#xffic

[syntax6]

Hi, I love your XF fics so much! I often reread them when I feel the need to escape into that world. I recently came across a reference somewhere to a fic you wrote called Scavenger, which I was completely unaware of! I saw a comment that said you were willing to send out copies to those who request it, but it was from a long while ago. Does that offer still stand?

Yes, I am happy to send out Scavenger!

Hit me up at jbhns AT yahoo DOT com

[greekowl87]

Holiday Flash Fic: UFO Under Wraps

A/N Seriously, my brain is mush. I wrote about the historical eyewitness accounts of the lost colony of Ronoake Island involving trauma theory from a new historicist perspective for ten hours. I didn't even finish my damn paper today. I want something fun. I got rum and ginger ale in hand. No beta. Fluff. A piece I betaed for @mulders-boyish-enthousiasm inspired this partially. Thanks again!

Sorry if it is crap.

Pure 30-minute word vomit from today's @thexmasfileschallenge    December 9 'Wrapping Paper.' At least I hope the prompt is wrapping paper. Tagging @today-in-fic

Screw her perfectionism. Seriously, Scully wondered if she was still a type A personality or a type B personality since she had begun working with Mulder a little over a year ago. True, she had grown laxer in her expectations but her drive and need to find answers had not wavered. Which is why she sat crossed-legged in front of her coffee table debating how to wrap this Christmas present for her first official FBI partner.

She knew he hated Christmas. The constant dismissals about family obligations and being the lone martyr were implication enough but still. She wanted to do something. Scully's favorite part of Christmas had always been about the gifts. She liked getting gifts, but she loved giving gifts even more. Which is why she had put so much time and effort into this gift for Mulder. A replica 1:32 scale model of the UFO that supposedly crashed at Rosewell, New Mexico back in 1947. In her limited spare time, she attempted to assemble the plastic model with an Exacto knife and liquid cement, even pulling out her artistic side and trying to spray paint a decorative gray metallic shine with Missy's help. It came out decent. But the problem remained: how the hell was she going to wrap it? All her pathology skills of slicing, dicing, and sewing could not save her from the horrid job of wrapping this monstrous model.

Scully suddenly heard her hard lock bolt turning and her partner calling out, "Scully? It's me. I brought Chinese. I was hoping we could talk about your whole theory of will-o-wisps."

This new intimacy with him having a key to her apartment was new after what happened with Duane Berry but she really wasn't surprised he would stroll in without warning after his notorious habit of calling her at all hours of the night.

Scully did not have time to hide the model as he tumbled in with the bag of Chinese food and smiling as he saw her with the UFO model in front of her. "Scully," he teased, "I didn't know you believed."

"It's a Christmas present for my nephew. Apparently, tales of your exploits travel. Help me wrap?"

He could never refuse her. He placed their Chinese food around the model UFO like an invading force as he became the attentive lab assistant listening to Dr. Scully's precise directions of wrapping their project together and wielding the scissors and Exacto knife with ease. Mulder took a bit of the egg roll and smiled at his young partner. "Good team building exercise if I do say so myself."

"Hmph." She snorted. "Well, you better unwrap it now."

"Why?" he blanched. "After all that work."

"Merry Christmas," she sniggered. "I built it myself."

Carefully, he peeled away his careful wrapping paperwork and admired the model. "You...you did this? You built this?"

"A little rough around the edges but yeah. The first model I have ever done. Do you like it?"

Mulder smiled and nodded. "I can't wait to put it in our office?"

"It's our office now?"

"Of course," he said matter-of-factly.

"Can I have my own desk?" she challenged.

"We could always share," he teased. "The UFO model could show it's both of ours."

[scullys-right-eyebrow-txf]

The Only Choice - Chapter 31

Set during the events of ‘DeadAlive.’ For the sake of my story, Mulder was buried near DC rather than Raleigh. 

Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!!! 

Previous chapters can be found on AO3.

Chapter 31 – A Time To Die

 Dana Scully sat lifeless on her bed, surrounded by a pool of black clothing. She wore only her underwear and a too tight bra with an open robe hanging limply from her slight frame. Her hair was still mostly wet, but beginning to dry in frizzy waves. Showering had been her biggest accomplishment of the past 48 hours, but she was now sure that she could absolutely not face the rest of the day. This is how her mother found her, defeated.

“Dana,” Maggie gently admonished from the doorway, “you should be getting ready.”

 “None of my black skirts fit anymore,” Scully replied wearily, her voice hoarse from all of the sobbing as of late.

 “What about a dress?” she asked, looking through the closet.

 Scully shook her head. “Dresses make it too obvious that I’m, um, pregnant.” She couldn’t deal with that, not today.  

 “It’s okay,” Maggie assured her. “You go blow dry your hair and I’ll fix the skirt problem.”

 Sighing, Scully let her mother pull her to her feet and lead her to the bathroom. With little care, she dried her hair and applied her makeup before returning to her bedroom where her mother had laid out a black skirt and blouse. A large safety pin had been secured through the button hole of the skirt.

 “It’s a trick I used many times,” Maggie said, holding the skirt out to her daughter. “Keep your blouse pulled over the waist band and no one will be the wiser.”

 Maggie went to the window as Scully dressed in her all black ensemble. “It snowed again last night. It will be a cold day, but it will be beautiful.”

 Scully doubted that, she couldn’t imagine that anything would be beautiful again.

 ***********************************************

 Their first stop was the funeral home. Scully would have one last viewing of the body before the casket was closed for transport to the cemetery. Maggie held her daughter’s hand tightly as they made their way into a small parlor which contained only the coffin and several flower arrangements.

 Scully wondered briefly who had sent the flowers. Were they sent by those who actually cared about Mulder or were they sent out of a sense of obligation? So few people actually understood him. She dreaded seeing all of their colleagues from the FBI at the service. She didn’t want their sympathies or phony sense of grief.

 But her anger soon evaporated as the coffin was opened and she saw him. She felt an overwhelming need to crawl in and let them close her up alongside him. As she took in his scarred face, the thought once again ran through her mind that she didn’t want to be here without him.  

 Scully broke free from her mother’s grip as she approached the casket. “Can I be alone?” she asked quietly, never taking her eyes from Mulder’s face.

 “No,” Maggie answered softly but resolute. “I’m going to be here if you need me.” Tears ran down her own face as she took in the appearance of the man her daughter loved. The man that she considered part of their family.

 Scully ran her fingers through his hair, down his cheek, and brushed his lips. The body was his, but it wasn’t him. Everything that made Mulder Mulder was gone. His laugh, his grin, the mischievous glint in his eyes, it was all missing. After months of searching and praying, he was finally, truly gone.

 And she was alone.

 Before long, the funeral director returned. It was time to close the casket.

 “No,” Scully cried in a panicked voice. Once it was closed, she would never see him again and that was a thought that she couldn’t bear. How could she make it through the rest of her life without him by her side?  “No, Mulder,” she cried, her head on his chest where it had rested so many times before. But this time there was no comforting sound of his heartbeat; this time there was only the sound of her own grief.

 After several attempts, Maggie finally pried her daughter from Mulder’s body. “Shh, it’s okay,” she whispered as she pulled her close. The sob that tore from Scully’s body when the coffin closed tore through her own heart. She had never seen her little girl in such pain.

 Scully felt her legs begin to give out, and a chair was quickly placed behind her. She collapsed as her anguish overtook her and she couldn’t catch her breath through the gasping sobs.

 Her mother held her for many minutes, rocking her as she did when she was a child. “Dana, we need to leave soon. We don’t want to be late for the service,” Maggie finally said as she wiped the tears from her daughter’s face with a tissue.

 Scully only shook her head, “I can’t,” she gasped. “I can’t be around all of those people. I can’t hold it together.”

 “You can,” Maggie assured her, “because you have to. They will be looking to you today. They will be looking to you to assure them that everything will be okay. That you will be okay. It’s not fair, but you have to be strong. Hold it together today, and you can fall apart tomorrow.”

 Scully nodded through her tears, taking a tissue to try to make herself somewhat presentable again.

 “Can you do that, sweetheart?”

