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He is quiet on the drive, quiet on the plane, quiet as they wait for respective taxis to take them to cold apartments, and she doesn't know him well but she knows this case has hurt.
"Mulder," hesitantly, and the bleakness in his eyes is what his sister left behind, "when something upsets me, I usually pray."
He stares, and then his cab is there and he is gone.
He doesn't know her well but he knows her care is honest, and though he hasn't been to church in years the pain is raw and bleeding and he sends the cab to St. Michael's instead.
His prayer is fumbling and confused and the stained glass and warm oak paneling make the photograph fade to bleary dull profane inconsequence, and he isn't ready for it to hurt this much -
He doesn't go back.
Gideon's Bible
"Mulder, please tell me you're not buying this."
He didn't answer, poking in the drawers of the hotel furniture.
"Mulder, faith healing is - is nothing but a sham! Every documented case - Mulder."
She raised an eyebrow at him. Mulder inclined his head and saluted her with the Gideon Bible.
"Gideon checked out, Scully. And left it, no doubt -"
"Mulder, if there is one thing this town does not need, it is a revival."
"Did I say anything about a revival?" he asked, wounded. "Bear with me here, Scully." She sighed as he flashed her a grin and began to read.
And She's Gone
Scully stared at Mulder's eyes across the conference table. She was fascinated. They were hazel now; he was bored, daydreaming about anything. Minutes ago they'd shown flecks of bright green, as he'd teased her for being too short to reach the doorjamb. She knew they'd turn grey when he was depressed or upset, and a deep, dark brown when he was intensely emotional. She'd never seen anything like it, she was tempted to ask him what he was smoking and if he'd share -
Scully clapped both hands over her mouth to keep from disrupting Skinner's budget report with an explosive snicker.
Mulder: The boy with kaleidoscope eyes!
He kicked her shin under the table. Green again.
Scully lost it.
Good Sailing
Not a week had passed since January that she hadn't seen him.
He didn't talk, just watched; when she noticed, he'd smile, and go.
In dreams she followed, sat in his lap, told him she loved him and read together until the end of time.
Last night as she teetered between the pull of his love and the stronger force that (she was terrified) might have been Mulder, she'd heard him speak. More, she'd heard what he didn't say: "Your life needs you more than I do, Dana. Go." And especially: "I'm so proud of you, Starbuck."
Scully blinked her tears away and smiled at the silly sports video beside her. No, she didn't think she'd see Ahab again, for a long time.
And that was okay.
Old With You
The rasping cough made Scully look up.
"Least I'm not... seasick anymore."
She smiled; if Mulder could joke, everything was okay. "Small blessings," Scully quipped back, shocked again at her quavering voice.
"Never thought I'd... grow old with anyone..."
"Mulder..."
"I mean... glad you're here..."
"Mulder, stop. We'll get out of this-"
"Yeah, but if... can't... c'n you... c'mere..."
Scully dragged herself up, creaked across the room to Mulder's side. His head fell against her shoulder: asleep again. Sighing, she grasped his hand and closed her eyes, praying for a miracle; slowly her head pillowed on Mulder's, and silence reigned.
Wisdom
"Agent Mulder, you'll have to drop this one," Skinner said.
Mulder stood and shook his head. "With respect, sir, I can't accept that. There will be an answer."
Without a backward glance at Scully, he stalked out of Skinner's office.
Lifting an eyebrow at the AD, she rose to follow.
Skinner put his hand out. "Words of wisdom, Agent Scully. Let it be. He'll come round."
Scully stared. After what she and Mulder had been through, this man could - was there ever a chance that he would see?
She skewered Skinner with her gaze and went to find her partner.
Simplicity
She is struck, later, by how simple it was.
If she'd thought about it, she would have expected - something more. Some remark, some follow-up -
If she'd thought about it, it never would have happened.
But he had let it pass in silence; she only noticed that the air between them seemed lighter somehow, clear, and when he joined her in the hallway outside Modell's room, his eyes were a little less haunted.
She is glad, in a calm, eternal sort of way, that her instincts acted for her. She wonders if she'll find the courage again -
to take Mulder's hand.
Surprise
Mulder frowned, fumbling with his keys outside Scully's door. She'd sounded very strange on the phone earlier, when she'd invited him over. She'd said to come on in if she didn't answer the door - and she wasn't answering. Mulder steeled himself and turned the key, prepared to find her passed out in the bathroom, or curled up on her bed sobbing into her pillow.
He opened the door.
"BLAAAAT!" The sound of three party horns being blown in unison. Mulder's jaw dropped.
"Happy birthday, buddy!" Frohike was spread out on the couch next to Langly with a shit-eating grin on his face. Byers was standing by the fireplace, which had a multicolored "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" banner strung under the mantle, and a stack of presents on the hearth.
Mulder gripped the doorknob to keep himself upright.
"Cake's done," Scully called as she entered from the kitchen, stripping off a pair of oven mitts. She leaned on the doorframe and burst out laughing at the look on Mulder's face. "Don't tell me you forgot it was your birthday, Mulder."
"Well, um ..." he tried a smile and discovered he could do it, after all. "Sort of?"
Scully shook her head. She closed the door behind him and stripped off his trench coat. She put a hand on the small of his back and shoved him toward the kitchen. "Come on. Let's eat."
"Pizza!" Langly was off the couch and running with a whoop.
Hours later, when the Gunmen had left, and Scully's usually immaculate living room was littered with cans and napkins and wrapping paper, they stood at Scully's front door again, Mulder with his coat back on now and gripping a sack of newly-acquired books, videos, gift certificates, and one very special photo album.
"Scully, I don't know what to say ..." He reached for her hand and gripped it. His eyes were shining, and he tried a tentative smile, then grinned more broadly when she returned it.
