st. clair michigan


Gray mount, dome-topped. Women in salt-packing room filling and stitching shut bags of salt. Printed on front of stereocard: “22013–Filling bags of salt, St. Clair, Mich. Keystone View Company, manufacturers, publishers, copyrighted, made in U.S.A., Meadville, Pa., New York, N.Y., Portland, Oregon, London, Eng., Sydney, Aus.” Printed on back is lengthy description of photograph. Date unknown.

  • Courtesy of the Burton Historical Collection, Detroit Public Library

Jean Baptiste Point du Sable is regarded as the first permanent resident of what became Chicago, Illinois. Little is known of his life prior to the 1770s. In 1779, he was living on the site of present-day Michigan City, Indiana, when he was arrested by the British military on suspicion of being an American sympathizer in the American Revolutionary War. In the early 1780s he worked for the British lieutenant-governor of Michilimackinac on an estate at what is now the city of St. Clair, Michigan, before moving to settle at the mouth of the Chicago River. He is first recorded living in Chicago in early 1790, having apparently become established sometime earlier. He sold his property in Chicago in 1800 and moved to St. Charles, Missouri, where he died in 1818 🇭🇹

Without You (Fic)

Title: Without You

Author: CuminSpice

Summary: Scully has a graveside chat with Mulder

Pairing: Mulder/Scully (X-Files)

Rating: E for Everyone! (Everyone that hates joy that is)

Timeline: In the middle of DeadAlive… during that “3 months later” period that CC felt did not need to be explored in any way. So there’s mini-spoilers for everything leading up to it.

Notes: Thanks to dashakay for her amazing beta skills and encouragement. And much love to im-inthemiddle for her nonstop encouragement as I shove half-baked stories into her inbox at all hours of the night!


Scully drove through the cemetery gates and made her way along the winding lane. It was deserted today, no burials or visitors. Too cold, she suspected. The light snow from the night before had blanketed the hills. She pulled over and stepped out of the car, grabbing the small gift off the passenger seat. Holding it tightly in her gloved fist, she slipped through the marked plots until she reached her destination.

She lightly touched the top of the headstone, and then traced her fingers across the raised granite letters. M-U-L-D-E-R.

“Mulder it’s me,” Scully said quietly.

“I know it doesn’t make any sense to drive all this way to talk to you. It’s not as though I expect a response from your headstone, or that my words could raise your spirit. I could just as easily have had this conversation in my apartment. It’s certainly warmer in there,” she said with a shiver.

“But I feel closer to you here. I’m sure you’d have an explanation as to why.”

She paused, burying her chin into her black overcoat as a gust of cold wind blew past her.

“The baby kicked yesterday,” she said. “I was in a meeting with Skinner. All I wanted to do was grab your hand and put it on my belly, so you could feel it too. Instead, it was Agent Doggett who did the honors.”

Scully rubbed her belly gently through her coat, feeling that flutter again.

“You’d like Agent Doggett. Eventually. I didn’t at first, either. I told you that. But he’s good. He’s smart; he’s on our side. Don’t hold his friendship with Kersh against him. He didn’t know. He didn’t know a lot of things. But he’s learning. And he watches my back. Well, he did, when I was still out in the field. But now I’m on desk duty. Not even autopsies. I was on my feet too much and my obstetrician was worried. I wanted to fight it, but I knew she was right. The last autopsy I did left me with swollen feet for a day and a half. Your caveman sensibilities will be happy to hear that I’m listening to my doctors, I’m sure.

“I think you’d be a caveman about a lot of things during this pregnancy. I imagine you’d be reading every book out there on fetal development, tracking the size of the fetus – it’s the size of a head of lettuce now. Checking my diet, my sleep patterns, my stress levels.”

She imagined him generally driving her insane until she threatened to throw him out, and then making it up to her with a foot rub and a cup of tea. He would have brought her a selection from the dozen boxes in her cabinet, grumbling good-naturedly about how she should finish a box before buying a new variety. After she’d made her selection, the unused options would have sat in a jumbled pile on the counter because he wouldn’t have remembered which box each tea bag had come from. She blinked back tears and cleared her throat before continuing.

“I still haven’t been back to your place, not even to feed your fish.” The last time she had set foot in his apartment was to select the clothing for his burial. After handing the funeral director the last suit she’d ever see Mulder wear, she’d driven home, still smelling Mulder’s cologne on her hands.

