Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Agent Scully, you’ve had a good long time to think about the question that was asked in our last session. I want to give you the opportunity to answer that question here today, so I can help our good chairman here to get on with this proceeding.”

“I can’t answer that question, sir.”

“I’m going to ask you again. Where is Special Agent Mulder?  Why is he not here?”

“I’d be happy to answer your questions about the man carrying the diplomatic pouch.”

“Agent Scully-” 

“About his murder, and my opinion about its connection to the death of Dr. Bonita Charne-Sayre of the World Health Organization.”

“Miss Scully, you’ll get your chance with all of that-”

“Or about the biotoxin being transported within that pouch.”

“Answer the question Miss Scully.”

“What is the question?”

Scully replayed the moment Mulder interrupted the senate hearings over and over in her mind.  She’d never felt such total and utter relief in all of her life.  She’d never been so god damn elated at the sound of someone’s voice and she was pretty sure the surprise and joy had been written all over her face.  She’d never felt anything like the way her heart had stopped and then kicked into overdrive when she’d turned around and saw him casually coming towards her.  It was exhilarating, almost euphoric.  

That euphoria was to be short-lived, however.  They’d had work to do and once the dust was settled, she hadn’t had much time to dwell on how she could have played the game more wisely and what she could have done differently, though she did dwell on it enough to produce some sleepless nights and a handful of tension headaches.  As it turned out, Mulder was also being kept up at night, but by hauntingly eerie dreams of missing girls and heart-shaped fabric cut-outs and the case that unraveled as a result shifted her focus.

Only days later, she was hesitant on leaving him behind for her planned Christmas vacation, but he’d reassured her he’d be fine and to send his well-wishes to her mother.  She’d endured her mother’s annual holiday dinner and midnight mass and the fawning over her brother, Bill, and his new wife, Tara, and the not-so-subtle inferences from her mother’s friends, and even Father McCue, that she should start thinking about settling down now as well.  She responded with tight-lipped smiles, hoping that Mulder might call suddenly with an urgent case to pull her away, but no such luck.

With the festivities over, she started mulling over the congressional power play with renewed fervor.  A random thought crept into her brain late one night and wouldn’t let go.  Maybe because it was so late or maybe because she’d been sleeping so poorly as of late it felt like such an obvious solution.  Before she could talk herself out of it, she drove to Mulder’s apartment right then and there, in the middle of the night, and let herself in with her key.  The TV was on mute and Mulder was asleep on the couch in a white t-shirt and jeans, arms folded across his chest like he was hugging himself while the light from infomercials flickered across his face.

“Mulder,” she whispered, putting a hand on his forearm as she crouched low in front of his coffee table.

Mulder came to with a sudden jerk, then a stretch, and a roll of his eyes.  He frowned and turned his head from the light and murmured Scully’s name inside of a yawn.  “Timessit?” he mumbled.

“It’s late,” she said.  “I’m sorry.  But, this couldn’t wait.”

It took him a few moments, but Mulder sat up.  Scully rose up a little to sit at the edge of the coffee table as he bent forward with his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his face with both hands.  He yawned again and squinted up at her.

“We have to get married,” she said.

Mulder blinked a few times and then scrubbed his face again, pulling the skin of his cheeks down with the pads of his fingers for a few moments until he shook his head.  “I’m sorry, Scully, I must be still asleep, it sounded like you just said we have to get married.”

“That’s what I said.”

He looked back up at her with his bleary, sleep-watery eyes, his lips twisted into a question mark.  She suddenly realized how irrational she must seem at the moment, proposing marriage to her half-asleep partner at 2am, in her slippers and a sweatshirt hastily thrown over her silk pajamas.  She was about to take it back, to tell him to go back to sleep, that it really was all a dream, but Mulder leaned back and raised his arms up behind his head and looked up at the ceiling like he was in deep consideration.  His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and then pursed his lips.

“You must have really missed me these last four days,” he said, glancing down his nose at her.  “Either that or you’re planning ahead to fulfill some seriously interesting new year’s resolutions.”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the hearing, Mulder.  About how we can better protect ourselves.  How we can better protect each other.  And I…Mulder, I don’t ever want to be in that position again.”

“You think they couldn’t, for example, hold you in contempt of congress for refusing to reveal my whereabouts if we had spousal immunity?  Is that where you’re going with this?”

