JUST A FAN of FAN ART & FANFIC, XFiles

‘Jeez, did they print out the entire internet?’ Scully whispered, though she wasn’t sure why she’d bothered.

Mulder couldn’t suppress a grin as her shoulder nudged his and the contact sent a thrill through him.

‘Hey, no, no no! You don’t get our free grunt work and get to talk behind our backs. If she’s making jokes, share them with the class!’

Scully rolled her eyes and twisted her fingers at her lips, flinging the imaginary key over her shoulder.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, there’s nobody there,’ Mulder said smugly.

‘Jerk..’ Frohike muttered as he hefted up another ream of paper and dropped it in front of them.

‘So.. not to sound ungrateful, but what exactly am I looking at?’ Mulder asked with wide eyes.

‘This is… everything,’ Langly said seriously, his hands on his hips as they all took a moment to stare at the mammoth task ahead.

‘Everything..?’

‘We ran a programme, it trawled the net and pulled up anything, medical journals, personal blogs, any page that mentioned a specific set of keywords. Then, we just hit print, it was going all night. No stone unturned,’ he said with a shrug.

‘No stone,’ Mulder exhaled slowly, then pushed it into a low whistle.

‘We’re gonna charge you for the paper though,’ Frohike added as he elbowed past.

‘What about Scully?’ Mulder asked, his voice sounding whinier than he would have liked.

‘For her, it’s on the house, you’ve used up more than your share of our free stuff.’

‘You’re just pissed you can’t see her,’ he grumbled in return and Scully shoved him.

‘You can do it the old-fashioned way, too, Mulder, we won’t judge.’ Byers cut in, gesturing towards a pile of dusty old books they’d stacked in the corner.

‘Thanks. I’ll hit the books and you guys start skimming the mountain. You know what you’re looking for?’

‘Coma patient, apparitions, miracles?’

‘What are we waiting for?’ He asked, smacking his hand on his thigh and standing.

‘And what will the lovely lady be doing?’

‘She, uh, can’t touch anything..’ Mulder said, an apology on his lips as he shot her a look.

‘Nothing?’ Frohike asked.

Mulder didn’t feel like explaining that she could touch precisely one thing and it was his body, so he just shook his head tightly.

‘Scully…’ Frohike blindly addressed the room, his voice a little loud.

‘She can hear you, man, she’s in a coma, not deaf,’ Mulder said with a scoff.

‘Tell him I said thanks,’ Scully said.

‘She says thanks,’ Mulder repeated and they all shared a small smile before taking up their own stations.

Stacks of paper shifted between sides of tired bodies and Mulder sifted through a pile of books until some title seemed vaguely helpful.

Scully watched Mulder carefully as she tired of waiting for him to turn pages that he was still studying, his thumb brushing at the corners as he muttered under his breath.

Her head rolled from side to side, trying to clear the frustration and impatience away with a familiar movement.

His lips were moving silently and the plump lower one glistened as his tongue occasionally darted out to run along it. His forehead was pulled taut and she could see tension running in little lines underneath his skin, beneath stubble that she had never observed this closely before. She was sure that she had never stared at anyone’s skin like this before and she felt herself lean even closer under the guise of reading more of the book rested on his bent knees.

‘You never wear your glasses anymore,’ she said softly without thinking, then quickly straightened up when she heard the rasp of her voice.

‘I, uh.. my eyes are pretty tired.’ He went to reach for them self consciously and she stilled him, the tips of her fingers buzzing against his hand.

He tugged away and pulled his glasses off so he could rub at his eyes, as though he had forgotten about the discomfort until she had brought it up. He groaned quietly as his head pressed back against the wall.

‘What are you two whispering about over there?’ A grumble came from across the room behind stacks of research that were still towering stubbornly above all their heads.

Mulder chuckled but ignored the comment and reached across the grab Scully’s hand.

‘Scully are you ok? Do you feel tired?’

She looked at him for a drawn out moment, squinting as she considered his question. It shouldn’t be difficult to answer, it was normally a yes or no question, but all of her insides felt murky, clouded and unsettled.

‘It’s not…’ She shook her head, searching her brain for how she really felt. ‘It’s not a tiredness per say, it’s more of a.. there’s an ache,’ she said, hovering a hand over the centre of her chest and his eyes flicked down with a frown.

