I have started posting my Fandom Trump Hates story for @princessrottenpeach
Summary:
Skara has left Viney and she feels lost. At least her business is doing well and she is able to hire a potion maker with Beastkeeping skills, Edric Blight. Ed meets Katya and they fall in love at first sight. Will their new love help Viney discover new love?
Notes:
For PrincessRottenPeach.
for Fandom Trumps Hate 2025 for PrincessRottenPeach
Inspired by the Television Show 'Married at First Sight'
Viney and Skara's tale partially inspired by the Rupert Holmes song 'Escape (The PIna Colada Song)'
beta read by pinklilfairy. Thank you so much for betaing this and so many others of my Owl House stories
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
TW: Sexual situations are mentioned but there is no smut. M rated. TW: marital separation
“Skara, you won’t believe what happened today!” Viney shouted into the cottage as she opened the door. Skara would want to hear about the baby skin badger that had been dropped at her door by one of the Bat Queen’s children.
No answer. Of course there wasn’t. Skara had left. How had she forgotten? Was a week long enough to forget that your wife of nearly eight years had left?
She hung her head and slammed the door, angry at herself for having forgotten that Skara was gone. Gone. No note, nothing. Her parents hadn’t heard from her; Amity said she hadn’t seen her either. Viney slumped against the front door, her back sliding all the way down until her butt plopped hard on the floor. It was only a second more before the tears threatened.
It’s all my fault. She left because I wasn’t paying her enough attention. Gone too much at work. Absent at home. Scrolling on Pensta. Flying on Puddles. Not listening to her when she said she wanted more. I’m a bad lover. Selfish. I don’t understand what she means when she talks about music and I never bothered to learn. Did we get married too young? But it was so good then. It had to be me.
Her thoughts kept spiraling. She tried several times to get up and take care of the groceries she’d brought home, but her knees wobbled and she just sat back down. The tears followed behind.
“Fuck! Titan damn it!” Crying always made her angry. It felt like a personal failure to cry, to give in to the urge and let it go. Feelings had to stay inside, safely kept hidden from anyone who might judge. It was the one thing she and her father agreed on. Over the years, Viney saw how much it hurt him that mother had left, but he’d never said anything and he kept on keeping on, raising her, feeding her, teaching her. But, he kept her at arm’s length also. Not cold, but not able to show his love. He could show pride; he was proud when she started her clinic, proud of her when she and Skara got married. He was proud of her when the Entrails won the Flyer Derby cup and cheered them on from the stands, his voice standing out over all the other raucous calls.
No. Crying couldn’t be allowed. She had to get up and move. Had to. This time she managed to stand, willing her knees to not wobble and her hands and feet to obey her commands. She picked up the bag of groceries and put them away. The dinner she’d planned fled out of her mind and she poured the last of the sugary human cereal that Luz had bought her. Humans weren’t any good at magic, except Luz, but they sure were good at putting sugar in everything.
Flopping on her sofa, she picked up her Pensta and began scrolling. Hunter had just finished his apprenticeship and was showing off the Palismen he’d carved. Willow’s Pensta was full of her workout streams. She almost made enough snails from monetizing them that she could do it full time, but she loved her plants and her greenhouse too much for that.
Viney’s fingers moved of their own accord, flipping to Skara’s Pensta, expecting nothing there, but there was a post. Just text.
Free. IDK if I like it or not.
Viney flicked her eyes to the timestamp. It had been posted just one hour ago; the location tag was blocked, though.
Her fingers flew over the keys and she paused only a second over the enter key before posting.
Free but alone. I don’t like it.
A hug emoji appeared almost instantly and Viney saw it was from Luz. A second later a DM notification popped up.
Luz: Want to chat? I’m here anytime.
Viney typed something, erased it, typed again and erased it. Finally she just left a shaking head emoji under Luz’s message. Luz typed back instantly. That girl could text so fast and it made Viney smile, just a little.
Luz: Okay. Amity and I love you and I’m sorry for what’s happening. We’re here if you need us. Amity said she and Willow would take you anywhere you wanted to go also, maybe a tropical getaway to the lower isles? LMK.
Viney started to reply, then stopped and put down her Pensta. After a moment’s thought, she turned it off completely. She’d never be able to sleep like this, thinking about Skara, thinking about how she smelled, how she felt in Viney’s arms, the way she laughed at Viney’s stupid jokes even though she knew they were a way of keeping emotions at a distance.
No, she’d never get to sleep. The empty cereal bowl taunted her with the little residue of milk in it. It belonged in the kitchen now and it tugged at Viney’s mind to put it away, but she ignored it and instead went to a tall cabinet near the kitchen table. She dug around in it and pulled out a dusty bottle of fermented fig-pig sweat. When she took the cap off, the smell of it caused her eyes to water, but they weren’t tears of sadness at least. She took a swig, swallowed and coughed. It was so strong, meaty and sweet. She coughed and now the tears were flowing again, but she laughed because these were tears she could handle. Two more swigs and they stopped. Her mouth and throat were on fire. Maybe she should have eaten something more than cereal.
She turned her Pensta back on and watched a video on the Skyclad network, but the actress only made her think of Skara. Another swig. Another video. This time the fake moaning made her angry. Had they never actually made someone else come before? She took another drink and another and…
and…
and…
and…
woke up on the floor with her Pensta’s alarm beeping. She sat up, which was a mistake as her head swam. She saw her Pensta on the side table, grabbed for it, and knocked it on the floor where she heard it crack. She reached for it again and face-planted. Finally, she managed to sit up and silence the alarm.
