cecilysass

[cecilysass]

The Penultimate Partner Episode: Analyzing the Second-to-Last Episodes of Seasons 3-7

So I was thinking about the show’s tendency to do an episode that is explicitly about the Partnership—about the deep abiding bonds between Mulder and Scully—right before the season finale.

This doesn’t seem to happen in season 1 and 2 (the penultimate episodes are Roland and Our Town, respectively, which don’t seem to play the same role). And something different is happening in season 8 and 9, so I don't think they fit as well.

But during the show’s peak popularity, seasons 3-7, the second-to-last episode seems to be setting up baseline emotional stakes for whatever plotline is about to hit. These episodes are giving us the state of the partnership, reminding us how devoted they are to one another. They also tend to have to do with one or both partners having a distorted perception on reality that requires the other partner's intervention in some way. I’m calling them the Penultimate Partner episodes.

So can we look at the themes of each of these Partnership episodes and see development over time? I think yes. It’s gonna be long. I rewatched them all, so buckle up.

Season 3: Wetwired - partnership as trust Season 4: Demons - partnership as loyalty Season 5: Folie a Deux - partnership as shared madness Season 6: Field Trip - partnership as touchstones Season 7: Je Souhaite - partnership as happiness

Season 3: Wetwired  (right before Talitha Cumi)

This episode, like several in the Penultimate Partner episode category, involves a X-file that distorts perception. Because Scully can’t trust her own senses due to the mind control, she also can’t trust Mulder, calling into question the key tenet of their partnership. (And by season three, they have definitely established trust as the bedrock.)

Her gradual mistrust of Mulder in this episode is tense and painful; you can see on her face how much she argues with herself about it even as her mind is tricking her. Others who fall victim to this mind control phenomenon wind up murdering their romantic partner, but in the end of the episode, when they’re discussing what happened in the hospital, they both seem pretty unsurprised that Scully’s paranoia focused on Mulder. They both know, late season three, how crucial trust is between them. They understand that it’s Scully’s worst fear that Mulder would betray her. It’s not even news to them.

What Mulder’s worst fear might be is also hinted at, although it’s unsaid. He’s furious that her life is put at risk by the mysterious informant. When Mulder believes Scully may be dead and he’s going to identify her body, his reaction is chilling. He seems to completely shut down emotionally, not even showing any reaction to the Gunmen. Tellingly, when he is offered a choice between getting answers and going to ID Scully’s body, he doesn’t hesitate—he chooses Scully. (Sometimes people claim Mulder doesn’t show this kind of commitment to her until much later, even until Home Again in season 10, so it’s interesting to see it so unequivocal here.)   

I want to say that Scully’s anxiety about trusting Mulder in this episode is foreshadowing aspects of the cancer arc in the next season, but I don’t think that’s really what’s happening. This episode seems more like an entirely season 3 cap to the Anasazi / Blessing Way / Paperclip storyline, especially the murder of Melissa. Scully’s paranoia calls back Mulder’s in Anasazi, and Scully explicitly blames Mulder for her sister’s murder when she’s drawn a gun on him. Even just the fact that we're there with Maggie, who has a picture of Melissa displayed prominently, tells me that loss is supposed to be on both partners' minds. (Actually, the interaction between Mulder, Scully and Maggie is pretty amazing in this scene; they’re an emotionally complex trio who seem to be communicating on some other level. I love how when Mulder and Maggie are talking to freaked-out Scully they almost sound strangely unreal, almost like they really are speaking falsely. It allows us to imagine the scene as it looks from Scully’s point-of-view, as a massive betrayal.)

Wetwired is, technically, a mytharc episode, as this whole mind control thing seems to tie back into X and the Syndicate. Personally I think the episode’s ending, emphasizing the mytharc-related plot and X’s involvement and whatever tf was happening there, was a little misguided. For my tastes they would have done better to play up the more personal, character-based themes a little more. But I also think this episode was the first real Penultimate Partner episode, and it was setting some patterns that were going to be expanded on.

Season 4: Demons (before Gethsemane)

From the cold open, we can already tell this is already a more personal episode than Wetwired. Mulder is the one having perception problems now; he wakes from a disturbing dream, covered in blood, muddled memory. This is also technically a mytharc episode, but much more concerned with direct impact on character than Wetwired was. 

Scully instantly rushes to Mulder’s aid—walks right into his shower, for heaven’s sake—and absolutely never wavers in loyalty to him, even when he looks real, real guilty and a "rational" person would be suspicious. She is in fierce, must-protect-Mulder mode throughout this entire episode, from the moment she shows up palpating his head with her hands to her back-off behavior with the cops to her badass cold “I know what you do” comment to Dr. Goldstein. She also helps Mulder see through his distorted perception, telling him "this is not the way to the truth" as he holds a gun on her.

In this Penultimate Partner episode, we see something more than simple trust going on, although there’s trust, too. Maybe the word is loyalty or devotion. We see Mulder coming apart and Scully completely and utterly devoted to him. It’s actually very clear foreshadowing for the following week’s episode, Gethsemane. Mulder isn’t stable, and he needs Scully to keep him from “los[ing] his course,” as she says in Demons’ end narration. Gethsemane will follow up on the Mulder losing-his-course idea, and also will explore the idea that Scully’s bottomless support of Mulder isn’t always good for her. (This idea is voiced especially by Bill.) 

There are some ways in which this episode is a neat little bookend to Wetwired. In Wetwired, Scully flees to her mother’s house, desperate and paranoid; in Demons, Mulder, similarly unhinged, seeks out his mother at her house. In Wetwired, Scully sees things that aren’t there, and in Demons, it’s definitely implied that Mulder may be seeing things in his past that weren’t actually there. In Wetwired, Scully pulls a gun on Mulder, and in Demons, Mulder pulls one on Scully. 

I adore this episode, even though it’s definitely vulnerable to the critique that Mulder acts like a self-obsessed loon and Scully a hopeless enabler lol. Especially because it comes before the Gethsemane / Redux three parter, I wish the episode would have explicitly connected his behavior to the cancer arc, as I feel like that would have made his wild choices seem more understandable. If he felt like he needed to find answers faster because he knew Scully’s time was running out and he saw it all tied together with her fate, then we would get why he was acting so rashly. It would also tie more nicely into Gethsemane, which misleads the audience into thinking Mulder has killed himself, in part, because he believes she’s been given cancer to make him believe. But again, I love this episode. Scully showing up and putting that blanket around Mulder when he’s shaking. Her hugging him at the end when he’s desolate on the floor. This shows a partnership that’s been through Paper Hearts and Memento Mori—that’s moved beyond trust alone.

Season 5: Folie a Deux (before The End)

This is another episode about perception—about one partner seeing things the other can’t. Unlike in Wetwired or Demons, however, in this episode the altered perception actually represents the real truth, something everyone else fails to understand. The episode plays around with the tropes of earlier episodes like Wetwired, at first encouraging us to think that it's a delusion that Pincus is a monster, but then convincing us, through Mulder’s eyes, that the delusion is actually reality.  

As other people have observed, this episode ends up being a nice little metaphor for the whole show: Mulder knowing what no one else does, being ostracized and considered insane, asking Scully to find evidence to corroborate him and ultimately convincing her to believe him and see what he sees. Their partnership is, quite precisely, a madness shared by two. 

It’s a monster of the week, not a mytharc, so there’s no distraction of elaborate mytharc plot, just characters and monster. And this is a Vince Gilligan operation, so our focus is definitely on character. From the first scene with Mulder and Scully, we sense that we’re going to be talking about the partnership. Skinner gives them an assignment in Chicago that Mulder doesn’t think is worth it, and he complains in a particularly self-centered way to Scully, which she observes (“You’re saying I a lot.”) The episode is going to be very explicit that while Mulder might be monster boy, they are in this unhinged partnership situation together. Another important moment comes later, when Scully is calling the perp crazy for thinking he saw a monster, and Mulder says, “Well, I saw it, too.” Scully’s careful about-face after that, her delicate avoidance of implying she thinks Mulder is actually crazy, is part of the dance they’re doing at this late season five stage of their partnership. She doesn’t quite believe him, but she doesn’t knee-jerk not believe him either. 

And the foreshadowing of what’s to come in this one, whoo boy. Most obviously, we must acknowledge that 1013 knew exactly what they were doing when Mulder tells Scully “you’re my one in five billion.” A mere seven days from now, a mysterious beautiful ex who believes his theories is going to show up to immediately cast doubt on that claim. And this episode is also toying with the question of whether Scully actually does always back Mulder up when it’s important, when she has to accept she saw something illogical. At the end, does she tell Skinner she actually saw a giant bug in Mulder’s hospital room? We don’t know, but I think it’s implied she doesn’t. That’s all presaging what will happen in The Beginning coming off of Fight the Future. It’s Scully’s little way of resisting the madness, but it also hurts Mulder and damages the partnership, which will be a problem in season six. 

Season 6: Field Trip (before Biogenesis)

Full disclosure: this is my favorite episode. So I’m going to make some big claims about it. This is the ultimate Penultimate Partner episode—the one that best knits together what it wants to say about their partnership and what it wants to establish for the finale. It's a monster-of-the-week episode (another Vince Gilligan ep, with John Shiban) but refers to the mytharc often. It’s also one of the best episodes about their partnership, period. 

This is yet another episode about distorted perception. This time, however, under the influence of a giant mushroom, both partners are unable to perceive clearly, to determine what is real and what is a lie. And when they’re confused, they critically turn to one another to help them see what the truth is.

Coming off of season six, the partnership is rocky. Mulder is frustrated that after so many theories of his have borne out, he still can’t get the benefit of the doubt from Scully, something he explicitly says in the dialogue here. Scully has felt like she’s not been trusted or heard, like Mulder has turned to others (Diana Fowley, for example) rather than his partner.

This is an episode about how they absolutely need one another to be able to make sense of the world—that individually each of their points-of-view are not enough. In Mulder’s hallucination, Scully accepts his claims about alien life forms too completely, not applying enough skepticism, not pushing back against him. In Scully’s hallucination, a world without Mulder, everyone is unacceptably unquestioning of the status quo, refusing to dig deeper, lacking Mulder’s critical acumen and drive. Neither partner likes the feeling of being unopposed, and it makes both of them suspicious about the hallucination’s reality. They may think they want their own view to prevail, but they need one another to be a whole person.

The theme of what’s real and what’s not – and needing one another to discern the truth–is exactly what is picked up and developed further in the Biogenesis-Sixth Extinction-Amor Fati arc that follows this. Scully’s skepticism has to stretch to incorporate more of Mulder’s worldview to make sense of what she sees in the Ivory Coast, and of course, Mulder calls on Scully’s worldview to see through his misleading dream world in Amor Fati. In fact, you could argue Field Trip is really about the idea that Mulder and Scully are one another’s touchstones—the people they need to know what’s right and real. 

Incidentally, this episode also plays around with some of season 6’s other subtextual throughlines: Mulder and Scully’s anxieties about possibly entering a non-platonic relationship, their unease about what a normal, domestic life might even be for them. For the entire episode they’re directly compared and juxtaposed with the Schiffs, a young married couple who died on Brown Mountain. The Schiffs are a tall man and a redheaded woman. They even die hallucinating lying together on a hotel bed after she asked him to “hold her” (although I do seriously doubt 1013 was intentionally foreshadowing a full year ahead). The last shot is of Mulder reaching out to take Scully’s hand across the ambulance, suggesting a kind of partnership beyond just, you know, partnership. Which takes us to the next season.  

Season 7: Je Souhaite (before Requiem)

Truthfully, I don’t think this episode fits quite as well in the Penultimate Partner category. It doesn’t share some of the same traits as these other episodes—it’s not quite as notably about perception, for instance—and it’s not fundamentally about the partnership in the same way. But it does end up commenting on their partnership (even their relationship, really) as part of its theme, so I think we can include it—especially because its position right before Requiem ends up being important. 

Je Souhaite (btw, written and directed by Vince Gilligan) has a bit of an unsettled feeling to it because it was kind of treading water, waiting to see what happened with DD and the series. Nothing too monumental could happen with the partnership or the plot because it wasn’t clear to anyone what would happen next with the show: whether it would end or continue, whether DD would be involved or not.

So we have a story about Mulder and Scully making peace with not having a significant impact on the world—e.g. not bringing about world peace, not introducing invisible bodies to science. Instead, they are content to delightfully share a beer and comment that they have made one another “pretty happy” (as Scully says about Mulder). Through the jinni character, they seem to take the lesson that they can enjoy being with one another, accept the simple happiness that their relationship brings them. Rather than wish for success that comes too easily, they take joy in the little things with one another.

Comparing this episode to the Penultimate Partner episodes that come before, we can really see how Mulder and Scully’s dynamic has evolved by season seven. We have a Scully who is much more open to supernatural phenomena, for example, and whose skepticism seems more like a reflex or a defense mechanism now. Scully’s move towards belief is partially reflected in the plot of the episode: the X-file here really isn’t even science fiction. It is just straight up fantasy or magical realism. Aside from Scully's brief mention of a disease to explain what happened to the mouthless man in the cold open, no plausible scientific explanation for the jinni's long life or wishes is really even floated.

Scully is delighted by the discovery of the invisible body, and Mulder is visibly delighted by her delight. He’s also frustrated by her retreat into doubt when the body disappears, of course. But even the reversal into her old skepticism is half-hearted, as she soon after she's engaging in discussion with Mulder about what his final wish was. This is consistent with the overall blurring of the old hardline believer-skeptic dynamic we see in season 7. It’s also peeking ahead to Scully’s coming role as resident basement believer in season 8. 

The last scene, with the beers and Caddyshack, is meant to be a callback to djinni Jenn’s comment that she wishes she could “live my life moment by moment... enjoying it for what it is instead of... instead of worrying about what it isn't.” Mulder, we see, is taking a cue from her. (And good for him, as we almost never see these characters do this. Except on rare baseball-related occasions.)

However, this episode’s position right before Requiem—and right before the events of season 8—ends up giving this scene a real bittersweet bite. We know, after Requiem, that they were probably a romantic couple at this time. We know, after Requiem, that this time is going to be their last happy time together for a long while. Later in season 8, we learn that one lingering wish of Scully’s in season 7 is that she wanted to conceive a child with Mulder. And of course we know, after Requiem, that she gets her wish—but with a vicious catch, with a terrible side effect, much like what happens with the jinni’s wishes. 

So that’s my academic thesis on that. I know others have pointed out the existence of this type of episode before. What did I miss? Do you think I am wrong to leave out seasons 1, 2, 8, and 9? Why do we think these episodes focus so much on distorted perception? Interested to hear others’ thoughts (if they make it through this lol).

#the x files #x files meta #penultimate partner episodes #wetwired #x files #demons #season 3 x files #season 4 x files #folie à deux #season 5 X files #field trip #season 6 x files #je souhaite #season 7 x files #mulder and scully #fox mulder #dana scully #MSR

[cecilysass]

I’m just stopping by to say thank you for all the stories. All of them. I’ve been reading your fics since the beginning. I can’t even remember how many years ago you started. I was there. Enjoying each and every one. I just finished Shine On and loved it. I can’t believe that you have been so generous to this fandom. You have given us so much. So many hours of delight and joy. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for every sentence, every word, every moment of MSR. Your presence in this fandom is a gift.

