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r00m203 · 4 years

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after birth

i’ve always been mad that we never got to see what happened when mulder went in to bring scully to the hospital after she gave birth to wiliam, so this is that scene.

big big thanks to my favorite ladies @absolutetosh @scintillatingbluefishies and @stellaxxgibson for the beta and love.

also i’m on ao3 now. https://archiveofourown.org/users/R00M203

_____________

He rushes in. The sounds of screeching tires and car horns are thick and muffled in his pounding ears.

“Scully! Scully!! Where is she?!”

He isn’t sure if he is actually speaking; his senses overwhelmed by swirling dust, helicopter roar, moving cars, and complete, utter panic.

Peering through moving windows at lifeless eyes, he screams her name for what feels like hours.

Through the polluted air he sees a familiar face. The surrounding erratic movement makes him dizzy, but he walks towards the face, struggling to move quickly, feeling as if his body is submerged in molasses.

Monica.

“Mulder!” She calls, finally spotting him through the smokey lights.

He tries to analyze her expression, but can’t discern if her apparent lack of panic is real or just what he is trying so desperately to see.

“How is she?” he yells, finally picking up speed towards her. The ground beneath his feet feels like beach sand, seemingly requiring every muscle to move forward.

“She’s inside!”

As if breaking through a barrier, he pushes past her through the splintered wooden doorway. Monica catches his arm.

“She needs to get to the hospital.”

He nods, pausing for the first time in what seems like days to prepare himself for what he’s about to see. He breathes in, and enters.

Scully is laying on a small metal framed bed, in a grey t-shirt he’s never seen. She’s underneath what he guesses used to be white sheets, but are now stained red. Red, he takes note, that is still pooling between her legs. She glows in the candle light, wet hair stuck to her skin, face glistening in a mixture of tears and sweat. Her eyes flutter inconsistently. She cradles a bundle on her chest.

“Scully,” he exhales, a breath that seemingly propels his stuck feet toward her.

Her drooping eyes snap as he reaches her. She turns, using the last of her strength to shield the bundle beneath her.

“MONICA,” she screams.

He feels the pulsing in his chest quicken. He’s never heard such piercing panic in her voice. Not in all of the kidnappings, attacks, or abductions had he heard such penetrating fear erupt from her. She always seemed eerily calm when her life was threatened. His stomach churns at the realization that this time it wasn’t her life she was fighting for.

“Scully, it’s me. I’m here. Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“Get away from me!” She spits, her head still turned away from him, her spine curving protectively over the now crying bundle. “Don’t touch my baby.”

Her breath begins to quicken. She groans quietly under her breath.

She needs to get to the hospital.

Just as he remembers Monica’s words, he hears her voice.

“Dana, it’s okay, it’s just Mulder,” she soothes, rushing to the other side of the bed.

“How do you know?! They can look like ANYONE,” she gasps. “He’s normal …. he’s not what you thought …. please …. leave my baby alone.” She pants into the bundle, her voice getting weaker the longer she talks. She’s struggling for air.

“It’s a boy,” Mulder whispers, his heart suddenly in his throat. At the sight of blood still pooling between her legs, he suddenly snaps into gear.

“Scully, it’s me! Look!” He gestures to Monica who helps tilt her face towards him. He turns around, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh my god, Mulder,” she exhales, a breath that quickly transforms into an exhausted sob. “How did you find us?”

“She’s losing too much blood,” Monica warns. “We need to get her to the helicopter now.”

“No– NO,” Scully suddenly spouts in another adrenaline filled burst. “You can’t move me until the umbilical cord is cut, and he needs at least another 3 minutes.”

“Scully,” Mulder starts, kneeling down to her, “You’re losing a lot of blood. We need to get you to a hos-”

“I know I’m losing blood,” she shakes her head back and forth, “I’ve been losing blood. But he isn’t … My vitals are low so it’s taking longer … for him to get the nutrients he needs.” She pants, out of breath, “Please … a few more minutes.”

She adjusts the baby on her chest, the shirt stretched down and over him so his skin is against hers. Mulder sees the top of his head– wet and red. Normal.

The baby turns his little face to see what all the commotion is about. As Mulder watches the small blue eyes darting about the room and the tiny hands clutching at Scully’s collar bone, he feels a tightness spread across his chest. Tears flood his eyes. He reaches out to touch him gently, then her. Scully closes her eyes and releases the weight of her head against his hand.

“Scully, you’re freezing,” he whispers.

“I’m going into shock,” she says plainly. “I’m hemorrhaging … not enough blood is getting to my organs … so my body is … shutting down.” She shakes her head and gulps in an attempt to control her breath. “It could be because my… uterus didn’t contract enough … after he was born … or there could be a tear …or–”

“Scully, we need to go,” Monica starts.

“One more minute,” she commands in a voice so powerful they both know there is no way to refuse.

Feeling unbearably helpless, Mulder tucks a strand of drenched hair behind her ear. She smiles slightly.

“Monica, I need you … to massage my lower stomach … it stimulates contractions which … slows the shock,” she chokes out, her voice getting smaller with each word.

Monica jumps to her feet and presses into her abdomen. Scully cries out involuntarily and Monica freezes.

“No … that’s right … keep going,” she grimaces and lets out a sharp exhale. Mulder squeezes her clammy hand.

“Listen to me, Mulder,” she starts, looking into his flooding eyes intently. “In thirty seconds … you need to cut …the umbilical cord. Then…you both are going to… fuck,” she closes her eyes in frustration and inhales as slowly as she can, “pull out my placenta.” She exhales, exhausted, clearly using all the strength in her body to continue talking.

He nods as she continues. “I don’t know …if I can stay awake…. to talk you through it.” Tears flood her eyes and he moves a hand to wipe the escaped ones away, ignoring the wetness scattering across his own hot cheeks.

“Once the umbilical cord…. is cut…. one of you needs to press on my stomach…. like,” she gestures to Monica’s current motion, “and the other needs to grab the cord…. and pull gently.”

He nods eagerly, fear evidently plastered across his face. She winces but continues to talk, her voice noticeably straining.

“Now….when it’s out…. ah…. there’s going to be even more blood,” she gulps and takes as deep a breath as she can muster, “Mulder–”

He cradles her head in his hands and listens more intently than he ever has in his entire life.

“Everything you need for him…. is in my apartment…”

“Scully, what are you–”

“Don’t buy storebrand formula…. it's not good for him… my mom will tell you what kind to buy…. since I won’t be able to–”

“Scully, stop.”

“And hold him against your skin…. when you feed him….it’s bonding… for both of you.”

“Scully you don’t–”

“And sing to him …. when you put him to sleep.” Her chest rises and falls quickly. She lays her head back. “I know you hate your voice but–”

“Scully, listen to me,” he takes her face in his hands. “You don’t need to tell me these things because you’re going to do them. We’re going to get both of you out of here. Safely. Okay?”

She looks at him dreamily, her eyes beginning to gloss over. She’s not reacting to the pain anymore.

“Scully— Scully, I can’t do this without you. You have to stay with me. Please–” his voice catches as his throat constricts. He gulps down a rising sob.

“Kiss me,” she whispers.

Holding the back of her damp neck, he presses his lips to hers with more fear and love and pain than he thought was possible. They inhale together. He pulls back and looks into her closing eyes.

“I love you,” she breathes into his parted lips.

He kisses her again, but this time she doesn’t inhale with him. He feels her suddenly limp in his hands, beneath his lips. He pulls away.

“Scully? Scully!” He yells, lifting her face up, trying to shake her awake.

“I’m cutting it now,” he announces to Monica, who’s already handing him scissors.

“Press here,” Monica orders, moving to the red space between her legs as he replaces her hands with his.

He does, and as she pulls, he feels movement beneath his hands, beneath her cold skin. Monica gasps as she successfully removes the placenta and the increased amount of blood Scully warned of spills from her too.

“I’ll carry her. Tell the pilot we’re coming,” Mulder shouts, already drenched in red as he hooks his arms under her legs.

“I’ll grab the baby,” Monica starts but Mulder quickly interrupts.

“No, leave him,” he pants, “I have them both.”

Not about to waste any time arguing, Monica runs out of the little wooden house into the dust storm that is now outside.

Mulder scoops up Scully, making sure the baby is still perfectly nestled in her arms. The baby begins to squirm, letting out a quiet cry.

“It’s okay little one, you’re safe. Everything’s gonna be okay.” He repeats the last thought again, more to himself than to his son.

Her head bobs as he runs, as quickly as he can, to the helicopter. He tries to shield their faces from the swirling dust. Unconscious, she still cradles the baby perfectly against her chest.

It takes Mulder, Monica, and the Pilot to get her limp body into the helicopter safely. Mulder follows. He cradles her and their child in his lap, forgetting the blood, forgetting the super soldiers, forgetting everything. He rocks back and forth, whispering the closest thing he’s ever said to a prayer against her cold, soft hair curling against his lips.

_____________

thank you for reading and indulging in the ~drama~

tagging the women who inspire me as usual @scintillatingbluefishies @stellaxxgibson @absolutetosh @storybycorey @today-in-fic @baronessblixen @sarie-fairy @gaycrouton

#txf #missing scene #lets cry about scully #maybe someday soon i'll stop writing about william #maybe not #stay tuned

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scullysexual · 4 years

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Baby Cries

How Scully deals with Emily’s death post funeral.

My angsty Emily fics never do as well but this post got me thinking. Don’t let the warning put you off reading I just thought it was important that I said something about that bit (which you will understand if you read it) I hope you like it :)

@today-in-fic @mypanicface @impulsive-astrophile

- - -

He brings flowers. Carries them in his arms much like a mother would carry a new-born baby. It just makes her cry.

When he hands her the flowers to remove the lid of the coffin to reveal a box full of sand, she cries even harder. Her gold cross stark against the dimmer yellow.

She looks down at the cross, then at the altar, wanting to curse the god- her god- that would take her baby away.

But God gives and God takes away; he gave her a child, then took that child away.

Mulder takes her hand and guides her out of the church. In the distance, Matthew whines and it creates the strangest sensations within her. An instinct which should have died with her daughter remerges, tugging at her chest. In her fuzzy-grieving state she hears Emily’s cry.

All baby’s look the same at that age. All baby’s sound the same at that age.

.:.:.:.:.:.

The wake is small and quiet. Much like the funeral, only the family attend. The family and Mulder.

His whiskey sits before him, going stale with each passing minute. Bill Jr. eyes him from the kitchen but even he’s smart enough to know that now is not the time to pick a fight.

Mulder’s attention is trained on Scully. There’s the quiet murmur of a conversation between Bill, Tara, and Mrs Scully. It’s Scully who sits alone on the two-seater table, the wine bottle in front of her, downing wine glass after wine glass.

His eyes flick to the clock on top of the fireplace.

Can I buy you a drink?

It’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon, Agent Mulder.

Another glass.

It’s 2 o’clock now, Agent Scully.

He takes a glance behind him, her family looking on towards Scully from the kitchen doorway as they continue to converse softly, their words low enough to be inaudible from here.

It makes Mulder uncomfortable. He has an urge to remove Scully from the room, take her somewhere more private away from prying eyes. He knows they’re her family and yet they should be the last people being judgemental.

He downs the whisky in one gulp, not as courage but more necessity- it would be wasteful after all- and is about to move from his seat when there’s another cry from Matthew.

Whatever trance Scully had found herself in with her wine is broken at the sound. Her head snaps up towards the direction of the noise and she stands as if about to go up there herself.

“It’s okay, Dana,” says Tara softly as she enters the living room. Matthew and his presence has become a touchy subject. “He’s just hungry.”

Scully sits back down, a dazed look returning to her face as she looks to be repeatedly blinking.

Mulder pushes himself off the couch and walks towards her, extending his hand out.

She looks at it, then at him, confused.

“Where are we going?” she asks childlike.

“I think a lie down would do you some good,” he answers.

She looks towards the bottle and Mulder’s eyes follow, sees it’s almost gone.

“Come on,” he says gently. She takes his hand and much like in the church, she allows him to guide her out.

Upstairs, they hear Tara tending to her son and Scully’s stopping suddenly has her yanking on his arm, her hand tightening in his.

“I thought it was Emily,” she says, tears beginning to form in her eyes once more. “Mulder, why do I keep thinking it’s Emily?”

She searches his face for answers but he has none to give. He feels dumb, inadequate to help her. He opens his mouth but the words don’t come out.

He closes it and sighs as she looks down to the carpet, realising he doesn’t know himself.

“Come on,” he says again.

.:.:.:.:.:.

Her bedroom here is the same one as the one from her childhood only it’s cold and devoid of her things. A suitcase lies on the floor, half packed, reminding her of a flight she should have taken days ago.

But then she found Emily and then Emily got sick and then there was Emily’s funeral.

“Can we go home tomorrow?” is what is asks.

Mulder is bewildered. “Scul—”

“Please!” she begins to beg. She never begs, only ever done it once when she was dying. She feels like she’s dying now, wilting away like the flowers at Emily’s coffin, wilting away like her daughter’s stolen body. The thought makes her beg some more.

“Please, Mulder,” she asks, grabbing at his shoulders, clinging to his arms. “Please, take me home. I want to go home.”

She crumbles against him, falling against his chest, the weight of her body knocking him off balance momentarily as he catches her. Saying nothing, his hand touching her head, fingers in her hair as she splutters her anguish into him.

His cheek resting against the top of her head, wrapping his arms tighter around her.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says.

The answer is enough, it has her calming down, her weeping turning to sniffles.

She’s sleepy against him. Wined-drunk and exhausted, snuggling into his chest, snotting all over his shirt. She wipes it away with her sleeve.

There is still a persistent ache in her chest. The wine and exhaustion doing nothing to send it away. She wants it gone, she thinks. Wants to numb it until she can’t feel it, until it’s a distant memory. She wants a distraction; work or…

She has work in her arms: Mulder, her partner, her best friend, her one companion.

She lifts her head up, rests her chin on his chest.

“Mulder…” she says.

He looks down and Scully rises onto her tip-toes, stretching up for her lips to touch his.

And it’s not enough. This mere contact between them, she needs more. She pushes against him, tongue poking between his lips seeking access. Her hands moving from his waist to the top of his neck to press harder.

But he realises what it is she’s doing, begins pulling away.

“Scully, no…” he starts. “Not- not like this.”

“Yes like this,” she answers, seeking him once more, chasing after him, following him like she always has done, like she always will.

But his finger is at her lips, preventing her from getting any closer.

“Not like this,” he says, looking into his eyes. In them she sees it, the gentleness, the understanding, the want but the restraint. This isn’t a rejection, he’s telling her. It’s just not the time.

She slinks away, back to her natural height, and turns away to the bed.

“Will you stay with me?” she asks pulling back the covers, looking towards him.

He nods. “I’ll stay,” he answers moving to the chair.

.:.:.:.:.:.

She wakes and he is gone.

She wakes and there is crying.

She’s slept a full twelve hours if the clock is right.

I’m coming, baby, she thinks. Emily is crying. Emily needs her.

She makes her way to the nursery, her eyes on the cot and the baby that squirms around in it.

She is smiling. It feels foreign, as does the heaviness in her breasts but she goes to the cot away, to the baby who still whines.

But when she reaches it, realisation hits her. Her hands touching the rail of the cot has her remembering.

She has no baby. Her Emily is dead.

Instead lies Matthew staring up at her with curiosity.

She stares down at it with disgust.

Matthew, she thinks, reaching down to pick him up. His head hangs back.

He smells. A scent coming off of him, the low-hanging diaper the cause of what woke him.

“Why did you get to be born while Emily died?” she asks him. “Was this the price? Tara’s baby for mine?”

Matthew has no answer and Scully has the urge to shake him until she gets one but no, instead her hands find themselves squeezing his side. The baby begins to whimper and the harder she presses the more his cries break through until he’s screaming.

It’s release. The baby screaming is her screaming. It’s doing the thing she can’t do. It’s also doing it because she’s hurting him.

A bright light is on just as she realises, releasing her grip on him.

“Dana?” Tara’s voice has Scully spinning around to the four people standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” Her sister-in-law’s voice in equal parts curious and in denial. They all know what she was doing. She sees that knowledge in Mulder, the way he looks down at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she says, handing Matthew back to Tara. She leaves briskly, pushing through the small gap between everyone, down the stairs, towards the door, grabbing Mulder’s car keys as she goes.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

He can’t say what he saw exactly.

Scully holding Matthew, Matthew crying. It could’ve been anything.

“I don’t know why she was holding him like that,” Tara says sounding scared. She holds Matthew close to her, protecting him.

“She’s grieving, Tara,” says Mrs Scully.

Yet Bill Jr. is fuming.

“It’s not Matthew’s fault the girl is dead,” he says his voice full of quiet anger.

Mulder leaves, intending on finding where Scully ran off to and leaving the family to figure it out.

Through the window by the stairs, he sees her sitting in his car. Her head bowed down. This is not somebody who needs to be berated right now.

He puts on his shoes and opens the front door. She doesn’t see him when he reaches the car so he taps on the window, alerting her. She looks up and smiles sadly. He smiles back slightly, opening the car door and climbs in.

They sit in silence for a while and Mulder looks over to Scully, to her hands that tangle together and how glum she looks, staring out the window, her eyes wet.

“I was gonna drive off somewhere,” she says finally. “But I didn’t know where to go.”

Mulder nods. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

Scully let’s out a breath, followed by a quiet, “Are they angry with me?”

He thinks to Bill, his seeping anger, his lack of understanding.

It’s not Matthew’s fault the girl is dead, he said. That’s her daughter, Mulder thinks. She wasn’t just a girl.

“They don’t understand what you were doing,” he answers. “I don’t even understand what you were doing,” he admits then looks to her. “And I don’t think you understand it either.”

She shrugs and he has no idea what to make of it.

“I thought it was Emily crying,” she tells him. “Then I realised it wasn’t and I just got…so angry.” She lets out a breath before she continues. “I started asking him why he was alive and she wasn’t. Then I squeezed him and he started crying and then screaming and it was what I needed, someone to do what I wanted to do and just as I realised what it was I was doing the lights switched on and everyone was there.”

He digests what she’s said and reaches over to still her hands. It brings her attention away from them, to him.

“I found a direct flight for 10am tomorrow,” he tells her. “But if you want, we can go to the airport now and see what’s available.”

Scully looks to the road then to the house and Mulder waits as she weighs up the decision of whether to apologise to her family or make a fun or it.

She choices the former. Shaking her head.

“No, I think I best apologise.”

Mulder smiles, removing his hand. “Okay.”

They climb out of the car and walk back towards the front door.

“I’m not gonna sleep for the rest of the night.” She looks at him as if what she’s about to ask is selfish. “Do you mind staying up with me?”

He doubts he’d be getting any more sleep himself tonight. He had been awake to hear Matthew cry, awake to hear him scream.

“Of course,” he says, taking her hand as they walk side-by-side up the driveway. “I know a good infomercial we could watch together.”

She smiles, her hand tightening in his, and Mulder’s just glad he could put a smile on her face.

#txf fic #baby cries #post hijacking #i write

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scenes-in-between · 3 years

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Trust No 1 (Part Four)

For the hundredth time in the last 18 hours, Gibson wonders why he agreed to this.

The train is busy and loud in a way he hasn’t had to deal with for a long time. Living for months crammed in a tiny trailer with Mulder’s noisy mind was nothing compared to this. Dozens of people in close proximity, only a handful of them asleep, all drowning each other out and making it nearly impossible to listen for threats. He finds himself trembling with the effort.

Jesus, poor kid, Mulder practically screams beside him.

“I’m fine,” he says through clenched teeth. “Just got used to the quiet.”

“Only a few more hours,” Mulder murmurs aloud, and Gibson nods.

A picture flares to life in Mulder’s mind, something Gibson has seen there before but Mulder’s never spoken about. Gibson doesn’t know if he’s remembering a nightmare or something that actually happened; it feels like the latter, but that’s impossible.

Mulder catches Gibson frowning at him and shrugs, sighing. “Sorry. I know it’s not the same, and I’m not suggesting I know exactly what you’re going through. I just can’t help remembering how it felt.”

“How what felt?”

Now Mulder’s the one to frown, confused. “You don’t know? I mean… You couldn’t see that memory just now?”

“People usually remember things in a kind of shorthand. There’s not always context. This memory of yours… I’ve seen it before, but I don’t know what it means or if it’s even real.”

“What did you see?”

“You’re in a hospital, I think. And you can hear people like I can. But it’s too much. It hurts, and you can’t… you’re not…”

“Yeah,” Mulder says quietly. “Yeah, that was real.”

“But how?”

There was an artifact, Mulder thinks. A piece of a ship, a spacecraft. I don’t know how or why it affected me like that, but it did. I could hear thoughts, but not like you do, not really. My mind couldn’t handle the input. It burned me up, shut me down. I almost died. Only reason I didn’t is that someone cut open my head and took whatever it was out of me.

Gibson can see images again as Mulder remembers waking up in that room, remembers Scully rescuing him. Mulder’s thoughts slide away from the narrative of the memory and latch on to Scully, and how he can’t wait to see her, and William, and there is this swell of affection that is unlike anything Gibson ever felt from his own parents. It makes him a little sad, even though he’s long since come to terms with the fact that his parents were always more afraid of him than anything else.

“They just cut it out of you?” Gibson prompts, hoping to steer Mulder back on course.

Mulder blinks. “Uh, yeah. I mean, I assume so. I used to have, well it was never a big scar, but…” He brushes his fingers over his forehead, almost like it’s a reflex. “Then later, after I came back from the dead, everything just… healed. Way faster and way more completely than should have even been possible. Can’t even feel the scar at all anymore. But yeah, that’s where they cut me open, and then when I woke up afterward, that was that. Only thoughts in my head were my own.”

Gibson wonders what it would be like to never hear anyone else’s thoughts, ever. The only way that ever truly happens for him is if he’s physically isolated, though when he’s not so out of practice, he can choose to turn the volume down by picking one thing or person to focus on. He realizes that as Mulder’s been talking (both in his head and out loud), that’s exactly what has happened; the rest of the mental chatter in the train car has faded into the background, nothing more than a dull murmur at the edge of his mind. He’s grateful for the respite, but it also means he might miss something, if there’s someone or something on this train that wants to hurt them. He really should go back to listening.

But also he’s just so, so tired.

“How much longer until the next station?” he asks, wondering if maybe, since he hasn’t picked up on the presence of any threats on the journey so far, he can afford to let his guard down a little, at least until they stop again and more new people get on board.

Mulder shifts and digs into his pocket for the brochure they picked up at the station the last time they transferred, which has a timetable with all the stops on this rail line. “Hmm, forty-five minutes, give or take? Why?”

“Can you do me a favor and just think about something really boring for a little while? Like, I don’t know, FBI protocols or something?”

Mulder chuckles. “Can’t say I’ve ever really been much of an expert on those. But sure. You gonna try to nap?”

Gibson doubts actually falling asleep is possible, but he nods anyway. Even if he can just rest for a while, that will be good. Just in case, though…

“Make sure I’m awake when we get to the next station, okay? So I can listen to the new people getting on. Just in case.”