"Thank you, Scully. I - I haven't .."
"Shh, Mulder. It was my pleasure." She reached up and kissed him on the cheek, then led him out by the elbow. "I'll see you at work tomorrow, ok?"
He nodded. "Okay. Scully, I - um .."
"Shut up, Mulder." Her grin took the sting out of her words. "Go home." She closed the door and locked it.
Mulder shook his head briskly, put a hand to his cheek, and walked down the hallway, whistling.
Break My Fall
"Mulder, get down!" Bullets ricochet against the wall as I dive, I should have listened to Scully and laid low, crawling, but I wanted to run.
Something's come between us since her sister died; one more thing that we don't talk about as we hurt, and it's like a torn sleeve pulling wider, sewed up with clumsy bright red yarn. We're losing each other-
And I hit the ground.
Blue eyes deep inside my brown, she helps me up and I'm forgiven. Ours is a stormy kind of love but her hand's in mine, and it's still the sweetest thing.
Be Prepared
"I think you should learn a language, Mulder."
Arms folded, closed in, she stares at Schnauz, Sr.'s headstone.
"A language, Scully? I ... " A light dawns. "... Your German." He winces slightly and touches her shoulder. She doesn't move.
"It saved me, Mulder. He came at me with the leucotome and I spoke to him. It bought enough time for you to - " She reaches for him, frantically, and he takes her hand. "I don't want to lose - "
He doesn't tell her he learned Hebrew as a boy, Latin at Oxford, and has been teaching himself Japanese since the train; just pulls her close as she sobs for the tortured soul she couldn't save.
Instinct, With Better Light
"Mulder?"
"Mulder, we're finished here, right on schedule. Are you ready to go?"
"Mulder...? Are you all right?"
"What ..? Oh, Scully. Yeah, I'll .. I'll be right there."
"Mulder, are you sure you're okay? ... It's just, you've had a lot to digest on this case, and you've been standing here alone in the sunshine for the past two hours. You didn't even hear me calling. You're worrying me."
"It's a monstrous cruel fate, Scully. Violently separated, every lifetime, for countless ages ... and again today. Why? What plan could there possibly be in this?"
"Well ... Mulder, I ... I'm not saying that I believe in this reincarnation story, but if it's true ... What if there's a reason for it? What if ... what if you and the, the diaphanous soul that was Melissa Riedal-Ephesian are, are doomed to repeat this endless circle of love, death, rebirth, and love .. not because it's meant to be that way, but because it isn't meant to be?"
" ... What are you saying, Scully?"
"I'm saying that ... well, what if you both keep living the same painful, doomed story, over and over, because it isn't the right choice? What if it'll continue for eternity, until in some lifetime, you make a drastic change, and you get it right? ... I'm sorry, I shouldn't be ... I'll go back inside."
"No, Scully, wait! Stay for a while. I want to talk about this. ... Yes, I really do. When I was remembering all of these past lives, what struck me most was the intense bond of love between the two of us. There were countless more that I didn't talk about ... stretching back hundreds of years, Scully ... all full of such incredible, boundless love. But each of them ended with anguish just as strong."
"I could see that in your face."
"Ten years here, twenty there, then five, the next time, only a month. And when it ends, as it always does, too soon, there's always such pain .. for awhile, the knowledge that we'd have that short time, those chance encounters, next time, was enough, but now ... my soul is tired. So tired ... "
"Mulder .. Mulder, I don't want that for you. You deserve some rest, some peace."
"I want that so badly, Scully. I think you might be right; about needing a big change, to break the cycle ... I think maybe Melissa knew it, too."
"... You weren't in love with her, in this life."
"No .. no, I wasn't. If we'd met under different circumstances, ... maybe I could have been. But you're right, I wasn't."
"She wasn't in love with you, either."
"No. But she wanted to believe."
"And I'm not your father, or your sergeant."
"No ... you're my partner."
"And I always will be, Mulder."
"Scully, do you know who owns this field?"
"Now that the cultists are all dead? Well, I, I don't know, I suppose the property would revert to the state. Why?"
"I'd like to plant some roses here. For – well, for old lives' sake."
"I think that can be arranged. ... Come on, let's go home."
Saturday
Scully sighed gratefully, sinking into the steaming bubbles. God, she deserved this. She had a CD playing and a novel beside her, but first she simply leaned back, closed her eyes and inhaled the warm fragrance.
The phone rang. Scully reached for a towel, but stopped herself. She breathed out, listening.
Beep! "Scully, it's me. Pick up. .. C'mon, Scully, pick up. .. Well, anyway, you're never gonna believe this. Call me -"
Sorry, Mulder, she thought unrepentantly. Scully toed the door shut and sunk until the water covered her ears. I'm being lazy today.
A slow, delicious smile spread across her face.
We Can
Mulder finished whatever he'd been doing at his computer and stood up.
"I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow, Scully, okay?" he asked quietly. He was probably avoiding her eyes, but she couldn't tell, because she wasn't watching.
She nodded. She wasn't sure if she was speaking to him, but suspected she probably wasn't.
He closed the door behind him and disappeared.
Scully sighed, fingering the old, dried rose petal in her lap. She saw her life in that petal: a withered memorial to what might have been.
"Try to see it my way / Do I have to keep on talking till I can't go on?"
Scully jumped. Music was blaring from Mulder's computer speakers.
"While you see it your way / Run the risk of knowing that our love may soon be gone / We can work it out .."
He was trying to send her a message with music.
Scully sighed again, aggravated. How juvenile, and how very Mulder.
