#Passive Mulder Turns Passive Aggressive
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Mulder’s Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part IV): Passive Mulder Turns Passive-Aggressive
As always, interpreting Three Words 'accurately' hinges on the littlest details in every shot, since the writers chose to be overly covert when translating the scripts onto the screen (post here); but the following scene is of paramount importance. It establishes Mulder's reawakened unhealthy routines, his ignited jealousy of Doggett, his distrust of Scully’s judgment, and his choice to push away from recovery and into the pitfalls of from-the-hip reactions. This pattern waxes and wanes the rest of the season until the birth of his child.
Hanging Out in His Apartment
The day after Mulder's return to his apartment, Skinner drops in and relates Kersh's reassignment refusal. Mulder spends the majority of the conversation letting them ride out their steam, shooting down other avenues to get him back, and ultimately revealing he hadn't cared to get back to work, anyway... until Doggett is mentioned.
Mulder is lounging on his couch sporting casual wear and bedhead, likely roused from sleeping-in (or taking a bonus nap) and dressed in presentable clothes for Skinner's sudden visit. Scully is also in comfy loungewear; and wouldn’t have had enough time to drive home, get changed, and drive to Mulder's apartment if she and Skinner left directly from work. Logically, this means she and Mulder were at his apartment all morning.
So, we know Scully was hanging around (either she spent the night, changed at either apartment, and stuck around or she went home for the night and came back the next day) and Mulder was letting her-- but how does Skinner fit into this domestic (un)bliss?
It’s hard to know for certain if Mulder had previously talked with Skinner in the hospital or if this is their first time catching up:
1. We were not privy to their opening “hello” or “good afternoon” scene; and are shown only Mulder’s tailend reaction to Skinner’s news.
2. Skinner is a consummate professional; and having seen Mulder at his literal worst, nothing afterward would, perhaps, faze him as much. At any rate, it’s in Skinner’s nature to keep a cool, professional demeanor when dealing with his agents about business; and that would be the easiest go-to when handling this situation now.
3. Skinner has behaved this way before when discussing his own PTSD and trauma: in One Breath, he put aside his professionalism temporarily to appeal to Mulder; but swiftly packed it away and went right back to his work mode. He knows trauma, knows his agent, and probably assumes this is the way Mulder would want it to be. And he’s not wrong.
What we do know is Mulder, while not himself, is at least acting like himself: trying not to seem aloof; including Skinner in his jokes, ideas, and ruminations; and relying on him-- though in a different way-- as much as he does Scully (and later The Lone Gunmen.)
The only change is the loss of that touch of vulnerability Mulder often showed Skinner in moments of crisis or great emotion. Now, he keeps a wall up, trying to block in what he considers corrosive parts of himself and block out the sympathy of others so he doesn’t have to address the compiling PTSD. Vulnerability comes with a price at this point; and Mulder-- excepting his brief confession in the previous scene (post here)-- is avoiding it at all costs.
The Pivot from Passive Mulder to Passive-Aggressive Mulder
The scene starts out with Mulder sitting, solo, on his leather couch-- more accurately, sinking into it heavily, his normal vibrancy zapped by exhaustion. False bravado is hard to maintain, especially when one has been dead a few days before, is battling worsening PTSD, and now suffers from recurring flashbacks that likely disrupt whatever sleep he can get.
“Kersh wants to put me behind a desk? That is not what Kersh wants.”
He looks over at Scully and Skinner who hover together a few feet from the couch. It appears that they had just finished their conversation about Kersh, pivoting towards him when Mulder piped up. This establishes a few things:
1. Mulder can already sense how close the two have gotten in his absence-- more accurately, that they've formed a tighter bond over trying to find him and battling Kersh in the meanwhile. (Scully picks up on this, and continually draws back to his side at every available opportunity, reinforcing how much she needs him.)
2. Mulder doesn't appear jealous during this exchange or any future one, seeing it as simply another marker of his time gone.
3. Mulder most likely assumes Scully didn't accomplish much on the files without him, his absence and her pregnancy holding her back (he botched one case in the two months she was gone, after all.) He even slips in the reality that she won't be on the X-Files much longer once her baby is born-- something he's already thought through and assumed she had, as well (which she hasn't, as later revealed in Alone.)
Overall, his consternation is at Kersh, not Scully or Skinner.
Scully strides over, silently asserting that her place is by his side, not their boss's. “Well, I think Kersh wants you to quit, Mulder.”
An interesting detail: while Scully spends this scene trying to get a pulse on Mulder’s listless mood and doubting whether she should push him forward or let him hang back, Skinner keeps an eye on Scully, judging (correctly) that he will better understand where Mulder’s coming from by reading how Scully reacts to her partner's responses.
And here’s a crucial detail: this scene sets up Mulder’s back-and-forth when it comes to reaching out and withdrawing from his impending fatherhood. As Scully walks over, her eyes flick down and away; and the camera reveals why when it cuts to Mulder, who has turned away and closed his eyes while she approaches and slowly levers onto the couch.
Throughout Three Words, Mulder does want his child, doesn’t dislike or hate it; but he’s so battered and drained that he can’t bring himself to reach out. In future episodes he bounces between excited father-to-be and man obsessed with answers because he needs to stop what happened to him from ever happening again-- trying to escape his trauma by attempting to stop the source. He begins repeating the past nearly thirty years’ mistakes-- avoiding reality (“life on this planet”) by charging at windmills-- except this time he’s had his peace, had happiness with Scully, and knows he has a kid on the way. It all rings false-- he'll be jumping back into work not because of the wonder of exploration and discovery but because he's using government conspiracies to hide from reality, giving up and reenacting his ‘I did what I could and can’t do any more’ fall back in The Red and the Black, One Son, and Amor Fati. In essence, Mulder is trapped in his trauma response (post here); and-- unable to take a progressive step forward-- he regresses backward to unhealthy Freeze-Flight loops, caught up in unessential “busy work” to distract from the bigger problems he feels he can’t fix. A way to feel in-control in his out-of-control life.
“It’s more than that,” Skinner asserts; and only then does Mulder turn his head, “He wants to punish you. To hurt you.” Another interesting detail: Skinner focuses on Mulder’s emotional well-being, directly stating “hurt you” with venom at Kersh and protective assurance towards his recovered agent. No longer is Skinner willing to be oblique about his care and concern about either agent-- and Mulder responds to this, and lets his boss back in a little bit more.
Another crucial detail (there will be a lot of these): when Mulder rattles off “And you by putting you in this position--” to Skinner, his voice is solid, stable, ‘normal’; but as he continues “--and Agent Scully”, Mulder falters, his voice sinking, some more of his pain and a little bit more vulnerability bleeding through. The thought of his partner being punished-- in his absence, after his return, for his absence and return-- churns his gut and effortlessly draws out his empathy towards her, despite his erected barriers and avoidance of more personal reconnection.
Even more crucially-- and touching-- is that Mulder slows his spiel, staring longingly at his partner while he says, “--for not giving up on me.” He then pauses, giving her his full attention and gratitude through their unspoken: he’s moved by her devotion, words not adequate in his beaten down state; and, in his own way, wants her to know he’s seen her efforts, understood the lengths she must have gone, and is overcome by them.
And Scully knows this, shyly ducking her head down and slightly pursing her lips (a Scully tell of “I heard you, but I don’t know how to respond yet.”)
Back to business, Mulder’s voice loses that soft quality once again: “Truth is, this was a bullet that was fired about eight years ago.” Sardonically waving his pointer finger around for emphasis, he continues, “It’s a magic bullet that’s been going round and round and right now it seems poised to hit me in the back of the head.” He grimly stares at Skinner, who stares grimly back.
Scully cuts in, determination in her voice. ”I think the question is, Mulder, are we going to sit here and let this happen?”
Mulder is amused in spite of himself: he doesn’t lose his edge, but he softens at the corners, shooting incredulous smiles at his five-foot-two battle warrior while he ruthlessly (read: affectionately) tears apart her predilection for war with the facts: “Scully, you’re going to give birth in a couple months.”
She shifts, acknowledging his point, while Mulder keeps talking. “You can talk as tough as you like, but you know and I know and they know that in a little while you’re going to have more important things than whether or not the X-Files remains open.”
But it’s more than just the facts: Mulder doesn’t want to fight.
Mulder is not only traumatized but also willfully passive, seeing no hope in struggling for victory when all options are played out before they’ve even begun. Kersh reassigned him, Scully's leaving, the X-Files are doomed; and because they are doomed, he doesn't want to go back to work (and later doesn't want Scully to go back to work if Doggett is there and he's not.) It’s a cynicism that is hand-in-hand with his eternal optimism: when that optimism burns out, he quickly reverts to cynicism and Freeze-Flight loops.
Mulder has always responded well to Scully’s logical deduction or scathing criticism-- and it is scathing, at times-- because he needs to be told straight, in no uncertain terms, how he’s messing up and how he can fix it and move forward (ex. Scully reaming him about giving up on the world and himself in One Son and Amor Fati.) Scully, however, doesn’t trust herself to advise or even unleash on Mulder, knowing the pain of this specific violation but without the full horror of her memories to contextualize and fully understand it. Likely, she doesn’t even know Mulder can remember, assuming he was returned ‘blank slate’ like herself; and Mulder’s reticence and withdrawal compared to his previous vim and vigor whenever the government or aliens tampered with his memory utterly baffles her. And so, they coast… (until an off-screen scene right after this episode ends. But I digress.)
Scully looks away, knowing Mulder has her dead-to-rights but also knowing a piece of information he doesn’t: that Kersh still wants Doggett on the files. This means she and Skinner talked over Kersh's meeting before Skinner told Mulder; and that Scully still had not shared about Doggett, yet.
“Agent Who?” Mulder asks, intrigued more than threatened.
And then he’s met with silence; and realizing that’s never a good sign, he looks toward the one person he trusts to give him a straight answer… and realizes Scully hasn’t told the entire truth.
“I’ve had a partner… for the last seven months,” she reluctantly admits.
Mulder, struck, doesn’t even realize his head has wobbled back on the headrest while staring (blankly then angrily) at his partner.
The fact that Scully withheld this information means two things to Mulder--
1. Scully and Skinner kept him out of the loop about his job-- which is very different than wanting him back but respecting his distance.
2. Scully intended to keep important information from him, period.
--and sets fire to those old insecurities: Scully “I’m fine”ing through the years, Scully not admitting to what she saw because she was afraid, and Scully not relaying details to him to either protect him or herself. It’s the worst thing to reignite now because Mulder had thought she was the only certainty-- such as it is-- in his new, uncertain world; and now he wonders if he can rely on her, wonders if she trusts this ‘new’ him as much as the ‘old’ him.
“He was assigned to help me find you,” Scully adds.
Increasingly uncomfortable, Mulder pulls his legs into a pseudo-ball and wraps his arms around them, creating a soothing embrace of a sort for himself as well as another barrier to shield his anger at her and Skinner. “Mission accomplished.”
His act isn’t quite good enough-- Scully, dismayed, sees right through it; but doesn’t comment while he continues his questions to Skinner, not to her.
When Doggett doesn’t measure up to Mulder’s paranormal expertise, his dark suspicions become darker and more suspicious: “I see. Then maybe the question is not ‘who fired this magic bullet’ but whether or not it was a lone gunman.” He smirks, a wonky facsimile of his old, self-abasing, conspiratorial humor.
Again, Scully cuts in, not wanting Mulder to waste precious energy on an ally. “Agent Doggett is above reproach, Mulder. He’s being maneuvered just like you.”
Mulder is not convinced. “Good. At least he’s maneuverable.” With that, he immediately launches out of his seat and rushes off.
