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Birthday Surprises

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Title: Birthday Surprises

Author: Sara B.


Feedback: Greatly appreciated including constructive criticisms 

Spoilers: None

Category: MSR - Pure Mind Candy

Rating: Good for all ages          

Summary: Mulder’s birthday, hangovers and surprises.

Disclaimer:  The recognized characters in this story belong to C.  Carter and Co., Fox and the wonderful actors who breathed life into

written words, most notably G. Anderson and D. Duchovny who were able to make us believe in the improbable.  The story belongs to me.

Gratitude: To Kim Knight, my ‘sort of’ child.  We have never met but we share too many interests not to be related somehow.  Thank you girl.  Dennis for just about everything.  To CC and Company, who created the X-Files.  Lastly to the readers who will hopefully enjoy this.

Archive: I’d be honored.  Please keep my name attached and let me know where it will be.  Thank you.

Author Notes: This story is dedicated to Lee who has been having a hard time lately and needed a little cheer.  The premise of this story came from how my husband celebrated my fortieth.

Birthday Surprises

Sara B. November


2004 Mulder woke at the crack of noon to the sounds of a car alarm outside his window.  The Gunmen had taken him out the night before to ‘celebrate’ and he was feeling the pain.  He wasn’t sure how he had gotten to bed and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 


He stretched and even his hair ached.  His tongue felt like it shouldn’t even fit in his mouth.  His only saving grace was that it was Saturday and he didn’t have to work.  Scully was cooking him a Birthday dinner at her place tonight so he had enough time to get his wits together.  Someone had taken pity on him and placed two Tylenol and some water on the bedside table. 


This was going to be a hell of a birthday.


He made it to the bathroom, relieved himself then took a long hot shower.  His head cleared with each pelt of the water.  It was while he was drying off that he saw it.  Tucked into the corner of the bathroom mirror was a tiny birthday card.  Inside, written in Scully’s distinct hand, ‘Happy Birthday Mulder, Scully.’ Near the bottom she added ‘1 of 12, get hunting Mulder.’  He smiled, eleven more to go.


Mulder opened his underwear drawer and there on top was another one, and so it went.  There was one on the pillow on the side of the bed he didn’t use.  Another in front of his fish food, one stuck to his remote.  In the kitchen she’d left one in the coffee container, one on the faucet and one in the coffee carafe.  He found one in his left sneaker.  Number’s ten and eleven were in his leather coat and stuck to his keys respectively.  That was all he could find, eleven.  He tore his apartment apart searching for the elusive number twelve.  His place hadn’t been so clean in years but still the damned card remained lost.  Mulder was completely frustrated.


A look at the time showed him that he needed to get ready to go to Scully’s.  After his exertions he was in a serious need of another shower.  Forty five minutes later he’d cleaned up and was dressed and on his way to Scully’s with his booty of cards in tow.


Mulder arrived at Scully’s at six on the dot.  She answered the door and gave him a huge hug and a tender birthday kiss. “How’s the birthday boy after last night?”  His nostrils detected a delicious aroma coming from the kitchen.  He saw the table was set with her best china.


Mulder laughed “better than this morning and,” he held out the pile of cards, “much better because of your gift.  Thanks Scully, not only did I get all these great cards I cleaned my apartment without even realizing it.”


“Aha, I see my plan worked.  So did you find them all?”


“Not quite I only found eleven.”


“So you still have some work to do.  Come on dinner is ready.  Go sit and I’ll bring everything out and no I don’t need you to help.  Tonight you are to just relax and enjoy.”


Ten minutes later they were tucking into his favorites; medium rare steak, baked potatoes (real butter and sour cream) and because she couldn’t help herself, Scully had made a broccoli and cheese salad but she didn’t nag at him.  He had some anyway.  Their conversation was light and not once did work even get mentioned.


She shooed him to the living room while she cleaned up.  Fifteen minutes later she came in tonelessly singing Happy Birthday and carrying a beautiful pale yellow iced cake with one candle on top.  She placed the cake down on the table in front of him.  “Hold on a minute and I’ll get the coffee and plates.”  She started back toward the kitchen.  “You wouldn’t tell me your favorite cake so you have to settle for my favorite, lemon chiffon.”  When she returned under the tray holding, the coffee, plates and utensils was a gaily wrapped package.


On the top of the package was a card marked ‘12 of 12.’  “Scully!  Do you know how nuts I was trying to find this?”


“Your welcome Mulder, now open your present.  And don’t you dare say I shouldn’t have.”


Mulder tore into the wrapping to find a scrapbook.  Inside were pictures of the two of them at various stages of their partnership.  There were newspaper clippings, snapshots and a formal portrait of the two of them from a lecture they gave at a conference on the paranormal.  With each of the news articles she’d written informal notes.  His feelings deepened with each page turned.  This was not a gift.  No, this was a piece of Scully and she was the gift.


He closed the book and pulled her to him.  “Thank you Scully.”  Tears were threatening.


“Cut the cake Mulder.  I’m in the mood for a sugar rush.”


Mulder cut the cake and she dished it out.  “Oh Mulder, in case you haven’t been paying attention, I love you.”


Mulder was reminded of something from somewhere.  ‘Love doesn’t come in with trumpets.  It was a quiet thing.’   “I love you too Scully.”  He leaned over and captured her lips. 


This was a hell of a birthday!



Sara B.

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