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.