#txf casefic
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If You Will Let Me
X-Files Post-Milagro Fic
Chapter 21: Help
TW: references to demonic activity, mild references to injuries, hospital setting.
Author’s Note: Eternal thanks to each of you who are following <3 This chapter is part of a larger work on AO3. As AO3 is currently down, this work and preceding chapters are all searchable under #If You Will Let Me
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The phone finally ceased its insistent ringing as the machine clicked, taking over.
It beeped angrily. The signal of a disconnected line, a wasted call. Anyone who was not privy to knowing about the safety precautions would take it as such, hang up and move on.
After two solid minutes, the beeping stopped. The silence was brief before a familiar voice began to speak.
“Guys, it’s me. I’m at Memorial Hospital. Please come, it’s important.”
There was a muffled, clattering shuffle as the receiver fumbled over the phone cradle, finally coming to rest with a plastic clack.
The recorder clicked itself off. Silence fell over the room, interrupted only by the whirring of computer fans.
Dim morning light dusted itself sparingly across shelving and computer towers. The message replayed as the men stood in anxious silence.
Byers eyed the other two men. His face was grim.
Langly scrunched his nose, skeptical. “You think someone put him up to it?”
Byers shook his head.
“Not Mulder,” Frohike was quiet, but resolved. “He wouldn’t do that. But he knows not to just ask us to come out like that.” He drummed his fingers on the desk in front of him.
Langly stood, adjusting his glasses. “He could be hurt, can’t come here himself. But why call us, why not Scully?”
The men were quiet for a moment, considering.
Frohike broke the silence. “It has to be bad.” He sighed. “Well. Let’s go bail his ass out.”
____________________
Mulder’s clumsy hand made a few vain attempts before it figured out how to hang up the phone next to his hospital bed.
Abby helped to readjust his pillows and offered a supportive smile. “You got through?”
“Yeah. They’ll get it.”
He sighed. He was certain they would hear his message, but coming to visit during the day in a very public place? That was asking a lot from men whose lives depended on secrecy and anonymity. He could only hope.
The nurse stared at him for a long moment. “Well. If your friends come, I’ve already notified the nurses’ station on her floor. They’ll be expecting someone. But if anything goes wrong…”
“If anything goes wrong, I forced you. Threatened you. Whatever. Say what you need to say. Make sure it doesn’t ruin your future.” Mulder was used to being blamed. He could think of no reason to take the full fall that was nobler than protecting Scully. He would do it a hundred times over.
“Yeah.” Abby’s lips were twisted in a strange, nervous line. “And you’re sure… this thing, whatever it is, it’s not here. It won’t…” Her voice faded.
“Come for you?”
She nodded weakly.
“No. I can’t guarantee it’s not here… but it won’t come for you. I don’t know why, but it doesn’t… It doesn’t want anyone else.” He stared vacantly out the window at the clouded, deep indigo of early dawn. “Just us. He just wants us.”
Her lips were turned, brow furrowed. She cleared her throat and started for the door.
“I have to go, but I’ll be back before my shift ends. As often as I can.”
He offered a small, grateful smile.
She raised her eyebrows. “Of course, Beth will be coming in too, ya know.”
“Oh good, she’s my favorite.”
Abby rolled her eyes and grinned. As she left, her soft laugh danced through the doorway.
He blinked slowly, then moved his unfocused eyes toward the blanched, pockmarked ceiling tiles above him. Though his system was dutifully purging the chemicals from his veins, he still felt heavy. Drained. His focus wavered. His glassy eyes drifted closed.
_____________________
A knock at the open doorway snapped Mulder’s eyes open, and his gaze settled on a familiar, ragtag group of three mismatched men. One wore a well cut beard and a suit to match. The other two wore baseball caps and track suits, attempting to blend in. It had quite the opposite effect of what they intended. Mulder winced as he sat up in an attempt to greet them.
He was immediately under interrogation.
Langly blinked through his thick framed glasses. “What put you in the hospital this time? You do look like hell- what happened to your face? And you’re really pale- is it vampires again?”
Frohike stepped forward, his eyes squinted in faux clinical analysis. “Yeah, you look even worse than usual.”
Mulder began to grin, but stopped abruptly at the tight, painful pull of newly healing skin. “Thanks, Melvin. I missed you, too.”
Near the doorway, Byers pressed his lips together, holding in his amusement.
“You owe us, ya know.” Frohike huffed and crossed his arms. “Landline contact from a very public facility, plus demanding we come into said public facility.”
“Demanding? Hardly. Dramatic today, aren’t we?”
Frohike ignored him. “You put us at serious risk, my friend. Not to mention, we are putting some highly sensitive research on standby for you right now.”
Langly nodded, his long blonde hair nodding with him, and spoke in an enthusiastic whisper. “It’s true, Mulder, you would find it fascinating. I can’t go into specifics here- obviously - but it has to do with the Bermuda Triangle and advanced technology.” His eyes were wide with excitement.
Mulder shook his head, immediately regretting it from the way the room began spinning. “No... no. I’ve had enough of the Bermuda Triangle to last me a while. But I’m okay, mostly. I called you guys for Scully. Not me.”
“We wondered. Usually you call her. You calling us was a big red flag.” Frohike’s face grew more serious. “Is she okay?”
“Boy you don’t care about me at all, do you?”
Frohike shrugged. “Not as much as her. No.”
Mulder nodded. He understood perfectly. Scully meant more to him than anything on this cursed planet, yet here he was, tied down by IV tubing and kept from knowing anything about her.
“Fair. Well first of all, you need to know that they won’t tell me about her, won’t let me see her. Some of the people here think I did something to hurt her- and I didn’t.”
Frohike’s eyes narrowed. “Did you do something on accident?”
“No! Absolutely not.”
“Jeez man, just asking.”
The slumped shoulders and the angry, pained look in Mulder’s eyes were enough to silence any more sarcasm.
He rubbed a hand over his forehead, down to rest on the bridge of his nose, and heaved a deep sigh. “I have been trying so damn hard to keep her safe… and I can’t.” His confession whispered through his lips, and he felt himself break at the admission of his own impotence. Uttering it aloud somehow made all of his attempts to protect her seem pathetic. “I need you, and so does she.”
Langly adjusted his glasses and moved to the bedside, focused solely on helping the battered, frustrated man before him. “You know us, Mulder. Anything you need, we’ll do.”
Mulder nodded slowly, composing himself. There was too much at stake for his volatile emotions to win. Not now.
“This won’t make sense, and we don’t have time for me to explain. There are demons that want us both. Lots of them.” Mulder wondered at himself. He had lived it, and yet it sounded insane even to him. “It began with Scully, but somehow I’m part of it, too. They’ve… claimed us. I can’t think of a better way to explain it. Claimed her… and if we don’t figure out how to stop it…she’s…” He didn’t finish the thought. He couldn’t.
The Gunmen looked at each other, faces grim.
“Tell us how we can help.” The voice Byers used was quiet and calm, but he rocked his body back and forth behind the other two in an unconscious, nervous rhythm.
Mulder offered the best smile he could. It was miniscule.
“Thank you, guys.” He drew a breath. “Well, we need information, and I can’t help until I’m released from this stupid room.”
“No problem, finding information is our specialty.” Langly offered a genuine, reassuring smile.
“I know.” Mulder felt his spirits rise slightly. “I need you guys to find out everything you can about Phillip Padgett. He was an author, and was part of our case last week. He was somehow able to write things that came true. He’s responsible for the deaths of at least three people- and tried to kill Scully.”
Frohike sputtered, furious. “That bastard! You caught him, right?”
“He’s dead.”
“Oh. Well, that takes care of that.”
Mulder’s lips were drawn in a thin line. “It should. But I’m not sure. Scully definitely thinks he’s part of this, somehow.”
Langly squinted at Mulder quizzically through his black frames. “How can a dead guy be part of what’s happening to Scully? Do you think he faked his death?”
“Could be. But Scully performed the autopsy… and she was pretty, uh, familiar with his face.” Mulder felt his stomach clench at the memory of Scully sitting on Padgett’s bed, so close to him. “I need you to get all the details you can find, Langly. Anything about him. Where he was from, where his ability to write things could have come from… and if that body is still in the morgue. And we also need information on the area surrounding Laroy, Illinois. Any paranormal activity, missing person files… anything that can help us figure out what we’re dealing with.”
“Can do.”
“Now you guys,” Mulder directed his attention to Frohike and Byers. “I need you here. This is gonna sound insane, but… Well, when we are alone, the demons seem to have access to us. I don’t really understand it, but that’s how it seems to work. It’s like… something has us… marked.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve seen them almost take her. Me being there doesn’t help, I’m just more food for them. But last night, in her apartment, the police came for a disturbance call, and-”
Frohike interrupted. “Well, what were you two doing?” He waggled his eyebrows.
Mulder pointedly ignored him. “They were everywhere, and… in us. I know this doesn’t make sense, but when the men came through the door, everything stopped. The demons have the ability, almost like permission, to attack us. But when other people- other souls- are there, they can’t do what they want. Or can’t complete what they begin. So they leave.”
The concept of souls, of some eternal aspect of self, had always seemed odd to Mulder. Somewhat contrived and self important. It was a way for mankind to believe they had a larger supposed worth. Yet now, he found himself at a loss for any other explanation. It was terrifying. Yet the thought of an eternal piece of himself existing with Scully, somehow… he found himself desperate for that aspect to be real.
“I know you guys like to work together, but we really need you to split up and keep us from being alone. Otherwise… well, we might not be here for much longer.”
The men nodded, though their faces were reluctant. Being stuck in a hospital room with no special equipment and no defined ending time sounded torturous.
“You,” Mulder nodded to Byers. “I need you to be Scully’s protection. Make sure she isn’t alone. And let me know how she is, if you can.”
Frohike balked, his mouth agape. “What? How does he get that assignment?” He waved his hand at Byers dismissively, who stood awkward between them, attempting to avoid eye contact. “What makes Byers the guy for the job, when I-” He stopped himself short.
Mulder’s thin smile returned. “When you what, Melvin?”
“Phhh. Nothing.”
“Byers is the most normal looking, disarming guy in this room. No offense, but you and Langly stick out of any crowd. Even with your sexy tracksuits. We need Byers to be Scully’s brother… someone who could get medical information, who could stay with her. Someone the medical staff wouldn’t question. Besides,” Mulder’s smirk returned. “I’ve missed you, Melvin. I thought we could spend some quality time together. Maybe even cuddle.”
Frohike shook his head. “You’re an ass.”
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Golden light glimmered through the windowpanes, flashing off the metal railings and IV stand in a blinding glare. The walls, pillows, blankets, even the pale wooden doors were illuminated by morning light that shone unnaturally. Propped up with pillows in the glaringly white bed, Scully rested, half conscious. Auburn hair splayed tousled and tangled around her head, and waffled strips of sterile white gauze wrapped expertly around sections of her arms.
When she finally attempted to open her eyes, she was blinded by the glow that filled the space before her. Pieces of her body burned, but everything around her was feather light. Peaceful. It was a calm, silent space. She took a deep, contented breath, nuzzling her head further into her pillow, only to feel a sharp sting on the back of her scalp.
She groaned and reached behind her cranium, fingers settling on a bandage. On shaved skin. She startled. Why hadn’t she noticed before? She began frantically feeling the rest of her head for hair. Her fingers combed through strand after tangled strand, and her quickened pulse slowed.
She blinked, heaved a sigh, and looked down dully at the bandages on her forearms. She hadn’t noticed them the night before, either. From the glass on her floor, she realized. Turning her arms over before her, she wondered absently how many shards they had to extract from her epidermis, how many had pierced deeper, and how many new scars she would wear now, this side of heaven.
She let her eyelids drift closed, attempting to quell her dismal thoughts. It occurred to her that when one is so lacerated and abused, the scar tissue takes over and the softer, unmarred flesh is barely visible, but hidden and safe underneath.
Her heart felt that way now. She loathed it.
A knock at the doorway rattled her.
“Agent Dana Scully? You’re awake.”
A young police officer stepped a few feet into the room, squinting at the brilliant light. He attempted a polite smile.
“Yeah. I’m awake.” She looked him over, trying to place him. He stood tall and lean, with sandy brown hair, freckles, and a face yet to be worn down. He looked no older than 25, she guessed. Though she prided herself on remembering details, this face escaped her. Her stomach clenched.
