The Scully Effect

Mom - MD - Mid-thirties Gillian Anderson saved my life English is not my first language

[purrykat]

8. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Thank you! 

@today-in-fic

xxx

“Were you ever going to tell me?“

Her voice is small, hesitant.

The tension that has been plaguing you all day finally acknowledged, it’s difficult not to feel uncomfortable. Come five o'clock, you’d figured you’d made it through another day of mundane background checks relatively unscathed. But then she spoke up, and while you’re not entirely certain of what she’s referring to, your heart still sinks to your gut.

“Tell you what?”

Her laugh is humorless—bitter, even. She refuses to meet your eyes, instead busying herself with packing up her briefcase. For a minute, you think she might just leave it at that. But then you catch her watery gaze, your stomach twisting painfully, and stop her movements with a gentle hand and a questioning look.

“Background checks may not be my dream assignment,” she begins, voice gaining confidence as she goes on. “But it sure is enlightening. All these records at my disposal. Birth records, death records…”

Her voice trails off, as if she’s building the courage to continue, and you know you’re wearing your panic face when her eyes meet yours again. While filled with determination, you can also detect the underlying pain.

“Marriage records.”

Shit. The panic seizes your heart now, ice running through your veins. This isn’t how you wanted her to find out. Hell, you had high hopes that she never would, despite the discomfort than lingered whenever Diana was around. But Scully is nothing if not resourceful. You shouldn’t be surprised that she’d covered every base, knowing how little she trusts your ex wife.

Ex wife. God, you hadn’t thought of her as that in years. She’d been your partner, first and foremost. The entire marriage had been a mistake. You remember the desperation you’d felt, the need to please her. You’d had nothing at the time, and Diana had always ensured that she had you right under her thumb. It was an ultimatum—get serious, or she was leaving. In the end, she’d left anyway. You hadn’t bothered with divorce papers—hadn’t even known where to send them to. Technically…

“Scully,” you try, but her arm jerks out from under your touch. The cool air is such a sharp contrast from her warm skin, and you nearly tremble at the shock of it. She’s shrugging on her jacket, movements erratic, and despite being the one that brought this up in the first place, you can tell she’s trying to make a quick getaway. While your heart clenches with panic, anger swells within your gut; a deadly combination.

“Scully, you have to let me explain.”

She raises an eyebrow at that, as if the very idea that she owes you anything is laughable. The exhaustion in her expression is obvious, her cleverly arched brow creasing. The one thing somehow more terrifying than an angry Scully—a resigned Scully. It’s the same expression that haunted your dreams—the very one she wore when she had informed you of her transfer.

“You tried to kiss me,” she whispers, and even through your dread, you have to marvel at how in sync your thoughts are. The room has luckily cleared out by now, the end of another monotonous day somehow more exciting than the Mulder and Scully show, and you’re grateful for the privacy that’s rarely afforded outside of your basement office.

“I didn’t think you remembered,” was all you can think to say, voice tight with emotion. But it doesn’t matter, because as quickly as she’d made herself vulnerable, she’d re-erected her walls. You can see it in her eyes, feel it in the air around you. She’s closing herself off to you again. You want to reach for her, to tear down the fortress she’s built around her heart, but you know her well enough to know she’d reinforced that barrier with steel this time, so as not to let them crack so easily again.

“I refuse to get in the way of another marriage,” she tells you, and before you can even wrap your mind around that, she’s gone.

[akiplo]

Every Mind Matters

[frangipanidownunder]

If you're taking prompts from the 50 types of kisses: 35 (otherwise you can ignore this, no pressure!)

35 An awkward kiss after a first date.

It’s an impromptu evening out. A kind of extension of an unexpected and deliciously languid Sunday spent wandering Home Depot with Scully as she tried to choose some new interior décor items.

“I’m bored looking at the same prints,” she’d sighed into the phone. “You’ve got interesting taste, Mulder. Care to help me decide?”

He was already changing tee-shirts before she hung up. Interesting taste. Was that a compliment? He still wasn’t sure, even after all these years of sharing cars and motels and heated words and take-out pizza and desperate confessions. They’ve even shared a chase kiss.  

Now, they’re sitting at a diner with a flickering fluoro strip above them, hair almost touching over the menu. There is another menu but he handed her one and she twisted it round so he could read it too. He’s reminded of the scene in Grease where Danny hides Sandy behind a menu so the jock can’t see them. His toe taps as he hums ‘You’re the one that I want’ under his breath.

Their faces are so close he can see the lines on her lips where the colour has stuck. The mole she usually covers dark above her mouth, the freckles on her face that make his chest tighten. She’s as fresh as Sandy Olsson and when they’ve finished their burgers and fries (she ate the lot and stole some of his fries too “because they always taste better from someone else’s plate”!) he pays.

“You don’t have to do that.”

He nearly says, but you’re my girl, Scully. But instead he asks if she wants a milkshake.

She does, she says and giggles as she takes the first slurping mouthful through the straw. He watches her as the stars spread across the cloudless sky.

