Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1.

His life didn’t flash before his eyes at the moment of his death. At least, not exactly. What he saw were all the other lives he’d lived in all the other universes that existed alongside this one at this particular moment in time. Were they all real, he wondered, or did I live one and dream the rest? Are any of them real? In the end, he supposed, it didn’t really matter. They all led to her, and they all ended with her.

Now he’d wait, as one of them always did, for the other to catch up. It was fascinating how often the waits were short. Turns out they didn’t do particularly well apart, which didn’t surprise him. There were exceptions, of course. Once she lived 33 more years than he. To be fair, he’d only been 48 and the semi had come out of nowhere. She’d done ok; she taken the insurance money and moved quietly to a place on the west coast between San Diego and La Jolla. She’d never remarried.

Typically, though, it was one after another or together. She’d die of cancer; he’d die shortly after of a broken heart. She’d been killed in the line of duty once and he’d, unfortunately, killed himself when he couldn’t live with the pain. Once they’d gone at the same time as hostages to a deranged pseudo-mob guy (that one had been terrible, really terrible and he released the memory immediately). Another time she’d become incurably ill, and they’d taken handfuls of pills and had gone to sleep together. It was quite nice, actually, although he recalled that in that thread a pandemic had decimated the world’s population. A sad thing, especially if you didn’t know that each lifetime was but a pathway to another lifetime, and that each lifetime brought you to the soul you were bound to. Always.

When he was dead he knew these things. He also knew, vaguely, that there were times before these. He had a hazy memory of her in the 50s – she’d been his secretary, of all things. She was not pleased, but they’d had fun with it. There was an even fainter memory of them on a steamship, Lady Liberty on the horizon. He assumed that at one point they’d been Neanderthals banging it out in a cave. Layers upon layers upon layers. Time and history and parallel universes. They lived them all. Probably everyone did.

He walked along the shoreline for a while before finally settling down in the sand. He rolled up his soft linen pants and put his feet in the water, and then he let his mind wander. She’d be along sooner or later, and time had a different meaning here. He’d just wait.

It wasn’t long. Maybe hours, maybe days, maybe even weeks, but no more than that. It went by in a blink. She was a small dot in the distance, but he knew it was her. He rose and went to her. When the distance could be measured in yards a huge smile lit up her face, and then she was in his arms.

“Hello, my love,” she said, her mouth against his.

“Hi, Scully. That wasn’t long. What happened?” He held her face in his hands and covered her with little kisses.

“We were together. Do you remember? It was a case…not an X-File, I don’t think. Some sort of raid. You took a bullet for me. That was sweet. I got hit anyway, but it was worse for you. Or better, depending on how you look at it. I hung on for a while, but I was in a coma. I didn’t know you were gone, and that was good.”

“That’s a tough ending for our last universe.” He was referring to the last one they remembered before arriving here, at the beach.“Took a bullet for you, huh? And you didn’t even live. Skinner must’ve been so pissed.”

She laughed. Maybe it wasn’t completely appropriate, but there was no one there to see them. “Probably. We were such pains in the ass. I think he loved us, though, somewhere underneath that gruff exterior.”

“Well, he liked me. You, he loved.”

She considered this and then smiled a little. "Maybe.".

He took her hand and they started walking. There was no destination, but that was ok. They sky was blue, the sun was warm, and the sand was soft under their feet. What else did they need, really?

A picnic? Maybe a picnic.

“Mulder!” she said, delighted. In the distance there was a splash of red, and as they grew closer they saw that it was a blanket. There was a basket, and inside there was fruit, cheese, bread and cold white wine. “Did you think of this?”

“Nope,” he said. “At least I don’t think so. But it looks wonderful.”

They sat on the blanket and dug into the strawberries, which were just the right firmness and perfectly sweet. He uncorked the wine and poured with a flourish.

“Here you are, sweetheart.”

She took the glass from his hand and raised it. “To Mulder and Scully.”

He clinked his glass with hers. “To Mulder and Scully. I liked them.”

“Me too. I liked them a lot. You were a little crazy with your conspiracy theories, but you grew on me.” She gave him a coy smile.

“Hey!” he protested. “Most of the time I was right. Frankly, I don’t know why it took you seven years to finally go to bed with me.”

“Mulder, it took you seven years to make a move.”

“You could’ve done it. Seven years after we met was early 2000. The women’s movement had made some serious strides.”

She shrugged. “I was scared. I remember that. But I do remember a couple of parallels where I made the first move.”

“It’s true,” he agreed. “How many do you remember this time? Parallels in general, I mean.”

“A few. Some were so wonderful. There was the one where we hooked up when I was undercover at the casino. That was fun. A couple were bad. Remember the one with William? Christ, that was awful. How many times exactly did our hearts get broken? Ugh.”

“Sometimes the pain is absurd, still, it’s what fate decides.”

“Hmmm?”

“Oh. That’s from a song, I think. Yes, I do remember. It was terrible. William, and then you left me for years. I was a mess. I know you were hurting so much.”

Her eyes had filled with tears at the memory. “I’m sorry, Mulder.”

“It’s ok, honey. There was one where we had four kids. It was so great. Four! And there you were, supposedly infertile.”

“Ha – joke’s on them. What else do you remember?”

“Let’s see. In quite a few we met on the X-Files, but there were some others. Do you remember the one where we met on a plane and ended up having to make an emergency landing? That one was fun. You’re not usually a one-night stand kind of girl.”

“It was not a one-night stand, Mulder.” She frowned at him, and a little wrinkle formed between her brows. He put his thumb on it and stroked her there.

“Don’t make that face. It seemed like it was going to be a one-night thing, but it wasn’t.” His thumb moved to her jaw and he tipped her face up to hers. “You are so beautiful. You’re always so beautiful.”

She laughed. “We mostly look the same every single time.”

“Yeah, but the little changes. I like this mole.” He leaned down to press his lips to it. “And you’re even tinier than usual.” He moved to her mouth and sought out her tongue. “I absolutely have to make love to you before we go on to the next thing. Maybe more than once.”

“You’ll get no complaints from me.” She tilted her head so he could reach her neck.

“Scully,” he said between nips at her collarbone and feather-light kisses at her throat. “I hate that we forget when we come back.”

“Mmmm, don’t hate it. Can you imagine if we remembered? We’d go insane. We grow up not knowing, so we can’t miss it. And then we find each other. And then we come here and remember, and then we do it again…Jesus, that feels good. Can you keep doing that?”

“I can keep doing that. I can do anything you want. Lay back, honey. We’ll eat later.”

2.

They lay on their backs, naked and staring up at a million stars. The wine had spilled onto the sand and the grapes were goners, but they didn’t mind.

He ran a finger over the light sheen sweat between her breasts. “Amazing,” he said. “Always, always fucking amazing.”

“Yeah,” she said dreamily. She turned her head to kiss his shoulder. “I love you so goddamn much.”

“I love you too, Scully. More than anything, for eternity.”

“Maybe eternity is what we have.”

“Maybe. I hope so. I guess for now we just live in the moment. Or the lifetime. Live in the lifetime.” He sighed. “Do you want to tell stories before we go back?”

“Yeah. Can I go first? I want to get the plane story.”

“Sure, sweetheart.” He took her hand, kissed it and then rested their joined fingers on his belly. “You go first.”

Chapter Text

***

He told the first part…he couldn’t help it. He loved how this one began; loved his first impressions of her. So he told that, and then she told the rest.

Dallas. Friday, July 10, 1998

1.

“Last call for passengers on Northwest Airlines Flight 527 from DFW to Dulles.”

He pushed his way through the throngs of people and made it to the gate just as the attendant checked her watch and settled into the chair behind the desk.

“Sorry, sorry,” he panted, setting a crumpled boarding pass on the counter.

The attendant sighed with a frown and stood. The frown melted away when she saw his face.

“Oh, that’s all right,” she drawled. “Ya’ll made it and that’s what counts.” She was blonde and curvy, with teased hair and a wad of pink bubblegum that she cracked between her teeth.

“Barely, but I did.” He stood for a moment, waiting, and then finally said “Are you going to scan my ticket?”

“Oh! Yes!” She gave him a big smile. “I just hate to see you go, sugar.” She scanned his pass and tore off the stub. “Fox Mulder, huh? Cute. Have a good flight, Fox. If you’re ever back in Dallas…”

“Thanks!” he said and headed for the jetway.

The air inside was humid and he was already sweating. Great, he thought. What a treat for the person who has to sit next to me. He ducked through the door and lugged his suitcase down the narrow aisle. He passed rows 16, 17, 18…there. 19B. He squeezed his carry-on into the overhead compartment and dropped into his seat with a loud sigh. The occupant of 19A had her head down over a magazine, but now she looked up.

She was gorgeous. Her hair was a deep, natural red. Her mouth was full, her eyes were blue and her nose aquiline. A mole stood out above her upper lip. She was slim and small and looked perfectly comfortable in the little airplane seat with its scant legroom. She eyed him for a moment, gave him a polite smile and then looked back at her magazine.

He leaned in to see what she was reading. The article was titled “The new diagnostic criteria for diabetes: the impact on management of diabetes and the macrovascular…”

“Can I help you?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

“No, just – how’s the article?” he asked inanely.

“Fascinating. We’re moving towards a classification system that’s more etiology based than –” she paused. “Wait. You don’t actually care.”

“Sure I do,” he said in a voice he hoped sounded sincere.

“You shouldn’t lie to someone you just met,” she returned, rolling her eyes.

“Should I lie to friends instead?”

“Do you have those?”

“Well, aren’t you the funny one.”

“You could try just saying hello and introducing yourself.”

“Great.” He put out a hand. “Hello. I’m Fox Mulder.”

“Dana Scully.” Her handshake was firm.

“Pleased to meet you, Dana.”

“Same,” she said, and she turned back to her magazine.

“Is that what you read for fun?”

“Mulder,” she said, “If you keep talking then I won’t be reading it at all.”

He stared. “Why did you call me that? You called me “Mulder”.

“I don’t know. Did I?” Her brow furrowed.

“You definitely did. And everyone does. I’ve never liked my name. But you didn’t know that.”

“Huh. Then maybe you just imagined I said it because it’s what you’re used to hearing.” She shrugged.

“I did not, Scully.”

“Nobody calls me that.”

“I do now, and I will for as long as I know you.” He smiled benignly.

She looked at her watch. “Two hours and fifty-eight minutes. I can handle that. Especially if I sleep for most of it.” She closed her magazine – it was the American Journal of Medicine, he saw now. “Night, Mulder.”

“But…they haven’t even gone over safety procedures.”

“I’m tired. And don’t worry, if the oxygen masks drop I’ll put on mine before yours.”

Touché.

She closed her eyes.

2.

Scully awoke with a jolt. The plane dipped, straightened, and then dipped again.

“What’s happening?” she asked a little wildly.

“Thunderstorm,” he told her. “It’s fine.”

The plane shuddered.

“Oh, god.” She inhaled. “Ok, it’s fine. It’ll be fine.”

The pilot came over the intercom and said something about the weather and turbulence and the possibility of an unexpected landing.

She closed her eyes and gripped the armrests.

“Scully,” he said. He touched her hand. He didn’t know why; he didn’t know a single thing about this woman. But there was something about her that tugged at him. They’d exchanged three minutes of conversation, they’d shaken hands, and then she’d slept while he read a copy of The National Enquirer someone had left behind. He’d snuck little glances at her, feeling a strange mix of attraction and déjà vu.

He expected that she’d shove his hand away, but she gripped it instead. Her fingers were slim and warm.

“You know, when I was a kid, I once tried to build my own aircraft using my trike,” he said conversationally. His voice was low and soothing. “I wanted to go to Mars…I was maybe 5. I thought if I pedaled fast enough, I’d lift off like a plane. I was heartbroken when I never left the ground. I also needed four stitches on my knee after I wiped out.”

She smiled despite herself. She had a lovely smile, wide and warm. “Oh, poor little Mulder.”

“Yeah. Poor little me.”

“I work at George Washington University Hospital. I’m in pathology, but during my residency I was in the ER. You wouldn’t believe how many stitches I’ve put in kids for reasons like that. Their little imaginations are incredible. And their sense of wonder…in a way it’s a shame that we lose it.”

The plane dropped again, rose. Thunder crashed. Her hand squeezed his, but she didn’t otherwise react.

“I agree. And so early. Between the ages of 7 and 11 children start to think more like adults. The period corresponds with Piaget’s Concrete Operational Stage of cognitive development. Thoughts move from imaginative and egocentric to logical and organized. They start to understand cause and effect. It makes sense…we wouldn’t want teenagers thinking they could use their bicycle as a rocket or that they could jump off their garage roof and fly, but it’s still sad.”

She looked at him, interested. “How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “My background is in psychology. I work with adults, but it was part of the training.”

The captain came back on the speaker and told them to prepare for landing.

“God. I wonder where we are.”

“How long have we been in the air? An hour and a half or so? I’m guessing Tennessee,” he said.

The descent was bumpy and the landing hard. She closed her eyes and breathed, and she didn’t release his hand until the plane began to coast to a stop. When she did, he immediately missed the contact.

“Well, folks, welcome to Jackson, Tennessee. This is McKellar-Sipes Regional Airport. Local time is 5:42 p.m. and outside it’s 82 degrees and…well, it’s raining. The next flight out of here isn’t until tomorrow at 4 in the afternoon.”

There was a collective groan from the passengers.

“The good news is that they’re rolling out the red carpet for you at the Rodeaway Inn. There’s a shuttle to bring you there and Northwest Airlines is providing you with meal vouchers for the Denny’s across the parking lot. Flight attendants will hand you the motel and meal vouchers as you exit the plane. Contact Northwest to arrange your flight to Dulles. We apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for choosing Northwest Airlines.”

Another groan.

“Well, Scully, at least we’re on the ground.”

She sighed. “There’s that, I guess.”

3.

Her put-upon air was completely and utterly fake, and she wondered if he could see right through it. She sincerely hoped not. But it was Friday, for one, and she didn’t have to be at the hospital until Monday. If she were to get home tonight she would’ve been compelled to spend the weekend cleaning her apartment, and she’d have to fend off calls from the new orthopedist who seemed determined to woo her. Now she’d be “stuck” with no obligations. She could pick up a couple of books at the airport, sleep, and maybe watch bad cable television. Dreamy.

The other thing was Mulder. He’d be stuck, too. He was a very attractive man, no question, but there was something else. There was a chemistry that buzzed between them. She’d been vaguely annoyed by it at first. He’d inserted himself directly into her personal space, he’d been openly flirtatious (or was she imagining that?), and he didn’t seem to care that he was sweaty and stealing some of her legroom – and yet she was drawn to him. She was never drawn to a person like this. Life wasn’t an Emily Bronte novel and she wasn’t Catherine Earnshaw. She was invited out often and seldom accepted. When she did she was careful, reasonable and clear about her intentions. She didn’t sleep with someone before four dates, minimum, a milestone she rarely achieved. She wasn’t looking for marriage at this point in her life. It wasn’t that she didn’t like men, because she did. It was that she’d worked her ass off to be where she was. She was young, free, and a pathologist for a major hospital in an amazing city. For now, that was enough.

Mulder followed her down the aisle and onto the jetway, where they collected their vouchers. He stayed slightly behind her, and she wondered if he was checking out her ass. She rather hoped so.

Jesus. Who exactly was she today?

Neither had checked a bag, and so they bypassed the luggage carousel and went straight to the entrance where a shuttle would collect them for the motel. The rain was falling in sheets.

“I don’t even have an umbrella,” she said. “I didn’t plan for this.”

“Me neither…too bad the newsstand is closed.” He tipped his head to the only shop in sight at this tiny little airport. So much for buying a book.

“Oh…you know…I do have something.” He set his suitcase on a plastic chair and unzipped it. She couldn’t help but stare inside after he flipped open the top. Dress pants, fancy shirts, a pair of black shoes. Boxer briefs peeked out from underneath a pair of jeans and she wondered, idly, how they looked on him.

That’s quite enough of that…Scully. She looked away.

“Here we go.” He lifted out a suit coat and handed it to her. “Not great, but better than nothing.”

“Mulder, I’m not going to use this nice coat as an umbrella.” She glanced at the tag. “It’s an Armani. Come on.”

“I’ll dry clean it. It’s fine.” He glanced outside. “There’s the shuttle – let’s go.” He took the handle of his suitcase in one hand and hers in the other, and he walked out. She had no choice but to follow, holding his coat over her head as if the water would melt her like it did the wicked witch.

He chose a seat near the back and she sat beside him. Their legs touched, and she shivered. Maybe she was coming down with something.

Maybe you want him.

He’s a stranger.

You’d never have to see him again.

Ugh.

“You didn’t have to take my bag, you know.”

“Oh, I know.”

“I’m perfectly capable.”

“That’s obvious,” he said seriously. “I was brought up by wealthy, old-fashioned parents who raised me to be a gentleman. I can’t help it…it’s ingrained.”

“Well, in that case…thank you. You should thank them for me.” Lame. God, what a lame thing to say.

“They’re dead.”

That caught her off guard. “Oh…I’m sorry. Mulder, I’m really sorry.”

“Thanks…I appreciate that.” He said nothing more, and she sat silently and berated herself for being so bitchy. It was a defense mechanism, and she knew it. She liked him. She’d known him for less than three hours, but she liked him.

The bus was damp and humid. The rain had released his scent from his clothing and she was surrounded by the smell of him. Some sort of expensive cologne, soap, the musk of his skin. There was a flutter low in her belly. He looked at her and she looked away, then back again. She met his gaze for the longest five seconds of her life.

“Dinner?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said immediately.

He looked surprised, and then he smiled. “Good.” He faced forward again, and they rode the rest of the way in companionable silence.

3.

The hotel they pulled up in front of was a strictly no-frills establishment. The drop-off area was covered from the rain, though, and that counted for something. The passengers of flight 527 gamely queued up again in front of the reception desk, and two harried-looking clerks checked people in as quickly as they could. The line shuffled forward, and Scully startled when she felt his hand on the small of her back for just a moment as they moved ahead. He felt her reaction and pulled his hand back.

“Sorry, I just…”

“No, no,” she was quick to say. “I just wasn’t expecting it.” She paused then added, “It’s fine.”

“I swear that I’m not typically so…invasive. I guess I’m tired.”

“Yeah…understandable,” she agreed, strangely disappointed in his response.

He watched her for a moment, and she could tell he was debating something in his head. He came to a decision.

“I lied, Scully. I’m not tired.”

She heard herself as if from a long, long distance. “Oh, good. Me neither.” She hesitated and then shifted so she was a few inches closer.

“Hey, lovebirds,” the guy behind them said. “You’re up.”

She nearly leapt from her skin and then slunk guiltily to the desk. She slid her voucher across the desk. The clerk – Robbie – clickity-clacked over the keyboard.

“You guys smoking or non?”

She pointed at herself, then at Mulder. “Oh no, we’re not…”

Robbie looked pained. “I know. Hard day. But Christ, lady, you don’t have to make him get a separate room. We’re filling up here, and if another plane full of people get stuck half of ‘em will be SOL. We only have so many motels in Jackson.”

Mulder came up behind her.

“Robbie, we-”

“I could offer you a suite. There’s a couch. He could sleep on that if you’re still mad by bedtime.”

Mulder sighed and opened his mouth to respond.

She beat him to it, and what she said shocked both Mulder and herself.

“Sure, Robbie. That’ll be fine. Got any alcohol around here?” She sure as fuck was going to need it.

“Denny’s is behind the motel. Next to that is a little bar. They’ve got a few things on the menu, too. Have the fried pickles.”

Mulder said nothing, but she could feel his eyes on her.

Robbie printed out a form and handed it over. She scrawled in her information. Name: Dana Katherine Scully, Age:34, Address: 3415 Washington Blvd #14, Arlington, VA. She stared at the line underneath where Mulder’s information would go and was at a loss. Was she really doing this? She didn’t know how old he was. She didn’t know his middle name. She didn’t even know what goddamn city he lived in.

She felt him move up behind her. He gently took the pen from her hand, studied what she’d wrote and then filled in: Fox William Mulder, 37, 928 9th St NE #4, Washington, D.C. He gave the form to Robbie and accepted two room keys.

“211. Take the elevator up, go left. Enjoy your stay.”

She felt Mulder’s hand settle on her back again. She didn’t flinch.

In the elevator, he looked at her and said, “You surprised me.”

“Well,” she said, nonplussed. “It would be terrible if there were people who couldn’t get a room and had to sleep at the airport. A suite is fine. There’s a couch. We’re friends, right? It’s fine.”

“Yes,” he said, “We’re friends now.”

They exited onto the second floor and turned left. Their room was at the end of the hall. He unlocked it and held the door for her. She had a vision of him scooping her up and carrying her across the threshold, and she wondered if the plane had in fact crashed during the storm and she was actually in a hospital with serious brain damage, dreaming up this man.

You don’t know him, she reminded herself.