She rolled her eyes, got up and walked to the other side of his desk, intending to shut the music off and work on the expense reports she still needed to file. Expense reports from the *damn* hotel he'd sent her to for no reason. She sat down in his chair and rubbed her temples.
Scully reached for the mouse - he had a whole playlist set. And he had an open document on the screen. Addressed to her.
She was tempted to ignore it. But even annoyed as she was, she couldn't do that to him. She took a deep breath, and began to read.
"The expense reports are finished, Scully. So is your insurance claim for the hospital and a first draft of the case report. All you have to do is fill in the parts I don't know, and sign everything. I'll do them all, from now on."I ordered a desk from HR. It'll be small, but we can put it wherever you want. Hell, I'll sit there, and you can have this one, if you want.
"I'm self-centered and possessive. You've known that about me for years, Scully; I'm not going to change. But I'm doing my best. I know that I take you for granted sometimes. If you want to transfer off the X-Files, or just .. avoid me for awhile, I'll understand. I understand that you need to have a life apart from work. Truly I do. It just .. hurts that you would do something like this, without a word to me, and that I wasn't there to protect you. That's egotistical, but it's how I feel.
"I love you, Scully. There's no other way to say it. And I'm sorry.
"I know it isn't always about me. I just wish that, sometimes, it could be about us.
"You can close this and ignore it, and I'll accept that. Or you can think about what I've said, and talk to me.
"I'm going home to order a pizza. Company would be great.
"Mulder."
Oh.
Scully blinked at the screen, trying to hold on to her indignation. Mulder doing expense reports? She'd have to go over that one with a fine-toothed calculator. And how dare he object to her doing things on her own, the number of times he'd ...
"Life is very short / And there's no time ... "
Was he actually apologizing for loving her? No, Mulder ...
Scully sat through "In My Life," "Hello Goodbye," "You've Got To Hide Your Love Away," and "Long and Winding Road" before she grabbed her coat and followed Mulder to his apartment.
She crushed the petal into the trash can on her way out the door.
Always
It's a red rose in a pink heart-shaped vase.
He bought it at the grocery, impulsively, restocking on orange juice and pizza, trying not to picture the sharp angles and dark shadows of her too-thin face.
The vase says "Always," flowingly; the petals are starting to wilt.
He placed it self-consciously on her hospital tray, fumbling over a clumsy explanation, blushing through his obvious heartache, too strong-for-her-sake to admit tears.
The thorns would be sharp, she knows, if she reached out.
She thanked him softly. He sat and took her hands; his eyes spoke volumes as he kissed her forehead, and left reluctantly, stabilized now by her touch.
Despite her weakened senses she catches the soft, sweet scent, if she concentrates. She imagines it smells of him.
I wish it were forever, Mulder. But I'll be with you; always; somehow.
She almost wishes she could cry.
It's a red rose in a pink heart-shaped vase.
Quiet Vigil
"Tell you what I'd do:"
Scully scanned the dark forest. Nothing moved; she didn't trust the stillness.
"Throw away the cars and the bars and the wars -" and the aliens, mutants, conspiracies -
Was Mulder asleep yet? She felt weird singing, hadn't remembered this line ...
She shifted. Mulder stirred.
".. 's'wrong .. Scull ..?" he slurred.
"Shhh, Mulder, sleep. Everything's okay."
"Mmm. Don' stop .. singin' ..." He snuggled in closer, relaxed.
Scully sighed, smoothed his hair. He felt too warm. She hugged him tighter.
"... make sweet love to you."
Scully kissed his temple softly. He sighed, murmured something.
Still nothing stirred.
"Joy ... to the world ..."
Incomplete
He makes it halfway to the parking lot before he turns around.
She doesn't want me, he thinks. But I need to be there. I need to be there for *me*.
He walks through the antiseptic halls, to the sterile room with its desolate isolation chamber.
The green vial stays in his pocket as he presses his hand to the glass, watching Scully's shoulders shake, her body wrapped around the child that shouldn't be.
This is my family, he thinks, with an ache deeper than oceans.
Torn, ashamed, he remembers Samantha. He leans his head against the glass and weeps.
Denial
"Mulder? Wake up."
"wha...?" he pried up one eyelid to Scully's worried face.
"Mulder, you're burning up. Why didn't you call?"
"I, uhm.." he swallowed. "Din think it was any.."
"Oh, Mulder." Scully sighed, handing him a glass. "Take these, it should bring the fever down."
Mulder complied reluctantly, then shot upright. "Scully, the case!"
"Mulder, there is no case. No ghosts. It was a prank. We're going home tomorrow. Go to sleep." She pushed him down.
"But–"
"Sleep, Mulder." Scully squeezed his hand and laid a cool cloth over his eyes. It felt good.
"Whatever you say, Scully..."
Matchmaker
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
"But, Dana," said her mother to her one day, "You'd be perfect for each other. I've seen how you act when you're together."
Scully replied that their relationship was purely professional, and she had no intention of changing that, fortune or no fortune, and in any case her mother had no right to go looking up her partner's financial situation without his consent.
"You're not the only one in this family with investigative skills, dear." Mrs. Scully patted her daughter's arm and stood up to pour some tea.
Scully just crossed her arms and glowered.
"But honestly, Dana, that's beside the point." Mrs. Scully sat back down and placed a steaming cup in front of her daughter. She blew across the top of her mug and took a careful sip.
"When you were missing for all those months, he nearly fell apart. He needs you to steady him, Dana." She frowned at her daughter across the table. "And so do you, you know."
"We steady each other just fine the way we are, Mom," Scully said quietly.
Mrs. Scully sighed. She was becoming accustomed to defeat. "Won't you at least think about it, dear?"
Scully sighed in return. "No, Mom. I can't." She stood. "Look, I have to go. I'm meeting Mulder for dinner."