“Have we met, Officer…?”
“Matt Harris.” He smiled again. “We haven’t actually met, no. I responded to a call about a disturbance at your residence. I asked the doctor to notify me when you were alert so I could ask you a few questions.”
“Oh.” She looked down at her bandages once more.
Officer Harris took another step into the room. “It’s okay, Dana. You’re safe here. We just want to know how this happened so we can keep it from happening again. I have a few questions, they won’t take long. Is it alright for me to ask you a few things? Do you feel well enough for that?”
Scully frowned, but caught and held his gaze. He seemed to be a real person, but her fingers found the “call nurse” button that lay next to her on the bed.
As if a nurse could do anything to a demon.
She was familiar with these interviews, and the very notion that some stranger could consider her a victim in that sense made her smolder. There was no word, no feeling she despised more. Besides, she couldn’t tell anyone the truth. Not the police officer. Certainly not the medical staff. At best, they would assume she was lying to protect someone. At worst, she would be held for psychiatric evaluation.
“I… I really don’t feel up to questions, Officer Harris. But thank you.” She offered a superficial smile.
Shifting in place, the young officer looked indecisively toward the door, then back to her. “Well… could you let me know, was anyone else in the apartment with you, Ms. Scully? Did you let anyone in, or did anyone force their way in, or…”
Her forced grin fell off her face. There was nothing she could offer him, truthfully, that would answer his questions. She sighed, weary.
“Listen. I appreciate this, I really do. But I’m fine. My partner, well, my friend was with me, but he wouldn’t hurt me. Ever. There wasn’t anyone else that I remember being there.”
The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She supposed, though, that a spirit didn’t technically count as another person. Physically at least.
Officer Harris raised an eyebrow, then cleared his throat. “You said ‘that you remember.’ What do you mean?”
“At some point in the early morning… I became unconscious.” She knew how it sounded, and winced internally at the judgment she saw on his face. “I’m tired, officer. I really just want to rest.”
He frowned to himself, scratching a note on his notepad. “If you happen to remember anything else, please get in touch.” He walked to her bedside, placed a card on the table, and stared down at her. His eyes were serious. “But off record, Ms. Scully, I suggest you and your friend stop fraternizing if it ends like this.”
Her face was stone. “There is nothing else. Agent Mulder had nothing to do with what happened to me. And if I do have any more details, I won’t be calling you, because off record, Officer Harris, I have observed many well done victim interviews.” She glared up at him. “This wasn’t one of them.”
He blinked, turned abruptly and left.
The condescending tone in his voice had reminded her too much of Kersh. She slumped back into the hospital bed, furious, but too exhausted to do anything about it.
Almost against her will at first, she felt herself beginning to drift back to sleep, and chose not to fight it. The darkness wasn’t here. It wasn’t here.
But before she could fully succumb, another knock sounded loudly at her doorway. She jolted awake.
“Ms. Scully?” A nurse with a kind face and bright, cartooned kitten scrubs peeked in. “I’m sorry to disturb you, hun, but your brother is here to see you. I can send him away if you’d rather not have company.”
Scully blinked. Who had called Bill? And if Bill was here, her mother wouldn’t be too far behind. She groaned inwardly, but forced a small smile.
“Sure, yeah. He can come in, I’m awake.” She tried to sit up a bit, to look less battered. She was certain, with her bandages and her hollowed eyes, she looked not unlike Lazarus. Bill would be furious to see her like this.
A well dressed, bearded man stepped through the doorway. He offered an awkward grin, and an equally awkward wink.
“Hey, sis. I heard you’re feeling bad, and you could use some company.” Byers walked across the room to the chair by her bedside. “I came as soon as I could.”
“You two have a good chat, Ms. Scully,” the nurse called. “Press the button if you need anything at all.” Her footsteps retreated down the hospital hallway.
I
Byers leaned in, attempting to be quiet but reassuring. “Mulder sent me. He told us what happened. I’m your personal bodyguard, I think. For now anyway.”
Scully smiled. “Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “So, is he…” she trailed off, glancing down at her bandaged arms.
“Oh, he’s okay. He’s okay.” Byers’s face was sincere. “He just can’t come see you right now, but he’s just on the next floor down.”
“They hurt him again.” Scully’s tired eyes grew wet, in spite of herself. “It’s not going to stop.”
“No, it’s going to be okay. Really.” Byers cleared his throat and patted his hand on hers. It was painfully evident that he had little experience in comforting another human, but she appreciated the effort. “The guys are taking care of it. And Mulder. And I’m here taking care of you. We’re going to figure this out.”
She nodded. A tired grin graced her lips for a brief moment, then darted away. “Tell me how he is. Please.” She felt her desperation rising to the surface. “I just.. I want to see him. I need to see him.”
“Soon,” Byers promised. “But you should rest. Mulder’s okay. I’m sure he’ll be released soon. He seemed ready to leave his hospital bed immediately to come find you.”
She breathed a soft laugh. “Mm. Typical Mulder.”
“He’s safe. And so are you.”
She scoffed inwardly.
“You don’t have to stay, you know.” She carefully adjusted her head on the pillow. “I’m going to sleep. I’ll be fine.” She wondered at the last three words. How often she had lied them.
Byers leaned forward. His face was suddenly very serious. “I won’t leave. Mulder said you can’t be alone.”
She would have folded her arms, were it not for the IV tubing and painful sutures. She settled for a skeptical glare.
“I wasn’t alone. He was at my house and they… they came anyway.” The memory of Mulder’s face twisting, melting into the hollow, haunting visage of Padgett made her stomach suddenly sick. “He tried to stop it. He couldn’t.”
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“Mulder, you’re not gonna believe this.” Langly’s excited voice greeted the men from the doorway.
“I hope it’s good news.” Mulder tried to smile.
“Sure. Good news you aren’t on my missing persons list.”
Mulder and Frohike glanced at each other.
Papers rustled in Langly’s hands as he walked toward the bed.
“I dug into the small town in Illinois first, and a Philip Padgett was actually listed as a resident of the Laroy area in the last two censuses- and since he was listed as a minor there, I traced the family back. Before they moved, he lived in Springfield, Missouri. They moved when he was around seven, and his mother left soon after. Just disappeared. She’s one of sixty-eight people listed as missing from the Laroy area over the past thirty years. Not all from that town, but most are from the same county. They seem to be grouped into clusters, three here, five here. I’ve organized the disappearances chronologically and listed the dates for you.”
He placed the papers on Mulder’s lap.
“Anything specific about Padgett? We couldn’t find any criminal record. Or friends. Or family.”
Langly shook his head. “Nothing. All his rentals have been in his name alone. The only time spent away from Laroy was his time in college at Illinois State University. English and language arts major, minor in religious studies. No surviving family. His father died two years ago. Looks like he moved to DC shortly after that.”
Mulder chewed his lip in thought.
“I went ahead and printed all his former addresses. His last one was in your building. Crazy!”
Mulder grimaced. “I know. It wasn’t a coincidence, he planned it.” He continued to flip through the pages, slowly studying the new information. So many missing people. So many lost souls.
“You have been a busy bee haven’t you?” Frohike teased.
“Doing my best while you sit on your ass with Mulder all day.” Langly turned his attention back to his wounded friend. “I’ll have to check for the body when they finally bail you out. I can break into places, I can get you full family histories and social security numbers, but overriding morgue security and breaking in solo… even I can’t do that.”
Frohike put his hand over his heart. “Ah, it’s good to be needed, isn’t it, Mulder?”
Mulder did not respond. The color had drained from his face.
“Mulder?” Langly stepped closer. “What is it?”
Mulder’s eyes were trained on the page of Padgett’s former addresses. Washington, D.C. Normal, Illinois. Laroy.
“This address. 1650 Hainsville Road.” His voice was tight. “You sure he lived here?”
Langly nodded.
“That address… is the one that Scully tried to take us to. We ended up at a farmhouse. With demons.”
The Gunmen looked at each other. The afternoon sunlight was tainted by uncomfortable silence.
Frohike sucked a breath and spoke. “But… how would Scully know his old address?”
Mulder’s pupils were laser focused, burning a hole through the paper.
“I don’t think she did,” he said quietly. “I think… she said what he wanted her to say.” His mind was reeling, his stomach twisted.
“I don’t understand,” Langly said, regret evident in his voice.
“Have you ever wanted something so bad, you would do anything to get it?” As Mulder spoke, his words were chalk in his mouth. Eyes unfocused, brow heavy with sickened understanding. “What if… what if Padgett found a way to do just that? What if he made some supernatural attempt, some bargain to get who he wanted?”
“You meant what,” Frohike said.
Mulder shook his head, slow. Afraid. “Not what. Who. He wants Scully.”
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#TW: medical situation#txf#x files fanfic#txf fanfic#msr#If You Will Let Me#casefic#txf casefic#TW: demons#TW: reference to demons#mulder and scully#Scully and Mulder#Fox Mulder#Dana Scully#Lone Gunmen#the lone gunmen
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All Time Favs
I began reading fanfic in my teens during the original run of the show. There were lonnng breaks from it, but coming back to the fandom in 2017 reignited my interest. I now keep a spreadsheet as well as a "to read" list. I already have almost 600 logged (not including 5 years), so I wanted to share my top favorites. Divided into my 4 favorite genres (AU, casefic, angst + romance, and smut + romance) and in no particular order...
*Alternate Universe*
I used to wonder why someone would choose to read AU. Then I read one of these and was completely blown away.
Katherine of Ireland by Jenna Tooms (gossamer)
Katherine, princess of Ireland is married to Walter, king of Angora. When Walter is killed during battle, Katherine is taken by the enemy, FitzJames. William is FitzJames right hand. When FitzJames orders her to be beaten (even after discovering her pregnancy) William devises a plan to save her, heal her and get her back to Ireland. Will William always be seen as the enemy or will Katherine come to see him for who he truly is?
By the dim and flaring lamps by @sunflowerseedsandscience (ao3)
Civil war AU’s are my jam and this was one of the first ones I read. When Mulder discovers (disguised boy) Scully bathing in a waterfall by darkness and realizes what he is dealing with will remain etched in my brain forever.
In darkness by DKSculder (ao3)
What if Scully was married to Daniel? What if Daniel was a serial killer? What if Mulder was a VCU agent still? This is an unfinished work, but the idea is unlike any other I’ve come across.
Blinded by the white light by DashaK (ao3)
Need I say more? When Mulder and Scully find each other after colonization, will they remember each other and will they act on it?
The second side of light by @scapegrace74-blog (ao3)
Oregon Trail. Mulder is leading scully and Melissa across the trail when Melissa dies. They end up getting very close to one another on the journey.
Paracelsus by profuckslove (ao3)
Another amazing civil war AU. When Mulder goes looking for his lost son and comes across a pregnant scully what will happen to them?
Hiareth by profuckslove (gossamer)
Wales 1215. Scully escapes the king by marrying Mulder, the prince of wales. Marriage leads to love and fighting off dangerous men.
Paracosm by @softnow (ao3)
This is an unfinished work. College AU. Mulder has a crush on the library girl, will she return his advances?
A companion unobtrusive by @slippinmickeys (ao3)
A college AU where scully is looking for a roommate and Mulder is looking for a room. Melissa introduces them and the rest is history.
Qui Si by Trixie (gossamer)
After accepting an offer from a gypsy to go back to a life with Samantha in it, Mulder, a child psychologist, helps Scully, a PhD, get over her past.
You he did not fail by extraordinarily_ordinary (ao3)
Scully abruptly leaves TXF after surviving cancer and moves to LA to start anew. She is dating when Mulder is assigned as a profiler to a case she is working and they have to deal with things left undealt with.
Five years and a lifetime by @monikafilefan (ao3)
Mulder is a Peds psychiatrist. Scully is a Peds neurologist. They meet at a conference and have a one night stand. What happens when they come to work together 5 years later and Scully is a single mom?
Amish country by lolabeegood (gossamer)
Mulder and Scully go undercover in Amish country trying to catch a serial rapist while navigating very traditional values and roles.
You and me by lolabeegood (gossamer)
Mulder leaves his wealthy parents to serve under Scully’s father in the military. In order for her to stay safe, fed, and clothed she needs to marry.