Mulder no longer trusts the angle of Scully’s judgment, translating her hesitancy to share Doggett as another clue of her blind belief ala religion, science, and some supernatural experiences (as well as her indignation over Diana Fowley in One Son, post here.) To Mulder, Scully was loyal to him and did her best in his absence… but she also let a wolf waltz into their office and remain in her midst, a part of their work, and next to her and her child. From here on out, Mulder chooses to follow no one’s council but his own, his trauma taking on a new shape: thrashing self-protection-- channeling his helplessness into hostility against Doggett and willfully disregarding Scully’s warnings as an effort to ‘save’ her from herself. He’s seen things she hasn’t, he remembers what she doesn’t, and he won’t let it happen again-- for her sake, but really for his own.
The last part of this scene is important, as well, hammering home how disconnected Mulder feels from himself before the Kersh madness was even brought to his doorstep:
“Where are you going?” Skinner monotones, talking down a crazy man.
“Gonna get dressed. For the first time, I feel like getting back to work.”
And for a man who felt alive and as close to whole as possible when chasing down leads with his fearless partner, this is both an alarming tell of his present feelings and a warning sign for his future recklessness.
Thank you for reading~
Enjoy!
#Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma#In-Depth#Part IV#Passive Mulder Turns Passive Aggressive#txf#meta#xf meta#Mulder#S8#Three Words#mine#xfiles#x-files#the x files#analysis
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And my girl Scully figured out that Diana and Phoebe were abusive to him and that’s why she was ready to disintegrate them with whenever they breathed Mulder’s air iktr. (Also to me that’s part of the reason Mulder was oblivious and defended them, people who are in abusive relationships are not always aware of it)
YUPP you’re literally dead right, anon, in my opinion. it really bugs me when people talk shit about mulder for “trusting” both phoebe and diana, as though that’s not like…the only thing he’s been taught to do.
i’ve been thinking a lot about the difference between scully’s reactions to phoebe vs. diana. when phoebe showed up, scully had only known mulder for a few weeks. and still she knew almost instantly that something wasn’t right.
i didn’t notice until i rewatched fire the way that she never leaves him alone with her. if mulder and phoebe are working on something, you can see scully. against the wall, peeking around the door, pacing in the hallway. he tells her that she’s “off the hook,” that he’s not going to “put her through this” with “phoebe’s little mind games,” and she takes it upon herself to investigate phoebe’s case herself, until she solves it and phoebe can go the fuck home.
girlbosses catch serial murderers singlehandedly to get their best friend’s shitty ex away from them.
when phoebe was around, scully is passive aggressive as hell. constantly hanging around and making little quips and mocking her accent.
when diana shows up? five years later? she’s just aggressive.
she said nah, we aren’t doing this again 😭😭
(one of my favorite scully moments is when she snaps “and not just because i think that woman is a….well, you know what i think that woman is” and mulder is just like “no you hide your feelings sooo well” lmfao)
i really do think meeting phoebe so early in their partnership informs a lot about the way scully reacts to his exposure and relationship to other people throughout the series. she really doesn’t trust a soul around him.
i always think of this line from madness by kittenscully (a post-syzygy fic, addressing the detective white incident):
“A surge of righteous indignation at the notion makes her sit up straighter, and she bites her tongue to avoid a very unpleasant comment from slipping out. As always, she thinks of Phoebe, of his wide, trusting eyes.”
diana was scary levels of manipulative and violating. but diana loved mulder, scully knew that and used that to plead with her in the end.
phoebe didn’t care about anything but playing with fire. she got off on scaring him, crossed state lines just to fuck with his head and hurt him, just like in their relationship a decade earlier. mulder knew this, he knew from the start what she was doing and what she wanted, and he helped her anyway. he praised her anyway. he connected with her and invested in her anyway.
y’all know i’m always thinking about the script note about phoebe’s coldness “eliciting some old need in him to have her affection.”
by the time diana came back around, scully had sat on the floor of a hotel and watched phoebe smile and shake hands with bureaucrats while mulder couldn’t breathe.
scully had stood in the next room when his questions to his mother got him little more than a slap to the face.
it’s different with diana because there’s a lot more history and connection there, and because at that point there is heartbreak and jealousy on scully’s side (when phoebe was in town, she hung around in doorways. when diana reaches for mulder’s hand, she turns around and holds back tears in the car.)
it’s a difficult position for both of them. he doesn’t know how to do anything but appease and trust and be loyal, to help whoever asks. he doesn’t care if it hurts him, he’s been groomed his whole life for that, to feel like he deserves it.
it makes scully crazy. he’s her best friend. she can’t believe anyone would look at that kind of softhearted hope and want to exploit it or crush it, rather than look up to it, follow it, nurture it.
and it hurts!! it hurts to watch him fall back into these traps, and especially with diana, it hurts to feel that your input and relationship doesn’t matter enough to have influence. to not be listened to, to feel like you’re not being chosen.
she doesn’t know that he went to search diana’s apartment after she told him not to trust her. she just heard, “i know her. you don’t. scully, you’re reaching.” and watched him leave.
it’s just this perfect crossroads of each of their most vulnerable spots. scully wants to protect him, always, and she also wants to be chosen.
mulder has to stand by his allegiances, to seek ‘affection’ in cruelty, to play his role in the larger scheme. this is what CSM knew when he recruited diana into the conspiracy, and he knows because he “created” it.
you can’t judge either of them, they’re both following their natures, and furthering the narrative they were chosen for.
(until scully stands in front of diana and begs, “i just want you to think…stand there in front of me, look me in the eye”…and breaks the whole thing down.)
#TLDR children weaned on poison etc etc#LOVE WON IN THE END!! always. scully’s ferocious devotion won in the end#asks#scully baby i hope you got your bubble baths that year#it’s hard. because he Does listen to her and internalize her input#but he also Needs to not lose these last connections and these last people who ‘cared’ about him and to please them and to be what they want#i mean he was like 18 when he met phoebe. ‘she was brilliant. i got in over my head.’#he and diana were together (married) (to Me) for like 5 years#during one of the most vulnerable periods of his life. and his transition into discovering the files and doing therapy and leaving the VCU#Sigh#i know scully would zip him safely in her pocket if she could but like she also feels so insecure and disregarded when diana is around#so it’s like both her Constant protectiveness and her own intimate emotional response. it’s just a lot.#i love season 6#‘bum a cigarette agent fowley?’#👌👌👌#Diana
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meta on why he never get angry
Send me a topic to write meta on my muse on
AS WE CAN CLEARLY SEE Mulder's anger is incredibly intense whenever it does bubble to the surface. I think when he was younger, for a very long time he got angrier more frequently. Over the years though as he was pushed down and pushed aside by higher ups and worked his way through Quantico and continued to disappoint people he sort of just let his anger... steep. Sort of let it stew. Found other ways to get rid of his anger or in actuality just turned it into sarcasm and nihilism. A lot of passive aggressive comments get him further than getting angry, because in the end when you shout at a wall all you do is fry your own vocal chords.
That, and I truly believe it really takes a lot for Mulder to get extremely angry to the point where he actually shows it. I think he tries more often than not to give people multiple chances or he just ends up being more disappointed than anything else. Anger is a rare occurrence for Mulder, and it's something he often regrets. Especially when his anger turns into something like revenge.
He throws himself into everything he does. Lets it consume him, for better or worse.
#;case file -memes and prompts#beyondthescully#this was prompted by me trying to find icons for all the angy that's happening aslkdjlaskjf#he is so very rarely angry in the show and here are my thoughts on it
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Hcs about what specifically Phoebe and Diana did to Mulder that fucked him up?
If you haven’t read Seventeen by @scapegrace74-blog, you’re in for a treat, because Michelle’s take on Mulder’s past lovers is perfect.
But personally, I think that Oxford Mulder was ripe for the fucking and the fucking-up. He was a Yank in an olde worlde setting, escaping the misery and ghosts of his family, and probably wanted to disappear and arrive all at the same time. Someone as canny as Phoebe, probably brought up in a reserved family home where feelings are for commoners and disagreements are dealt with in passive-aggressive silence, would see him as a project, somebody to be moulded and bent into whatever shape she desired. He wouldn’t even object, because he’s desperate to fit in or rebel or obey or whatever demon was controlling him at the time. I doubt he thought of their relationship as abusive until after he left.
Diana was different in that she wasn’t overtly abusive. I think he loved her. He saw a future for them that involved safety and security and love. He imagined a better life with someone who believed him and in him. But he didn’t bargain for her ambition and her focus on her career to the point that she would drop everything for a better move for her. Not for them. He took her ambivalence about their romance (Fox, I have to be true to me) so personally that he vowed never to fall again. His heart bore the scars of every relationship and he found a balm in the X-files and release in the emotional detachment of porn.
Some headcanons:
Phoebe would arrange a date at the pub then not show up, or show up an hour late, already drunk and with a gang of ‘pals’ from the rugger team and then pick a fight with Mulder when he remonstrated.
He bought Phoebe a gift, a vintage Toby jug she’d seen in an antique shop and told him it reminded her of him with his big nose, she thanked him and put it on the sideboard, fucked him, sent him home sore and bruised. When he caught her cheating for the third time, she smashed the jug in front of him and ground the nose into the flagstone floor.
He asked Diana about the possibility of having children once and she laughed out loud, before stopping and explaining that she couldn’t imagine him being so tied down.
When he proposed to Diana she turned him down and took a few weeks’ leave. When she returned, she showed up at his apartment, and he thought she’d been crying. She was a bit drunk, but after they’d made love, he was lying behind her in the dark, trying to think of a way to ask where she’d been, when she asked him to marry her. He was shocked but agreed. He made all the arrangements, got the rings, and at the eleventh hour, she told him she’d got the job in Europe.
All Mulder learned from both of these women was that he wasn’t worthy of love and love wasn’t worth the effort.
I’m sure there are more and other/better headcanons than these, but my brain is not working this morning, lovely anon.
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Since you already told me you have an idea for this, I need to read the “Mulder accidentally takes Viagra and Dr. Scully needs to help” fic pretty please! The hotter the better of course.
HEY BOO! Guess who finally got around to finishing it! I’ve had this idea for so long it’s ridiculous, and not to toot my own horn…but it’s really hot. It ended up being super long so I’m going to split it up in two parts while the latter half is in beta. Part two will probably be up in the next few days!
As always, thank you to @admiralty-xfd for her beta and her endless support.
Clinical Detatchment
msr / s7 / UST to RST
To say this case had been stressful would be a colossal understatement. They’d been clashing with the police department since they got here; they were flagrantly sexist and rude to Scully and they thought Mulder was insane and, in their words, ‘a pussy’ for listening to her. To top it all off, after a week of intensive searching, the case ended with the police burning down the barn that the ‘creature’ they’d been looking for had been lurking in resulting in a pile of ashes and some unidentifiable bones, much to Mulder’s irritation.
She couldn’t even take joy in the fact that the case was over. After the barn burning, they had to go to the police station to give a final statement and, aside from being offered coffee which Mulder had all but devoured, the police were outright disrespectful. Not that Mulder wasn’t acting similarly to them, after he’d downed the drink he’d talked separately with the officers before storming out of the office, telling her they “were leaving, now.”
She didn’t know what they’d said to him that’d offended him to this point, but she knew something was off.
Now she was at the shitty restaurant attached to their motel, sitting across from Mulder who seemed to be in one of his moods. As soon as they’d gotten there he’d stormed ahead of her, not bothering to hold the door open or even see if she was following him. It wouldn’t be strange if it weren’t for his usual tendencies to be a gentleman, but now it just seemed passive aggressive. All in all, a shitty day.
He’d been quiet since they left and when she asked him anything he’d just give her short answers. For some reason it felt like he couldn’t even look at her. She could only take so much before she called him out. “Mulder, have I done something to piss you off?”
