Like a jigsaw puzzle, you cannot determine what the picture is by examining one piece. But when you start putting them together, you will eventually be able to guess the whole.
Gillovny:A Beginner's Guide
Top quotes
David and Gillian talking about each other
A (Not So Brief) Timeline
1993---Outed by Julianna Margulies
Italian article...Outed by Gillian Anderson
Martin Short interview--"we had pasta"
1994--Somebody Could Get Hurt
Early interview: "we were very close"
Gillian on Leno about Rolling Stone cover
CC's opinion of Rolling Stone cover
1996---Season 3 wrap party
1997---Golden Globes red carpet
1997---Golden Globes interview
1997---Golden Globes kiss
1997--Emmy's
1997---FTF: Gonna suck your cock
Huge difference between 97' and 98'
David likes her mole
Picture of them hugging in season 9
IWTB--Tentgate
IWTB--Tentgate 1
2008---Fighting Chemistry
2010--Gillian at David's play
2010---Gillian at David's play 2
2011---Gillian discovers that FTF kiss is on BluRay
Gross misconduct, a career in tatters, but the urge is so compelling she has to squeeze her fingernails into her palm until the pain distracts her.Â
Mulder, Scully, and a motel room in Bellefleur.
Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 13 (Tumblr)
âFox!â from somewhere east of the organic section, her voice a little too cheerful. He hadnât called her after the last time heâd been with her â Scully had sailed back into his life a few months later and heâd left Donna astern, only to be thought of in passing.
S1 Mulder is no longer available.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 41 (Tumblr)
âBut whatâs he like ?â Missy asks, hand curled around a chunky mug, her fingers playing with the string of a tea bag. She asks as though itâs a question with an easy answer, like Mulderâs some sandy-haired podiatrist who enjoys cooking and tennis.Â
Melissaâs eyebrows go up. She probably shouldnât have led with brooding .Â
S1 Scully defends herself to Melissa.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 42 (Tumblr)
âHe was here about thirty minutes ago,â comes Missyâs soft voice a few moments later, and Scully drags her eyes to her sisterâs face. âHe didnât want to wake you.â
She can feel a gentle smile tug at the corners of her cheeks.
âHow is he?â she asks politely, not really knowing what else to say.Â
ââŠbetter,â Missy says after a pause that Scully canât help but clock.Â
Post One Breath Scully and Melissa have another Mulder chat.
The Concept of Dualism (Tumblr)
His apartment was nearly as dark as it had been the only other time sheâd been there, this time without the oppressive feel of the anger and resentment that had rolled off its resident in waves. Dull light crept in from yellow streetlights outside the lone window above the desk, supplemented by a dim, buzzing glow from the aquarium. It smelled like leather and dust.Â
She tipped in probably more fish food than was necessary, but she wasnât sure how long Mulder had been gone, and wasnât entirely sure when heâd be back. Both he and Dana were the worse for wear. The fish went at the food with ichthylogistic zeal, darting to the surface like scaled torpedos. Sheâd once read that people who kept fish tended to be the happiest and most optimistic of all pet owners, but something about that didnât ring true--at least not here in Mulderâs space.
Once sheâd found a lamp and switched it on, she took her time looking about, her knowledge about her sisterâs partner leaving vast swathes of empty story she hoped to fill.Â
Post Dod Kalm Melissa cares for her sister and her sister's partner.
Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 16 (Tumblr)
They sat on the bed together, shoulders rubbing companionably....
Post Syzygy Mulder and Scully toast.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 25 (Tumblr)
Other cars had already pulled over, their brake lights a bright smear on the car's glass. She slowed as she approached an overpass, pulled under it and as far onto the shoulder as she could and flipped on her hazards. The rain poured down in front and behind them and it had the cold, insulated feel of a cave behind a waterfall.Â
Mulder rolled his head towards her in the passenger seat. He had been dozing.Â
"Everything all right?" he said, sniffing awake and blinking the sleep from his eyes.Â
"Storm cell," Scully said, eyes still straight ahead.
On the job in the midst of a storm.
Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 10 (Tumblr)
The guy guarding him had a tendency to keep his weight on his heels, and Mulder had been going to the left a lot. He bounced the ball over and shot a glance at Scully to make sure she was watching â she was, leaning against the chain link fence, her hair cutting an autumn angle across her face.
Mulder shows off his skills.
Charm/Strange
Proximity to Fox Mulder is an education unto itself. She sometimes thinks knowledge might be his religion.
Scully and Mulder and the mutual benefits of their partnership.
Hiđ 6 and/or 62
She exhaled a breath. She thought of Mulder riding her couch for a few days, banging around her kitchen, leaving the toilet seat up. Ties left over the back of the sofa, socks balled up in the middle of the floor.
It was a Friday night, which meant instead of carpooling to the office and a couple days more or less as average as any other, sheâd spend the weekend with extra dishes in her sink, and him hogging the Sunday crossword.
âOf course,â she said, trying to keep her tone even, âitâs no imposition. Come on over.â
She looked longingly at the bath sheâd just filled up. She could probably get a 30 minute soak in before he got there.
âThe thing is,â he said sheepishly, âI hesitated calling you. Iâm⊠Iâm already here.â
Mulder bunks with Scully while his apartment is fumigated.
Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 19 (Tumblr)
The man loved her daughter fiercely, as was obvious to anyone who cared to look. But to the untrained eye, Dana was merely protective....
Maggie knows.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 15 (Tumblr)
âHe killed her,â he said, deflating.
Heâd been expecting a â we donât know that yetâ or a â without a body, thereâs still hope, Mulder .â Instead, she said: âAnd you killed him .â Something in the way she held her shoulders made him think she wasnât sorry for it.Â
He would have crumpled then and there if her nose hadnât started to bleed.
âThis must be the place,â Mulder said, unwilling or unable to connect eyes with her, and he pulled up their rented Lariat behind the K-9 unit, cutting the engine and closing his door before Scully even had a chance to undo her seatbelt.
She pawed at her own door handle, carefully keeping her sightline above the stack of Dairy Queen napkins that were shoved into the well of the passenger door, each one stained a dark, cherry red. She ran a finger under her nose, unconsciously checking her knuckle for any traces of dried blood.
Cancer arc Mulder, Scully, and the eerie woods.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 60 (Tumblr)
âNo improvement,â she says, and he can tell sheâs holding back tears.Â
âWell itâs notââ
âMulder,â she says, a warning. A plea.Â
Something tight forms behind his ribs.Â
âIâve asked Father McCue to come administer last rites.â
All his muscles suddenly tense, and he feels as though if he werenât doing his absolute best to remain as unaffected as possible, he might hyperextend into the spastic U of a tetanus patient.Â
âItâs too early,â he says, and he knows itâs the wrong thing when she closes her eyes and rests them, her face looking ever so slightly pained.Â
AU-- Redux II Mulder leaves, angry with his partner's God.
Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 15 (Tumblr)
âItâs okay,â Gibson said as he skidded to his knees beside where she fell, âhe loves you, too.â
AU-- The End Scully was shot instead.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 50 (Tumblr)
Itâs odd, he thinks, how heâs never really noticed the sway of her hips.
Okay, heâs noticed , but he hasnât looked . Not like the guy at their 10 oâclock is looking. Watching as Scully sashays back to their table, her clompy heels scuffing along the floor with a gritty, salacious rasp.
Post FTF Mulder, Scully, and a guy in a bar.
Unnamed
âI donât think I want to know what this is to,â she said, flitting her eyes quickly to his.
âIf I said âmy heartâ would it engender affection or rage?â
âVexation, probably.â She rolled the tip of her tongue over the inside of her cheek.
âOkay, then. Iâll just stick with my original plan.â He pocketed the other key, and then slid the one sheâd chosen into the pocket at the front of her shirt. It didnât fit in all the way, and pulled at the loose material, the metal heavy and thick.
âWhich is?â
âGet in the car and find out.â
Post HTGSC Mulder has Scully pick between two gifts.
Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 9 (Tumblr)
The extra foam from his cappacino sat above his lip like teenage peach fuzz, like the milk mustache Matthew wore when he slurped the dregs from a bowl of Coco Puffs.Â
Scully returns the Red Museum favor.
Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 1, Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 3, Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 12, and Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 18
âShe was-â
âItâs none of my business, Mulder,â she cut him off.
It wasnât her business, really â it was her heart.
S6 Scully finds Diana's bra in Mulder's apartment.
Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 7, Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 8, Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 14, and Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 18
She turned to him, her face one of surprise, but she didnât resist when he took her by the elbow and led her out of the pub, her erstwhile beau still at the bar, his mouth agape.
Once they were on the sidewalk, she finally spoke: âBut I thought-â she started.
âDonât think,â he interrupted....
S6 Mulder clears up a few misconceptions.
Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 6 (Tumblr)
...Because Iâve never been good at goodbyes.â
He looked up at the three men before him in disbelief.
AU-- One Son Scully left a goodbye letter with TLG.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 1 (Tumblr)
âThe X-Files isnât ruled by hegemony,â Scully said, âitâs a partnership.â
âThen why donât you have a desk?â
It was a purposeful cut, the gloves coming off, and Scully both relished it and was annoyed at its callow nature. If that was how it was going to be, fine .Â
She stood up straighter and walked casually around the side of Mulderâs desk and sat down in the chair. While maintaining eye contact with Fowley, she opened the top drawer and pulled out a hot pink nail file and set it to the edge of her finger.
Post One Son Scully marks her turf in the basement.
Diana at the Door (Tumblr)
She had no real concern that he wouldnât be home â his social calendar wasnât exactly filled with obligations, but when he didnât answer right away, she began to wonder if she should have sent a toady ahead to tail him home from work. Then again, he likely was inside, and had just fallen asleep on his couch. She knocked again, with a little more vigor. A moment later she heard approaching footsteps from the other side of the door and tried to curtail the cat-like grin that she could feel rising up the skin of her cheeks. Calm, open face, Diana, she reminded herself. You have a part to play.
The door swung open a moment later and she once again had to police her own features. Sheâd expected him to answer the door in the same clothes heâd worn to the office, perhaps minus the tie and in a pair of holey socks, but he was barefoot and bare-chested, wearing a pair of quickly thrown-on athletic shorts that still had one pocket hanging limply down, inside-out. His hair was tousled and his eyes were bright.
âDiana,â he said, with more surprise and less pleasure than she was expecting. âWhat are you doing here?â
Diana Fowley's night doesn't go as planned.
Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 4 (Tumblr)
Sheâd only wanted to know what it felt like â she hadnât been kissed in years â but Padgettâs facial hair scraped her and his lips were too thin.
Milagro Scully works through her complicated emotions.
Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 2 (Tumblr)
It wasnât until the words were out of Padgettâs mouth that she realized they were true.Â
Milagro Scully realizes she loves Mulder.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 45 (Tumblr)
And if their pencraft didnât speak to whom their newfound lustiness was aimed, the words of their reports certainly did. Mulderâs particularly. The man was in love. It was as obvious in the words that he wrote in the report as it was in his handwriting.
Post Field Trip Agent Henderson analyzes Fox Mulder's and Dana Scully's handwriting.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 34 (Tumblr)
He calls out to Scully. With his voice or with his mind, itâs impossible to tell, but he can feel her when she comes. Amongst the pain and the fear and the sensory overload, hers is the mind that shines like a beacon in the night.
It is a revelation.
Biogenesis Mulder is comforted by Scully's mind.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 17 (Tumblr)
âWhat time is the next team coming?â Scully asked.Â
âNot until 3:00,â Mulder answered.Â
âNot even the suspects are out here,â she sighed, leaning her head back against the seat. Sheâd already kicked off her shoes and had her feet up on the dash like a teenaged girlfriend.
Mulder and Scully and a stakeout.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 36Â (Tumblr)
âI did a pregnancy test on our victim,â Scully said. âJust in case. It came back positive.âÂ
Just in case, he thought. Just in case, what?
Mulder looked at the naked torso of their victim â it was flat, fit, young as a sapling.
IVF hopes and dreams loom quietly over ordinary autopsies.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 49 (Tumblr)
âI was⊠at a bar.â
âOh.â Her cheeks turned scarlet in the warm yellow light of the lamp and a look came over her face like a dawning realization. âWere you⊠there for someone?â
His life flashed before his eyes. Scully could tell when he lied to her, and he had gone to the bar with the intention of picking up a woman.Â
When he didnât answer, Scullyâs eyes widened and she stood suddenly. âI have made,â she said, looking around as if for a purse or a set of keys, âan appalling miscalculation.â
Mulder wasnât sure if she was talking to him or herself, but suddenly she was on the move, darting through his bedroom door in a rapid exodus.
âScully wait!â he called out, following her, just hoping to catch her before she got to the door. He felt like if she went through it, there was a real chance he might never see her again. Dana Scully didnât do embarrassment well.Â
TLG drive an inebriated Mulder back to his apartment after Scully's date.
First kiss (Tumblr)
âSo,â he goes on. âOn Ryan Island, thereâs a pond. And in that pond, thereâs a boulder.âÂ
She pinches the skin at the bridge of her nose.Â
âSo. That boulder becomes the largest island in the largest lake on the largest island in the largest lake on the largest island in the largest lake in the world.âÂ
Heâs pleased with himself, and strafes a thumb over the stubble on his jaw. He tilts his head back so heâs looking at her through fawny lashes, tilts it so she can see his overbite.