“This was fun, Mulder. Thanks for coming out with me. Your choices were most impressive.”

Impressive. Is that a compliment in the field of artwork and pottery selection? He still can’t work her vocabulary out but it’s endearing, this obfuscation of hers. He drives her home, the thunk of her purchases punctuating the journey.

She lets him carry them to her apartment. “You’re being very thoughtful, today, Mulder.”

Thoughtful? Hmmm. “Let me know if you need any help with hanging the prints.”

“Oh,” she says, with a rueful smile, “I’m pretty handy with a hammer and nails.”

Of that, he has no doubt. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He heads for the door. She stays put and he can imagine her scouting out the best places for her new items. He’s halfway down the hallway when she catches up with him.

“Mulder.” She’s breathless but she’s only walked a few yards. He watches the stray stands of her curling hair waft up and down as she pants. “Thank you.” She reaches out her hand and he shakes it. “Oh.” She says, half-laughing. And he realises she meant to touch him, hold his hand, squeeze it, as a gesture of affection. 

He’s flustered and she’s giggling and he’s struck by the need to kiss that happy mouth and he bends just as she tiptoes and their foreheads clash and their noses smoosh together and she pulls back and chuckles again and he goes forward for the second time just as she dips her head and he gets a mouthful of hair and she really collapses then, face pink, chest bubbling, eyes bright. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and she shakes her head, wiping tears from her cheeks with the back of her fingers. “I feel like a teenager on a first date.”

When she recovers, she pulls him by the hand into her apartment saying something about lucky they don’t have braces. Lucky. That is a compliment.

[frangipanidownunder]

36. Kiss prompts

Starting with eskimo kisses before moving on to soft kisses.

She’s home from hospital and caught in the void between dying and living. It doesn’t seem quite real. She turns the word over in her mind, on her tongue. Remission. It comes from the Latin meaning to send back. But where is she going back to? What path will she take now that she has been given a second chance? What path should she take? Shouldn’t she be moving forward, moving on?

Steam unfurls from her mug, a gossamer cloud on the kitchen window. She should dust, she thinks, looking around. Polish. Put things back in their proper place. One of her most powerful regrets when she was really sick was the thought that her mother, and maybe Mulder, would have to clean up her life, left so disorderly from her work. Typically an organised person, she’d let things drift away, carelessly tossed things into drawers in an enduring fit of anarchic rage against the system. Later, she’d loosened the shackles of order through apathy – what use was a system? And later still, order was the routine of chemo and bloods and prayer.

In the last days, guilt had seared her bones. It wasn’t right that those grieving her should also be left with the mundanity of her paperwork caused her to lose too much sleep. Mulder had laughed at her.

“What would you find at my joint, Scully? My teen journal declaring my hormonally-charged lust for Jennifer Preston and the birthmark on her inner right thigh? Vehicle insurance bills for an old engineless Chevy in a lock-up in Chilmark? Subscriptions to Spooks and Spectres International.”

“I thought that went out of print years ago,” she’d quipped and he really laughed then, squeezing her hands while his eyes never left her face. God, he was hurting. She was hurting him and it ate away at her, the thought of him tilting at windmills without her to straighten him up.

And what of Mulder now? Where does her recovery leave him? Sometimes she believes his heart beats only for a cause. And these past months, she’s been the cause. She sips the ginger tea – her stomach is still unsettled – and thinks that he’s in a kind of remission too. Her insides warm a little. He gets a second chance.

Later, he visits, bearing romance novels and dark chocolate and a CD of classical favourites.

“An improvement on Superstars of the Superbowl, Mulder, you’ve really lifted your game,” she says and he smiles loosely.

“How are you feeling?” He dips his shoulders and head as he speaks, gauging her reaction.

She shrugs. “All the better for seeing you.” It’s a truth.

His smile lifts and he’s like a child eagerly accepting the good news. He steps forward and folds his fingers around her upper arms. She stiffens and he rubs up and down until she relaxes into him. A sudden blur of tears stings her eyes. The reality of him being here, with her, not having to chase monsters on her behalf rushes at her and her knees soften. His chin rests on her crown, the heavy weight of him the best kind of comfort.

They stand like that for a while, his fingers still brushing her arms, before he pulls his head back, brackets her chin with his thumb and forefinger, and lowers his face so that they are nose-to-nose. Her mind supplies her with all the things that are off-kilter here. Height difference. Mismatched features. Incompatible personalities. But they fit. He rubs his nose against hers so gently that her breath catches in her throat. If she stops breathing, stills her body, she will only feel his.

Pushing down further, his lips press against her skin, under her nose, the side of her mouth, then her lips. So tentative, so tender. It’s Mulder’s beating heart starting up again. She can feel it, pulsing against her chest as his kisses seek her approval. She responds, grateful for the rhythm of his life.

She’s not sure where they’re going back to but in this moment, she’s grateful just to have arrived.