Mrs. Scully brightened considerably.
"Don't look so excited, Mom, we're discussing a case." Scully rolled her eyes and headed for the door. "I'll call you tomorrow."
"Whatever you say, dear," Mrs. Scully murmured, grinning, into her teacup.
Teotihuacan
We're on the dusty Avenue of the Dead facing the Pyramid of the Moon and somewhere an archaeologist apologizes, but the sunlight's faded to shadow, flickering flame, the rush of dancing shouting bodies; atop the pyramid feathered priests flourish a beating heart and as the crowd's chanting crescendos a familiar black shape eases silently over Cerro Gordo's dented crest; the priest drops the heart, the crowd's jubilant cries morph into terror as the stone city burns, burns, a fleeing warrior jostles me and once again I'm looking into clear blue eyes and "Scully," I croak, "there's definitely an X-File here."
Constellation of Doubt
Five stars. A scrawled "w," a chair if you squint and catch the sixth dot.
"Look, Mulder," I point. "Cassiopeia."
He pauses, glancing up. "Beautiful wife of King Cepheus, sentenced to hang upside-down half the year as penance for her vanity. What about her?"
I smile, chafing my hands. "It's the first thing I notice when I step outside at night."
He smiles back and warms my hands in his, leading me inside. "She'll still be there when we finish this interview."
As we enter the precinct, I absent-mindedly scratch my neck. I have an uneasy feeling I'm missing something.
No Pun Intended
So I'm sitting here, staring at this ring, considering it's ten years to the day since I put it on for (what I thought was) ever, remembering Diana said engraving it was stupid but I insisted, and she's right, "F + D" looks too much like something I carved in a tree when I was ten -
I wonder if she expects me to call her.
I wonder if she wonders if I expect *her* to call *me.*
I wonder if she wonders if I wonder -
The phone rings.
"Mulder, I have too much Kung Pao chicken here for anyone smaller than a sumo wrestler to eat in one sitting, and since we're leaving on shit patrol tomorrow, it'll spoil if I put it in the fridge, so I was wondering if -"
How does she do that?
"Scully, you know what I like," I grin, "I'll be right over."
I put the ring away, thinking, absurdly, that I wouldn't even have to get it reengraved.
Although "M x S" does have a nice ring to it.
Miracles
I'd half expected one. But this case's only miracle yet was a small, ugly pendant.
"Agent Scully is already in love," Padgett said, and walked away. She looked at me with big, nervous eyes, as though her deepest secret was revealed by a stranger; as perhaps it was.
I smiled softly; I wouldn't press. As we left, I wondered: will a suspect's words bring us closer? Is this our miracle?
Now I hold her tight, sobbing but whole, her blood and tears staining my shirt, and I know: she's alive, we're together: that's all the miracle I could ever ask.
Tea for Two
"I brought you something, Mulder."
"More? You already supplied flowers."
Scully smiled mysteriously, placed a bottle on the table.
"Iced tea?"
She turned pink. "Must be fate, Mulder."
He frowned, confused.
"Just – just drink up, Mulder, I'll, I'll be back tomorrow." She squeezed his hand, was gone.
Mulder peered at the bottle. Surely she knew he wasn't allowed caff-
Oh. I am an idiot.
Scully's cell rang.
"Thanks for the tea, Scully."
She laughed, relieved. He had remembered, she felt slightly less stupid –
"It really, it was - I mean I - I mean - thank you."
"Anytime, Mulder," she whispered. "Good night."
First Base
"Mulder, I admit I haven't watched baseball recently; but with all these balls I'm hitting, shouldn't I be on first base by now?"
Mulder grinned. "Scully -- oop, watch it - " crack, another pop fly "- no infielders, to catch you and tag you out - oof!"
Scully's hip dug into his stomach as she unwrapped her hands and twisted in his arms. "I think you'll catch me, Mulder;" wickedly.
She planted the beginning of a long, wet kiss smack on his lips.
Poorboy laughed his ass off. Mulder just dropped the bat, and went with it.
He caught her somewhere around first base.
The Power and the Glory
In the thirtieth year, in the fourth month, on the fifth day of the month, as I was among the exiles by the river Chebar, the heavens were opened, and I saw visions of God.
I stand there, with the waves washing over my sandals and making the thing beneath the water into an unreal, carnival mirror reflection of impossibility, thinking of Ezekiel and his chariots of fire, who I first felt akin to after I saw the Seraph and the Nephilim -
I stand there, and I wonder. And I feel as though the gentle waves lapping at my ankles herald a flood sent to topple the foundations of my faith.
Oh, Mulder, I think, and I falter. Oh, Mulder, my faith in science is strong, but my faith in God is deeper, is the basis of all that I am. Mulder, I don't want this to happen; Mulder, I don't want to believe.
"O God of my fathers and Lord of mercy, who hast made all things by thy word .. give me wisdom .." The prayer is dry and bitter in my mouth, and I stop.
Ezekiel in his ignorance saw wheels of eyes and a dome of crystal and his faith was strengthened. I in my wisdom witness the power of this metal and words, and I turn away. I taste ashes and I envy the prophet his innocence.
God is alien, God is a lie, God is a conspiracy .. the accusations pound through my brain in a litany of hammer and anvil. I grip my elbows and I stare across the ocean at the setting sun as my hair whips into my eyes and I'm not crying, I'm not -
The sunset is brilliant. I wish Mulder could see it.
I take a deep, shaking break and begin to relax. I remember that I'm not here for God. I'm not here for me. I'm here for Mulder. My faith in God may falter and I may lose track of who I am, but my belief in Mulder will never fail. I know this without thinking, as true as breathing, as real as life: unbreakable.