Of course their first intimacy was fueled by intellectual debate.
The Target, several paces away, turned to see who had followed him and his eyes narrowed in suspicion at Scully. Mulder had to act fast.Â
"There you are," Mulder said, smiling at Scully and glancing at the Target who was still watching them, looking jumpy. "I thought I missed you."
"I'm sorry, honey," Scully said, glomming onto Mulder's act, "I had my ringer off." She lifted up onto her toes and pressed a soft kiss into his cheek.Â
Mulder, Scully, and an undercover operation at the opera.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 16 (Tumblr)
The truth was, heâd nearly sat on her.Â
Gone for a week on a profiling consult, heâd managed to snag a last minute red-eye home and was not expecting to find her in his apartment, definitely not in his bed, and most especially not curled up on his side of it, wrapped around his pillow like a mollusk shell.Â
The dynamic duo are relearning parameters in their new relationship.
prompt: coffee well after midnight
Beside her, Skinner clenches his jaw, rubs a hand over tired eyes.
âThereâs nothing more he could have done,â he says, eyes pinned to the back of the younger agentâs head.
âHe knows, sir,â Scully says, her hands deep in the pockets of her own coat, the silk lining too thin to offer up much warmth. âBut it wonât help.â
Scully acts as Mulder's go-between after a hard case.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 30 (Tumblr)
The wharf was humming with activity, smelling of the briny tang of big water that sunk into Scullyâs skin and shored up her bones. Out towards the horizon, the Atlantic churned. She felt closer to her father already.Â
Bill Scully, Jr. reluctantly lets the agents board his ship.
Fairies, Skip Hence (Tumblr)
They made small talk in the kitchen with Tara and her mother, while Matthew scooted around on the floor, running a Brio train over everyoneâs shoes. Mulder offered to make his legs a tunnel for the boy, and she saw both other Scully womenâs eyes crinkle at the corners, charmed.
The man could charm anything but bees, she thought.
Mulder is finally included in the Scully family festivities.
Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 5 (Tumblr)
This wasnât how it was supposed to go â the plan was a hospital bed, an epidural, a two day stay all covered by insurance â instead there was a shoelace tying off the umbilical cord, an infant swaddled in Aztec, a mess on his living room floor.
AU-- Mulder and Scully's son is born on his father's couch.
Only Say Goodnight (Tumblr)
Her voice was weak when she said it, but she opened her eyes and her smile blossomed all the way up to them.
âHi,â he said lamely, shortly, still not quite able to breathe. âIs itâŠ?â
His eyes traveled to the bundle resting in Scullyâs arms and she followed his gaze and then looked back to him.
âItâs a boy,â she said, âheâs okay.â
Existence Mulder arrives in Georgia.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 2 (Tumblr)
Once William was in the pack-n-play under her motherâs watchful eye, Scully ducked into the small half bath and allowed herself to feel for exactly five minutes. Half-hyperventilating sobs, a keen so high only dogs could hear it. Snot running down her face, hands shaking, half-moon dents in her thighs where her nails dug and dug and dug until finally one broke.
The second-hand of her watch hit the 3 and she took one bracing breath and tore off six squares of cheap, one-ply toilet paper. Two swipes under her nose, a delicate brush under her eyelids, and into the trash it went.
S9 Mulder is nearly caught while in hiding.
NOT INSPIRED BY ACTUAL EVENTS
The look on his face is very Oops, but he says, with conviction: âNope, heâs rawdogging it. Good for the immune system.â
She could kill him. âIt very much is not. Theyâre going to send him home.â
Mulder may have forgotten about the cough medicine.
AUs
La Comtesse de Saint-Germain (Tumblr)
âI got you some peaches.â
âAh. Thank you.â
âDo you feel up to eating?â she asked hopefully.
He shook his head. âWouldnât mind seeing the file, though.â He gave her as much of a puppy dog smile he could muster, and she mussed his hair affectionately and stood to get her briefcase from the outer room.
When she came back in, she settled into the chair beside the bed and handed the file over.
âYou do know they have digital copies of these Mulder,â she said as he swiped it out of her hands. Getting the file seemed to animate him a bit, and he scooched back in the bed energetically, settling in to read.
AU-- Post Tithonus immortal Scully watches the end of a life.
The Privateer (Tumblr)
Scully had convinced her father to take her aboard his ship - just for this one voyage - just to the West Indies â and as soon as Captain Mulderâs ship had been spotted on the horizon, Captain Scully was close to apoplectic at the thought of his crew â and more importantly, his daughter â being taken prisoner. When it was clear theyâd be boarded by the privateer Mulder, it was either surrender or sink. And Captain Scully had chosen to sink.
AU-- Mulder the privateer, and Scully the pretend cabin boy.
Not a prompt, just something I've been playing with forever and actually had a few minutes last night to sit with it.
The plum-colored hollows under her eyesâeven from twenty feet awayâeven through a windowâpractically took him out at the knees.Â
He has to psyche himself up to walk into the room, something he has never had to do outside an autopsy bay. Usually, if sheâs in a room, itâs where he wants to be, too.Â
Heâd hovered in the hallway, waiting for her mother and brother to leave, and strolls in with a smile and a positivity so forced it borders on hysterical.Â
He can tell right away she doesnât buy it.Â
âWhat say the doctors?â he asks, taking her cold hand in his own, trailing tubes like an untied shoe. Heâs careful not to bump her IV port.Â
âNo improvement,â she says, and he can tell sheâs holding back tears.Â
âWeâll itâs notââ
âMulder,â she says, a warning. A plea.Â
Something tight forms behind his ribs.Â
âIâve asked Father McCue to come administer last rites.â
All his muscles suddenly tense, and he feels as though if he werenât doing his absolute best to remain as unaffected as possible, he might hyperextend into the spastic U of a tetanus patient.Â
âItâs too early,â he says, and he knows itâs the wrong thing when she closes her eyes and rests them, her face looking ever so slightly pained.Â
He squeezes her hand. âMay I wait with you?â he asks, his voice very compact and small.Â
She nods and they sit quietly. So quietly that eventually a nurse slips an arm into the cracked door and dims the lights.Â
His thoughts cast off into the cosmos, rippling through space time in search of the crossroads where an atheist and Catholic might meet when all is said and all is done.Â
He watches her as she drifts into a light sleep, the cannula in her nose flaring with vapor at every exhale.Â
Eventually there is a soft knock on the door and Mulder turns to see her priest. The man smiles at him kindly, but Mulder doesnât return it. Her god is angry and vengeful. Her god is unfeeling and cruel.Â
âScully,â he says gently, lifting her knuckles to his mouth again, pressing warmth into the dry, papery skin.