[o6666666]

AU where Diana (or Phoebe returning later on in the series) lies to Scully that the reason she and Mulder broke up was because he wanted to settle down and have kids but Diana/Phoebe didn’t. Mulder made it clear then that he really wanted a family and couldn’t see a future with a woman who didn’t want the same thing, so they broke up. (Diana/Phoebe may or may not know about Scully’s infertility at this point, basically they want this to come in between M & S ...)

Missing scene for “The Unnatural”

tagging @today-in-fic

They’re recharging in the dugout, rolling their shoulders. Mulder flicks the shell of a sunflower seed two feet—not as far as the shells that came before it. Scully cracks her neck.

“Married,” she repeats.

Mulder nods in the dark. Because he can’t quite see her, it is easier, like confession.

“A whopping six months.”

When she speaks again her voice is rougher. “That explains a lot.”

He grabs her hand where it rests on the bench. Squeezes. “I think it was... a terrible relationship,” he concedes, and she pulls her fist from underneath his palm to pinch the bridge of her nose and chuckle sadly.

“I mean,” he scratches the back of his neck, self-conscious, before looking at her. “I’d really like to think she loved me, Scully.”

Scully’s jaw is tight, like all the work he’d done relaxing and wooing her is undone. But in his face there is the boy who lost his sister; who lost his virginity at fifteen to the housewife down the street who’d hired him to mow the lawn (her least favorite story—ever); who moved himself to London because David Bowie understood him.

Of course he wanted someone to trust.

She smiles a private smile, even smug. “You’re very easy to love, Mulder.”

Now he laughs. “You don’t think that.”

“I do.”

“You think I’m crazy.”

It sucks the air from between them.

She slumps, cheek to her palm, suddenly turned away. “I hate when you say that, Mulder.”

“But I always say that.”

It seems written in destiny that a Mulder should prattle on, and a Scully should call him nuts for it. (He would think it stupid, later—this shortsighted view of her, how little credit he gave. How little he believed in the truth of what they were to each other before he heard it in her head, though he had reached for it there in the dugout and though she had tried so hard to tell him.)

“If you want the post-mortem from Diana, Mulder, you should talk to her,” Scully says to the wall, though Mulder thought they’d stopped talking about that.

“I don’t,” he says. “I mean—I want to trust her. I wish I could trust her. Because of... being married.” Scully chuffs emptily at that. It was true he could have mentioned it sooner. “But...” A sudden bravery drops his hand to Scully’s knee. “I know why she left.”

She nods. Apparently it is no revelation that he’s a jerk.

“I was so shocked, Scully. I got home—I was, I was... in Tennessee, or... I was chasing—” He lands on the memory. “God, there was some jailhouse motherfucker in North Carolina and I thought, This is the guy who killed Samantha. And of course it wasn’t the guy who killed Samantha. And I get back and—and I get home and her stuff is gone... her computer is gone, her clothes...” He unhands Scully’s knee to press the heels of his palms into his eyes and sigh miserably. “I went to work the next day and her desk was cleared out. She sent me the divorce in the mail.”

“But you couldn’t have been surprised.” Scully is facing him again, chewing her lip.

Mulder looks at her quizzically, if a little insulted. “What?”

“I mean.” Her eyes double in size. “With the... I...”

She and Diana, those months ago, had observed Mulder with Gibson through the two-way mirror. I can guess what color underwear you’re wearing, Gibson offered, and—before Mulder could protest—announced that actually Mulder hadn’t done his laundry, and wasn’t wearing any. Mulder blushed two shades, and the two had burst out laughing. They’d looked, the pair of them, like little boys. He’s always loved children, Diana said then. And, punctuated with an eye-roll, He always said he’d have to end up with a woman who wanted lots of children.

Perhaps it was paranoia, but to Scully, the meaning was clear.

It was a rotten pit in her heart, and it grew into her memories. I’ve never seen you as a mother before, Mulder said.

I’ve never seen you as a mother.

“You wanted a baby,” Scully finishes lamely, embarrassed to know a fact so intimate as the cause of Mulder’s separation from Diana when, after all, he hadn’t even wanted her to know they’d been together. She sniffs, wiping her eyes.

“A baby?” Mulder looks stunned. He glances around incredulous, as if there is someone else nearby to confirm he’d heard correctly. “With Diana?”

The effort not to cry pinches Scully’s mouth into an awful, adorable pout. She nods.

Mulder is still rubbing his temples, processing. “I... She told you that?”

She nods again, hiccuping, then wipes her eyes roughly on her sleeve. “You were with Gibson.”

Mulder leans in close and lowers Scully’s wrist with a gentle hand, uncovering her face. She looks up, avoiding him.

“Diana moved to Berlin, Scully,” he says. “Without telling anyone. Least of all me. We were... we were the last people on Earth who would ever have a baby.”

Scully shrugs, defiant. “People change.”

“Sometimes they do,” he agrees. “But not me. Not then. Not because of her. She was messing with you, Scully.”

As he says it, it dawns on him: Diana was messing with Scully. He knew how badly Scully wanted children. And if Diana knew— “God damnit!”