“They put me in detention, Mulder.  I had no way of…I didn’t know if you were alive or dead.  I had no way of contacting you.  I didn’t know if you needed rescuing or not.  That can’t happen again.  And if the situation were reversed, I think…I know you would feel the same.”

Mulder stared up at the ceiling for a bit longer before he looked down at her again.  His eyes gleamed with the light from the TV.  It was quiet, save for the gentle gurgling coming from the fish tank, but then Mulder took in a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks, and pushed out a heavy sigh.  He rocked forward and then reached for Scully’s hands, taking them both and squeezing lightly.

“Scully…”

She could hear the rejection in his tone before he said anything further and she pulled her hands free.  “Nevermind,” she said, quickly.  Embarrassment swooped in on her in an instant and she felt heat bloom across her cheeks and drop like a stone inside her gut.  

“I just want you to be sure of what you’re asking,” he said, taking her hands back into his and rubbing gentle circles into her palms.  “What it would mean.”

She was flustered now, and hot all over.  Her eyes watered as she stammered.  “It’s…it would just be a piece of paper.  One that would ensure we’d both be protected from disclosing privileged information and it would allow us access to each other when we might need it the most.”

“Conjugal visits?”  He shook her hands lightly and tilted his head in amusement, but then sobered off her distressed look.  She pulled her hands away from him with more force than was necessary as she slid backwards on the table.

Mulder leaned back against the cushions again, but crossed his arms over his chest this time and rubbed his hands over his biceps.  She looked down at her lap feeling awkward and foolish and irritated.

“Let me think about it,” he said.

She nodded vaguely to acknowledge she’d heard him, but kept her eyes on her lap.  “I’ll go.  You can get back to sleep.”

“I might have a little too much on my mind for that.”  He chuckled softly.  “You okay to drive home?  It’s late.”

“Yes, I’m fine.”  She nodded, and then had to hold her fist to her mouth to cover a yawn.  “I’m fine.”

He nodded, but the way his mouth puckered and tightened told her he didn’t believe her.  After a few beats of silence, she slid off of the table and he pushed himself up from the couch to walk her to the door.

“Call me when you get home so I know you’re safe,” he said, his hand coming up to rest briefly between her shoulder blades.

“I will.”  She nodded, taking a side glance at him as she stepped through the door.  Though she didn’t look back, she could feel his eyes on her as she walked away and waited for the elevator.

Once Scully was out of the door and back in her car, that’s when she started to really evaluate what she’d just done.  She’d essentially proposed a marriage of convenience to Mulder out of nowhere.  And he was right.  She hadn’t been thinking much beyond the legal protection it would afford them, but it would mean something.  It would mean they would be bound to each other forever.  Is that what she really wanted?

She did as Mulder asked when she got home and called him from her landline so he would know she was safe and sound.  He picked up on the first ring and the conversation was stilted, no more than the standard ‘Mulder, it’s me’ and a ‘glad you got home okay.’  She didn’t sleep for the rest of the night and spent the next two days furiously cleaning her apartment from top to bottom just to have something to distract herself.  

December 31st, Mulder called her early in the morning. “Meet me outside in ten minutes,” he said.  He sounded casual and light, there was nothing urgent or frenzied in his tone, but she was skeptical.   

“Why?”

“I’ve got something I can’t do alone.  I’ll have you back within an hour.”

“Do I need a weapon?”

“I sure hope not,” he answered, with a slight chuckle, and then hung up.

Mulder was already there when she made her way outside, double-parked in front of the entrance to her apartment building.  He handed her a styrofoam cup when she got in the passenger side and she sniffed it suspiciously before buckling her seatbelt.

“Hot chocolate?” she asked.

“With mini-marshmallows,” he answered.  “Though I’m pretty sure they’re melted by now.”

“You going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Virginia,” he said, and that was all he would give her.

Less than twenty minutes later, they arrived in downtown Arlington and Mulder pulled into a parking lot strategically surrounded by office buildings.  He turned off the car and then sat back in the seat and turned towards her.

“So, I did a little research,” he said.  “There aren’t any blood tests or waiting periods necessary in Virginia to get married.”

“Oh,” she answered, a nervous heat flushing through her.  “Is that…are we…?”

“First thing’s first.  The Virginia Circuit Court is just across the street.  We need a license.  And from there, we’ll have 60 days to tie the knot.”