Scully rolls to face him, the Vermeer arc of her aristocratic cheek lined in shadow. Â
Father McCue comes into the room. Speaks.Â
âWould you like to stay and say a prayer with us?â The man asks Mulder politely. âI think Dana might like that.â
Anger washes over him. Anger at cancer and Scully and her god. Anger at this priest sent to speak over her soul, to shuttle it along as if it wasnât already anchored to his.Â
There are worlds she hasnât seen yet. Stories she hasnât told.Â
Itâs a crime whatâs happening to her.Â
Itâs an atrocity.Â
Itâs a sin.Â
âYou want to know what I think?â He rises to his feet, ignores the priest. Speaks directly to her. âI think God should be asking you for mercy,â he says, bringing her knuckles to his lips before pulling away. Before dropping her hand. âI think God should be asking for your forgiveness.â
She looks at him, her face in shock.Â
âI donât think you should grant it.â
He turns from her and silently slips out of the room.
Summary:Â For the anon prompt âFive Times A Character Didnât Dieâ
Title: Ahead Into Galilee
By: Aloysia Virgata
Rating: M
Category: MSR
Timeline: Pilot - Requiem
Notes:Â Thanks to @slippinmickeys for the read-through!
***
For the anon prompt âFive Times A Character Didnât Dieâ
I.
She isnât an innocent like Scullyâs mother. His mother knows about clones and viruses and labs where horrors are created. He bets she knows about Emily but by god Emilyâs name will not pass his lips in front of her.
Scully has apologized for her older brother, but Bill is a tyroâs practice next to Elizabeth Kuiper Mulder.
He doesnât bother acting offended. âSorry, I donât have a blonde WASP secretary and the nice Jewish mothers wonât let their daughters talk to me since Jenny Silverbergâs Sweet Sixteen. Biological clock was ticking and Scully is the best I could do. Youâve a grandchild on the way. Mazel tov.â
Teena regards her son for a long moment. âYou had your first marriage annulled. I suppose the Vatican will let her marry you, Diana aside. You can have the wedding at the Vineyard if you want, my expense of course. Iâll give you the house as a wedding present, though heaven knows your fatherâs estate left you a bundle. Not that you act like it, Fox. Still in that awful apartment; have you even sold his house? The lawyers say 2.2 at least.â
Mulder coughs out a mouthful of lemonade. He imagines Scully in some silk taffeta meringue gown, his motherâs garden club friends trying to shame her for knowing mid-century military aircraft.
âMom, really, we hav-â
She holds up a veined, beautiful hand. âFox, itâs time you stopped running around with a gun.â
Mulder gapes. âYou and Dad are literally the reason I run around with a gun, are you fucking kidding me with this shit?â
Teena purses her lips. âWatch your language, Fox William. Iâm still your mother.â
He sighs. He sighs and he understands that he has a child coming and that his mother loves him in the terrible, unconscionable, best way that she knows how. He understands his own inamorata is a very new sort of woman.
âSorry, Mom,â Mulder says. Refills both their cups of lemonade and leans back in his Adirondack rocker.
âHow was Bellefleur?â his mother asks at length.
He stares. âWhat?â
âIâm trying to make conversation. Nothing too eventful, I hope? Not for Agent Scully, with a baby coming?â
Mulder narrows his eyes. âNo more than usual. Made contact with a few oldâŠconnections. Why?â
She smiles, just a little. Just a softening at the edge of her upper lip. A curl of a patrician nostril. âI made contact with a few old connections too, Fox. Remember this conversation sometime down the road. Your sister was a dandelion clock, no matter what I tried back then.â
He asks for answers. Begs.
She dismisses him as ever.
âMom, please, this baby, Scully and I need to know things.â
Teena says no more and he drives home, furious.
***
II.
Fellig disappears into some new alias and itâs not worth tracking him down.
Ritter is put on leave and Mulder finds him in a parking garage. He beats the living shit out of him and it doesnât fix anything, but it feels pretty good. He cries for a while after that, in the darkest corner of a terrible bar on M Street.
Ritter, with three broken ribs and his jaw wired, has the good sense to say he was mugged by two unidentifiable assailants.
Mulder resigns, effective immediately. He throws his phone into the Potomac. He doesnât go to her funeral. He doesnât go to Margaret Scully or his apartment or his office ever again.
*
He goes to his father, with two vials of genetic material. âYou owe us both,â he says, in a voice like granite.
*
He calls his newborn daughter Sylvia Charlotte for no reason other than finding it pretty. The names have no intrinsic meaning, no history to him. She has a dense thatch of black hair and her motherâs eyes. She has plump, dimpled hands and feet like Parker House rolls. She has impeccable government documents.
Mulder is smitten immediately. He holds her to his bare chest. He dances with her at 2 AM, he reads to her, he buys preposterous baby gear and tiny clothes far more stylish than his own. He is certain that she is, at minimum, the most exceptional baby of all time.
Sylvie toddles behind him along Lake Tashmoo, dragging lobster pots. Sylvie does his makeup and puts his hair in barrettes. Sylvie has both her first piano recital and her first tee-ball game at five.
*
âHow come you donât have a mom?â Kate asks her while they build a sand castle together.
âIâm adopted,â Sylvie says, sticking little pebbles onto the top of the castle. âMy dad picked me out himself, so itâs just us.â
âCool,â Kate says. âThatâs lucky to get picked out. I was just borned.â
âYep.â
They return to their work, Sylvieâs dog Queequeg keeping watch.
***
III.
âFucking Christ. Sit still if you donât want me to screw up your remaining hair.â
She sits still, a baby sister always. âDonât make it too brassy, Miss. You know I can pay you, right?â
Cancer thin and white and brittle as Bernadette of Lourdes. But even Bernadette said sheâd seen ghosts and Scully could never, could not ever -
Missy scoffs, offended. âHey, Danes, are you fucking your partner? Charlie says yes and Bill says you wouldnât. Iâve got $250 on this, so be honest with your only sister.â
Scully (sheâs always Scully now, but sheâd never tell Missy) jerks back, aghast.
Missy lightly slaps her hollow face. âBe still.â
âThen donât ask me questions like that!â Scully knows her cheeks are hot. âDo you guys actually have a pool?â
Missy, lushly tressed and curvaceous and cinnamon-sugar alive, laughs. âDana Katherine Scully, are you engaged in unconsecrated sexual congress with your FBI partner? Please note, for the court records, that I know about your cardiology professor and your FBI instructor so likeâŠ?â
Looking-glass Scully watches her sister do something complicated with a clip, with foils and a tiny brush. Watches her own Lenten-rose face, a Jabbereock, with eyes of flame.
