Title: 500 P.C.
Rating: T+
Genre: Like, angsty/romance(like really, totally proofreading and can't believe what a fucking girl I am), post-series/post colonization.
Summary: "Scully figured Alfred Fellig must have not truly loved his wife, because after five hundred years of separation, she only wished she could forget. "
Authors Note: Hmm, okay… well this has been floating around my head for a while now. But, I'm having trouble putting all the chapters together just yet. So, I am brazenly breaking my own 'no chapter stories' rule (I have a habit of loosing my momentum, and getting distracted). I do really want to finish this one though, because I already (for the most part) have the last part written. We'll see how it goes. I'll just upload this first part, and if I can piece together the rest of the story well then great. If not, whatever. If I do continue, this will have five parts.
Feedback: I can dig it! I mean if you want, whatever… not like it would feed my soul or anything.
After everything that they had been through, after everything that had been said, and done, after every emotion he had invoked in her body, mind and soul, Scully knew, if she believed in such things, that Mulder was her soul mate. She had never loved half as intensely, unconditionally or completely. Dana Scully was certainly a smart woman, no bones about it. She knew a love like this was rare. To love someone so fully and completely was a gift. Something to be thankful for, something to be cherished. And something you held onto at any cost. Because to love so completely, intensely and unconditionally was also a terrible curse if that love was not able to burn and swirl and mold together into something beautiful.
He had once told her that she was his one in five billion. Years later, after they had made the bold, and yet near effortless move from friends to lovers, he had amended his words to: my one in six billion. The number grew with the human population. And every time it did she became a little more special. But, the more special she became the more souls were being born and reborn into the world. Assuming, you believed in things like souls, of course. Scully counted her blessings that allowed her to have met him. In this world filled with so many souls, she had managed to find her's mate. After everything that had been taken from her, after everything she had lost, at least she was given the chance to experience, and have love returned in its highest, most genuine form. It burned deep, unhinged within her. She would be eternally grateful for that, for him.
And she also knew that living without him was worse than death. She could only pray that would never happen again.
1 P.C.
The dark blue curtains billowed as a gust of cold December air blew in though the open window. The cold wind moved through the room, over the large bed, chilling it's sole occupant.
Scully gasped. Her eyes snapped opened as a chill ran over her over her bare skin. Tiny beads of gooseflesh spread across her torso. She rolled over, "Mulder?" Sleep clogged her voice. The Mulder sized space on the bed was vacant. Scully wiped the sleep from her eyes.
She pulled the dark sheets over her naked breasts as she sat up, attempting to create warmth. "Mulder?" She called into the dark room, louder this time. She waited a moment, no answer. Scully slipped out of the bed. At her closet, she quickly slid between the silk of her pale blue robe.
The old stairs creaked as she descended. "Mulder?" She called again stopping on the bottom landing. Still no answer.
She walked through the dark kitchen. Stopping in front of the sink, she peered though the window directly above it, frost covered its edges. The luminescent moon provided her with enough natural light to spot his large, lean silhouette on standing the back porch.
Scully grabbed a light blanket from the laundry room, and stepped out onto the porch. "Mulder?" Still no answer. She opened the blanket and reached up to drape it over his broad shoulders as he continued to stand silently, completely still.
"Mulder, you're freezing." She rubbed her hands up and down his back attempting to create warmth over his chilled skin. Dissatisfied with her own efforts, she wrapped her arms around him, "What are you doing out here?" She pressed her front into this back, trying to send her warmth into him. She sighed when he remained mute. "You said we would sleep tonight." She rubbed her hands over his chest, her fingers lightly scrapping though his sparse chest hairs.
Mulder let out a rough, shuddering breath, "I know, I'm sorry." He grasped one of her hands and held it up to his lips. He placed feather like kisses on the delicate skin of her knuckles, "I just couldn't."
Her heart clenched at the sadness that annexed his voice. Sliding around to his front, she hugged his middle. She placed a soft, lingering kiss on the center of his chest, "I understand."
It had taken them nearly twenty years, but as far as Scully was concerned, she and Mulder had finally come to a point in their lives were they could honestly say that they were both actually happy, or at least content with the lives that they lead. It was true, through out their time together, they had both lost more than any one person should. From loved ones to beliefs that had shaped who they were, and who they would become, they lost it all. And in the end, all they had was each other. Still, it had taken them years to once and for all escape the darkness that eluded their happiness for so long.
Now though, they were out in the light. And, they carried flash lights - just in case. Both she and Mulder had been free citizens for years. They no longer worried about government henchmen, alien bounty hunters, super-soilders, or mysterious black helicopters. Yet regardless, they still found themselves mostly wanting to remain hidden away from everyone but each other. But, that was nothing new. From the very beginning, long before they become lovers, Mulder and Scully had formed a secret club. Two members only, no openings. It's me and you, Mulder.