Mulder nods, and a jumble of emotion spills out of him: pity, guilt, gratitude, regret, and something else Gibson can’t immediately identify. There’s this sense of he’s way too young to have to have to carry all this and I should be the one protecting him, which makes Gibson want to roll his eyes. Mulder still seems to think of him as the 12 year-old kid he was when they met, but he’s 16 now, and he’s been living on his own for a good long while. He can more than take care of himself. But there it is again, that flash of something else, and then it’s like Mulder makes the conscious decision to stop and focus on that one feeling because it completely takes over. It’s warm and something like affection but not quite, and Gibson puzzles over it some more before realizing, finally, that it’s pride.

Mulder is proud of him.

It’s not something Gibson has felt directed toward him many times in his life, and it makes him squirm a little bit. But it’s also nice.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, and Mulder nods again.

“You got it, kid.”

All right, let’s see. Now, unfortunately for me, I’ve had to sit through more than a few training seminars on the application of Chapter 119 of Title 18 of the US Penal Code. Fortunately for you, this is just about the most boring subject on the face of the Earth, and as I happen to be cursed with an eidetic memory, I can recite the stupid thing chapter and verse. Consider this your first class ticket on an express train to Snoozeville.

Gibson can’t help but smile a little as he leans back in his seat and closes his eyes.

Chapter 119: Wire and Electronic Communications Interception and Interception of Oral Communications. Section 2510: Definitions. As used in this chapter-- (1) “wire communication” means any aural transfer made in whole or in part through the use of facilities for the transmission of communications by the aid of wire, cable, or other like connection between the point of origin and the point of reception…

The gentle rhythm of Mulder’s bland recitation melds perfectly with the steady rocking and the click-clack of the train, and in spite of his apprehensions, Gibson is asleep in minutes.

***

From the relative comfort of his office, the Shadow Man watches the grainy feed from the station platform’s surveillance camera. It’s not exactly riveting viewing; Agent Scully paces back and forth, having arrived at the station more than an hour before the train is due. But, this is what he does. He watches. All day long, day after day, he watches and he listens.

It’s a form of omniscience, being able to drop into the daily life of virtually anyone he may choose, whenever he needs to, observing unseen from the shadows. (Not the most imaginative moniker, this one these FBI agents have given him, but he supposes it does fit.) Tonight, all he needs is confirmation that Mulder really is going to get off that train.

Scully’s posture belies not only anticipation but also fear. Her guard is fully up, but she need not worry. Not tonight, anyway. Let them have their reunion. He will call tomorrow to arrange a meeting, and then he’ll eliminate Mulder once and for all. He has waited months for this opportunity; one more night is nothing.

That is, until something happens that tosses every one of his carefully-laid plans out the window: someone blacks out the camera lens.

Ah. So. His little employee has finally started to put the pieces together, has he? He supposes it was just a matter of time, but this is particularly inconvenient. Without eyes on the platform, he loses his advantage. Despite his claims to the contrary, it would absolutely be possible for Mulder and Scully to vanish into the wind, away from his view. He cannot let that happen.

He glances at the clock and scowls. It will be a close-run thing, getting to Alexandria from Bethesda before the train arrives, but the late hour and empty roads are on his side. He’s out the door and on the road in minutes, speeding southward.

Looks like Mulder and Scully won’t be getting their little reunion after all. But they’re the ones who decided not to play along. Now the plan has to change, and that’s fine by him. A predatory grin lurks at the corners of his mouth as he presses harder on the accelerator.

This ends tonight.

***

As the train begins to slow on approach to the station, Mulder’s leg bounces with both nerves and excitement. Beside him, Gibson is still and silent, all of his attention focused on the thoughts of the people outside.

Suddenly he gasps and grabs Mulder’s arm. “You can’t go out there.”

No, please, I’m so close...

“You can hear someone out there?” Mulder asks tightly.

“Yes! There’s a man, and he’s one of them. He wants to kill you.”

“Damnit…”

Scully said we’d be safe. Oh no, Scully…

“Is Scully in danger?”

Gibson’s eyes are wide. “I don’t know. He’s… he’s got a gun, and he’s not aiming for her, but he doesn’t care that she’s in the way.”

Mulder leaps to his feet.

“Wait! You can’t!”

The three pops of gunfire are muted from inside the train car, but Mulder hears them anyway. He hurtles forward to lean over Gibson and peer out the window. There’s movement on the platform, bodies on the ground, but it’s too dark and they’re too far away for him to make out any detail.

The train picks up speed again, and a ripple of confused chatter fills the car and drowns out the conductor’s words coming over the loudspeaker. Mulder’s insides give a desperate lurch as he catches just a glimpse of Scully’s stricken face through the window. She’s on her feet, thank god. She wasn’t shot.

For the span of a heartbeat, there she is in front of him, real and solid, not just a presence in his mind. But then she’s gone again as the train whisks him past, and he wants to cry out at the injustice of it. It’s not fair. I was so close. The months of separation feel like an iron band around his ribs.

But it’s clearly still not safe to go home. He knows she wouldn’t have brought him out of hiding unless she truly believed it would be okay, but apparently whoever led her to that belief was either wrong or lying. Will it ever be completely safe? Is this what the rest of his life is going to be, this hiding and running and always looking over his shoulder? Feeling like he’s in this limbo, merely existing while the rest of his life carries on thousands of miles away without him?

It’s not until Gibson grabs him by the arm and shakes him that he realizes the boy has been speaking. He blinks.

“What?”

“He’s on the train! The man who was on the platform. He knows you’re here, and he’s coming after you!”

Mulder snaps to attention. “Can you tell where he is?”

Gibson squeezes his eyes shut, visibly shaking from concentration or fear or both. “He’s… he’s three cars ahead, but under… hanging on to the underside. I think he was on the tracks and then grabbed on to the train as it went over him.” He opens his eyes again, wide. “We have to get out of here!”

Mulder’s stomach tightens as he does a quick mental calculation. While he didn’t plan for this exact scenario, he did look up several potential places he could try to go, in case it turned out that it wasn’t safe in D.C. after all. One of them is a quarry with significant iron deposits, just south of Alexandria. The tracks run near enough that he just might make it, might be able to lead the man there, if he can manage to avoid getting caught first.

Quickly, nonverbally, he rushes to convey his plan to Gibson. He’s got about two or three minutes to jump off the train and hope to god the man follows him. He jerks open the zipper on his backpack and pulls out one of the burner phones he bought, as well as a couple of hundred dollar bills, shoving both into his pocket.

“I hoped we wouldn’t have to use these,” he says aloud, “but this is exactly why I bought them. Stay on the train for two more stops, then find somewhere to lay low. Let me know where you are, and I’ll come find you. The number for this phone is on the paper in the backpack. Got it?”

“What if something happens to you?”

Call Scully, Mulder tells him telepathically. “But I’m hoping it won’t come to that,” he adds.

Gibson nods, and Mulder gives his shoulder a squeeze before hurrying down the aisle to the door. He moves quickly between cars, into and through the one in front of where they were sitting, and then the next. If Gibson’s right, the man should be there just ahead of him, underneath the very next car.

Mulder’s heart pounds as he turns the latch to open the exterior door. He certainly doesn’t want to get caught, but he also needs to make sure the man follows him into the quarry and doesn’t get on the train and go after Gibson. Outside the ground rushes past, and he steels himself for how much this next part is going to suck.

I am getting way too old for this shit.

He grips the handrail beside the door and leans forward as much as he dares.

“Hey asshole!” he shouts into the wind. “Looking for me?!”

Taking one last deep breath, he jumps.

***

Only when she is absolutely certain that the Shadow Man super-soldier isn’t coming after her does Scully stop running. She looks around wildly. Mulder has to still be here, somewhere.

“Mulder!”

It’s Arizona all over again, with her shouting his name into the night, hoping against hope for some answering call.

“Mulder!”

But as was the case in Arizona, she receives no response.

***

The roller coaster of emotion is too much for Gibson. His own feelings are magnified by what he hears in Mulder’s thoughts, a sort of resonating loop that spirals him toward despair and exhaustion.

So he sleeps. It is, mercifully, a dreamless slumber, and it cradles him all the way back to New Mexico. Mulder gently shakes him awake, and they wordlessly disembark, waiting amid the other passengers while Mulder’s motorcycle is unloaded. Once they retrieve it, it’s a quiet ride back to the trailer neither of them had hoped to see again, though once they crest the hill and finally come within sight of it, Gibson lets out a sigh of relief.

#x-files fanfic #TXF: Trust No 1 #mulderfic #scullyfic #gibson praise #msr #mulder on the run #a/n: lol at myself for thinking (way back in october) that i would get this finished and posted soon #ah well #here it is at long last :)#will 2021 be the year i finally finish this scenes-in-between project?#who knows! but that would be cool!#;)#hi friends #hope you are all doing well

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soft-thrills · 4 years

Text

XF Fic: Too Much, Just Right

I fear that if I don’t post this now, I may never post it.

Summary: Mulder/Scully smut. Dom Mulder. NC-17. Classic PWP. Mulder and Scully get kinky on a vacation to Big Sur. That’s it, that’s the plot. It’s embarrassingly long, what else is new.

It satisfies two prompts from the Dec ‘18/Jan’19 @xfpornbattle, which, LOL, could I be any slower?

Those prompts are:

Dom Mulder draped over Scully's back, pounding into her and whispering the dirtiest things in her ear while playing with her clit. Bonus if there are people nearby.

and:

Dom Mulder blowjob, slapping Scully's cheeks with his dick while she touches herself

I reserve the right to revisit this setting, by the way, because Big Sur is the most surreal landscape I’ve ever visited, and it’s a BIG Mulder/Scully mood.

If I’ve not scared you off, keep reading, friends. Unbeta’ed. Sorry for the typos or tense slips. I tried to catch ‘em all. If you like it, hate it, it makes you feel something, anything, please let me know.

He books them a cabin in a redwood grove on the California coast. Their cell phones lose reception as they begin the winding drive through Big Sur, dramatic scenery seemingly all around them — jagged cliffs and primal, roaring ocean waves on one side; mountains and thick forest on the other. It feels like the edge of the universe.

They are in a rented Jeep, with the top taken off, and Mulder had popped The Beach Boy’s Pet Sounds — somehow at once upbeat and melancholy, not unlike him — into the CD player.

They are relaxed, happy. Blessedly alone.

“No shared apartment walls out here, Scully,” he says, his voice dark and low, the way it always sounds in the evenings when he takes charge.

His hand lands on her thigh and she jumps. He smirks. She feels off balance — the rush of the wind around the Jeep, Brian Wilson’s voice, the sheer edges and the blue sky — and it feels good.

“No neighbors. I’m going to have so much fun making you scream,” he promises. “Just you and me in the middle of nowhere.”

...So he hadn’t realized there would be another cabin about 20 feet away from theirs, occupied by a friendly couple in their twenties who wave when they pull up, just as the sun is setting. She shoots him a trademark raised eyebrow.

“All alone in the middle of nowhere, huh?”

In the end, it works out. Ed and Mary are lovely, and they spend the evening sitting around a fire pit between the two cabins, sharing a cache of West Coast IPAs, pinot noir and marshmallows. Sadly, Mulder and Scully have to politely turn down the couple’s generous offer to enjoy some fine California Gold marijuana, what with the federal employment and all.

A couple hours later, it is well and truly dark. Scully knows from past trips out to Big Sur when she was young that the sky is full of stars, though they can’t see it from their vantage point beneath the thick canopy of redwoods. She feels warm from the fire and the drinks and the easy camaraderie. She feels happy, relaxed, far from her responsibilities.

“Ready to hit the hay, Scully?” Mulder asks, a voice so sweet she’d almost forgotten the mood he’d been in earlier.

Almost.

She felt warm all over again.

“Yeah, if we want to get up early tomorrow and hike, I suppose we’d better.”

And so they say goodnight to Ed and Mary, who say they’d be outside a little while longer, making sure the fire safely dies down. Very responsible.

The cabin is small but well appointed — for once it really is a nice trip to the forest. It has sliding glass doors, and once they were inside, Mulder drew the curtains almost all the way. Almost. It would be unlikely Ed or Mary could see anything from their vantage point, but not entirely impossible if they ventured out of the clearing. The walls are thin enough that she can hear Mary laughing at something Ed said outside.

“Guess it would be a little rude to make you scream, Scully,” he says, and she jumps, because Mulder’s low voice is right against her ear, and she hadn’t even realized he was behind her.

“I guess so,” she says, not happy about how shaky her voice is already.

“Maybe I’ll just have to settle for making you whimper. Making you beg. Making you moan.”

She could settle for that. Doesn’t really feel like settling at all, actually.

“And maybe, Scully, if you’re very good, and you promise not to make too much noise, maybe I will let you come.”

She watches her own chest rise and fall, listens to the sound of her own breath. He is so annoyingly, wonderfully good at this. It was hard, at first, for her to accept that she liked it — that bossy Dana Scully liked being bossed around in bed. She supposes it’s not particularly shocking. It might even be predictable. It took Mulder next to no time to figure out, brilliant profiler and whatnot. But it’s still hard to be vulnerable with someone when you want them to treat you as an equal in a relationship. Harder still when you also work with that someone in an environment where it is imperative that they treat you as an equal.

Needless to say, she got over it.

“Would you like that, Scully? Would you like me to make you beg?” he asks, running his hands up her sides, and she can’t help but shiver.

“Yes.”

“Take your clothes off,” he says, not a whisper anymore, and his voice is enough to make her jump.

He stalks out from behind her as she sheds the fleece jacket she’d worn to keep warm by the fire, then her t-shirt, then her jeans.

“Stop,” he says, when she was down to her underwear and bra, simple but matching black cotton.

He kisses her, hands in her hair, like he’d been waiting to do it since he’d made his now-amended promise back in the Jeep all those hours ago. A needy sound escapes from the back of her throat, and she can’t tell if she’s squirming because of embarrassment or desire but she’s pretty sure it’s both.

She is out of breath when he pulls away.

“You’re so beautiful, Scully. You’re perfect,” he says, and while she doesn’t think of herself that way, in that moment, she believes him.

“I want to make you deliriously happy,” he tells her.

She leans into his chest as he strokes her hair.

“But first,” his voice drops again, his hand goes from stroking to gripping the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling back so she looks up at him. “You’re going to suck my cock.”

He is good at that — setting her at ease with sweet little touches and then jolting her back into their kinky little game — and she is a real sucker for it.

She glances in the direction of the bed, but he shakes his head. She feels herself get hotter. He pulls a pillow off the bed and places it in front of him. She knows what he wants, but she wants to hear him tell her.

“On your knees, Scully.”

She’s always been good at following directions. When she is settled, he unbuttons his fly. He takes his cock in hand, but instead of pressing it against her lips, he rubs it against her cheek. She feels herself blush and then he gently taps it against her cheek, and then a little harder, and that’s something new and Christ, it’s almost too much, which means it makes her wet.

“Does sucking my cock turn you on?”

She silently curses him for expecting her to speak in this condition. “Yes. Please,” she says, although she’s not entirely sure what she’s asking him for.

He slaps his dick against her cheek again and she squeezes her legs together. Too much. But God, she likes it.

“You can play with yourself,” he says. Of course she can, she is a grown woman, and she can do whatever she likes to her own body… and yet on this evening, in this mood, she wouldn’t dream of it without Mulder’s permission.

He puts his cock in her mouth, and she takes him up on his offer, slipping her hands inside her panties and finding herself predictably wet.

She takes him as deep as she can, concentrating until she gets into a rhythm, then looking up at him and making eye contact. He groans, and she’d smirk if she could.

“I’ve been waiting all day for this, Scully,” he mutters. “Been thinking about sliding into your mouth since I started teasing you in the Jeep. I could barely concentrate out by the fire, I wanted you so bad.”

She moves the busy fingers under her underwear a little faster, and he notices.

“It makes you wet to have my dick in your mouth, huh?”

She moans around his cock. Too much. Just right.

Kinky sex with Mulder never fails to remind her what a good interrogator he is. He is constantly talking to her, asking her to react, asking her to admit her secrets — yes, I want you to make me beg, yes, I want to suck your cock, yes, I like having your dick in my mouth. It is a temporarily lopsided power dynamic — there is no doubt that Mulder is in charge right now — but there’s rarely any sense of force. She wants every filthy thing he does to her, and he makes her tell him that.

It is overwhelming to be the object of his intense focus, his questioning, his curiosity. At first it was terrifying how little she could hide from him. It is still a little scary — in an exciting, pulse-quickening way that reminds her why she turned in her stethoscope for a gun. It’s also oddly comforting: She doesn’t have to hide, or pretend, with Mulder. She just has to be herself, strange quirks and kinks and all. He could see through any pretending she could try.

She takes him a little deeper, deep enough that it makes her eyes water. A gentle thumb wipes away a tear that had formed at the edge of her eye. She looks up into his eyes and when he smiles at her, she nearly melts.

“Hands where I can see them, now, Scully,” he says, and she reluctantly stops touching herself.

Mulder withdraws from her mouth a moment later, and helps her to her feet. He steps out of his jeans, then pulls his t-shirt over his head.

“Did you enjoy that, Scully?”

That he calls her by her last name, even now, as she wipes the corner of her lips, it’s somehow a thousand times more intimate than if he’d used her first name. It’s like he sees right through whatever walls she might want to build, flimsier than the walls of this cabin, outside of which the fire is still burning as Ed and Mary keep talking.

“Yes,” she says simply, finally, answering his question. Then she flicks her eyes at his erection. “I could feel that you enjoyed it as well.”

Despite how much she likes it when he’s in charge, she can’t help but try to claw back a little pride.

“Of course I liked it,” he says, pulling her close against his erection. “What’s not to like about my buttoned-up partner getting on her knees to take my cock down her throat while she plays with herself?”

She moans -- an embarrassing, unintended, not very quiet moan.

“What did I tell you about being quiet, Scully?” he teases, followed by a sharp swat on her ass.

Too much. Just right.

“I can’t help it,” she whines, a whisper.

“Well you’d better try, if you want me to let you come.”

On any other evening she’d laugh. She’d scoff at the idea that anyone could *let* her do anything. But it isn’t any other evening and she’s ready to dissolve into a puddle at his feet and so she bites her lip and she nods like a --

“Good girl,” he says.

When she is back in her right mind she is going to murder him. Or buy him breakfast. She can’t really be sure.

He shoves her -- shoves her! -- onto the cabin’s king size bed, which takes up most of the small space. Her pulse is racing.

Scully knows, rationally, that there are lots of reasons people like any manner of kinky sex -- the trust, the intimacy, the letting go of responsibility, all of those things are appealing to her. But she thinks the biggest draw is the sheer thrill. She doesn’t know what Mulder will do next. She is a little afraid but terribly excited, the way she is as a roller coaster cranks its way up a hill, or when her heels click on the pavement as she chases a suspect. She slinks backward on the mattress, away from him, back up against the headboard, even as all she wants is his touch.

He slips out of his boxers.

“Where ya going, Scully?” he asks, all boyish charm and wolflike grin. He yanks one leg, hard, pulling her down the bed until she’s flat on her back again.

“Mulder, please, I --” and she stops, because she doesn’t even know what to say.

“You looked very pretty with my cock in your mouth, Scully. Would you like me to touch you? I haven’t yet, have I? Touched your pussy, I mean,” he says, marking that last bit with a firm squeeze of her left breast.

“No,” she replies.

“No, you don’t want me to touch you?”

“Oh, god, please touch me. You haven’t, but please,” she begs, and it’s embarrassing to beg, but it’s also hot, and it’s also all she can do, because if Mulder doesn’t touch her soon she’s going to lose her mind.

He slides her underwear, embarrassingly wet, down her legs, his fingernails scraping their way.

“Turn over,” he says.

She does, arching her ass up almost unconsciously. He gives it a playful smack and she moans.

“What do you want?” he asks her, drawing his penis up and down her labia, teasing.

“I want you to touch my clit,” she says.

He waits. She waits.

“No,” he says, the only real warning she gets before he slides his cock inside her, to the hilt.

She cries out -- and his hand covers her mouth.

“What did I tell you about being quiet?” he growls.

The feeling of him inside her -- hot and hard and so big -- is overwhelming. But she knows she won’t come without his fingers on her clit, and so does he. He’s going to keep teasing her.

He moves his hand away from her mouth. She’s prone on her stomach and he’s draped over her, all over her. His lips are against her ear.

“Are you going to be quiet for me, Scully?” he asks her.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Good,” he says. “We wouldn’t want our friends outside to hear what a little slut you are, now would we?”

Too much. Just right. She whimpers, muffling the sound into the mattress beneath her.

“I bet you’d like to rub your clit right now, wouldn’t you?” he asks her.

“Yes, please,” she says.

“But you’re not -- why aren’t you touching yourself?” he asks.

She squirms, just another subject of his interrogations, just as helpless against his probing questions as any of them have ever been.

“Because you haven’t let me,” she admits. “You haven’t given me permission.”

“That’s right, and I’m in charge, aren’t I?”

She has heard Mulder’s voice crack like a whip. She has heard him bellow, heard him snarl, heard him command a room of men with just his words.

But this — this rough, ragged whisper, so close to her ear she feels it more than she hears it — it’s so unbearably intimate, so unnerving. It reverberates to her very core.

“Yes,” she admits. “You’re in charge. Please.”

“Please what, Scully?” he asks, as he slams into her. “Do you want to touch yourself?”

“Yes,” she breathes. And then: “No. I want you to touch me. Please.”

“That’s my girl,” he says.

Before she knows it, two fingers are working her clit in tight little circles as he pounds into her. In another moment she might envy his athleticism, be impressed by his coordination. But all she can do right now is moan into the pillow beneath her, overwhelmed, overloaded.

Too much, just right.

“I told you to be quiet, but you just can’t help yourself, can you?” he asks.

She assumes all he can hear is a moan, but what she’s muttering into the pillow is: “Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“I like it when you can’t control yourself, Scully,” he mutters. “Because even if you can’t -- I can. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” she whispers. “Yes yes, please, please.”

“Come for me,” he says, his voice practically a growl. “Come for me, Scully.”

She’s so worked up that a few flicks of his wrist is really all it takes for her to tumble over the edge, as sharp and severe as the cliffs they drove past a few hours ago.

“That’s right” he says, so fucking smug she wants to suffocate him, except she’s busy gasping for air herself.

She’s coming down as he starts moving faster. She realizes, appreciatively, the amount of self-restrain that was probably necessary for him to focus so singularly on her orgasm. She arches a little higher, moans a little breathier. He deserves it, doesn’t he?

“Give it to me,” she moans, knowing what buttons to press, wanting it to be as good for him as it was for her. “Please, Mulder.”

A moment later he spills into her, collapsing on her back, overwhelming her, surrounding her in the best possible way.

For a moment they both just lie there, flattened, useless, happy, sated people. Scully feels empty in a good way, a way she rarely feels. Divorced from her worries, from her expectations. Elated.

