Head Canon/AU Where Diana Doesn’t Die At The End Of Amor Fati And Mulder Is Forced To Choose.

Head canon/AU where Diana doesn’t die at the end of Amor Fati and Mulder is forced to choose.

1. Without the terrible news to give him, she doesn’t go to his apartment, so he finds her at work. “Mul-der,” she says in that way she has, and he is sheepish. His Yankee’s cap over the bandage is off kilter, so she straightens it gently and he smiles. Then he tells her about Albert Hosteen, and she frowns, doesn’t want to believe. She tells him about the keycard and book, something else she doesn’t want to believe. She feels lost. If Diana is really on their side, what chance does she have? What right does she have to think of him as hers? She cries because it is too much and she can’t help it, and he holds her to him and tells her about his visions. He tells her she is his constant, his touchstone, but the word she remembers most is “friend.” She touches his face, but she is too afraid to tell him how she feels, so she pulls away and says he should go home to bed.

2. Diana visits him at home later in the day. To check on him, she says, and to bring him lunch. He tells her he knows that she helped Scully, despite their differences; he thanks her. She smiles and runs her fingers through his hair. “I’d do anything for you,” she says. “I told you I loved you.” But he is troubled and uncomfortable. He’s never been good at dishing out rejection. Diana knows this. She pours herself a drink, hands him some warmed-up soup, and makes herself comfortable on his couch.

“I’m surprised your partner isn’t here,” she says.

He doesn’t answer. Scully has been there, off and on, for the past week, taking care of him. He is grateful for Diana’s help in saving his life, but he also remembers the reasons she was able to do so in the first place: her intimate connections with his enemies. Still. His head hurts and he doesn’t want to be cruel.

“Can I get you anything else?”

He shakes his head. “I think I need to rest.” He goes into his bedroom, hoping she’ll take the hint.

But she stays.

3. Wanting to be brave, thinking she might reveal what she couldn’t earlier and, failing bravery, wanting to reassure him of her friendship, Scully decides to bring him takeout for dinner. She calls to check on him before leaving work, but Diana’s voice answers the phone with a hushed “Hello?”

“Oh,” she says, surprised. “I was calling for Mulder.”

“Fox is sleeping.”

“Oh.” It’s all she can say, and an awkward silence plays out across the line. Finally, she adds, “Okay. Never mind,” and she hangs up. There is a strange ringing in her ears. She swallows hard and hears a click. She feels scooped hollow, and there seems a little less color in the world than there had been five minutes ago. She doesn’t stop to get dinner on her way home, even for herself. Feeling like a rebuffed lover, angry at herself for making things personal, for falling in love with him when she knew she shouldn’t, Scully sets down her briefcase and bends slowly to sit on her couch. She stares at her empty coffee table for a full five minutes before she begins to cry.

4. For the next week, Scully is distant and withdrawn. Mulder isn’t able to coax a real smile out of her, even with his best jokes. He tries so hard. Scully tries too, but she can’t make herself forget the sound of Fowley’s voice answering his phone, twice now. She zones out often, won’t make eye contact with him, steps back from his touch.

“Scully,” he finally says. “What’s going on?”

“I… Nothing. It’s fine.”

But he keeps looking at her—he knows it isn’t fine.

So she answers with a question. “Why does she get to call you Fox?”

“Who?”

“Diana.”

Oh. And he thinks he begins to understand. “When did she call me Fox?”

Scully gives him a look. “Always,” she says, then takes a deep breath. “And last week. I called you. I was going to bring dinner, but…”

“She answered the phone.”

Scully nods. And it finally, finally dawns on him.

5. She is on her couch in sweatpants and a t-shirt, glasses sliding down her nose, hair pulled back messy: reading, taking notes, “Free Bird” playing on the classic-rock station in the background. There’s a knock at her door that draws her reluctantly from the cushions. Mulder: jeans, gray tee, bag of take-out. His lower lip swells outward in an exaggerated pout as he lifts the greasy bag. “I’m sorry.”

She steps back to let him in. He sets the takeout on her table. “Sorry for what?” she asks.

“That I didn’t make it clear enough.”

“Make wha—“ she says as she turns, but she doesn’t finish because he’s kissing her. Scully’s hands go to his chest, first in surprise, and then in a desperate grip as she melts against him. His right hand curls in her messy hair while his other finds her hip and tugs so their bodies are held flush. She moans into his mouth and is lost, has never felt this way with another human being. He is kissing her like the world might end at any moment, and she thinks it just might. When they finally pull apart, her face is rosy with open desire and her lips are dark-wet from the sweet pressure of his.

“You’re forgiven,” she says.

The Anthology - Chapter 7: But Daddy I Love Him

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Steve looks up to see Maria’s typically collected expression overcome with incredulity, and from his seat in front of her desk, he can only shift in place. “I don't know how much clearer I can be, Maria,” he says, watching as his agent remains unfazed by his clipped tone. “She was drunk and in no condition to go home alone. It was the right thing to do. Anyone-”

"Anyone would have done it," Maria finishes for him. "That's what you were going to say, right?" He lifts his chin up, as if daring her to say what they both know she truly wants to. She scoffs. "Be that as it may, not just anyone would have stayed the night. And even worse, been stupid enough to get caught!"

