his. Just living for the sake of being alive, enjoying crisp late-fall days with the only person who you’ve ever truly loved, opening your heart despite the possibility of it being crushed right before your eyes because you believe that the risk is worth the potential rewards.

Scully is so incredibly brave. His throat closes up just thinking about how strong she is, how fearless. Even her vulnerability is courageous, her willingness to risk her heart so devastatingly admirable. And he hates himself for being so afraid, for pretending not to notice the ways she’s softening towards him, slowly unfurling like a late-spring bloom. She’s brave enough to face death, to defy it, to realize that we only have one chance at life and decide that it’s best lived fully. He feels her newfound zest for living radiating off her in waves, sees it in her easier smiles and her recent proclivity towards inviting him to spend time with her outside of working hours, like she did today.

He wants to follow her, wants to tip his face up to the sun and feel the warmth he sees her feeling, but he can’t. Every time a little sliver of joy slips into his heart, he panics and snuffs it out before it can spread. He sees how his little rejections hurt her, and he knows that she will eventually give up on him, but he just can’t bring himself to push through his fear.

Maybe it’s more than the fear. Maybe it’s the secret that’s been burning a hole in his gut, slowly eating away at him from the inside out. When she was dying, it felt like a kindness to keep it from her. What good would it have done to tell a woman who wouldn’t live long enough to experience motherhood that she may not even be capable of it? Why add to the long list of ways that her autonomy and her body have been violated? But she didn’t die, she survived, and this happy news came with the sobering realization that he would have to tell her. She has a right to know.

She’s smiling now, gesturing with her free hand while her neglected coffee grows cold in the other, and she’s just so beautiful it makes his heart ache. He wishes she could always be this way, carefree and unburdened, and the last thing he wants is to be the person who brings the reality of her ruined life crashing back down. He’s going to tell her, he has to. But maybe another day, when the sun isn’t so bright and her mood isn’t so cheerful. Someday soon.

“That reminds me, I’m going to miss the division meeting on Wednesday due to an appointment. You’ll have to take notes for me,” she says, running her finger under her nose to verify that it’s not running, or perhaps not bleeding. Old habits die hard.

“You realize it’s just going to be a page of doodles and maybe an offensive limerick about Skinner, don’t you?” he quips, and she flashes him a cheeky grin that makes his heart stutter.

“There once was a man from the Hoover,” she says. “I might only miss half of it, depending how long the appointment takes. Maybe I’ll swoop in and save you.”

He looks to the sidewalk ahead, and then back at her. They’re only half a block away from her front door, and he concurrently hates to end their visit on a sour note and knows that he’ll lose sleep if he doesn’t ask.

“Everything okay? Just a checkup?” He tries to keep his tone light. Tries to sound like he’s not terrified every second of every day that she’ll be snatched away from him again.

“Yes, I think so,” she answers quickly, which is instantly reassuring. “Without sharing too much, I’m seeing my gynecologist per the recommendation of my oncologist. Cancer treatment is often damaging to the reproductive system, and given my age and my desire to have children someday, he felt like it would be wise to understand what, if any, impact the treatments had.”

His blood runs cold and his hearing cuts out, then slowly fades back in with a high-pitched ring in his ears. He realizes he’s stopped walking and jogs the few steps to catch up with her.

“Ah,” he says flatly, eyes on the concrete in front of him.

“I have to admit I’m a little nervous,” she continues, and her vulnerability cuts through him like a knife. He doesn’t deserve it. “If it’s bad news…I guess I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I come to it.”

They’ve arrived at her front steps, and he feels like he might throw up. He needs to tell her. He has to. But he hasn’t allowed himself to think about how to say it, and he has no idea where to start.

“Do you want to come in?” she asks hopefully, and although he feels like the last person on earth she should be gracing with her time and attention, he nods mutely and follows her inside.

After the chill of the outdoors, her apartment feels like a furnace and they both quickly strip off their coats and shoes, and then Scully disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes. While she’s gone he paces in her entryway, scrambling to think of some way to introduce the topic, but every idea he has makes him feel like dying.

When she returns, she walks straight to the kitchen and climbs up onto the countertop, then begins rifling through the cupboard while balancing on her knees.

Mulder smiles, letting himself off the hook for now. He’ll tell her soon, before her appointment. He’ll tell her when he’s had a chance to think about how. He crosses the room and steps up beside her, pushing up to his tip-toes in order to see into the same shelf she’s digging through.

“Whatcha doing?” he asks, and she gives him a wry glance over her shoulder.

