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atths--twice · 4 months

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The Journey Home

After the fear surrounding their failed reunion, Scully realizes that the only place she and William need to be is with Mulder- wherever that may lead.

I wrote this story last year for the MSR Fanzine and today I am able to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy it.

Late January, 2002

9:58 p.m.

The apartment was lit by only a couple of lights as Scully placed clothes into the large, black duffel bag that sat on her bed. She was precise with her choices; only packing what she needed now and not further into the future.

Taking her dark blue toiletry bag into the bathroom, she added only the bare minimum of items. Soaps, shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush and toothpaste, tampons, and her makeup bag. Zipping the golden zipper, she switched off the light and left the room.

Packing it beside her sweaters, she picked out three pairs of shoes. Boots and a pair of sneakers were added to the duffel, the other pair left out to be worn. She closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath.

“Nearly done. Come on,” she whispered and then opened her eyes.

Adding a blanket to the duffel, she looked around the room before nodding as she zipped and secured the bag. Carrying it silently out of her room, she set it beside William’s matching bag she had packed earlier that day.

Every article of his clothing, extra diapers and wipes, blankets, some toys, extra bottles, her breast pump, and his own toiletry bag were packed, ready for their rapidly approaching departure.

From the kitchen chair, she picked up the backpack she would now be using as William’s diaper bag.

Running her hand along the back side of it, she drew in a breath, tears stinging her eyes as she thought of the other contents it held.

Three days ago, she had come to the Gunmen’s at their request, where they presented her with items Mulder had asked them to procure before he’d had to leave.

Doctored passports, driver’s licenses, social security cards, and birth certificates. A handful of credit cards bearing fake names that had been chosen. A substantial amount of cash, along with information to account numbers for three bank accounts, all of them in different names that matched the drivers licenses.

“He didn’t tell me,” she had whispered, looking at the picture of herself on a license which bore the name Sally Stenson.

“He wanted to be sure things were ready, just in case they would be needed,” Byers had said and she laughed out a small sob.

“Well, they definitely are,” she had said, remembering how she felt just a couple of days ago as she stood on the train platform, watching the train passing her by, knowing Mulder had been on it and she had been unable to reach him. Sighing, she set the license down.

“Alright,” Frohike had said suddenly and rather gruffly, picking everything up. “I got this.” He had left the room without looking back and she stared after him in confusion.

Byers had sighed and when she looked at him, she saw sadness in his and Langly’s eyes.

“It’s not how I want this to be,” she had said and Byers shook his head as he touched her arm and attempted a smile.

“No. It’s how it needs to be.”

Late last night, a soft knock sounded at her apartment door and for a second she had stood frozen. She had reached for her gun and walked quietly to check who it was and had seen Frohike standing on the other side, holding a beat up leather backpack in his hands.

“It’s all in here,” he had said, stepping across the threshold as she closed the door and set the gun down on the table. “This is an old backpack of mine that I used a long time ago. There’s space that I created between the lining where I would put stuff I didn’t want seen by the fuzz. I’ve put everything of yours in there and sewn it up, to keep it hidden. When you get where you’re going… you take it out and keep it somewhere safe.”

“Frohike,” she had breathed, taking the backpack from him. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking down at the ground and then back up at her. “Be careful. Take care of each other.”

“We will. Thank you.”

She hugged him, thanking him again, and he left immediately after the embrace had ended.

He had done the job perfectly. No one would ever suspect what was hidden within the backpack unless they literally tore it apart.

Placing it beside the duffel bags, she clasped her hands together and looked around the apartment that she had lived in for so long.

Anything that held sentimental value had been taken to her mother’s house two days ago for safekeeping, including the fish tank and all the fish. Everything else would be taken care of once she and William were gone, Byers had assured her, though she found she was not really worried about it.

Leaving behind the physical was surprisingly easy, with the exception of her mother.

Her mother understood why they had to leave, but that did not mean she wanted it to happen. It had been a very tearful goodbye and watching her holding William until the last possible second, had almost caused Scully to change her mind.

Almost.

But she had to go. And they both knew it.

There were too many worries and questions that weighed on her and she needed to be with Mulder to figure them out.

Glancing at the clock with a sigh, she hurried to the bathroom to take a quick shower, change her clothes, and put on her sneakers.

Hurrying through her last few tasks, a light knock sounded at the door and she jumped. Another two knocks and she knew it was Langly.

He walked in silently, picked up the bags, and carried them down to the waiting van as she put on the backpack and then placed a sleeping William into the carrier sling, shushing him softly when he began to fuss.

Nodding resolutely as she gently patted William’s back, she walked out the door, locking it behind her.

