Domestic Agents

by Darcy Farrow Williamson

Classification: MSR, RST
Keywords: Mulder/Scully Married
Rating: R
Spoilers: Slight spoilers from Detour and FTF
Summary: Eight years after Mulder and Scully become romantically involved, Scully describes their life together.
Archive: Please ask me first.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein are not my property. They are the property of Fox and 1013.
Feedback: Please send feedback to farrow1013@yahoo.com. Any comments appreciated.

Domestic Agents

It wasn't that the quest had so much ended for them
But rather that they had ended it for themselves
It wasn't that they no longer cared or that they had given up hope of ever finding their truth
but perhaps on that particular hour of that particular day they'd stopped
Just for an instant
And looked at themselves and looked at each other
And for the first time they didn't understand their question
And they asked themselves why they'd never noticed the person standing right in front of them and if that person was worth giving up their answer for
Dear God
She could still smell their sweat soaking into the leather which burned and stuck to her bare back
He's whispered her name
Once
And she'd sunk wordlessly into him
Unable to ignore the overwhelming desire they'd kept bottled up for so long they now clung to each other with a fierce passion they could no longer deny
He'd instigated their entire encounter
She'd let him
She'd allowed him to pull her down with him
Allowed him to continually press his mouth to hers as he slowly undressed and caressed her
And on a plain black sofa where they'd both spent numerous hours as fellow travelers seeking a truth
She'd allowed him to make love to her for the first time
That had been eight years ago
the sofa still stood in her husband's office
A room behind the stairs of their quaint two-story home
The office gave her a bittersweet feeling
Its walls papered with yellowed articles depicting alien abductions, UFO sightings, and vast global conspiracies
the cluttered desk was much the same save for a single picture frame divided into two halves
Each containing the photo of a dark haired little girl
The first was of a sister-in-law she'd never know
The second was of their daughter, Samantha
An undeniable miracle she'd long ago ceased to question for fear God would steal her away as well
Over the years both her husband and her daughter had taught her to accept the possibility of unexplained phenomena
She didn't work in the field with her husband anymore
A pastime she genuinely cherished
She'd given up her entire career eight years ago to love and care for a creature she never dreamt possible
Even her husband was more grounded
Always home at a decent hour and trying never to bring his work home with him
On evenings such as these he would often tease her as she made dinner or play outside with their daughter
She'd watch them through the window, waving on occasion
The way he was with her
The way he adored the very idea of her
The way she squealed with delight at his mere presence
The way his face lit up around her
The way he made her tiny world perfect and safe
And as much as she loved watching them she loved calling them in for dinner
Her daughter would run in ahead of her husband
Bounding into the kitchen and wrapping herself tightly around her mother's legs
Gazing up at her with crystal blue eyes and saying I love you, Mommy
At this she would hoist her daughter high in her arms
Planting a kiss on her forehead and repeating the same
Her husband would enter the kitchen then
A smile playing on his lips
He would kiss her softly on the mouth
Telling her that dinner, not to mention herself, smelled great
These were the good days