“I’m fairly certain there’s a bottle of whisky somewhere in here, and I intend to drink it,” she says resolutely.

“Want some help? I know a tall guy who lives for fetching things off high shelves,” he teases, bumping her hip playfully with his elbow.

“Thank you, but I’m more than capable of reaching my own high shelves,” she says tartly, and then presents a bottle of amber liquid that is three-quarters full. “Ta-da,” she sings with a triumphant smile, then closes the cupboard and turns around to sit on the countertop.

Mulder grabs two water glasses and fills them with ice, and she pours them each more than a few fingers worth of liquor, then takes a healthy gulp without so much as a wince.

“Whoa, what are we drinking to?” He asks, raising his glass, and she pulls an embarrassed grimace as she lifts her half-drunk tumbler.

“To…” she begins, contemplating. She considers his face, her eyes lingering on his mouth for long enough that he feels a little flutter in his belly. “To us,” she finally says, lifting her eyes to meet his.

“To us,” he agrees, and they clink their glasses together with a crystalline tinkle.

He takes a sip from his drink and the alcohol scorches a trail down his throat before heat diffuses in his stomach. Scully drains her glass and pours another, and he shakes his head when she offers him a top-off.

She clears her throat in a way that he’s learned often precedes something that she finds difficult to say, so he sets his glass on the counter and waits as her eyes scatter around the room, searching for courage.

“I, um…” she begins, then heaves a sigh.

Mulder steps closer, close enough that one of her knees brushes against his hip.

“Are you okay?” He asks, though his instincts aren’t warning him that she’s about to say something devastating. In fact, he feels oddly excited.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she says on an exhale, her hands clasped around the edge of the counter on either side of her thighs. “I just…I’ve been thinking. About a lot of things, really.”

She won’t meet his eye, and he doesn’t try to force it.

“I imagine that you would be, after what you’ve been through,” he offers with what he hopes is a sympathetic tone.

Slowly, her eyes shift over to meet his, and her expression is open and searching. Longing.

“You’ve been through something too, Mulder,” she says softly.

He nods, fingering the condensation that wets the side of his glass. Her eyes are bluer than ever, blinking slowly at him as they both wait for something nameless that never seems to arrive. Their eye contact stretches on, and a steady ache takes root in his chest. The wanting has become so painful since he was forced to consider a world where she doesn’t exist, and he wonders if she sees it on his face. Unable to take it any longer, he looks away, shame blasting through him for letting his fear win again.

Her fingers are warm against his whisky-chilled hand, and he sucks in a little breath in surprise. He turns his palm up and her fingers slide through his, and his heart feels like it’s breaking. Why can’t he just let go?

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she whispers, and his head snaps up, finding her eyes wet and mournful.

“What are you afraid of?” He asks stupidly, convincing himself that she’ll say death.

“Mulder,” she squeaks out as her mouth contorts.

It’s an accusation. A plea. An expression of just how terrified she is, how desperately she needs him to meet her halfway. He knows it just as surely as he knows that he would do absolutely anything for her, but somehow he can’t bring himself to do this.

He steps into the space between her knees and wraps his arms around her waist, and her hands cover the back of his neck, fingernails gently scratching. She smells like heaven, feels like home, and he hopes she can hear in his heart beating against her ear how completely he loves her.

“I’m scared too,” he forces out, and she sucks in a huge breath to fuel her relieved sigh.

He holds her for timeless minutes, long enough that the cortisol spiking against his ears begins to subside. He imagines getting to hold her like this every day for as long as he wants to, and the fantasy calms him.

Scully lifts her head and pulls away a little so she can see his face, and he dares himself not to look away, to find out what happens if he holds the line. The hands on his neck slide around to his jaw, cradling his face like a treasure, and he lets just one blink linger for a few seconds so he can savor it. Before he has the chance to open his eyes again, he feels the soft press of her mouth against his, and the world tilts on its axis.

Scully is kissing him. It’s both cataclysmic and entirely predictable, like the slowly descending sun finally touching the horizon. He feels his bones settle into place, his heart soften in his chest, and he kisses her back.

The way she kisses is beautiful: earnest and tender, confident and intentional. His hands find her waist, his thumbs skimming her rib cage, and she hums in a deliciously satisfied way. He is brave enough to peek his tongue out to taste her lips, and she is daring enough to open her mouth and accept him hungrily, her fingers tugging at the lobes of his ears. She shifts her hips forward, pressing the heat between her legs against his belly, and he becomes startlingly aware of the erection straining against the fly of his jeans.