The front room was small, with a faded pull-out loveseat and a battered coffee table. The television still had rabbit ears. He set his bag beside the sofa and she moved through to the bedroom. There was a king-sized bed with the obligatory floral spread. The bathroom was off this room, and she realized he’d have to pass through her bedroom to use it. There was a tv that matched the one in main room and a pair of lamps with bases shaped like seashells. Seashells? Jackson had a river, nothing more.

She set her suitcase on the credenza and automatically began to pull out her clothes. She loathed living out of a suitcase, even overnight. Most of her things were no longer clean, but she had been at a work-related convention and she had a black dress she’d worn only to the keynote event. Good enough for a bar, she supposed.

Too good. You’re ridiculous. You want to wear a dress for him.

“Shut up,” she mumbled.

“What’s that?” He asked from behind her.

She put a hand to her chest. “Jesus, Mulder.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Mind if I shower before dinner?”

“No, of course not.”

“Thanks. I’ll be quick.”

“No rush,” she said. He walked past her with an armful of clean clothes: jeans and a black shirt and black underwear tossed shamelessly over them. A Dopp kit was balanced precariously on top. She imagined him stripping down and stepping under the spray.

Who am I? she asked herself again. Who is this man and what is he doing to me? She wondered how many words they had exchanged. A few hundred? Maybe he was some sort of wizard.

She tugged off her shirt almost angrily.

“Scully, I forgot…”.

He’d flung open the bathroom door and she stood there in her little navy blue t-shirt bra, frozen in place.

“I forgot…Christ, I forgot what I forgot.”

He walked to her slowly and ran a finger over the thin strap at her shoulder. It was presumptuous, audacious, but oh, so sexy and so welcome. Her breasts were small and she’d always been vaguely self-conscious about them, but he was looking at her like he was a starving man and she was a feast. She felt beautiful.

“What is this between us?” he asked. He sounded lost, and it somehow was a comfort.

“I don’t know, Mulder.”

He took a long breath. “I forgot my toothbrush.”

“Ok,” she said shakily.

He stepped away. “I’m going to get it and then take my shower. Do you want one?”

“No,” she said. “I took one right before the flight.”

He nodded. He retrieved his toothbrush and then went back into the bathroom. The door clicked shut softly behind him. She stood there in her bra the whole time, unmoving. She wasn’t even sure if she was breathing. It wasn’t until after he’d disappeared into the bathroom that she realized his question about the shower had been an invitation. She shivered.

Scully stripped, and then she shook off the dress and pulled it over her head. It was cut just above the knees, cotton, with a fitted scoop neck and elbow length sleeves. It was simple but still sexy (at least she hoped it was). It could be dressed up or down depending on the shoes. She should wear the flats. This was a small-town airport bar and he was a stranger.

She chose the black heels. In for a penny and all that. She ran a brush through her hair and reapplied her Chanel. She opted for lip balm over lipstick and hoped that it would make her appear less eager (read: she hoped she wouldn’t leave the evidence of her lip prints on her glass, his collar, his mouth. She was Sybil with her 16 personalities. One was Dana Scully, reserved M.D. with the nickname “The Ice Queen”. The rest were all simply “Scully”. One was shy, one was flirty, one was coy and one was dangerous, and they all seemed to lead to Mulder.

He opened the door and emerged from a cloud of soap-smelling steam, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt that fit snugly. His waist and hips were narrow and his chest and arms looked strong. She wondered if he ran, or perhaps swam.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Oh, Jesus. They had to go to dinner, right? He had to sleep on the couch, right? This was crazy. Crazy.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she managed.

“Thank you, Scully.”

They went down the back stairs and to a rear entrance. The bar (“The Yacht Club”, it was called, they sure had a sense of humor in Jackson) was maybe 50 yards away. They waited for a lull in the downpour and made a dash for it. It began to come down harder again as they reached the door, and she squealed in a way that made him laugh. He had a wonderful laugh, and her fate was sealed.

4.

The place was dimly lit. Peanut shells littered the floor and baskets of the stuff sat along the bar. Maybe a third of the seats were filled, and she assumed most people were starting at Denny’s to use their free meal vouchers. A Jukebox was lit up and Oasis poured from mediocre speakers:

And all the roads we have to walk are winding,
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding,
There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don’t know how…

They took a high top table, and she studied the “menu”, which in this case meant a grease-spotted table tent.

“Pick your poison, Miss Scully. Wait…god, its Miss, right?”

She blushed. “Yes. I’m not that kind of woman, Mulder.”

“I didn’t think so, but I had to ask. Boyfriend?”

“I continue to not be that kind of woman. You?”

“No attachments.”

“In that case I’ll have a vodka tonic with two limes, and pepperoni pizza.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, and she smiled back. She watched him wait at the bar. He had a great ass, especially in those jeans. He pointed at a bottle and she noticed how big his hands were. Feet, too. She wondered if the thing about big hands and feet was true and felt a warmth that started in her chest and spread lower. The bartender was a tall, wispy brunette and she braced her hands on the bar to lean in and speak with him. She made significant eye contact and smiled coquettishly. Scully wanted to punch her.

Stupid, she thought. He’s not yours. He could take her number, meet her after her shift, go home with her. The idea was surprisingly painful. But he was taking a step back, and even though she couldn’t see his face his posture was sending a clear message.

No.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

He returned with her cocktail and a bottle of Budweiser for himself. Not a pretentious beer drinker, then. She liked that. He sat across from her and raised his beer in salut. “Cheers, Scully.”

She tapped her glass against his bottle. “What are we toasting?”

“How about fate?”

“Fate, huh? I don’t know if I believe in fate.”

“No? Then how do you explain that we’re here together?”

“How do I explain it?” She laughed. “Mulder, I’d cite the airline’s ticketing system that had us seated next to each other and the weather that caused the emergency landing. That’s not fate, that’s technology and meteorology. We make our own destiny, choose our own adventures, forge our own paths. If fate decided for us, then what would be the point of trying at anything?”

“I see what you’re saying. Can’t it be both, though? We forge our own paths, but there are certain inevitables. Certain people we meet along the way, maybe. But the destiny is only on the meeting. How we get there and what we do after is up to us.”

She pondered that for a moment. “Maybe. It’s kind of a nice thought.”

“I think so.”

They were silent for a few minutes, and then she said, “That bartender seemed interested in you. Maybe she’s your destiny.” Jesus. She was fishing, and it was so completely, embarrassingly transparent.

“Don’t think so,” he said.

“Why not?” Could someone please come and shut me the fuck up?

“Now you’re fishing.”

Maybe the floor would open up and she’d die. Maybe the rain would cause a massive flood and maybe she’d be swept away. She could hope, at least.

“No, I wasn’t…sorry. I guess I kind of was. I just – why are you still single?”

“Why are you?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Fine. I guess I haven’t really been looking or trying. When I said I’m a psychologist – I’m a psychologist for the FBI. A profiler, actually. I spend a lot of time in other people’s heads. Bad people. It’s mentally and physically exhausting. I always felt like when I met the right person it would change…I’d become someone who worked to live instead of lived to work, you know?”

“I do know,” she said, and she meant it.

“And then time just slipped away. I’ve dated, of course, on and off. I did date one woman for a few years, but it didn’t work out. That ended about a year ago.”

“And that was the last time you were in a relationship?” She was surprised and she knew she sounded it.

“Well, yes. I’ve gone out with a few people since then, but nothing serious,” he said defensively. "Why, when was the last time you were in a relationship?”

“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean be rude. You just seem like someone who women would throw themselves at. See exhibit A.” She nodded toward the bar.

“I never said they didn’t,” he said cheekily. “Seriously, though. My last relationship didn’t end well. It went on way too long. From the beginning, everything was fine. Just fine. The dates were fine, the sex was fine, our conversations and our connection were fine. Fine isn’t good enough, though…not by a long shot. Not when it’s your life.”

“I’d agree with that,” she said.

“Now it’s your turn. Tell me about your last relationship.”

“Ah,” she said. “There’s not much to tell. I was kind of a nerd growing up. A bookworm, a perfectionist, teacher’s pet and all that. In college I worked my ass off and never went out with the same person more than once or twice. I didn’t want a relationship that would distract me from my goals. I was the same way in medical school, and then in my last year I had an affair with a professor. A married one. Not my finest moment.”

“Scully!” he said. “That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

She laughed. “Because, you know me so well after all this time?”

He had to laugh at that too. “I know, I know. I do feel like I know you, though. It’s weird. Like déjà vu, kind of. But anyway – go on. Then what happened?”

“To be fair, I didn’t even know he was married at first. He came on to me. He asked me to help him with a research project and I was so fucking flattered. Once he told me he was married I was already so emotionally invested that I didn’t end it right away like I should have. I was completely tormented. I felt terrible and yet I kept meeting up with him. His kids were my age. Christ. When I finally broke it off he was devastated, and he called and called for weeks on end. He showed up at my apartment at crazy hours. And I still had to finish the class. It was a nightmare. After that I was done. Just done. I had spent my whole life up until then telling myself to keep my head on straight and focus on what matters. Then I fell into bed with Philip and the wheels came completely off. I didn’t date at all for a couple of years after that. I did my residency, I got my first job, I got myself back on track. I’ve dated since then, but nothing serious.”

“Why? Are you punishing yourself over that guy? The professor?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“I hope not. That wasn’t your fault. You were young, inexperienced, and he completely abused his power over you as a teacher and mentor. And he lied by omission. He didn’t tell you he was married until he’d reeled you in. That’s so wrong, Scully.”

For some reason that almost brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them away. “Are you profiling me, Mulder?”

“Nope. Well, maybe a little, but not on purpose. Sometimes it just happens. But mostly I’m just being your friend.”

“It’s nice,” she said.

“Let’s talk about something else. Your family. Your childhood. Your favorite color. Literally anything besides my pathetic excuse for a love life.”

She laughed. “Ok. So, my dad is retired now, but he was a captain in the navy. He was always my hero growing up, he…”

And so it went. They talked for a long time, about anything and everything:

“My father worked for the State Department. He and my mother were divorced but died in an accident together. We weren’t especially close, but they…”

“Oh my God, Mulder, you should’ve seen it. These FBI agents came in and they were with some weird department – the X-Files? – and they told me the body I was about to autopsy may not be all human. Unbelievable. You should look them up – Joe White and Steve McGregor. Crackpots, I think…”

“…my sister, Samantha. She’s a teacher. You’d love her, she’s…”

“…hated camp but they made me go, and it was all Jesus and campfire stories and hot dogs over the fire and I don’t even like hot dogs…”

“You’re so skeptical, Scully, for someone who wears that cross and believes in God. Don’t you ever wonder…”

“…the answers are there; you just have to know where to look…”

“…crazy, seriously crazy. I spent a week in his head before we caught him and I was a mess for months. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep…”

“…and then I lost her. I wasn’t even supposed to be covering the ER that night. I held it together the rest of the night and then I went home and cried for hours, I couldn’t…”

They drank slowly and ate so that they skated the edge of tipsy but were nowhere near drunk. The conversation was so fascinating, he was so fascinating, and it occurred to her that she never wanted the night to end. When we the last time she’d felt like this? Ever? She smiled freely, she snorted with laughter, she felt a tear on her cheek that he wiped away with his thumb and she let him without a second thought. It felt a thousand times better than “fine.”

It was 10 pm, then 11, and the rain continued to fall. She was laughing about something, and then someone put quarters in the jukebox and she heard the opening notes to Iris.

“Oh, I like this song,” she said.

“Well, c’mon. Let’s dance.”

“Mulder, hardly anyone is dancing. And besides, how does a person dance to this?”

“Who cares? And we’ll figure it out. C’mon.”

He stood and reached for her hand. She gave it, and he led a few feet over to where 16 squares of worn linoleum constituted a dance floor. He opened his arms and she walked into them like she’d been doing it forever.

And I’d give up forever to touch you, ‘cause I know that you feel me somehow.
You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be and I don’t want to go home right now.
And all I can taste is this moment and all I can breathe is your life.
And sooner or later it’s over, I just don’t want to miss you tonight.

She slipped her arms up around his neck; he slid his over her hips to wrap around her waist. There was a gap of an inch or two between them, and then there was nothing. He pulled her against him and their bodies made contact, and she was lost. She’d been falling for him all day – maybe since the moment he’d flung himself into seat 19B and looked over her shoulder to see that stupid, boring article she was reading. But as they touched now, really touched, she realized she’d arrived at a place she’d never been and that she never wanted to leave.

“Who are you?” he whispered into her ear. He had to lean down and she had to stretch up, but she heard it.

“Scully,” she said. “I’m Scully.”

“Scully,” he said in a voice that was almost pained. “Where have you been, Scully?”

Her breasts were mashed against his chest and his breath was warm on her ear, and those two things had her heart racing like a bird’s and her pussy wet. But it was his voice that broke her. His desperate, wanting, aching voice.

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking. “But I’m here now.”

And then his mouth was on hers, and she was being kissed like she’d never been kissed in her life. One hand reached up and slid into her hair. His tongue pressed against her lips and she let him in without hesitation. She twined her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck as her tongue tangled with his.

“Oh, god,” she moaned. “God.”

“Scully. I need…I need…” He was moving his lips over her jaw now, then her neck, and she realized that he was huge and hard against her belly.

She moaned. “I know…me, too. I need you, too. Take me back to our room.”

“Yes, yes,” he gasped. He took her hand and pulled her through the entrance and into the rain. They ran across the parking lot, and she was getting soaked but didn’t care at all because these clothes were coming off and a little rain never hurt anybody. They reached the motel and he spun her, pressed her against the door and kissed her again, lifting her off the ground so that his hips grinded against hers. She kissed him back fiercely until she was breathless, and he broke away, laughing.

“What’s so funny?” she panted between nips at his neck.

“Nothing…I’m just so fucking happy right now.”

That made her laugh, too, and she flung her head back so that the rain could fall on her face as he trailed kisses over her throat and her skin above the scooped neck of her dress.

Through the door, up the stairs, down the hall and then he was yanking the room key out of his wallet and she noticed with fascination that his hands were shaking. She was doing this to him. They were doing this to each other.

They tumbled through the door and she went straight for the button of his Levi’s. He laughed again. “Shoes, shoes.” He kicked off his sodden loafers and toed off his socks without letting her go, and then he dropped to his knees before her. He lifted one foot at a time and slipped off her shoes before running his tongue up the side of her leg, past her knee and then her thigh, pulling the hem of the dress up as he went. He got it to her waist and pressed his mouth against her center right through her panties. Her cunt contracted hard and she gasped. She took the dress in her own hands and tore it over hear head, then flung it to the side. He stood and lifted her by her ass, hands groping while her legs fastened around his waist.

“Oh god, Scully, I am dying to be inside of you.”

She made a kind of whining sound that she’d never heard before, and he carried her the few feet to the bedroom and tossed her unceremoniously onto the bed.

“I’m afraid to tell you, Scully, that this is gonna be quick,” he said as he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. “But I swear that if you give me an hour I’ll make it up to you.”

She couldn’t even reply, just fumbled with the clasp of her bra while she watched him shuck off his jeans and boxers in a single move.

Oh, jesus fucking hell. That was going inside of her. She groaned and tossed her bra and then her underwear aside. Their frantic movements slowed and they gazed at one another.

“You are so goddamn lovely,” he told her.

“You’re perfect,” she responded.

“God, I’m going to…wait. Fuck. Scully – I don’t have a condom.”

She groaned. “Me neither.”

He managed a pained laugh. “I guess that says a lot about us. Ok, I’ll run out, I’ll find a…”

“I’m clean,” she said. “And I’m on the pill. I swear that I’m clean.”

“I am too. But I never, ever do this, and I don’t want you to think - ”

“I don’t either. I don’t want you to think that I do.”

“Oh, honey, I know.”

She held out her arms.

There wasn’t any fumbling or awkwardness. He climbed on top of her and pushed her knees apart, staring into her face like she was the beginning and end of the world. He took her hands and kissed the knuckles of both before holding them to the mattress. “I’m fucking falling for you,” he said, and then he took her.

It didn’t last long, but he fucked her better than anybody ever had. He fucked her to within an inch of her life. She groaned, she screamed, and she even cried a little as she covered him in kisses and held him inside of her. His fingers found her clit and he moved them until he found a rhythm that set her writhing. He dragged her to the edge and held her there, circling and thrusting and biting his lips in an effort to hang on until she fell, and he jumped right after her.

5.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt a man’s semen trickling down her thighs, and she didn’t remember ever enjoying it. Now, though, when he came back from the bathroom with a damp cloth and moved to bring it between her thighs, she stopped him.

“I want you to leave it,” she said.

“Then I will,” he said back, and he kissed her instead. He held her for a while, and she almost dozed off and then made herself get up.

“You ok?” he murmured.

“Mmm-hmm. I need to go to the bathroom, and I need to take my pill. This would be a bad time to forget it.”

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, Scully.”

It was like they had lost their minds. She took it, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t pause for a split second before doing so.

They slept for a while, woke up, made love, and then did it all again as a weak sun began to come up in a cloudy sky. After, they called the airline and were informed they could fly out later that same day. The attendant must’ve heard something in her voice, because he added that there were two additional flights on Sunday – one in the morning, and one in the evening. Mulder’s cheek was pressed up against hers so that he could listen in.

‘Sunday evening,” he whispered. “Tell them we’d like Sunday evening.” He kissed the side of her neck.

“We’d like Sunday evening,” she repeated, smiling. She arranged the flights while he moved further south, lips on her breasts and then her belly and then…oh. Oh.

And so they spent another day and a half in bed together. They ordered in. They had soul-searing sex and talks that only ended when they couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer. They fell in love. They didn’t sleep much, but when they did it was the sleep of the dead. She’d never been much for sleeping up against another person (too hot, not enough space, the vague sense of being pinned down like a prize) but with him all she wanted to do is hold him and be held.

Their trip to the airport on Sunday was reluctant, the flight an hour and a half of snuggling and little kisses and stupid, googly eyes that would’ve embarrassed her had she been cognizant of anything besides his mouth and his hands and his words. Twice they were asked how their honeymoon was. The first time they corrected the person, and the second time they said it was wonderful, thanks very much.

It was only when they began their descent into Dulles that rational thought began to return. Think about this. Be sure. Step away for a few days. Decide while you’re apart, when your mind is clear. Can you even fall in love in a single weekend? Could something lasting come from such a beginning? The thought was sobering enough for her to suggest that they take the week to gather their thoughts, reassess, and consider what they wanted to have happen from here.

“I already know,” he said.

”What do you know, Mulder?”

”I need you.”

“Just a few days,” she said back. “That’s all I’m asking for.” Was even that necessary? She didn’t know, she was consumed by him, and how on earth could the Dana Scully who stepped onto that plane Friday be the same Dana Scully who stood here now?

He wrote out his phone number and handed it to her. He looked like he wanted to say more, to plead, perhaps, but he bit his tongue and let her work it out on her own. He already knew her so well. It was what she needed. He kissed her goodbye and watched her go and hoped very hard that the fate he believed in would bring her back.

It took her just two days. Two days of misery and longing, and then she woke up on Wednesday and realized how completely, utterly stupid she was being. She loved him.

It was 4:30 am but she climbed out of bed, brushed her teeth and flung on jeans and a t-shirt. She could picture the motel check-in form clear as day, his address included, and she drove to his little townhouse on the water with a single thought in her head.

I need him.
I need him.
I need him.

She rang the bell and waited, her heart in her throat. When he finally answered she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing would come. It was ok, though – her face said it all. And he knew her…he did.

He smiled and held the door open for her. She went inside. She never left.

***

“I loved it,” he sighed. “I loved that life.”

“We were married for 44 years.” She stared up and into the heavens. “We had it all.”

“Technically we were married forever,” he said. “It’s not like we got a divorce, we died.”

“That’s true,” she said. “And we died happy.”

“Can you believe it? A thunderstorm and an emergency landing – that’s all it took.”

“Sometimes it was a lot harder,”

“Yeah. I’m thinking of one in particular. Can I tell it?”

he asked.

“Yes, please. You tell it.”

Chapter Text

He told the story of a life where they had met on the X-Files. It took a terrible accident to bring them together in that life…first pain, and then joy. He turned onto his side so he could face her. The stars still shone above, but it was her face he wanted to see. He idly stroked the bare skin of her chest, and he began.

Washington, D.C. Monday, March 23, 1998

1.

He slowly opened his eyes and winced at the sunlight. He was cold, freezing cold. His body was bent and broken. He could feel it in every breath he took and when he shuddered his ribs ached and his head throbbed. He coughed and felt something warm slide down his chin. Maybe saliva, maybe blood. Who could say? He thought of Scully and wished very hard that he’d had the balls to tell her what was in his heart. Even if she’d turned him away, at least she’d have known. Now she never would. He wanted to cry, but the effort it would take seemed monumental. Instead, he closed his eyes again. He prayed for death.