“I gave your key to Skinner and asked him to go instead. I hope you don’t mind. He said he had to fish out one molly who didn’t make it. I know I need to pack up your place. I can’t afford to keep paying your rent. It seems so final, though.” She chuffed out a laugh. “I’m talking to a headstone and yet I’m acting like I haven’t felt enough closure.”

“I told you about how worried everyone was about me after your funeral.” Her mother had forced Scully to stay with her for almost a week. Once she’d returned home, she’d endured daily visits from Skinner when all she’d wanted was to be alone in her apartment and sleep. “They’ve eased off a little. I’m still being fed like a duck being prepared for foie gras, though. Did you put them up to this?” she asked, only half-joking.

She felt like she was surrounded by food. Doggett regularly arrived at work with double his normal amount for lunch, claimed he couldn’t eat everything and foisted the rest on her. Skinner seemed to be free for lunch more often than should be acceptable for someone that high on the totem pole. Her mom filled her freezer with creamy chicken casseroles and hearty noodle soups while she was at work, and the Gunmen invited her to dinner at least once a week. She’d complained about this to Mulder during her visit last week. “I’m trying to limit my dinners with the Gunmen. Frohike only knows how to make foods that the baby doesn’t seem to like, based on the heartburn I get. The man hasn’t met a hot sauce he didn’t like.”

“I feel like I’m spending more time with people than I care to, but it gives them peace to feel like they’re doing something. We’re all grieving, Mulder. I know you thought of yourself as a lone wolf, but you had some very good friends.”

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes.  She tried again to remember the support they had given her during Mulder’s funeral, but still had no clear recollections of the day. She knew that her mother had driven her from the motel, and that she had been the last to leave the cemetery, Skinner holding her up with a solid arm around her shoulders. She supposed she had been cold, and she was reasonably sure she had cried, but otherwise the day was a nightmarish blur.

“I miss you so much, Mulder. I sometimes wonder how I am functioning without you. I wonder how it got to this point, how I went from ‘Scully’ to ‘Scully and Mulder.’ Now that there’s no ‘and Mulder,’ how am I supposed to be just ‘Scully’ again? Everyone says it’ll get better with time, but it isn’t getting better. It’s been two months. I think of you every moment, and it doesn’t hurt any less.”

Last week, Scully had gone shopping for maternity clothes. As she’d flipped through the racks of frilled, ruffled, and polka dotted shirts, she’d thought about how Mulder would have nearly fallen off his chair if he’d seen her walking into work wearing any of them. The week before that, she had laughed alone in her empty apartment as she’d realized that her newest craving was for heavily buttered popcorn. And two weeks ago, she’d had to explain to the sheriff in St. Clair County, Michigan that Agent Mulder would not be able to investigate reports of a pregnant ghost traveling along Morrow Road. Every corner of her life was haunted by Mulder, and she didn’t know how to exorcise him. She doubted she would even if she could.

Scully could feel the tears on her cheeks, but she didn’t move to wipe them away. “I hope you’re at peace, and that you truly are free. That you found the answers you sought. You always charged ahead into the unknown, and this time more than any other, I wish you’d waited for me. I always followed, but this time I can’t.” Scully stroked her middle gently, an unthinking caress. “At least not for the foreseeable future.“

She looked down at the gift in her hand. “In the meantime, I got you a little something.”

She flipped a switch on the back, and then pressed it firmly onto the top of the headstone. The adhesive she’d placed on the bottom fixed itself to the stone easily.

She smiled. Mulder’s grave was now marked with a small, light-up dancing alien. The alien’s arms moved up and down while his hips gyrated and his head bopped around. It was tasteless and hideous. Mulder would have loved it.

“The cashier thought I was nuts when I bought a case of these. I hope you’re happy; I can never go back to that drugstore.”

She tapped the head of the ‘Boogie Woogie Alien.’ “I’ll be back to replace it when the battery runs down. In the meantime, talk to someone up there about this weather. If it’s warmer, I’ll stay longer next time.”

She pressed her fingers to her lips, and then to the M on the headstone, before walking back to her car.


This is my brother’s friend, Tyler Kultala, and he’s been missing since yesterday (11/21).  We’re all worried and last night was very cold. He left his wallet and car behind. 

He was last seen around the 12 mile & Gratiot Area. He’s 22 years old, 145lbs, very tall. 

The police will not file a report until monday and with the temperatures outside that is far too late!  

Please if you see anything or have any information call 586.943.1434 

Or just share and signal boost please!!