JUST A FAN of FAN ART & FANFIC, XFiles

12TH FEBRUARY. SCULLY’S RECOVERY SUITE. 

‘I don’t need to be here,’ Scully said sternly, folding her ankles over to mirror her arms and turning her head sharply. ‘I’ve done remarkably well these last few weeks, I’ve aced every physical therapy test, I’ve undergone my cognitive review. I’m no longer on any medication. I don’t see why you’re fighting me on this.’ 

‘You’ve just experienced an incredibly traumatic event, Dana. Your body is still.. You should let the doctors and nurses-’

‘I am a doctor!’ She interrupted. ‘And I can sign myself out. I am ready.’ 

‘Dana, you live alone, and you refuse anyone’s help. What if you faint, or.. you feel unwell and can’t get yourself back in here. The doctor has advised you off driving, and, you’ll be alone sweetheart.’ 

‘I’m not alone,’ she said quietly but firmly, her heart suddenly hammering in her chest as the room seemed to shrink around the statement. Her mother had asked, countless times, over the weeks about her marriage to Mulder, sifting through her vague statements, trying in vain to decipher what their plans would be. Scully found that she didn’t want to overthink it, or doubt it, not now. Not anymore.

‘I know, sweetheart,’ Maggie began carefully, ‘but you’re-’

‘She’ll be staying with me,’ Mulder interrupted, shifting his body towards her bed, staring down at his clasped hands. 

Scully let out a heavy sigh of relief and nearly dropped her head back to the pillow. 

‘She was staying- she’s, uh, stayed with me before.’ 

Maggie chewed her bottom lip and looked between them, trying to read the moment. She had doubted her daughter’s partner, she had blamed and hated him, she had cursed the day he had signed his name beside hers, but now she felt conflicted, watching them move together as a unit, reacting to each other’s bodies and words like magnets. 

‘Are you sure, Fox?’ Maggie asked sincerely, ‘she may need care for several weeks.’ 

Scully wanted to rip the blankets from her lap and storm from the room, feeling once again as though her voice wasn’t working. 

‘I absolutely do not. Mom, you aren’t hearing me. I feel perfectly capable!’ 

‘Dana, I know you feel that way, but you still have some recovering to do.’ Maggie looked at Mulder and caught the determined, dedicated way he looked at her daughter, and saw it properly for the first time. He was her husband. 

‘In sickness and in health, right?’ Scully muttered teasingly to lighten the mood, but mulder clasped her hand and nodded, and she felt herself flush at the eagerness on his face. 

She looked down at where two of his hands drowned hers, only tiny peeks of her pale skin visible beneath his bronzed fingers. Long, elegant fingers that had ventured beneath her clothes one bold, hopeful morning. A flash of heat shot through her, lighting up her whole body and she drew in a sharp breath. 

‘Scully, are you ok?’ 

She felt speechless, and she blinked firmly a few times and cleared her throat. She felt the subtle shifts of her arousal waking up, the part of her that had take the longest to come back. Minty, sweet kisses from Mulder had done the job though, and suddenly her body was like a live wire. 

‘Where did you go, then?’ he said quietly with concern, leaning forward.

She almost burst into a fit of laughter as she felt her cheeks heat further. One of his hands released hers and came to stroke her face, feeling the burn of her desire, which only intensified the feeling. 

‘Why don’t I give you two a moment?’ Maggie said, gathering her things with a hint of amusement and leaving the room. 

When the room was briefly silent, Mulder scraped his chair closer to her bed and looked up at her, waiting for her to speak. 

‘Thank you for saying that.’ 

‘Anything Scully,’ he said surely, taking her hand again and squeezing. 

‘It will make her feel better, get her off my back, to think that I won’t be alone.’ 

He nodded, uncertainty curling in his gut as he studied her face, staring down at their joined hands with a strained expression. 

‘Whatever you need.’ 

‘Thank you, Mulder.’

After hours of talking with doctors, signing paperwork that rattled on and on, copies of copies where Scully numbly scribbled her name, she was packing her possessions into a bag as nerves fluttered in her chest. The last time she had seen the outside of these walls, in her actual body, had been in New York, and that now felt like years ago. 

Her body ached from the cramped conditions, the repetitive moves between bed and hall, and her palms tingled with an anticipation. She yearned for fresh air, for her own things, and for Mulder’s bed in nearly equal measure. 

‘You ready to go?’ Mulder asked with a warm palm at her lower back. She leaned into his touch and he stroked a slow circle there.  

‘To my place?’ she asked quietly.

‘..Your place?’ 

‘Yes,’ she nodded tightly, emotion welling up in her throat. ‘I need my own things.’ 

Mulder felt her words like a punch, an ache spreading through his stomach as he nodded slowly back at her. He couldn’t blame her, she had been surrounded by him and by the nagging presence of so many for weeks. Of course she would need her own space. He reminded himself that he would only be a phone call away. 