‘Y’know, if this situation wasn’t so gut-wrenchingly frightening, it would be fascinating,’ he said with a little awe in his voice, eyes tracking slowly back up to her face.

‘I suppose. And I suppose it happened to the two people who spend their life chasing this sort of thing,’ she said with a weak attempt at a laugh.

The thought of her partner had her turning, making her way to the door of their adjoining rooms and knocking softly, before carefully turning the handle. They were both no strangers to letting themselves into the other's room, by now--travelling and working side-by-side tended to do that. When Scully opened the door and cast a brief glance around the room, she found a sight that warmed her heart more than she'd admit to anyone. Mulder was laying on the bed, halfway curled around one of the many throw pillows, and apparently fast asleep; he was still wearing day clothes (a long-sleeve tee and sweatpants), but didn't seem bothered by that fact, expression peaceful and breaths soft.

Scully paused for a moment at the scene. Mulder sleeping at all was a thing to celebrate on its own, with how the man generally avoided it; but moreover, it was... Good, perhaps was the word for it--pleasant, maybe? The thing was, Mulder always had that constant guardedness about him, the look of always waiting for something to happen. But now, for once, he simply looked peaceful; something about that made Scully feel peaceful in turn, knowing her partner was safe and sound and resting (for once in his life). Maybe that wasn't a normal feeling to have towards someone who was technically supposed to only be her colleague--but she and Mulder had left normal behind a long time ago. Non-normal was the job description, after all.

Scully stole forward on silent feet, careful to avoid the squeaky floorboards such an old house was sure to have. She didn't want to risk waking Mulder, but he'd managed to fall asleep without any blanket, and it just didn't feel right to leave him without one on a night like this. So she gathered up the quilt that lay at the end of the bed--a soft and worn old nine-patch--and gently draped it over her partner, pausing just a moment to smooth it over his shoulder and remember that peaceful expression. Her task complete, Scully turned to go back to her room, not wanting to overstay her welcome or risk waking Mulder; but as she took half a step away, she felt a gentle hand on her wrist, and quickly turned back around.

Mulder was looking up at her through half-lidded eyes, clearly still mostly asleep, but his voice was certain as it was soft when he asked: "Stay?" And there was something trusting in it, and something pleading, and something warm. In another time, Scully would have said no, would have thought herself ridiculous for even considering it. They were supposed to be colleagues, after all; nothing more.

But she and Mulder had left normal behind a long time ago.

"Alright," Scully murmured back into the quiet of the room, and Mulder offered her one of those soft and genuine smiles that it seemed she alone could summon. She left her slippers by the side of the bed, and slid under the quilt next to him. They were separate for a moment, keeping their distance; then Mulder moved an arm to circle Scully's waist--careful, questioning, waiting for permission. She gave it by curling closer to him, and they moved until there was no space between them. There was a moment where their eyes met, and it was just as charged as it always seemed to be between them, a silent conversation running just beneath the surface; but this time it was quiet, and gentle, and trusting. Mulder offered one of those soft smiles again, and then he was looking away, laying his head back down--this time, to rest just beneath Scully's chin. She closed her eyes, heart fluttering for a moment, and allowed her hand to drift upwards, landing to rest in soft brown hair. In that moment, Scully knew that there was nowhere else she'd rather be.

"Goodnight, Mulder," she whispered, voice curling around the syllables like a song.

"Night, Scully," he murmured back, embrace tightening for just a moment in acknowledgement of the unspoken words beneath.

Frost fell over the cold landscape outside, turning the world to silver-grey. But inside, together beneath the quilt, Scully and Mulder were warm.

Scully was pacing, and though he tried his best to keep his weary gaze ahead, it kept drifting to the sharp snap of her heels. She was making him nervous, and each time his eyes darted to meet Skinner’s, he worried that the man would see it.

‘Agent Mulder, I understand you’re probably anxious to be at the hospital,’ he said evenly, his attention pulled briefly to the twisted fists in his lap.

‘I’m sorry, sir, I’m just feeling a little distracted,’ he shot Scully another look, begging her to stand still.

‘More than understandable, Mulder,' Skinner said with a calm authority. ‘I just wanted to touch base with you, to get any updates on agent Scully’s condition, and on when you may feel ready to return to work.’