6:00 a.m.
Time to get ready for work. This was a nice thing about working for yourself; you could call in sick and only let yourself down. She would have to go take care of Puddles though or Puddles would break out of her pen in search of food. With the help of the side table, she managed to stand, which was good because a moment later she had to rush for the bathroom. The fig-pig sweat didn’t taste any better coming up than it had going down and even after rinsing her mouth and brushing her teeth, she could still taste it at the back of her throat. It was fitting punishment for using it to sleep.
Puddles was already banging at the door of her stall when Viney got there and only calmed down when Viney gave her a big chunk of antcake. As Puddles ate, Viney scratched the back of her neck and dug around in her feathers, looking for ticks or mites. Puddles made a noise that would be a purr if she were feline and Viney knew it meant she liked it.
“Who’s the best griffin? You are!” Viney cooed to Puddles. She cleaned up the stall and hosed it down. She stared blankly at the hose, then turned it on her face. Puddles looked up from her antcake and turned her head curiously. The cold water woke Viney up even more and she decided to go to work after all.
The routine of her day at work pulled her out of her mind a bit; the mindless mixing of potions she’d made a hundred or a thousand times before made it all a bit more bearable. Going over notes and reading about new ways of diagnosing wing rot in faeries and moth-demons occupied that spot in her mind that had been running like an Echo Mouse on a wheel.
But then when she went home, the loneliness struck again and she flopped on the sofa. Cereal. Skyclad Network. Pathetic lonely masturbation. She looked at the fig-pig sweat, but just the thought of opening the bottle made her gag. Instead she curled up on the couch and tried to sleep. Skara ran through her thoughts.
That first night after defending Hexside at her side on Puddles. Making out in a bundle of nerves after everyone else had left. Skara’s whisper of, “I’m going to marry you someday.”
And then… nothing for almost three years. They’d see each other at school, they helped defend it from Belos and the Collector’s weird star things and puppet-people. Viney pined for Skara, but Skara didn’t seem to notice her. That one night with her had made Viney see. Skara used to be just one of the mean girls, but something had changed her. It all had happened after Luz appeared, but Viney didn’t think it had anything to do with Luz directly. Maybe Skara had just needed to mature, to grow up from her teen pettiness.
The graduation party. Skara cornering her in a hallway outside a bedroom where they could hear another couple enjoying themselves. That kiss. Skara pressing Viney to the wall. Her hot lips on Viney’s. Soft breath on Viney’s neck and the flicking tongue, teasing her.
“We should set a date,” Skara whispered in Viney’s ear. She’d been Viney’s first: first kiss, first love, first sex…
And now, her first heartbreak.
Three more weeks went the same way. Work made it bearable. Seeing clients again, seeing their pets and animals, healing them. Luz or Amity came on the weekends to keep Viney from spiralling. No more Pensta posts from Skara. Still no one had heard from her.
Six months. Now Luz or Amity only came once a month. Viney had gathered herself more and the cottage was kept tidy at least. Her business thrived as she poured herself into working longer hours. She hired Edric Blight to take over the potion making part of it. He worked just as hard as she did and Viney thought maybe he was working through something also.
Nine months. Skara wasn’t coming back. Viney wanted—something.
Sex? Maybe.
Companionship? Maybe.
A partner? Someone she could share her day with? Her dreams with? Yes. She’d had that with Skara, or thought she had, anyway.
She was just sitting down to her nightly Pensta session when it pinged with a message from Luz.
Luz: OMT, you have to hear this.
There was a link to a song. As soon as Viney hit play, she knew. It was Skara. The opening arpeggios on the harp were undoubtedly her and when she started to sing over the harp, her voice cut Viney to her core.
Summary: Lan Huan is looking for his mother and brother.
He cannot find them.
Kay's comments: I really love this canon-divergence story! Madam Lan lives and on one day, the guards outside her house are distracted, she takes the chance and rusn away from the Cloud Recesses with Lan Wangji. Years down the line, Wei Wuxian meets Lan Wangji, who's a mysterious rogue cultivator, and of course immediately hits it of with him and gives him the chance to meet with his brother again. Really cute, but also really sad on Lan Xichen's front.
Excerpt: “A-Huan could you do me a favour?”
Lan Huan nodded eagerly, always happy to help. Her expression seemed even weirder now, but he didn’t comment on it. She stood up and went over to a drawer, taking something from it before returning to him with an almost-smile. She handed him something that looked like a letter.
“Will you go out to the person guarding the door and explain to him that I want this to be delivered to the sect leader as soon as possible. Tell him it is very important,” Lan Huan nodded along, “also maybe you could ask about the other disciple? The one that got hurt? Just to make sure he is okay.”
“Yes, a-niang,” he said, beaming up at her when his reply brought a smile to her face.
“Good boy. Remember; a-niang loves you very, very much. Sometimes, however, decisions that are hard must be made, which I am sure you will understand when you are older. But I do love you, so, so much a-Huan.”
“A-Huan loves you too, a-niang!”
“I know,” she smiled, but her eyes didn’t look happy, “will you hug your brother before you go. I am sure he will miss you.”