 “Yes,” she said, her voice sounding stronger than she felt. She could do it. She could hide the fact that she was dying inside. She could bury her emotions, she was always good at that. Except around him. Somehow, after years of trying, he finally edged his way past her defenses. But for today, she could be that woman again.

[greekowl87]

Fic: Gardening

Disclaimer: Usual drill, I own nothing, merely borrowing.

A/N: Written for @leiascully  ‘Cultivatation’ fic challenge. Pre IWTB.  

The idea was to cultivate a life for them. To make something more permanent. She was tired of running after four years. She was tired of the different names, endless motel and hotel rooms, changing her hair (she missed her red hair), she detested the handful of times her hair dying attempts backfired, she missed what she used to do and who she used to be. He would not openly admit it, but he was tired of it too. He noticed her unhappiness and that only made his depression and his own unhappiness even worse. And then the fighting. Oh, God, the fighting. The fighting was only getting worse too.

They never used to fight like that. They would banter when they had the X-Files together. But ultimately, it would lead to an ending they arrived at, together. But now, they could not even work together much less stay in the same room without an argument erupting. They still had sex, but it had become primal and devoid of feeling and emotion. They say angry sex was the best, but both of them found it impersonal and more like a burden than anything else.

He wanted her back. He wanted them back. He wanted to cultivate and nurture the little they had left with each and try to bring whatever they were back.

It was supposed to be a surprise. He suggested an unremarkable farm house in the country of Virginia as a rental for a few months, where in reality, using cash to buy it and putting it in their name, covertly of course. The last thing he needed was the FBI to come howling in and throwing him in jail.

He remembered her look of surprise when he mentioned staying in a place for a few months and instead of a few weeks. He shrugged and suggested it would be a nice change of pace for them. She just gave a Mona Lisa smiled and said nothing.

She was smiling even more when she saw the house for the first time. He remembered standing in the doorway nervously as she inspected each room in her meticulous Scully-esque way. She came back, smiling. Tears in her eyes. Why was she crying, he wondered helplessly. What did he do wrong?

She smiled at him as if reading his thoughts. "Nothing," she had said, "this is perfect, Mulder. This is perfect. Everything is perfect."

He smiled. "Well," he replied, shifting uneasily from foot to foot (he remembered how nervous he felt). He wanted to tell her outright but he wanted to keep surprising her, making her smile. "It's ours."

She had looked at him funny, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow in contemplation. "Ours?"

"Ours."

"As in we are staying here for more than a few months?"

"As in we own this home. This is our home, Scully."

He dangled the keys in front of him and gently sought her hand. He remembered the coolness of the palm of her hand as he pressed the house keys and enfolded her hand and the keys in both of his hands. "Ours," he repeated.

"Ours," she repeated smiling, tears in her eyes.

It was their home. Their life. Their future to cultivate. She found a job in the local hospital and underwent a new medical residency. Even though he could not go out in public as easily as himself, he felt freer than he had in a long time. They could walk their extensive property without fear of being caught. He did not have to hide in the open. He worked during the days she was gone, making small home improvements here and there. He painted the living room, added a fancy faucet to their bathroom tub, fixed the leak in the kitchen ceiling, unjammed the second-floor window that never closed all the way, and they found time to make the beginnings of a small garden.

She came home early from the hospital one day to find him shirtless in the humid spring sun out back, digging away on his hands and knees. To his left sat various seeds and various small garden flowers. She shook her head as he continued to work. He had become so engrossed his project, he failed to hear her drive up. She was able to change in old jeans and a gray t-shirt and step out back to find his latest home improvement project.

"Gardening," she called out questioningly.

He looked up and sat back on his heels. He was smiling. "Your shirtless garden boy at your service, Ms. Scully."

She laughed. A real laugh that he had not heard in ages. She caressed his bare shoulders fondly, lingering on the scar of the bullet wound on his left shoulder before kneeling down next to him. She nodded wordlessly to the seeds and flowers next to him.

"We aren't going anywhere," he shrugged, "why not put down some roots and cultivate a little something-something."

She thought back to when they took the physical step in their relationship and briefly of William. But it was now. She was happy, as happy as she could be given the situation. She still had Mulder. She would always have Mulder. She smiled and wrapped her arm around his sticky shoulders and kissed his neck softly.

"What are we planting? Sunflowers?"

"Of course," he laughed. "I'm going to be a sunflower seed farmer." He focused at the fresh dirt and Earth. He pointed as Scully followed his finger. "There, we're planting cucumbers, over there tomatoes. Maybe potatoes in the fall. Are potatoes in the fall?"

"I have no idea, Mulder."

"Well, I can find out. And we can plant pumpkins and carve them on Halloween. Also, we can plant different vegetables seasonally. I love how you love strawberries and we can plant some for next spring. But I also have other flowers," he replied pointing to the small flowers and bulbs. "Tulips, pansies, iris, and I know you love yellow roses."

She could not find the words. He looked at her nervously, taken back by her silence. She hugged him more and felt a tear in her eye. Quietly, she kissed his cheek and nuzzled his temple. "It's perfect. All of it is perfect."

He smiled and sought her lips again. "Just remember that when I start making dinner for us when you get home at night."

She chuckled softly and nudged him gently. "Got an extra pair of gardening gloves? Just don't get angry if I don't have a green thumb." She slid on an old pair of gloves and looked fondly at Mulder. "I'm happy, Mulder. I really am."

"I know," he smiled, unspoken love being felt between them. "Let's get started on those sunflowers, hm?"

[greekowl87]

Fic: Long Strech of Love Pt 1 & 2

A/N: I posted this on AO3 last year but never finished it. But I finally found the courage to finish this with the latest @xfficchallenges of ‘Fics You Would Never Write’ which should be posted around in the next few days. That involves some smut. I don’t write smut. I never could and probably never will except this once. Writers like @sunflowerseedsandscience @mldrgrl @leiascully @kateyes224 @baronessblixen  @alittlemissfit I pale in comparison to. I think my writing sucks. But hey, I figured, I should post the other parts for context sake. I promise to wrap this up soon. 

A/N Last part is here!

This was my originally attempt at writing season 7 fic, with ‘All Things.’ And I’ve edited it some with this repost.

Title: Long Stretch of Love

Summary: I was listening to Lady Antebellum's “Long Stretch of Love” while driving home from work one night ] and I thought of the opening scene when Scully was leaving Mulder's apartment at the beginning of “All Things.” My take on the infamous scene and my first attempt at writing fic for season seven. And I guess my first attempt at writing smut. Maybe. We'll see.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it. Chris Carter and company does.

She heard the rain as soon as she woke and then her brain hit her full force. What had she done? She sat  straight up in bed, somehow not waking Mulder who grunted slightly before flopping on his stomach. She watched him grunt again, pooling the sheets across his chest and waist, his leg sticking out at an odd angle. He grunted again, his arm seeking the warmth where her body had previously lay. His fingers grazed across her bare thigh and she held her breath, waiting for him to settle back to sleep. He grunted and relaxed when he sensed her presence. Carefully she removed his hand before gently placing her feet on the carpeted floor and getting up.

Her eyes roamed the floor, looking for something to cover herself, before spying an old bath towel which she wrapped around herself, before heading to the bathroom, picking up the loose articles of clothing that littered the floor.

She glanced over her shoulder at his sleeping form before entering the bathroom and shutting the door firmly behind her.

How did she get here? How did she let herself get here?

Scully's mind was racing at the impossibly high amount of things that could go wrong. Her hand automatically reached for the shower knob, ready to take a shower, but paused, wondering if it would wake Mulder, which is the last thing she wanted. She withdrew her hand, and pinched the bridge of her nose, wondering what she should do.

As she let her thoughts, her hands automatically fixed her hair and dressed herself. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, leaning forward, trying to discern any new wrinkles, her mind aimlessly wandering. She was different. She was different than before. They both were. What had changed?

She straightened her green sweater and paused in the doorframe of his bathroom, turning off the light quickly, not risking waking him still. She placed both of her hands on the door frame, rocking herself back and forth, trying to will the anxiety she felt away. Scully had not done this since she was a child, since she was in medical school awaiting the results of a major test, or the anxiety that inevitably came with her affair with Daniel. But Mulder was different. Last night proved he was different. So why was this moment causing her so much anxiety?