‘Of course, Scully,’ he said with a small, reassuring smile that pained him. 

*

The ride was torturously quiet. Mulder forced himself not to ask her inane questions, the ones that never really deserved an answer. "How are you feeling?” ran on a loop in his head until the words sounded wrong. 

His finger trembled as he twisted the keys from the ignition and then held them tightly in his hand, hoping beyond hope that she would let him come up, to help her put away her things and see her crawl into her bed. Safe. 

She wasn’t moving, and fear travelled through him as he considered that she might be working out how best to ask him to leave. Three weeks of being connected at the hip may have taken a toll, and he readied himself to wear the weak mask of understanding. 

‘Can you go up?’ she asked quietly, her voice rough as she looked through the grey droplets on the window. 

He frowned in confusion. ‘You want me to go up first?’ 

He saw her shoulders rise and slump, her eyes still trained on the rain as she drew in a breath. 

‘Can you go up and get my things?’ She swallowed tightly, turning to look at him. ‘I don’t want to stay here.’ 

His mouth twitched around a question he suddenly refused to ask as his chest fluttered with warmth. 

‘You want me to get your things?’ he repeated, dumbly, but brimming with relief. 

‘Please,’ she said, her chin pushing forward with a forced confidence. 

‘Of course, Scully. I’ll..  I’ll leave the keys, press on the horn if you need me.’ He kissed her forehead and rushed from the car, heaving his jacket over his head as he dashed to her building. 

His stomach was in knots, butterflies tangling themselves up inside vines of doubt as he searched her face in his memory. Frightened? Depressed? Confused? 

He let himself into her apartment with a practised hand, tilting the key just right when it caught in the lock, jostling it. The door drifted open and he stepped inside. It still smelled like her, like she’d never stepped out of this place one morning and caught a doomed flight to New York.

He hurried into her bedroom and tamped down the little thrill that ran through him as he pictured shoving his hand into her underwear drawer and picking out his favourites. 

Get it together, man, he scolded himself as he grabbed a duffel bag from the floor of her closet, folding in a few soft sweaters and slacks, jeans and socks, for now.  Some neutral tank tops, a cardigan, some baggy t-shirts that looked like she slept in them. How long would she be staying with him? he wondered with a pounding heart. Would she need suits? Heels? He resolved to just get enough for a few nights, and then return later for the rest. 

He scanned the shelves in her bathroom and searched for anything he recognised, but all the labels were wrong. None of the toiletries were the ones she travelled with, and he decided that she must keep them all somewhere else, the tiny lavender bottles that made her smell like sunlight in drab motel rooms. 

He shook his head and began grabbing things quickly, as though his momentum could preserve this moment, this sacred choice that Scully was making. She did not want to be here tonight, in her own space with her bathtub and her routine. She was choosing him, and that thought settled beneath his ribs, a pulsing weight that wouldn’t let him feel anything else. 

He was terrified, tortured by the idea that he might still wake up, hunched at Scully’s bedside, waiting, waiting for her to join him again. He shoved more into the now-bulging bag, some pyjamas and a blindly-gathered handful of her underwear, valiantly trying to ignore the silky feel of them against his thumb. 

He grabbed some little sachets of tea that he knew she drank before bed, before taking a quick look around at the living room and gathering a few books that were piled on the coffee table. 

The bag was heavy, bursting now with his choices, and he tightened his grip on the strap, exhaling heavily as he shut her apartment door, plunging it back into darkness. 

When he reached the bottom of the stairs and stumbled out of the building, he stood for a moment under the porch, sheltered from the rain which had picked up even more since he’d been inside. 

He stared across the street at Scully’s face through the bleary window, and thought with a swell of pride, that he was the luckiest man in the whole world, to be the person who could fill a bag and take her home. 

*

He led her in the door to his apartment, kicking it shut behind him and putting her luggage down. His eyes followed her as she paced an arc around the coffee table in the middle of the room, her hands clutching at her elbows. 

‘Do you want some tea?’ 

‘You have tea?’ she asked with a smirk. 

‘You had tea,’ he corrected and turned to rifle through the side pocket where he’d stashed them. 

‘I’m gonna have a shower first, if that’s alright?’ 

He felt his throat tighten, a hot grip around it as he nodded. Scully, naked and soapy in his bathroom. Completely fine. 

He nodded. ‘I’ll boil some water, you take your time, Scully.’ 

She smiled and gathered her things, carrying the bag into the bedroom and shutting the door behind her. 

He willed his hands to be useful, running water into the pot and laying out two mugs, even though the smell of the tea she liked was akin to cut grass. He hummed to drown out the sounds of her undressing, one door away. 