I just don’t know how to answer such a generous comment, Anon, except to say thank you. I restarted this hobby during the pandemic as a mental health coping strategy, and it’s truly been a gift to me. I’m delighted anyone has enjoyed my fics at any time.

#asks #thank you anon

[cecilysass]

I’ve never jived with the idea that Fox Mulder is a sex machine or, forgive the pun, a fox. I think he wants to be when he’s a young man. He studies how to be that person, approximates most of the right moves, and then the thrill is gone. He ditches more lunch dates and regular dates than he actually attends, and that plus the spooky appellation through the FBI means that through the grapevine he acquires a reputation as hard to get at best, a cad at worst. If you think about it, did he ever really see a healthy romantic relationship growing up? Sure, his parents loved one another once upon a time but there were secrets upon secrets between them both, and after Samantha was taken everything crumbled. Fox Mulder is not a stud. Fox Mulder is a mess.

[cecilysass]

What is the black fabric circled in yellow? It looks almost like a sleeve DD’s hand is coming out of, but nooo, right? Maybe a blanket? I lose my mind looking at these photos.

not a day goes by where i don't think about this

#aaaaagh #what is this

[cecilysass]

The X-Files - Tithonus by Michael W. Watkins, Vince Gilligan.

#I love a gifset like this #that makes me just want to read fanfic about this moment and this episode #look at poor Scully #look at glum longing Mulder

[cecilysass]

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.

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 unsaid.

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 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)

I listened to this on audio fanfic pod while painting my kids rooms.  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 comments and critiques 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.

[cecilysass]

what are the most beautifully written passages from fanfiction you’ve ever read? asking for science.

#Jesus what an incredible compliment #thank you #it makes me blush #This question is both very hard and very easy #because I could never think of one offhand #but I always am thinking OH LOVELY when I read fanfic #it would be fun to make a list of favorite passages some time

[cecilysass]

Reblog if I can go on your page and write stupid things in your ask box whenever I'd like to.

#I enjoy stupid things

[cecilysass]

Question: as someone who is looking to post daily chapters of a fic here pretty soon, I was curious if you have any insight on when the best time to post them seems to be? Or do you just post whenever works for you and hope for the best? I've been trying to figure this out for years 😅

(This is @television-overload by the way)

I’ve actually had this conversation before with @sisterspooky1013. She likes to post before bed. I like to do it first thing in the morning. We’re on different coasts, but honestly I don’t think that it matters that much.

I just think either (A) your readers will unwisely drop their responsibilities and read whenever you post; or (B) they will save your chapter to read on their own schedule, in which case it truly doesn’t matter when you post it. People live all over the world in all different time zones anyway.

Now if you are specifically looking for attention for a new fic, it’s good to post the links / a photo / a summary on Tumblr / twitter/ whatever a few different times so people don’t miss the fic. I think THAT can be important.

And maybe I am just a girl who likes her routine, but I I do think posting chapters at a similar time each day is helpful. People get trained to look for your fic at one point in their schedules, hahaha. I have done that as a reader so many times. Then you can break the pattern and post twice in one day for fun if you want to be unpredictable and exciting.

I don’t know—maybe others have additional thoughts!

#asks #x files fanfic #xfiles fanfic

[cecilysass]

Shine On (16/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 16: Crazy Diamond

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 25, 2015 Two hours later

It turns out that Bunny Man Bridge is just a bridge. And okay, it’s a little creepy-looking—a one lane road going into a yellowed concrete tunnel under a train overpass—but not very eventful on a sunny, late winter afternoon. There aren’t signs of apparitions, dead bodies, or even Satanic graffiti. Which Jackson finds kind of disappointing after all Mulder’s talk.

Mulder drones on about the telltale hallmarks of paranormal activity, but since most of them would have involved interviewing human witnesses, they don’t seem very promising to investigate. There’s no one around but Jackson, Mulder, and Scully. And interested squirrels.

Still, Jackson is enjoying the outing. He and Mulder scramble up to the top of the bridge and look around the railroad tracks for any clues. Scully watches from the road below, leaning against the car, smirking to herself. After a few minutes Mulder begins to call for the Bunny Man like a lost dog— “here, Mr. Bunny Man, come on, boy”—which makes Scully cover her mouth with her hand and laugh.

Mulder looks down from the bridge at her with this goofy little smile, a whole lot like he’s an eighth grader pleased with himself. Jackson tries hard not to shine the man’s mind, as he’s thinking a surprising quantity of inappropriate thoughts for an old guy.

He gets the basic gist, though—the important highlights. They’re back together.

Jackson can’t help but feel happy for them. Mulder’s hope is contagious. It’s everywhere in the man’s mind right now, even in the dirty parts. It’s inescapable, Mulder’s hope. Like an annoying mylar balloon that keeps floating into your face. Even shining him a little makes Jackson’s own emotions begin to feel lighter, too.

“Is the investigation over?” Scully calls up to them. “I’m hungry.” She cocks her head strategically. “We could go pick up fresh bagels.”

Jackson raises his eyebrows. “I could eat.”

“I think we’re just about wrapped up here,” Mulder calls back. “It’s going to be kind of a drive for bagels though. We’re in the country, Scully.”

She shrugs and smiles. From her pocket her phone starts to buzz, and she rushes to pull it out, sliding into the car to take the call. As Jackson understands it, she’s finishing up odds and ends of her hospital job before she goes back to the FBI.

Mulder regards Jackson seriously. “I’ve got to tell you, Jackson—I’m not noticing any classic signs,” he says, gesturing around them. “No change in temperature, no strange odor.” He points to the birds chirping in the trees around them. “I still hear local wildlife going strong.”

“Yeah,” Jackson says with a sigh. “Maybe the Bunny Man really does only show up on Halloween.”

Mulder’s eyes light up. “Well, possibly we could come back—” He stops himself, but it’s too late. Jackson knows exactly what he was going to say, and he knows exactly why he stopped.

They don’t know where Jackson will be at Halloween. That’s eight months away. He could very well be locked in a juvenile justice facility. That reality hasn’t gone away, however much Mulder and Jackson want to forget and play ghost hunter. Everyone keeps acting like Jackson is just going to stay here and play pretend son, but that’s just not the case.

Jackson has to turn away from Mulder now. Sometimes other people’s hope is painful.

They have to be careful on the way down; the embankment down the side of the bridge is steep. Jackson’s feet, skidding out of control, stumble the last few steps down, and Mulder grabs his arm to steady him.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jackson mumbles.

Mulder’s thoughts are a burgeoning swell of concern, and Jackson knows he’s probably been doing a little shining. “Listen, Jackson—”

“You’ve actually seen ghosts before, right?” Jackson interrupts. He looks around at the wooded area around the bridge, then back at Mulder. “Not just read about them?”

Mulder considers him a moment. “I have, yes.”

“Who were the ghosts?” Jackson asks.

“The ghosts themselves? You mean in life?”

“Yeah. Did you know them?”

Mulder thinks about his answer. “One time it was a couple,” he says. “A couple who died together on Christmas.”

Jackson thinks about that for a moment, a couple who died together and spent eternity together, too. It seems like that might be good. Not entirely unhappy. He gets little visual flashes from Mulder’s memories, but he pushes them out—he’d rather make up his own little story about these ghosts.

“You never met the ghost of anyone you knew when they were alive?” Jackson asks. He hesitates. “Like … your own parents, maybe?”

Mulder’s head turns sharply to him. His gray-green eyes are sorrowful, then shift infinitesimally into sympathy and pity.

“Jackson,” he says, his words subdued, “you won’t get your parents back by searching for ghosts.”

A bird trills nearby, and Jackson’s gaze follows the sound. “Yeah,” he says.

His eyes again fill with tears. This is one of those things he knows he should know better about. Something he can see is a delusion—an idea gullible kids hold on to— but he wants to believe anyway. He wants to think that one day he might see his mom and dad again. How stupid, to imagine friendly ghosts who might pat him reassuringly on the shoulder and tell him it’s okay.

They both stand facing the steep bank of trees, saying nothing.

A very clear sentence runs through Mulder’s mind. If he were staying with us, I would make sure he got a new therapist.

Jackson can’t help but smile, wiping his tears. “If I were staying with you, I’d probably really need one.”

“Yeah.” Mulder snorts a laugh. “You probably would.”

***

Back in the car, Scully is sitting in the driver’s seat, unmoving, waiting for them. The radio is on, turned down very low, a murmur of voices.

“No ghosts,” Jackson informs her as he slides in the back. “Mulder says we can try Gadsby Tavern in Alexandria next time.”

“You all done with your call?” Mulder asks her, giving her a curious look. “Was it the hospital?”

“It wasn’t.” Scully says in a strange voice. “It was Skinner. He had news.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of news?”

“There’s been new evidence in the Van De Kamps’ case. Apparently a … witness remembers seeing a man wanted in Colorado in the neighborhood that morning, leaving the scene.”

“What?” Jackson inhales.

“The charges against Jackson have been dropped. He’s considered a missing child now. The Rawlins police are having a press conference, so it will be hitting the media today at some point.”

“A witness emerges from nowhere?” Mulder asks.

“Yes,” Scully says, and Jackson watches her eyes latch on to his. “And Skinner says the name of this witness has been strangely hard to come by, even for the Bureau.”

“This is good news though,” Jackson insists. “Right? It means I’m free. It’s good.”

He looks from Scully to Mulder. They both turn to him in the backseat, their faces blooming in simultaneous smiles. They’re both holding something back, but they’re not insincere.

“It is, Jackson,” Scully agrees. “You’re right. It means you have a lot more options.” He senses her worry simmering underneath. Something wrong here. Another shoe about to drop.

“Maybe I can call people now,” Jackson says, his eyes darting hesitantly between them. “My friend Louis. Maybe my uncle Wyatt.”

“Probably very soon,” Mulder says, nodding. “I’d like to wait until we know … just a little more.”

“You’re both worried,” Jackson observes softly. “You think something is weird.”

There’s a silence in the car as Scully starts the engine.

“We’re cautious,” Mulder says. “Happy, but cautious.”

***

When they get home from their bagel pick up—and Mulder was right, it was kind of a drive to get to the place with good bagels—Jackson is washing his hands in the kitchen when he feels Rose’s tiny nudge into his mind.

Apparently she’s back at home now, wherever that is. She tells him to pass on some messages. He’s happy to hear from her. He badly wants to tell her his good news, but he thinks about what Mulder and Scully said, and he decides to wait a little.

Jackson can hear Mulder talking on the phone outside. Actually, he is apparently taking a break from talking to whoever is on the line to discuss something back and forth very animatedly with Scully. Neither one of them really holds back their opinion, he’s noticed.

He’s started to put together a few more pieces about them. For one, he’s been curious about how Mulder pays his bills. Jackson’s parents always were very careful about money—clipping coupons, thinking through monthly budgets—but Mulder thinks about money much less than most adults.

Jackson knows that Scully is a doctor, and Jackson understands that doctors make high salaries, which explains her nice car and nice clothes. But Mulder hasn’t seemed to have a regular job for years, and Jackson doesn’t think FBI agents make enough to retire decades early.

When they came home with their dozen bagels, Mulder and Scully went to call this lawyer right away, both of them very determined. From what Jackson can gather, it seems to be a lawyer associated with Mulder’s family. So, Jackson infers, Mulder comes from some kind of family money. He wonders why Mulder doesn’t use it to buy a fancier house or car.

As he selects another bagel, he wonders about Mulder’s family. Who were they? How did they get rich? He wonders about Scully’s family, too. What’s her mother like, the one who is still alive? He could probably ask them all of these questions now that he isn’t a wanted man. Maybe he could even meet the mysterious grandmother now.

Outside Mulder and Scully still seem deeply invested in talking to the lawyer, so Jackson plops down on the couch with his cinnamon raisin bagel.

Chewing silently, he remembers what Scully said about the media getting the story soon. He searches around for the remote and turns on Mulder’s TV, pressing buttons to find a news channel.

When he does, he can tell instantly: the story is public.

A blonde reporter clad in a bright blue coat stands on a snow-covered street in downtown Rawlins, with the words “New Development in Wyoming Murder Case: Police Apologize to Runaway Teen” sprawled underneath her. Jackson is so shocked to see the familiar storefronts of his hometown on the national news he can barely focus on the words.

“...police believe that the victims’ son fled out of fear, and they hope Jackson Van De Kamp will be found safely.”

One of the police officers who’d been at Jackson’s school that horrible day—Davis was his name, Jackson remembers—stands in front of a microphone, looking gray and stricken: “We admit when we make mistakes, and this was a mistake. Mr. Van De Kamp is innocent of all wrongdoing. In all likelihood, he’s a scared and grieving kid. If you can hear this, Jackson, buddy, we want you to come home.”

Jackson stares at the screen open-mouthed, clutching his half-eaten bagel tightly. The rest of the report seems to slide right past him.

“Was that it?” Scully says sharply from behind him. The news has moved on to something else. “Was that the story about you?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, his voice sounding like a small boy’s.

Scully walks around and sits down next to him on the couch. She picks up the remote and switches the TV off.

She peers at his face. “Are you okay, Jackson?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “The police … uh, begged me … to come home. To Wyoming.”

Scully’s eyes are so wide, so icy blue—exactly like Rose’s. They run all over him, as if studiously taking in every detail.

“Do you want to go back?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he repeats, blinking.

She picks up his plate off of the coffee table, offering it to him. He sets his bagel down on it dazedly. She replaces the plate on the table.

“You have some decisions to make, Jackson,” she says, her voice gentle. “Not all of them right away. But you do have some decisions to make.”

Mulder appears behind her, his hand reaching for her shoulder. He’s watching Jackson closely, too.

“We spoke to the lawyer about the … custody possibilities,” Scully says. Jackson recognizes suddenly that she’s very nervous. He can feel fear starting to roll off of her in steady waves. “It’s most likely a relative has official custody of you now. Probably your uncle Wyatt?”

Jackson nods slowly. He can’t think of who else would.

“We can talk to your uncle about other possibilities,” Scully says carefully. “Living with us. Short term … or longer term. There are a range of options in the kind of relationship you could have with us. You could just do visits. We could have some kind of shared custody. There’s, uh, more permanent arrangements. Like legal guardianship. Adoption.” She swallows. Her fear is pulsing around Jackson now like a heartbeat. “I don’t know how your uncle will feel about any of this, but we thought we’d check with you before pursuing anything else. We want you to be the one … in the driver’s seat.”

Jackson reaches out his hand to rest on her arm. He doesn’t want her to be so terrified. It’s stupid. Unnecessary. Of course he wants to live with them. She stills at his touch, her eyes widening.