Scully focused on Mulder's face. He frowned slightly in his sleep, his right hand stretching outwards and then curling back into a fist when he sensed her absence. Scully held her breath. He flexed his hand repeatedly, moving slightly over the spot to where she had been sleeping. He groaned in his sleep, frowning, and buried his face into his pillow.

This was nothing new either.

Since she found him with his brain sliced open in the bowels of the Department of Defense, they had undoubtedly grown close. Finding herself in bed with him was not an uncommon occurrence, except, she would usually be gone before the morning sun, and she would talk nothing about it at the office, and Mulder respected that, especially when he tried the first time and Scully shut him out. So now, it just sort of happened, just like an extension of their years of unspoken communication.

Just like it happened last night, but more came of it. Much more.

Scully watched Mulder, trying to will the new uneasiness she felt to the pits of her stomach before she quickly made her way across the room to pick up her jacket and sneaked quietly out the living room to get her boots. She cast a lingering glance at the worn, leather couch and the haphazardly tossed wool blanket on the floor.

“What if there was only one choice and all the other ones were wrong? And there were signs along the way to pay attention to.”

“Mmm. And all the... choices would then lead to this very moment. One wrong turn, and... we wouldn't be sitting here together. Well, that says a lot. That says a lot, a lot, a lot. That's probably more than we should be getting into at this late hour.”

She remembered falling asleep against his shoulder, and he had dozed off as well. Then she woke up, momentarily not recalling where she was to find she had woken Mulder up as well. Then one thing led to another...

The way he touched her always set her ablaze. His kisses—she closed her eyes recalling the moment—they felt different, everything felt different. His hands roamed like they normally would, but he touched her more reverently and lovingly. She remembered her tongue exploring her, tasting her like it was the first time. For the first real time. Everything had been so painfully slow...

She caught her breath, not allowing herself to be caught up in any more memories. Her mind was moving a thousand times an hour as she hurriedly pulled on her boots and made her way to the door. She looked at her watch as she pulled the brown apartment door behind her slightly, double checking to make sure it was locked as she made her way to the elevator at the end of the hall. She looked over her shoulder, uneasiness welling up inside of her. She had made the walk of shame home countless times. Why did now feel so different? It hurt her. With each step, she took away from that apartment, from him, felt like she was growing lost in a sea of confusion, and he was the only one that could center everything.

She closed her eyes, hitting the down arrow button repeatedly, growing impatient at how unusually slow the old elevator seemed. She looked at her watch. 4:51 A.M. The 21st. Saturday. She would not have to go to the office. She would not have to deal with him. Or this or these feelings, whatever it was. She could just go home back to Georgetown, lock her apartment door, hide away for the weekend, and not have to face anything until she went back to the office on Monday morning. Finally, the elevator doors opened, she rushed in, and she hit the button repeatedly to close the doors.

….

It was still raining when Mulder came to consciousness. He ran his hand down the length of the right side of the bed, surprised to find Scully gone. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glanced about his room, finding no evidence of her anywhere. “Shit,” he groaned, falling back into bed and placing his arm over his eyes.

Mulder really thought he had something this time. That the secret nights in one of their beds without speaking a word of it the next morning had come to an end. Scully's moment of epiphany about her life was enough of a catalyst to propel them forward. He loved her. Dear God did he love her so much it hurt. He had loved her for years and would do anything for her. Granted their relationship had it's ups and downs; she shot him in the shoulder, but to be fair, he was deranged out of his mind. But she was always there for him, and in her moments of weakness, likewise. Wasn't that what love was? Or at least a part of it?

He sighed and reached for his cell phone that rested on his nightstand. He dialed his voicemail. Nothing. Grunting, he glanced at his red alarm clock. 7:34. A.M. Saturday. If she had not called now, she wouldn't be any time soon. And adding the fact it was Saturday, he would not see her until the office Monday, it weighed him down all the more.

Groaning, he threw his feet over the side of the bed, reaching for some discarded basketball shorts. He ventured out into his living room, unsurprised to see her not there, and again with no clue that she had even been there. Mulder sat down on his leather couch, picking up the wool blanket off the floor, pausing briefly to smell it (it still smelt of her), and then gazed at the small Buddha statue that sat under his fish tank. Everything happened for a reason, he sighed with determination, and he was going to make sure of it.

With renewed determination, he headed to the shower, grabbing his jeans and a light sweater. He had a goal and that goal resided in Georgetown.

.......

Part II: The Stretch

Disclaimer: everything still applies. I own nothing, Chris Carter and Co own the characters and the universe, I am just borrowing. The same applies to the opening quote, which belongs to the band Lady Antebellum and Capital Records Nashville.

“Oh, baby I don't ever wanna break this chain I don't ever wanna walk away Oh, long stretch of love.” - Lady Antebellum “Long Stretch of Love”

Scully toweled her hair as she emerged from her shower and pulled on a fluffy robe before going to the window and frowned. It was still raining. She did not remember the weather forecasts calling for rain all weekend but she supposed it suited her mood. Combing her wet hair back, she ventured into the kitchen where she turned the tv on in the living room the Saturday morning news and went to her cabinets to draw down her tea kettle.

Tea. Mulder. Fuck.

She leaned against the counter, wondering how the smallest things were creating memories of him. They left the hospital together and went back to his apartment. She made tea for him with his newly acquired kettle which she had bought for him the night before. But that would not stop her from enjoying her tea. She filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, and pulled down a box of green tea beside it. She relaxed slightly, rolling her neck, as she ventured back out to the living room and pulled her knees to her chest. She picked up her tv remote and turned up the volume on the news as the weather report finally came on.

“Good morning, metro area,” the meteorologist greeted, “as you can see this weekend is the perfect one to take it easy and stay indoors. With last night's surprise showers, expect them to continue onward all week into early Monday morning. If you are planning to go anywhere, make sure you bring that umbrella. Expect temperatures to stay in the mid to upper 40s while this front lingering. So much sure you stay warm too.”

Well, Scully thought, at the universe was encouraging her to hide away in her apartment this weekend. Her thoughts were interrupted with the kettle whistling and she got up and trudged back into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of tea. As she fixed herself a cup, she let her mind drift again.

She really disliked the fact she was doing all this thinking and introspection. But ever since that moment in the Buddhist in the temple, all the thoughts and the emotions she had managed to pin away for the past seven years had suddenly come out like a breaking dam, and she hated it. She raised and lowered the tea bag in her mug, frowning even more as she thought how everything was finally coming to a head.

Last night was different from every thing else. Last night had been...

Then there was a quick rapping on her door and she froze, her heart sinking, knowing who damn well who it was. And there was no point in trying to hide the fact she was not hearing him. Scully had been lucky and parked her car close to her apartment's entrance, but he would have seen it. And heard her tv that was on. She rushed to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her slightly, calling, “It's open!”

She had not unlocked it. And if it was really him, he would use his key. He always did lately, whether she was home or not. Ever since those secret nights started, with the exception of the office and professionalism, he threw complete disregard to her personal boundaries. It started early in their relationship with his random phone calls at three a.m. in the morning about whatever topic had gotten him excited during his insomniac nights. And now, this...

“Scully?” he called, poking his head in the door. Mulder saw her tv was on and smelled tea brewing. He knew she was home. He entered in cautiously and shut the door behind him. He took off his leather jacket and set his umbrella by the door. “Scully?”

She inwardly cursed herself and leaned against the door. “Um,” she cleared her throat, raising her voice, “just give me a moment, Mulder. I just got out of the shower.”

Mulder closed his eyes and bit his fist at the mere notion Scully was standing naked behind that door. The previous night was fresh on his mind and he wanted to do nothing more than show Dana Scully how much he loved and worshiped her. But no. He had to stay on task. He came here for a reason. Shit. This was going to be hard.

“Do you want me to make you breakfast or something?” he called, venturing into her kitchen. He could smell the green tea. “I can make some mean toast.”

