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The moment we indulge our affections, the earth is metamorphosed; there is no winter and no night; all tragedies, all ennui, vanish, - all duties even.
Ralph Waldo Emerson. Essays, "Friendship" (First Series, 1841).

"Why don't you go on home and get some sleep, Mulder."

Mulder looked up at his partner as a darkly emotional laugh escaped at her words. He saw that she'd realized her faux pas even as she said them because the idea of sleep was beyond ridiculous and they both knew it. Scully gave him a small apologetic smile in return and to his surprise, reached out for him, cradling his head gently against her as she caressed his hair tenderly and all too briefly.

Closing his eyes, Mulder leaned into her gratefully for such a spontaneous touch from Scully was rare. More importantly, her affectionate gesture signified that she didn't condemn him, though she had reason to. Over the course of the last few days, he'd made some serious errors in judgment and the end-result of that had nearly cost a young girl her life, which would have cost Mulder his soul.

The price he'd had to pay to rectify those mistakes was now he'd never know for sure if it was his sister who lay in a shallow grave somewhere, the sixteenth and last victim of John Lee Roche. Roche had been insistent that it. But Scully was equally insistent that he was being lied to and, of course, Mulder wanted to believe her, but he was having trouble with it.

But even if Scully was right that it wasn't Samantha, the terrible truth was that unknown child still belonged to someone. She was somebody's daughter, somebody's sister. Someone else's answer, waiting to be found. And the knowledge that he may have cost someone else their answer would forever be his penance for his obsession. And despite Scully's reassurances, in his heart, he felt that there might never be atonement for him.

After a moment, Scully released him, and knowing there was no more that she could say at this time, she turned and quietly left the office. He watched her go while he remained frozen to his chair at his desk. He then carefully placed the last remaining cloth heart, his only remaining hope, in his desk drawer, closing it slowly.

He had no idea how long he sat there with his head in his hands, but he felt heavy and unable to move as the weight bore down upon him. He felt like crying, needing the release, but the tears didn't come. He was too numb; he'd shut down too far this time and was having trouble getting back. All he could feel was the heaviness in his chest and a terrible, painful lump in his throat. He just sat there, feeling nothing at all as more than an hour passed.

The sudden shrill ring of the phone startled him, causing him to lift his head. He stared at it a moment as it rang, thinking to let the machine pick up, but habit forced him to lift the handset and answer. Besides, he was certain who was calling.

"Mulder."

"It's me," she announced just as she always did, as though there was even the remotest possibility that he wouldn't know her voice. "I want you to come by before you go on home."

"Scully--"

But she interrupted whatever lame-ass excuse he was about the utter. "Mulder, just come over."

And he knew better than to give more than a token argument, especially since she was right. He needed to be in her company, he needed what she offered to him tonight.

"All right. I'm leaving now."

A short while later he pulled up in front of Scully's where he sat a few minutes before getting out of the car, gazing up at the window of her apartment. Scully was always the one who instigated these evenings. Granted, there'd only been a very few of them over their years together, but enough that he'd come to expect them. But over time, he'd come to understand that this ritual meant something to her too; that she also needed it in someway for reasons she didn't care to divulge.

He knew that she held him in great affection although it was mostly unspoken verbally, and certainly unexpressed physically, between them. He knew that her affection caused her to make allowances for him that she would never have made for others. It caused her to defend him when outsiders might believe his behavior merited otherwise. But of course, the outsiders didn't understand what they were to each other or what bound them together. How could they?

And so now here they were, once again in a familiar routine. He would knock on the door; she would open it and draw him into her neat, orderly world for just a bit; bring him into her peaceful realm where good sense and logic reined and where dreams of long-dead children rarely entered. A place of momentary respite from self-reproach and censure. It was the place he needed to be tonight, if only for a few hours.

By most people's standards, it would be a boring evening for they would do ordinary things, cook dinner, make light conversation, and watch TV or a movie. But then, in the late night or early morning hours, they would finally, finally talk about the case. Talk about what went wrong and why and how it affected them both. Confession and redemption; this was the whole reason for the evening. And then he would leave the sanctuary, traveling lighter having dumped a little bit of his emotional baggage outside her doorstep.

But these evenings always held an emotional danger for each of them too. A possibility of going too far or saying too much to ever take back. And then what would they do?

But undaunted by extreme possibilities, Mulder got out of the car and slowly walked up the steps to Scully's home where he knew that soon, he wouldn't feel as tarnished and dirty as he felt now.

And the evening, indeed, went as usual. He walked in the door and shed his jacket, rolling up his tie and stuffing it in the pocket. Scully was in the kitchen, preparing spaghetti and of course, needed his help with something, usually salad making. As they worked side by side in the kitchen, she told him of the time her mother tried to teach her to bake a cake from scratch with disastrous results. It took a while, but she eventually made him laugh because he loved to hear these tales of her adolescence, so different from how his own had been. Scully was usually quite reticent, and she mostly only ever shared those kinds of personal stories on a night like this, giving him just a bit of herself that she normally didn't.

After a bit she shooed him to the living room to start a fire in the fireplace while she brought the plates out. They sat on the floor behind the wooden coffee table as they ate their dinner, which always tasted better than anything had a right to for some reason. Scully showed him some paint chips and asked his opinion on which color she should choose to paint the living room, and on any other night sitting on the floor going over paint chips with Special Agent Dana Scully would have seemed strange indeed. But for some reason tonight, he was grateful to occupy his mind with such a commonplace decision.

They drank just enough wine to laugh at some adolescent comedy on TV that neither would admit they secretly liked, but never enough to get sloppy or silly or maudlin. Later they cleared the dishes, brought out the coffee and moved up to the couch to finish up the movie, with Scully on her end and he in his usual spot on the opposite end. And as usual, this was when they would begin to talk about the case, lowering the sound of the TV until it was almost completely muted.

This part was the reckoning. This was the moment of the routine that Mulder both loved and feared the most. He loved the moment because no one had ever understood him as she did or had ever even bothered to try for a very, very long time. He loved the moment because she wouldn't let him hide from his emotion or shut it down; knowing just how to push at him gently so that he would look at what he needed to see. But that was why he feared the moment too, because knowing that she understood him that well also exposed him to the light in a way that was frightening to him. When someone knew you that well, it also gave them a small amount of dominion over you. And he was unused to that.

But she was very protective of him too. Over the last few days, she'd defended him to Skinner. She'd knelt in the dirt beside him and dug through the muddy soil with her fingers because he'd asked her to. He'd heard the quiet rage in her voice on his behalf as she'd questioned Roche. And when they'd left the interrogation room Scully had certainly known what he was going to do, just as she'd known he was going to do it alone, without her, in order to protect her from whatever fall from grace he might incur. He knew that she understood that, even if it made her angry on occasion.

As they talked about the case, he moved through the tangled maze of his emotions and he felt the hot tears come quietly, just as he'd known they would. And although he made no sound, Scully was there to see them, accept them, and then brush them away. She moved next to him, slipped her hand over his, and assured him again with her firm voice that he would make it through this disappointment. And as he felt her affection in her presence, he believed her. He would find a way to rectify this.

After a moment, she got up and brought him a glass of water then busied herself in the kitchen a few minutes to give him the private moments he needed to regain his composure. When she returned to the room, she simply resumed her spot on her end of the couch. But then she reached over, touched his hand, and asked, "You OK?" in a soft voice, even though she knew there was no answer to such a foolish question.

He looked up into her eyes as he nodded and smiled briefly. His fingers tightened on hers just as she moved them away and she settled back down again against the deep pillows on her end of the couch and turned her eyes back towards the TV.

They were simply quiet together for a long time. There was such comfort in being with someone you could be completely comfortable with in silence. Being able to share stillness was remarkable and Mulder felt the relaxation and languor settle into his body. He laid his head back against the pillows, closing his eyes for a few minutes. It was a good evening indeed. After a bit, Mulder felt Scully stir next to him on the couch and he turned to her. She'd pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch over her bare feet and her eyes had closed. And as he leaned forward slightly to look at her, the soft sound of her even breathing told him that she was asleep, or very nearly so, curled up on the large pillows. It was time to go.

But God, he wanted so much to stay.

He smiled over at her sleeping form with his own great affection. The depth of the friendship Scully offered to him for the taking was extraordinary and yet, she often denied his attempts to return it. Rarely would she respond to his endeavors to reach out to her on the same level. More often she would gently, but very resolutely, turn away from him. In the beginning that had hurt, but over time, he'd come to understand that it wasn't a rejection of him personally, but rather, it was something she denied to herself for her own reasons. Reasons he just didn't understand yet, but hoped to someday. But tonight, as he looked over at Scully, he wished that she believed that she could turn to him as he turned to her. There were times when he wondered if she had any need of him at all and that thought always made him sad.

He should go, he reminded himself.

Mulder rose to his feet, shut the TV off, and turned back to look at Scully. He picked up their coffee mugs, took them to her kitchen, and returned to look at Scully. He really should go. He should probably wake her so that she could trot off to bed after he was gone. He stood over her and pondered the idea of lifting her gently from the couch and taking her off to her bed. But he feared taking her fully into his arms like that, knowing deep down that it would create a deeper hunger in him than he was emotionally capable of resisting at the moment. And making an ass of himself was not the way to end this evening.

OK, he really should just go right now, he thought yet again. But instead, he sat on the edge of the coffee table, intending to reach out and wake his partner. But instead, he ended up watching her sleep. After a moment, he slid off the coffee table to sit on the floor next to her. He knew she wasn't in the deep stage of sleep yet for as he reached over and smoothed his fingers down her hair to see her face better, she stirred slightly against the pillow. He withdrew his hand quickly as though he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. Which, of course, he had been.

Mulder watched her peaceful sleep with deep envy. True rest. Scully had true rest even after all she'd seen, all that had happened to her in the last few years. A fairly clear and guilt-free conscience will do that for you, he thought with a small smile. Not that Scully didn't have her demons; she was just better at hiding from them that he was.

He took his time to study her face carefully because he could. He could look all he wanted without fear, without her knowing. He felt a bit contrite about that, as though he was infringing upon her privacy, but he did it anyway. Just then, Scully curled slightly on the pillow, the action moving her closer to him.

So close. And yet so far, his rational mind added. He scooted even closer to her and laid his hand on the couch next to hers. So close. He took careful note of how her face was turned to him. Mulder inched closer still, now near enough to feel her physical warmth, and to see the small splattering of freckles on her nose. Mulder stared at her slightly parted lips, soft and so damn inviting in repose

It was a perfect moment; if he kissed her softly enough she would never know. He wanted to give her something of himself and if she slept soundly enough, she would never know. It was just one kiss. He drew back a moment to judge how asleep she was, whether he could brush his lips to hers without waking her. He closed his eyes a moment as he pondered the possibility of making his quiet longing into a reality.

No. He couldn't do it. For no matter what he told himself, it would be taking something from her that she hadn't yet offered to him. It was stealing her trust and he, who valued the honor of trust above all, couldn't do that to her. It just wasn't right and his affection for her wouldn't allow it. Mulder sighed deeply in resignation and opened his eyes.

To find Scully looking at him.

Apparently she hadn't been so far under the edge of sleep that she hadn't heard him sigh, hadn't felt his presence nearby. She lifted her head slightly from the pillow as she looked so steadily back at him and he saw that her gaze was clear, that no essence of sleep shadowed her eyes. And in that moment he also saw that she knew what he'd been thinking, understood what he'd been contemplating. He'd been caught, but it was OK. For a long moment they looked into each other's eyes, their own breath the only sound besides the crackle of the fire. It was Mulder who finally moved first, lifting his hand from the couch to again brush along her hair and her eyes followed his gesture, then closed briefly as his fingertips grazed her temple before she opened them to meet his gaze again. "Just one, Scully," he bargained softly with a grin.

A glint of humor came into her eyes as she nodded, giving her sanction to the moment as a barely suppressed smile tugged at the edge of her mouth. She reached out her hand to him, caressing it along his rough jaw line, and gently drew him to her so they could each have the kiss they'd wanted to have for so long.

