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Road to All Things

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“You hungry?” Scully asked as they left the last hamburger joint, concluding their investigation of the missing “Free Fer Friday” button. 

“Even after staring at all that brain matter?” Mulder grimaced. The woman had an iron stomach. 

“I told you. It was only residue from the raw hamburger.”

He shrugged and proceeded to the nearest diner at Scully’s request. Mulder wished his mind was only on the case. Given the facts he was already 90% certain it was a monster disguised as a model employee, and he had an inkling who that employee could be. But his thoughts were on his fantasies and the other night. Holding Scully, sitting next to her on the couch, imagining her rocking against the heel of his palm. The way she would moan. Watching her come would probably be the prettiest thing he had ever seen. The pull he felt for her lately, animalistic and intrinsic, had been stronger than any sexual attraction he had ever felt in the past. Their connection only compounded those feelings. 

When they got to the diner they took the last vinyl booth in the back and ordered a couple coffees and their lunch.

“The word around the office cooler this morning was that Agent Meetze asked his partner Brittany to marry him over the weekend,” Scully said cooly, eager to spread the latest gossip to her partner.

“And to think, we’ve been partners for six years Scully, and never even had sex,” Mulder said bluntly, ruffling through the sugar packets, handing Scully the stevia packet he knew she wanted for her coffee.

Her cheeks flamed for a moment then quickly cooled down. “Speak for yourself,” Scully answered jokingly. Then she added in a serious tone, “It would have been risky. Reckless.”

“Dangerous,” Mulder finished. 

The server dropped off two steaming cups of coffee and once she was gone Scully leaned in.  “If we did… if it only happened once, it wouldn’t be so dangerous.”

“No?” It intrigued Mulder that she hadn’t dismissed the idea. He sipped his coffee and stared at Scully, watching her avoid his eye contact by endlessly stirring the stevia in her cup. 

“I mean, we’re two responsible, mature, professional, adults, it may even deepen our friendship,” she said finally.

“Possibly,” Mulder answered, failing to hide his enthusiasm. She was setting his heart on fire with the prospect. 

Their meals came and Mulder shouldn’t have been surprised when she ordered the hamburger, but it was a little humorous. Watching her lips close around the fork tines as she ate her side salad and watching the way the tip of her tongue peeked out to lick the corner of her mouth was not. He wanted to feel those lips, that tongue, gorging on him, and while they were, he would be busy, drenching his own tongue, his mouth, until it dripped with her honey. He closed his eyes and shook his head clear. If he was going to close this case he had to keep his mind focused. 

They finished their meals and as they got up Mulder said, “I have a hunch, your suspect, Derwood Spinks, is dead.” He tossed the tip on the table and Scully passed him a very unsatisfied look. Reluctantly, he added another single. 

“That tiny shark’s tooth embedded in the temporal bone solidified your theory from the start, didn’t it?” Scully asked as they got into the car.

“I think it’s his compulsion to kill, that he’s fulfilling his biological imperative. He chose to work in a burger joint, to have access to the meat, but it’s not enough.”

“Derwood Spinks is still the obvious choice, but you disagree,” Scully said, pulling the passenger visor down to shield her eyes from the sun. 

Mulder nodded his head and squinted out at the road as he pulled away from the curb and into traffic. “Yes, I disagree. I saw the look in Rob’s eyes, Scully. There’s something behind those eyes."

Mulder dropped Scully off at the sanitation company to investigate the padlock and dumpster pickup while he headed back to Rob Roberts’ apartment. Before leaving the sanitation parking lot, he rolled down his window, raising his voice over the engine and the wind. “I’ll meet you back here in half an hour,” he said to Scully.

She hesitated for a minute before looking at him directly. “Mulder, our conversation earlier, in the diner, I might not be completely opposed to it.” The gleam in her eye reached right in and captured his very soul, unnerving him with a blink. It took him a moment to gather himself before driving away. Her inference was unmistakable. Dana Katherine Scully just proposed having casual sex. Nothing else on the planet could have made him as hard as that thought made him. There he was, sitting in a dusty rental car with a hardon in the middle of the afternoon that could settle Cincinnati. He turned the air conditioning to full blast. It was going to be a very cold ride to Rob’s place.