Scully inwardly groaned again, rushing about her bedroom to change into a dirty pair of jeans and an extra large, worn sweatshirt. In her haste, she completely forgot to put on a bar. She was already opening the bedroom door and going back into the kitchen before she realized it. Fuck, she thought, fuck, fuck, fuck. But despite her inward panic, she forced a smile. “Would you like some tea?” she offered.

“Oh, no,” he awkwardly smiled back. “I'm all teaed out.”

“Is that even a word?”

He shrugged and went back to looking through her cabinets. “You left in such a hurry this morning,” he ventured casually.

Of course. Cut right to the chase.

“I had to...” she searched for a convincing lie. “I had to make sure my circuit breakers had not tripped.”

“Circuit breakers, Scully?” he asked, now moving toward the fridge. God, that was a pathetic excuse and he knew it.

“Yeah,” she said, crossing her arms, “they've been doing patience and my landlords have been asking all of the residents to check them. Daily. Twice. Daily.”

“Uh huh,” he said, looking over his shoulder. She looked so flustered. And well, beautiful. “Why don't you go and sit down. I'll make you breakfast.”

“You can't cook,” she deadpanned.

“I can cook one or two things. Eggs is one of them.” She grumbled something under her breath and began to go back to her living room. “Don't forget your tea!”

She stopped mid stride and grabbed her tea before retreating back into the living room. Well, he thought, smiling slightly and rummaging for the eggs and whatever else look appealing, including the bacon buried in the very back of the fridge, this was certainly off to a good start. He could tell she was uncomfortable and this was going exactly how it he wanted it to.

Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuckery.

Scully's mind was racing. He had never done this before. He had never come over after one of their nights together and made breakfast for her. Ever. Not that she would let him. He probably would if she did. Apparently, he did not care this morning, no matter how uncomfortable it made her. She brought her knees to her chest, unused to whatever this new thing was. It scared her.  She rested her chin on the top of her knees and focused on the tv, doing her best to tune him out.

In the kitchen, he at least had enough culinary skill to whip up scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon. He gazed at her in the living room. Her wet red hair a shade darker than usual was slicked back. She shifted uncomfortably as if sensing he was watching her and drew the hood up to hide her face. “Hey, what do you say to mimosas for breakfast?” he called.

“I don't have champagne,” she replied quickly.

“Screwdrivers?” he suggested, eyeing a bottle of vodka on top of the fridge. He remembered seeing orange juice in there too. “Come on. It's the weekend, Scully. We're not going anywhere.”

“Quit trying to get me drunk at 9 a.m, Mulder,” she groaned, pulling back her hood. Screwdrivers? Really? What was he trying to imply? She turned to face him from the couch and gasped slightly in surprise to see him balancing two plates and two glasses of orange juice skillfully out into the living room. “You didn't set my apartment on fire.”

“Well, like I said, I can cook a little,” he replied, setting the plates and juice down with ease. “I did spend one summer as a waiter on the Vineyard though so I am better at serving than cooking. I hope you're hungry and no, it's just regular orange juice.”

Scully was speechless. She could not remember any man she had dated do this for her. Mulder always surprised her when she least suspected it with the little things. Like breakfast. After she left him. Again. She felt that uncertainty well up in her again, the same she felt from last night, the same she felt before she left from that morning. “Thank you,” she managed.

She picked the warm plate up from the coffee table and set it in her lap. She pushed the eggs tentatively with her fork before taking a small bite. He smiled when her blue eyes rose to meet his hazel eyes. “See, you didn't die,” he teased.

She smiled, a real smile, and he saw her relax a fraction. She ate in silence with him, making a few happy noises as she ate the rest of her breakfast. He could not help but watch her and smiled. He had always wanted to do this with her ever so those nights started, something as simple as making her breakfast. He did not know why she would run from him. At first, he thought it was merely them relieving seven years of sexual tension the first time it happened. Then it happened again. And again. And again. The more it happened, the more he questioned the ulterior reason why for it. Last night had been the breakthrough he had been waiting for and like hell he was going to throw this chance away.

“Thank you,” she finally replied. “Let me clean up. It's the least I can do.” To get away from this situation. This entire thing. “After all, you're the guest.”

“Scully,” he began, holding a hand mockingly over his heart. “You wound me.”

“I'm fine, Mulder,” she called from the kitchen.

He threw his head back in despair. Jesus, she was good. And annoying. She was avoiding the subject entirely. And pushing all his buttons just right. “Scully, breakfast was not the only reason why I came over here,” he called, getting up.

“I'm busy today,” she replied quickly. “My...mother is coming over...”

“To check your circuit breakers at five a.m. that your landlord is enforcing?” he finished, leaning against the counter.

Oh, God, she screamed inwardly. She physically tensed. She could smell his aftershave...last night... “I can't right now, Mulder,” she murmured, focusing her blue eyes on the dishes in her hands.

“What changed from last night,” he asked softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Last night we were babbling on about fate and destiny and now you're running from me, from us.”

She closed her eyes reverently as his fingers grazed her temple. She took a deep breath to steady herself. She leaned  forward, bracing herself against the sink. “Nothing's...changed....” she managed.

“Scully.”

“Mulder, I can't talk about this right now,” she whispered.

“When can we talk about it then,” he asked pointedly. He pinched his brow tiredly.  “I am getting tired of this, Scully. How long has this been going on between us?”

“This,” she emphasized, “is what I can't talk about right now. It's too soon.”

“When will it be soon enough,” he asked. “You know--” he paused. “You know how I feel. I'll keep waiting forever if I have to but don't do this to me anymore, Scully.”

She looked up, her blue eyes were watery, as tears threatened to spill. Mulder sighed, realizing this was an inward battle between herself. It had nothing to do with him. He cupped her face and kissed her forehead lovingly, pouring all his love for her into that single kiss. “I'm sorry,” she hiccupped. “I just need some more time.”

“Tonight,” he said softly, lowering his eyes. “I'll be by tonight with dinner. We are going to have this conversation whether you like it or not and we need to decide where we go from here. I'll wait forever for you, Scully, but I don't know how much longer I can endure.”

“Mulder,” she sighed, wiping her eyes.

“Tonight, Scully,” he replied, grabbing his jacket and umbrella. “I'm not taking no for an answer.”

She watched him leave and felt the tears trickle down her cheeks. Yesterday had been so perfect. Last night had been heaven on Earth. This morning limbo. Today, purgatory. She wiped her remaining tears and went back to the couch, drawing the blanket back up around her knees. She turned the tv up and laid down on the couch. She closed her eyes, her mind, heart and will in an ever constant battle, slowly awaiting for Mulder's return as the rain continued outside.

[greekowl87]

Fic: Flowers

Disclaimer: The usual, I own nothing, merely borrowing. Obviously, I don’t own the dialogue of ‘Memento Mori’

A/N: I think there was a challenge awhile back by @leiascully or @xfficchallenges about ‘May’.And I attempted it. While not a 100 percent sure I have the right challenge, I wrote something. This is it. Transcript help here.

Flowers. It began with flowers. Something about April showers brings May flowers. New life and rebirth after the dead of winter.

He remembered getting her call. He didn't remember what he had been doing though. He just remembered getting her call.

Mulder, it's me. I need to talk to you. It can't wait. Can you get here in the next hour? No. I'm not dying. I just... Mulder, please just get here quickly. You're the only one I've called about this.

He closed his eyes as he sat in his car and pulled the keys out the ignition.

No. I'm not dying.

Those words ringed in his ears.

Just like that. I'm fine, Mulder.

Mulder's hunches were never wrong. Almost never. But he had a hunch that something was wrong. Very wrong. He looked at the poor excuse of flowers he bought at a 24-hour pharmacy. Why did he bring her flowers? Flowers was something you brought for happy occasions like a celebration. Or a funeral. He closed his eyes tightly. Scully wasn't dying. The thought without her in his life terrified him. He did not want to even fathom it.

Four years ago she had marched into his life, on orders, to debunk his life's work. He thought she was a spy. But she was so much more.

Did he love her?

He opened his eyes and closed them again, pinching the bridge of his nose. Not now, he groaned inwardly. Scully needed him. He remembered her message.