She breathed a small sigh of relief.  Even if getting married was her idea, she did need to mentally prepare herself to say ‘I do.’  She also wouldn’t put it past Mulder to blindside her with an unexpected wedding.  Nothing was ever out of the realm of possibility when it came to him.

“So, you’ve thought about…my proposal,” she said.

“I admit, I’m a little disappointed you didn’t get down on one knee to ask, but after giving it some thought, I think you’re right.  We could probably use a little legal protection on our side.”

“Even if it means that-”

“I thought it didn’t mean anything.”

She shook her head and stared down at the cup of hot chocolate she held in her lap.  “I know I said that, but…it’s not an arrangement we can just easily walk away from.”

“Why would I want to walk away from it?”

“I just mean…what if you meet someone?”

“You know me, I’m a one-track mind kind of guy.  I’m pretty much married to the job, and you’re a part of that, so if you really think about it…we’d just be making it official.”  He chuckled and she returned a weak smile.  “But, if you should meet someone…”

“Let’s just agree to cross that bridge when and if that happens.”

“Agreed.  I do have a few conditions, though.”

Her brow shot up and she lifted her eyes to him in surprise.  “What kind of conditions?”

“We do this in a way that can’t be questioned later.  We’re getting a real license, not something mocked up by the gunmen to look real.  I’m guessing you probably don’t want to get married in a church and that’s fine by me, but we need to have a real civil service.”

“Okay.”

“And you’ll need to tell your mother.”

She hesitated.  She hadn’t planned on telling anyone, least of all her mother, unless it was absolutely necessary, but it’s true that keeping the marriage a secret could make the charade utterly useless if they ever had to pull that ace card out and it was proven to be invalid.

“And you can’t tell her it’s a lie either,” he added.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Tell her we’ve been keeping our relationship under wraps because of bureau policy, and we’ll be continuing on as though nothing has changed.”

“She’s not going to understand that.”

“She doesn’t have to understand it, she just has to believe it.”

“Are you going to tell your mother?”

“I kind of already have.”

“You…have?”

“Well...”  Mulder pulled back the lapel of his overcoat and dug his hand into the inside breast pocket.  A few moments later he pulled out a small, black velvet, drawstring bag.  “Hold out your hand.”

Scully pulled her left hand up to her chest with her fingers curled into a loose fist in momentary hesitation, but then extended her arm out to him and put her palm up.  Mulder poured out the contents from his bag into her hand and she gasped a little.  She was left holding a square-cut diamond ring that appeared to be an antique.  

“It was my grandmother’s,” Mulder said, plucking the small ring from her palm and fitting it onto the tip of his little finger.  “My father’s mother, Ruth.  She married my grandfather, Leo, in 1932.”

“I can’t…I can’t take this, Mulder.”

“You don’t have to wear it, but you need to have access to it.  It normally sits in a safety deposit box up in Boston, but I’ll open up one here.  Your name will be on the papers.  Try it on, we can have it resized if it doesn’t fit.”  He held his little finger out to her and wiggled it softly in invitation.

“Mulder…how the hell did you do all this in two days?”

“I asked my mother to pull it out from the bank and I flew up to get it yesterday.  She sends her regards.”

Scully gaped at the ring for a few moments and then finally gave her hand over to Mulder and he slid the ring onto her finger.  It was a tad loose, but if she wasn’t going to wear it regularly, it was acceptable.  “It’s beautiful,” she said.

“It fits?”

“Well enough.”  She was about to remove it from her finger, but Mulder stopped her and shook his head.

“Wear it inside.  It helps to look the part.”

“Oh.  Of course.”  Scully nodded slightly and pushed the ring back down to the end of her finger with her thumb.  Things were moving more quickly than she had imagined and her head was spinning a little. 

“I’ve got a gold band at home.  Forgot to bring it with me, but I’ll give it to you for safe keeping.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll also need you to sign a prenup.”

She frowned a little and her brows came together.  “Mulder, there’s no reas-”

“I know you probably think it’s silly or uncalled for, but there’s no way my lawyer would let me get married without one.”

“You have a lawyer?”

“My family does.  There’s a lot of…assets that need handling.”

“Oh.”

“So if you think you can get your hands on the fish if things go sour, think again.”

She snorted a little and dropped her eyes again.  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but is there anything else?”