Frohike took the backpack from her as he helped her inside, sitting down on the floorboard and leaning against the side of the van. It was unsafe and illegal, but she did not care so long as she would not be seen as they drove.

“We'll take the back streets, stay off the highway,” Byers said from the driver's seat. “Should be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Okay,” she said, closing her eyes as she held William close when he whimpered in his sleep.

Twenty minutes felt both like forever and no time at all when they reached the station and Byers parked the van. Langly got out, grabbing the bags, as Frohike stepped out with the backpack and reached a hand in to help Scully.

He took a paper bag from the backseat and placed it into the backpack along with two bottles of water before he closed it up and helped her put it on.

“I made you some breakfast burritos,” Frohike said, his voice gruff once again. “They should be good for the journey. Stay in your compartment. Don’t come out until you reach him.”

“Right,” Scully said with a nod as she adjusted both the backpack and William’s carrier.

She stared at all of them as Byers walked up to join them, the keys held nervously in his hands.

“Thank you for everything,” she said softly, tears pricking at her eyes. “Thank you for… being there for both of us. All of us.” She rubbed William’s back and they nodded. “I…”

“You need to get going, Agent Scully,” Byers said, taking her ticket from his inside jacket pocket and handing it to her. “Be careful.”

“We will.”

She grasped his hand and he nodded, smiling softly. Frohike sighed as she looked at him and stepped forward to embrace him.

“Goodbye,” she whispered and he grunted, patting her back.

Langly walked beside her to the train platform, carrying her bags. They waited silently until it arrived and he followed her to her compartment. Setting the bags down, he hugged her quickly, hurrying from the train as it began to leave the station.

Standing by the window, she watched him run to join the others. They all held up a hand and she did the same, staying until she could no longer see them, and then stepping inside of her compartment and locking the door.

Making up the small bed, she stacked the duffel bags in front of the door. Taking off her shoes, she laid down with William in her arms, exhaustion overtaking her as she fell asleep instantly, the train bouncing along as it carried them west.

__________

Nearly a full day was spent in the compartment, opening the door only to hand her ticket to the ticket agent, her gun held out of his view, just in case. Thanks to the food and water Frohike had provided, and the bathroom in her small room, she did not have any need to leave.

She created a safe space for both of them, William wide eyed as he looked out the windows and the world beyond them.

When the next stop was announced, the town in which she and Mulder had previously arranged to meet, Scully felt her stomach drop. The bags were repacked, William once again in his carrier sling and her backpack on, when she opened the doors to leave.

It was dark outside, the winter sun already down when she bumped down the hallway with her cumbersome bags. A kind older man offered to help her, but she graciously refused.

The brakes squealed as the train began to slow and she stood waiting at the door, her bags in her hands and heart racing. William shifted and she looked down at him with a smile. He smiled back and she let out a deep breath when the train stopped completely.

The doors opened and she swallowed hard as she made her way off the train. The ticket attendant appeared and helped her, placing her bags on the ground beside her with a smile.

Scully picked up her bags and walked away from the people milling about the platform as quickly as she could, considering the awkward weight of the bags she carried. Her eyes were peeled for the enclosed bus stop, praying Mulder had done as he had planned and taken out the overhead light to keep them in darkness.

Catching sight of the small building, her pace and heart rate quickened, looking over her shoulder and thankfully finding no one following her.

As she approached, a figure stepped from the building, but remained standing in the darkened doorway. She paused before she recognized the person’s frame and she whimpered softly, moving faster.

The bags were abandoned as she reached him, her arms outstretched as he stepped towards her.

“Scully,” he breathed, pulling her into his arms, William protesting in loud surprise as he did. She laughed, tears in her eyes, as she hugged him back. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. So much,” she said, over the sound of William’s cries. Mulder held her tighter, whispering her name into her hair.

Pulling back, he held her face in his hands and kissed her softly three times. He shook his head, his thumbs rubbing her cheeks as he smiled.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, holding onto his wrists, her tears spilling over.

“And you,” he said, letting go of her face and opening the sling carrier to look down at William. “How are you, my son? God, he’s gotten so big. Can… can I hold him?”

“Of course you can.”

He took him from the carrier and held him, smiling as he stopped crying and stared, looking from Mulder to Scully. He smiled, shoving a fist into his mouth and Mulder chuckled as he shook his head again.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, kissing him and then her again. He bent to pick up one of the bags as Scully picked up the other one. He smiled at her and she smiled back as she wiped the tears from her cheeks, William blowing raspberries as they began to walk from the darkness to Mulder’s car.