Mulder touched Scully's lips softly in a sweet, honest, first kiss. One that carried no past baggage, no future promises beyond this singular moment in which they shared solace and succor, banishing the past few day's events. It was a moment that made his heart turn over and his toes curl.

As he felt her lips part and he moved deeper into their kiss, Mulder drew Scully's comfort from her, her friendship, her warmth. He could taste it; he could feel it in the touch of her fingers against his cheek and by her hand, which she'd placed over his on the couch, holding on to his fingers. He gratefully took some of her peace just as he knew she gladly gave it to him.

Scully drew some of Mulder's desolation from his kiss, replacing it with her affection for him. But in return, she received his esteem for her, his trust, his commitment. She took pride in his giving of these things to her for she knew he'd given them to no other in his life. It was a more than even trade in her mind because she needed what he gave her too, even if he didn't know it.

Mulder lifted his mouth from hers with a small sound of soul-deep contentment, drawing back so slowly that she could feel the exact moment his lips ceased to touch her. For just a moment, he pressed his forehead to hers, as though he had to rest from the effort of breaking the kiss. It was a feeling she understood. And she was so tempted to drop her control and let him all the way in her life. This man was so worth all the emotional and professional risks; but a lifetime of self-imposed restraint was difficult for her to abandon, even now.

Scully's fingers trailed down the curve of his jaw as he continued to move away slowly, knowing that he needed to withdraw or he would break his promise. He was going to make her ask, make it be her decision and she smiled a little at that because she understood why. Mulder had made a few wrong choices based on emotion over the last days and she knew that he feared making another. She wanted him to stay, but in the end, she let him go. Self-doubt was an insidious and contiguous thing.

Scully watched him rise and move towards the door, never taking her eyes off him. They both knew that they wouldn't speak of this moment tomorrow because it was too fragile to examine that closely just yet. But they would remember it well and feel secure in its mere existence for they each knew the other's feelings and fears now--just as they also knew that eventually there would be other moments of tender or passionate affection to come.

At the door, Mulder turned away only long enough to retrieve and put on his jacket. When he looked back up, he saw that Scully had drawn the coverlet up around her and had snuggled over into the down pillows on the side of the couch where he'd sat most of the evening. Clearly, she was going to sleep there this night and he felt a strange humbleness at the realization that she wanted to remain near to where he'd been.

He opened the door, but before stepping through, he stopped and turned back for a last look. "Thank you Scully," he said quietly, the tone of his voice conveying a deeper import than his simple words.

"Good night, Mulder. Sleep well," she said softly back to him knowing that he would. She smiled a bit, knowing too, that there would be more. Whether in a week or month, she didn't know, but there would be more.

Mulder nodded as he closed the door slowly. He stood in the hallway a moment, dropping his head back and breathing deeply before moving on. He felt renewed; he felt cleansed and peaceful because she'd affirmed again that he wasn't alone in this world. After so many, many years of lonely isolation, it was a feeling he had a hunger for and now he knew that she did too.

Tonight had been about him. But, someday Scully would need him too. It might be a week, a month, he didn't know. But she would turn to him confident that he had the emotional reservoir to offer her the sustenance she needed. Someday soon it would be about her and her need for his affection.

But in the meantime, they would both sleep well tonight.

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"All of this because I didn't get you a desk?"

"Not everything is about you, Mulder. This is my life."

"Yes, but it's..." Mulder's voice trailed off as he realized the futility of his efforts to reach her. As they sat through a painfully long and uncomfortable silence, he watched as Scully looked down at the dried rose petal she held in her hand, the same one she'd left on his desk when she'd left for Philadelphia just a few days before. Mulder studied her downcast posture and the hard set of her mouth, so different from the lips that had so warmly responded to his touch on a night not so long ago.

He'd felt closer to her that evening than he ever had before. Closer than he'd felt with anyone ever before. But it hadn't been just him though; Scully had sensed the change too and in that moment they'd acquiesced to the shared sweet feeling with a single kiss. That was all, just one. But it'd been enough to give him hope for the future. But as usual, work had interfered and their private lives had been put on hold as their professional lives took precedence for a time.

But things had changed and right at this moment, Scully was as closed off to him as she'd ever been. Maybe even more so. Granted, he hadn't helped matters when he'd walked in the door this morning. His flippant, sarcastic comments had been intended to goad her and they'd done their job well. But it wasn't just today or the last few days. Over the last couple weeks, things had changed radically between them somehow.

Things were completely off-kilter, even for them. She'd tossed up a barrier between them. She'd lost interest in the work, and began dismissing cases with belittling sarcasm or outright derision. Never overly open about what she was feeling, she deflected any of his attempts to find out what was bothering her and the phrase, "Nothing's wrong, I'm fine" became his most hated words in the universe. Tense words had passed between them just before she'd gone off to Philadelphia when he was forced out on vacation--she'd been cold and argumentative for days and he'd angrily baited her in return and they'd left each other on a sour note.

Feeling bad about that, he'd called her on his way to Tennessee but was only able to leave a voice mail. He'd called her again in Philadelphia only to discover she'd wrapped up the case and had a date that night. Stunned hardly was the word for what he'd felt as she hung up on him. And to make matters worse, and even though he felt like an ass for doing it, he'd called her again at her hotel early the next morning--only to discover she wasn't there.

When he finally discovered all that had happened in Philadelphia, his emotions were all over the map. He was grateful beyond reason that she was alive. He was jealous of Ed Jerse--jealous that she'd reached out to a stranger rather than himself. And mostly, he was angry that she'd distanced herself from him so thoroughly. And this morning he took some of that out on her.

And now this was all on the verge of escalating into something ugly that they could never ser right unless one of them stopped it right now. Unless one of them stepped back and opened the communication dialog between them again. He looked up from the spot that he'd been staring at on his desk and met her gaze. As she stared at him with resolutely cool eyes, he saw clearly that it wasn't going to be her. So since he'd flung the last sarcastic volley, he started to apologize.

"Scully, look, I'm sorry. Can we please--"

"Mulder, I have some lab work I need to finish for tomorrow." With that curt response, Scully stood and left the office before he could say another word.

For a moment, Mulder just stared in open-mouthed shock at the closing door. He rose from his desk and slammed a file drawer shut, feeling a kind of satisfaction at the noise and violence of the gesture. Angry, hurt and confused, he stood alone in the middle of their office, hands on hips still looking at the doorway, half-way expecting her to come back, half-way hoping she never did. What the hell was going on here?

He shook his head slowly, trying to get past the anger as he took deep breaths and calmed down. He was pissed off at her to be sure; he hated the thought of her being with Ed Jerse. He hated that she had shut him out. But indulging that anger wasn't going to fix this.

And he wanted to fix this. He sighed deeply and wondered what course to take as his eyes closed and his head dropped forward. The emotional gap between them had narrowed to a mere heartbeat after the Roche case. And now it had suddenly ripped wide open. It was now to the point where he felt he could hardly see her anymore because she stood so far away from him. What the hell happened?

Mulder somehow knew that their brief shared moment of indulgence wasn't at the heart of her reasons for turning away from him now. Even though they hadn't spoken of it since, he knew that she didn't regret it. When they'd met in office the following morning, she'd smiled beguilingly at him. They hadn't spoken of the kiss, but for the next few days they invaded each other's personal space whenever they could, found reasons to be close to the other and even something as simple as passing a pen became an opportunity to tease. It became a game of subtle foreplay one-upmanship that abruptly halted when they'd gotten involved in the strange case of Leonard Betts and as usual, all things personal were put aside for the work. Immediately after that, Scully withdrew from the game. Completely. And with no explanation.

Something was deeply wrong for it wasn't that she'd backed away from him, she'd also seemed to have lost all interest in the work. The same work that had taken over her life as it had taken over his for they shared this obsession. Or at least they had once; now he wasn't so sure. Following the Betts case she was cool, distant, even belligerent on occasion. She was gone from his side long before Philadelphia.

Now he couldn't honestly stand there and say he'd never left her behind, shut her out, or behaved in some completely aberrant manner without explanation. And when he'd done so, Scully had always waited him out, chased him down, or pushed at him until him until he came back to her, until he explained.

But certainly, Scully had been known to hide her own feelings, hide what she determined to be a personal weakness from him.

Mulder shook his head at the closed door between them. So far in his life he'd proven to be pretty pathetic at keeping what was dear to him close. He'd almost lost her once; he sure as hell wasn't going to lose her again.

So, it seemed that this time, he was the one who would need to do the work. Well, he'd done the waiting and the chasing. Now it seemed time to do the pushing. And he was fine with that. He just hadn't yet discovered what it was that was eating at her, but he would. So today, he would give her the time she apparently needed to be angry with him and then try again when she came back to the office. He'd made a resolution in his heart that he would be there when she ever needed him. And the more she pushed him away now, the more he was convinced that, for the first time, she needed him. She'd given him a glimpse of her heart recently, he knew how she felt. Just as he knew that she was worth fighting for.

He sat back down at his desk, he had a major budget report that was due tomorrow, and so he began to fill his time with completing that as he waited for his partner to come back to the office.

Back into his life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Out in the hallway, Scully leaned back against the door that she'd just closed on Mulder, quite literally shutting him away from her. She heard Mulder slam a file drawer shut, but he didn't follow her out into the hallway and she didn't blame him a bit for not doing do. She turned and walked quickly down the hall, heading to the labs in the other building.

What she'd offered to Mulder as her reason for leaving wasn't exactly a lie. Tomorrow was the day she and Mulder would have to present their twice-a-year justification for keeping the X-Files alive to the appropriations committee. Mulder always sarcastically referred to it as, "Show and Tell Day." What it was in reality was a grueling meeting that lasted for hours where she and Mulder had to report on all the cases they'd worked on and solved. Mulder's half of the presentation concerned all the psychological matters and the human elements, while her half consisted of the scientific foundations and lab results for their conclusions. The fact that their resolution rate was as high as it was made the job slightly easier, but they were still more closely watched than most, they still had to justify more than most. She and Mulder were constantly aware than any excuse would do to shut them down again and they always prepared well for this day.

But the truth was, she'd forgotten all about Show and Tell until she'd glanced at her calendar that morning. And worse, she hadn't prepared for it. Now she would have to make sure that all her reports were in order, all her exhibits and facts were straight. She had to do all this because for the first time ever, she wasn't going to be there. Mulder was going to have to present her part of the report on his own. She would miss this meeting, and maybe all the others that may come after it.

She dreaded telling Mulder later today that she wasn't going to be there. The X-Files were his life and as much as he detested it, this was an important day for him. It was an important for the both of them for this work had taken over her life as well. But she knew after her behavior over the past weeks he would surely view her absence as a desertion--Not that she could blame him for that assumption. She'd done little to make him believe otherwise.

Scully entered the lab and sat down at the little desk she used when she worked there and began to pull up her notes and tried to bring them into some semblance of order. She kept detailed, well-organized records, but even so, a report of this size and this importance should have been started days ago. She'd let this slip.

But then again, she reminded herself bitterly, what did it really matter in the end?

This was not the turn of events she'd anticipated in her life at this moment. Just weeks ago, she'd been blissful. It sounded so damn sappy to her now, but she'd never been more sweetly content in her life as when she and Mulder had moved that next step closer. She'd fooled herself, she let herself imagine and hope like some mushy teenager.

And then, just a few days later she'd crossed paths with Leonard Betts.

Suddenly she heard his voice in her head again, the same voice that had haunted her nights and kept her from sleeping.

"You've got something I need."

Those words still chilled her and she closed her eyes against them. She hadn't told Mulder what Betts had said to her and for a while she'd even managed to push them away in her conscious mind even as they invaded her nightmares. But she now knew the cause of the nosebleeds she'd been having, the dull headaches, blurry vision, lose of appetite, fatigue, and other symptoms. All the things she'd been attributing to stress when she knew the truth. Tomorrow was her appointment for the battery of tests that would finalize the exact nature of these symptoms, but in her heart she knew what the results would be--just as Leonard Betts had known.

