tatooedlaura-blog

[tatooedlaura-blog]

The First Time, Every Time: Eve

Rated X / 2567 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

She feels like a world class idiot, partly due to being manipulated by a pair of homicidal eight year olds. But they managed to pull one over on everyone—including their own parents—so she can’t hold herself too much at fault there. What’s really bothering her is that she knew, or at least had her suspicions, that something was off with the girls, and she let her guard down anyway. She ignored her instincts, and it nearly got both her and Mulder killed. 

She sinks down onto the bed in her motel room and rubs her hands roughly over her face, cringing at the memory of how stupid she was. How naive. How uncharacteristically girlish. Allowing herself the tiny thrill of playing house with Mulder while the Eves were under their watch backfired gloriously, and as intelligent as the children are she has to imagine that was their intent. They capitalized on the vulnerability they saw in their adult escorts, stopping just short of directly calling them Mom and Dad, and it had worked so well it almost landed her in the autopsy bay. If a couple of prepubescent psychopaths can see it, it must be fairly obvious that she has a teensy little crush on Mulder. Hell, he’s a behavioral profiler, so it must be obvious to him, too. 

It’s not that she has any illusions that something might happen between them, and she honestly wouldn’t even want it to. They’re completely incompatible, and that’s to say nothing for the potential impact to her career were she to act on her urges. But he’s cute, and he only got cuter when he was playing the role of doting father, ushering his gaggle of girls into the truck stop for a bathroom break and a soda. Maybe she flirted a little, and maybe he flirted back, and those damn Eves saw right through them. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

She knows that it’s Mulder knocking on her door, and she briefly considers pretending that she’s not in. But it’s late—or early, depending how you look at it—and he has the keys to the rental, so where else would she be? She hauls herself up off the bed and reluctantly opens the door just wide enough for him to see her face. 

“Soda?” he asks, holding up a can of Diet Rite from the vending machine. “Factory sealed for your safety,” he adds, wiggling the can temptingly. 

She smirks, despite her best attempts to suppress it, and opens the door the rest of the way. Mulder walks in and sets the soda down in front of the TV, along with a second that he fishes out of the pocket of his suit jacket, and gives her an appraising look. 

“Wild night, huh?” he says, popping the tab on one of the cans.

An hour ago she was sure she’d never drink soda again, but the crack and hiss of the can opening sets off a Pavlovian response, making her mouth water. Mulder hands it to her and she takes an experimental sip. Not too sweet. 

“That’s one way of putting it,” she says. 

She sits on the end of the bed and he plops down beside her, close enough that his thigh brushes up against hers before he scoots millimeters away. He has a particular end-of-day smell that’s becoming familiar to her: remnants of cologne and deodorant, and the damp salted musk of sunflower seed hulls that line the bottom of his jacket pocket. She has an overwhelming urge to lean into him, but she doesn’t. 

“You okay?” he asks, and she looks up at him sharply, wondering what he sees that she hadn’t meant to show him.

“Yes,” she says, perhaps a little too emphatically. “I was just thinking about Cindy Reardon’s mother. I have no idea how we’re going to explain this to her.”

“You don’t think she knew?” he wonders aloud. “Maybe on some subconscious level?”

Scully shrugs and looks at the floor. 

“That little girl was the embodiment of all her hopes and dreams,” she says sadly. “Even if she knew something was off, she probably explained it away. I know I did.”

She feels him looking at her, but she keeps her eyes on the faded paisley carpet under her feet. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she says, pulling in a deep breath, “that I knew something was off about the girls, but I attributed it to the recent trauma they’d been through. I allowed my preconceptions about what innocent-looking eight year old girls are capable of to override my instincts, with nearly disastrous results.”

He bumps his shoulder against hers and she looks up at him to find a deliciously boyish smile on his face. 

“Don’t go stealing all the credit, Scully,” he says, leaning in. “I demand that my contributions to the truck stop disaster be accounted for.”

His breath smells sweet and his cheeks are becoming rough with stubble. She smiles, and his smile broadens in response. He really is very charming, and she doesn’t get the sense that it’s disingenuous. 

“And which contributions were those?” she asks cheekily. 

“Well, for starters, slapping that soda out of your hand,” he says ruefully. “Not my smoothest move.”

“Fair enough, though in any future circumstances where you see me actively drinking poison, you have my blessing to slap it out of my hand,” she counters. 

“Actually,” he says, sitting up, “I think my real mistake was saying I wanted to open your door for you. Way too unbelievable; even eight year olds know that chivalry is dead.”

She studies the side of his face while he takes a long drink of his soda, trying to decide if he’s being facetious. 

“You’re actually quite chivalrous, Mulder,” she says, careful with her tone so that he doesn’t think she’s teasing him. “You open doors for me all the time. The only odd thing about it was announcing your intention to do so across a parking lot.”

He gives her a long sideways glance that sets off a nervous flutter in her belly, though she couldn’t say why. 

“Does that bother you?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice. “Is it too patriarchal?”

“No,” she says immediately, and she can instantly see relief in his face. “Maybe it would if I felt like you didn’t respect me, or saw me as inferior, but you’ve never made me feel that way.”

She watches him fight off a prideful little smile before he lifts his soda can and hides it behind a drink. When he lowers the can back to his lap, his mouth is arranged into a neatly neutral expression. 

“Can I confess something?” he asks, his eyes flitting between her face and the wall behind her.

Her stomach does a backflip and her mouth goes dry. She takes a drink of her soda before answering

“Sure.”

“When we were with the Eves, I kept thinking about Samantha,” he says, pausing to gauge her reaction. She’s surprised, though she shouldn’t be; the Eves are eight, the same age Samantha was when she was taken. She smiles at him sadly, and he lowers his head. “It probably contributed to me not picking up on some red flags,” he continues. “I think I was having a little too much fun with it.”

She can’t allow him to wallow in his shame alone, as much as it terrifies her to consider admitting to her own flights of fancy regarding Mulder, herself, and a couple of kids. She slides one hand over his back and gives him a reassuring pat. 

“It was kind of fun,” she admits. “Until it wasn’t, anyway. And you were really good with them, Mulder.”

When he lifts his head to look at her, his face is much closer to hers than she was prepared for, and she resists the urge to move away. His eyes lock on hers and her heart picks up a little, anticipating something. 

“You really think so?” he asks, his eyes narrowing in self-doubt. 

Scully swallows and nods. 

“Yeah,” she says, but her voice comes out in a barely audible rasp. 

Two beats pass. Three. It starts to become awkward. It feels like they’re waiting for something, but neither of them appears to know what. By the fourth beat it’s unbearable and she looks away, withdrawing her hand from his back. 

“I should let you go,” she says, her entire body humming. 

“You kicking me out?” he asks playfully. “You have a boy coming over?”

She looks at him sharply. 

“What? No,” she says insistently, finding herself extremely bothered by the idea that he’d think that. 

Mulder laughs and shakes his head as he stands, tossing his empty soda can into the wastebasket and then holding his hand out to her. Slowly, cautiously, she slips her hand into his. For a second he doesn’t do anything, but then his fingers close around hers and he pulls her up in one sharp tug, and she lets out a surprised squeal just before the front of her body crashes into his. She wraps her other arm around his waist to avoid losing her balance, the half-empty soda can still in her hand, and then looks up at his face. 

He’s smirking devilishly, his hooded eyes full of mischief, and she suddenly feels like prey that’s fallen into his trap. The rational part of her mind is warning her to put a stop to this immediately, but she’s too hypnotized by the hungry way he’s looking at her to move. They’re pressed together from chest to pelvis, though their height difference means that his belt buckle is digging into her belly button, his groin bracketed by her hip bones. 

“I was just offering to take your can,” he says, a little bit sheepishly, and Scully feels the hot rush of embarrassment flood through her veins. Too ensnared to quickly get away, she drops her forehead against his chest to hide her face. 

“Oh,” she says, her eyes screwed shut tight and her mouth grimacing. “Sorry.”

She feels the vibration of Mulder’s chuckle in her skull, and then his hand running from between her shoulder blades to the small of her back. She shivers involuntarily, and he pulls her increments closer. 

“Don’t be,” he says, the pitch of his voice deeper than moments before. 

He doesn’t let go, and neither does she. Their joined hands are still pinned between the front of her shoulder and his rib cage, her soda-carrying arm wrapped around his waist. His hand on her back shifts down a little, and she only realizes that her body has at some point drawn an invisible line that Mulder’s casual touches never cross when he crosses it. She feels her skin tingle just above the crack of her ass, and she slowly lifts her head off his chest. 

His expression is somewhat vacant, his eyes zeroed in on her mouth. She lifts her chin and closes her eyes, allowing herself to believe that she won’t be responsible for what happens next. When she feels the heat of his mouth against hers, she begins to melt and simply doesn’t stop. 

Her body softens and leans into his, her neck bending languidly to the side as his lips warm her skin. She keeps her eyes carefully closed, suspending her own reality and receiving whatever reality this is. The one where a man who she trusts implicitly, who respects her, who looks damn good in a suit and tie, is tugging her blouse out of the waist of her slacks and running his rough fingertips up her bare back. The one where he asks for her consent half a dozen times, and she gives it over and over. The one where he strikes the perfect balance of dominance and deference, where he picks her up like she’s made of air and lays her down on the bed, then turns the lights off without her having to ask. 

It’s not that she has any illusions that it’s more than sex, and she honestly wouldn’t even want it to be. They’re completely incompatible, and that’s to say nothing for the potential impact to her career were she to become entangled in some kind of romantic relationship with her partner. But he’s cute, and he eats pussy like a god, and when she finally gets her hands on his dick she’s unable to stop herself from moaning in anticipation. 

They don’t have a condom, but she’s still on birth control after her breakup with Ethan, and she trusts him to pull out. She also trusts him when he tells her he hasn’t been with anyone in years, that he’s been tested. She trusts him with her body, her life. She trusts him more than she’s ever trusted any man she’s allowed inside her. 

He stretches her wide and she gasps from the pain, her fingernails digging into his shoulder. He stops, waiting until he feels her relax, and then rocks his hips slowly as she adjusts to him. She can’t comprehend how instinctively he touches her, how well he seems to know her body after such a brief introduction. He teases her to the edge and back more times than she can count until she finally shatters into a fit of gasps and wails, every cell in her body taking part in her orgasm. He pulls out of her sharply, the thick head of his cock brushing against the sensitive nerve endings around her opening and setting her off again as she feels the wet heat of his cum streaking across her belly. He slumps down beside her and they catch their breath in the murky dark, still too hopped up on dopamine to consider the impact of what they’ve just done. 

Eventually, Mulder feels his way into the bathroom for a towel, but instead of handing it to her he presses it between her legs, gently swiping up and then mopping his semen off her belly. It’s so tender, it catches her off guard, and she suddenly worries whether this means something to him that she’s not ready for. 

“Mulder—” she starts, but he lays a heavy hand on her naked hip to quiet her. 

“It’s okay,” he says, not sounding nearly as concerned as she does. “Wild night.”

Scully heaves a relieved sigh, nodding in the dark. 

“Yes. Wild night,” she agrees. 

He waits until she’s dressed to turn on the bedside lamp, and they both squint as their eyes adjust. He’s still shirtless, his pants on but unbuttoned, and she’s surprised to feel her clit throb at the sight of him. He smiles at her fondly, plucking her soda can off the floor and tossing it into the trash can with his. 

“See you tomorrow?” he asks, pulling on his undershirt. 

“Yep,” she says. 

It’s a little bit awkward, but not as much as she would have thought. 

She sits on the bed as she watches him leave, precluding an attempt at a goodnight kiss, and he pauses halfway through the door, looking back at her expectantly. 

“What?” she asks, a flush of worry making her belly tighten. Maybe this was a mistake. 

“You were really good with them too. The Eves, I mean,” he says, a nervous smile on his mouth. “You’re a natural.”

“Thank you, Mulder,” she says, feeling her cheeks warm. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he says, and then he is gone. 

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Luck and Stubborness

** I dusted off my laptop, and with rusty writing skills, managed this **

Being held hostage and the aftermath ...

************* Everything seemed to be moving slow. Her breathing, the gunman’s foot falls, the blood dripping from the gunshot wound inflicted only moments ago on the hapless, helpless bank teller whose hands had been shaking so badly she couldn’t work the key to the cash drawer.

She saw everything with a clarity she’d never known and given the crawling passage of time, she had every opportunity in the world to study the red color of the fresh blood, the gleaming gray marble-patterned granite of the counters, the one ray of sunshine angled across the room, late afternoon prediction of rain delayed until further notice.

She could feel the hairs on her arm move with the subtle breeze created as the gunman paced before them; she could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, thoughtlessly counting down, in steady rhythm, her impending death; she could taste the bitter adrenalin in the back of her throat and swallowed accordingly, only to find a sizable lump sitting there, waiting to create either a gallon of tears or a crescendoing scream.

She’d talked to her mother last night, shared gossip, made plans, told her she loved her before hanging up and then calling back because she’d neglected to tell her ‘good night’ as well. At least her mom would know and have no regrets of angry words or harsh toned judgements should she not make it to the next Sunday dinner.

Mulder had been on his way to pick her up, take her to the dentist, the novacaine she would inevitably get always gave her a headache and she preferred not to drive that way. She’d walked to the bank from work to deposit her check and he was going to meet her out front once his meeting had finished.

She’d seen him through the front doors just as the first shot had sounded to get their full attention.

She’d prayed he wouldn’t storm the doors and fall victim to bullet number two.

The gunman, stopping his walk, told them all to get on their knees. Scully dropped like a rock, her kneecaps cracking on the hard slate-tiled floor. She should have felt pain but she did not; she only felt the fear that one of her fellow prisoners wouldn’t adhere quickly enough and she’d see the second body fall in under nine minutes.

Nine minutes.

How had only nine minutes passed? Unlike Oregon, where nine minutes had gone by in a literal flash, these nine minutes had dragged on for millenia, minimum.

Bullet number three caused body number two, this one beside Scully, covering the side of her face with a splatter pattern of warm sticky blood. She hadn’t caught up to reality yet and wasn’t sure why the man beside her was now dead but she realized she’d better begin to pay better attention.

Moments and decades later, she’d lost track of the clock after they’d been moved to the other side of the bank, she heard the gunman talking on a landline cordless to what had to be the police. Mulder must have called them immediately from the street. He was out there, trying to get in, trying to save her, trying to …

The fourth gunshot echoed off the walls and victim number three, another teller, found the ground.

They were down to six now, two employees and four customers.

And then the strolling legs stopped in front of her, “who do you work for?”

She’d been asked that earlier, when one of the other hostages had been told to pat everyone down and hand in anything of interest. The man had mouthed an apology when he found Scully’s gun and turned it over. The gunman had asked then, in a screaming fit, who she worked for and replying ‘security for the Air and Space Museum,’ he had let it go.

Now, wracking her slugging brain for her answer, she hesitated a moment too long and was pulled out of line for her trouble, yanked by her arm, falling flat on her face, being pulled back upright with a shoulder pop that would ache for weeks–provided she lived long enough to feel it–, then spinning to face him, the whole time being screamed at, “don’t lie to me! I’ll kill you if you lie!!”

“Security. For the history museum.” The moment the answer left her lips, she realized her error and before she could take another breath, his hands were groping her, searching then finding her badge, which the original man had neglected to mention when his hand skimmed over it in her inside pocket.

That man’s head exploded moment’s later, then, as the body lay twitching a few feet from her, Scully realized her gun was now in the madman’s hands, and swallowing hard, she answered his quiet question of, “who do you work for?”

“FBI.”

And that’s when everything shifted from low gear to high, the swearing, the gun waving, the pistol butt connecting with her cheekbone in a spectacular crunch, the searing pain, then one gun pressed into the bone above her left eye and her own gun pressed above the right, “I should see if I can use you to get what I want. Sure as shit, an FBI agent ought to get me a little more; then again, might be fun seeing what’ll be left of your head once I fire both of these.”

She was going to die.

Shutting her eyes, she asked God one final time to please let it not hurt and to take care of her family and Mulder before sighing out a small breath and letting go, accepting the inevitable and removing herself from any connection to it.

Her hair moved as the bullet flew past her and, given the gunmen had, for a split second, been leaning over for a closer look at her, it cracked his skull wide open.

Some sharpshooter had been waiting for a clear shot and had taken whatever he could get, even if it meant singeing off some of the hostage’s hair. Scully wasn’t going to argue.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Mulder was the second person through the doors and the first to slide to a stop on his knees beside her, scramble around to get in front of her, his hands on her cheeks, thumbs by her ears, holding her head steady to look at him, “Scully.”

She wouldn’t open her eyes.

“Scully. It’s me. Can you look at me, please?”

With effort, she shook her head.

“Scully … Dana … Honey, I need you to look at me.”

Shaking it again, she managed to get her hands up to grip his wrists, nails digging in.

He moved his forehead to hers, knowing she’d recognize the gesture if not the voice, “Scully, please, I need you to look at me right now; I need to know you’re back with me; I need to know that you’re alright.”

Her eyelids fluttered, opened once, caught sight of him, closed again, “it’s not my blood.”

Whispers couldn’t cut it right now with all the chaos surrounding them, “what?”

Voice an octave higher, “it’s not my blood.”

One mystery solved, he moved on to another, “you’re already bruising up. Did he hit you?”

Single nod.

“Fist or gun?”

Back to near silent words, “gun.”