Oh god. Oh god, no. He can’t do this to her. She’ll hate him. He needs to tell her. He has to.

He breaks away abruptly, catching sight of her closed eyes and puckered lips before her eyes fly open and she regards him with surprise.

“Mulder?” She asks, and the self-consciousness in her voice twists his gut.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers, taking one step back. “I’m sorry, Scully, I—”

“No, I’m sorry,” she cuts him off, her face instantly turning bright red as she averts her eyes to the floor. “That was inappropriate. I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry, Mulder.”

No, no, no, no, fuck.

“No, Scully, it’s not that,” he implores, stepping close again and grabbing both her hands. “It’s not that I don’t want you to—I do. I just…there’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve been putting off.”

She lifts her head and her eyes widen fearfully. He has the impulse to reassure her that she doesn’t need to be afraid, but that would be a lie.

“What is it?” she asks, the corners of her mouth sinking.

He already misses the version of her on the sidewalk, the one with a heart full of hope and possibility. He hates himself for extinguishing that light.

“Scully…” he tries, his eyes scanning the doors of the cupboards above her head, searching for words. “When you were abducted, when they took you, they took…” Again he stops, frustrated by himself as much as the situation.

“Whatever it is, just say it,” she begs, her voice quavering.

“They took your ova. Your eggs,” he spits out. “I don’t know if it was all of them or just some of them, but they were taken. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but you were so sick and I wasn’t sure…I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do. I’m sorry.”

The color drains from her face, the embarrassment from moments before replaced with abject terror. Her lips are slightly parted, her unfocused eyes fixed on his chin. He still has her hands wrapped up in his, but they are limp and clammy.

“Where did you get this information?” she asks in a whisper, and her chest begins to rise and fall rapidly, her breath coming out in panicked little pants.

“Associates of Dr. Scanlon’s,” he says, deciding that the fact that they were clones isn’t relevant. “I was able to gain access to a research facility, and these associates of Dr. Scanlon’s brought me to a room full of ova under refrigeration. Not just yours, Scully, there were thousands of women’s eggs stored there. Including Betsy Hagopian and Penny Northern’s.”

Her eyes snap up to meet his, and for a moment, he just watches as she assembles this information in her mind, her pupils expanding and contracting unnaturally.

“Why? For what purpose?” she asks, and a wave of nausea rolls from his belly to his throat. He swallows and squeezes her hands, feeling reassured when she squeezes back.

“To create alien-human hybrids,” he says carefully. “These associates of Dr. Scanlon’s are themselves such hybrids.”

Her mouth falls open, the pink tip of her tongue rooting for words. He would give anything to take this from her, to make her burden his own.

“Children?” she finally chokes out, and he nods once.

“I don’t have any information regarding the existence of children created using your ova, but that is the intent of the program, yes,” he says gently.

“Oh god,” she keens, and tears pool rapidly in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. He couldn’t say it enough to demonstrate how deeply sorry he is even were he given the rest of eternity to do so.

She scoots forward on the countertop, touching the back of her hand to his chest to move him aside before she slips down to the floor and walks toward her bathroom, one hand held over her mouth. He watches her disappear, feels the thunk of the door slamming shut vibrate in his feet, and then hears the high pitch of an agonized wail.

He needed to tell her. He had to. So why does he feel like he just made a terrible mistake?

Tagging @today-in-fic

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

[thiefbird]

I'd love to hear about your otps.

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer within a certain amount of time or at all.*

I don't actually tend to have OTPs - I am an inveterate multishipper in almost all things. Even the X Files I have some side ships for. But here are a list of my most enduring and beloveds <3 the ones in bold are ones I've written for(not all are on my current AO3 and I will not deliver the name of my old FF.net to anyone ever)!

Nine/Jack/Rose(NuWho)

Jack Harkness/Ianto(Torchwood)

Jack Harkness/Gwen Jones(Torchwood)

Anders/Happiness(Dragon Age)

Anders/Justice(Dragon Age)

(here's an Obscure Rarepair that I've thought way too much about) Anders/Justice/Solas(Dragon Age)

Anders/Fenris(Dragon Age)

Anders/Nathaniel Howe(Dragon Age)

Anders/Karl Thekla(Dragon Age)

Shepard/Garrus(Mass Effect)

Shepard/Thane(Mass Effect)

Shepard/Tali(Mass Effect)

Ryder/Jaal(Mass Effect)

Ryder/Vetra(Mass Effect)