For weeks she'd spoken to no one about her fears. Her father was dead, her mother was still mourning her sister, and her brothers were far away. But the only one she really wanted to talk to was Mulder. He was the one whose words, presence and comfort she wanted. Needed.

But she couldn't talk to him. In fact, during the past few weeks, it hurt even to look at him. Every time she looked into his face, she saw what she might lose. The life she might have had as his partner, his friend, and his lover. A whole future that she might not be a part of now. Irrationally, she was even angry with Mulder, for he'd caused her to lose her heart to him, he'd caused her to hope and imagine. Would this hurt less if she loved him less? She'd never know.

For the past two weeks, she'd been consumed by a helpless victim's rage against an unseen intruder. She'd been so angry at the future possibilities being taken from her. Angry at the realization that all her work, all her knowledge, all her plans, even all her hopes could just cease as though they'd never even been.

Darkness had settled over her and a deep melancholy at the unfairness of it all nagged at her. Depression caused her to question the futility of every moment she was awake. Why continue with such folly, why continue to hope, why even continue to work if it was all going to go away, be taken from her? There was a very serious and very real possibility that she had no future at all. Not with Mulder, not with the X-files, not even with herself.

They'd argued the day before she'd left for Philadelphia. Mulder had been agitated about her obvious lack of interest in the work and her distance to him. She'd tried to stay him off; she wasn't ready to give voice to her suspicions and fears and what she'd finally said in response to his questions had sounded rambling and unfocused even to her. He had every right to be confused.

This was the mood she was in the days before Mulder sent her to Philadelphia, this was the mood she was in when she met Ed Jerse, when she got drunk and got a tattoo. This was the mood she was in when she'd gone back to a stranger's apartment, thinking that she had only the present to live in and no hope in future plans or heart's wishes. Nothing in her life had been right when she'd left for Philadelphia and then, incredibly, it managed to get even worse.

At the hospital a CAT scan taken because of the blows to her head that she'd received from Ed Jerse, confirmed what she'd already really known all along--an abnormality was there. The extent and nature of which would require further tests they told her. Since she'd already made an appointment with her own doctor back in DC, she'd simply had them send the results to him and left Philadelphia with Mulder, pretending all the while that she was fine.

When he'd heard what happened, Mulder had cut short his vacation and flown to Philadelphia. When he'd walked in the door the concern in his face was clear and she'd assured him that all that was wrong were just the exterior cuts and bruises. Once he'd been persuaded that she was physically all right, a quietness had settled over him--a quietness that she knew so well. She knew the Police had filled him in on the surface circumstances of the case and had answered all the surface questions. But when Mulder looked at her, she saw other questions in his eyes, questions he didn't ask.

Scully knew his heart; she knew how he felt about her even if the words hadn't been spoken. It was the same as she felt for him.

But caught in deep depression, she'd wondered what was the point of going forward with something that could only end so badly. How could she take from him knowing she had nothing to give in return, no better life or future to offer back to him. Though certainly not by intention, in the end, she was still just going to end up being another person who left him. Why in God's name would he ever want to put himself through all that. And she couldn't ask him to, she just couldn't lay this burden at his feet too.

She had no grand illusion that she'd be able to keep the news of her illness from him, she would have to tell him. But it was best if they didn't move any closer. Better for him, she told herself. But in the moments when she was still honest with herself, she knew that it was really her own heart she was protecting. It was her heart that couldn't withstand the thought of being separated from him.

So she'd kept him at a distance. And because he didn't understand, this morning he'd baited her deliberately. And with her words this morning, she might as well have reached over and slapped him across the face, the hurt in eyes wouldn't have been any less.

Oh God Mulder, I'm so sorry, she thought as she braced her head on her hands, feeling confused and ashamed. I'm sorry for both of us. She took deep breaths and fought to regain her control; she had to get back to the task at hand. The best she could do for Mulder this minute was to insure that this report was in order and above reproach. She had to make sure that the work that was his life could go on even if he might have to continue this journey alone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

By the end of the day she was exhausted, but the report was finally done. She'd worked all day on it stopping only long enough to force herself to eat a brief lunch and then later to change into the more comfortable clothes she kept in her locker for when she had to work in the lab. Freeing herself from the restraints of pantyhose, sensible shoes and being tucked in helped her to concentrate on the task because her mind kept wandering as she went over the cases and memories they evoked.

The forced concentration of the work and her emotional state had left her deeply weary but the report was perfect. All Mulder would have to do is hand out copies and answer questions, which he could easily do. During their years together, he'd become well-versed in pathology just as she'd become similarly skilled in psychology. Now all she had to do now was tell him she wouldn't be there tomorrow. That of course, was going to be a hell of a lot tougher than putting the report together.

Steeling herself, she dialed the office number and got the answer machine. Glancing at the clock she suddenly realized it was after 8 pm, so she dialed his cell phone.

"Mulder."

At the sound of his voice, she hesitated and struggled to get the words out. Shit.

"Scully?" Mulder questioned into the silence.

She cleared her throat. "Yeah, Mulder, it's me."

"Where are you?"

"I'm in the lab, Mulder. Where are you?"

"In my car heading home. I just left the office about five minutes ago..." As he trailed off, Scully heard the a downcast tone in his voice and knew that he'd waited all day for her to back to the office. "Why are you still there?" he asked.

"I was finishing up the report for tomorrow; I wanted to make sure it was right, because..." She paused, the plowed ahead. "Mulder, I...I've had something come up. I can't be at the meeting tomorrow. You'll have to give my half of the presentation too." There was deadly silence on his end of the phone and she struggled to fill it. "I'll leave my report on your desk, it's all in order, you won't have any trouble with it."

"Scully..." he started and then lapsed back into silence. She closed her eyes and waited for the questions or even the justified anger at this last minute surprise. But after a moment she heard the sound of him taking a deep breath, it sounded more like a resigned sigh than anything else. "Would you bring it by my place on your way home?--I'd like to at least read it over a few times before I have to present it in the morning."

To her surprise, that was the only question he asked of her, and it most definitely wasn't the question or the response she'd been anticipating all day. He should be angry. She knew that on some level she actually needed Mulder to be angry with her in order to maintain this distance between them. And while his was a perfectly reasonable request, she still wavered. The thought of being alone with him right now was unnerving to her. And yet at the same time she wanted so much to be in his company, even if only for a few minutes, she wanted it so much.

"Scully," he said softly, lightly, sensing her hesitation, but apparently misunderstanding her reasons for it. "I'm not gonna yell at you when you get here."

The soothing tone in his voice beckoned to her and she caved in to it. "I should be finished up here in about a half-hour, I'll come right there."

"Fine. I'll order a pizza and you can teach me how to pretend to be you tomorrow." Then she heard a quiet laugh in his voice. "But I refuse to wear the high-heels," he said as he hung up.

Scully couldn't help but smile as she hung up the phone and for just a minute things were as they usually were between them. But then she remembered that they weren't and that they might not ever be the same again. She needed to be strong tonight.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When Scully got to his apartment about a hour later, she was surprised to see his front door slightly ajar. She pushed on it slightly. "Mulder?" she called.

Getting no answer she stepped just inside and called his name again. Still no answer. As she glanced around she saw that the lights were on and that he'd actually cleaned the place. The TV was off, the stereo was playing soft music and in the kitchen there was a pizza sitting on the counter, the delicious smell wafting over to her. It was all so warm and inviting. And suddenly, she knew what he was doing, knew what effort he was making and it nearly broke her heart.

"Scully - hi," came the sound of Mulder's voice from behind her in the hallway. She turned to see him standing there, waiting for her to move so he could enter the apartment. "I was just down the hall at the trash bin."

Scully moved aside as Mulder brushed past her, closing the door behind him. "Here's the report, Mulder," she said as she walked over and laid it on the coffee table, making an effort to be brisk and efficient. And then get the hell out.

"Thanks. Here, let me get your coat," he said as he came up behind her and started to slide her coat off her shoulders.

"Mulder, I've got to go...."

"No you don't," Mulder said easily as he removed her coat and hung it on the rack before she could get her next sentence out. He turned back to her, now smiling a bit. "You don't have anywhere to go anymore than I needed to read that report tonight, I already know it's perfect. So come on, sit down and eat. I want to talk to you."

Scully tried to hold her ground, bristling at his presumptuous tone. "Mulder what's going on?"

"Dinner, Scully," Mulder answered, standing there with his hands on his hip, looking at her steadily. "That's all. Just dinner and conversation."

She made another attempt at coolness and control. "I don't want any conversation, Mulder. I told you this morning--It's my life," she snapped at she turned and started to walk out of the apartment.

Mulder reached out as she brushed past him and caught her arm gently, although there was aggravation in his voice as he spoke, "Hold on." She froze in place at his touch and allowed him to slowly turn her back him, her bluster fading fast as she stared at her feet. A moment's silence and his hand slid from her elbow down to grasp onto her fingers. His voice was softer when he spoke again. "Scully, where ever this journey of yours is taking you...you don't have to go it alone."

Oh God. He had no idea what he was offering to her or how much she wanted to take it. "I've always gone it alone, Mulder," she whispered back. "I don't know any other way to be."

There was no mistaking the despondency in her voice; it was a tone he'd never heard from her before and as he looked at her downcast face he saw the truth. In those brief seconds, he realized that the woman he'd thought was the most confident and self-assured person he'd ever met was scared to death over something.

He stepped close and leaned towards her until they were almost at eye level. "You don't have to go journey alone," he said again, his voice low and deadly serious. "But I can't come with you unless you let me." Mulder paused as she finally looked up at him, her eyes shinning, and he pushed at her just a bit farther. "And Scully, you're wrong about something. It's not just your life anymore. No more than my life has been just mine ever since you walked into that basement office four years ago." He took a deep breath. "Or am I wrong about that?"

Scully shook her head slowly, "No. You're not wrong about that."

"OK then. Now come in, sit down and eat dinner and let's talk."

"I can't--" she answered, refusing only because the tests tomorrow demanded that she fast the night before.

Mulder, of course, didn't know this. He just sighed in frustration, let go of her hand and turned away as she looked at the defeated posture of his back.

"No, Mulder, wait, please." She reached out and touched his shoulder, turning him back to her. His beautiful eyes looked down at her with such feeling and such confusion. "Mulder...you don't...I..." Scully felt her fragile hold on her emotions slip fail as they slipped completely out of her grasp. She started crying, something she'd so seldom done before in either his or anyone else's presence.

He reached out for her, pulled her close against him, enfolding her within his arms. Scully pressed hard against his lean body, holding on to him as though she was drowning. Mulder leaned back against the wall behind him for support as he felt her begin to tremble, as she cried harder. He slowly sank to the floor holding her as close to him as he could as his heart broke at the sound of her tears. God, what was this?

As he held her, Scully got willingly lost in his solace and somehow, it came as no surprise that Mulder knew how to comfort her. He didn't try to hush her or tell her repeatedly that whatever was wrong would be "OK." He just cradled her against him and let her shake with her tears as the weeks of built-up and deeply buried fear poured out of her. She felt his hands move tenderly over her back and he rocked her gently as he held her.

Finally, long minutes later, her tears were spent. She began to feel calmer as a deep exhaustion overtook her and she lay quietly against him as he sat with his back propped against the wall, their legs entangled. She never wanted to move from his arms as she sniffed and reached up wiped the tears from her face.

"Scully, talk to me. Please," he finally asked carefully, after he'd given her some time.

She'd wondered where to begin, there was so much to explain about the last few days, about Leonard Betts, about Philadelphia, about it all. But now, as she felt Mulder's touch as he stroked her back, she began to understand that she didn't need a long story. No one knew her as well as this man did, no one would understand as he would.