He drummed his fingers at the bottom of the steering wheel for a few moments.  Suddenly, he got out of the car and he was at the passenger door before she even had her seatbelt off.  He held his hand out to her and she gave him a questioning look.  He closed and opened his hand once in silent invitation and she finally took it and let him help her from the car.  She was still holding the half-empty cup of hot chocolate which he took from her and placed onto the roof.

“If it’s going to look real, you can’t flinch or pull away when I do this…”  He put his hands on her hips and pushed her gently back against the car door as he leaned into her.  And then he kissed her.  It wasn’t passionate, but it wasn’t a quick, friendly peck on the lips either.  Scully reeled a little with shock, then recovered her wits and pushed him abruptly away with her eyes wide and her mouth agape.

“Mulder!”

“It can’t look like we’ve never done this before.”

“But, we haven’t done this before!”

“That’s exactly my point.”

“You could’ve…you could’ve at least warned me.”

“Alright, here’s your warning.  I’m going to kiss you again.”

“Wait.”  She put a hand up to his chest and he took it with both of his own and caressed her palm with his thumb.  Her heart was thumping wildly against her chest at that point.  “Why?”

“When they say, you may now kiss the bride, are you going to say ‘wait?’” he asked.

She hesitated.  “Of course not,” she answered, though her voice did not hold a lot of confidence.

“Uh huh.  We need to get it out of the way.  And it’s a good thing we’ve got 60 days to practice.”

Scully’s eyes grew wide and Mulder chuckled.  Her brows came together pensively and she turned her head to the side in frustration and embarrassment.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “Maybe I can’t do this.”

“Am I that unappealing?  Hey.”  He brushed the knuckle of his index finger along her jaw so that she would look at him.  He smiled and brought her hand up to his mouth to kiss her wrist.  He never broke eye contact with her as he cupped her jaw and brushed his thumb across her cheek.

Suddenly, Scully was struck by the absurdity of the situation.  She was pinned to the side of the car while her partner was currently pretending to seduce her, all so they could make a silly kiss look real as proof of a fake marriage.  Her lips quivered with a smile that never quite reached its full potential when she realized that Mulder may actually be taking this seriously.

“Mulder, I…”

“Close your eyes.” 

She protested with a weak shake of her head, but he leaned into her space again, this time with his arm up, resting above her head along the rim of the door.  His body heat enveloped her, making her feel drowsy.  Her eyelids drooped and he dipped his head, this time moving in to kiss the left side of her mouth, and then the right.  He turned his head again and then pressed his lips fully to hers.  It wasn’t as startling that time around, it was actually quite pleasant.  His lips were warm and soft.  Their teeth didn’t clash, their noses didn’t interfere with each other, and there was no unwanted invasion of his tongue into her mouth.  She’d had worse kisses in her lifetime, but she’d also had better.  There was a light smack of their lips coming apart when he pulled away and she found herself weaving her head towards him slightly as though seeking out more.

“That’s better,” he said, brushing the corner of her mouth with his thumb.  “A little dazed beats utterly horrified.”

“I was not horrified.”

“Hey, I’m just glad I didn’t get a right hook as a response.”

“No, if anything you should expect the left.”

He smiled and she swore there was a twinkle in his eye.  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Several moments passed and neither moved.  He still hovered over her and she stayed leaning back against the car.  A light breeze lifted her hair up to brush her cheek and Mulder swept it back over her ear for her.

“So,” she said.  “Is that…is that all?”

“That’s all,” he answered, shifting his feet back and straightening.  “Unless you want to add anything?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Shall we, then?” he asked, holding his hand out to her again and she didn’t hesitate to take it this time.  He grabbed the cup off the roof and she took it from him to throw away when they passed a garbage can.  She kept her hand in his as they walked to the corner and then waited at the crosswalk for the pedestrian light to change.  She shivered, leaning into him to steal some of his warmth and he let go of her hand to put his arm around her shoulder.

“For the record,” she said, tipping her face up to him.  “You’re not that unappealing.”

He laughed lightly and looked down at her.  “For the record, neither are you.”

“Is this crazy, Mulder?”

“Probably.  But, definitely not the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”  He gave a shrug.  It seemed for a moment he was going to say something more, but then the light changed and they crossed the street.  

The inside of the clerk’s office was quiet, though the faint sound of a radio could be heard from somewhere in the back.  There was one couple at the window ahead of them, their heads bent over the paperwork strewn across the counter.  