You're the only one I've called--

He sighed and grabbed the poor excuse of a bouquet of flowers. He locked the car and squared his shoulders. He could do this. He had to do this. Finding his way through the hospital was not hard. He had been in a thousand before. All he had to do was flash is his badge and say Scully's name. But it probably looked weird carrying the flowers.

Oncology.

He hesitated at the door. Cancer. Cancer. His mind raced. Scully had cancer. He thought of the stereotypical cancer patient, frail, weak, and hairless. No. His Scully was stronger than that. Stronger than him. He took a deep breath. Pushing the double doors open he followed the room numbers to where Scully was. The flowers were clutched tightly in his hand and decided at the last minute to put it behind his back but hesitated at the last moment.

"Scully? I uh, stole these from some guy with a broken leg down the hall. He uh, won't be able to catch me." He paused, looking beyond her at the x-rays illuminated against the wall. "How ya doing?"

"I guess that's the question. Actually, I feel fine."

Fine. That damn word. That damn adverb.

"What uh, what exactly are we looking at here?"

He resisted the temptation to touch the x-ray and then her face as if confirming the inevitable truth.

"It's what's called nasopharengeal mass. It's a small growth between the superior conchea and the sinoidal sinus."

Medical terms. He inwardly cringed. She was on the defensive.

"A growth?"

"A tumor. You're the only one I've called."

Tumor. He was the only one she called. He resisted touching her again against the cheek bone, almost wishing the tumor away. He cast a brief glance at the flowers; May flowers bring life...April rain. She had to live through this. There had to be a way.

"Is it operable?"

"No."

"But it's treatable."

"The truth is that the type and placement of the tumor make it difficult, to the extreme."

He felt his hope crumbling.

"I refuse to believe that, I.."

"For all times I have said that to you I am as certain of this as you have ever been. I have cancer. It is a mass on the wall between my sinus and cerebrum. If it pushes into my brain statistically there is about zero chance of survival."

Zero chance.

"I don't accept that. Th..there must be some people who have received treatment for this, we..can...."

"Yes, there are."

He didn't remember the last few moments after that until they exited the room. She clutched the flowers in her left hand. They walked in sync with each other, honed after four years of practice. Scully paused briefly as if trying to disguise something wrong, but she grasped his free hand and held tightly with her right hand. The event did not go unnoticed. She looked at her heels, then the flowers, and then Mulder himself.

"I'm glad you're here, Mulder. Thank you."

Mulder squeezed her hand before pulling her into a tight embrace. "I'm always here for you, Scully," he breathed.

She relaxed briefly against him, accepting the hug. Mulder's eyes flickered to the flowers in her hands.

April rains bring May flowers. He only hoped his flowers kept her alive for one more day.

[greekowl87]

Pt 3: Long Stretch of Love

Part III: Evening

Summary: Conclusion to Long Stretch of Love. Check out Lady Antebellum’s “Long Strech of Love” that inspired this. Parts I and II here. P.S. Smut ahead. So I guess NSFW. Or my attempt.

Disclaimer: I own none of it, merely borrowing.

Author’s Note: I can’t believed I finished this. It took @leiascully and @xfficchallenges of ‘Fics You Would Never Write’ to finish this. I don’t write smut. I never have. Until now. First attempt. 

Scully put her vacuum cleaner away in her hall closet and surveyed her apartment. In order to keep her mind  at bay and chase away her insecurities, she began to clean, and it wasn't just simple tidying. It was an all out top to bottom exercise all the baggage out cleaning. Her apartment was spotless. She smiled, satisfied with the day's efforts. Then her land line was ringing.

Thinking it was anyone but Mulder, she answered, “Hello?”

“Scully, it's me. Just making sure you haven't fled the country,” he said.

“As tempting as it sounds,” she sighed, “no, I haven't gone anywhere.” She relaxed at the sound of his voice.

“Good.” She could hear his smile. “Good. I'll be by in an hour. I just wanted to give you a heads up so I won't catch you...unguarded.”

“So, you're giving me a chance to prepare my defenses?” she teased. “Before the siege?”

“Before the siege? Really, Scully? I was thinking along the lines of showering,” he replied. He paused. “Even though it isn't like I haven't  seen anything before. But I will bring my battering ram and siege towers just in case.”

He hung up and Scully leaned against the nearest counter as she set the phone down. She felt that familiar anxiety welling in her chest again and also the strange ache for what they could be as well. She would not let herself admit to it but this past year had filled her with so much hope; the past night even made her ache even worse.

She was afraid.

It was easier to admit it to herself than aloud. At least by admitting it to herself, she was not embarrassing herself too much, just stating the truth.

She thought back to her past relationships; Daniel, Jack, Ethan and then fleetingly to the Jerse and even Padgett (even thought the past two tried to kill her). None of them paled in comparison to Mulder. There was always something about him. What she could he offer that they could not? The past seven years. The past seven years were indescribable through the good, bad, and the ugly. But she had him, and that she would never change.

She thought back to how this began, the extension of their physical relationship. Scully never thought much of the small things in the beginning like touching her on the small of her back or the barely audible conversations that caused them both to lean inwards towards one another. But then, after they took the next step with their physical relationship, those small physical gestures took on a whole new world of meaning. Touching the small of her back at first was annoying, then comforting, and then evolved to something she grew used to like a cup of morning coffee or something like that. It had become an integral part of her every day.

Why did she want to run away all the time?

Her phone was ringing again. She groaned inwardly and answered it, clipped. “Hello?”

“Scully, it's me.”

“Mulder,” she greeted softly, inwardly relaxing, realizing who it was. “Didn't you just call?”

Mulder shifted on the other end, detecting the change in her voice. He relaxed his shoulder slightly as if Scully had rested her head against his shoulder personally. “What is it?” he replied softly.

She felt herself shiver at his tone. She physically relaxed at his tone. Dear God, what had come over her? Why, after seven years and a few months of random encounters, had everything changed? As scared as she was, her own inward self-preservation was trying to win out against these new found feelings of hers. That is why she fled in the early morning hours. But now...

“Scully?” His voice was soft. How did he know? “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she managed. God, her voice sounded so small.

“Scully? Do you want me there?” he asked slowly.

Yes, oh, God, yes. But instead, she found a little self-control. “I'm okay,” she said.

“Well, that's better than I'm fine,” he replied. She could hear his slight disappointment. “But answer my question. Do you want me there?”

“Mulder, I still expect you to be here tonight. I am not running from you tonight,” she added quickly. “I just can't...I need some control.” Before I lose myself in you, she mentally added. “I am just...”

“I know, Scully,” he replied softly. “I know.”

“Mulder,” she began, unable to finish.

“I know, Scully,” he whispered as if he could read her mind still. “I'll be there tonight, I promise. Don't worry. I'm not going to let you go that easily. I've waited several years for this moment.”

I've always belonged to you, she thought nervously, just like you have always belonged to me.

“So have I,” she confirmed.

“Good. I'm glad. Scully, I'm not running away. Neither are you. I'll see you tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” She was about to hang up. “And Mulder?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Mulder was taken aback, uncertain of why she had said thank you. Thank you for what? Last night? The past seven years? Her infertility? Everything bad that had happened to her life? He felt his stomach tighten.

“Thank you,” she said again, her voice full of emotion.

It took a moment for him to process it. What did he hear? Respect. Adoration. Passion. Love. Love at its most basic form. Scully was not going to run from him. Not this time. “Scully.”

“Hmm.”

“I love you.”

Three simple words. Scully closed her eyes. Padgett's words came back to her about Victorians lack of words for emotion so they had invented words like pang and ache to describe the overpowering emotions, especially when it came to love. “It's a long stretch of love, Mulder,” she commented softly.

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He really thought he had her. Then he was caught off guard.

“But I love you too, Mulder.”

She had never said those words before to him. The last time he had said that to her, in the hospital in Bermuda, she dismissed him with an annoyed 'Oh, brother.' But hearing those words, in her voice, for real. He felt his heart stop. He could only think of one thing. “Can you repeat that?”

She smiled. A goodness to sake honest smile that she rarely gave. “I love you too, Mulder.”