"Mulder," she raised her head from where it had been buried against his shirt to look up at him. "Leonard Betts told me...He said, 'you've got something that I need,' just before he attacked me."

She watched as Mulder went visibly pale. "Oh God, Scully," he whispered as his shoulders sagged. He looked away a moment as the realization hit him just as hard as it had hit her. He inhaled a sharp breath then looked back. "Do you know for sure?" he asked as he touched his fingers to her face, smoothing away the last of her tears, his fingers lingering after the job was done.

Scully shook her head. "That's where I'm going tomorrow Mulder, for the final tests." She paused a moment then told him the whole truth, "but I'm very sure. I've had symptoms for weeks." He just looked at her, clearly stunned at the news. "Mulder..." Scully looked down and felt his hands smooth through her hair as he waited for her next words. "Even long before the Roche case every thought I had of the future always included you. And now...now..."

Mulder touched her face and she looked back up to him. "Always, Scully," he promised her. "Your future will always include me, no matter what." He slowly kissed her, warm and deep, sealing his pact with her. Scully gave herself up in his kiss, gave up to the delicious liquid feeling that spread like good whiskey through her veins. It was the first real feeling of pleasure she'd had since that night that seemed a life time ago now. She trembled with the intensity of it and she held on to him for dear life, feeding on his strength of heart.

"Mulder, I've been so afraid," she said as an apology as he drew away. "When I went off to Philadelphia, I--"

"I've been afraid too, Scully. But at least now I know what I'm afraid of--I didn't before. I thought--"

Scully nodded as she reached up to kiss him again, openly and fiercely, and he responded. Her hands moved up to hold his face as she took the affection and love that he offered her, returning it with her own kiss, brushing her lips to his mouth and his closed eyes. When she drew away, she felt breathless and she laid her head against his shoulder, feeling peaceful for just that moment, feeling almost hopeful, as she held on to him. They were each lost in the moment, in their own thoughts of what tomorrow would bring to each of them. The comfortable silence between them had returned.

"Have you told your mother yet?" he asked after a moment.

She understood where his mind had wandered. Mulder and her mother had grown close during her disappearance. And Scully knew that this new ordeal would be another thing they would go through together. She looked up at him, and wanting to ease his troubled expression, she smiled a little. "No, not yet. It was hard enough explaining how her good catholic daughter got drunk and ended up with a tattoo."

Mulder smiled gently at her black humor. "So, can I see it?" he asked softly. "Or is it somewhere you can't show your partner?" he added teasingly, drawing from her a small, but real, laugh. The first he'd heard in a long time.

He could always do that for her, she thought. No matter how dark, Mulder could make her see some light. She turned from where she sat between his legs so that her back was to him and leaned forward so that Mulder could lift her shirt and see the tattoo low on her back. As he did so, she was suddenly reminded of their first case together so long ago, when she had shown him quite different marks on her lower back. Even then his touch had made her shiver as it did now.

"Haven't we done this once before?" he said, his voice easy as he remembered that other moment too. She felt Mulder's fingers against her skin as he gently touched the tattoo, tracing it lightly. "An Ouroboros," he said, recognizing the symbol immediately. "An eternal circle." He dropped the shirt back into place and pulled her back against him. "That's right, Scully," he said quietly in her ear as she lay back against his chest.

"Mulder..."

"Scully," Mulder interrupted her explanation, he needed no further explanations about Philadelphia, that time was behind them now and there was no need to dwell on it. "Scully, will you let me go to the hospital with you tomorrow?"

She shook her head. "Mulder, it's not that I don't want you at the hospital, I do." She turned to look up at him, reaching up to run the back of her fingers down his cheek. "But you can help me more by covering my absence at that meeting. If we both don't show up, there'll be questions. And I just don't want anyone to know more than they need to right now about this. Protecting my privacy right now will do more to help me than having you sit for hours in a waiting room reading magazines while I go through a bunch of tests." She took his hand in hers and felt his fingers tighten on hers in return. "And Mulder, more than that, I want to see that our work continues. It's still important to me." She smiled at him just a little. "So I need you there to make sure that happens...The X-files may be my legacy and I don't want to lose it. So will you do that for me?"

She saw tears fill his eyes though they didn't spill over as he nodded slowly and tried to smile in return. "If that's what you need me to do."

"It is." She laid her head back against his chest. "Who knows, it may all be much ado about nothing, Mulder," she said with bleak hope. She felt him nod, knowing that he didn't believe it anymore than she did, but indulging in the pleasant fiction with her. They sat like that for the longest time, just looking openly and honestly at each other until Scully finally closed her eyes a moment as she laid her head back against his chest. She was exhausted and drained; physically and emotionally depleted. "I should go," she told him softly as she began to stir. "I need to get some rest for tomorrow."

Mulder nuzzled his face against her hair as he held on to her. "Rest here, Scully," he whispered into her ear. "Stay with me. Please."

Scully looked at him and nodded with no argument, knowing in her heart that there was no better rest for her ordeal tomorrow than sleeping in Mulder's embrace tonight.

He stood and brought her up to her feet, leading her to his bedroom where he gently sat her on the bed, touching her face as he turned away. Scully reached out and caught his hand, thinking he was heading to his couch. He turned back, "I'm not going anywhere," he assured her quietly. He simply closed the door, turned off the light and came back to her. Sitting on the edge of the bed he pulled off his shoes and then hers. They smiled rather shyly at each other in the moonlight that came in the window.

Mulder moved up on the bed and she turned back into his arms as he settled back against the pillows. "I'm not going anywhere, Scully" he said again softly and she nodded against his chest. It was not long until the steady rise and fall of his chest against her, the feel of his soothing hands and his physical warmth lulled her into sleep, the first real rest she'd had in two weeks.

But Mulder lay awake, holding his future against him and terrified as he'd never been at the possibility that one day his arms would be empty.

The next afternoon, Dana Scully stared at the bright wall on which hung her x-rays, CAT scans and other test results that had confirmed her darkest fears. The numbness was overwhelming and her mind just kept repeating the word, "No" as she felt all of her hope crumple. This was going to take more strength than she knew she had at that moment so she picked up her phone and pressed the buttons with shaking fingers.

"Mulder, I need you," she said to him, her voice catching slightly.

"Wait for me, Scully," came his soft, deep reply even as she heard the sadness in his voice. "I'll be right there for you."

And he was.

______________________________________________________________________________________

"I'm so tired. I need to know, Scully--I just need to know."

Mulder's voice was drained, his disheartened plea softly spoken from within the shelter of his arms where he'd hidden his face from her as he knelt on the floor. Scully moved quickly to kneel next to her overwhelmed partner. She slid her arms around him and laid her head against his back, sheltering him with her strong presence. "I'm so tired, Scully," he whispered again.

"I know Mulder," she said as she felt him tremble against her. "I know."

Just then, the local police, having heard the shots that Mulder had fired, burst into the room with guns drawn. Scully surged to her feet, holding out her hand to stave them off, standing over Mulder to protect him from them. "He's put his weapon down--he's unarmed," she said bending down and quickly retrieving Mulder's gun from the floor to hand it over to them. "Get the paramedics in here."

Scully turned and knelt back down next to her partner, taking his hand. "I'm going to take care of you, Mulder," she whispered in his ear. "You go ahead and rest." Mulder's only response to her promise was a momentary tightening of his fingers against hers. A moment later, he cried out in agony and put his hands up to his head. He began to shiver violently as his brain went into another storm of pain and seizure. Scully held Mulder gently and turned to scream for the paramedics again just as they chose that moment to come through the door.

Within minutes, Mulder was loaded into the ambulance and Scully sat with him during the seemingly endless ride to the closest hospital. The seizure had passed, but it left him weakened and even more disoriented than before.

Scully knew that the Ketamine was a fast-acting drug; its effects would leave Mulder's system within a few hours. When they reached the hospital, he was placed in a dark quiet room because that was about the only treatment available with this type of hallucinogen. There was not much more they could do for him except keep him calm, keep noise and distraction to a minimum and then wait it out as they monitored him. The seizures, probably caused by the electrical stimulation administered by Dr. Goldstein and aggravated by the drug would likely pass also. However their damage, if any, to Mulder's nervous system was unknown yet.

Another seizure occurred at the hospital, and more pain. And all Scully could do was watch his torment. Finally, around 3am Mulder fell into the deep exhaustive sleep that so often follows a seizure episode and Scully knew he'd be out for hours. Throughout the rest of the night and all the next day, Scully had to deal with the all phone calls, statements, interviews and paperwork necessary to bring this case to a close. As she always had, she tried to protect Mulder as best she could from the ramifications of his actions. She explained that while Mulder had voluntarily gone to Dr. Goldstein for help in recovering lost memories, he'd become a victim of Goldstein's unethical practices--just as Amy Cassandra had. It was her medical opinion that the combined effect of the drug and the electrical brain stimulation had caused him to not think clearly and his actions were not his own as evidenced by the fact that he'd even returned for another dangerous treatment.

A major obstacle was Mulder's discharge of his weapon; it couldn't be taken lightly. Scully insisted that she'd never feared for her life and that the situation had never been out of her control. She never mentioned that he'd very deliberately trained the gun upon her at one point. In Scully's view of the world not telling the entire truth was just about the same thing as a lie. But if she had her way, only she and Mulder would ever know that they'd come very close to ending their lives in a murder-suicide, just as David and Amy Cassandra had.

But for once the good-old-boys club worked in Scully's favor. The local authorities didn't seem overly anxious to bring charges against a fellow law enforcement officer. After much conference among themselves, calls to Assistant Director Skinner, the local DA and Detective Curtis back in Providence, they all agreed that they had the true criminal in custody, Dr. Goldstein, and that no further action need be taken. Skinner did place Mulder on leave until he was officially cleared of any wrong doing in the deaths of the Cassandra's, but that would just be a matter of paperwork. Once again, Mulder had escaped serious damage to his career and even his freedom. But Scully was far more concerned about the serious damage to his psyche, for this had been a major failure for Mulder.

Finally, after having finished her last report and now free of all the other demands, Scully entered Mulder's room in the early evening. She'd never been far from Mulder's side and had watched over his care closely as she'd worked through the day. He'd been asleep for well over 15 hours now and she was grateful for that. He needed to rest his mind and body for as long as he could. He'd had no more seizures and all the monitors were now showing normal functions.

She looked at her watch and realized that unlike Mulder, she'd had no sleep for well over 24 hours, closer to 36, and she sank wearily into the chair by his bedside to do as she'd so often had to do in past; wait. She'd been running on adrenaline but now she was weary to the bone. She considered going back to the hotel for just a moment but knew she wouldn't sleep there even if she did. She needed to be near Mulder. She leaned forward and folded her arms on the edge of his bed, laying her head on them, as she looked up at his handsome face, so young and boyish in repose. No one would ever guess the turmoil that went on behind those closed eyes.

But Scully knew and she closed her own eyes a moment. As she did so, she saw the image of the look on his face as he'd held the gun on her. He'd been so angry because he'd thought she was interfering and he'd nodded resolutely when she'd asked him if he intended to shoot her. But his expression had been desperate and sadly confused. Mulder had been very close to falling over the edge of control and she couldn't be sure what twisted-reality the drugs were causing him to experience.

But even so, she'd been strangely unafraid. Not because she didn't think Mulder would shoot her, that possibility had stared at her coldly. But she knew that Mulder trusted her to watch over him; knew that, in fact, he trusted her even above himself sometimes. That bond had been established long ago in that ice station in Alaska when they'd first been assigned together. They'd held each other at gunpoint; both caught in the grip of paranoia and fear as they'd stared each other down with wary eyes. But in a heartbeat their relationship changed forever because the man who trusted no one chose that moment to place his trust her. And he quite literally put his life over into her hands as he lowered his gun first.

So once again, she'd asked him to do the same thing. She asked him to relinquish control to her. She'd watched as he trembled with the decision, his finger on the trigger. Then in the next moment, she saw the sad resignation enter his eyes as he gave in to her, knowing that she was right--this wasn't the way to his truth. He'd turned away and emptied the gun in bitter frustration before he lowered his head to the floor in defeat, knowing he'd lost once again.