Scully is quiet for several more seconds. She wishes she could explain the hot verging energy of the basement. The way science and conjecture and cryptozoology entangle in unholy alchemy along the margins of her education into⊠them.
The way it feels to have the emperor of all maladies raise a scepter in her sinus; the king of terrors claim a throne in her heart.
Iâm dying, Missy, Iâm dying, the oncogenes, theyâŠ.p53, I ⊠dead already, Missy, pleaseâŠ
âDana? Bear in mind Iâve seen him and smelled him and I would fuck him silly myself.â Missy, fresh as a peach, clips back another section of hair.
Scully sucks in air like an Everest climber at the Death Zone. 500 more feet and sheâll make it. 100. Top of the world, the ice and the oxygen forgotten, she-
She can win, she can be the best, she can summit, she -
(Green Boots, still desiccated and unidentified up there.)
âYes,â she breathes. Someone should know the truth at her grave.
âGood girl,â Missy says. Kisses her sisterâs concave temple. âAnd no, we didnât have a pool, little sister.â
***
IV.
The endless halls are painted a washed-out sea green that is somehow the opposite of color. A suffocating silence that is more than the absence of sound.
She flashes her badge to the sentry who squints, then nods, then lets her in.
Roche propped up in the narrow bed. Heâs even thinner than he was when Mulder shot him, even grayer.
âAgent Scully,â he says, affable as ever. âI thought those were your footsteps. Forgive me for not getting up.â
He grins at his own joke. His face looks like an animated skull.
Scully settles into the hard vinyl chair. She sees that Roche is handcuffed to the hospital bed, which seems a very pointed kind of gesture.
âTurns out your partner is a shit marksman, who knew? Where is Agent Mulder, by the way? Didnât he want to come see his handiwork?â
âNo,â Scully replies. âHeâs not like you.â
âMmmm, I wonder. You know, they say itâs a miracle I can breathe on my own with this kind of C4 damage. Plus I can move three fingers on my left hand.â Roche waggles them slightly.
Scully pulls a yellow legal pad and a good pen from her bag. âI guess basketball is out for a while.â
âI guess. Other than the breathing and half the left hand, Iâm completely paralyzed below the armpits. My lawyers are going to have a field day.â
She smiles politely. âI donât think so.â
Roche laughs. âNo? You donât think the ACLU will be all over this?â
âNo. I really donât. You were shot because you abducted a little girl after escaping federal custody. And Agent Mulder was able to preserve your life. No one cares about you, Mr. Roche.â
She draws out a little curlicue in the pad, so it looks like sheâs writing.
Rocheâs face hardens. âAnd the sucker punch from your partner?â
âIt was reported. Disciplinary action was taken.â She doodles a series of cubes.
He scoffs. âI doubt it was even the proverbial slap on the wrist. Why are you here, really?â
Scully looks up, eyebrows raised. âIâm a doctor and an FBI agent. My partner shot you. I thought a follow-up was only appropriate.â
âCut the bullshit,â Roche snaps. âGod, it must gnaw at you that he missed.â
âWhy is that?â
Moves those three fingers again, Roche does. âYou were a nice little Catholic girl once, werenât you? Little kilt, little blouse. You havenât changed much, though youâre rather too old for my tastes now.â
Roche leers and she knows, knows, that she is right. But sheâs not ready to end this. Not yet.
âI was.â It takes so much to keep her voice conversational when she longs to give him what she is certain that he wants.
Roche tilts his head. âI donât believe in god. I believe that before we are born is nothing and after we are dead is nothing. Iâm not afraid of dying. But you? You believe Iâll pay for all of this again and again. You believe there is retribution after thisâŠmortal coil. Donât you want me there now?â
She does, she does.
Scully shrugs. âYouâll get there in time. I wonât see what happens, it makes no difference to me.â
He laughs, a genuine laugh, and itâs horrible in his cadaverous face. âKeep lying like that and weâll end up in Hell together.â
âThatâs for God to decide.â
Here it comes, she knows. Here it comes. She stays steady.
Rocheâs face suddenly sly. âPerhaps you are His instrument, Agent Scully.â
She feigns confusion. âMr. Roche, I-â
âKill me,â he says. âYou can finish what Mulder couldnât finish himself, though I bet you do that for him all the time.â Roche winks lewdly as he goads her.
âPrimum non nocere,â Scully replies, prim.
âA doctor, as you say. Youâd get away with it, Scully. Come on, a little air bubble between the toes. For old timesâ sake.â
Heâs trying to sound light and chatty, but she hears the panic in his voice. Sheâs his only chance to escape mindless years in soiled diapers, parked in front of a flickering television. A blank wall. Night.
Scully fixes him with a long, cool stare. The one even Skinner doesnât like. âI should think our prior interactions made it clear that I would never harm a prisoner duri-â
âAhhh, but you want to,â he cajoles. âCome on, Scully. All those pretty hearts. The little girl you saved is going to be fucked up forever. One more kiddy-diddler off the taxpayersâ dime, Dana.â
She shakes her head, chuckles a bit in spite of herself. âThey were cheering outside Bundy's execution. The taxpayers will love knowing youâre suffering. Weâre savages at heart, Iâm afraid.â
âYou knew Iâd ask,â Roche hisses, dropping the act. âYouâre eating this up, you fucking bitch. You fucking cunt. Youâre nothing to Fox Mulder, you realize that, youâre a piece of ass to him so you might as well do one real thing in your worthless life.â
She prays her voice will be steady. âIâve already had you put on extended suicide watch; told them to check the staff. I told them youâd ask.â She holds up a mini tape recorder.
His eyes go black. She sees now what those little girls saw in their last moments, the genial salesman mask removed.
âI swear to your fucking coward god that I will walk again just to rip your fucking heart out of your fucking whore throat,â Roche spits, face contorted.
She rises. âThank you, will there be anything else?â
A choked howl of rage that follows her out into the hall.
âFucking BITCH!â Roche roars after her. âI swear to-â
The door closes.
Her heart soars.
***
V.
A storm outside and mosquito bites on her back and shame still fuchsia on her face. Sheâs wearing the best robe she could afford, the color of poison apples. She bought it at a Macyâs sale with her first credit card.
The scent of hot wax in the cheap, oatmeal-colored room. The overlay of the scents Mulder favors.
âTore the family apart. No one would talk about it. There were no facts to confront, nothing to offer any hope.â
She thinks of her three siblings, her rowdy cousins, and her chest clenches. What would she be without her sprawling, tumultuous family?
âWhat did you do?â she breathes. The dark is so tender and velvet-soft. Frames her partnerâs long lashes and good cheekbones like a Rembrandt. Chiaroscuros
(Dana no. Dana, didnât you learn anything after Jack?)