***

“Don’t you die on me. Don’t you dare fucking die on me, Mulder.” She was furious. “What the hell were you thinking?”

She sounded a million miles away, but there was something touching his arm and he thought maybe it was her hand. He wanted to tell her he was fine, except that of course he wasn’t fine. He wasn’t anywhere near fine. He also wanted to tell her he was sorry, and that he loved her, but the words weren’t coming.

***

Everything was dark. He was warm, finally, and he felt no pain. His mind drifted; his soul was a balloon tethered to the earth by a string as fine as spiders’ silk.

***
“…traumatic brain injury…cerebral edema. Medically induced coma. Mannitol to draw away the fluid…rest.” The voice belonged to a stranger. He could make out bits and pieces, but it was so hard to focus. He wanted to let go, but then he heard her.

“…not leaving. I’m staying here until he gets better, and he will get better.”

“…can’t guarantee. You should know that…”

“No, I know him. He wouldn’t leave me.”

He lost the thread, and all went silent. His heart ached for her.

***

Awareness again, although he could not open his eyes. There was a ventilator in his throat and the beep, beep, beep sound that told him his heart was still beating - for now, at least.

Scully was sobbing. Both her hands were on one of his and she must have been leaning into him, because the bed was vibrating with the force of her tears. Her breath heaved and he could sense her shoulders shaking.

“Please, please…” she moaned. “You can’t. I need you. We haven’t even begun, you can’t…”

A door opened he felt her sit up.

“Agent Scully…I’m sorry. Just so goddamn sorry. What can I do to help?”

She said nothing. Her hands squeezed.

“He’d gotten a message…I heard it on his answering machine. No idea who it was. Someone off their rocker seeing lights in the sky near Rock Creek Park. He was on one of the cliffside trails and he fell. He’s lucky he didn’t fall into the goddamn Potomac and drown,” Skinner continued.

“Who left the message?” She asked. Mulder could hear the vitriol.

“We don’t know. We’ll try to find out, but frankly it won’t matter. No one pushed him. It was an accident. Mulder would want you to…”

“Don’t you tell me what Mulder would want. He’s right here. He’s not dead. After he wakes up he can tell me himself,” she said sharply.

Skinner’s voice was gentle. “I know that. I was going to say that you should rest. You know he’d want you to get some rest.”

“I’ll rest here.”

“Scully, eventually the hospital staff will send you home.”

“They’ll have to shoot me and drag me out,” she said. “You want to help? Tell them I won’t leave until Mulder leaves with me on his own two feet, and then get my emergency bag from the trunk of my car and bring it up. Here are the keys.”

She released his arm and there was a jangling sound.

“Scully…”

When she replied the edge in her voice was gone, and she only sounded exhausted and sad. “Please, Sir.”

Mulder wasn’t sure if Skinner had left or if they had simply stopped talking, but either way there was quiet. It lasted a long time.

***

“He’s seizing! He’s seizing!” Scully shouted. “I want 4 mg of lorazepam, right now!”

“Ma’am, you’re not his doct -”

“I am his fucking doctor. Go get someone to help. Now!”

He saw her, then. He saw them both. He was up above them somehow, and he watched his body convulse below. Scully was checking his ventilator and staring at the EEG readout, and then she was stroking his hair while a doctor rushed in and the lorazepam was administered via his IV. They added a loading dose of phenytoin when he continued to shake. The seizure began to slow.

Meanwhile, above him, a faint light spilled from a corner of the room that should’ve been dark. From it heard a sound, familiar and soothing.

Waves.

An image began to appear in the light. White sand and blue sky as far as the eye could see. Even from here the sun looked warm. It was one of the loveliest things he’d ever seen. He could go there, he knew. He only had to let go –

~
Scully gasped and turned to face him. His skin was silvery in the moonlight.

“You saw this place, Mulder?”

“I did,” he said gently. “I didn’t know what I was looking at, of course. But I saw it, and it was beautiful.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t leave and come here,” she said. She touched his face, fingers stroking over the planes and curves she knew better than her own.

“It was tempting,” he said. “But I didn’t know this is the place we both come to. I didn’t know that we’d be together again. And when I looked back down at the scene below me, Scully, I could feel your agony. You –”

~
She was weeping and whispering rapidly in his ear.

Stay with me. Please, stay with me. Be my love. You already are, you don’t even know it yet, but stay and I promise, I promise…

There was an alarm and then chaos. She started chest compressions, wincing when she remembered his bruised ribs, and then someone took out the paddles. She had no choice but to step away.

“Clear!”

He watched his form jolt on the table. She jumped, too, as if her body was an extension of his own.

“Clear!”

He could go now, he knew. The waves crashed, the sun shone. There was a faint breeze he could feel on his face, even from here, and it smelled like salt. But when he looked back down at her he saw that she had moved to a chair and was curled inward, shrimp-like, clutching herself with her arms wrapped around her waist. Her face was covered with tears and snot leaked from her nose. Her lips were moving but these words he couldn’t hear. She was praying, he realized.

The pull of the beach was strong, but the pull of her was stronger. He found that he could move towards her not with his body, but with his soul. He settled beside her and put invisible arms around her shaking frame.

“My love, my love,” he told her. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

Her trembling slowed and she sighed deeply. He closed his eyes and settled back into his skin. The alarm went silent.

“We’ve got a heartbeat,” the ER doctor said triumphantly.

***

All was quiet again. The lights had been dimmed and the room was empty besides the two of them. She was half asleep with her chair pressed up against the side of the bed and her cheek near his on his pillow. Her eyes were swollen nearly shut.

There was a light tap at the door.

“Dana?”

“Mom,” Scully said hoarsely. “They let you in?”

Maggie came inside and crouched near Scully’s chair.

“Mr. Skinner made it happen. He’s been out there all night I guess. Honey, I’m so sorry. Poor Fox. This is terrible.”

“I need him to live,” Scully said brokenly. “I need him to know that I want to be with him in every way you can be with a person. Why haven’t I told him already? What have I been waiting for?”

Quiet tears fell. Maggie took one of her hands. Scully slipped her other into his, mindful of the pulse oximeter on his finger and the IV needles and tubes and the many cuts and scrapes he’d sustained during his long fall.

“I can’t say that I haven’t wondered that myself, Dana.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve told me to stop being such a fool.”

“That’s not my place,” Maggie said. “You’ve always been so fiercely independent and so reluctant to talk about your love life…”

Scully laughed bitterly. “What love life?”

Maggie ignored this. “…and besides, I wasn’t even sure if you knew yourself.”

“Knew what?”

“That you loved him him.”

“Oh, I knew. I just pushed it away for stupid, stupid reasons. My goddamned pride. The thought that colleagues would think less of me for being with my partner. Worry that it would change the way we work together and the way that we are together.” She let go of Maggie’s hand so that she could dash at her eyes. “Fear that he doesn’t feel the way I do, and that he’d reject me.”

“Reject you? Dana, the first time I met Fox I knew he was in love with you. It was painfully clear. He’s only fallen harder as the years have gone by. He would never reject you.”

“Do you think so?” She felt pitiful asking, but she couldn’t help it.

“Not a doubt in my mind.”

“And now I may have missed my chance.” Her tears had slowed, but now she began to weep again. She was surprised that she had any tears left.

“He’s right here, honey. You haven’t missed your chance.”

Scully, you haven’t missed your chance, he thought.

Tell me.

Tell me.

He desperately wanted to hear the words, from her to him.

He was no longer above his body and he couldn’t see her. The light that led to the beach had disappeared, and there was only darkness. There was some pain now, too, mostly in his head but also in his ribs. None of it mattered. She loved him. He would lay here as long as he had to while his body mended itself and then he would wake up, and he would be whole and he would be with her.

“I’m assuming you’re staying here?” he heard Maggie say.

“Yes. I’m staying.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No, Mom. Thank you. Thank you for coming here.”

He heard a chair scrape, and then a pause that was very likely a hug.

“Tell him,” Maggie whispered.

“I will,” Scully whispered back.

A door opened and then shut, and they were alone. He felt her fingers carefully touch is face, his neck, his shoulders. She was as light as a butterfly.

“Mulder,” she began. “I don’t know if you can hear me. If you can, then you already know what I’m going to say. And if you can’t…” she paused. “I hope you can. I want you to know that you’re my favorite person. You’re my best friend. You’re what I look forward to most when I wake up in the morning. You’re the reason that I smile on a Monday…it’s because I know I get to see you for the next five days. Even when you’re being exasperating and obnoxious and giving me anxiety because you’re making terrible choices, you’re still my favorite. Isn’t that what love is? When you want someone through thick and thin, through the highs and lows and peaks and valleys? When that person’s face is the last one you want to see at night and the first one you want to see in the morning?” She gave a watery laugh. “You told me once, after the Bermuda Triangle. You said you loved me, and I said ‘oh, brother’ because I was so afraid that you were out of your mind when you said it, and that when you came to your senses you’d be appalled you’d said such a thing to me and if I said it back and you remembered then we’d never be the same.” Her words were running together; the floodgates had opened and she babbled her thoughts as they came to her in a beautiful stream of consciousness that was the far and away the best thing he’d ever heard in his life.

“Every time you touch me, Mulder, I burn. When you touch my back when we leave a room or when you put a hand on my arm when you lean over to whisper something…I ache. I think about that time in your hallway, before the bee, when you almost kissed me and dear god how I wish I could go back in time and find that bee before it stung me. And then you’d have kissed me, and I don’t know if it would’ve been out of desperation because I said I was leaving or because of desire, and I almost don’t care because I can’t think of anything I want more than to have your mouth on mine. Not just on my mouth but on my whole body, and your hands, too, I want those on me. I want to give myself to you in a way I haven’t given myself to anyone. It’s been years – years – since I’ve been with a man at all, and that’s because of you, because being with anyone who wasn’t you would feel like the worst possible thing I could do. Like cheating. Even Jerse, I turned him away. I know you think I slept with him, and I’m sorry I let you think that. I was just so angry with you. But I didn’t do it, I even told him why, I said “there’s someone else, I can’t”…I felt so stupid because there wasn’t someone else, not really, it’s not like we were together. But I don’t operate that way; I couldn’t be with him while wishing I was with you instead.” She laughed again, and this laugh seemed nearly hysterical.

“I need you to live, Mulder. I need you to come out of this and be whole so that we can be together. I need you to take me on dates and vacations and I really, really need you to take me to bed. Can you imagine the fireworks? I swear to you, Mulder, that when you’re better we’re going to check into a hotel and we’re not leaving for a week. I want you to imprint yourself on my skin and never leave. Do you understand what I’m saying? I love you. I’m in love with you. You’re all that I want. So fucking come back to me. Don’t die. You’re everything that I need.” She leaned in and very carefully kissed the corner of his mouth, and then she lay her head beside him.

He ached to hold her, to kiss her, to take her in his arms and tell her that he would never, ever leave her. Instead he lay there, trapped in the darkness. He swore to himself, though, that he would get better.

***
They weaned him slowly off the sedation. He woke up four days later, throat throbbing from the extubation that had occurred hours before when it was determined that he could breathe in his own. Everything hurt. Everything. He felt a moment of fear, and then he realized she was right next to him. Her fingers were twined with his.

“Mulder,” she said. She was pale and drained. Her eyes were smudged blue and her hair was pulled back in a rough ponytail. She was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen in his life.

He tried to speak, but only a hoarse croak came.

“No, shhh, don’t talk.” She was crying again, somehow, and even her tears seemed tired. Still, she smiled – beamed, actually. She pressed her cheek against his knuckles. “You scared me, Mulder.”

She pulled back and he met her gaze.

“Sorry,” he mouthed. “Sorry, my love.”

She was not a lip reader, but this she understood. He watched her eyes register surprise, a flash of confusion, and then a cautious wonder.

“You’re pretty high, Mulder,” she said. “Lots of drugs.” There she was, giving him an out.

He managed to shake his head, just a little. He looked towards the side table where a water glass sat.

“Just a sip,” she warned. She held the straw to his lips.

The water was cool and soothing. He sipped, breathed, sipped some more. The act was exhausting. She saw it on his face.

“It’s ok. You’re going to be ok. Sleep. I’m here.

***

The next time he awoke she was gone. He tried to look around, panicking, but Frohike’s familiar voice stopped him.

“She’s just showering. It’s ok.”

Mulder closed his eyes in relief.

“She’ll be right back. She always is. Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

He couldn’t answer, but Frohike plowed on ahead.

“You fell and hit your head. You nearly died. You’ve been here for over a week in a medically induced coma. Somehow, you lucky fuck, you’re expected to make a full recovery. Meanwhile, Agent Scully has had three showers total and and has otherwise never left your side. Rumor has it that the hospital will only release you, whenever that is, into the care of someone who can assist and monitor you. We tried. You were almost a ward of La Casa de Lone Gunmen. Instead, though, it appears you’ll be shacking up with that gorgeous creature. It’s enough to make me want to land on my own head.”

Mulder managed a weak laugh.

Frohike blew out a breath. “Anyway, man…thanks for staying alive.” He sniffled self-consciously. “We’re pretty attached to you. And now we get front row seats to this little romance as it unfolds. Well, maybe not so little. Pretty epic, actually.”

The door opened, and Scully appeared. She wore a t-shirt and jeans, no makeup, and her hair was wet. She looked so soft and so vulnerable. She was lovely. Mulder had very rarely seen her this this way, but realized that would probably change now. He thanked gods he didn’t even know if he believed in.

“I’m going to go,” Frohike said. “But I’ll come back tomorrow. Byers and Langly too. Get some rest, if you can.” His eyes drifted to Scully’s. “Anything you need?” he asked her.

She smiled at him, and then she hugged him. “I’m good. Thank you.” Frohike pulled back and looked at her face.

“For someone who fell on his stupid head and nearly died, Mulder is a very lucky man.”

She just laughed. It sounded bone-tired, but it was real.

Mulder gave a little wave, and a hoarse “Bye, Melvin,” to which Frohike rolled his eyes. He left.

Scully slowly approached the bed and sat in the chair beside him. She looked almost shy now that he was awake and they were alone. After all, she didn’t know how he felt. She suspected, maybe, but she didn’t know for sure. He gestured her close, and she leaned in. His voice was rough and raw, but she heard him.

“What hotel?” he whispered.

“What?” she asked, confused.

“A week. You said a week.”

She pulled back and flushed a bright pink.

“You could hear me, then.”

He nodded.

“Everything?”

He nodded again.

She took a deep breath. “And?”

He licked his dry lips. “I want to be with you in every way you can be with a person.” Her own words, handed right back to her. “I love you, Scully.”

Her eyes filled and then overflowed. “I love you too, Mulder.”

“Any chance you can squeeze onto this bed with me?”

“Your ribs…” she began.

“Only on the left. Come lay on the other side.”

She stood lifted the rail on the side of the narrow bed, then moved around to the opposite side. He slowly scooted over, barely noticing the pain in his ribs. There was the narcotics, and there was her. He was fine. Better than fine, maybe. She slipped off her shoes and carefully climbed up beside him. She had to lay on her side and her ass was half-hanging off the bed, but she didn’t care. She rested her head on his shoulder and his arm settled around her.

He drifted off first. She was nearly there when the door cracked open and Skinner stepped inside. She watched him take in the scene, and she resisted the urge to sit up, move away, put on her game face and act like a professional. She didn’t have to, she realized. She wasn’t Agent Scully right now. She was just a woman with the man she loved.

Skinner gave her a small nod.

“I’m so glad,” he said quietly.

He could’ve been referring to the fact that Mulder was recovering, or that her face was finally dry of tears, or that she and Mulder were, at long last, moving forward to a new place. A better place. Maybe all of those things.

“Me too,” she said. She gave him a tired smile.

Skinner smiled back and left the room.

2.

He was released eight days later. His bruised ribs were much better. He had headaches and a prescription for Tylenol with Codeine, although he hoped to avoid using it as much as possible. He wanted to be present.

His recovery was remarkable. He was passing his cognitive tests and able to perform self-care tasks. He had taken walks around the hospital, first short ones up and down the hall, and then longer. He had a slew of follow up appointments on the calendar, strict instructions about not driving for at least a month and a minimum six week leave from work. Really, though, that was nothing compared to what could’ve been. The doctors cited his relatively young age, his excellent health, the short duration of the coma and the fact that he’d managed to hit his head in, apparently, just the right place. He knew that much of it, though, was her. His desire to begin this next part of their lives was all-consuming. Could that drive a brain to heal and a body to mend after such an ordeal? He supposed medical professionals would say no, but he thought he knew better.

They went to his apartment. Maggie had packed Scully’s suitcase for her and now Scully pulled it behind her with one hand while the other held his. She felt many things: anticipation, nervousness, desire, peace…love. Mostly love.

He led her inside and they were surprised to find that the gunmen had come in and tidied up in his absence. The place had been dusted, the trash taken out and the bedsheets changed. There was a little note on the kitchen counter. Welcome home, Mulder and Scully! At least, it better be both of you. Mulder, if it’s just you reading this, then you’re a moron. They laughed.

“You should unpack,” he told her. “Stay awhile.”

“We can see. You’re doing so well, I don’t want you to feel like…”

He put a finger to her lips. “Shhh. We’re not doing that. Not anymore. Go unpack while I take a quick shower, and then get into my bed.”

She felt his words all the way to her core. “Mulder, you need to take it easy,” she said unconvincingly.

“Uh-huh. I will. We’ll go slow. I don’t think I’m going to be able to last for hours and give you the fucking of your life or anything, but Scully – I’m going to be inside you. Today. Soon. Within the hour.”

A little sound escaped her throat, high-pitched and needy. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. He was gentle about it, but it felt like fire.

“Go on. I’ll be there soon.”

He walked into his bedroom ten minutes later. There was a towel around his waist and nothing more. The blinds had been closed and the little bit of light that seeped in was dim. She was sitting up in his bed, the sheets over her chest and tucked under her arms. Her shoulders were bare, and he swallowed hard. He perched on the edge of the mattress.

“Hi, Scully.”

“Hi.” She took a shuddering breath.

“I’m nervous.”

“God, me too. And you need to be careful. Seriously.”

“I promise. And at least my doctor’s here.” That made her smile. “Got anything on under those blankets, G-woman?”

“Not a thing.”

“Then let me see you, baby.” He tucked his finger behind the sheet in the valley between her breasts, and he pulled it away.

***

After, he lay on his side and gathered her close. His knees were tucked up under hers, her back was against his chest and her bottom was firmly pressed into the cradle of his pelvis. He crossed his arms over her front; one around her waist and one over her breasts. He kissed her sweaty temple and then the shell of her ear. He couldn’t seem to hold her close enough – perhaps he needed to try and absorb her into his own skin. She’d fallen asleep immediately, and he couldn’t blame her…she’d spent the better part of two weeks curled up in a chair. There was that, and there were the two orgasms she’d had that had shocked him with their intensity. Those things had her out like a light.

He lay awake a little while longer, snippets of the past two hours playing and replaying in his mind. White skin, soft lips, the silk of her under his hands. They must have kissed a hundred times. Maybe a thousand. He couldn’t get enough of her warm mouth, her seeking tongue, her little whimpers against his lips. He could’ve held her face in his hands and kissed her for the rest of his life, but there hand been so much more of her to discover.

Her body was a canvas that he painted with his lips and his tongue. He sanctified every part of her, and she was so responsive to his touch. She gasped, she groaned, she hissed in her breath and she clutched at his hair when he nestled his face between her legs and tasted her for the first of a million times. She came apart underneath him, clenching around his fingers and moaning his name while he sucked her clit gently between his lips.

“Oh, Scully,” he said as he crawled back up her body. “God, that was so beautiful.” He kissed her, deep and thorough, so that she could taste herself on his mouth. “I wanna do that forever.”

“You can,” she whispered as she moved her lips to his neck and his chest. “You should.”

He was as hard as a rock, and he actually whimpered when she licked her palm and then took him in hand.

“I need you,” he told her, and so she spread her legs for him. No preamble, just one hard push through her tight, wet walls until he hit bottom. They groaned in unison and he felt her tremble beneath him.

“You ok, Scully?”

She panted. “God. Oh my god. Yes. Fuck…Mulder…”

“I know, baby.”

“Get on your back,” she said. “I don’t want you doing the work…”

“…this time,” he finished for her, rolling over and clutching her hips as she straddled him.

“This time,” she agreed, and then she began.

3.

“You’re still awake,” she murmured.

“No,” he corrected, “I’m awake again.” He let his hands wander down the front of her body and cupped both hands possessively over her pussy.

“You said you’d take it easy,” she said, even as she moved onto her back and let him take one of her knees into his hand so he could drag it up to his hip.

“I lied,” he said.

***

”What do you think would’ve happened if you hadn’t fallen?” she asked.

“We’d have figured it out and gotten together. We always do.” He sighed when she slid closer and moved a finger over his lips. She pushed the tip into his mouth and he laved it with his tongue.

“I know…but I wonder how?”