Scully opened her eyes again and looked up into his finally peaceful face. She'd never been more worried about his state of mind. It was just as he had said; he was tired. The all-consuming struggle to understand his past, to find his way in the present was wearing him down both emotionally and physically. She knew that her own condition weighed heavily upon him. His personal truth continued to evade him, coming tantalizingly within his grasp only to scoot away and then laugh at him from afar. She wondered how he'd even managed to hang on to his sanity when he was pulled in so many different directions, told so many different truths. He couldn't let it go and he couldn't find the answers. It was like the tattoo she now wore on her lower back; an eternal circle with no way out.

But he didn’t want out of the circle. In fact, he craved it and in many ways, it was Mulder's resilience that she feared most. He would be back for more; she believed that without exception. He had an almost unearthly capacity to persevere.

In the last few months, it had seemed as though she and Mulder moved towards a place of new honesty where they'd found solace, comfort and affection with each other. But lately it seemed they'd retreated from that place as quickly as they'd found it. They lost each other in the face of her illness and his increasing obsessions.

Of course, the whole Eddie Van Blundht thing hadn't helped matters. God, how could she have been so stupid, she wondered for the hundredth time. True, some tiny voice had nagged at her, told her things weren't adding up. Somewhere she'd known that if Mulder had finally taken it into his heart to seduce her it wouldn't have been so matter-of-a-factly transparent. Mulder was simply not capable of doing anything the easy or obvious way. No, she'd done exactly what she'd so often smugly accused Mulder of: seeing only and exactly what she wanted to see, even to the point of excluding the now obvious answer.

The look on Mulder's face as he'd come through her door that night was something she still remembered. Then later, when Eddie told Mulder that he was a loser by choice, she'd known there was nothing she could do or say that could turn his belief that Eddie was right. Mulder had withdrawn into himself. She knew that mood well and anything further she said on the subject would have been interpreted as pity, the one thing Mulder hated. Since she now had better understanding of the dread of being seen as an object of sympathy, she'd let it go, thinking that things would right themselves again as they usually did there was a breach between them.

Except this time, they hadn't. In fact, it had gotten worse.

When her diagnosis was finally confirmed, her anger at the illness had caused her deny its existence. She was not determined not to allow it to make her vulnerable. And if it didn't exist, it couldn't get to her.

And she hadn't wanted Mulder's attention to be born of pity or guilt or sense of duty and she'd felt all those things radiating from him. She didn't want him to feel there was something he could have done. So she'd gone on with work and her life just as she had before, insisting that she was fine and that there was nothing to worry about. In short, she'd lied.

Worse still, Mulder knew it.

Mulder had been reserved in his manner towards her ever since she'd finally confessed that she'd seen the apparition of the recently murdered young woman during their last case. He'd known the import of that omen and he'd been quietly angry with her for withholding it from him.

She'd responded to in kind, accusing him of just needing to be placated in his beliefs. But he'd refused to be thrown off the track by her baiting. Instead, he told her that she couldn't hide the truth from him, and that he knew what she was afraid of.

Mulder's ability to see right through her carefully constructed facade had disconcerted her and feeling backed into a corner, she lied. She'd hardly been able to look him in the eyes but she'd told him the doctors said she was fine. He hadn't believed her, but he'd accepted her lie with sad eyes before turning away.

They'd parted on a cold note that night and a distance settled between them as they continued to work together, now merely polite strangers sharing an office and they were strained to the point of absurd civility. Even Mulder's passion, humor and enthusiasm for the work had been unnaturally subdued and though she saw him every day, she missed him desperately.

Then, unexpectedly he'd called her just last Friday night after she'd gotten home from the office. Just the sound of his voice, as warm as it had ever been, made her run flush with pleasure. On the surface the call had been about a clarification he needed for a case report; a stupid thing that could obviously have waited until Monday. After she'd answered his question, he'd made a bit of casual conversation, something that Mulder rarely did and frankly, wasn't very good at. He'd asked her what her plans were for the weekend and she'd told him the truth--she had no plans, and that she was just looking forward to taking it easy and doing nothing. There'd been a long pause and before she could say anything more, Mulder simply thanked her for her help, said he'd see her on Monday and hung up. The next that she'd heard from him was when he'd called her from that motel in Providence.

Scully moved the chair even closer to the bed, then reached out and touched Mulder's hand tentatively. Even in sleep, he responded to her, tangling his fingers with hers. Her gaze moved slowly up his body and settled on his mouth noting, as she had a thousand times before, the beautiful shape of it, particularly his lower lip.

She remembered the first time he'd kissed her and how it had made her feel. When she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could invoke the warm electric feeling and her stomach felt that thrill again. Each of his touches was a separate and distinct memory. She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest and thought back to the night he'd held her against him as she'd cried out her fear and then that same steady rhythm had lulled her to sleep in his embrace. She'd next felt Mulder's arms around her when Penny Northern had died of the same thing that was killing her now. He'd pulled her so close against him in comfort in that hospital hallway. He'd confessed that he'd read some of her journal and his beautiful gaze tenderly spoke to her and although he hadn't said the words, he'd made her feel as safe and as loved as she'd ever felt before in her life.

That was also the last time Mulder had touched her so.

She longed now to complete their emotional journey while she still had time. She wanted him to know that she loved him and wanted to always be with him and she was so afraid that she was running out of time; afraid that she had been successful in pushing him away.

He hadn't asked her to go with him to see the Cassandras. It has been a personal matter that he excluded her from. But she couldn't bring herself to hold on to her angry because she knew that he'd felt excluded by her. She'd let him approach, led him to believe that she wouldn't turn away and then did exactly that just as he got too close. This latest incident in Rhode Island only brought great sadness to her heart as she realized that, be she sick or well, Mulder now might never let her into his own heart all the way. And she was selfish now; she wanted all of him, especially the parts he was the most reluctant to give.

She shifted on the uncomfortable chair, thinking about how many times they had been right here together, repeating the same awful patterns, hurting each other with reckless abandon.

Scully closed her eyes again, exhaled a tired, heavy sigh, as she looked at the one reality she wanted to look at the least, her own mortality. She might only have a limited time left; did she really want to spend it doing this? But as soon as that thought flowed through her mind, she let it go for she was already nodding yes. This was exactly how she wanted to spend her time, no matter what time she had left. The choice was entirely hers and she chose to be with him because Mulder fed her intellect, her heart and in many ways, her soul.

She seriously doubted that he knew or understood the ways he did that but the situation was just as she'd confessed to her counselor in that last session; she'd come to depend on his passion, his strength, his enthusiasm. She fed off it, she craved it, and it made her feel alive. And God, she needed it now, as much as any addict needed their fix. Yes, she was angry and hurt now because he'd left her behind again. It was probably the same hurt and anger he'd felt when she'd looked at him and lied about her condition; she'd left him behind in her own way. And there was no denying that she stayed because she wanted to, because she loved him, because she loved the work.

But they needed to break their pattern before it was too late.

But time was no longer on her side, no longer in her control. And along with all the hopes and dreams that she might not realize, she was also deeply concerned about Mulder. Who would watch over him? She worried about what would become of him if she were not there. It wasn't ego that fueled her concern, it came simply as the result of their experiences together over the years. It was the certain knowledge that she was just about the last anchor to what was real in Mulder's increasingly insane life and she feared failing him. She knew that people who were dying made provisions for the care and nurture of the loved ones they left behind. But who would care for and watch over Mulder?

With profound sadness, Scully realized that the answer was that no one would and that truth brought tears to her eyes as she laid her head down on his bed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As Mulder opened his eyes and slowly emerged from his deep slumber, he wasn't quite sure where he was. Some soft light entering through a narrow gap in the window curtains broke the dark of the room; its softness suggested that it was very early morning, but he couldn't be sure.

His thoughts were slow and foggy, his body ached, and his head throbbed painfully with each heartbeat. Turning his head gingerly, in the dim light he saw Scully sitting in a chair next to him. She was slumped forward, her arms folded on the bed and her head resting on them. Her hair had fallen forward and obscured her face from him.

Absurdly, his first thought was that she couldn't possibly be comfortable like that so he stretched out his hand to wake her. As he did so, he suddenly remembered that when he'd last reached out to her, he'd had a gun in his hand. Mulder's movement froze as he tried to clear his mind and put the jumbled bits of the memory together with little success. Jesus, what had he done to her now?

"Scully," he whispered urgently, needing to see her face. "Scully."

At the sound of his voice, Scully instantly raised her head from her arms. Pushing her hair out of her face, she looked up at him. Even in the darkness, she could see the pain and disorientation in his worried expression and the desperate concern in his eyes. And she wondered if he was remembering when he'd last looked at her. Scully didn't want him to talk, she didn't want him wake up all the way yet or deal with his memories--this wasn't the right time. "I'm here, Mulder," she assured him in a soft voice. "Go back to sleep. It's too early to wake up yet."

Her answer didn't fully appease him and he reached out to her. "Scully, are you all right?"

"Of course, I'm all right, Mulder." Scully caught his fingers in hers and held them. "We both are. Now close your eyes again. I'm going to sleep some more too. I'll be right here." She laid his hand back on the bed and rested hers over it.

His anxiety relieved and reassured by her touch and soft voice, Mulder was all too willing to obey. He closed his eyes and easily fell back into the darkness.

The next time he awoke, the curtains were open and sun was bright in the room. But Scully was gone. He looked about in trepidation, thinking perhaps he'd only dreamed that she'd been there. But then he saw her familiar jacket tossed over the back of a chair and relaxed slightly. She was here, she was OK.

A nurse stood at the foot of his bed, scribbling something on his chart. As Mulder struggled to get his brain to put events in proper order the one thing he remembered for sure was that hated hospitals. He hated the look, hated the smells, but mostly he hated the reasons he always seemed to end up in one. He had to get out of here; he needed Sully get him out of here.

"Agent Scully--where is she?"

The nurse looked up, surprised that he was awake. "You mean, Dr. Scully?"

After a moment of confusion, Mulder nodded. It was always so strange to hear Scully's title; she almost never used it.

"She's just at the nurses station, I'll get her."

The nurse left the room and within moments, Scully pushed open the door. Mulder noted how tired she looked, but she smiled when their eyes met. She crossed the room and pushing the chair aside, she sat on the edge of his bed and took his hand. "Good Morning Mulder," she said. "You finally decided to join us again." With her other hand, she brushed his hair off his face.

"Hi," was the only coherent thing he could think of to say return. He was just so pleased that she was all right, that his mind shut down a bit and he could only smile back at her. He held on to her fingers as he looked into her eyes.

"Scully, what happened?"

"You've been asleep a very long time," she said, beating him to his first question. "But now that you're awake, we've got a few things to check you out on and if I'm happy with the results, I'll spring you from here. But you're not going anywhere until I'm sure. So cooperate with me Mulder and it might be this afternoon sometime, OK?"

Mulder nodded with no argument. He had more questions to ask and things to say but they would wait, she was going to get him out of here. Scully was going to take him home. For the next few hours, he patiently endured the tests, the neurological exam by the specialist, the poking, prodding, and questions. He was visited by the local police and received a call from Skinner where he learned that once again, Scully had saved his ass and his job.

Later that afternoon Scully came in with his chart and announced that after having reviewed all the results and having conferred with the resident neurologist, it looked like he could be released. The effects of the drugs had left his system with no lingering physical damage from the seizures. The headaches would fade and all he needed was rest.

Mulder sighed in relief, certainly at the news that his neurologicals seemed OK, but mostly over the fact that he could just get the hell out of there. "So we can go home now, Scully?" he asked as she wrote something on his chart.

She shook here head as she finished up her note. "I'm sorry, but I’m not going back to Washington just yet," she answered, not looking up from what she was writing. "I'm taking a week off and I'm going up to Martha's Vineyard to a place I know there. I need some down time."