“Yeah,” he says. “I want to see Uncle Wyatt—like, for visits. He’s family. But I’d like to stay here. If that’s possible, I mean.”

Scully seems unable to suppress her initial reaction: she bursts into a pink-cheeked smile; she exchanges a quick, amazed look with Mulder. Her hand covers Jackson’s, and he can feel her intentionally calming herself down. “We’re happy you feel like that, of course. But that was … a fast decision. Are you sure? You can think about it. All the time you need.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” He tries to make his own tone sound casual, breezy. “Uncle Wyatt has too many dogs and goes to a crazy church,” he says with a shrug. “And I don’t think he’ll argue with you too much if you say you want me to live here. I broke his big screen TV once, and he thinks I’m annoying.”

Jackson doesn’t say everything he’s thinking. That he would actually really like to see what it would be like to be part of their family. That he’d like to know what love felt like, everyday, with them. That he thinks it would be easy, somehow—much easier than he might have expected. That he thinks he understands now that this new relationship with them has nothing to do with replacing his parents.

Mulder’s smile is so wide that Jackson suspects he eavesdropped. “We’d love to have you, Jackson,” he says.

“We’ll talk to your uncle,” adds Scully. “We can be more specific about your options after that.”

“Rose said she could teach you more about how to block me, you know,” Jackson tells them tactfully. “So you wouldn’t have to worry as much about… not having privacy. You know.”

Scully flushes, and Mulder hides a smile. “That might be nice,” Scully says.

“She also said there was a really good STEM high school in Alexandria,” Jackson suggests with more feigned disinterest.

“Rose is full of advice,” Mulder observes wryly.

“Yep,” Jackson agrees. “I got a message from her, by the way.” He eyes the bagel on his plate again. “When you all first went in to call the lawyer.”

“Really?” Mulder says. “A … psychic message?”

“That sounds kind of overdramatic,” Jackson says, rolling his eyes and picking his bagel back up. “But yeah. She said she was home.”

“Good,” Scully says. “That’s good.” She throws Mulder a glance.

“She also said to tell you something, Scully.”

“She … did?”

“She said to tell you that they listened to her.” He looks at Scully to see if that’s meaningful, but her face looks blank. “Rose said that … she told them what she wanted, and they listened.”

He shrugs, deciding it doesn’t matter that much, and he takes a big bite of the bagel. Scully has a point about getting them fresh, he decides. They taste so much better this way. You could only get bagels in a bag at the grocery store in Rawlins.

A plummeting feeling from the pit of Scully’s stomach makes him look up.

“What?” Mulder asks her. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Scully’s face has lost color. “No. I just …”

“Who listened to her?” Mulder insists. “What does that message mean?”

“I asked her … if the Walled Garden leaders listened to her,” Scully says in a low voice. “If they respected her.”

Jackson swallows part of his bagel so he’s able to talk. Through a mouthful: “You think she asked the Walled Garden for something she wanted?”

Mulder stares at Jackson, and then turns back to Scully, his eyes widening. “You think she asked them for something she wanted,” he repeats in a low voice, realizing. “Oh wow.”

“This morning, she said she was going home to take care of something,” Scully whispers, her eyes on him.

Jackson swallows his last mouthful. “What?”

“So she goes home,” Mulder says in disbelief to Scully. “And within a few hours…”

“Is it possible, Mulder?”

Jackson finally gets it. “You think she asked the Walled Garden to make sure the charges were dropped against me. Don’t you?”

Scully and Mulder are still looking hard at one another. “It happened so fast,” Mulder says. “All in less than six hours. If it was really the machinations of the Walled Garden…”

“They have an alarming amount of power,” says Scully. “Over multiple entities of government. An amount of power comparable to…”

“The Syndicate.” Mulder sits next to them on the couch, puts his head in his hands. “Can this be true? I don’t know what to make of an organization like this. They’re not even… strictly human. But they may be involved in… it’s overwhelming.”

They don’t say anything for a moment, looking dazed. Jackson watches them both in profile, unsure what to say.

“What do we do, Scully?” Mulder says.

She looks away, towards the window. There are entire worlds—entire universes—in Scully’s eyes. Jackson feels weirdly like his shine is lost in something enormous.

“I guess it’s fortunate there’s an investigative unit of the FBI qualified to keep an eye on them,” Scully says slowly and resolutely at last.

She turns and picks up Mulder’s hand. He lifts his head out of his hands and meets her stare.

“And keep an eye on Rose, too?” Jackson says incredulously.

“Yeah,” agrees Mulder, a strange finality. “And keep an eye on Rose.”

A fierce undertow of worry from Scully. But is Rose on the right side? How could we convince her? What if Rose were involved with something fundamentally wrong? What about any other members of the Walled Garden Mulder might feel connected to?

They’re frighteningly powerful anxieties, and Jackson doesn’t even understand some of them. They’re shot through with the stinging, luminous heat of her love. But weirdly he doesn’t feel himself getting drawn into these anxieties right now, even though he’s prone to worrying himself.

It’s just the more overwhelming emotion coming at him right now is what’s coming from Mulder. This ridiculous hopefulness. Bigger and more buoyant than ever. It fills up, expands and crowds out all competing feelings.

Jackson isn’t sure if Mulder is essentially being like a gullible kid—if he wants to believe things that aren’t true just to comfort himself. If that’s true, he is much, much better at it than Jackson. Because every cell in his body seems to be singing the same song: somehow, this will be okay. Somehow, what's wrong is going to get better. Jackson decides Mulder feeling like this is a good thing, even if it's not an entirely logical or sane thing.

As Mulder draws Scully into his side, and suggests they watch his favorite movie—some old movie about space that Scully protests vehemently—Jackson notices the influence of Mulder’s hope beginning to work on her, too. She’s arguing back, but she’s starting to relax, too. She’s got this little smile on her lips. Her anxieties are receding, falling into the background.

Jackson pulls his knees up at his end of the couch and stops listening to their good-natured argument. He wonders how it would be received if he asked if his friend Louis could come visit some time. He has a brilliant idea about splashing red paint around the inside of the Bunny Man Bridge and freaking the shit out of Louis. It would be hilarious. Also, he’d just like to see Louis. He misses him.

Mulder and Scully want Jackson to be the tie-breaker in deciding the movie. They both look over and ask him, with curious faces, what he wants to watch.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Finding Nemo,” he suggests at once. “Or The Incredibles.”

“Aren’t those kid movies?” Mulder asks suspiciously.

“Not ... entirely,” Jackson says.

“What are they about, then?”

Jackson considers his answer a minute and lands upon the right words. “They’re about doing crazy shit for your family.”

He wins.

***

Y'all, thank you so much for reading. I’m truly grateful for all of your encouraging, supportive notes and tags. You have no idea what they mean.

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

[cecilysass]

Shine On (15/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 15: Walled Garden

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 25, 2015 Ten minutes later

Jackson and Rose burst back into the kitchen, both pink-cheeked and sweaty, and promptly start chugging glasses of water. Mulder’s back at work with the crowbar, and Scully decides to make herself useful and start sweeping up some of the wood chips on the floor.

“We ran five miles,” Jackson announces to them.

“Pretty far,” comments Mulder.

“I don’t think I’ve ever run five miles before. It’s a personal record.”

“That’s amazing,” Scully replies back encouragingly. She can’t help but watch Rose out of the corner of her eye. She’s holding the cool glass of water to her cheek, watching the rest of them.

“We went a different route than yesterday. There’s this really pretty stream near here with a path, and we followed the path for a while.”

Mulder and Scully both nod knowingly. “Yeah, that’s a good run,” Mulder says. “I’ve done it many times.”

“We saw the ruins of an old mill from the 1800s,” Jackson says, walking over to Mulder and Scully with his glass of water. “I made Rose stop and read the historical marker. Didn’t I?”

“Yep,” Rose answers him, a small, subdued smile.

“Almost nothing in Wyoming was built in the 1800s,” Jackson says. “Things in Virgina are old.” Some kind of lightbulb goes on in his mind. “Wasn’t George Washington from Virginia? Can we go see where he lived?” He stops abruptly and looks down. “Does this house have, uh, termites or something?” He’s staring at the pile of wood chips at Scully’s feet.

“Just some mold,” Mulder says. “Don’t worry. We’re getting rid of it.”

Jackson looks at the pile analytically. “Mold can get in anywhere. I read an article.”

“What are your plans today, Rose?” Scully asks, changing the subject.

“Well,” Rose licks her lips, rotating the glass in her hand. “I need to go home at some point, back to Maryland. I have a few things I need to take care of.”

Jackson is bending his leg in a hamstring stretch, wobbling a little for balance. “But you’ll come back, right?”

Scully and Mulder’s eyes both dart over to Rose, interested in her answer, too.

“Yes.” Rose peers back at Jackson through the glass, her image refracted. “Of course I will. When I can.”

Jackson seems to remember something and drops his stretch suddenly. “Oh hey, Mulder.” He swivels to face Mulder, suddenly all energy again. “Rose said that Clifton, Virginia isn’t very far from here.”

Mulder looks at him curiously. “No. It’s about ten minutes. Why?”

“That’s where the Bunny Man Bridge is. Where the ghost of the Bunny Man haunts people every Halloween? I read about it in that book you have about the ghosts of Virginia.”

“Yeah,” Mulder says, an irresistible smile. “That’s right—it is. The bridge is over Colchester Road.”

“Is the Bunny Man real? Have you seen him?”

“I haven’t actually gone over to check it out,” Mulder says. “I’ve been out of the monster business.” He throws Scully a begrudging look. “And to be honest, that story seems sort of along the lines of an … urban legend.”

Scully raises her eyebrows with cool significance, but Mulder avoids her gaze.

“Can we go see the bridge?” Jackson asks, leaning into another stretch. “Before I go home?” He stops, furrows his brow. “I mean—not home. Wherever I’m going next.”

“Sure, we can drive by,” Mulder says, upbeat, putting his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “What else is in that book? I wonder how many of those ghosts Scully and I investigated before.”

“It’s upstairs in my room,” Jackson says.

“Let’s go get it,” Mulder suggests. And Scully suspects he adds something else privately to Jackson in his mind, too, because Jackson immediately glances between her and Rose.

“Yeah,” Jackson agrees.

That’s quite the dynamic, Scully thinks wistfully, watching as they bound up the stairs after one another. Identical gaits, she notes. Consciousness entangled. She wonders if she’ll ever be able to separate out her envy from her joy.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Rose says in a voice so quiet Scully could almost miss it.

Scully leans her broom against the door. She’s still unsettled by having thoughts so transparent, but she wants to take it more in stride. This is what having telepath children must be like. She lifts her chin, armor up, and turns to take in the young woman across the room.

“Are you envious, Rose?” she asks casually. “Of Jackson?”

Rose lifts a shoulder. “Maybe a little.” Her eyes begin to roam around the room. “He’s lost his parents, same as I did, but he’s found this, too.” She gestures around her with her hand. “I knew a long time ago I wasn’t going to have anything like this.”

Scully feels herself frown. She doesn’t understand this kind of statement, and it hurts her in ways she can’t even pinpoint. “Rose,” she asks, “do you mind if I ask you questions about your past?”

The young woman had been leaning against Mulder’s desk, but she stands up instantly, like she’s prepared. “No, of course not.”

“Good, because I’ve been wondering…” Scully takes some uncertain steps towards her. “You knew where we were for years.” She hesitates. “But …you never contacted me.”

Rose doesn’t bat an eyelash. Strong and straight. “No, I didn’t.”

Scully blinks in confusion. She can’t really help it; her whole world is bifurcated when she looks at Rose. In one jagged half: this young woman, standing impassive like a warrior—reminding her of her father the sea captain, reminding her of herself. In the other: the memory of a tiny child, crouched over playing, bangs and shy eyes, reminding her of Melissa, reminding her of innocent lives lost.

Somehow she has to hold this together, make these two broken pieces make sense.

“Why didn’t you?” Scully says, and her voice wobbles. “Were you… angry with me?”

Rose’s stoic expression flickers a little. “No,” she says. “Why would I be angry? I liked you. I knew that… if I let you know I was alive, you’d want to see me.”

“Then why?” Scully’s vision is blurring a little, but she blinks the tears back determinedly. She doesn’t want to cry right now. She wants to think logically enough to understand.

Rose walks across the room to Mulder’s small dining room table and sits down with her glass of water. She bends her knees to sit in the chair with her legs criss crossed. This makes her seem younger, like the very young woman she is. Like someone who should be going on spring break trips and taking Physics 201, Scully thinks. Like someone who should be putting her hair up in messy buns and pulling all nighters and getting drunk with friends.

All of that seems to have nothing to do with this strange, remote girl.

Scully trails like a ghost and sinks down in the chair across from her, staring wordlessly, waiting.

“You know already that I’m not the same as Jackson,” Rose explains kindly, her eyes wide and serious. “He’s all yours. Genetically he’s entirely derived from you and Mulder. In a relatively normal, human way.”

“So you couldn’t come live with me … because Mulder isn’t your biological father?”

“No, no,” Rose says, shaking her head firmly. “I couldn’t live with you because no one is my biological father.”

Scully sucks in a breath slowly.

“You saw—the cyst on my neck, right? The toxic blood? When I was little?”

Scully nods without speaking.

“I’m dangerous to humans, Dana,” Rose says. Her gaze does not waver, her eyes like a calm sea. “It’s just the truth. Not just the blood. Other things, too.”

“You wouldn’t have been dangerous to me,” Scully says in a fierce voice before she can stop herself. “I could have taken care of you. I would have known what to do.”

“How could you have known?” Rose smiles sadly. “No one knows everything about what we are. We’re something new. Not entirely human, not entirely inhuman. We’re still discovering things about ourselves.” Her smile fades. “And truthfully, it’s not only that we’re dangerous to humans—it’s also that they can sometimes be dangerous to us.”

“I would have protected you. Mulder and I would have protected you. I was prepared for that.”

“You would have tried. I know you would have,” Rose concedes, looking down. She takes a drink of her glass of water. Her eyes spring back onto Scully. “But how long would it have been before you ended up like the Sims? Like the Van De Kamps? When they explained that to me, that risk… I couldn’t see it happen.”

“Who explained that to you?” Scully asks, suddenly on alert. “How old were you?”

Rose looks away evasively. “The group I’m with, the Walled Garden, that’s the whole point of what we do—we’re all products of the hybrid program. We’re the same. We protect one another. We take care of one another. It’s how it should be.”

“The Walled Garden,” repeats Scully.

“Yes.”

“The group that was trying to kill Jackson. The group that actually did murder his parents.” Scully emphasizes each word carefully, hoping it will penetrate. “Take care of one another? Protect each other? How can you trust people who would do that?”

“I don’t trust all of them,” Rose replies defensively, lifting her chin. “There are dangerous elements within the organization. There always have been. We’ve had to be so secretive, and sometimes, in the name of keeping secrets, some of us have done … too much. Gone too far. Like with Jackson.”

