Timeline: 7x16 Chimera

Category: Missing scenes/post-episode fiction

Mulder sat at the Adderly's table, looking over the food. A roast, fine bone china, crystal goblets full of red wine. Who eats this way? Well, he sometimes imagined that Mrs. Scully made holiday meals something like the spread laid before him. His mother had never been much of a cook, but he thought perhaps that the Scullys had enjoyed numerous family holidays crowding around a table much like this one. But this was just a Tuesday. The Tuesday after Easter, and this wasn't leftovers. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a meal prepared in an oven, let alone something like Ellen Adderly had just whipped up. As he surveyed the food, he wondered momentarily whether Scully knew how to cook like this.

Having fleetingly just thought of her, his phone rang. Rude, really, to answer the phone during a dinner like this, but he probably should excuse himself. The case could have broken open, and he was certain that their suspect would be confirmed to be a female serial murder as he believed her to be. Maybe even something spooky: she seemed to have the ability to disappear into thin air, in addition to making hapless prostitutes vanish.

"Uh…excuse me. Sorry. Thanks," he said standing up and walking over to his coat, where he produced his cell phone from the front pocket.

Scully, just like he thought. She wouldn't stop complaining about the case though. Whining about 'the seamy underbelly' of things. Price to pay for the glory of finding the mystery woman, he'd tried to explain to his resistant partner. She knew how rare a female serial murderer was. But Scully didn't buy into the notion that this kind of work was ennobling. She could really lack enthusiasm when she was cold and hungry. He always had to make sure they periodically ate on assignment or she would start complaining. He used to forget and skip meals in succession, but not Scully. Not even a particularly grisly autopsy could put Scully off food.

...

Mulder hung his dark blue shirt up in the bathroom, stripping to his white undershirt. He washed his face in the sink and toweled off in front of the narrow bathroom mirror. He couldn't stop thinking about the broken mirror in the Crittendon's house. He'd like to ask Scully to look up some information on mirrors and ravens for him: he was certain that the mirror had some significance that was related to the appearance of a raven, but he wasn't sure how it all connected to Martha's disappearance. He reached for his toothbrush and toothpaste, squeezing a blue gel blob onto the bristles. He could call her and ask her to check it out on the computer; he could usually count on her to gather these bits of information while he ran around in the field. But he needed her to stay put on the stakeout of the Dirty Dame's strip club.

He leaned over, spitting into the sink. He turned the faucet to the right, turning off the water. He flashed his pearly whites in the mirror. He could call her anyway. He walked into the bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed overly embellished with floral pastel throw pillows. Everything about this house was perfect, he conceded, and being less than perfect himself, it made him slightly uncomfortable. He reached for his phone on the bedside table.

"Scully."

Mulder smiled to himself: she still sounded more than a little bit annoyed with him. "You keeping warm, Scully?"

"I keep warm thinking about how I'm going to kill you the next time I see you."

"Aww, I'm touched that you're thinking about me." Mulder leaned forward, setting his digital travel alarm clock. "But, don't get too distracted. You know, try to stay on task."

"I'll do my best." Her sarcasm only made him smile more broadly.

"Hey Scully, can you cook?"

"Don't talk to me about food, Mulder. One more stale piece of pizza and I'm going to join the ladies of the night down there. They look as if they've had a good meal or two. Maybe they can at least recommend something other than Joe's Pizza Den."

Mulder kicked off his shoes and tossed some of the many throw pillows off the bed before sitting back. "Yeah, nothing but pizza for me too," he sighed.

"Well, I'm eating nothing and seeing nothing. Our ladies just keep entertaining frat boys who should be studying and overweight businessmen who should be at home with their wives."

"Keep plugging away at it," he said cheerily, tucking one hand behind his head.

"Did you need something, Mulder?"

"Yeah, actually. I wanted to ask you about ravens. Do you know anything about them?"

"Like 'Quoth the raven, Nevermore,' Mulder?"

"Yeah, Skinner's got me on this case with a missing woman, and all I have to go on is a broken mirror and the report from a five year old that she was attacked by a raven."

"Well, unless you're in a really rural area, you're probably dealing with a crow, Mulder. Ravens are common throughout North America, but they prefer open landscapes and avoid urban areas. Are you saying a crow kidnapped your missing woman?"

Mulder chuckled. "No, uh…I was thinking that someone summoned the raven…intentionally or unintentionally…using a mirror." There was a long pregnant pause on the other end of the line. "Scully? You better not be rolling your eyes at me."

"Listen, I promise I won't roll my eyes, if you get me off of this case…off this stake out. I'll even help you find the crow who committed the heinous crime."

"Well, I don't know whether I can do that, but…"

"Yes?" Scully's voice sounded so hopeful.

"Remember how you said there were a hundred or so things you'd seen at the Dirty Dame that you'd like to erase from your brain?"

"Yes?"

"Anything you would rather not erase?"

"Mulder, your crap is not going to fly while I'm…"

"Scully, I'd love to let you talk dirty to me all night, but I don't want to disturb the Adderlys."

"The Adderlys?"

"Nice couple."

"Mulder, where are you staying?"

Mulder could hear Scully's irritation mounting—she was verging on shrill. "I'll give you a call tomorrow, Scully. Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite."