Mulder stared at her downcast profile with deep disappointment. But he didn't blame her a bit, he thought as he looked down and sighed inwardly. He could certainly understand why she'd need some time away. Time away from him. Hell, he could use time away from him.

"That's OK, Scully," he told her softly as he picked at some lint on the blanket. "You deserve some peaceful time without all the drama. I can get back on my own just fine."

Scully looked up at his words and his assumption. She'd been doing some thinking and an idea had come to her last night. Only time would tell if it were a good idea or a bad idea, but she hadn't conveyed it well. She set his chart aside and came to him, sitting down on the bed. "Mulder, I meant the both of us need down time. Do you want to come with me?"

Mulder lifted his eyes to meet hers. He did. Oh God yes, he did. The idea of being alone with Scully without the insulation of being on a case or chasing down some elusive malfeasance was both enticing and frightening.

He wondered if her suggestion was just a pleasant trip to the beach, a diversion because she felt sorry for him or if it was an invitation to something more, maybe a chance to get back on the road they'd been on once. He should just ask her. That would be the obvious thing, the simple thing. Somehow though, even just asking seemed presumptuous and he couldn't afford to be wrong here.

Scully saw his hesitation. She knew he was confused about what she was offering, but that was OK; so was she in a way. She just hoped to God that he didn't ask because she certainly wasn't going to be able to clarify it for him just now, she thought ruefully.

"Mulder, do you want to come with me?" she asked again, this time with a smile.

He nodded slowly. "Yes, very much."

Scully nodded in return. "Good."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They checked Mulder out of the hospital and were soon on their way. Scully already had Mulder's bag from the hotel in the trunk and she always kept an overnight bag in the car. Anything else they needed they could pick up, it wasn't like they were heading off to the Congo. The trip to Woods Hole, Massachusetts was uneventful other than the fact Scully drove and Mulder had that guy-thing going over not having anything to do during the two and a half-hour drive from Quonochontaug.

He was quiet and didn't seem interested in talking much, but he fidgeted in the car until Scully finally looked over and asked him if he wanted her to stop and get some coloring books to keep him occupied. That finally had brought a smile to his face and he promised to be good. By the time they'd reached Wood's Hole the next ferry was leaving at 10:45pm and they boarded the boat for the 45 minute trip to Martha's Vineyard.

As the large ferry left port, they made their way up to the bow. Because it was off-season, there weren't many people about and side by side, they both leaned their elbows on the railing and looked out over the water as the mainland slipped away under the golden moon.

Mulder watched Scully surreptitiously. He noticed that she turned her face towards the breeze to enjoy it as it lifted and tossed her hair about. He loved that about her, the fact that she always turned towards the adventure instead of away from it. Others on the ferry had gone scurrying inside from the spray and the wind and the roughness, clutching clothes and hair as though they'd be contaminated if anything that even remotely resembled nature touched them. But Scully wanted to get closer to the exhilaration and he sensed again, the quiet passion in her and wondered when he would know it fully. She smiled at the sensation and closed her eyes.

God, he loved her.

When he looked at her as she was now, so vibrant and beautiful, Mulder could forget for a moment that her life was in eminent danger. But then he'd remember and the anger would come, the rage that there wasn't one Goddamned thing that he could do to protect her, help her, save her.

Mulder drew in a sharp breath at the pain he always felt in his gut at the thought of being separated from her. Jesus God, what was he going to do?

Scully turned back to him. "Are you OK with this Mulder?" she asked, misunderstanding the serious look on his face.

He nodded. Mulder knew Scully was concerned about his turbulent memories associated with their destination, she'd mentioned it in the car on drive up here. "It's OK Scully," he assured her again, covering quickly. "I have a lot of good memories of this place. I loved it here when I was a kid, it was my home."

"My father loved the Vineyard too," she said as she gave a wistful smile at a fond memory. "Year after year, he used to haul us all up there on the much-dreaded family vacations. I was always sure I was going to hate it and then much to my surprise I always loved it."

Mulder gave her a small grin. "Ah, a skeptic even as a child."

Scully raised an eyebrow at him. "You can say it Mulder; I've been a pain-in-the-ass from way back," she said drolly. "I was annoying my father with questions long before you ever had to start putting up with me."

Lucky man, Mulder thought. "Yeah, I don't know how I've ever put up with you for so long," he said repeating the words he'd spoken to her so long ago. Scully smiled, clearly remembering also and turned her face away to look back out over the ocean.

Mulder wondered about the young Scully and tried to imagine what kind of girl she'd been. He wondered too, about her father, Captain William Scully. He knew from personal experience what a remarkable woman Scully's mother was, kind and compassionate. But he'd never known the man who'd been such an influence on his partner, the man whose death she'd mourned so deeply. "I wish I'd met your father, Scully."

Scully turned back to look at him. "I wish you had too, Mulder," she said. "He would have liked you."

Mulder couldn't help but give a dubious laugh at that comment. But Scully shook her head. "No, Mulder. My father was a strong, stubborn man of honor and integrity. He would have liked you; one wolf recognizes another," she said with a small grin.

Mulder suddenly blinked and had to look away from her. His heart became full at her words and he was deeply touched by Scully's compliment for he knew she held her late father in the highest esteem.

But within moments Mulder's reality demon brought it all back to earth. What she'd just said meant the world to him; it was just too bad he didn't deserve it. "I doubt he would have appreciated the fact that I pulled a gun on his daughter just two days ago," he said tightly.

Scully sighed. She'd hoped so that he wouldn't remember all of that just yet. Mulder had such an damned inconvenient memory sometimes. But she could play this spitting contest too. "Well, I doubt that he would have been proud of me for doing the same thing Mulder," she told him. "I'm sure my mother wasn't."

He looked over at her in puzzlement.

"Remember Mulder? She stood in front of you; she protected you from me because she knew you hadn't betrayed me. She knew that you hadn't done any of the things I'd accused you of when I turned on you." Scully looked down at her clasped hands as she leaned on the railing, shaking her head.

Mulder leaned towards her. "Scully, that wasn't your fault," he said slowly, amazed to discover that she still might carry guilt over that incident. Jesus, after his trip to the morgue, he'd been so grateful to find her alive he hadn't cared about anything else. "You'd been influenced. I knew you were seeing the wrong truth. I never blamed you."

She looked up and caught his direct gaze as she nodded slowly in agreement. "I know that, Mulder," she said evenly, willing him to make the correlation. After a moment, he begrudgingly conceded her point with a slight nod of his head. After that, they were quiet together a long time as they watched the sea slide by under the full moon.

Scully turned and looked to the back of the boat just in time to see the mainland lights disappear from view and a new thought struck her. "I just thought of something--you grew up on an island and then went to the mainland for vacations instead of the other way around. Did that ever seem strange?"

He grinned a bit. "You gotta remember Scully, in the Mulder clan, 'strange' is a relative term. And yeah, I suppose it was odd."

She laughed. "How long did you live on the Vineyard?"

Mulder turned and leaned his back against the railing, crossing his arms. "Until I was about 13. My parents divorced shortly after Samantha disappeared and my mother moved back to the mainland. I went with her. After that, it was pretty much just the occasional excruciating summer with my father until I went off to Oxford."

"Excruciating?"

Mulder looked down and kicked at an imaginary pebble on the deck. "Basically it was six weeks of strained and polite conversation with a man who'd become a total stranger with a drinking problem." He raised his eyes to look at her again, smiled a bit and tried to lighten the mood, "Let's just say I hung at the beach a lot and checked out the...tourists."

She tilted her head and gave him her Bemused Scully Look. "I bet you did, Mulder."

"Hey Scully, do you wonder if our paths ever crossed when we were young?" he asked, half-expecting a short dissertation on the size of the island, the number of summer tourists and the relative improbability of that possibility.

But much to his surprise, she nodded instead. "It's very possible Mulder," she said. "But I kind doubt you would have paid much notice to a short, skinny, flat-chested, book-worm with orange hair and freckles." She gave a small melancholy laugh. "Let's just say boys pretty much ran right by me and didn't even slow down the minute they saw Melissa."

Mulder had never heard her make such a self-disparaging comment. The woman he knew was so confident, it'd never occurred to him that she might have had the usual adolescent insecurities or ever had reason to feel inferior. As he gazed down at her, he saw a slight far-away look come in her eyes and knew she was remembering some such painful moment and suddenly he wanted to kill whatever teenaged bastard may have hurt his Scully by passing her by.

He touched her cheek and she looked up at him. "Well I guess we didn't cross paths after all then," he said as her drew her into his arms, pulling her against him in a deep hug as he rested his chin on the top of her head. "Because I would have stopped."

He felt, rather than saw, Scully's smile against his chest as she gave a small laugh. "Thank you, Mulder."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They reached the island shortly thereafter. The house Scully took him to was a beautiful little place and just as she'd described it in the car on the drive up. It belonged to her father's best friend. The house was empty now, its owner having retired from the Navy and moved to Florida with his wife now that his children were grown. But Bill Scully's family was always welcome there anytime. It was a simple place, probably first built in the 50's and quite literally on the beach. Many of the beaches on the Vineyard were private for residents only and the house was sitting on one of them.

As Scully pulled the car into the garage, Mulder took the bags in the house as he turned on the lights. There was a large living room with a fireplace and French doors that led out to a large deck built out over the sand. He walked through the house, noting there were three bedrooms, a large master bedroom off the living room that overlooked the beach and two smaller ones on the other side.

He stood there a moment, as he still hadn't quite figured out the whole bedroom thing. He placed the bags on the living room floor by the fireplace and opened the French doors that led out on to the large deck built over the sand. Across the deck and a single step down, it was a short walk across the sand to the water's edge. The tall grasses grew through the sand and the lights of the next house were a good distance away.

Mulder stood on the deck and listened to the sea, the clear crisp breeze on his face made him feel alive almost the way Scully's touch did. It was beautiful and peaceful here and reminded him of all of the reasons that he'd loved this place until the age of 12. He felt at home and at ease in the small cottage. He knew it was because he was sharing the space with Scully, because she was close within his realm.

He heard Scully walk out behind him on the deck and he turned. They smiled awkwardly at each other and Mulder felt a strange combination of anticipation and apprehension. He nodded towards the beach, "I'm going to check out the water, wanna come?"

"Go ahead Mulder, I'm going to unpack our stuff. I'll catch up with you." Mulder looked at her as though he was about to say something, but then just nodded and stepped off the deck.

Scully watched him go and then turned and went back into the house, leaving the doors open for a few moments to bring in the crisp ocean air. She stared a moment at the bags sitting side by side next the fireplace where Mulder had abandoned them like orphans with no home. But she also the bag decision aside for a few moments while she busied herself with starting a fire in the gas fireplace. After a bit, a warm glow filled the room and chased away the last of any stale air. She looked at the bags again.

Who would have ever thought that the placement of an overnight bag could become a life altering decision. She opened the large armoire and started to pull out the linens to make the bed. She hesitated a moment here too. Beds? Bed? She sighed and pulled out two large thick down comforters, pillows and sheets and stacked them on the couch where she just stared at them a moment.

This would be so simple if they were just other people, she thought, if she wasn't sick and he wasn't crazy.

Did she have the right to be so selfish and ask him to love her when Mulder had every reason to keep his distance in a situation that could only cause him pain? But then again, he'd come with her; he could have just gone back to Washington if he hadn't wanted to be with her. He knew what was happening here. He knew what the question between them was.

Earlier on the boat, when he'd drawn her against him, he'd created an almost unbearable hunger and need in her. She'd had just the merest taste of him before and now having been deprived of his touch for weeks, that simple embrace had caused a deep ache. But more than that, she wanted the emotional closeness between them back.

Suddenly her prideful stand didn't seem as important and the truth was that she didn’t have the time to squander on such nonsense. God, that was how pitiful she'd become; she no longer even cared if he did just feel sorry for her, as long as he was with her.