“I could hear that smile, Scully.”

“Come here tonight. Bring food. I expect you to stay the night too,” she replied.

There it was. The gauntlet had been dropped.

“Scully...” She could hear how her surname was drawn out lovingly, he rolled the 'lls' of her last name. He was smiling. He was genuinely happy. She could hear it. Feel it. “I love you.”

There it was. His own gauntlet. Of course, he had to out do her. But for once in her life, she wasn't afraid. In that particular moment, she knew what was right. Not an 'Oh, brother,' or 'Jesus, Mulder.' But she knew the right answer. “I love you, too.”

Yes. She challenged him. She made him better. She was not going to be one to be one running away afraid. He made her better too. She could sense his smile, his happiness, through some unknown connection.

“I'll see you tonight, yes?”

All of you, she added mentally.

“I'm not running mentally,” she said. Did she really say that out loud??? “I'm not running,” she corrected quickly.

“I'll see you tonight, Scully.”

The call ended. She rubbed her face uncharacteristically. But she was smiling. It was an honest to good smile that she rarely showed. In recent years, only Mulder could elicit such a response.

She was looking forward to tonight so much.

….

Was wine too much, Mulder wondered, as he tucked the bottle under his arm. It screamed date night. This was not meant to be a date night. He knew that much. He did not want to scare Scully away any more than he had already with earlier that morning. Last night had been the past seven years coming to a head, just a validation, and acknowledgment of what they already knew and felt. But he also knew that neither of them was particularly good with expressing their own feelings when it came to actual conversation.

But unspoken communication. That was a different matter.

Last night...

He smiled in memory as he walked to her apartment door. The previous night had been nothing short of being amazing. While it had not been the first time they had joined together, it had been the first time that it had actually meant something. He remembered her soft lips, her supple skin...

Before he knew it, his own fist was raising to knock on the door on his own accord.

The knock was short and quick. And then Scully was there in moments. Mulder smiled. She looked softer, more relaxed in the apartment's low light. She wore a soft gray sweater and jeans. He wore his leather jacket, a dark t-shirt, and jeans.

“I thought you were gonna be late,” she spoke softly.

“I never said I was,” he replied. Out of pure instinct, he bent forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “I brought wine.”

Without further adieu, he pressed forward into his apartment. Scully stood aside and unconsciously brought her hand to her cheek to where Mulder had pressed that chaste kiss. It felt like it was burning. She took a deep breath and allowed herself to smile. Where he had kissed her felt like a center of warmth spreading through her and flooding her entire body. She smiled. “I wasn't expecting you for at least another hour,” she said.

He turned and smiled. She felt all a tingle. God, what has come over her? She continued to smile. “What?” Mulder asked.

“Nothing. I am just glad you are here, Mulder. That's all.”

He set the bottle of wine on her kitchen table and took off his leather jacket. Scully was still at the apartment door, almost frozen. He smiled goofily and took a few steps forward. He gently squeezed her bicep. “Earth to Scully. Still with me?”

“Yes. Yeah. Yes. Still here.”

He continued to smile and his thumb gently caressed her cheek. She felt herself stiffen but relax within the moment. The early morning left her doubting herself. The mid-morning left her questioning. But now, tonight. Tonight. She was certain. It would be so easy...

Mulder grinned and kissed her cheek softly, almost hesitating to kiss her elsewhere. She almost pouted when he did not. “What?”

“You can kiss me elsewhere,” she blurted out, the filter between her mind and mouth completely failing her.

He grinned and nuzzled her neck. “Nah, I think I will save that for later. For dessert perhaps.”

Scully felt herself warm all over as he let herself into her apartment and squeezed past her. She shut the door behind her as he slipped off his leather jacket and set the bottle of wine on her kitchen table. He paused by the oven and opened it. “Shepherd's Pie, Scully?”

“My mother's recipe. I figure some comfort food in order with how cold it's been with the weather lately,” she answered absently. She watched him and he knew that she knew that he knew she was watching him. He smiled easily at her. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't you mean 'I'm fine', Scully? What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?” he teased gently. His smile disarmed her and made her feel like Dana the love struck teenager again. “Scully?”

“More like a fox,” she said vaguely, returning his smile.

Mulder had very rarely seen this side of Scully and he loved it. She was younger and more flirtaous.  He bit his bottom lip and smiled even wider. He crossed the expanse of the apartment, trying hard to keep his urges in check. He wanted more than anything than sweep her off her feet and just ravish her in that bedroom to show her how much of a goddess she really was. It would be so easy but he never did things simply, not when it came to Dana Scully.

There was an awkward silence that followed, either one unsure of what to do. She smiled and looked at wine. “Would you prefer beer, Mulder?” she asked. “I think it would go better with the shepherd's pie.”

“You don't like the wine, do you?”

“It's not that,” she said coyly. “It's just, it's really you. Really you. Not some Eddie Van Blunthe. I was drinking wine that night, remember?”

“Oh, so you want the real Fox Mulder?”

“Hm.”

He walked slowly towards her and she smiled teasingly, backing slowly towards the counter. He trapped her between the counter with both of his arms. Mulder liked this Scully, playful and carefree, he rarely saw her. She smiled indulgently and ducked her head under his arms, using her short stature to her advantage when he tried to come in for a kiss. Mulder would have second guessed her intentions if it wasn't for her soft laughter that carried through the apartment. “Dinner is getting cold and I didn't cook for you for nothing!”

. . . .

After dinner, Mulder ushered her into her living room, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. Scully watched him, her mind drifting. She wanted tonight to be different, the previous evening permanently burned into her memory. But she almost remembered that one time she had been conned by Eddie Van Blunthe. She wanted tonight to be different.

“Mulder,” she said softly.

“Hm, Scully?” he looked up from pouring a glass of wine.

“Forget the wine.”

She got up on her knees and put the wine glass and bottle of wine on the table. “What's going on, Scully?” he asked, slightly confused.

“Last night was right.”

“Right?”

“How long...how long have you felt like that about me, Mulder?” she asked softly.

He eased himself across from her on the couch. “How long have I felt...” he repeated. “Jesus...ages, Scully. I didn't realize it until after your abduction but I first got my crush right after the Jersey Devil incident. You would have rather come for me than have some date with some average guy. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly run of the mill."

"No," she whispered, her eyes narrowing in thought. "You're far from it."

Mulder shifted uneasily from the couch. "What's changed in you, Scully?"

"For once," she shrugged, looking up, "everything just seems right."

Right, Mulder mused. He looked at the discarded wine and glasses. "There really is no point to those are there?"

"No."

"What do you want, Scully?"

"I want a future that includes us," she said softly. "I don't want to be alone anymore, Mulder, and I think, neither do you."

Mulder was quiet and gently cupped her cheek like he had the night before. His fingers dragged down her jaw and he sought her lips hungrily. Scully kept her reactions silent, forbidding herself to lose control so quickly. But she couldn't help it. A small moan escaped her lips and she felt her body press against his chest. His arms wove tightly around her. She felt everything set aflame.

"Mulder..." she breathed. She arched her neck and back as he greedily kissed the length of her neck and pulled the neck of her sweater away and bit lightly into her shoulder. "Oh, Jesus..."

The electricity was earth shaking. Mulder thought last night had been amazing but this moment seemed to pale in comparison, and nothing had even happened yet. He continued his assault, using his tongue to smooth the space where he had bit her before sneaking another line of kisses back to her mouth. She moaned slightly, her cries silenced by the invasion his tongue. She continued to arch her body against him, grinding herself slowly against him. Each press of her body against his, she felt a growing pressure beneath her. She smiled against his mouth.

"Hello," she gasped. She pulled back and grinned. "Happy to see me, Mulder?"

"Happy to know you are still here," he answered sincerely. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. "I am happy for this moment."

Scully sighed contently. "Let's go somewhere more private, Mulder." She nodded towards her bedroom. "I'm not running this time."

He nodded. Last night had been amazing, make no mistake. It had been everything he had imagined for the past seven years and more. So much more. But now...

"I'd hope not," he whispered, caressing her cheek. "Scully. Look at me."