However, even amongst the state of domestic happiness, and occasional bliss they had created together, one damn important impending date still stuck in both of their minds.
December 22, 2012. Today. Yes, she and Mulder were finally happy, and now it was time for the world to end. Maybe. The icy air drafted around her bare legs.
Mulder wrapped his muscular arms tight around her tiny frame when he felt her shiver. She moved her arms around his neck, and he lifted her off the porch. Holding her tight up against himself, he buried his face in her long strawberry blonde hair. She ran her fingers soothingly over his scalp as she unconsciously took in both the fear and grief oozing out of his person. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to block out the unwelcome visions of every terrible thing that could, and very likely would happen to her and every other inhabitant of this planet. Mulder inhaled that scent that had intoxicated him for so long. He wanted to forget everything else, if only for a moment. Maybe, one of the last moments.
A few short hours before, he made love to her quite literally like there would be no tomorrow. He made damn sure to pay careful attention to every last inch of her body. From the long strands of her hair, to the tip of her pinky toe. She'd been amused when he nibbled on it. No inch of her was left uncarressed or unacknowledged. He spent extra time in his favorite spots. Behind her left ear, she would sigh happily. The curve of her shoulder, she would hum, contented. Right above her belly button, she would giggle. The small of her back, she would moan. The inside of her thigh, she would beg for more. Scully had been overwhelmed by the depth, and intensity of emotion radiated from his hazel eyes, into hers as he penetrated her body. At that moment she would have been ashamed to say that she had ever doubted his love for her.
The bed springs squeaked with their rhythm, Scully's low moans urged him on faster. She began to move her own hips in sync with his, her nails prickled his sweat slicked back.
More. She wanted more. She was asking for more. He could do more. He sped up his hips, his thrusts become erratic.
Last night, the words that left her mouth were not the usual raspy, lust filled profanities that slipped off her tongue as she urged him into his orgasm. Her voice being one of his most effective aphrodisiacs. Last night, she whispered words of unconditional, everlasting love, and devotion. Their world was crashing down tomorrow, possibly. Who knows what could happen? This might be their last night in this house. In their home, on this planet. This might be their last night together for the rest of their lives. Maybe the world wasn't going to end tomorrow, maybe they would be able to continue on with their every day, ordinary lifes, uncolonized. Either way, Scully still wanted him to know everything that fallen from her mouth as he took her - as only he could- to an always too brief state of physical, and emotional ecstasy.
"Yours," she breathed, as he slid agonizingly slow out of her. His hand fisted in her hair. She gasped as he slammed back into her making the headboard bang, loud against the wall. Her eyes squeezed shut at the intense mixture of pleasure, and pain. She gasped again as he repeated the motion. His free hand slid down to fondle her breast. His rough pads circled and pinched with primitive intent, his hips pumped with the same force. She arched her back into his touch, her head dipped back into the pillow. Her mouth hung open, wet and red.
"Yours," she panted.
Mulder dragged his palm down the slick, ridiculously soft skin of her torso. Spreading her leg wider, he stroked the humid place between their bodies. She began to moan again, louder this time. Pulling her face up to his with his other hand, he swallowed her fervent cries.
Their tongues dueled as their coupling became more and more fierce. Breathless, he broke the kiss. Her eye lids remained shut. "Look at me," he demanded.
Scully opened her eyes immediately, through her lids were hooded. The tips of their noses brushed against each other. She brought her hands to the sides of his face, "I'm yours," she whispered against his lips, "I am forever yours."
There was nothing else that compared to this. She was the singular thing in this world that made him feel like a human being.
He did not know what was going to happen today, but he did know that he would never love like this again. As far as Fox Mulder was concerned, there were two women in the world: Dana Scully and everyone else. The air out on the frosted porch was cold, freezing actually. But he did not want to let her go. If he let go, it wouldn't just be him and Scully. It would be him and Scully, and the end of the world, possibly. Most likely. Anther shuddering breath escaped him. He placed a warm, wet kiss on the soft skin of her neck. She moved to look in his eyes when she felt his hot tears on her skin.
Her finger tips created feather like touches over his stubbly cheek as they had a silent conversation with their eyes. His drifted shut, and she pressed her forehead into his. This was a private ritual they preformed during their most tempestuous times together.
They stayed like that for a long moment. Out in the blistering winter weather, on the porch of their unremarkable home, together. Their unremarkable home that housed all their necessary but petty tiffs, all their never ending flirtatious squabbles, and all their domestic happiness from the last six years. For all they knew, it could be up in flames this time tomorrow.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was low, "Whatever happens today, Scully…" he paused, "Whatever happens, you've made everything worth it."