The days she liked best
She often wondered whether her husband was truly happy
Or if he still longed to be chasing after moth men or phantom tanker trucks
Deep down she knew he missed it
She often times missed it herself
But all she had to do was look at their daughter to know they had not made a mistake
And she truly believed her husband felt the same when on their daughter's eighth birthday he'd removed the gold cross from around her own neck and placed it around their daughter's
She'd silently complied and viewed it in full understanding as an act of protection
Still she couldn't help wondering if her husband still longed for an answer to a question they no longer seeked to find
They did not speak about this as they did not speak about most things that had guided them to their lives today
About these things they communicated in silence
A silent understanding between them both
Silence between them usually happened at night when silence seemed appropriate enough
She would take their daughter to bed with her early
Her husband came to bed later, if he came at all
On these nights he would tip toe quietly into their bedroom and gently lift their still daughter from the bed
Carrying her to her own room
He never woke her
After tucking their daughter in he'd sneak back to their bedroom
Undressing silently and easing carefully into bed beside her
Believing her to be asleep as well
If she was awake she would roll over to rest her head on his shoulder
He'd feign surprise and say I thought you were sleeping
I waited for you would be her reply
These nights they would make love or talk softly into the wee hours of morning
She dreaded the nights he didn't come and she knew to where he'd retired instead
She knew its worn rugged smell and she knew she would find him upon it
These were silent nights
Most of these nights she'd leave him alone
Snuggling closer to her daughter
Believing he needed space and time
Only on nights when she thought her heart might burst without him would she allow herself to descend the staircase
His office door would be closed and she would knock softly
Entering anyway as she did so
Some nights he would be sitting in the dark staring at nothing
These nights neither one spoke
But he would stand and follow her out the door and up the stairs
Some nights she would find him clutching the picture frame
Tears streaming down his cheeks
These nights she would gently take the frame from him
Replacing it on the desk
She would curl up on his lap and hold him while he cried
He never pushed her away
some nights he would fall asleep
The television softly tuned to a channel he would never watch in her presence
This always gave her a wan smile and she'd flick off the set
His eyes would flutter open and he'd gaze sheepishly up at her
Asking the time
She'd answer
Chiding him and sitting down to take his hand
Are you coming to bed she'd ask
Course he'd say
Sitting up to kiss her hand
He'd then allow her to lead him by the hand
But at the bottom of the stairs he'd pause and then say her name
She'd be two stairs above him
Making her his height
And she'd turn to face him
Looking him directly in the eye
Now he would take her other hand
Gripping them both tightly in his own
I have no regrets he would tell her
Meaning it
I know this she would whisper
Slightly stung but still kissing his forehead
Do you know how much I love you he would ask her
Show me she'd boldly answer
Allowing him to lift her into his arms and carry her up the staircase
These were the nights she longed for
when she did not have the slightest doubt in her being about their love
And she felt
Along with him
That the answer they had so been seeking
Had perhaps been the one they need never have questioned.