“I suppose the answer is in one of the many other lifetimes, some that we remember and some that we don’t,” he replied. He was hard again, and he wanted her. He always wanted her. “Once was really early. We were young. In our twenties, early twenties. Do you remember?”

“Yes,” she said. “At that camp in Minnesota. Gitche Gumee.” She moved onto her hands and knees and pushed up. She looked at him over her shoulder. “I’ll tell it after, if you want.”

“Good idea,” he said as he knelt behind her and took her hips in his hands. “After.”

Chapter Text

Ely, Minnesota – Sunday, June 12, 1983

1.

“Here we are, Dane – home sweet home.” Missy swung her bag onto one of the two twin beds in the tiny cabin. “I’m so glad you came with me this year, even if you only took a two-week session.”

“It surprises me that you like this so much,” Dana said. She looked around. Two beds with faded quilts, two small dressers, two shelves. A doorway led to a small bathroom with a pedestal sink and a narrow shower stall. “There’s not even a counter for all your makeup.”

“A sacrifice I’m willing to make.” Missy began pulling out clothes (a lot of little sundresses and flowery tops for the woods, Dana noted) and siding them into dresser drawers. “There’s a lot of history here. Lots of energy from Lake Superior. Plus the money is good, and I get to work on my tan while helping 15 year old girls weave bracelets and paint terrible pictures of trees. What’s not to love?”

“And?”

“Aaaaand…the male counselors are typically pretty hot.”

“There it is,” Dana said.

“Quit being such a prude, Dana. Dad’s not here – there’s no one to impress. Let loose a little bit. Have a summer romance. I’ll never tell.”

“Melissa, there’s no point in a summer romance when I’m only here two weeks. I’m incredibly fortunate to have landed that internship and I absolutely need to be back for it. Besides, in three months I’m headed back to Chicago for my sophomore year. I need to stay buckled down if I want to get into a good medical school.”

Missy looked appalled. “It’s called a summer romance because it lasts for the summer, Dane. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but school’s out for the season. Take a break from being the golden child. Hey, maybe you can get laid and save yourself from being the last virgin at the University of Chicago.”

“I never said I was a virgin, Missy. And either way, it’s none of your business.” Dana was scarlet.

Missy just rolled her eyes.

2.

“Welcome, counselors, to Camp Gitche Gumee. We’re excited for a summer of communing with nature, learning and helping teenagers to become stewards of the planet. Some of you are returning counselors, and some are new. We’ll do a quick round of introductions and then I’ll go over the rules. I want you to give your name, your job at the camp, how you ended up here and how long you’ll be staying, and a word or two about yourself outside of Gitche Gumee. I’ll go first.” The speaker was an early twenty-something with a wide grin, muscular build and sandy hair. “I’m Matt. It’s my fourth year here and my first year as lead counselor. I’ll be here all summer. I’m going to be a senior next year at the University of Minnesota, Duluth. My school has a long relationship with Gitche Gumee and lots of us counselors go to school there. I’m majoring in health sciences and want to be a physical therapist."

"I'd be his first patient," Missy whispered.

“I’m sure you would,” Dana whispered back. She listened politely as the other counselors began to stand and talk. Four people introduced themselves, then five, and she found herself only half-listening. She fingered the gold cross she always wore around her neck, drifting, and then Missy elbowed her hard.

“Dear god,” Missy murmured and gestured at the guy standing to speak.

“I’m Fox Mulder,” he said. “Please call me Mulder – Fox is a terrible name. It’s my first year here…my cousin brought me.” He pointed at the counselor who had spoken just before him. Paul something. “I’m going to be a senior at Oxford and I’m majoring in psychology. I’m one of the trail guides, staying all summer.” He sat.

“He’s fucking gorgeous,” Missy murmured.

“He goes to Oxford” Dana said back, staring.

“Yeesh, Dana.”

“Fine. He’s gorgeous. So what?”

“You’re a disaster,” Missy groaned.

He was undeniably attractive. Very tall, brown-haired and slender with arms that looked strong under his fitted t-shirt. His eyes were brown, maybe, or green…she couldn’t tell for sure. An Oxford guy here in Ely, Minnesota, a dot on the map (a beautiful dot on the map, but still). Fascinating. She wondered where Fox…Mulder, rather…was when he wasn’t at Oxford. What kind of people named their kid “Fox”, anyway? Maybe some granola-types, except he sort of looked like money. For some reason those two things didn’t work together in her head, and then she chastised herself for assumptions and characterizations. He was looking at her, she realized.

“Dana,” Missy hissed. “It’s your turn.”

Well, fuck. She felt her face grow hot for the second time in an hour. Mulder smiled at her, and she looked away before standing.

“I’m Dana Scully. It’s my first year here – it’s my sister’s second year and she convinced me to come. I’m pre-med at the University of Chicago. I’m going to be working as a lifeguard for just two weeks, and then I need to be back in Chicago to start an internship at the university.” She sat quickly.

“Thanks, Dana,” Matt said. “Everyone remember that face – she’ll be the one to fish you out if you get a cramp in that icy cold water.” He gave her a toothy grin.

“Dana, he’s flirting with you!” Missy whispered.

“Ugh,” was all Dana could say.

3.

The kids (they were only a few years younger than her, but kids they were) arrived early the next day. Dana donned her red swimsuit and trudged across the sand to her lifeguard station. It was cool by the water and she immediately regretted not bringing a sweatshirt. A few teenagers littered the beach, but no one swam. Of course not – it was Lake Superior. It was freezing cold. This would not be a job with a lot of action.

Hours passed. She applied one Band-Aid and had a conversation with Matt. He had approached casually, hands shoved into his pockets and eyes mostly focused on the beach. He feigned surprise at seeing her.

“Oh – Dana. Hello. How’s your first day?”

“Slow,” she said. “Do people swim in this lake?”

“You’d be surprised. Some days you’ll be busy as hell.” He looked down at her arms. “Cold? You have goosebumps.”

“Just a little…it’s fine. I’m almost done.”

“I can go get you a jacket.”

“No, no, I’m ok. Thanks though.”

“If you’re sure. So, hey, usually after the kids are tucked in for the night the counselors hang around the campfire. The big one at the west end of the beach.” He waved in that direction. “Someone usually brings a guitar. It’s a good time. Want to go?”

“Oh – maybe. I imagine my sister will be going. I might tag along with her.”

“It’s not tagging along if you go with me. I could swing by your cabin later?”

Her instinct was to be annoyed. She’d already answered, and he was being pushy. She didn’t like pushy. And yet…maybe Missy was right. Maybe she should let loose a little. She was 19 years old, it was summer, and she was surrounded by people she’d for the most part never see again. There was no harm in it.

“Ok. Sure.”

“Great! You’ll have fun, I promise. I’ll come by at 10. Ok?”

“Ok.”

He left, and she saw him look back at her twice as he crossed the sand. The first time was a glance, the second time was lingering. She pretended not to see.

***

“You said yes?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised, Missy.”

“But I am! And he’s so cute.”

Dana shrugged. “He’s ok.”

“Ok? Jesus, you must have some high standards. He’s not at that Fox guy’s level, but still…”

“Mulder. He likes to be called Mulder, he said.”

Missy stared. “So he did.”

“Missy, cut it out. I’m a good listener.”

“Liar. You weren’t paying attention until he talked.”

“Fine. But I only focused because you elbowed me. Besides, he’s too tall.”

Missy laughed. “Dana has a crush.”

“We’ve never spoken!”

“I’m sure he’ll be there tonight. Everyone comes. And I’ll tell you right now, if you don’t talk to him then I’m going to. I mean…I’m going to talk to him no matter what. But I’ll keep the charm turned down to a simmer if you’re interested. And I’m only doing this because you’re my sister and I love you – for anyone else I’d turn it all the way up and say ‘let the best woman win’.”

“You should do whatever you want.”

“God, Dana.” Missy sighed as she pulled out a flowered dress with narrow straps.

“You’re going to freeze,” Dana said. She took out jeans and a t-shirt, then added a sweater.

Missy ignored this and took the dress, along with her cosmetic bag, into the bathroom.

Dana dressed and then stared at herself in the mirror above the dresser. She looked pale and her freckles stood out across the bridge of her nose. She thought they made her look like a child, but there was nothing to be done for it. The mole above her lip that she hated so much was stark against the white of her skin. She pulled her hair into a low ponytail, turned to walk away and then looked back. She studied the mole.

“Hey, Missy? Can I use some of your concealer?”

“Dana has a crush!” Missy yelled through the door.

***

Matt arrived right at 10.

“Ladies, hello,” he said as he stepped into the cabin in jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt. There was a bag slung over his shoulder. “You’re looking good.”

“You’re not looking so bad yourself, Matt,” Missy returned.

“Thanks,” was all Scully said.

“I’d love to walk you both down to the beach,” he said. His row of white teeth shone.

“Hmmm. Jeff, that wilderness skills guy, is coming to get me soon. But if you’re nice I may let you tomorrow.” Missy said with a little smile.

“We’ll see about that,” Matt said. “Dana? Ready?”

“Yes,” she said. “Missy, we’ll see you there.”

Matt talked about himself and his athletic accomplishments, of which there appeared to be many, as they walked down the path to the beach. He asked her a question or two about herself, as if remembering that that was considered appropriate behavior, and then brought the conversation back around to him. It was fine with her, as she found that she wasn’t particularly interested in talking to him and was content to half-listen. She smiled at intervals and wondered if Mulder would be at the beach and, if so, whether she’d approach him. They rounded a bend into the sand. Matt put a hand on her back to allow her to go ahead of him. She found that she didn’t like it at all.

***

The Cars Just What I Needed blared from a boom box. People stood around in small bunches, talking. A few people were already dancing, some in groups but a few in couples.

So soon, she thought. Day two and people and already paring off. She felt the hand on her back again.

“Something to drink? I brought a few beers.”

“No…well…sure.” Summertime, summer romance, summer fun…

“Excellent,” Matt said with a smile.

She sipped at a can of Old Milwaukee and listened to Matt drone. The beer didn’t taste particularly good but it seemed to warm her from the inside. They sat in the sand near the fire and she felt herself relax. Fun. She was going to have fun. She drank a second and then Matt conjured up a third.

“You’re cool, Dana. Super cool and so pretty. I love your hair.” He tugged on her ponytail. “I’ve always had a thing for redheads.”

“Have you,” she murmured.

“Yeah.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders. She wanted to like it, she really did, and the world was just fuzzy enough at the edges where she could’ve. Then she glanced up and saw Mulder. He was maybe a couple dozen feet away, talking to his cousin and a tall blonde Dana couldn’t remember. The blonde was giggling, pert and flirty and sexy in a knee length dress that tied at the shoulders. All these dresses. Didn’t these people get cold? She shrugged out from under Matt's arm.

Mulder looked in her direction and their eyes met. She felt her breath catch and she held it…one, two, three. She counted the beats. He didn’t look away, but tilted his head quizzically instead. She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow and quirk one corner of her mouth up in an almost smile. He said something to Paul and Blondie and then pointed in Dana’s direction. Paul nodded and Blondie frowned, but Mulder ignored both. He was coming toward her.

“…more in my room, if you’d like, and I have my own room and so…”

“What?”, she asked, confused.

“I said I have more beer in my room.” Matt had a hand on her arm now.

“Oh…no. No thanks. I think I’m going to…” she started to stand but Matt tugged her back down.

“Where are you off to, sexy?”

“I just realized that I’m very tired. Goodnight, Matt.”

“Hey - what’s this?” He gripped her wrist in his hand. “It’s early.”

“Let go,” she said, quietly but firmly.

“You – ” Matt began. There was an edge to his voice.

“Dana…there you are.” She looked up and saw Mulder standing above her. “Ready?”

“Ready for what?” Matt asked. His smile had vanished.

“Oh, I said I’d walk her back at midnight. It’s midnight.” Mulder glanced at his watch as if to confirm. He held a hand out. Dana took it and felt a little zing where their fingers touched.

“Dana, you let one guy walk you here and another walk you back?” Matt scowled.

Mulder pulled her to her feet and she brushed sand from her jeans. “Why not? We’re all friends here,” she said easily. Her voice was steady.

“Yup,” Mulder agreed. He released her hand and she felt bereft.

Too many drinks, she told herself. They turned and walked toward the path that led from the beach.

“Thanks,” she said. “I would’ve been ok.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. But I thought I’d help. Besides, I really had been looking for you.”

“Me? Why?”

He laughed a little. It was a nice sound. “I don’t know, actually. Isn’t that weird?”

She thought about it, then said, “No.”

They walked in silence for a couple of minutes, then he said. “At first I thought maybe we’d met before. You looked familiar, or more like seemed familiar. Then I realized I didn’t know you, but wanted to.”

“Well,” she said. “What do you want to know?”

“All sorts of things. But we can start with the easy stuff. Pre-med at University of Chicago, huh? That’s impressive.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Sure, Mr. Oxford.”

“No, seriously. What kind of medicine do you want to practice?”

“I’m not sure yet. Forensic pathology, maybe. There’s so many secrets that can be found in what we leave behind when we die. Things that can help us discover new medicines, new cures. You know? And clues that can lead to justice when a death is intentional. I think that’s where my passion really lies. All those victims who no longer have a voice…I want to be their voice, if I can.”

“I know exactly what you mean. I’m studying psychology so I can go into law enforcement. Not sure how or where, exactly, but I feel like if we can understand the criminal mind better then maybe we can prevent the crime, or at least catch the perpetrator. In just this decade the FBI started a behavioral science unit. A couple of agents, Douglas and Ressler are their names, have been interviewing convicted serial killers to find out how they think, and how they became what they are.”

She looked over at him. “You do know what I mean. And I think what you want to do sounds amazing. Truly.”

“Thank you, Dana. For the record, I’ve known you for five minutes and I think you’ll be a brilliant doctor.”

“Thank you, Mulder,” she said, and then added, “Mulder is a good name. It suits you. It’s strong. ‘Dana’ has always struck me as being a very soft name. I’ve never really cared for it.”

“Well, eventually you’ll be Dr. Scully. You can make everyone call you that.”

“Ha, that’s true, I could -”. The path was dark, and she stumbled over a root or maybe a rock. He reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Whoa, there, Scully. God, these paths are dangerous at night.” He moved to release her, hand trailing down her forearm, and she shocked herself by grasping his fingers before they slipped away. He didn’t say anything, just folded his hand around her own. It felt so natural and so easy, even while she felt her heart pounding abnormally fast in her chest.

“‘Scully’, huh?” she managed. She could feel each of his fingers and his thumb where they touched her own.

“I meant ‘Dr. Scully’.” There was the tiniest waver in his voice, and she was grateful. She didn’t want to be the only one so affected.

“Well, I’m not a doctor yet. So ‘Scully’ is fine.”

“Scully,” he said experimentally. He sounded like he was tasting her name and she found it inexplicably arousing. “Yeah. I like it. It suits you.”

They had arrived at her cabin and stood there, both knowing the night was over but not wanting it to end.

“So…what shift do you have tomorrow?”

“Eight to four,” he said. “Five hikes. You?”

“A split. Seven to eleven and then one to five.”

“I could come to the beach when I’m done. When you’re finished we could do something.”

“Yes,” she said.

He squeezed her hand and then let it go.

“Night, Scully.”

“Night, Mulder.” She went inside and quietly closed the door behind her.

4.

The next morning lasted decades. She watched the waves, listened to the gulls and she thought of Mulder. In between shifts she went back to the cabin for a little nap, and she saw Missy.

“Dana! Where have you been?”

“Uh, working?”

“Well, Matt’s looking for you. Rumor has it you left the beach early last night with Fox. Is it true?”

“Mulder,” she corrected. “And yes.”

“Oh my goooooood. Were you never going to tell me?!”

“I was, but you were asleep when I left this morning. Besides, nothing happened.”

“No way, I’ve never seen you make that face before. When are you going to see him again?”

“Later today,” she confessed.

“Oooh, Matt’s going to be jealous.”

“Missy, I took a brief walk with him. That’s it.

“That’s not how guys like that think, Dane.”

“Turns out I don’t give a fuck.”

Missy’s eyes widened. “Well…you’re here for two weeks. That’s it. Have the time of your life, but try not to get too attached to Fo…Mulder.”

“Thanks,” she said, but all she could think was too late…too late.

She applied sunscreen and lip balm, ignoring Missy’s critical eye while she put a dab of concealer over her mole.

The three hours between one and four dragged. At 4:10 she began to look for him, feeling absurd but unable to help herself. She assumed he’d want to shower after a day of hiking, but by 4:25 convinced herself that he wasn’t coming.

You’re not going to cry…you just met him; you’re not going to cry.. Then she looked down the beach and saw him coming toward her.

~

“Geez…you had it bad, huh?” he teased. They were sitting up now, facing the water. She was sitting between his legs and he ran his fingers over her bent knees and shins. She was sated and limp in his arms, and she smelled like sex and the scent of their skin together.

“Are you suggesting you didn’t?” she asked. He couldn’t see her face but knew her eyebrow was raised.

“Oh, hell no. You should’ve seen me that morning. Paul and I led all those hikes and I was a mess. I talked about you like I’d known you for six months instead of an hour. At one point he mentioned that the blonde woman from the night before…

“You know, Amy came looking for you earlier,” Paul said.

“Amy?”

“The blonde from last night.”

“Oh…not interested.”

“You sure? I agree that she’s nowhere near Dana in the looks department…”

“…or brains,” Mulder interrupted.

“Right. But she’s here all summer, and Dana is only here for two weeks.”

Mulder shrugged.

“Jesus, man, you just met.”

“I’m aware.”

“What about Megan, the girl who was all over you as soon as we got here?”

“Paul, why are you doing this?”

“Two weeks. That’s all I’m saying. If you’re crushing on Dana and she leaves then I have to listen to you piss and moan the rest of the summer.”

“I’ll try to keep my pissing and moaning to a minimum.”

Paul sighed. “At least you get to see her in that swimsuit they make ‘em wear. And all that red hair…you know, maybe I’ll fake a stomach cramp in the lake so she can rescue me. Do you think she’d give me CPR right away, or does she have to make sure I’m not breathing first? In the movies it seems immediate.”

“I’ll ask her.”

From behind them, one of the campers said, “You guys talking about the lifeguard?”

Mulder turned and looked at the teenager behind him. He was short and squat and reminded him vaguely of a young version of a film noir detective. “Why?”

“She’s smoking hot. If you’re after her you better work quick. I bet every guy here has his eye on her.”

“Yeah,” the kid’s friend said. “If I were three years older I’d be giving it my best shot.” The friend was tall and blonde and gangly. They were an odd pair, like Laurel and Hardy.

“Want my advice, Mulder?” the first kid aked.

“I think you’re going to give it to me no matter what, and I don’t even know who you are.”

“I’m Joe White, and this is my best friend Steve McGregor. We’re from Baltimore. Anyway – if she’s only here for two weeks you’ve gotta make every second count. Don’t let any time go wasted.”

“Well, that’s better advice than Paul here,” Mulder said. “How old are you, 35?”

“Almost 16. But I’ve seen some things,” Joe said cryptically.

“An exchange student broke his heart last year,” Steve filled in. “She was from Columbia.”

“Maria,” Joe said morosely.

“Maria, Maria!” Paul sang.

“West Side Story,” Mulder explained.

Joe sighed. “Whatever. Just live it up…I’m telling you. I have no regrets.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the bit where you threw in those other women fawning all over you,” Scully teased.

“Hey – just telling it like it is.” He leaned down and gently bit her shoulder, then kissed her there. He knew she wasn’t really jealous. She was his soulmate. She won his heart, just like he won hers. Every time. She always had and she always would.

~

She shaded her eyes so she could watch him come towards her. She smiled.

“Hi,” he said once he’d arrived at her chair.

“Hi,” she returned.

“I’ll be very good and quiet…I know you have a few minutes left of your shift.”

“You can talk to me. Nobody’s swimming…nobody ever seems to swim here, they just hang out in the sand and stand in the surf.”

“We’ll swim sometime,” he told her. “It’s so cold, but you have to be able to say you swam in Lake Superior.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. Before you go back home to…”

“…Chicago. My father is a Commander in the navy. He’s currently stationed at the Great Lakes Naval Station, but we move around a lot.”

“Was that hard? Wait…you’re finished in five minutes. Any interest in a hike? There’s a smaller trail that branches off the one I take the campers on. It’ll be beautiful, and quiet. I can go scrounge around the kitchen for food and bring it along. We’ll find a place to sit and eat and you can tell me everything.”

“Everything is a lot, especially since you have to tell me everything, too.”

“Happily, I don’t start until nine tomorrow. That gives us about, oh, 17 hours until we have to be back depending on what your day tomorrow looks like.”

She laughed. “That’s a lot for a first date.” Then she caught herself and blushed. “I mean, that’s a long time…”

“…for a first date. I agree, but since you’re only here for two weeks I feel like we need drastic measures. And we don’t have to take the whole 17 hours. Just until you get tired of me.” He smiled at her.