Suddenly he was furious.

The hand that played them—it had many fingers. Their machinations were endless.

He cupped Scully’s small shoulder in his big hand. She bent toward him against her better judgment. “Look at me,” he said.

She looked.

He looked.

The serious thing borne from looking such as that swelled, as always, between them, and this time he saw what he needed to see.

“I’m sorry.”

[somekindofseizure]

When the Ink Dries Part X

<Conclusion. Rated for adults. Thank you @icedteainthebag, @gazeatscully and all of you for your help and support over the years (wtf?!!) it took to finish this. Hope you enjoy.>

*

Chapter 26

Stella had been bracing herself to enter a courthouse with the two of them for three years, ever since Scully had delivered news of their engagement. Self-preparation for this had involved two phases. One: fuck all of London for about six weeks and two: settle into the rationalization that nothing would really change. Mulder and Scully were a couple before any sort of documentation, and they would be after. Stella had made peace with it, anticipating that they might spring the actual event on her any time, that every time she came to America, it might be the one. But that had not happened.Scully didn’t have a dress. No one spoke of dates and no one had given her the address to a courthouse…until today.

Lees verder

[youokay-mulder]

‘POST-MODERN’ LOVE by Joy Press (Entertainment Weekly 2018)

Chris Carter: In the scene where Mulder and Scully dance at the end, I was focused on getting the staging right with the Cher impersonator. I knew that Mulder and Scully only had to be her audience, so I kind of left them alone.

When the scene got rolling we had a huge auditorium full of rowdy fans, and there were lots of distractions. One of them was a kid I had spotted in Los Angeles and then cast to play a character named Booger. He turned out to be great, but at that moment either he had had it with shooting or he just wanted to bust out–he started throwing gang signs! I was focused on getting him to stop doing that so I could use the footage. 

I had all these distractions and other things I was focused on, and at some point David and Gillian got up and started to dance. They just did it because they were enjoying themselves. Up until this point on the show, we had gone out of our way to keep Mulder and Scully professional and not to have them romantically involved. As much as we kind of flirted with those things, we had not seen them quite that lovey-dovey. It wasn’t scripted; it was one of these moments that just came together on its own.

Well, well, well thank you once again Romantic Duchovny for this MSR Gillovny gem! ;)

[settle-down-frohike]

Ok ok ok. Soooooo. What you’re saying is. This is real. Like. REAL. LIVE. Their faces?!? His shy dip of the head and her delighted surprise…… are. Real. ?!?!?!? The grins the twirl the- the- This is too much knowledge on too many levels to handle and I think I’m having a heart attack? I need to lie down….

[lilydalexf]

👽 Random X-Files Fic Rec

This story seems simple enough, with Mulder musing about Scully late at night while she’s asleep in his bed, but it’s a smart story with a twist. Things get complicated when Skinner shows up at Mulder’s apartment. Complicated and great. Title: Bardo Author: Darwin_xf (@darwin-xf) Summary: Fills a gap Length: 2,607 words Classification: None provided Rating: Teen and up Spoilers: all things, S.R. 819 Favorite line: Yet here she was, if he could believe it, slashed with moonlight filtering through the blinds, equal parts riddle, green cashmere, invitation. Read the story!

[msrafterdark]

“Breathless” (full post on AO3. WARNING: Very, very Not Safe For Tumblr)

**Reblogging is okay, but please do not repost this to other social media sites**

[gaycrouton]

Since you already told me you have an idea for this, I need to read the “Mulder accidentally takes Viagra and Dr. Scully needs to help” fic pretty please! The hotter the better of course.

HEY BOO! Guess who finally got around to finishing it! I’ve had this idea for so long it’s ridiculous, and not to toot my own horn…but it’s really hot. It ended up being super long so I’m going to split it up in two parts while the latter half is in beta. Part two will probably be up in the next few days!

As always, thank you to @admiralty-xfd for her beta and her endless support.

Clinical Detatchment

msr / s7 / UST to RST

To say this case had been stressful would be a colossal understatement. They’d been clashing with the police department since they got here; they were flagrantly sexist and rude to Scully and they thought Mulder was insane and, in their words, ‘a pussy’ for listening to her. To top it all off, after a week of intensive searching, the case ended with the police burning down the barn that the ‘creature’ they’d been looking for had been lurking in resulting in a pile of ashes and some unidentifiable bones, much to Mulder’s irritation.

She couldn’t even take joy in the fact that the case was over. After the barn burning, they had to go to the police station to give a final statement and, aside from being offered coffee which Mulder had all but devoured, the police were outright disrespectful. Not that Mulder wasn’t acting similarly to them, after he’d downed the drink he’d talked separately with the officers before storming out of the office, telling her they “were leaving, now.”

She didn’t know what they’d said to him that’d offended him to this point, but she knew something was off.

Now she was at the shitty restaurant attached to their motel, sitting across from Mulder who seemed to be in one of his moods. As soon as they’d gotten there he’d stormed ahead of her, not bothering to hold the door open or even see if she was following him. It wouldn’t be strange if it weren’t for his usual tendencies to be a gentleman, but now it just seemed passive aggressive. All in all, a shitty day.