--Darcy Farrow Williamson
28 April 1999


Domestic Agents by Darcy Farrow Williamson Classification: MSR, RST Keywords: Mulder/Scully Married Rating: R Spoilers: Slight spoilers from Detour and FTF Summary: Eight years after Mulder and Scully become romantically involved, Scully describes their life together. Archive: Please ask me first. Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein are not my property. They are the property of Fox and 1013. Feedback: Please send feedback to farrow1013@yahoo.com. Any comments appreciated. Domestic Agents It wasn't that the quest had so much ended for them But rather that they had ended it for themselves It wasn't that they no longer cared or that they had given up hope of ever finding their truth but perhaps on that particular hour of that particular day they'd stopped Just for an instant And looked at themselves and looked at each other And for the first time they didn't understand their question And they asked themselves why they'd never noticed the person standing right in front of them and if that person was worth giving up their answer for Dear God She could still smell their sweat soaking into the leather which burned and stuck to her bare back He's whispered her name Once And she'd sunk wordlessly into him Unable to ignore the overwhelming desire they'd kept bottled up for so long they now clung to each other with a fierce passion they could no longer deny He'd instigated their entire encounter She'd let him She'd allowed him to pull her down with him Allowed him to continually press his mouth to hers as he slowly undressed and caressed her And on a plain black sofa where they'd both spent numerous hours as fellow travelers seeking a truth She'd allowed him to make love to her for the first time That had been eight years ago the sofa still stood in her husband's office A room behind the stairs of their quaint two-story home The office gave her a bittersweet feeling Its walls papered with yellowed articles depicting alien abductions, UFO sightings, and vast global conspiracies the cluttered desk was much the same save for a single picture frame divided into two halves Each containing the photo of a dark haired little girl The first was of a sister-in-law she'd never know The second was of their daughter, Samantha An undeniable miracle she'd long ago ceased to question for fear God would steal her away as well Over the years both her husband and her daughter had taught her to accept the possibility of unexplained phenomena She didn't work in the field with her husband anymore A pastime she genuinely cherished She'd given up her entire career eight years ago to love and care for a creature she never dreamt possible Even her husband was more grounded Always home at a decent hour and trying never to bring his work home with him On evenings such as these he would often tease her as she made dinner or play outside with their daughter She'd watch them through the window, waving on occasion The way he was with her The way he adored the very idea of her The way she squealed with delight at his mere presence The way his face lit up around her The way he made her tiny world perfect and safe And as much as she loved watching them she loved calling them in for dinner Her daughter would run in ahead of her husband Bounding into the kitchen and wrapping herself tightly around her mother's legs Gazing up at her with crystal blue eyes and saying I love you, Mommy At this she would hoist her daughter high in her arms Planting a kiss on her forehead and repeating the same Her husband would enter the kitchen then A smile playing on his lips He would kiss her softly on the mouth Telling her that dinner, not to mention herself, smelled great These were the good days The days she liked best She often wondered whether her husband was truly happy Or if he still longed to be chasing after moth men or phantom tanker trucks Deep down she knew he missed it She often times missed it herself But all she had to do was look at their daughter to know they had not made a mistake And she truly believed her husband felt the same when on their daughter's eighth birthday he'd removed the gold cross from around her own neck and placed it around their daughter's She'd silently complied and viewed it in full understanding as an act of protection Still she couldn't help wondering if her husband still longed for an answer to a question they no longer seeked to find They did not speak about this as they did not speak about most things that had guided them to their lives today About these things they communicated in silence A silent understanding between them both Silence between them usually happened at night when silence seemed appropriate enough She would take their daughter to bed with her early Her husband came to bed later, if he came at all On these nights he would tip toe quietly into their bedroom and gently lift their still daughter from the bed Carrying her to her own room He never woke her After tucking their daughter in he'd sneak back to their bedroom Undressing silently and easing carefully into bed beside her Believing her to be asleep as well If she was awake she would roll over to rest her head on his shoulder He'd feign surprise and say I thought you were sleeping I waited for you would be her reply These nights they would make love or talk softly into the wee hours of morning She dreaded the nights he didn't come and she knew to where he'd retired instead She knew its worn rugged smell and she knew she would find him upon it These were silent nights Most of these nights she'd leave him alone Snuggling closer to her daughter Believing he needed space and time Only on nights when she thought her heart might burst without him would she allow herself to descend the staircase His office door would be closed and she would knock softly Entering anyway as she did so Some nights he would be sitting in the dark staring at nothing These nights neither one spoke But he would stand and follow her out the door and up the stairs Some nights she would find him clutching the picture frame Tears streaming down his cheeks These nights she would gently take the frame from him Replacing it on the desk She would curl up on his lap and hold him while he cried He never pushed her away some nights he would fall asleep The television softly tuned to a channel he would never watch in her presence This always gave her a wan smile and she'd flick off the set His eyes would flutter open and he'd gaze sheepishly up at her Asking the time She'd answer Chiding him and sitting down to take his hand Are you coming to bed she'd ask Course he'd say Sitting up to kiss her hand He'd then allow her to lead him by the hand But at the bottom of the stairs he'd pause and then say her name She'd be two stairs above him Making her his height And she'd turn to face him Looking him directly in the eye Now he would take her other hand Gripping them both tightly in his own I have no regrets he would tell her Meaning it I know this she would whisper Slightly stung but still kissing his forehead Do you know how much I love you he would ask her Show me she'd boldly answer Allowing him to lift her into his arms and carry her up the staircase These were the nights she longed for when she did not have the slightest doubt in her being about their love And she felt Along with him That the answer they had so been seeking Had perhaps been the one they need never have questioned. --Darcy Farrow Williamson 28 April 1999


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