_____________

Two years later, in a small town in Tennessee, a taxi drove up a long dirt road, stopping in front of a farmhouse with a large wraparound porch. Rocking chairs, big and small, adorned it. Potted plants were set out by the pillars along the porch, many bright colored flowers sprouting from them. Two different sized swings were hanging at the end of the porch, the grass around the house green and luscious.

The taxi driver stepped out to take the two large suitcases from the trunk as the screen door squeaked open and then slammed closed. Scully hurried across the porch to greet her mother who had just gotten out of the taxi and was looking at her with a teary smile.

“Mom,” Scully said, tears clogging her throat.

“Oh, Dana,” Maggie said, holding her tightly, both of them crying happily as the screen door squeaked open again.

“Mama?” William asked and Maggie laughed as she stepped back to see the little boy she had missed every day for the past two years.

She walked up the steps to take him from Mulder, who handed him over with a smile, as he helped Scully with the suitcases, the taxi driving away.

Hours later, the sun setting, Scully stood watching William and her mother sitting together on one of the swings, William pointing and jabbering away to her as the swing moved slowly and she laughed.

“Hey,” Mulder said softly, his arm going around Scully’s shoulders. She wrapped her arms around his waist, sighing contentedly. “Are you happy?”

“Yes. Very happy.”

“Good.”

“And you?” she asked, looking up at him.

He looked down at her and smiled, letting that be his answer and she smiled back, her hold on him tightening as he put his other arm around her.

“Good,” she said, resting her cheek against his chest as he hummed and kissed the top of her head.

“Yeah,” he said.

Somewhere nearby a dog barked, prompting William to repeat the sound, causing all of them to laugh. Maggie made the swing go a little higher as William barked again and she pulled him onto her lap.

“Oh, William,” she said, kissing his head and sighing. “I’ve missed you and I love you so much.”

“I’m beyond happy,” Scully whispered, her eyes closing as a warm breeze whistled through the grass and trees, Mulder humming again as his hand moved gently up and down her back.

#the x files #xf fanfic #msr #angst #alternate universe #canon divergence #season 9 #post Trust No 1 #worry #leaving home #trains #caring #reunited #family #love #on the run #living together #domestic #happy

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aloysiavirgata · 4 months

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Season 1, developing their partnership near Christmas. Wrote this years ago but it’s always a cozy little place to revisit. ❤️

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #my fic #season 1

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cock-holliday · 1 year

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Jinx

Fandom: TXF

WC: 1080

For @annablume

Mulder ducked out of the elevator, two coffees in hand and a bag clutched between his teeth. The aroma from his breakfast sandwich teased his senses, threatening to make his mouth water. He swallowed down the urge and nudged the basement office door open with a tentative toe, cautious not to strike or startle any potential occupants. Well, occupant.

Seated at the desk was his redheaded partner, tapping a pen against the wood and staring down at some forms with an air of deep concentration. But, to Mulder’s bewildered amusement, he realized Scully, headphones pressed to her ears, was gently headbanging.

A smile slowly spread across Mulder’s features around the baggie and he paused in the doorway, drinking in the peculiar action.

The music must have picked up, because Scully’s rhythmic nodding increased in intensity until her eyes found Mulder’s. She froze instantly.

Mulder crossed the room swiftly, ducking his head low to let Scully pull the bag from his teeth after removing her headphones.

“Sorry to startle you,” Mulder replied as soon as his mouth was free.

“You didn’t,” Scully corrected, peeling the bag open, “I just didn’t hear you come in.”

“I bet,” Mulder laughed, setting down her coffee before taking a sip of his own, “What were you rockin’ out to?”

“Oh,” Scully began, waving a hand and shaking her head, “A classic rock band my dad likes.”

“Not death metal?”

Scully snorted, “No, pretty tame.”

“Didn’t take you for a rocker, Scully,” Mulder smirked as Scully stood from the desk, allowing Mulder to take the seat and begin to tear into his sandwich.

“What did you suppose I listened to? Church music?”

Mulder’s smile widened, “I guess I hadn’t given it much thought. And hey,” he smirked, “There’s always Christian rock.”

Scully rolled her eyes, “I like a variety. It might surprise you.”

“I’m sure,” Mulder nodded, “Slowly I’m filling in the puzzle of Dana Scully.”

Scully snorted, “Well, Dana Scully would rather skip this meeting today.”

“A rocker and railing against the man, what a punk.”

“That’s me.”

---

“Do you like Queen, Scully?” Mulder asked, barely above a whisper, picking up the record.

Scully’s brow furrowed as she walked carefully towards him, “What?”

“Queen. The band.”

“You’re asking me now?”

