Deputy Director Kersh’s ears were moving in time with his jaw as his mouth opened and closed in furious speech. Skinner gazed at the sight, transfixed. He had stopped listening some time ago – Kersh was always perpetually angry anyway. At least this time Skinner wasn’t the object of his ire – that misfortune belonged to Agent John Doggett, who was taking the unjustified chewing out much better than Skinner would have done in his position. Skinner had the strangest sense of deja vu. Today was the first anniversary of Mulder’s abduction.

(sk/M)

It isn't easy being a sci-fi dad these days...

(Humour. Implied Angel/Mulder)

The Feds and the Baltimore Poh-leece find out the hard way that X files were never meant to go to trial.

(Mulder/Other|Scully/Other)

Mulder finds himself out of his element without Scully by his
side and mired in an uphill battle with Detective Tim Bayliss trying
to solve series of murders the FBI has been tracking for 63 years.

(Mulder/Other)

Mulder and Scully are called in to help
"The Prince Charming Killer" task force solve a
series of unusual murders spanning from Baltimore
to Indianapolis; bringing them in contact with
Detectives Tim Bayliss and Frank Pembleton once
again.

(Mulder/Other)

A copycat is stalking Baltimore, and it's up to Mulder, Scully, Pembleton and Bayliss to stop her.

(Mulder/Other)

Tragedy brings Mulder to reconsider his actions.

(Mulder/Other)

For Lisby

Skinner paused, fighting for breath, his chest rising and falling in heaving gasps. He glanced up, searching the dark sky for his silent enemy. He heard a noise, saw the faintest glimmer of a light above, and somehow found the strength to change direction and run again, ignoring the sharp stabbing pain in his side. 

For Lisby

Skinner paused, fighting for breath, his chest rising and falling in heaving gasps. He glanced up, searching the dark sky for his silent enemy. He heard a noise, saw the faintest glimmer of a light above, and somehow found the strength to change direction and run again, ignoring the sharp stabbing pain in his side.

This story is for the Persuaders.

Mulder stretched lazily and rolled over onto his stomach, revelling in the feeling of space...

(SK/M)

"Walter…?"

"Hmm?"

"How old were you when you lost your hair?" Mulder balanced himself on one elbow, and gazed at his lover.

(SK/M)

Skinner ran his hand across the surface of the headstone, the granite edge cold and rough contrasted with the smooth polished surface of the front. He refused to read the words beyond the name.

(SK/M)

As Walter Skinner cares for an injured Mulder, he learns how to deal with a skittish heart.

(SK/M)

Looks like you’re out of luck." He gave a sinister little laugh, like a bad James Bond villain, then drew his arm back and punched his fist straight into Mulder’s stomach. A wave of nausea passed through the agent and he retched.

(SK/M)

What is the first thing you should do upon being released from a psychiatric ward after being held in restraints and menaced by monsters?

(SK/M)

This is pretty silly. I was in the mood for fluffy, and I've done a few 'first times', but not many 'in a relationship' stories.

(SK/M)

Today they drag you from your cell and take you to the torture
room as usual. Their jaws are slick and hungry, secreting slime so
thick it trails over the floor, making you retch from the stink of
it. They rub their long, sharp, shining mandibles together with a
mocking, rasping sound, as if in anticipation of your pain.

(SK/K)

Skinner tramped wearily through the huge banks of snow, briefcase in one hand, the other hand outstretched to stop himself falling on the treacherously icy sidewalk. Large snowflakes danced around his head dizzyingly, spinning and twirling as if in time to some great unseen, cosmic orchestra. Skinner brushed several large mounds of slush from the back of his collar where they were making his neck wet, and half-walked, half-slid towards his apartment building, brooding on the fact that the concept of a white Christmas.

(SK/M)

Skinner and Mulder have a discussion about kisses and struggle to better understand inexplicable relationships.

(SK/M)

It was dark. He woke with a scream on his lips, and a vision of a face in his mind - a face that haunted him, and tore at his conscience. Dark, familiar eyes that should have been full of love, were instead consumed by hurt and hate, and the full force of that loathing was turned on him. He opened his mouth to scream, only to find that the words had been torn from him. His wordless scream turned into frenzied activity. He fought to be free, to return to where he belonged, his arms and legs scissoring desperately…

(SK/K)