Scully's phone rang on her bedside table and she rolled over, nearly knocking the receiver onto the floor as she fumbled for it. "Mmm…Scully," she mumbled sleepily.

"Good morning, starshine."

"Mulder?" Scully asked, rolling onto her back and rubbing her eyes.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Mulder, what time is it?" She looked over at her digital clock: 5:13. "Mulder, didn't I tell you I was going to sleep until spring?"

"Hey, listen, I just got in. I'm outside your building."

Scully propped herself up on her elbows. "Mulder, I'm in bed."

"Scully, I get the feeling you're not used to anyone taking care of you."

"What? Mulder, did you need something?"

"Mind if I let myself in?"

Scully furrowed her brow: Mulder was unstoppable when he decided to barge ahead, and apparently he was barging into her apartment. "Do I have to get up?" she asked resignedly.

She hung up without receiving an answer as she heard the lock in her door turning. She flopped back into the pillows sighing. This stunt gave new meaning to 'lack of boundaries.' Her bedroom door was half way open and she saw through half-closed eyes that Mulder was standing in the doorway.

"Knock, knock," he said rapping on the door with the knuckle of his right hand index finger.

"Mulder, I should kick you out," Scully said, closing her eyes.

Mulder stepped in the room, holding up a plastic bag. "But I've come bearing gifts."

Scully opened one eye. "Beware of Greeks bearing gifts."

"Mulder isn't a Greek name," he said, slightly swinging the bag.

"What is it?"

"My name?"

"No…what do you have there?" she asked with an exasperated sigh.

"Can't you smell? There are two omelets and coffee cooling in this bag from Bob & Edith's."

Scully propped herself back up on her elbows. "One cream, no sugar?"

"Of course. And plastic sporks."

Scully looked tentative.

"A real feast," Mulder assured her, walking up to her bed.

Mulder placed the bag on the bed, and Scully sat up, peeking into it. "Is this some kind of trick?"

"Haven't I ever done anything nice for you?" Mulder asked with a smile, sitting down beside her and pulling out the plastic covered plates.

Scully popped the lid off of her coffee, breathing in the warmth. "You did leave me in a heat free crummy room watching prostitutes and drunks for a few days."

Mulder unwrapped a black plastic spork, handing it to her. "Did I do that?"

"Mmm…" Scully murmured, sipping the coffee.

"Still warm?" he asked.

Scully saw the hopeful look in his eye. He looked like a child eager for praise. "Yeah. You've done well, Mulder."

"I aim to please my plus one."

"Plus one?"

"Significant other," he said gesturing with his spork.

Scully readjusted her position on the bed, drawing her legs underneath herself sitting Indian-style. She risked a glance up at Mulder: he was still smiling at her, somewhat mischievously. "Significant other, Mulder?"

"Well…not in the widely understood definition of that term," he hedged with a half-smile.

She tilted her head, a non-verbal 'okay,' before leaning over to set her paper cup with requisite java jacket on her bedside table. Scully sniffed, looking down at the plates between them. She was considering whether to say out loud what she was thinking--what she sometimes pondered silently. "Your one in five billion?"

Mulder smiled. "Yeah, something like that."


It touched him, her saying that…her remembering his words to her; perhaps it meant she thought about other things that had happened that night too. He watched her take a bite full of omelet. He couldn't cook all that well, but he knew all the best take-out places. Watching her, he could tell that the sleepy irritation of a few moments earlier had been replaced by contentment—he had made her content, if only for a few minutes.

"If it makes you feel any better about your stakeout, I was almost drowned yesterday."

Scully swallowed: "drowned?"

"Mmm…drowned by Ellen Adderly in her bathtub. Held under like this," he said grasping his neck with both hands.

"The Adderlys…as in…nice couple Adderlys?"

"One and the same."

Scully shook her head.

"See, bath time can be dangerous, Scully. The bathroom is the most common room for household injury. Three hundred thirty people were killed in bathtub accidents in 1996."

Scully smirked: "Were they being shoved under the water?"

"I think more like deadly pratfalls."

"You always get yourself in trouble when I'm not there. You should be more careful," she said, pointing her spork at him.

"You can assist me in the bathtub any day," Mulder promised in his most earnest tone.

He was rewarded with a roll of her eyes.


"Come here," Mulder said, leaning forward over their two plastic containers and the discarded bag. He reached out his hand, lifting her chin with his index finger.

Scully sat more upright, gaining some distance from him. "Mulder…" she said his name in the tone of a warning.

He blithely ignored the warning. He shifted, regaining his position and lightly rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip. "Yeah?"

His mouth was inches away from hers and she could feel his breath.

"I…I haven't brushed my teeth."


Mulder grinned broadly. Her response struck him as a point scored for Mulder. "Scully…" he said, drawing out her name, "did you think I was going to kiss you? Who said anything about kissing?" he asked, coming a few centimeters closer.

He could see her face begin to blush, when he captured her mouth with his own, lacing his hands into her silky red mussed hair and applying gentle pressure to the back of her head. He pulled back, looking only briefly at her before returning to his plastic plate and omelet. She was wearing bright blue satin pajamas, and the blue brought out the crystal blue of her eyes. They were startled eyes at the moment, but he noted that she wasn't entirely displeased—otherwise he would have been escorted unceremoniously out the door already. He filed the way she looked and her reaction away in his mental Scully file. He could pull it out later at his leisure.