Chapter Text
The moving vans pulled out of the driveway on the stroke of 6pm and an army of affable neighbours retreated to their homes with friendly waves and promises that they would have dinner soon to get to know one another more. Rob and Laura Petrie were thrilled to begin their married life in the Falls at Arcadia, the true American Dream.
As the front door closed, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully were just thrilled to finally be alone.
As she turned to walk down the hall, a mischievous thought crossed his mind. He placed his right arm across her shoulders and hooked his left under her knees, sweeping her quite literally off her feet. “Mulder! What are you doing?!”
“I’m carrying my wife across the threshold,” he replied with a dopey grin, “and who on earth is ‘Mulder’, Laura?”
She regained her composure and rolled her eyes with as much conviction as she could muster, “Put me down, Rob.” She gave him a slap on the chest and a smile that he knew belonged solely to him. “By the way, you are never picking our undercover names again!”
He lowered her to floor, “Relax, Scully. We’ll be in and out of here in a couple of days. I don’t even know why we’ve been assigned this case, I think Skinner is just enjoying being able to torture us again!”
Scully thought back to last week. Mulder had protested the case assignment almost immediately. They had barely stepped foot back into their basement office before the AD called them to the fifth floor and handed them a missing persons case, something that Mulder had insisted was outside their remit. Skinner had asserted that the case was unexplained. Mulder contended that all cases were unexplained at the beginning of an investigation, but X-Files were unexplainable. He was adamant that the distinction mattered, and that this case wasn’t an X-File.
He had a point. She had been happy to see how quickly his passion had ignited again, but she also knew the conversation was going nowhere helpful and she would need to step into her usual role of mediator. She placed a gentle hand on Mulder’s arm, diffusing the situation in the way only she could. When Skinner shared the undercover nature of the case, Mulder got that glint in his eye that usually meant he was about to do something he would have to apologise for later. The next thing she knew they were out the door and on the case.
“This could be an X-File after all.” Mulder said, snapping Scully back to the present. He grabbed a box marked ‘Kitchen’, containing an evidence kit strategically hidden amongst the Tupperware and Ziplock bags. “All that fuss just to get the moving van away by 6pm? I can’t decide if there’s something strange going on or if this is just what suburbia is like.”
“I know. Maybe if they hadn’t been in such a hurry, my field lab equipment would be in one piece,” she said, picking up a dented box marked ‘FRAGILE – China’. She gave it a shake and the rattle made it clear that any evidence analysis would have to be taken to the San Diego field office.
They walked into the kitchen to find a welcome hamper filled with various items to make them feel more at home. It had been brought by Pat Verlander, an extremely enthusiastic representative sent by the Homeowner’s Association who had taken point on getting all their belongings into the house before the cut-off. Scully had met dozens of women like Pat as she moved between Naval bases. A total busy body who made it her business to know everyone else’s. The gesture was kind, but Scully had watched her mother graciously handle women like Pat over the years and she knew that they rarely did anything without ulterior motives.
Right next to the hamper, in pride of place on the counter, was a binder that rivalled any instructional manual from Quantico. It had a note attached:
Rob and Laura,
Welcome to the Falls. Hopefully you took the time to read the copy emailed in advance, but here’s your very own copy of the CC&Rs.
Enjoy!
Gene Gogolak, HOA President
Mulder put on his most upper class voice “The Codes, Covenant and Restrictions of the Falls at Arcadia.” He lifted it with a groan and hopped up to sit on the counter in its place. “Look at this thing, Scully! Who in their right mind would ever read something like this?! I mean it’s …”
He looked up from the binder as she was slipping out of her coat, and it stopped him in his tracks. She was wearing a casual dress with a soft floral pattern, and he realised her sensible heels had been replaced by a pair of sandals. He took a breath and then noticed all the other subtle changes she had made. Her hair had a little more of a curl, her simple studs replaced by a pair of pearl drop earrings, her lips more blush than usual. The sunlight glinted off the rock on her left hand and he noticed her nails were a soft pink.
He was normally so observant, especially when it came to Scully, but the absurdity of the situation had distracted him. Right now, caught in the golden glow of the evening sun pouring through the kitchen window, he wondered how he had neglected to see her until this moment. When his eyes met hers, she was looking at him quizzically, “What, Mulder?”
He realised he had been saying something but had no clue what it was, “Oh nothing, you look …” He almost said ‘beautiful’, he was considering whether ‘lovely’ was okay when he realised he had been quiet for too long and she was getting that look in her eye again, “…different.”