“Okay. We’re going to the hospital. Can you walk?” Mulder started to stand, to help her up but when she didn’t budge, still kneeling amidst the insanity, he went back to her level, “can you walk?”

“He had … he had two guns aimed at my head.” Finally opening up her eyes to look at him, blue rings thin around dilated pupils, “are you sure he’s dead?”

Leaning forward, he kissed her quickly, “I promise you, he’s dead. His head’s in two pieces behind me. Humpty Dumpty will not be put back together again.”

Scully reached out, one hand on either of his arms but trying to stand, she cried out, her left leg twisting under her, “fuck.”

This she said loud and clear but everyone ignored it, except for Mulder, “what hurts?”

“Knee. He made us … I dropped down on it.”

“I can carry you.”

Already checking out of the whole situation, she shook her head, “just help me up.” Finally standing, gingerly testing her knee and finding it holding her weight, she didn’t know what to do or where to look, but, on accident, her gaze landed on what remained of her captor, and her stomach turned, “I need to go outside.”

Without question, he put one arm firmly across her back and under her arm and half-carried, half-guided her through the crowd, telling uniforms with questions that they’d have to wait. Outside, however, was no better, cameras, reporters, news vans, and tourists all craning to see who was the first to come out.

She should have stayed on the damned floor.

“Go back in! Go back in!”

He knew the feeling and turning them, he split the difference and sat her on one of the benches in the foyer, out of the roving eye of the media but a double set of doors away from her personal hell.

“Scully-”

“Just … just don’t talk to me for a minute .. just don’t say … just don't say anything.” Her hand was on her forehead, finding it still sticky with someone else’s blood but not knowing anything else to do at the moment, she kept it there, rubbing the two spots the gun had pressed against, with thumb and pointer fingers.

Her other hand was clenching and squeezing the air in a random configuration of digit  twisting, nail digging repetition and not able to handle it, Mulder reached out, touching her wrist, “let me see.” Taking the hand, he wrapped his two around it, bringing it up to his mouth and bumping his lips over and against each knuckle and dip in turn.

Skinner didn’t help by suddenly appearing, having been at the bank since Mulder had raised the cavalry some two hours earlier. “How is she?”

Mulder looked up at him, “not real good.”

“Can she answer some questions?”

She had drifted off again, blocking out pain, blocking out fear, blocking out everyone around her. It took Mulder saying her name three times and finally tightening his hold on her wrist to get her to respond, “Skinner wants to know if you can answer some questions. No one else is in any shape to talk.”

One, two, three deep breaths in and out, she mashed every feeling, every ounce of herself down before finally looking at Skinner, who was by now crouched in front of her, “what do you need me to tell you?”

It took another ninety minutes for her to finish her account of things. Mulder was, by then, crawling the walls, itching to get her the hell away from all this … get her someplace quiet, safe, get her off the adrenaline that continued to course through her veins and show itself in her still dilated eyes. About to step in and tell them all to go to hell, Skinner announced she was done and turning to Mulder, “I suggest you get her to a hospital.”

Belaying that order with her own, “Take me home, Mulder,” she stood and walked slowly towards the outside doors, where the crowds had thinned somewhat.

“She needs to see a doctor.”

Mulder could only shrug, “it’d be easier to bring the hospital to her. She’ll go if she needs to and I sure as hell can't make her go before then.” Scrubbing his face with his hands, Mulder gave his boss one final look, “make sure no one bugs her for a few days.”

“Let me know if she needs anything.”

Nodding, he headed after his partner, who, once he caught up with her, never even noticed he was there.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Are you sure?”

By now, she was down to nodding, the quiet car and Mulder’s hand on her arm serving to slow her heart and begin to empty her system of the fight or flight drug that she’d been flooded with since the moment she saw the stranger’s gun. Her eyes kept slowly shutting, stuttering back open, unfocused closing yet again.

He had just asked for what would be his third and final time if she’d like to go to the hospital, just to have them check her out.

“Where do you want to go then? Your place or mine or your mom’s?”

“Mom’s at Charlie’s tonight with the kids.”

Executive decision to go to his place, simply because she was going to be asleep way before they got to hers, he navigated around corner and down straightaway, his hand on her wrist the whole time, until he parked once again.

Getting her upstairs was easy, but she stopped just inside the front door, quiet but unmoving. Skirting around her, he locked the door then, hand on her upper arm, “are you awake enough to go get changed, then go to the bathroom so I can clean you up?”

Her eyes were rolling again as she watched the room fade and reappear, drift sideways and back upright, wobble and calm, “what?”

Repeating himself, he added, “I can help with whatever you need.”

“I need clothes.”

She managed to undress and redress herself while he went and found a bag of frozen vegetables for her face. Hearing her footsteps towards the bathroom, that’s where he headed, finding her seated on the closed toilet, staring at the wall. Without a request for permission, he soaked a washcloth and began cleaning the blood from her face, avoiding the blossoming bruise on her possibly broken cheekbone. Pulling crusty bits from her hair, he told himself they weren’t brain fragments but simply clumps of dried blood.

Finally, as clean as he was going to get her, he focused on her bruise, holding the towel-wrapped bag to her cheek, noticing not so much as a wince from her when the cold met her skin. Taking one of her hands and placing it so she could hold the bag herself, he then wiggled up the pant legs of her/his pajamas to check on her knees.

Two large bruises were forming, the left knee looking swollen as well. Catching her eye, “how are they feeling?”

She had to think about it but eventually an answer of ‘I don’t know’ came back.

He didn’t dare touch them in case one of the kneecaps was cracked but that would be a problem a minute, an hour from now. “Let’s get you in bed then. I think you need to lay down.”

“Couch … please.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Complying with the couch request, he settled her in the corner, legs propped up on pillows on the coffee table–pulled forward to accommodate shortness–, blanket tucked around her, head resting where the cushions met. “You hungry?” Hand still holding vegetables to face, he could just make out her head shake of ‘no’ so he continued, “Would you mind if I eat?”

“Go ahead.”

Sandwich in hand, he carefully sat on the opposite end of the couch, back to the arm so he could watch her. He stared quietly while he ate until Scully finally shifted her eyes in his direction. He expected her to yell at him for staring but instead, she stared back, eyes blank and flat. Not about to push her yet, he waited, swallowing his last bite, then shifting a little to rest his head on the soft back of the couch, never blinking, never deviating from her gaze.

Ten more minutes they sat like this until Mulder reached his hand out, “time’s up for ice. I don’t want to freeze your face off.”

Surrendering the now malleable bag of barely frozen peas, “I’m going to need a haircut. The sharpshooter bullet singed off some of my hair.”

He’d smelled the burning hair when he got to her in the bank but hadn’t said anything, “I didn’t realize you knew what happened.”

This avenue of thought died then and there for another, “was I really in there almost two hours before … during …” she couldn’t find the end of that sentence but Mulder understood.

“Yeah. Longest two hours of my life.”

He had the kind of eyes that women locked onto, vibrant green to muted hazel depending on light and mood. The first victim has an emerald green pin whose color had mesmerized her, made her think of him, thank God he wasn’t inside, thank God he wouldn’t be hurt. His eyes now, however, were paled to dark sea glass, shadowed by the gathering clouds and graying skin of exhaustion.

“Scully?”

The room was noticeably darker than it had been a moment ago … or was it an hour … would time always work like this for her from now on? “What?”

“You haven’t blinked in five minutes. You okay in there?”

“Time isn’t working.”

He sat up, concern instant, “what?”

“Nine minutes felt like a lifetime in there, then two hours passed, I only started looking at you a moment ago and you say it’s five minutes.” Swallowing hard, she could feel her hands beginning to twitch, “something’s wrong.”

Thinking back to the aftermath of August Bremmer, “the shock’s setting in. Tell me what to do.”

Her hands were beginning to jump and she was getting cold. Forcing her memory to sort through med school detritus, “I need to lay down. Put my feet above my head.”

Mulder did as told, gently sliding her legs around and then her body down the smooth leather. Legs over the opposite end of the couch now, he then covered her with the blanket once again, running to fetch his comforter as well. Once she was buried, “do you need any water?”

A sheen of sweat had broken on her forehead and he could see the blankets move as her hands rattled and shook, her arms joining in, “no. I … just hold my hand.”

Doing more than that, he first found her hand, holding it under the covers and against her belly while his other hand reached up, stroking her forehead back and forth with his thumb, palm resting on the top of her head, “do you need a hospital yet?”

His hand shook with hers.

“No. I’ll tell you if I need to go.”

“Well, I’m reserving, right now, the right to override you if I get too freaked out.”

Quiet for a minute, he noticed that she visibly turned green, then grey, then white. Already moving for the trashcan by his desk, he had it beside her just as she leaned sideways, the words ‘sorry’ passing her lips before the vomit did. Sitting up before the second round shook her soul, she leaned over, back arching, pain in her face exploding, knees protesting, pulled shoulder pinching, blood vessels breaking across her face and chest.

He had to swallow hard to control his own gorge from rising.

But he held her thigh and the can in front of her, waiting until the universal all-clear sign of head nod/lean back/I need to get away from the smell shift in posture. Once she’d made it all the way back to cushions, he stood up, “I’m going to go clean this out. Will you be okay for a minute?”

Suddenly, exhaustion took over, and opened her eyes to find him, feeling empty and drunk and weightless, “can you get me to bed first?”

Really wanting to clean out the nastiness in the can in his hand, he set it on the coffee table, reaching out to help her, “yeah. Hand me the comforter on your way up.”

Shuffling her to the bed, he got her in, thick covers back in place, and thankfully, her hand shakes back down to minor twitches. Resting his hand on her shoulder, he leaned in, “do you still feel sick?”

“No.” Her eyes were already closing, “just come back when you’re done.”

Kiss to temple, he went and cleaned up, trying his best not to puke himself while he scrubbed the can. Finally, all clean, he went back to the bedroom to find her fast asleep. Setting down the can, he retrieved the book he was reading, opting to quietly climb up beside her on the bed, hearing the faint sounds she was already making in the back of her throat, the nightmare already forming in the forefront of her mind.

She’d be awake soon enough.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It came out of nowhere, the lightning unnoticed but the booming clap of thunder loud enough to shake the room. He jumped at the sudden noise, but Scully bolted up, arms flying out in both directions, catching him on the chest with one while smacking the edge of the nightstand with the other. Shaking, eyes tightly squeezed shut, she began moving her lips in what took Mulder a moment to figure out … she was whispering the ‘Our Father’ as she quaked, caught in a waking nightmare.

“Scully, it’s me.” His voice was barely louder than her offered prayer, and he said it again, “it was just thunder. It’s just me and Mother Nature, I promise.”

No response, so he reached over, tentatively scooting to sit beside her, legs vee-ing around her, hand running lightly up her arm, mouth on her shoulder, “I’m right here. Nothing’s gonna happen to you, I swear.”

If that sank in, he didn’t know but soon, she turned her head to look at him, her cheek swollen, skin bruised and tight, “is it still today?”

“It’s only been about a half-hour since you fell asleep so yeah, it's still today.”

Taking in deep breath after deep breath, she scooted out of bed, away from him, her knees protesting as she tried to stand and ended up leaning on the mattress, shoulder a dull ache. The breaths came faster now, her fist pounding the pile of covers, “God Dammit! It needs to be tomorrow so this can all be over and done with!”

He moved to sit in front of her, pressing her hands against his thighs, “it’s not going to be over for a long time, you know that.”

“I just want today to be over …” switching from anger to heart wrenching sobs, “I just want today to be over. Just … can it be over? Please?”

“The only way to do that is to go to the hospital and get those ‘happy’ pills they like to give people for pain.” Critical look aimed at her, “why don’t you want to go? Just get checked out?”

Defeat was now evident and as the fight left her, however miniscule it had been, she made her way painfully back onto the bed, “because they’ll make me talk to someone. Skinner will need to know and he’ll call in the trauma psychologist and they’ll make me talk to them about what happened and I don’t want that and I don’t need that right now and I just want to sit here with you and,” her voice wavered, “just be here with you.”

Tapping his index finger against her foot, “give me two minutes.”

He reappeared with a granola bar, a spoonful of peanut butter, a bottle of Ibuprofen, and a glass of water. Taking charge, he held drugs and water out to her and after she swallowed without argument, he unwrapped the granola bar, dipping it in the peanut butter, “eat this. It’ll settle things down.”

Not sure she cared which way was up anymore, she did as told, handing him the empty spoon a minute later.

Taking it, he set it on the side table, “why don’t you come back out to the couch and we’ll find something to watch and we can watch for lightning so we’ll know when the thunder’s coming. We can prop your legs up like before and if you’re upright, maybe your face won’t hurt and while we’re out there, I’ll hold you really tight and nothing will be able to get you and you can sleep if you want without worrying.”

Honest to God, she relaxed a little, “that was a lot of ‘and’s.”

“Just come on.”

They first perused the weather channel to find that storms were lined up one after another until well into the wee hours of the morning. Forewarned, Scully gingerly held the refrozen peas to her face, “what would you like to watch?”

“You.”

He said things like this at times, just to mess with her and it worked, half a genuine smile ticking up the unswollen side of her face.

He then grinned himself, “or we could just flip through until we both agree?”

They did and as the next storm knocked on the door, they watched reruns of ‘I love Lucy’ and ‘Three’s Company,’ interspersed with ‘The Flintstones.’ The rain and thunder made it loud at times, the TV no match for the lashing of wind and water against the windows. She searched for and found his hand under their blankets, holding tight until she came back to reality, to the understanding that he was still there, the only one in the room, the one who would never hurt her.

Once another episode of whatever had ended, Scully reached for the remote, clicking the TV off, sending them into relative darkness and quiet, the latest storm having rolled past and the next not here quite yet. By now, she had her head in his lap, lying on her side, pillow between her knees to relieve the pressure on the now noticeably less swollen but still painful joint. Given the pillow under her head, her face was still elevated, the drugs having kicked in to bring all her pain down to manageable, except for one …

Mulder’s hand had been playing absently with her arm, running up and down, starting at shoulder and moving to wrist, in slow, steady rhythm …

And it took a moment for him to realize she was crying.

One sniff gave her away.

Moving his hand from arm to neck, he began stroking his thumb over her ear, behind, along her jawline, not saying a word, waiting on her for all eternity if he must.

It didn’t take quite that long.

“I gave up … at the end. I never tried to fight him or overpower him and … I gave up at the end.”

He hadn’t expected that.

“What do you mean, ‘gave up’?

She didn’t move to blow her nose or swipe at fast falling tears, instead gripping his thigh, kneading muscle, “in those last seconds, with both guns to my head, I asked God that it might not hurt too badly; that he would take care of you and my family; and then I just … floated away.”

“Floated?”

“I said goodbye to my life, then, accepting that I was going to die, I retreated.” Rolling to her back, carefully, painfully, she looked up at him, eyes still streaming, “I watched him pointing the guns at me from outside of … myself.” Going quiet for awhile, thinking, debating, the tears slowed while Mulder watched her, studied her, before she continued, “I saw the body on the floor on the other side of the counter, I saw everything … from … above. I think … I think maybe God was already taking me but then decided to shove me back in my body once the bullet left Harper, it was Harper, right?” Mulder nodded, “Once the bullet left Harper’s gun.” Shutting her eyes, another tear ran out and down through her ear to disappear into her hair, “am I crazy? The FBI trauma guy would have gotten that out of me and I can’t …you’re the only one I could ever tell that to.”

A few moments later.

“Mulder?” She slowly sat up, fear in her eyes, “why are you looking at me like I’m crazy? You’re not supposed to do that.”

“I’m not. I promise.” Standing, he motioned for her to lie down again, pillows back in place, then, kneeling beside her, “you didn’t give up. You accepted your fate. They are two very different things in my opinion.” Toying with the flyaway hairs framing her forehead, “you’re kind of running in familiar territory right now.”

In the decades she’d lived through today, she had forgotten about Bremmer and that field, “What did you think about?”

“At the end or the whole time?”

“Both, I guess.”

Shifting his other arm up beside her so he could rest his head on his hand and continue touching her, “at the beginning of the walk, I thought about your laugh and how it always makes me smile, and as I kept walking, I thought about you in that blue dress you have hanging in your closet, and by the time I was kneeling in the dirt, gun hovering, sweat pouring off of me, all I could think of was that one time I danced with you.” He didn’t look embarrassed at his declarations, statements of fact more than deep confessions, but he turned pink anyways, slight shrug and smirk, “can’t control what goes on in your head.”

They had somehow missed the lightning, and the corresponding thunder made her jump, whimpering when her teeth clenched together and put pressure on her cheekbone. Leaning forward, he ran his lips lightly over her forehead, “I’ll go get another round of Ibuprofen.”

“Thanks.”

&&&&&&&&&&

He’d coaxed her back to bed around midnight and at her request, had slid in beside her. No idea how long he’d been asleep, he woke up to something. Listening carefully, he only heard silence but reaching over he found Scully gone, the sheets still warm but cooling fast. Looking around, he saw the bathroom dark so she had to be in the living room or kitchen. His feet hit the carpet a moment later and shaking his head to wake up, still feeling mostly asleep, he headed out of the bedroom.

Living room was also dark and empty so walking around the corner to the kitchen, he found her stockstill in the middle of the floor, standing amidst the wreckage of what had to be at least two of his cereal/soup bowls.

And she was shaking.

“Scully?” Sliding his feet along the floor, he pushed luckily large ceramic chunks aside, “Scully.”