She picked up both bags and took them to the front bedroom, unpacked them quickly and then went out to find Mulder and bring him home.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As Mulder reached the water's edge, he looked back over his shoulder at the cottage. It was now late, the moon was bright and the house glowed with warmth. He stared at it for some time before he began to wander the water's edge, heading away from the house. What the hell was he doing out here when all that he wanted was back there.

Because you're a damn coward, he thought, answering his own question as he let out a derisive laugh. He'd stared down situations and creatures unimaginable to most and yet that slight redhead inside scared the shit out of him. She had the power to do him more harm than all the conspiracies or aliens put together.

And yet, here he was, on a beautiful island in a lovely cottage with nothing but free time ahead with the woman he loved. If they were any other couple, they'd already have the fire going, the wine poured, the seduction made and be well on their way to quenching desires and crying each other's names out.

But they weren't any other couple. They were Mulder and Scully and they fit no known category

Over the years, he'd tried to protect her as best he could. He'd tried to keep her from becoming completely embroiled on his personal quest and yet when things went bad, as they so often did, he turned to her because he needed her. Yet, he'd always hoped that she would come to feel that she could turn to him as he did to her. And for a tiny window of time, it had even looked as though that hope might be realized.

But in the days and weeks that followed her diagnosis, she'd pulled away from him. The most crushing rejection had come just over a week ago when she'd looked him straight in the eyes and lied to him about her condition. She didn't want him involved. It had become painfully clear that Scully didn't need the things he could offer her--the love, comfort and care he wanted so much to give her. They were useless to her. What Scully needed a miracle and as fate would have it, he was just fresh out of those.

While his rational mind knew that the blame fell on the disease, his heart felt as though he'd failed her. He looked up at the stars and cursed the bitter irony of all his efforts to keep her safe.

But still he was here. He just wasn't sure if he was here because she felt sorry for him or because she wanted him in her life. He deeply suspected the former because God knows his behavior of the last few days was enough to make her believe that he wasn't capable of taking care of himself. Eddie Van Blundt had called it. And that's how pathetic he'd become; a brave woman dying of cancer felt sorry for him. Jesus.

Mulder's mind began to sink into the familiar darkness as he sat down on a sand bluff.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In the moonlight, Scully saw Mulder sitting on the bluff as he sat looking out over the endless black water. As she approached him, she noticed his tense posture. God, he's gone into that silent place, she thought. She could tell simply by his familiar body language when Mulder had gone into that quiet self-punishment mode where he was hard to reason with, hard to reach.

Sensing her presence as she drew near, he looked over his shoulder at her. Their eyes met and they gazed at each other openly and frankly, the way strangers sometimes will.

"Finish unpacking?" he asked way too casually.

"Yes," she nodded and fell into silence.

"Which bedroom did you take?" he asked after a moment more.

"The big one that overlooks the beach," she answered, as she waited for his next question, already knowing what it would be.

"Which room am I in?"

Scully sat down next to him on the bluff and leaned her elbows on her knees, looking in the same direction as he did over the water. "The same," she answered softly. After a moment, she turned to see him regarding her silently.

"Scully why did you ask me to come here with you?" Mulder's voice had a slight edge to it.

In the face of his tone and direct question, Scully wavered. "You don't need to be in a hospital Mulder, but you shouldn't be alone for a while either and--"

"I'm fine, Scully," he responded as his eyes grew distant and her own words came back to haunt her.

Choosing to ignore the subtle dig, Scully continued, "No, you're not Mulder. You've been through a heartbreaking disappointment. I know what your hopes were. I know how bitter the...setback was for you."

"You can use the word, Scully--failure." Mulder's voice was now darkly sarcastic.

Realizing that he was slipping away from her, Scully reached out and took his hand. "Mulder, I just want to be with you."

God, he wanted her so badly and his pride was so tattered that he was tempted to take whatever she proffered. But one of Mulder's demons was determined to spoil it; the one that had lived inside him the longest. The one that insisted that he was the kind of loser that even the Eddie Van Blundht's of the world pitied. The one that told him that he'd fail Scully as he's failed his sister. It was the demon whose voice was always the loudest in his head and made him do stupid things and say stupid things.

He extracted his hand from Scully's, pulling away from the touch he craved. "So what is it you're offering here Scully--a little round of comfort sex for Special Agent Mulder? Isn't that a little above and beyond the call of duty partner-wise?"

Scully reared back at his callous sarcasm. Mulder saw her absolutely wounded look as her eyes filled with tears and she struggled to stop them. He closed his eyes against the terrible sight. When he could bring himself to look at her again, seeing the effect of his spiteful words cut through to his heart, killing the demon that gripped it so tightly.

Jesus Christ, he'd made Scully cry, a new all-time low in his miserable life.

Profoundly ashamed, he said the only words that came to mind, pathetic and inadequate though they were. "Scully, I'm sorry," he whispered as he reached towards her. "Please, God, I'm so sorry."

Not surprisingly, Scully recoiled from his touch and turned her face away.

Scully brushed her tears away angrily. She could tell by the sad remorse in his voice that he truly was sorry and silently she damned all of Mulder's demons that caused him to act in such a manner. Feeling hopeless that she would ever reach him, she shook her head sadly and looked back up at him. "I only wanted to love you Mulder, that was all," she said in a small voice as she got to her feet. "That's all I wanted." She turned and headed back up the beach to the house.

Oh God, what did he say to that? Mulder closed his eyes, bowed his head and drew a shuddering breath. If Scully was smart, she would keep on walking out of his life as fast as she could. Please God, don't let her do the smart thing--just this once.

He rose to his feet. "Scully? Scully wait, please," he called, starting after her when she didn't show any sign of stopping. Mulder caught up with her just as she passed through the French doors into the house. "Scully, please."

She whirled back to face him and for a second their eyes met before she looked down and away. "Why would you say something like that to me Mulder?" she demanded angrily.

She only stood a few feet away, but he didn't dare approach her. He stood in the doorway, afraid that if he came too close she would turn and just keep walking. As he looked at her bowed head, he suddenly remembered the last time he'd felt this kind of shame. It was the night he'd had to tell his father that he'd let the woman they'd both thought was his sister die on that bridge, that he'd failed to protect her again. He'd never seen forgiveness in his father's eyes for that moment.

"I didn't mean it. I swear to you, I didn't mean it and you sure as hell didn't deserve it." Suddenly, desperately, he needed to see Scully's eyes. He needed to see that he hadn't totally destroyed everything. "Scully, look at me," he implored her. "Please."

Finally, Scully lifted her eyes from the floor to meet his gaze and Mulder saw that even though her mouth was set and her eyes were wary, she was going to listen. She was going to give him another chance. God, she really must love him, the realization finally slapping him up aside the head. Because otherwise, why the hell else would she put up with this kind of shit?

As Scully looked at Mulder, the man she knew so well seemed transformed into a sad young boy, overwhelmed with emotions he didn't seem to know how to handle. She'd never seem him like this. In spite of her hurt and anger, her heart went out to this man so ill-prepared by his past to accept what she wanted so much to give him now. "Mulder, why must you punish me for loving you?" she asked him quietly.

Mulder's response was so miserably quiet that she hardly able to make it out. "I'm angry...and I'm scared."

And suddenly she understood. "Because I'm sick?" she asked gently.

"Yes." He looked at her. "I'm angry that you're sick, Scully. I'm angry there's nothing I can do, that I can't help you." He paused and then finally voiced the selfish demon that had been tormenting him. "I may even be angry at you for even being sick. I'm angry that you might leave me behind."

The emotional dam was broken now and his words now came tumbling through. "Scully, every time I've ever needed you, you've been there--whether I was successful or I screwed up." Mulder gave a laugh of dark humor. "I even began to feel hopeful for the first time in a long while, the odds didn't seem so overwhelming." The laugh faded and he looked back to her, "But even so, deep down, I guess I never understood why you stayed. I was afraid to need you because in the back of my head there was always the fear that sooner or later you'd come to your senses and move on in your career. Leave the X-files. Leave me." he added quietly. "But God, Scully, I never dreamed it would happen like this."

He saw Scully listening intently to his words, shaking her head slightly. "Mulder, for God's sake, I didn't stay because I'm noble. I stayed because I'm selfish. I stayed because it's what I wanted for me, because I needed it. Because I needed you." She could see Mulder's eyes were solemn as he looked at her, listening to her words. He took a step towards her.

"Scully, the same night you told me you were sick, you also told me that you'd always thought your future would include me..." He paused as he tried to gain control back over his voice. "You can't have any idea how much I wanted to hear that," he said finally, "You slept in my arms like a baby that night," he said softly, closing his eyes just briefly as though relieving that memory. "I was the one you called from the hospital and you said you needed me. I thought it was true, Scully, I really did. And it just broke my heart when you started to shut me out, when you began to lie to me."

Scully shook her head slowly and looked at him sadly, searching his eyes. "Oh Mulder," she said miserably. "You've got it all so wrong."

Mulder wanted to believe her more than anything, wanted so much to be wrong. "Do I Scully? Then why lie to me? Why make me feel that you don't want or need me? Why look me the eye and tell me that you're fine when I know damn well that you're not? Why not just tell me the truth?" His voice was tense.

Scully's frustration finally boiled over at the interrogation. "You want the truth Mulder? Well, the truth is I'm sick and you're crazy."

She came towards him as the anger overtook her and he almost took a step back. "I've haven't been lying to you." she said fiercely to him. I've been lying to myself. I'm not fine--I'm dying. And I'm angry. I'm even angry with you because you're going to go on without me. I never thought it would be like this either, Mulder."

"Scully..."

"But you know what else? You're crazy. How can you stand there and lecture me about feeling unneeded when this last incident has shown me nothing except that you're willing to do anything, even sacrifice sanity or your life, to get to the truth you want. What if you had died Mulder--did you even think about that? Think about what losing you would do to me?"

Scully answered her own questions. "No--you just went after what you sought alone because you didn’t want me with you, you didn't need me in your life on any personal level." Scully's voice shook as the threat of new tears caused her to stammer over her words and she forced it under control. "Mulder, the only need you have is for answers and it breaks my heart that I'm not necessary to you."

Mulder now stood before her, leaning into her to speak softly as though someone would overhear him, his voice emotional, and his breath warm on her skin. The physical intimacy of his presence was pulling her near. "Scully, you're wrong. Oh God, you couldn't be more wrong, I've always wanted you with me. When I called you last Friday night I wanted...." Mulder broke off a moment before meeting her eyes again. "God, Scully I love you--of course I wanted you with me."

She dropped her gaze from his and looked at the deep rise and fall of his chest, remembering the sound of his heartbeat when he'd held her against him earlier. Scully wasn't sure if he even realized that he'd finally said the words in his heart. Suddenly she wondered just what the hell they were fighting about; they were wasting time again.

She looked back up at Mulder's face. "So why didn't you just ask me to come with you?" she asked him softly. "Were you really so sure that I'd say no?"

Mulder nodded at the easy answer, but after a moment he decided to tell her the entire truth. "But I was also afraid that you'd say yes," he said with equal softness. "Because then I'd have it all and once that happened, I didn't think I could ever go back to being alone again."

Scully slowly nodded, she understood this all to well. They looked at each for a long time until Mulder moved even closer and a gentle smile crossed his face. "So, you would have come with me if I'd asked?" he asked softly.

"I think so," she whispered in return. "Maybe--Oh God, I don't know," she finished unsure about whether she really would have been so brave herself. "I don't know anything anymore..." Scully's voice broke as his nearness finally overwhelmed her. "I was once so sure of every single thing in my life and now the only thing I'm sure of is that you and I are running out of time." She closed the last of the gap between them as she moved into his embrace and felt his arms move close around her. She laid her head over his heart, rubbing her face against his chest.

She felt Mulder's sigh as he held her closely against him. "We still have time Scully," he promised her. "Maybe not as much as we once thought, but we still have time."

She looked up into his face, searching his eyes and after a moment, she nodded her agreement. "Yes, we do."