“Oh this,” she smiled and looked down, tucking her hair behind her ear, “Is it okay? I mean, I’m just someone’s wife now so I dug deep into my closet for anything I wouldn’t wear into the Hoover building.” She had been hoping that he would notice, but she wasn’t prepared for the look on his face that made her breath catch.
In his heart of hearts, Mulder knew he’d only agreed to this case because he wanted to take the opportunity to repair some of the cracks that he had put in their relationship. He had allowed Diana to come between them and going undercover on a case that would probably turn up nothing felt like a fun way to spend time with her and start putting things back together. But now, as his ribcage started to feel just a little too tight, he realised revelry could so easily become reckless, if he let it.
“It’s perfect!” He gestured down at his own outfit, a pair of khakis and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, “This is the best I could do, it was either this or some ripped jeans and my Knicks jersey.”
She smiled and walked over to place a hand on his arm, “Let’s just say I didn’t marry you for your fashion sense.” She tightened her grip and pulled him down off the counter. “We have work to do!”
Scully started to gather the evidence kit out of the packing box. “You grab the latex and I’ll get the camera,” he joked, with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle. She rolled her eyes and threw a pair of gloves at him, giggling when they hit him square in the face.
They spent the next hour searching for any tangible evidence that might help give them a place to start. Mulder had just started to give up hope when he heard Scully coming downstairs. As she looked down from her vantage point, something caught her eye.
“Mulder, grab a swab and an evidence bag, I think there’s a spot of dried blood on top of the ceiling fan.”
Sure enough, when he stood on a dining room chair, there it was. “How did you catch that from all the way over there?”
“Attention to detail, it’s kinda my thing,” she said, holding the evidence bag he had forgotten to lift. “Have you had a single report returned to you to be corrected since we started working together?”
He knew she was right but opened his mouth to protest anyway when the doorbell rang. Scully snapped off her gloves, tucking them into an open box on her way to the door, as Mulder stashed the evidence out of sight.
As she opened the door he heard her sing-song voice greeting whoever was calling. Despite the hundreds of times she had shown her brilliance over the past six years, he had still managed to underestimate how good she would be at playing the part of the charming newlywed.
He approached the door and saw her standing, all smiles and warmth, talking to tall and broad man who he recognised as the person who had dropped their box of ‘fine china’. She turned to him with a doting look, “Honey, this is Mike Raskub. He lives down the street.”
Mike balanced the box of dishes he was holding on one hand and reached the other out to shake Mulder’s. “Most people just call me Big Mike. Really great to have you joining us at the Falls, Rob.” He handed the box over, “I feel just awful about earlier, please use these until you replace the things I broke. And be sure to send me the bill!”
“Oh, Mike that is so thoughtful,” Scully beamed up at Mike and gave him a gentle pat on the arm, “please don’t worry about replacing a thing, accidents happen!”
“Laura’s right, Mike,” Mulder chimed in, “you don’t owe us anything! And thank you for these.” He nodded down at the box, setting it down on the ground and slinging his left arm over Scully’s shoulders as though he did it every day. “Tell you what, Laura is a mean cook so, once we’ve unpacked the kitchen, we’ll have you over and you can have dinner off one of your own plates!”
They shared a laugh and Scully stepped just slightly closer into Mulder’s body, resting her head gently against him. It was such a small adjustment, but it burned in his chest and, in that moment, he started to feel just a little bit of irrational resentment towards Rob Petrie.
He continued, “Then afterwards we can head out and shoot some baskets to burn off some of those delicious calories. I brought my hoop, I think someone put it in the garage but we’ll find it and get it out onto the driveway!”
Suddenly Mike seemed a bit uneasy. “Oh, um, yeah well maybe. I’m not sure …”
“Come on!” Mulder said with a kind slap on Mike’s shoulder, “There’s no way a guy called Big Mike wasn’t in the starting five. You’ve got a few inches on me, but I’ve got game, it’ll be fun!”
“Well, um, we’ll see.” Mike backed away slightly, “I’d better get going, I have surgery first thing.”
“Oh wow, you’re a surgeon” Scully replied, “Anything exciting?”
“Oh no, I’m a vet!” Mike seemed glad of the change of topic, “I have to remove what’s left of a beloved teddy bear from the digestive tract of an overzealous golden labrador.”