Back in the motel after a long day, Mulder rotated the spigots on the tile wall, letting the steam fill the bathroom, fogging up the shower doors as he undressed. He stepped into the shower, the hot water washing his tensions down the drain. It felt good, and his cock was warming up to the conversation he had earlier with Scully.  

Thinking of them together in that way always caused a mixed bag of feelings. But if they were going to take that step, he’d start with making her know just how wanted she was. That lately, she alone made him hard. If they decided to go for it, when they did, he wanted her screaming his name so furiously, her nails would draw blood from his skin.

He soaped his body, working the suds carefully over each muscle and joint. His cocked waited eagerly, bobbing at attention, impatient for him to take it in his hands.  

As he ran his palms over his face, then chest, he wondered what it might be like to have Scully on her knees before him, her plump red lips slightly parted, her blue eyes gazing up at him waiting hungrily. The picture, so clear in his mind, he couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his hand around himself. 

Water cascaded over his head, flattening his dark hair and plastering it to his face. He closed his eyes and pumped, so badly he wanted her naked body wrapped around his. He’d eat her out till the water ran cold and she begged him to stop.  

The spray dripped over his lips and fell to his tongue as he pictured her taking him down her throat. His cock grew harder and harder as he kept pumping, Scully lips moving faster and faster along his shaft, pulling and sucking, running her tongue along the ridge of his crown. He released a low guttural cry and exploded, placing his hand against the dark motel tile as he caught his breath. 

His legs were slightly unsteady as he quickly washed the rest of his body. With a twist of his wrists the water turned off. Stepping out he wrapped a towel around his waist. Condensation covered the bathroom mirror, his hand squeaked as he wiped the moisture away. His own reflection appeared, residual water droplets clung to the glass making it look like tears he longed to shed. He wanted it to be Scully to make him come harder than he ever had before. He didn’t want to cry out his pleasure alone anymore. He wanted the images from moments ago to be memories; his chest hurt with want for it to be real. Imagination had nothing on the real thing - the sensations that danced along his skin whenever she touched it, the thump of his pulse at first sight after a night without her, the ache between his legs when her gaze lingered too long. 

Mulder gripped the edge of the sink, dizzy. The vision in his right eye blurred and he had a sudden ringing in his right ear like a gun had fired against it. Something wasn’t right. 

Scully had signed off on his medical paperwork that he had made a complete recovery so he could return to work as full active duty even though she knew otherwise. She did it with the promise that he would make an appointment with the neurological specialist in Baltimore touted as the best in the country. The initial doctors had told him the EEG had shown he had not quite returned to normal, but did not see any long standing tissue damage. Enough time had passed and the symptoms prevailed. With Scully’s prodding, he made the trip to see the specialist. 


John Hopkins Hospital, Baltimore, Maryland


“Mr. Mulder, I’m afraid at this time your condition is undiagnosable.”


“Meaning we do not have a name for your condition. The closest that match the results of your EEG and other tests would be exposure to a lightning strike or shock from an electrical current.”

“Can it be treated?”

“We will do more testing and monitor your condition, give you drugs to help stave off your symptoms, but depending on the extent of the damage to the tissue and any neuropsychological changes, your condition may continue to deteriorate.”

Mulder’s gut tightened as though crows had started to build a nest inside it. Scully. How did he tell her he could be leaving her to fight in this world all alone?  

“I don’t feel like I’m dying, Doc. I actually feel really good, happy, with the exception of an episode here and there of what I described to you I wouldn’t even know anything was wrong,” he said, solemnly. Did it even matter if he was? He had no family left. The only preparation needed was to carve the date of his death into some marble.