He stopped playing with his glass of water and looked at her timidly before looking away, pretending to find interest in the food that remained practically untouched in front of him. “No,” he muttered.
“Are you sure?” she asked, impatience coming through despite herself.
“Yeah,” he nodded.
She let out an irritated sigh and slouched into her seat. Her movement resulted in her leg grazing Mulder’s and it caused him to jump away from her like she’d burned him. “Are you kidding me?” she snapped.
“I’m-”
“Mulder, I’ve had to deal with people treating me like shit this entire case. I really don’t need it from you too,” she lamented.
Finally he looked at her and she started to feel a little guilty for lashing out. In this moment, looking at him face to face, she realized he looked ill. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes were glassy, and she could see sweat gathering on his brow. “Scully, I’m sorry. I’m not mad. I don’t mean to be short, I just- I don’t feel good.”
“No, I shouldn’t have snapped. I didn’t realize you were sick,” she apologized.
“I think just the stress of the case finally caught up to me,” he shrugged.
She slid out of her side of the booth and moved to sit next to him. “I-I’m sure I’m fine though, Scully,” he stammered, sliding away from her.
“Mulder, you don’t look fine,” she admonished, reaching for his face. She put the back of her hands on his cheeks and forehead and frowned when she felt how hot he was. “You’re burning up.”
He swerved his head, effectively moving out of her hands, and hunched over. “It’s probably just a passing bug, Scully. I promise I’m fine,” he rambled.
She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. This wasn’t like Mulder to be so unreceptive to her medical attention. She gave him another once over and realized how abnormal his posture was. “Mulder, why are you sitting like that?”
“Scully,” he stated firmly. “I’m fine.”
“If you’re fine then sit up,” she countered.
“I don’t want to,” he whined with near exasperation.
He looked like he was grabbing his sides while curling in on himself.
“Do you have pain in your abdomen?” she asked. Appendicitis? Stomach flu? Hernia? IBS?
“No,” he muttered childishly, avoiding eye contact.
“How long have you been feeling ill?”
“Please, drop it,” he pled.
Suddenly, testing him, she reached out and grabbed the arm nearest to her, pulling it away from his body. He let out a hissing sound between clenched teeth, his whole body lurching before he moved away from her. “Mulder, you’re obviously in pain. Stop trying to hide it.”
“Scully, please leave me alone,” he begged. “And please stop touching me so much.”
The intensity of his request hurt her feelings, but she tried her best to keep it from showing. Part of her thought about giving up and meeting him with equal stubbornness, but it’d felt like they’d been getting closer as of late and the harsh rejection stung more than she wished it had. “Why won’t you let me help you?” she asked softly.
He must’ve heard the hurt despite her efforts and he turned to look at her. When he did this, she noticed his eyes were unnaturally dilated and her concern grew even more. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he pressed.
She might’ve given up, but this case had been taxing on them both and she knew he had a tendency to forgo taking care of himself in the midst of a stressful investigation. “Mulder,” she rolled her eyes, grabbing at him again. “Please just let me give you a quick examination to see if anything’s alarming.” She put her hand on his thigh and he gasped ‘fuck’ before grabbing her wrist harshly, causing her to let out a little gasp of surprise.
He winced and was silent a moment before whispering, “It’s embarrassing.”
“What is?” she asked.
With some strain, he sat up straight and let go of her wrist, taking the other off his lap to reveal an impressive erection straining against his dress pants, tenting the material away from his lap. He gestured to it in aggravation as if it needed any sort of introduction.
She looked at it, he looked at it, he looked at her, she kept looking at it.
“Oh,” she squeaked, removing her hand from his thigh but not leaving that side of the booth.
“I-” he mumbled, covering up again as she struggled to tear her gaze away.
She interrupted him with a raised hand. “It’s fine, Mulder. I know it happens. It doesn’t bother me. I’m sorry I embarrassed you-you shouldn’t be embarrassed,” she rushed, her sentences choppy in her own mortification at bringing attention to it.
She wasn’t lying - she knew it happened quite frequently, just never to this extent. Usually he adjusted it, calmed down, or left the room by the time the slight hardening in his pants turned into anything that he’d think she noticed. She figured Mulder thought he was being discreet, or maybe he assumed she never glanced at that area of his body, but she noticed enough to know that Mulder was a very healthy man.
It sometimes became a game to her: determining what the cause of any given erection was. Sometimes she thought it happened when the wind blew too hard, it seemed to happen so easily. But slowly, this time, she realized she seemingly had a role in it. All too often it seemed he needed to readjust or take a deep breath or leave immediately following something she’d done. Like a cause and effect but the causes were things she thought were mundane, like standing near him, smiling, laughing, touching, sometimes just looking at him.
She’d just never called him out on it.
“No, Sc-wait. What do you mean you know it happens?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
“I just-it’s a natural bodily occurrence,” she explained, subverting her true meaning.
They locked eyes for a moment, both fully aware she wasn’t convincing enough, but luckily he chose to move on. “They, um, they slipped me something,” he mumbled.
He shifted in his seat and her gaze flitted down to the area in question, a glance that didn’t go unnoticed by Mulder who started unconsciously bending forward again to hide himself. Feeling a surge of embarrassment for her unabashed ogling, she cleared her throat and registered his words. “Wait, who slipped you what?”
“Sheriff Flannery and his merry band of misfits, they said they gave me viagra,” he murmured the last part so softly that she’d barely heard him.
For a moment she was sure she’d heard him wrong, but he was wearing his earnestness on his face and she knew he was telling the truth.“Why on earth would they do that? Not to mention the fact that’s extremely illegal,” she balked.
He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “They said it was so I could ‘man up’,” he admitted. She was about to make a comment about how ridiculous that was, but he spoke up before she could. “Apparently they had some viagra in the back from some guy who retired, yadda yadda yadda, but they slipped it into my coffee while we were in the hallway talking.”
As he said this, she unconsciously licked her lips and his gaze flickered to the motion immediately before his eyes shot back to the opposite side of the booth while his nostrils flared and he shifted his hips. It was a motion she found undeniably attractive.
“How much did they give you?” she asked, her attention snapping back to the matter at hand.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged.
“How long have you been erect?” she asked, cringing and looking around when she realized her volume.
Mulder did a look around as well and sighed in relief when no one was eavesdropping on them. “Um, I don’t know, maybe two hours.”
“Have you tried…” she made an odd gesture with her lap with her hands as he stared at her with raised eyebrows.
“Did it look like I tried the past two hours we’ve been together?” he asked sarcastically before immediately apologizing. “I’m sorry, this is just the icing on a shit day.”
“It worries me that we don’t know the dosage,” she confided, stopping altogether when the waitress came by to take their plates and drop off the check. Neither of them missed the skeptical once over she gave them for being huddled together on the same side of the booth like teenagers.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Scully resumed, “I’m worried they gave you too much.”
“I’m sure it’ll go away when we get back to the motel room.” Catching himself, he clarified, “When I get back to my motel room. I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“Unless it doesn’t go away in the next two hours,” she added, getting out her wallet and laying cash down on the table for the bill and the tip.
“W-what do you mean?” he croaked.
She looked at him with a skeptical brow as if to say ‘you don’t know’ to which his visible gulp replied ‘oh god what?’
“Do you know why Viagra commercials warn against erections lasting longer than four hours?” she asked, stuffing her wallet back into her purse.
“Lightheadedness…” he answered with timidity that told her he knew his answer would be wrong.
“No, do you know what priapism is?” she asked.
“No,” he admitted.
“There are different types, and I won’t go into full detail, but in bad cases the blood trapped in the penis is deprived of oxygen. Erections that last too long can cause the oxygen-poor blood to begin to damage or destroy tissues in the penis,” she explained.
“Destroy?” he repeated.
“Some untreated priapisms can cause erectile dysfunction.”
She might as well have told him he had two hours to live with the look of panic that came across his face. “W-what do I need to do?” he stammered.
“Let’s go back to your room so we can assess the situation,” she stated, trying to sound calm.
She slid out of the booth, but as she was about to walk away, she felt a hand grab her wrist. “Wait,” he whispered.
She turned and saw him scooting closer to the edge of, but not coming out of, the seat. He glanced around before looking at her nervously. “There are people here,” he told her in a low voice.
She looked around and saw the once empty restaurant was bustling with customers. “But we have to go, Mulder,” she whispered back, not wanting to cause him further embarrassment but not seeing a wormhole for him to crawl into opening up anytime soon.
“Can you walk right in front of me to hide it?” he asked. Mulder usually didn’t care what people thought of him, but he did care when across the room was a children’s birthday party.
With a sigh of resignation, she nodded and turned around in place as he stood up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders to keep her in front of him. There was space between them, but barely. They were both walking as briskly as they could, but she could feel the warmth of him radiating on her back.
Then, unexpectedly, a waitress passed in front of Scully’s path with a quick “Sorry, coming through,” and the motion caused Scully to stop in her tracks. Which, of course, resulted in Mulder crashing into her and jabbing his hard on straight into her back. She gasped and he squeezed her shoulders tightly and let out a soft, strangled moan, causing a few patrons to abandon their food to glance up at the pair.
“I’m sorry,” Scully whispered breathlessly. Whether to the interrupted customers having to witness their misfortune, or to Mulder for stopping so suddenly, she wasn’t sure. All she knew as she continued moving forward was that Mulder’s cock had just touched her. It wasn’t skin against skin, wasn’t intimate in any real sense, but her partner’s penis had touched her and it was hot, hard, and he moaned.
And fuck if it didn’t turn her on.
As soon as they were out of the eyeline of the prying customers and halfway across the gravel parking lot to their rooms, she took a quick step forward, consequently freeing herself from his hands.
“I’m sorry,” Mulder lamented immediately. Truth be told, she didn’t need to be so dramatic with her movement, but she’d rather have him think she was frustrated with him than realize she was getting flustered. But she regretted her action at the absolute guilt that was evident in his tone.
She turned to look over at him and took pity on the sight of a dejected Mulder crossing his hands in front of his pants. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pull away so abruptly. Let’s just get to your room.”
She stood by his side and didn’t say anything more as Mulder unlocked the door and let her in. They’d only been there a few days, but Mulder had sprawled all his stuff about and made himself at home. She heard the lock snick behind her, and putting on an air of complete professionalism, she turned around and faced him. “Okay, let’s take a look.”
He still hadn’t moved more than a foot from the door, the only signs of life were the widening of his eyes and his stammering. “I-I don’t, I can’t-”.
Well, if he was going to be like that. “One of the methods of curing a priapism is to make an incision-”
“Scull-ee,” he whined, his brows furrowing in distress.
“Mulder, I saw more penises in med school than the actresses in all your tapes combined,” she deadpanned.
“But this is different,” he explained, not elaborating beyond that.
He was right. It was different. She’d seen it before, but it was usually a brief glimpse in the midst of dressing him because of another injury, never was it the main focus of an examination. That, plus the issue that it would be erect and she’d most likely have to come in contact with it for a full examination.
Letting out a long sigh and cursing the fact that nothing in their lives could be easy, she ran her hands over her face and offered, “You’re right. You’re right. Um, how about you go into the bathroom and take a look. Let me know if anything looks abnormal.”
He seemed relieved at that prospect and did as directed, making his way to the bathroom and quickly shutting the door as if to get out of her line of sight. She listened from the other side of the door as the teeth of his zipper came apart and his pants dropped down to the floor. He coughed nervously and called out, “Okay, uh, it’s-it’s out,” he stammered.
There were a few moments in her life, specifically since her time with him, where she couldn’t help but be shocked at where she’d ended up. This was one of those moments.
“How does it look?” she asked.
“Um,” he paused. “Normal?”