God, her heart. Her heart.

“Ok,” she managed. “You get food and I’ll change.”

“I’ll swing by your cabin at 5:30. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

5.

She gathered what she considered to be the necessities: - a flashlight, matches, and a full water bottle – and tossed them into her day pack. She was lacing her hiking boots when Missy came in.

“Where are you off to, Dane?”

“On a hike. With Mulder, actually.”

“Man, you lucky girl. I’ve heard from two different women today who have tried to get his attention. They got zilch. He was apparently polite, and that’s it. And here you are, about to head off into the woods with the most desired guy at camp, while you left the runner up in the dirt. He’s still pissed that you walked off last night, apparently.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dana said indifferently. “Matt’s a creep. Who cares?”

“Not you, apparently,” Missy managed to laugh and look surprised at the same time.

There was a knock.

“Got it,” Missy sang and she flew towards the door. She opened it to reveal Mulder. He wore jeans and a t-shirt and a backpack, and had a sweatshirt tied around his waist.

“Oh, hello, Mulder,” Missy said in her most becoming voice. “Here for my sister?”

“Hi, Missy. I am.”

“Excellent. Keep her out nice and late.”

“Missy…” Dana started.

Mulder just smiled benignly. “We’ll see how we both feel. Could be late.” He turned to Dana. “Ready?”

“Ready,” she said. “Have fun tonight,” she said to Missy as she passed her on her way out the door. Missy started to reply, but Dana pulled the door shut firmly behind her before she could.

“What’s that all about?” he asked as they walked toward the trailhead.

“Oh…she just thinks that I don’t get out enough. Too much time studying, not enough time living, et cetera, et cetera.”

“What do you think about that?”

She took a deep breath, and then she began to talk. She continued as they entered the woods and walked along the worn trail. He listened, he asked questions, and when the focus of the conversation turned to him, he talked easily and openly. At some point they turned off the main trail and onto a small path. The scenery was beautiful and the air was deliciously clean. Mulder was captivating. She wondered if she’d ever in her entire life been so content, and thought maybe that she had not.

Eventually the trees opened to a tiny clearing. A patch of sand, not much larger than the thin blanket Mulder produced from his bag, lay before the shore. Beyond the sand was Lake Superior, and beyond that was nothing as far as the eye could see. She was the daughter of a sailor, and the vast expanse of water felt like an old friend. It was breathtaking.

“Did you know that Gitche Gumee is actually the name that the natives gave this lake?” He said as they sat.

“I’ve heard that, but I’d like to hear more, if you know it.”

“I do.” He handed her a sandwich. “Bologna. I’d have done better if I could’ve, but it was slim pickings. I brought the makings for S’mores but there’s clearly not enough room for a fire.”

“It’s great,” she said as she accepted a slightly squished sandwich. “I’m not a huge fan of marshmallows, but I’ll happily eat the chocolate.”

“Noted. No marshmallows for Scully.”

Scully. There it was again. Something about the way he said it gave her warm fuzzies, and she couldn’t help but smile. Then she thought about how there was no need for him to know about her food preferences, because after two weeks she’d never see him again. Less than two weeks. Her smile faded.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing - all good.”

“No, there was something.”

“Am I so easy to read, Mulder?”

“No, I just – somehow, I already know you. I can’t explain it.”

“You don’t have to. I know what you mean. I feel it, too. Honestly, I was sad for a moment because I was thinking that we don’t have a lot of time.”

“I'm trying not to think about that and to just enjoy the time that we do have. I have a feeling that there’s a lot of being sad ahead of me.” He reached out and touched the cross at her neck.

“Me, too.” They sat, unmoving, and then she finally unwrapped her sandwich and raised it to her lips. “So…Gitche Gumee.”

“Yes. The name is Ojibwe, also known as Chippewa. They were here for centuries…”

***

The sun went down and the stars came up. They lay back on the blanket and continued to talk. He used his hands a lot, she noticed, and she watched as he waved and gestured in the air above him. He had beautiful hands, big but graceful. At one point something he said made her laugh hysterically, and he sat straight up.

“What?” she asked, wiping at the tears on her face and still giggling.

“You have the best laugh I have ever heard. Ever. I want to make you do it again.”

He did.

***

“I want to tell you something, Scully, that very few people know.”

His voice was serious, and she turned on her side to face him.

“Okay.”

“I have a sister. Had a sister. When I was 12 and she was 8 she was abducted from our own home. I was with her.”

“Mulder.” She instinctively reached cross the gap for his hand, and he took hers and clutched it. “My god. Tell me.”

“I don’t remember a lot. I’ve started regression therapy…it’s hard. It’s like I want to remember, but I don’t. You know? And what I do remember is going to sound so crazy. I don’t want you to pack up and leave.”

“Nothing you could say would make me do that. I promise.”

He inhaled. “Ok. Our parents were gone. We were playing Stratego, and suddenly there was a light…”

***

Tears rolled down his face and he left them, unashamed. She reached over and wiped at them with the sleeve of her sweater, and then with the tips of her fingers.

“Do you think I’ve lost my mind? Maybe I did.”

“No,” she said. “I believe you saw everything you remember. I don’t know what it means, but I believe it. I believe you. And my heart just aches for you.”

He closed his eyes.

“Thank you, Scully.”

***

Time passed. She shivered, and he looked at his watch.

“My god. It’s one in the morning. We need to get back. You’re freezing, and you have an early day.”

“Maybe a little longer?”

“Yeah?”

“And you could keep me warm.” Her heart was pounding furiously. She felt her hands shake and squeezed them into fists. “If you want to, that is.”

“Scully, I want to. God, do I want to. Will you sit up? If we start laying down then I’m done for.”

And so she sat up, and then he did, and then he shifted closer. He brushed her hair away from her face. She felt like a siren from a paperback romance with her heaving chest and her trembling body. She searched his face for a long moment. At 19, she’d never seen the expression that Mulder now wore. It was tenderness, it was desire, it was something deep and profound.

He kissed her. Their noses bumped, their teeth crashed, and the angle – sitting side by side and turned at the waist to face each other – made it a little awkward for just a second. And then the second passed and it wasn’t awkward anymore…it was magic. His mouth was full and warm and slanted over hers with enough pressure to be firm, but not pushy. He had his hands on the sides of her face, and then moved one to wrap around her back so he could hold her closer. It was she who touched her tongue to his lips, but he let her in without hesitation. He tasted like the Hershey bar they’d shared and something else; something delicious and unfamiliar that could only be him. It was a long kiss, and it was the best of her life. So far, at least.

He pulled back and looked at her.

“Wow,” he murmured.

“God,” she replied. “Please do that again.”

He tipped her back into the sand.

He was bolder this time, slipping his tongue into her mouth while his hand came to rest on her waist. Her womb clenched in a way that was so unfamiliar and so intense that her knees would’ve buckled had she been standing. She kissed back, she ran her fingers through his hair and over his cheeks and then she took one of his hands and guided it to her breast.

He groaned low in his throat and shifted so that he was above her rather than beside her. His palm caressed her through her sweater and he lowered himself onto her.

She could feel his heartbeat, even through their clothes. It pounded and raced. It was his hips, though, that made her tremble. His erection pressed against her belly and she gasped when he moved against her.

She reached for the button of his jeans.

“Wait,” he said. “Hang on.” He pulled away and sat up, and then he tugged on her hand until she sat up again beside him.

“What?”

“Scully, have you done this before?”

“No. I’m assuming you have, and that’s ok.”

“I have,” he said. “I’m sorry. But I want you to know that I’ve never felt so drawn to someone before. I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you right now.”

“Then why…?” She found herself dangerously close to tears. She fought them off.

“For one, I don’t have any condoms. I don’t suppose you do?”

“No…but I’m on the pill. Not as birth control, just because I need the hormones. My cycle…it doesn’t matter. But I am.”

He touched her cheek. “Still…we should use one.”

She felt silly, suddenly, Miss Wanna-be-a-Doctor ready to have unprotected - sort of – sex with this man she’d just met.

He must’ve seen something in her face, because he leaned in and kissed her forehead. “No…don’t do that. I trust you implicitly, as crazy as that might be. I hope you feel the same. I’ve never had sex without a condom and I’m completely clean. If the condom were the only thing, I’d probably do it anyway. It’s not the only thing, though.”

“Then what else?”

“Twelve days. That’s all we have. It doesn’t matter how much I already care about you…it’s twelve days. I can’t take…I can’t take this from you and the not be there later. You deserve more than a fuck on the ground with someone that will disappear. I know it’s highly unlikely that the first person will be your only person, and maybe that’s a good thing. But you should be able to see it through.”

He pressed his forehead against hers. “Don’t think I don’t want to. I do, so much. I’m falling for you.” He ran a thumb over her cheek and she realized she was crying a little after all.

He continued. “I feel like I should say something along the lines of ‘and so I think we should avoid each other for the next twelve days so that we don’t make it any harder.’ I can’t do that, though. I’m not that strong. I want to see you every day until you have to leave. Do you want that, too?”

“Yes,” she said. She sat back and took a deep breath. “I do.”

They didn’t talk much on the walk back. He held her hand, though, and he stroked the back of her knuckles with his thumb. When they reached her cabin he took her in his arms and he kissed her gently.

“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” he said.

“Me, too.” She stretched up on her toes and kissed him back. “Goodnight, Mulder.”

“Goodnight, Scully.”

The lights were off when she got inside, but Missy sat up in bed.

“It’s so late…you ok?”

“I’m fine.”

“Uh oh…I know that ‘I’m fine’. What happened?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” she said as she stripped off her sweater.

“Was it awful?”

“It was wonderful. I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You were crying. I can hear it in your voice. What did he do?”

“Goddamnit, Missy, he didn’t do anything. We were going to…he stopped it. He doesn’t want to hurt me when I have to leave.”

“Sounds like it’s already going to hurt.”

“Very much.”

“Is it worth it?”

“Yes.”

“Then forget what I said about not getting attached. Spend the next twelve days being deliriously happy. Worry about later, later.”

Scully inhaled, exhaled. “You’re right.”

“I know. His cabin is number 12. It’s just him in there.”

“I need a favor.”

“Besides my sage advice?”

“Yes. I need condoms.”

There was the sound of a drawer opening, some rustling, then the drawer closing.

“Here.”

Scully went to her and took them. “Thanks, Missy.”

She walked down the path, turned right, and walked some more until she reached number 12. She didn’t pause, just went straight up the two steps and knocked softly. She heard his footsteps immediately. He hadn’t gone to sleep yet.

The door creaked open. He stood there in a dark t-shirt and boxer shorts. She shivered, although she was not cold.

“Scully? Are you ok?”

“You said you didn’t want to take it from me.” She was referring to her virginity, and he knew it.

“I did,” he said.

“You don’t have to take it. Mulder, I’m giving it to you.”

He looked at her for a long moment. Her heart galloped. Then he stood back and held the door open so she could come inside.

6.

The clock radio was on low, and Jim Croce was singing about wanting to save time in a bottle.

Oh, Jim. You have no idea, she thought.

Mulder took her by the hand and led her to his bed. The sheets were pulled back and a book lay open on the nightstand. The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco. Fascinating.

Jesus, she was falling in love.

“I brought…” she began hoarsely. She cleared her throat and started again. “I brought these. My sister had them.” She pulled the condoms from her pocket and set them beside the book.

“Thank you. Maybe if it’s ok, though, we could do it without. It would be my first time doing that, and I'd like to have a first with you…but only if you’re sure.”

She answered with a kiss, and they were done talking.

It was a different kind of kiss than before. A prelude. It flowed into another, and then another, and then he was tugging at the hem of her t-shirt. She raised her arms and let him pull it up and over. He tossed it toward the chair at his desk and went straight back to her mouth while his hands reached around her back to fumble at the clasp of her bra. It took a few tries, and she was glad. She didn’t want him to be an expert.

He pulled it down her arms and threw it aside. He didn’t pause but pulled his own shirt over his head. There was nothing underneath but his muscular chest with its fine mat of hair and flat nipples. She pressed her open mouth between them, over his heart, and he slid a hand into her hair for a moment so he could hold her there.

“Scully,” he whispered, and he sighed before releasing her. He knelt on the floor and she braced her hands on his shoulders so he could remove her boots, then her socks. He stood again and kissed her neck while his fingers undid the snap, and then the zipper, of her jeans. She slipped her thumbs into the waistband and caught her underwear, too, because suddenly the only thing that mattered was being nude before him. He helped, hands closing over hers, and together they pulled them down and off.

He gathered her close, then, and kissed her while his hands roamed the bare skin of her back and her hips and then her ass. He clutched her there, kissing her hard, and she realized that she was wet – so wet it was shocking. His cock strained against the fabric of his boxers and she yanked at that last bit of clothing between them. He acquiesced at once, stepping back to pull them off and kick them aside.

They stood and stared.

Her nipples, already hard, grew tighter under his gaze. She resisted the urge to fidget and instead stood still, arms at her sides, as he took her in with his eyes. Small, firm breasts with a spray of freckles across the tops. Her stomach was flat and her pubic hair was a darker shade of red than the hair on her head. As he stared, evidence of her arousal rolled down the inside of one thigh.

“Oh, Jesus,” he breathed. He closed his eyes for a long moment and then looked at her face. “Scully, you are fucking gorgeous. You are perfect, the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.”

She wanted to thank him, but she was busy staring. His cock stood straight up, long and think and heavy. He followed her eyes and then looked back up self-consciously.

“Say something,” he pleaded.

“You have a beautiful body, Mulder. I haven’t been like this with anyone, but I do know that that,” she nodded towards his erection, “is not the norm.” She came closer and stretched out a hand. “Can I?”

He nodded. “Careful. I really, really don’t want to come before I’m even inside you.

Inside me. I’m going to have him inside me. Her belly felt the same way it did at the top of a roller coaster. Tight, fluttery, and filled with delicious anticipation. She wrapped her hand around him and he groaned. She slid her palm experimentally and watched, transfixed, as a drop of liquid formed at the tiny opening at the tip.

“Ok, baby. Stop. Lemmie just…Christ, Scully. Get in bed. Lay back. I want to touch you.”

She knew he could see her trembling as she crawled onto the mattress and nestled her head into his pillow, hands crossed over her belly.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered against her lips. He kissed her mouth while his hands moved over the curves of her body. They cupped her breasts and traced her nipples, ran down her arms and then over to her stomach and then down, down…

His lips closed over a nipple at the same time that his fingers stroked between her legs. She cried out and jerked beneath him. “Oh, god. God.”

He sucked while his fingers moved and she found herself clutching his head to her breast while her hips rolled. He was trying to figure out what she needed, and, honestly, everything felt good. To come, though (a trick she’d learned not all that long ago), she needed firm pressure and a consistent rhythm. She was dying to show him but also felt shy, uncertain about the idea of him seeing her like that and also worried about making him feel bad that he couldn’t figure it out on his own.

He read her thoughts.

He released her nipple and said “Teach me, Scully.”

“Mulder, I don’t know if I can, I…”

“Listen,” he said. He moved back up to her face and touched her cheek. “There’s no way I’m lasting more than a few minutes once I’m inside you. I’m going to feel like a 16-year-old instead of a 22-year-old and you’re going to see everything. So before I embarrass myself completely, let me give this to you. Ok?”

She nodded.

“Close your eyes and give me your hand.”

She did, and she took a deep breath as he took her hand guided it between her legs. He released it and whispered, “show me.”

It was difficult at first, and she kept her eyes tightly shut against the heat of his stare. Gradually, though, she relaxed. She found her rhythm and her hips began to move against her fingers. She felt the gentle weight of his hand on hers and she startled.

“Shhh…don’t stop.”

She found the rhythm again and he followed it. She grew closer. A flush began to spread from her chest and upward, and her thighs quivered.

“Take your hand away,” he said in a voice so low she could hardly hear him. She did, though, and she pulled her hand back and clutched the sheet. He took over, doing exactly what she had.

She began to whimper and gasp, little sounds that she couldn’t control and that would’ve embarrassed her if she could think about anything beside the orgasm that was so close.

“Uhhhn…” she moaned. Then she felt one of his fingers at her entrance and her whole body tightened. He pushed it inside.

“Open your eyes, Scully.” She was lost; she could do nothing but obey.

She looked at him, and she shattered into a million pieces. She clamped down around his fingers and spasmed hard, hips jerking against his hand and “oh god oh god oh god,” pouring from her lips. She came for what felt like forever, until suddenly his fingers on her clit were too much and she pulled away.

“Ok, ok, ok,” she panted. He took his hands away and contented himself with resting them on her abdomen until she finally settled. He leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss.

“That was amazing,” he told her. “You were beautiful.”

“How…?” she panted.

He shrugged. “I just did what you were doing. You knew what you needed.”

She smiled and stared at him through heavy lids. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Your turn,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“A thousand percent. I want you in me.”

He climbed above her and rested on his knees between her legs. “I want this to be good for you, Scully, but I’m worried…”

“I know it’ll hurt. It’s ok. It’s going to be good, too. I’m ready.”

“No condom?”

“No,” she said. “Let me be your first.”

“I want that, too,” he said. He took himself in hand and guided his penis to her body.

“You have to tell me if I should stop,” he said.

“I will.”

She was soaking wet, and he slipped and slid across her skin until he found her opening.

“Hold onto me,” he said, and for some reason that made her want to cry. She put her hands on his back and squeezed, and he pushed against her while pulling her hips to him.

She winced and then groaned as he slid into her little by little. She felt herself stretching to accommodate him, and the hurt was profound. Behind it, though, she sensed something wonderful.

“Yes?” he asked tightly. He sounded like he was in pain himself, and she knew it was the effort it was taking to hold back.

“Yes,” she said. There was a sharp pinch and a stab that made her want to scream, and she bit her lips and moaned against them. Then he was all the way inside of her and he stilled.

“Oh, fuck, oh, Scully. You feel so fucking incredible. Are you ok?”

She nodded against his shoulder. Tears seeped out from under her lashes, but it wasn’t all pain. She loved him inside her, she realized. It fucking hurt and it felt so perfect, so right.

“Talk to me,” he said, and so she did.

“Mulder, you feel good. So good. It’s ok, you can move. I want you to take me, I want to make you come in me…” she murmured in his ear. He slid out a little, very slowly, then back in. Pleasure began to bloom deep inside of her.

“Oh! Yes,” she moaned quietly. He did it again, and she said it louder. “Yes!”

He began to speed up, his hips moving faster while he leaned down to press his lips to hers.

“God, Scully,” he murmured against her mouth. “Oh, Scully, I think I love you, fuck, Scully.”

“It’s ok, Mulder,” she said. She rocked against him. “I think I love you, too. Let go.”

Two more hard snaps and then he howled her name. She shushed him with her lips against his as he shook above her, emptying into her, kissing her and holding her and mumbling that he was never going to let her go.

7.

He did, though, of course. He had to.

For the next week and a half they struggled through their jobs and counted the seconds until they could be together. They ate together, sat at the campfire together and she flagrantly broke the rules every night by slipping into his cabin and into his bed. She slept there until the early light of dawn crept to the windows, and then she would go back to her own room and stare at the ceiling, achingly sore and missing him already.

They memorized every inch of each other’s bodies – the way they felt, the way they tasted, and how every part could be used to give and receive pleasure. He spent an entire evening with his face between her legs, asking her how this felt and that felt and making her laugh and groan until she came, hard, clutching his head and saying his name. One night, as he sat at his desk dashing off a letter, she dropped to her knees before him and tugged down his sweats so that she could take him in her mouth. He came down her throat with his hands in her hair and his heart in her palm.

Matt threatened to complain, of course, after calling Scully a slut and earning himself a right hook to his jaw. She was stronger than she looked. He spat, swore, called her a bitch and it was Mulder who hit him that time. The next day Matt was gone; apparently kicked out of the camp after someone disclosed that he’d been providing minors – mostly women – with alcohol. It was Missy that had told, she knew.

***

Scully left on a Sunday.

They wept, they yelled, she threatened to skip this once-in-a-lifetime internship opportunity and he told her he'd drop out of Oxford. In the the end, though, she left as they knew she should. It was always going to be a two-week thing. A summer romance. Falling in love just happened.

Not even an exchange of addresses, they decided. It would be so easy to give up and go to each other, and that was something they could not do.

”If it’s supposed to be,” she said in a broken voice, “then we’ll find each other.” She took the cross from around her neck and fastened it around his own. “Don’t forget me.”

~

”I’d never, ever been so broken hearted. I cried for months. I didn’t date for over a year. Even then, my heart wasn’t in it. And we were so young, Scully. That’s what’s crazy. So young.”

“I remember thinking that I’d never love again. So dramatic for a 19-year-old girl. But you were such a treasure. An old soul in a young man’s body. You treated me with such tenderness. And that night on the beach…it wasn’t that different than this one, was it?”