âEventually I went off to school in England, I came back and got recruited by the Bureau. Seems I had a natural aptitude for applying behavioral models to criminal cases.â
Scully gazes down at Mulder with a tenderness she hadnât expected in this impossible assignment. In this unfair humanistic trial.
âYouâll find him, Samantha,â she says. She strokes her partnerâs fall of inky hair. She feels so alive.
He marries her on the Vineyard in October. She didnât want to be a June bride. She didnât want to sweat and have her hair frizz and her fine vellum skin be lumpy with mosquito bites. She wanted to be cool and auburn and lovely, and itâs why he married her at all.
***
He gazed at her like a siren on a rock, like she was the last thing heâd see before it went pitch-black. She wore silk the color of Labor Day whitecaps and her veil was summer-storm mist. He loved her the way we love fire; primal and aching and fiercely hominid. He burned for her because it is a pleasure to burn.
***
He could not have cared less about the wedding but hoped she would. She hadnât, though sheâd looked at the obnoxious ring with a certain grudging respect. âItâs carbon arranged in the most boring way possible,â she observed, letting all (nearly) three carats catch the light. ââAnd itâs gorgeous. I love it.â
Her sapphire eyes, her garnet hair. And heâd given her a diamond, so clear and bland.
She didnât love it, not really, and he knew it. Knew she loved it because his mother thought Catholics were simpletons and, more importantly, staff. His mother was Jewish by blood and WASP by raising. His mother preferred natural fibers. His mother excelled at tennis.
It was a family piece. It was The Done Thing, even on her plebeian Catholic finger, slim and pale and lovely as a moonbeam. His mother flinched but never balked. She was properly brought up, and her son had made a decision. She was a lady and so was Danaâs mother, in her sweetly aspiring way.
Their mothers wept and he beamed down at her like a demigod; like the Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed With The Sun.
***
He worshipped her properly later, before the applewood fire. He tossed his lot in with hers and he felt like some dukeâs second son, unbound by obligation.
âFox,â she moaned, and he loved that too. They were virgins again that night. They brushed one another like purple fruits, ripe to bursting on the vine.
***
He was appalled by how he wanted to put a baby in her, by how âwifeâ changed everything he thought he understood about himself.
The ring, clear as the waters of the Euphrates by day, was opalescent and clouded beneath the moon.
âChrist,â he moaned into the hot vanilla silk of her throat. âChrist, fuck, DanaâŠâ
The tulle of her rucked-up gown left scratches on her thighs, like the tongue of a cat, and neither of them ever noticed.
***
She was a doctor again in the morning, and he was a Special Agent, and the sun was pale as straw in the weakening light.
1. âSo whatâs your area of study?â he said. âI canât believe I havenât thought to ask.â
They were walking to their cars, so late that it could properly be called early. The storm cells had finished passing through by midnight, and the air was as humid and thick as hot soup. She nudged him companionably with her shoulder.Â
They had talked all night, but the storm and the dark and the mood had leant the night an air of confidence, and theyâd talked about big-picture stuff; hopes, fears, childhood traumas, until Scully began to yawn and the weather outside had quieted. All the stuff you talk about once you get past the getting-to-know-you phase had been hashed out and argued. All that was left were the details.Â
âI study the chemical processes of negligible and negative senescence,â she said.Â
His mental rolodex whirled until the right catalog card came up. He looked down at her in wonder.Â
âImmortality?â he said, unable to keep the intrigue out of his voice.Â
âClose enough.â
âThatâs wild.âÂ
âDonât knock it âtil youâve tried it,â she said impishly. Then, âThis is me.â
She stopped in front of a silver Volkswagen Passat, and Mulder pivoted until he was standing in front of her.Â
âI enjoyed my time in the dark with you,â he said, his voice a little low.Â
âLetâs do it again,â she said, and then lifted herself up onto her toes and pressed her lips into his, lingering there.Â
When she finally pulled away, he was a little lightheaded and dazed.Â
âIâd like that,â he finally managed to say.Â
2. âI used to be married,â she said, her nose pressed into the bare skin of his bicep.Â
They had kicked off all but the sheet and she was still coming down from the high of a shared climax, her leg still thrown over both of his.Â
Mulderâs first thought was widow, because this was not a woman you lost if you could help it.Â
He was trying to figure out how to ask when she went on.Â
âHe lives in Seattle now.âÂ
It was a Sunday, and sheaves of the newspaper theyâd been passing back and forth were strewn half on the bed and half on the floor. The last wisps of steam were wafting up from cups of coffee on either side of the bed and an uneaten croissant sat on a plate under a wedge of sunlight.Â
âWhatâs his name?â Mulder asked her quietly. Heâs not sure why that was his first question, but it was.Â
âEthan,â she said.Â
She knew all about Diana, their almost-wedding, her affairs and blow-ups and his disastrous attempts to make excuses for her. His years of swearing off women.
âIs it bad that I didnât tell you?â
He reached out with the arm she was pressed to and pulled her until her head was resting on his chest.Â
âWeâve only been dating a month,â he said. âIâm sure thereâs a lot we donât know about each other.âÂ
At this, they both chuckled. Theyâd shared more than most couples whoâd been together five times as long.Â
âWhat happened?â he asked.Â
âWe wanted the same things,â she said. âIn the bedroom.â And before he could ask if she meant to say the word different, she finished with: âNamely, men.â
Mulder clenched his teeth. âOuch,â he said.Â
She shrugged a shoulder into his armpit. âWeâre still friends.âÂ
Mulder had to tilt his head back to look down at her.Â
âIâm friends with his husband Bruce, too.â
3. She slunk into the back of the lecture hall fifteen minutes before class was up and lowered herself into an empty chair on the upper right.Â
âSo weâve gone over our long list of elements of psychopathology,â he went on with his lecture. âLetâs touch on some of the basic causes before we break for the day. Broad strokes stuff, here. Anyone want to offer something up?â
A girl in front with perfect posture raised her hand.Â
âGo ahead,â he said.Â
âGenetics?â she asked.Â
âYep, genetics.â He wrote this on the whiteboard. Â
An older looking student in the middle offered up: âAre there social causes?âÂ
âSure are,â Mulder said, and wrote social on the board as well.Â
âAnyone else? Iâll start calling on people, Iâm not as shy as you,â he went on. A few people chuckled.Â
He pointed at one of the laughers. âWhat have you got?â
âUmâŠpsychological?â the kid said.Â
A couple more people chuckled at this answer, and Mulder wrote it on the board.Â
âThis is a 101 level lecture, guys, donât laugh at Jeremy. Itâs okay to use the name of the class in the class. There are plenty of psychological causes of psychopathology. Itâs in the title.â
To his left, his TA yawned and looked at his watch. Mulder flitted his eyes up to Scully, who seemed to be enjoying watching him. Suddenly he couldnât care less about the class and just wanted to be with her.