Mulder shrugged and put the record back down on the shelf and lowered his gun, letting Scully pass him down the aisle and head for the back room.

A flickering light back in the main atrium of the mall caught his attention and he raised his gun, but no other sound followed. Mulder turned and joined Scully, shining their flashlights as they stalked deeper into the abandoned shopping complex.

“So?” Mulder pressed.

Scully sighed, “Yes, Mulder, I like Queen, who doesn’t?”

Despite the tone, Mulder smiled, “Good answer.”

“‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ makes me speed if it comes on when I drive,” Scully added softly.

Mulder chuckled, “You speed anyway.”

Scully shot Mulder a look, but Mulder only smiled, storing the information away for later.

---

Scully removed the binoculars from her eyes, opting for rubbing the bridge of her nose. She was tired. They both were. Mulder tipped back in his chair, rocking slightly. The man in the apartment across the street continued to watch television, doing nothing else. Mulder checked his watch and groaned.

Slowly the man in the apartment stood, and Scully’s binoculars were back at her eyes. The man disappeared from view and the sound of smooth jazz rang out. The man returned to his seat on the couch. Scully sighed.

“Not a jazz fan?” Mulder mused.

“The jazz is fine, Jason Suarez’s taste in music is not the issue here,” Scully replied, setting the binoculars on the table before the pair with a defeated thunk.

“I used to play the sax,” Mulder offered.

Scully tipped her head to the side, regarding him. Her lips slowly upturned, “Did you really?”

“For like a year, in middle school,” Mulder nodded.

Scully huffed a laugh, “Any good?”

“No.”

Scully’s laugh became heartier, “I would have liked to see that.”

“Well,” Mulder smirked, “If this stakeout ever ends, I’ll play some for you.”

“Hmm,” Scully mused, “A shame, then.”

---

Scully rose from the desk, but Mulder raised a hand, stopping her in her tracks. He jogged to the filing cabinet, pulling open a drawer and procuring a wrapped present.

“Before you go,” Mulder began, “I know, I know, we said we weren’t gonna do gifts, and it’s not–-really.”

Scully slowly sat back down.

Mulder stepped forward, placing a little wrapped box on the desk before her.

She eyed it carefully before tearing the paper open.

Her face remained neutral, and Mulder felt his chest tighten.

In Scully’s hand, she clutched a cassette tape, written in red marker were the words ‘Scully’s Jams’.

“It’s just some music, some stuff you said you liked and some stuff I thought you might like, it’s not really a big thing,” Mulder rambled, “You can play it on your own, or on trips or something,” he concluded with a nervous laugh.

When Scully remained quiet, Mulder’s heart sank.

Certain he had blown it, he swallowed before continuing, “If you hate it you can toss it out. I just kind of threw it together.”

Scully rose from the desk again, heading for the coat rack.

Mulder began imagining what his life was going to be like once she transferred.

Rather than grabbing her coat, Scully reached into her purse, pulling a similarly sized wrapped box out and holding it out for Mulder.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder,” she said softly, a little smile playing on her lips.

Mulder took the present gratefully, letting out another nervous laugh, “Hey now, I thought we weren’t doing gifts.”

“It’s not really a gift,” Scully explained flatly, but with a twinkle in her eye, “I kind of just threw it together.”

Mulder tore into the paper, delighted and surprised to also find a cassette tape. In blue marker and Scully’s delicate handwriting were the words ‘Mulder Mash 1’.

“‘Mulder Mash 1’?” Mulder read aloud.

Scully snorted a laugh, “Yeah, if you don’t hate it, I can make you another one.”

Mulder grinned at Scully, “It’s perfect.”

Scully playfully rolled her eyes, heading for her coat, “The holidays aren’t getting you cheesy, are they?”

“Cheesy? Me? Never,” Mulder replied sardonically, clutching the tape in his hands.

Scully flashed a cheery smile at him, sending a spark straight to his chest.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder.”

“Merry Christmas, Scully,” he beamed.

#txf #msr #txf fanfic #xf fanfic #I didn't think I'd end up putting something out before the holiday #but I was feelin inspired #have some season 1 msr

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absolutely-not-my-main-blog · 11 months

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They should release It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia on VHS

#created too late to thrive in its natural habitat #4:3 format and that sweet sweet grain for Charlie all around baby #no auto motion plus on my vcr glenn 😘#also you know how you could buy tapes that just had like 1 or 2-3 episodes on them #so some people would just buy their favourites to have at home #could tell a lot about a person by whether they bought who pooped the bed or Dennis system or breaks up or wtv #anyway I still buy vhs tapes sometimes because I’m a maniac #iasip #it’s always sunny in philadelphia #text #anmmbposts #I also think it’d be a bigger jump scare to find like a single sunny episode out in the wild at a thrift store #like you see a whole season okay but you see single vhs copy of idk frank’s brother and think who did this #like when I found the xf*les episode Home just by its lonesome like someone bought that who are they why would they do that

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dd-is-my-guiltypleasure · 1 year

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I'll try to turn my fav episodes into cards, can you figure the episodes ?