He watched her chest rise and fall, grasping for any bit of oxygen that floated by. Fists balled and pressing into her temples, she had her eyes shut, caught in her own little world of terror. Not sure if he should touch her or not, he instead said her name again, “Scully, it’s me. You’re safe. It’s just me.”

No reaction on her end so he finally reached out, hands on her wrists, trying to pull her arms away, down, but there was a fight, her muscles locked on one task only and they’d be damned if they’d quit now.

“Fuck.” She began swaying forward as he pulled so giving up that route, he instead put his hands on her neck, thumbs back at her jawbone in a reflection of earlier and leaning in, kissed her, saying her name every time he broke the connection.

After a good fifteen times, she finally responded, her hands moving to hold his head, the veneer cracked, the tears falling, the air moving, the muscles relaxing. Holding him to her this time, she kissed him back, then, whispering into his mouth, “I thought about you. I thought about my family, too, but mostly, it was you.”

“What did you think about me?”

Tears were flowing now, her voice becoming soggy and slurred, “about how I would never get to tell you how much I love you; that you mean the world to me; that I should have kissed you years ago when I first realized I wanted to.”

He kissed her again, this time with a purpose other than distraction. Knowing he had to let her breathe, he pulled back, moving her head so she could see him and understand him without question, “I love you  and you mean the world to me and I should have kissed you years ago when I first realized I wanted to.”

With a wet chuckle that made her cheek hurt, she winced but smiled, “those are my lines.”

“No they’re not.” Kissing her again, “I didn’t only think about you in that blue dress.”

Even though her shoulder protested, she wrapped her arms around him, being careful to rest the unbroken side of her face against his chest, “we’re so stupid.”

Maneuvering, he picked her up, “yeah, we are. Come on. I don’t want you walking through here and slicing a toe off.”

He could only make it to the couch given he discovered he had a piece of bowl embedded in his foot after all. Putting her down, he sat on the coffee table, trying to use the streetlamp reflection to dig out the shard. “Do you want me to turn on the light?”

“No.” Holding up a piece so small she couldn’t see it, “I’ve got it.”

“Do you need me to go get you a bandaid?”

He grinned at her, “you’ve slipped into doctor mode. I think you’re gonna be okay.”

Not smiling back but giving him a good look, “you think so?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Twenty minutes later, the kitchen floor was clean, Mulder’s foot was Neosporined and Bandaided, and they were both on the couch, Scully’s knee propped up yet again.

The rising sun was just beginning to turn the sky purple-gray and Mulder, his hand wrapped well around hers, “you made it to tomorrow.”

Tightening her grip for a second, “I honestly never thought it would get here.”

“But it did and it will be infinitely better than yesterday was.”

Another moment or three passed before, “I'm sorry I broke your bowls. I was debating which one to use then one must have slipped and hit the floor and …” shugging, “the next thing I knew you were kissing me.”

Turning on the cushion, he gave her a long look, “there were several minutes in-between.”

She heard his silent request, “give me a little while, okay? If it keeps happening, I’ll go talk to someone.”

“Deal.”

“Also, if you wouldn’t mind, could we maybe go to the hospital later on? I think my knee is worse than I thought.”

A second smile in her direction, he leaned forward, kissing her again, “you are a mess, young lady.”

“But still here … held together with luck and stubbornness but still here.”

“Luck and stubbornness, indeed.”

#msr #MulderNScully #x-files #x-files fanfic #still here #held together #with luck and stubborness

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Left forearm tattoo … courtesy of mine and my daughter’s 10 day London adventure …

The ‘yeah’ and ‘be’ we written by my dad … ‘everythings’ and the smiley face were from my husband … my mom wrote ‘gonna’ … my daughter wrote ‘alright’ … I drew the Mickey who is my stuffed animal who has been traveling with me since I was four years old …

I left in incorrect grammar and errant capital letters for posterity sake :)

I will now always have my favorite people with me wherever I go :)

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Baby Monitors

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie ... Multiplication ... Catching On ... Thanksgiving ... The Funeral ... Midnight Libations ... Stockings were Hung ... Mama Walter ... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Skimmer-style) ... Official ... Memory Lane ... Tartan Tablecloths ... Auntie V ... Birthday Surprises ... Routines ... Worry ... Again ... Betsy ... Sam ... Anything for Five Minutes ... Batteries ... but I’m not ...

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&

Mulder dropped Sam off at his house, hugging him tightly before sending him off to take a nap, their draining afternoon catching up to his still-recovering body quickly. Joanna looked at Mulder critically, “did he do okay?”

“He did great. He didn’t say much but I wasn’t expecting a deluge anyway.”

“I don’t need to know what he said but as long as you tell me he’s alright, I’ll believe you.”

Just wanting to go home and cry, he gave he a smile, “he will be all right.”

She hugged him then, sending her love home to Scully and the kids, setting a time for the next Saturday before waiting until he’d gotten in his car and waved, to shut the front door.

Mulder, for his part, felt like hell and was truly grateful that Scully didn’t ask anything except, “you doing okay?”

“I’m doing okay.”

&&&&&&&&&&

The phone rang at 12:30am and Scully, already awake and feeding the babies, grabbed it on its second ring, utter terror freezing her insides, especially once she saw it was Dave’s number, “Is everything all right? What’s wrong?”

Sam’s voice, small and quiet, “whenever I fall asleep, I see the arms moving over me, from while I was on the table. How do I stop seeing them?”

Still in panic mode, “one second. Are you okay? Do you need help?”

“I’m okay. I just woke up from a nightmare and already had the phone in my hand and the idea to call you.” She could hear the tears on the back of his words, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.”

“No. Nononono, Sam, it’s fine. I was awake with the twins anyways. I just want to make sure you don’t need any help over there, first. I’m fine to talk … as long as you like.”

“I should go. I’m sorry.”

“Samuel James, do not hang up the phone.”

Full name business now.

“But it was stupid. I should have just called you in …”

She blew right over him, her voice drowning out his small one, “I still have that dream. I see instruments and needles being passed over me while I stare up at the ceiling and can’t move, can’t push the hands away.”

It was silent for almost a minute, but she could still hear him breathing so she waited, patiently, her heart thudding entirely too regularly for such an irregular conversation, especially one with a 12-year-old.

“They won’t ever go away?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve learned that when I have that dream, I think to myself, in the dream, that I’m not really alone. Uncle Mudler is sleeping next to me and I just keep telling myself that, until I finally wake up and see Uncle Mudler, drooling on me, and everything is okay.”

“But the dreams are so real. I wake up feeling their hands on me, feel the spots where they held me down.”

“In the beginning, yes, they seemed so real that I didn’t want to go to sleep, ever, but then, after a very long time, I decided to tell myself, over and over again, before I went to bed, that I was safe and happy and whatever I dreamed wasn’t real. Over and over, repeating and repeating, that it would just be a dream.”

“Do you still do that now?”

She had never told anyone about the mantra or what she was about to say as well, “every night. Every night I pray that everyone I know and love will be protected and then I fall asleep thinking, ‘whatever I dream, isn’t real.’”

Sam, sitting in the living room, having no idea how he got downstairs in the first place, “did you hear sounds, when you came back?”

Scully simply nodded her head, realizing she was telling her nephew things she had never even told her husband, “I did. I heard train whistles, real faint but definitely whistles. I heard ticking clocks and random high-pitched buzzing. I don’t hear much anymore but occasionally, I’ll hear a thudding thump that I can’t explain. Like I’m hearing a second heartbeat in my head but I have no idea what it is.”

Jumping subjects with ease, “My mom dropped a handful of silverware after dinner and I was just coming down the stairs and I … I peed my pants.” His embarrassment came through the phone clearly, “I didn’t … I didn’t tell anyone. I just went and changed.”

She could feel him clamming up, closing off, about to flee from the conversation because of his confession of indiscretion. Pulling him back in her quiet way, “you want to hear something?”

Hesitating, ready to say ‘goodnight’ and go stay awake until morning, “yeah.”

“On our birthday, your uncle woke me up and scared me with one of those pink coconut Sno-Balls. He just wanted to wish me ‘happy birthday’ but instead, I had to throw up because of the twins and because he scared me and I had to move fast, I didn’t have time to tighten my muscles and … you can never tell anyone this, do you understand me … I peed my pants, too. I was throwing up and peeing and it was a nightmare that we will never speak of but I survived and so will you and we don’t have to talk about me or you peeing ever again.”

While not laughing, she could hear his smile, “we kinda have our own weird, little club now, don’t we?”

“I guess we do. We’ll need t-shirts.”

“Maybe they can have toilets on them.”

Smiling as well, “they most certainly can.”

Another long pause later, he yawned, “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“You can always wake me up, you understand? Always.” Listening to him yawn a second time, “are you going to go to bed now?”

“I think so.”

“They’re just dreams, don’t forget. Your mom and dad are just down the hall and I’m right here if you need me. Take the phone with you, if you want to, so you can call right away and we can talk pee again.”

Quiet on his end.

“I love you, Samuel James Scully. Don’t let anybody tell you different.”

“I love you, too.”

&&&&&&&&&

Scully settled the twins back down, then, turning off lights as she went, found the bed in the dark with her knees, then crawled in, Mulder, in his Mulder way, shifting to find her. In a voice entirely too clear and awake for having been sound asleep a moment before, “need some hugs?”

The first tear was already rolling down her nose, dropping between them with the faintest of sounds as it hit the sheets, “yes, please.” After being shifted and squeezed to the proper level, he continued to hold her close, “I forgot about the baby monitor.”

“It’s okay. I have promptly forgotten everything I heard. Your secrets are safe.”

Her breath dampened his neck as she spoke, the sound warm and muffled, “they really shouldn’t be secrets in the first place. I’m trying to get Sam to tell me what happened when I realize I still haven’t told you.” Pushing her nose into him, face smashed in a futile attempt to get closer to him, “it was so bright in that room, my eyes throb just thinking about it.”

Hand now moving over her back, finding skin under shirt, “you don’t have to do this … at least not now.”

“Yes, I do.” 

#msr #midnight phones calls #and forgotten baby monitors #x-files #x-files fanfic #my writing #life part 4 series

[tatooedlaura-blog]

but I’m not

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie ... Multiplication ... Catching On ... Thanksgiving ... The Funeral ... Midnight Libations ... Stockings were Hung ... Mama Walter ... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Skimmer-style) ... Official ... Memory Lane ... Tartan Tablecloths ... Auntie V ... Birthday Surprises ... Routines ... Worry ... Again ... Betsy ... Sam ... Anything for Five Minutes ... Batteries

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&

Two weeks later, the twins were just beginning to realize they were part of a world that was not their mother’s womb, waking up, finding a rhythm, beginning to focus on any face that drifted into their view. Scully was up and around, moving a little slow but back to picking up Will, shuffling to the living room, hiking the stairs, and, by God, able to see her feet again.

Granted, she had to lean forward a little but there were there, all pale and crooked-toed but definitely hers and definitely in need of some nail polish and a good pumice stone scrub. Looking at Mulder as she casually mentioned this, he grinned at her, expertly wrapping Jamie in his blanket, rainbow-colored dinosaurs the cotton of choice today, “you want me to paint your toenails?”

“It is your last day of ‘maternity leave.’ Her smile grew wide enough to crinkle her eyes, “I’ll do yours if you do mine.”

Now shaking his head, “how is it that I can’t deny you a damn thing, even touching those feet of yours.”

“If I recall correctly, you’ve done a lot more than just touch those feet.”

Instantly recalling several scenarios, he pickup up Jamie, gently setting the impossibly small child against his shoulder, “very true. You win. I’ll do them tonight but you are not painting my toenails in return.”

“Can I at least pumice them? Those callouses on the back are going to rub my calves raw one of these nights.”

“Oh, yeah. Those are gross. Do whatever you want with those.” Coming to stand over her, “having fun?”

She was sitting at the kitchen table, breast pump firmly attached, making some kind of list, Casey asleep in the bouncy seat on the table and Will in his high chair, throwing Cheerios at himself, “I am writing an epic poem about the eruption of Vesuvius and the subsequent burial of Pompeii, all from the point of view of a tiny dog who lived in a restaurant on the Via dell’Abbondanze.”

“So, typical day with the Scully children.”

That got her attention, “the Scully children?”

He had been debating this for awhile, ever since Will had made his appearance, but he’d never mentioned it until now, “yeah.” Pulling up a chair to sit, he patted Jamie on the back and shifted him half an inch to the left, before settling in, “these kids, right now, are Mulders but I think, and don’t stop me or argue for a second, please, because I have been debating this for 363 days now, but I think that I’d like to have a discussion of making us all Scully’s. We joked about it before and you didn’t change your name and it wouldn’t be hard to change mine or theirs.”

In a universe where she wasn’t attached to a machine being milked like a cow and her oldest son wasn’t giggling with a Cheerio hanging from his nose and Mulder didn’t look so intently serious she had to wonder if he was back under some kind of mind-control, she would have jumped up, called him an idiot and moved him off the subject so fast his head would have spun.

Instead, she quietly sat there, matching his gaze, the tension between them suddenly solid and imposing, “you want to what?”

“I can’t be a Mulder anymore, Scully, or at least I can’t saddle these kids with that name.” She could see the internal debate he’d had about this, could read his face better than any book or case file, “I have so much baggage in my past and I just … they don’t need whatever comes with the name.”

“Mulder.”

Gesturing to her, ironic smile abounding, “see, it’ll never quite go away anyways so it’s not like they won’t hear it and know. They’ll just match the rest of their cousins when it comes to lining up in alphabetical order.”

Scully reached over to switch off the pump, sending the room into a quiet filled only with Will babble, “they are Mulders. I’m not removing their name just because your past if filled with things better left unsaid. You are their father and they will have your name. If you want to fight me on this, you will have to fight me on this.”

Moving to stand, to walk away, to hide the frustrated tears that had suddenly collected at the corner of her eyes, she hastily wiped away stray milk from around her nipple, slipped her shirt back over her head, and was stopped from leaving the room by Mulder’s hand on her arm, “don’t go.”

Feeling a fire she hadn’t felt in awhile, she turned, eyes sharp and clear, “you will not hide your children from five hundred years of Mulder history. So you had a forty year blip. It’s nothing in the grand scheme of things.”

“That’s the problem, Scully. I’m not actually a Mulder.”

And she stopped dead. Information that should have sank in three years ago finally penetrated and the revelation actually made her sway back and forth, gripping the chair back for support.

He waited.

Finally, “you are your mother’s child.”

“But I’m not Bill Mulder’s son. It bothers me that I’m giving our kids a false background and name. The minute I saw Will, the idea began but now, with the other two, as well as what happened, I can’t just let it go.”

How had this never come up before?

And how could she ever decide something like this with a three-minute warning, “you say you’ve been thinking about this for 363 days so I need more than three minutes.”

He stood, carefully holding Jamie as he leaned over to kiss her forehead, meet her skin with his lips, whisper carefully into that beautiful brain of hers, “no rush. We can talk about it later and for as long as you like.”

“But there’s no changing your mind, is there? In the time it took to throw me for a loop, you solidified your position, didn’t you?”

God, she knew him too well, “You really can read my mind.”

Hand to his face, thumb running over his cheekbone, back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm, “sometimes, I wish I could.”

“It would probably help to see what’s going on in there that I can’t find the words to make you understand.”

Deep breath in, she pressed the side of her nose to his, eyes shutting, “we will talk soon, okay, and we’ll figure out the words.”

&&&&&&&&&&

He didn’t push her and she didn’t ask, letting ideas and possibilities hover in the background.

Sunday was the broods first family dinner and coincidently, Will’s first birthday; tiny cake and boisterous singing the dessert plan of the afternoon. G.G. had constructed a birthday cake to top all birthday cakes and Maggie had made the Dessert and it was a feast to end all feasts. Once G.G. had gotten her fill of babies for a minute, allowed others to hold and coddle the three smallest of the group, she settled back in the couch, hands folded on her lap, mischievously playful glint in her eye as she looked at the tired parents, “so, kids, tell me … what did Jamie and Casey weigh?”

Mulder suddenly wasn’t tired anymore, sitting up, his eyes wide, “holy crap. I totally forgot.”

Scully, information always at the ready, told the older woman, skepticism prepped and waiting in the wings, “both five pounds; one, eight ounces, one, twelve.”

Looking at Walter, “dear, can you go grab me the note I left on the fridge last time I was here, please?”

Obeying his mother, Skinner returned and handed it to her, grinning, “you’re about to see Mulder explode.”

The smile on Mulder’s face was threatening to crack his head in two, “are you kidding?”

G.G. laughed, handing it to him, “there’s a little something else on there as well.”

Once he took the note and read it, his smile faded, turning into that inquisitive head tilting, half wonder, half shock, full-on beautiful gaze that never failed to make Scully’s insides melt. Handing it to Scully, “read that one out loud, please.”

Somehow, some mysterious magic was tingling her ears, making the hairs on her neck stand up. Opening, she read out quietly, “one boy, one girl, 5 lbs. 8 oz., 5 lbs. 12 oz. – May 8 – sometime in the late morning.”

Mulder’s head did not explode but it had the potential to: eyes wide enough to fall out; mouth open to the point where, had anyone had the forethought to have M&Ms on hand, could have pitched them in; eyebrows high enough to nearly disappear in his slightly receding hairline, “ho- ly- shit!”

Then Betsy, “Jesus! Mary! And Joseph!”

Will screeched, “Da!”

Scully shook her head, “G.G., he’s never going to let you leave now.”

Mulder, already sidling up beside her, “damn right. I’m moving her into our spare room.”