My Truth, my God, the God I've known and loved and prayed to all my life, the God that sustained me through my cancer and my abduction, is in that sunset. And in Mulder. Not in this ancient monstrosity, or in anything that it stands for. Never there.
The dead metal that lies in the shifting sands at my feet is nothing more than a means to an end. No matter what the rubbings reveal. I will use it to save Mulder, if I can; but my faith and this ship share nothing in common.
The sun falls beneath the curve of the Earth. I tie my hair back from my face and retreat up the beach to our tent. I feel as though I've won a victory, but deep inside I know it to be only the first of many battles, and already my armor has begun to crack.
A Toast
When they left the hospital, his arm around Scully, it was snowing bubbles. They stopped under a streetlight and watched, entranced; one burst on Scully's face. She wiped it off, sniffed, blinked, licked her finger.
"Mulder. Either I'm crazy - or this is champagne."
Bemused, Mulder popped one himself, tasted it. A brilliant grin lit his face. "It's a New Years' 'congratulations.'"
"What are you talking about, Mulder?" Scully balanced a bubble on her fingertip.
"Well, I just kissed you, Scully." He glanced at her shyly.
She blushed. "And?"
"And I think -" bubbles popped in a chorus of "plinks" on the pavement, the cars, Mulder's hair - "this is Holman Hardt's way of saying ''bout damn time, G-Man.'"
"Holman Hardt!? The -?" Scully's laugh was delightful, and Mulder really wanted to kiss her again.
So he did.
And the stars floated down all around.
Nothing Changes
Scully woke up, showered, dressed, ate breakfast, tidied her apartment.
She couldn't quite decide if she felt different or not.
They'd kissed last night, for reasons that had nothing to do with imminent danger of death, and it had been - sweet. Real. A perfect first kiss.
But it had also been New Year's, and she wasn't sure it meant anything. Did she want it to mean something?
She couldn't decide if she hoped he'd call, or not.
The phone rang. "Scully."
"Scully, it's me. Skinner just called, he has something he wants -- ... what?"
She couldn't believe it; he'd heard her smile. Same old unchanging Mulder. "Nothing, Mulder. I'll meet you at the office."
"Ok. See you there. ... Scully?"
"Hmm?"
"... Happy New Year?" He said it softly, shyly, as a question.
"... Happy New Year, Mulder."
Scully grabbed her coat and waltzed out the door.
Maybe things *were* changing.
She grinned. Nah.
Invasion
She stood unmoving beside his car, staring blindly up at the sky. Mulder let his hand hover at her shoulder. "Scully? Can I take you to your mom's house?"
"This has happened before, Mulder," she murmured. "It's no different; I'm fine; you don't have to-"
"Scully, you're not fine." He turned her around, ducking his head to search her face. "I know you will be, soon, but until then, please let me-"
She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. "Can you take me home now, Mulder?"
"...You mean-? Are you-?"
"Yes. Mom's asleep, and I need-"
"...Anything, Scully. Come on."
Living For
He looked up, adrift in a sea of photos, lost and alone when she unlocked the door.
"Scully," he said, softly, without moving, and his eyes scared her, "What now? I always assumed, when I found her - I, I thought everything was okay."
She leaned against the doorframe, crossed her arms at him, said nothing.
"Scully, it's over, and - I don't know what to live for anymore."
"Mulder," she said gently, clearly, and didn't let him look away, "can you live for me?"
Moments passed, motionless, watching each other.
He rose slowly, reached for his coat, whispered: "I can try."
Where
I'm not here.
I shiver, I moan, sweat flows off, the next instant I'm curled up shivering. I burn, I freeze, I starve, can't eat.
I'm not here. I hear.
"Sir, we have .."
"No, he's .."
".. won't let .."
".. almost .."
"Mul .."
Somewhere else. I hear that too.
Once, I scream.
Cool. Cool hand.
"Scull.." I croak; she's here. I'm not here. I am.
"It's .. clerk .. comic shop, he .." she shushes me, nods to someone.
Movement. Don't care. I'm not here.
"Scully, don' leave ..."
"I won't." She grips my hand. I feel her grip my hand. "Mulder, I'm here."
I'm here.
We're here.
Just Another Night
Scully was indignant. "I was sleeping, Mulder," she whined as they ducked under the yellow tape. Her umbrella caught in a tree and she yanked it back, splattering drops across her face. She sighed. "It's just another murder, couldn't it at least wait until-"
Mulder'd stopped, head bowed. At his feet was the chalk outline of a woman, legs bent at an unlikely angle, head twisted to the side. Already the rain blurred the lines, watery chalk flowing in twisty white rivulets across the asphalt to the storm drain. By morning, this would be just another length of rain-washed sidewalk.
God. The wind whipped her coat around her legs; thunder rumbled in the distance. She reached blindly for his elbow. "Mulder," her voice cracked, "when did I stop feeling?"
He said nothing, just wrapped her fiercely in his arms. Her umbrella bobbed down the street, illuminated once in a flash of lightning, then gone.
His chin kept the rain off her hair.
Waking Up
Scully woke with a start, palms sweaty, heart beating. Her leg spasmed, knocking a teacup from the coffee table – and she sank back, relieved, onto Mulder's couch, clasping his blanket more tightly around her.
As she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, banishing the momentary panic, she thought back to the previous evening, and the strangest weekend of her life. To see Daniel again, after so many years – it just seemed fitting, somehow, to be spending Sunday night camped out on Mulder's couch. Scully smiled, stretching her legs out along the sofa cushions; countless times she'd come through that door, to find Mulder fast asleep, right here.
