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Invisible String

Summary:

Simple as the Title: this is the story of every invisible string that bound Mulder and Scully - and How It Became My Own.
(Taylor Swift references)

Notes:

Hi! As always, I feel the need to mention that English isn’t my first language.
I’ve written here before, but something about it has always bothered me—especially because I’m a college scientist, and my words didn’t feel as impactful as I wanted them to be.
This might take a little time, but I know it’ll be worth it!

Chapter 1: Preface

Chapter Text

It all happened once.

Maybe it was because she was afraid of dying after her diagnosis, clinging to a façade of strength while quietly unraveling.


Or maybe it was because she wanted to feel alive after her treatment, desperate to reclaim a piece of herself lost along the way.

Maybe it was because she loved him.

She called Mulder one evening, her voice soft, almost hesitant. She asked if he wanted to come over and watch a movie. It was a simple invitation, nothing out of the ordinary, but the weight behind it felt monumental to her.


He showed up, as he always did, carrying a bag of her favorite snacks and that easy smile that made her feel safe. She was tired—so tired—from the effects of her medication, her body heavy with fatigue. Mulder noticed immediately and made her sit while he fussed over her, rearranging cushions, fetching water, ensuring she was comfortable. Just like he did at the hospital.


For the first time in a long time, she felt warm. Relaxed. Cared for.
And then, for once—just once—she let herself want.

Scully tilted her head, watching him as he settled beside her. His presence was grounding, his proximity electric. The words left her lips before she could stop them.


“Mulder, please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I feel so alone. Every night, I’m afraid it’ll be my last.”


He turned to her, startled by the vulnerability in her voice. He started to speak, to offer comfort, but before he could, she leaned in.


And then, her lips were on his. Soft. Searching.

It led somewhere else.

He didn’t rush her, didn’t push. Mulder was gentle, his hands brushing her face, her hair, as if she might break under his touch. That night, he showed her nothing but tenderness, cradling her as if she were the most precious thing in his world.

It felt like a dream.

He said the most beautiful things to her—words she didn’t think she deserved but couldn’t help but cling to. He made her feel seen, whole, even when her body betrayed her.


But more than that, he made her feel loved.

Until that morning, when she asked him to pretend nothing happened.