“I didn’t realize whose couch I crashed on was anyone’s business but my own,” he volleys back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It is when it’s Natasha Romanoff’s couch,” Maria says, only to sigh at the dagger of a glare he sends her way. “For God’s sake, Steve, these pictures of you two are already tanking your follower count-”

“I don’t fucking care about my follower count!”

“Then what about future projects? Do you care about that?” Maria asks, undeterred. “Because just yesterday, I had a meeting booked with the studio to look into extending your three-picture deal. Today, they suddenly need to take a raincheck?” Maria shakes her head as she reaches for the tablet on her desk before handing it to him. “That’s not a coincidence, Steve. Not in light of all this... protest.”

“What are you talking about?” he says, his brows furrowing in confusion. Maria’s only response is to extend the tablet further out to him, and reluctantly, he takes the device to see the Twitter trending page pulled up on the screen, his name in bold font at the very top. An exasperated sigh falls from his lips as he taps on it. Call him old fashioned, but he had never come to understand the allure of an online presence. He had resisted building one for as long as he could, acquiescing only when the subject had become a sticking point in the new age of contract negotiations. Even then, he was only too happy to hand over the reins to Maria and her team. And as he skims through these responses now, he couldn’t be more thankful that he did.

“Jesus,” he says as he haphazardly drops the tablet back onto Maria’s desk, shaking his head as though the action will erase what he’s just seen. For those comments he’s just read – if they could still even be called that – are nothing short of vitriolic. How people could have the courage to release such vile things online, opining about matters they not only haven’t a scintilla of a clue about, but also absolutely no business casting judgment on, he couldn’t comprehend. “Where was all this outrage when I put my hands on that pap?”

Maria’s expression softens a touch at that, her silence a resounding confirmation of what he already knows. “Steve, I know you… care for her,” Maria carefully begins a beat later. “But, rightly or wrongly, they’ve already decided who and what she is. Don’t let her drag you down with her.”

A cold, humorless chuckle falls from his lips. “How is it that the person who’s supposedly dragging me down is the only one that actually lets me breathe around here?” Now more than ever, he could see it. The way people conflated him with the paragon of virtue that was Captain America, a mere character he plays. He gestures towards the tablet. “Am I even an actual person to these people, Maria?” He shakes his head. “And I’m just supposed to believe that all of this is just, what? Because they care about me?”

His hands curl into fists at the very thought, and before him, Maria can only press her lips into a line. For the reality is bleak. These strangers pontificating about their disappointment in his choices are the same ones who claim, adamantly, to have his best interests at heart. It didn’t matter that what they ask of him, what they feel ever so entitled to implore him to do, is the one thing that will break him. They’ve already set the rules, the price of his defiance already outlined – live up to the perfect, impossible image that they’ve built of him in their minds or be at their perceived mercy.

To hell with that.

The response comes to him instantaneously. For it's all clear to him now. In the end, it doesn’t matter. None of it does. Nothing about what the sanctimonious, faceless keyboard warriors say online changes the fact that he’s never been happier than when he’s with Natasha. It doesn’t diminish the joy he feels when he hears her laugh or when her verdant eyes are the first thing he sees when he opens his. Or the spark that rushes through his veins, making him feel more alive than he’s ever felt, when he has her hand in his. And, above all else, it won't make him forget that it wasn't until he had her in his arms, the both of them sprawled out in comfortable silence on her couch this morning, that he finally felt whole for the first time in weeks.

There isn't anything in the world that could hold a candle to any of that. He isn’t going to let there be – no matter what it costs him.

He rises from his seat, watching as a knowing yet still apprehensive look crosses Maria’s face. She sighs. “Steve.”

“It’s my life, Maria,” he says, squaring his shoulders. “My choices are just that, mine. And I choose her.”

Chapter 6 | Chapter 8 (Coming Soon)

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julie4eva

1 year ago

Natasha Romanoff (+ Smiling At Steve In Catws) | For @catws-anniversary ♡

natasha romanoff (+ smiling at steve in catws) | for @catws-anniversary ♡

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julie4eva

3 years ago

danvotchka:

Blimey!

A slightly over spun Dame Julie.

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julie4eva

8 months ago

Easy To Impress (To My Patrons: Yes I Change It! Hope You Like It More This Way Lol, This Was Posted

Easy to Impress (To my Patrons: Yes I change it! Hope you like it more this way lol, this was posted two weeks ago on Patreon, thanks for your support!) And I hope you guys don’t kill me because of the lightsaber

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julie4eva

1 month ago

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julie4eva

10 months ago

🥹🥹🥹

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julie4eva

11 months ago

Also, if this interview shows one thing it’s that Joe literally until this day doesn’t see that she was deeply unhappy in this relationship and that’s the sad thing about it

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julie4eva

1 year ago