Scully sighed and rolled over, sinking deeper into the couch, trying to find sleep once again, but thinking of Daniel now, how tempestuous and desperate their affair had been, and how wrenching and painful her decision to break it off and come to Washington. Looking back on that time now, such emotions seemed incomprehensible; the man in that hospital bed was dear to her, surely, but so different, so closed, so strange. Or rather it was herself who had changed; she'd seen and learned so much since leaving him that to go with him now would be to deny everything, to suppress all that she knew to be true about herself and her world. Holding his hand today she had felt the beginnings of that, the slide that could spiral her away into oblivion and blessed ignorance, and that scared her. Frightened her more deeply and truly than any X-File ever could.
She opened her eyes to find herself looking at the room's single source of light, the fish tank, one of the mollies gazing at her through the glass, opening and closing its mouth in a kiss-face, bloop, bloop, bloop. One of Mulder's mollies.
Mulder.
Everything happens for a reason. And sometimes nothing does.
Scully sat up, pulling her legs to her chest, and stared out the window for a long, long time.
Scully stood in the doorway to Mulder's bedroom, her hand on the doorframe, more at peace now, but still thinking, contemplating the shape of his body beneath the sheets. The diffuse city lights shone through the window, giving the room the spectral quality of deep night, glinting through Mulder's dark mussed hair and highlighting the angles of his face. This really is a beautiful man, she thought, smiling, in body and in mind. Why had it taken her conscious mind so long to accept that?
"Scully?" Mulder coughed suddenly, sitting up, squinting at her.
"You awake?" she asked, moving further into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked up at his face, found him gazing back. "I didn't mean to disturb you."
"No, I – I couldn't sleep." He laughed sheepishly, glancing down, toying with the sheets. "I kept thinking about you. How much you've been through, because of me." Serious now, looking back up, once more into Scully's eyes.
Mulder broke the gaze first, scooting back, leaning against the headboard. "It's late. Are you heading home?"
"Oh, Mulder. No. No, not yet." Scully turned around, sitting cross-legged, facing him, taking his hand. She noted how strong and safe it felt, and how very, very different from Daniel's. "I woke up about an hour ago, and I've been thinking. About a lot of things … I wanted to come and find you, but you looked so peaceful." She searched his face. He looked curious, wondering – hopeful?
"Mulder, I – I've finally faced down some demons that have haunted me since before we met. I've been able to realize some things, and I need for you to know them. You've been here for me for so long, and you've shown me so much – and the times I've nearly lost you have been the worst days of my life." Scully took a deep breath, looking down at his hand in her lap. "Without you, my life would be – would be infinitely poorer and self-delusional. And if I ever lost you for good, I don't know how I could go on." Her voice broke, and she looked back up into his eyes. "I need for you to know that, Mulder. I need for you to know how important you are to me, that you're more than just my, my constant – you're my everything. There is no place that I would rather be than right here, with you."
"Oh, Scully … Dana. I know." There was a twinkle back in those familiar deep hazel eyes, a twinkle that had been missing lately, as he pulled her next to him and helped her under the covers. "I've lost so much recently – my entire family, everyone and everything I've cared about. All I have left is my work – and you." Mulder pulled Scully close, talking into her hair. "And if nothing was left but the work, I think I'd let it go. Quit the FBI, give up the fight. This planet isn't worth keeping, if not for you – and I don't want to learn the truth, about anything, if I can't share it with you, in the end. And I mean that, Scully."
Scully was comfortable, and starting to drowse again now that she knew where she belonged. "Okay, Mulder, I lied," she murmured, eyes half closed. "I'd rather be here than sitting over there."
He laughed out loud, squeezing her tight. "Oh, God, Scully." He shifted around, to look at her face again. "Scully, I told you once before that – that I love you. But I don't think you believed me." He smiled an impish grin, reaching out to caress her forehead.
"I believed you, Mulder." She took his hand and held it, interlacing their fingers. "I just - I wasn't ready to accept it, then. Besides, you were delusional." She contemplated for a moment, then slowly kissed his knuckles.
"Can you accept it now?" he asked softly.
"Yes, I – I can. I do," Scully said wonderingly. She looked quickly up at him. "That is, if you do."
Their second kiss ever was long, and passionate, and tender, and lasted until the city began to stir into wakefulness around them.
Mulder was late for work.
Stopping Criteria
"I don't have to go, Scully. We'll both stop. I'll stay with you, and -"
"No, Mulder. That's not who we are. I'll stay, because you asked, but .. you need to go."
"Scully, I don't know why - I think this is our last chance, if we don't stop now, we never will."
"Mulder, don't you see? We've never had that choice."
"I thought you didn't believe in fate."
"No. But I believe in character. It sounds nice, but Mulder - if we stop, if you stop, we won't be ourselves."
"... All right. ... I love you, Scully."
"I know, Mulder. Be careful."
"Always."
Requiem for a Season
So she couldn't go along. But she'd be damned if anyone would stop her from driving them to the airport.
Skinner, ever sensitive, ducked into the restroom.
Mulder put his duffle down, turned to her, eyes glistening. "Scully," he said, "I -" His voice choked; he looked at their feet, swallowing.
"Shhhh." She put two fingers to his lips, the other hand to his waist, tipped him forward to rest their foreheads together. "I know, Mulder;" whispering. "I know."
She kissed his forehead, his cheek; his lips. One tear spilled down his face; she brushed it away.
"Why does this feel so ..."
"Final?" He gathered her in; she smiled sadly against his chest. "This is silly, Mulder. You'll be back in a week."
Skinner reemerged. Their flight was leaving soon.
He picked up his bag, gripped her hand fiercely, blinked. "I ..."
"Go, Mulder. I know." Her voice was husky. She squeezed back, let go.
He swallowed, walked away. Skinner waved and smiled tightly as they passed through the doors.