“I suppose not,” he said. “Except now we can stay as long as we want.”

“Except that,” she said “We didn’t know that eventually we’d have forever.”"

“I remember that it was when I told you about Samantha that I realized I was falling for you.”

“My heart hurt so much for you.”

“I know, baby.”

“We let each other go in the end. Sometimes we didn’t.”

“Sometimes we didn’t. I can tell one of those stories if you want. But first…that life together didn’t end when we left the camp, remember?”

“Of course I do.”

8.

March, 1993 – J. Edgar Hoover Building

“And this, Agent Scully, is where our Behavioral Science Unit is housed. I imagine that in your role you’ll be working a lot with this team.”

“Thank you, Assistant Director Skinner. I’m looking forward to the opportunity.”

“Ah, the door is open. I can guess which agent is there. He’s a lot like you, or at least what I’ve heard of you. Committed. Married to the work. I bet you’ll like him…come on, I’ll introduce you.”

“Wonderful,” she said as she followed him through the open doorway.

The agent had been reading an open file, but now he looked up. Her heart stopped dead in her chest, and then it restarted. It soared.

Skinner said, “Sorry for the interruption, but I’d like you to meet our newest agent, a forensic pathologist. I think you’ll be working closely with her. Agent – ”

“Mulder,” she said. “Oh my god…Mulder.”

“Scully,” he said. His eyes filled. He stood, the gold cross around his neck briefly catching the light. He came around the desk, and he went to her.

Chapter Text

The moon was full now, and its reflection cast a silver path across the water until it disappeared into the horizon. Strange…just a short time ago the moon was new. Time and space were different here; they didn’t answer to the laws of science. It didn’t bother her the way it would’ve when she was alive. This was no place for skepticism.

“You know what I would love?” Mulder asked. “A swim. Do you want to swim with me, Scully?” He rose from the blanket and reached down for her hand. She took it and they followed the light’s glittering path through the sand and into the surf. The water gentle, cool but not cold, and they were able to walk directly in.

She sighed. “God…this is the life. Is that a pun? It might be.”

He swam the breaststroke for a while, back and forth across a length of ocean. She dove and came up, then dove again. She reminded him of a mermaid.

“You’re pretty,” he said. He stopped to tread water beside her.

“You’re pretty, too,” she returned. “And I’m not even saying that just because you’re my soulmate.”

He laughed. “God, I hope not.”

He flipped onto his back and she did the same, floating serenely beside him with her arms and legs spread wide like a starfish.

“There’s one that I remember,” she said, “where they tried to separate us.”

“They?” He asked.

“It was one where we’d met on the X-files. Skinner was the one that told us I was being reassigned and relocated, but the strings were definitely being pulled by someone else. Kersh, probably. CSM. It was our 5th year. Do you remember?”

“Oh…yes. Yes, I do. That was hard. It was so hard for both of us.” He righted himself in the water and dug his toes into the sand. “Can you reach here?”

She tested. “Nope. I’m always so goddamn short, every time.”

He laughed. “I love you that way. C’mere…let me hold you up.”

She drifted over and settled against him, legs around his waist and arms around his neck.

“This is nice, Scully, but is it conducive to story telling?” he asked as he slid his hands down to grip the backs of her thighs.

“I hope so, because I’m very comfortable, and I’d like to remember that life and tell it together. I liked the ending.”

“Ok,” he said. “I’ll try.”

1.

J. Edgar Hoover Building, Washington, D.C. – Friday, March 6, 1998

One night to be confused, one night to speed up truth.
We had a promise, babe – four hands and then away
One night of magic rush, to start a simple touch
One night to push and scream, and then relief
We had a promise, babe – we were in love…
And you kept us awake with wolves teeth
Sharing different heartbeats in one night.
- Josè Gonzàlez, Heartbeats

“They can’t do that,” Mulder’s voice was low and dangerous. She sat with curious detachment as he clenched his hands into tight fists.

Is this what shock is like?, she wondered. I can’t feel anything. I wonder if I’ll ever feel anything again.

Skinner sighed and adjusted his glasses. “They can, Mulder, and they did. I’m sorry. Agent Scully, you are to cease working on the X-files immediately. You get a one week leave to organize your affairs, and then you’ll leave for Seattle. An apartment has been leased for you. The Bureau will take care of moving from start to finish, so you don’t have to worry about that. The Bureau will also pay the rent for the remainder of your lease here in the event that you’re not able to find someone to sublet.”

“As if I’d try,” she said shortly.

“I didn’t expect you would. You’ll receive a packet via interoffice mail tomorrow. It will include your new address information as well as details regarding your move, which I understand will occur on March 15. You will start in your new role with Organized Crime on Monday, March 23. Your new partner is an agent by the name of Devan Crawford. Do you have any questions?”

She didn’t speak. She couldn’t.

He could.

“I do,” Mulder said. He stood and gripped the edge of the desk. “Why would you let this happen, you spineless sack of shit? You’re going to let her be torn away from her work, from her family…from everything she knows? And why? Because we’ve gotten so close to the truth? Because she’s seen things that she can’t explain? Or do they just hate how much I care about her, and they want to destroy me by taking her away?” His voice had risen to a fevered pitch.

“Watch your mouth, Agent Mulder. Do you think I like this? Do you think I wanted this to happen? My goddamn hands are tied. I’ve already tried…there’s nothing I can do.”

“You mean there’s nothing you will do!” Mulder said venomously. “You’re a fucking puppet. A puppet.”

She rose slowly from her chair and walked towards the office door.

“Agent Scully – where are you going?” Skinner asked.

“Scully?” Mulder said brokenly.

Even his voice hurt. She didn’t turn and she didn’t respond. Instead of returning to their office she slipped down the side stairs and out of the building. She started toward the street with no destination. She walked for a long time.

2.

Monday, March 9, 1998

She walked into the office Monday morning with nothing but her purse and a box. He was at his desk. The computer wasn’t on, and he wasn’t moving. His eyes were red and he hadn’t shaved.

“You smell like whiskey,” she said as she passed by him.

“Where the fuck have you been? I called all weekend. I came to your apartment six times. I went to your goddamn mother’s house. Twice.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? I wanted to talk about this. I wanted to figure out how we can stop it. Do you not even care?”

She had gone towards the bookshelf and was collecting her meager belongings, which really could’ve fit inside of a paper lunch bag. Why she’d brought a box, she had no idea. Now she turned on her heel.

“Do I not care? How can you even ask me that?” she asked. Her voice was low, but it was hard. “They’re taking everything from me. Everything.”

“Then help me!” he nearly screamed.

“How? How?! We have no power here. If I don’t go then I’ll lose my job. And you…they’ll take the X-files from you, Mulder. At least if I go you’ll still have that. If I stay, you’ll have nothing.” She was yelling back now, because if she didn’t yell then she’d cry. She didn’t want to cry, she didn’t want to give them that.

“They can’t take away what we have!”

“What do we have, Mulder?” Her eyes began to burn. “They gave me to you, and now they’re taking me away. We don’t belong to each other.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I believe that it’s too late to think otherwise.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“We played it safe for five years. You’ve been an incredible partner, Mulder. You’ve become my best friend. You’re so many things. But in the end we made it about the work, and that’s ok. That’s what you’ve devoted your life to. I understand. And that’s why I have to go.”

“You understand? I don’t understand.”

She was horrified to see that his eyes had filled. That’s it…she couldn’t do this. What they fuck had she even come here for? Her copy of Gray’s Anatomy? No, there was nothing here for her but him. He’s what she’d come to see. And now she didn’t know why, because it couldn’t help. It could only hurt. She put down her box. “Mulder, I need to go.” She said quietly.

“Please don’t,” he said. The tears had come.

But she did.

3.

Thursday, March 12, 1998

He hadn’t gone to work all week. Tomorrow was Friday, and he’d surely skip that as well. He was on his way to drunk now and bound to be hung over tomorrow. Same as yesterday, and they day before that.

He’d tried to call her a couple of times, but she hadn’t answered. He’d stopped being surprised. He’d asked her on Monday if she even cared, but he’d asked that out of anger. She cared. He knew that. But somehow they’d ended up in a position where she believed that, ultimately, the work was the most important thing to him. It was his fault; he’d let that happen. He’d never gotten up the nerve to tell her that at some point she’d become the most important thing. More important than the truth. It would be impossible to tell her now. She’d understandably think it was as a ruse to keep her here. No, he’d fucked up. The biggest fuck up of his life. He was about to lose the woman he loved.

The phone rang.

“What?” he said into the receiver.

“Mulder?”

He sat up fast and his drink tipped over onto the coffee table. The dredges of his poorly-made old fashioned spread across the surface. “Scully,” he said. He wanted to say more, but nothing came to him.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t taken your calls. I just felt like…I felt like talking would make it harder. And seeing you would make it impossible. You know? Like maybe a clean break would be best.”

He wanted to scream, but he did not. “No…a clean break would not be best.”

“I realize that. Maybe I’m just a coward, and I wanted to avoid saying goodbye. I know I need to leave so that your work can go on. I can’t let you lose that. But it was cowardly and selfish of me to avoid you. I’m sorry. You deserve a goodbye. We both deserve it. We should get an ending.”

But this is not our ending, Scully.

“We should,” he agreed.

She took a shaky breath, and he realized that she was either weeping or building up to something. Maybe both.

“Mulder? I wanted to ask you something. You can say no and I swear I won’t be mad at you. But it’s a big ask, and it’s going to make leaving even harder. I know that. I’ve spent days trying to talk myself out of asking, but I can’t…I have to. I want to.”

“What is it?” he asked, confused.

“Tomorrow…” she fell silent.

“Scully?”

“Do you want to spend the night together tomorrow?”

“As in the evening?” he asked cautiously. This was not something he wanted to misunderstand. “Like dinner or something?” As if he could possibly eat.

“No. Well, yes. We could have dinner. But I meant the whole night. As in until Saturday morning.”

“You’re talking about in bed.” He had the very real concern that he was about to suffer a heart attack. His pulse was racing along and his mouth had gone bone dry. He cleared his throat. “You’re asking if I want to spend your last night here in your bed.”

“No, no, not my bed.”

Why was she doing this? He was going to cry, or scream, or cut his own goddamn throat.

“In your bed. I don’t want to be in this apartment. I’ve packed my personal things and a moving truck is picking them up today. There’s nothing here of me anymore.”

Oh, fuck. Scully.

“Like I said, I know that’s a lot. I know. I can’t believe I’m asking, I had to do two shots just to get up the nerve to pick up the phone, and now I’m a little drunk on a Thursday afternoon.” She laughed bitterly. “It’s so selfish of me to ask, and it would make it a thousand times worse…”

“Yes.”

“Mulder, you should think -”

“Yes. Please, please come here.”

When she replied her voice was very soft. “Ok. I’m sorry for doing this to you. To us. I just don’t want to leave and have never done…” her voice trailed off.

“Don’t be sorry. Thank you, Scully, for having the courage to ask. I want to. I’ve always wanted to. But I was afraid.” Good thing he was so tipsy…it was much easier to be honest.

“I’m still afraid,” she said. “Is seven ok? I’m spending the day with my mother before then.”

“Seven is great.” Like arranging a time to eat a meal or go over a case or meet at a crime scene, but instead it was for her to come to his home. For sex.

“Can I bring anything?” she asked.

“Just yourself,” he managed. He disconnected. He picked up the spilled glass and screwed the top onto the bottle of Maker’s Mark. Time to get his shit together.

4.

He almost cancelled six times. Six. Once he got as far as dialing the first four digits of her phone number before frantically hanging up the phone and nearly flinging it across the room. It’s not that he didn’t want to do this with her – in fact, he couldn’t think of a single thing in the world he’d rather do (aside from convincing her to stay). It’s just that he was truly worried about the condition of his heart. He was already half crazy with love for her…how would he feel after spending a night holding her? Touching her? Being inside her? It was too much. To not, though, would surely be the biggest regret of his life, and she would never ask again. He knew that. No – it was full-speed ahead, damn the torpedoes and burn the ships. But he would not tell her that he was in love with her, he decided. He wouldn’t do that to her the day before she left.

He ended up taking a sleeping pill Thursday because the anxiety was overwhelming, and as a result he woke at 11:00 am Friday morning. He blinked, confused for a minute, and then remembered what today was.

The day he’d have sex with Scully.

The day he’d say goodbye to Scully.

He closed his eyes and bit back nausea.

Eventually, he rose from the bed and stripped off the sheets. He put on sweats and carried the linens and his dirty clothing down to the common laundry room and tossed everything in. After that, he cleaned. He scrubbed the toilet and his tub, he dusted surfaces, he mopped floors and he wiped down the kitchen. He was by no means a slob, but he very rarely took the time to clean like this. He found that it was soothing.

When he was finished, he sat down and made a list of things he should pick up at the store. It was a very short list.

Food for dinner? The very idea of eating turned his stomach, although he supposed they’d have to at some point. Food was fuel, after all. But, jesus…how? Nope. Forget it. Besides the knots in his stomach, he didn’t want to waste any of their precious time standing over the stove. They’d order in if anything. Maybe he’d just get a few snacks. She liked those rice ice cream things. Unless she had her period, then she liked the real thing. Did she have it? That would get messy, but it certainly wouldn’t stop him. What was a little blood between friends?

Friends.

He did some quick calculations and determined that she wouldn’t get her period until next week. Then he thought about how well he knew her and got angry all over again that she’d leave.

Stop.

Alcohol? It seemed like a good idea at first; something to loosen them up and calm any nerves. Then he imagined his senses dulled, even a little, or waking up tomorrow with memories made hazy by drink. Ugh. One bottle of wine would be more than enough.

Condoms? Surely everything he had expired years ago. It’s not like she could get pregnant, which was terrible but maybe good at this exact moment because he was pretty sure he’d try to knock her up. God. And as far as STDs? What a laugh. He hadn’t had sex in….oh, four years or so. He vaguely remembered that not only did he use a condom then, but he’d sort of wished he’d used two at once. Not exactly a ringing endorsement for the woman, but it didn’t say much about him either.

He’d buy condoms. Maybe just a couple. He didn’t expect he’d need them again for somewhere between a year or two and forever.

Forever.. He was so fucking dramatic. He realized he was crying on his stupid, stupid list:
1. Tofutti Rice Dreamsicles
2. Cabernet Sauvignon
3. Condoms

The “sicles” was smeared and barely legible. He put down his head and wept.

5.

His buzzer rang promptly at 7. He was standing right in front of the door, but he made himself wait 30 seconds before answering. He didn’t want to appear as pathetic as he felt.

He finally swung open the door. She was standing there in jeans and a t-shirt and white tennis shoes, looking tiny and vulnerable and beautiful. A suitcase was on the floor beside her.

“Hi, Scully,” he said.

“Hi,” she said quietly.

“I was standing right behind the door…I don’t know why I made you wait,” he confessed. What was wrong with him? So much for not being pathetic.

She gave him a half-smile. “I’ve been here for nearly ten minutes. I didn’t want to be early and appear desperate, so I just stood in the hall.”

He laughed a little, and then she did too. She came through the doorway and set her suitcase against the wall.

“We’re a fucking pair,” he said.

“Well, we’re about to be,” she quipped.

“Scully!” he said, shocked. Then he did laugh, for real, and he took her by the hand and drew her to him. “Come here.” He wrapped his arms around her and she tucked her head against his chest, arms going around his waist as if she’d done it a million times. He felt her shoulders shake and thought she was laughing…it took a moment for him to realize that she was sobbing.

“Oh, honey,” he murmured. “Shh, shh, shh.” He rocked a little on his heels, swaying with her, not knowing why he was shushing her when he was crying again, tears falling into her lovely red hair.

“I’m sorry,” she wept. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby.” How easily endearments fell from his lips now that he was losing her.

They stood there for a few minutes until their tears slowed, and then he pulled back to look at her. “There’s going to be so much time to be sad,” he told her. “Let’s try and just enjoy being together right now. Ok?”

“Ok,” she said. She used the hem of his t-shirt to wipe her eyes. He imagined doing the same with hers, although he’d have to pull it all the way off her little body if he wanted it to reach his eyes. There would be all that Scully skin…

“Are you hungry?” he asked her.

“Not even remotely. My mother shoved food at me all day and I wasn’t hungry then, either, but if I didn’t eat some of it she would’ve lost it. She’s so worried about my emotional state as it is.”

“Understandable,” he said as he led her to the couch. “You’re leaving her. And you two are very close.”

“Well, yes. There’s that. We’ve both been sad, but she’s used to having her children move away and come back. She’ll be ok. I’ll miss her very much, but she’ll visit all the time, and I’ll come home too. What she’s worried about is me leaving you.”

“She is?”

“Of course she is. She asked me…she asked me to see if you’d come visit her sometimes. She wanted to know if it would be ok to invite you over for dinner.”

Fresh tears stung his tired eyes. “Yes…I’d like that very much. Although I can’t imagine being with her without you there.”

“At first, but you’ll get used to it.”

They were no longer talking about just him being at her mother’s house, he knew.

“No, Scully. I will never, ever get used to you not being there. I don’t even want to.”

“Well, that’s half the problem. You’re going to need to try.”

“Pass,” he said.

“Mulder…”

“We’re never going to agree on it. Would you like some wine?” He’d already picked the bottle up off the coffee table and was inserting the corkscrew into the top. Two glasses sat beside it.

“Just a little,” she said.

“For me too. Enough to take the edge off how insanely nervous I am, but nothing more. I don’t want to miss a thing. I don’t want to forget a single second.” It was strange to be talking about it so candidly, but it felt right. It felt honest, and it felt true to them.

“Exactly.” She accepted the glass he poured. “Mulder…is this a mistake? I almost called you so many times to call it off.”

“Me too,” he said. “I even started to dial your number once.”

“If you do feel like it’s a mistake it’ll be ok. We can go out and have fun together. I told you I’d understand, and I meant it. This is a big ask.”

“I just kept thinking about how much more it would hurt if I knew you that way, you know?”

“I do know.” She looked so sad. “And so we shouldn’t…it’ll be too much.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. It could never, ever be a mistake for you and I. And I realized that it hurts so fucking much as it is that it won’t really matter if it hurts some more. I think you get to a point where it just becomes part of the same overwhelming experience. Like being in freezing temperatures for so long that you wouldn’t even register if it got colder. You’re already numb.”

She closed her eyes. “Mulder, I feel like I’m about to lose a limb. I know I’m being so dramatic, but I just…I can’t imagine me without you.”

Then why are you letting it happen? Why are you doing it?

Silly questions. She was doing it for him. So that the X-Files could go on.

She slugged down her wine in two big gulps.

“More?” he asked.

She shook her head. He panicked.

“Do you want to watch something? We could turn something on for a little bit, we could – ”

“No.”

“Ok,” he said. He rose on shaking legs and went to his stereo. He was delaying, he knew, but he couldn’t imagine just going at her like an animal. Maybe in another life, another universe, where they came to this moment naturally and not under circumstances like these. He hit a button, then another, and then he adjusted the volume.

Maybe I didn’t love you quite as often as I could have,
Maybe I didn’t treat you quite as good as I should have,
If I made you feel second best,
Girl, I’m sorry I was blind,
You were always on my mind,
You were always on my mind.

He stood up and held out his hand. It was so reminiscent of just a few months ago when he’d done exactly the same thing, but the song had been Walkin’ in Memphis and it had been a much happier time. The memory hit like a physical blow. He saw her feel it, too.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s ok…it’s one of my favorite memories.”

“Mine too. I should’ve kissed you though. I regret that. I’ll always regret that.” I’m sorry I was blind.

She was silent for a moment, and then she rose and twined her fingers with his.

“You have a chance now,” she said.

He squeezed her hand and then released it. You were always on my mind. He put his arms around her and pulled her close, so close. Closer than he’d ever held her. Her body fit so perfectly against his, even with their height difference. It was like they’d been one thing, clay, or maybe wood, and a sculptor had gone in and very gently woven a knife through the center to create two. The pieces looked so different now, but when you touched them together they fit perfectly. They made one again.

5.

They swayed together through Willie Nelson, then U2, and then The Police. He let his fingers rub the length of her spine, her shoulders, the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips. Her hands did the same, and he tried to absorb the way they felt in his hair and across the span of his back.

“This is sad music,” she murmured.

“I’m know. I just couldn’t stand the thought of happy songs. But if it’s too much I’m sure I have Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog around here somewhere.”

She sighed. “We have so many memories.”

He moved his hands to her face and tipped it up towards his. “Ready to make a few more, Scully?”

She stretched up on her toes and he leaned down, and they took their time closing the gap. They let it build, so that when their mouths touched it was like sparking a flame in a room filled with methane. It was incendiary, and the resulting blaze was inevitable.

He kissed her slow and soft for just a moment before he felt her fingers in his hair, and then they were pushing and pulling with mouths wet and wanting. He kept his hands on her cheeks and held her to him. He tilted her face to one side and then the other while he tried in vain to knot their tongues together so she’d have to stay forever.