#the xfiles #season 1 #my craft #xfiles cards #xf fanart

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enigmaticxbee · 2 years

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#xf fanart #xf rewatch #season 1 #pilot #msr #favorite moments

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dunhamhairograpy · 2 years

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Pilot. Cut Scene: Scully Howls at the Moon

#xfiles the xfiles #xfiles #thexfiles #xf bts #gillian anderson #mulder #david duchovny #mulder and scully #scully #dana scully #season 1 #pilot

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randomfoggytiger · 2 years

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X-Files Collector’s Edition: Mulder’s Early or Late Birthdays (Season 1)

It’s Mulder’s birthday! And since I have a long list saved of birthdays in sundry times of his life, I’ve tailored this list to fics specifically dealing with Season 1. (Feel free to suggest favorites below so I can beef this up!)

Now venture forth, fellow believers.

@nnyyssssaa/dksfwm’s dies Veneris, XIII

““She hopes that his name will become him, that he’ll have an agile mind with keen intelligence, be driven by passion, and possess an inconspicuous personality, conceivably to spare him from the pain she’s sure she’ll cause him; ultimately, like the fox, she anticipates that he’s going to have to protect himself.””

Mulder was born on Friday the 13th... but how many of his October birthdays fell on Fridays?

Christine Leigh’s The Road to Fresno

“Scully was sure of two things in regard to her partner, which were that he was the smartest, most intelligent man she'd ever known, and that she would never be bored by him. Beyond that lay many mysteries. One thing, though, that was not a mystery to her was that she knew that today was his birthday.”

Mulder feels worn down on his birthday and wonders aloud if he should just quit. Scully shares her Snickers and works up courage to wish him well.

@vgcam/veredgf’s October Thirteenth (Ao3)

““They got into their rental and proceeded to their target in somber silence, his brooding mood oozing on to her. This was going to be a sad affair of a stakeout, he noted to himself, and it was all thanks to him and his bleak attitude.””

Scully randomly asks about Mulder’s birthday on his actual birthday. He’s shocked when she empathizes and “makes-do” with a flashlight.

@sportsnightnut’s (Ao3) there’s always next year (Ao3)

““Scully knows better than to ask Mulder what he wants for his birthday.

She tried, once.””

Mulder only wanted the Yanks to win, so Scully gifts him a “next-time” present.

@lokisgame’s (Ao3) Black Forest

““I thought," she began, but faltered. "If you don't want it, I can take it back."

Mulder sat up, slow on uptake after a day of interviewing the witnesses. "Wait, take what back?"

"The cake," she explained, her gaze dropping to the box. "It's your birthday, isn't it?”"

Scully surprises Mulder with a cake; Mulder surprises Scully with 3 questions.

@greekowl87’s (Ao3) Fictober 2020 Drabbles - Chapter 3

“But on his desk was a card and a small, wrapped box with little pumpkin wrapping paper. He looked around suspiciously and opened the card. It was a little Halloween card and inside, in Scully’s neat handwriting. “

Scully gifts Mulder an alien bobblehead for his birthday.

Pattie’s Not Just Another Day

““Lunch went well at a local deli, although Scully couldn't help but wonder why Mulder thought of his birthday as 'just another day'. She could have sworn he was peering around the place to make sure no one would jump out with streamers and balloons to yell out, "Happy Birthday".””

S1 Mulder is still a teeny distrustful; but Scully breaks down his last barrier with a fake-out and mutual terrible movie experience for his birthday.

FictionPenned’s Shifting Constellations

““I got you something,” Scully says, reaching across the cluttered desk to set a small box in front of her partner. Though she and Mulder have exchanged gifts before, they do not exchange gifts often. They often overlook birthdays and holidays, but there are scattered days in the space between when they belatedly pass on some small token of affection or another. It is mostly incidental generosity, but small comforts mean a great deal when one faces down the unknown with ceaseless regularity.””

Mulder’s birthday is one of many star-mentions throughout Season 1 and 2.

(**On a personal note: 10/13 is the best birthday, and I am thrilled to share it with such an iconic character... mostly because there will always be new fanfic and fanart for me to enjoy, heehee.**)

Enjoy!