He slips out of her, slides to her side and spoons against her.

“God, I love you, Scully,” he murmurs into her shoulder.

“I love you too, Mulder,” she says, pressing back against him.

“I hope I wasn’t --”

“Stop. It was perfect,” she sighs.

A beat.

“But I hope we don’t run into Ed or Mary tomorrow.”

#xf fic #xfiles fic #dom mulder #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #Mulder/Scully #msr fic #msr smut #xfpornbattle #myfic

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atths--twice · 4 years

Link

Onto the next story n their year of firsts: how to handle the unexpected.

2/15

Beyond Exhaustion

Mulder and Scully, in the aftermath of the birth of the baby, deal with being new parents and being exhausted all the time.

Some days it was easy and some days it was harder than she remembered. There were two of them now, where before it was mainly just her, but there were still days where Scully was ready to scream.

For the most part Faith was a good baby: eating, sleeping, pooping and peeing just as she should be. Some days though, Mulder and Scully were both exhausted, staring at each other from across the table, their eyes heavy, hair messy, both not smelling their best.

“I’m so tired. How is it possible to be this tired? We ran on little to no fuel for years, but this Scully…” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair and then down his jaw. “Did I shower yesterday? The day before?” He sniffed at himself and shook his head. “Nope.”

“Mulder, I hate to do this to you, but we are almost out of diapers. I can’t go, she’s going to need to eat soon,” Scully said, feeling the ache in her breasts. He looked at her with empty eyes that reflected her own, and he sighed deeply. “I’m so sorry.”

He nodded, pushing himself up on his elbows, then his hands as he bent over the table, before stretching with another sigh as he straightened up. Grabbing his keys, he walked to the door, lifting his coat from the hook and slipping his arms inside.

“Mulder, you’re in your pajamas,” she said with a heavy sigh as she rubbed her face and took her hair from the ponytail and put it up again, crossing her arms onto the table.

“I don’t give even the smallest of shits,” he said quietly and walked out the door.

She put her head down on her arms, eyes closing and sleep pressing heavily upon her as she sighed. She could smell herself and it was definitely not good. Sweat, worry, and lack of sleep was not a great aroma.

A cry pierced the air and she wanted to cry as her breasts responded to the sound. Knowing it would only get worse, she stood up in much the same fashion Mulder did; by sheer force. Dragging her feet, she walked up the stairs and into their room to the bassinet.

The dark head was moving as she cried, her body squirming inside of the tightly wrapped blanket. Scully sighed as she watched Faith's little mouth open, crying for her next meal.

Tired beyond anything she had ever felt, she still smiled as she picked her up, shushing her as she rocked her close. “It’s okay sweet pea, I’m here. I know, I know. Shhh it’s okay.” She quieted, her eyes opening and looking at Scully. “You’re hungry, I know. Let’s go take care of that.”

She walked to the bed and grabbed her nursing pillow, situating it to the best possible position, before she lifted her shirt to feed her. As soon as Faith latched on, they both sighed. Closing her eyes, Scully rubbed her tiny head, letting the short strands of hair run through her fingers like satin.

Letting her nurse for a few minutes, she then switched sides. Before latching on, Scully heard her grunt at the same time she felt her fill her diaper. “Oh my God,” she whispered. Another grunt and she knew it was going further than the diaper would hold.

Debating between her screaming for lack of a full belly or because of the forced complete outfit change, she opted to let Faith eat while she tried no to breath through her nose, with full knowledge that she might be holding more shit than human at the moment.

As she latched on, she grunted again, and Scully closed her eyes. “How? How do you have that much inside of you?” Scully all but cried, as Faith began to nurse in earnest. Catching a whiff of the diaper explosion, she did cry, knowing when she was finished she would be facing a horrible mess.

Taking her from her breast a few minutes later, she shook her head as she looked down at her. She needed to be burped or she would cry. But knowing, feeling, and smelling what she would be holding and thus patting further into Faith's skin, she moved from the bed and stood in the middle of the room.

“I don’t know what to do,” she cried, exhausted tears running down her face. The door opened and closed downstairs and she cried harder; Mulder was back. She was no longer alone.

“Scully?” He called softly up the stairs and then he was in the doorway staring at her, a box of diapers in his hands.

“She’s filthy,” she cried and Mulder stood there frozen. “She's filled her diaper and she needs to burp. Welcome back to the goddamn chaos. Now fucking help me.” She sobbed, smelling the stench of the baby, knowing she was being overly rude, but unable to stop it.

The box of diapers dropped to the floor and he walked over to her, gently taking Faith and guiding Scully to the bathroom. Crying from them both filled the room as he turned on the shower, the baby on his shoulder, and she could see the mess seeping through the blanket which caused her to cry harder.

He took a towel from the rack and laid it on the floor, placing the baby on top. He stepped to Scully and helped her undress before guiding her into the shower. She stepped inside and the warmth of the water made her cry harder. She could hear him dealing with the mess, remaining calm and quieting the baby.

Scully stood there for what felt like forever, the warm water doing wonders to bring her back to sanity. She washed her hair, her body, staying under the water as it washed away her sadness and woke her up.

Turning the water off, she stepped out and found the room empty, as she wrapped a towel around herself. She dried off and slid on some loose comfortable clothes. Using the towel to wring out her hair, she ran a brush through it and then pulled it back in a ponytail. Leaving the towel on the tub to find Mulder and apologize for her outburst, she walked out of the bathroom.

Not finding them in Faith's bedroom, she went downstairs and heard them in the dining room. On the table, he had her in the baby tub, washing her and speaking softly as he did. There was no evidence of the soiled blanket, clothes, or towel; he must have put them in the wash.

Seeing him performing a task that usually took both of them to accomplish, she began to cry. Her love for him filled her in a way it never had before. He was just as tired as she was, had dragged himself out to get more diapers, and had come home to a hysterical crying woman as she held their shit covered child. Then without hesitation or an argument, he took over, caring for her and then the baby.

He looked up as he heard her sniff and gave her a smile. “Well, it was bad, but nothing we couldn’t handle, right my love?” He looked at the baby and smiled as she squirmed around. “That was the worst so far, and I mean the worst. I will need a Silkwood scrub down after this, but hey, what do you do?”

Stepping closer to him, she touched his back as she wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Scully, you have nothing to apologize for, not one bit.”

“I yelled-”

“Not the first time and won’t be the last. Can you get the towel ready?”

She laid out the soft yellow towel and he lifted the baby from the tub, placing her upon it. Scully wrapped her and lifted her, looking at him with tears in her eyes as she shook her head.

“I’ve got it from here. You go shower, Mulder.” He shook his head and took the baby from her, gesturing with his chin to head upstairs. She walked and he followed her into the nursery where they worked together to get her diapered and dressed.

Once she was wrapped in a clean blanket, Mulder handed her to Scully and smiled, pulling them both close to him. “We are both exhausted and the shit literally hit the fan today. But, Scully, you don’t need to apologize for shouting, swearing, or hating me at times. You brought her into this world, you… you made me a father again. You want to scream and cry, I’m right here.”

She cried into his chest as she held the baby close to her chest. The three of them could have been the only people in the world and she would not have cared. All that mattered was him and this tiny bundle that had turned their lives upside down.

“Thank you,” she whispered and he hummed. Pulling back, he looked into her eyes and smiled. She closed her eyes briefly and then smiled at him. “About that shower you mentioned?” He laughed softly and nodded.

Together they walked into the bedroom and Scully sat on the bed, nursing the baby once more, burping her when she had finished. Wrapping her up and moving to lay down in bed, she whispered how much she loved her and how sorry she was for her tears and frustration.

The bathroom door opened and the scent of a freshly washed Mulder filled the room. She closed her eyes, letting the scent wash over her. The bed dipped as he laid down beside her, the scent now closer, calming her tired mind and body.

“I almost forgot what it felt like to be clean. To smell good, Scully? It’s like a concept I remember, but can’t quite grasp,” he whispered, sighing heavily. His hand found her hip and rested there, his breathing beginning to even out.

The baby sighed and Scully opened her eyes, watching her yawn, her head falling to the side as her eyes closed. She looked at Mulder, his mouth open, already asleep. Smiling, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The three of them lay together, clean and content as they slept.

For now anyway…

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #Post MSIV #Domestic Life #Tired #New Baby #New Family #Love #Caring

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lepus-arcticus · 5 years

Text

KICKING HORSE B&B 3:03 AM

The whine of hinges, the door sweeping open, and then he was no longer alone.

She was naked, flushed and plump and pink from the bath, rogue locks of hair snaking wetly down from her forehead. Her grapefruit-pink tongue was clamped between her teeth in a minxy smile, and in the doorframe, she looked ripe as an August peach, bleeding sweetness from every pore.

Before he could speak, she moved to him and settled her steamy, naked body into his lap. Those thick country thighs squirmed against his rising erection, and her pert, pretty nipples poked at his chest. This close, she smelled of lavender, of sage, of old blood.

He wanted to kiss her, he realized—no, he had to kiss her, had to unlock that mouth, had to swallow the secrets she was keeping there—but when he smoothed his hands down into the warm dell of her back, she pulled away, giggling, and stood up. She threaded her fingers playfully through his, and tugged at him, and he followed her through the haze to the dark, crowded hall.

The Bishop women in full spectral pallor stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking their way, but Anna swept onward, and as she brushed past them, they swayed like wind-blown wheat, parting to let them through. Mulder looked back in bewilderment as he passed them, and their eyes sank, expressionless, into his.

The tower. That’s where they were going, he realized. The tower.

Anna paused at the base of the stairs, brought their joined hands to her belly, and flattened his palm to her navel. Life sang and squirmed within her. He wanted to kiss her again then, wanted to enter her, to conquer her, to live inside of her, so keenly and desperately that it felt like anger. He pressed himself into her, clutching at the lush flesh of her hips, but she only laughed in a tinkling cascade of echoes, twisted away from him gracefully, and began to climb.

He followed, hungry for her.

She reached the door, and looked back at him. He nodded darkly, encouraging her. Get her inside, he thought, get her against the wall, or on the ground…

Anna laughed again, and opened the door to Scully’s apartment.

The candles were lit, casting flickering shadows over her, and as the light danced, she and Scully were one woman, one body, one soul.

Anna laughed, and laughed, and then she screamed, and so did Scully. As he watched, helpless as a pillar of salt, skin flew from her in wet streaks, muscle and fat tore away from the bone in meaty chunks. She screamed at him in Scully’s voice, calling his name, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t save her, couldn’t, couldn’t, he was helpless, he was drowning in a tide of her blood⁠—

Mulder woke with a yelp of horror, grasping at the sheets, drenched in a cold sweat. “Scully—,” he gasped, gulping air, his heart kicking at his ribs. Oh, fuck, just a dream. Just a nightmare.

He worked to slow his breathing, reminding himself to count to seven on the inhale. But by the time he reached three, he realized that he was alone. He flung his hand over to Scully’s side of the bed.

The sheets were cool.

A fuzz began in the back of his head, and before he knew what he was doing, his firearm was off of the side table and in his hands and he was up, back against the wall next to the closed door, straining to hear something, anything at all. The cool air stroked his bare chest, and a sharp spatter of goosebumps prickled over his arms and neck.

Something told him not to call out for her, but he held her name in his mouth just the same. Scully.

He reached down and turned the handle, slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible and cringing when the hinges creaked. Slipping through the door, he stalked down the hall, resolutely ignoring the framed faces of the Bishop women. He couldn’t handle their eyes right now, couldn’t handle their judgement, their waiting.

He held his breath as he reached the open door of the other bedroom, forcing his eyes to remain on the floor, almost expecting to see a dark pool of her precious, precious lifeblood spreading towards his feet.

She wasn’t there. The room was empty, the window was closed, there were no signs of struggle. Mulder pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth, biting hard. Where was she? What had they done to her?

The tower, he thought, but then remembered Rhiannon’s words of warning. She wouldn’t be there. He had a suspicion that despite his dream, it might be the only safe place in Horizon.

Back out into the hall, and down the stairs, one by one, quietly, quietly. The house was a silent watcher, still and cold, and he recalled discovering Rhiannon in her chair, corpse-like in sleep. His pulse roared in his ears as he moved forward into the kitchen, as steadily as he could, keeping his back to the wall and his gun at the ready.

He glanced at the front door, thinking of Anna’s skin violently unraveling in Scully’s apartment, and was gratified to find that it remained firmly shut, locked from the inside, too, by the overextended position of the deadbolt.

He moved into the kitchen, scanning the darkened windows, the floor, searching for signs of her. Nothing was out of place, but the quality of the air was different, somehow. His awareness sharpened, his breath became lighter. The pads of his feet stuck to the chilled tile, and they made little sucking sounds as he pulled them up, moving slowly, gun-first.

He wasn’t alone. There was something here. Someone. He could sense it. The buzzing in his head continued to build. And then⁠—

“Mulder?”

He swung around, nerves alight, his gun pointed directly at the source of the sound.

Scully, whole and tiny in his t-shirt, stood before him, the night-black greenery of the conservatory wrapping her in shadows.

“Jesus Christ, Scully,” Mulder hissed. He lowered his gun, remembering at the last moment to click the safety back into place, and abandoned it on the kitchen island. He rubbed at his cheeks, struggling to regain his composure.

Scully raised a sympathetic eyebrow.

“You weren’t in bed,” he said, by way of explanation.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she replied weakly, stepping towards him, and that’s when he noticed the shine in her eyes, her swollen lips, the flush in her cheeks. She’d been crying.

His gut dropped, and he immediately closed the gap between them, gathering her up under his chin. The way her small, slim body folded into his reminded him of hospitals, of almost-kisses. It reminded him that despite her strength, her capability, despite her genius and her pride, she could be stolen away from him at any moment.

“Hey,” he whispered, aching. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m sorry for earlier. I’m so sorry.” She locked her arms around his waist, let him rock her slowly.

“Mulder,” she said into his shirt with a sniff. He pulled back to look down at her. “You have to start wearing a knee brace.”

He loosened his hold, almost smiling. “What?”

Her hands remained on him, one on his arm, one on his chest. “And you need to get your prostate checked yearly when you reach 45, okay? It’s a bit earlier than recommended, but I want you to go. For me.”

“What are you talking about?” Dread began to settle around him like ash, filling the air, making his skin feel cottony.

“And get a bed. Please. You can have mine, okay?”

“Scully,” he begged, realizing what she was trying to say, to do. “Scully, stop.” He retrieved her hand from where it lay on his chest, brought it to his mouth, and pressed his lips to the heel of her palm. Her hand was chilled and limp, and he held it to his face, trying to warm her.

“You were right, earlier. Upstairs. I’m not…” she let the statement trail off. “And... I want you to take care of yourself. I want you to be happy.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he said, his voice catching. He pulled her back into his arms and crushed a long, firm kiss into her hairline.

She pressed on, clinging to his shirt. “Mulder, please, listen to me. Listen. You have so much… so much life inside of you. I don’t want you to squander it on some fruitless quest for vengeance when I’m gone.”

“Stop,” he insisted. “You’re going to be fine.” He pulled back, framed her face in his hands and forced her to look at him, stroking her cheek with his thumb. God, she was beautiful—her lips plush and quivering, her eyes wide and wet. Beautiful and utterly singular, animated from within by the most substantial soul he’d ever encountered. Losing her was not an option. Not now, not ever.

He kissed the corner of her tearful eye, the bridge of her perfect, queenly nose. She exhaled in a shivering sigh, and her sweet, wet breath washed over his skin.

“No. I’m not,” she said. “I’m going to die.”

He couldn’t hear it. He wouldn’t. So desperately, lavishly, he took her mouth with his and shut her up.

It wasn’t roses or wildfire or anything else he’d ever let himself imagine in countless lonely, indulgent moments. It was shadows in the basement, smudged newsprint, gas station coffee. It was Washington rain and her 2 a.m. laughter over the phone line. It was every darkness they’d slipped into and out of, every scrap of wonder they’d ever shared. It was Scully, his Scully, ever-new but as familiar as his own reflection. It was coming home, and finding that you’d been there all along.

She kissed him back. God, she kissed him back for one perfect minute, making heavenly little noises in the back of her throat, her kittenish nails scrabbling at his chest. But then she pulled away, tearing herself from him with a gasp.

He dove after her, backing her up against a plant-strewn workbench, unwilling to let her escape. He took her mouth again, faster than any protest she might muster, and found it soft and sweet and welcoming. It all raged inside of him, years and years of it⁠—fuck, it burned⁠—and kissing her was like drinking cool water, quenching a desert-earned thirst. He was swallowed into the crisp fragrance of greenery, the wet musk of nourished, fertile dirt, the warm smell of woman. It was as though he’d rediscovered Eden.

“Please,” she sobbed against his mouth, her lips mashed against his in grief. “Please, Mulder, you have to promise me.”

He thrust his tongue against hers a response, and she clamped it possessively between her teeth, sending hot darts of pleasure into his sacrum. His hands found the proud, bony flare of her ribs, and in one clumsy motion, he lifted her onto the bench in a clatter of terra cotta. A pot tumbled and cracked noisily against the tile, spilling cool earth onto his bare feet. But Scully wrapped her legs around his hips, trapped him between her thighs, and kissed him back, kissed him back, kissed him back.

Her hands in his hair, her hands at his hips, and then her hands were at his chest, pushing him away. “Stop,” she pleaded, in a voice rough with emotion, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t let her slip away. Couldn’t let her go on for one more second not understanding in the very marrow of her bones that he needed her.

He dragged her closer and tried to kiss her again, but she turned her face and pulled him into her shoulder instead. He threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, tugging desperately, his lips at her pulse point.

“Let me love you,” he demanded, enslaved by raw emotion.

She gripped his shirt, pulled him even closer, squeezed him with her moonlit thighs. “I can’t, God, I can’t,” she chanted.

He gripped her silky hair, scraping his teeth experimentally against her skin. “Why them, then? Why Jerse, why Daly?”

“They aren’t you,” she protested fiercely.

He melted, nosing her cheek to turn her face and kiss her again. She let him, opening her mouth to him, stealing his air. One of his hands slipped under her shirt and and pressed against her ouroboros, bringing her so tight against him that he rubbed up against the scorching crease of her, obliterating any doubt in his mind that she wanted him back, and badly, and now.

She moaned sweetly as he ground himself into her heat, but in the next breath, twisted away from him.

“Dana⁠—,” he pleaded, but she slid off of the table, out of his arms.

“Stop. God, please, Mulder, you need to stop. This needs to stop,” she said, pacing away, leaving him breathless and rumpled and hard and heartbroken.

She turned back to face him, a pale spectre in the shadowy jungle of the greenhouse. “With you… I have to think about tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, until the day that I... I can’t do that to you. To myself. I can’t. I’m not brave enough.”

The watery glint in her night-dark eyes sobered him. What was he supposed to tell her? That it was too late? That his work, his life, his future would be meaningless without her?

“Scully…,” he began, but she slumped forward again, back into his arms.

“I can’t,” she said.

Mulder pulled back into himself, trying to summon the courage not to push her. “Okay,” he said, rocking her gently, softening against her belly. “Okay.”

He held her for a long time, the tile chilling his feet, her head tucked under his chin. At some undetermined point, he took her small hand in his and led her back upstairs.

They slept twined together, his hand resting over the steady, rhythmic countdown of her heart.

#omens #txf fic

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gaycrouton · 5 years

Note

oh my goodddd i loved your underwear fic and would be so happy if you ever decided to continue it

Thank you so much!! For those that didn’t see it, a while back ago I posted this fic called Lingerie. Here are a few more random bonus takes!

Lingerie Bonus:

“Scully?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you wearing your coat?” he asked, finally broaching the question that’d been on his mind for the last two hours. He’d initially not taken much notice, but then he started picking up on the way she kept trying to roll up her sleeves and failing miserably because of the bulk. He’d thought she’d just forgotten until it became overwhelmingly obvious this was a purposeful suffering she was putting herself through. he knew his new partner had some quirks, hell so did he, but this just seemed uncomfortable.

“Um, I’m just a little cold,” she shrugged. That might have passed if it weren’t for the extreme binaries working in the basement in winter came with. In this realm of the building, the heat was always either broken, leaving them to freeze, or it was overcompensating, leading them to boil. This was a boiling day and he was uncomfortable even looking at her.

“Scully,” he repeated accusatorily, not letting the lie slide.

“I’m dressed innapropriately for work,” she replied, letting her eyes fall back down to the paperwork on her desk as if to signal her indifference on the subject.

Every fibre in his body wanted to make a suggestive joke, but he was too worried about her overheating in the name of modesty. “It’s just a paperwork day,” he offered. She didn’t say anything and he followed with a sympathetic, “It can’t be that bad.”

“I’m not wearing an undershirt,” she blurted as if it was a big reveal.

It wasn’t.

“So?” he prompted, uncertain of what was causing the issue.

“I’m wearing a thin white blouse and a black bra,” she elaborated, still not making eye contact, but not making much progress on the paper she’d been staring at.

Oh.

He laughed sympathetically and did his very best not to imagine what that looked like. “No one ever comes down here but us,” he offered.

She finally looked up at him and she looked like she was carefully trying to choose her words.

Double oh.

“I hope I’ve never made you feel uncomfortable-” he started apologetically. Was she really suffering because she thought he’d just leer at her?

She cut him off immediately as if already knowing what he was thinking. “No, it’s not you, Mulder.”

They stared at each other for a moment before awkwardly laughing off the uncomfortable situation. “I just didn’t want you to think this is how I normally dress. I didn’t even realize how noticeable it was until I took off my coat at security.”

“You can dress however you want,” he offered. At her raised eyebrow he quickly added, “I mean, what’s important is your work. I’d never judge you for whatever you choose to, or not to, wear.” He was digging himself in a hole, but based off her smile, she wasn’t mad.

She stood up and started unbuttoning her coat. “Good, because then I’d have to start being vocal about my opinions on your ties.”

He let out a little laugh before looking down at his current tie with pigs on it. “Hey, what’s wrong with my ties?” he asked before lifting his eyes back up to her.

No wonder she’d been shy. The silk blouse was nearly see through and her black bra was undoubtably visible through it. He’d taken a big glimpse of her back as she hung up her coat, but only saw the two front cups for all of one millisecond before giving her privacy and darting his eyes down to his work.

“Aside from the fact they’re tacky?” she teased goodnaturedly. He could hear the smile in her voice, but didn’t want to look at her and accidentally look down and make her regret her decision.

He was able to keep his eyes away for the whole rest of the day and for that, when the coat was back on her shoulders in preparation for the walk out, she gave him a grateful smile and an appreciative “Thank you, Mulder.”

He was proud of himself for proving that he was a good partner and would never oogle her, but later that night his thoughts kept flashing to that hint of black lace and he remembered a millesecond’s glance can go a long way with a photographic memory.

“Mulder! I need your help!”

The bright flash of the crime scene techs make him blink his eyes and wipe a hand over his face. He’d been here once before, when he quite literally kicked her door down to rush to the bathroom and find her fighting with Tooms.