The mountain man by aka Jake (gossamer)
Scully is sent from nyc (where she was becoming a doctor) to Montana at her father’s wishes. He wants her to marry a lieutenant under his command and not practice medicine, but she becomes intrigued with a local mountain man.
The countess/the earl by @slippinmickeys (ao3)
When scully is to be married to an old duke in order to save her family from financial ruin, a strange, alluring earl steps in to save her.
*Case*
There is nothing quite like a casefic. It's classic x-files and I am here for it. Writers in this fandom are so talented with their abilities to create a fic that rivals/trumps actual episodes.
Perchitor by @aloysiavirgata (ao3)
A little girl goes missing in the mountains with the superstition of Jenny Greenteeth to blame. Mulder and Scully investigate while navigating a new physical relationship.
Omens by @lepus-arcticus (ao3)
I read this one as a WIP and was anxiously checking for an update every night. There were several lines in this fic that made me gasp. Cancer arc angst. Give me it alllll.
XII by fragilevixen (ao3)
A killer that romanticizes every victim. His next target? Guess who. *coughSCULLYcough*
Hearts desire by malibusunset (ao3)
While in a small town scully runs into an old BF and starts wondering why she doesn’t prioritize her dating. She decides to go for it. The author makes me like Scully’s old flame. That says something. When the MSR convo finally does come, I thought I’d die from the slow burn.
Resurgam by opheila_interrupted (ao3)
One of the most xfiles like cases I have ever read. Remains unsolved at the end and has our agents investigating ghosts near Mulder’s hometown while dealing with their own (Emily & Teena).
Universal invariants/laws of motion by @syntax6
Scully is engaged to Ethan throughout the first season while her and Mulder’s relationship is deepening and then consummated right before she is abducted. How do two guys in love handle Scully’s abduction and what happens when she is returned?
All the way home/head over heels by @syntax6
Mulder is pulled into a past unsolved VCU case of a killer with a shoe fetish while navigating a new physical relationship with scully. When scully is targeted, Mulder has to gamble with his personal feelings while working to find the killer.
Queens gambit by Suzanne Schramm (gossamer)
Under Kersh, Mulder and Scully are assigned to a VCU case Mulder worked in Utah in 89’. The killer was put to death and then revenge began. Local mines and children involved.
*angst + romance*
This is my crux. Angst in any way, shape, or form. Add in some slow burn/ust and finally the rst *chefs kiss* particularly fond of Ethan fics and cancer arc.
Contact high by penumbra (gossamer)
Still feeling the residual effects of the spores post field trip, our agents try out Mulder’s new waterbed.
Early on by @sunflowerseedsandscience (ao3)
10 vignettes set during season 1. Our baby agents are becoming close, but Ethan is still around. How does scully navigate her relationship with Ethan while working with Mulder?
Center Mass by @kateyes224 (ao3)
Another Ethan fic set in season 1. Mulder and Scully make an effort to get to know one another… in more ways than one. And when Mulder gets aroused at Scully’s marksmanship it’s all over for me.
One blue line by sarie_fairy (ao3)
IVF arc. Scully is defeated by a negative pregnancy test. When Mulder tries to comfort her, she suggests having sex. I just remember wondering if I was reading or actually doing the act myself considering how detailed it was.
Salt by anjou (gossamer)
I remember reading this and being like WTF is happening to only have it all make sense at the end leaving me speechless.
Triptych by @iconicscullyoutfits (ao3)
My favorite FTF, post bee, how the f*ck did they get out of anarctica fic.
Snowbound by malibusunset (gossamer)
After missing their flight and being snowed in their rental on the side of the road, discussions lead to their relationship. Once they’re recused they are put up in an inn with 1 room. Dun, dun, dunnnn.
The ache by @storybycorey (ao3)
1999 Mulder has a visit with 2015 Mulder to urge him to get help with his depression and not lose scully.
Love bites by living_underground (ao3)
A review of vampirism cases throughout the years. Hickeys from Ed. Love bites from Mulder.
Goshen by bonetree (ao3)
Mulder and Scully are in a car accident where their car can’t be seen. Major injuries lead to near death experiences and visions of Emily.
All that our senses can perceive by wonderland (ao3)
Mulder’s POV looking over Scully’s transformation from girl to woman and how all of his senses perceive her.
Caught in the Act I by parrotfish (gossamer)
Although the whole series is amazing, the first part is my favorite. I love when scully lays into the review panel about being sexist.
The things she carries by @edierone (ao3)
One of my favorite cancer arc fics. When Mulder confronts Scully 3 years later on the porch I literally stopped breathing.
Red valerian series by dashakay (ao3)
Scully looks to skinner for comfort during a grueling case, starting a 6 month affair. Will scully ever love him or will the buried truth prevail?
Sex and Loathing by malibusunset (ao3)
Scully takes a drunk Mulder home after Roche. He makes a move and they have terrible sex. After 2 years of poking at each other they face things head on after Mulder almost dies in PBV.
Snakebitten by @onpaperfirst (ao3)
Set throughout season 5. My favorite season. Say no more.
Five years and one night by Shalimar (gossamer)
When Scully transfers to LA and Mulder finds more babies like Emily, can they work together again to get to the bottom of this conspiracy?
The letter by Shalimar (gossamer)
Post TFWID, scully goes searching for more clues to her and Mulder’s past lives when she comes across a letter in a local Apison museum she sent to Mulder.
*smut + romance*
It's hard to have just smut when it comes to MSR, am I right? these two idiots are so in love that my smut category must also be romantic.
Undercover swing by 2momsmakearight (ao3)
What if Mulder and Scully go undercover as a married couple interested in swinging? Can they both keep their jealously in check?
Be kind, rewind by OnlyTheInevitable (ao3)
To help catch a suspect, skinner requests our agents watch porn together. While watching, conversation leads to critiques about the performance and comments about personal preferences.
Girl 77 by mojo
A stripper is found dead with Mulder’s card on her. She looks exactly like Scully. Scully notices and confronts Mulder about it.
Dropped call series by @phillippadgettwrites (ao3)
Phone sex, but make it “not them”
December 31, 1984 by @phillippadgettwrites (ao3)
When Mulder saves an unimpressed scully from some jerk on NYE, they end up at her apartment having a one night stand.
Damsels by @sisterspooky1013 (ao3)
Scully is sent undercover as a stripper to find a missing woman. Mulder is kept in the dark regarding her case, but pieces together where she is and what she’s doing and sets out to find her.
The Shirt by Audrey Roget (gossamer)
Skinner reconciles with Sharon leading to a vow renewal celebration. Skinner asks mulder and Scully to stand with him as his best agents. After slow dancing together, mulder bolts out of the celebration before scully catches the bridal bouquet and he crosses a line. When they end up in an accident while driving in a storm, things come to a head in an Elvis inspired motel suite out in the middle of nowhere PA.
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tagged by @cleoselene!
last song you listened to: brass band by jukebox the ghost
last movie you watched: i am watching kiss kiss bang bang right now! merry christmas.
currently watching: well as i said - kiss kiss bang bang
other things you’ve watched this year: eryn @swiftzeldas is dragging me headfirst into the x-files with her. i'm also 3 1/2 seasons into gilmore girls. also watched silo, band of brothers, rewatched all the saw movies of course,
currently reading: the secret commonwealth by phillip pullman and i am loving it so much i can't believe it - i almost didn't even pick it up bc i've heard nothing but negative responses to it?? i don't get why people hate it so much i really don't it's so good. but idk there's almost nothing phillip pullman could do that would make me stop reading anything in the HDM universe i just love everything about it.
currently listening to: the movie i am watching
current obsession: i am more obsessed with the x-files than i've been with any show in a long time, since eryn got me to start watching it idk a couple months ago. i am not quite done with season 4 and it has consistently surprised and impressed me and it's so much more than i expected it to be, somehow. idk how i never watched it before but i'm so glad i'm watching it now because it's the perfect blend of monster of the week and mystery box show and i am obsessed. if you see me on twitter complaining A Lot about how modern tv is not doing what tv should be doing this is fully why and the x-files is the type of show that made me fall in love with tv as a storytelling medium in the FIRST PLACE
currently working on: i am very intimated by the x-files fandom because it is 30 years old and birthed modern fandom so naturally i am working on an au casefic that mashes up txf and his dark materials (another fandom people famously have no opinions on /s) but on the bright side prior to this i'd been working on a psych fanfic for literally 2 years that i couldn't manage to get out of my head and onto paper so it's nice to be actually working on something else
no-pressure tag! @ageless-aislynn @dead-ghost-walking @christinedieae @thelikeness
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society if i could go in the txf ao3 tag without spoiling myself. i just want to read msr casefic
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anyone have any good txf fic recs ?? preferably no smut but if the rest of the fic is good i suppose ill allow it, i luv casefics and hurt/comfort
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Fic Masterpost: False Flags Redux
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) | AO3
@today-in-fic
It began as a prompt from the @txf-prompt-box. Then in September, it morphed into its own beast. A mixture of historic AU and casefic, this is the longest fic thing I have written and finished. This is my baby and I will always love it. Special thanks to @mulders-boyish-enthousiasm and @scully-loves-ruthie for making this possible and the encouragement. A special thanks to @baronessblixen (I loved reading your tags. It made me feel loved and gave me a few laughs).
Summary: A year later, after catching a killer, Mulder and Scully must catch the escaped murderer again who also claims to have been Scully's husband in a past life during the Civil War.
#false flags redux#xfiles#xf fic#txf#txf fic#msr#msr fic#mulder and scully#mulder#scully#txf-prompt-box#civil war au#historic au#case fic#casefic#novel length#masterpost
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You know me by now haha. All the even numbers please :)
Thanks for always keeping me occupied! Haha
2 - What’s your most popular story you’ve ever written?
I believe Hands wins for popularity, which I'm really happy about. My favorite, by far.
6 - Are there any pieces of writing out there that have really inspired or influenced your own?
I'm sure there are SO many.
8 - Which one of your fics do you think is underrated?
None of them, really. I think they all receive the recognition they deserve. There are plenty that I'm not entirely pleased with, and I think that the general feedback pretty much reflects that.
10 - What was the first story you wrote about?
For TXF? I think it was just an angsty little Never Again missing scene.
12 - Share an idea you have for a fic.
I'm currently blanking on ideas.
14 - What type of fic do you personally read? Are they similar to the type you write?
Not at all similar to what I write haha. I read what I can't write. I love beautiful, poetic love stories and I REALLY love casefic, because I can't write it for shit.
16 - Most annoying grammatical error? (To read, or that you do yourself)
You're/your, to/two/too, defiantly instead of definitely.
20 - What season is easiest to write?
It depends on what I'm writing. Seasons 5/6/7 for fluffy fics, seasons 4/8/9 for angsty fics.
24 - What do you think is your “thing”?
I guess writing in second person? Considering that's the only way I can really write haha.
26 - Hardest thing you’ve ever written?
Probably Portable. It was so far outside of my comfort zone. But I enjoyed the challenge.
28 - What encourages you? What disheartens you?
Feedback! I think as long as there's an audience, regardless of how big or small, I'll want to write.
I guess lack of feedback is somewhat disheartening.
30 - Are any of your own experiences imbued in your writing?
Some. Some of the stupid shit I did as a kid helped me write Hands.
32 - Do people in real life know you write? Who have you shared it with?
I have a few real life friends that know my tumblr and I hope to God they don't read my shit. Besides that, Ryan's the only one who knows about my writing.
34 - What are you currently working on?
I'm back and forth between a second chapter to A Nice Trip to the UK, which really needs a better title. Also, really want to revise the first chapter.
36 - What do you hope people get out of your writing?
If it makes someone feel something, whether good or bad, I'm happy.
38 - How did you feel when you published your first fic? How do you feel now?
Nervous as hell. And I still feel nervous as hell.
40 - What are you working on now?
A few prompts here and there.
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fic masterlist
prompted by a request and a need for organization, here’s a masterlist of all the (x-files) fic i’ve done
multichapter
the fountain ** (msr, casefic, hurt/comfort angst, tithonus/detour casefile, canon divergence after milagro, wc: 50k)
When Mulder is forced to confront Scully's immortality in the wake of the Padgett case, he can see only one solution: to search for the Fountain of Youth to either look for a way to get rid of it or find a way to keep her from being alone. When Scully is assigned to a serial killer case in the same area as the alleged Fountain, Mulder tags along in an attempt to help her and find the Fountain at the same time.