"Hm," she said. Her mind was elsewhere. She kept replaying the previous night in her mind and how everything simply had just come to a head. It had been magical. And rushed. The past seven years, they had found a trust in each that had gotten them so far. And now...

Mulder cupped her face within his hands, his thumb continually caressing her temple. “I love you.”

She smiled, kissing the inside of his wrist and whispered in reply. “I love you, too.”

He smiled and lowered his gaze. It seemed so easy. Too easy. That after several years of hardships, near death experiences, an abduction, and endless government conspiracies.... “A long stretch of love,” Mulder whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

“As much as I love you being romantic,” she began, slowly kissing his lips down his jaw and then biting his neck lightly. She felt him tense against her and a small moan escaped his lips. “You do have a tendency to ramble, Mulder. And right now, I want your actions to speak louder than words.”

“Is that a challenge, Agent Scully?”

“It is, Agent Mulder. Are you up to it?”

He grinned and pulled her hand hurried into her bedroom. Scully's blood was on fire. She bit her bottom lip, grinning, in anticipation. “So, Agent Scully,” Mulder began, his voice dropped in volume, but he used the same tone when he was excited about a new case. “Where should I began this investigation?”

“What investigation?” she smiled, narrowing her eyes.

He took her hands, slowly walking her backward to the bed until she crawled up on the bed. He approached her like a predator. She licked her lips as her eyes narrowed. “Well,” he began, his hand slowly sneaking up underneath her shirt. “You left in such hurry last night and we weren't exactly slow, I did not have a chance to conduct a thorough investigation.”

She eased herself across the bed, her breath caught every few seconds as Mulder's hand continued his explorations beneath her shirt. Gently he pulled her shirt off and took a moment to gaze at her. “What?” she asked, suddenly becoming self-conscious. “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” he grinned. “No, everything is perfect.”

She gave a throaty chuckle as Mulder began to kiss down her shoulder to her breast bone. She fidgeted underneath him and tried to sit up. He grunted in reply and wordless snaked his arms around her back, undoing the clasp of her bra with practiced ease. He licked his lips hungrily. “I missed these, Scully,” he teased. “And as a good investigator, I must review all evidence.”

“Well, make sure you didn't miss anything,” she whispered, her blue eyes watching him intently.

He continued to lick his lips thoughtfully, as if unsure of what to do next. And she felt herself go wet with desire. That mouth. That tongue. For years, she watched him shuck those infinite number of sunflower seeds with such skill. She wondered what else he was capable of. She had just gotten a taste of it the night before. It had been so fleeting. But now...he held nothing back. He kissed her breastbone again, slowly and tantalizingly, and Scully writhed under him. He settled his leg between her knees and gently grasped both of her hands above her hand with his left hand while his right hand expanded over her right breast and his mouth began to work on her left breast.

She squeezed his hand, sighing. She closed her eyes and could feel him tracing her breast with his tongue, kissing here, biting light there, even occasionally suckling. His right hand did not make her other breast feel unloved as it traced it lightly, occasionally molding and massaging it. He switched and she felt him press into her, again feeling the hot bulge between them.

“Mulder,” she called breathlessly.

“Hm,” he asked looking up. His hazel eyes were bright. “I must say, I am trying to be thorough, Scully.”

“No,” she sighed.

It was becoming too much for her. She could already feel her body tensing and building towards an orgasm. She shook her head and opened her eyes. “What is it?”

“I need you,” she managed between short breaths.

He grinned devilishly. “I'm not quite done yet, Scully. There is more evidence to consider.”

“Well,” she sighed, still moving under him, “you better lose this if you want to use all of your senses and in conducting this investigation.” She pulled at the hem of his shirt. He pulled his shirt off and smiled when her hands reached up to touch his chest. She traced his chest lovingly, her eyes following her hand, as she wordlessly began to recite the muscles of the human body. “Scully, I'm the one conducting this investigation, remember?”

She smiled playfully and bent up slightly to kiss him. “Of course, Agent Mulder. Proceed.”

“Of course, Dr. Scully.”

Then he continued to kiss her, this time, trailing down her stomach, lingering over the angry scar of the gunshot wound that rested slightly above her belly button. Then her eyes widened with the realization of when he kept heading south. “Mulder,” she called.

“Hm.” He read the shock in her eyes and smiled. “Trust me, Scully. I got you.”

She couldn't find the words to express her shock at what was about to happen. He undid her jeans and pulled them down gently. She shivered feeling his fingertips gently graze her legs. “Fuck, Mulder,” she gasped.

“I haven't done anything yet.”

“You've done plenty already, trust me.” She sucked in a breath, willing her oncoming orgasm to hold off.

“Well, I'm just getting started.”

She closed her eyes when she felt the warm breath from his nose, and then his tongue dart gently against her folds before he delved deeper. With each stroke of his tongue, it stoked her fires. She began to squirm and grind against his face for relief. She felt herself beginning to tense again. Mulder, as if sensing her oncoming orgasm added his fingers to the mix. She shut her eyes when she felt her world explode with one finally flick of Mulder's tongue. She had never experienced such a powerful orgasm before that she saw stars behind her closed eyes. “FUCK!”

Mulder looked proud of himself when she opened her eyes again. “Why, Dr. Scully, I don't believe I am familiar with that medical term.”

She was laughing again and he could feel his own tightness becoming too much to bear. He inched his way back up, slowly grinding his jeans against her, while he kissed her deeply, his tongue delving into her mouth. She cupped his face in her hands and pulled him back slightly.

“Now, Mulder. Now.”

He kissed her neck and nodded wordlessly. Her hands were already busy undoing his belt and button. He slipped his jeans off and his boxers too. He pressed himself against her and she sighed. “Are you sure, Scully?” he whispered softly.

“Mulder, I have never been so sure in my life.”

He prepared himself to enter but she was one step ahead of him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and crossed her legs around his waist, her heels pressing into his back side. It was enough to push himself in one smooth motion. She gasped, feeling him fully inside of her. Mulder tensed, his arm straining to hold them both up as his arm wrapped around her to keep her close. “Scully?”

She relaxed and sighed, resting her head in the crook his neck. “Yes. It's just...I thought this couldn't get any better. Last night was amazing but now...”

“Perfect,” he breathed, feeling her around him, drawing him in both internally and externally.

“Yeah.”

He moved tentatively at first but she moved with him. The previous night had been slightly awkward, their first movements together were foreign. But tonight, their unspoken communication key, they were able to move together with the expertise of long time lovers. It only took a few thrusts for both of them to be on the edge. “Mulder,” she whispered in his ear. “Are you close?”

“Oh, God, yes,” he growled.

“Together,” she whispered, her hand tracing his sweaty back. “Together or not at all.”

“That's asking a lot,” he managed. “If it were possible.”

“I believe in us,” she whispered, nibbling his ear. “We can do it, Mulder.”

She may be a skeptic, he mused, but she was the believer when it came to them. With renewed vigor, he continued his thrusts, Scully rising each time to greet him. It only took a few more times before they both were crying out unison, the tension and love the most exquisite thing that either had ever had felt. She relaxed, feeling him on top of her. He sighed happily and rolled to the side, never letting her go. She sighed happily, giggling as she kissed his chest, and looked up. “Told ya,” she whispered.

“Well, that was quite an investigation.”

“And the results, Agent Mulder.”

He held her close and sighed contently. “No more running, Scully.”

“No more running. It's a long stretch of love. We're in it for the long haul,” she whispered, relaxing against him. “I promise.”

-End.

[greekowl87]

Fic: The Rosary

A/N: My attempt at ‘Per Manum’ AO3. I really need a beta reader. Sorry for typos.

Disclaimer: As usual, merely borrowing, I don’t own anything. 

Mulder fingered the beads of the amethyst rosary in his trench coat. He did not know when he became so religious. Could he count himself as religious? Spiritual maybe. But he believed in Scully. That was all that mattered. Maybe that was why, after she requested his genetic material, he had gone out and purchased a rosary.