“Does it look different than when you’re usually erect?” she asked, rolling her eyes.
“What do you mean?” he called out.
“Is it swollen or red?” she explained, images from med school textbooks dancing around in her head.
There was a pause and she realized he was misinterpreting her. With a sigh, she added, “More so than normal?”
“N-no, I think it looks normal, but I’ve never had one for this long and it kinda aches,” he explained. She frowned, she didn’t know what to do when half of that information was comforting and the other half was cause for concern.
“This isn’t working,” she called out. In what world could a doctor assess a patient with a blindfold on? Rarely were patient assessments ever accurate in the first place, let alone when they were in distress.
“Do you have to?” he sighed in acquiescence.
“Mulder, just let me look. I just want to help,” she reassured, trying to take a gentler approach.
She heard some more sounds of fabric rustling and realised he was stepping out of his pants and shoes. Soon enough, she heard the door unlock and saw a tuft of brown hair and hazel eyes peer from the side of the door. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he joked lamely, trying to lighten the mood and his own discomfort.
She rolled her eyes and gave him a small smirk. “If I ever need an emergency medical exam, I’ll make sure you’re the first person I call.”
“Is that a promise?” he asked, taking a step out and revealing he’d also removed his dress shirt, leaving him in his t-shirt shirt and boxers as he continued to cover himself with a hand towel.
She took a few steps towards him to meet him halfway and the room became tense again, neither of them speaking for a moment as the awkwardness overtook them. “I promise to be clinically detached,” she blurted out. “I know this is uncomfortable, but as soon as it’s taken care of, I promise we can pretend this never happened.”
He let out a long, reluctant sigh and nodded, “Okay. Thank you.”
“Sit on the bed,” she commanded.
He teased her about her bedside manner, but they walked back into the bedroom and he did as she asked anyway. He only started making a fuss again when she began to get closer.
“Wh-what are you doing?” he asked, scooting away from her as she started easing herself down on her knees in front of him.
“I’m looking, Mulder…” she trailed off. Surely he didn’t think she was going to…
“I-but-can you,” he stammered never fully forming a single one of the thousand thoughts swirling behind his eyes right now.
“Mulder, are you genuinely confused or just stammering? I don’t mean to be blunt, but in this situation, the difference matters,” she sighed, righting herself to look at him. Faltering memory. Confusion. Slurred or stammered speech.
“Scully, this is embarrassing,” he whined, so pathetically that her heart went out to him.
But time was of the essence, and they were running out of it. “Fine,” she stated sternly, pretending to grab her bag. “We’ll just have to go to the hospital then.”
“No!” he called out, and if she identified the sound correctly, he even stamped a foot.
She turned around to face him again and demanded. “You’re going to have to be honest with me or we will be going, okay?”
He was giving her puppy dog eyes right now and she had to bite back a smile at the juxtaposition. He looked like a kicked dog, yet was sporting a massive erection. Mulder pulled her out of her thought process by his mumbling something, but doing it under his breath so that she couldn’t hear. “What was that?”
“I don’t want to accidentally come in front of you… or on you,” he muttered.
This is my life. My partner just said those words out loud to me. She was at such a loss for words that he took it as her not understanding. “I just-I’m afraid seeing you, um, like that-” On your knees.
She held up her hand to stop him from saying anymore. “Lay back and close your eyes or look at the ceiling.” He nodded and lowered himself slowly onto his back, letting out a tense sigh. She wished she had those hanging mobiles like they do at the OBGYN, but he instead just raised his forearms to cover his eyes and she took that as a sign she was good to go.
Without his prying eyes on her, she mouthed a silent fuck to herself as she lowered herself on her knees and in between his legs, giving her a better vantage point to see. The hand towel didn’t do much to cover, but it was enough for her to be nervous about removing it entirely. No going back now.
She cleared her throat and decided to be as Dr. Scully as she possibly could. “I’m going to remove the towel.”
There were no words of affirmation or recognition, but she knew he heard. He was probably just trying to mentally dig a hole to crawl into. With her index finger and thumb, she grabbed the corner of the towel and lifted it off, setting it down gently at his side. Her thoughts were as follows:
Mulder is hung.
How does he walk around with this?
It’s amazing how humble he is for how cocky he easily could be.
My face is a few inches from Mulder’s leaking cock.
“Does it look like a pr-prasi-”
“A priapism,” she clarified. She looked at the pink swollen phallus and didn’t immediately see any of the usual red flags. “No visual indicators.” Dr. Scully left for a moment as Flustered Dana mentally screamed, but she stifled her hesitation and confidently said, “Is it alright if I touch it for a physical exam?”
He was silent and, unlike last time, she couldn’t continue without his permission. She sat there, his penis hard as a rock in front of her face, as he contemplated his fate. Then, she heard a softly muttered, “Okay.”
Being as delicate as she could, she scooted closer, her forearm grazing the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He jumped like she’d shocked him and she breathed out an apology and continued to lift her hands, gently grabbing the shaft with the tips of her fingers.
She ducked her head slightly to look at the scrotum and noticed nothing looked out of the ordinary. Just perfectly dropped, engorged, healthy balls. She righted herself and tested the skin’s give by tugging down lightly with her fingers on his shaft, dragging the skin down and revealing more of his head, and she was relieved to see there was some movement. So he’s not swollen to the point of danger.
As she conducted her test he took a sharp, shaky inhalation between clenched teeth. Risking a glance over to him, she saw his arms still firmly planted against his face, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. “Um-” she spoke, not even sure what she was about to say, just wanting to break the silence. “Does being touched hurt?” she asked, settling on a perfectly analytical question.
She saw him swallow thickly before answering in a husky voice that shot straight to her core, “No.”
He didn’t offer any more information and she figured he was trying to spare his pride. Using her fingers as delicately as she could, she moved it around from side to side just to check mobility, but her motion apparently wasn’t as delicate as she’d intended. He lurched away from her, his erection going out of her grasp and bobbing violently in the air at his harsh jerk. “Okay, that was a little rough, Scully.”
“Sorry,” she exhaled before taking the cloth and covering him. At the unexpected sensation, he concaved his hips into the bed and released his arms to look down at her before immediately subverting his eyes.
Using his knees as leverage, she stood up and cleared her throat, taking in the sight of Mulder actually blushing and wishing it wasn’t such an uncomfortable situation.
His attention was drawn by her near-declarative cough and he glanced back at her as he eased himself up on his elbows. Now it was her turn to look away. There was something incredibly sexy about a casually reclined Mulder with an erection while she apparently possessed the ability to arouse him.
“It doesn’t look dangerous right now, but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet. I want you to, um, take care of it and then tell me if the swelling starts to go down,” she explained.
“What happens if I can’t?” he asked nervously.
“I thought you were well versed in that arena,” she teased before seeing the look of panic in his eyes. “Mulder, I’m sure this will all blow over. People snort cocaine and have had two hour long erections like this and they live. Let’s focus on the positive. If you can’t, we can always go to the hospital,” she comforted. Correction- she tried to comfort. She said the H word again and she could see the worry brewing in his eyes.
“Don’t think about it, just think about - whatever it is you normally think about,” she stammered, moving towards the adjoining door. “I’ll be next door if you need me.” Then, at his raised brows, she added, “If you have a medical question or um, you know.” Putting herself out of her misery, she walked into her room and shut the door.
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IWTB fic
In honour of the 12th anniversary of the IWTB release, here is a fic I wrote 10 years ago (1 March 2010 to be precise):
In a Graveyard by Circe Invidiosa
Rating: PG-13 for the swears
Disclaimer: I know the law, and the law would win.
Summary: He hated snow…Mulder attends a funeral. A post-I Want to Believe fic.
Keep reading it here or read it on:
my fic site
LJ
He hated snow, he decided. Considering the week he’d had, Mulder didn’t know why he hadn’t come to this conclusion before now. He watched the flakes begin to fall in bigger clumps, sticking to the casket in splotches.
The snow muffled the minister’s drone, making him sound like he was rooms away. Like when Mulder would hide in the linen closet when his parents had company over and they thought he was asleep, back before Samantha was born. He’d hoped to hear something he wasn’t supposed to hear. Why else would they send him to bed? But it always turned out to be boring adult talk. They didn’t even talk about him.
Mulder shook off the memory and the snow that had collected in his hair and tried to concentrate on what the minister was saying. But it was obvious the officiant knew Dakota Whitney about as well as he did. The trite platitudes, the words about faith and God’s will, seemed even more pointless to Mulder than usual.
He couldn’t give Scully an answer to why he was going to Dakota Whitney’s funeral. He didn’t know what he’d hoped for — meaning, absolution? None of that was here.
He’d stayed back, far enough away that he could scan the faces of the crowd. He’d recognized a few faces, older now, just as he was. No one would meet his eye except Drummy, who glared openly at him. Mulder wished he had a reason to glare back.
It was during this absurd staring contest that someone approached and stood next to Mulder. Walter Skinner didn’t even acknowledge when Mulder turned to see him, hands shoved into his overcoat pockets staring forward. But Mulder felt bolstered enough by his presence that he could forget about Drummy and his censure.
Mulder leaned toward Skinner. “Arlington, huh? How’d she score this kind of real estate?”
Skinner motioned his head to the older uniformed man who held the folded flag. “General Whitney.”
That explained a lot.
Mulder realized that he hadn’t really considered anything about this girl — woman. Christ, she was older than Scully had been when they’d first met. Obviously — far too obviously — Dakota Whitney had been interested in Mulder and had considered everything about him. He began to feel embarrassed for her, and for himself, remembering their final conversation, when she’d made a play for him.
Uncomfortable again, Mulder turned to Skinner to make his apologies and leave when Skinner said, “There was snow at your funeral, too.”
Well, fuck. Mulder knew that he hadn’t said it out of maliciousness, but maybe Skinner was making a point — he’d been to enough funerals and didn’t want to go to another of Mulder’s. Whatever Skinner’s reasons, it rooted Mulder to his spot.
Mulder changed the subject as fast as he could. “Did you know her?” He nodded toward the casket.
“Sorta. She came to me, before this case, wanting to know about you, about the X-Files. Pestered me every day for a month. Kept telling me it was all ‘off-the-record’.”
“What did you tell her?”
Skinner snorted. “I’m still an AD because I know there’s no such thing as ‘off-the-record’. And because I know when to leave something damn well alone. Last time she talked to me was last week. Came into my office and triumphantly told me she’d gotten approval to get you for consulting on some hot case, and thanks for nothing.”
Mulder smirked, remembering her tenacity. “I noticed she didn’t take no for an answer.”
“She didn’t get to be an ASAC by backing down.”
Mulder sighed. “Well, it got her killed. Bringing me back got her killed.”
Skinner shook his head. “You’re unbelievable. Isolation has actually made you more egotistical. You must’ve been a joy to live with these last six years.”
One thing Mulder knew was that regardless of how many times Skinner threw everything aside to help him, there was only one reason he did it: for Scully. And this was Mulder’s cue.
“Thanks for the chat and for the cuddle the other night, Walter. Drop by any time now that I’m not wanted.” Mulder started to back away.
Skinner rolled his eyes and walked past him, back down to the path. “Get over yourself, Mulder. There’s something here you need to see.”
Mulder took one last look at the snow-freckled coffin before he followed. They walked away to a gun salute.
———-
Skinner led the way. After a few minutes, he veered off the path and stopped in front of an unremarkable headstone. Unremarkable until Mulder read the name aloud: “Frohike.” Sure enough, Langly and Byers flanked him.
“Shit,” Mulder muttered. Scully had told him all about The Gunmen’s heroic deaths, but it never seemed real. Especially not with the spectral visits the boys occasionally had paid him.