Months later, Mulder has been missing for months and Scully is left only with the leads he was searching for. When a new lead pops up, she departs to search for her partner and to discover what happened before he disappeared six months earlier.
locking out the ghosts ** (msr, s5 fic: emily, kitsunegari, kill switch, bad blood, patient x, the red and the black, all souls, the pine bluff variant, and folie a deux, wc: 62k)
Post-Emily arc, an emotionally vulnerable Scully breaks off the incredibly new relationship she and Mulder have recently been engaged in. As the season moves forward, how do they cope with this new development in their relationship, and how do the stressful situations their job puts them in affect this?
polaroid (william, msr, van de kamps, s11 spec, wip, 5/?)
The aftermath of William's meeting with Mulder and Scully.
half-light*** (msr, s10 au/s1 au, rewrite of the original, wc: 74k)
Mulder and Scully get a second chance.
snow in april (casefile, deadalive au, msr, wc: 48k)
Dealing with the fallout from Mulder's return, Mulder and Scully find themselves in the midst of a strange case in a small town.
the unspeakable fear of things **** (msr, emily, s5-6 au, wc: 41k)
Emily Sim is cured by mysterious circumstances, deemed a miracle by the doctors.
starless and shadow (msr, millennium au, post col, wc: 17k)
The world didn’t end. But what if it did?
series
william au
relent (scully, william scully, 9x16: william au, wc: 1k)
Scully decides not to give up her son.
silent conversations (william scully, msr, s9/iwtb/s10 au, wc: 10k)
Inspired by the promos for 11x05: Ghouli/the promo blog for Ghouli, ghouli.net: What if a clairvoyant William had grown up with Mulder and Scully?
noises echoing (william scully, msr, s11 au, wc: 16k)
In the wake of their visions of the apocalypse, Mulder, and Scully must confront the fact that people are looking for their son.
not out loud (mulder, william scully, msr, vignette, wc: 6k)
Seven times Mulder communicated (telepathically) with his son.
half-light au
*** half-light (msr, s10 au/s1 au, rewrite of the original, wc: 74k)
Mulder and Scully get a second chance.
miraculous (msr, william, kidfic fluff, wc: 4k)
It feels too familiar.
(Meeting William for the first time. Again.)
luminosity (msr, william, new kid, kidfic fluff, wc: 3k)
They find out when she has another nosebleed.
emily au
**** the unspeakable fear of things (msr, emily, s5-6 au, wc: 41k)
Emily Sim is cured by mysterious circumstances, deemed a miracle by the doctors.
the truth we both know (msr, emily, william, s9 au, wc: 19k)
Scully deals with newly single parenthood and the fall out from Mulder going on the run.
Christmas Ficlets (msr, emily, william, wc: 12k)
series of Christmas ficlets set post-ufot
x files rewatch series - wip, series of unrelated stories i write as i make my way through txf again
oregon rain (msr ust, pilot, awkward bonding, wc: 3k)
March 8, 1993, a conversation in a hotel room.
unspoken rules (msr, kissing, pilot, squeeze, the jersey devil, ice, beyond the sea, wc: 7k)
Five times Mulder and Scully kissed and never talked about it, and one time they didn’t.
the progression (and regression) of first names (msr ust, scully-centered, s1, wc: 5k)
Dana and Scully, she thinks, are two separate people, and he only knows the Scully part of her. She doesn’t know which part she likes better, but she likes it when he calls her Scully.
drifting (msr-ust, maggie scully, melissa scully, one breath post ep, wc: 5k)
Scully deals with the aftermath of her return in One Breath.
day after tomorrow (msr, s2, firewalker au, wc: 3k)
She almost died a few weeks ago. But she is here, alive. And her partner has kissed her.
forty-yard line (msr ust, s2, irresistible au, wc: 1k)
Mulder and Scully make it to that football game.
november 27, 1973 (samantha mulder, fox mulder, pre-series au, s2 au, wc: 6k)
Five things that could’ve happened to Samantha Mulder.
fate (melissa scully, dana scully, pre-series, s3, paper clip post ep, wc: 3k)
Thirty-two years of sisterhood sounds like forever, she thinks, but is is not enough.
monster dog (msr ust, queequeg, s3, post eps)
Fox Mulder and his unlikely rivalry with a Pomeranian.
band-aids and goddamn cats (msr, au, s3, teso dos bichos missing scene, wc: 1k)
Mulder helps Scully clean up from her cat scratches.
a roll of stars and fade to black (msr, s4, tfwid au, wc: 10k)
A rewrite of "The Field Where I Died".
anchor (msr ust, s4, cancer arc, memento mori au)
AU where Mulder stays with Scully during Memento Mori.
everything changes but the sea (csm, mulder family, pre-xf, s4)
He’d never once considered being a father. (extended backstory on CSM)
roaring like the ocean (msr ust, angst. cancer arc, elegy/demons/gethsmane/redux i, wc: 11k)
Scully deals with her worsening cancer as tensions run high between her and Mulder.
old pennies (msr ust, angst, kistunegari post ep, wc: 1k)
** locking out the ghosts (msr, s5 fic: emily, kitsunegari, kill switch, bad blood, patient x, the red and the black, all souls, the pine bluff variant, and folie a deux, wc: 62k)
renegade (diana fowley, diana/mulder, pre-xf, the end, wc: 2k)
Why Diana Fowley went over to the other side.
flights (msr ust, fight the future, wc: 3k)
The flights Mulder and Scully took during Fight the Future.
merry little christmas (msr ust, how the ghosts stole christmas au, wc: 3k)
A How the Ghosts Stole Christmas AU: what if Mulder hadn’t been alone for Christmas?
reconsideration (msr ust, mentions of diana/mulder, the beginning, triangle, dreamland, the rain king, tithonus, one son, arcadia, milagro, the unnatural, field trip, wc: 6k)
Times Mulder and Scully reconsidered the status of their relationship.
** the fountain (msr, casefic, hurt/comfort angst, tithonus/detour casefile, canon divergence after milagro, wc: 50k)
When Mulder is forced to confront Scully's immortality in the wake of the Padgett case, he can see only one solution: to search for the Fountain of Youth to either look for a way to get rid of it or find a way to keep her from being alone. When Scully is assigned to a serial killer case in the same area as the alleged Fountain, Mulder tags along in an attempt to help her and find the Fountain at the same time.
Months later, Mulder has been missing for months and Scully is left only with the leads he was searching for. When a new lead pops up, she departs to search for her partner and to discover what happened before he disappeared six months earlier.
auld acquaintance (msr ust to rst, post amor fati, per manumflashbacks, millennium, wc: 7k)
In the wake of Mulder's recovery after Amor Fati, Scully asks Mulder for a favor as they begin to grow closer.
the praxis of a water bed (among others) (msr, vignette, rush, the goldberg variation, orison, the amazing maleeni, signs and wonders, wc: 4k)
Five of the first times Scully woke up in Mulder's bed.
california winter (fox mulder, teena mulder, cassandra spender, samantha mulder, jeffrey spender, pre-xf, mytharc from one son/sein und zeit/closure, wc: 12k)
Fox and Samantha Mulder, brother and sister, disappeared from their homes on November 27, 1973.
(A shift in the events of Samantha's abduction leads to a very different outcome.)
encephalon (msr, s7 fic, au where m&s actually deal with mulder’s stupid brain disease: all things, brand x, hollywood a.d., je souhaite, requiem, wc: 18k)
AU where Mulder tells Scully that he is dying in season 7 and the situation is dealt with accordingly.
whispering images (emily sim, msr, early season 8 au, mytharc from within/without, this is not happening, emily, references toinvocation and per manum, wc: 14k)
During his abduction, Mulder realizes that Scully’s daughter, Emily, is still alive.
ashes and dust (msr, post mulder’s abduction, deadalive/three words, wc: 21k)
The days following Mulder’s resurrection.
here (msr, baby fic, s8: roadrunners, deadalive, empedocles, vienen, existence, wc: 4k)
Four times Mulder or Scully talked to their baby, and one time they both did.
whirlwind (msr, william, s9 au: providence and provenance, wc: 13k)
AU where Mulder comes home during Providence and helps Scully search for their son.
relinquo (doggett and reyes, post the truth, release, william, john doe, 4-d, msii, wc: 6k)
How Doggett and Reyes left the X-Files.
the definitions of home (msr, post the truth, on the run, wc: 9k)
Mulder and Scully, on the road.
melting snow (msr, iwtb missing scene, wc: 2k)
In the wake of the events of I Want To Believe, Scully reflects.
shatter on impact (msr, pre-msi, iwtb, break-up fic, angst, wc: 9k)
An examination of the reasons Scully left Mulder before season 10.
one/two/three shots
5/20/19 (jackson van de kamp, baby #3, msr, post s11)
Jackson and his first birthday spent with Mulder and Scully.
voyage to norfolk (jackson van de kamp, msr, baby #3, post s11)
Jackson takes his new sort-of family back to the place he grew up.
under the weather (jackson van de kamp, msr, baby #3, post s11)
Prompt: would you ever consider writing fic where william is sick with a cold or stomachbug and scully has to take care of him? maybe set somewhere post season 11?
bearing north (msr, s11: between rm9 and nothing lasts forever, hurt/comfort)
Prompt: "I’m so disappointed by the lack of hurt/comfort this season. Could you please fix it a little?"
proelium (msr, jackson van de kamp, post my struggle iv resolution)
Post finale: Mulder and Scully connect with their son in an unconventional way.
galaxies (msr, william scully, existence post ep, kid fic)
He doesn’t hold his son for the first four days of his life.
hypnagogia (jackson van de kamp, msr, post ghouli [au??])
Prompt: post-ghouli. william knows scully is his birth mom, but when/how does he figure out mulder is his birth dad? or does he already know?
things unhidden (jackson van de kamp, msr, ghouli au)
What if Jackson hadn’t hidden from Mulder and Scully?
secundus (msr, pre-iwtb, inspired by plus one)
Mulder and Scully discuss wanting more kids.
sofas and ikea (msr, au/written mid s11, plus one, this)
How Scully finds her way home.
shadow demon (msr, casefile, s11 spec)
Mulder and Scully find themselves wrapped up in an unexpected case at a Halloween carnival when a teenage boy asks for their help.
all hallow's eve (msr ust, s1, ghost in the machine fic, halloween)
candy corn in the basement office on halloween night
joy to the world (msr, william, susanne modeski, van de kamps, post-the truth)
Mulder and Scully get William back.
repeat the sounding joy (joy to the world sequel, msr, william, christmas fluff)
Christmas with Mulder and Scully and William.
if the dead can hear the living (2/2, msr, gethsemane au)
“It him?” the detective asks, and she says, “Yeah,” and leaves the room on wobbly legs.
—
“And what about my partner?” Mulder hisses. The alien pauses before continuing with some kind of self-satisfaction. “Dana Scully died last night at Trinity Hospital.”
writer’s pen (csm, meta bullshit)
what if the x files was a series of sci-fi novels written by the cigarette smoking man, and what if the cigarette smoking man wasn’t a shadowy villain but instead a petty writer who cast the people in his lives in his stories?
a blanket, the lights, and the sky (msr, college au)
two college students, truth or dare, and a light in the sky.
under the stars (minimal fate required) (msr, aus)
or: ways mulder and scully could’ve been happy
hold your breath so you don’t say i love you (msr, vignette)
46. things you said when you kissed me goodnight, along the different seasons
where the love light gleams (emily, william, au, on the run)
Emily and William escape the air base where they’ve spent their entire lives, and set out in search of their family.
motions of time (msr, cancer arc au)
He kisses her in the hallway of the hospital under the washed out lights: quickly, with his hands in her hair.
inches between them (msr, deadalive-empedocles)
It’s taken her nearly eight years to believe in the impossible, and it’s still easy to revert to old habits. She believed for Mulder when it seemed vital, when it was imperative that if he couldn’t be there that someone be there to fill his role in his life’s work, to take his place, but she didn’t believe when it really was vital. She never imagined him coming back from the dead, always thought it was impossible. If she ever imagined them raising the baby together, she imagined a reality where he never left and her life didn’t crumble to dust.
car games (scully, william, post-s9 au)
He gets bored on long car rides, restless, tapping his sneakered foot against the center console rhythmically. There is a succession of car games, and he gets tired of them fast. “Who wants to count cars, Mom?” he whines, just a little. “That’s boring.”
another year (msr)
Mulder celebrates Scully’s birthday vs Scully celebrates Mulder’s birthday.
date of birth (william, van de kamps)
Five of William Van de Kamp’s birthdays.