“And it may be too early to tell the long term ramifications,” the doctor replied. As if reading Mulder’s thoughts he added, “There are new discoveries and treatments always on the horizon for any illness. I wouldn’t give up hope just yet, Mr. Mulder.”

On the long ride home, denial hit him first. Then hatred. Hatred for a man that dared to consider himself his father. For his life finally beginning and abruptly ending at the dawning realization that this was his chosen path. Depression, drawn from the life he would never lead with Scully. One he never saw through. 

The office walls shrunk as he entered through its darkened door. His anxiety overcoming logic, leading to avoidance. Surely if she knew, she would spend every last moment he breathed not giving up, trying to find a cure. Did he involve her yet again in one of his fruitless journeys? Or was the doctor right? Maybe there was a way to keep it from progressing… there had to be a way..

Keeping the information about his disease was only a consideration until he recalled their heated exchange on a hospital entrance ramp while she had been dying of cancer:

“Why can’t you be honest with me?” he had asked her, agonizing inside that she would hide the truth from him. 

“What do you want me to say? That you’re right? That I believe it even if I don’t? I mean, is that what you want?”

“Is that what you think I want to hear?”  


“You can believe what you want to believe, Scully, but you can’t hide the truth from me because if you do, then you’re working against me, and yourself. I know what you’re afraid of, I’m afraid of the same thing.”

“The doctor said I was fine.”

“I hope that’s the truth.”  

He decided he needed to tell her. Remembering how it felt to be on the other end of that conversation hit home. Distorting her reality was not his intention and she was going to find out whether he said something or not. At least it might provide her with an opportunity for a closure he never had with the deaths of people so close to him. 

He looked for her everywhere that day with his own words, the vows he spoke in his hallway, echoing through his diseased brain: “You.. were my friend, and you told me the truth. Even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant… my touchstone” You told me the truth. To not tell her was to rescind the words he held sacred, blind her to their shared reality, and he was becoming frantic when the elevator door dinged open, and like magic she appeared.

“There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said.

“Hi. I’m sorry I had a doctor’s appointment and.. Um.. I guess time just got away from me.”

“Is anything the matter?” he asked, taking heed in her expressions, thinking possibly she had her own illnesses to contend with.

“Nothing. No, I just, uh.. I went for a walk.”

“Then what’s wrong?” What was she hiding? It made him nervous to think something might be wrong with her health as well. How could he have been so selfish to ignore it?

“I’m sorry.. I’m sorry I haven’t told you. I don’t know why I haven’t. I mean, you were… you were always there for me during my illness, but um…”

“Don’t make me guess.” He couldn’t take it anymore. He had been looking for her to tell her something that would take all his strength to do and to wait to find out she could be stricken as well. Hiding truths from him as he hid them from her. Finally, she told him:

“I was left unable to conceive with whatever tests that they did on me. And I am… not ready to accept that I will never have children.”

The ding of the elevator having reached its floor came at an inopportune time. His stomach filled with lead, he stepped out, but he knew he must tell her the truth before another moment passed. Only this truth was not about himself. “Scully, there’s, um, there’s something I haven’t told you either, and I hope you forgive me and understand why, I would have kept it from you.” 


“During my investigation into your illness, I found out the reason why you were left barren. Your ova were taken from you and stored in a government lab.”

“What? You found them?”

“I took them directly to a specialist who would tell me if they were okay. Scully you were deathly ill, and I.. I couldn’t bear to give you another piece of bad news.” 

“Is that what it was? It was bad news?”

The razor blades in his stomach threatened to rise to his heart. “Well, the doctor said that the ova weren’t viable.” Thinking back now, the decision to pay to keep the ova frozen, ignoring the doctor’s protest that he had been paying for nothing, had been the correct decision. Back then and now, he could never give up on her. 

“I want a second opinion,” she replied indignantly.

He held the elevator door, preventing it from closing, searching her face for a sign that she could possibly forgive him for keeping a truth from her, her truth, but with a raise of her eyebrows, he knew the conversation was over for now and let go.