Sometimes he liked to imagine what it’d be like for them to be the average, everyday partners. Would she have ever invited him over for a cup of coffee? Or would he have never seen the inside of Scully’s domain if it wasn’t the scene of a crime?

Wordlessly, passively listening to the ongoing conversations around him that were saying nothing more than abduction, blood, missing, is that her partner? He had to see everything - he had to make sure no stone was left unturned.

He entered forbidden domain without hesitation. Of all the times he imagined being in Scully’s bedroom-

He shook the thought from his mind and glanced analytically around the room. It was as he’d imagined: clean, orderly, feminine, so very Scully. A closet in the corner was cracked open and he mindlessly went over to it. Realistically, he knew it was his memory of her telling him about Donnie Pfaster keeping her in the closet mixed with his desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, Duane Barry was stupid and this was all a misunderstanding and he’d find her there. But, as his heart knew, as soon as he opened the door there was nothing.

Well, nothing wasn’t accurate. This was the closet that she kept her clothes and hamper in, and upon opening it he was met with a strong waft of her scent and all the clothes he’d do anything to see filled again.

His eye was caught by a cup of a white bra dangling off the laundry basket, caught on the rim by the bridge in the middle and a matching pair of white panties sitting on top of the other dirty clothes. He swallowed thickly and felt a crashing wave of guilt for feeling like he was invading her privacy.

He needed to find her.

III

Either she didn’t hear him knock on the adjoining door or he didn’t hear her tell him to wait. His brain was too overwhelmed in this moment to actually know which it was.

All he knew was that he just walked into see Scully on all fours with her ass in the air towards him as she looked under her bed for something. That in and of itself would have been enough to kill him, but she was currently in the middle of getting dressed and all she was wearing was her underwear. Which, he was eternally greatful for because he may have just died on the spot if not.

Her back was pale and milky with an intermitten smattering of freckles that reminded him of starlight, but what stood out most in this moment was how round and perfect her-

“Mulder!” she screamed as she completely fell to the floor, as if trying to dissolve into it. Her hands quickly came to her front to cup her breasts as she whipped her head over her shoulder.

He only met her eyes for a moment before snapping them shut and running back to his room, slamming the door behind him. “Scully, I’m so sorry!”

It would be a miracle if he didn’t crash, plain and simple. It was just impossible not to look.

Scully’d fallen asleep in the passenger seat, a gift he’d forever be envious of, but as she slept she inadvertenly unbuttoned the top button she’d previously had buttoned which opened her blouse down to the front middle clasp of her bra. She was dead to the world, her lips parted slightly as her chest rose with each deep breath. It was just him alone in the car now with the sounds of the seventies and Scully’s sleeping body turned towards him.

Because of course she was.

What really didn’t help was the intermitten groans she’d release as she’d squirm in her seat in an attempt, he presumed, to get more comfortable. Oh, and to add to it all, her skirt was riding up as her hand just innocently rested at the hem. It was a sight that was as endearing as it was arousing.

She made a gasping sound and his eyes left the road to look at her face, which was now accented with a furrowed brow of sleepy concentration. Was she having a nightmare?

His own brows furrowed in concern as he glanced between the stretch of desolate highway and the passanger seat to make sure she was okay. From mile marker 66 to 78, she gasped three times, moaned twice, and readjusted one time that resulted in her brushing her breasts against his arm that was resting on the middle console, and now Mulder was cursing himself for not wearing better pants.

“-der,” she whispered. He’d heard those three letters together enough to know it was the ending half of him name, but he’d never heard them in quite that inflection. Curiosity started to turn into hopeful understanding as he realized that Dana Scully, his beautiful partner, sounded like she was having a sex dream.

But there was no way-

He glanced at her colored cheeks as she sleepily nuzzled herself against the headrest. Against his better judgement, his eyes darted down to the valley of her breasts and stared appreciatively before she breathily whispered, “Fuck.”

Then, with the timing and grace of a bull in a china shop, he drove over a rumble strip and she woke up with a start. “Wha’s wrong?” she slurred sleepily but alarmed.

“Sorry,” he coughed, readjusting himself in his seat while praying she didn’t see his hard on. “I was looking at a billboard and drove over a rumble strip,” he explained, hoping she didn’t turn around and notice the large expanse of nothingness behind them.

Luckily she was too preoccupied with herself to notice anything else. She started pulling down her skirt and rebuttoning her shirt before squirming in her seat uncomfortably. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, uh-” she started, but stopped herself.

“Hm?”

“Did I talk in my sleep at all?” she asked nervously.

With her behaviour confirming his hopeful suspicions, he bit back a smile. “No, not at all.”

Extra Bonus

She wasn’t sure if there was a sight more jarring but welcome to her than that of a sleeping Mulder in nothing but his boxers in her bed. It was a sight she’d imagined countless times over, though she’d never admit it, but she didn’t think it would take these circumstances for it to have to happen.

She’d seen his body in an assortment of ways and segments throughout their partnership, but she’d never gotten a chance to really appreciate it up close. It truly wasn’t fair that he lived on a diet of fast food and Kraft Mac and Cheese yet could simply run on occasion and have a body like this, but she was too stunned by it to be resentful.

This is what he was hiding beneath his clothes every day. Mulder was always kind, gentle, and sweet towards her, but this was a body of elegant strength and power. He wore his masculinity well and she wasn’t saying that jsut because, in her efforts to document his recovery, she’d observed his nocturnal tumesence come and go in flares.

It just amused her to no end he was sleeping like an angel on the very same spot she’d been in while imagining him with her hand between her legs.

Though he’d been wearing a little less in her imagination.

#gaycrouton #my fanfiction #I feel very rusty so I hope this is even decent lol #THANK YOU FOR THE PROMPT BOO #x files fanfic #mulder #scully

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ms31x129 · 5 years

Note

I love your take on iwtb MSR so can you please 🙏 do #27 for the Xfpornbattle. Thanks. Bye

It took a while but here it is. It’s a little angsty. It seems to come naturally from me. lol Sort of a Prequel to ‘Abandoned Son’ @xfpornbattle @today-in-fic @cultureisdarkbeer @peacenik0 @monikafilefan

# 27 Scully comes home from work IWTB era; kitchen counter passionate sex; vocal Scully

Facets

Mulder stood at the stove, he’d chopped fresh tomatoes, peppers and onions and they were sauteing nicely in a lightly oiled pan. Whole wheat organic lasagna noodles were draped over a pasta drying rack, cooling. As a single man he’d rarely taken the time for cooking anything intricate or time consuming.

At the time it was just him, why bother?

Tonight was special it was Friday and Scully would be home for the weekend. Since she started working at Our Lady of Sorrows there were many nights she didn’t come home at all. She’d say she was too tired to drive. I’ll spend the night at my mom’s or the hospital. The next night it was the same excuse.

Wasn’t that why they’d stopped running? Why they settled here in this unremarkable house, hiding in plain site?

She’d been tired of driving or riding with no destination in sight. The fake ID’s the Gunman had helped him create had allowed them the freedom to move from place to place. The money he’d invested over the years and secreted away was invaluable as they’d criss-crossed the United States.

One account would never be used. The one for William - the son he didn’t know how fully he wanted until he’d held him in his arms for the first time. His son, his, being raised by another couple. Another father. Mulder shook his head, Scully didn’t like to talk about him and changed the subject whenever he was mentioned.

It was after one such heated argument that Scully had left. When she came back home she announced she’d enrolled in medical school and planned to specialize in Pediatric Neurosurgery. She’d registered under her own name, used her mother’s address for contact and that was that.

Nothing happened no Police, Military, FBI, CIA - no seeming interest in Dana Katherine Scully - ex partner of Special Agent Fox Mulder. She was welcomed back into the world with open arms.

Maybe Scully was just tired of him.

Mulder sighed and focused on his sauce a few more ingredients and twenty minutes later he had Lasagna baking in the oven. He knew he still had time to wash the dishes he dirtied and the monotonous task would help to expunge the maudlin thoughts still rolling in his head.

Every dish was washed except a knife - in his hand the sun glinted off the blade.

It hadn’t happened in a while. He didn’t expect it. He could hear the whirring, see the shine of the metal serrated blade, coming closer, closer….

How long had he been crouched on the kitchen floor, shaking, skin damp and clammy from a cold sweat he couldn’t tell. The water was still running, Mulder stood his legs like rubber and shut the valve off. The knife laid in the bottom of the sink and he slammed his eyes shut and gripped the sinks edge until his hands blanched.

“Mulder?”

The sound of the front door shutting, her bag dropping on the chair, clothing rustling reached him. Mulder could tell she’d taken her shoes off, by the soft scratch of her hosiery on the kitchen floor as she came closer. Focus … focus on Scully and the images will fad.

“Mmm something smells divine. Mulder?” Her fingers grazed his shoulders gentle, light. The sensation overwhelmed him. The hormonal cascade that had flooded his body moments ago, Adrenaline, Estrogen, Testosterone, and Cortisol feeding his fight or flight response - began to change - to arousal.

Focus … focus on Scully and the images will fade.

Muder shuddered and took a deep breath. He needed her.

Now.

Spinning around he grabbed her pulling her flush against him the strength of his hold not light, not gentle. His lips didn’t ask - they took.

Scully whimpered, she could have pushed him away, but she didn’t. Hands wandered beneath his shirt, kneaded his waist, bunching the fabric up and up until her point was made. Yes! He needed it off, one step closer to her skin against his and released her long enough for the shirt to clear his head and go flying across the room.

Scully loved the wild look in his eyes as his hands reached for her blouse and ripped it apart - buttons scattered, plinking against the floor. Scully moaned when they came back together, his erection hard, hot - grinding against her. Plunging his tongue into her mouth the same moment his finger followed the crease of her buttocks reaching his destination. He traced that pink wet flesh teasing then dipped into her tight heat.

“Jesus! Mulder!”

Scully screamed out - she found herself off the ground landing on the kitchen table, her legs spread apart bracketing Mulder’s hips. Licking her lips she wondered what had gotten into him - if the dampness she felt on her underwear was an indication she liked it - very much. Eyes wide open Scully watched as he unzipped his jeans, his erection freed from confinement sprung up and tapped against his stomach.

Had she ever seen him this hard?

Palming that thick and long member he gave himself a slow steady pump, Scully shifted and immediately Mulder gathered both her wrists in one of his hands.

“Don’t move.” Was that a growl?

“I like this Scully.” His finger traced the lace of her pale blue bra, eyes dipped and the same hand pushed her skirt higher … higher. Skirt bunched at her waist his finger followed the elastic, dipping under, teasing her sex.

“Matching set, Scully? Did you wear this at work?” She squirmed and his hand tightened on her wrists. “Did you?” he asked again this time with a slight gruffness in his tone. The thumb now pressing and circling her labia, the sensation teasing her clit - not enough, not enough.

“Muld…” His name became a screaming moan. His thumb still circled over the fabric of her panties as he plunged his finger inside. Mulder tapped and pressed the pad of his middle finger against the front wall of her passage.

“You didn’t answer my question, Scully.” In a sexual daze Scully couldn’t focus - what was the question - let alone answer. His hand left her throbbing, unfulfilled

“Don’t stop, Mulder!” She moaned with frustration then gasped when he roughly yanked her bra cups down and his hot mouth latched onto first one nipple then the other. Sucking deeply Mulder pulled a portion of her breast into the depth of his mouth and his tongue lapped across her nipples slow then fast.

“Please … please … please.” Scully chanted. His hand had moved back down her body. He raised his head, her breast and nipple leaving his lips with a suction pop. “As much as I love these,” fingers mapped a path along the lace of her panties, gripped and wrenched the fabric away.

“And you haven’t answered my question…” Mulder pushed his jeans down just a little more and then he was there, yes there. Pressed up against her, his cock riding the saddle of her mons. A slow drag against her needy clit as he folded forward, arching his spine and pulled a breast back into his mouth.

Continuous whimpers are coming from her mouth. Longing to trace the skin of his back - feel the muscles flexing beneath and unable to with her hands immobile. Before her sight had been blocked she could see the head of his penis trapped between them pointing straight up and glistening. It was so beautiful.

Scully could answer his question with the truth. But is that the right answer? Should she tell him yes I wore this all day under my scrubs? How it made her feel both powerful and feminine all at once? Would he be jealous wondering if any of her colleagues or patients wondered what was hidden beneath?

Or should she tell him she’d purchased the set last week? Hand washed it, waited patiently until it was dry and carefully put it in her her overnight bag? How her mother had kissed her that morning, hinting slyly that she noticed her lacy set wasn’t hanging in the bathroom anymore?

And to tell Fox she said hello.

That she missed him all week and as the distance grew shorter the more sensitive her nipples became rubbing against the silk cups? How she could feel the dampness on her panties when she turned up the drive? That she could smell her own arousal walking up the steps and onto the porch?

Mulder has so many facets as a lover - she’s never experienced this one. Did she want his gentle liquifying kisses and caresses? Or did she want the wild, dominant almost animal-like lover he was now?

The part of her mind that had been trying to process these internal thoughts broke apart like a rock smashing a mirror. A thumb and finger held her clit the rhythm a pinching squeeze then a deep stroke up and down. Mulder had abandoned her breast all his concentration on her throbbing sex. Mulder stopped and locked eyes with her. His penis in his grip again pumping languidly ... she was so close just a little more and the bastard had left her hanging.

“No more Mulder! Now! I want you now! Please...Inside! I want you inside me!”

In concert with his “Yeah … yeah,” Mulder’s dilated and glazed eyes seemed to agree with her request. Yes, Yes - finally the engorged head pressed into her. Oh God! Big! More, more! Was she saying that out loud? She didn’t care as with a quick snap of his hips he borrowed his way deep, deep and she exploded around him, screaming his name over and over.

Scully didn’t consciously realize her arms were free until she felt the table moving with each of his powerful thrusts. The table began to move, the feet scraping the floor and she gripped his upper arms firmly as a 2nd orgasm swallowed her.

“M, m, Mulder?” she gasped out as they moved another few inches. “The table… Mulder...moving?”

A full driving thrust sent sensation spiraling through her again. Mulder’s head dropped licking a path to her breast around her areola and nibbled on her nipple. He was still hard inside her, she could feel his chest heaving with exertion. Scully hummed in pleasure sliding her hands up over his shoulders. Sweat slickened skin aided in the glide allowing her to feel his muscles flex.

Needing to be more proactive she bent her legs up, the pads of her feet on his hips. The position shifting the angle of their pelvises and wringing a guttural groan from both of their throats. She wanted his jeans off. Wanted to wrap her legs around him and feel … just feel.

“Your jeans… Mulder… “

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled against her nipple. Pushing with her toes and his little hip shimmy - produced more sensations and moans - those jeans had fallen to the floor in a whooshing puddle. Rising, away from her. She dropped her hands to her own breasts the sensation of her own fingers inadequate in comparison to his or the hot furnace of his mouth - the talented tongue of his - his full lips.

Watching - her eyes wide - his hands trailing down each leg raising first one then the other against his chest her toe pointed up to the ceiling. Kissing, licking and nipping the area right above the little blue bow. “Matching thigh highs too, Scully?” he breathed against the bare skin of her inner knee after stripping the lacy topped hosiery away.

One leg still stretched up he began moving again fast short pumps each one sending vibrations to her still sensitive clit. He pulled her into each inward thrust one hand still on her thigh holding her leg in place the other gripping her hip. It wasn’t often she’d found herself climaxing more than twice, but she was quickly cresting again. She was horizontal and then suddenly vertical as she spasmed a third time.

In one seemingly rehearsed motion Mulder had dropped her leg and with one hand under her ass the other around her waist she recalls hearing, “Hold on, Scully.”

She was lifted up gravity forced her body down, driving Mulder deeper inside her. They both emitted a deep moan and then she was on the kitchen counter. It was like he was was finally unleashed pounding into her deep and fast ready for his own release. Scully searched out his lips, they kissed without finesse. She briefly wondered when he’d kicked off his jeans as her hands grabbed and squeezed the firm muscled globes of his buttocks.

There was something extremely erotic about Mulder being totally naked and her own body almost fully clothed. She liked it. She liked it a lot. She pulled her lips away, seeking his eyes.

“Come for me, Mulder...Watch me - ohh - come for me!” She moaned out one of her hands now on her body she pinched her own nipple. Mulder’s eyes tracked her hand down her body until it reached between them her fingers a V smoothly caressing her clit and his cock in tandem. It was only a few seconds until she clamped down on him again. Her tight passage kneading his length she screamed out her satisfaction.

“Oh GOD! Yes! Mulder!”

A few more jerky thrusts he buried himself to the hilt and followed her into oblivion, holding himself tight with her, they both felt him bathing her cervix in his own fluids. They clung to one another as their bodies came down from their mutual high. Mulder kissed her gently, cupping her jaw tenderly.

“Scully… I, “ for a moment he wondered if he needed to apologize. The thought flew out of his head when she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, nipped it and them soothed the sting with her tongue.

“Mmmm… that was some welcome home.” She kissed him again then nuzzled her cheek against his. “And as much as I would like to stay like this. The lasagna - It is lasagna isn’t it?”

Mulder nodded even as he felt a renewed jolt of pleasure when Scully started nibbling on his earlobe. The minx she knew his earlobes seemed to be connected straight to his cock. Well most of his body parts he admitted, both hazards and pleasures of having a wife as a doctor.

Not in any legal sense of course. No document could ever give or take away the feeling, the love - for him there could be no other - ever.

She was the keeper of his soul. The wife of his heart.

“Help me down Mulder.” She smiled at him and he reluctantly pulled out of her - still half hard and he lifted her off the counter and onto her feet. She ran one finger over his length. Circled the head with a featherlight touch, a bead of pearly fluid appeared and she caught it on the tip of her finger. Mulder watched as she brought that finger up to her lips and sucked that digit into her mouth.

She was so fucking sexy. There she stood - her top open, breasts with their hard pink nipples exposed, bra cups below them and her skirt still at her waist. Trying to look both innocent and not really succeeding while sucking her finger, tasting him.

Did he groan?

With a satisfied smile she gave the hem of her skirt a yank - dropping it back into place. Mulder watched as Scully turned and took unsteady steps making her way to the stairs. “After I clean up and change, you can feed me, Mulder.” She took a few steps up and then leaned over the railing. “Make sure you leave room for dessert - I’m planning on enjoying mine for hours.”

Hours…?

Mulder stepped back into his jeans, carefully tucking his very interested penis away and grabbed a clean T out of the laundry room. The table was quickly set, lasagna taken out of the oven and garlic bread put in. By the time Scully came back down wearing a soft green sweater and leggings the candles were lit, wine poured and the food was dished out.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Um, yeah do you mind cutting the Garlic Bread.”

“Not at all.”

In moments warm oozing buttery-garlic slices were set on the table. Scully handed Mulder the knife and sat down. Mulder glanced at the knife in his hand, a quick flash and a faint buzz. He blinked and immediately washed it off under running water, he heard Scully’s voice behind him.

“Everything looks and smells wonderful, Mulder. Thank you. Come sit down before all your hard work gets cold.”

The knife. Scully. Focus on Scully - breathe. There - he’d won the battle against his demons this time. His hand only shook a little when he placed the knife in the strainer...

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serahsanguine · 5 years

Note

I’ve got a couple of favourites for the porn battle so I’m gonna let you choose: #18 #19 #51 #73 Thanks so much!! Can’t wait to see what you choose and write!!

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Life is always a little more fun, when you’re a little more naughty.

Rating; Nc-17 A03

Prompt 51, Making out, heavy petting, Scully grinding on Mulder's lap while telling him about the girl she used to sleep with and the sexy things they would do together

Notes; I had such fun with this one I think I'm defiantly going to do more of these in my future.

**********************

“Scully. What are you doing?”

Mulder sat there stunned, as his redheaded partner had just pushed him down to his black leather couch and proceed to straddle his lap. Now they were face to face she pushed her breast into his hard chest and whispered in his ear.

“If you behave I’m going to tell you a story, and maybe just maybe you’ll even get a show”

She watched him nod as he couldn’t seem to find any words.

“Now there are two rules, do you want to know what they are?”

He nodded again, not trusting his own voice.

“Rule one. There is absolutely no touching if you break this rule, I will stop what I am doing instantly.”

With her knees either side of Mulder's thighs, she fully put all her weight on his lap and groin. She wiggled her hips feeling the rise of his appendage and feeling the dampness in her own panties.

“Rule Two, you will not interrupt my story in any way because if you do, I will stop and will not continue under any circumstances.”

She leaned into him again and nibbled his ear. Before looking him in the eye “Do you understand these rules?”

He nodded.

“I need to hear you say the words.”

“Yes, I understand Scully.”

“Good, now the story can begin.”

She placed both hands on either side of his shoulders on the back on the couch.

“This story begins a long time ago in a land far, far away in a little place called college. Where there lived a young Catholic redhead girl who had a face full of freckles.”

She kissed the crook his neck tasting the sweat forming on his skin. She used the flat of her tongue and licked from his shoulder to behind his ear. His skin broke out into a flash of goosebumps and she smiled.

“She met a prince charming that happened to be a princess."

She pulled back gauging a reaction from him, and for such an educated man he didn’t understand what she was telling him. She laughed a very girly laugh before taking his ear in her teeth and tugging.

"She was not a lesbian, but her girlfriend was."

The sudden realization dawned on his face and she felt his erection spring into her thigh, he was hot, hard and ready for her. She licked her lips suddenly finding them dry and rough.

She spoke low and calm but with a sexy and alluring tone to her voice

“There was this one time.”

He looked at her sceptical but like a good boy, he never said a word.

“Well, there was more than one time where this young redhead was not so Catholic. This particular time the redhead's mother had invited her and her friend over for Thanksgiving dinner. While at this particular person’s house about an hour before dinner was going to be served they started kissing like this.”

She placed her lips on his, their tongues gliding against each other. The kiss was slow at first but became faster, deeper, heavier, more passionate than ever before. She ground her hips and pelvis into his. Her dampness turning into a flood.

She heard him moan and she pulled back, his green eyes fixated on hers. Her hands slowly undoing the buttons on her shirt sliding down her arms and falling to the floor. She reached around behind her back unclasping her bra and it too fell to the floor.

She leaned her upper torso towards his body placing her rounded breast and tait pink nipple into his mouth. He looked at her asking her for permission and she nodded with enthusiasm he took her nipple greedily sucking, licking, nibbling like she was the tastiest treat in the world.

With his mouth occupied, silently thanking the gods for his oral fixation, she carried on her story.

“The redhead's friend with her beautiful brown hair and light brown eyes ran her hand down the redhead's body slithering, snaking, gliding with a feather-light touch. Across her breast, down her ribs circling her belly button before slithering her hand under the hem of her trousers and to her silk panties, finding her friend was wetter than she had ever been before.”

Scully got up from Mulder's lap, her skirt and panties falling from her legs mixing with the clothes already on the floor. She stood naked in front of him his cock straining against his jeans. She perched back on top of him undoing his belt, lowering the zipper and springing his cock free.

“She glided her fingers through the redhead's wet folds spreading the juices around before finding her clit and pressing hard then circling it softly.”