&&&&&&&

Sam, who had been rather quiet all night, not so much playing with his cousins as hovering, watching, herding them into one room, was eventually cornered by Scully, caught in the kitchen, alone, retrieving a juice box for Toby, “hey, Sam, how’s it going?”

To his credit, he didn’t jump but to Scully’s credit, she made plenty of noise walking into the kitchen as not to scare him. Turning, box clutched in his hand, “it’s going okay.”

Giving him the most unimposing, friendly, aunt-type smile she could muster, “are you nervous about tomorrow?”

He’d been cleared of any wrong-doing in relation to Krycek and Spender, only having to speak to detectives the first few days and having only one follow-up visit to the doctor. He’d been gaining weight back slowly and his bruises were fading, only slightly shadowing rings left around his upper arms from the shackles he’d been in, and the scar on the back of his neck. He had stubbornly refused to talk to any therapist except his Uncle Mudler and his Aunt Dana. Uncle Mudler, in turn, had repeatedly stated that he wasn’t a certified therapist and there were more qualified people out there in the world to help him but Sam had simply shaken his head, “I want to talk to you and Aunt Dana, only.”

Scully, with trepidation and her throat threatening to squeeze shut, had told Sam, that first day he came to visit the twins at the apartment, six days after he’d been returned, “if you need to talk about anything, I’m here.” Swallowing hard, she also told him, words nearly failing her, given she did not, under nearly any circumstance, discuss this, “they took me, too, years ago. I was gone for three months and I may be the only one who knows what you’re feeling.”

Sam had gone white and speechless, standing statuesque in front of her, cheekbones prominent on his sallow face.

She waited quietly.

Until …

“Did they … did you … you were in the room?”

Scully nodded, her heart slowing as she realized, even though it may pain her to talk about it, Sam was desperate for someone to understand, “we can start talking whenever you want to. If you want to wait a few weeks, get a grip on things, that’s fine or it can be right now. It’s totally up to you.”

Seeing her hand twitch out to touch him, he backed up a step, “can we wait a little while?”

“Of course.” Making sure to meet his eye for her next statement, “you’re going to be okay. Everything’s gonna be all right. Can you trust me when I say that?”

Sam didn’t have to think long, agreeing with a head bob and a, ‘yeah.’

“Good. Now, do you want to go in and hold one of the babies?”

His eyes lit up briefly, “yes, please.”

And he did, holding Jamie first, then Casey, stroking their heads and telling them about all their cousins. He then borrowed Will to go build block towers with Hannah and Betsy in Will’s bedroom.

Now, tomorrow, he would be having his first ‘session’ with Uncle Mudler over a brown-bag lunch while watching the boats on the Potomac, Sam’s choice.

Answering her question of ‘are you nervous?’ with his own trepidatious nod and staccato deep-breath, “yeah.”

“That’s okay. Luckily, he’s Uncle Mudler, so, when you’re done, there’ll probably be silly string and fart jokes.”

Finally, he cracked a genuine smile, “I hope so.”

#msr #but I'm not #Bill Mulder's son #trepidatious nodding #and staccato deep-breathing #x-files #x-files fanfic #xf fanfic #my writing #life part 4 series

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Batteries

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie ... Multiplication ... Catching On ... Thanksgiving ... The Funeral ... Midnight Libations ... Stockings were Hung ... Mama Walter ... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Skimmer-style) ... Official ... Memory Lane ... Tartan Tablecloths ... Auntie V ... Birthday Surprises ... Routines ... Worry ... Again ... Betsy ... Sam ... Anything for Five Minutes

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&

The next two days were a blur for Sam. He answered a few questions, drifting off during others, stoically ignore several, outright told the detectives to kiss his ass once, sobbed in his mother’s arms hourly and, by the time they got home, took refuge in his room, only family allowed in.

Meanwhile, at the Scully-Mulder ‘three babies, no waiting’ household, Mulder heard about Sam and, giving his wife and kids a sad smile, bent down to kiss each one, “who would you prefer come over here and hang out while I go talk to Sam?”

“Anyone’s fine. Except for Bill. I’m not breastfeeding in front of Bill.”

“So Frohike can come over here and ogle you? He’ll love that.”

Sticking her tongue out at him and making Will giggle in the process, “I am two days post trying to be split in half by your big-headed progeny. Do not mess with me.”

It was Maggie for the win and Mulder, an hour later, was knocking on Dave’s door. Mulder tilted his head at his cousin-in-law once he answered the door, giving him a sympathetic, apologetic look, “you look like you’ve had as much sleep as I’ve had.”

Ushering him in, he locked the door behind, “Sam wakes up screaming or worse, he wakes up standing over our bed or suddenly appears in the living room, sound asleep but staring at us, completely helpless against whatever’s happening in his head.”

“Can I see him now or is he asleep?”

“Asleep but he’ll be up soon enough. Jo is dropping the girls off at Sarah’s for the night so they can get some sleep and just,” rubbing his face, “forget about this for a little while.”

Mulder reached out, hand to Dave’s arm, “can we talk then?”

Rueful smile creasing his mouth for a moment, “I was wondering when you’d say that.” Settling at the kitchen table, Dave asked, blunt-force as always, “did you leave your gun by Sam on purpose?”

Without pretense, Mulder nodded, “yeah. I didn’t have time to come up with more than leave it next to him and hope for a miracle. I was actually praying Scully would somehow appear non-threatening and be able to come outside and stand by him but … well … fate had other plans but it worked.”

“That was an awful big gamble to play with my son and an awful big burden.”

Mulder felt horrible to his core and told Dave this, “he had Betsy. I knew he’d make me put the gun down. Sam was a million to one chance. I honestly never expected him to fire but if he at least held the gun steady, I might be able to get at my ankle piece but just … Scully and Sam saved the day.”

“What would have happened if none of this had worked out the way it did?”

Sam, having stolen across the living room, appeared suddenly at their elbows, answering quietly, “they were going to take Will and the twins. He said he wanted his grandchildren, to teach them, prepare them.” Putting his hand on the back of his neck, “and they put something in my neck and told me that I was theirs now, that I would have to do whatever they wanted.” Mulder reached out to him but Sam shied away, “I don’t remember them putting me on the porch but suddenly, they had Betsy and I could think clearly and all I saw was Uncle Mudler put the gun down and … and … I knew what I had to do.”

Studying him for a moment, “Sam, why did you ask your dad to have me teach you how to shoot?”

Sam had only ever said that he wanted to be like Uncle Skimmer and Uncle Mudler when he grew up, which had been enough at the time for several indulgent, serious-minded, safety-filled, multi-afternoon trips to the FBI shooting range. He’d been a quick learn, steady hand keeping the bullets where they were supposed to.

He hadn’t flinched at the first pull of the trigger and Mulder was thoroughly impressed. Even Dave looked stricken the moment the gun went off in his own hand, having decided to learn alongside his son. Sam had listened, Sam had absorbed, Sam had learned.

And Sam had applied that learning.

When he didn’t answer, Mulder asked again, a little more forceful this time, a little more demanding, and Sam looked at him, answering his uncle, “I had a dream, lots of dreams, actually, that one of us would be taken away and that I needed to learn to protect us. Sometimes the shadow men took Betsy, sometimes it was Hannah or Aunt Maggie but usually it was me or Will. I needed a way to fight if that ever happened.”

Dave had his son in his arms and both were crying, one silent, one quaking, as Mulder stared past them at nothing, his mind reaching its limits for rational thought.

Once all had calmed down, Mulder looked at Sam, the boy finally allowing Mulder to touch his arm, “I know you’ve been asked this already but would you mind if I asked you something again?” Seeing Sam nod, “okay. When you were gone, what kind of room were you in?”

“A lot of the time, I was in hotel rooms or in cars but I remember spending a long time in a small, white room, on a table. I couldn’t move and I couldn’t scream and I couldn’t,” he faltered here, turning red and looking away from his uncle’s gaze to the floor, “I couldn’t tell them I had to use the bathroom.”

Dave had his arm around Sam’s shoulder, trying to keep his anger at the world in check, and squeezing, “it’s okay. No one else has to know anything you don’t want them to know, okay?” Looking at Mulder, “but Uncle Mudler is here to help you so how about we promise that whatever you say, we won’t tell anyone else?”

Mulder interrupted, “unless it’s really important, all right?” Looking at Dave, “I’m probably going to have to bring Scully in on all of this.”

Sam looked at his uncle, “you can tell them what you want. I just don’t want Matt or any of the kids finding out that I had to shit my pants.”

He said it so matter-of-fact, that Mulder burst out laughing, grabbing Sam and kissing his forehead, “I love you kid, never forget that.”

Sam, wanted to laugh too, but could only work up to a small smile, “I love you, too, Uncle Mudler, even if that man was your dad.”

He had totally forgotten about that revelation to the family and his smile slacked instantly, “I never knew he was until a few years ago. My mom never wanted me to know and looking back, I’m glad I didn’t know but I’m sorry you’re dealing with my … dealing with my past.”

Sam suddenly turned white, swaying where he sat at the table, “Dad, can I go lay down?”

Without pretense, “is the ringing back?”

Going from white to gray, “yeah. I need to lay down.”

Dave scooped up the five-foot-tall boy like he weighed no more than a feather, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“I’ll be here.”

Dave returned about ten minutes later, dropping into the kitchen chair to stare at Mulder, “what did they do to him?”

“I don’t know.” Leaning forward, chin on his folded hands, “but you need to get him into therapy as soon as possible and we need to make sure that he knows he did absolutely nothing wrong.” Squinting for a moment in thought, he then asked, “what’s the ringing you mentioned?”

“He has moments of really intense sound and sometimes he smells things that there’s no earthly way he can smell.”

“Like what?”

“Sometimes, it’s the ocean. Sometimes it’s engine fuel, like for a plane, or it’s an apple pie baking. He’s been hearing ticking as well as, um, something he calls thrumming but it’s not in beat with his heart because I’ve had him tap it out and it doesn’t match the rhythm I can feel in his pulse.”

Both lapsed into silence then, fear making them quiet while the world turned around them and Sam slept one floor above.

&&&&&&&&

Skinner showed up at their apartment the next day, elated at his new grandbabies, his large hands delicate against translucent skin and baby-soft skulls, “they had to get your giant heads, didn’t they?” Addressing Mulder with this statement while he carefully settled Jamie against the blanket over his shoulder, “you owe your wife a vacation.”

Scully, half-napping in her bed, Will asleep against her, mumbled her agreement, while Mulder held Casey and nodded, telling his father-in-law quietly, “we’ll get there.”

Skinner returned a sleeping Jamie back in the crib a few minutes later, having satisfied his baby-holding needs for the moment and turned to Mulder, “got a minute?”

Nodding, Mulder put Casey next to her brother, then glanced at Scully, “yeah.”

Gesturing for Mulder to follow him to the hall, Skinner squeaked his shoe accidently and Scully, in a clear voice that had obviously been eavesdropping while half-napping, a skill honed by years of stakeouts with her husband, “I’d like to hear this, please.”

Mulder stopped mid-step, looking down at her in awe, “I will never understand how you can be sleeping and listening at the same time.”

“Twelve years of Catholic school and three years of Med, plus years in a car with you.”

No more explanation was needed.

“What happened?”

Skinner nearly chose to switch subjects and instead mention something mundane about work but knowing she would kill him, literally, with one simple piercing gaze if she ever found out he’d lied, he sighed and pulled something from his pocket, holding it up for Mulder to see, “we found this on Krychek.”

It was the small palm-size device used to control the chips in their necks: used to control Scully on the bridge, used when Mulder went missing, and assumptively what would be used to control their nephew when the time came. Mulder’s inside liquified, then froze, the only thing keeping him from shitting out his entire intestinal tract being his muscles clenching tightly from head to toe.

Scully held it together better than Mulder did, panic gripping her chest for a moment before, “why didn’t you destroy it the minute you found it?”

Keeping his voice low and even, the room maintaining calm, “because I wasn’t sure if we would need it in the future to deal with any … situations … that might come up. I have no idea if this thing controls the spread of the cancer or … whatever other consequences there might be.”

“How would we know how to use it?” Her sarcasm began to rear its ugly head, defiant words flying in the face of towering fear, “did you find the instruction manual?”

One look from Skinner to match her own shut her down, “no, we didn’t, but that doesn’t mean we throw it away. It’s evidence as well as the only connection to those things in your necks, so how about we all calm down and take a deep breath, all right?”

Mulder finally found his words, “I don’t want that thing anywhere near us. If you keep it, it stays at your office.”

Having already planned to lock it up in his safe, he nodded, turning it over in his hands, “but just so you know, I took out the batteries so I can’t accidently make you dance the Macarena or anything.”

Faculties back and fully firing, Mulder looked at him like he had a third arm emerging from his neck, “it fucking runs on batteries?”

“Three double As and a 9-volt.”

“That God-damned motherfucker kept me prisoner with three fucking double A batteries and a 9-volt?! If he hadn’t had a spare pack of Energizer in his pocket at all times, I could have killed that asshole without hesitation?”

Skinner had been dealing with this Mulder for years and took it all in stride, still keeping his voice even and low, “yes, now quiet down so you don’t wake up my grandchildren. You do that and you’ll see me way more pissed than when I found this box.”

Scully had been deep breathing beside them for the last minute and reaching a hand out to tug on Mulder’s jeans, “hey.” When he didn’t look at her, she tried again, “hey.”

Mulder finally turned her way, “yeah?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

For the first time ever, he managed to nail the Scully eyebrow, “what?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Her finger now hooked in the pocket of his pants, “there are so many unknowns in our world but this one,” pointing her other hand at the box still in Skinner’s hands, “this one we have and we can study and we can keep track of. That’s more than anything else in the last nine years.”

He knew when to give in, “you’ve kept track of me for the last nine years.”

“That’s why Skinner gets to keep this one. You’re enough of a handful, and now there are Mulder offspring and more than enough for me to deal with.” She kept her eyes locked on his until his eyebrow lowered and she saw the tension leave his shoulders, “we good?”

“We good.”

#msr #sam the protective cousin #who learned how to kill #to save the ones he loved #plus #Mulder nails the eyebrow #x-files fanfic #xfiles fanfic #my writing #life part 4 series

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Anything for Five Minutes

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie ... Multiplication ... Catching On ... Thanksgiving ... The Funeral ... Midnight Libations ... Stockings were Hung ... Mama Walter ... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Skimmer-style) ... Official ... Memory Lane ... Tartan Tablecloths ... Auntie V ... Birthday Surprises ... Routines ... Worry ... Again ... Betsy ... Sam

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&

Meanwhile, two floors above, Scully was thinking of little else but the pain of two children attempting to exit their very large heads through a very tiny hole, “I can just hold them in until the epidural kicks in.”

The doctor looked at her with a little bit of amusement and a whole lot of sympathy, “you’re a doctor, you know you can’t hold anything in right now. These babies want out and they are most definitely coming out, right now.” He looked at Mulder, who’d been hastily gowned and sanitized, “you’re going to see one of your kids in about five minutes.”

Looking at Scully, who was gripping his hand as another contraction ramped up, “five minutes.”

Gritting her teeth, she nodded, “I can do anything for five minutes.”

“You can do anything for five minutes.”

Luckily, it only took four, and one big push later, there was a brand-new baby girl being held up, Mulder cutting the umbilical cord and forgetting how to speak while Scully, not having much time to admire her now wailing daughter, grit-toothed, clench-jaw growled that the next one was coming and someone better catch it.

The doctor, well aware of everything happening at the exit ramp of one Dana Scully, was ready and waiting. Another push, another low moaning groan, and previous baby girl immediately became the middle child, her little brother joining the world two minutes, 18 seconds after she did.

Mulder was on information overload, and, crying like his two newest children, kissed Scully over and over again before bouncing to his kids, hovering until he was allowed to see them, not wanting to interfere in whatever the doctor was doing.

Scully, for her part, both emerging from and drowning in a cloud of hazy emotion, asked quietly, “are they okay?”

Receiving the most hoped for answer of ‘they look fine, we just want to get them cleaned up and warm for you,’ she joined Mulder in his tears.

And then the world tunneled to the bassinet wheeled over to the side of her bed, one baby soon in her arms, then the next. Mulder, head beside hers, quietly sang a round of ‘Happy Birthday’ before telling the three of them, “I love you.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

The next time Sam woke up, he didn’t panic, finding his father’s face, feeling his mother’s hand on his chest, “did I kill them?”

Skinner, hovering in the background, spoke quietly, “don’t worry about that now.”

“Uncle Skimmer, I had to. I didn’t have any … I didn’t …” He ran out of words as his head began to spin, “I don’t feel good.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

It took until the twins were sleeping together in their bassinet before Scully remembered, looking up suddenly, “Sam?!”

Mulder shushed her immediately, “he’s downstairs. He was having some trouble but they gave him something to help him sleep. I talked to Dave a few minutes ago and he says ‘congratulations’ and he’ll be up later, with Sam if he can.”

“When did he call?”

“You were busy staring at your kids and didn’t notice.” Grinning at her, he kissed her forehead, “your mom is also on her way up.”

“So much for my finely-honed attention to detail.”

“You pushed two kids out two hours ago. You are forgiven.”

She yawned a response and about to ask how long Maggie would be, there was a knock on the door, Maggie asking into the room, “can I come in?” Knowing childbirth quite well, she only stayed long enough to stare at her expanding brood of grandchildren, kissing them both and whispering, “do they have names yet?”