“Don’t worry, a-Zhan, I will be right back,” he said, tip-toing to reach his brother even though his mother was bending down so he could reach him. He hugged him tightly – or as tight as he dared, because a-Zhan was very, very small – before giving him a small kiss on his forehead like he had seen a-niang do many times.
pov alternating, canon divergence, hurt/comfort, child lan xichen, rogue cultivator lan wangji, madam lan lives, emotional hurt/comfort, first meetings, separations, pre-relationship, angst, isolation, cloud recesses study arc
~*~
(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Relationship: Matt | Mail Jeevas/Mello | Mihael Keehl
Characters: Matt | Mail Jeevas, Mello | Mihael Keehl
Additional Tags: Happy Ending, Wammy's House (Death Note), Separations, Foster Care, Gang Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Growing Up, Reunions, Kissing, Not Canon Compliant
Word Count: 3,127
Series: Part 7 of MattMello Week 2024 | @mattmelloweek
Summary: After the closure of the infamous Wammy's House in 2003, Matt and Mello navigate a life without the pressure of successorship.
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“Congratulations on making it onto the New York Times Bestseller list, Mihael! Selling fifty-thousand copies for a debut novel is practically unheard of, I guess you really must be a genius.”
Mihael was already regretting agreeing to this publicity event that his manager had arranged, a book signing that took place only a week after the debacle that was his launch party. From what he was told, everyone had loved it, but he had not signed up for these repetitive self congratulatory occasions which felt less like an excuse for him to talk about his book, and instead an opportunity for orbiters in the industry to get drunk and engage in underhanded remarks to one another. It was impressive how creative these people could be in turning a benign compliment into a boasting competition within a matter of a few words. If he was not subject to its influence, Mihael would be somewhat amused.
Now, sitting at a small table, a long queue stood before him with people holding hardback copies of his first novel to their chest in anticipation. He had written it under the letter M, but his publishers had managed to miss the memorandum that Mihael requested anonymity due to the nature of his identity, and it was excitedly disclosed that the new book taking the world by storm was written by none other than a former Wammy’s boy. It was too good of an opportunity to avoid capitalising on, and thus followed lengthy reviews in various broadsheets about how the narrative would have most certainly been informed by the trauma inflicted on a young Keehl. The reader can sense the lingering pain of the author’s tragedy through his protagonist, and it serves as a harrowing reminder of how we as a society must take responsibility for our gifted youths.
Wammy’s House closed down in 2003, after a lengthy legal battle between social services and Interpol over the actual necessity for an L successor, at risk of harming the wellbeing of the children who resided at the orphanage. After the courts ruled that the House’s practices were technically abusive, all fourteen boys and girls were quickly relocated into foster care homes across the country. It was believed at the time that many of these prodigies had been so isolated from one another within the House that there was no real concern in separating them from one another – for the most part, many were young enough to forget their aliases and grow up into well-adjusted members of society as anticipated, the pressure of successorship a burden they were no longer required to withstand.
Many, but certainly not all.
As one of the oldest, Mihael struggled to hear himself being referred to by his real name, spoken by strangers in suits who would smile widely and slowly explain to him that he would be placed in a home with many new friends waiting to meet him. Even at the time, he had little expectation that moving from one house full of orphans to another would provide any respite, other than the fact that he lost his sense of purpose almost immediately. His whole identity revolved around the need to fight for his position as L's successor, and at a time in which the detective had yet to choose between himself and Near, having his singular ambition torn away from him by people who simply didn’t understand the culture at the House broke him. He dropped out of the local state school at sixteen soon after completing his exams. Despite his results being ridiculously good, a promising future in academia often projected by his teachers, he had no interest in pursuing further education. What was the point? There was no goal anymore, his life’s purpose was completely unfulfilled.
It was only a matter of months before he had found himself caught up in gangs, selling drugs and adopting the habit of carrying a blade whenever he stalked the streets at night. During those years Mihael – or Mello, as chose to reclaim – took solace in the few quiet moments he was afforded to write in a scrappy notebook that he had managed to hold on to from Wammy’s. It was nothing special, a throwaway birthday present from a friend who he still thought about too often, but upon being caught by police for the fourth time, it was taken away from him. Without it, he had nothing left from that time in his life, and despite everything he had gone through as a child, such a thought that he could lose that part of himself sent him into a panic.
“Your writing is brilliant.” His court appointed lawyer had told him as he flicked through the pages in front of the eighteen year old, “You’re wasting yourself with all this shit, you know? Practically begging for Kira to catch up with you, is that really what you want?” He sighed, passing the notebook back to Mello who snatched it eagerly, “Listen. I’ll get you in touch with a friend I know on the condition that you stay out of trouble, got it? I know you’ve been through a fair amount of crap in your life, but it really isn't an excuse to have become involved with the people you consider acquaintances now.”
Apprehensive at first, Mello did not understand what motivation someone might have to offer such an incentive. Perhaps the publicity surrounding the Wammy’s House scandal had given those in positions of authority an unfounded obligation of charitability to extend towards these traumatised orphans. Mello was smart enough to know he ought to take an opportunity when it presented itself, as undeserved as it might be.
Within a matter of a year, he had his work published to unprecedented success.