3:55 (scully, pilot au)
His eyes are something strange, almost of… desperation as he looks down at her. Like he’s known her for a thousand years. Dana shifts her weight uncomfortably. The man clears his throat, and says, “Yeah, uh, don’t take you new assignment.”
read it beginning to end (msr)
He stays up late reading Moby-Dick by lamplight, and lays it all out for her at the end of a chapter in pencil.
reunions (and an orange painted sky) (msr, william, s10/s11 spec)
Mulder grins wider in response, tightening his arms around her. “Scully, I think there’s someone you should meet.”
second step (msr ust, s2)
The first step is the one that reminds her that she is alive. The first step was her first year with Mulder, caught up in the excitement of it all. The second step is harder - but, she reminds herself, the second step is worth it.
smoke and mirrors (msr)
What’s your truth, she thinks idly, and is surprised to find that she wants to know the answer.
miles away (for xfilesrevisited)
It’s Christmas, and Scully won’t come downstairs.
unfinished crossover with stranger things
“Mr. Mulder, I am fascinated with your work on the X-Files,” Dustin says excitedly. “I’m sorry I thought you were a murderer.”
“That’s okay, most do.” He shrugs. “I’m sorry for my appearance, but I wasn’t expecting guests.” He shoots a look at Emily.
“It’s like I said, Mulder, that over there is Eleven, and she’s the one who’s like William.”
“She came from a bad place, and her nose bleeds when she does the thing,” William says, swinging her hand.
“And she’s going to help the guys find Will, you know, that missing kid, but she needs a place to stay,” Emily says.
The man is looking at her. Mike, Lucas, and Dustin are clustered together, staring at them. The man steps closer and offers his hand. “Hi, Eleven,” he says quietly. “I’m Mulder.”
Eleven takes his hand with her free one and shakes it. “Hi,” she says softly.
the werewolf theory (au comedy-ish thing)
Mulder and Scully solve a case as a married couple. (And it’d be great if everyone could let the last names thing go.)
“how i met your mother” au 1, 2, 3 (schmoopie family stuff)
basically a happy family au
a pale circle of light (post-the truth)
“Scully!” he calls after her. She keeps walking without looking back, chin firmly set.
drabbles
prompt: scully’s thoughts during the mosquito bites scene /// prompt: mulder remembers their encounter in the pilot during s7
prompt: mulder and scully are trapped in a freezer (s6)
prompt: mulder and scully annoying skinner
i love you: when we lay together on the fresh spring grass (iwtb era)
i love you: muffled, from the other side of the door (emily arc)
things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear (cancer arc)
things you said on the phone at 4 am (s7)
things you said when you were drunk (abduction arc)
things you said that made me feel real (cancer arc, synchrony)
34) things you said in your sleep/ 59) things you said after we fell in love (post cancer arc)
things you said while i cried in your arms (unruhe)
things you said in the dark (field trip)
things you said when no one else was around/things you were afraid to say (ftf)
things you said in the spur of the moment (post-cancer arc au)
prompt: scully tells melissa she’s pregnant
prompt: mulder and maggie in the hospital in essence
prompt: mulder’s missing and scully gets emotional when she finds him
prompt: leaves (mulder, scully, and william on the run)
post-one breath thanksgiving (au)
prompt: scully’s chip
prompt: hug (pusher)
prompt: toes (msr, william)
prompt: fic based off secret love song (s2, abduction arc)
prompt: woman, socks, locker, abandoned storage unit (mulder, scully, samantha)
prompt: trust no 1 au
“Do I make you happy?”/// “That’s why I love you.”/// “Let’s just lay here a little longer.” (s10)
“I don’t trust you.” /// “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” (william, scully, s11 spec)
“I’m not good with words.” (per manum)
prompt: halloween party and ghostbusting
prompt: first “i love you”s
episode prompt: irresistible
episode prompt: post-modern prometheus
episode prompt: genderbender
prompt: proposal
“I need you to pretend we’re dating…” - “It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed.” - “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…”
“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” (my struggle)
“Marry me?” - “I thought you were dead.” (this is not happening au)
“Have you lost your damn mind!?” (mini casefile)
“I was so alone… and then I met you.” (babyfic)
prompt: baby as a term of endearment (arcadia)
“You can’t die. Please don’t die.” (redux ii/this is not happening)
headcanons/short fics
headcanon: william's pretty excited about the fact that he's getting a little sister
headcanon: Jackson takes his little sister on long road trips during the summer
Mulder and Scully are married and domestic af
after Mulder and Scully's demise, Jackson takes custody of his little sister, and uses the X-Files to tell her about them
"You really felt the need to do THAT in front of my brother?"
"i haven't been to a planetarium since i was eleven, mulder."
"The baby kicked the soap right off my belly"
"You're sure it's not twins in there?"
"Okay, that was pretty funny wasn't it?"
Mulder was shocked when a man answered Scully's door practically naked.
“She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out, just empty hollow silence”
"Jackson?"
"I don't want to live another second without knowing what it feels like to kiss you"
They locked eyes from across the room, each ready to act on the other's signal.
“Why the fuck you wear that?”
“Damn it, Mulder, I said no”
Suddenly headlights wash through the windows of the empty bedroom.
“You’re lucky that wasn’t Bill.”
“Mulder? Help!”
“Shit, I forgot the eggs”
“How could you even ask me that?”
“Mommy? Mommy??”
“Did you feel that?!”
"We are required for this case to go for a horseback riding trip."
“Is that a birthmark, Scully?”
“Why did you lie to me?”
"I mean -- Gatsby didn't really love HER, the real Daisy; he was obsessed with her, which is a different thing entirely."
“What do you say to that, Scully?”
She looks down at the paper in her hands.
“Your son was just arrested.”
season 7 hcs
season 1 hcs
arrival au
msr + astronauts/space opera au
crossover with castle
au where mulder and scully were together [romantically] since like season 3 or 4 but told no one bc they were fully aware of a betting pool going to see when theyd get together and they didnt want skinner to win
snowflakes
future
guacamole
scully wears a skull sweatshirt on halloween
#ugh some of this stuff is really old and embarrassing#and jesus i've been writing fic for over a year#wow#long post tw#xf fanfic#i wrote this
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Was reading your Fall collection short chapters special. Since you already created a stellar XF au, can I take this opportunity to request u to pen a bigger series? Cersei standing in for Diana Fowley & maybe Morris Fletcher becomes Tormund? The usual comedy, jealousy, drama & insecurities involved? Please! Only after you’ve completed the Jennings’ of course. 🙂
I would be the absolute worst at doing a proper TXF AU. I’ve only watched a handful of the classic episodes, though I read a ton of TXF fic for a year or two. It would be a dream if I could write casefic with plot like Syntax6, and I would die to be able to write prose like Penumbra.
But if I did write one, I’d probably continue the Stoneheart story, and keep it really focused on JB – basically what I’m doing with The Assignment, just cherry picking from both canons but focusing only on their relationship mostly. And honestly, I’d keep a lot of the jealousy and insecurity to a minimum (it’s what stopped me from watching TXF more religiously; I just didn’t want to deal with all that). *Unless* I can explore it the way I’m exploring it with The Assignment, where it’s just the natural human feelings that happen even when rooted in a strong and healthy relationship (or even just friendship first).
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If You Will Let Me
X-Files Post-Milagro fanfic
TW: horror, demonic activity, demonic possession, near death experience, mild blood
Chapter 15: Martyr
File Artifact: the old farmhouse.
____________________
Mulder had known this darkness since his sister disappeared, in the way a patient knows a disease.
He had seen it in his periphery, on sleepless nights with sweat dampened sheets, looming in the shadows of his wounded memories. Insatiable. Relentless, but never fully visible… an elusive, malignant force. Certainly nothing he could control.
But how he had fought.
And recently, he really thought he had been winning.
Over the past year- even the past week- his hope had grown. The shadows had receded. He had finally, blissfully discovered how much he meant to Scully. He had held her… comforted her… kissed her.
There had been tangible hope for a future.
But the darkness found him. Again.
You are not enough. The voices lilted in his brain, louder, falling over themselves in a mocking, twisted, tuneless round as they traversed his neural networks and rooted deep into the panicked flesh of his amygdala. Not enough… never enough. Their relentless, dripping ridicule wrapped round and round his mind as the ghostly black tendrils slithered round his body, pulling him down. Burying him under masses of leaden smoke.
He saw nothing, anymore. The rods and cones of his eyes had been rendered impotent, his visual receptors overrun by an emptiness stitched tightly through each neuron by the fingers of darkness. But he felt not-Samantha watching, with her white eyes burning and small chin held high, gloating over her catch. Heard her laugh, airy, but somehow sinister… almost her. But not quite.
He wondered, as he sank into an icy, painful oblivion, if his real sister blamed him. If she hated him as much as this facsimile.
And as the darkness engulfed him, mind and body, he began to let go. Of Scully. Of Samantha. Of the prospects of a future with and for someone besides himself. He was so cold. It crystalized across his skin, slowing the life inside his veins, pressing itself into his pores and digging through. Running his nerves like currents, beginning to feed.
The bitter, icy sadness permeated him. But if Scully could escape, he bartered, he would take his place with the countless others collected in this hell scape.
A soul for a soul.
It was the only gift he could give to her, now. His breath faltered, his pulse slowed, and he hoped. For her sake alone.
____________________
Mulder’s body lay across the threshold of the broken door, motionless.
The sunlight glowed golden around him, outlining him in gilding, a martyr of illuminated scripts from ages past.
Scully wanted to run to him.
And she wanted to crumble. To hide her face from what she feared most, and sink into oblivion. For all she knew, this was another lie… or worse. That possibility, she could not consider. She tried not to recount the bodies of coded patients and autopsied victims, summoned up from her locked subconscious by the apparition of Philip Padgett. They had all lain eerily still. Just like this.
He can’t be dead. He can’t.
The last shreds of hope she possessed pulled her forward. Though the summer heat was pressing in from the gaping door, she felt the temperature dropping at her back. They didn’t have much time.
“Mulder?”
No response.
The last two steps were leaden, and her brow knotted tight as she took him in. His forehead was pricked by dozens of miniature scrapes, open and oozing crimson. The cartilage of his ear, torn and mangled, was matched by the deep, dirt-crusted gash in his palm. In the radiant summer sunlight he seemed perfect, and broken, an almost-saint with half of the stigmata vouching for his worth. His eyes were closed. His chest, agonizingly still.
“Oh, Mulder, no.”
Before she fully registered what her body was doing, she was kneeling over him, frantically feeling his cold neck for a pulse with her own bloodied fingers. Tracing between slack neck tendons, locating proof of life in his veins.
It was faint. But it was there.
“Mulder?” Her hands traveled from his jugular to his sternum, resting there. Willing his chest to rise. Nothing. Scully felt her own throat constricting, tight from tears threatening to surface.
“Mulder, we have to go.” Her trembling hands went back to his neck, ready to position him for breaths. She couldn’t give up on him. She wouldn’t. “You have to breathe. Please?”
As if in response, she felt his lungs expand. He drew in a shallow, shaking gasp of air, and began to cough weakly.
“Oh, thank God. Keep breathing… I know you can.” She propped herself up on one hand, using the other to wipe the blood from his forehead.
Mulder drew in more air, and shuddered.
The ambient air was cold, Scully realized. Clouds of black began to fill the entryway, all too familiar to her now, darkening the doorway that had been brilliant with summer sun minutes before. Murmurs, soft and dreamlike in a thousand voices and tongues, began calling to her. Hungry. Hunting. They were here for her… countless numbers of them. Her breath caught in her throat.
“S… Scully.” Mulder forced her name out in a strained whisper. “Scully. Run.”
“N-no, Mulder. I'm staying right here. With y-.”
“Scully.” His head turned slowly toward her. His eyelids cracked open, slightly. Showing an opalescent glow within.