Scully realizes her own hands are trembling. Everything inside of her is crying out to tell Rose: this is what evil organizations always say, this is how they always begin. Keeping secrets justifies all manner of unjustifiable acts.

“They’re my family,” Rose says in a different, more vulnerable voice. She looks at Scully like she wants something. “The only people who are really like me on the planet.”

“That’s not true. There’s Jackson.”

Rose smiles weakly. “Yeah. You’re right. Apparently there’s Jackson.” She taps her dark red fingernails lightly on the table. “Which is… interesting.”

Scully says nothing, concentrating on blinking rapidly, holding back the tears again.

“Really, despite its flaws, the organization has so much good in it. We have the best interests of humanity at heart,” Rose says. “We really do. We’ve saved humanity before. It’s our ultimate goal.”

That’s what the Syndicate said, too, Scully thinks bitterly. That’s exactly what they said. But Rose’s eyes are round and earnest, and Scully sees she won’t be able to make a convincing case against the Walled Garden. Not right now. Not without evidence.

She can deploy persuasive arguments against ideas, but not against family. You can’t use logic when it comes to family.

“But that’s exactly it,” Rose argues abruptly, placing her palms flat on the surface of the table. “You can use logic when it comes to family. You have to use your head sometimes to protect your family, even when it isn’t what your heart might want.” She leans forward, speaking intently. “You know that, Dana. You, of all people, know that.”

Scully feels her lip trembling. This isn’t a lesson she would ever, ever want to impart.

“Understand that I wanted to see you,” Rose says urgently. “When I was little especially. Little kids want to have moms. But I … had to protect you. Just like you had to protect Jackson. Don’t you see that?”

There is a moment of silence, except for the clock ticking in Mulder’s kitchen. Scully shifts uneasily in her chair.

What can you say to that? Scully thinks. What can you say to mistakes made out of love, even mistakes that leave such scars?

She reaches out across the table and firmly takes Rose’s hands in her own.

“Do they listen to you?” Scully asks purposefully. “The leadership of the Walled Garden? Do you have their respect and trust?”

Rose hesitates before answering. “For the most part … usually. Yes.”

Scully’s eyes narrow. She takes in the line of Rose’s determined chin, the tiny crease between her eyebrows. Scully exhales heavily. “Okay,” she says. “Okay. I understand.”

Rose’s shoulders immediately fall in relief. “I’m so glad,” she breathes, her eyes shining. “I’m really happy. I wanted you to understand that it’s not like … I didn’t care.”

“We’ll get to see you more regularly now, right?” Scully asks tremulously. “You won’t vanish from our lives? I would like to … I would like to see you.”

Rose nods tightly. “You should know there will be risks,” she says. “It’s not entirely safe for us to have a relationship.”

“That’s fine,” Scully promises, tightening her hold on Rose’s hands. “We can deal with that. Please don’t worry about that.”

“I want to see you, too.” Rose’s voice is suddenly high. In Scully’s bifurcated vision she sees both the woman clasping her hands and the little girl on the floor coloring. Two in one, the same.

“Do you definitely have to go home today?” Scully asks. “You’re sure you can’t stay and have dinner?”

“I do,” Rose nods. “There’s something important to take care of. And I need to go back and check in—or they’ll worry.”

Scully nods somberly, not sure what to say to that. Her lip twitches involuntarily, thinking about the Walled Garden, about the many questions she has about where Rose lives, how she spends her days. Would she ever be able to see Rose’s accommodations? Would she ever be welcome there? Does Rose work or go to school?

“I should probably get going soon, actually,” Rose says, beginning to stand up from the table. “My car is parked about a mile away. I should start–”

“Rose, the Walled Garden operatives who came after Jackson,” Scully interrupts without stopping to think.

Rose freezes where she is. “Yes?”

“They mentioned that there were those in the organization who viewed Mulder and me as their flesh and blood.”

“Yes,” Rose says, nodding slowly.

“But Mulder isn’t related biologically to you.”

“No.”

“Yet they included him in that statement.”

“Like I told Mulder, most of the hybrids don’t have living family.”

“Most.” Scully feels her stomach knot.

“There are … a few others that do. Besides me.”

She considers her words for a heavy beat. Mulder must have thought of this, too. Scully knows he must have. Maybe he’s protected himself from thinking too much directly about it.

“The agricultural clones,” Scully guesses. “They are some of the hybrids that have family, too?”

Rose nods shortly. “One agricultural clone specifically,” she says.

Scully wonders if there’s some part of Mulder deep in denial that has kept him from asking Rose questions about this.

But she knows there’s a more important part of him that will, someday, want to know. That part of him that refuses to let things go. The dogged, loyal, ever-faithful part that puts family first, that never gave up on fixing things in their relationship, that always wanted to make things right with William, that set in his sights finding his sister for all those years.

It might be the very best part of Mulder. The part that made her fall in love with him. The part that went dormant when he was most depressed, and that had brought him back to life again recently.

When he’s had a chance to really think about this agriculture clone, Scully doesn't think that he’ll let go of hope where she’s concerned either.

“This clone. Does she… know she has family?”

“She does,” Rose says. “But … I don’t know what the idea of family means to her. The agricultural clones were raised differently than I was, you know. She’s older than me, but she didn’t have language until later in life.”

“What does she … what does she call herself?”

“Molly,” Rose says. She tilts her head. “Come to think of it, I think she chose it as a variant of her original’s last name. So maybe family does mean something to her.”

“I imagine Mulder might want to meet her someday.”

Scully remembers, for a moment, Mulder wanting a bigger house. More guest rooms.

Rose nods soberly. “I’ll mention it to her. See what she says.” She looks around at the kitchen, at the breakfast dishes, at the framed photos of Mulder’s parents. “Family definitely means something to Mulder, doesn’t it?”

Scully smiles. “Like it does to you.”

“I guess that’s right.”

“All those years,” Scully says wonderingly. “Were you happy? Were you loved?”

Rose’s eyes grow distant, as though she is replaying the events of the past to come to a decision on her answer.

“In some ways I was happy,” she says. “In some ways I was loved.” She pauses. “In some ways I was … neither.”

She begins to walk away, and Scully thinks to herself that she may never stop having questions for her. She may have to start making lists.

But suddenly Rose stops, and turns around halfway, speaking thoughtfully. “I think I did know what it was to love. To have that feeling ... directed towards someone else.”

She starts walking again, and her next words are almost to herself. “I’ll always be grateful to you and Jackson for that.”

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

[cecilysass]

3 Times Mulder & Scully Suggested They Sleep At Each Other’s Place- Cut Dialogue

The End

War of the Coprophages

The Pilot

#it’s actually always Scully #If we’re keeping track #stop being so obvious Dana

[cecilysass]

Shine On (14/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 14: Rotten Wood

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 25, 2015 Two days later

The house is silent when Mulder steps through the kitchen door. At first he thinks no one is there, and he has a little corresponding stab of anxiety.

Then there’s a screech as Scully pushes her chair away from the kitchen table and stands to face him. He sees she’s set herself up there to work, her laptop nearly buried by drifts of paperwork.

He’s been having trouble interpreting Scully. Yesterday morning she drove off in his car with cryptic explanations, then reappeared an hour later with her laptop, a rolling suitcase full of clothes, and no further comment. Mulder assumes that means she’s planning on staying around a while. He hopes it does. He’s been superstitious about asking too many questions.

“Mulder,” she calls out, taking an awkward step towards him. He’s only been gone forty minutes to the hardware store, but her expression suggests she’s relieved to see him, like he’s been gone for months.

“Hey,” he says casually. “I think I found everything I need.” He holds up the two bags in his hands as evidence, kicking the door shut behind him. “Where are…”

He doesn’t finish, suddenly self-conscious about his choice of words. He’d almost said “the kids.” Way, way too strange.

“They went for a run.” A hint of a crease in her forehead. She pushes some errant strands of hair back behind her ears. Then she repeats the gesture, once, twice, three times as she walks distractedly to the front window. He gets it now: she’s anxious, she can barely keep herself still. “It’s been about twenty minutes since they left.”

Mulder follows her across the room, setting his hardware store bags down next to the boarded-up door frame, his project for the afternoon. He begins to pull the items he purchased out of the bag, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She’s wearing some soft gray sweater and tightly cut jeans that cling to her figure, making her look girlish. She leans against the window, her eyes scanning the road.

“Twenty minutes isn’t that long,” he comments, pulling some caulk out of the bag. “I ran with Jackson yesterday. He knows the route.”

She nods absently, still peering outside, her eyes searching up and down the road.

He stops what he’s doing, setting his repair supplies on the floor, and walks over to stand behind her, placing his hands on her small shoulders. Her sweater is so soft it melts under his fingers.

“You know,” he says gently, “you should probably worry more about us elderly mortals than about those superhero youngsters. They can take care of themselves.”

“I know,” she says, twisting her head around to flash him a smile that evaporates quickly.

“They’re what you might call resilient,” he says. “They’ve literally survived death, Scully.”

“You’ve survived death, too,” she says, her shoulders rising and falling under his hands. “And I still worry about you.”

“Do you?” he says in a low voice. His hands slide possessively from her shoulders to circle carefully around her waist, drawing her firmly against him.

She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t relax into his embrace either. She turns to him, as tense as a coiled spring. “I worry about everything,” she admits. Her voice drops to a choked whisper. “Mulder. Didn’t you say you wanted us to be sure…?”

I’m always sure, he thinks. “Yeah,” he says, letting his arms release from her waist gently and reluctantly. “I did say that.” Be sensible here. Wait for more direct signs. He runs his fingers through his hair, breathing through his anxiety. “I need to get to work anyway, and I bet you have things to finish up, too.”

She watches him as he returns to his new supplies from the hardware store, seemingly hesitant to go back to her work.

“What did you get at the store?”

“Oh, I’m getting rid of rot,” Mulder says blithely. “Cleaning house. Same old, same old. I hope I’m more successful than I used to be.”

She frowns, crossing to stare at the damaged door up close. “Rot?” She folds her arms over her chest. “That’s not good in a wooden house, Mulder.”

“I noticed it around the cracked jamb,” Mulder says. “Just a little. I think it’s because there wasn’t a good seal and some moisture’s been getting in. So I can clean it out and fix it now before any more damage is done.”

“How lucky hybrid assassins decided to kick your door down. Or you would have missed it.”

There’s a certain snap to her comment that takes him back, makes him think of earlier iterations of their relationship. And she’s not walking back to her laptop. She’s staring at the door frame with crossed arms, idly shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“So are you going to help me?” he asks casually. “Or just sit around and make smartass comments?”

She turns her head to regard him. “Let me consider my answer.”

“Come on, Scully,” he says with a hopeful chuckle and a sideways glance.

***

She mostly watches him work, even though he knows she’s handy herself, probably more than him. He’s taught himself a lot about maintaining a house since moving here, but she grew up knowing how to use a wrench. Her father raised a daughter who knew her way around a toolbox, she always said. When they first moved in, they’d fixed up a lot of this house together, taking breaks to make love in any room they were in.

“You should probably get this whole place inspected,” she comments, sitting on the floor with her knees hugged to her chest. “Rot can be insidious.” He’s using a crowbar to pry the rotted wood from the frame, and she’s wrinkling her nose when he’s successful.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I should. I will. Especially if I put the place on the market soon.”

“The market?” she says sharply. “You’re selling the house?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

She sits up straighter, dropping her knees, taken aback. “But you love this house, Mulder.”

Mulder digs his crowbar in deeper. “I did love this house,” he corrects her carefully. “I’m not sure I love it in the same way I used to.”

She seems to digest this a moment, looking around the room as though seeing it anew. “But where… where would you move?”

“Somewhere closer to work, I thought,” he says. “More intown. If we’re going to be back in the Hoover building. Maybe Arlington? I don’t know. And, uh—” He successfully ejects several shards of wood onto the floor. “I’d like a bigger place, maybe.”

“A bigger place?” Scully shepherds the discarded wooden shards into a pile with the inside of her foot.

“Yeah,” he says, feeling a flush of embarrassment. “So that, you know—maybe these new family members could all stay over. Have their own rooms. No more couches and air mattresses. Big old Mulder family holiday or whatever.”

She stops pushing the shards with her foot, her eyes on him. “You’re assuming Rose and Jackson are going to remain in our lives.”

“Yeah,” he admits simply. “I’m assuming that.”

He doesn’t say what they’re both thinking: that Jackson’s criminal charges are still unresolved, and that even if they were resolved, the two of them have no legal standing in his life at all.

“You’re … considering Rose your family member, too?”

He gives her a look. “She’s Jackson’s sister, isn’t she? Also, I think I might know her mom from somewhere.”

The corners of Scully’s lips lift, but she doesn’t say anything right away. “We’ve barely talked, Rose and me,” she says in a monotone voice. “She seems a little … distant.”

Mulder digs the crowbar in again. “She probably has understandable reasons for that, huh?”

“Yes.” Scully’s voice doesn’t waver. “I know she does.”

“But acting distant doesn’t necessarily mean you don’t care,” he says, pushing on the crowbar’s handle. He gives her a sly look. “Right, Scully?”

Her expression doesn’t change, but her eyebrow twitches. “Right.”

He manages to catapult another cascade of rotten wood chips onto the floor, and Scully watches him silently.

“You’re sweet, Mulder. To think about Rose and Jackson staying at your new house. To … plan around it.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sweet.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “Truthfully, I was also thinking you might be there.”

“Oh yeah? Do I get my own bedroom, too?”

He stops working and turns to look at her. “God,” he says. “I hope not.”

Her return gaze burns into him. With painstaking slowness she licks the rim of her bottom lip. He knows he needs to find this out.

“If I could shine into your head,” Mulder asks, “and see what you wanted, Scully … would I see you living with me again? All the time? Or is that just something I want?”

She doesn’t answer right away, pushing herself up from the floor, brushing herself off. “Mulder, I’m very grateful you can’t shine me,” she comments. Her hands, rapidly smoothing down her sweater, begin to slow down, and her tone softens. “But I think you would see … that. Us living together again. Yes.”

His heart rate picks up. Good, but this isn’t all he needs to hear. “And … this Mulder who you’d want to live with.” He leans his head back, feeling at a rare loss for the right words. “Who is he, exactly?” She reacts to his question, obviously puzzled. “William’s dad? Agent Mulder? The guy who runs errands to the hardware store?”

“Aren’t you … all of those?”

“I don’t know,” he replies shortly, and he’s surprised that there is such a crackle of resentment in his words. “I know that I’m the man you left. The one you could have moved back in with at any point in time. Anything that’s changed recently, to make this situation different—that doesn’t have anything fundamentally to do with me. I’m the same guy.”

“I don’t think you’re the same Mulder as when I left,” she replies. “I don’t believe you really think that either.”

He doesn’t, as a matter of fact. He turns away from her, setting his crowbar down meticulously, and he walks to look out the window.

“And I didn’t leave you, Mulder. I left a situation,” she adds to his turned back. She seems to search for her next words. “Something was destroying both of us, and we couldn’t help one another.”