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“Name?” Two hours had passed already and Mihael had given up with the facade of smiling at every person who emerged in front of him, ready to gush about his book, or ask questions that he had either answered several hundred times in interviews and panels. Sometimes, they were too invasive about his “terrible past”. Was he abused, beaten up, sexually assaulted? Did they torture children who failed exams? Did he meet L, and was he as evil as the tabloids made him out to be? His face ached as he scribbled ‘M’ over and over again, until the letter resembled little more to him than a wonky line of no distinct meaning or connection to himself. He kept his head lowered as another fresh copy of his book slid across the table towards him. He opened the front cover, and his pen hovered above the title page.
“Matt.”
No way. Matt was such a common name that when Mihael looked up, he expected a stranger to be staring back at him with a dopey smile and a remark about how the book really affected him. Instead, a lanky red haired teenager wearing a replica of the striped shirt he was so fond of as a child grinned, a slight colour tinting his cheeks.
“Found you, Mello.”
“Fuck, Matt… Wait, give me a moment.” Mihael scrambled up from his chair, alerting his manager who quickly appeared by his side, “I need a break – ten minutes?”
“Mihael, you still have a couple of hundred people waiting.”
“I can see that, Andrew, I need ten minutes and I will be back, okay?” In another world, he would have enjoyed the ability to order people around in such a manner, but such opportunities were rare to him in this line of work. Regardless, Andrew sighed and began telling those who had congregated to please wait for author Mihael Keehl to take a quick break. Yes, he will be more than excited to continue signing books once he has returned which, as a reminder, must be purchased from the tills over there.
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“You’re becoming quite the celebrity, aren’t you, Mihael?” Matt teased gently as he lit up a cigarette. They had managed to find a small space just behind the back of the bookstore, where Mihael silently inspected every slight change his childhood best friend had undergone in the past five years. He was taller, of course, and the manner in which he spoke was significantly more relaxed, deeper than it had been the last time they spoke. Yet he still retained the familiarity of a boy who Mihael still said a prayer for every once in a while. “I’m surprised. I expected that you would lay low. No judgement – the book is really good.”
“You read it?”
“Of course I did. I was going to buy it anyway because I wanted that fucking sexy author’s photo they published on the sleeve, but yeah, I actually read it as well. Was it inspired by the House then?”
Mihael folded his arms across his chest and averted his gaze towards his feet. There was something surreal about meeting Matt again like this. He was happy to see him, no question about it, but there was a weight in his chest he couldn’t quite shift. With Matt came memories unfolding and spilling out that he had subconsciously repressed, feelings of inadequacy and anxiety, but so too surfaced the reminders of comfort that Matt had provided in those moments.
“I suppose so.”
A silence descended between the two as Matt took a long drag, smoke unfurling from between his lips. Was this a new habit of his, or had he picked it up soon after the two were separated? Mihael had experimented with all sorts of things to try and block the feeling of perpetual emptiness in those first few months after the move, only progressing onto the harder stuff as he grew older, more weary of the world around him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Matt developing the same bad habits. Mihael looked up.
“What do you do now, anyway?”
“Nothing exciting – IT consultancy. A few big companies like the idea of having a Wammy’s kid on their rota, but none of it is exactly complex stuff. I get my kicks from doing other shit.” Mihael was not about to interrogate Matt about what he meant by that, but he could imagine the redhead getting bored easily with something so goddamn corporate. It felt like it went against everything the two had grown up anticipating for themselves.
As if reading his mind, Matt continued, “I miss the House, in a weird way. I think while I was reading your book, I realised that, as fucked up as it was, there was a structure to it, you know? We were there for a reason.”
Mihael nodded, “Yeah, we were.”
“I missed you.”
“Same, Matt.”
It felt so natural to be back in one another’s arms again, clinging on as the world compressed to nothing but the heat and smell of each other. Mihael wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever, to make up for the lost years by exploring Matt, examining the man he had developed into so that he could adapt himself to his body once again. He kissed Matt’s neck and felt his hand rub his back in response. I’m here now.
“Mihael! We need you back now!”
“I’ll see you later, Mello, okay?” Matt gently eased himself out of the other’s grip, smiling at him, “You still need to sign my book after all. I paid a good fifteen quid for the hardback copy.”
Mihael smiled – hearing himself being called Mello felt right, even if he could never truly go back to being that boy again. He brushed his fingers through Matt’s hair, away from his goggles, and slipped through the side door back into the bookstore. He could manage a few more hours of this, he told himself.
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Matt had been moved to a small foster home in Northern Ireland, and had only settled down in London within the past year. His flat was rather large, to Mihael’s surprise, but when Matt disclosed how much money he earned from his legitimate endeavours alone, Mihael understood how he could afford living somewhere a little more spacious. It was probably just as well given how much shit he had managed to hoard.
“Make yourself at home.” Matt began busying himself with cleaning away loose wires and crisp packets hurriedly, taking Mihael back in time to their shared room at the House. He was not overly tidy himself, but kept his possessions relatively organised compared to Matt, whose clothes and consoles always had a habit of encroaching on his space anyway. At the time, he would moan about it, tossing Matt’s striped shirts back at him when he would stroll into the room. Now he was in the midst of the mess once again, Mihael suddenly did feel at home in a sense that he had not experienced for quite some time. He threw himself down on the sofa, a loud crinkling sound alerting him that the space was already occupied.
“Since when do you read newspapers?” He asked jokingly, pulling the page from beneath him. He glanced over it, and smiled, “Don’t tell me you’re fucking clipping my reviews, idiot.”