“Mulder…?”
“I can see… Every possible… death for you.” He forced in another shallow breath, fighting the demons inside. “And you… need to run.” His fingers raised up to her clavicle blindly, searching. To the long, bloody slice that traced beneath. “I asked… just me. Not you… But I can’t… stop them.”
His fingertips slowly trailed fresh red from her incision down her pale skin, and his brow furrowed with sadness.
“Scully… I’m sorry… Go.” He splayed his fingers across her chest, pressing against her weakly in a vain attempt to push her away. Though his white, unseeing eyes pierced through her, his face was twisted in pain. Heartbreak.
She shook her head.
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You have to... A legion, Scully… Too many.”
“I won’t.” Tears cut paths down her stained cheeks. She cupped his chin in her bloody hands, voice quivering. “You said I wasn’t a victim, Mulder, and I won’t be. You can’t be one, either.”
His eyes closed, but he pulled in another labored breath. Fighting.
“Mulder. Stay with me.” She could barely make out his face, outlined in deep gray against the stark, black forms that were enveloping them both. A sob broke over her lips. “Please keep fighting. Keep breathing. We’re gonna get out. You and me.”
Another breath.
Scully strained to move him, pulling his chilled body up to her own, ignoring the burning of the autopsy wound soiled by his dust-caked face and hair. Frantically, her eyes searched the darkness, desperately seeking an escape. She clutched him to her chest as the charcoal columns drew ever closer, white eyes fixed on her.
Whispering.
Chanting.
Constricting.
Claiming.
She could see nothing, except their countless eyes boring into her soul. Felt nothing, except the tendrils grasping her arms and body, and the chill radiating from Mulder, across her fingertips, through her hands.
“We told you. He is ours.” Through the murky smoke, Scully could make out the shell of the man she wished to never see again.
Her glare met his. Unwavering.
“You don’t get to keep him.” Her words were tempered. Her jaw clenched. “I don’t care what you are. You can’t have him.” She cradled Mulder’s face to her body, protectively.
Padgett’s ghostly white visage peered through the columns of loosely gathered, ephemeral beings, edging itself closer. It twisted, masking itself with a pathetic attempt at kindness that was a hungry, haunted grin. Nothing more.
“You can stay. With him.” The smile was forced. Empty. “We know that’s all you’ve ever wanted.”
“This is not what I want.”
Padgett’s charade of sympathy was shattered by his laugh, a sound that bellowed out from his shifting body as it was echoed by the shrouded forms surrounding them. The face of the dead man dissolved into the darkness, leaving behind the white beaded eyes inches from her own.
And she felt pinpricks of energy, like ice on her skin as they began to enter her. The tendrils around them cinched tighter. She wanted desperately to fight, but… she could feel them crawling up through her neural network. Reaching into her. Taking control.
Mulder’s breathing faltered beneath her numbing fingers, and Scully felt her stomach drop.
“Mulder- don’t go. Just… keep breathing.” There is no point in breathing now. Scully choked on the words inside her mind. What was she becoming?
They had to leave, her rational remnants knew. But the pulsing, raging shadows burrowed into them both. She felt desperately alone, clinging to Mulder like her eight year old self to a rag doll, while the demons began to feed, siphoning themselves in, or herself out. She couldn’t tell anymore.
What would they be? Just a part of this mass of souls?
“I don’t know how, Mulder.” Her whisper was stained with regret. “God, I…”
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
It was the rushing of demons through her cerebrum, the pulsing of blood in her ears. It was the flood of hopelessness and acceptance.
And her eyes began to close.
____________________
“You’re tougher stuff than that, Starbuck.”
Scully felt herself pulled backward, jarred in her own skin. The voice was muted by the rushing of the black clouds, the jeering and insatiable growling of the demons, and the confusion of her own half consciousness. But it was there.
“Dad?”
Impossible.
He had been gone for years. But that voice. There was no mistaking her father’s deep, reassuring voice. So strong. Controlled. Safe. She shifted her cold body, forcing her clouding eyes to open, straining to locate the source.
“Fight it.”
“I don’t… know how.” It was a whisper, a sob. A plea for help from the last shreds of herself.
There is no fighting it. Stay. The demonic voices whispered within her, a hissing sound that was hopeless and strangely comforting, all at once. After all, she could rest here.
“Dana, don’t listen to them. You’re a fighter.”
She had been a fighter. It felt like a lifetime ago.
A sudden lurch against her chilled, bare chest pulled pieces of herself back, momentarily. Mulder. Her hands were numb, but the vibration of his ragged body against her was violent, sending tremors through her weary muscle and bone.
Convulsions?
Her medical mind fought the battle that the rest of her rational self was losing. Mulder was dying. Now. She was his only chance. Their only chance.
“Mulder.” His name was a murmur across her lips. She fumbled with his head dumbly, unable to work with no feeling in her limbs. “We have… to go… get up.”
Through the shadows, she saw his lips part. His head lolled to the side.
Her stomach dropped.
“Dad…” Scully didn’t know if she had really heard him. The rushing whispers in her mind told her no, and she should lie down and give up. But… “Dad, I’m… scared… he’s dying… we’re… dying…” The last word tumbled off her tongue, heavy with the sentencing it carried.
“It isn’t time for you to die, Starbuck.”
The spirits began to hiss and growl at this interruption, this benevolent visitor that would dare disturb their feeding. Mulder’s body stirred, drawing in a shallow gasp of air.
It isn’t time. She could feel the demons around them, in them, enraged at the thought of losing the souls they had worked to collect. And, she thought dully, how could they survive when they were surrounded by death?
“Dana, fight. Battles have been won by outnumbered men.”
Shrieking, the demons pressed in further, in earnest. There was rage building up inside of her… and she knew it wasn’t her own.
She pulled in another choked breath, and let Mulder down to the floor gently as she could with her awkward hands, cold and clumsy.
If they were to escape… she would have to move him.
Scully worked desperately to find pieces of herself through the angry din that permeated her. She had fought. But this house, these beings… It was not rational, not logical. She had no power over something so ethereal, so beyond her understanding. But she didn’t have to understand. She just had to act.
Against their chilled skin, the black forms screamed, rising to the frantic screeching she had felt before. Their dark tempest pummeled her, and inside… she felt herself flayed. Pulled apart, as if one piece of her soul wanted to escape, while the other… the other fought to stay. She smelled the desperation of the monsters enveloping them.
It mirrored her own.
“God, please…” It was all she could manage.
It was all she needed.
The door.
She couldn’t see it, but it had to be there.
With a determined growl, she threw her shoulder onto Mulder’s side, and his body moved. His eyes flew open, glaring at her.
White. Feral.
But she could hear him breathing, shallow. Ragged. But still breathing. It wasn’t too late.
“Mulder… keep fighting.” Another shoulder on his side. Another inch moved. “Let’s go… you… and me.”
The demons screamed and clawed around them, a cacophony of rage and hunger… but weaker, somehow. The whispers inside her had waned.
“Mulder.” She pushed hard against his side. There was dull pain in her shoulder, and a welcome tingle in her fingers. “Fight it. C’mon.”
Another breath, stronger.
His frame rolled, and she found herself fumbling in the darkness.
“Mulder?”
Fingers grasped at her arm, blindly. They traveled down her forearm, to her hand.
They grasped weakly.
“Scully.”
Her heart swelled, and she breathed her relief.
The chaos around them roared, eliminating all other sounds. But nothing else needed to be said. Arm over tingling arm, they dragged their exhausted, ravaged bodies to the threshold. Pressing through clawing masses of smoke, they pulled each other forward.
Their hands broke through to the glistening sunlight.
Together. Alive.
____________________
Thank you for reading! Tagging @today-in-fic
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If You Will Let Me
X-Files Post-MIlagro Fic
TW: mild blood, references to abuse, references to demonic activity
Author’s Note: This chapter is part of a larger work on AO3. It will not make much sense on its own. If you like, the full work is available here.
Chapter 16: Alive
The Midwest cornfields were great, green oceans this late in the summer, stretching from one horizon to the other and filled with crops that towered above men. The emerald leaves were bold against the pale sky. They wavered in the small breeze, rocking themselves listlessly over the dirt rows, their dance mimicked by the tassels on the plump ears of corn. The stalks were thick and the leaves broad. Excellent coverage, or at least, the illusion of it.
Hand in hand, Mulder and Scully kept a labored, unsteady pace through the rows. They had pulled themselves away from the farmhouse filled with darkness, escaping blindly across the gravel country road and into the thick of late summer corn. But for all their labor, they were no more than a half mile from the house and the evil it contained.
“It’s enough. I think.” Scully pulled back on his hand. It wasn’t a statement, but a request. Her body was utterly exhausted.
Mulder wasn’t sure. Perhaps the beings in the house could see them. Follow them. He wasn’t certain of much, except that his body ached, but his brain was clear. Completely void of the spirits that had been consuming him before. The clarity of emptiness coupled with the searing pain in his palm and ear made for an oddly therapeutic cocktail.
He had never been so grateful for acute pain in his life. But as the streams of adrenaline slowed, the burning wounds were magnified, and he found the thought of stopping more enticing by the second.
“Maybe. Maybe enough.”
His stumbling, unstable jog shrank to small, easy steps, and Scully followed his lead, grateful. Running had been the only immediate option, but her bare feet were raw from rock and debris, and they protested each pained step. She glared down at them to assess the damage, and flushed.
Her chest was still bare. She spun herself away from him, panic stricken, simultaneously grasping her clavicle. Her fingers felt across her collarbone, where the incision from Padgett’s scalpel should have been. Searching.
Nothing.
But her shirt was anything but white.
“Scully?” Mulder’s voice was tight. He touched her shoulder softly. “What?”
“I um.” She pulled her shirt closed and turned toward him awkwardly. “I’m okay. It just… it doesn’t make sense… I’m soaked in blood, I feel like I’ve lost blood. But, there’s no cut.” With one hand, she folded her stained shirt collar down so he could see.
Mulder’s fingers traced under her clavicle, just as he had in the old house. She flinched, and he pulled back.
“Sorry, I didn’t-”
“No, I’m sorry.” She hung her head, biting her lip. Flashes of him, eyes white, fired through her synapses. “You didn’t… do you remember me, finding you… in there?” Her head tilted, and she peered up at him from under furrowed brows.
He was silent for a moment. He remembered. It was still fresh in his mind, visions of her above him, calling to him through the din of demons screaming and tearing at him from within. And everything they wanted to do to her… He wished he could forget.
“I do. I remember.”
“I thought you were… gone.”
“I almost was.” His hands found her shoulders, gently pulling her body to his. He wrapped his arms around her slender frame. “Thank you for finding me, Scully. For getting us out of there.”
She breathed a minute laugh against his warm chest. “I would say you’re welcome, but it wasn’t me, really.”
“Hm?”
“I mean… It’s hard to explain. I know this will sound crazy.” She paused, puzzling to herself. “It was my father. I heard my father.” She pulled away. “And I followed his voice, and… none of this makes sense.” She shook her head, her eyes fixed on his earnestly. Of all the souls in the universe, he had to understand.
“I believe you.” He kissed her forehead softly, and she nodded.
Her gaze had drifted upwards, far away, staring past Mulder’s face, as if searching for a sign in the summer sky. Some reassurance that it was over, that they were safe and protected. But the sun was beginning its descent toward the horizon. Shadows lengthening. She closed her eyes, feeling tension begin to pull inside.
“So much of what just happened is… well,” she glanced back down at her unmarred chest. “Confusing. Unreal. But I want to believe… It sounded just like him.”
“Then, he was real.” His voice was a whisper as his fingers brushed a stray strand of hair off her dusty, bruised cheek. His face was etched with concern as his fingertip traversed the scrapes and bruises he found. He found himself overcome with guilt, taking each wound he found as a visceral reminder of how much it cost her, being with him. How often she was abused simply because she followed him.
“I’m okay, Mulder.” Scully’s delicate hand found his cheek, then traveled up to his forehead. “You’re the one you should be worried about.”
It amazed him how she could read most of his thoughts. Yet for all her abilities, she never once realized how much he loved her. He had been forced to spell it out so plainly. And, he mused as he kissed her forehead again, he was so very glad he did.
“I have a doctor on site. I’m not worried.” He winked for good measure.