Mulder bent to kiss her, breathing her name softly just as his lips touched hers, gently for a moment. But then he pulled her up into the kiss as a rough passion overtook him and all he wanted was the sweet warmth of her mouth. He felt Scully's hands move up his body as her tongue caressed his lower lip in response and he lifted his lips only to open more fully to her.

He became aware that he was gripping Scully too desperately for her comfort and he relaxed his hands as he pressed his lips hungrily to her face and throat, the deep intense pleasure of it quite literally bringing him to his knees as he drew Scully down with him.

It was in front of the fire and on the deep-down comforters hastily pulled from the back of the couch that Mulder made love to Scully for the first time. The light was warm and all scars, both physical and emotional, were fully visible--there would be no hiding from each other as four years of intellectual foreplay gave way to play far more primal and instinctual. The need to become one physically and as soon as possible took over, and the need to express their feelings through the giving and taking of pleasure rather than the give and take of words became the thing driving them together.

As they knelt before each other, Mulder's hand meshed deeply in her hair and the other gripped the soft curve of her rear as he drew her tight against him. Scully drew his head down to hers, and Mulder's breath was hot against her skin as he moved his lips from her mouth to touch them to her face, her neck and back to her mouth again.

Scully slowly drew away from Mulder's seeking mouth, touching her fingers to his lips, tracing their shape as he reached for her. His breath came deep and quickly as she felt the moist warmth on her fingers as he kissed them gently, drawing them into his mouth before taking her hand in his and pressing her palm to his mouth.

"Mulder," she called his name, low and sweet and he opened his eyes, his gaze questioning. Scully's emotions were torn loose and she smiled hesitatingly at him as though she wanted to say more. When he saw the look in her eyes, he smiled down at her in return, understanding exactly what she was feeling; how very strange and very unreal this all felt after all this time together, after all the thinking. "I know, Scully," he told her in hushed tone as he lowered his lips back to hers for another taste. "But it's so good, isn't it?...So good."

Scully would have agreed if Mulder hadn't covered her mouth with his, hungry and fervent. She moved her hands between their bodies to pull at Mulder's T-shirt. She finally caught the hem and slid it up the length of his chest, dragging her mouth from Mulder's so she could kiss his chest and lay the flat of her tongue against his nipple stroking it softly, then insistently. Holding his shirt out of the way with one hand, she slowly trailed her lips across the soft down of chest hair to his other nipple and back. Mulder's head dropped back with a deep sigh. His one hand rested gently on Scully's head, simply following her movements as she kissed and suckled as he relaxed against her ministrations.

Her other hand slid down his flat belly, caressing in small circular motions, inching downward, opening his jeans. She bent further to lay kisses on his navel and into the small hair trail below, and relished hearing Mulder's contented moan as her hands stroked him. Dropping his shirt, she reached up to kiss him again as she pressed her body into Mulder's hardness, moving against him. She drew his tongue deep into her mouth, sucking on it gently, finally breaking the kiss long enough to grasp Mulder's T-shirt again and pull it off over his head before returning her mouth to his.

Mulder's breath was ragged now as she ran her hands over the smooth skin of his shoulders and back. His hands held her head as she moved her lips to the long healed scar on his shoulder; his permanent evidence that she was capable of anything to protect him. She kissed the scar and touched it with her fingers as she raised her eyes to see him looking at her with his own brand of amusement. Scully returned the smile and kissed him again, as her hands slipped down to cup the hard curves of his butt as she felt him press into her.

As Mulder moved against her, he pushed his hands between them, reaching for the buttons on her shirt, making quick work of them. He touched each bit of newly exposed skin with his fingers and then his mouth as he undid the buttons, finally sliding the shirt from Scully's shoulders. The small lace bra that he hardly noticed the color of was gone in the next moment. Mulder touched and kissed her breasts, suckling and tongue bathing her as she'd done to him and he heard the same sounds of contentment as she now arched to meet his touch. Their hands and mouths separated only long enough to remove the last articles of clothing that separated them.

Mulder rose to his knees and pulled Scully up against him, wanting the feel of her skin against his for the first time. Scully wrapped her arms around his neck and they held on to each other for a moment, almost resting, almost proving to themselves that this was true. But Mulder couldn’t wait any longer. He'd thought to take his time and enjoy this, but he was fast losing control and one look at Scully's face told him she wanted the final completion too.

She moved from her knees, laying back into the comforter, bringing Mulder with her. He suddenly realized that he hadn't said a word to her, and somehow felt like he should, but it was too late, he was being driven by his need to possess and be possessed. He craved the release, the peace that only Scully could give him. He moved over her body as she opened to him and in one single movement he was deep within her body. The sudden intense feeling coiled low and deep in his groin and balls and now having joined with her fully for the first time, he began to move.

He felt Scully's small but incredibly strong hands on his back and butt, pulling at him deeper as she adjusted to his thrusts, bringing her legs up and rocking up against him. He opened his eyes to look down at her and saw that her eyes were closed, her head was turned to the side, her hair tousled over her face. She was breathing as hard as he was, her lips parted as she made beautiful sounds mingled with his name. "Oh Jesus, Mulder."

Mulder reached up to smooth the hair back from her face so he could see her. Come for me, Scully, he thought. He wanted to see that moment he'd imagined all this time, Scully in deepest need because of him. As though she'd heard his thought, she called his name again, her breathing becoming quicker as he moved so relentlessly against her. He lifted his body back just slightly to touch her, stroke her with his fingers. As he did so, Scully opened her eyes for the first time, although they were narrow with passion, as she arched up against his hand, thrusting as her stroked her with his thumb. After a moment, he slowly brought his fingers from her body to his lips, tasting her as Scully watched his movement, her lips parted. He took her and placed it down where their bodies met, moving her fingers over the bundle of nerves, a hard rub for each of his thrusts.

Oh God, she was so close, so close. "Harder," she asked just as she reached up to him, seeking his mouth upon hers.

Mulder bent to kiss her, sharing the taste and began to rock harder against her because she asked him to, lowering his full weight against her cradled body as his own heated satisfaction began to send its signals to the very ends of all his nerves. He felt Scully begin to come before she even started making the distinct sounds. He felt her rhythmic inner contractions start and then suddenly arch against him, as her legs tightened about him. Her hands gripped his body as though she could pull his soul inside her too as she cried out sharply, her eyes closing again and she tossed her head as the full roll of her orgasm hit her. "Oh God, Mulder," she cried out sharply gripping his arms to steady herself, followed by a long moan of progressing pleasure.

Oh God yes, he thought. He'd made Scully come; one the highpoints of his miserable life. Mulder let go of his last restraint and fell into bringing on his own wracking final pleasure, the thought of coming inside Scully, both body and heart obliterating any other thought.

He was so close as he threw his back into his thrusts, driving hard. Dimly behind the blood heat, he heard Scully urging him on, asking him in deeper as she moved to intensify his gratification even as her own climax was easing slowly down. Within a moment, Mulder cried out as the pleasure waves traversed his entire body in overwhelming release. Oh God,

He'd taken one of her hands in hers, lacing their fingers together. And as his craving was nourished by her body, he realized that he was clutching at her fingers with fierce strength. Slowly he relaxed his death grip, but he felt her soothing hands continue to touch him as he trembled with the deep contentment of release.

Mulder supported his weight as he tried to catch his breath, he brought his hand slowly up her body, now slightly damp with sweat, as he reached up to cup her face, brushing her hair back again as he kissed her breathless again. When he drew back, they were both breathing like they'd run a foot race. Actually they had, one that had taken years to cross this finish line.

They both lay in that drifting place of languor where rational thought didn't enter and only physical feeling was allowed until Mulder finally found the strength to withdraw from her body and shift to his side, pulling Scully against him. They remained quiet as their bodies readjusted, as breathing and heartbeats returned to normal and their minds returned from the intense high. Neither said a word because they'd just said it all and within moments before they could start thinking and analyzing and talking it all to death, sleep claimed them both as they lay curled together as one.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was just a few hours later when Scully awoke tangled in the comforter. Mulder wasn't next to her, but she knew he wasn't far. She rolled over slowly feeling the slightly sore muscles of the recently well-laid. She bet Mulder's knees ached a bit and she knew for a fact that she'd left a few minor abrasions on his back. She smiled a bit--it was a good thing she was a doctor. She remembered the sounds he'd made and the look on his face as he'd called out her name as he'd come deep within her and was sure he would consider his pains as small a price as she did.

Finding his T-shirt scattered on the floor, she pulled it on, breathing deep his scent as it went over her head and fell almost to her knees when she stood up. Looking through the open French doors she saw Mulder, sitting on edge of the deck in the moonlight, wearing only sweatpants, his bare feet dug into the sand, as he looked out over the night ocean.

She came out on the deck quietly, but he sensed her presence and looked back at her. There stood a picture he'd only seen in his dreams, Scully wearing both his shirt and a deeply satisfied, but almost shy smile. He smiled in return, leaned back, and reached up for her as she approached. She came down into his arms and he kissed her. When he released her, she moved to sit between his legs and his arms went around her waist, pulling her back against his chest as she ran her hands over his arms and down his thighs. Stupidly, she felt a little bit like crying again.

"I love you, Mulder," she said instead, bringing his palm to her lips so she could kiss it.

Mulder nuzzled her neck a bit. "Yeah? Well, you're crazy," he answered in a voice low with deep affection.

Scully had to smile. "No, Mulder remember? I'm sick. You're crazy."

Mulder gave a small laugh at Scully's honest black humor. "Well, it's just as well we found each other then. We saved two other innocent people."

She looked up at him. "Well, that's our job, Mulder. Protect the innocent."

Mulder nodded as he turned serious. "Who's going to protect us?" he asked softly in her ear, as he stroked her body gently.

"There's just us Mulder. You and I are just about all we've got."

"Well, if you're all I've got, then I certainly ended up with far more than my fair share." He fell silent and his hands stilled for a moment. "I love you, Scully," he said finally. "And I promise I'll try not to ever exclude you again. I'll really try."

She nodded her acceptance of his promise knowing that an "I'll try" from Mulder was a lifelong promise. He might falter on occasion, but she'd never met a man who tried harder to keep a promise than he would. And besides, she had her own counter offer to make as she looked back at him. "Mulder, I'm sorry you ever doubted that I need you. I'll try to do better at telling you."

Mulder nodded his head as he ran his hands along her body again and suddenly smiled. "Well, you certainly showed me in any event," he said in his wicked teasing voice. Much to his delight, even in the moonlight, he could see a guileless blush run over her skin and he loved it. He slid his hand across her flat belly and up to softly cup her breast, teasing the nipple with his thumb as she made a small noise of pleasure.

"Well good, then you know," she said as she tilted her head so he could more easily reach her neck as he kissed her there and she ran her hands down the length of his thighs and slowly moved her bottom back against him.

"Yeah, I know." He reached up with his other hand, turned her face towards him and kissed her deeply. As he held her, Mulder became more and more convinced that somehow, they would find a way to stay together and he drew away with reluctance. God, he wanted to take her back inside and make love to her again. Maybe even on the bed this time, he thought with a smile. Very, very slowly this time, leaving no pleasure or desire unsatiated, as though they had all the time in the world.

But because they had all that time, he decided instead to sit with her for a bit in the fresh open air, hold her close and just enjoy the peace that came from knowing that their very two separate lives had finally become just one.

The End

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That's the end of this story. I hope the journey of the mind was worth the time invested. The feedback beast loves to be fed comments, questions, or criticisms at kimerikal@aol.com.

My other XF fanfic can be found at:  http://chimericalpublications.com/chimerical/fanfic/fanfic.htm

Little additional notes: To me, from their conversation at the beginning of Memento Mori, it had always seemed that Mulder was already aware that Scully had gone in for tests (hey, he brought her flowers even!). Just my opinion, your mileage may vary.

And also, the line that begins part three was in the script but was inexplicably cut from the broadcast version.

Originally published, April, 1998
Revised, November 2001