“Give me that.” Matt seized it away from him, “Well I have to frame it now that it's got Keehl’s arseprint on it, don’t I? How much would that go for on eBay?”
Mihael laughed and Matt sat down beside him, his hand tentatively resting on the other’s thigh. A small intimacy Mihael leant into. He had developed a strong disdain towards people touching him, tensing up as prospective foster parents would try to embrace him, knowing he would only be rejected yet again, or forcing himself to shake hands with men in suits who saw his writing as nothing more than a nice bonus to their massive bank balances. It was the punches, the slaps, that were Mihael’s only real opportunity to be touched in a manner he considered more genuine, from those who threatened him over drug deals and gang loyalty. Matt reminded him that people could want to place their hands on him gently, to make him feel good.
“I knew I’d find you again, eventually,” Matt said, “I was worried you wouldn't want anything to do with me, I don’t know. You were always destined for some kind of greatness, and I admired that about you.”
Mihael shook his head, “Don’t be ridiculous, Matt. You were on my mind every day, I wouldn’t have got to where I am now without you.” He tilted his face, angled just shy of Matt’s lips, “You have always been home to me.”
They kissed with the softness that lovesick teenagers engage in with one another for the first time. Mihael gently pushed Matt back sprawled atop of him while their hands ran across each other’s chests. As if there was still an inherent fear that they would be torn apart again, they traced each other to commit their features to memory. In another life, maybe their anxieties of separation would be valid, the early deaths of Wammy’s boys forever a haunting persistence in the back of their minds. Now, however, there was an experimental promise of stability. A life together that could be pursued. Whatever the headlines had made them out to be, abused prodigies whose collective trauma of their childhood would define them, they had the chance to defy it. They were a testament to their own survival.
“Call me Mello, again.”
“Mello?”
“Yeah.”
Matt hummed behind a wide smile. He cupped the blonde’s face between his hands, admiring those gorgeous blue eyes that now appeared alight with genuine promise of something better. A life worth living. They owed it to themselves to make the most of the future that presented itself to them, trusting in their ability to navigate it together. They had managed to get this far already.
Being a child of a Navy man means leaving those you care about behind. But not always forever…
I absolutely loooove this one. I hope you do too.
Kittery, Maine
Naval Housing
Late October, 1973
The leaves crunched under her feet as she ran to the wooded area just past the last row of houses. She turned around and checked to see if anyone was watching her before she slipped past the big tree and kept running, her breath coming out in white puffs.
Stopping in front of the small, rather warped shed that her father had moved back into the woods for her to use as a fort, she turned the handle with cold fingers. Her mother would tut when she saw that she had once again forgotten her gloves.
“It’s fall now, Dana,” her mother had said many times recently. “You need to wear your gloves. And your hat.”
Whoops. She had forgotten the hat as well.
But it would be fine once she was inside the shed, as it was slightly warmer than outside.
She opened the door and let out a deep breath before stepping inside and taking off her backpack. Moving the two folding chairs and collapsible tv tray to the center of the space, she opened her backpack and took out the food and items she had brought with her.
Two chocolate Ding Dongs, a canteen full of water, and a bag of tortilla chips were placed on the now open tray. She had wanted to bring the Doritos as she was partial to them, but she knew her mother would notice if they and the Ding Dongs went missing.
The chairs opened and arranged, she sat down to wait, her mouth watering at the thought of biting into the chocolate treat in the foil wrapper.
A whistle sounded, the one she had taught him, and she looked out the open door to see him walking toward her. She grinned even as she felt her heart speed up, something it had been doing lately when she saw him, though she did not understand why.
“Hello there, Dana Scully,” he said with his lopsided smile, his hands in his jacket pockets.
“Hello to you, Fox Mulder,” she replied, suddenly feeling very nervous.
“Oh, Ding Dongs… those are my favorite,” he said as he stepped inside.
She knew they were. Of course she did.
“I was going to grab different chips, but…”
“You mean these?” he asked, pulling Doritos from his backpack and handing them to her. She grinned and nodded as he sat down, taking out his own canteen. “I know you like those.”
“I do.”
“Yeah.” He smiled at her as he picked up a Ding Dong, unwrapped it and handed it to her.
“Thanks,” she said, taking it from him and feeling her stomach jump when his fingers brushed hers.
“So what’s the plan for today?” he asked, unwrapping his own treat and taking a bite.
As they ate, she showed him the drawings she had made, discussing what she wanted to do, her nerves falling away as she spoke.
“Wow. It looks really good.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re the smartest person I know, the way you figure out all of those plans,” he said and she stared at him in disbelief, as she always did when he said stuff like that to her. “Even better than some of the boys in my class. And your brother for sure.” He smiled and she felt her cheeks getting warm.
“He doesn’t listen to me,” she said quietly.
“Because he’s dumb. Not smart like you. Come on, let’s get to work.”
They left the little shed and walked further into the woods where they had been building a treehouse over the summer. The other kids living on the base had been around to help when they were all out of school, but had since lost interest.
Some of the older boys, like Fox, who at eleven was two years older than her, had left because they had not wanted to listen to her ideas. They teased her and called her drawings and plans girlie and dumb.
“What’s girlie about it?” she had demanded, tears pricking at her eyes though she would not let them fall.