Scully looked from her mother to Mulder, “Not yet. We’ll have that argument later.”

“Don’t get too loud, dear, or you’ll wake the babies.”

Alone once again, Scully’s eyes began drifting shut, “you need to go get Will so he can meet his little brother and sister.”

“I’ll bring him up tomorrow. Your mom is going home and keeping him tonight.”

She was already asleep so Mulder simply turned back to the wee ones wrapped in matching blankets, colored caps keeping their red-fuzzed heads toasty warm.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Sam woke up, and sliding quietly out of bed, he left his room, stocking feet gliding silently across cold tile floor. Evading two nurses and a doctor bent over a file, he rode the elevator two floor up, beelining for a room number he heard his father repeat to his mother when they thought he was asleep. Without knocking, he opened the door to find his very surprised Uncle Mudler and very confused Aunt Dana, “Sam?”

“I wanted to see the babies. Mom and Dad said there was a boy and a girl.”

Mulder quickly and quietly texted Dave that Sam was upstairs with them, then turned to the skin and bones boy with the shadowed eyes and sunken cheeks, “you want to meet them?”

Sam nodded and walked over to Scully, who was holding both babies, her arms held up by cushions, “what are their names?”

“The girl is named Katherine Christina—”

Sam’s smile lit up, his finger going up to pull the blanket down just enough to see her button nose, “K.C. … can we call her ‘Casey’?”

They’d been toying with Kate but Casey it became, “we sure can.”

“Good. I like the name Casey. I’ll have to read her ‘Casey at the Bat’ when she’d old enough.” Moving his finger to the other blanket, seeing his youngest cousin, “what about him?”

“We don’t know yet.” Mulder looked at Scully, who nodded, then back at Sam, “what’s your middle name, Sam?”

“James.”

“Do you like it?”

Sam nodded, “yeah. Even when Mom yells Samuel James, I like it. That says a lot about a name if you don’t mind having it shouted at you from across the yard.”

Scully smiled at her nephew, then looked at Mulder, who gave her a grin, “James it is, but I think, for now, we’ll call him Jamie, just until he grows into his name.”

Running a light finger down Jamie’s nose, Sam looked between his aunt and uncle, “they won’t get them. Nobody’s gonna get them now.”

The room air thickened, the happiness evaporating, “Sam.”

He ignored Mulder, looking intently at Jamie again, “I couldn’t let them get you … or anybody else … ever again.”

Mulder, by now, was crouched down, looking up at Sam, his hands on the boy’s cheeks, “Sam, are you okay?”

Shaking his head, “I don’t think so.”

&&&&&&&&

Sam fell asleep in the second bed, Mulder too unnerved to argue with him about going back to his own room. The twins had woken up crying but Sam didn’t move and Scully made Mulder pull the curtain so if Sam did wake up, he wouldn’t get an eyeful of his half-naked aunt. As she became accustomed to two children latched on at once, she stroked their tiny heads as she spoke quietly to Mulder, “should we worry about Sam right now?”

“He is asleep and safe so I say we worry tomorrow.” Mingling with Scully’s fingers over one baby’s scalp, “Will, Casey, and Jamie. I like it.”

Looking down, watching her 12-hour-old children drifting off, milk bubbles at the corners of their mouths, she smiled, “I like it, too.”

“Should we have some more?”

Turning her tired smile up at him, “Let’s get at least one out of diapers, first, okay?”

“Sure. Fine. Whatever.”

#msr #mulder singing a round of 'happy birthday' #to newborn babies #makes me happy #my writing #x-files fanfic #xfiles fanfic #life part 4 series

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Sam

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie ... Multiplication ... Catching On ... Thanksgiving ... The Funeral ... Midnight Libations ... Stockings were Hung ... Mama Walter ... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Skimmer-style) ... Official ... Memory Lane ... Tartan Tablecloths ... Auntie V ... Birthday Surprises ... Routines ... Worry ... Again ... Betsy

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&

“Agent Mulder, Agent Skinner, guns down, please.”

Skinner hated to do it but knowing he had no other choice, he put the gun on the ground, then backed away from it. Mulder, waiting a heartbeat longer, slowly set the gun down on the deck and moved away as well, shooing Joanna to the side, whispering, “do not go near Sam, do you understand?”

So far gone in shock, she couldn’t blink, couldn’t think, only, as a last, desperate effort, placing her complete trust in one Fox William Mulder, “okay.”

She didn’t stop looking, however, bouncing her gaze from her youngest daughter to her son, landing on each two seconds at a time.

Mulder spoke first, “guns are down. Let her go.”

Krycek’s voice carried to them, “I believe Agent Scully is still inside. Regardless of her pregnancy and her quitting the FBI, I believe she still has a gun and the ability to shoot. I’d like her outside with her hands up.”

Scully, her gun nestled against the side of her belly, under her sweater, walked slowly out, warning the kids to go in the front room. Matt herded them, crouched low, doing as his Aunt Dana told him in a voice he hoped to never hear again.

She would be hugging him extra hard when this was all done.

Once outside, she indicated she would be reaching for her gun and after seeing Spender nod, she slowly took it out, setting it beside Mulder’s then moving away.

“Now that that’s taken care of, you will listen for a moment before we go.” Releasing Betsy, who ran straight for Joanna, cowering behind any legs she could find, he continued, relaxed note in his voice making Mulder wish for a flamethrower, a can of gasoline, and 30 seconds alone with both men. “We see everything, we hear everything, we know everything. You were warned about getting too close to things and you pursued anyway. For that, we took the boy. Next time, he may not come back.”

Mulder drew in a quick breath, “I haven’t been doing anything.’

“Your lackeys have. Ask Agent Reyes if you must. She’ll tell you what she’s been up to.”

Heart pounding, “I’ll quit today. Right now. I’ll never say your name again. I’ll never … I’m done. I quit.” Not caring about himself in the slightest, “please, leave them alone. They haven’t done anything to you. They don’t even know who you are or what you are.”

Spender flashed that insipid, crooked smile of his, “really? They should probably get acquainted with me then, given I will probably be seeing them again.” Looking across the crowd of eleven, “Fox is my son, and suddenly, I feel that getting to know my grandson, William, would be wise.”

Scully felt a pang run through her belly.

“I’ll be dropping in on you from time to time.” Scanning the group a second time, “don’t be alarmed. I’m not the terrible man you think I am.”

Scully felt a second pang, then liquid running down her legs.

“I think, actually, I’d like to start a conversation with the lovely little girl who was out here with me a minute ago; Betsy, I believe her name was.”

Scully felt a searing pain run through her back and belly. With a grunt and a stumble forward, she grabbed Mulder’s arm, “Mulder.”

It was a distraction that had to be sent by God himself and in the momentary confusion of people moving, people helping, people holding Scully upright so she didn’t fall to the deck, a shot rang out, then another, followed by a third and fourth.

&&&&&&&&&&

Before anyone could blink, Sam stepped off the deck and fired a fifth and sixth time, into the bodies of Spender and Krycek, already prone and still.

“Sam! Stop!”

Skinner kept saying his name, following Sam as the boy walked to his kidnappers, “Sam! Stop! It’s Uncle Skimmer. Stop!”

He didn’t fire again but kept moving, finally halting as he stood over the bodies. Skinner made sure to retrieve Krycek’s gun before doing anything else, then, cautiously sliding into Sam’s vision, he told him in a low voice, “Sam. I’m going to check if they are alive. If they move, please, don’t do anything. I’ve got it from here, all right?”

Sam’s jaw was clenched so tight his muscles were vibrating and his face was white and red in turn. He didn’t manage more than a, “mmhmm,” in his throat. Dave was there now, beside Sam, “Sam, it’s me. It’s dad. Can I have the gun, please?”

“Did I do okay?”

Dave’s heart broke but he kept his sob inside as he took the gun and then hugged his son close, “you did just fine.”

“I kept him in my line and remembered to breath out so I wouldn’t shake.”

“I know. You did everything right.”

He passed out in his father’s arms.

&&&&&&&&&&

The neighborhood went crazy. Sunday afternoon in spring had families outside, eating, playing, cleaning up wild-growing yards. Everyone heard the shots and the local police showed up just as the ambulances did, sirens wailing, to carry away the bodies of Alexander Krycek and C.G.B. Spender, whose full name they would happily never know, to the morgue while Scully, Mulder at her side, went to the hospital to give birth to their twins. Sam and Joanna followed close behind in their own ambulance, Dave and Skinner bringing up the rear.

Maggie and Tara calmed the kids, who, thanks to Matt, had remained in the front room, under threat of noogies and atomic wedgies. Charlie and Bill sat on the deck and stared at the backyard, their worlds turned upside down in the span of six bullets fired by a 12-year-old boy.

Sarah simply held Will, wondering how one functioned after a day like today.

&&&&&&&&&

Sam didn’t wake up until he was in the emergency room, and then, seeing his parents, began to cry, “where’s Betsy? Is Betsy okay?”

Dave, not wanting to get in the way of the doctor and nurses, called over their shoulders, moving until he could catch Sam’s gaze, “she’s fine. She’s fine and with Aunt Maggie. I promise.”

Joanna however, didn’t care, reaching around a nurse to make contact, Sam’s ankles the nearest thing she could reach, “hon, it’s mom and she’s okay. She’s probably eating ice cream right now.”

Sam’s eye rolled back in his head, “don’t let them touch her. Don’t let them tou …”

One of the nurses moved her out of the way, “let us work.”

It was then that the monitors began going off.

#msr #sam #you did just fine #x-files fanfic #xfiles fanfic #my writing #life part 4 series

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Betsy

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie ... Multiplication ... Catching On ... Thanksgiving ... The Funeral ... Midnight Libations ... Stockings were Hung ... Mama Walter ... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Skimmer-style) ... Official ... Memory Lane ... Tartan Tablecloths ... Auntie V ... Birthday Surprises ... Routines ... Worry ... Again

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&

Mulder had thought it was unbearable when Scully was gone for three months.

This time, it was excruciating. Previously, he’d only had to deal with his own feeling and Maggie’s on the rare occasions he saw her. Now he was surrounded by the pain of the family going through this for a second time.

A second time.

He did this to the family a second time.

Scully finally had to take Will home, get him reacquainted with his bed and his schedule, Maggie in tow to help when Mulder wasn’t there. Coming home after another fruitless day of running down dead-end leads on one C.G.B. Spender and his fucking minion, he hugged Maggie goodbye, then headed to the bedroom, where Scully was reading books to their son, “hey there.”

Glancing up, she knew she shouldn’t ask but she couldn’t stop herself, “nothing?”

Every day it was nothing.

“Not today. Maybe tomorrow.”

Tomorrow would be nothing as well.

“Mom wants us to go to church on Sunday with her. She’s got everybody coming, even Jo. You okay with that?”

He’d been working 14 hours a day without a break, three weeks straight, “I can spare a few hours.”

Gesturing him with a wave of her fingers, “come here and give us a hug. Your son has been asking for you all day.”

That made him smile, in spite of everything. First giving Scully her kiss, he then picked up Will, who immediately grabbed Mulder’s face and, in the clear, slurry diction of an almost one-year old, “Da.”

“Ahhh.” Snuggling the boy, then tucking him neatly in the crook of his arm, “that’s my boy.”

“Da. Da. Da. Da.”

He would cry if he had it in him but given he used up his allotment of tears in the shower every morning, allowing his despairing and smothered panic to emerge only once a day and only when alone, he glanced at Scully, his nose buried in the fresh scent of clean baby hair, “I need to record that and play it over and over whenever I feel like crap.”

She knew about the showers but not mentioning it, she instead tilted her head, “we can do it tonight.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Enormous. Water-logged. Tired. Not tired. Same as yesterday.” Running a hand over her now unfathomably large belly, “I realized today that there can’t be any possible way that I’ll ever fit into anything I have ever owned, ever again.”

“We’ll be chasing after three kids. We’ll both be skinny as rails by the twins’ first birthday.”

“I have forgotten what my feet look like.”

Seeing her still-drying hair from her recent shower, he knelt down, Will still in his arms, and kissed each of her toes, “I haven’t. You still have some of the cutest toes I’ve ever seen.”

She chose that moment to crack them all, a quick succession of pops and creaks that made him cringe, shoot an eyebrow at her over the crest of her belly while she grinned at him, “as an added bonus, they make noise.”

“You need to push these kids out so I can chase you around the house.”

“Due time, Agent Mulder. Due time.”

&&&&&&&&&

Scully ignored her bedrest for church and Maggie’s on Sunday, needing to be there with everyone and justifying it with the reasoning that the twins’ due date was less than two weeks away. Once back at Maggie’s everyone sat down to a late breakfast, buffet-style, conversations subdued, cleanup quick and quiet.

Somehow, everyone ended up in the living room, settled around, talking low, kids playing board games on the floor, adults wishing they were kids who could lose themselves in board games. Betsy stood up a few minutes later, announcing she needed some more juice. Wandering into the kitchen, she suddenly screeched, “Sam!” and bolted out the back door before anyone could even think to move.

Mulder, however, made it upright first, “Betsy! Don’t go outside!”

Skinner was at him heels, Charlie stopping only to help Scully up. The first thing anyone saw as they moved through the kitchen was the back of Sam’s head, upright, facing away, sitting in a deck chair. So intent on him, no one noticed the others in the yard.

Scully, at the back of the pack, saw them through the curtains and hissed in a voice that stopped the remaining kids in their tracks, “stay inside!”

Adults, however, were already outside, having stumbled out the back slider door. Joanna tried to get to her son but Mulder was between them, holding his hand out to her and the rest of them, “don’t move.”

In unison, everyone turned to see what Scully already took in and Mulder was eyeing intently.

Spender was standing ten feet away under a tree, Krycek to his immediate right, Betsy held still with an arm around her throat and a gun to her head.

#msr #why did it have to be Betsy #x-files #x-files fanfic #my writing #life part 4 series

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Again

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie ... Multiplication ... Catching On ... Thanksgiving ... The Funeral ... Midnight Libations ... Stockings were Hung ... Mama Walter ... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Skimmer-style) ... Official ... Memory Lane ... Tartan Tablecloths ... Auntie V ... Birthday Surprises ... Routines ... Worry

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&

The phone jolted them awake, Mulder automatically slapping at the nightstand, trying to stop the infernal noise from interrupting his warm cocoon of naked Scully suctioned to his chest, hand glued to her breast, feet tangled, knees bent, parts hard. The cold rush of air between them when they separated woke Scully to a half-stupor, “Mulder?”

“Yeah, hang on.” Finally finding the phone, he woke up quickly once he caught sight of the time.

3:45am.

“Fuck.”

Scully was already struggling to stand by the time he hung up, his statement to her brief but clear, “Sam’s gone.”

&&&&&&&&&

Against all better judgement, both of them, plus a still sleeping Will, arrived at Dave’s in record time, Mulder having blown through three red lights and went the wrong way on a one-way to cut another three minutes off the drive time. Ignoring Scully’s slow exit from the car, he grabbed Will’s carrier and met a stunned Dave on the front porch. Motioning him inside, Mulder handed him Will, then helped Scully up the steps.

Dave stood there, holding the carrier, having no idea how to function anymore, “He’s gone. He was there and then …”

Mulder hushed him gently, “wait until we’re inside. Go inside and sit down.”

Finally following orders, he moved, Scully behind, Mulder bringing up the rear, locking the door behind him, although, really, what was the point.

Joanna was staring into space, tears steadily running down her cheeks and off her chin. Scully, sitting down next to her with an involuntary groan, immediately leaned over, hugging her, “we’ll figure this out.”

No reaction but she hadn’t expected one, and keeping her hand rubbing Joanna’s back, Scully looked at Dave, trying to keep agent mode ahead of aunt mode and barely succeeding, “where are Hannah and Betsy?”

“They went home last night with Maggie and Skimmer. There’s no school tomorrow, today, but Sam wanted to come home to … to get going on our all-night video game marathon.” Scully had never seen her cousin so terrified before, face white, lips pale, eyes darting, fists clenching, knees bouncing, “we finished up around midnight and he went to bed and I went to bed, then I heard this incredibly loud noise and I was up before I knew I was up. There was light from around Sam’s bedroom door and I ran down there and opened it …”

His voice failed here, having cracked then sputtered out but Mulder and Scully already knew what was coming. Scully was halfway to a panicked flashback, her heartrate rising exponentially while Mulder wanted to fucking break the world in half to find Spender and Krychek, killing everyone in his path. Instead, he crouched beside Scully, choosing for a moment his wife over his nephew, “are you okay?”

She shook her head but answered quietly, deep breathing already kicking in, “no, but I’m fine.”

Mulder had already called Doggett and, as G.G. would say, bless his heart, he hadn’t asked questions, just jumped in the car, arriving on the stoop with his hand already up and ready to pound on the front door, calling through it as he did so, “it’s me. Let me in.”

Scully, on her exhale, “make sure.”

Mulder held a finger up to Dave, who hadn’t made a move yet to open the door, “quiet for a second.” Pulling his gun from holster, Mulder approached the door from the side, “what was your son’s favorite book?”

Doggett, on the front porch, wearing jeans, t-shirt, and flipflops, heavy boots in one hand, gun in the other, honestly wondered if they were all crazy, him included, “Everybody Poops.” Once inside, he took in the four of them, including Scully, “what the hell happened and why are you out of bed?”

“I wish I didn’t have a reason to be, believe me.”