#fic #txf #x-files #xf fanfic #Collector's Edition #Mulder’s Early or Late Birthdays #Season 1 #txf season 1 #dksfwm #Christine Leigh #veredgf #sportsnightnut #Lokisgame #greekowl #Pattie #FictionPenned #best birth date #mine

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lilydalexf · 1 year

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👽 Random X-Files Fic Rec

This story sounds like a high school AU, and it is in a way. But it's really more about providing a new backstory for Mulder and Scully that is seamlessly woven into seasons 1 and 2. It is sweet and clever and will almost certainly make you smile. Title: Sincerely, D.S. Author: DKSculder (@dksculder) Summary: It's high school and freshman Dana Scully has a new pen pal, F.M., as a project for her class. Will she ever discover who she's been writing to? Length: 16,350 words Classification: AU, MSR, Friendship Rating: Not rated Spoilers: None listed (but assume up to season 2's Anasazi) Favorite line: I hope by the time you do read this, I've been able to express these sentiments verbally, but I don't have as much faith in me as I do in you. Read the story!

#fic rec #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #season 1 #season 2 #au #dksculder

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freckleslikestars · 2 years

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Ice Worms

Dana Scully introspective thoughts during Ice

Rated T, MSR-ish

@xfilesbingo prompt Dana Scully

577 words, read here on AO3

Ice worms. Obviously. What else could it be? Dana Scully huffed a sigh and pulled the borrowed blankets around her in the unfamiliar bed, trying not to think too hard about the previous occupier, laying wrapped in plastic down the corridor. Fucking ice worms.

She had never aspired to be a field agent. Thought about it, maybe. Fantasised about toting a badge and gun and chasing down hardened criminals – putting those months of gruelling training to use – during long days in the morgue. But it had never actually been in her five-year plan – nor her ten-year plan: truth be told, the possibility hadn’t even been on her radar, really, until three months before.

When she’d been recruited out of med school it was on the understanding that, after the standard five months of training at the Academy, she’d continue on at Quantico, working in the morgue and teaching the next intake of trainees. Her father had been disappointed at that: ‘throwing away a perfectly respectable career, Starbuck – your choice of specialism in world-renowned hospitals’ he’d repeated over numerous dinners, so often she’d become accustomed to tuning it out.

But then she’d been approached by Blevins and her whole world had flipped on its head. Within a week she’d gotten re-certified at the shooting range and had passed each of the physical assessments required for fieldwork. A briefing, a slightly sour taste filling her mouth as she read into the words she was being told, the undertones of the conversation, words like spy creeping around the edges of her conscience, shading it in grey as her morals warred within her.

She buried herself further into the depths of the blankets, rubbing her feet together to try and bring back feeling into them.

Being a field agent hadn’t been what she’d been expecting. No, not at all. Normal agents dealt with drug busts and terrorists and serial killers. She dealt with liver-eating mutants and psycho-AI systems and Jersey Devils. And fucking ice worms.

Alien ice worms, if her crackpot partner was to be believed. And whilst she resisted the idea so vehemently, she had also, in those two short months they’d been working together, swallowed down any guilt she felt as she carefully edited her reports to Blevins, made her 2D, paper-confined Mulder sound slightly less crazy than he did when he crowed about his theories in the privacy of their office.

Her teeth chattered, and she clenched her jaw tight to try and stop the shudders that wracked through her body: the heating system that had been overworking itself only hours ago had definitely given up the ghost, the cold wind howling about the station whistling through any fault and crack it could.

Another huffed sigh. She wasn’t going to be getting any sleep with how cold she was now. And certainly not with her infuriating partner on her mind. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, but it was no good: she was too cold. It felt like her teeth were going shake right out of her jaw if she kept shivering this way, and without even thinking about it she swung her legs from the bed and – keeping her blankets bundled around her – tiptoed across the cold floor and tugged the desk away from the door, squeezed out and shuffled into the corridor. Three steps, two knocks and he was there, peering out at her.

‘Scully?’

‘Mulder, I’m cold.’

tagging @today-in-fic

#my writing #xf fanfic #txf #season 1 #ice #dana scully #x files #x files bingo #msr #the x files

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atths--twice · 1 year

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Letters of Love

A feeling leads Scully to an Internet café, hoping to hear from Mulder, praying that he is safe.

The other day, I was on TikTok and I saw a video with a poem being read. It was so beautiful and I couldn't help but see it relating to Mulder and Scully, as I do almost everything, and so I had to write a story.

I love the emails that Mulder and Scully send to one another, the love that is held within each of them, and so I thought what if we saw another one?

February 20th, 2002

“I won’t be long,” Scully told her mother, who had come over to visit, bringing dinner with her. “I didn’t realize I was in need of milk. I’ll just pop to the shop real quick.”

