Disclaimers: Oh, Jesus Christ, Chris can *have* them.
Spoilers: Oh, that last ep so far. Where Scully turns out to be
Ratings Note: NC-17 because this is just wrong. Really wrong.
Summary: A possible interpretation of forever.
Acknowledgments: Rae made me do it. So did Deb. Eeek.
The marriage didn't even come close to working, of course. Scully never
could cope with the way Mulder couldn't get it up without cheap porn --
she wouldn't have minded other porn, it was the cheap stuff that got to
her -- and Mulder couldn't deal with the way that Scully couldn't deal.
It was marriage. It was supposed to be *love*. Something different than
what Mulder's parents had, in any case. He was *there*, after all, he
never experimented on either of their two beautiful children, he never
kicked the dog.
Somewhere, deep down, Scully was supposed to be grateful. They made
each other... well, maybe not whole, but a lot more complete than what
was already there.
And for Scully, well... she wondered rather often why she hadn't just
gone for a father figure. They would understand when she needed a
little acknowledgement, and when she fucking well didn't feel like being
She hadn't asked for *either* of the strange alien implantations, and
having to have them cut out of her back had left her unfit for field duty
for months after both births.
The scars pulled on rainy days.
She hated them on rainy days. The kids, their father, their beautiful
home bought from Mulder's blood money inheritance, the whole fucking nine
yards of guilt and obligation and love.
Because, see, this was not her beautiful house, or her beautiful life,
she hadn't been letting the days go by at all. She'd been an active
participant in her own fucking life, but somehow, somehow....
Somehow just *being* around Mulder had made her someone to whom
Things Happened. Years of partnership and not a jot of proactivity until
Mulder had gone on half-leave to take care of the kids so she could keep
up the fight.
And that was more guilt right there, another mistake. She'd missed
Jason's (the older) first steps, and Jonathon's (the younger) first crawl
into his older brother's bed for comfort.
And Mulder thinks: Just how the hell is this my fault, anyway?
He'd *always* been there on school nights, Krycek *never* showed up
when the kids were home, not even Scully knew where the bumboy rags
were, and he changed the code regularly.
And, OK, it made a kind of sense. Generational love. Reminded him of
Peacocks, only with fewer growths and much less creep because these
were their *boys*. The fruit of their love and their years of struggle all
wrapped up in two boys, two young men both with dark roan hair and long
slim fingers and brilliant green eyes that made him sometimes wonder
about Krycek's own family history...
But that was another story. Smart boys, *good* boys who laughed away
horror movies and understood about Them. All he could wish for, and
maybe his mother would stop screaming at him now, someday, please, from
deep within his head.
And, so, OK, maybe... No, it was definitely sick what they were doing.
didn't even have to check Scully, his dear wife-maybe-she-should've-been-
around-for-the-kids-more Scully for an appropriate reaction check. He
did anyway, and her jaw was firm and her mouth was a deep slash of also
firm and her eyes were wide.
Side by side, in the doorway to the boys' room, they groped for each
other's hands for perhaps the first day since the hasty, off-white wedding.
Because it made perfect sense for them to be doing that, for young Jon's
smart mouth to be wrapped around Jason's cock, green eyes locked on
green eyes, and love.
Because didn't it all make sense? Wasn't that the horror? Little Jason
Scully, little Jon Mulder.
Trying to be whole.
Author's Note: I don't know... just... read one too many of those
stories where the Heroes don't get to be together, and they both
breed, and their remarkably similar children fall in LOVE. Forever