Dave told the story in more detail, his voice shaking, terror keeping his eyes dry and his jaw clenched, “I heard the sound and saw the light, and when I opened his door, he was floating there, right in front of me, arms dangling, and the look on his …” he cracked again, the sobs hitching his chest, “the look on his face … he wanted me to help and I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t get to … I couldn’t save him.”

Mulder, his hand on Dave’s arm holding the man up so he didn’t hit the ground, asked when Dave didn’t continue, “then everything went black?”

Giving his cousin-in-law a sharp look, his head snapping up, “how did you know?”

“I watched it happen to my sister when I was 12.” He couldn’t allow the sudden, swift sinking feeling take over, instead, “we need to get Skinner here.”

Scully already had her phone out and holding it up to him, “here.”

Mulder shook his head, “you need to call everyone else and make sure they’re all accounted for.” Looking to Doggett, “I need you to start combing that room, the perimeter, the yard. I need your eyes on it before everyone else tramples through it.” Looking from the flipflops to the boots the man was now tying on, “what’s with the shoes?”

“You said get here. I wasn’t about to stop to put on my shoes.”

Mutual nod of understanding and thanks passing swiftly between them, Doggett headed back out, Mulder called Skinner, Scully tracked down the rest of the family, having to explain things several times to her sleep-laden then awake-terrified relatives, ending each conversation with, “we love you.”

The Gunmen got the next call and soon, MITBY was awake and grinding away, looking for any signs of the gangly, red-headed boy with freckles and that oddly unique gate that made Sam, Sam.

Scully, for her part, held Joanna’s hand and tried to keep her heartrate in the semi-safe ‘I’m supposed to be on bedrest’ range.

The house was soon crawling with police and agents, both on and off duty, Skinner having made one phone call to raise the posse.

It was just after 6am.

&&&&&&&&&

The problem with all of this was both Mulder and Scully firmly believed that they were all just spinning their wheels with fingerprinting, neighbor questioning, photographing. Catching her at the first quiet moment he could find, he sat down beside Scully, “how are you doing?”

“How do you think I’m doing?”

“Okay, sorry … how are the twins doing?”

She could feel her ankles swelling to epic proportions, her feet not having hung down below her waist for more than a half-hour in the last seven weeks, “I need to lay down soon. I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Do you want to stay here, go back to our house, or go to Maggie’s?”

Not answering yet, she looked around, “have you seen Joanna?”

“She went in the bedroom and shut the door maybe 20 minutes ago.”

“Then I think I’ll go there.” Stopping Mulder as he moved to stand and help her up, “hang on.” Once he retrained his gaze on her, “how are you doing?”

“I fucking want to find Spender and Krychek and hang them by their balls from a light pole and beat them senseless with a bat before I extract their brains through their nostrils. How do you think I’m doing?”

She deserved a little blowback, same as she’d given him a minute earlier. Hand now on his knee, “are you doing all right in terms of Samantha?”

About four seconds away from tearing apart the universe, he shrugged, “I haven’t stopped long enough to think about it.” Kissing her cheek, he stood, hand out to her, “come on.”

They found Joanna curled on the bed, staring into space. Sitting beside her, Scully ran a hand over Joanna’s shoulder, circling her back, “can I get you anything?” When she didn’t respond, “would you like to go to Maggie’s and see Hannah and Betsy?” Harrison had been hastily assigned, because Doggett had woken her up after his wake up, to Maggie’s so Hannah and Betsy wouldn’t have to witness the chaos but could still have someone to keep an eye on them and Maggie.

At her other’s children’s names, here face crumbled for a moment, then, in a quiet voice, “yes.”

Mulder drove, finding Harrison diligently questioning them when they came to the door, opening it only after Mulder answered her asked question with, ‘Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.’ Locking deadbolt behind them, all watching Joanna make a beeline for the girls, who were sitting quietly on the couch, not watching the cartoon on the television, before Harrison asked, “any news?”

Guiding her to the kitchen, where Maggie was making breakfast, Mulder answered honestly once they were out of earshot of Joanna, “no,” with a despondent look in Scully’s direction, “and I don’t think there will be, for awhile at least.”

#first the bright light #then the world stand still #yet again #msr #x-files fanfic #xfiles fanfic #my writing #life part 4 series

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Worry

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie ... Multiplication ... Catching On ... Thanksgiving ... The Funeral ... Midnight Libations ... Stockings were Hung ... Mama Walter ... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Skimmer-style) ... Official ... Memory Lane ... Tartan Tablecloths ... Auntie V ... Birthday Surprises ... Routines

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&

Mulder recovered, going on to close the cases Scully had solved, giving her all the credit, only taking the actual arrest and report typing kudos.

“You don’t get kudos for typing a report, Mulder, and seriously, you dictated it to me while feeding Will dinner.”

“I came up with the words.”

“Yeah, then I fixed the words so they weren’t one giant, run-on sentence without punctuation or verbs.”

Laughing, he leaned over so Scully could give her son snuggles before bed, “touché.” Once he returned from bedtime rituals, Mulder stood in the doorway, “do we have a final count for dinner tomorrow?”

Sunday dinner had been moved to the apartment, simply because Scully hadn’t seen everyone together in decades, or, by Gregorian calendar standards, four weeks, and she was craving people, conversations, noise, chaos, insanity, and the smells of a good, homecooked Sunday dinner, “I think everyone but Charlie and the guys.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. There’s some funky poaching happening this weekend.”

“Are you sure they’re not going to get arrested or killed or something?”

“They are poaching from the comfort of the SHIT cave living room couches. The only thing that may happen is the pizza will get cold and they’ll have to get up to reheat it.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Eventually, the apartment was full to overflowing, people eating here, there, everywhere, kids all over Scully’s bed, Will wandering back and forth, army-crawl fast with bouts of unsteady walking carrying him where he needed to be. There was so much conversation and chaos that it took Scully a minute to notice Sam standing quietly at the window, “Sam? Everything all right?”

Taking a moment to answer, “there was a man outside staring at the house but he’s gone now. I was just making sure he wasn’t coming back.”

Her attention zeroed in instantly, agent mode never far from all-consuming, “what man? Did you recognize him? How old was he? Do you know what he was wearing?”

Sam, honestly, was used to her question-firing and still looking out the window, answered quietly, “there was a man standing across the parking lot, behind a black car. I didn’t recognize him but he was old, older than Uncle Skimmer but about the same height. He had on a dark blue or black suit and his hair was grey.”

Her stomach icing over instantly, “was he smoking a cigarette?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see him with one.” Finally turning away from the window, he walked over to the bed, “he didn’t look friendly. He looked mean.”

Reaching a handout, she smiled at him, “can you do me a favor and go grab your uncle for me? Have him steal me one of those cream puffs your mom made.”

Sam nodded, then disappeared, Mulder appearing a few minutes later, cream puff in hand, “you okay?”

&&&&&&&

Everyone left early, Mulder quietly asking them to keep an eye on the kids and each other. Locking the door behind, he headed to the bedroom window to watch them all go, only turning to Scully once the cars had driven off. “Your family didn’t even blink when I told them to be careful. They nodded and stepped closer to their kids and will check their rearview mirrors as they’re driving home.” Pulling the heavy blinds shut against the darkened sky, “not one of them blinked. What the hell did we do to them?”

Holding her hand out to him, she wiggled her fingers until he took them, kneeling beside her, kissing each of her knuckles in turn, “Mulder …”

“Don’t say it … not yet.”

“What if it’s him?”

Finishing with her knuckles, he pressed his forehead to them, talking down her forearm to the bed, “if it is … I’m just … we’re …”

He didn’t finish the sentence but Scully did, not trying to be amusing but he had to smile when he heard her say, “well and truly fucked.”

Nodding against her skin, “well and truly fucked.”

“Why would he be watching the house?”

“If I knew that … God, he was supposed to be dead, wasn’t he?”

“Then maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe it was just a man looking at the buildings trying to find which one he was supposed to go to. I mean, we’ve stood there looking at a row of houses before, not knowing which one to go to at first.”

“Usually, we’re looking for someone who eats people or hacks them into little pieces.”

Stomach in a tight knot, she attempted to bring levity to their lead-weight discussion, “our lives are not a good example for comparison.”

He didn’t do anything but massage her wrist, still looking at the happy, polar bear printed flannel sheets he’d bought them for Christmas, “Spender isn’t exactly a good example of the common, everyday lost man, either.”

Suddenly she wanted him with her, beside her, surrounding her so thoroughly that the real world would disappear in the hot-blooded cocoon of one Fox Mulder, “is Will down for the night?”

“I think so. He never got a nap today so he should be good until the morning. Why?”

Moving her hand, she ran her fingers through his hair, “come to bed and make the world go away for awhile.”

Simply nodding, he stood, stripped, turned out the light and crawled in beside her. Tugging at her shirt sleeve, they did some maneuvering and soon, the two were spooned together, skin on skin, heat on heat, Mulder whispering once in her ear, “can you imagine playing ‘jetpack’ now?”

The levity was long gone, replaced by a dull, thudding fear in her marrow, “why do I feel like everything is rushing ahead? Out of control? Even if that wasn’t Spender, something’s going to happen, Mulder … soon … I can feel it.”

Pressing impossibly closer, he moved to kiss her behind the ear, his breath tickling tiny hairs usually reserved for making her spine shiver and her knees weak, “so can I. When Sam came to get me, he had a look in his eye that I didn’t recognize. He was scared but angry. Not confused. Angry.”

“Do you think it’s possible that he knows about the chip? About when you were gone last time?”

“I don’t know. I mean, we’ve only ever talked about it alone but who knows what Skinner may say or Maggie or even us. I mean, we talk when they aren’t in the room but they are in the house. Maybe he’s overheard something.” Feeling her fingers tracing along his forearm, which was nestled between her breasts, he stroked her throat absently, toying with the nubbin end of her collarbone, “how do I ask him without asking him? I’d like to know so we can make sure he’s on the same page.”

“The same page?” She nearly turned over to look at him like he was insane but he knew it was coming and tightened his grip on her, keeping her where she was. She felt the constricting arm and stopped trying to move, but did manage to turn her head slightly, talking to the ceiling, “he’s 12, Mulder. He isn’t even in the same volume that we are, much less chapter or page.”

He sighed into her cheek, his nose smushed against her temple, “we need to bring Dave in, then, or everybody, really.”

Scully put her head back down, attempting to wiggle a little closer to him, even though the laws of physics precluded that, barring sex or at least the precursors of sex. Once she realized this was as close as she was getting right now, she matched his sigh from moments earlier, “I can get Dave and Joanna over here tomorrow, ask if they can drop the kids at Mom’s house for awhile; just make sure Skinner’s there first.”

Had there been any possible chance in the world he could have run away at the moment, ensured his disappearance would protect the rest of the family, he would already be gone, leading the enemy from the gates, wild goose chase ensuing for decades to come.

But he didn’t do that anymore. He couldn’t do that anymore. He wouldn’t do that … ever.

He’d have to stay and fight.

“I wish I had never opened that file cabinet. I wish I had never listened to Diana when she told me I should dig further in. I wish you had, and this breaks my heart to even say out loud, I wish that you had just turned around when you saw me sitting there with those stupid slides, when you heard me say, ‘hey, let’s go to Oregon.’”

Now she did turn around, flopped and struggled but made it 180 degrees to face him, her face angry, her eyes flashing, “don’t you ever say that to me again. Whine, moan, complain, but do not ever tell me that you wish I hadn’t come down into that basement. You’d be dead without me, so get off your fucking martyr pedestal and kiss me, you jackass.” Doing as ordered, slightly afraid not to, she rubbed her nose against his once they’d come up for air, “tomorrow we will deal with this. Tonight, we sleep the sleep of two people who have nothing to worry about but the actual sleep, all right?”

“Are you actually going to sleep?”

“Probably not but I’m going to fucking fake it ‘til I make it.” She had fire in her veins at the moment and while she had absolutely no idea how to cool it down so she could get some sleep, she closed her eyes anyways, just to prove her point.

She felt his forehead settle against hers and his voice drift past her ears, “I never said I wished you hadn’t come down to the basement. I would never wish you hadn’t met me but the way I see it, even if you had turned around, since I’d already half fallen in love with you anyways, I’d have found a way to talk to you again because, I mean, I red M&M you to infinity and beyond. Can’t fight destiny, Scully.”

Her hand resting on the back of his neck by now, her fingernails scratched lightly, “we’ll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.”

The tingle at the base of skull, which had nothing to do with the chip implanted there and all to do with her steady stroke, made him catch her lips again, “tomorrow.”

#msr #well and truly fucked #worrying about tomorrow tomorrow #sam and his observant ways #xfiles fanfic #x-files fanfic #my writing #life part 4 series

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Routines

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie ... Multiplication ... Catching On ... Thanksgiving ... The Funeral ... Midnight Libations ... Stockings were Hung ... Mama Walter ... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Skimmer-style) ... Official ... Memory Lane ... Tartan Tablecloths ... Auntie V ... Birthday Surprises

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&

He hated to see her, confined to their bed, quietly internalizing aching hips and stiff back, swelling ankles and growing hemorrhoids, rarely complaining, silently groaning as her feet fell asleep yet again from the files piled on them. He tried to keep them on a schedule, which Scully truly appreciated: breakfast, get ready for work, chase Will around the house while Scully read files for an hour, tandem read books to the kid, mid-morning nap by child, vigorous discussion by adults, lunch, Mulder walk with Will while Scully napped, afternoon snack of something healthy, then house chores, laundry folding for Scully, vacuum and bathroom cleaning for Mulder, music on, Mulder dancing with Will in his arms, Scully planning dinner for Mulder to make, hour of science thinking, then either a good, vigorous word game or less vigorous puzzle.

The routine changed daily by increments but for the most part, it kept them sane, giving them structure and order to what could very well delve into argumentative chaos.

Three weeks passed before the phone rang, and Mulder returned to the bedroom a few minutes later, “I’ve gotta go. Your mom is on her way over.”

Sitting up a little straighter, “what happened?”

“Reyes went off on her own, somewhere in Utah and Doggett and Harrison are in St. Mary, Montana and Skinner is at that conference in Portland,” deep breath, he gave her a shrug, “so they called me.”

“Doesn’t Reyes have her own supervisor?”

“Yeah, but Reyes took the weekend off and didn’t tell her partner what she was doing, only that she was going to Utah but then he found a file on her desk involving Utah and he is down with a broken leg and their supervisor said, ‘she’s on vacation’.”

“And her broken leg partner doesn’t believe she’s actually on vacation or to be more specific, he believes that her ‘vacation’ involved this case and it probably actually did feel like a vacation to her?”

Mulder gave her that sheepish look she hadn’t seen in a good two years now, “yeah, I’m beginning to feel what it was like to have me as a partner.”

She couldn’t help but smile, “she hasn’t asked for help.”

“Did I ever ask for help?”

Scully shut her eyes, “God help us all. She’s you in a skirt and a southern accent.”

“So, you’re okay if I go find her?”

“Go do your knight in tarnished armor thing. I’ll be here when you get back, in this exact spot.”

With a chuckle, he kissed her twice then one more time, “I’ll call once I get to the airport. Your mom will be here in about a half hour. Will is fed and asleep. Do you need anything?”

“Time machine.”

“I’ll get right on that.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Four fairly tense days later, Mulder was lying beside her in the bed, on his side, bandages and stitches holding together the skin along his spinal column. Pain killers were making things bearable but he was still awake, bearable not allowing him to sleep just yet. Reaching carefully over, he tweaked her nose, “shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”

“Waiting for you to fall asleep.”

“Then we’re going to be up for a very long time.”

Her hand found his cheek, “are you trying to kill me?”

“Hey, the oncoming lecture isn’t for me. It’s for Reyes. I just had to go rescue her.”

Scully’s forehead scrunched together, “there was really a worm they thought was Jesus sucking on your spinal cord?”

Mulder’s stomach turned over at the thought and he tinged green, “yes, now, can we just talk about anything else, please?”

“I think I’ve solved at least three of your cold cases.”

They were cold for a reason and to solve one, much less three, could very well earn her a statue in the main lobby of the Hoover Building, “which ones?”

She could tell when he was about to drift off: his eyes crossing, wobbling slightly, that little bit of drool at the corner of his mouth he kept forgetting to swallow, “you sure you want to start this now? You’re going to be asleep in about three seconds from the look of you.”

“I am wide awake.”

He was not.

The next day, both still in bed, Will safely ensconced at Sunday dinner with the rest of the family, minus Byers, who volunteered for MulderNScully-watching duty, the pair of them argued like the good ol’ days, point/counterpoint until Byers had to interject, asking if anyone needed some tea or a timeout in the corner.

Both chose tea in lieu of timeout and grinning over her mug at Mulder, who had to drink his tea from a straw, still forced to remain on his side while at least Scully could sit up, turn, choose from five possibly positions instead of Mulder’s singular one.

Luckily he only had a few more days of this, then he’d be back up and around, making fun of his wife as it should be.

He received the stink eye and a middle finger for that statement.

“Think of it, Scully. By the beginning of June, we’ll be taking three kids for walks, outside, in the actual sunshine. We’ll stand vertical whenever we want to. We will get to see colors other than what’re in this room.” He looked so wistful she smiled, “and there will be naked you and naked me and we’ll have all the nakedness together.”

Gesturing from head to toe, paying special attention to her now quite enormous belly, “the nakedness together is what gets us in these situations.”