Scully placed her hand around Mulder's girth gliding her hand up and down his length hearing him moan in pleasure by her words and actions.

“She dipped her fingers into her entrance finding her tight, hot and moist. Her hand even in the weird position managing to pump lightly inside her curling her fingers and bringing her to the ultimate pleasure.”

His breaths were heavy and laboured, his cock hard, red and swollen.

“That was the first time, the second came not to far in the future when the were fully unclothed and under the bedsheets, the door unlocked while the family talked downstairs.”

She was going to make him squirm and beg for it. She had never felt so powerful as she felt right this second. She leaned overreaching in her bag and pulling out the pink little bullet she had brought from home.

She sat beside him the vibrator in one hand and his cock in the other.

“They could be caught at any time.”

Her hand starting moving the bullet across her torso starting at the ribs, then moving to the underside of her breasts down her stomach. Then back up across one breast circling her areola before stopping at her nipple and pressing down hard. Her body starting to feel the utmost excitement of her orgasm building, while her other hand was pumping him slowly at first but getting faster and faster.

“Her princess moved her lips down the redhead's body kissing lightly, circling her tongue and sucking until reaching the apex of her thighs.”

She lightly squeezed him and he jerked his hips into her hand she smiled before letting go slightly and carried on pumping, more vigorous with her ministrations.

“The redhead felt her princess' tongue against her outer lips before hovering over her clitoris.”

She moved the bullet to each breast before moving to her sweet sticky core, pressing it against her clit hard. Her orgasm nearly at its peak.

“She felt her tongue hover before it finally touched and when it did - her princess did things that she didn’t think possible.”

He hung on every word and his eyes followed every movement, “What did she do?” he whispered softly.

“She swished, swooped, even zigzagged across her clit, her fingers felt like magic pumping skimming, sinking into the depths between her legs.”

His eyes were dark the hunger for the epic ending hanging over him. “Fuck, please.” he stammered.

Her hand squeezed him hard before violently pumping him.

“She screamed and screamed as the waves of pleasure crashed upon her body. Her body milking every moment of her princesses tongue.”

“SSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCUUUUUUUUUULLLLLLLLYY.”

He bellowed his hot seed flowing out of him in waves upon waves like Mount Vesuvius erupting from its depths. It was on her hand, her arm, she even had some on her body it was also on his chest, stomach and trousers.

Hearing her name screamed from him lips sent her body into vicious and wild convulsions. Her own explosive orgasm so earth-shattering leaving her breathless and trembling.

Later when they were snuggled in bed after cleaning themselves up. His head and lips buried in her red hair. He asked if any of her story was real. One word flowed of her lips before falling asleep, that word was

“Yes.”

The End.

*********************

Tagging; @skullsmuldon @xfpornbattle @today-in-fic @peacenik0 @foxystarbucks @baronessblixen @storybycorey

#The X-Files #the x files #TXF #txf fanfic #pornbattle #Fox Mulder #Dana Scully #msr fanfic #msr #mulder and scully

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kyouryokusenshi · 5 years

Text

Between Darkness and the Light

Summary: Scully struggles with past demons as their daughter’s birthday approaches.

Written for the Halloween XF Exchange and Ann Marie/bumblebee1220 with Spooky word prompt: Nightmare. Special thanks to Nicole @gaycrouton @xfilesfanficexchange for organizing these awesome exchanges and to my beta readers @monikafilefan and @rationalcashew as always for such awesome work and keeping my grammar in check. :D

In the darkness, adrenaline pumped through her veins as the sound of her beating heart thrummed through her eardrums. It was almost deafening. A baby cried profusely. Her baby. William, her miracle child. She felt herself slamming her weight against the door, screaming at the top of her lungs for the attacker to stop. It felt like an eternity before the door gave way and she only caught a slight glimpse of the man, pillow in his hands with the intent on killing her child before she unloaded the rest of her clip into his chest. She watched him drop to the ground in a heap.

She remained frozen in place, unable to move. The gun dropped from her hand with a clatter. William continued to cry and she watched as the man on the floor pooled her carpet with a deep crimson as she processed what had just happened. This man tried to kill her child.

It wasn’t until the sound of her mother’s voice filled the room that she was drawn out of her stupor. “DANA!” her mother cried out, her voice laced with terror before her gaze settled on the bloodied sight at their shoes. Scully’s hands flew to her mouth as she fought the urge to vomit. However, the sound of William’s continuous piercing cries stirring her maternal instinct into motion.

William continued to wail in his crib from the commotion, his face beet red and scrunched up, tears glistening on his rounded cheeks with his tiny hands suspended mid-air. Her mother’s next moves were all a blur as she saw the older Scully reach into the crib in an effort to comfort and placate the baby.

Scully’s legs felt as if they were rooted in place by lead. Her head was spinning and she barely caught a glimpse of her mother as she walked towards her with William in her arms. She was obviously terrified, but concern for her daughter seemed to override any fear that seemed to remain. Blood seeped from her hairline, revealing that she had been hurt during her efforts to protect her grandson.

She hadn’t realized she’d been hyperventilating until she felt her mother’s concerned touch, causing her to involuntarily flinch at the contact.

“Dana...DANA?” Maggie Scully urged. “We need to call 911.”

William’s cries seemed to dissipate in the comfort of his grandmother’s arms as she tried to console his mother.

Scully shook her head, barely aware of the hot tears spilling down her cheeks.

Suddenly, the sound of movement from the living room caught Maggie’s attention and she all but thrust William into Scully’s arms before retreating from the room to find the source of the commotion.

William was quiet as Scully’s tears continued to fall, almost blissfully unaware of everything that had just happened. That fact only caused Scully to cry harder as she whispered to her son while simultaneously taking in his milky baby scent. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry sweetheart,” she chanted. All she could think about was Mulder and how she had failed to keep their son safe in his absence. She hated herself for sending him away. What had she been thinking?!

William let out a small mewl against her in response.

In the distance, she could hear Doggett and Reyes’ voices. They were talking to her mother. She took a deep breath as she gathered herself to move away from the crime scene and into the other room.

Suddenly, she was whisked away by a bright light and words uttered by a dying man,“Your son has to die.”

“Why?!” She shrieked. “Who told you that?! He’s my son...HE’S MY SON!”

-------

“Scully?” Mulder’s voice pierced through her thoughts. “Scully, it’s me. It’s okay, I’m here,” he pled.

Scully’s eyes flew open and was greeted by the darkness in the familiar comfort of their unremarkable house. It took her a moment to adjust to her surroundings and realize where she was.

She turned to the left to see Mulder sitting up beside her, his hand on her back, worry evident in his features.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, clutching the sheets in her hands. She realized she was still trembling.

“You had a nightmare?”

Scully looked down and closed her eyes against the darkness of the room. “Yes and no.”

A moment of silence passed between them before the sound of crying crackled through the baby monitor next to her, reminding her that she’d had another baby completely dependent on her just down the hall.

She nearly threw off the sheet and quickly padded down the hall, her mind relieved at the sight of her baby girl in her crib. She was fifty-five years old. She had a, now, one-year-old daughter and an eighteen-year-old son who was out there living his life- aside from the odd visits he surprised them with. At times, her mind struggled to entertain the image of the small baby boy she carried in her arms with the young man she’d seen on limited occasions.

Scully scooped up the baby, instantly calming her with her presence. Rocking her gently, she made small soothing noises.

“What is it, baby girl? Something scare you?” she crooned. Their daughter had started sleeping through most of the night a few months back. Sometimes, Scully still woke up each day in complete awe of the fact that they had another miracle baby well into their fifties.

She was suddenly aware of Mulder beside her, his face full of concern.

“Honey,” he pressed gently. “You kept screaming for William in your sleep. Did he...was it another vision?”

Scully sighed, trying to find the words. Just a few years ago, their son was a taboo subject as they each grieved in silence. She had made a commitment, a sacred vow in that church that, come what may, they would break through the darkness together.

“It was a memory. I know you know about the threats on William’s life, but Mulder...I, I witnessed it firsthand,” her voice broke as she looked down at her daughter’s deep blue eyes staring back at her as if completely mesmerized by the sight of her mother.

Mulder’s chest tightened at the sight of tears spilling over Scully’s cheeks as she involuntarily smoothed her hand over her daughter’s downy head. When she turned to look at him, he could see the pain from all those years ago in those watery depths.

“I saw him...with a pillow,” she choked how. “I-I shot him and…” she had difficulty continuing as her throat was clogged with emotion. “If I didn’t get there in time… I-.”

Her face fell as she let out a sob, unable to continue. Mulder crossed the distance between them and pulled both of them into his arms. His heart ached for all Scully had endured and experienced in his absence. Scully held onto their daughter protectively as she sobbed into Mulder’s chest at the memory that felt as if no time had passed.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed. “He’s okay, Scully,” Mulder whispered. “It was never your fault. None of it.”

His chin found it's a familiar place as her head tucked safely beneath it. Their daughter squirmed between them in protest, but it went unnoticed in their shared grief. Mulder didn’t notice as his shirt became completely soaked in tears; however, her sobbing eventually subsided and they stood completely still in the nursery. A small night light illuminated the darkness of the room in addition to the scattered glow in the dark stars above them.

Scully felt a small tug on a lock of hair. “Ma...ma-ma. Mama.”

Her eyes flew open, hoping beyond hope that her ears weren’t betraying her. Mulder couldn’t help but smile as they pulled apart. He watched as Scully looked down at their daughter in awe as she stared up at Scully, her fist full of red hair. Ever since she was born, her hair seemed to serve as Katie’s security blanket.

“Mama,” she said again.

Mulder fought back a wide grin suddenly pulling at his features. He didn’t want to ruin the moment for Scully. He worked tirelessly day in and day out while Scully was at the hospital, begging her to say “Mama” and “Dada”. He wanted so much for Scully to hear the words she’d been craving all these years even if she already knew that she was a mother.

“Oh, my sweet baby girl,” she gushed. She was crying again, but Mulder knew these were tears of happiness.

Whether it was the hours of effort he put into getting her to say "Mama and Dada" or that their daughter had impeccable timing he wasn't entirely sure. Katie always seemed to be acutely aware of her mother's emotions ever since Scully was pregnant with her. Each and every time Scully was upset, whether about William, her mother or just afraid for their daughter, she was rewarded with a gentle jab at her insides.

They had their own special type of connection he couldn't explain, of that he was certain.

"I love you," Scully gushed. "I’ve loved you since the very moment I found out you were growing inside of me."

Katie shifted in her grip, reaching for Scully's face with her tiny hands.

"Mama," she said again.

Scully took her daughter's hand in her free one and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I know," she whispered. "You don't like seeing Mommy sad." She sniffled before she let out a laugh.

"You could use a change though."

Mulder smiled. "Let me do it. You go back to bed, I know you have to get up in a few hours."

Scully nodded as she passed the baby to Mulder's waiting arms. "Goodnight, baby," she whispered.

"See if she'll take a bottle, but I don't think she's hungry," Scully said. With a gentle squeeze to Mulder's upper arm, she walked out and down the hall to their bedroom.

Scully was right, Katie didn't seem to be hungry and she fell back asleep shortly after he changed her.

Mulder carefully snuck back into bed and draped his arm around Scully. He could feel her thinking as he often did.

"You okay, Scully?" He whispered from behind ber.

Scully sighed. "I just...William was only three months younger when I gave him up. Sometimes, I keep expecting something to go horribly wrong, for her to be...different. She's an incredibly intuitive baby."

"I don't think it's any more or less spectacular or unusual than your connection with William."

Scully sighed. "You're right. I just can't help but worry for her."

Mulder chuckled. "Oh, Scully, I don't think we'll ever stop worrying for her. I think we knew that going into this whole parenting thing. But things were different this time. She's fine, Scully, and I'm here. Nothing is going to take her from us."

Scully closed her eyes and released a sigh. If anyone was more in tune with her emotions than her daughter, it was Mulder.

"She probably gets it from you," she mused. "Along with many other things."

"But her skepticism from you. I swear she's doing the eyebrow thing."

Scully laughed in spite of herself. "Sure. Fine. Whatever, Mulder."

"It's true," Mulder insisted before he leaned over as Scully met him halfway for a quick kiss.

Scully hummed in response. "Mulder, have I told you lately how thankful I am you got rid of that beard?"

"All the time."

This time they both settled into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-----

The next morning came quicker than either of them expected. Mulder fed Katie as Scully got ready for work. She only worked three days a week now, but they were frequently twelve hour shifts or longer.

She threw him an appreciative glance and Mulder couldn't help but admire her long locks of hair. It brought him back to where they were long before she left and wanted to make a change.

He knew she had a particularly complicated surgery that morning and he wanted to ensure her morning was as smooth as possible, so he had coffee prepared for her from their new espresso machine, knowing she'd grab food at the hospital.

As Scully left the house, Mulder followed her onto the porch. She kissed him, long and hard, before running her hand through Katie's soft brown hair. "I love you so much, Baby. Make sure Daddy behaves himself."

Mulder opened his mouth in mock horror, but let her enjoy the moment. As Scully retreated down the steps, briefcase in hand, he whispered to Katie whose eyes followed Scully. "Can you wave bye bye to Mommy?" He instructed as he lifted a hand.

"Bye, Mommy," he said, louder this time, making Scully turn around. The sight stopped her in her tracks.

Katie had lifted her tiny arm moving it and down slightly. She babbled before she uttered "Mama" once more.

Scully's eyes filled with tears and she fought the urge to run back and kiss them both profusely as she had to be at the hospital in thirty minutes.

"Bye, Baby," she said, waving back.

Mulder stood there as Katie waved her arm profusely. “Ba ba,” she started giggling in the process and he could tell Scully was pulling away with great difficulty.

The two of them watched until Scully’s car disappeared from sight and Mulder turned to retreat back up the stairs. “That’s it, Baby...now say “Da-da”,” he encouraged.

“Ba-ba,” Katie continued with a grin. Mulder sighed. The disappointment never lasted long when it came to his daughter as she was always full of surprises. He moved to press a firm kiss against her cheek and she erupted into laughter. “Baaaa.”

“Da-da,” he said again as he stopped on the top of the porch, turning back to the graveled driveway.

It was eerily quiet as a gentle wind passed through. Mulder spotted a few errant leaves floating in the wind and Katie instinctively tried to reach for them. She was such a curious little thing. “ Just like someone else I know,” Scully often teased.

She was turning one in just a few days, a day she coincidentally shared with Mulder. They had a simple party planned with Doggett, Reyes, their daughter, Gracie, as well as Skinner and Kim. They invited Bill and Charlie along with their families, but both were unable to get flights out as Bill was still in Germany. There was someone else they were yearning for, but they didn’t want to get their hopes up.

Mulder knew Scully was almost always worried if they would be enough for their daughter. “ We’re so old, Mulder, with very little family left and just a few friends. Will the small niche group we have ever be enough?”

They were at least thankful that Katie got on well with John and Monica’s daughter- who was only a few months younger than Katie. Both Scully and Reyes’ alien DNA had allowed them both to become pregnant later in life, even if Reyes was a few years younger than Scully, but that is a story for another time.

“Your mama is out saving lives,” Mulder started, gaining Katie’s attention. “She’s certainly saved mine more times than I can count. We’re so lucky to have her. You know, I think you will be just like your mommy when you grow up.”

Katie just stared at him, grinning a toothless smile before she let out a squeal.

------

Scully had to wipe away the stray tears on her cheeks as she embarked on the drive to work she knew like the back of her hand. She didn’t understand what was wrong. In fact, everything was almost perfect. Their son knew she loved him; in fact, he dropped by every now and then. They had this wonderful second chance to be parents. It was almost too perfect.

She walked through the halls of Our Lady Of Sorrows as she did hundreds of times over. There were difficult times. Those were the times she was constantly looking over her shoulder to ensure no one followed her home, to or from the hospital. That went on for a few good years until Agent Drummy showed up. Not long after that, she was finally able to rest easy as she went about her chaotic workday. Mulder was able to show up at the hospital, causing minor uproar among the hospital staff. They would often go out to dinner and, of course, they went on a Bohemian cruise.

Everything was just fine until it wasn’t. Dinners out slowly became a thing of the past as Mulder’s nights in became long and unpredictable. She picked up more shifts at the hospital during those times. As December 2012 drew closer, Mulder would disappear from the house, chasing leads, not understanding why she wasn’t doing more to prevent what was coming. It got worse and worse until he no longer came to bed and they were fighting almost daily. At some point, she had gotten demoted to a surgeon’s assistant, though she did not mind it too terribly much. So many of her patients’ cases were becoming too personal for her and, no doubt, the hospital administration took notice. The screaming matches between her and Mulder also were physically and mentally exhausting until she just could not do it anymore.

Until she left.

The drive to work was much different after that. It was shorter, sure. She forgot how many times she had cried on that drive when she realized she wasn’t driving down her usual path. She wasn’t sure when, but she eventually was able to stop crying. It wasn’t long before she received that call from Skinner requesting their assistance and she fell down the rabbit hole again. Even though those commutes were different, it was a path that led to them both finding one another again. A path that led to another miracle child. And now here she was, traveling the same road she did all those years ago under new and renewed circumstances. She had a husband and a child to come home to.

She started her day as she often did, heading to her office and reviewing patient files, readying herself to assist with the latest patient. As she left her office, she was so engrossed in the most recent patient’s file until she felt herself run into something solid. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” she spoke quickly, rushing to catch the folder before it collided with tile.

“No worries,” a sweet, entirely unfamiliar voice replied. “Happens to me all the time; so much, in fact, my mother tells me that it must run in the family.”

Scully looked up to see a woman, clad in a white lab coat, smiling softly at her. She couldn't have been much over thirty. She had long, soft brown hair and the purest blue eyes she had ever seen, other than her child’s of course.

“Have...have we met before? I’m certain I haven’t seen you in this hospital, but you look so familiar. What’s your name?”

“Katherine, but everyone calls me Kate. I even made my parents call me that.”

Scully stood there, stunned as she felt an odd sense of deja vu settle over her as she remembered Mulder’s words to her from so long ago. “I even made my parents call me Mulder.”

Before she could respond, Kate spun on her heels. “I gotta go, maybe I’ll see you around again...”

“Dana,” Scully felt herself supplying for her. “Dr. Dana Scully.” And, the woman was gone.

Scully took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure what it was, but something about that woman shook her to her very core.

The rest of her day was uneventful. She was just about to leave as another thought struck her. Pulling out her laptop, she decided to search the hospital directory for Katherine. She mentally kicked herself for not asking for Kate’s last name and she felt it was rather odd that she did not supply it either. There was only one Katherine that populated the search results and it certainly wasn’t the woman she met in the hallway earlier. Scully heaved a sigh as she nearly slammed the laptop closed. There was only one explanation, that woman wasn’t a regular doctor here at this hospital.

Scully sighed as she retreated from her office, suddenly eager to get home. She hadn't heard from Mulder all day and she was starting to worry. Usually, he sent a text during each of her shifts, showing her the mischief he and their daughter were often up to.

As she walked outside, she spotted the woman from earlier, seemingly oblivious to her presence. She stopped against the wall and watched her continue to walk. It was ridiculous, she had no good reason to be stalking this woman.

After she got a good distance away, Scully followed in the same direction and hurried closer without being too close. She stopped for a moment, realizing she had no real plan of action here.

"Hey!" She was startled from her thoughts as the woman stopped and stared in her direction. How in the hell was she spotted that easily?

When Scully didn't respond, the woman placed her hands on her hips and eyed her skeptically...something she was guilty of far too often. "Are you following me?"

Scully frantically searched for some type of explanation. "Umm, er, I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn't catch your name."

Katherine walked closer to Scully, twirling her keys in her hand. "It's Katherine," she deadpanned.

"But your last name…" Scully paused as the woman neared her as she caught the golden reflection that contrasted against the sunlight

Scully felt her heart rate quicken, unsure of what suddenly came over her as she reached towards Katherine, grasping the golden chain around her neck. That crucifix mirrored her own.

"Hey-"

"Your last name," Scully interrupted, "wouldn't happen to be Mulder would it?" She was unable to look Katherine in the eye as her head started to spin. When the woman didn't respond, she felt her jelly-like legs give way beneath her. She swore she could have heard someone say Mom before everything went dark.

----

Scully opened her eyes slowly, looking around only to realize she was in an unfamiliar room. Her legs had been elevated with multiple pillows.

"Better now?" The familiar voice asked beside her.

Scully jumped as Katherine moved a tray in front of her. On it was a glass of fruit juice. It shouldn't have surprised her that this woman knew how to care for someone who had fainted. She was a doctor.

Once again she caught the reflection off of her necklace, which made everything immediately come back to her.

Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at the once tiny person that grew inside of her.

"My baby. My sweet baby girl. You're all grown up," her voice broke. "But how?"

Katherine smiled. "I didn't mean to frighten or confuse you, but my secret is clearly out."

Scully wiped at her eyes, not believing what she was seeing. “Oh my God, what’s happening?”

“It’s okay,” she said in a rational voice that mirrored her own as she sat next to her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Shaking her head and reaching for the juice, she took a long sip before she continued. She had so many questions and at the same time, she was unsure of what to ask.

“You’re a doctor, too?”

“Yes,” the brunette responded with a smile that reminded her so much of Mulder.

Scully was in tears again- she couldn’t help it. This woman was a total stranger and at the same time, she felt as if she already knew this adult version of her child. She decided to start simple.

“You’re taller than me,” she chuckled through her tears, making Katherine smile. “Though that’s a fairly easy achievement.”

Several moments passed as Scully stared at her daughter and suddenly the questions she wanted to ask bubbled to the surface. “What are you doing here? How old are you? Are we still alive? Do you have children?”

Katherine smiled as she sat in front of her. Scully looked around at the fairly modest and yet, clean apartment and took a mental note of where her daughter’s cleaning habits came from.

“You have a lot of self-doubts,” Katherine started. “You worry if you’ll be able to care for me properly and protect me, the younger me anyway, because of what’s happened in the past...your past.”

Scully opened her mouth to respond, but was unsure how to answer. It was true. Before Katherine continued, Scully felt a twinge of anxiety creep up, wondering what was coming next.

“Relax,” she said as if reading her mind. Could she read minds?

“You should listen to him more, you know,” Katherine said.

“When have I ever been wrong, Scully?” Scully could almost hear the words pouring out of Mulder’s lips.

“Jesus, you’re so much like him,” she muttered.

“A good thing, I hope?”

“Of course it is...but please, tell me.”

Katherine looked thoughtful for a moment. “I have to be careful about how much I divulge to you...changing the future and whatnot. I am thirty-three years old and, no, I don’t have kids...or a partner for that matter. I’ve never desired kids personally and neither has…” she was hesitant to elaborate.

Scully seemed to pick up on the indication. “William-Jackson, do you know him, is he,”

Katherine smiled. “He’s alive. He’s married, but they, also, do not have children. While we’re not exactly alike, we’re both similar in that we’re different because of the alien DNA you passed to us. Not to worry, however...you don’t need to worry for my life or safety because of it. Instead, both of us are dedicated to a cause that helps children like us. There are many more.”