âLast one and you guys can get out of here. Anybody?â
A few people looked around the room to see if anyone was going to answer.Â
âNobody?â he called out.Â
From the back of the small auditorium, he heard a familiar, welcome voice.Â
âBiology!â Scully called out.Â
Mulder couldnât help but smile. âA personal favorite,â he said, and turned to write it on the whiteboard.Â
Kids were already folding their laptops and shoving notebooks in backpacks.Â
âOkay, yes, I said Iâd let you go.â The volume of shuffling and movement went up and he had to raise his voice a bit to be heard over it. âAssigned reading is in the syllabus. I wonât be available for office hours at the normal times next week, so reach out to Gary,â at this he pointed at his TA, though most of the students were already on their way out the lecture hall, âto set something up. Have a good long weekend!â
He moved behind the podium to grab his phone and his own laptop, and when he looked up, Scully was on her way down the steps, fighting the current of retreating students.Â
âHey,â he said as she approached, and he swung his bag over his shoulder and, with a glance up to see if anyone was paying attention (they werenât), leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. He fell into step with her, heading for the rarely used exit at the bottom of the lecture hall.Â
âHey,â she said, smiling up at him. âWelcome back.â
âThank you,â he replied, reaching forward to hold open the door so that she could walk through.Â
âHow was your trip?âÂ
âGood,â he said. âUneventful.â
âYouâre back for a bit now, right?â she said. âBefore your next thingy?â She looked a little anxious when she asked. She must have something on her mind.
âThe technical term,â he said, as they stepped into the flow of student traffic in the hallway that led to the front of the building. âAbout that. I actually had a question for you.â
âOh?â she said.Â
âYou first,â he said, pulling to a stop in the foyer of the building. âYou look like you had something else you wanted to ask?â
She averted her gaze from his, which was unusual. âMy parents invited us over for dinner,â she said. âI told them about you. And they want to meet you. If thatâs okay.â
Mulder rocked back a little on his heels. Dianaâs folks had died before they got together and he hadnât had any girlfriends before her serious enough for parental vetting. The last time heâd met a womanâs parents, he was standing in Missy Sanderâs living room pinning a homecoming corsage on her velvet dress while her mother hovered nearby.
Nevertheless, Scully was important to him, and her parents were important to her.Â
âIâd love to,â he said, smiling, and noted the relieved slump of her shoulders.Â
âGreat,â she breathed. âI told them it might not be until after the holidays. Weâll both have midterms to grade and then things usually get crazy.â
âWhenever you want,â Mulder said gamely. âIâll bring a nice bottle of wine and be on my best behavior.â
She smiled up at him warmly.Â
âYou said you had a question for me?â
âI did,â he said, grabbing her coat from her hands and holding it up so that she could shrug into it. He put on his directly after, and then held open the door for her to exit into the cold, brisk day.Â
âSo Iâm the faculty advisor to the ski club,â he went on.Â
She gave him a look. âYou never told me this.â
âItâs not normally very interesting. Anyway, the club is heading to a resort up north over the long weekend, and the school will pay for my lift tickets. Any chance you want to join me?â
âYou ski?â she asked. Her incredulity was amusing.
âItâs literally the clubâs only requisite for an advisor,â he admitted. âDo you?âÂ
âNot once in my whole life. Iâm from San Diego, Mulder.â
âCalifornia has mountains.âÂ
âAnd Iâve never been on them. But a resort sounds like it might be niceâŠAre there fireplaces? Hot tubs?â
âMore than you can count,â he answered, picturing her in a bikini, picturing her reading a book while lounging on a bearskin rug.Â
âThen Iâd love to join you,â she smiled at him, the vapor of her breath dissipating in front of her.Â
4. The resort was sprawling, the main lodge done up in the Bavarian style, which was only a little off putting as they were in the only high country in the Midwest. Fairly large hills rose up above the roof of the lodge, covered in snow and dotted with skiers and snowboarders. Several chairlifts served the hills (they could not accurately be called âmountainsâ), spaced at even intervals amongst the small range.Â
âI have to admit itâs charming,â Scully said, when they walked in, most of the people around them clomping around in hard ski boots.Â
The interior decor was dated. Old wooden skis were crossed on the wall over the front desk, and vintage ski posters decorated the walls, and all, Scully assumed, had been up since they were new. The staff was friendly, though, and when they walked into their room, she was doubly impressed.Â
âMulder,â she said, nearly speechless.Â
He closed the door behind her, smiling. He had splurged and sprung for the nicest suite they had (complete with updated decor) â the only one with both a fireplace and its own hot tub, which was on a large balcony that overlooked the ski hills.Â
âDoes the university know theyâre paying for this?â she asked.Â
âI get a small lodging stipend,â he explained. âI may have chipped in a little of my own money.â
âA little?â she said, moving into the room and picking up a bottle of champagne that was waiting on ice for them along with a couple of local chocolates and a dozen red roses.Â
âThe stipend probably covers the champagne and two of the roses,â he said, sidling up to her and sliding a hand across her belly.Â
She turned in his arms until she was facing him.Â
âThen letâs get your moneyâs worth,â she purred.Â
5. It was the first full day of the trip, and the students of the club had invited them to join them in the bar in the basement of the lodge. It had equally dated decor, but a small stage in the corner with a decent band who was playing 90âs hits at a reasonable volume.Â
The clubâmade up of a dozen kidsâmore guys than girlsâwas on their fifth pitcher of beer and showing no signs of slowing down. Mulder and Scully had already had a couple cups each, but were settling in, watching the shenanigans with benevolent bemusement. The table was littered with empty cups and pitchers, along with a scattered detritus of ski gear; helmets with mirrored goggles, gloves, a few errant neckwarmers.Â
Patrick Fitzpatrick, a senior, and the president of the Ski Club held up his beer to Mulder while nodding at Scully, who sat demurely next to him in a coat that was very obviously not ready to hit the slopes.Â
âSo Dr. Mulder,â he called out past the four people sitting in between them. âHow long have you and Dr. Scully been going out?âÂ
All other conversation at the table stopped in a decidedly record-scratch-like moment. All eyes shifted to them.Â
Fitzpatrick had taken a few of Mulderâs classesâenough to think he was cool enough to ask to be the clubâs advisorâthough Mulder wasnât sure his major required anything but the most remedial science credits. Scullyâs job was research based, and the few classes she taught were mostly 400 and graduate level. Only one of the kids in the club had ever had her as a professor. Scully had barely left their suiteâheâd wondered how they even knew she was on the trip when theyâd asked Mulder if both of them wanted to come and hang out.Â
Mulder cleared his throat and looked to Scully, asking silent permission. She snorted a small laugh and took a slug of beer.Â
âA few months,â he answered, looking around the table.Â
Molly, the one girl whoâd taken classes from Scully, looked away with an abashed smile.Â
âAnd how long do you think you might continue dating?â Fitzpatrick burped.Â
Mulder nearly laughed out loud. The kid was a putz, came from Chicago money, but he had a mien that could charm the socks off a horse with white feet.Â
âAt least as long as itâll take you to graduate, Fitzpatrick,â Mulder answered. âHow many credits shy are you? You know you have to actually pass a class for them to count.â
The table erupted in laughter, everyone beginning to take shots at Fitzpatrick, who took on the ribbing with gracious humor. Next to him, Scully pulled out her phone which was buzzing, took a look at the display and stood.Â
âI have to take this,â she whispered in his ear, slipping away while the table was still abuzz with jubilant teasing.Â
She came back about ten minutes later, her face long and ashen. She held her phone in her hand limply.