Aha!, he imagined telling Skinner and Kersh and Cancer Man and the goddamn President of the United States. Let’s see you take her from me now!

She was humming against his lips. He bent his knees a little and lifted her up, unable to suppress a groan when their centers collided and her legs went tight around him. He carried her to his bed without breaking the kiss, then laid her back against his clean sheets without unsealing their lips.

“Whatever happens,” she whispered against his mouth, “I want you to know that I love you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Scully. So, so much.”

Had he thought he wouldn’t tell her? He would tell her a dozen times before morning. A hundred, a thousand.

What followed was so incredibly profound that it occurred to him that having sex and making love were not the same thing. The first he’d done before and the second he’d never experienced. Scully was giving and sweet, she was uninhibited and she was unashamed. Every touch was an act of love. They kissed until their lips were swollen and bruised, and then they kissed some more. He could kiss her forever, he knew now. He wanted to.

He stripped her bare and he learned her body. She was so gorgeous, so Scully with her creamy skin and freckled chest and perfect breasts. He put his hands on every inch of her and committed her memory. She let him manipulate her; raising her arms and rolling onto her belly and finally spreading her legs so he could taste her. She was honey and vanilla and something smooth and dark and musky that was just her. Her little moans and gasps threatened to be his undoing.

“You,” he said, looking up from between her thighs. “You are so delicious. I could stay here all night.”

“I’d let you…” she said. The rest of her sentence went unfinished, but he knew how it would end.…if we had the time. Instead she pulled him back up to her mouth. “I haven’t even finished undressing you yet. I want to see you. I want to feel you. And I want to come, I really want to, but not until you’re inside me.”

She pushed him onto his back and finished undressing him with such tenderness that he felt his heart break all over again. Never in his life had a woman touched him with such care. She kissed his skin as she revealed it. She ran slim fingers over his chest and gripped his hips while she ran her tongue over the scar on his shoulder. She groaned when she finally tossed his boxer briefs aside and saw his cock, hard and long and thick.

“God, Mulder.” She wrapped a hand around him and squeezed. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I’m yours,” he managed. He gasped and threaded his fingers through her hair when she leaned down and touched her tongue to the flared head. He felt his orgasm begin to coil up inside him…this would never do. “C’mere, honey.” He tugged her back up to him and moved them onto their sides so that he could look at her face.

“Scully, I want you to know how sorry I am that I never told you how I felt. I’m sorry I never touched you like this before. I was so fucking scared.”

“So was I.” She rested a hand on his cheek and her eyes filled. She moved onto her back and he settled above her, hands in hers.

“Ready?” The word felt surreal on his tongue and his heart banged in his chest. She looked up at him with wet eyes. Her pupils were dilated and her face was flushed. Her breath was shallow.

She answered with a searing kiss.

What can be said about finally making love to the woman of his dreams after so many years? That it was beautiful? Moving? It was, and it was a thousand things more. It was holy. He pushed inside of her and was embedded in her tight, wet walls. She groaned and clutched at him; brow scrunched as if in pain.

He forced himself to still, his cock throbbing and his heart burning. “Tell me what to do.”

“Oh, god,” she moaned. “Oh, Mulder.”

She was nirvana. Eden, the promised land, ecstasy.

“Scully, Scully, Scully,” he said as he took her cheeks back in his hands. “Jesus, you feel so good, I just want to…” He covered her face in kisses.

“Yes, yes.” She kissed back.

“I want to let go.”

“Please.” Her body quivered underneath his.

He did.

6.

She lay sweaty and heavy in his arms. “I don’t want to sleep,” she said. “I don’t want to lose any time.”

He wasn’t even sure if he could speak yet. He was holding her against him, still inside her, still feeling the little flutters of her aftershocks. She’d come hard, almost violently, with her eyes squeezed shut and his name spilling from her lips. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen, and he’d been helpless to do anything but grip her tightly while the best orgasm of his life tore through him.

“Me neither,” he finally rasped. “Scully, that was so…so…”

“So fucking good,” she said.

“Yes. The best. My god, you’re perfect.”

“I don’t know about that, she said with a little smile. “But I think we might be perfect together.”

He kissed her damp brow.

“I love you,” he said.

“And I love you, Mulder.”

Eventually they did sleep – it couldn’t be helped. They were exhausted from sex and tears. He woke in the dead of night to her lips on his neck in the pitch blackness. Her hand had been low on his belly and slid lower still. She took him in her hand found him rock hard against her palm.

She rose without a word and straddled his hips, aligning him with her center and then slipping down onto him.

He groaned and put one hand on her waist and two fingers on her clit as she rocked against him. The only sound was her little whimpers and his quiet sighs until he came with a gasp and her name said through gritted teeth. He wanted to apologize for finishing so quickly and leaving her behind but then she was coming, too, her thrown back and her body milking every drop from him. She collapsed onto his chest, panting, and he realized he was weeping and that it was ok because she was, too.

They never spoke, but he rubbed her back until she slept.

Sunlight was pouring through the windows the next time he opened his eyes. She was beside him, already awake and staring at the ceiling. Her eyes were puffy and red. She looked at him bleakly.

“I have to go, Mulder.”

What was there to say?

“I can take you to the airport,” he said numbly.

“I was going to call a taxi,” she said.

“No need. I’ll take you. Do you have more bags at home?”

“I don’t have a home here anymore,” she said. She sounded close to breaking. “All my stuff left on a moving van yesterday. I just have the one suitcase.”

“Ok,” he said. “When do we need to leave?”

“In an hour.”

“Do you want to shower?”

She shook her head. “I want to smell you on me.”

His eyes burned and he drew her close. “Then do you think we can…?”

“Yes, god, yes.”

They cried through the whole thing. Not hard, just slow tears that trickled down their faces and slid into her hair. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he moved slowly inside of her, as though by drawing out the sex he could slow down time.

She felt like heaven, but the emotions were all-consuming and he kissed her lips before saying, “I want to try and make you come, sweetheart, but I don’t think I can. It’s too much. I feel so unbearably awful.”

“Mulder, I need you to…please. I want to feel it in me, I want to know that you’re still inside me all day, for as long as possible.” She looked up at him with wet eyes. “Please.”

He could deny her nothing.

7.

He saw her to the gate and watched her leave. There was nothing else he could do. When he hugged her and whispered “please don’t go,” in her ear she began to shake, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I love you,” she said. “Go find the truth. Find it for both of us.”

He thought of the note he’d slipped into the pocket of her jacket while she’d brushed her teeth. He wondered when she’d find it and what she’d think when she read his words.

“I love you, too,” he said. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything.”

After she disappeared down the jetway he returned to his car. He sat, staring blankly through the windshield. Minutes passed. Planes took off and he knew that one would be hers…maybe hers was already gone. He put his head down on the steering wheel and wept.

He jumped when there was a tap on his window. Probably a police officer asking him to move along, or perhaps a Good Samaritan coming to make sure he wasn’t suicidal. Fucking great. He scrubbed his face in his hands and looked up.

Scully was holding his note against the window, facing in so he could read his own words.

You’re the truth I’ve always sought.
You’re the only truth I need.

She took a step back so he could open the door. He got out of the car and held out his arms. She fell into them.

***

“We called their bluff. We quit,” she said. “We didn’t even have a plan, we just quit.” She wiped absently at a tear. “We were so in love that we didn’t care what happened, as long as we were together.” She slid her hands up into his wet hair and studied his face in the moonlight.

“We had to pay to have your things shipped straight back, remember?” He laughed even as he released one of her thighs long enough to brush at his own tears. When he returned his hand to her body he cupped her ass instead, holding her tightly to him.

“Yes. Then I moved in and we didn’t work for almost two months.”

“I don’t know if we got out of bed that whole time.”

“We did when we turned in our resignations,” she said. “And we may have gone out to eat once or twice.”

“The FBI took us back, but the joke was on them when you accepted a job at the hospital and quit anyway.”

“I was pregnant…one of us had to stay alive to raise our kid.”

“Kids.” He grinned broadly.

“Well, it was only one at the time.”

“And we both lived to raise them. We lived for a long time. And we were happy.”

“Very happy.”

He sought out her mouth. “We’ll always be happy in the end.”

She adjusted her legs and he gave a little push. She sighed rested a head on his shoulder as he began to thrust.

“I think the sun is going to come up soon,” she whispered in his ear.

“Almost time to go,” he agreed.

“Tell me a few more first. It doesn’t have to be whole stories, just some little memories. Some things for me to think about while I walk back down the beach.”

“K,” he said. “I will. After this.”

She moaned a little and pressed her lips to his. “Yes, after this.”

Chapter Text

Tied to sky, when I was a child I
I’d run and hide to be at your side
So inclined, somewhere I will draw the line
I’d dream until the stars were mine
So, let it go
Wake up, wake up, wake up
We’re almost home

-Moby, Almost Home

***

~The Beach~

Mulder carried her out of the water. Two palm trees had appeared, and a wide hammock was strung between them. It was the spreader bar kind that used two poles to keep the fabric taunt and flat. He lowered her onto it and climbed on beside her.

Scully burrowed into him, their wet bodies pressed together at their bellies and chests and thighs. It wasn’t uncomfortable. The air was so warm, and so was their skin.

“You’re still trembling,” he said. He smoothed a hand up her back and combed through her hair.

“So many years, and you can still do this to me,” she murmured.

“I’ll always do this to you, Scully.” He kissed her head. “I remember so much this time…I have so many memories. Some are short little snips that come in bits and pieces, and some are years and years of our lives together.”

“Tell me some more. Tell me the ones that are the most vivid. We’ll watch the sun rise, and when it’s over we can go.”

“Ok. If you think of some you want to remember with me, just say so.”

“I will,” she promised. She moved up until they were practically nose to nose so she could watch his face.

She wanted to remember it.

1. June 2002, Maggie Scully’s House

“A jack to you, Mulder.” Bill tossed his card into the discard pile.

“Gee, thanks, you shouldn’t have.”

The game was golf, and face cards were high.

Mulder drew from the stack, found a queen, and threw it down. “All you, Scully.”

“You should treat me better,” she said.

“I treat you juuuuuuust fine,” he said, putting a hand on her thigh. “You weren’t complaining last night.”

She pushed his hand away. “Today is a new day.”

“Come on – seriously. How long do we have to listen to this? That’s my sister.” Bill threw his cards down in distaste.

“To be fair, Bill, we’ve only been married for three weeks,” she said as she took Mulder’s hand and put it back on her thigh.

“Some things should be kept private,” Bill said.

“Kids – that’s enough,” Maggie called from the kitchen. “Dana and Fox, please stop pawing at each other in my dining room. Bill, take a breath. It’s not going to kill you.”

“Says you,” Bill muttered.

Scully said, “Actually…I’m tired. I think I’m ready for bed. You ready for bed, Mulder?”

“Definitely.”

“Super…now I have to listen to you through the walls.” Bill thunked his head down on the table. “It’s not fair.”

***

2. March 1993, J. Edgar Hoover Building

He embraced her. It was brief but strong. Ten years later, and his hands recognized the feeling of her back under his palms.

“Ah…I see you’ve met,” Skinner said.

“A long, long time ago.” Mulder kept his eyes on her as she stepped back. A flash of memory. Camp Gitche Gumee. Taking - no – being given her virginity on his narrow bed. Their heartbreak when they parted to go back to school, her to the University of Chicago and him to Oxford. The months and months he’d cried afterwards.

“Good. Ok. Well, Scully, why don’t you head back up to my office and finish up the paperwork with my assistant? I’ll be there shortly. Do you remember the way?”

“Yes, sir,” she said. She looked at Mulder. “I’ll see you again soon?”

“Yes.”

She smiled.

Mulder stared at her as she walked out the door. The familiar sway of her hips made him ache to touch her.

Skinner turned to Mulder. “What is this? Who is she?”

“I know her from a camp we both worked at in college. In Minnesota.” Mulder was clearly shaken.

“I see. It seems like you must’ve been close.”

“She was my first love,” Mulder said plainly. “My best love, actually. She gave me this.” He slipped his thumb under the cross around his neck and held it out.

Skinner shook his head in amazement. “You’ve worn that every day for as long as I’ve known you.”

“And every day before that. Is she…” Mulder seemed flustered now.

“I wouldn’t know,” Skinner said. “But if I remember correctly from her file, she’s unmarried. I shouldn’t even be telling you that.”

“Could I ask you a favor then, Sir?”

“What is it?”

Mulder scrawled something on a slip of paper and folded it twice. “Can you give her this?”

Skinner sighed. “Yeah. I can do that. Just because this is, frankly, unbelievable. Minnesota. Your first love.” Skinner slipped the paper into his pocket, then said. “Agent Mulder, she’s incredibly bright. She’s motivated and she’s going to be a huge asset to the FBI. Don’t be a distraction.”

He left before Mulder could decide how respond.

Skinner returned to his office. She was there, staring into space and turning a pen over and over in her hands. She startled when he came in the door.

“I’m finished, Sir,” she said, handing over a folder.

“Thank you, Agent Scully. Welcome aboard. Tomorrow you get your ID and service weapon. Be here at nine.”

“I will…thank you.” She stood to leave.

“Agent Scully? One more thing.” Skinner fished the note from his pocket and handed it to her. “Mulder asked me to give this to you.”

She took the square of paper, flushing, and opened it. It read, Meet me at the fountain in the sculpture garden at 6, if you can.

When Mulder came up the path, she was there with her hands shoved in her pockets and her cheeks pink from the cold March wind. She stood when he approached.

“If it’s meant to be then we’ll find each other. You said that 10 years ago, Scully. And here we are.”

“Here we are,” she said. She opened her arms.

After all that time it should have been like kissing a stranger, but it was not. It was like coming home.

***

3. April 1998 – United States Penitentiary, Allentown, Pennsylvania

“Dr. Scully, we have a new inmate. He’s in for 6 for conspiracy against the United States Government. He says he didn’t do it, of course.” The guard tossed down a folder. He’ll need a full work up, and then he goes in gen-pop. He was an FBI Agent…good luck to him.” The guard snorted and spoke into his walkie-talkie.

“Bring in Mulder.”

The man who came in was in his mid-30s, maybe, handsome and haunted. Blood seeped from a laceration near his temple. His hands were cuffed in front of him.

“For Christ sakes, Lewis, uncuff him,” she said irritably.

“I’m not supposed to do that, Doc.”

“Then how am I supposed to examine him? Give me the fucking key and get out of my office.”

“What’s with the bug up your ass?” Lewis said with a frown as he unlocked the handcuffs.

“There’s blood on Mr. Mulder’s face. There’s blood on your fist. I can only draw one conclusion.”

“Conspiracy against our government,” he reminded her.

“Just get out, Lewis.”

He did. Scully brushed Mulder’s hair from his temple and looked closely. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches.” She reached for a cotton ball and antiseptic. “I’m sorry that happened to you. Lewis is an asshole.”

Mulder licked his lips and finally spoke. “No handcuffs? Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Should I be?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

He managed a small laugh. “Why not?”

She frowned a little. “Actually…I don’t know. It’s strange. You have a kind face, I guess.” She dabbed at the cut on his head and he hissed at the sting. “That’s a dumb thing for a prison employee to say. Pretend I never said it.”

“I appreciate it, in any case. But you should be careful.”

“I am.” She frowned again. “Except for now, I guess. Ok, Mr. Mulder –”

“Just Mulder,” he said.

“Ok then, Mulder. Get undressed and into the gown on the table. I’m afraid I can’t leave the room – not allowed. I’m also supposed to watch so you don’t jump me from behind. I’ll look at your feet while you change – ok? That’s all.”

“You’re a good person, Scully…”

“Scully?”

“Dr. Scully. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind, just don’t do it when the guards are around. You’ll get in trouble. My first name is Dana.”

“You’re a good person. What the hell are you doing working here?”

She met his eye. “Everyone deserves access to good medical care, Mulder. Even the people here.”

She saw him often. He was constantly getting hurt - law enforcement, including FBI, were not treated well in prison, not by the guards nor the fellow inmates. He could hold his own, she could tell, but he seemed reluctant to fight. He told her his story. She heard about his work, about how he’d been set up when he grew close to the truths he sought. She listened to the ideas he had for clearing his name.

“But it’s impossible from here,” he said, frustrated. “I don’t have anybody I trust. My family is all gone.”

She bit her lip and looked at him.

“You know that I believe you, Mulder.”

“I know. Thank you, Scully.” He’d never called her Dana or Doctor, just Scully. She’d grown used to it and fond of it. “You have no idea how much it means to me.”

“I want to help you.”

“No. Absolutely not. It’s not safe.”

“How will you stop me from in here?”

“Scully…please don’t.” He took her hand.

She looked toward the door. Affection was hard here…a guard could come in at any moment.

‘I’ve already decided,” she said. She squeezed his hand briefly before letting it go.

He was cleared and released seven months later. She done it; she’d done it all. He asked to see her as he was packing his meager belongings, but was told she had taken a leave of absence. She hadn’t said anything about it, and he was hurt, but he also understood. She’d been under intense scrutiny as of late. The FBI, the media, the prison, the general public – all were interested in the prison doctor who, for reasons unknown, had helped him. The first order of business, then, would be to find her and thank her. How did you thank a person for essentially saving your life? He’d find a way.

He was going to be reinstated with the FBI, although he certainly had mixed emotions about it. He had a job but no apartment. It would be ok. He had clothes in storage, he could get a short-term furnished rental and look for something better. He walked through the prison gates and into sunshine and freedom. It appeared, though, that the taxi he’d called was pulling away. He stared after it in confusion.

“Hey,” he heard from behind him. He turned, and she was there. It was the first time he’d seen her outside of her lab coat. She wore soft jeans and a light sweater. Her red hair shone.

“Scully. What’re you doing here?”

“Picking you up. I sent the taxi away…I hope you don’t mind.”

He smiled and went to her. “I don’t mind.” He kissed her. She brought him home with her, and he never left. They were in love.

Eventually he was offered a big lump of money from the state as reparation for his wrongful conviction and imprisonment. He wanted to turn it away; he called it ‘dirty money’.

“We should take it,” she said as she undressed and slid into their bed. She was his voice of reason; she always was. “We can put it in a trust for the baby, or start a college fund.”

He pressed his mouth to the swell of her belly.

“That’s a good idea.”

***

4. April 1998, Georgetown, Maryland

“Goddamnit, Mulder you never listen. Ever. You could’ve been killed. Killed!” The plate in her hand trembled.

“Is this why you asked me here? To berate me? I said I was sorry. What do you want? This is who I am. You know this is who I am. I fucking follow the leads, Scully.”

“I thought we were equals. I thought we were a team. You took off because Diana told you to? You went into that goddamn warehouse because she said it was safe? If she told you to jump off a cliff, would you do that, too? I told you it was a set up. I told you!”

“She said…”

“I don’t care what she said!” Scully screamed. She flung the plate against the wall, hard. Porcelain shattered. “Are you fucking her? Is that why she has this mystical fucking hold…”

“How dare you? What right do you have to ask me that? You’re my partner, not my wife!”

“Oh my god. You are,” she whispered. She’d gone from red with anger to a white so pale she looked ill.

“Oh, fuck you, Scully. Fuck. You. What do you expect me to do? Just wait and wait and wait for you until you’re ready to acknowledge that half our problem, no, our entire problem is how hard we’ve fallen for each other? And by we, Scully, I mean you and I. Us. We fight it and we fight it and it’s exhausting. It makes us raw and angry and jealous and mean. It makes us stupid. No, I didn’t fuck Diana. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I have’t fucked anyone in six goddamn years because every single time a woman so much as flirts with me I think of your face and I know there’s absolutely no way I could do it. There. Are you happy now, Scully?”

She didn’t answer. For a moment she stood rooted in place, her eyes wide and color blooming in her cheeks.

“Scully?”

She took two giant steps toward him, and then he was going to her. They met in the middle of the kitchen. He lifted her off the floor and took her to her bedroom, where he unceremoniously dropped her onto her bed. He crawled up and over her and took her by the face, hands on either side of her jaw. Their mouthed smashed together hard enough to bruise. Her tongue thrust against his.

It didn’t last long, but it was the most intense sex of his life. Hers, too. His hands scrambled to undo his belt, and she yanked off her jeans with shaking fingers. He ran his fingers between her legs and found her wet and ready. She flung her head back and moaned.

She shrieked when he rammed into her. “Shh, shh, shh,” he said against her lips. He fucked her hard, hips snapping and his fingers bruising the tender skin of her hips. She was small and hot and velvet inside. Her nails clawed at his back and his ass, and she sunk her teeth into his shoulder when he banged against her cervix. Pain and pleasure ricocheted through her. Mulder sucked at her throat and shoulders; anything he could reach. He wanted to brand her.

“Scully, I need to come,” he finally gasped. “I want you to come, too. Tell me what to do.”

She showed him.