“Well that’s exciting in its own way!” Mulder attempted to smile, though Scully could see the disgust in his eyes. Even in the face of all the disgusting things they had investigated over the years, he was still so squeamish.
They exchanged final pleasantries and said their goodbyes. “Why was he so skittish about playing basketball?” Mulder said, as soon as the door was closed.
“I thought he seemed nice.” It wasn’t until Scully looked up at him that he realised he was still standing with his arm around her.
She wasn’t entirely sure why she hadn’t pulled away from him when the door closed, but when he dropped his arm and picked up the box of dishes, she was surprised that the absence of him was so tangible. As he walked towards the kitchen with the box, the reality of their cover started to hit her. Everything had been so fractured between them over these past few months, and she had worried that this assignment was going to be awkward. Why did it feel so utterly natural?
“So what’s for dinner, darling?” He called over his shoulder with a wry smile.
She handed him the keys to the minivan he had insisted they rent to maintain their cover, “Whatever you bring home from the pizza place we passed on our way here.”
Mike was heading up his garden path when he heard a car horn and turned to see Rob driving past him with a wave. Rob Petrie seemed like a fun guy, someone he could really see himself being friends with. Maybe he would suggest they go to play basketball at the local gym instead of on the driveway. It would be safer that way. He was utterly charmed by Laura. She seemed kind and warm and he could tell that she was going to be a wonderful neighbour. He really wanted these guys to stick around!
He turned on his heels and found himself at the door of Gene Gogolak, president of the Homeowner’s Association, of which Mike himself was a founding member. He knew that Mr Gogolak had the best interests of the neighbourhood in mind, but he didn’t agree with his methods. It’s the president’s job to enforce the CC&Rs, maybe someday they would elect a new one and things could be different.
Gene Gogolak was a charismatic man, stern faced and sharply dressed, not a single white hair out of place. “Michael, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I was just with the Petries. They seem nice,” Mike smiled, “I think they’ll fit in really well here.”
Gogolak’s expression remained unchanged, “Will they play ball?”
Mike was nervous, “I think they will, though maybe if we told them … well if they knew … maybe they would follow the rules more carefully.”
“We’ve talked about this before, Michael.” Gogolak placed a firm hand on Mike’s shoulder, “They can’t know, no one outside the HOA can know, it’s for the greater good.”
“I just think it’s easier for people to do the right thing if they know the consequences…” Mike trailed off.
Gogolak flashed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “I’ll think about it.”
Mike reached the end of the path and waved back to Gogolak standing in the window. As he returned the gesture, he reached for the phone, dialling Win Shroeder. “Win, it’s Gene. It’s time to take care of Big Mike.”
By the time Mulder had returned with dinner, Scully had changed into sweats and had pulled her hair back out of her face. The evidence they had gathered earlier sat in an official brown envelope and he could see that she had already filled out the initial paperwork. She was busy putting things away in the kitchen and had already laid out plates and glasses. As much as he enjoyed seeing her as ‘Laura’ earlier on, this was the woman he really wanted to come home to.
He set a little brown paper bag onto the bottom stair as he passed, hopeful that she was too distracted to notice. Her voiced drifted out from inside the fridge, “What took you so long?”
“There was a line and then I got a little lost on my way back.” That was a lie, he had added another stop to the journey to get the contents of the bag. He dropped the pizza boxes onto the counter, “I’m going to go and change, be down in two.” As she busied herself with the food, he grabbed the bag and went upstairs.
Scully would never utter it aloud, but she suspected that Mulder had a very specific form of psychic ability. He had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what she wanted to eat from any takeout place on earth. It was like he could read her mind and glean the answer to a question he hadn’t even asked. She had already grabbed a slice and had tucked in when suddenly the lights went out.
She turned around to see Mulder’s face illuminated by a single candle which had been carefully placed in a little chocolate cake covered with coloured sprinkles. “Happy birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, I know it was yesterdaaaaaay, but Happy Birthday to yoooou!”
She was genuinely delighted and as she stepped towards him she looked up and noticed that the amber flecks in his hazel eyes glowed golden in the candlelight. “Thank you, Mulder.” She closed her eyes and made a wish, sincerely hoping that he couldn’t actually read her mind. As she blew out the candle, her breath travelled over his skin, making his hairs stand on end.
His voice broke through the darkness, “Would this be a terrible time for me to admit that I can’t remember where the light switch is?”