Mulder/Scully(X Files)

Mulder/Krycek(X Files)

Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter(NBC's Hannibal)

Jack Aubrey/Stephen Maturin(Aubreyad)

Jack Aubrey/Sophie Aubrey(nee Williams)(Aubreyad)

Diana Villiers/Stephen Maturin(Aubreyad)

Diana Villiers/Clarissa Oakes(Aubreyad)

Stephen Maturin/James Dillon(Aubreyad)

Horatio Hornblower/William Bush(Hornblower)(TV and books)

Horatio Hornblower/Sir Edward Pellew(Hornblower)(TV only)

Horatio Hornblower/Archie Kennedy(Hornblower)(TV only)

Tenzing Tharkay/William Laurence(Temeraire)

John Granby/William Laurence(Temeraire)

Jane Roland/William Laurence(Temeraire)

(here come the crazy crossover rarepairs)

Jane Roland/Diana Villiers

Stephen Maturin/Horatio Hornblower

As you can see: crazyass multishipper. Many of these all sit in my head simultaneously in the same stories!

I guess my only real OTP is Hannigram, but thats less because I think its perfect and more because I think they should never involve anyone else in their dynamic ever for the sake of everyone else lmao

I hope surgery recovery is going well, and that you're getting back to your preferred level of Normal <3

#thiefbird speaks

[starwalker42]

starwalker42's fic masterlist ✨

A new masterlist because the old one was outdated. Please message if a link doesn't work! Tagging @today-in-fic

WIPs

Grounding Teen and up. Hurt/Comfort. After the traumatic events in Dudley, Scully is overwhelmed by everything that’s happened to her over the past few months. Mulder is there to help.

only one choice Explicit. A whole lotta smut. All my smut oneshots go here.

This Is Love Teen and up. Hurt/Comfort. Scully reunites with an abusive ex, and he threatens to turn her whole world back upside down.

One Shots

Birthday Blues Teen and up. Angst. <1K. It’s Mulder’s birthday, Scully is drunk, and emotions are coming out… but not the way they should be. Prompt from wtfmulder.

Coming Clean Mature. Angst. 3K. “Loving Mulder is as natural as breathing. It’s not lost on her that she’s currently underwater.“ Mulder and Scully deal with the fallout from the events of En Ami. 

Consummation Explicit. First time smut. 4.5K. My take on Mulder and Scully’s first time, probably some time around Season 7. 

Contact Teen and up. Romance. 3K. Five times Mulder touched Scully’s hand, and one time she touched his.

Dying Function, Living Key General audiences. Angst. 1K. Canon-divergent one shot based on speculation for Ghouli. 

everything i know (brings us back to us) Teen and up. Angst with happy ending. 4K. Post-My Struggle III, Mulder and Scully need to talk. Maybe getting stuck out on the porch together is exactly what they need?

human credentials General audiences. Autistic!Scully fic. 4K. A realisation, a car ride, and a question.

Morning After Mature. Fluff. 1K. Exactly what it says on the tin: sweet, romantic morning after banter and fluff. Oh, and a piggyback. Prompts from anons and wtfmulder.

Together Explicit. Smut. 3K. “I���m never leaving you again.” Scully hadn’t realised how badly she needed to hear those words. He’s staying. He’s staying forever. “Prove it,” she whispers.

Multi-chapters

Agapi General audiences. Mulder-centric fic with moments throughout the series. 4K. or Five Times Fox Mulder Fell In Love. A one shot in five parts. 

And The World Keeps Spinning Explicit. First time smut. 12K. Mulder and Scully’s first Valentine’s Day together as a couple (kind of!) and all the wonderful fluffiness (and smuttiness) that involves.

hard work Explicit. Sexting fic. 1.5K. A slightly different take on a prompt from the porn battle. 

Maestitia Teen and up. Angst. Redux AU. 6K. “We’re going to lose her. I’m sorry.” Lose her. Another euphemism. No one can say it. Maybe if they keep avoiding the word they can pretend it won’t happen, that this isn’t what they all know it is. 

Recovery Teen and up. Post-Tithonus Hurt/Comfort. 2K. Mulder and Scully work through Scully’s injury and what it means for them, together.

there will be darkness again - Teen and up. Angst/Whump. 14K. My take on the Febuwhump 2023 prompts.

Series

Sortis PG-13. Semi-abandoned. A collection of drabbles and snippets from throughout the years of Mulder and Scully’s relationship. 

#xf fanfic #txf fanfic #my writing #masterlist #long post