“I can go for you,” Maggie said with a smile, drying her hands on the kitchen towel she had been using to dry the dishes.

“No,” Scully said forcefully and her mother looked at her in surprise. She smiled and touched her mother’s arm. “I just meant… I don’t mind going. I could do with a walk, on my own. I don’t get that chance too often. That is, if you don’t mind staying for a bit longer.”

“Of course I don’t. But, it’s cold out, Dana. You should drive.”

“No, that’s okay. The walk will do me good. It’s not very far. Thanks, Mom.”

She grabbed her coat and hurried out the door before any further discussion could take place.

Not sure if her mother was watching her from the window, she began walking in the direction of the little convenience shop around the corner, then doubling back when she knew it would be safe. Heading in the opposite direction, the need for milk a complete fabrication, she checked both ways and then crossed the street.

“Please,” she whispered as she walked, the cold winter air filling her lungs as she took deep breaths. “Please let me be right.”

A few more streets over and she paused in front of Cyber Cafe, the internet cafe near her apartment. Closing her eyes briefly, and pleading with the universe once more, she continued on and pushed the door open.

“Welcome,” a barista said to her as she walked in and she nodded, making only quick eye contact with him.

It was not overly crowded, but many of the computers were in use. Choosing one near the back of the cafe, she passed by others in order to reach it.

Sitting down, she swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Her hands shook slightly as she typed in her information and waited, her heart racing.

Tonight was not the first night she had come in, desperate to see if Mulder had replied to her last email after their planned meeting had been thwarted. Part of her hoped she would not see a message waiting for her. But the other part of her ached to know that he was safe and had found a way to contact her, even as she knew he should be taking precautions to remain hidden.

All through dinner tonight, she had felt an odd sensation in her stomach, an excitement bubbling up. The way a drop on a roller coaster makes you feel, nervous and happy all at once. She could not explain how she knew it meant coming to the cafe, but she did.

Follow the white rabbit. The yellow brick road. The path she had been meant to take even before she had known herself.

The computer beeped, her information entered and received successfully.

Letting out a long, silent breath, she moved the mouse, clicked open her email, and licked her lips.

There were three messages. Two were inconsequential and she barely gave them a glance. But the last one was from an address she had not seen before and tears filled her eyes as she clicked to open the email with no subject, from [email protected].

Blinking her eyes and exhaling quickly, she drew in a breath and covered her mouth with her hand to hold back her sobs as she read and then reread the single paragraph.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Breathing brokenly through her nose, she closed her eyes and bowed her head, too many thoughts suddenly crowding her mind.

Nearly four years ago, in a small town ironically named Honey, women had been disappearing. Lines of poetry, from different poets, had been found in their homes, written on paper left on desks, with lipstick on mirrors, and in one case, with rose petals on a bed.

The last one had creeped Scully out more than she had been willing to admit, causing her to triple check her motel lock every night, even going so far as to place a chair in front of it and using a couple of clothespins she had begun to keep with her to keep her curtains shut tightly.

She had not slept well during the entirety of that case.

Without much of a lead, and feeling as though they had hit a brick wall, Mulder had suggested visiting the local library. Asking to see all the books of poetry they had on the shelves, the librarian soon had a table filled with them.

They had been silently reading through them for a few minutes, looking for a pattern or anything to help, when Mulder had begun to read random passages aloud. Scully had sighed and tried to ignore the uneasy feeling in her stomach, when familiar words caused her to tense up and her breath to catch.

“I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off,” Mulder had read quietly. She had closed her eyes for a moment before raising her head, her brows furrowed, and stomach clenching. “I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” He looked at her and smiled before looking back at the book. “I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.”

“Mulder,” she had said, shaking her head as she pictured the bright rose petals that had been arranged with meticulous care on the dark blue comforter.

“Wait, it’s nearly finished,” he had said, holding up one finger, not aware of her reaction. “I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. Hmm, that’s really beautiful.”

“Is it?” she had whispered, shivering slightly as she imagined those words left behind by a possible murderer.

“You don’t think so?” he had asked, looking at her. “It’s Pablo Neruda, Scully.”

“Yes, I know. And I can also see that for myself,” she had said, nodding toward the book and he had smiled as he too looked at the cover.

“You didn’t like it?”

“Not in this context,” she had said, gesturing to the books around them. “I like poetry, I really do. I always have. Just…” She had shaken her head and sighed as she had picked up another book and began to look through it. “It feels more disturbing than romantic at the moment.”

“Oh. I… I suppose I wasn’t thinking about it that way. It just… I thought it was…” he had quietly replied. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She had felt his eyes on her and she had looked up at him.