He wasn't Catholic. Never had been. His father had been a Jew, his mother a Methodist. He became an atheist. Then he met Scully. Then he became agnostic, although he would never openly admit that. He believed in her. Her science. Her skepticism. He believed in her faith

Faith was a powerful thing, he had discovered. Whether her faith in science or her Catholic faith, it was her faith that drove him and gave him purpose. When she had approached about the IVF, he hesitated, but he could see no one else but her, with whom he wanted to have a child with. Their child. He prayed, to whatever God existed, for a miracle. Their miracle.

The amethyst beads of the rosary were cool to his fingertips, but calming at the same time. He sighed, thinking of her, how much he loved her. He drove through the streets of Georgetown to her apartment. He had gotten her message an hour ago.

“Mulder...shit. Mulder. I need to see you. Can you come by? Please?” Her voice was full of desperation, then sadness. “Please, Mulder. I need you.”

I need you. She would never openly admit her weakness unless it was serious. He dropped everything and rushed to Georgetown. His thoughts drifted as he held the steering wheel with one hand and fingered the amethyst rosary with his other hand.

A rosary. With amethyst beads. And gold charms.

It reminded of him of her. Her conviction. Her birthstone, amethyst, which if he remembered from Greek myth, kept the wearer clear headed. She was always level headed. And the gold...the gold reminded him of her gold cross. The same gold cross he wore during the months of her abduction. He only wore her gold cross for a few months, but five years later, he always found himself unconsciously reaching for it, to finger it, the tactile feel of the cool metal soothing his nerves. But now he had is a rosary, purchased on the streets of Old Town Alexandria during the farmer's market. He bought it because it reminded him of her and made him feel close to her.

When he arrived at her apartment. He unconsciously wrapped the rosary around his left wrist and shoved his hand and wrist into his coat pocket. Just the tactile feel of the beads made him feel a little more at ease for what he was about to do. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, locked it, and found himself standing outside her door. He knocked lightly with his right hand, his left hand, snug in his coat pocket, grasping the rosary tightly.

When he heard no answer after a few minutes, he dug out his keys. Scully's apartment key rested right next to his own house key.

“Right where it belongs,” he mumbled to himself.

At this point he was tired. Mulder did not know where the exhaustion came from. He had every intention of waiting for Scully but he was just so exhausted.

Quietly, not to disturb anything, he lounged haphazardly on her couch. It was not as comfortable as his own leather couch but it had one advantage: it had the Scully smell. He felt like a creep when he thought of it but something about her just instantly calmed him.

The door opened hurriedly and he found himself blinking himself awake. He stood up quickly, recognizing her quick steps. “Scully?” he called sleepily. “I must have dozed off. I was waiting for you to get back.”

He felt his heart stop seeing her face. He had only seen that look one other time when the cancer had spread so far and there was no hope for a cure, when she had resigned herself to death. Oh, Scully, he thought forlornly. He knew what was wrong.

“It didn't take, did it?”

Scully bit her lower lip and nodded. She was tired of being strong. She was just tired. And exhausted.

Her voice trembled. “I guess it was too much to hope for.”

Her shoulders hunched over and he could see the pain across her face. Inwardly, he sighed and felt his heart breaking into a thousand pieces. His hand sought the rosary in his pocket briefly before he opened his arms. She hugged herself and shuffled towards him. Within an instant she came forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. He sunk his face into the crook of her neck and hugged her tightly as well.

“It was my last chance,” she sobbed.

Mulder could feel her heartbeat against his because they were holding so tightly to one another. She continued to cry and all he knew was to comfort her. He kissed her forehead possessively, trying to pass his hope and love into one single motion. He held her tightly and rested his forehead against hers.

It felt right.

His left and briefly sought the amethyst rosary before he caressed her cheek. He took a deep breath and sighed, sensing her release and tightly held breath at the same time. His free hand sought her flat stomach.

“Never give up on a miracle.”

She closed her eyes, feeling the tears coming faster. Hungrily, she kissed his neck and then his lips. She lingered then as if something about was more. Mulder felt himself pull her closer, heat rushing to his center. “It's okay,” he whispered.

Scully let out a sob that carried all the emotions and pain she felt. But somehow, the safety of being in his arms, him surrounding her, it was okay to let those walls fall. It was okay to feel something. She clawed around his neck like she had when Padgett's creation almost ripped her heart out. Except her heart was being ripped out from her again. Mulder closed his eyes, feeling hot tears sting his cheeks. His dress shirt was wet too. She was crying as well. All he could do was hold her.

Scully felt his right hand gently rubbing soothing circles into her lower back, his left around hugged tightly around her, his mouth kissing the crook of her neck and then trailing up to her cheek. She felt her breath hitch when he found her lips.

Mulder did not know what came over himself. “Scully,” he breathed, breaking away. He averted his gaze from her “I'm sorry. I...I don't know what came over me.”

“Mulder, shut up.” She took his face into her hands, her thumbs gently tracing his cheekbones. “Look at me, Mulder.”

He felt his hand gently drift to where he kept the rosary in his suit pocket. Scully caught his hand and felt the rosary through his suit jacket. He hung his head, almost embarrassed at the fact she found his little knick knack. She reached into his pocket and he felt himself shudder at the sensation of her touch. Scully felt the familiar beads of a rosary in his pocket as he bent his hide and hid his face in the crook of her neck.

The amethysts beads were still warm as she pulled it out and inspected in the dim light. She fingered the beads, the prayers corresponding to the beads running through her head. She the rosary felt heavy in her fingers, telling her he had spent good money one it. But the beads, she squinted her eyes briefly to confirm it.

“Mulder, are these beads...”

“What about them?”

“These are amethysts.”

“Yes, they are.”

“That's my birthstone.”

“I know.”

She fingered the golden cross.

“Is that real gold?”

He nodded.

“Why do you have this?”

Mulder bowed his head even more and Scully took the hand that still rested on his face and nudged him to look at her. His hazel eyes were clouded and he felt himself look away at her intense stare. She caressed his cheek.

“Mulder. Look at me.”

He felt his stomach flip. He couldn't look away. Her blue eyes conveyed so much pain, heartbreak and...love? Love as a friend? Something else?

“It reminded me of you,” he replied bluntly. He lowered his eyes again. “I always remember your birthday, even if I don't celebrate it. February 23rd. Amethyst is your birthstone. The gold reminded me of your cross. It reminded me of you. You want this so badly...we want this.”

“We?”

“I know how badly you want this. All of this...” he spoke passionately as his hand drifted to her midsection. “This is my fault. You don't deserve this. It's because of me...”

“Mulder, stop it.”

“Scully--”

“I make my own decisions. It's my life remember?”

He thought back to Jerse. How independent she had been then. How independent she still was. “But I have a say?” he asked softly.

“You are the main influence,” she said fondly. She played with the beads. “Why a rosary?”

“I'm tactile,” he said dismissively. After a long awkward moment. “It reminded me of you.”

Scully bunched the rosary in her hand and wrapped her arms around his neck. She closed her eyes and buried her face in his shoulder. Mulder sighed contently and rocked them gently. “I only wanted a child with you. I could not imagine being anyone's dad but to our child. Our child, Scully. I love you.”

The words escaped his lips before he could stop himself.

“I love you too, Mulder.”

The words struck him like a lightning bolt He straightened his posture. “For real for reals?”

“Yes, Mulder. For real for reals.” She sighed contently as she melted into his embrace, the rosary still tightly bunched in her hand. “Stay with me?”

“Whatever you want, Scully.”

She smiled into his shoulder and sought his lips again. Although her heart ached, she felt loved. Her center, her heart, and her mind were singing together a harmony. She pressed her ear again his chest, ignoring his poor choice of tie. She snuggled closer. His heart was in sync with hers. She held the rosary tightly. “Do you want me to show how to pray properly?”

She dangled the rosary between them. He felt himself grow tight. “A personal lesson in Catholicism?”

“Something like that. I'll show you what miracles are and what they can be.”

She grasped the rosary in her left hand and held his hand in her right hand. She pulled him silently to her bedroom. The rosary was still tightly clutched in her hand. Despite everything, she knew she loved him and he loved her. She knew he felt the same way. She pulled the rosary to her chest and sighed contently.

“I'll show you how I do my Hail Mulder.”