Mulder turns around again, scratching his face. “I was the one having mental health problems though.”

She huffs, then smiles sadly. “Your perception of that says a lot,” Scully says. “We could barely see what the other was going through.”

He says nothing, considering her words.

“Losing William was something we never dealt with,” she continues. “We let our guilt and our pain sit with us for too long. We told ourselves we could handle it…”

“And we couldn’t.”

“And we couldn’t,” agrees Scully. “And it got worse. Until you couldn’t leave the couch, and I couldn’t stop working, and we couldn’t listen to each other or give one another what we needed.” She kicks idly at the wood pieces on the floor. “That’s why I had to leave.”

Mulder nods stonily, gazing up and down the door frame. He can see that she’s right. He can even see that she’s been saying this, in some form, all along, but he hasn’t been able to hear her.

“So maybe,” he ventures, gesturing broadly to the door, “we had to, you know, pry out all of the rot so the frame could survive.”

“Wow,” she says, “there’s a tortured metaphor.”

“You have no poetry in your soul, Scully.”

“All the great poetry being about fungal growth, of course.”

“The frame is … surviving, right?” Mulder says, his voice turning vulnerable.

Her eyes lock on his instantly. “You’re the one who turned me down,” Scully reminds him.

“Yeah,” he says. “I know. I … wasn’t sure if… I could…”

She walks over to him, cradling his cheek in her hand. Her fingers brush against the light stubble there. His breathing steadies.

“Tell me why you did that,” she whispers.

He stares back at her, his mouth cracking open in hesitation for a moment.

“I wanted you to want me again,” he confesses to her. “Not the family, not the job–although I want those things, too, of course. But I miss when you wanted me. Just me. Like you did in the old days.” He studies her face: smooth, unruffled. “At least I think you did.”

She says nothing, then slowly lifts her mouth into her closed-lip smile.

“What?” he says querulously.

Her smile evolves into a full-on, throaty laugh.

“Jesus, Scully, you’re laughing at me now? Really?”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “But you are being a little ridiculous.”

Her fingers move up to ruffle his hair, and it reminds him of when she used to pretend to check him for head injuries for a transparent excuse to touch him. He permits himself to close his eyes and enjoy her touch.

“Don’t you have any idea how much I want you? How much I have always wanted you?” she asks, in the most sexy voice he’s ever heard. “If you could shine me, Mulder, it would only be you. Always.”

It’s such a silly and obvious statement, but it’s such a relief he could sob, he could sink to his knees and collapse. Instead, he retreats to familiar territory and makes a joke.

“Oh yeah? All Mulder, all the time? It sounds like it might be fun to shine you, Scully.”

“You did shine me once. Remember?” He cracks his eyes to stare at her and she’s smiling, Sphinx-like, continuing to run her fingers through his hair and down his neck. He realizes he is subconsciously leaning towards her, drawn in. Always drawn in, since day one.

“Yeah, but your thoughts were much more chaste then,” he sighs. “You hadn’t been ruined by my perversions yet.”

She snorts, which might be unattractive coming from anyone on earth besides Scully. “My thoughts about you, Mulder,” she whispers, her fingers lightly skimming down his jaw, “were never what I would call chaste.”

He slides his hands around the back of that sumptuous gray sweater. He draws himself into the familiar aura of her body heat, and he kisses her, unable to keep the reflexive smile off of his lips.

It feels so good to kiss her again that he thinks he could never stop.

His palms sculpt her silhouette, the curve of her waist and the line of her rib cage. She’s so soft, so touchable everywhere. She smells like Scully, like something sweet and sharply herbal, like coffee beans and clean sheets. He feels like he could sink into her forever.

He takes eager nips at her pillowy lips, and in response, Scully hums: a relieved, tension-releasing sound.

His mouth pushes in, tasting her again and again. His hands rest on her rib cage, his thumbs tracing the curved underside of her breasts. As soft as heaven. What a very good sweater. He’s going to ask her to wear this sweater everyday.

He breaks the kiss to walk her backwards, pinning her against the wall between the door and the window.

Then he stares down at her, amazed, and she stares back at him with a smile in her eyes. His beautiful Scully. He loves her looking like this: lips kissed hard, hair mussed, neckline of her sweater akimbo. It reminds him of their early days making out when they were still partners in the Hoover Building the first time.

He’s filled with the heady idea that this could be them for decades. That they could have this forever. Something ebullient fills his chest.

Taking hold of her waist, he leans down to bury his face in her neck. She makes a muted sound when his tongue meets her skin, something between a laugh and a gasp. And that sound, from her, causes his mind to leap to a hundred memories—his mouth nuzzling her collarbone, his mouth lapping at her nipple, his mouth buried between her thighs. His whole body begins to vibrate; he hardens fast. He pushes against her like an eager teenager, seizing her wrists.

“Mulder,” she sighs, not sounding exactly disapproving.

He pushes his nose past her hair and lets his mouth trail adoringly around her ear, suddenly wondering if this should continue right now. Because his mind races with possibilities. He could slide his hands underneath the sweater and avail her of it, or maybe cop a good old-fashioned feel over her bra. Or his hands could slide around and cup her ass—Jesus, he loves her ass—and hoist her up further on the wall, lift a leg, unbutton those jeans.

There’s no time to decide on any of these appealing options when other thoughts interrupt his.

Minor child returning to the house.

As before, the words come into Mulder’s head unbidden. Young innocent boy returning to your house in five minutes. Please, please be prepared.

Mulder closes his eyes, releases her wrists, and presses his forehead to Scully’s.

“We gotta stop right now,” he breathes.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers, her own breaths still coming heavy.

“Jackson and Rose are on their way back,” Mulder says. “I, uh, got a warning just now.”

“A … warning?”

“Uh huh.” He chuckles sheepishly.

He feels her muscles tense in his arms as she realizes. “Oh my god.” Scully slips her face down and buries it in his chest. Her words are muffled. “If he knew to send a warning… that means he knew there was a reason to warn you.”

“He’s thirteen, Scully,” Mulder says, arms encircling her. “He knows how babies are made. He’s been reading adult minds his whole life. I think he’s not going to be shocked or traumatized to know we might—”

“No, Mulder. Don’t even say it. It’s absolutely mortifying,” she moans. “We have some ... logistical problems to solve.”

“Sure,” he says warmly. “A few.” He pulls her even closer, rocking her back and forth, her head pressed against his heart. He’d never tell her, but he fucking loves these logistical problems. They are the best problems he can imagine.

For so long he couldn’t see anything to look forward to. Right now he can’t stop himself from looking forward to everything.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

[cecilysass]

Shine On (13/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 13: Revival

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 23, 2015 9:05 am

For fifteen minutes neither of them moves.

They sit on the floor soaked in their son’s blood, Mulder’s arm limply around her, staring at the boy’s body lying before them, still and unmoving.

*** She knows they should stand up. She knows this. They should make calls. They should clean up the glass from the shattered door and the broken coffee pot. They should take showers and prepare for the house to be a crime scene.

But she can’t. She can’t look away. With his eyes closed he looks so much younger. More like a little boy, and she never saw him as a little boy. The slope of his cheeks, the delicate thin skin of his eyelids: this is what remains of her baby, that baby she loved so much and expected to raise.

His lips are stained with blood, but they are round and perfect and look just like Mulder’s. Just exactly like Mulder’s.

***

After fifteen minutes she becomes dimly aware of the sound of footsteps on the porch through the jagged maw that was once the front door, and she knows she should be concerned. She should at least turn her head to Mulder and look at him. They should appropriately evaluate the situation.

But she doesn’t lift her eyes from Jackson. She can’t, yet.

She feels Mulder’s arm pulling away from her. He seems to be trying to get eyes on the person approaching the house.

“Hello?” he calls half-heartedly. His voice is weak, almost unrecognizable. It sounds like it belongs to an old man.

The creak of footsteps grows closer, and Scully has the thought that maybe someone has come back to finish the job, to kill her and Mulder. To make sure there are no witnesses after all, despite all the cryptic statements about flesh and blood and old allies.

She reaches out and tentatively touches some of Jackson’s soft dark brown hair, in a way she never did in his life.

Maybe I deserve to die. For failing to protect him.

The footsteps crackle over broken glass as whoever it is walks into the house, walking right up next to them. Scully bows her head, allowing some tears to drop onto Jackson’s mangled chest.

She closes her eyes now. Waiting. Preparing herself for whatever additional violence is about to come.

“You’re too late,” Mulder says dully to the stranger. “He’s gone.”

Hearing his voice distantly reminds Scully of something, nudges awake a thought inside her: Mulder. Mulder is here, too. She can't just meekly watch him die. 

She forces herself to look up.

It’s not an armed man, but a petite woman in a black coat, staring down at them impassively. She doesn’t seem very dangerous.

Ah, she thinks listlessly. The mysterious Rose. What does it matter now? Scully looks back down at Jackson’s motionless face. None of his secrets matter now.

“He’s not gone,” the young woman tells them suddenly. “We need to revive him.”

Scully and Mulder say nothing at first, as though they haven’t heard what she has said. Neither of them move.

“Did you hear me?” the young woman says. “He’s not gone.”

“He is,” Mulder says shortly, his head snapping up towards her. Then he shakes his head, and his tone grows softer and more despairing. “I’m sorry, Rose. I’m so sorry.”

“I would know if he were gone.” Rose’s answer rises in pitch just slightly. She looks at Mulder significantly. “Maybe you can tell, too. Try and see. Reach out.”

“Jackson hemorrhaged,” Scully replies, monotone, emotionless. Whoever this Rose is, she obviously needs to understand. “The bullet likely hit an artery. He bled out fast. There’s no possible way. He’s gone.”

“He’s not,” Rose repeats back to Scully in a fierce voice. “Try to revive him.”

“I’m a doctor,” Scully says, her voice a flat line. “I know when someone is alive or dead.”

“That’s not always true. You have to try.”

“Scully,” Mulder says, his tone suddenly different. “Let’s hear her out.”

“You feel it, too, don’t you? His shine?” Rose turns her attention to Mulder. She crouches down next to him. “You can tell he’s still here?”

“Maybe,” Mulder says quietly, his eyes bouncing from her to Scully. “Maybe. I feel … something. I can’t tell what it is.”

“A person can’t be alive after having lost so much blood,” Scully recites robotically. “He needs the blood to sustain basic life functions. He hasn’t been breathing. For fifteen minutes.”

“Jackson isn’t like other people,” Rose says. “He has a set of abilities, some of which you know about, and some of which I don’t think anyone knows about. Maybe including the ability to survive more than human beings can survive. To go into temporary stasis. Like … some of the hybrids can.”

“Like you can?” Mulder interjects softly.

“Yes. Like I can.” She turns back swiftly to Mulder. “Which is how you were misled … back then.” Her next words are low and urgent. “You can’t be misled again. Please don’t be. He’s still here, Mulder.”

“Yeah,” Mulder responds, furrowing his brow, his face beginning to come into focus, to take on an intensity Scully doesn’t understand. “Yeah.” He takes hold of her shoulder. “Scully, we need to try to revive him. Right now.”

“When we were misled back when?” Scully repeats, bewildered. “What’s she talking about? Who is she?”

“We should try CPR,” Mulder emphasizes.

“Right now,” Rose agrees. “Who will do it?”

Scully blinks, looking from Mulder’s gaze to the young woman. “Me, of course. Me.”

It feels ridiculous, sad, against every bit of training she’s ever had. To try to revive her obviously dead son feels like a pathetic act of futility.

But Mulder’s eyes are close on her, so she leans over and begins the process of trying to keep Jackson’s circulatory system alive, even knowing that for the past fifteen minutes no air has been filling his lungs and no pulse thumping through his veins.

She begins chest compressions, the sickening squelch of his pooled blood under her fingers. The only thing she can do is keep her mind empty. Don’t dwell on anything but the familiar movements. She tilts his head, giving him two rescue breaths. His mouth is still bloodied, and she tries not to think about the copper-penny taste on her lips.

Then she pulls back, watching his chest in silence to see if it moves.

It doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t.

“Nothing,” she whispers. She looks up at Mulder’s face. His eyes are on her.

“Now you do it again, right?” he asks. “That’s how it works?”

Scully twists her mouth, nods. She can’t possibly let him down, not when he is looking so hopeful. Not when she failed to protect his son to begin with. She’ll do any irrational thing he wants.

She positions her hands on Jackson’s body for the chest compressions again.

Press, press, press, press: her hands rediscover the required rhythm, the natural backbeat of life.

Each time her hands bear down she feels more hopeless. She wonders if she will break his ribs, if she will damage the body of this poor child of hers further. She tries to empty her mind again. When she can’t do that she tries to think more like Mulder; she tries to will herself into believing it might work.

All along she can feel the young woman Rose leaning tightly over her shoulder, her breath drawn. In a different situation, Scully might be curious about this. As it is, she can only focus on what she must do.

Thirty compressions, then back to the breaths. She takes careful hold of his chin and tries again, pushing air forcibly into his lungs with her own.

She brought him to life the first time, in Georgia, years ago. It was a miracle then. Maybe she can do it again.

She stops, waiting and watching.

With a sound like an inflating balloon, Jackson suddenly gasps, his eyes fluttering open.

Scully’s mouth flies open, too. Not possible. The boy’s chest begins to rise and fall rapidly, as he tries to gain control over his lungs again.

“Jackson,” Mulder says shakily. “Jackson, can you hear us?”

Scully stares. Her hands, still smudged with blood, are still extended unsteadily in front of her, as though they’re about to do more compressions. She’s afraid to trust her senses, afraid to move.

Jackson, wheezing a little, looks at Mulder and begins to cough violently, pushing himself up on his elbows. Blood foams from his mouth.

“Oh Jackson,” Scully whispers. She makes herself move, dabbing at the blood on his chin with the sleeve of the tee-shirt she’s wearing, which is covered in blood already anyway. “Jackson, it’s going to be okay.”

“I’ll get him water and a washcloth,” Mulder says, leaping up.

“What’s going on?” rasps Jackson. More blood dribbles from his mouth.

“Just wait,” Scully says in an artificially high voice. “You’re okay. You’re… going to be fine. Just let us take care of you for a moment.”

He sinks backwards again on the floor, wincing a little.

“I don’t understand. What about the entry wound?” Scully whispers in horror to Rose. “What about the bullet? Internal damage?”

“I think he must heal fast,” Rose says, sounding perplexed. “He must. You could … look at the site of bullet penetration.”

Scully reaches down and examines Jackson’s torso, visible through his ripped shirt. She runs her fingers over his rib cage, sticky with blood, but she can no longer see the site where the bullet pierced him, no source of bleeding.

“It’s completely closed,” Rose observes in a whisper. She seems to be surprised by this, too. “That makes it … hard to kill him. Maybe impossible. This changes things.”

“I got shot,” Jackson mumbles in shock. “That man shot me, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t kill you,” Scully says. She touches the hair on Jackson’s head affectionately, not caring for a moment about giving him space, not caring about the blood on her hands. “You’re alive. You’re going to be okay.”