“Well, your doctor thinks you need to wash these scrapes, and- oh, your ear!”
“Is it bad?”
Scully’s lips pursed. “It isn’t good. We need to wash these wounds… and your hand, oh… you need stitches.”
Mulder groaned.
“I packed my medical kit, I can take care of it. What?”
Mulder was staring at her bloody shirt.
“You said you feel you lost blood?”
“Yes… well, I’m fatigued. Dizzy. Similar symptoms to anemia, but I’m not anemic.”
“But you aren’t cut?”
She glanced back down, surveying herself. Aside from small scrapes and her aching feet, she was physically fine.
“I don’t see any lacerations.” She pulled her shirt tighter self consciously, frustrated at the clumsy folds of bloody fabric over her torn undergarment. “It doesn’t make sense, I know. This stupid shirt. He… he cut my shirt buttons… and my bra.” She saw Mulder’s jaw clench at this. “With a scalpel.”
“Padgett?”
She nodded.
“But you’re not hurt, now… right? The cut on your chest is gone.” Mulder paused. A vision of Padgett holding her down on the farmhouse bed flooded his brain. His teeth clenched. It had been a demonic trick. A lie. But he knew what they had planned. The legion had shown him again and again as they had worn him down, and he couldn’t be certain they hadn’t accomplished more of what they had begun. He had to be careful how he worded this, for her sake. “Did he hurt you… anywhere else?”
“No, Mulder.” Scully wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a small kiss. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
“You always say that. And I’ll always worry.”
She nodded at this. His ability to worry was unmatched, she knew. Especially when it came to her. Part of her wanted to take away his concern, the other loved him for it.
Mulder rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. He was so grateful she was alive. Unharmed, physically at least. But in order to get to someplace safe, he would have to ask her to follow him again.
He didn’t want to.
“We need to get back to the motel, before it’s dark.”
Scully hummed her agreement.
“The car is at that house.”
“Oh… dammit. Why did we go this way?”
“It was the fastest way to get away from those… things.”
They stood silent, nestled between the towering stalks, hidden from the sight of the farmhouse. Taking each other in, carefully. Gauging one another. To go back was a possible death sentence. Staying here, close to the house, was quite possibly another variation of the same.
“Scully… how did your dad come to you?”
She furrowed her brow. She remembered being hemmed in on all sides. Watching Mulder die. She shook her head.
“I don’t know, really. I remember being scared… you were… not breathing well. They were everywhere…taking you… I think I called to God. And then I heard him, telling me to fight. It’s almost like… almost like he was sent to me.”
“I hope he comes again. If we need help.”
Mulder squeezed her shoulder with his good hand, and she looked up at him, a faint grin on her face.
“He told me something, in the house.” She turned, tying her shirt closed the best she could. “He said that battles have been won by outnumbered men. So I kept fighting.”
“I like your dad, Scully. He sounds like a smart man.”
“He is.”
____________________
They cut a wide berth out from the house, pressing through between the towering crops in hopes that the space would offer security. As the land dipped low, the field stopped abruptly, and they found themselves out in the open, stopped at a creek doubling as an irrigation ditch. It had sliced through the earth over the decades, carving itself deep into the dirt as far to the right as they could see.
And to their left, the waterway disappeared into a culvert that ran under the gravel road to the farmhouse. The dried embankment was dangerously steep.
Mulder huffed his disappointment at the impasse, surveying the rough terrain.
“Guess we walk over from here.”
Scully nodded absently, her eyes fixed on the crest of the hill. The house was no longer visible from down in the gully, but the top of the willow tree peeked just above the horizon, as if it were watching.
Mulder led the way, keenly aware he was guiding them back to the prison they had just managed to escape. Keeping low, they followed the curve of the creek up to the road. He shot a worried look to Scully’s feet, then to the gravel road, and back.
She feigned her best smile.
“I’m okay, Mulder. Really.”
He shook his head in a quiet response, and his arm snaked around her torso, his fingers cradling her side. Her breath hitched.
“Grab my neck, Scully.”
She wanted to protest. But her feet were throbbing, her body drained. With one seamless motion, Mulder had her suspended in the air, moving steadily up to the country road. She breathed a soft sigh against his chest.
As the gravel grit crunched under his feet, she couldn’t tear her eyes off the tip of the willow and the swell of the hill. They were low enough that the tree never grew into full view. Far enough, she hoped, that the demons couldn’t see them. Or sense them.
“I’ll carry you to the shed- we’ll come up from behind it. That will keep them from seeing us. And then we’ll have to run to the car.”
“You still have the keys, right? Mulder?”
“I didn’t lose them, if that’s what you’re asking.” Mulder flashed a sheepish grin down, but her wide, panicked eyes washed it off his face. “It’s fine, I left them on the console.”
“Mulder!”
“Shhhh! Not so loud. What do demons want with car keys? They’ll be there, Scully.”
“And if they’re not?” Her voice was small.
His soiled dress shoes stepped into the long grass by the roadside. Fumbling, he readjusted his hold on her body, unwilling to let her go. The comfort of closeness offered a feeling of protection that they both desperately craved.
“Trust me. We’re going to be okay.”
____________________
Climbing up the back of the hill was more strain than Mulder had bargained for.
His legs ached, his gashed hand smoldered from the sweat that leached into it. On any other day, he would carry her anywhere she wanted. But today, she was heavy. His body was used. And the sun was washing the world with radiant gold, silently stepping itself down, down to rest beneath the horizon.
Soon, it would be sunset.
“I’m sorry, Scully. I have to put you down.” He breathed his regret into her hair as he kissed her crown, hoping the break had been enough.
“I didn’t ask you to carry me in the first place.” Her words were defiant, but she met his gaze with a wry grin. “I can do it. We’re almost there.”
“You didn’t ask. But you liked it.” He watched her pale cheeks flush and flashed her a small smile.
Lacing their fingers together, they trudged the last length of the steep hill slowly, muscles spent. Wounds aching. Neither wanting to face the nightmare of the legion again. Both haunted by the unsettling feeling that they were going exactly where the legion wanted them.
“Um. Scully?” Mulder lurched to a halt. His body tensed.
She said nothing, but stood staring alongside him, her grip on his hand tightening.
In the rutted dirt driveway, the rental car stood where they had left it, low summer sunlight glinting off the hood and windshield. Yards away, the willow tree was silhouetted against the yellowing sky. Its languid branches wavered listlessly in the breeze.
But the tree stood alone.
Where the house and shed had been, foundation stones remained as contoured echoes of what once was. Weeds and grass pressed up through the cracks, breaking them down. Squinting, Mulder could make out freshly turned earth on the far edge of the house foundation. A ragged, gaping hole split up between two halves of a crumbled foundation stone.
The wind shifted. Suddenly chilled.
Come home.
He couldn’t hear the words, but felt them. They ran through his nerves, cold and calm. He felt an unbidden urge to go closer. A need. Pressing his lips together, he looked down at Scully and knew she felt the same.
“They’re still here.”
She didn’t respond. Her blood covered, battered frame swayed slightly. Her mouth was slightly agape, shocked by the sudden torment she felt inside herself. She didn’t want to go back. But she felt she had to. There was no other choice.
She took a shaking step toward the foundation, eyes widening.
“We have to go, Scully… or we never will.”
He pulled at her hand urgently, and she blinked, snapped back from her divided thoughts.
“Okay… okay.”
Mulder guided her to the car, his gashed hand fumbling with the handle as his good hand pressed gently on the small of her back. Obediently, she climbed into the passenger seat of the steaming car, pulling her tired, torn feet in with her. Hugging herself.
She seemed much smaller to him, suddenly.
He slammed the driver's side door, hurriedly searching for the keys.
He cursed under his breath.
When he glanced up from the bare console, he was met with Scully’s horror stricken face.
“Mulder, no…”
“I’m still looking!”
She heaved an exasperated groan and covered her face with her dirty hands.
“I swear, I left them here, Scully.” His teeth were clenched, his voice stained with panic.
“What are we going to do?”
The question hung in the slowly dimming light. Mulder groped the floor of the car, under the console.
“Ha!” Mulder held the keys up to her triumphantly.
“Good, now drive!” Her eyes were fixed on something inside the boundaries of the house. Something she couldn’t make out, and felt certain she didn’t want to. But she couldn’t tear herself away.
As Mulder peeled out from the driveway, he looked over at Scully. Clothing stained with blood. Dirty. Barefoot. Exhausted. She looked more like a victim today than he had ever seen before.
Because of him, the demons had said.
“How much of that was real?” Her voice was far away, muted by the weight of all they had just experienced.
“I don’t know, Scully. But I know we’re alive. We made it.” He tried to offer her a grin.
But Scully wouldn’t look at him. Her body was turned, her gaze trained through the rear window on the lone willow tree. Its black silhouette was harsh against the bright orange sunset, and its branches wavered in the breeze, reaching out to her. Alive.
They beckoned like fingers.
Like charcoal tendrils grasping at them in the darkness.
____________________
Thank you for reading! <3 tagging @today-in-fic
#msr#msr fanfic#txf#txf casefic#haunted house fic#Fox Mulder#Dana Scully#mulder and scully#The X-Files
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Chapters: 4/4
Fandom: The X-Files
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Characters: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Margaret Scully
Additional Tags: Case File, around season 7, horror story casefile, msr fanfiction, msr fanfic, established MSR
Summary:
Mulder and Scully are called on a personal favor by Maggie Scully, to investigate a seemingly haunted house.
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If You Will Let Me
A Post Milagro X-Files Fic
TW: Horror, Demonic Posession, Minor Blood and Gore, Torture, Autopsy
Chapter 14: Cicada Songs
Cracks of light, so minuscule he questioned their existence, blinked dimly through the rubble as he continued to pound at the foundation bricks. It could be truth… it could be another lie. But, Mulder considered grimly, he was out of alternatives.
Through the darkness, he pummeled at the ancient brick that powdered, bit by bit, under his blow. He tried not to consider the life that the skull in his hands once held, or the lives of the bodies that surrounded him. Scully. Get to Scully.
Pound.
Crumble.
Sweep the debris.
Pound.
Crumble.
Sweep.
He kept himself at a quickened pace, though his biceps burned and his neck ached. The cadence was his only chance. He couldn’t stop.
Fragments of brick began chipping off in earnest, and Mulder felt his hopes rise up. The light that speckled the decrepit wall before him was growing to small, faded beams that teased through the dust.
Turning on his side, Mulder reached both hands to the breaking bricks. The soiled, burning wound in his palm had faded to a tingling ache that he tried to ignore. He pressed his dirt-filled nails into the grit of the foundation and pulled. At the shift in the bricks, his fingers wiggled deeper into cracks, clawed in a frenzy at pieces that rasped and cracked as they gave way. Pinholes grew to a diminutive, ragged opening. His hopes lifted.
Beneath the sound of cracking foundation, falling sediment and his own rhythmic breathing, Mulder felt something. A vibration. One that couldn’t register on his tympanic membrane, but reverberated through each cell of his body. He felt a tingling electricity in the stale air, like the charge of a thunderstorm. They knew what he was doing. He could feel it.
But he had to take the chance. Let them come.
He wouldn’t stop.
Pound.
Crumble.
Sweep.
Repeat.
Find Scully.
_______________
Scully’s eyes took in the gaunt, gray face of Philip Padgett’s corpse. His teeth shone in the darkness, tendons straining in his neck as he pressed tighter on her throat, leaning his flayed body forward. She wanted to tear her eyes away, just as much as she wanted desperately to run. Escape.
But she could do neither.
Her vision was held as captive as her body, and so she stared, struggling to breathe, sensing each movement of his cold body over hers. Watching what should be impossible, fully animated and all powerful, as he began to pull the icy scalpel across her skin.
Don’t give him any pleasure in it. None.
But Scully couldn’t stifle her body’s response to the scalpel that cut beneath her collarbone. The slice of the blade ripped through her, a searing pain that held each nerve ending fast.
Her scream, grated and stifled, escaped her throat, and she lurched against the hand on her neck that held her down.
“Get. Off.” Her words rasped through compressed vocal cords. Muscles strained against dark smoke that swirled over her and held her still. She was drowning under his body and a sea of cold, black emptiness that was smothering her.
Padgett’s dead face grinned down at her with satisfaction. His pale fingers raised the blade to his own gaping chest.