The wait wasn’t long, but Scully felt antsy and tense with each passing minute.  She jumped slightly when Mulder put his hands on her shoulders and leaned over to put his lips close to the shell of her ear.  “Relax,” he whispered, slipping one arm over her chest and pulling her back into him.

She tipped her head back and lifted her hands to hold onto his arm across her chest.  “How are you so calm?” she whispered back.

“Because this was your idea and I trust your judgment.”  He kissed her cheek and then straightened, but kept his hold on her, moving his other hand to rest on her hip.

The couple in front of them finished, walking away from the window in a lip-lock with their arms around each other.  Oblivious and giddy, they nearly bumped into them, but Mulder pulled Scully back with him against the wall to avoid collision.

“Next,” the clerk called.

“We’re up,” Mulder said, moving his arm down so that it was around Scully’s waist and they moved to the window as a pair.

“Current IDs,” the clerk said, without even looking up from the papers she was stapling.

Mulder and Scully both retrieved their driver’s licenses and slid them across the counter.  The clerk took a glance at both, pulled a form from a tray and handed it over with a pen.  “Fill out the top, sign the bottom.  $25 payable by cash or check.”

“You’ve got better handwriting,” Mulder said, pushing the form over to Scully’s side.  “I’ll get the check.”

It took less than five minutes for their IDs to be returned, the check to be collected, and for a small manila envelope holding a marriage license to be placed into their hands.  It was all too easy and almost anti-climatic.  Scully took possession of the envelope and Mulder took her hand, bringing her knuckles to his mouth as they headed for the door.

“Step one,” he said.  “Now, we just need to set a date.”

The manila envelope sat in Scully’s lap for the drive home.  Several times over, her hands moved to open it, to look at it, but she stopped herself every time.  This was more than just an idea now, it was taking shape.  There was a ring on her finger that hadn’t been there this morning.  Mulder had kissed her, had talked about prenups and of telling their mothers.

“What are you doing tonight?” Mulder asked.

Scully looked up, surprised to find that they were parked in front of her building.  “Tonight?”

“Yeah.  New Year’s Eve.  Plans?”

“No, I…no, no plans.”

“You want to hang out?”

“You don’t have plans?”

“Nothing I can’t cancel to hang out with my fiance.”

Scully dropped her head and ran her fingers over the edges of the manila envelope.  She noticed the ring on her finger that she’d forgotten about and she went to remove it, but Mulder’s hand covered hers.

“Keep it safe,” he said.

“I’ll…call you later.  If I feel like doing something.”

“I’ll be around.”

Scully got out of the car and as usual, Mulder waited until she’d opened her front door to drive off.  When she got inside her apartment she noted that he’d kept his promise, he had her back just shy of an hour.  She finally took the license out of the envelope and looked it over.  It was hard to believe that sheet of paper authorized her and Mulder to get married in the state of Virginia, no questions asked.  

Of course, there was still time to back out.  They had 60 days until the license expired and either of them could always change their mind.  The license didn’t declare them married, it just permitted them to.  She tucked the slip of paper back into the envelope and put the envelope into her dresser drawer, out of sight and out of mind.  The ring that he gave her went into her jewelry box until he was to acquire the safe deposit box for it.

A mild headache began to form behind her eyes so Scully decided on a power nap before doing a bit of grocery shopping.  She’d be returning to the office in two days and needed to get back to her routine.  Vacations were nice, but she liked the structure her work provided.

Later that evening when she sat down to the baked chicken dinner she’d made for herself, melancholy fell over her.  She didn’t know how it happened that she became a person that ate alone most evenings and didn’t have plans for New Year’s Eve.  She was never big on parties, but either her friend Ellen or her sister used to make sure she wasn’t spending the holiday alone.  Her sister wasn’t here anymore and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d spoken with Ellen.  Maybe she should call Mulder and take him up on his offer.

It was ironic that Scully took more time convincing herself to spend New Year’s Eve with Mulder than she’d spend considering asking him to marry her.  She spent nearly an hour waffling on whether or not she would call and then she finally decided that she would drive to his apartment and if he was there, she would stay, but if he wasn’t, it was a sign that he’d gone ahead with whatever plans he’d made.

At his door, Scully tried to listen first for sounds that Mulder might be inside, but it was silent.  She knocked lightly and was ready to walk away after only a few moments, but the door opened and he looked pleasantly surprised to see her.  By the looks of things, with his chest bare and jeans half-buttoned and damp hair, he may have been getting ready to go out.  She held up an unopened bottle of champagne she’d found in her cupboard and he took it with a broad smile and then ushered her inside.