He’d been quiet since they left and when she asked him anything he’d just give her short answers. For some reason it felt like he couldn’t even look at her. She could only take so much before she called him out. “Mulder, have I done something to piss you off?”

He stopped playing with his glass of water and looked at her timidly before looking away, pretending to find interest in the food that remained practically untouched in front of him. “No,” he muttered.

“Are you sure?” she asked, impatience coming through despite herself.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

She let out an irritated sigh and slouched into her seat. Her movement resulted in her leg grazing Mulder’s and it caused him to jump away from her like she’d burned him. “Are you kidding me?” she snapped.

“I’m-”

“Mulder, I’ve had to deal with people treating me like shit this entire case. I really don’t need it from you too,” she lamented.

Finally he looked at her and she started to feel a little guilty for lashing out. In this moment, looking at him face to face, she realized he looked ill. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes were glassy, and she could see sweat gathering on his brow. “Scully, I’m sorry. I’m not mad. I don’t mean to be short, I just- I don’t feel good.”

“No, I shouldn’t have snapped. I didn’t realize you were sick,” she apologized.

“I think just the stress of the case finally caught up to me,” he shrugged.

She slid out of her side of the booth and moved to sit next to him. “I-I’m sure I’m fine though, Scully,” he stammered, sliding away from her.

Lees verder

[baronessblixen]

#1 from your prompt list. "We're not just friends and you fucking know it." Thank you. 🙂

I got the same prompt from @mulder-squatchin ! Also tagging @today-in-fic

Set in season 6, Mulder and Scully have to share a room and a bed.

One Night on the Road

“There’s one room available.”

“Just one?” Mulder repeats, staring at the elderly lady behind the reception desk. She stares back at him, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. Unless that’s just what she looks like all the time.

“That’s what I said,” she draws out the words, probably thinking he’s hard of hearing – or plain dumb. “You want it or not?”

“We’ll take it.” Scully strolls in, her hands empty, and dripping wet. An ‘I told you so’ burns on his tongue; she didn’t want to believe him their overnight bags were unsalvageable. He turns back around so that Scully can’t see his smile. No need to stoke the fire. She’s been ready to throw him out of the car for hours and leave him in a ditch in the middle of nowhere. Now they’re both stuck here. In one room.

Lees verder

[nelsonandersonfan]

What a weirdo 🤣 🐶❤️

[xfilesfanficexchange]

Biogenesis

Author: @suilven19

For: @monikafilefan

Episode: “Biogenesis” 6x22

Story: “Dissonance” Mulder and Scully find themselves in an elevator with none other than Diana Fowley just as Mulder’s burgeoning abilities begin to manifest.

Link Here

#XFEpisode2019 [17/45]

[atths--twice]

Snowed In

Mulder and Scully find themselves snowed in after he refused to listen to her when she suggested they leave the area. Supplies are low and the temperature is continuing to drop.

Last week on Twitter, these two pictures from Darkness Falls, one of my favorite episodes, for the bottle episode feel to it, popped up. Added to the photos was the question- “What if they are upset with each other and get caught in a snowstorm? Does anyone want to write this fic?“ and my mind began to spin.

I adore Mulder and Scully stuck somewhere because of weather or some crazy situation they have found themselves in. It’s probably one of my favorite things. I had to write something and the muse was kind to me, allowing me to get it done quickly with these fast little thumbs of mine. 😊

Of course it was snowing. Of course it was.

After a flat tire slowed them down, the planned two day trip into the woods had stretched into four days, and now it was snowing. The wind was whipping through the little cabin, causing the freezing air to chill the occupants inside.

Mulder paced back and forth as Scully watched him, annoyance and irritation pouring off him in waves. The one lone light they had in the room glowed brightly, casting his shadow across the walls. His anger and constant motion was ratcheting up her own anger until she could take it no more, stood up, and blocked his path.

“Just, sit down,” she said venomously, and he stared at her hard, before pushing past her and resuming his pacing. “Mulder …”

“Scully, stop. Just … stop,” he said, shaking his head, not looking at her, his hands moving to his hips.

“I told you that if we-”

“Spare me, Scully. I don’t need to hear this again. You’re like a broken record.”

“I’ m like a broken record? Who the hell kept saying that coming up here would be a snap? Who said that we would be in and out before any major weather conditions caused a catastrophe? Not me — you. Despite the warnings from the sheriff and despite the fact that this time of year snow is not unheard of, you insisted that we press on. So don’t tell me that I’m the broken record, when that’s all you’ve been since I met you.” Her eyes flashed, and she was breathing hard when she finished speaking. He stared at her and then walked closer, towering over her smaller frame.

“If it bothers you so much, why don’t you leave? If my repeating things or my drive to pursue the truth is too much for you, why are you still here?”