“Oh no, she’s getting mad,” Paul, one of the oldest boys had said while the others laughed. “Watch out for the tiny thing.”
“You shut up,” Dana had yelled and they had laughed even more.
“Let’s go. Who wants to be listening to a little girl anyway. We’ll make our own treehouse. Much better than this baby one.”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
And they had left, laughing and mocking her as they did.
All of them except for Fox, who had walked over and wordlessly picked up the paper Paul had crumbled and tossed on the ground. Fox had smoothed it out against his pant leg and handed it back to Dana.
“Where should we start?” he had asked and she had turned around to wipe her eyes so he would not see her tears.
As the weather began to change, they were the only two who continued to venture out into the woods, gathering fallen branches and bringing items they found at home to add to the treehouse.
Truth be told, the shed was better, but the treehouse required work and figuring things out like a puzzle. Dana loved puzzles and building things with her hands, something most other girls, including her older sister, did not want to do.
Fox, an only child, spent a lot of time on his own, exploring the woods or reading. Occasionally he joined the older boys, playing whatever sport was popular at the moment. It being fall, football was taking over and he was a good addition when they needed an extra body.
Paul had teased him when they first started playing, telling him he was spending too much time with Dana and calling her a baby. They had a fight, Paul gaining a black eye from it and Fox a busted lip, but after that, Paul never said anything to Fox about her.
Dana had been furious at first, telling Fox that fighting was stupid.
“What if he had knocked out your teeth? Or busted your head instead of your lip?”
“He wouldn’t. He’s bigger, but I’m faster. He’s lucky it was just his eye that I hit.”
“But, Fox-”
“He shouldn’t say things like that,” he had interrupted, staring at her with a serious expression. “Not about anyone, but especially about you. You’re a hundred times smarter than him and he knows it. He won’t bother you or talk about you anymore. I promise.”
And in that moment, when she had not been expecting it, not truly understanding what was happening, she had fallen in love for the first time.
“You know,” Fox said, as they climbed up the ladder they had made from pieces of scrap wood nailed to the tree. “I think we could maybe somehow connect this treehouse to the other tree there.” He pointed as Dana stood on the landing and followed his finger. “Do you think we could?”
“Mmm… maybe. If we…” She stepped closer and looked at the tree with its wide branches and thick trunk. “We could make a… like a bridge? I think it might be difficult, but I could draw something up tonight. What do you think?”
“I think it would be great. Make Paul eat his words.” He bumped his shoulder into her and she grinned.
“Yeah. It would.”
“Come on. It’ll be dark soon.”
When the light began to fade and her fingers had long since remembered how it felt to be warm, Fox had dropped the hammer back into the small toolbox.
“Well, it’s the most we can do for today.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, blowing on her hands to warm them.
They climbed down and walked back to the shed. They put away the chairs and tray, put on their backpacks, and walked out the door, closing it securely.
He walked her to her house and then waved as he walked away, whistling the whistle she had taught him once again. She watched him until he turned the corner and he was out of sight.
At her desk in the bedroom she shared with her sister, Melissa, she drew up plans to connect the trees and make a large treehouse. She was happy with how it turned out. Her eyes scanned the paper to look for any mistakes before she placed it into a protective folder to show Fox the next day.
_________________
She waited for him, Twinkies sitting on the table this time, but for the first time ever, he did not show up. When it got too dark to see, she used her flashlight to guide her way back home, her heart aching and tears clogging her throat.
Melissa was over at a friend's house and Dana was thankful she had the room to herself so she could cry without being seen.
After her cry, as she lay in the dark, she heard something hit her window. Looking over, she saw when it happened again. Getting up, she opened the window and looked down to find Fox standing on the lawn.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there today,” he said, dropping the small rocks in his hands onto the ground.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, not wanting him to know how much it had hurt her.
“It does. Can you come down? I need to talk to you.”
“You already said sorry.”
“Please, Dana,” he said softly and she nodded before she closed the window and left the bedroom.
She left out the back door and walked around the side of the yard, meeting him on the front lawn.
“I am sorry I wasn’t there today. I wanted to be, but there was a good reason.”
“What reason?”
“My dad got new orders,” he said, staring at her with sad eyes. “We’re leaving.”
“What?”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “My parents have known for a couple of days, but they just told me this afternoon.”
“You’re leaving? Where are you going?” she asked, tears clogging her throat again.
“Overseas. Japan.”
“Japan…” Dana breathed. “That’s so far away.”
“I know.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Two days.”
“Two days?” she asked, unable to hold back the tears that fell down her cheeks.
“They need my dad quickly. I don’t understand it all, but we leave in two days.”
“I… I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, wiping her face.
“I don’t want to go either.”
“But you have to,” she said, knowing how life worked in the Navy- you went where you were told without question.
“I have to,” he replied, nodding his head.
The front door opened and Dana’s mother stood on the threshold, surprised to find them both standing there.
“Fox? Is everything okay? Your parents are alright?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a tight smile. “I… I didn’t meet up with Dana earlier and I came over to apologize.”
“Oh, well that was kind of you.”
“I have to get back home now,” he said, nodding at her mother and then looking at Dana. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” she whispered, nodding her head.
He turned around and walked in the direction of his house, never looking back at them.
“He’s such a nice boy,” her mother said and Dana began to cry, her hands covering her face. “Dana? What is it, honey?”