Skinner pointed to the fresh flowers left at all three graves. “Jimmy, that kid who started following them around that last year, he visits every couple of weeks. Makes sure it looks like someone’s been here. That someone remembers what they meant.”
“I met him once. He was –” How could he put it delicately?
Skinner read his mind. “What he lacks in sense, he makes up for in eagerness. I thought their deaths would kill him. But he’s still putting out the paper. He still believes.”
Lucky kid.
Skinner bowed his head momentarily, paying his respects, before he cleared his throat. “I’ll give you some time alone here. I’ve gotta go make an appearance at the wake and do Assistant Director stuff. You can make it outta here okay?”
Mulder nodded. “I’ll just follow the breadcrumb trail I left.”
“Tell Scully I’ll be in touch,” Skinner said before he walked away.
Mulder knelt down by Frohike’s headstone. He didn’t have to wait long and was not startled when a voice spoke.
“I thought he’d never leave.” Langly appeared from behind a nearby tree.
“‘Bout time you showed up,” Frohike said as he stood up from behind his tombstone.
Mulder rolled his eyes and stood upright. “You might recall that up until very recently, I was wanted by the FBI for killing a marine. You even warned me to go on the run and not look back. So it would be a pretty stupid idea to just waltz into the largest armed forces cemetery. But thanks for understanding.”
Byers appeared from behind Mulder. “Don’t mind him, Mulder. The afterlife isn’t what he expected.”
Mulder chuckled. “What, all the great conspiracies didn’t just reveal themselves to you when the pearly gates opened?”
Langly was leaning on his own headstone. “Nah. He’s just got his panties in a twist because it turns out he’s just as bad at getting dead tail as he was at getting live tail.”
“At least I’m looking for girls! You’re just interested in other long haired dudes!” Frohike said.
Langly’s fist came down. “Joey Ramone is a GOD, not a dude!”
Mulder was getting fed up. “Guys! I’m here now. Not that you couldn’t have come to see me any time, you know, what with having shuffled off your mortal coils and all.”
Byers shrugged. “Mulder, even you think we’re figments of your impressive imagination. If you haven’t seen us lately, maybe you should ask yourself why.”
Mulder rubbed his forehead. “If you really are figments of my imagination, why haven’t you gotten any better looking?”
“Speak for yourself, Not-so-Grizzly-Adams,” Frohike said. “Did you shave just for us?”
“All right,” Byers intervened, his hands raised like a referee. “Mulder, we know why you came here today. We’re sorry about the girl, Agent Whitney. You and she seemed to work well with one another.”
“Too well,” Frohike interjected.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mulder replied a little too defensively.
Langly sighed. “Don’t get him started.”
Frohike waved him off. “Too late!” He turned to Mulder. “Running off with this young chickie, Mulder, just because she’s all into the paranormal? When you’ve got the luscious Dana Scully waiting at home? What are you thinking?”
Mulder turned away. “It wasn’t like that –”
“It never is,” Byers said, to Mulder’s surprise. “And that wasn’t our point, Mulder. It’s not your feelings for Agent — Doctor Scully — that are the problem. It’s where your relationship stands now that you’re free.”
Mulder replied. “Look, Scully knows where we stand –”
“Does she?” Frohike asked.
Mulder threw his arms up. “Of course she does. How could she not?”
“Have you actually told her, Mulder?” Byers asked.
“Yeah, that really seems to be a bit of a foreign concept for you two,” Langly said.
“Think about how ready was she to give up on you when you went into crazy investigator mode.” Frohike said. Don’t give up. Maybe it was Mulder that Father Joe had been referring to all along when he said that to Scully. Frohike added, “Does that seem like a person who knows where they stand?”
But I can tell you that I won’t be coming home. Mulder had just chalked it up to Scully having a passive aggressive tantrum for not getting her way. He hadn’t understood a single thing she said that night. He still didn’t.
“She doesn’t need to worry. We’ve been together for years now.”
“Only because you didn’t have a choice. You were in hiding. You had to rely on her,” Byers said.
“Maybe she thinks she’s a placeholder. Just good enough for now until you were able to get back to what you love doing,” Langly added.
Frohike shook his head. “Lemme tell you something. I ever had a woman half as smart, sophisticated, and hot as Dana Scully, she’d never have to guess what she meant to me.”
Langly laughed. “Like that would ever be a possibility. She’d have to be half as tall, too.” Frohike made a hand gesture at Langly.
Byers interrupted, bringing them back to the matter at hand. “The point is, Mulder, whatever you end up doing now that you’re a free man, you have to let Dr. Scully know where she stands.”
“Ditchin’ her ain’t an option any more, man,” Langly said, adding, “Even if you are pissed at her.”
Frohike rubbed his hands together. “All she’d have to do is open up that top button and I wouldn’t be mad at her any more.”
Mulder pointed at Frohike in warning. “That’s far enough, Melvin. You’re talking about the mother of my son there.”
Byers said, “You know, that’s another thing we should probably talk about.”
Mulder stooped and picked up a bouquet of flowers from Frohike’s grave. “Not today, boys.”
Frohike stepped forward. “Hey! Jimmy just gave me those!”
Mulder shrugged. “It’s for a good cause, Melvin. ‘Sides, you really wanna go around yelling that a dude left you these?”
Frohike grimaced. “Touché. Tell her we said hi?”
“Not on your life,” Mulder said.
Langly walked up to stand beside Frohike. “Considering we don’t have lives, that means absolutely nothing.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back. I’ll bring you something nice.”
“Scully would be nice,” Frohike said.
“You can’t win, Frohike,” Mulder said. “You don’t even have a body.”
“Don’t rub it in, Mulder,” Byers said, now standing on the other side of Frohike. “You don’t have to spend eternity with him.”
“No, I don’t,” Mulder said, walking back down to the path, “I have to make sure I’m spending it with someone else. Thanks guys.”
When Mulder turned back to wave, they were gone.
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When I was a sophomore at the university, not long ago, I has a very hard time. I lived with a student who was from a different country, and had 4-5 anonymous suitemates sharing our bathroom and writing passive-aggressive notes about cleaning to paste to the wall between the mirrors. My roommate was nice, and I always think of her full name, the one she didn't introduce herself as. She goes by an American-friendly nickname. It makes me feel rotten that she has to. We talked about fruit from where she is from, and for days I couldn't tell if she spoke a different language on the phone. She didn't.
So much of her life was on the phone, and I remember the days she cried because her parents did not want her to switch majors to psychology, they wanted her to remain a Biology student, to be a doctor. My country needs psychologists, she told me. I thought of the good work she wanted to do, moving home and helping the minds of others. I always think of how I did not know what to say as she cried for days, eventually returning to laughing at Family Guy episodes she'd watch without headphones.
During this time I began to commute home on Thursday nights to work at a sporting goods store Friday through Sunday. I'd do my work Sunday nights and often my father would drive me back to school. I don't remember much about that. My hands would shake at night, in the cafe eating dinner by myself, and I'd question whether I was hungry or anxious. The light would always flicker at the sidewalk after I left, the sky pitch dark, and I became very paranoid.
I was also watching a lot of The X-Files at this time. I had very little friends. I can't remember my classes now, but I guess I was taking French. And Physics, and a course on "Great Books." I remember those two because during that semester I lived at school my father would have a heart attack, a weekend I was home, but we didn't know until I was back at school, after he drove me back though he was sick all Sunday. My one professor knew something was wrong, before I did I guess. That weekend he was sick I'd write a terrible paper, although I just couldn't focus.
I'd take the great books final when he was in surgery. In Physics I was too overwhelmed to study for the final, and did poorly. She graded the exam in front of me. My grade went from an A to a C. I met with my one friend once a week to have lunch. She'd talk about working at the radio station and I'd wish I could be the sort of person to even fill out an application. When I wasn't rushing back to my dorm to watch The X-Files, bolt upright on my desk with my nice headphones plugged in, I was sitting in that too-high university twin long, looking at the radio application. Later I would join the radio station, and become friends with someone who lived next door to me in that dorm, in that hallway. This person does not remember the time I left my room to take out the garbage and stood in the trash room after seeing them on the couch in between our suites, texting the lunch friend about them. Lunch friend, I urged, I should talk to this person. Yes, she said. Do it! I did not. We made eye contact as I went back into my room. The couch person looked at me, begging me to interact. I did not.
Later I'd get annoyed saying we lived on the same floor, didn't they remember? I did, admittedly, think about this person too much. A month after I failed to introduce myself to this future friend, they began dating another future friend of mine. At some point, when I did meet this couch person, this friend, I decided I was taking a class with them. And I did. And the course of my misery-ridden college trajectory changed for the slightly better. All of this is embarrassing to admit. But people may see. My roommate, I should say, because now it is weird to be omitting it, was Nigerian. And I left her the power cord when I left before Christmas, because I felt bad, leaving with the one lamp that would light our room, my desk lamp, unplugging it and leaving her in darkness when I left.
The street behind our room was always being cut open at night. There were big metal plates on the road that would be removed, and men in orange vests would turn on bright lights and jump into the void. At 2 in the morning, with police lights, florescent lights, and the waving leaves reflected by a shadow on the wall opposite of the window, which my roommate always wanted cracked open, the chain on her side of the room, the wide shade letting light pour in,,, I'd pretend aliens were touching down on to the street.
The X-Files became my sole personality. I'd tell my roommate plot summaries like they were stories I'd made up, and she'd pretend to pay attention. But often she'd tune me out, mid-conversation, and I'd pretend I was done. It still hurts me to think about, it embarrasses me to no end. She'd tell me about her shows, which were often as boring to me as mine probably were. But I never stopped listening.
Anyway. Often I am drawn to think of the episode when Mulder and Scully are portrayed as people from the past, Southern revolutionaries or something, dwellers of land that the present day FBI find a cult on. Mulder is hypnotized into revealing this. He recites Parcelus. It book-ends the episode and I think it made me cry first watching it. The show posits that the two are soulmates of some sort, forever in each other's timelines, mother and son, husband and wife, sister and brother, enemies and foes. The timelines blur, and we as the viewers are allowed to disbelieve it if we want.
I always found it so beautiful. I haven't watched the show since that year, not really. I threw a party for the revival season, where I forced people from my hometown to eat alien cookies and Dominoes pizza with me and talk about the show and how ridiculous Chris Carter's writing became.
I'm thinking of it now, however. Everything seems tangential, my knowing of my friends before I met them- couch person's girlfriend and now ex-girlfriend had two classes with me, and now it feels so odd not to have known her. Three attendees of my alien party lost family members this year. Two were sisters, and lost their father. My other friend lost both her mother and her brother. She made me shirts that year, because she was studying screen printing at her art school, and every time I wear them, especially the one she made memorializing the Alien Night, I feel a bittersweet pang in my heart. How things have changed but stayed so much the same. The one girl is still with her high school boyfriend. My father missed death while my neighbor's father died suddenly from a cardiac arrest. Two of the families that attended Alien Night always ignored their dogs in my perspective. Now I have a dog and he's all I seem to talk about. My current "X-Files."
We're asked to believe, watching the show, in so much. I'm still drawn desperately to conspiracy, to late-night research, to the excitement, the thrill of the chase. I miss how things used to be, in those idolized years of the nineties I was half alive for. I was hardly living then, eating greasy Dunkin Donuts breakfast sandwiches for lunch, waking up and wearing a sweatshirt to class, eating everything at the cafe that I put on my plate because I felt bad, didn't want to waste food. I went on a trip that year to Seattle through Habitat for Humanity. Me and lunch girl went to meetings which often felt like AA. We'd known each other in a past life too- or she wouldn't have been my friend. She and I went to church together as kids, although my family was from out of town, so by precedent my brother and I never interacted much with anyone else.