‘And to make sure that I haven’t gone after the shit-for-brains agent that did this to her?’ Mulder said, only half-joking.

Skinner huffed, and stared down at the pencil between his thumb and finger. ‘And that,’ he agreed with a nearly-concealed smirk. ‘It wouldn’t help anyone right now.’

‘I know that, sir,’ Mulder said evenly, avoiding Scully’s stare that he could feel burning into his temple. ‘I can be patient.’

‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, agent.’

‘Mulder!’ Scully cut in, anger flaring in her veins. ‘Don’t even joke about that.’

‘So.. how is she?’ Skinner asked cautiously, all humour draining from his face.

Mulder wanted to reach out and slide his arm around her hips, pull her flush to his body as proof. Sometimes she felt so real that other people not noticing her made him anxious. He swallowed tightly and looked up to her.

Her expression faltered as she looked down at him, suddenly seeming so small beneath her. His eyes were wide and wore the weight of an unbearable sadness.

‘Not much change,’ he said simply.

‘Give me something here, Mulder,’ Skinner said seriously.

Scully watched, suddenly feeling like she was intruding. She saw the raw emotion on her ex-boss’s face, and she knew it wasn’t meant for her eyes. The whole thing made her feel sick, staring at the expressions of people who thought they were never going to see her again.

Secretly watching the pity, the concern, the pain, the regret, the fear. And she had to watch it all silently, clawing at the universe to let her be real. She sniffled and felt Mulder’s attention snap to her.

Not here, she thought fiercely. Even though skinner couldn’t see or hear her, she still wouldn’t let herself crumble in this office. She hurried from the room, slipping through the door and tightening her jaw as she turned sharply in the hall and headed instinctively down to the safety of their basement office.

*

‘Scully?’ He whispered as he softly pushed the door open, knowing exactly where he’d find her.

It was thankfully empty, and he watched her carefully as he stepped inside. Her arms were crossed tightly in front of her body and her shoulders were so stiff that he could almost feel the waves of stress coming from them across the room.

‘Hey,’ she replied, turning finally to look at him.

‘Are you ok? You ran out of there pretty fast. Well, you kinda ran through a door, Scully, it was badass.’

She scoffed, a tired laugh struggled from her throat. He stepped towards her with a boyish glint in his eye, and here, surrounded by these four familiar walls, it was like stepping back in time.

‘It was not “badass.”’

‘Do you know how hard it was not to say something with Skinner staring right at me? You ran through a door, Scully. I..’ He shook his head, grinning.

‘I… I just can’t stand it, Mulder. It’s like watching people talk about me like I’m already gone.’

‘Scully, I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine-‘

‘-And you! With your childish jokes about going after Ritter. You think that makes me feel any better?’

‘No,’ he admitted. ‘No, I don’t imagine it makes you feel any better at all.’

‘So, just stop it, alright?’

‘Ok, you’ve got enough to worry about right now, I understand.’

‘It’s not even that, Mulder, it’s just.. god, you wouldn’t do something that reckless and… vengeful. It’s not.. I can’t…’ Her voice was climbing, tense with worry and anger.

She looked around at the remnants of the life they’d shared down here, now changed and shifted and claimed, and sighed.

‘While we’re down here, I’m gonna look through the files, just skim them for anything that sounds helpful, alright?’

He was still so handsome even in death. She didn’t have enough photographs of him to last the lifetime she was now condemned to living without him. She wondered if the baby would take after him or after her. She couldn’t decide whether or not the idea that she would spend her rest of her life searching for crumbs of Fox Mulder in the countenance of their child was heaven or hell.

She picked up his hand, heavy, cold and stiff and rested it against the swell of her stomach. The baby kicked and Scully could almost spy on Mulder’s face the ghost of a smile.

Rictus sardonicas, perhaps.

She had wanted for so long— they had wanted for so long— to reach this moment together and here they were, the three of them, one entering the world, one just having left it, and her, the thin frayed living thread joining the two.

She thought briefly of laying down on the slab next to him, like it was the other half of his bed and letting herself die of despair. It wouldn’t even take the drama of a suicide— so great was her despair that it threatened to engulf her if she would only get still enough to allow it.