“There’s blood … everywhere,” Jackson breathes, sounding panicky. “Is that my blood? On the floor and all over you?”

“Here’s a damp washcloth,” Mulder offers. He crouches down to hand it to Jackson. “You can wipe some of the blood off.”

“Did you save me, Rose?” Jackson croaks, accepting the washcloth and wiping his mouth.

“You saved yourself,” Rose says with a small tight-lipped smile. But, Scully thinks, Rose did save him, or at least her unlikely advice did. “You seem to have the ability to bounce back from death.”

“Wow.” Jackson stops wiping his chin. “Really?” He looks at Scully for confirmation, which she finds oddly touching. She nods weakly, and he turns back to Rose. “So I’m, like, immortal. Like a god.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Rose says, her smile brightening. “I have some of the same abilities, you know, so you’re not that special.”

Scully raises her eyes to study Rose more carefully, noting this dynamic between her and Jackson. Didn’t she imply she was a hybrid? Where did she come from? How does he know her? The girl’s eyes, alight now with happiness, are very clear and very blue.

Jackson smiles crookedly. “We’re superheroes,” he mumbles, dazed. “Like the brother and sister in The Incredibles.”

“Something like that,” Rose says. She looks like she wants to cry, but she presses her lips together into a tiny smile instead. Scully frowns, wondering. Part of her is tempted to begin pressing for information right now.

But Jackson is still so pale. First things first.

“Let me examine you, Jackson,” Scully says crisply. Nothing here is normal, everything is upside down, but her tone is all business. A personal specialty. “And let’s get you cleaned up.”

***

Jackson is remarkably healthy for someone shot a half hour ago, although he’s suffering from what Scully might describe as low level shock. After he rinses off in the shower and dresses in Mulder’s old sweat suit, they wrap him in Scully’s quilt. He sits bundled on the couch, a slightly stunned look on his face.

Scully crosses her arms over her chest, trying to formulate the right series of questions, when Mulder clears his throat and wipes his palms on his pants.

“We should probably figure some things out,” he says. All in the room look at him. There are still visible tear tracks on his face. Scully imagines there must be on hers, too. “Do we need to take Jackson to the hospital, Scully?”

“I don’t see why,” she says. “There are no signs of serious trauma. We can monitor him here.”

He nods. There’s an abrupt frigid gust of air from the hole that is the former front door, and Mulder speculatively looks it up and down. “We need to consider this problem, then. It’s freezing out,” he says, gesturing to the destroyed door frame. “I either need to find a way to make this weather proof, or we all need to relocate to a motel tonight.”

“Yes, agreed,” Scully says, nodding, trying to keep up with what he’s saying.

Rose is sitting silently on the desk chair, and Mulder walks to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “And what about you, Rose? Do we need to be worried about your immediate safety? Are there going to be more Walled Garden operatives coming for you?”

“No,” she says blankly. She looks like she is about to say more, but her eyes land on Scully. “No. I don’t think so.”

Scully’s eyes dart in the space between her and Mulder. The relationship between Rose and Jackson is perplexing enough, but this interaction is even harder to interpret. Mulder seems almost protective of Rose, like he knows her.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Scully says softly to Rose. “But … who are you, exactly?”

There’s a pause, and no one answers. Rose looks at her feet, her discomfort apparent.

“Yeah. All right, Scully,” Mulder says, placating. “We should talk about it.” She hates the tone of voice he’s using. It’s the one he uses to calm her down when he thinks she’s being unreasonable, and her question isn’t unreasonable. “I think that first I should get some plywood I have in the shed out back. Maybe I can board the door up for now. Then—I don’t know, we can sit down and talk, make a plan.”

Scully does not like this at all. But she raises her chin up and down in a reluctant nod. “Do you need help?” she says.

“Why don’t you take care of Jackson?” Mulder suggests. “Rose, why don’t you give me a hand with the plywood?”

Rose nods shortly, glancing again at Scully.

“It will just take a second,” Mulder assures Scully, clearly reading her expression and body language. “We’ll be right back. We’ll all talk.”

“All right,” she says. She stands, watching as Mulder silently bundles up in his winter coat and smiles at her, then walks out the gap into the cold morning.

Rose follows him, burrowing her hands in the pockets of her coat again. She pauses, angling backwards, and her blue eyes shoot back inside towards Scully for a moment.

Almost like the curiosity is mutual.

Scully realizes she’s gnawing on her bottom lip as she meets the young woman’s eyes. She gives Rose a cautious smile instead.

Even after both Mulder and Rose have disappeared from sight, she stands there, facing the gap in the wall.

Her hands run slowly up and down her arms. She’s wearing a clean oversized shirt of Mulder’s, but there are still streaks of dried brown blood everywhere on her skin, even in her hair, and she feels cold and uneasy. She tries to warm herself as she puts pieces together.

She thinks over what she heard Mulder say to Rose just minutes ago, about operatives from something called the Walled Garden. She wonders if that’s the same organization the hybrids who came for Jackson were from.

“I know,” Jackson says in his hoarse voice from the couch. “You hate not knowing the whole truth, even for a few minutes. Right?”

Scully has the inappropriate urge to laugh, remembering suddenly that Jackson hears all of her thoughts. She really needs to get in the habit of remembering. Feeling suddenly very tired, she walks back to the couch and sinks down next to him. He is watching her with an intent, serious expression.

“That’s right,” she admits. “Is that something you saw using your shine, Jackson?”

“Yeah,” he says, “but even if I couldn’t, I think I could tell from how your face looks right now.”

That does make her smile a little. “I’ve always tried to appear inscrutable,” she says, “but people often seem to be able to tell when I’m upset.”

“Me, too.” Jackson pulls the blanket tighter. He eyes her. “I’d like to have a poker face, but I just don’t have one. My face gives away more than I want to, I guess.”

Scully’s smile deepens. “Exactly.”

“That’s not always necessarily bad,” Jackson says.

“No,” agrees Scully. “Not necessarily.”

Jackson pulls in a breath. “Mulder’s worried about how you’ll feel about what he's going to say. He’s worried that … you’ll be upset.”

“Oh.” Scully leans her head back against the couch, feeling rising trepidation. She doesn’t look at Jackson, continuing to stare instead at the wrecked door frame. “What do you think?” The wind rattles into the heart of the house again, sending a deep-reaching chill through her. “Is he right?”

“I don’t know,” Jackson says. “Maybe.” His brows knit together. “You know… you know how you told me you’d tell me the story of your first kid—of Emily—but that it was a sad story?”

“Yes,” she says cautiously. She squints as the light filters through the front windows, becoming suddenly more starkly bright.

“Well,” Jackson says, swallowing. “It is a sad story. Just not in the exact way you thought.” He hesitates. “You know how genetic brothers and sisters sometimes have the same traits. The same abilities.”

In slow motion Scully turns her head to look at him.

“That’s what it is, I guess. Although … I don’t know if her having those abilities and me having those abilities is actually because we are brother and sister,” Jackson says. “Because she has them because she’s a hybrid. And I have them … because of some reason nobody understands.”

Scully stares at him blankly. She thinks about Rose, all sorts of details from her memories now coming into crisp focus. The strawberry blonde hair, the blue eyes. Mulder’s hand on her shoulder. Mr. Potato Head. The brother and sister in The Incredibles. How we were misled back then.

“I didn’t have any idea I had a sister,” Jackson continues. He turns to face Scully now, his voice turning secretive and important, like he wants her to know. “But I think she’s known about me for a long time. I think she’s been watching out for me. She’s the one who saved me after my parents were killed.” He’s watching her face now. “You get what I’m saying, right?”

“Yes,” she says, the word whisper soft.

But she’s not sure she does, not really. That woman, that adult woman. It couldn’t possibly be. She was dead. It had been confirmed. They knew she was dead. It was the only way she would have ever left San Diego and not looked back.

She becomes aware that Jackson’s expression is changing—his eyebrows arching, his lips drawing together. He looks concerned for her. Worried. Tender. He looks just like Mulder.

“She’s not Mulder’s kid, like I am,” Jackson says curiously. He’s clearly listening to her thoughts. “Is she?”

“No,” replies Scully again.

Jackson seems to consider this a moment. His eyes slide over to her again, worried.

“I can tell you’re upset. But … I thought you’d want to know so you didn’t wonder,” he says uncertainly. “And I thought… maybe somehow me telling you would be better than them telling you?”

He’s watching her so closely. She knows she needs to think straight here, to pull it together.

“I did want to know,” she says, her voice brittle. “And you’re right, Jackson, you telling me is better. It’s just …”

A shock. The nauseating discovery that she’s failed to be a mother for two children, not just one. That this child went from being a cherubic preschooler to a stoic young woman in black without her, with whatever chaos happening in her life, just because Scully wasn’t brave or wise enough to question what was conventional and safe.

“Okay,” Jackson says suddenly. “Come on. Jesus. Stop.”

Her eyes focus back on him, on his pale face.

“That’s what my therapist would call negative self talk,” Jackson adds, rolling his eyes self-deprecatingly. “And, uh, I’m hearing all of it.”

She feels her lip trembling. “Jackson,” she manages. “I’m sorry. It’s just …”

“Rose probably hopes that you’ll be happy to meet her now,” he says pointedly. “Because that’s a pretty good thing, right? After all this time. That you get to finally meet each other. Maybe even be … something like family. Isn’t that kind of badass? Isn’t that a pretty good thing?”

She doesn’t need a shine to see into his thoughts right now.

Silent tears are on her face, and she takes his hand in hers, squeezing it. Looking into his eyes, she lets him feel her joy, her real joy.

“It’s more than a pretty good thing,” she agrees simply. “It’s a miracle.”

She realizes, somewhat to her surprise, that she believes what she’s just said.

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly. She notices there are silent tears on his face, too. “And like the third one today, too.”

They don’t let go of one another’s hands. They wait in silence for Mulder and Rose to return.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

[cecilysass]

Shine On (12/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 12: Flesh and Blood

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 23, 2015 8:35 am

Mulder comes back inside shivering violently, his hair flattened like a dog who’s been out in the rain. Scully wraps him in the same quilt she slept under on the couch and pushes a mug of coffee into his hands.

“Where have you been?” she demands, sitting down across from him at the tiny kitchen table. “You don’t even have a coat.”

Mulder still seems to be trying to stop shivering, leaning against the table on his forearms, staring at the coffee cup. Jackson can tell there is something important inside of him, something that needs to get out.

“I was looking for someone,” he says in a tremulous voice, hesitating. “Sort of.”

“Who?” Scully draws back, her eyes shrewd. “Someone outside?”

“Scully,” he says painfully. “Scully, I need to tell you something, and I’m not sure this will be easy.”

“You spoke to Rose,” Jackson interjects, unable to contain himself. “Didn’t you?”

He moves to sit down directly at Mulder’s left elbow. He finds that he wants the man to look at him, to reassure him that he understands why Jackson had to keep secrets. Mulder’s eyes lock on his. “Do you understand who she really is, Jackson?”

“Who?” Scully says sharply. “Rose? Who are you talking about?”

“I can’t shine her,” Jackson replies to Mulder. “But yeah, I do think I know who she is.”

Scully’s frustration is rapidly rising. “Someone you know, Jackson? The person who brought you here? Who are we talking about?”

There’s a rap on the door, loud and urgent, that keeps Jackson from answering her question. All three of them startle.

“Is that her?” Jackson asks Mulder in a small voice.

But he already knows that it isn’t. Mulder’s doing that thing he now associates with his biological father—face completely frozen, mind moving at dizzying speed, trying to calculate and rearrange puzzle pieces rapidly. Scully’s eyes dart anxiously from Jackson’s to Mulder’s, and the three of them sit at the table, paralyzed for a moment.

“I’m going to get up and try to see out the window,” Mulder whispers slowly. “Jackson, do you sense…?”

“No. There’s nothing to sense. Nothing to shine.”

Scully bites her lip hard in response to that. “You still have the stiletto, Mulder?”

He nods and then gives them each a reluctant glance. “I don’t suppose I could convince the two of you to go upstairs and lie low,” he says.

Jackson is surprised when Scully reaches across the table and clasps each of their hands in hers. “No,” she says firmly. “No sending people away. Let’s stay together to do this.”

Just like in The Incredibles, thinks Jackson childishly, pushing down a stab of fear. He watches Mulder nod again before crossing the room to look out the window. Except Scully isn’t Elasti-Girl and Mulder doesn’t have super strength, and Jackson’s own super powers are pretty overrated.

Scully gestures to the center of the room, motioning for him to stay low, and Jackson ducks down, again getting random images of bullets flying in her mind. Her mind also moves very fast, but its movement is different from Mulder’s. She leaps step by step, like hopping from rock to rock across a creek, or swiftly snapping together a model, or constructing a tower lightning quick, whereas Mulder’s goes everywhere at once. Jackson decides her brain’s patterns feel more familiar to him. More similar to his own, or at least how he tries to be.

It’s going to be okay, Jackson tries to reassure himself. These two aren’t superheroes, but they’re smart and brave. And they used to do this kind of thing all the time. They’ll protect me.

Scully has picked up Mulder’s other gun and is crouched near the desk, just a few feet from Jackson, her hands on the gun and her eyes on Mulder.

“Two men on the porch,” Mulder whispers, leaning carefully to see out the front window. “One of them…”

Jackson pushes the words out for Mulder in the same way he did for Rose, concentrating in his mind. You know you don’t need to say things out loud for me to hear.

Mulder’s eyes meet his across the room. A look of understanding. He presses his eyes shut.

Tell Scully they look armed. One of them is a Kurt Crawford. But he looks older than when we knew him.

“They’re armed,” Jackson whispers across the floor to Scully. “Mulder says one of them is a Kurt Crawford, but he looks older?”

He feels something like a cool blast of surprise from her, but she nods to show she’s heard.

“What do you want?” Mulder calls loudly through the door. “Why are you here?”

There’s a knock on the door again, then a pause. “We have no issue with you, Agent Mulder.” The voice through the door is low and unemotional. “Let us inside.”

“Come on now,” Mulder calls back with false jocularity. “You must know I’m not going to do that.”

“We know you have the boy.” There is a pause. Mulder doesn’t flinch in the slightest. “You can’t hide from us indefinitely. We’ll get to him eventually.”

Jackson wraps his arms around himself and hugs himself tightly, trying to hold back a jolt of terror. Mulder’s eyes pop over towards him abruptly. He must have felt Jackson’s fear.

“Why are you doing this?” Mulder asks, still staring at Jackson, and this time his voice sounds more on edge. “Why can’t you leave the boy alone?”

“Let us in, and we can discuss it.”

“Don’t,” hisses Jackson. “Don’t believe him.”

Mulder presses a finger to his lips in warning. Jackson, I would never in a thousand years. You’re okay.

“You, out there,” Mulder calls through the door. “The one who looks like a man we used to call Kurt Crawford. I met a group of hybrids like you years ago. I don’t know if you’re personally one of the men I met or not. They told me they were trying to stop what the Syndicate was doing.”