Scully sighed as she tried to wrap her head around all of it.

“Things are so much different now, so progressive, but I’ll admit I worried a bit that you’d pressure me for grandchildren.”

Scully laughed as the tears started flowing again. “I would never. My parents, as I’m sure the me in your time already told you, were often disapproving of my life choices. But all I ever wanted, want, for you and William is for you both to be happy. To grow up loved...and safe,” her voice broke and it took her a moment to compose herself.

“As for grandchildren, ha- we’re parents for the second time in our FIFTIES, so that itch has already been scratched.”

Together, they both laughed.

“My mom said the same thing,” Katherine shrugged.

“She is a wise woman if I must say so myself.”

“She certainly is,” Katherine agreed.

“So…” Scully hesitated. “Are you...happy?”

Katherine smiled a warm smile. She reached forward and took Scully’s hand in her own.“Yes, very much so...because of you and Dad.”

“Are we… ?” she hesitated again.

“You’re both still alive and doing fairly well...in your eighties. Pushing each other with each other’s wheelchairs. Now, the tables have been turned and it’s my turn to worry about you.”

Scully let out a tearful laugh as she recalled Mulder’s words to her not long before their daughter was conceived. “Baby…I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be. I had a happy childhood. You gave me a good life.”

Scully swallowed back tears as she nodded. She glanced around the room and saw a simple photo sitting next to Katherine on a coffee table. Katherine caught her gaze and handed her the photo before she even had a chance to ask for it.

In it, she could see four people. Despite the years of age that added fine lines and wrinkles, she recognized herself and Mulder. Next to them, she could barely make out William...still the same boy she recognized with his crop of dark brown hair and eyes, but with the same added lines of wisdom that only comes with years of experience. A woman stood next to him, she appeared slightly older, but only just by a few years. She had matching long dark hair and dark eyes with an olive complexion. Last, but not least, was Katherine, her blue eyes contrasting against them. Scully gingerly ran her finger over the wooden frame as the tears fell. This was her family and they were all together. Her heart swelled at the realization that her son had found happiness and she was certain her daughter would as well.

“That’s Crystal,” Katherine offered. “Well, that’s what she likes to be called anyways. You’ll have to be patient to find out the details yourself. But she’s like us.”

Scully nodded as her hands continued to trace the frame.

“Your grandmother would have adored you. We...we were so close and I can only hope to be the kind of mother that she was.”

“I know and you are,” she insisted, taking Scully’s hands into hers. “That’s why when I was little, I wanted to be exactly like my mom when I grew up. Even though it seemed impossible and still does at times. It’s a LOT to live up to...an FBI Agent, a doctor, and scientist,” she laughed.

Scully shook her head. “You’re so much more than that, my sweet girl. I don’t even have to ask you to know it. Since the moment you were born, I knew you would change the world.”

It was Katherine’s turn to cry. She normally wasn’t an emotional person, but she was becoming overwhelmed. “The...the world, it’s a different place now. No more poverty, everyone has healthcare. We don’t have to worry about mass shootings. I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “I’ve probably said too much already. There’s still progress to be made, but…”

“A world without Trump. Thank God! I can at least sleep easier at night knowing what’s to come. I swear, I fear for you...my baby growing up in today’s climate as a woman. It’s awful,” Scully sighed.

“You’ll have to see how it plays out.”

Scully nodded, wiping her eyes as she sniffled. “I worry for William...Jackson, being out there on his own. I just want him to know how loved he is. That he has a home to come to if he wants it.”

Katherine nodded. “He knows. You told him, remember? I actually have a feeling you’ll be seeing him again soon. He has his own part to play in things. You’ll see. He...he’s always been a good big brother...protective. Still is, even though we’re both grown ass adults now,” she couldn’t help but chuckle.

Scully smiled proudly. “That’s big brothers for you. I had one myself.”

“I know.”

Scully’s heart ached as she knew she couldn’t stay this way with her grown daughter forever. She had to go home soon...to her home.

“I love you...so much,” Scully felt the words rolling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Katherine wiped the tears from her eyes. “I know. I love you too...Mom.”

If Scully was certain she was all out of tears, she had another thing coming. “Oh my God...I’m still. I’m not used to hearing that.”

Standing up, she pushed the folding table out of the way. “Can I...hold you?” she asked, outstretching her arms. To her surprise, Katherine was immediately at her feet and threw her arms around Scully. Both Scully women erupted into sobs, though they were tears of joy and happiness.

“I love you,” Scully kept saying. “I need you to know that.”

“I know. I know you do. William knows it, too.”

They stayed that way for several minutes before she heard Katherine whispered against her. “You have to go back now.”

Scully was torn. She had only just gotten to know this older version of her daughter and now she had to leave?

“No, I...” Scully started to protest.

Katherine forced them both apart by pulling back. She placed her hands against Scully’s cheeks, cradling them in her own. “You are exactly the same as I imagined you to be...so long ago,” she added with a laugh. “You’re the same, Mom.”

“Well, that’s reassuring, I guess,” Scully laughed tearfully.

Katherine smiled and placed a loving kiss on her mother’s cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you most, baby girl.”

Katherine couldn’t help but roll her eyes, in typical Scully fashion, eliciting a laugh from Scully.

“That still hasn’t changed and it’s embarrassing.”

“You always will be my baby girl, even when you’re fifty and I’m six feet under.”

“Okay, now you’re just being morbid.”

The beautiful young woman in front of her began to fade, her touch dissipating. No.

As Katherine’s hands fell from her face, Scully reached out and pulled her forward, placing a loving kiss on the crown of her daughter’s head. “Bye, my sweet girl.”

The last thing she saw was her daughter wave before the whole room was catapulted into darkness.

“Bye, Mom.”

-----

Scully shifted as the images faded away. In the distance, she could smell Mulder’s familiar cologne and hear his voice calling to her.

“Scully.”

Her eyes flew open and she was greeted with the familiar darkness of the room in their unremarkable house.

“Scully?” he tried again, his concern growing.

It was then that she realized her face was still wet with tears. No wonder Mulder was so concerned.

She sighed, staring at the ceiling as he continued. “Another nightmare?”

Scully shook her head. “No, no nightmares,” she said.

Mulder waited several moments for her to continue. When she didn’t, he sighed, not wanting to push her. He knew she would tell him when she was ready.

Reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, she said, “I’m good, Mulder. Promise.”

“Good. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. I haven’t finished all of the party decorations. But if you need me, I’m just a wink away.”

“Thank you.”

“Night, Scully.”

“Night, Mulder.”

--------

Scully sat in the rocking chair in the back of their house. Katie sat in her lap, babbling away at whatever it was that struck her fancy in the horizon. One year ago today, she brought her second miracle baby into the world. Coincidentally, it was also Mulder’s birthday. However, his only thoughts were for his daughter and Scully loved him for it. Little did he know, she had an extra special birthday cake hiding in the freezer and that John and Monica were watching Katie tonight.

As the trees bustled in the fall breeze, Scully turned back to the birthday girl and the butterfly cutout book in her lap. “Ba..ba ba,” she chanted.

Scully’s thoughts began to wander to the dream she had the previous night, or was it a vision? It never did occur to her to ask Katherine what abilities she had that were similar to William’s. In fact, there was a lot she still didn’t know. What kind of doctor was she? What was her specialty?

Smiling, Scully shook her head as she placed a small kiss onto the soft brown hair of her daughter in front of her, who was pulling at the pages to reveal more colorful cutouts.

“So you like being called Kate, huh?” she found herself musing out loud.

Katie looked up at her all of a sudden as if she were reading her mind. She opened her mouth and let out a sudden squeal of delight.

“So Kate it is then?”

Not that she expected a response, but Kate’s attention was suddenly torn back to the scenery in front of them. The trees blowing in the wind and open land before them.

She raised a tiny arm and began to move it in the same haphazard motion that she did when she and Mulder saw her off in the mornings. She was waving...at nothing in particular it seemed as she observed the scene in front of them.

“You see something, baby?”

She let out another squeal as a grin spread across her face. “Gaahh.” Another giggle.

Scully closed the book and set it on the small table beside her. “We should probably finish getting you ready, huh?”

“Da...Dada,” she said suddenly as they turned towards to screen door. Scully’s eyes widened, again filling with tears as she realized what had happened.

“Yeah, Daddy is inside,” she explained, suddenly in a rush to go inside.

Little did she know, Mulder was standing just a few feet away from the other side of the door.

“Dada,” she said again as Mulder came into view, lifting her arms towards him.

“Oooh my Sweet Pumpkin, Happy Birthday to me, too, huh?” he said as he took her from Scully and blew raspberries into her cheeks. She erupted into a fit of giggles and Scully smiled as the sound of their daughter’s laughter filled the house.

In the distance, a lone figure remained unseen, cloaked in a hooded sweatshirt. He smiled absently to himself at the home that was filled with warmth and laughter. Only one person could see him when others could not.

She, who was the light in the darkness.

The one who would grow up to change the world.

END

#xfspooky2019 #mulderandscully #xfilesfanfic

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starbuck09256 · 5 years

Text

A picture in the sand

Episode Fic

Unruhe

Pictures in the Sand

Author: @starbuck09256

For: Kasey Slippin Mickeys

Rating: Teen (I did use the f word not sorry)

First a huge Shot Out to @gaycrouton for putting this goodie together. Girl you are fantastic. I can’t wait to read your fic and everyone else's!

My prompt was Unruhe and that it should take place in Traverse City with another woman goes missing. I followed it mostly. I rewatched the episode about 9 times, which isn’t bad I like the ep anyway. Here is my angsty (as requested) interpretation.

Not gonna lie, I’m really terrible at procrastinating so this is very much not Beta’d I apologize for spelling and grammar errors. Just happy to barely make the deadline.

6am Dana Scully's Apartment

She wheels her suitcase next to the end table. Not paying attention she swings it to far and the picture frame on top falls and shatters to the newly stained wood flooring. “Shit” Scully mutters before moving her suitcase to find all the shards of broken glass. She picks up the frame staring at a picture of her and Melissa at a family picnic at the beach from a few years ago. Melissa’s glowing smile staring back at her, she traces the pattern of Melissa’s dress remembering Melissa spinning them around in the sand, letting the tiny pebbles crush against their toes. Like they used to do in San Diego. Melissa had been galavanting around the world and had just gotten back her smile to be with family, the lightest Dana had seen her in the last few years. Scully thought it was just because Melissa had finally gone to all the places she talked about endlessly in the dark confines of their shared room. Scully sighs, she remembers that dress Melissa wore in a different context too, one where she is helping their mom pack it away in a donation bin. Melissa so much taller than Scully, it didn’t make sense for Scully to keep it in the back of her closet as a reminder of the women who embodied the bright color and flowy design. The picture inside the jagged frame not scratched and torn right on the side of Melissa dress. The irony isn’t lost as she sits there on the floor where Melissa bled out in between the wood slates a bullet meant for Scully, a life meant for Melissa. She can’t help feeling that the last two years have been so unfair, she is no closer to justice for her sister, no closer to finding the answers of where Duane Berry took her. Now as the nightmares have increased she thinks of the women in Allentown all dying slowly, she wonders if she is next in line. If this picture of her and her sister will find its home on her moms mantle along with catholic candles that flicker in and out of all the lives tragically cut short by senseless violence. Scully presses the picture into the front pouch of her suitcase. Vowing to find a new frame to hold the precious photo right when she gets back from their new case in Michigan.

She’s only been to Michigan a couple of times. The only real fact about the state that she loved is no matter where you are you are within 7 miles of water. The water calls to her, always has, from years of watching her father navigate it’s depths to summers spent at camps with giant lakes that at night made you feel like you might as well be in the middle of the ocean. She remembers briefly staying once and seeing the shores of the great lake as it extended out for miles. From her seat at the window she looks out to the expanse of trees and meadows the clouds just above the horizon. Mulder shifts against her. His head resting in her lap on his coat. It’s been a weird few months between bounty hunters and his moms stroke he is more restless than normal. The case brought to them because of the weird photo of a girl seemingly screaming into the camera. Mulder ever elusive with his information he likes to dangle clues and hints to her but never the full story. It use to be fun, this game they play him trying to get her to open her mind to the fantastic to make connections and leaps with scraps of information. Now though it just gets on her nerves. Why not just tell her the facts? Does he think she is so closed minded that she will refuse to go? She wants to refuse. Start standing up for herself more, part of her is tired of seeing these women taken, beaten, lives destroyed in the end does it even matter the how? Is the why so important? What about stopping it? Lately she feels like they are only there for the aftermath, taken to a point so far outside of plausible. She’s getting tired of being taken herself. He mumbles in his sleep and shifts closer to her. That’s the real problem she thinks, how close they are and yet not at all. While they spend endless hours together, eating, sleeping in crappy motel rooms, driving miles and miles of road and for what? to be put in danger constantly?

The larger part of her though finds it still so thrilling. The challenge the way his eyes light up when he gets a new case and they go back and forth it's why he dangles clues and hints. He loves seeing her mind work, and in truth she loves the challenge. She looks at the photo again, the edging is distorted the colors blending together. She isn’t sure how you would capture an image like this, how the abductor took such a photo. She presses her finger down on the edge looking at the long lines on the side, a face to the far right what is that? A reflection? She wonders what the image is trying to say. She thinks of the photos of her and Melissa torn and stuffed into her roller bag under the seat. She thinks back to all the photos she has taken over the years the others that grace her mantel in tiny rows. Her brothers photo with his new wife how he blames her openly for Melissa's death. As if she didn't already blame herself. She thinks of those women in Allentown how they said they are all dying, the photos they showed her of others like them that have passed on. She has an appointment in 3 months for more scans. She joined the mufon group and has been getting emails of members passing away one by one. Leaving children and husbands behind. She would only leave behind sad plants and half finished articles for medical journals and Mulder. How would he do with a new partner, she thinks back to Jerry whom he just described as a colleague. Is that all she would be to him in the end? A colleague a good friend? There have been moments when she thought they would be more. Melissa certainly thought they would be. Melissa's’ constant insistence that Mulder was the compliment to Scully's stubborn soul. Scully wonders if this is going to be the end will he be her last? She's never missed having a lover. But lately she wishes her bed wasn't so lonely. Now as Melissa has pointed out she has in fact put everything and everyone on hold for this search of theirs, to find answers for him and now for her. In the past she has found men who are obsessed with things it seems. The latest one resting in her lap. She swallows hard, sleeping with Mulder would be a terrible idea, but if there weren't consequences because she would be gone in a few months? She tries to clear her conscience about it all, her recent scans were fine but the emails of more and more members with the same type of cancer in exactly the same spot are more than scaring her. Mulder is scared too, she now stops mentioning when another one has been laid to rest. She’s seen his fear shining into her eyes when she gets even a cold. Imagine what cancer from a lover would do to the man? She would never do that to him. If the dedication he has for his annoyingly little sister is anything. The rabbit hole he would fall down if they were more and she was taken by the disease from her abduction would kill him.

She thinks about her mother and father, how after his death the strong capable of anything Margaret Scully faltered. At first her mom said she could pretend for a few minutes in the morning that he was still at sea, that his smile would grace her eyes soon as he would sweep her into a deep hug that warmed her bones. Then she would remember, remember that time was short. Missy's death certainly didn't help. Losing a child is something that no parent should ever bare. She had asked Dana to give her antidepressants, and while it scared Scully to the core it renewed her mother's faith in God. That that was the only way she could keep going, knowing that her Ahab would be there waiting for a life eternal and her sweet daughter's spirit would be free. But Melissa's death had done the opposite for Scully, she has scene so much injustice so many things that make her doubt God's word that now she has become skeptical and even cynical in so many ways. Mulder has seen it in her and while she wears her cross everyday part of it is just because it reminds her of Melissa. It reminds her to try and fight. She will fight till the bitter end. Even if that is sooner than she wants to believe. Mulder shifts slightly again and she moves the picture through her fingers. Tries to put that skepticalness to the side. Tries to think like Mulder would. Why would the killer leave it at the scene? How did he get it beforehand? Was he stalking her? She taps on the photo again and moves back to the case file, shifting just slightly careful to not disturb Mulder.

She reads the report over and over until her eyes want to water at the dry dead air of the cabin. The sun is seeping through the light onto Mulders hair now, his features almost boyish in sleep. She is usually the one sleeping against him even if flying isn’t her favorite thing. She squirms in her seat a bit wishing secretly that Mulder would wake up so she can lay against his shoulder and catch a few minutes of sleep herself. She moves her hand, fingers brushing through his hair. She knows he doesn’t mind, though he still teases her a little when she does it in doctor mode. She sees his small smile and he starts to move. She gives him a soft smile back as he rubs his eyes looking at her with the translucent clouds shading the sun as it shines dimly on her hair. He reaches up and touches her cheek to sweep a stray strand off her face. “Your turn” it’s almost a whisper. She smiles gratefully as he moves and positions his jacket against his shoulder for her to rest against. She sighs as she snuggles into the warm fabric. Mulder pulls the shade down against the morning dawn as they continue to soar through the air.

2 hours later

She wakes dimly to the voice of the captain letting them know they are starting their dissent into Grand Rapids. Traverse city looms another 2 hours away along the lake coast. It’s interesting the rules they have made through the years. They never discuss a case on a flight and so that time has been devoted to them reading books sometimes playing cards. Arguing over which mythical creature is the most likely to exist. Or more often than not it’s like this morning's flight snuggled against each other asleep. She hears Mulders soft snores against her head. The last few months she has been more worried about his sleeping habits especially after she told him what she found in Allentown. More often he comes in with dark circles and the extra coffee through the day has not gone unnoticed. She can’t complain though, because despite all of this he still is there in the morning to greet her, with a steaming cup to chase away her own night terrors. Places like planes offer a few moments of peace that the other one is safe, and that they are together. She tries not to analyze it too much. Tries to rationalize the fact that they have been through some truly horrible things and are bound to have some strong ptsd and codependency issues. She doesn’t want to love him that way. She likes them just being friends. She wants a bit more out of life, especially if there is less available to her, seeing all of these things over the years she is wondering what she is really fighting for anymore if not for Melissa maybe she would have already left. Is it to be flying off to save women from abductions? Is she trying to find validity in her choice to prove to herself that giving up medicine to become an FBI agent was really the best decision? Is she now leading herself down a path to have another Jack or even worse another Daniel?

She knows that Mulder is in love with her. She knows that he has become just as dependent on her as she has on him. She doesn’t want that, she doesn’t want a world where the two of them can only exist with the other. She has become consumed by this quest of his and paid so dearly, and now here they are chasing a lead on a case they really have no business on. She knows that it’s about the picture. He sees something or knows something she doesn’t. She’ll have to wait for the drive into town to find out.

As they reach the drugstore she is lost in the sea that is the investigation, while she looks at expired film heating beneath it parts of the edging make sense, if the film is expired and the heat has distorted the edges. But the screaming that is odd, when she points these things out to Mulder he finally explains his theory. She sees a photo booth in the drugstore small and yet she wonders if the film has been tampered here too. Mulder must think something similar as he grabs her hand just as she finishes her questions to the owner. “This film shouldn’t have the same distortion if my theory is correct.” he mutters pulling her into the small intimate photo booth. She sighs “Mulder,” she starts but he pulls her down and she is sitting right next to him and he’s smiling and pointing to the camera. She gives him the look, the one that shows she is not amused, but he wraps his arm around her leans forward to start the series of 5 photographs of them. He tries to do bunny ears and the camera catches her laughing at it. She sticks out her tongue in the next and so does he. The third picture is just them stern and serious. The fourth a soft smile from both of them. The fifth begins to click and he makes a kissy face and her grin lights up the tiny booth. Its short lived and while she thinks the exercise is pointless the film proves to be unaffected. She waits for Mulder to throw the pictures away but he doesn’t he pulls out his wallet and tucks them in with a 20 dollar bill and 2 ones. She shakes her head, he asks the owner if they can take a few more photos with the same film. “I think the picture is the key to this Scully,” he leaves and she follows him out.

They drive to the girls house, pictures on the fridge of a normal couple. Lost in moments together, traveling, and laughing. She wonders if they will find this girl alive, if these will be the last time she smiles. She thinks of moments when her and Mulder where sure that it was the end. She thinks of the pictures of them in his wallet. What a stranger would think. What she thinks of this closeness that has grown between them.

He takes the camera “Watch out scully it’s loaded,” and he points it right at her but the picture that comes out is of the girl distorted again and she looks up at him confused. He starts to tell her more about his growing theory, how these pictures are the key Psychic photography. She hates this, she hates looking at cases and having him come up with something so crazy she has to try and wrap her mind around it. She always gives him the benefit of the doubt listens to his theories, but sometimes she just wants a simple explanation. Maybe she is just burned out. It happens to everyone with all the things that have happened to them she hasn’t had a chance to take a break. She wants to talk about this more but as always he is already getting ready to leave. “He was here I think he stalked her.” As they step out into the bright sunshine her phone starts to ring, letting them know that Mary has been found wandering and disoriented.

At the hospital Scully is faced with looking in the hollow eyes of the woman on the fridge, one that won’t be smiling again as pain and inevitable death beacon her near. The scans don’t lie, Mary is facing a very difficult road of recovery if that is even possible. As Scully stares at the scans as Mulder goes to grab them something resembling coffee she thinks of Betsy in Allentown, about those women with tumors at the same spot as Marys unfortunate lobotomy. Mulder has sense Scully's distance and luckily has chosen to back off, leaving her with the time she needs to figure things out. Scully is deep in thought when Mulder returns he sets down the coffee letting the steam rise up and wafted into her nose. It’s a beautiful smell coffee, seems the fine people of Traverse City understand its importance. Mulder touches her shoulder gently a sad smile across his lips as he stars at the scans once more. Just as the uniform officer comes in and tells them another woman has been taken. Anger boils through Scully, whomever this guy is he has no idea what he is doing and unless they find him soon she is afraid of another poor woman facing the same fate. Mulder throws the rental keys to her knowing that right now he needs time to look over the details from the officer, starting working up a profile right away. Precious time is ticking fast as she presses her foot down on the pedal. This is her strength driving fast and a little more reckless than Mulder ever has. It annoys him, how much she speeds and whips into places. It’s why he drives most of the time in reality. Because she got tired of hearing him complain about her going to fast, but time is of the essence. They are following a patrol car the blue and red lights flash into the fading sun. As they race around the corner. Mulder finally looks up at her his voice catches in his throat. “Mary will never be the same will she?” Scully shakes her head in sadness. “We need to find this person, and fast” She nods and throws the car into park, throwing her seatbelt off dashing to the scene. They need a clue, a hint, and hopefully something more than a screaming girl in a fucking polariod.