In Seattle I realized I couldn't lean on lunch friend. She was sectioned off into another group, and I was stuck with virtual strangers from the club, lifting ladders and wood, painting houses, planting trees. The guy who looked like a cousin of mine moved back to California that year without telling any of us. We'd planted a tree together! I thought. I'd took a picture of him on the space needle! We painted next to each other and he told me about working in a national park, and falling asleep behind the wheel. But many of those sort of things on the trip lasted for that week.
Somehow I started working at the radio station, collecting past people into present and future people. Somehow I built a roster of people who knew my name, and now I am working on rebuilding that roster, talking to a friend from high school on my landline late at night about books and politics. I think of Mulder, paper slightly torn in his hands if I remember, and think of the goal, in sight again.
I wish all the time I could go back to who I was before and live in that world again. But I also cringe at ever breathing in that skin, of becoming something I've long denied, right? The type of person I was when I lived in x before I moved to California. Maybe they've informed who I am now. But I don't want that past me. I don't even really want the present me. I want that far-off or close future me, and the goal is in sight again.
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I like this episode but it makes me sad. I’m very like Mulder so I tend to sympathise with him more than he deserves.
After a girl is kidnapped, a girl who was kidnapped before, Lucy, has some sort of psychic link. Mulder shows up on his own, Wearing the Golden Triangle tie and he’s very empathetic but the knife cuts deep when the missing girl’s mother insinuates that he couldn’t know how she feels. Scully turns up later because the plane was late and Mulder had taken off in such a hurry that he forgot his cell phone. She’s all business and science and she just doesn’t get Mulder’s spooky feelings today.
After testing the blood on previously kidnapped Lucy, they find it has the blood type of both girls. She sends off for the usual PCR results. It doesn’t seem to matter that the blood all suddenly appeared in front of a heap of witnesses who clearly didn’t see the kidnapped girl with her. Mulder’s not making friends at the Seattle Field Office. Scully’s not being his friend either. He didn’t need to worry about the Golden Triangle tie which appeared to lose its powers last time he wore it, because he’s not gazing at Scully today and doesn’t have anything to deflect her attention from.
He goes back to see Lucy who he’s certain is connected in a non-criminal way to the new victim. She started feeling stuff again and the EMTs are there when Mulder arrives. He takes her for some dinner but she’s scared and says she can’t help him find the new girl.
The next day they notice that everyone got their school photos except the kidnapped girl and the photographer’s assistant is suss. He really should have just made an extra copy of the photo for himself. Mulder is wearing a new tie which I’m having trouble naming because it just reminds me of honeycomb and bee colonies so i need to get to know it better. He takes the bad guy’s photo to Lucy who confirms he was the one who kidnapped her. She runs away and he runs after her and takes her back to the halfway house where she lives. Mulder’s having some sisterly alone time with her when Scully and the field office flunkies come to arrest her because they have the fastest DNA lab in the world and discovered both girls’ DNA on Lucy’s clothes, but Lucy somehow gets away. Mulder gives the agents the death glare because they’re so stupid. And Scully’s not listening to him.
They’re printing some wanted posters and Mulder’s still sulking. He says Lucy bled the blood and Scully says he’s blown his credibility. Like he had some to start with. She harps on at him for protecting Lucy beyond reason and thinks she has some of emotional dependency with the kidnapper so she’s helping him now. She’s not a big believer in empaths. Then she starts on about him pretending every kidnapped girl is Samantha and this is irritating and insulting even if it’s part of his motivation.
After they talk to a tow truck driver they point at maps which is never a good thing for the victim. Mulder stops and asks for directions which is a really unmanly thing to do but it gets them to the kidnapper’s cabin in the woods. Lucy is in the basement and she gets a nice big cuddle from Mulder but gets arrested by everyone else. Because she’s psychically linked to the new girl Mulder figures that because she’s cold and wet the new girl must be in the river but the other incompetent agents just want to toss her in jail and go home. There’s some beautiful running through the forest shots as they head for the river, and Mulder shoots the bad guy to stop him drowning the girl. He wades in to the river to get her then carries her back to the river bank where he begins CPR.
Then Scully is the worst doctor in the world and tries to stop him from performing CPR because she seems to be hung up on every girl kidnapped being nothing but a sister substitute for Mulder and forgets that she’s a kid who isn’t blue and deserves a chance to live. I’m not a violent person but I want to smack her when she physically restrains him to stop performing CPR after about 20 seconds. Fortunately, the script said she was going to survive and despite premature CPR cessation she suddenly spurts out water and is walked back by the field office flunkies because heroic girl-carrying Mulder already took off to check on Lucy.
Lucy’s outcome wasn’t quite as good and she drowned in the car. But she gets the last laugh when she’s reincarnated in Audrey Pauley, even if that’s a season 9 episode so there’s not much to laugh about. But the other girl doesn’t get another turn.
Both Mulder and I feel disappointed in the end when he looks at photos of Lucy in her empty room. He’s wearing a brand new tie, which he calls CPR is for life, not just 20 seconds as a passive-aggressive reminder to Scully, and he’s trying not to be bitter. Scully comes to tell him that new girl is OK despite her having pronounced the girl dead at the scene. Mulder has a lot to reflect on and he reflects while Scully sits there and the camera backs out. I know she took that head cradling class at medical school while the CPR class was on, but I hope she realises now that CPR is just as important as head cradling and gets some basic instruction in it.
#Mulder's Ties#The X-Files#3x08 Oubliette#If anyone has a suggestion for a name for the bee/honeycomb tie I'm listening#I have to learn to accept that they make characters do stupid shit for the plot to work and let it go
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Cresco Amor: Chapter 3
Author: @hips-bef0re-hands
Timeline: Ties in with the canon of season 6 and 7
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Summary: How I think the ‘ship came to be
Part 1 and Part 2 found here
April 19th 1999
She sat at the desk thrumming her fingers against the wooden top. The office was cleaner, fresher. Likely from the renovations after the fire, combined with the fact that the former occupants never desired to make it any homier than a ficus in the corner. Of course the industrial cleaning of a mysterious bloodstain found on the floor added to the sterile feeling of the room. The blood was identified as Jeffry Spenders. The FBI assumed him to be dead based on blood loss, although no body had been found.
There were filing cabinets and a few standard FBI wall hangings. The walls were white, and on a sunny day, like today, the light shone in from the clean windows brightening the room. It felt bigger. It felt different.
Mulder used to keep the office a mess. On more than one occasion she had asked him to help her organize, make the place more conducive to working. ‘Organized chaos, Scully’ he would tell her. It was how he worked best.
It was not, however the way that she worked best. But it was his office and over time she would get used to working his way.
She had replayed the scenes from the past weeks in her head over and over again. Cassandra Spender demanding to be killed, the decontamination shower, her fight with Mulder over Diana Fowley. Each time she meticulously picked apart the events, she would become angrier. She hadn’t spoken with Mulder since their meeting with ADs Kersh and Skinner. They had been re-assigned to the x-files last week.
Scully felt like she should be happy about this, but the happiness felt compulsory. Was she happy, truly happy to be back on the X-files, or only proud that she and Mulder had gotten their way? She knew Mulder would be ecstatic, now fueled by the events and truths exposed in the past weeks, he would return to his post with renewed vigor. One that she wasn’t sure she shared at the moment.
“Murnin, Schull” he waked into the office with a McDonalds breakfast sandwich between his teeth, a cardboard box in his arms and a carefully balanced coffee cup on top. He bent down in front of her and raised his eyebrows, offering her the coffee. He walked over towards an empty shelf and plopped the box down unceremoniously. He removed the sandwich from his mouth.
“One sugar and a splash of whole milk.” He nodded towards her. Starting to unpack the box. She recognized its contents as old files he had salvaged after the fire and kept hidden during their time on manure patrol.
She sat quietly at the desk while Mulder buzzed around the room, unloading the contents of the box, flopping files down on the desk right in front of her.
“Damn, I miss that poster. I’m going to have to go to one of the college’s annual poster sales at the beginning of the semester and pick up another one. That is unless you want me to pick up a Backstreet Boys one for you” he said, turning his head towards her and wagging his eyebrows.
His attempt at humor was not well received. Scully continued with a blank stare.
“Mulder, I think I am going to take some time off.” She had been very thoughtfully formulating a way to tell him, but it abruptly came out of her mouth.
This time he turned to her with his whole body.
“Wha-what do you mean. We were just assigned…”
“I mean I am going to take some time off this week. We were just re-assigned, Mulder, and unless there is a current file in that box of yours, we aren’t going to be working on anything right away. I am going to take this time to decompress, to think about some things.”
It was his turn to give her a blank stare.
“What types of things did you want to think about?”
“Personal things” she spit out, almost too quickly. She knew she was being passive aggressive. Alluding to their conversation about Diana. She didn’t feel good about it. She could feel the acid starting to churn in the pit of her stomach.
How could he be this aloof, how could he expect everything to return to normal at the drop of the hat. How could he, still, after all this time be expecting her to turn her emotions, her frustrations on and off with some imaginary switch.
“Look Scully, I know that you and I had disagreements about the Cassandra spender case, but we are back on the X-files now, and it is going to be up to us to figure out the truth about what happened in that hanger. It’s our job again.”
“Our job,” she said plainly “Where should we start then? Are you still going to tell me that you believe Diana Fowley had nothing to do with what happened to those people?”
Mulder rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. He began to speak when she interjected.
“You know she hasn’t reported back to the FBI in a week, Mulder. Where did she go? Crawling back into the wood-work along with…”
“Enough.” He cut her off loudly.
She looked up at him stunned, then her face settled and softened.
“Mulder, this is why I need time off. I need to be able to process things in my way, not in yours. I will have my phone, keep me updated if Skinner assigns us anything. Otherwise I’m taking the rest of the week.”
She stood up from behind the desk, smoothed her skirt, and walked out of the office.
xxx
She breezed past him on the way out the door and he was left speechless. He knew that she was still angry about their fight over Diana but he didn’t know how to meet her in the middle. He knew he could be stubborn, but he also knew that he usually ended up being right about these things.
He and Diana had shared a tumultuous past, but he didn’t believe the ruler of the underworld himself could sway her into joining the dark side. They had their differences but he wouldn’t, he couldn’t, believe she would take part in all of this.
He began to unpack the contents of the first box and returned to his car for more.
Five hours later and he was fully unpacked. He sat down at the desk and picked up the phone to dial Scully.
#9 he punched to make an outside call, and hung up the phone.
He went over her words again and again in his head; ‘keep me updated if Skinner assigns us anything’ was basically Scully’s way of saying ‘don’t call me for anything else.’
In the past year, Mulder could feel a shift in their relationship. They had never discussed the events that took place in his hallway before she was infected with the virus. He wasn’t even sure if she remembered them, but he did.
‘There never seemed to be a good time to discuss it’ he would tell himself, followed by ‘that’s a lie and you know it.’
They had been spending time with one another outside of work on a more frequent basis, and there had even been times where he swore something more than friendship was developing. He just never wanted to ruin those moments with an awkward conversation.
He knew that Scully harbored jealousy for Diana but he woudn’t dare bring it up. He could imagine what Scully’s face would look like, what she would say to him if he did. And he knew it would be at least 10 times worse than anything he could imagine.
He thought again about calling her. He decided against it.
xxx
April 22nd 1999
*knock knock* “Dana?”
“Come in” she said, adjusting her paper gown.
“Dana, hello, its so good to see you.”
“Thank you again for seeing Linda, especially on such short notice.”
“Of course, of course” Dr. Perryman said, walking to Dana’s side and taking her hands warmly in her own. “Can’t be easy making appointments with a schedule like yours.”