She stared after, unseeing. She couldn't shake the irrational, wild fear that rippled in icy waves from her chest.
Surrender
Right up until the last second, he had a choice.
He could go back to Washington, back to Scully, make sure she was as "fine" as she claimed, forever.
On the other hand, to finally know, after all these years - to be sure that his faith had never been in vain ...
The temptation was too strong, and he hated himself for it.
When his eyes met the bounty hunter's amused pity through the beam of eternal, substantial light, he understood: the choice had always been his own.
It wasn't until years later that he could bring himself to tell Scully.
Paradox
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way.
In short, if Mulder didn't get the hell un-abducted and haul his ass back to her so she could stop feeling so horribly guilty about feeling so marvelously happy about this God damn, incredible, terrifying, miraculous, impossible, beautiful baby they'd somehow made together, Dana Scully swore she'd guillotine the obstinate, adorable, reckless son of a bitch herself.
Rent
Her first case with Doggett, and Scully wasn't pleased. She felt traitorous, abandoning the search for Mulder; she was having difficulty concentrating on the murderer they needed to catch.
She tried not to take her discomfiture out on Doggett, but he must have sensed it anyway; he'd left her curbside to collect herself while he procured the rental car.
He pulled up, and Scully slid inside; she glanced at the familiar Lariat sticker on the bumper, to feel Mulder's presence and reassure herself that this was just another case.
She snorted humorlessly, buckling her seat belt.
He'd rented a Hertz.
Erased
I don't belong anymore. Not in my office, my apartment, my car, the gym, the whole damn city. Everywhere I look, it accuses me: You were dead, and the world moved on. We don't need you anymore.
Even my fish are alive. If I'd been here, they'd all have starved.
I think I could probably bear all that. But I don't belong with Scully either.
I left everything with her, my work, my life, and she -
She made so much more of it than I ever could. She's ahead of me now, more than me, and she took my life with her. It's all hers now.
I feel redundant. Unnecessary. The discarded rough draft of a bestselling novel. I left her in D.C., but she left me in the dust.
I feel erased.
I'd leave, but I have nowhere to go. Who would hire the shadow of an invisible man? And killing myself would be - ungrateful.
See? She doesn't even knock when she comes over.
Scully, what -? Is she - is she crying?
Oh God. I'm sorry. I'm here.
I think I'm crying, too.
Maybe –
In Memoriam Crocodilans
Mulder was in the driver's seat, pensively fingering her keychains.
"You miss him, Scully?" he mused, spinning Queequeg's tag as Scully maneuvered her girth inside.
Scully slammed the door, smiling. "Actually, I hadn't thought about Queequeg for years, until I found that this morning. ... I guess I do miss having something around to take care of."
"We're fixing that pretty well, right?" A brilliant smile, a proprietary hand on her belly.
She rested her hand on his. "You're a handful yourself, Mulder. But it will be nice to have a little girl around."
Mulder's eyes widened.
Scully grinned. "Or boy."
Subtext
"He pulled a gun on me!" The young man was aghast, helping Scully maneuver Mulder's bookcase into the U-Store-It truck. "I thought he was gonna blow my head off!"
"Yeah." Scully chuckled fondly around her aching chest. How had it taken only two days to pack an entire life? "It's not usually a good idea to park an unmarked van in front of Mulder's apartment."
"You two talking about me?" Mulder stumbled through the door, grinning, balancing his television. His face fell as he looked at Scully; how could he bear leaving her and William?
She blinked innocently. "Who, us?"
Capitulate
Mulder paused, hand on the light switch. He should have hit the road directly from Scully's apartment, but he had a couple of hours until his flight, and somehow he'd found himself drawn back here, to the X-Files office.
He had a funny feeling he was never going to see it again. I got your promise, Doggett, not a *scratch*, he chuckled to himself.
Could he really do this? Leave Scully, William, everything, turn his back on the FBI for good, for what? Chasing mirages that had dissolved years ago? Mulder sighed. Nah. He'd turn around right now and just forget it. It wasn't worth it; not anymore. And he was tired of all this. So tired ...
As Mulder flicked off the lights, something seemed to wink whitely at him from the shadows. He stepped to the filing cabinet and lifted it gingerly from the top - the NICAP hat, Max Fenig's cap. Miraculous survivor of eviction and fire, he'd been unable to throw it out, even after he'd identified Max's body among the crash victims.
What am I doing? Mulder thought with new resolve, brushing the dust from the white letters. I can't just give up. I won't. I have my answers, but so many others don't - I can't let them all down.
Mulder shoved the cap on his head and locked the office door for the last time.
He didn't look back.
Firstborn
She dreams.
She is a sailor's daughter, and if she can but spin tales of rough straw into golden rational reports for eight long years, the king has promised to wed her to the handsomest, craziest prince in the land.
She despairs, for she loves the prince, but lacks the skill, and fears her father's wrath; and when a wizened gnome with glittering eyes and smoking ears offers aid in exchange for a trifle - her firstborn son, she agrees.
Eight years later, her son is born. The gnome returns for his due, but she loves her son, and fears she may never have another. The gnome has grown to love her from afar, and takes pity, saying if she can but guess his name, she may keep the child.
She wakes, wild-eyed and sweating, shouting "Spender! CGB Spender!"
She goes to the crib, and cuddles her firstborn against her chest. She cries for her child, and herself, and her missing prince - and because she knows in her heart that her dream-self answered wrong, and cried out "Rumpelstiltskin."
Daddy
Close your eyes,
Have no fear,
The monster's gone,
He's on the run
And your daddy's here ..
Mulder swayed in the hallway outside Scully's bedroom, crooning softly to William against his chest, trying to quiet the baby's sobs without waking Scully.