“We’ll condom it up for a bit, then. Not a problem.” Crawling his hand in her general direction, he found the edge of her thermal shirt and slowly walked his fingers up and under, moving over hard belly and tightly smooth skin. Soon enough, he ran into her bra, fingers flicking her nipple through the thicker material, “I’ll give you five bucks to take this off.”

“We can’t and you know it.”

“I can’t look at your boobs? When did that happen?”

She shook her head and grinned at him, “you know what I mean and besides, when have you ever just looked at them? You’re a tactile guy, you like to do the things to them.”

“How many months until these kids get here?”

It was the end of March already, “eight weeks but don’t forget, you’ll be up and around a lot sooner than that.”

“I’m already up and around.” Giving her a cheeky grin, lots of teeth abounding, “maybe we could just take care of that?”

She thought he’d never ask, and grabbing a wad of Kleenex from the nightstand, “you’d better be quiet.”

#msr #vigorous word games #less vigorous puzzles #tactile mulder #x-files fanfic #xfiles #xfiles fanfic #my writing #life part 4 series

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Birthday Surprises

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie ... Multiplication ... Catching On ... Thanksgiving ... The Funeral ... Midnight Libations ... Stockings were Hung ... Mama Walter ... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Skimmer-style) ... Official ... Memory Lane ... Tartan Tablecloths ... Auntie V

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&

He woke her with a Sno-Ball and a smile, “happy happy birthday!”

His voice was quiet but she was startled awake anyways, giving him a blurry, confused look before she knocked him to the ground, stepping on his hand in a slow attempt to find the empty trash can that now lived beside the bed. She found it in time to puke but not in time to tighten her bladder enough to keep from peeing in her pajamas.

Luckily it wasn’t much but mortified, she tried to scoot herself to the toilet while still throwing up in her bucket, all the while Mulder sat quietly on the floor, mortified as well that he’d done this to her while simultaneously fascinated that she could move and vomit at the same time, knees pressed together tightly.

Picking up the smashed Sno-Ball, he collected the crumbs and was eating the dessert when she returned to the bedroom, giving him a cranky look while she went to retrieve dry underwear and pajama bottoms. Once changed, she continued her cranky look as she took her clothes back to the bathroom and rinsed them out, dropping them in the tub to be washed in the washer in a little while.

All the while he watched, wondering when his words would sink in.

It took another two minutes, Scully standing in the doorway, attempting to comprehend English, before she realized what he said and her frown softened, her eyes darting around the room, “you ate my Sno-Ball, didn’t you?”

&&&&&&&&&

Sam shared Scully’s birthday, right down to the hour, just 22 years off. Scully and Sam always shared a lunch or dinner, then shopping for toys or video games or books, movie afterwards, ice cream chaser. It had been a tradition since year one and who was Mulder to interfere.

Besides, he had his own plans for the following weekend, planned down to the lunch and dinner reservations, baby-sitters, jacuzzi hotel rooms, and king-sized beds.

Alone for the day, Sam was the perfect gentleman, sharing his popcorn, holding open the door, offering to carry her coat while they were shopping and the bag once they were done. He even had the calm, rational demeanor to call an ambulance when she collapsed in the parking lot, landing in a frozen puddle, head cracking against the side of the car on her way down.

&&&&&&&&

“Mulder. The doctor said I’m fine.”

“You may think you’re fine but I vote for you keeping your ass in bed until the babies are born.”

Oh, good God, she could just imagine being trapped in an apartment with hovering Mulder for the next three months.

One of them would be dead.

She debated if she would be charged or if the ‘insanity by bedrest’ plea would hold up in court.

Probably not.

“How about we talk to the doctor again and let me look at the chart, okay? These kids are top priority but we’ve quarantined together how many times now? Do you remember what happens around week three?”

That was usually when she began discussing Einstein and trying to teach Mulder science.

He hated week three.

Week four was usually when they weren’t speaking and week five was endless card games and when Mulder stopped weighing himself given all the junk food he’d eaten.

Week six was usually their ‘get out of jail’ week but given the babies wouldn’t be due for six more weeks after that, “okay but I want in on this conversation.”

“Of course.”

An hour later, Scully looked at Mulder and Mulder looked at Scully as the doctor, a man they actually trusted, walked out of the room. “You’ll have to bring me our old case files, the cold ones. Those’ll keep my brain from going to mush.”

“I think I have some vacation time left but not enough to cover ten weeks. I’ll have to see what I can swing with Skinner.”

Curiously, “are you taking the time off with me?”

“Somebody’ll need to take care of Will.”

“I can get up for that.”

His voice held some kind of weird authority that normally would have had Scully handing in her letter of resignation, both for previous job and current husband, “you’re getting up to pee. That’s it.”

“Mulder.”

The authority was gone, replaced by the man who occasionally came to her, finger in the air, asking for her to remove a splinter, then squinched his eyes shut tight as she did so, “we need to do whatever possible to keep these kids in there as long as we can. You may go crazy, I may go crazy, everyone may go crazy, but if that’s what it takes, that’s what we do.” Meeting her forehead with his, “I can’t lose any of you.”

With a deep sigh of resignation and a half-hearted fist swing through the air, “This will be our best quarantine ever!”

“I think I heard sarcasm in there, young lady.”

“The people down the hall heard the sarcasm.”

Quick kiss later, “Mulder and Scully, together again.”

#msr #pink sno-balls #sam and Scully #bladder issues and morning sickness oh my #birthdays #x-files #x-files fanfic #my writing #life part 4 series

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Auntie V

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie ... Multiplication ... Catching On ... Thanksgiving ... The Funeral ... Midnight Libations ... Stockings were Hung ... Mama Walter ... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Skimmer-style) ... Official ... Memory Lane ... Tartan Tablecloths

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&

Scully took his hand on that quiet Thursday morning, still dark and cold outside, wind gusts rattling windows and creating irritating drafts across the bedroom floor, “Mulder?”

He was facing away, Scully playing jetpack in the deep gray of 6am morning, and pulling her hand to his mouth, he kissed it once before mumbling, “Scully.”

“Happy Anniversary.”

This called for turning around, which he did, careful not to knock into her belly, “roll over.”

Seriously.

“Easier said than done, mister, I have a belly the size of Montana to roll with me.”

His awakening brain assessed and agreed, choosing to climb over her, keeping them skillfully under the covers until he was on her other side, helping her scootch forward a little so he wasn’t hanging on for dear life to eight inches of prime mattress real estate. Once all settled and snuggled, “that was your gift. I hope you enjoyed it.”

She had and told him so.

With a chuffy chuckle into her neck, her hairs moved as he came in closer, mouth on skin, eyes closed once again, “you’re too easy.”

“We’re barreling toward a family of five and we technically had our first date … what … last week? I think we established how easy I am.”

Fingers working down until they found her now outie belly button, circling slowly, “pretty sure our first date was post-Christmas last year. Mexican festivities and book store discovery, if I’m not mistaken.”

Reaching her arm down to wedge her fingers between their pressed thighs, “I’d ask you to take the day off and spend it in bed but Will is set to wake up in about 20 minutes.”

“I can do a lot in 20 minutes.”

Too warm to feel up to moving much, she wiggled her hips back, then shut her eyes, “just give me a nice, long hug and I’ll give you a nice, non-expiring rain check for wild, 20-minute sex.”

Doing as asked, “I love you.”

“I love you back.”

&&&&&&&&&

Veronica made it down for her postponed Christmas visit and staying a week, with Mulder and Scully for three days, then with Joanna and her family for the other three. She and Joanna hit it off spectacularly and talked often, texted often, emailed often. Mulder got a big kick out of it and telling Joanna this, she just smiled, “I take all the family I can get, Mulder, regardless of size, shape, or blood-relation.”

“And we appreciate that immensely.”

Veronica, sitting in Maggie and Skinner’s living room after an unconventionally quiet Sunday dinner, sans the Gunmen, Doggett, Skinner, and Bill, took a quiet moment to stare at Will, playing with socks and rattles on her lap, then comment, “I can’t get over how much he looks like Christina and like you did, as a baby, Fox.”

“I knew he looked like me but I didn’t realize he looked like Mom, too.” Thinking for a moment, “I don’t think I’ve ever really seen a baby picture of her.”

“She used to have so much fun with you when you were this age. She would come over on Saturdays and we would take you to the park or to the river or, oh,” clapping her hands together, “once you were old enough to walk, you loved watching the ducks at the pond across the street from my house. You would run back and forth and quack, your little arms flapping.”

Mulder was entranced, not having heard much from his childhood, “that must have been entertaining.”

“Oh, it was. Your mother would run with you, quacking just as loudly and you’d be giggling and quacking and people would be stopping to watch and neither of you had a care in the world.” Clearly forgetting the roomful of family quietly surrounding her, she continued, her voice lower, lost in the past, “I’m not sure what happened after your sister was born. I don’t know if she became depressed, people didn’t know anything about post-partum depression like they do now, or something happened between her and Bill but she changed after that." Suddenly remembering her surroundings, she looked up, “so then, I helped you chase the ducks … that is, until Bill moved everyone away.” Giving Mulder a soft smile that fit her personality to a tee, “but now I have more family than I know what to do with, given that Jake has assigned me an official moniker and I have also been initiated into the clan via a green bean stuck to my cheek with turkey gravy.” Looking at Sam, “that was very nice of you not to throw it as I heard the initiation often begins with.”

Sam grinned at her, “you’re welcome, Auntie V.”

Mulder came back to his mother, however, in awe of what he’d just heard, “she ran and quacked and laughed?”

Veronica chuckled, “indeed she did. She was my best friend until … things happened. Even with our age difference, she was always there, listening, advising, swearing, cheating at cards, letting me win at tennis.” Twinkling her eyes at her nephew, “she was a very good egg, your mother was. I am very happy she decided to spend her last year with me. I got to see my sister again the way she used to be and let me tell you, she looked forward to your calls every week, made sure she was home by five every Saturday so she wouldn’t miss them.”

Tears were running down Mulder’s cheeks, ignored by everyone there, who chose to enjoy his radiant smile happening at the same time instead, “I wish I could remember her that way. I never saw that side of her or at least I don’t remember that side of her at all.”

“Next time I come down to visit, I will bring the photos and home videos,” reaching out to pat Mulder’s knee, “or you come see me, although I think it would be easier if I came here, given the amount of people you would have to bring with you … I believe last count was 21.”

Hannah, two over from Auntie V, wiggled in her seat, “super sleepover!”

Veronica leaned forward, blowing her a kiss, “I am so glad to be one of you.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

They stayed up talking, once they got back to the apartment, until after two, Mulder absorbing any and all information on his mother that Veronica offered. He learned of high school boyfriends, broken arms, plans to join the New York City ballet, and a oft-stolen car taken on a joy ride on a Sunday afternoon.

“My mother stole a car?”

“She said she had places to be.”

Mulder sat back against the couch, rubbing a hand over his face, talking more to his palm than to Veronica and Scully, “where did she go? And why didn’t I ever get to meet her?”

Scully ran her hand up and down his thigh, slow and steady, “you okay?”

“I wish I could have known her, that’s all.”

Standing, Veronica came over, leaning in for a hug, “I have plenty more stories where those came from and soon enough, you’ll know just as much about her as I do.”

Mulder motioned her to move back, then stood to give her a proper hug, “so, when will we see you next?”

“As soon as possible. Apprently Joanna and Dave would like to initiate me in a game called ‘Nertz.’ Apprently there is a heavy amount of swearing and what is said at the ‘Nertz’ table, stays at the ‘Nertz’ table.”

Scully grinned, “just remember to cut your finger nails before we play.” Holding up her right hand to show off a faint white scar, “that’s Sarah’s finger nail would right there.”

Moving on to hug Scully goodnight, after giving the scar proper appraisal, “remind me. I don’t want to main anyone in the process of winning.”

As Mulder and Scully watched her drive off the next morning, Mulder reached out for Scully’s hand, “I think, maybe, we could convince her to move down here. I saw the real estate section open on her bed when I went to the bathroom yesterday, so I mean, Mama Scully may need to buy another chair for the dinner table.”

“300 years from now, someone is going to dig up my mother’s house and find us all at that dinner table, having died from overeating, of course, and wonder just what kind of cult we were.”

“I prefer clan. Clan Scully.”

“You really, really want to buy a kilt, don’t you? Switch us from Irish to Scottish.”

“I really, really do.”

#msr #nertz the game #it really is as dangerous as it seems #memories of Mulder as a baby #and his mother as a decent mother #x-files #x-files fanfic #my writing #life part 4 series

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Tartan Tablecloths

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie ... Multiplication ... Catching On ... Thanksgiving ... The Funeral ... Midnight Libations ... Stockings were Hung ... Mama Walter ... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Skimmer-style) ... Official ... Memory Lane

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&

After one last trek around the office, fingers running over photos tacked on the bulletin board and following up to the post-it note back on their poster. Somehow he knew and reaching up, he unpinned the thick paper, rolling it up and tucking it under his arm, “this should go up at home. How about right over the bed?”

“I was thinking maybe in Will’s room.”

“Done.”

Heading out, he switched off the lights and Scully looked up at him, surprised, “what are you doing? It’s only noon.”

“I’m hungry and don’t want to be here anymore today. How about we go dating at Mexican for lunch?”

Will kicked him absently in the thigh from his carrier, reminding them both he would also like to eat at some point. Smiling at his son, then looking at Scully, “he approves. What about you?”

“Only if we can visit Corky.”

“I don’t think we can eat Mexican anymore without visiting Corky.”

&&&&&&&&&&

They sat for two hours, Will babbling and playing, banging his tiny fists on the table and gumming little bits of vegetables and chicken. Once a semblance of quiet fell over the table, Will cleaned up and back in his carrier, sound asleep, Mulder reached across the table, playing with her pointer finger before flipping her whole hand over, tracing patterns in her palm before gripping her wrist lightly, Scully wrapping her own fingers around his, “how’re you doing?”

This time, her eyes stayed dry, “I’m okay. I do think I will probably like another job one day but at the moment, I am perfectly happy taking care of the kid/kids and the house and the shopping and the day-to-day nonsense of life.”

“Do you think you’d like to go be a doctor again or something totally different?”

Running a finger lightly up and down the light blue veins patterning his skin, pinky expertly finding the pulse point, “I have absolutely no idea … although every so often, don’t laugh, I picture myself running a donut and ice cream shop like we joke about or a bookstore like Corky.” Giving him a look that made him slide his feet across the floor and trap hers, hugging shoes with shoes, “I sometimes think that I have seen enough blood and bodies to last me at least two lifetimes and I …” dropping her eyes to the table, “I wish … I mean … I don’t want to sound like I regret things, because I don’t, but the thought of having to stand there and once again define someone’s death one organ at a time makes my stomach clench and my jaw tighten,” yawning to loosen the muscles already cramping in her chin, “and I … I will think about it again if and when I’m ready but right now, I want to be here, with you and with Will and with Thing 1 and Thing 2.” With a look of apologetic worry, “I’m sorry. This was supposed to be a date, not a requiem for my career.”

Squeezing her feet, “then how about the lamenting ends and the book buying begins? We really should have bought back the books from last time so he could sell them again.”

“Did you finish all of them?”

“About half. You?”

“I’ve got one left.”

Moving to stand and help her from the booth, he held out her coat, “so that’s why you quit. Even more time to read.”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

“Shutting up.”

&&&&&&&&&

Somehow, during their lost afternoon of bookstore prowling, Scully got to talking to Corky and after a few minutes, call across the store to Mulder, “Marco?”

From seven shelves back and one room over, where Mulder was burping Will and perusing the ‘Who do Voodoo? You do!’ section, “polo.”

“Come here a minute.”

Mulder looked at his son, “your mother beckons.” Will burped his response of ‘I heard’ and Mulder wiped a spit bubble turned drool line that came out with it, “and we never ignore your mother.” Leaving his pile of books behind, mental note of ‘voodoo’ firmly in place, he wandered to the front, “’sup, woman?”

The eyebrow she gave Mulder made Corky laugh, “that’s a fierce eyebrow, D. I like it.”

The ‘D’ made him smile, enjoying the fact that she garnered a nickname now, welcome in the store for life or longer, at least according to the sign that hung behind Corky’s head, which read, ‘Nicknames = lifetime 10% discount on Thursdays’. Handing off Will, “he ate and burped and found a book called ‘Astrophysics for Babies’. We have done well in the next room.”

“Dude, you found the ‘Science for Small Fry’ section, or, as I like to call it, ‘Bohr’s Babies’.”

He would live here if he could, but he’d keep that to himself for now.  “Let me rephrase. What’s up, dear?”

Scully swatted him on the arm, “guess who was roommates with Corky here in college?”

Mulder couldn’t hazard a guess, not able to comprehend Corky existing anywhere on any plane of existence except in this store, “I have absolutely no idea.”

“Charlie.”

He would have choked had he been eating but even then, he accidently attempted to breathe in his spit and coughing until he turned blue, “our Charlie?”

Corky, having given him a bottle of ice tea from behind the counter to help with the dying thing, “yeah, man. He was great. I taught him how to grow weed on the windowsill and he drove me around on his mountain bike, even got me some of those little peg things so I could stand behind him holding his shoulders. Haven’t talked to him in a few years, though, my bad.”

“He would probably love to get together.”

Already hunting down a pencil, which was conveniently tucked behind his ear, precariously held there by cartilage bar and tight ponytail, “digits, please, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Giving him the number, Mulder returned to his browsing, mind half on the books in front of him and half on what in the world Corky could have studied in college, possiblegfr degrees he could have graduated with, and the minor fact that his brother-in-law knew how to grow pot.