“Oh, here it comes,” she shook her head and crossed her arms. “It’s always someone else’s fault, right? Fox Mulder could never be wrong, so it must be someone else. Am I to blame this time, despite my own warnings to you that it was looking like it might snow? I was ready to leave five hours ago, which would have put us past this storm and safely heading down this mountain. We have the car we found parked outside, but it’s likely buried by now. So instead of driving back into town we are stuck in a blizzard. On top of it all, our food supply is low and we don’t have much gas left to support the generator.”

As he stared at her, his eyes flashing with anger, the radio in the corner sputtered to life. Static filled the room, and they both turned to look at it, before Mulder hurried over and she quickly followed. Turning the knobs, he tried to tune in the signal. Finally, something came through, a woman’s voice, and Mulder grabbed the hand microphone.

“This is Special Agent Fox Mulder, who is on this frequency?” The voice faded, and he turned the knob again, the voice was once again clear.

“Agent Mulder, this is the National Park Service, what is your location? Over.”

He grabbed the map in front of him and they looked at it together. Both of them touched the spot where they were at the same time and he looked at it closer.

“Our location is Bison Pass, west of Falls Forest. We’re in a loggers cabin. Rations are low. Over,” he said, and Scully’s heart pounded, worrying about their food supply.

“Agent Mulder, we have your location. Sir, if hasn’t reached you yet, you are in for a hell of a storm. Should blow in and dump quite a lot of snow your way. Do you have supplies? Over.”

“Enough for two days, maximum. Generator is running low on gas and if the snow piles up, we won’t be able to get to it. We need an evacuation plan. Over.” The radio rang with static again, the wind blowing hard against the cabin, and then it sputtered off.

Mulder threw the handset down and covered his face with his hands. “Well, that was a fucking mess.” He stood up and started to pace once more.

“She knows our location and about the storm. They will send someone.”

“Before we freeze to death? It could fall for days. She didn’t say how long it was going to snow,” he stopped pacing and shook his head. The light flickered and they both looked at it, holding their breath as it dimmed and then glowed again brightly, allowing them to breathe.

“We should take stock of what supplies we have, in case the generator goes out, we’ll need candles and flashlights at least,” she said, staring at the light.

“Yeah,” he agreed, and she looked at him. He did not glance her way, but began to gather items and place them on the table.

Forty five minutes later, they had gathered everything at their disposal. Six long candles, two boxes of matches, three flashlights, and two packs of batteries. They had two cans each of soup, corn, peas, beef stew, refried, black, and kidney beans, a large bag of pasta, two bags of beef jerky, and three gallons of water.

They looked at the supplies and then at one another, as the wind blew louder. He reached out and touched her hand. “I’m sorry, I should have listened,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, you should’ve,” she said, as she pulled her hand away.

“Scully …”

“No, Mulder,” she cut across him, pointing to the table. “This is all we have for who knows how long. It might only snow for a night, but the roads could be impassable for days. Days. How are we going to survive on that amount of food for days? And water, Mulder. We need water.” She began pacing and shaking her head. “If the generator stops and that small heater turns off …” She finally looked at him, but his eyes were on the supplies.

“I know, Scully. Food we could do without, but I’m worried about the heat,” looking up at her, he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t …”

“Listen,” she finished for him, her worry overtaking her anger. Sighing, she sat down at the table and put her face in her hands. Mulder sat beside her and clasped his hands together.

They were quiet for a while, each with their own thoughts and worries. Finally, he stood up and began to gather their sleeping bags and all the extra blankets in the room. He dropped everything down onto one cot, before unzipping each sleeping bag, and then rezipping then together.

“What are you doing?” Scully asked, although she knew the answer to the question. They would need to conserve body heat. Sleeping close together was the best idea, but the thought made her feel uncomfortable.

“It’s going to get very cold in here, Scully,” he said apologetically. “We’re going to need to stay warm.” She nodded, and he smiled slightly.

He moved the cots together, laid the large sleeping bag across them, and added the extra blankets on top. Scully picked up her backpack along with Mulder’s, looking through them and finding their gloves and extra clothes, especially socks. Laying them on the table, she set the backpacks back down onto the floor.

“You need to layer up,” she said, as Mulder walked up beside her. She handed him the long underwear from his pack and the socks. “Put them on over your other socks.” He nodded and headed to the bathroom.

While he was in the bathroom, she quickly undressed and added the layers under her own clothes, shivering in the chilly room with the loss of her warm clothes. Putting them back on, she added her extra pair of socks and picked up her gloves, as well as Mulder’s.

He came out of the bathroom and she handed him his gloves. He nodded as he took them. sighing as he did. She stood up, heading to the cots, unzipped the sleeping bag, and slid inside. She zipped it up again and shivered in the cold flannel, as she put on her gloves.

“Keep the light on?” he asked.

“Probably a good idea,” she said, turning onto her side. He stepped over to the cots and got in beside her. She felt him shiver and she knew they needed to be closer. “Mulder, move closer, back to front.”

He did as asked and then put his arms around her. The blankets were heavy, helping to take off the chill, but still she shivered. Mulder pulled her closer and sighed close to her ear.