“We were,” comes the fast response. “That’s right.”

In hazy confusion Jackson sees images from this scene—Mulder and a group of identical blond men in a laboratory, looking at vials, having stiff and formal discussions—but these visuals are sketchy and incomplete. Peering across the room, he realizes why: this imagery is coming from Scully. It’s her impressions of what happened, not a true memory. She must not have actually been there, but she can imagine it. Her face is impassive, stony, but he knows she is afraid, too.

“Back then, you said you were subverting the project to protect your birth mothers,” Mulder continues. “To stop them from suffering.” Now Mulder’s eyes fall on Scully and remain on her as he talks. “So you understand what it is to want to protect your flesh and blood, don’t you? We want to protect the boy in the same way. Can’t you respect that?”

There is another pause. Some murmuring on the porch. Jackson instinctively strains to shine the two men, even knowing rationally it’s impossible.

“We understand your position,” the man’s voice replies. “But we wish you’d rethink it. We have no plans to harm you and Agent Scully. We would prefer not to.”

“Why?” Scully’s voice cuts through the living room now, crisp and angry. “You didn’t seem to mind killing the boy’s parents. You seem to intend to harm him, a child who has done nothing to you. Why turn squeamish with us?”

“You were once our allies in working against the group you call the Syndicate,” the man’s voice replies instantly. “And you and Agent Mulder are also our flesh and blood—or at least some members of our organization feel that way.”

Scully frowns in confusion, and Mulder laughs bitterly. “Then the boy is your flesh and blood, too,” he calls back, his tone sardonic. “You should want to protect him. Maybe you didn’t hear the big news back in 2000. He’s our biological son.”

“He’s more than that,” the man’s voice calls. “He’s a Syndicate project left unresolved.”

Abruptly Mulder slams his hand against the wall, rattling some framed artwork and the panes of the windows, making Jackson jump. “You’re a Syndicate project left unresolved, too,” he shouts back. “For that matter, so am I, and so is Scully. Who are you to decide which projects need to be pruned?”

“He’s dangerous. A potential liability. We regret the need to do it,” the voice calls back, stoic and unruffled.

Jackson feels sick with despair. This isn’t the plot of a movie. These men are ready to murder him, just like they murdered his parents, and for reasons no one can control. There is nothing Mulder can say to convince them.

“Let me make a deal with you,” Mulder says, his voice calming and smoothing out again, his eyes locking back on Scully. “We’re about to be back on the X-files again. We might have … resources or access that could help you or your organization. We could give you that in exchange for leaving Jackson alone. Whatever you need.”

Scully’s face turns pale, and her thoughts leapfrog around anxiously. Dangerous offer. Corrupt. Unethical. Illegal. To Mulder, she nods, her eyes hopeful.

They will do literally anything, Jackson realizes at once. Nothing is off the table. That should be a comforting thought, but it’s somehow scary, too, like they are also out of control.

“Unfortunately you don’t have anything we need,” the voice says in reply. “There is no information you have or could access that we do not already have. We have always known more than you, even back in those days when you were trying to cure your partner’s cancer, Agent Mulder.”

With a boom, the door frame slams with impact, like it is being kicked by someone very, very strong. By someone with super strength, Jackson thinks.

“Scully,” Mulder calls in panic, eyes on the straining door. “You have to get him out of here.”

Bam. The door is kicked again, and the whole side of the house shakes ominously. But the door hasn't broken yet.

“Jackson.” Scully is at his side instantly, grabbing his arm, her fear roaring inside of her like an injured animal. She drags him towards the stairs with one hand, her weapon extended in the other and he scrambles to get his feet underneath him.

“Go, Scully,” barks Mulder. “I’ll cover you.”

Jackson feels Scully pulling him at the same time he picks up scraps of her jittery thoughts and feelings. Won’t be able to cover us. Guns don’t work. He’ll die if he shoots.

With a sickening crash and tinkle of glass, the door explodes open, falling onto the floor of Mulder’s living room. Scully slows for a half second to take it in, and for the first time Jackson can actually see the two men standing in the door frame: an older version of the blond man Scully pictured before, and a younger dark-skinned man in a blue puffer coat. Both hold weapons extended in front of them.

“Stop,” Mulder demands, holding his gun on them. “Stop where you are.”

“It will just make you sick to shoot us,” the older blond man says calmly. “Possibly kill you.” He takes a step towards Jackson, and Scully starts up the stairs.

“Out of the way, Agent Scully,” he instructs loudly, aiming his gun directly at Jackson.

Scully slides her own small frame in front of Jackson. “No,” she says in a low, simple voice.

“I can shoot him through your body,” the man says with a sigh. “I would rather not.”

Mulder quickly steps between the barrel of the gun and Scully, his hands up, gun to the ceiling. “Come on,” he pleads. “Don’t do this. Let’s talk. There’s got to be something we can bargain for.”

The man purses his lips, his shoulders rising and falling. He exchanges a fast glance with the younger man next to him, who nods grimly. And Jackson sees what’s about to happen, even without being able to use his shine.

Mulder and Scully are both so brave, and they will never, ever give up on trying to protect him.

And this man is about to give up on trying not to hurt them. He’ll shoot both of them. Just like he did Jackson’s parents back in Wyoming.

Then he’s going to shoot Jackson anyway.

All that death for no reason.

Jackson knows he can’t keep standing behind Scully, using her as a shield. He’s not a little kid. He’s not William, not that baby she tried to protect all those years ago. He’s Jackson now, and he has to find some way to defend himself.

He tries to clear his head, watching the man’s gun extend. Maybe he can move something in the room to hurt the men, using telekinesis like he could when he was little. He hasn’t been as good at that lately, but he could try. He looks around desperately.

Lightning-fast, he scrambles out from behind Scully, hopping off the stairs onto the floor below. He swings his body around to concentrate all his effort on the coffee pot in the kitchen. It successfully flies through the air, past him, aimed squarely at the man extending the gun.

It doesn’t make it there.

A shot rings out, and the coffee pot instantly drops to the floor, several feet short of hitting the gunman. Did the shot hit the coffee pot? It doesn’t look shattered, only broken in a few pieces.

Jackson looks behind him to try to see what the bullet hit. But there’s no sign of a bullet hitting anywhere, only the kitchen looking just as it did before.

Suddenly he feels something strange, something warm and wet spreading over the front of Mulder’s old shirt.

He looks down to see the bright red of blood at the same time he hears Scully’s screams in his ear.

The next few seconds pass strangely.

Disconnected, but also in a kind of slow motion, like he is underwater.

He staggers to the side, watching in bewilderment as the man with the gun looks at them regretfully and walks out the door, his companion behind him. Mulder and Scully don’t pay attention to them at all.

Then, somehow, the next thing Jackson knows, Mulder’s holding him, lowering him to the ground in front of the couch, his gravelly voice shaky and desperate. “Easy, easy, you’re going to be fine.”

There is fear, fear, dread, guilt firing at him from everywhere. It turns out that’s much worse than bullets, he thinks. None of this is anything like in GTA. He wants to tell this to Mulder and Scully, but when he opens his mouth, it seems to be full of blood. It bubbles from his lips.

In the next moment, Scully is ripping apart his bloodied shirt, her eyes unnaturally bright and wild. Her hands are pressing down on his torso. Her mouth is crying out something that Jackson can no longer hear.

After that, he can no longer focus on one thing at a time. It’s all happening at once. Like Mulder’s brain come to life.

In and out. Slices of heat and cold, light and dark, cacophony and silence.

Mulder’s wearing that old shirt of his, holding a tiny baby in a blanket, leaning over to kiss Scully. Who knew he could be so happy? They're both so happy.

Darkness creeping around the edges more and more. Mulder and Scully’s sobs and cries, audio fading in and fading out. He thinks he sees the two of them clinging to one another, and he thinks: I’d have liked to learn to love them.

But the last thing he feels isn’t love. It’s grief. So, so much grief. Their grief is like a weight. And it pushes him down, down, down.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

[cecilysass]

Shine On (11/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 11: The Snow

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 23, 2015 7:45 am

Jackson can’t seem to sit still. He’s pacing all around the kitchen in meandering circles. Scully has managed to piece together from his brief, cryptic answers to her questions that he now knows his thoughts aren’t completely private. The news apparently hasn’t been well received.

Scully sits at the table, her chin in her hand, watching him seriously. There’s something else going on here, too—something more—and she hasn’t pinned it down yet. For one, Mulder disappeared upstairs in a cloud of anxiety, something big clearly on his mind.

“Was Mulder … worried about something?” she attempts.

Jackson just lifts his shoulders in a jerky shrug. “Probably.” He doesn’t add more details.

“Are you all right?” Scully says after another pause.

He’s moving again, walking back and forth. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m okay. Just really freaked out.”

“Now—”

“Don’t say it,” Jackson cuts her off, pointing at her suddenly. “I know, I know. Now I know what it feels like to have my thoughts spied on. I’m a hypocrite for being upset about it, right?”

Scully says nothing right away, but fixes him with what she hopes is an open and honest gaze. “Is that what I am thinking, Jackson?”

“No,” he says, finally still. “You’re not.”

She nods slowly. “Right. Now. Did Mulder happen to make coffee?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, turning slowly to regard the coffee maker. “And … I made scrambled eggs.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.” Jackson walks to the stove and lifts the lid off the pan. “They’re still warm. You want some?”

“Yes, I do.” Scully stands up to get out plates. “Let’s eat. Should we make toast?”

Just as they are loading bread in the ancient toaster oven, Mulder’s footsteps on the stairs cause them both to look up. Jackson takes a wary step back.

“You’re going for a run, Mulder?” Scully can’t hide her skepticism as she walks across the floor to speak to him. He’s dressed for exercise—sweatpants, a long-sleeve tee, his running shoes—but his grim expression tells another story.

“Yeah,” he says. He eyes Jackson for a moment, looking as if he wants to say something, then turns and walks to the house’s front window, the one that faces the porch. He peers out cautiously. “Sort of.”

“What’s going on?” she asks sharply, lowering her voice.

“He’s been keeping something from us,” Mulder says quietly, his eyes darting behind her to Jackson in the kitchen. They both know that keeping his voice down is pointless, but he does it anyway. “Something … important. I need to check around outside again.”

“I should come with you.”

“No,” he says quickly. “Stay here, Scully. I think I upset him, and I think you should … just stay here with him.”

Scully nods slowly, feeling a thrum of anxiety. For the umpteenth time since yesterday, she attempts to mute her feelings.

“Try not to worry,” Mulder says, flashing her a small smile. “Hopefully this isn't a big deal. Go have breakfast.”

“Be careful,” Scully whispers urgently. “Take the stiletto.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Of course.”

For a moment he looks like he might kiss her cheek—he seems to bend down just a little—but he doesn’t, biting his lower lip instead.

“I’ll save you some coffee,” she says uncomfortably, a nod to a routine they had for years in what feels like another lifetime.

“Sure you will,” he says. “I won’t hold my breath. I know your caffeine habits.”

The words he’s speaking are playful, but he sounds distracted. He glances out the window again, and it scares her, the look of intense worry etched across his features. Her mind explodes into fearful questions—what is Jackson is keeping from them? why does it involve Mulder checking outside?—but she quiets these quickly.

“Hopefully no big deal, right?” she whispers.

“Right,” he says quickly. Another reassuring smile.

***

There are swirling eddies of snow flurries visible through the kitchen windows as Scully and Jackson eat their eggs and toast.

“Snow,” she remarks, her voice sounding small. “I wonder if it’s supposed to accumulate.”

Jackson’s eyes track the direction of her stare. “Yeah, it looks like it might.” He looks back at her, seeming to remember something. He takes a big forkful of eggs. “Happy birthday. Today’s your actual birthday, right?”

“Yes,” she says. She takes a bite, too, trying not to watch him too closely.

“You’re… 51?”

She nods, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin.

“So you were 37 when you had me?”

Again she nods, studying his reaction.

“Did you want to have kids?”

She hesitates only a second. “Very, very much.”

When he looks up at her, she knows he is using his shine on her, testing out the veracity of her claim. She can practically feel it.

“I was thinking about it,” Jackson says, shoving another bite in his mouth. “I think I might understand why my shine is so much stronger with you than with anyone else. Or at least I have a guess.”

Scully scowls and sips her coffee. “Oh? What’s your guess?”

“You’re a doctor, right?” Jackson says. “So you know that in mammals, there’s an evolutionary advantage to maternal-infant bonding.”

Her eyes widen at his language choice. Her chin goes up and down wordlessly.

“And that baby mammals learn to recognize their mom’s smell and sound, and learn how to, like, be in tune with her behavior so that they have a better chance of survival.”

She sets her cup down, slightly stunned.

“So if you think about my shine being one of my senses, like smelling or hearing, it’s logical that when I was an infant, still living with you, it developed to be… in sync with you. So I could know what you were thinking and feeling. And maybe once it developed in my brain or whatever, it stayed wired that way, even after all these years. It’s biology, right?”

“I had wondered… something along those lines myself,” Scully says, keeping her voice steady. “You’re very knowledgeable about biology.”

“I read a lot of articles,” Jackson says modestly.

Articles about what, Scully wonders? About maternal-neonate bonding? Is he worried about what he has missed out on by being adopted?

“Maybe a little,” Jackson says, looking down, and it takes her a moment to realize he is answering the question she was thinking. He then meets her eyes, and there is something unguarded there that reminds her of Mulder when she met him, Mulder the youngest she ever knew him, Mulder in Bellefleur, telling her his story. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she says. “Anything.”

“Why’d you do it? Why did you decide to give me up?” He looks so earnest, so sincerely curious and vaguely hurt that it makes Scully want to weep. “I can feel how much you didn’t want to. How sad it made you. And when you did it, I wasn’t brand-new either, was I? I lived with you a while. You knew me. You have all these memories of me. And you were still with Mulder, weren’t you? It just seems like… I don’t know. I guess I don’t understand.”

“You really can’t see any reason why? Or… feel why?” she whispers.

“Not really,” he says. “It’s confusing to make sense of everything that goes on inside of you when you think about this.”

“Yes. I imagine.” She rises from her seat to pick up the coffee carafe, refilling her cup carefully. She uses the opportunity to take a deep breath, too. “I thought they would take you,” she continues, her voice eerily calm. “I was on my own. Mulder was gone.” She sits down again, clutching her cup tightly with both hands. “And I was just … absolutely terrified that I couldn’t protect you. Someone had already tried to take you once. I was so scared.” Her eyes fall to her coffee. “The adoption agency told me they’d find someone normal, loving, and far away. That you would be able to live a happy life.”

“A closed adoption,” Jackson says, and his jaw muscle twitches, just like Mulder’s does—which tells her that this is the most painful part. That this concealing of her identity is something that has upset him, stung him.

“It had to be,” she says. “Or I would still be a danger to you. To your new family.” Her voice breaks. “But apparently Mulder and I were a danger to you and your family anyway. I’m so sorry about that, Jackson. So sorry. I tried to keep you safe. I tried … so hard. By far the hardest thing I have ever…” She’s crying, and she can’t do anything to stop it.