“We aren’t finished yet.” He traced the blackened, vertical opening of his y incision, tilting his head. Gloating. Ebony crusts of his dried blood fluttered down to her bare chest. “You’re going to feel every slice you’ve ever made. All those autopsies. All those bodies. Each. Cut.” He pressed harder on her straining neck, and bent his face to hers.
Scully tried to pull air into her starved lungs. A warm stream of her own blood traced a path from her clavicle, down the side of her chilled, bare chest. Away. Get away. She could think of nothing else as her brain began to slow from lack of oxygen. Padgett’s cold, decaying breath registered dully in her nostrils, and she felt the blade revisit the fresh opening under her clavicle. Finding the next piece of her to parce.
Hssssssssss.
The sound crawled on her skin. It was soft in her dulled eardrums at first, but rose abruptly to an angry crescendo.
The palm of Padgett’s hand withdrew sharply from her throat. Through the darkness, Scully could see his body waver. Change. She gasped air into her lungs, shaking. Grateful. Silent. Something had drawn his attention. The last thing she wanted to do was remind him of her presence. Her eyes searched the dim attic, considering her situation. Low visibility in a seemingly empty room. An undetermined space between the ancient bed she occupied and the stairs. Her aching neck, her bleeding chest. The dead body holding her fast. Not ideal.
Mulder’s words interrupted her pessimistic thoughts, pulling her back to herself.
You are not a victim, he had said. You’re stronger than that.
No.
She wouldn’t be a victim. Not again. She could take back control.
Hsssssssssssssss.
It was coming from nowhere, and everywhere, pricking at her skin, filling the corners of the darkened attic. It was electric, dripping with fury. Something was changing.
The fingers of black smoke that had chained her down released their grip as the sound grew. Peaks of ebony smoke undulated in the darkness, pouring over themselves, and she could make out masses that seemed to climb. Like pillars. Or bodies. Padgett, cold stone over her, lurched suddenly, twisting unnaturally. The white flesh of his torso, the gaping autopsy hole in his chest, all of him wavered. Blackening. His mouth opened, joining the unnatural choir that hissed and grated like a cacophony of cicadas.
It was otherworldly.
Demonic.
The terror pitted in her stomach grew, but she forced it down. With its attention distracted, Scully had an opportunity.
And it could be the only one.
——————————
This has to be enough.
Mulder’s tired eyes strained to size up the crumbled gash he had torn out of the aged foundation, considering how best to squeeze through. Steaming summer air wafted over his dust-coated face in small, featherlight kisses, and what sounded like cicada songs rose up in swells that peaked and grated, a stark contrast to the rhythmic chirps of grasshoppers in the cornfields.
Cicadas meant late afternoon. Evening. Had they been there that long? Through the foundation wall it was a serene, lazy Midwest day, and Mulder caught the grim laugh that threatened in his throat. Peaceful life sang brightly, just outside his grasp, and here he lay in a catacomb. Surrounded by the dead. Dead which he would be joining soon, if he didn’t figure out a way to save himself and his partner. Golden sunlight filtered through the hole, illuminating dancing particles that wavered listlessly before him. Particles, he knew, of skin and bone. Lives long stolen by the beings above him.
Dust to dust.
But that couldn’t be his fate- not yet. Not while the possibility of finding Scully was even remotely plausible. Every second was closer to something terrible for her, he knew. Something meant to break her and fold her into the writhing mass of darkness. He could feel time ripping away from him. The memory of Padgett choking her on the bed, taking every shred of her dignity, was carved into his subconscious. The gloating visage of that man haunted Mulder. Taunting him inside his head.
That hadn’t been real.
But she was somewhere in this tomb of a house. And those shadows… those demons. They could be doing that to her right now. Or worse.
No. He couldn’t let himself dwell… couldn’t think. Every time his neurons fired a pained memory, a fear, they could hear him. He knew. They could hear everything. And they already knew that losing her was what terrified him most of all. Though the legion knew his intentions, as much as they knew every other thought he dared to think, they had seemed to leave him alone when he fell down here, turning attention to find her.
To take her.
He felt suddenly nauseous, and defeated. If that’s where all the dark energy was focused…
God, please. If you’re up there. Please don’t let them…. Mulder didn’t dare finish the thought.
His bloodied hand emerged into the golden glow first, tentatively. Seeking. Was this real? Mulder wasn’t sure anymore. He rotated his body, twisting himself sideways to best match the gash in the bricks, and began to push himself closer with his good hand while his feet kicked and scuffled against the bone fragments that surrounded him. They clattered their displeasure.
“Sorry.”
He knew it was stupid to talk to dismembered, decayed corpses.
But he was sorry. Desperately. Sorry for kicking them. Sorry that they were murdered here by those evil beings in the first place. Sorry that he and Scully had ever met Padgett, that he had written the report that pissed Kersh off. Sorry that Kersh had been so punitive with this assignment. And so very, very sorry he had brought Scully out here on this damn paperwork check and gotten them lost.
His neck bent unnaturally, tight against his shoulder as he squeezed his head through the ragged opening, and he felt his ear catch, then rake its way across the threshold.
As he strained and clawed through the opening, born again from the tomb behind him, the cicada song grew louder, building in pitch and cadence. Frantic. Enraged. Ravenous.
The sun hung high in the cloudless sky, and Mulder knew.
The sound was not cicadas.
Lazy summer heat washed over him, but it did nothing to soothe the chill he felt on the back of his neck, or the sick pit in his stomach.
He struggled to his feet, caked in earth and powdered human remains, and squinted up at the old farmhouse. He was eye level with the front door, standing in the piled lumber refuse of what had once been a covered porch addition. Weather, vermin and time had all taken their share, and the boards had long since rotted and crumbled into piles of porous fragments and peeled, faded paint chips. Before him, the door shook, bearing, for the moment, the raging legion within.
Mulder moved to rub his hands over his face, fighting hopelessness. He stopped short. His palm was covered in blood. The gash was much worse than he had realized, and though matted with dirt and debris, it still trickled fresh crimson as he flexed his fingers.
He figured his scraped ear and forehead were not much better. His shoulders slumped. Exhausted.
This house. These things.
Everything screamed of decay. Of sadness and emptiness, destruction and death. Even himself. He found himself wondering just how much longer. How much more. How much farther he was willing to go before he released his desperate grasp on the notion of ever being with his partner again.
Thud. Thud.
Scrape.
The cacophony shrieking, pummeling behind the door rattled the warped windowpanes that leered at him from above. He felt it reverberating inside him, an electrical impulse that wore him down. Pulled him in.
Thud. Thud.
Snap.
Falling over itself, the door cracked and splintered, raining down in clattering wooden shreds that disappeared into the black sea of smoke that began pouring over him.
He saw his dim hopes eclipsed.
Through the swirling ebony haze, his eyes met the glowing eyes of Samantha, who stared down at him from the darkness in the doorway. Her face was stone.
“Fox.” She was speaking to him, but her lips didn’t move. The voices were many, inside his head. “You’re home now, with us. Don’t you remember?”
“No.” Mulder’s mouth was dry. His eyes burned from human debris. From summer air and dehydration. From the angry tears that threatened to spill over.
They would never stop. He was certain, more certain of it than of anything he had ever claimed or believed in his pathetic life.
He felt himself giving up.
Her lips turned up in a minuscule smile, but the eyes were unwavering. Boring into him, white hot and void of anything but hunger. As the darkness enveloped him, the violent, raging shrieks grew more frenzied, and Mulder felt them wash over him. Through him. Into him.
Through the din, under the currents raging inside his mind, he managed to form two rational thoughts which still belonged to him:
The demons were already consuming him. But maybe he had bought Scully some time.
——————————
Adrenaline coursed through Scully’s veins, her breath quickening, her muscles tense. She steeled herself, eyes wide, and shoved with all her strength, pushing at Padgett’s chilled corpse so she could wriggle free.
And her hands went into him. The blackened flesh was cold as ice, but somehow loose now. Soft. It wavered, suspended for a moment, then began to slide, pieces of thick, black skin and muscle tissue sloughing off onto her as she scrambled backward.
Desperate to escape, Scully backed up blindly, reaching with frantic fingers that found nothing but air, and fell off the bed. She landed, head first, with a stifled groan and a dull thud. Licking her dried lips, she drew in a shaky breath against the musty wooden slats of the dusty, forgotten attic.
Pressing her palms down, she steadied herself. Moving like stone. Mind racing. Her eyes turned slowly up as she twisted to glance behind her.
She wished she hadn’t.
The shrill, unnatural shrieking had stopped. Deafening silence was in its stead. What had been Padgett’s head slithered itself down, eyes locked on hers. They shone white, piercing through the undulating, ethereal mass of smoke that had once been his body. Frantically, her eyes darted to another mass. Then another. And another. Countless clouded forms that had built themselves up pressed into the ceiling of the small attic, looming in each corner, closing in. Each possessed the same cold, beaded white eyes that cut into her soul.
As a child, alone in her darkened room, Scully had imagined the devil. Imagined Hell itself. Nights of staring at the doorway, or crawling into Melissa’s bed, the danger had felt imminent. But it dissipated in the early light. It had been frightening, but like a bad dream, or a fairy tale, removed and safely bound within an old book. Stories, Melissa had reassured her. Just old stories, not truth.
But this. Not even her worst nightmares had prepared her for this.
These were demons. Hungry. Coming for her.
Her logical brain wanted to argue, wanted desperately to find a rational truth to cling to. But there was no logic. Only eyes, and darkness.
Quickly, she pivoted herself, clawing away on all fours, fingernails raking the wood.
Only two thoughts existed in her terror infested mind.
Find Mulder.
Run.
But where? Everything was black. And she had seen the haunting white eyes behind her, watched them fill the room. She could feel them, everywhere.
Except… except for one space. A corner to her left. Run there. She could conjure nothing better, and so she followed her instinct. She hunched forward and bolted, a runner from unsteady blocks. A feral, wounded animal, desperate to escape.
Voices rose up from the living smoke that trailed behind her. They echoed, sang out in waves that hit all octaves. Deep. Sharp. Bitter.
“You won’t leave us. Because he is with us.”
She choked. Froze. Mulder.
An eddy of cold energy lapped at her skin, traversing the nerves in her spinal cord, then up into the gray matter. Parsing through the neurons to find each thought before it touched her tongue.
She knew they were attempting to dig into her. Break her down. She also knew that Mulder would never want her to give in.
He isn’t. And I won’t stay either. The thought was barely formed before the beings retorted, billowing out. Ever closer.
“He is,” the sadistic chorus sang. “He is in us. And. He wants you. With us.” The lilt in the voices turned her stomach. She was reeling, from blood loss, from the spirits ready to claim her. From the loss of her closest friend.
Ankles unstable, Scully stumbled toward the corner that offered a haven from the enveloping smoke, if only for a moment.
A frantic stride.
Another.
Her toes stepped into a void, and hovered gracelessly before gravity seized her, dragging her down the farmhouse stairs, buffeted against the walls. Her body came to rest against the wooden door, heaped over itself like a ragdoll.
Groaning, she unfolded herself, eyes wide. She was thankful for the pain. It burned her, across her chest, through her bruised body. Through its growing intensity, it focused her. Forced her on. The airy, haunting laughter carried down the stairs on waves of black, ghostly vapors. Coming.
She couldn’t think. Wouldn’t think. Just. Act.
Her arm found its way up the old door, fingers groping, and her clammy palm found the brass doorknob.
It turned.
Scully spilled out into the tight, dimly lit hallway, coming to rest on her back, her hands unconsciously covering her bare chest and bleeding wound. Gasping, she lay for a moment, enough to process her new surroundings in this hellish maze of a house.
The attic door was at her feet. Down the hall, to the left, the bathroom. And to the right… Sunlight? Whispers, almost imperceptible, and a chilling in the air told her it was time to move.
She heaved herself up and began moving to the promise of the outside world. Even if it was a lie. She wouldn’t stop until and unless they gutted her.
Not a victim. I’m not a victim. Her pace matched her mantra.
#msr#horror#may be triggering#autopsy#blood#torture#demonic posession#mulder and scully#scully and mulder#txf#txf casefic#haunted house fic#I keep saying things are looking up but we aren't there yet#I swear the next installment is better#hang in there folks
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