“I am sorry, Scully. I wouldn’t choose to be way out here with a storm raging outside,” he whispered, his proximity causing her to shiver, but not solely from cold. He put his leg over hers, and she jumped. “Sorry.” He said again.

“No, we need to be as close as possible, it just startled me,” she said, shifting against him.

“I thought the best thing to fight off the cold, was to lay naked with someone else, preferably already inside a sleeping bag,” he deadpanned, and she sighed.

“Not always. And keep dreaming,” she shivered again, and he laughed quietly. The wind howled as they lay close together trying to keep warm and worrying about what was to come.

___________________

“Kidney beans?” he asked, and she made a face. “Well it’s that or black ones. So, dealers choice.” She pointed to the black ones, and he opened the can, not bothering with plates, they shared the can between them, plus some beef jerky.

The snow fell the entire night, to the top of the door. They had no tools to dig their way out and no chance of making it once they did. Staying in the cabin and waiting for rescuing was the only option. The generator stopped running mid morning and the room had steadily gotten colder throughout the day.

They had eaten the refried beans and some beef jerky for breakfast, skipped lunch, and now they were eating before they went to bed. The candles afforded light, but once they blew them out, they would be plunged into darkness.

“I will never complain about cold Chinese food again. Or cold anything for that matter,” he said, making a face as he ate a mouthful of black beans. She shook her head and closed her eyes, swallowing down a bite of beef jerky. “At least we have food, I shouldn’t complain.”

Opening her eyes, she looked at him and sighed. He gave her a half smile and she shook her head again. “You know, the snow will act as an insulator in a way, but it’s still going to be really cold until they find us. Let me see your hands.” She took off her gloves as he set the beans down and removed his own gloves, letting her check his fingers. They were warm and pink, no frostbite … yet. Squeezing his hands, she let them go and they put their gloves back on.

“You want more of this?” he asked, and she shook her head. He finished the can and set it down. “I’d suggest a game of cards, but I’m not sure we could hold them while wearing these gloves. Maybe strip poker?” She gave him a look and he smiled.

“They’ll be here soon, right?” she asked softly, and his smile faltered before he rubbed her arm and stood up, picking up the flashlights and turning one on and blowing out the candles.

“I really hope so, Scully,” he said in the near darkness. They both got in bed, turning the flashlight off and clinging to one another for warmth, the blankets pulled tight around them.

“When I was ten, my father and I went camping,” he said quietly, his limbs wrapped around her like an octopus. “It was spring and unseasonably warm during the day, but very cold at night. I thought it wasn’t possible to feel colder than I did those nights, but this … this is by far, the coldest I’ve ever been.”

She shivered against him, and he pulled her closer. His lips touched her ear and he breathed softly. “I’m so sorry, Scully. I know I’ve said it before, but I truly am.” She gripped his hand and nodded her head.

_______________

“Let me see your feet,” she said to him the next night, when she noticed he was grimacing as he paced slowly around the room. He looked at her and she raised her eyebrows. Sighing, he walked over to her and sat at the table. She knelt down, taking off her gloves, untied his shoe and took off his socks, causing him to wince. “Oh, Mulder.”

His toes were red and cold to the touch. He winced again as she tenderly felt at the beginning stages of frostbite. “Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked and looked up at him. He met her eyes and shook his head. “Is it both feet?” He nodded and she sighed as she stood up. Going to her pack she took out some lotion and walked back to him. Sitting on the floor, she put his foot in her lap and warmed the lotion in her hands before softly rubbing his toes, causing him to hiss.

“I’m sorry,” she said, going slower and more carefully. “Why didn’t you say anything?” She asked again and he exhaled with a gasp.

“I thought it would be okay. It’s not so bad … oh, Scully,” he hissed again, and closed his eyes. “Maybe it is worse than I thought. I should have told you.”

“Hmmm,” she said, massaging his foot until it felt a bit warmer. Putting both pairs of socks back on and then his shoe, she left the laces loose, and then moved on to the next foot and did the same thing. His gasps of pain tugged at her heart, but she continued because it had to be done.

Both shoes back on, she wiped her hands, put her gloves back on, and stood up. She touched his face as he looked up at her. “Anywhere else hurting? Your ears? Cheeks?” Feeling them, he made no sounds or movements to suggest they were hurting, though they did appear a little red. She would keep her eye on them. Moving down, she held his hands and took off his gloves, examining his fingers. “They look okay.”

“Well, at least there’s that ray of sunshine,” he said sarcastically, and she stared at him.

“It’s not a joke, Mulder.”

“I know, Scully. I just … once the sense of humor goes, it’s time to pack it in, am I right?” he smiled and squeezed her fingers before putting his gloves back on. She stepped back and looked down, her own toes beginning to feel cold, but she would see how it was tomorrow before she raised any concern.

“We should get you under the covers. Let’s lay a blanket at the end of the bed, doubled up to keep our … your feet warm tonight.” He nodded and they headed to bed.