Mulder was still awed by everything. He hadn't stopped smiling since yesterday. William was so tiny, so beautiful, so amazing. And his - his and Scully's. He'd never imagined that anything could be so wonderful, and he'd never felt so proud - or hopeful for the future - in his life.
I can hardly wait
To see you come of age ..
Somewhere in New Mexico, Mulder laid his head on his outstretched arm and sobbed. The photograph fluttered from between his fingers to land beside his forgotten burger and tepid coffee.
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy ..
Rain
"It's raining," he says quietly, setting down the ice bucket.
"So I hear." Thunder crashes. She leans up on her elbow, smiling, and when he doesn't turn, "Mulder? What is it?"
He sighs. "... I'm remembering rain and cheap motels, graveyards, missing coffins, Billy Miles." Hesitation. "You laughing."
"We've come a long way, haven't we," she whispers. He's quiet. "Mulder, come here." She's patting the bed, but he chooses the floor, rests his head back, looks at her earnestly.
They sit, just looking, together, quiet, and it's been too long. They're almost lost.
The storm rages.
"What are you thinking? ... Mulder?"
Any Other Name
Mulder woke suddenly in the middle of the night, only one thought on his mind.
He'd underestimated her. How could he?
He climbed out of bed and paced to the window, staring out at the driving rain. All those months -
Don't kid yourself, Mulder. It's been a year.
All this past year, he'd had only the photo in his pocket, the occasional news report, and his memories of her. And of their son.
The contact he'd actually had with her, the news he'd heard - "I am physically shaking right now," her ill-fated call to bring him home on the train .. giving up William - she had seemed needy, desperate, frightened: fragile. The Scully he knew didn't write like that, didn't do those things.
But he'd decided that maybe the Dana he didn't know - would.
And he'd let that color his perceptions, his thoughts; she'd ceased to be Scully and become Dana, his ivory princess, mother of his child, delicate and frail and beautiful, desperately in need of his protection from all the evils of the cruel world.
He mentally kicked himself. Twice, hard. He couldn't know what she'd gone through without him, to choose as she had. Hell, he'd had his share of low points - the lowest - more than his share of lonely, quiet desperation without her.
Last night, without even realizing it, he'd found his Scully again.
God, he needed her.
Mulder kicked himself again and let the curtain drop.
I am the needy one in this relationship, he reminded himself, as he crawled back into bed and wrapped his body desperately around his only constant in a vast, unstable universe.
Memory
Charlie's eldest, David, has been MIA in Afghanistan for one year.
Scully and I sneak into the back at the memorial, unnoticed for now. There was no protest that we stay safely away, no well-argued objections. We both need this.
I'm resentful, initially, remembering Maggie's long-ago haste to bury Dana, contrasting Scully's refusal to surrender me, even to death.
But as I hold tight to Scully, speaking, afterward, to Maggie, Charlie, his wife Anne, even Bill, I see in their eyes that they haven't lost hope. This isn't about that - it's about remembering, accepting, and allowing themselves to move on.
We never gave Sam a memorial. It strikes me that if Mom, Dad, and I had remembered her together, even once, how much lighter my life - our lives - could have been.
That's when I excuse myself from the Scully grief to stand outside in the rain, selfishly, with my own.
The Red-Headed League
"Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who was usually very late in the mornings, save upon those not infrequent occasions when he was up all night, was seated at the breakfast table."
Mulder turned around in his chair, grinning. "You trying to tell me something?"
"I'm trying to tell you" - Scully planted a kiss on the top of his head and began to massage his shoulders - "that you haven't rested in three days. Even great detectives need sleep, Sherlock."
"Mmmm." Mulder tilted his head back to smile lazily into her eyes. "Watson, are you coming on to me?"
Scully's eyebrow arched impishly. "My dear Holmes! I fail to comprehend how you could even suggest such a thing .." She purred low in her throat and nibbled lightly on his earlobe.
"Elementary," Mulder leered. Smirking, Scully nibbled a little harder.
"You know," Mulder gasped, "I think I just finished this part of the profile."
With one motion he slapped the laptop closed, stood, and gathered her in for a long kiss.
Once they made it to the bedroom, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
Scully chuckled and kissed his forehead affectionately, then curled up beside him to finish her book.
Nest
Mulder turned off the lamp.
The afternoon sun filtered grimily through the window, barely enough to illuminate the walls, covered in newspaper clippings. Shadows clung to the corners, behind the cabinets.
The air grew thick, warm, comfortable. Each step lasted an eternity, each breath an age.
Mulder was - meeting Scully? For dinner?
Was he?
He - no. Effort. Insurmountable. He - safe, and warm, and here, stay.
Slowly, he curled up, pulled the blanket around, tucked it under his beard. (He'd shave ... tomorrow. Maybe.)
And stared at the walls until he couldn't remember a time when he'd cared enough to move.
The Way We Weren't
"Remember how it used to be, Scully? When we weren't constantly chasing after monsters and aliens, and nobody ever died? Or tried to kill us? How we'd leave work early every Friday and go to a nice restaurant, how we'd dance all night and spend the weekend relaxing and playing Scrabble?"
"Mmmm. Remember the day we met, how we couldn't keep our hands off each other? That first night in Oregon, after you kissed my mosquito bites and said you loved me?"
"Yeah. That was amazing, Scully." He shifted in the SUV's front seat, pulling her closer and resting his cheek on her hair. He sighed. "... you wouldn't trade this life for that one, Scully? Really?"
She smiled, twining their fingers together. "Not a day, Mulder. Not one single frustrating, harrowing, wonderful, solitary day."
She pulled him around for a kiss.
The Mexican sun rose brilliantly over the endless horizon.