Dr. Linda Perryman was an old friend of Scully’s from medical school. She was now working as a OBGYN at UMD and specializing with women who have fertility issues due to gynecological cancers and other pathologies. Scully had been following her work closely and decided to see if Linda would take her on as a patient given her unique set of circumstances. It had been almost 9 months since Scully was reunited with her stolen ova.
After a physical examination, Linda took Scully into her office. The room was decorated in various shades of cream and she had a bubbling water fountain on her desk. The room was comfortable and relaxing. Scully wondered how many women’s hopes and dreams died in this room and suddenly the calming décor seemed a lot more ominous.
“Dana, please have a seat.”
“Thank you.” Scully said sitting and gripping onto the arm rests. She took a deep breath.
“Dana, I am afraid that I can’t help you.”
Scully let out her breath in one rapid exhale. She was starting to feel sick. Although this is the answer she was expecting, she realized how much hope she was giving to that one small sliver of a chance to conceive.
“Dana?”
Scully looked up at the doctor.
“…Dana, on a professional level. I am afraid I am unable to help you. Unfortunately, because the ova were not removed and tended to by appropriate methods, I can not implant them, and as we suspected, upon examination it seems that you are unable to become pregnant on your own.”
“Which we already knew.” Scully said, slightly annoyed.
“Yes. Dana, have you heard about a Doctor James Parenti?”
“No”
“He is working on experimental treatments and he may be able to better serve you…. due to your, extremely odd set of circumstances. I can make a call, if you’d like.”
“Yes.” Scully said, he breathing slowly returning to normal. “Yes, please.”
xxx
As she waked into her apartment, she began to feel a tidal wave of emotions beginning to crack through her carefully constructed walls. She was hopeful for the possibility of becoming pregnant, she was angry that Mulder had kept the stolen ova from her for so long, and she was sad… sad that their partnership had hit a stalemate
It had been far too long since she had gone for a run, and if she was going to strongly consider fertility treatments, she knew it would be best for her body to be in top shape.
xxx
He was sitting on a bench along the mall, a stack of files to his left, and a meatball hoagie from subway on his lap when he saw her. She was jogging up the path towards him, he would know that red hair anywhere, even if it was tucked up beneath a sweatband.
He stood up and gave a goofy wave as she approached.
She stopped; putting her hands on her knees she took a few deep breaths.
“God,” she panted “I forgot how hard it was to start once you stopped doing this sort of thing.”
“Don’t I know it” Mulder said handing her his Dasani bottle.
Scully took a generous swig and handed it back to him.
“Thanks” she said looking over at the mess of files he had strewn across the bench. “Working hard I see.”
He shoved aside the files offering her a seat, which she gladly accepted.
“Want to hear the best ones we’ve got?”
She nodded
“Aliens possessed my dog,” he read, she laughed. “Swamp monsters spotted in Florida…”
“… ah, seen that one before” she quipped.
“And my personal favorite, he said holding up a supermarket tabloid, Elvis is alive… and he’s an alien.”
“Mulder,” she warned. “You can’t be serious.”
There was a moment of silence before he spoke.
“How’s the time off?” He asked.
“Good. I’ve made a few appointments I’ve been meaning to make, visited my mom, cleaned out some old junk in my closet… its been good, some time to clear my head.”
“Do some thinking.” He said plainly.
“Mulder.” She said, turning to him. “I am not leaving the X-files. I know that’s what you are thinking.”
He turned to look at her. It was what he had been thinking, but he wouldn’t admit it.
“I am just starting to feel a little, constrained lately.”
“Scully, if this is still about Diana…” he started.
“It isn’t just about Diana, Mulder. It’s about a lot of things, but most recently yes, it’s about that situation. You and I, we have always had a trust, an understanding… us against the world and all that.”
Mulder paused for a moment, considering his next statement.
“Scully, do you remember last year, before you were taken?”
She was quiet, he started to think that maybe she didn’t remember, the virus had hit her so fast and had her under it’s influence for so many hours; it must have affected her memory.
“The hallway?” She asked.
“Yes, the hallway. I said I don’t want to do this alone, but I meant that I don’t want to do this without you.” He took a deep breath. “Scully, I trust Diana, but I would never let her come between us.”
“Mulder,” she said, biting her lip and looking down at her knees. “You’re making it sound like we are a married couple.”
“Well….” he said shrugging his shoulders.
Their eyes met and he smiled. “We kind of are, if you think about it”
She looked at him quizzically.
“I mean we are as good as. I’ve never been this close to any partner.” He meant that.
She nodded in agreement.
“I guess you are right.”
“Can I get you to write that down?” Mulder said with a chuckle as she shot him a ‘watch it’ look.
“Look, all I’m saying is that you don’t have to be jeal….”
“Woah, woah, woah!” she demanded. The words had only slipped from his mouth. He regretted them almost immediately.
“Jesus you’re acting like I’m some jealous co-ed.”
“No, Scully. That’s not what I mean. I mean…” he bit his lower lip and looked up towards the sky. Choosing his next words very carefully.
“I know that there is nothing… like that… going on between us, Scully… but I’m saying I’d like to think that maybe someday….”
Her eyes were instantly glued to his. She was not going to speak; she needed to hear everything he was about to say before she stopped him.
“I don’t know, I just think that maybe it won’t always have to be this way.” He took the easy way out.
They were silent for a few awkward minutes.
“I got word today, that Special Agent Diana Fowley is still at the FBI and now in the Intelligence Department.”
Scully rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I bet she is.”
“But we have the X-files back, Scully. You and me.”
“Mulder, I need to know, that I have your full trust going forward.”
“Always.” He said simply.
“You know that I will be right there with you, doing this work… of ours, but I need to know that you will be right there with me, that you will listen to me, and you will trust me.”
He nodded his head, understanding, as best he could, what she was saying.
“Then I will see you at work on Monday.” She rose from the bench and stretching her left quad muscle. “That office better still be clean.”
She started to make her way back to Georgetown with an uneasy feeling. She had not been totally honest with Mulder. She had not told him about her renewed pursuit for conception. She was not sure how she would bring it up. She didn’t know what it would mean for her work at the FBI, for their partnership. She promised to always stand with him. But she knew in her heart, she may have to break that promise. She ran the 3 miles home, allowing the cooling spring air to burn in her lungs as attempted to clear her mind.
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rules: answer the 20 questions and tag 20 amazing followers you would like to get to know better
name: I don’t use my real name on here, but I do go by Ari :)
nicknames: Guerita (ayy @coachboom <3 )
zodiac sign: Saggitarius
Height: 5′5 (well technically 5′4 and a half, but I’m rounding up :P )
orientation: straight
ethnicity: Irish-Scottish-Norwegian-French-American (basically I’m as white as it’s possible to be and if you put me in the sun for a couple hours I will turn bright red and then go back to white after peeling for a couple days)
favorite fruit: Pears, nectarines, peaches
favorite season: spring? I think.
favorite book series: Either The Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, or Ranger’s Apprentice
favorite flower: prob lilies
favorite scent: Jasmine
favorite color: royal blue, gold, burgundy, light yellow, gray-blue
favorite animal: Dogs, lions, tigers
coffee, tea, or hot cocoa: LOTS of black tea (I drink like 4 mugs a day and my mug holds two cups XD. Technically I’m caffeine-addicted and I have a headache because I haven’t gotten my morning cuppa yet)
average sleep hours: About five I guess
cat or dog person?: Dogs
favourite fictional characters: SO MANY. I can’t even list them all lol, but here are some. Faramir, Eowyn, Frodo Baggins, Will Treaty, Halt (Ranger’s Apprentice), Harry Potter, Dean Thomas, Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, Hub and Garth McCann (Secondhand Lions), Black Panther, Captain America, Adonis Creed, Rocky Balboa, Vasquez, Billy Rocks, Sam Chisolm, Red Harvest, Joshua Faraday, Goodnight Robicheaux, Jake Hoyt (Training Day), The Doctor, Fox Mulder, Jim Halpert, Stanley Hudson, Chief Inspector Lee & Detective James Carter (Rush Hour)
number of blankets you sleep with: Two
dream trip: Scotland, Ireland, Zambia, Chile, Japan
blog created: 2015
number of followers: 1,160 (though most of them are from before I wiped this blog and started over with new fandoms lol)
thanks @low-x-battery for the tag! :D
tagging: @sweettexasicedtea, @geekyelvenchick, @coachboom, @its-steve-rogers15, @moonlit-copse, @sassiest-assbuttp.s. Just realized everyone I tagged might not actually be following me on either this blog or hellacluttered (which is totally fine!) But I wanted to tag you guys anyway. My point is, I wasn't trying to passive aggressively get you guys to follow me lol.
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‘Ghosts’ P1 OF ?
‘Ghosts’
-A multisong post-colonization au (because I hate myself) by CuriousNarrative
Angst: 8/10
Writers input- Free to skip-
It’s a multisongfic; The recurrence of 1980s song lyrics in this fic will be a theme, if you don’t like 1980’s Britpop I do apologise as it will be extremely prominent in most chapters.
This is my first public fic, if it’s awful then its awful; I don’t particularly care for humiliation, aggression or mockery, but constructive criticism is welcomed.
-‘Sorry to be a buzzkill’ CuriousNarrative
Disclaimer: I obviously don’t own the rights to The x-files and I don’t claim to, don’t sue me; I am making no profit from this fic, its just bit of fun.
Disclaimer 2: I obviously don’t own any of the rights to the songs I reference in this fic either, and again I don’t claim to, please don’t sue me; i am making no profit from this fic, its just a bit of fun.
Blurb-
Reality is only an idea.
? (Please ignore the blurbs absence; i’m not sure what i want this fic to turn into, so all i can say is that its a beautiful mess. enjoy!)
‘Ghosts’
‘China girl’
‘Well I’m feeling nervous now I find myself alone
The simple life’s no longer there
Once I was so sure
Now the doubt inside my mind
Comes and goes but leads nowhere’
The conclusion was misplaced, as were Mulders thoughts; Scully was late, a rare occurance, a phenomenon, he was hardly resentful of her tardiness, as their previous case had taken a toll on her wellbeing, and he was glad that she’d managed to sleep.
Assuming she had overslept, he toiled over some outstanding paperwork, the law really has nothing better to do, he queered privately, considering both sides of that statement, he snorted and scrawled his signature on a document.
“Agent Fox Mulder is a waste of FBI Money, resources and time”! He read aloud, putting on a show, for himself presumably; the office was lacking an audience, lacking a Scully, he pondered, not needing to elaborate the thought.
Almost on que, the malformation of a familiar hummed contented, Uncanny, Mulder mused listening to the Syrian, it was Scully’s little voice that stirred, a sing song recital of China girl, it was unnerving; too passive to be human.
“And when I get excited, my little china girl says, oh baby just you shut your mouth…” Malice slugged though the walls, to Mulders eager ears; he wanted this, her presences, like it had been lacking for a millennia.
“Scully!” He bawled her name and sprung from his desk, sending paperwork into orbit, a cluster of nonsense in the way of his eyes, he flailed, tussling with it.
“No more I love you’s”
She, an unapt umpire, unarmed, unable and unadvised, led with sureness and vitality; none questioned her unyielding word, she however did little but question it; the year went by sluggishly, her worries a blain, the survivors, lucid and formative, forsook order for her judgement.
She would make for the forest almost every evening in the warmer months, the trees sparse, the path winding, if I ran now, they’d never catch me, She pondered selfishly.
“Dana! Dana, its Mulder-“ Called the fickle boy, running toward her at a brisk pace. The boy, was none other than Jeremy Jones, the untactful type, who was sent upon errand upon errand to sway him from the pursuit of game.
“Another episode,”? Dana breathed, dead In her tracks, only now she realised how tired she was.