Jackson watches her tears, looking perplexed. “I know,” he says. He tips his head, as if trying to see her better. “It isn’t your fault. I don’t really think they came after my parents because of you and Mulder. Probably it didn’t matter … whose kid I was in the end. It was me. It was just the fact that I existed at all.”

Scully sniffs, nodding, trying to take charge of her feelings again.

“I never wanted my children to be in danger just by the fact that they existed,” she manages. “I wanted you safe. I wanted your life to be normal.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t say my life was exactly normal,” he says, lifting his eyebrows. “It was never going to be normal.”

“As close as possible to normal then.”

“Yeah.” He nods thoughtfully. “I guess that’s what it was.”

There is a pause. Jackson taps the rim of his plate lightly with his finger.

“So there’s another one?” he asks.

“Another what?”

“You said you didn’t want your children to be in danger for the fact they existed,” Jackson says. “Not your child. You said children, like, more than one. Like plural.”

“Oh,” she says. She hadn’t realized this slip. “Yes. There was another child.” She pushes the remains of eggs around on her plate with her fork. “Once. She died long ago, before you were born.”

“I’m sorry,” Jackson says. He seems to be seriously thinking that over.

“I’ll tell you about her some time,” Scully says. “It’s not an entirely happy story, but I’ll tell you if you want.” She sets her fork down and steels herself to look at him. “The thing is, Jackson, is that I have lots I probably should tell you. And lots I could tell you, if you want to know. I’d like to do that. I’d like to … be part of your life, if you want. However that might look.”

Jackson’s eyes drift over to the window, which is busy white static. “Yeah,” he says softly, inscrutably.

“I think that’s something Mulder wants, too.”

“Yeah,” he repeats in the same tone. “He… actually wants me to live here with him and run track for the local high school. He’s thought about it. Going on runs with me and stuff.”

“Is that right?” The idea makes Scully smile. It’s just so Mulder. Not the Mulder of eighteen months ago, who was trapped in inertia, lying on a couch in frightening, stagnant darkness. But apparently the Mulder of now, who was ready to daydream about going on runs with his teen son.

“Well, he did daydream about that,” Jackson says, apparently shining her. His tone changes. “He might not be into that idea any more. We had a disagreement. He might feel different.”

Scully shakes her head in disbelief. She has no idea how to explain to Jackson how badly he has misunderstood Mulder. What are the words that could communicate this to a 13-year old, she wonders?

But then, she realizes, she doesn’t have to use words. Not with Jackson.

She closes her eyes and concentrates on a memory—a sequence of memories, really—from years ago.

Summer, just a few weeks after they first went on the run. A decrepit motel in rural Alabama. Waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of the shower running, the faintest undertone of Mulder’s sobs. Steam hitting her face as she drew back the curtain and stretched her arms out for him. My fault, Scully. You know I never really can protect anyone I love. You should get far away from me.

Jackson’s face twitches as he takes her memory in. “He was upset about me?”

“He was grieving.” She remembers how the water soaked her pajamas as she held his sobbing body, as she joined him in tears. “He hardly got a chance to be your father, and he didn’t get to say goodbye.” She clears her throat. “I don’t think he would ever stop being happy to get to spend time with you now, Jackson.”

Jackson looks down at his plate, quiet for a moment. “Why do you think Mulder can use his shine on me?”

“I don’t know,” Scully says. “My best guess is… he probably had a latent ability already, from what happened to him years ago. Maybe you somehow wake it up because of your own abilities. Maybe he’s been using it, subconsciously, to try to reach you.” She’s suddenly sad, thinking about it. “Maybe … he’s been doing it all along. For years. Without knowing.”

“And this is the first time he’s been close enough to me for it to work,” Jackson adds softly.

He stands up from the table, walking over to the window to look out at the falling snow. Scully’s eyes land on the back of his head, studying the familiar shape of his crown of brown hair. She imagines how much he will look like Mulder when he is fully grown.

“Your other child,” Jackson says in a voice of curiosity and wonder, pressing his palm on the window. “What was her name?”

***

It starts to snow almost immediately after Mulder steps outside. He puts up a pretense of going for a jog up and down Wallace Road, all the time actively scanning the horizon. No cars. No signs of anyone else out and about. Just gray sky and fluttering snowflakes.

He gives up on his fake run after about fifteen minutes and decides to come back and search the property again. It’s cold, and he’s underdressed, but he is also feeling a deep, primal pull: a compulsion to protect that he hasn’t felt in years.

The trouble is that he doesn’t quite know what this feeling means. Maybe it’s some phantom father instinct long buried in his psyche, juiced up by a painful history of losing sisters and sons.

Or maybe it’s … something else. This shine he apparently still has. Telling him to do something important for real reasons.

Regardless, something is telling him to stay out here in the snow—to keep looking.

The wind picks up, sending snowflakes spinning manically around him, an icy cyclone. Mulder spins himself around, too, looking everywhere he can see for any sign of something out of the ordinary.

His eyes land on a little cluster of trees about a hundred feet from the house. He has a sudden compulsion to go peek inside.

It’s so quiet out. Almost unnaturally so.

Snowflakes continue to whirl, winding and fluttering in a steady helix around his path. The morning light is pale and eerie. Mulder has the strange feeling he’s in a fairy tale. Like all the many snow creatures of myths and legends he has ever read about could be perched right behind any tree.

He thinks fleetingly of the Ijiraq, an Inuit shapeshifter who, according to the stories, lives in the snow and steals children. A person never actually lays eyes directly on an Ijiraq. He’s only supposed to appear in the very corner of one’s line of sight.

A nightmare, there in an instant, who takes a beloved child away forever.

On impulse Mulder turns around to look back at the house. Snow is already beginning to accumulate on the roof in stark, white veins.

Shivering a little, he turns back and walks up to the tight clutch of trees. Snowflakes have begun to melt in his hair. He’s going to be uncomfortably damp and cold.

He steps into the dark and dim cover of the overhanging branches. To his surprise, he sees a small hooded female figure standing alone there, facing away from him.

When she turns, his heart stops.

“Scully?” he whispers.

Because she is Scully.

Not Scully now, not the fiftysomething Scully inside the house he knows and loves, the Scully who has been at his side for years.

She’s Scully as he first met her: fresh faced and freckled and unblemished, the Scully who extended her hand in the basement of the Hoover building, the earnest and serious new partner who wanted to prove herself.

She is, impossibly, Scully in her twenties, standing before him in a dark wood, surrounded by a few errant snowflakes falling unhurriedly over her from the tree cover above.

Maybe this is a fairy tale. Maybe I have been bewitched.

“No. That’s not who I am.” Her voice sounds exactly like Scully of the past, too. High and precise, clear and authoritative. I’ve been assigned to work with you.

But as she steps forward, the light hitting her features more directly, he can see that what she says is correct. She’s not Scully. Just someone who looks incredibly, unbelievably like her, dressed in a sleek black coat.

“Who are you?” he demands.

Even as he speaks, he begins to realize, to remember. And as he does, he sees that this is no fairy tale at all.

“My name is Rose.”

“Rose.” He steps towards her, his legs beginning to shake.

“Yes.”

“Rose ... isn’t your real name,” he says. He’s having trouble getting words out, but his mind is racing. “I saw the song lyrics Jackson had—”

“Yes,” she says. “You’re right. But that name you’re remembering—that’s not my name anymore.”

There was no body in the coffin.

He should have thought more about it at the time. He always should have considered the possibility. Why didn’t he, even once, all these years? He had only seen the body’s disappearance as a final insult to Scully’s grief, a cruel denial of any answers or closure, but he had never asked or thought further about implications.

“How…” Mulder feels light-headed. He hasn’t had breakfast, which probably was a mistake. He doesn’t know what to start asking questions about first. He looks up, as if searching for the words around him in the trees arching above him.

“You know what it is that I am?” Rose takes a careful step away from him, looking up at the top of the maple tree. “That I’m not… entirely human?”

“Yeah.” His mouth is dry. “I think I do.”

“You knew all along, didn’t you?” She throws a look back at him, alert and curious. “Even when we met before, when she attempted the adoption—you knew what I was.”

“I had an idea,” he says, “but …we never entirely knew what was going on back then.”

“You would have let her adopt me anyway?”

Mulder can’t help a melancholy smile. “Nothing could have stopped her,” he says. “But yes. Of course. It wasn’t your fault.”

She nods, absorbing this. Then she turns to him with her incisive, Scully-like stare. “From your work, you must know I wasn’t the only one. That I wasn’t the only product of the hybrid experiments,” she says.

“Yeah,” Mulder says. He watches a single snowflake flutter downwards and lets it land on his palm, watching it melt into a speck of water. “We knew that. About other hybrids. But we also thought the hybrid program was eliminated. After the Syndicate was eliminated, in 2000 or so.”

“No. There were still some of us left,” she says. “Hybrids of different ages and purposes. Not as many as there used to be—we were reduced in number. But when I was still a kid, a group decided to band together. To form a collective for safety. There were about fifty of us left then. Mostly those you called the Kurt Crawfords, although they don’t go by that name any more either.” She picks up an icy-veined dead leaf and studies it. “There were other kids, like me. Some products of experiments like I was. Some agricultural clones.”

Mulder feels like he needs to lean against something, like the world is spinning too fast.

“They called our group the Walled Garden. At first the purpose was to take care of one another, protect ourselves. Protect those of us who were younger. We had a group of safe houses. But we’re very smart, you know. We have… gifts, some of us more than others. We were able to make investments. Buy a large amount of land in Maryland. Build laboratories. Work on projects of interest to society.”

“What kind of … projects?”

“Stopping an invasion, for one,” Rose says evenly. “We did that rather successfully. And without any violence or undue attention. Even attention from you, Agent Mulder, and you were waiting for it.”

Mulder’s mouth opens and closes in shock. “You stopped the invasion in 2012? How?”

“I’m loyal … to the Walled Garden,” Rose says, looking away. “I’m not going to share all our secrets.”

“Okay. Okay. Why are you sharing this information at all?”

“There is always disagreement about how much more we should do,” Rose replies carefully. “There are some of us who would prefer we remain scientists and engineers. There are others who would like to see us… in more powerful positions in society. They say we deserve it, because of our natural gifts and strengths.” Her mouth twists. “Some in the latter group felt like we should be protecting ourselves better, taking care of loose ends left over from the Syndicate. Jackson’s name came up as one loose end. Because, see, he’s not one of us, but he … has some of our gifts. That’s perceived as a threat.”

“So you were sent to Wyoming to stop him?” Mulder’s voice is sharp. “To kill his parents?”

Rose’s face falls, and she looks so much younger. “No.” Her big eyes are limpid and haunted, exactly like Scully’s. “No. You’re misunderstanding me. Someone was sent for that job, but not me. I went on my own—to protect him. To bring him to you. Because I knew you and Dana would take care of him.”

Suddenly Mulder remembers so clearly what she was like when he last saw her, how small and vulnerable she was, how utterly alone.

And he remembers viscerally how much Scully wanted her. How he and Scully would have taken care of her. He is flooded with a sickening sorrow, thinking about what the little girl’s life must have been like after that. After they were fooled into giving up on her.

Emily, can’t you see? There’s nothing you can do. There’s loving everywhere, but none for you.

“Most of the other hybrids,” Rose says, her voice cracking slightly, “don’t have living family. They never really did, or their mothers died. They don’t understand. But I’ve always known that I had Dana. I have always watched out for her. And for Jackson, once he was born.”

“You must have still been really young when he was born,” Mulder observes.

“I knew when he was born,” she says. “I just did. And even when I was little, I knew I could keep him safe. And when I got older, and you and Dana didn’t know where he was? I knew. I always knew.”

Mulder feels tears pool in his eyes. “Please,” he says. “Please, I beg you, Rose. Please stay here and let me go get Scully. Please let her talk to you.”

Rose digs her hands in her coat pockets, turning abruptly away.

“We thought you were dead,” he says simply. “You don’t know how the loss was for her, back then. She was … never exactly the same after that. Please let me get her. Let her see you.”

“You know, Agent Mulder,” she says, “if I were really unselfish, if I really cared about Dana or Jackson, I wouldn’t ever be in contact with any of you. Every time I do it’s a danger to everyone.”

“Why?” Mulder pushes. “Are you being watched?” He takes a cautious step towards her. “I could get her right now, and we could talk right here under the trees out of sight. It would take only a few minutes.”

“No,” Rose says, turning back to meet his eyes. There is something in her tone that stops him from arguing further. “No.”

He glances over his shoulder towards the house, his heart sinking, thinking of Scully so close inside. He thinks of her drained, gray face on the flight back from California all those years ago. The way she sat in the airplane seat with her palms subtly facing upwards, like something had just been taken from her hands.

“Maybe we can talk again,” Rose adds. Her softened, moved expression makes him wonder if she is using a shine on him, too. “There may be a way for us to meet safely. All of us. Just let me… think about it, Agent Mulder. All right?”

“Of course. You promise?”

“I do.”

“You keep calling me Agent Mulder,” Mulder says. “You do know that that isn’t my name any more either.”

“But it will be again,” Rose says. “I hear that you and Dana will be back with the F.B.I. very soon.”

He scrunches up his forehead. “How did you hear that?”

She doesn’t answer the question. Instead, she smiles a closed lip smile that looks incredibly, unsettlingly like Scully.

“You probably would have been a really good father, you know,” she says. Her voice sounds quiet and high, like a whisper. Her cheeks are pink in the cold. “You seem like it.”

“Thanks, but I don’t know about that,” Mulder says ruefully. “I’ll try to do right by him now, but I really don’t know how good I would have been at raising him. I make a lot of mistakes in every important relationship in my life.”

“I didn’t … I actually wasn’t thinking about Jackson in this case.”

“Oh.” Again he is overwhelmed by a wash of sadness. “Well.” He shivers involuntarily. “I would have done my best, Rose. We both would have.” It sounds so futile, all these empty words about time now gone, he thinks. “I wish we could have tried.”

“It wasn’t meant to be,” she says matter-of-factly, lifting her shoulder in a shrug. “There’s nothing we can do now.”

And that makes Mulder think what he has always thought when faced with that notion. When a sister or partner has disappeared. When he has lost his life’s work. When a woman he loves has been infected with a virus and spirited away to Antarctica.

There is always something you can do. There is always something else to be done.

Which is what makes Mulder begin to believe he might finally, actually be starting to get better.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

[cecilysass]

Year 2. My co-worker was having a little psychotic episode, so I saved him by shooting him and kidnapping him in my car across the country. I have to do these things because I am the sensible partner.

Key thing i think people forget abt scully is she exists relative to mulder so much of the time that she truly believes everything she says does or thinks is exceedingly levelheaded & rational bc compared to that, cmon. and Fair enough. but w out this point of comparison we discover she is in actual fact completely batshit cuckoo bananas insane. this is why season 8 of the x files is kind of good actually