She nudged him over on his slab and sat next to him, the baby weight threatening to send the three of them sprawling onto the ground. His head lolled to the side and his mouth fell open as though some half formed jape was about to tumble out. Scully adjusted his head and jaw to give him an element of dignity once more. Her fingers lingered on his stubble, which was exactly as she remembered it had been the morning of his abduction. Whatever had happened to him, it had involved a replication of his shave.

She cautiously removed his sheet and made a more thorough study of him. They had forgone the autopsy Montana state authorities had demanded before allowing the body that had once been Fox Mulder across state lines. It paid to know people that could spare his corpse that indignity. She ran her finger down the scar tissue on his chest. It was thick. Evidently he had lived through what must have been vivisection long enough to heal only to die from something else altogether. She wondered how the months had been for him. If death was sudden or if he had known he was going to die. If he had been dreading it or if it was a welcome relief.

The funeral home would be coming for in the morning but tonight he was still hers, so tonight she washed him as tenderly as she would their baby in just a few months, drying him carefully, swaddling him for his final rest.

There was only one place on earth better equipped for this situation than his own apartment, and so here they stood, outside of a heavy, quadruple-locked door in the drizzling rain, staring up at a little red blinking light.

Mulder waved impatiently and listened to the sounds of the speakers crackle and buzz to life as the door gradually unlocked itself.

‘Hey dude, where’s that pretty little partner of yours? You know we prefer speaking to her than you anyway.’

‘Knock it off..’ Mulder said with an apologetic glance to his side as they both stepped inside of the labyrinth and heard the heavy door rattle shut behind them.

‘Oh, Scully..! Why don’t you love me, Scully?!’ A dramatic chant came over the speakers and Scully flushed.

Mulder grunted in frustration, shaking his head to clear the thoughts that threatened to spill out too soon. He trailed through the first hallway and met the three stooges around a large, lit table.

He held his hand out in front of her and then pulled it back to his side when he realised how useless it must look. He pulled up a seat and crashed onto it, feeling the weight of the last few days crash with him. Scully drew in a deep breath and he felt compelled to pull her into his arms, but he just tightened his fists in his lap instead of reaching for her.

‘You look like shit,’ Langly muttered as he watched Mulder push hair back from his tired face.

‘Seriously, Mulder, what’s up? You’re not fighting with the missus again?’ Frohike called out as he came to claim the seat at his left hand side, where Scully had been about to sit.

‘The missus?’ Scully teased quietly in his ear and he swatted her away.

‘No,’ Mulder said tightly, shrugging his shoulder.

‘Then, what?’ Langly asked, his eyebrows dancing with intrigue. ‘To what do we owe this unexpected visit?’

He squeezed his hands together on the table, letting out a harsh breath.

‘Ok, look.. I’m here for some information,’ Mulder said with exasperation, leaning forward. ‘I need help researching-’

‘Uh-uh, nice try. Again, we ask.. why no agent Scully? You know we’re more amenable to her ideas…’ Frohike waggled his eyebrows and Mulder watched as Scully’s eyes widened.

‘Drop it, guys,’ he warned, tensing his jaw, ‘she’s..’

‘-I bet she’s busy tonight, I bet a woman like that has countless offers on a night such as this. Why would she want to waste her time with-?’

‘Frohike, I’m serious.’

‘She probably-’

‘She’s in a fucking coma, knock it off!’ Mulder slammed his hands down onto the metal edge of the table, his anger finally overtaking him.

The three men fell into a shocked silence, swallowing their next jibes regretfully.

‘That’s not funny, man,’ Langly said with a frown.

‘You’re damn right it’s not,’ Mulder replied, his face remaining a stern mask.

Scully stood there, her breath shuddering as she studied their faces, shock and horror registering around the room in a wave of grief she shouldn’t be privy to.

‘A.. coma?’ Frohike repeated the awful word and it rang between them all.

Scully’s skin felt tight, a wave of nausea rippling through her body as the silence stretched into something unbearable. Mulder tapped the seat beside him and scraped the legs towards himself. To the boys, it would appear a nervous pat of a useless hand, but Scully saw his need to have her close and settled wordlessly in the chair. She watched as his body deflated, a tension he’d been holding released through his parted lips.

