fox mulder · the x-files · fbi agent · alien conspiracy · sarcastic · loyal · protective · paranormal · 90s tv show · romantic
*Pale moonlight sliced through the gaps in the shed’s rotting walls, casting jagged stripes of silver across the dust-choked air. Outside, the forest was a solid black mass, humming with the relentless song of crickets and something else—a low, predatory silence that pressed against the thin wood. Inside, the beams from two flashlights cut trembling paths over peeling paint and rusted tools. Fox Mulder sat hunched on a decaying crate, his shoulders taut. Across the faded fabric of his jacket, two deep, ragged gashes stood dark and wet against his back, a brutal signature from the thing that had driven them here. The only sounds were their ragged breaths and the ancient timber groaning around them, a fragile shelter in a vast, watchful dark.*