When the muffled rushing sounds of the shower carried through the apartment, he felt his heart flutter and something lower tug at him. Scully was showering here, when she could have done so at home. He felt lightheaded, overcome with emotion and curiosity and concern. 

He kept himself busy, tidying up the kitchen and wiping down the counters, checking and then re-checking the refrigerator, pacing to the sink and then back. 

The door to the bedroom opened, and when Scully appeared, flushed face and damp, wavy hair, he froze. 

‘Your shower is better than the crappy one at the hospital.’ 

‘Good,’ he said with a small smile. ‘That’s good.’ 

She looked at him with an expression he wouldn’t have recognised only a few weeks ago. It was something true and tender, buried beneath their bones. A recognition. 

He snapped out of his trance and shook his head, staring down at his feet for a moment before he pushed his hair back and stepped into the kitchen, filling two mugs with hot water and then wrinkling his nose as the steam hit his face.

When he came out into the living room, she was on the couch, her legs tucked up beneath her, running a towel through her hair. His towel. 

‘Tea,’ he said, sitting down beside her. 

She untucked her legs and reached forward for it, her bare feet brushing his legs with a comforting ease that settled in his chest. 

He fought against every invasive instinct in his body, the questions nipping at his tongue. Why are you here? How long will you stay? 

‘If.. if you need any space tonight, Scully, I can take the couch.’ 

‘Mulder, no,’ she said firmly. 

‘I don’t want to crowd you.’

‘You won’t. It’s…’ She stared down at the mug in her hands, steadying herself. ‘I’ve had the strangest side effects,’ she said honestly. ‘Coming home, I, uh..’ 

‘What? What is it? The doctor said to call if you felt-’

‘Mulder,’ she interrupted.  

He looked directly into her eyes, and his expression briefly reminded her of a reprimanded puppy dog. She smiled softly and inched ever so slightly closer to him. 

‘I… I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep alone anymore.’ Her heart pounded in her throat and she wondered how she could suddenly feel so brazen. 

‘You… you can’t sleep alone,’ he said, something widening his eyes as they roamed over her flushed face. 

She shook her head, watching him closely. 

He hesitated, tensing all the muscles in his arms so he didn’t reach for her. Two weeks after a life-threatening coma was not the perfect time to have a six-foot man fall on you. He steadied his breathing and tilted his head towards her. 

‘You want to sleep..’ 

‘Not alone. Not anymore.’ 

His breath caught in his throat, and cautiously, he asked, ‘Because of the hospital? Because, I…’ 

‘No. Not the hospital,’ she admitted, shyly. 

‘Something else..’ 

‘Yes, Mulder. I was.. somewhere else, when I was at the hospital.’ 

He nearly dropped to the floor, the relief flooding through him and stealing all the tension from his body. ‘God, Scully, I didn’t think you remembered… I thought that.. I had made the whole thing up.’ 

‘No..’ Tears welled up in her eyes but she kept them on him, baring her soul in a moment of fierce bravery. 

‘Wh- what do you remember?’ He grabbed the mug from her hands and then clasped them to his body, tugging her to him. 

‘I… I wasn’t sure what was real, at first. And then…’ 

‘What, Scully?’ 

‘That first night after I woke up, you… you came to my room, and you climbed into bed with me.’ 

He chuckled and buried his face against her shoulder. ‘Was that..?’

‘It made me remember, Mulder. I remembered our bed, the.. the way that you..’ Her voice cracked and she bit at her lip as her memories overwhelmed her. 

Our bed. Oh, how he had missed it. 

‘The way that you didn’t give up.’ 

‘Of course not,’ he said, dazed, pulling back. ‘Scully, I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t ever give up.’ 

‘Everyone else had, Mulder. My family, my doctors, my priest,’ she nearly chuckled, but the air was lost from her lungs and she shuddered to regain her composure. ‘But not you.’ 

He shook his head and pushed her back, dropping her onto the cushion, leaving her staring at his retreating form in surprise. She felt her heart hammering in her chest as she waited for what felt like too long, listening to him rustle around in the bedroom. 

When he returned, his eyes were wet, and his hands shook slightly as he pressed something into hers. 

‘I won’t ever give up, Scully. You have my word.’ 

She was speechless as her fingers curled around a small box. She couldn’t bring herself to open it, and when she looked up at him, his damp, glimmering eyes were fixed on her. 

His fingers slid between hers and pulled the lid open for her, impatiently. 

Side by side, two simple gold bands, infinity, a promise. 

‘When?’ Her voice was small. When did you get these?

‘The night before. Before we… y’know, needed them.’  

‘You never showed me.’ 

‘Chickened out,’ he said with a soft laugh, eyes darting between hers. ‘I want you to have them now.’

‘Mulder,’ she said cautiously, swallowing. 

‘Yeah?’ 

‘Will you hold me?’ 

He grinned at her, full of wonder. ‘As long as you don’t wear your suits to bed anymore.’ 