‘She’s.. she was shot.’ His voice wobbled around the word. She slid her hand around his and felt the cool, numbing tingle of their touch. She squeezed his palm and felt relieved when he squeezed her back.

‘..Shot?’

‘So.. you’re going after the guy? The shooter?’ Byers whispered.

Scully felt her spine stiffen. She’d never heard a single word of violence leave any of their lips, and the sudden sharpness around the table felt dangerous.

‘You know his name? We can-’

‘Unfortunately not. He’s FBI..’ Mulder said with a bitter expression.

‘She was shot by FBI?’

Mulder swallowed, feeling tension in his jaw as his teeth ground together. ‘Yeah.’

‘If she doesn’t pull through…’ Three pairs of eyes shot up to watch Mulder seriously and Scully nearly gasped.

He nodded back at them and she wanted to scoff.

‘Mulder, you cannot be serious,’ she almost laughed. ‘He didn’t mean to..’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he snapped, interrupting her.

The air was thick with confusion and unspoken words, they all moved their heads and darted their eyes as though they were having conversations without her.

‘Mulder!’ she said sharply, but he wouldn’t look in her direction.

‘We’re… you know we’re here for whatever you need,’ Byers said with his hands folded neatly on the table in front of him.

Mulder gripped the edge of the table and drew in a deep breath. Scully grabbed his hand again and felt the ripple of tension there that only intensified.

‘What do I say?’ he muttered quietly for her with his chin on his shoulder.

The entire room froze, and she pulled her hand away like it burned.

The other men cleared their throats and Mulder dropped his head into his hands. He felt his entire world swimming, his mind tipping and tilting inside his skull.

‘W-what do you need from us?’ Frohike asked quietly, but solidly.

‘A-anything. I need cases, reports, articles, fucking fables, anything on…’ He took a deep breath. ‘Anything on bringing people out of comas…’

‘Mulder,’ Langly said with suspicion.

‘What?!’ he snapped.

‘You’re.. this isn’t going to help, don’t you think you should be.. there?’

‘I’ve been there!’ Mulder exclaimed. ‘For two days, I’ve been there, with the doctors and, and with Scully’s brother telling me I should make real nice with my own gun.’

He sighed heavily as his forefinger traced the ring of coffee on his napkin. He felt sick, and Scully’s soft presence at his side was the only thing stopping him from sprinting home.

‘Mrs Scully, you know that Dana and I have been partners for a very long time. We have a relationship that is entirely unique. We trust each other with-’

‘-I know that you’re in love with my daughter,’ Maggie said firmly. ‘And she knows it, too.. She knew it.’

Her expression was sombre, her eyes and nose were red and it broke Mulder’s heart to watch her in so much pain. He wanted to tell her, to motion to his side where her daughter still lived, but he couldn’t.

Her words finally registered as he finished studying her face.

‘I’m in love with her?’ he asked, though they all knew it wasn’t a question.

‘Yes, Fox, it’s been obvious for years. Dana may have kept her feelings close to the chest, but she knew.’

Mulder shot a glance to his side and Scully quickly shook her head with a teasing frown.

‘I’m not so sure that’s true,’ Mulder said with a small shrug.

‘Well, I know it. And Bill knows it too, that’s why he’s so unsettled by you. You mean too much to Dana. She puts all of her trust in you, and your.. quest. She’s changed quite a bit since meeting you.’

Mulder felt a hand softly stroke his knee under the table and he fought against his emotions. He needed to say some things now that would make all three of them very uncomfortable in very different ways.

‘I do love your daughter, Maggie. Very much. That’s why- that’s why I have to tell you something.’

The faint hand on his knee squeezed tighter, panic seizing them both. His eyes held firm with Scully’s for a fraction of a second before he turned to face his mother-in-law.

‘What is it, Fox? Please..’

‘God, Maggie, I’m really sorry that this is how you find this out.’ His chest shuddered, his hands screwed into tight fists, the idea of hurting this woman in such a huge way was despicable.

‘Fox,’ she urged, getting agitated.

‘Dana and I are.. married,’ he uttered the words as though they were sharp and painful in his mouth. 

Her eyes roamed quickly over him, and he wondered if she’d even heard him, then she burst out with a short, harsh laugh that made him flinch.