The next Sunday dinner could very well wind up being epic.

Mulder finally had to haul her out the front door, having discovered her, two hours later, in the ‘Bows, Bros, and Hos’ section dedicated to all things Middle Ages, “it’s almost five. We should get out of here, get the kid home, let him run around a bit,” spinning around, “where is the kid?”

“Corky has him. They were playing with the cat a few minutes ago at the kids’ area back there.” Pointing to her left, Mulder could clearly see Corky and Will on a thick, plush rug, indeed playing with the Tortie that resided amongst the stacks, “her name is Sprocket and she is named after Spacely Space Sprockets from ‘The Jetsons’.”

“You would totally marry him, wouldn’t you?”

“Not marry but probably most definitely have a few fantasies,” giving him a completely different than the previous eyebrow raise, that raised a few things of his own, “you know how I feel about men in kilts.”

“That they should immediately take them off?”

“Indeed, Mr. Mulder.” Looking down, she shook her head, biting her lip, “you do have some very attractive knees. I think I’d like to see them under a nice, dark red tartan pattern … along with a few other things.”

He couldn’t resist kissing her, backing her against the shelf for a second before whispering, “maybe we should see if Maggie would like to do some impromptu babysitting tonight, maybe a sleepover with her youngest grandchild?”

Already well into the thought of him wearing the kilt and her crawling under it, she nodded, “why don’t I give her a call while you take all this up front?”

Mulder began collecting the stacks at her feet, adjusting himself discretely in the process, “ask politely but with just enough urgency behind it so she’ll feel guilty if she says ‘no’.”

Laughing, she pulled out her phone, “you are terrible.”

“But willing to do what it takes. You’ve got five minutes and if I catch you staring at Corky’s knees, I may not let you under my kilt later.”

&&&&&&&&&

Maggie did indeed take Will. Mulder did indeed take Scully’s Christmas red plaid tablecloth and wrap it around his waist a few times, showing off his knees and Scully did indeed see a few things Mulder had underneath.

That kitchen table really did know how to take a beating.

Every Christmas, from then on, whenever Scully pulled out that tablecloth, she first wrapped it around both her and Mulder, kissing him and telling him she loved him in a nice, Scottish brogue.

He always responded back.

#msr #charlie and corky #weed growing and bicycle riding #tartan tablecloths and naked knees #mexican food and afternoon dates #xf fanfic #x-files #x-files fanfic #my writing #life part 4 series

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Memory Lane

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie ... Multiplication ... Catching On ... Thanksgiving ... The Funeral ... Midnight Libations ... Stockings were Hung ... Mama Walter ... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Skimmer-style) ... Official

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&

Taking the bag for his hand, “trying to make me cry?”

“Naw, just thought you’d like to hang with me down here a little while longer.” Looking around, “Doggett and Harrison are in Phoenix and Reyes is back down in New Orleans so we have the whole place to ourselves.”

Slowly opening the bag, she randomly pulled out a green one, “I believe this was ‘green with envy to work with me.’”

He watched her pop it in her mouth and for the tenth time already that day, he thanked whomever was listening that he got to come home to her every night, “there was a time, in San Francisco, that you were standing next to me, talking to a plainclothes, Hawkins I think his name was, and you had your bag on your shoulder, and some asshole, you remember him,” he could see her nodding already, “some asshole ran by and stole your purse. Before either Hawkins or I had a chance to react, you were gone, hauling ass flat out, in those fat heels of yours, and you tackled him, literally tackled him, in the middle of that crowd of tourists, slid his face right across the pavement in front of the Giradelli chocolate place.” Grinning at the memory, “then you proceeded to sit on him, straddle his chest while reading his rights and holding his arms with your knees.”

“Ripped the knee of my pants that day.”

“Totally worth a new pair of pants. Anyway, Hawkins and I got there and we both stopped, and Hawkins, swear to God, leaned over to me and told me he was thoroughly jealous of me and if you ever decided to leave Washington, he wanted to hear about it so he could lobby for you to come work with him.”

Mulder then held another green M&M out to her.

Opening her mouth for it to be deposited, she chewed slowly, swallowing before, “well, he’s going to be waiting forever but it’s nice to know I have options.” Next, she dug up an orange, “orange you glad we’re partners.”

“Orange you?”

Her laugh was sudden and beautiful, filling the space and making his heart skip a beat, “yes, I am. Very glad.”

Taking her hand, he kissed her wedding ring, gold warm, diamond hard, “you might be leaving behind the Bureau but we’re partners for life now … you and me.” Running her knuckles along his lips, he stared down at her, “you and me … forever … understood?”

Her eyes wobbled for a second, one tear making a break for it, racing down her cheek, gravity working as it should, “understood.”

He ate this M&M himself.

Once they finally broke their gaze, and yes, it was gazing, Scully swiped her cheek dry, then held up a blue candy, “because you’re blue without me.”

“Are you kidding? Do you remember my calls to you when you were on vacation in Maine with the witchy, possessed doll and the lobster-eating sheriff?” Pointing up and behind him, toward the pencils still precariously hanging in the ceiling, “that time I perfected the pencil flip …”

“I like that you put them back up there after the fire …”

He continued without pause, “remember when I drove halfway across the country and kidnapped you for the road trip to end all road trips? What about when I chased the Jersey Devil in response to you having dinner with that numpty and leaving me to my own devices for the weekend?” On a roll now, “that was probably an unconscious jealousy response more than a blue one but I’m telling this story and I’m storing it under ‘blue’ … anyway … then there was that time,” he paused here, suddenly feeling his chest tighten, “then there were those times you were missing.” Stepping in closer, he moved his hands to her face, angling it to get the best view of her soul, “that three months were the worst I’ve ever spent. At least when you were in Antarctica, I had a purpose, a goal, a spot to go to … I knew where you were but when they took you,” he watched her eyes contract for a moment, watched her mind travel back to that train car for an instant before returning to the basement with him, “I was so lost, so … just … I never, ever, ever, want to be without you ever again.”

She ate the blue one quickly, trying not to choke as she swallowed, “can we … I don’t like to talk about ‘blue’.”

He dove his hand into the bag, quickly pulling out a yellow, “then we should discuss ‘yellow’ and all the yelling it represents.”

Glad to leave ‘blue’ behind, she had to smile at the memories of their knockdown, drag outs over the years, “I wonder how many times I’ve slammed that file cabinet in response to one of your asinine theories?”

“At least once a week, I’d say but in counterpoint, a lot of those theories ended up being partially correct.”

“You actually made me lose my voice once from yelling at you.”

He had no idea, “when was this?”

“Somewhere roundabout year three, maybe, we were standing outside some police station in North Dakota, I think, and it was raining and you just wouldn’t listen.” Shaking her head at him, she swallowed, remembered the thunder and the anger and the stubbornness that drove them both in the earlier years, “I don’t even remember exactly why we were arguing; I just remember finally having to scream at you to ‘shut up for a second’ and you couldn’t hear me because of the thunder and I had to yell it again and there was this terrible searing pain down my throat,” absently running a hand from jaw to collarbone, “and you just … God, I may not remember the subject but I have never wanted to throttle you more than on that day.”

“It was the simultaneous cases of sheep herds breaking free of their corrals and running off. I quoted the same phenomenon happening in England in 1888 and you told me to ‘kiss your ass’.”

Now she remembered, “it was lightning! For God sakes, it was lightning scaring them.”

“Calm down. I know that now and I agreed with you then once we checked weather reports and such.”

“I couldn’t talk for a damn week.”

“You said it was just a cold.”

Eating a second yellow M&M just because she could, “I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

He hugged her then, kissing both her forehead and her mouth before pulling back again, “I’m glad we don’t fight like that anymore.”

“We do … it’s just about more … domestic … things.”

“You did scream at me pretty good a few weeks back about the toilet seat.”

“Cliché as it might be, Mulder, when you leave it up and I sit down on it at 4:17 in the morning, then fall in the cold water, you’re going to get woken up and screamed at.”

Another kiss, “I’m glad you still like me.”

“I’m glad you still like me, too.” Turning the bag over and over, she looked at him with a pout, “there’s no purple in here.”

“I know. Those fuckers still haven’t eliminated the shit brown M&M and replaced it with the purple. I’ve really got to write them an angry letter or something.”

“We’ll write it tonight.”

This time, his arms went around her waist, leaning a little more than usual to compensate for the roundness that was child #2 and #3, “I don’t need candy to remind me just how perfect you are.”

“I am far from perfect.” Kissing him, holding the connection even after her mouth stilled, she broke contact only because she knew Mulder’s back must be hurting, “and so are you but we are perfect together.”

“Yin and yang … salt and pepper … rice and beans … mac and cheese … blue punch and cards … it’s MulderNScully, baby, all the way.”

“I was waiting for you to say ‘liver and onions.’

Shuddering slightly, “we don’t talk about liver, remember?”

With a laugh, she gave him another quick kiss before finally settling back, scooting up to sit on the desk, her feet beginning to swell in the dress shoes she hadn’t worn in months, “so,” surreptitiously but not at all, finding and retrieving a red M&M, she rolled it between her fingers as she held it up, halfway between him and her, “we only have red left.”

His eyes filled for a second but he blinked the tears back, sniffing his instantly runny nose, “I have loved every second of working with you but that ain’t nothin’ compared to how much I have loved every other second with you. I’m wasn’t kidding when I told you I fell in love with you when I woke up in Alaska but I think I was already gone by the time we left Oregon on our first case.” Moving between her knees, he reached his hand forward to toy with her necklace, “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Agent Scully, and while I can try, there will never be enough red M&Ms in the universe to adequately represent even a fraction of my feelings for you.”

Well, fucking hell, she was crying now.

Leaning forward as much as she could, he leaned, meeting her forehead in their unmistakable gesture of mutual adoration, “take me home, Mulder.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

#msr #some stories behind the colors #take me home Mulder #xfiles #x-files #x-files fanfic #my writing #life part 4 series

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Official

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie ... Multiplication ... Catching On ... Thanksgiving ... The Funeral ... Midnight Libations ... Stockings were Hung ... Mama Walter ... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Skimmer-style)

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&

He found her sitting at the kitchen table one cold January morning, afghan around her shoulders, super thick, warm fuzzy socks in place, staring at her badge wallet. Approaching, she didn’t look up and he leaned into her back, looking over her shoulder, “whatcha doin’?”

“Look at the date.”

There was a reissue/re-up date for a new photo and the date told him that her credentials would be expiring in three days, “you better come in and get your new picture.”

Leaning her head against his, she knocked the wallet against the table twice before holding it still, her knuckles whitening in spots, “I think … that … we will have three children soon and I … need … to officially quit … the F … B … I.”

Had she not been supporting him, he would have collapsed to the ground in a disbelieving heap, “what?”

Gently shrugging his off her shoulder, she turned, eyes pink from what he realized must have been crying, “I think it’s time … to quit … officially.”

Without breaking his gaze, he shifted, turned, pulled a chair over and settled in front of her, hands on her thighs, “if it’s making you cry, don’t do it. You can stay around as long as you like.”

Her head tilted, lips pressed together, chin wrinkled, eyebrows both up, “I’m not crying because I don’t want to go. I’m actually crying because I don’t think I mind quitting.”

Not expecting that quite this early in the morning, he tilted back at her, “you’re finished with it?”

Tears ran again as she nodded, “I think so. The thought of leaving Will behind and soon, two more babies, even for the day, to go do an autopsy for you, or to paper chase lab results, is so far out of my realm of understanding right now that … I … I just …” resting her hands over his, “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

His heart ached at the thought of her never being beside him again in partner capacity but sliding his hand out from under hers, he spun his wedding ring around his finger, his thumb shifting it back and forth. Looking from her, to it, then back again, he leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose, “we’ll probably have to go gun shopping for you then. Get you a concealed license, steal some Kevlar and staples.”

“Staples?”

“You never know when we’ll need staples.” Suddenly she was hugging him, his neck bent at an uncomfortable angle he chose to ignore, his arms going around her, “how long have you been awake?”

One large sniff in his ear later, “since three. I threw up and came out here and for some reason, it just popped in my head and I’ve been staring at it since then.”

Finally pulling back, his back cracking, he returned his hands to her legs, “aren’t we supposed to, like, talk about everything and wake each other up when crazy stuff like vomiting and calendendrical revelations occur?”

“Calendrical?”

“It’s 5:15 in the morning, I can make up a word.”

Scully handed him her ID, “I guess you should take this in, give it to Skinner.”

“Naw, we’ll keep it, put it in with Will’s first pair of shoes and that weird stump of umbilical cord you insisted on saving.”

Smacking him on the chest, “I did not save his umbilical cord.”

“You wanted to.”

“I really didn’t.” Resting her hand on his cheek, “you hungry?”

“You’re thinking pancakes, aren’t you?”

“With extra syrup.”

Standing, “do we have bacon?”

Already heading to the freezer, “buy one, get one free last week. I stocked up.”

&&&&&&&&&&

The pancakes were light and fluffy, the syrup sticky, the butter smooth, the bacon carbonized, the son asleep longer than usual, the make-out session against the refrigerator door quick and perfect. They also got ready for work together, for what they could only assume would be the last time.

Scully decided to bring Will to the Hoover Building and turn her items in to Skinner officially, instead of over the dinner table at her mother’s house, which, in the grand scheme, is probably a much more appropriate way to leave a job.

It was a slow process, each taking their time with pulling on shirts and brushing teeth, sliding on shoes and filling pockets, watching each other throughout. Mulder felt the beginnings of a minor depression setting in as he held her coat out to her but it disappeared the instant she tried to close her coat over her rapidly expanding belly. She looked up at him as he looked down at her and suddenly, both were grinning, “you are completely adorable.”

“Even with a seven-foot circumference?”

“As long as I can hug you, I don’t care how big you get.”

“Pretty soon, you won’t be able to get anywhere near me. How are you going to hug me then?”

Waggling a lewd eyebrow at her, “I’ll just come in from behind. Cop a cheap feel in the process. It’ll be great.”

&&&&&&&&&

Half the people in the Hoover building nodded and said ‘hello’ to her and Mulder, stopping the trio to catch a view of Will and comment on his shock of red hair and his startlingly bright deep blue eyes. Mulder deferred all compliments to Scully, letting her bask in the attention that she never once received while she worked there, basement dweller shunned seven years running.

Heading to Skinner’s office, they talked to his secretary until Skinner got off the phone and immediately came out to the outer office, unstrapping Will, settling him on his shoulder in his usual spot. “What do we owe this visit to?”

Scully motioned toward Skinner’s office, “can we talk to you?”

“Of course. Go on in.” Grandchild snuggled against him, he followed, closing the door with his foot, “everything all right?”

“I should have called but once I decided, I decided.” Pulling her badge, wallet, and gun from her pockets and holster, she set them on her former boss’s desk, “I’m quitting, formally, effective today.”

Skinner had been rendered speechless on several occasions by the Scully-Mulder dynamic but this one was the first to make his heart drop a little. He’d known it would happen eventually but he hadn’t been expecting it to be before the twins were born, at the very earliest.

Scully looked at him, quiet for a few seconds before, “you okay, sir?”

This brought him back, “sir?”

She shrugged, mouth turned up on the left side, right side still serious, “old habits.”

Gently rocking Will, he first gave the boy a kiss to the forehead, then cuddled him unabashedly under his chin, “what made you do it today?”

“It was expiring and I just realized … it was time.”

“No consulting? No teaching? No curbside favors?”

“Not anymore.”

For the first time, in possibly forever, he looked sad, “I was expecting this but I will say, a small part of me is going to miss the daily game of ‘what the hell did Mulder and Scully do now?’”

“We can play it at dinner on Sundays. I’ll make sure Mulder is extra argumentative next week.”

Reaching out, he one-arm hugged her, surprising them both, “even more to look forward to on Sundays.”

She hugged him back, “I will need you to get me a concealed license, though, so our work isn’t quite done.”

“Don’t forget the paperwork we have to do. You don’t get to quit until you sign the papers.”

So began an emotional rollercoaster, two hours in the making, human resources, life-sucking ordeal that ended, finally, with Scully in the basement, standing in the doorway, voyeuristically watching Mulder hunched over a file cabinet, shirt slightly untucked, wearing the belt she’d bought him and running their son’s stroller back and forth an inch at a time with his foot.

Not able to help herself, she pushed the door open a little more, knocking lightly as she did so, “hello?”

It was on the tip of his tongue, their opening line, their introduction to each other and to the world as partners in his battle with the universe. Instead, he turned, studied her a moment, then let his face crease up in a smile.

He was wearing his glasses.

God, she loved the glasses.

“I desperately want to say something about the FBI’s most unwanted but I’ve come to realize that I am wanted by more people than I ever thought possible so instead, ‘hey, how’re you doing?’”

She kept her station in the doorframe, her eyes dry but pained, bright with unshed tears, “I’ve been better but definitely been worse.”

Moving to his desk, he removed something from the bottom drawer, then walked back to her, “got something for you.”

“If it’s all my personal casefiles, you’ll do better to burn ‘em than give ‘em to me.”

Somehow, he understood, having gone through a version of this when he opened the office up to Doggett and Harrison. From behind his back, he gave her a sandwich bag full of peanut M&Ms, majority red but all colors represented, “thought maybe you’d like to take a trip down memory lane.”

#msr #because sometimes #it's time to quit #properly #even if it involves #possibly making Skinner cry #x-files #x-files fanfic #my writing #life part 4 series