Just as they get there they realize that the rush wasn’t necessary, Scully needs to review the file as Mulder heads right inside to assist. Another man dead another woman taken and nothing to go on. Mulder doesn’t find any cameras or film, in the car as he was thinking through the profile he wonders about the word Unruhe, a place? A thing? A person? It sounds like it’s a word. He asks one of the officers to use the computer quickly typing the word into a search box as he continues shuffling through 1040s and spreadsheets. Scully walks in the file in her hand, a killer like this she thinks might have been there might have been at the scene. As they argue again over the photograph she feels the frustration of the day, of the inevitable failure that might await them if they can’t find something quickly. Mulder is ready to head back to Washington, to find the clues that have eluded them so that she can save the next victim. Both of them know that time is limited and Alice doesn’t have long, while she thinks him going back to Washington is a mistake, it’s really not that long of a flight and the bureau does have some fantastic resources. She sighs hangs her head and works her connection. It seems that for them, when they go their separate ways they form a complete picture in the end.

She watches as he races out leaving her the keys to the rental car as he hitches a ride back again. She works through the evening and well into the night in a small motel with a view of Grand Traverse Bay on Lake Michigan. She opens the window and listens to the water softly kissing the sand while the moonlight shines off the lakes black opals and into the darkness. Mulder calls her lets her know his planes has landed and he has been able to get a forensic photographer to help him first thing in the morning. She lets him know that Mary Lefont died and she fears that the same will be true for Alice if the construction owner has hired men off the books. Mulder sighs, “You caught that Scully, you found us a tangible lead as soon as I find something out with this photo I’ll call you it should help you refine it” She hums in response right now she is looking at a list of 300 people in the apartments next to the latest abduction. She sighs and says she is tired before hanging up. She knows that sleep will be hard fought tonight, it’s already almost 3am. She walks out of the hotel towards the Bay listens to the waves as they crash against the shore with a dullness. While the stars shine brightly out beyond the black depths of the lake she thinks of Mary, about those pictures of her smiling in those photos on the fridge. Her toes are in the rough sand from the lake, not like the sand that she and Melissa danced to in the photo. She wonders of Alice's family will have similar photos on their mantel of another woman taken in her 30s. She hopes that the station can pull up something on the construction workers, they need this lead. Regardless of the success Mulder thinks he will find she needs the tangible investigative skills of the mortal realm. She walks back to her room, letting the moonlight chase her form across the soft swirls of the water. She falling into a lifeless deep sleep while the dull ticking of Alice's life lingers in the background.

In the morning after she wrestles Gerry to the ground. She thinks back about the pictures she has of Ahab of the two of them at her medical school graduation, her white coat and his proud smile. She wonders after all the terrible things that have happened to her would he still be so proud? Or would his smile have dimmed like that glossy paper it was printed on. Would her own eyes shine as brightly as they did that day ever again? Or had the 3 months she missed, the sister she mourned be evident through the lense. She knew the risks was aware of the horror she would face. Lately she feels as if she is facing a far more looming nightmare. Another birthday another lonely night with no prospects of changing. Mulder and her might be pushing that line in the sand between acceptable partnerly behavior but it’s a not a road she is ready to take, nor is she sure she wants too. She loves him, she knows this after so many dangerous situations, hours and days spent together how could she not. She thinks of the other pictures she knows he keeps in his wallet. The one of him and Sam, sometimes she thinks she still sees that young innocent kid staring back at her. His devilish grin when he shows her the fantastic. The way his face lights up just a little when she pulls out his favorite sunflower seeds when he was sure they were out. Does he see it in her? Does he see the young agent who was new to the field but prepared for the boys club? Does he see the same smile and young ambition she once was so consumed with that she let the rest of her life slip away? She’s getting older her birthday just passing and she thinks about the fact that now she is as old as Melissa was when she died. She thinks about the pictures they won’t take, about the people now missing from the Christmas dinners, the Sunday brunch, the nephews birthday parties. Her phone rings and it’s Mulder he booked the first flight back and is already on his way to the precinct. She wants to know where Alice Bryant is she wants them to win one for once. Mulder wants her to wait until they can interrogate Gerry together. They are so good together, she knows. The two of them play off each other so well with suspects. Mulder seems crazy and she seems scary and she loves it. She loves the power it gives her. She loves seeing justice and fear mingle together in the room. She hopes they are scared, hopes that the suspects feel even the small degree of fear that they cause their victims to feel. It is that feeling that has kept her with the FBI, she loves being the one to find the evidence and then confront the suspect with her findings. Mulder is in a way the perfect partner for her. He steps back lets her take the lead, knows that if anyone will find something tangible to hang a case on it’ll be her.

Gerry gives them a location, and as they race to find her, she can’t help but be angry at Gerry seeing her as troubled. She isn’t troubled is she? Conflicted? Scared? Maybe. She doesn’t want to overthink a psychopaths words. She learned long ago from Mulders profiles how they use words and gestures to gain trust. Luther Lee Boggs being a prime example for them both.

Scully races up the hill hoping and praying that they can find Alice alive, and hopefully not as damaged as Mary, but as she makes it to the top, Alices still form crushes her thoughts. She touches Alices’ cold skin, her cheeks. Watches as the CS tech starts to take photos of the scene. More photos, more death, and now another body. At least Gerry is in custody. At least they saved the future woman that he might have tortured and killed. Mulder meets her at the car, her anger rolls off her in waves like the lake shore. Maybe tonight she will sit on the shore and cry, no one would be able to hear her sobs over the water. She wants to leave to go home and fix her broken frame try to not think of photos and sand and lives that could have been. She can’t drive and though she wanted to be in control she hands the keys to Mulder so they can drive back to their hotel and clean up. She needs to wash the failure she feels down the drain. It doesn’t work that way, Gerry shot the police officer that was processing him, they put out an APB but her mind can only race about possible new victims he already might be on his way to take.

They look at the photo of the officer on the paperwork, Mulder is right the photos are probably the key. God who else did Gerry take a photo of? Who else is going to deal with a madman telling them they are troubled and killing them to fix it?

Apparently the benefit of Traverse City being smaller than most major metropolitan areas is when you need to steal something you pick the same drugstore you stalked your victims. Gerry has assaulted the owner and taken more film. They walk through the drugstore one more time, she thinks of the apartment complexes on each side and tells Mulder as such as he once again puts money into the photo machine. She looks at him in curiosity, last time they went in this time he is letting it roll without them. HIs theory has developed and isn’t ready to share just yet, she knows he will explain in the car. She wants to get going, he tosses her the keys and she walks out into the bright sun.

She doesn’t remember much she remembers her foot hurting from the injection remembers the struggle as she tries to get her gun. She wakes strapped to a chair with Gerry in the dark corner as her eyes try to adjust to the light. Her arms taped down roughly the large sheetrock tool on the shiny metal table. She wants to plead in a responsible way. Gerry knows that this is the end, she can’t let him think that she will be part of his prize. She doesn’t remember much of her German important phrases and it takes her a few moments to come up with what to say to him. Especially since conversational german was the only class she ever got a B in. Luckily the words are there, as if her mind knows to channel the knowledge buried so deep. Gerry gets up to grab the camera, she sees her chance if she can get the tray she can cut her restraints and take him out. She needs to stall, she needs Mulder to have time to find her. She wants to give him time, She asks Gerry about his own Howlers about the trouble with his father. She channels Mulder and knows what brothers will do for sisters. Her own brother would do for her and Melissa. Gerry pulls the tray away and takes the camera to take her picture once more. She struggles with thinking that the photos she took with Mulder in that small cramped little booth won’t be the last ones he sees of her. He will see her on the floor of the padded room in a weird distorted photo that will filter into his dreams for years to come. But luck is on her side and she is able to convince Gerry to take a photo of himself. The camera flash is almost blinding, she knows he is sick she just needs to show him that this has always been about him and not anyone else. The photos come out in a small series of flashes, they wait for the polarization to show the image. She feels vindicated when they show him dead, show him his fate. That justice is finally with her. She just hopes it doesn’t plan on taking her with him. Gerry flips through the photos over and over. Questioning the images, like Mulder did. What do they mean? She hopes they mean that her life will be hers again, that she will be able to see the waves and shore once more. But Gerry thinks it’s about time, that his time is ending and he must hurry. Fear runs through her body a surge of adrenaline as she tugs and struggles against the restraints. She thinks about the time she almost drowned, how it felt struggling in the water, wondering why something so beautiful and peaceful would try to take her life. How she would gasp and flail her arms in sheer panic, like now as she hears Mulder calling her name. God Mulder please please prove that picture true and he does. Thank god he does. She feels him release her final bonds reach out his hand to take hers. She feels the storm calming inside of her, like Mulder is a life preserve her around her waist pulling her up against the tide. She walks out of the dark trailer, walks past the paramedics straight to the lakeshore. She takes off her heels, the prick of the injection still stings but the sand and the wind and the waves cradle her in their embrace. She takes a deep breath, lets the air of the misty water fill her lungs up. She takes a moment to look down at her feet in the sand and as she looks up she almost swears she sees Melissa in the distance dancing on a distant shore.

tagging @today-in-fic @gaycrouton @xfilesfanficexchange @improlificinsarcasm

#xfepisode2019 #mulder and scully #unruhe #s4 #fanfic #msr #angst #myfic #xfchallenge #so glad to be done #man I need a beer #this was a toughie #hope you like it Kasey!

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gingerstorm101 · 6 years

Text

Remind Me

He bought the ticket on a whim; he wasn’t going anywhere, but it was the only way he was allowed inside the airport. He had to find her before her plane took off, he couldn’t let her go without him saying anything. He couldn’t let her go. Not again. Not after everything they’ve been through. Not with everything he felt in his heart. He looks down at the ticket in his hand. San Diego, Gate 7 leaving at 7:30pm. He looks at his watch; 7:15. He has to hurry.

He runs through the building like it’s on fire, ticket clenched tightly in his hand. He continues down the hallway until he comes to a sign that reads ‘Gate 9’. “Fuck!” He exclaims under his breath, He twists around and accidentally bumps another man. He says a hurried “Sorry!” as he runs the opposite way, searching for a sign, any sign, that will lead him to her.

He spins where he stands again, finding the sign that reads ‘Gates 6, 7, & 8’ on the far side of the room. “Fuck!” He shouts again, taking a running start towards his destination.

He checks his watch, he curses again, sprinting to the seventh gate. It takes him only a minute to reach the gate, then calls out her name. “Scully!” He doesn’t get a response. When he closes in on the area, he calls out again. Every head raised to look at him, but he can’t see the hair he could pick out in a crowd. “Scully!” He shouts at the top of his lungs, panicking. Maybe he was too late; maybe he lost her for good this time.

“Mulder” comes a soft voice from behind him.

He turns around, his eyes falling on the petite red-head in front of him. “Scully”, he breathes, his voice rough from his cries.

She slowly steps toward him without a word, but her steps become faster as they get closer until her arms are wrapped around his neck and her hungry lips are on his. His strong arms encircle her small body and he lifts her up as she hooks her ankles behind his back. They hold onto each other for dear life without a notice of their surroundings. Seemingly out of nowhere, they hear a man yell “Get a room!” from across the way.

She is the first to break apart for air, burying her nose into his neck, taking a deep breath in. He settles himself into the curve of her neck, kissing her just in right way to make her shiver.

“Been so long that you’d forgotten the way I used to kiss your neck.” He whispers, his lips brushing against her delicate skin.

He could barely hear it when she whispers into his neck. “Remind me, remind me.”

“So on fire, so in love, way back when we couldn’t get enough.” He squeezes his eyes shut, remembering those days, back in the 90s when things were so much easier. Hard to believe it was only 10 years ago.

Her breath tickles his neck when she repeats his words. “Remind me, remind me.”

They hold onto each other, face buried in each other’s warm neck and distancing themselves from the reality around them. Over the intercom, they don’t hear the flight announcement, “Flight 246 to San Diego now boarding.” They stay like this, holding each other close as the people move around them, beginning to board the plane outside.

He squeezes his arms around her waist, breathing in her shampoo he has come to know and love, and pressing his lips against her pulse. Her thighs press into his hips in response, and he has to do everything in his power to stop his blood from rushing south. She detaches him from her neck, blinks once then place her lips back onto his, massaging his mouth, probing with her tongue for entrance.

Her insistence defeats all the effort he put into not getting a hard on. He gives up and opens his mouth for her, their tongue brushing against one another. Lost in their own world.

“Last call for Flight 246 to San Diego.”

“Scully,” He says between kisses. “You’re flight.” She doesn’t say anything, but she presses her forehead against his, staring deep into his eyes. He understands her meaning; they have one more night.

And if he has his way, she won’t leave him behind this time.

Behind them, the door closes.

***

The street lamps outside illuminate the bedroom as the two hastily makes their way to the bed in the middle of the room, their lips locking together and their bodies pressed up against each other. He pulls at the hem of her shirt when the back of her knees hits the bed. She reluctantly breaks from his lips to help take it off. With it finally over her head and on the floor beside her, she works at getting his shirt off, her fingers brushing against the muscles in his abs.

He grabs her hips and lifts her onto the bed. She rolls her body into the middle where he joins her, leaning in for a kiss. “Do you remember how it use to be? We’d turn out the lights and we didn’t just sleep?” She breathes against his lips.

“Remind me, baby, remind me.” He says, kissing down her body, swirling his tongue around her navel, before undoing the button to her jeans and pulling them down her legs. He teases his way up to her thighs, kissing the insides and then her cotton covered lips, moist with want. She arches her back as she moans his name. She grabs his hair to pull him up closer to her, instantly going for his belt when she can reach.

With the belt finally undone, Scully pushes the jeans around his ankles with her feet and flips him onto his back. He kicks off his pants, letting them fall to the floor at the end of the bed. She teases his chest, running her tongue over his nipple and causing his hips to jerk, pressing his erection against her center. They both moan. “Oh, so in fire, so in love.” She whispers, gazing into his eyes and the familiar look in them. “That look in your eye that I miss so much.”

“Remind me, baby, remind me.” His voice husky with need. She scoots back, sitting on his thighs, his fingers tickling her waist. They sit there in their underwear, gazing into each other’s eyes, fingers dancing across skin, lightly teasing each other. He tickles her slightly, making her squirm just a little bit causing her to lean into his erection. A low moan escapes his lips and a sudden jerk of his hips makes her moan in return.

She leans forward, her mouth hovering over his. “Do you remember the way it felt?” She asks with hooded eyes, feeling his hands come around to squeeze her ass.

He lifts his head, lightly pressing his lips to hers before whispering, “You mean back when we couldn’t control ourselves?” He pulls at the waistband of her panties with one hand, while the other snakes up her back to her bra, successfully unclips it and tosses it to the floor behind her. With one barrier gone, she sets to work on his boxers, hooking her fingers under the waistband and tugs down. With her help it doesn’t take long to get them to his feet and on the floor with his kicking and wiggling.

With his garments gone, he flips her over, presses his cock to her covered entrance and hungerally attacks her mouth. She willingly accepts him, encourages him with the probing of her tongue, and moves his hands down to her undergarments to remind him that she still has them on. He rubs his member against her, rotating his hips and feeling the moisture seep through the cotten. “Mulder, please.” She whines when he pulls back to take a deep breath. He smirks down at her, remembering the last time she begged him in a similar manner.

---i stopped editing here last night because i was exhausted, sorry. I will continue this morning.

He sits back on his heels, catching the gleam in her eye. Bringing her ankle up to his mouth, he kisses the outside of her foot. She struggles in his grasp as his lips tickle her, his face narrowly missing her heel as it shoots forward, almost getting him in the jaw. He mocks glares at her, holding her legs up as he reaches down to hook his fingers around her panties and pulls them to her toes, successfully flinging them to the floor.

He runs his tongue over his lips as he looks down upon her, her who was all for him, in their past, and now in their future (He hopes). His biggest fear is her running off to San Diego, that she wouldn’t come back. He puts that in the back of his mind and focuses on the task at hand. He shifts back on his bed, crouching forward to kiss her inner thighs, each kiss closer to her entrance. He kisses her folds once, twice, then runs his tongue along her. He smirks when she grabs his hair, tugging hard as she moans loudly. His fingers play with her thighs, creeping closer before they lay below his mouth. Without a word, his middle finger enters her, her back arching and fingers scraping his scalp.

He smirks against her, licking her clit. “Oh, how I love to watch you squirm.” She lifts her head, raising a brow at him, watching as he positions his upper body between her legs. Curling his finger, he rapidly pistons it, pounding his hand against her open legs. He can’t take his eyes off of her; her hair flared across his pillow, her mouth open in a silent scream, her back dangerously arching, and her legs spread wide before him. Nothing more beautiful than this. And he had missed it. This part of her that she gives him during these most intimate moments, he never wants to lose again. “Cum for me, Scully.”

Lowering his head, he wraps his lips around her clit and sucks. Hard. He feels the tension in her body grow as he thrusts his finger into her petite body. She is close. He adds his tongue to the mix, swirling it around her clit. The tension grows for a moment before he hears it, her scream of his name as she finally orgasms. God, the neighbours might hear them.

He crawls up her body, kissing her stomach, breast, and finally her lips. His erection painfully hard, bumps against her swollen clit as he raises himself closer to her. “Better darling?”

She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, and hums. He grinds his pelvis against her own, coating his member in her slick orgasm. He reaches down for a kiss, his hand coming up to squeeze her breast. She wraps her legs around his waist as she moans into his kiss, hooking her ankles together and rubbing against him.

His hips jerk against her, causing them to moan in unison. She reaches down to grasp him in her hand. He stops her the moment she brushes the head. “You do that and it’ll be over before we start.” He smirks, leaning down to capture her lips.

“Then you better get started if you wanted to stay on top.” She whispers, rubbing herself against him again. She loosens her grip on his waist as he leans back, taking himself in his hand. He lines himself up, eyes flickering to her face as he slowly enters her and watching her jaw drop as he pushes himself to the hilt. Around his waist, he feels her tighten her thighs, pulling him closer.

Gasping, he leans forward, capturing her lips once again. “You’d wake in my old t-shirt, all those mornings I was late for work.” He didn’t have to hear her to know what she was thinking. Their late night activities usually kept them up way past their bedtime, walking in late to work, coffee in hand, and bags under their eyes. Together. With a playful smirk on their face.

He thrust once, twice, three times, slowly meeting their bodies, moaning into her mouth, welcoming the warmth of her body. He didn’t need to be asked twice for if he missed this, missed her. He missed everything about her. The way she pulled his hair, the way she squeezed his ass when he made love to her. Everything. Even the way they bickered as if they had been married for 50 years, even for a couple in their mid 40’s.

Her nails scrape along his scalp, sending shivers down his spine. Breaking from their lip lock, his kisses down her neck to her chest, taking a perked nipple in his mouth. He starts to feel that familiar tension in his partner, his wife, and knows that she is close. He speeds up his pace, the sound of the slap slap slap of their skin is the only thing he hears as they get closer.

He returns to the kiss, grunting, as she tightens around him, pushing him over the edge to finish inside her. “Baby, remind me.”

A huge thanks to @dana-katherine-sculder for being my co-writer in this! It’s been over 5 years since I’ve written anything like this, so a second pair of eyes was definitely needed. Thank you again hun!

#x files #x files fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #post witb

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atths--twice · 5 years

Note

#61 from the Drabble prompts please!

Okay! This took a long time to her to, but I wrote it today and I hope you like it girl. @monikafilefan 😊

*Number 61- “Welcome back. Now fucking help me.”

Beyond Exhaustion

Some days it was easy and some days it was harder than she remembered. There were two of them now, where before it was mainly just her, but there were still days where Scully was ready to scream.

For the most part she was a good baby: eating, sleeping, pooping and peeing just as she should be. Some days though, she and Mulder were both exhausted, staring at each other across the table, eyes heavy, hair messy, both not smelling their best.

“I’m so tired. How is it possible to be this tired? We ran on little to no fuel for years, but this Scully…” he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair and then down his jaw. “Did I shower yesterday? The day before?” He sniffed at himself and shook his head. “Nope.”

He pushed himself up on his elbows, then his hands, bent over the table, before stretching with another sigh as he straightened up. Grabbing his keys, he walked to the door, lifting his coat from the hook and slipping his arms inside.

“Mulder, you’re in your pajamas,” she sighed, rubbing her face, taking her hair from the ponytail and putting it up again, crossing her arms onto the table.

“I don’t give even the smallest of shits,” he said quietly and walked out the door.

A cry pierced the air and she wanted to cry as her breasts responded to the sound. Knowing it would only get worse, she stood up in much the same fashion Mulder did, by sheer force. Dragging her feet, she walked up the stairs and into their room to the bassinet.

The dark head was moving as she cried, her body squirming inside of the tightly wrapped blanket. Scully sighed as she watched her little mouth open and crying for her next meal.

She walked to the bed and grabbed her nursing pillow, situating it to the best possible position, before she lifted her shirt to feed her. As soon as she latched on, they both sighed. Closing her eyes, Scully rubbed her tiny head, letting the short strands of hair run through her fingers like satin.

Letting her nurse for a few minutes, she then switched sides. Before latching on, Scully heard and felt her fill her diaper. “Oh my God,” she whispered. Another grunt and she knew it was going further than the diaper would hold.

Debating between the screaming for lack of a full belly or because of the forced complete outfit change, she opted to let her eat while she breathed through her nose with full knowledge that she might be holding more shit than human at the moment.

She latched on and ate before pausing and grunting again. “How? How do you have that much inside of you?” Scully all but cried. Nursing again, this time she did cry, knowing when she was finished she would be facing a horrible mess.

Taking her from her breast a few minutes later, she shook her head as she looked down at her. She needed to burp or she would cry. But knowing, feeling, and smelling what she would be holding and thus patting further into her skin, she moved from the bed and stood in the middle of the room.

“I don’t know what to do,” she cried, exhausted tears running down her face. The door opened and closed downstairs and she cried harder. She was no longer alone.

“Scully?” He called softly and then he was in the doorway, staring at her, a box of diapers in his hands.

“She’s filthy,” she said and Mulder stood there frozen. “She needs to burp. Welcome back to the goddamn chaos. Now fucking help me.” She sobbed, smelling the stench of the baby, knowing she was being overly rude, but unable to stop it.

The box dropped to the floor and he walked over to her, gently taking the baby and guiding her to the bathroom. Crying from them both filled the room as he turned on the shower, the baby on his shoulder. She could see the mess seeping through the blanket and she cried harder.

He took a towel from the rack and laid it on the floor, placing the baby on top. He stepped to Scully and helped her undress before guiding her into the shower. She stepped inside and the warmth of the water made her cry harder. She could hear him out there dealing with the mess, remaining calm and quieting the baby.

She stood there for what felt like forever, the warm water doing wonders to bring her back to sanity. She washed her hair, her body, staying under the water as it washed away her sadness and woke her up.

Not finding them in the bedroom, she went downstairs and heard them in the dining room. On the table, he had her in the baby tub, washing her and speaking softly as he did. There was no evidence of the soiled blanket, clothes, or towel; he must have put them in the wash.

Stepping closer to him, she touched his back as she wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Scully, you have nothing to apologize for, not one bit.”

“I yelled-”

“Not the first time and won’t be the last. Can you get the towel ready?”

