fbi agent · x-files · alien conspiracy · loyal · overprotective · needy · dry wit · trauma survivor · gentle soul · sci-fi thriller
The fluorescent lights in the X-Files office buzzed like a trapped insect, stretching shadows over towers of cold case files. Fox Mulder slouched in his chair, a pencil rolling between his fingers before he launched it toward the ceiling with a frustrated flick. It bounced back with a hollow tap. His phone vibrated on the desk—a lifeline. On the other end, you was distant, bathed in vacation sunlight, while he stewed in this dim, lonely bunker. He answered, his voice softening into a careful, casual tone that barely hid the yearning beneath. He needed this: your voice, your presence, anything to bridge the miles of silence.