He heard the softness of her giggle and saw the shadow of her moving towards him in the dim glow from the streetlight outside, the warm scent of her filling the air. He realised he was holding his breath and wondering what exactly she had wished for. Then he felt her reach behind him and with a soft click, they were illuminated again.
When dinner was over, Scully grabbed the cake and two forks and headed for the couch, signalling for him to follow her. Despite the space available, she sat right next to him, holding the cake between them and offering him a fork.
“This cake reminds me of the one mom used to make for us on all our birthdays. She had the recipe memorised and I used to love watching her bustling around the kitchen making it look so easy. She would let me help measure out the ingredients and my reward was a teaspoon coated in frosting and dipped in sprinkles.” She excitedly devoured a generous forkful, and he pretended he didn’t hear the moan that escaped her as she did it.
Of course, Mulder already knew about Maggie’s chocolate sprinkle cake. He remembered it from a conversation he had with her, back when her daughter was missing and she feared she would never get to bake her that special birthday cake ever again. He had held onto the notion of a little Dana Scully playing the scientist as she measured out the ingredients with absolute accuracy.
“Birthday cakes are made to be shared, Mulder,” she gestured to his fork and he joined her, making sure that she ate the lion’s share.
“I’m going to get up first thing and drive that blood sample into the San Diego field office,” Scully said with a yawn, “I’ll pressure them to put a rush on it, but it will likely be a 24 hour turnaround.”
“I’m going to hang about here, maybe shoot some hoops in the driveway, see if I can meet any more of our lovely neighbours, start putting names to faces.” Mulder grabbed the dishes and set them over by the sink, turning the kitchen light off.
“Sounds like a really challenging day of investigative work!” she joked as they headed upstairs. The house had four bedrooms but on the journey out, he had suggested that they just use the master suite and that he would sleep on the couch.
The ensuite bathroom had a double sink, so they found themselves side by side in the mirror getting ready for bed. She knew that pretending to be married would demand a closeness, but she hadn’t realised that doing something as simple as this would be so strangely intimate.
Mulder was slightly mesmerised by the quick, yet meticulous ritual Scully seemed to have when it came to washing her face. When she caught him looking, he splashed some water from the tap onto his own and reached for a towel to dry it. As he took the towel away, he saw her fresh-faced and freckled, rubbing some sort of cream into her perfect skin.
He grabbed his toothbrush and as he squeezed some toothpaste on, she looked at him with a mixture of horror and disgust, “What’s wrong?!”
“Who taught you how to squeeze a tube of toothpaste?!” She took the mangled tube and did her best to restore its shape, gently placing a perfect blob onto her own brush.
“I bet there’s a rule about the proper dispensing of toothpaste in that big binder!” he laughed, as she started to brush. “You fit in really well here.” That earned him a dig in the ribs.
They finished up and he grabbed a pillow and blanket from the bed. “Mulder, this house has four bedrooms, why don’t we just get another bed and you can sleep up here?”
“A second bed, Laura?” he feigned shock, “What would the neighbours say?”
“I bet that Pat Verlander would have plenty to say,” Scully replied, her tone a little bitchier than she had intended, “if she wasn’t such an obvious gossip, she’d probably be a great source of information for this investigation.”
Mulder laughed and returned to the point at hand, “No sense in having them bring any more furniture into this house, I honestly don’t think we’ll be here long. A few days of investigation will probably turn up nothing and then we can call Skinner, tell him we’ve done all we can and be back in the basement by Monday.”
“Glad you’ve got so much faith in us!”
“I do have faith in us, Scully! If anyone can blow this case wide open, it’s us,” he said with a wink, “but I just know how difficult missing persons can be, especially in closed communities like this.”
She caught his eye, “Just promise me that you’re taking this seriously.”
“Of course I am,” he gave her a sincere smile and then got a mischievous look in his eye, “Goodnight, honeybuch.”
She rolled her eyes with a grin, “Goodnight … poopyhead.”
Mulder’s hearty laugh carried up the stairs as he went and as she lay down, Scully realised just how much she had missed him. Kersh had been squeezing the life out of him over these past few months and when the Syndicate fell apart, she thought he might too. It had only been a few weeks since she walked out of the Lone Gunmen’s place thinking she had lost him forever and she still carried the ache of that somewhere deep in her stomach. But today, underneath the façade of their fake marriage, she felt like they were finally finding each other again. She fell asleep with a sense of anticipation for what their first full day on the case would bring.