âScully?â he said, half standing from his seat when he saw her.
The few people sitting near Mulder noticed and the table quieted down quickly.Â
âItâs my Dad,â she said, swallowing thickly.Â
âEverything okay?â he asked.Â
âNo,â she said, shaking her head, shocky. âHeâs dead.â
like. "if there's an iced tea in that bag it could be love" is joking. "should we be picking out china patterns or what" is joking. "is this demonstration of boyish agility turning you on at all" is joking. but when he says "marry me" he looks so swept away and awe of scully MY GOD
Prompt: Jealous Mulder and Scully reassuring him, UST. Thank you!
âCan I die?â she asked him once, dreamy with wine just after Ritter.
âOf course,â he said, broody, not really believing it. He didnât know which answer he wanted for her.
Sheâd smiled at him with lushly purpled lips, the way she is now in upstate New York, in Ellicottville, where theyâre undercover and investigating an art gallery owner for money laundering. Sheâs wearing a strapless blue silk dress right now and it swirls around her ankles like the sea at night.
People look at her the way some wolves must have looked at fire once. They understand that there is warmth in her, that there is light. That she can burn and burn and burn without being consumed.
He canât. He feels himself being used up, hollowing out inside from his own cold, unquenchable flame. Gouging, he thinks, because he is a profiler.
Lumenizing, he thinks, because Scully is a doctor.
The gallery owner has been eye-fucking Scully for four days and Mulder is growing weary of it. Heâs doing it right now, at this vineyard, where heâs pretending to be surprised to see them even though he recommended it.
Scully laughs a little, flirts a little the way sheâs gotten better at doing. Shows her beautiful white throat. The gallery owner smiles at her, enchanted by her tourmaline eyes, her burnished hair.
âExcuse us,â she says after a few moments. Steers Mulder towards a side table with the press of her slim fingers on his arm.
They burn too, through his clothes.
She swallows the rest of her wine in a gulp. âWhat an asshole,â she remarks, peering back over her shoulder.
âHitting on my wife in front of me is a bold move,â he observes, even though itâs the point of this little game theyâre playing out.
Scully waggles her fingers so that the ring catches the light. âMaybe you should be a touch more possessive,â she suggests, her voice just past throaty.
He looks at her, then past her out the window. âThat you talking or Mrs. Daphne Tillyard?â
âWhat do you want?â Thereâs so much in the question.
He shakes his head. Jerse, Van Blundht, Padgett, this idiot and a hundred other idiots. He wants their audacity, their risk tolerance. He wants her toothy smile, wants to kiss her without the threat of sorrow or damnation.
âScully I-â
âDaphne.â
âDaphne.â He reaches out, runs a finger down her temple, over her cheekbone. He stops at the corner of her mouth. Her pupils dilate, her lips part.
âMulder,â she whispers, husky. Her tongue is visible. She leans her cheek into his palm. âHeâs not⊠it isnât real.â
They could do this. Itâs been brewing, fermenting for years and maybe tonight, maybe here, he can let himself do what he couldnât even after the fungus.
He thumbs her chin, watches her searching eyes a beat longer. âLeo,â he corrects. He brushes her hair from her eyes and walks out to the back deck alone.
Just read all the Henry stuff you wrote! Itâs so good! Can we please have some more?)) pretty please?)))
Oh, bless. Henry is my albatross. As a woman who was a teen girl in the 90âs and a secret romantic I want Mulder and Scully together 4 EVRRR!!!!
But as a woman who has watched so goddamn many of her friends in toxic relationships Iâm also like DANA KATHERINE SCULLY GTFO THIS ABSOLUTELY SHIT RELATIONSHIP.
I struggle, man. People want Henry and Scully shmoopy fic. They want Scully leaving him for Mulder. And I also want both.
What have I done? Sigh.
***
She loves him, her gentle, straightforward husband. She loves his children, who love her back but revere their mother, the dead and saintly Joan.
The dogs, at least, are reliably fickle. They revere anyone with snacks.
Henry in a tuxedo, handsome in the way of freshman biology professors and the bachelor uncles of high school best friends. Henry would buy you a malted, would walk you home, would defend your honor. Would love you until your splintered heart knit back together like a comminuted fracture.
She adores him in a way that is unfair to him.
Scully - no. Dana. But old habits haunt hard.
Dana is in a strapless silk dress the color of an August thunderstorm, the color of an angry sea. A dress cut like a first kiss, a last kiss. Like a long goodbye.
Viv helped her pick it, Viv with the endless ripened-peach beauty of eighteen.
âGorgeous,â the other guests tell her, and she tosses her russet head as Henryâs wife must. As Dr. Scully must. She bares her pretty white arms, her pretty white throat. The ropes of freshwater pearls click softly.
Tchaikovskyâs Sleeping Beauty Waltz begins and Henry beams down at her with his hand at her back. They are beautiful in the mirrors and she knows it and she likes it. She likes her long red hair and her handspan waist and Henry like Cary Grant.
Henry dips her and she laughs, happy. She likes that too, being happy. She was sad for a long time.
In the mirror is Mulder at the corners; she sees him hold out his hand to her for the shadowed dance they did for so long. It was a tango more than a waltz, it was a minor key more than it was ever a major. It was painful and sweet and lonesome and violent.
Henry kisses her beneath the chandelier, cups her face in his big hand. âI love you,â he mouths.
She smiles up at him. âI love you too.â And she does, oh, she does. She rests her head against his chest, against his solid, endless heart.
Dana - Scully - closes her eyes until Mulder slips away, William slips away. The shadows gather in the mirrors, in the corners, and they are alone together in the crowded room.
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