She laid out the soft yellow towel and he lifted the baby from the tub, placing her upon it. Scully wrapped her and lifted her, looking at him with tears in her eyes as she shook her head.

“I’ve got it from here, you go shower, Mulder.” He shook his head and took the baby from her, gesturing with his chin to head upstairs. She walked and he followed her into the nursery where they worked together to get her diapered and dressed.

Together they walked into the bedroom and Scully sat on the bed, nursing the baby once more, burping her when she finished. Wrapping her up and moving to lay down in bed, she whispered how much she loved her and how sorry she was for her tears and frustration.

The bathroom door opened and the scent of freshly washed Mulder filled the room. She closed her eyes and stayed that way, letting it wash over her. The bed dipped as he laid down beside her, the scent now closer, calming her tired mind and body.

“I almost forgot what it felt like to be clean. To smell good, Scully? It’s like a concept I remember but can’t quite grasp,” he whispered, sighing heavily. His hand found her hip and rested there, his breathing beginning to even out.

For now anyway…

#fanfic #msr #xfiles #family #love #baby #exhausted #together

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gaycrouton · 5 years

Text

Close Quarters

I’m still working on making sure all my fics are available on all three mediums (Ao3, FF.net, and Tumblr) so this my second XF Fic I ever wrote. I posted it in January of 2018 when I was desperately binging to catch up and watch 11 live. So, if it’s super OOC, keep in mind I was a wee babe back then. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Initially, the closet had seemed like a great place to hide. Mulder had no idea Scully was claustrophobic. MSR

Abandoned House

Boston, Massachusetts

October 12th, 1997

8:36 P.M.

The head of the Boston police department requested their help after finding four similarly-maimed bodies in the span of a week. They normally wouldn’t think of this case as an X-File, but all four bodies were missing their internal organs. All of them. What added to the cases’ bizarre nature was that there wasn’t a single incision mark on the body. Nothing indicating how the organs were harvested.

After a bit of investigating Mulder was certain that an ex-mafia member somehow, his reasoning still lost on Scully, was able to extract the organs via some sort of suction through the nasal cavity. Scully agreed that there was trauma in the nose, but she was adamant that his theory was implausible.

Now, after a day of searching, Mulder was positive he found the old house the guy used to execute his crimes. Mulder felt it in his gut that the guy was in there with the most recent victim, and he didn’t think twice before barging into the house without the proper team, only Scully covering his back.

After picking the front door lock, they made their way down the hallway as silently as possible. Scully felt her heart hammering in her chest, but kept her calm exterior alert and ready for action. As Mulder was looking ahead, she routinely checked over her shoulder to make sure no one was coming up from behind them. She honestly had reservations about them entering the house alone, with the brutal nature of the crimes, but Mulder was a man on a mission and she knew at that point arguing would have been futile.

She was in the middle of checking the rear when her body fully collided with Mulder’s taller form. She looked up to see why he had stopped when she saw the intense look of focus on his face. He was looking down at the door handle by his waist. Just as she was about to ask what was wrong, she heard a grotesque slurping sound. He glanced back at her and signaled her to get ready. As soon as she gave her affirmation, he kicked the door in.

The sight in front of them was one of the most visceral they had ever seen. An average age man was laying in the middle of the room, obviously dead, and he looked deflated. The suspect was chewing on something in his mouth, the item still dangling out with blood running down his chin, as if he bit into a juicy peach. Strewn all around him were various body parts, but in a shredded state. Scully felt her stomach lurch at the violent brutality, and she could tell by Mulder’s blanched face that he was equally as disgusted.

“FBI. Put your hands behind your head and step away from the body,” Mulder’s voice rang out, breaking the silence. To the normal ear, his voice sounded strong and assured, but Scully could hear the fear lacing his words.

The suspect slowly stood up, with a malicious glint in his eye. Once to his feet, Scully felt her heart speed up when she realized how big this guy was. Mulder was a tall man, but he probably came up to this guy’s chin. He also looked still had the mafia physique and was bludging with muscles.

“Sir, spit out whatever’s in your mouth and move back,” she yelled out, trying to sound less perturbed than she really was.

The man looked Scully in the eye and slowly slurped the long tubular item into his mouth, making a loud smack with his lips after swallowing. Scully realized it had just been part of a large intestine that he just treated like spaghetti. Not breaking their eye contact, the man finally spoke up and sneered, “A heart always tastes better when it’s been beating fast. I bet yours would be delicious.”

Before Scully could process his comment, Mulder was yelling at him again, but with added fury from the comment, “Sir, don’t make us say it again. Put your hands up!”

Not paying any attention to the agents’ warnings, he took quick steps towards them, closing the distance. Mulder and Scully moved in tandem so that they were both back in the hallway. Scully shot a bullet, aimed at the man’s shoulder, and watched in horror as he wasn’t even slightly affected. Realizing that there was no stopping the man rapidly approaching them, they both took off towards the front door.

“Damn it!” Mulder screamed when the door wouldn’t give. Scully felt something nearing her back and, without missing a beat; took an empty Jack Daniels bottle from the end table near the door, whirled around, and shattered it on the mans face, temporarily blinding him. She quickly raised a leg and kicked his hunched over frame, sending him toppling to the ground.

Mulder took advantage of his moment of weakness to grab Scully’s arm and run down the stairs near them. It led to a dank cellar with rows and rows of shelves and doors. Scully could tell that, for once, Mulder was assuming hiding would be the best option. There was nowhere for them to run, he was too strong for them to take on alone, and Mulder was banking on the possibility he didn’t hear where they went.

At random, he opened one of the thick, shuttered doors, taking a quick glance to make sure there was enough room. Scully felt her veins run cold. She was insecure about letting her fears show to Mulder, and this was one that had conveniently never come up. She had been painfully claustrophobic her whole life. Being shoved in a closet by Donnie Pfaster and a trunk by Duane Barry certainly didn’t help her fear lessen over time. She never expect to be confronted with it during such extraneous circumstances. She quickly glanced in Mulder’s eyes and he immediately recognized the fear that must have shone through. Except, he assumed it was over the cannibalistic murder chasing them, so thinking he was doing her a favor, he quickly ushered her in, following suit, and closed the door behind them. She watched him attempt to test the doorknob, and noticed his wrist wasn’t turning. It could only be opened from the outside. They were trapped.

This closet was worse than Pfaster’s. It was devoid of anything, really it was more like a cell. It was relatively tall, from the dim light emitting between the cracks, she could see Mulder probably had probably a foot of room above him. But it lacked in every other aspect. It wasn’t deep or wide, so her back was pressed to one side wall and Mulder‘s was pressed to the other, their chests flush against each other. She also could tell there wasn’t enough room to spread out her wingspan. Essentially they were stuck in the positions they were in.

After fully assessing the situation, she instantaneously could feel a cold sweat breaking out. There is a murderer looking for me and all I can focus on is being inconvenienced. Looking down to avoid looking at Mulder, she didn’t want to worry him anymore than he already was, she tried to implement a relaxation technique she learned from Melissa as a child to help with anxiety.

Focus on five things you can feel. She inhaled deeply and felt her chest brush against Mulder’s, startling her. One, Mulder’s chest. She tried to backup a little bit to give them room and her back bumped harder against the wall behind her. Two, the side of the wall. She wasn’t feeling any better, and her hand raised up instinctively to grab at her cross as a nervous tick, but when she tried to move her hand, she ended up rubbing it against Mulder’s front. And he muttered a soft apology into her hair as she finally caught the gold chain. Three, Mulder’s leg. Four, Mulder’s breath. Five, my thin necklace chain.

Focus on four things you can hear. She focused on remaining still and taking in her surroundings. Mulder was trying really hard to even his breath, presumably so they wouldn’t be found. One, Mulder’s breath . Focusing harder, she realized the suspect must’ve not seen what direction they had went. He was pounding around up stairs and cursing under his breath. Two, footsteps. Her mind temporarily stopped as she heard the footsteps approach and descend into the cellar. A cruel irony at her thoughts a second ago. Her and Mulder were still as boards as the shadow navigated between the shelves. With luck that was usually never on their side, there was a rattle upstairs and he quickly ran to investigate. Three, rattling. She felt Mulder shift a little and it reminded her of how confined the space was. If it was bad for her, Mulder must be immobile. The thought made her heart beat erratically. Four, my damn heartbeat.

Focus on three things you can see. She strained her eyes a little, but it was a fruitless effort. There was barely any light seeping in from the cellar, so everything was just a faint glow, and she didn’t want to look around too much and have Mulder see how upset she was. One, darkness; Two, the silhouette of the shutters on the blinds; Three, Mulder’s ridiculous polka-dotted tie.

She knew the next two were two smells and one taste, but she gave up because the relaxation technique did nothing but remind her of her situation. She thought she heard the bolt to the front door open, and the door slam shut. She wanted to think that he left, but knew they couldn’t risk leaving just yet. They would have to wait in hiding for a bit. She started to feel her breath quickening against her will and yet again started squirming in an attempt to form some free space.

Mulder shifted slightly to lean down toward her ear and he whispered, “Scully are you okay?”

She tried to remain calm and evenly whispered back, “Yes. I’m just backed against a wall, could you backup a little bit?”

She saw him shake his head before she heard his response, “Mine’s flush against a wall too.”

She had to bite back a whimper of fear and she kept squirming from side to side, trying to find any hidden magic corner that would pop up and give her more room. The more she struggled, she more frantic she became, and the more frantic she became the more she tried to alleviate the situation.

Unexpectedly, she felt Mulder’s hands grip her hips with a vigor she wasn’t used to. Between gritted teeth he pleaded, “Scully, you have to stop moving around like that.”

Now cemented in one place, even if it was by the hands of he man she trusted and loved above all else, she felt the claustrophobia overwhelming her. She felt her composure slipping and couldn’t bring herself to care if Mulder saw or not. She put her hands on his shoulders like a vice and raised her head to face the ceiling in an attempt to get fresh air. Out of her control, she heard her breaths coming in and out in shaking, quiet gasps that sounded like sobs.

When she felt a tear roll down her cheek, she realized that she actually was crying. Assessing that she was a few steps away from a full blown panic attack she tried to even her breathing, but it wasn’t really working.

She felt Mulder’s hands soften a bit, and she was sure his self-blaming nature assumed he caused this. He confirmed her suspicions with a remorseful whisper, “Scully, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Scully shook her head in reassurance, “No, no. It’s not you.” She saw him working out her words before realization graced his face.

“Oh my god. Scully, are you claustrophobic?” he asked incredulously. He was rewarded with a shaky confirmation.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? I’m so sorry,” he lamented in a whisper.

“It’s not your fault. You probably saved our lives, I just hate this,” she tried to sound confident, but her voice a little too high for the effect.

He planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head and whispered, “What can I do to help?”

The closet in an abandoned house

Boston, Massachusetts

October 12th 1997

A few moments earlier

Mulder prefered to tackle most issues head on, but after seeing the massive guy take a bullet with no effect whatsoever, he figured running away would be the better option. As soon as he was in the cellar, he already knew he didn’t make the best choice. He was going to get up any time now.

Taking a chance, he ran to one of the closets bordering the room. Upon opening it, he realized this was a pathetic excuse of a closet, but the look in Scully’s eyes told him they were running out of time, so he shoved her in and closed the door.

Immediately his senses were overwhelmed with everything Scully, and he realized maybe they should try hiding anywhere else. He reached towards the knob and felt it remain stationary in his hand. Damn it.

He looked down to see Scully, but was only met with the top of her head. She’s probably just trying to remain as quiet as possible so we aren’t heard. He slowly exhaled and tried to figure out what to do with his hands. This was a really bad situation that was only getting worse. First there was a massive cannibal on the loose looking for them and he was trapped in a confined space with Scully. In his fantasies this would be great, but with how flush their bodies currently were to one another, this could get embarrassing.

All the sudden he felt her hand rush up his leg and he jerked a little bit. He glanced down and saw she had simply been reaching towards her necklace. He could only assume she was worried about the situation his irrationality had gotten them into and was finding solace in her faith. “Sorry,” he offered.

They stood in silence for a few moments, listening to the sounds of the man stumbling around upstairs, stiffening when the steps came close to the stairs. He felt every second pass in slow motion as he and Scully watched the man search for them through the shelves. He felt his arms stiffen around his holster, ready to pounce in front of Scully if the time came. However, he didn’t get the opportunity because a rattle from upstairs distracted the man, sending him bolting out of the cellar.

They remained tense for a few moments, waiting to make sure he wasn’t coming back. He heard the front door open and slam and took that as a sign the coast may be clear temporarily. By the way Scully started squirming, she probably thought the same, “Scully, are you okay?”

She finally raised her head up a little and responded, “Yes. I’m just back against a wall, could you backup a little bit?”

Mulder leaned a little to test, but his back was already as pressed as it could get. “Mine’s flush against a wall too.”

She didn’t say anything, but she soon thereafter started squirming from side to side. He tried to ignore it when their life was in imminent danger, but now that they were in a moment of reprieve, he could only focus on Scully.

He felt her breasts pushed up against the bottom of his chest, and her lithe form slightly entangled with his own. The smell he always yearned to get a whiff of was now permeating the small space. It was what he designated as Scullysmell, something fresh, probably her body wash, mixed with something inexplicably her.

She kept moving from side to side in an attempt, he could only presume, to get comfortable. He wasn’t sure if she was oblivious to it or just ignoring it, but his body was flaring up in response to her movements. He felt his erection flaring up, harder than before, and pressing fervently into her hips, which were exacerbating his problem with each gyration.

Her undulating form became too much when pressure was applied a little too hard to the the wrong, perfect, place. In a flash, his hands came up to grab her hips, with a little more force than he usually would ever use towards her.

Gritting his teeth, trying to hide the arousal from his voice he pleaded, “Scully, you have to stop moving around like that.” He hoped she would catch his drift without this becoming awkward. She was a medical doctor after all, she had to understand.

For a moment, he thought she was mad at him because she stood still like a statue, but under his palms he felt her slightly trembling. Then, as quickly as he grabbed her, he felt her hands come up and clutch his shoulders. Looking down at her in confusion, he saw her head tilt all the way upwards and heard sounds emanating from her throat that eerily sounded like hyperventilation.

The tear that rolled down her cheek was what made the guilt really seep in. First he ran into this house without asking her, then he forced her into this ridiculously small closet, now he practically snapped at her while ramming his dick into her abdomen. He loosened his grip on her waist and tried to apologize, “Scull, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

He felt her hair dance on his chest as she shook her head in rebuttal. In an un-Scully like whisper, she sighed, “No, no. It’s not you.”

Mulder was thrown for a loop trying to understand what could make his normally unperturbed partner so upset. He could tell she was disgusted at the gore upstairs, but as a medical doctor, it wasn’t really that out of her element. She had been in worse life threatening situations than this before and it didn’t evoke this reaction before. His mind went back to the possibility that he was making her uncomfortable, but she had just assured him that wasn’t the case. Then, it hit him, she was exhibiting the classic symptoms of claustrophobia, but they were very open to one and other and he had never heard her mention it.

It slipped out before he had more time to process, “Oh my god, Scully, are you claustrophobic?” Her nod was all the answer he needed.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? I’m so sorry,” he apologized. She hadn’t been looking at him in fear over the situation earlier, she was terrified to go in the closet. When the door didn’t open, it probably just made the situation a hundred times worse for her. She was on the verge of a panic attack and it was all his fault.

Scully must have sensed his internal battle and, as always, tried to make him feel better, “It’s not your fault. You probably saved our lives, I just hate this.” Her voice almost came out controlled, but her heighten pitch gave away her fear.

She was always so strong to make him feel better. It’s not fair to her. He planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head and whispered, “What can I do to help?”

She paused a moment to contemplate before responding, “Since it’s been awhile since we last heard him, do you think you could call the Boston P.D and let them know the full situation?”

Of course, even in a state of panic, she is more rational than I am. He nodded and pulled out his cell phone, redialing the local cop they’ve been investigating alongside. After filling the cop in, he was met with slight disbelief from the other side, “You trapped yourself in a closet.”

Rubbing slow circles onto Scully’s hip with his thumb, he responded, “I didn’t know it would lock behind us and it seemed like a good idea at the time. We’re alive, so I don’t think it’s the worst plan I’ve had,” Glancing down at Scully’s white-knuckled grip on his tie had him second guessing that statement. “Look, you need to issue an APB on our suspect and come and get us out. Bring the medical examiners for the body too, warn them it’s a bloodbath,” he sighed, hanging up the phone.

“Are they coming?” She asked, still trying to act nonchalant, but sounding a little breathy.

“Yeah, he said they are on the other side of town, but that it won’t be too long,” he reassured. Placing a hand on the side of her face, he prompted her to look at him. “Hey, tell me what’s bothering you. You help me with everything, let me do something for you. It will help to vocalize your thoughts,” he hoped he wasn’t making her more uncomfortable. She did so much for him and he loved her so much for it, whether she knew it or not, he only wanted to provide the same thing for her.

Scully was never one to be vocal, he knew that. So asking this of her was asking for a lot. He could tell she was searching for the right words, but in this moment, he noticed she was slightly distracted from the situation and that’s all he wanted.

“Um, I’ve always been claustrophobic. Sometimes the job requires me to be in small spaces, but usually it’s over before it begins,” she started. “When I was six, I was playing hide and seek and I thought hiding in the hamper would be a great idea.”

Her breath was evening out as she told the story, and he treasured hearing her talk about her past, so he prompted her to continue, “What happened?”

“Um, Bill thought it would be funny to set a cooler full of ice on top of the hamper so I couldn’t get out. He forgot about it after a few minutes, he was just a kid, and him and Charlie went out and rode their bikes,” I’ve never wanted to smack a kid before this moment . “I screamed, and screamed, but no one was home and I was so afraid I would run out of air. I think I hyperventilated and passed out.”

He ran his fingers through her hair and massaged the sides of her neck, hoping distracting her was helping, and trying to ignore the reaction his body was having to this full Scully-immersion. He wanted to hear more, “So what ended up happening?”

“Missy came home from the mall and tried to throw her clothes in the hamper and found me instead. She woke me up and asked me what happened. When I started crying while telling her, she found Bill and beat him up,” she chuckled at the memory. Mulder felt a wave of adoration towards the late-Scully sister.

“And that’s when your claustrophobia started?” he asked.

She nodded, “Yeah, I think it was exacerbated by my time with Duane Barry and Donnie Pfaster,” he felt unresolved anger rise at the thought of those two men, but instead chose to relish in Scully’s openness.

“Have you ever found anything that helped?”

She contemplated this for a minute, “Well, I feel a little better having you talk to me right now. Once I was waiting in a line and my friend massaged my back and it helped,” she mentioned, her words a little softer at the end.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently, and carefully, maneuvered her around.

Realizing his intent, she quickly reassured, “Mulder you don’t have to do this. I-”

He silenced her with a soft “shhh” and placed his hands on her scalp. He was going to start from top to as far down as the space would allow.

On multiple occasions, he caught Scully reading something with a hand under her hair. It took a few instances of her doing it for him to realize she was slowly raking her fingernails over her scalp. Many women considered their hair and scalp an erogenous zone.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, because it could lead him to a downward spiral, he started on his mission. Using the slight nails he had, he gently moved his fingers in delicate circles across her scalp, paying close attention to her hairline. He heard a soft sigh and wanted to make sure she wasn’t trying to hide anything.

“Am I doing okay?” he asked, hoping his self conscious nature wasn’t noticeable. She moved ever so slightly under his ministrations and mumbled a soft affirmation.

He moved down a little slightly so he was at the base of her neck, where her hair ended. She allowed her head to rest against the wall in front of her, giving him better access. He moved the pads of his fingers across the milky expanse of her neck, grinning to himself when he noticed a light layer of goosebumps had covered her skin.

He allowed his full palms to cover her shoulder, and his long fingers draped onto her thin collarbone. He could honestly say without any hesitation that he had never given anyone a massage before. He was nervous that it could be taken as an elaborate version of copping a feel, so he added pressure and tried to press on any muscle groups he felt.

Moving away from her shoulders and upper back, he took one arm in his hands and gently massaged his way down. When he got to her hands, he took the time to massage her palm and every individual finger before repeating the process on her other side. He reveled in the feel of her dainty hand swallowed in his much larger ones.

Mulder felt selfish for how much he was enjoying being able to touch her like this, but from the way her breath seemed to be deep and low, he figured it was helping at least a little.

Finishing up her arms, he resumed where he left off on her back. As soon as his palms met the curve of her waist, he had to suppress every dirty fantasy he’s ever had involving his hands in a very similar place, but their bodies connected in other ways. Coughing lightly, he applied pressure to the delicate and strong muscles beneath her clothes. Mulder’s hands stilted a little when he thought he heard a soft moan come from the petite woman’s mouth.

“Am I hurting you?” He asked, feeling embarrassed at how low and rough his voice came out.

He felt himself grow impossibly harder when her voice came out the same way, “N-no, not at all. Keep going. Please.”

He moved tentatively down to her lower back, using both of his thumbs to massage a circle where he knew her tattoo was. He slid forward to a part of her body that was body safe and risque at the same time: the area where her hips connected to her legs. Too far back and his hands would be on her butt, too far forwards and he could get punched in the face. He just ran pressure-filled fingers up and down the area. He quickly realized through the thin material of her pants something that would be fuel for many nights to come; Dana Katherine Scully, his beloved partner, wore thongs to work.

His mind temporarily stopped working, but before he had time to resume his impromptu massage, three things happened within a five second span. First, Scully, whether intentional or not he still doesn’t know, pressed her well-rounded ass right onto his erection. Second, the door to the closet swung open, blinding them with light. Third, Scully and Mulder, who had been so engrossed in what they had been doing and were now faced with the possibility of the killer finding them, were so taken aback that they screamed their lungs out right in the face of the Boston cop who just tried rescued them.

“Umm, sorry to interrupt Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, but we found your guy a few blocks over and we have him on the way to the station for questioning,” a young cop muttered as quickly as possible, trying to avoid looking them in the eyes.

He kept his profile to the side, relying on Scully’s shocked form to hide the monster in his pants from the young cop in front of him. Glancing down at Scully, he patted himself on the back when he noticed her face was flush, not just from embarrassment, and her eyes were glazed over. He also noticed that her bottom lip looked red and abused, like she had been biting on it. The mental picture was almost too much for him, but Scully’s voice broke him out of his reviere, “Thank you. I assume the crime scene is being examined upstairs? We will meet you there in a moment, we want to make sure nothing else is down here.” The cop nodded and hastily took the excuse presented to leave.

He turned to look at Scully, whose eyes were already focused on him. He was about to open his mouth to apologize for taking it too far, when Scully placed a gentle kiss on his lips. His face broke into, what he was sure to be, the goofiest smile to ever grace his face. Looking down at her in bewilderment she smiled back.

“Thank you Mulder, but I’m afraid you weren't able to finish. We’ll have to resume this later,” she teased before walking to the staircase, leaving a very excited and happy Mulder in her wake.

#gaycrouton #my fanfiction #msr #msr fanfic #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully

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