She spat out a laugh, full and lovely, and she brought a hand to her mouth, the other cradling the box to her chest. 

‘Ok,’ she said breathlessly. 

‘C’mere.’

He led her into the bedroom, and she watched as he pulled the sheets back. The room looked bigger now, and she exhaled as the memories washed over her, calm and warm. This had been the place she had found herself when nowhere else would recognise her, the place where she had had a voice. She looked down again into the little box, taking the larger band from the cushion and beckoning him closer. 

She saw his eyes darken as his chest began to expand around nervous breaths. There was only the dim glow of the bedside lamp between them, and she watched the metal glisten in it. 

Unworn, buried for years. The thought made her so sad. 

‘Will you wear it?’ she asked quietly. 

Mulder nearly groaned, an electric shock travelling through his whole body that nearly buckled his knees. 

‘Will I wear my wedding ring, Scully? I thought you’d never ask.’ He stared down at her trembling fingers as she pressed it into place, over his knuckles with a gentle twist. He was never going to take it off. ‘Scully.’ His breath shuddered. 

He took her ring and slid it onto her finger, where he’d always hoped it would be, and without waiting, pulled her lips to his, tangling his fingers into her hair and gripping the nape of her neck. 

Pride. Lust. Relief. It all swirled in him now and drowned out the parts that could say ugly, cruel things. She was in his arms and they would never again be apart again. 

‘M-Mulder,’ she panted softly as her fingers trailed from his chest up to his shoulders, lifting herself up onto her tiptoes to reach more of him.  

‘Mmh?’ He replied wordlessly, his mouth preoccupied with her skin. 

‘Why.. why were you the only one? Why could no one else see me?’ She felt dizzy with lust and love and all the emotions she had long denied, waking up her entire body. 

‘I see you,’ he said, reclaiming her mouth hungrily. The cool band of his ring drifted across her collarbone, sending sparks down her chest. 

He walked her back towards the bed, and together they fell. 

If the light, tingling kisses that Scully had bestowed upon him before were wonderful, then these were life-changing. Her body felt firm and hot beneath him and her lips were full and soft and real. Overwhelming emotions bubbled in his throat as they moaned against each other’s mouths and her hips rolled invitingly. He gripped her and flipped their bodies so her weight was on top of him, and they both gasped at the raw friction of his jean-clad cock straining against her pelvis. 

He felt as though he was on fire, a fierce heat stinging at his skin wherever they were brushing and he ached to pull his clothes off, to pull hers off and lay against her naked body. His lovely wife, Scully, the woman that had come back to him, that had pulled herself out of that dark, hopeless place to rest again in his bed. 

‘Oh, Mulder,’ she said softly between kisses, her syrupy little voice promising him things he knew he couldn’t deserve. Her fingers slid through his hair and tugged until his head dropped back to the pillow. 

‘Scully, slow down,’ he said with a groan of restraint. 

‘No,’ she grinned against his cheek, her daring little tongue coming out to tempt him as her hands slipped under the waistband of his sweatpants. Her fingernails grazed the firm flesh just above where he throbbed for her. 

‘Scully, we should wait.’

‘We’ve waited, Mulder, too long. Don’t you… don’t you want this?’ 

If the ‘this’ she was referring to was her body, she had no idea how long he’d wanted it. He shook his head slowly, a disbelieving smile on his lips. 

‘I want this, so much, Scully. So badly.’ His fingers bunched up with fabric at her hips as he kissed her again. 

‘Then why wait?’ she asked, a lilt of amusement in her voice.

‘I need you at your full strength,’ he said, a dark promise in his eyes. 

‘I feel strong,’ she said defiantly. 

‘Scully, I want you here, tonight. I want you to stay, and frankly, I don’t want you to ever leave. Move in, please. But, you only woke up two weeks ago. You need to recover. You need to take it slow. I- I don’t want to do anything to hurt you.’ 

‘I won’t let you hurt me, Mulder,’ she said with a teasing lift of her brow. 

‘I know that. But I have plans, Scully, can’t a man have plans?’ 

‘I feel perfectly fine,’ she said and he chuckled against her face. 

The rumble in his chest passed over her skin and she felt her nipples tighten beneath her clothes. 

‘I’ve been waiting for years to make love to my wife, I can wait a little bit longer,’ he bit her earlobe gently and sent a wave of shivers down her body. 

She groaned in frustration and dug her nails into the firm skin of his hips, flipping them again so he landed between her parted thighs. 

‘Fuck,’ he shuddered, looming over her, rocking his pelvis forward. ‘Scully, have mercy on me.’ 

‘You really want to wait?’ She grasped his wrist at the side of her face as his fingers stroked her cheek. 

‘I- I just want it to be right, Scully. I want you to feel like yourself again. You let me know when you’re ready.’