SEASON 1

SEASON 2

SEASON 3

SEASON 4

SEASON 5

FIGHT THE FUTURE

SEASON 6

SEASON 7

SEASON 8

SEASON 9

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Casa de Mulder. Morris enters with grocery bags in hand. He notes with some disdain that there’s no bedroom. Wouldn’t he have realized that when he was romancin’ the Bottle Blond in the first half? Or did they, gasp, do it on Mulder’s sofa de lurve, star of numerous “first time” fanfic lovemaking sessions? Cause, ew. He pulls out some candles and opens a nearby door which, if I recall correctly, wasn’t always there. Inside, he finds boxes piled high (X-Files, I assume… perhaps the ones he saved from the fire, or the really good ones that he didn’t want Spender and The Fowl One to get their mitts on), and soft core porn magazines. He comments that Mulder hasn’t been laid in ten years, but to that I say two things. 1. It’s actually more like four, and 2. In another year or so, he’s going to be making up for that long draught with a certain brainy redhead that we all know and love. So, nyah.

Back at The House of Fletcher, Mulder pulls up to find all of “his” things piled up in the middle of the driveway. A nondescript sedan follows him, but pulls over a couple blocks away. Mark Snow’s Piano Keys of Curiosity play in the background as Kris comes out of the house sportin’ a spankin’ new nose ring. Mulder, trying to play the cool dad, tells her he likes it and touches it gently. She jerks back. Oh, you baby. That didn’t hurt. She hops into the minivan to fume at the sheer unfairness of having this dorkface for a father. Even if he isn’t really her father. Not that she knows this. Terry comes out soon after, informing Mulder that his mother is taking a restraining order out on him. What’s that saying? Ain’t no woman like a woman scorned? Or something? Whatever; she’s pissed. Terry hops into the minivan and Kris pulls out erratically, in that defensive sixteen year old driver kinda way. Mulder heads inside to spy on the sedan that’s not doing a very good job of being sneaky, as Joanne comes up behind him to bitch him out some more. God, does she have a volume button? Or at least a… um, de-screetchifying one? She’s upset that he’s there and tells him to leave. He tries to explain to her the whole story, that he’s not really Morris, that he’s Mulder, and Scully’s his partner. Maybe he should partner up with Joanne, because she seems to be having more trouble with this whole thing than Scully did. She calls Scully “Special Tramp Dana Scully” which is hilarious, though totally not who she is. Except for that one time when she almost had the affair with her med school teacher. But she wouldn’t have been a special anything at that time, so never mind.

So, he’s trying to explain that he just wants to get back into his body so her husband can get back in this one, but she just thinks he’s being all metaphory and tells him that men who have a midlife crisis don’t go around calling themselves “Fox”, they get a sports car. Which is odd because my dad made us all call him Fox for six months after his 50th birthday. Just kidding. Mulder shows her the not-so-secret car outside and explains that they’re after him and if something happens to him then something happens to her husband. She still doesn’t believe him, though, and tells him that she can’t blame him for not liking who he’s become, but “this flight from reality isn’t the answer.” Whatever, Screechy McScreechinstein.

Hee. It’s the awesome scene. Okay, so Scully shows up at Mulder’s for that home cooked meal, and Morris answers the door with a stupid grin and an even stupider “something smells good”–emblazoned apron. She enters, taking in the candles, the mood lighting, the <gasp> cleanliness, and immediately dropkicks him. “You’re not fooling me again, you shape shifting, smooth-talking, tail-having asshole!” No, not really. She’s wary, though, as he removes her coat and hangs it up. He snarks that he (meaning Mulder) is too old to live like a frat boy (ironically, Mulder doesn’t strike me as a frat kinda guy, especially since I doubt they have fraternities at Oxford. Maybe he’s making up for lost time.)(Hee! Lost time!) He gives her a mini tour of the apartment, paying particular attention to the now-spotless bedroom. Y’know, the one with the leopard-print bedspread and convenient handcuff bar. Morris invites her to have a seat at the foot of the bed. She refuses, smiling this incredibly brilliant ScullySmile, but he playfully grabs her arm and pulls her over. I would have LOVED to see this scene from her POV, with Duchovny being all hot and seductive. But, alas, Chris Carter probably thought that we saw enough of that in Small Potatoes. What he doesn’t get, though, is that we can never see enough of Seductive!Mulder, especially if it’s Scully he’s trying to seduce. Oh, and the bed? It is of water. Of course. They fall back on the bed and ride the wave as Scully exclaims, “Oh!”, and we see a bit of her point of view through the mirror above the bed. Nice. Mulder and Scully in bed, and I can’t help but notice his shirt has ridden up just a little, revealing a small patch of yummy skin. What? Oh. Focus! Okay, she seems to be admiring him, too, and we hear Mulder – in actual Mulder voice – remark that maybe he likes to read the New York Times backwards. Hee. He asks her if she hates it, and she gets this wistful look on her face, like, “Oh, if only you weren’t some kind of nefarious non-Mulder, because I’d totally jump you right now,” and tells him that she doesn’t hate it. Morris hops back up and heads to the kitchen, where he’s got champagne chilling and flutes, um, chillin’. He carries them back into the bedroom while singing Barry White’s “Let’s Get It On,” but I can’t help but be reminded of the blooper in which the camera bumps into something and they all start laughing. Ah, good times.

After what would normally be commercials, we fade in on Morris and Scully sitting on the bed, laughing and getting ready to drink the champagne. She’s not really falling for this, is she? The alcohol, the amiable demeanor, the lack of desire to chase aliens… it all adds up to something not quite right. Oh, man, she’s flirting back! She asks, “Do you know what would really be fun?” and whips out a pair of handcuffs. This girl’s got a kinky side. Or she’s on to him. But given her past behavior… it could really go either way. Morris smiles, volunteering to go first. He snaps one cuff on his wrist and the other on the convenient handcuff bar. Oh, I guess it could be a head post/board thing, too. He looks at her in anticipation, which suddenly turns to terror as he finds her pointing her gun at him. Yay! She totally got it! I always believed in you, Scully! She’s all, “Where’s my touchstone, bitch?” (that touchstone thing never gets old). Then there’s this tasteless joke in which the champagne bottle pops while he’s holding it between his legs, and then he whines, “Baby…” She growls, “Baby me and you’ll be peeing through a catheter.” She surely knows. She can install them. You know, the whole medical doctor thing. So, he caves, talking about how he doesn’t know how to switch them back and that he dislikes his wife, his kids, his mortgage and his job. Oh, boo hoo, Man in Black. At least you didn’t get kidnapped by the government, made barren, given cancer, gotten cured, been thrown down numerous sets of stairs, and ultimately has the love of her life abducted and returned dead, only to be raised three months later after she’s discovered to be mysteriously pregnant. No one’s life’s a picnic, okay? That’s all I’m sayin’.