In the dark and quiet of the room, he sighed, his arms holding her tightly. She leaned back into him, feeling he had something to say. He sighed again, and she waited.

“I almost drown once, when I was eleven. This boy at the lake was bigger than me, and he was playing rougher than I was used to. He held me under the water, and I panicked, flailing around and kicking at him. I could hear him laughing above the water, and I seriously thought I was going to die, Scully,” he gave a shaky sigh. “I remember the feel of the water going into my lungs. I scratched him, hard enough to draw blood, and he let me go. I pulled myself up, coughing and retching, vomiting out the water I had swallowed. He was shouting about his cut I’d given him, and I was fighting for my life. I could hear my mother calling me, and she came running down just before he grabbed me again. She helped me out of the water and held me as I continued to throw up, telling that boy to get the hell away from me.”

Scully had tears in her eyes as she lay there, her own memories of near drowning experiences rising to the surface. She knew that feeling and how terrifying it was. Holding on to his hands, she waited for him to finish.

“I didn’t tell you about my toes, Scully, because cold toes are not as bad as nearly dying,” he whispered, and she turned over, finding his eyes and feeling his face in the black darkness.

“We aren’t going to die here, Mulder,” she said forcefully. “They know where we are, and they’ll be here soon. I know it.” He nodded against her hand, and she held his face in her hands. “We aren’t going to die here.” She repeated and he nodded again, pulling her close. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head in his neck, hoping the words she said were not empty ones.

________________

There was a pounding noise in her head and she moaned, seeking out the warmth she lost in the night.

“Five minutes,” she heard Mulder grumble and she moaned again.

“Agent Mulder! Are you in there?! Agent Mulder!” More pounding and Scully slowly opened her eyes. Sunlight was streaming through the tops of the windows, the only light visible from the snow pile, and she blinked her eyes against it. “Agent Mulder!!”

“Mulder!” she said, pulling away and sitting up, frantically trying to get out of the bed. “Mulder, they’re here! Wake up.” She got out of the bed and fell as she did, her toes like pins and needles.

“Scully?” he slurred. “You okay?”

She got up, hobbling to the door. “We’re here!! Please, help!” she called out, seeing many booted feet through the window. A face appeared as someone lay down in the snow.

“We’ll have you out soon ma’am,” he said and stood up again.

“Thank God,” she whispered, shaking her head. Limping to the bed, she looked at Mulder, who had finally sat up, his eyes wild. “We aren’t going to die here.” He smiled, and she sat next to him, reaching for his gloved hand.

______________

“Gin!” Mulder yelled, slamming down his cards, and she rolled her eyes.

“We’re playing Go Fish, remember?” she laughed, and he made a face as he picked up his cards. “So, you got any 2’s?” She asked snidely, and he huffed as he gave them to her.

“Still think we should be playing strip poker,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. She threw a pretzel at him, and he laughed as he picked it up and popped it in his mouth.

They were in a hospital, both being treated for the beginning stages of frostbite. Nothing serious enough to warrant alarm, but enough to have kept them there for the past three days. Tomorrow they would be leaving and they were both feeling a bit punchy.

Mulder grabbed the deck of cards and begin to shuffle them.“When we get home, we should go out and celebrate being alive. How about a Mexican restaurant? We could get tacos … and a side of black beans.” Looking up at her, he grinned, before ducking as she threw a handful of pretzels at him. “Beef jerky then?”

The nurses outside the room must have wondered what was so funny, as they both laughed loudly, and Mulder shouted, just before a dozen more pretzels hit the glass doors.

[mldrgrl]

The Wonder of You

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 Summary: She never stays the night and he wonders why, but he won’t ask.

She never stays the night and he wonders why, but he won’t ask.  He doesn’t think anything is wrong.  Certainly, she comes to him freely, of her own volition, showing up night after night in casual sweaters and a six-pack of beer, or Chinese, or a pizza.  They watch movies pressed up against each other like an inch of space is too much.  Her hand might find its way up his shirt or unbuckling his belt just as easily as his fingers weave through her hair or his mouth meets the swell of her breast.  They’ve made use of almost every available space he can lay her down on; the couch (naturally), his bed (obviously), the floor (too hard on the knees), the table by the door (a personal favorite), and his desk (a little too precarious).  He knows she has a good time, or several, but she always vanishes before the sun comes up and he wakes with a smile on face that fades as soon as he rolls into the cold side of the bed.

By day, it’s like nothing has changed.  She still argues with him, still calls him crazy when he rambles too long about his latest case theory, and she’s still as skeptical as ever, not that he expects or wants anything different.  By night though, by night she’s something else.  She laughs easily, she’s more playful than he could’ve imagined, and she’s less skeptical of his theories (Think that table will hold, Scully?  Only one way to find out.)  It’s all so perfect, if not for the disappearing act.

Lees verder

[slayerbuffy]

Gillian Anderson at The Late Late Show with James Corden 2019.

[gillianaofficial]

I love you Aimee Lou Wood.

@sexeducation @netflixuk