Dana ran to her mother and threw her arms around her waist, crying into the long sweater she wore that smelled of cinnamon.
___________
“We won’t finish the treehouse,” Dana said the next day as they stood staring at it.
“We could try to get as much done as we can,” he suggested and she shook her head.
“I don’t really feel like it,” she said softly.
“Me either. And I have to be home soon anyway,” he admitted. “I have to pack up my stuff. My mom said she could, but I want to be the one to do it.”
“I would too,” Dana whispered, thinking about someone else packing her most prized possessions and how much it would bother her.
“I hate that we won’t be able to try to connect those trees. I’m sure whatever you came up with would have done it.”
She looked at him and he stepped closer to her, hugging her for the first time ever. It stunned her for a second and then she was hugging him back, closing her eyes as she tried to memorize how it felt to have him so close.
He stepped back and let her go, smiling sadly as he let out a deep breath.
“See you tomorrow, Dana Scully.”
“Yeah. Tomorrow, Fox Mulder,” she said, forcing herself to not cry.
He inhaled and nodded before he walked away, the special whistle the last thing she heard.
____________
Dana’s whole family, along with a few other neighbors, stood on the street saying goodbye to the Mulder family the next afternoon. The women gave them food they had baked while the men offered advice that was already known by everyone. The kids in the neighborhood said goodbye, giving Fox small trinkets he could carry with him in his bag. He nodded his thanks, his eyes often finding Dana’s in the small crowd.
“Alright,” Bill Mulder said, shaking Dana’s father’s hand for the last time. “We have to get going. Time to shove off.” Everyone laughed out a groan and stepped away from the car calling out for safe travels.
Fox walked up to Dana and smiled, his hands in his pockets.
“I’ll write to you,” he said. “Once we get there, I’ll send you a letter.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Here,” he said softly. “I want you to have this.” From his pocket, he took out a smooth, flat, black stone. “I found this one day out in the woods and I really liked it. I was going to put it in the treehouse, but now… you’ll have to do it… when it’s finished.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking it from him and nodding as she looked at it. “It’s beautiful.”
“Fox! Come on!” his father shouted and Fox sighed.
“I have to go. Goodbye.”
“Wait! I have something for you too.” She took a folded piece of paper from her own pocket and handed it to him. “It’s a drawing of the treehouse.” He opened it quickly and she watched him as he looked at it.
“You finished it,” he said with a smile. “It’s perfect.”
“No. But it’s good.”
“It’s perfect,” he said again, smiling with a nod.
“Fox,” his mother said. “We have to get to the airport.”
“Okay, Mom.” He stepped forward and hugged Dana for the last time. “Goodbye, Dana Scully.”
“Goodbye, Fox Mulder,” she whispered.
He stepped back and hurried to the car, getting in and closing the door. He waved to her and she waved back, holding her tears in until their car had left the neighborhood and he could no longer see her.
___________
She never did finish the treehouse. Her heart was no longer in it.
And six months later, when her family was relocated to the state of Washington, she broke off one of the ladder rungs to take as a keepsake. Adding it to her ‘Fox Mulder’ box, which consisted of the rock he had given her when he left and the three letters he had sent her from Japan, she walked out of the house and did not look back.
___________
June 1977
San Diego, California
Dana locked the bathroom door and took the Polaroid picture out from where she had hidden it under her shirt, her heart thumping almost painfully in her chest. There had been a few pictures and she took the one that she felt would not be missed.
Seeing him so unexpectedly, as she and some other girls in the neighborhood had come to meet the new family, had made her freeze in place. Her ears rang and the conversation had suddenly sounded far away.
Fox Mulder, four years older than the last time she had seen him, was smiling at the camera with the same lopsided grin. His hair was longer and his face leaner, looking more like a man. But she could still see the boy she once knew.
“Did you take these pictures?” she had asked Susan, the older of the two sisters they had just met.
“Umm,” Susan had said, looking at what Dana was showing her. “Yeah! Well, no. I didn’t take them, but I was there. Isn’t he dreamy? You’ll never guess what his name is!”
“What?” Dana had said, not letting on just yet that she knew him.
“Fox! Isn’t that a hoot?” Susan had said, laughing with the other girls. “He was so sweet. He wasn’t really attached to any of the girls, but he danced and talked to all of us. One of the girls at the party had my camera and took those pictures. He was a good sport, but I don’t think he really wanted his picture taken.”
”When was this?” Dana had asked, looking through all the pictures again.
“About six months ago, at a Christmas party at the base we just left.”
Six months ago, Dana thought, touching his face in the picture. And two years since I’ve heard from him.
But… he still had the ability to make her stomach flip and her heart race. Even more so now as she could recognize the feelings for what they were and what they had always been.
She loved him. He had been the first boy she ever loved and the one by which she measured all others.
And how she missed him.
Putting the picture back under her shirt, she splashed some water on her face and left the bathroom to ask Susan if she knew how to get in touch with Fox once again.
_____________
June 1981
Annapolis, Maryland
Dear Dana,
I still can’t believe I heard from you after all this time. I’m so sorry we lost touch. You have no idea how sorry.
It’s going to sound crazy, but the day your letter arrived, I had been thinking about that old treehouse and wondering if any children played in it or had added to it. I’m sure if they have, it won’t look anything like your vision. Only you could create something like it.
“Dana! Come on! You’re going to be late!”