“No! no, ‘e’s sayin’ things, umm- askin’ for you” Jeremy, now immobile, stumbled with his words, as he studied the dirt and pebbles that lay at his feet.
“Tell Bev, not me-“Before Dana could spew a harsh antidote about how ‘Mulder has clearly wanted, needed and relied on Bev so much that she should be the one to endure his episodes not herself’, Jeremy interrupted her.
“No! ‘e’s calm” he pleaded, his gaze not lifted from the dirt.
“And e’s sayin’ Scully over an’ over, its really anoyin’. Ain’t Scully you Dana?” Jeremy queried.
“Yes-well” She paused for a moment, considering this; Mulder hadn’t referred to her as Scully since last summer, he’d mistakenly called her Bev a few times, called her Beverly, but not scully, and she resented that more than any inconvenient melt-down.
“Alright, fine, ill see him.” She answered, cautious of her own decision.
Heeding her, Jeremy quickly began the hurried walk back to the settlement; it was a long trip.
Long walks alike felt akin to milliseconds in good company, Dana cherished these milliseconds; Mulder used to accompany her down many a feral path, which she had taken for granted at the time.
#the x-files#fanfic#fanfiction#msr#msr fanfic#x files#au#mulder and scully#fox mulder#dana scully#mulder#scully#angst#songfic#post-apocalyptic#post apocalypse#alternate universe#au fanfiction#x-files fanfic#x-files au
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The Mulder Family In-Depth (Part III): Dissecting the Dynamics in Demons
While it seems an odd time to skip ahead in the timeline, Demons is an important key to understanding how young Mulder viewed his parents' reactions to the events of the mytharc: shaping his relationships with his father and mother and leaking into all aspects of his life going forward. And-- more to the point-- it delves into his subconscious fears of rejection and perpetual ignorance concerning what happened to his sister, his family, and his life.
Here we go~
Demons
Initially, Mulder’s drug-seizure flashbacks in Demons can’t be completely trusted (and we find out none can be as the plot unfolds) because the very nature of the drug only allows its victims to take a grain of memory and build the worst possible construction around it, inducing violent suicide. Consequently, not much can be gained other than some essentials:
In Mulder's first vision, he is woken by Samantha. She immediately shushes him-- “They’ll hear you”--
so they can both crouch by the stairs and listen in on the adults’ yelling match downstairs.
All that can be made out from the cacophony of screams are Tena’s “NO!” and Bill’s passionate assurances, trying to drown out her “NOT MY BABY!” She knocks away her husband’s comforting arm
as he yells back “It’ll be okay!”
His next vision is of his younger self approaching the study. Bill stops mid argument when he sees his son,
stares at him a second with red eyes and a seemingly malicious expression,
and shuts the door firmly in his face.
Perhaps it’s not what actually occurred; but it certainly reflects the moment that Mulder perceives his father shut himself off emotionally from his family.
At this moment, Mulder's subconscious is painting Bill Mulder out to be the worst type of human: angry, malicious, barreling over Tena's pleas and screams. It's the Bill Mulder of End Game and Anasazi-- ruthless, cold, fellow co-conspirator. While most of these thoughts had been resolved in The Blessing Way vision, Mulder's doubts and fears still remain; in this case, being rooted out and exploited by psychotic drugs and a hole in his head.
At the very least, this is most certainly not what factually happened, because Mulder turns around to see CSM skulking in the shadows-- “You’re a little spy”-- a mesh between his subconscious fears and distrust of his own memories manifesting to blur reality and fiction together.
The third flashback Mulder has is of his father again in his study, angrily grabbing Spender’s collar as the two men argue unintelligibly over CSM’s proposition.
It is imperatively important how this reflects Mulder's psyche. Each new vision reflects the chaotic soup of his inner mind as he feverishly tries to sort all of the incongruous pieces of information of Bill Mulder's past into a coherent narrative. He psychologically flips his dad from ruthless co-conspirator to aggressively protective father losing his side of the argument, a behavior more in line with the parental figure of Mulder's early childhood. But he still shuts the study door in his son's face.
Again, the fake vision continues, unravelling any chance at its being reality: both children clearly overhear their mother charge at Spender screaming “Not Samantha-- NOT SAMANTHA!” as she beats on his chest.
Bill is yelling at both of them, and again notices his son overhearing the escalating hysterics.
There is no chance that both children overheard their parents and didn’t fear for their safety afterward; or were unconcerned when Bill and Tena later left them alone at home the night Samantha was abducted. Too little time would have passed for the children to be comfortable being home alone.
The fourth vision is very telling: Mulder blurs from Scully’s concerned face into his mother’s as she is seemingly held in the arms of Spender; at first frightened, then simply passive.
This sparks an angle he had never considered before-- that his mother had not simply been forced to make a choice, but that she had been complicit. He insists on going to Tena’s house in Greenwich, planning to force the truth out of her.
Tena is happy to see her son get out of the car, smiling as she buzzes over to open the door.
She swings it open, “Fox!” melting from her mouth in sheer bliss.
This is not the cold Tena from the land of meta and fics that filtrates the fandom. Not that anyone is wrong for thinking that, but the facts don’t add up: she is always soft and beaming when her son drops in, hugging on him in Dreamland II, listening to his every word and agreeably obeying in Colony, and practically ascending into Heaven that her driven child has come for an unannounced social call.
Unfortunately, the visit goes south fast.
She is instantly concerned that Mulder brushed off her greeting and insists that he needs to speak to her.
Her concern-- “What’s happened, Fox? Why did you come here?”--
turns to confusion when Mulder states “You’ve been keeping secrets from me.”
She immediately turns to Scully, involving her in their private conversation
and proving that she trusts the other woman completely. She’d met and been assured by her at Bill’s funeral about Mulder not being dead, and it had turned out to be true. On top of that, Scully had helped and cared for Tena and her son during the stroke and near death in Herrenvolk. Scully has gained Tena’s unshakeable loyalty in ways I’ve never seen touched on in broader canonical discussions; or, more to the point, in any other person in canon.
Another fascinating thing to note: Tena acts just like her son-- leaning into Scully’s personal space, pulling in her lower lip as she listens to Scully’s explanation, and mulling it over in her mind in a genuinely appreciative manner. (Tena’s actress put so much effortless work into her character to make her a believable mother to Mulder that it’s astounding.)
Scully explains that Mulder is claiming his risky treatment had helped him remember things. Tena stiffens; and for the first time in the show faces her son stoicly: “Remember what?”
Mulder rattles off his accusation-- that the choice Tena had told him about was not what actually happened, and that she was far more guilty and complicit than she had let on in the past. All the while he keeps his eyes on the ground
as his voices keys higher and higher, faster and faster.
“It wasn’t your choice to make.”
Tena sighs--”What do you want to hear from me?”-- and Scully turns away, uncomfortable. Her anxiety that Mulder is breaking something fragile is written all over her face.
Mulder demands that his mother tell him everything “privately” while still not meeting her eyes.
Tena is distressed, nettled, and angry as she stomps into another room, leaving Mulder to make his way in by himself.
For the first time, Mulder looks her in the eyes, softness coloring his voice-- “You had some kind of relationship with him”--
making an obvious space for his mother to confess, hoping she’ll tear up and tell him about the great tragedy that Spender had inflicted on her helplessly.
Tena is further confused-- “Who?”--
which causes Mulder to say “You know who--” in that same gentle voice. Tena becomes suddenly afraid: her son is close to the truth, though she doesn’t know most of it has been fabricated by his deluded mind. She denies that she had any involvement in Samantha’s abduction.
Mulder starts to yell: “You betrayed my father.”
She raises her voice in response: “Never.”
From here on out there are two takes of Tena.
The first take is what canon purports to be true: that she had had an affair with Carl Spender and had gotten pregnant with Fox and then Samantha. There are facts that disprove the first half of these claims: Tena was married to Bill in ‘61 and Mulder was born sometime later that year-- making him either a baby conceived out of wedlock or a honeymoon baby conceived in January. Spender couldn’t have fathered Mulder because he didn’t meet Bill until they were stationed together in ‘62 after Mulder had turned one years old, so sometime after October 13th. However, it is still possible that he was the biological father of Samantha, explaining why he never returned her to the Mulders after the abduction.
At the very least, her eyes shine with conviction and innocence at this part of the conversation; but they very quickly change when her son digs deeper.
When Mulder further impugns her honor-- “How far back did it go?”-- she slaps him without flinching,
showing that she is and never was a helpless, inactive person when it came to her self-defense. She is not a woman to sit back and let the world run her over, making forceful decisions and carrying them out without regret.
Mulder doesn’t flinch, either, proving this was a normal punishment for sassing back.
Corporal punishment’s back on the menu, boys.
“How dare you? How dare you come here and accuse me?”
Mulder doubles down, interrogating her further on who his father is.
And then the truth comes frothing out:
“What do you want? TO KILL HIM AGAIN?”
Tena admits without admitting, distraught that her son found out her shame at last.
She tries to flee from Mulder’s “Just answer the question, Mom”, but he violently grabs her arm and hollers the question again. Since Tena cannot flee, she forcefully shuts down the conversation: “I am your mother, and I will not tolerate anymore of your questions.”
Mulder’s face falls, saying it all.
This, if read literally, is the first time Tena has pulled the parent card against him, constructing a wall of authority between the two of them… exactly like his father had done all these years. He had assumed it was just Bill Mulder who had selfishly protected his interests from his son; and is appalled, confused, and hurt that his mother had, too.
Her anger shifts to concern when Mulder’s head begins to bleed;
but her pride is still too wounded to reach across the breech to care for her son, instead stiffly pointing out “You’re bleeding, Fox.” Mulder reaches up, dazed, scrubbing his hand across the blood and staring brokenly at his mom.
Tena storms out of the room shortly thereafter, running up the stairs without acknowledging Scully.
Scully soon finds out that Mulder had already bailed first, speeding off in the car before his mother even left the room.
Both mother and son run away from conflict as fast as they can; another unhealthy dynamic that festered and grew since the abduction, and will continue to grow in the wake of this new revelation.
Mulder’s fifth “memory” is just his former ones on repeat, mixed in with his real events of the night of his sister’s abduction.
He runs back to Quonacatog after the mad scientist drills another hole into his head; and Scully stops him from suicide during his sixth and final flashback--
a series of even more jumbled memories where Samantha takes his mother’s place with Spender and is also afraid of being abducted while Tena screams “MY BABY” over and over.
Scully is able to convince him to let this mad quest go when he pulls a gun on himself and then her-- “This is not the way to the Truth, Mulder”-- and talks him down from his yelling. He shoots a bullet into the wall, killing that lead and turning it into a dead end.
This is the last time we hear from Tena for many years, culminating in her cryptic calls and sudden suicide in Sein und Zeit.
In conclusion: Demons turns Mulder's preconceptions about his father's actions on its head, casting suspicions on his mother's involvement for the first time. The emotionally open relationship between mother and son is effectively destroyed when Tena refuses to give her son clear answers for the closure he is so desperately seeking. Instead, she reveals her truer nature that Mulder had never witnessed before: violent anger in the face of confrontation and a willingness to cut off all the relationships in her life if they inconvenience the cocoon she has built to shield herself from the past. (This plays into her stroke in Herrenvolk; but also shows that explosive fights between the two divorced parents were likely the norm.) Bill Mulder was not the only parent expecting blind obedience from their son.
We still have a lot of ground to back track and cover-- i.e. meeting Scully during The Blessing Way and her confrontation and stroke in Herrenvolk-- so there are still many more parts to go.
Until the next part--
Enjoy!
#txf#The Mulder Family In-Depth#Part III#analysis#Dissecting the Dynamics in Demons#mine#x-files#the x files#Bill Mulder#Tena#Teena Mulder
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