He couldn’t even bring himself to use more affection wording, he couldn’t tell her something that wasn’t true. We’re in love. I’m her husband. We honeymooned in Paris.

No, none of that was allowed, so he searched his mind for the simplest version of the truth.

We’re married, it’s legal, there’s paperwork. It was a Thursday. She wore a suit and we got pizza afterwards.

His gaze fell, it crumbled down to the table in shame.

‘You and Dana are married?’ she scoffed, eyeing him with suspicion. She had long known that Fox Mulder was a strange man, but she had loved and accepted him because her daughter did. But now…

‘Yes. We have been for two years.’ He sighed, eyes still held down.

‘Yet you live apart? Yet you still work together on the X-Files? You don’t do anything personal or romantic together? You- You expect me to believe this?’ Her voice was high as though she was sick of him wasting her time.

‘We’re married,’ he replied weakly, no other words left on his tongue.

‘So if you are Dana’s husband, why did she accept a date from a single father from my church, not three months ago?’

Mulder froze and drew in a deep, raw breath and turned to look at Scully instinctively.

Her eyes widened in shock, begging him to turn back at her mother and he thought he saw a flush of heat at her cheeks.

‘It’s not the most conventional marriage, it’s.. regardless of who she wants to date, Maggie..’ He swallowed thickly, jealousy now marring his exhausted face.

‘Dana is legally my wife, and I can therefore make informed medical decisions in her best interest. And I can assure you’- His eyes bore into hers then, serious and steady as he swallowed. -‘her best interest is all that I care about. I won’t let you take her off the life support.’

‘Fox..’ Maggie whispered, her voice broken, ‘Nobody is taking her off the life support yet. But she did sign the DNR. She doesn’t want to live like this. We only want to respect her wishes.’

‘I’m sorry Maggie.’ He forced out. ‘I won’t let you do it.’

‘Fox, Dana is dying.’

‘Not yet,’ he insisted.

‘There’s nothing any of us can do, and if you love her as you’re claiming-’

‘I would gladly die before I let her die.’

Tears burst from Maggie, ugly and wet and loud, making Mulder wince. She sobbed, and he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to comfort her. Would his touch be painful, or repulsive?

He was effectively taking control of her daughter’s life, ripping it from her hands and laying claim to it without warning.

A sudden, numb weight pressing on his shoulder made him jump, and he turned to see Scully burying her face against him. He tried not to react, he tried to show Maggie his full attention, but he ached to pull Scully on to his lap and soothe her, to cry with her through the pain.

‘Maggie, when Dana was taken..’ he began with a low, rough voice filled with fear, 'when Dana was taken you wanted to respect her wishes and, and.. you almost gave up. Bought a headstone and everything, remember?’

Maggie’s sigh was wounded and he hated the need to bring this up. 

‘But she came back. She’ll come back to us..’

‘That’s not fair, Fox. You act as though I’m giving up on her,’ Maggie said sternly, wiping a tear from her cheek, ‘I’m only doing what she’s always wanted. She never wanted to live because of machines. The doctors say that her brain activity isn’t improving.’

‘Mulder..’ Scully whispered, her chest physically aching now. ‘Mulder, I’m so sorry about this.’ Her lips were at his ear and he felt the pull of despair, the hallow ache in his chest, too much. 

The times he’d wished to feel Scully’s lips on his skin weren’t like this.

‘I will fight for her until the last second, Maggie. I promise you, as long as there is air in my lungs..’

Maggie nodded fiercely and held up a hand, letting him stop.

‘I know, Fox. I can see that.’

He let out a sharp sigh, tightening his fingers around his knees.

‘I don’t understand your relationship with my daughter. It doesn’t make any sense to me, at all. But it seems to make sense to the two of you. And if you indeed love her this much, who am I to deny you?’ She stood shakily, tears staining her face.

‘Maggie, when she wakes up, we’ll explain everything, ok?’

Maggie nodded with a brittle smile and turned and walked away, the tap of her shoes against the tiled floor, a farewell.

Mulder fell back heavily against the green plastic chair, his mind spinning.

‘I.. need a minute alone,’ he said softly, looking down at his lap. ‘Please.’

Scully stood up, with a hand on his shoulder, and followed her mother from the room.