It only took a few seconds. When she came it was with a wail that would likely earn her a noise complaint from the neighbors, as if she gave a fuck. Her walls throbbed around him and her heart…god, her heart.

“Oh my god, Scully, holy fuck, jesus…” he cried as she gripped him with her cunt. Everything went black for a moment and then blindingly white as he shot what felt like a gallon of cum deep into her womb. He fastened his mouth over hers while he came, kissing her, because it didn’t matter how primal and dirty and base this sex was…more than all of that, more than anything, there was love.

***

5. November 2000, Washington D.C.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“There’s someone in my home,” she whispered into her phone. “I was asleep and I heard a noise. I’m in the closet.”

“Ma’am, what is your location?”

Scully gave her Washington, D.C. address and then gasped quietly. “He’s in the bedroom.”

“Is there anyone else home with you?”

“I live alone,” she said in a voice so low it was barely audible.

“I need you to stay quiet. Do not hang up the phone. Police are on their way, ma’am.” A pause, and then, “Ma’am?”

Nothing. Scully was frozen, phone held a few inches from her face, as she stared into the eyes of the man who had ripped open her closet door. He took the phone from her hands and hit the ‘disconnect’ button.

“Short on time now, I guess,” he said. He pulled her from the closet. She went for his eyes, his balls, anything she could reach, but he had a knife and she had nothing. He moved her toward her bed and produced a length of rope. He tied her, first wrists and then ankles. He shoved her nightshirt up her torso and tore her underwear.

“I’ve watched you,” he said. “You treated me in the emergency room. You did a nice job, doctor.” He tried to kiss her, and she twisted her head to the side. He tried for her neck, and she bit.

“Oh, you fucking bitch. You cunt.” He slapped her, hard, once and then twice. She tasted blood in her mouth.

He started to unfasten his jeans and she closed her eyes.

Sirens in the distance, quickly moving closer.

“I should fucking kill you. I came to fuck you, but I should kill you.”

She spat in his face, and he hit her again before moving to her bedroom window and throwing up the sash.

“Police! Freeze! Freeze, you motherfucker!”

He did not. There were shots, and a spray of blood misted across her face. Then an officer was hovering over her. “Are you ok? Are you hurt?”

She tried to shake her head, but was overtaken by tremors. He grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed and lay it over her.

“Ambulance is on it’s way. It’s ok. I’ll take care of you.”

He sliced through the ropes. Once she was free, he tightened the blanket and helped her to sit. He used the sleeve of his uniform to dab at the blood on the side of her mouth.

“He hit you.”

“Yes.”

“I wish I could kill him again.”

“Me too,” she said, and then she started to cry. “I thought I was strong. I tried to fight.”

“Not a fair fight. He took you by surprise, in your home while you were asleep. He had a knife, you had nothing."

She nodded and wrapped her arms around herself. He reached out to console her, and she slipped gratefully into his embrace.

“I’m Mulder,” he said. “Fox Mulder. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” she said. And she did.

***

6. December 2006, Portsmouth, New Hampshire

He woke to her mouth on him.

“Oh, shit. Fuck. Scully.”

“Merry Christmas, Mulder.”

“Uhhh,” he groaned. “I wish every day was Christmas.”

She swirled her tongue around his glans and he slid his fingers into her hair.

“Is this my present?”

“No,” she said. She looked up and smiled. “But it’s already 5:30 and you know William and Rosie will be up any minute to see if Santa came.”

“I’m going to come, at least.”

“Mmmm,” was all she could say with her full mouth.

“Years…” he gasped. “It’s been years and you’re still blowing me. Am I fucking lucky or what?”

“Mm-hmm.” She sucked.

“Oh, Scully, Scully, ScullyScullyScully…!” He reached for her hand and she was ready, one arm outstretched, because he loved to hold her hand when he came. The other rested in her hair, and he always did that, too.

She swallowed his cum as he gripped her fingers, and then she kissed her way up his chest. No mouth kisses…after all, they’d just woken up. He cradled her in his arms and kissed her head. He sighed.

“I must’ve been so good this year.”

She laughed quietly. “I guess so.”

“So have you,” he said in her ear, and he slid his hand up and between her legs.

The door flew open.

“Mom! Dad! Santa came!” William shouted.

“So did I,” Mulder murmured.

“Mulder.” She said with a grin and a roll of her eyes.

William got into the bed and Rosie followed, clutching at the blankets to help haul herself up.

“He ate the cookies! I saw!” William exclaimed.

Scully ran a hand through his fine, dark hair. “He must’ve been so hungry!”

Rosie crawled onto Her father’s stomach and looked at him through serious hazel eyes. “Daddy,” she said. “Up.”

“Maybe you could give Mommy and Daddy five minutes, Rosie,” Mulder suggested.

Rosie bounced once and Mulder released the air in his lungs with an “oof” sound. “No…up.”

“Ok, ok. Presents, then what? Pancakes? Who wants blueberry pancakes?”

A chorus of “me, me, me!”

“All right. Get out of here so Mommy and Daddy can get dressed, and then we’ll come down. Don’t you dare open anything.”

Their children grinned and scampered off.

“Shut the door!” Mulder called, and William raced back to pull it closed.

“Well, sweetheart. I guess we’re done here. I’ll get you later.”

“I don’t doubt it for a second.” She shoved off the covers and crossed the room, naked, to collect her bathrobe.

“God…you’re hot,” he told her. “Maybe we could…”

She raised one eyebrow. “Mulder, get up.”

He sighed good-naturedly.

God, he loved his life. He was so fucking, fucking grateful. The world had suffered; years ago it had nearly been destroyed. But he and Scully had survived, together. They’d confessed their love. They’d married and they’d had children. They had a beautiful little home near the ocean and jobs that were safe and they still slept naked.

And she’d just woken him up with a blow job.

***

7. October 2005, Marion, Virginia

Scully couldn’t sleep, and so she wandered outside to the front porch. It had a hanging swing back then. She sat, her free hand on one of the chains, and she used her bare foot to set the swing moving. It was cool, but not too cool for early October. Some leaves had fallen and some still clung to the trees. It was beautiful. She felt like those leaves sometimes – changing, falling, starting again.

There were days when she missed the FBI, although she wasn’t sure exactly why. It had taken so much from her. Family, friends, her chance to raise a child.

Your son.

You were a mother.

But her job had taken that from her, too. In the end she’d been left with little. She could be despondent; she could be filled with rage – it would be understandable. And at times she was, but on the whole she was ok. There was one thing they couldn’t take away, one thing that would be hers until the day she died. They’d tried, but she had defied them. They both had.

The door creaked open behind her.

He came with a blanket. He put it around her shoulders and then settled beside her.

“Is this ok, or were you looking for some alone time?”

“It’s ok.”

“Can’t sleep?”

She shook her head.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Just…you know. Everything.”

“Is that all?” he quipped, and she chuffed out a little laugh.

“All of the things that brought us here.”

“Ah. What a long, strange trip it’s been.”

“What would you change, Mulder?”

“God. So many things. Where would I even start? Your sister, my sister, Emily, your fertility, your health, your abduction, my abduction, our jobs.” He paused, then added, “Our son.”

She lifted the side of the blanket so he could share.

“You’d think we’d be just…broken. We have every right to be,” she said.

“We do…but we’re not.”

“No, we’re not,” she agreed.

“It’s funny that they sent you to be my enemy. To spy and debunk and shut me down. Instead they gave me the single best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He kissed her temple. “As long as I have you, I’ll be ok.”

“As long as we have each other.”

“That’s forever, Scully.”

“I know.” Her eyes filled. That happened more often now that it was just the two of them. All the walls had come down and she allowed herself to feel. There was nothing that stood between her and this man.

They rocked for a little while, her head on his shoulder and their hands joined on his thigh. Her eyes became heavy.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go back to bed.”

***

8. November 2034, Boston, Massachusetts

The children had gone, all four of them. Each was handling the news differently. Evie was sad but stoic (“She’s had a beautiful life. She’s ready.”). The twins were a mess…crying, yelling, argumentative with the hospice staff and with each other. Elliot seemed to be more worried about his father. For Elliot it would hurt, and it would hurt badly…but his father, god, his father. This would kill him.

“Dad, maybe you should try to sleep,” he’d said earlier that evening. “You’re dead on your feet.” Then he winced, immediately regretting his choice of words. It didn’t matter, Mulder hardly seemed to hear him.

“Ok,” Elliot had finally said. “We’ll be back in the morning.” He’d kissed his mother’s cool, dry forehead and then he’d hugged his father. As he drove home, he’d cried…he’d cried for both his parents.

Mulder sat in the chair beside the bed. Scully hadn’t been awake in two days, so when her fingers twitched in his he was so startled that he almost fell off his chair.

Her eyes fluttered open.

“Oh, sweetheart…hi, baby,” said. His tears, hardly dry from his last bout of crying, started up again.

“Hi,” she whispered. She smiled that same Scully smile, the one he’d known and loved for over 40 years.

“I’m so glad you’re awake. Maybe you’re feeling a little better?”

The hope in his voice broke her heart.

“Mulder, honey, I’m dying.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t, I can’t do this,” he wept.

“You have to. You have to do it for our children.” Every word was an effort because she was tired…just so tired. Still, her words were clear.

“I don’t know how to be without you.”

“We’ll be together again. I swear it.” She licked her lips. He picked up her cup of water with trembling hands and held the straw to her mouth. She took a tiny sip. Next he picked up a little jar of Vaseline and applied a light coat to her dry lips.

“Thanks,” she whispered. “Mulder, I dreamt of a beach. It was night and I was alone, but I wasn’t lonely. I knew you’d come eventually.”

He wiped his streaming eyes on his sleeve. “Please don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me, Scully.”

“I need you to take care of yourself for me. You cannot hurt yourself when I’m gone. Do not do that to our kids.”

He said nothing, but his shoulders shook with the force of his tears.

“I’ve had a good life with you. You’ve made me so happy.” Her hand tightened on his. “I have to go to sleep, Mulder.”

“No, no, no…”

“Come up here. Come hold me.”

The only tubes were from her oxygen and her morphine, and they were easy to push aside. He climbed into the little bed and pulled the blankets up, and then he wrapped himself around her. He stroked her hair, her face, her arms. He kissed the lips he’d kissed thousands of times.

“Goodnight, Mulder. I love you.”

He pressed his lips to her temple. “Goodnight, Scully. I love you, too.”

He was asleep when she died. He was dreaming of a night 34 years ago when he’d picked her up after she’d gone on a bad date. It was raining. “I had no one else to call,” she’d said. Later he’d sat across from her in a bar. The words they exchanged were still perfectly clear in his mind.

I hoped you could tell how I felt, though, Scully. I feel like I’ve been telling you for years. Not with words, but still. I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“That you wanted to take me to bed?”
“No. I mean yes, but no. I was trying to tell you that I love you.”

She had kissed him. She had told him that she loved him, too.

It was a beautiful dream, and he never awoke from it. There was no pain, his heart just simply ceased to beat. In the dream she was still kissing him, and then suddenly the bar was gone and it had become –

the beach, the beach…, and then nothing.

***

9. April 2004, Saratoga Springs, NY

Bedtime was his favorite time of the day. Not because of the sex, specifically, even though there almost certainly would be that. There usually was.

But no, what he loved was their bedtime routine as a whole. He loved the comfort of it, the familiarity, the fact no matter what the day threw at them they’d always come together this way. It was an integral piece in the rhythm of their marriage.

At around 9:30 she would get in the bath and he would read in their bed. Tonight it was Neil Gaiman’s American Gods. It was brilliant and sad and at times very funny. Shadow and Mr. Wednesday and Mr. Nancy and Czernobog were on the crazy carousel and the Blue Danube waltz was playing when she opened the bathroom door.

A puff of lavender-scented steam followed her out into the bedroom. She was wearing her robe and her hair was tied up in a messy bun on top of her head. He finished the chapter he was on, glancing up at intervals to watch her do the things she did every single night: She smoothed lotion onto her face and then onto her arms and legs. She took the pins out of her hair and ran a brush through it, and then she took a handful of vitamins and supplements one at a time. She read the label before she took each one, as if the dosage may have suddenly changed overnight. She slicked balm over her lips (Burt’s Bees, always) before she finally draped the robe over the back of her desk chair and came to bed, naked and still flushed from the heat of her bath.

He slipped a bookmark between the pages and set his book on the nightstand.

“You can read some more if you want,” she said tonight as she slid under the sheets. She often said this, although sometimes she did not. Sometimes she was too horny to do anything but smile when he set his reading aside.

“Nah…I can read when I’m dead.”

She laughed. “Is heaven a library? I think the saying is that you can sleep when you’re dead.”

“Nah…I’m pretty sure heaven must be your body. But if your body happens to be in a library, I’d call it a win/win.”

“Well, if I have the choice, I’ll wander into one for you. You can look for me there.”

“Deal,” he said. He turned out the lamp and her foot touched his under the sheets. She rubbed her toes against his.

“That makes me think of that Twilight Zone episode about the man who wants to read but his wife never lets him. Remember? Then a bomb goes off and his city is destroyed. He’s the only one left alive somehow, and he goes straight to the library.”

“I remember,” he said. “That one was sad.”

“So sad.”

They lay quietly for a moment, thinking about Henry Bemis and his big thick glasses. Then he turned to face her and stroked a line over her shoulder and down her arm.

“Skinner called today. He wants us to consult on a case. Something about messages being left by dead people on various voicemails all over Rockford, Illinois. Everyone who receives them swears that the voice really is that of their dead loved one.”

“Horrible. Who would do a thing like that?” she asked, then added “Don’t say ‘ghosts’.”

“I didn’t say it, you said it. Anyway, I don’t think we’d have to go to Rockford. But it might mean a day or two in D.C., since they’ve got copies of all of the recordings and witness interviews and stuff there. Interested?”

“I’m interested. I feel like we’re long overdue for a visit anyway. My mother has been asking almost daily when we’re going to come.”

“Oh, I know – she’s calling me too. She’s relentless, and that’s definitely an inherited quality.”

That made her smile. She put a hand on his neck. “Love me, love all the things about me.”

“Oh, I do. I definitely do. Some things more than others, but yes.”

“I’m not going to ask you to rank them.”

“That’s probably for the best.” He smiled back and tugged on a lock of her hair. “Do you wanna go to sleep?”

“No. Do you?”

“Uh-uh.”

He pulled her in. He felt the slip of her lip balm and the silk of her tongue. He sighed against her mouth.

“Do you think, Scully, that there are people in the world as in love as we are?”

“In the whole world?” she asked as she moved onto her back. He took her right leg and draped it over his shoulder, and then he slid inside her. She groaned, hitched in a breath and said, “There must be.”

“Mmmm,” he said noncommittally.

“But not many,” she added.

***

10. July 1997, Baltimore, Maryland

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t do this anymore. Mulder, I’m so fucking tired.” Tears rolled down her face to mingle with her sweat.

“So close, baby, you’re so close.” He used his sleeve to wipe at his own tears. It was hard to see her like this. They were minutes from bliss, but right now she was suffering and he couldn’t help. He wanted to take her pain away, but he could only stand helplessly beside her and grip her hand. Labor had come on fast, too fast, and so she hadn’t been able to have an epidural. She wept in agony.

“Dana, in another minute or two I’m going need you to push.” The doctor was empathetic but firm.

“Help me, Mulder,” she groaned.

“What can I do, Scully? Tell me and I’ll do it.”

“Get on the bed,” she gasped.

“Mr. Mulder, I don’t think…”

“Goddamnit, help me get on this bed.”

A side rail was dropped and he slid in behind her, awkwardly bracketing her hips and scrambling for her hands.

“Push, Dana.”

She braced her feet against the stirrups and her back against him, nearly driving the air from his lungs. She squeezed his hands so hard that they tingled. She groaned.

“That was excellent. Perfect. Your baby is crowning. Take a breath and give me just a couple more of those.”

“You’re so amazing,” he said. He kissed her sweaty head and the back of her neck. “You’re incredible. I’m right here, honey. Right here.”

“Push.”

She screamed again, and she panted, and with every exhale he said, “I love you.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

She leaned against him and he crossed his arms over her chest carefully, holding but not squeezing.

“I’ve got you, Scully,” he whispered in her ear.

She wailed.

“A girl! It’s a girl!!” The doctor held up a writhing pink bundle with a crop of dark hair and and the tiniest fisted hands he’d ever seen.

Scully let out a sob and smiled even while her body shook. A moment later their daughter was laid on her chest. Mulder was handed a little receiving blanket and he wrapped it around his baby, and then he put his arms around both of them.

He rested his cheek on Scully’s hair and he let himself cry.

***

11. May 2001, Allentown, Pennsylvania.

“We’re going in through three entrances,” Skinner said. “Rodriguez and Perez, I want you at the front door. White and McGregor – east side of the house, basement entrance. Scully and Mulder, back door. These people are not just armed and dangerous, they’re crackheads. They’re crazy. They won’t think before they shoot.”

Nods all around.

“All right. Finish getting into your gear and mic up. I’ll tell you when to get into position.”

Scully tightened the Kevlar around her waist and picked up her face shield. Mulder was doing the same, but moving slowly. His face was pale and drawn.

“What?” she asked, but she knew.

“This is bad…this feels bad.”

She wanted to console him, but she felt it too and she wouldn’t lie to him. She never lied to him.

“I know…but that just means we’ll be extra cautious. We’ll be ok.”

“I don’t want you to come.”

“Well, frankly, I don’t want you to go either, but we didn’t exactly get a choice. Come on. Let me check your vest.”

“What’s the hold up over there, Romeo?” Steve called from across the room. Joe laughed, but both were only poking good-natured fun. They were friends. But now that she looked closer, she thought that they maybe didn’t look so good either.

“What’s wrong with this picture?” She asked. She looked at each of the faces in turn.

Skinner held her gaze for a long moment. He looked disturbed but determined. “Raids are hard,” he said. “They’re scary. But it will be fine. Our undercover guy is good. Nobody suspects a thing.”

She nodded slowly.

Mulder pulled aside and touched her chin. “I’ve got your back, ok? And I know you have mine. In a few hours we’ll be home in bed and we’ll laugh at how silly we were being. And then I’m going to do wonderful, dirty things to your body to make sure we remember how alive we are. Ok?”

“Ok,” she said. She smiled, but she wanted to cry. Then she said something that was completely uncharacteristic of her when they were working. “I love you. Marrying you was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“I love you too, Scully. So much.”

She fastened on her face shield and her helmet, and lastly her gloves. She watched the black slide over her fingers and obscure the simple gold band that meant everything. Everything.

There would be no laughing in bed later, she knew. There would be nothing.

The ambush was well planned for a bunch of junkies. They burst through the door. She went right, he went straight, and the hail of gunfire from the automatic weapons was more than any body armor could protect her from.

There was no pain, but she heard him scream and watched the world tilt as he knocked her down. He covered her body with his.

“Jesus, oh god, Scully…”

She opened her mouth to reply, but blood spilled from her throat to wet her face.

He didn’t even try to fight. Revenge? What was the point? He just wanted to die.

***

~The Beach~

The sunrise was beautiful…pinks and oranges and yellows that turned the sky from an inky black to a pale blue. Rebirth. A new day, a new beginning.

She was weeping softly in his arms. He cried, too, as they remembered. The joy, the pain, the tears, the sweat, the fighting and the mending and the dying and the loving. So much loving. Children, no children, old age, sickness and health, richer and poorer, houses and apartments and the FBI and going into hiding. They’d married more times than they could remember, in courthouses and churches and on beaches and once all alone beside a lake in the middle of a fight to save the world.

The world was so beautiful, and these lives were so short. To remember them was a blessing. To have these moments in between was a gift.

They rose and dressed; she in her linen dress and he in his long pants and shirt. She rolled up the cuffs for him and he tucked her hair behind her ears.

“I loved you before you were Scully and I’ll love you again after,” he told her. “But god, it’s hard to imagine loving you more than I do right now.” He used the heels of his hands to wipe at his tears.

“You say that every time,” she whispered. And then she was kissing him, kissing him like it was the first and last kiss they’d ever have instead of one out of millions.

“Mulder,” she said. She pressed her head against his and felt her tears drip off her chin and into the sand. “Do you think this goes on forever? It seems like there has to be an end someday. What happens when humankind disappears? What happens when the earth ceases to exist?”

He ran gentle fingers over her back. “I don’t know, Scully. Maybe we become stars.”

She closed her eyes. “And what happens when the stars go out?”

“The only thing I’m sure of is that we’ll find out together, sweetheart.”

She smiled at him and kissed him once more. “I love you more than anything, ever, always. And I’ll miss you so much.”

“I’ll miss you too, baby. But I’ll see you soon. We’re almost home.”

She started across the sand. He watched her go. She turned once and waved, and she blew him a kiss. He blew one back. She grew smaller and smaller until she disappeared into the horizon. He turned and walked in the opposite direction, north along the beach. He’d walk until the sand disappeared, and then he would disappear.

And then they would begin again.