“Yeah! I’m coming!” Dana called back, putting the letter she knew by heart after all these years back into the ‘Fox Mulder’ box with a smile.
She checked her hair one last time, grabbed her cap and gown hanging on the back of her door and her shoes from the floor, before she ran down the stairs.
“It’s your graduation and you’re the last one out the door,” her father said, tapping his watch with his eyebrows raised.
“Looking good takes time, Daddy,” she said, smiling impishly as she hung the gown up on the small hook and went around to get in on the other side of the car. “We have plenty of time.”
“Hmm,” he hummed and shook his head, checking his watch again as he too got in the car.
______________
October 1982
Cornell University
Dana was reading as she walked to her dorm, checking to see if the answer she had put down in a test was correct. She stopped walking as she scanned the pages, holding her breath until she let it out as relief washed over her.
“Not that I doubted myself,” she said quietly, closing the book. “And now you’re talking to yourself. Stop it or people will think you’re crazy.” She struggled to get the book back into her bag and when she finally did, she turned and ran directly into someone.
“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” she said, stepping back with an embarrassed chuckle. “I need to watch where I’m go-”
She stopped speaking as her eyes widened and she took another step back.
“Hello there, Dana Scully,” came the familiar words that were now spoken in a much deeper tone.
“Hello to you too… Fox Mulder,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief as he grinned the lopsided smile she loved so much, his hands in his pockets. “What? How are you here? How did you know where to find me? What are you doing here?”
“I called my mom, who then hunted up the number and called your mom, who then called me back and could not stop gushing over her incredibly brilliant daughter who was currently at Cornell University studying to become an engineer. Well… when I told her I wasn’t at all surprised to hear that, she laughed and said no, she supposed I wasn’t.” He grinned at her and she shook her head again.
“So you’re… you’re just here? Here?” she asked, her brain not quite understanding what her eyes were clearly seeing.
“Yeah. I’m here.”
They stared at one another, taking in the new faces they saw, while also seeing the friend they had once known so long ago. She smiled slowly and then threw her arms around his neck, crying and laughing at the same time.
“I have missed you so much,” she whispered.
“I’ve missed you too,” he said and she laughed as he squeezed her tightly, lifting her off her feet and spinning them in the crisp autumn air.
“Please don’t leave again anytime soon,” she said and he laughed as he set her down.
“I have absolutely no intention of doing any such thing.”
“Good,” she said, staring at him and still feeling as if it was all a dream.
“How about we get a cup of coffee? I think we have some catching up to do.”
“Yeah, we do,” she agreed and he grinned.
Gesturing for her to lead the way, she began to walk and he fell into step beside her. His hand brushed hers and her stomach flipped as a flush crept over her body. When his fingers intertwined with hers, she exhaled a deep breath, closing her eyes for a brief second, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Do you think the place we’re going to will have Ding Dongs?” he asked and her eyes flew open as she laughed.
“Not likely, but I know a place close by that sells them.”
“Good,” he said, squeezing her hand as they continued on the path.
No, she thought with a smile and almost imperceptible shake of her head. It’s more than good. So much more than good.
_________
November 1990
Boston, Massachusetts
It was late, but she was nearly finished with her project. She had drawn and redrawn it so many times, the lines were beginning to blur.
Stepping back, she looked at it and nodded, feeling that sense of completion she did every time she got it just right.
Leaving the papers laid out so she could check them over one more time in the morning, she laid the rock Fox had given her so long ago directly in the middle. Pressing two fingers to her lips, she kissed them and then touched the rock before reaching to turn off the light above her large drafting desk.
Before she did, her eyes landed on the drawing of the treehouse she had made and given to Fox to take with him when he left for Japan. He had saved it, always keeping it pressed in one of his favorite books so it did not get lost. He had carefully traced over her pencil lines with a black pen when it had begun to fade, wanting to preserve it.
He had surprised her with it the first night in their first apartment.
“That’s been all around the world,” he had said, touching the black frame as they both looked at it and her eyes filled with tears. “And now it’s finally back home.”
It had sat on a shelf until it was the first picture they hung in their new home.
The second was their wedding picture and some days she was not sure which one she loved more.
Leaving the office, she intended to head to bed, seeking Fox’s warm body to snuggle into, but a light coming from the backyard porch stopped her.
She walked through the kitchen and smiled when she saw Fox wrapping multicolored Christmas lights around the railings. Grabbing her jacket, she put it on as she opened the door and stepped outside.
“What are you doing out here, you crazy man?” she whispered, mindful of the late hour.
“Adding ambience to our little corner of the world,” he replied, smiling at her before returning to his task.
“And you couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
“No. No time like the present,” he stated, reaching for the last strand and beginning to wind it around the handrail.
She watched him as she shook her head, too many emotions suddenly nearing the surface.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“Yeah?” he replied just as softly.
“I love you.”
He looked up and smiled, abandoning the lights and walking over to her. She tilted her head back to look at him and his eyes dropped to her lips.
Pushing onto her tiptoes as he lowered his head, their lips met in the middle, her hands pressed gently to his cold cheeks. He pulled her closer and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Still the smartest person I know,” he whispered against her lips and she exhaled a chuckle.
“And?” she prompted teasingly, pulling back to look at him.
“And,” he said, smiling the smile that would forever make her feel weak in the knees. “I love you too.”