“It’s okay,” she had said again, smiling tightly.

“It’s not,” he had said, shaking his head and looking down at the book.

“It is a good poem and one that I actually really like,” she had said softly.

“You do?”

“Yeah. We studied poetry for a few weeks when I was in high school and Neruda became one of my favorite poets.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well, I don’t think we’ve ever really discussed it.” She had shrugged and turned a page in the book she held. “I like that sonnet, but it’s the last part of it that I like best.” She had looked at him and drew in a breath, reciting it from memory. “I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.”

He had stared at her as she forced away disturbing thoughts, instead thinking of how she had felt when she read that poem for the first time, her gaze becoming unfocused and faraway.

“Straightforward. No complexities. Not existing without the other. Falling asleep in sync,” she had whispered as she had shaken her head, remembering the rather juvenile dreams she’d once had. “Does anyone ever really find that kind of love? Is it even possible?”

Inhaling, she had blinked and then met his eyes. He had not said anything, and as she had shrugged and exhaled, her attention returned to the book in her hand as his had returned to his own, no further words spoken.

Months later, after the mentally exhausting days spent with Daniel, thoughts of her past blending with her present, she had lain warm and naked with Mulder in his bed. Sleep had nearly claimed her, when she felt his fingertips gently caressing her forehead.

“I love you because I know no other way than this,” he had whispered and she had opened her eyes tiredly, his thumb rubbing softly at her temple as he stared at her intently, his eyes dark. “Straightforwardly, without complexities or pride.”

“Mulder,” she had breathed. Closing her eyes again, she had shifted closer to him and he enveloped her in his arms, her hand resting above his heart.

“So close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep,” he had spoken in a low tone against her ear and she had hummed, his scent and the warmth of his body making it nearly impossible to form coherent thoughts. “I love you, Scully. Without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Mulder,” she had murmured against his skin, kissing his neck as she exhaled and he had held her tighter, kissing the top of her head.

“Excuse me, is anyone using this computer?” Scully heard someone ask the person to her left and she opened her eyes as she raised her head, almost confused to find she was sitting at a table in front of a computer and not in bed with Mulder.

She drew in steadying breaths and looked at the screen. Reading the paragraph again, she smiled through her tears.

He was safe. Alive.

Quickly, she opened a new message and began to type. Knowing the likelihood of him risking his safety again to check his email was nearly nonexistent, she knew she had to at least try.

To give to him what he had given her.

Sending it, she reopened her email from him and selected to print it. Logging out of her account, she hurried to the printer, picked up her paper, and walked out of the cafe.

Folding the paper, not wanting anything to happen to it, she placed it in her pocket, where she kept a hold on it. Needing a second, she stepped into the mouth of an alleyway and leaned against the wall with a deep sigh.

“Thank you,” she breathed, lifting her face to the sky. “Please continue to keep him safe.” Quickly making the sign of the cross, she stepped back onto the sidewalk and continued home.

“They didn’t have milk?” her mother asked when she walked through the door and Scully froze, completely forgetting the reason she had given for her need to leave the apartment.

“Oh… no. There was a mix up with their shipment and uh… they’ll have it tomorrow.”

“I could go to the other grocery store and get you some now if you’d like…”

“No. That’s okay, Mom,” Scully said, her thumb caressing the piece of paper in her pocket. “I’ll be alright. I can get it in the morning.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. You head on home and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Dana.”

“Night, Mom. Thank you for dinner. And thanks for staying.”

“Of course.”

They embraced and her mother left, zipping her coat as she walked out. Scully sighed as she locked the door and took off her coat, removing the paper from her pocket.

She checked in on William, smiling at his rosy cheeks as she watched him breathing deeply. Not wanting to risk waking him, she refrained from touching him and quietly left the room.

Once she was in bed, she propped the paper up against the pillow beside her, staring at the words until her eyelids began to droop.

For the first time in weeks, her sleep was peaceful and undisturbed.

_____________

Three days later, entering a busy Internet café, timing it perfectly to blend in with the crowd, a rather disheveled looking man in a beat up Dodgers cap, sat down at a computer. He watched the room as he logged in to his account, wary of everyone around him.

He had four emails. Three of which were spam and meant absolutely nothing to him.

Clicking on the bottom one, the one that made his heart beat almost painfully, he read the single sentence and he grinned as eleven words caused him to feel more loved and less alone than he had in a very long time.

Without knowing how, or when, or from where… I love you.

#the x files #xf fanfic #msr #season 9 #post trust no 1 #emails #inspired by poetry #poetry #love #declarations of love

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