She lingered by the door.  “Are you headed out?”

“You didn’t call, so…”

“I’ll go.”

He caught her by the elbow before she turned and shook his head.  “Let me put this in the freezer to chill.”

“Mulder, I should go.  You’re right, I was supposed to call.  You had plans.”

“You’re saving me from a night of Dungeons & Dragons and cheap beer.”

“The gunmen?”

“Bingo.  Go make yourself at home.  Can I get you anything?”

“I’m fine.”

Mulder took a few steps backwards towards the kitchen like he was afraid she might leave if he turned around.  She took her coat off so he could rest assured she was staying and then unzipped her boots as well.  A black and white movie was playing on the TV, volume low.  She sat down on the couch and tried to figure out what he’d been watching, but it didn’t seem familiar.  Mulder disappeared into his room after coming out of the kitchen and then reemerged pulling a gray t-shirt over his head before he sat down beside her.

“You like Plan 9?” he asked.

“Plan 9?”

“The movie.  Plan 9 From Outer Space.”

“Is that what this is?  I’ve never seen it.”

“Never?”

Scully shook her head.  

“It’s my favorite.  I’ve seen it 39 times.”

“39…Mulder, isn’t Plan 9 supposed to be the worst movie ever made and you’ve seen it 39 times?”  She was surprised, yet not surprised by this fact.

“Oh, it’s terrible, but it’s so profoundly bad it can actually…hang on, this part is great…’Because all of you of Earth are idiots!’”  He gave a short laugh and grinned over at Scully.  

“39 times?”

“Technically this is 40.”

Scully cocked her head and frowned a little, but then her brows came together rather pensively and she turned away to stare at the TV.  Mulder leaned over and cocked his head as well and then bumped his shoulder into hers.

“What’s that look for?” he asked.

“I’m just surprised that there are things like this I don’t know about you.”

“Well, now you know.”

“I know, but…”

Mulder picked up the remote from the coffee table and turned off the TV.  “What do you want to know?”

She paused and shook her head slightly.  “I guess I’m just realizing that…it’s not like I’m marrying a stranger, but…I don’t really know you.”

“It’s just a movie, it’s not that important.”

“You’re right.”  She waved her hand dismissively.  “And now I know.  You’ve seen Plan 9 From Outer Space 40 times.”

“More like 39 and ¾.”  He leaned over and bumped her shoulder with his again.  “Your favorite is The Exorcist, so you once claimed.”

“It is.”

“You want to watch it?  I’ve got the VHS around here somewhere.”

“You do?”

“It’s a good flick.”

“Sure.”

Mulder put the movie on and as they settled in to watch, the reality of what a fake marriage would actually entail started to set in for Scully.  It was one thing to sign a piece of paper or to wear a ring, but could they pull it off if push came to shove?  They could make all the claims they wanted about having a secret relationship, but how could they validate those claims when she couldn’t answer something as simple as what her husband’s favorite movie was?

Her thoughts distracted her and it was hard for her to give her attention over to the movie.  Mulder tried to make conversation with her, dropping facts and tidbits about the film or regaling her with exorcism stories from x-files.  At some point, she closed her eyes and she must have drifted off the sleep because the next thing she knew, Mulder was shaking her shoulder and she was startled awake.

“Five minutes to midnight,” he said.

Scully pushed herself up straight and then rubbed her eyes.  The champagne she’d brought was on the table along with a single wine glass and a beer stein.  The movie was off, or at least no longer playing, and had been replaced by Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you conked out on me,” he answered with a chuckle, pouring the champagne.  “I’m sure it won’t be the last either.  I don’t have any champagne flutes.”

“That’s okay.”

Time seemed to wind down quickly.  There was only twenty seconds to the new year when Mulder sat back and put his arm around her.  He smiled at her when she tipped her head back to look up at him and then he was counting down, each number punctuated by a small nod.  His eyes were on her mouth and she braced herself, her stomach flipping when it occurred to her he was about to kiss her.

“Five…four…three…two…one…happy new year, Scully.”

“Happy new year,” she murmured, surprised and a little disappointed when all he did was tap his beer stein gently with her wine glass.

They both took a sip of the champagne and then Mulder settled back and she did as well.  She would have to admit it was nice, spending a casual evening with him, sleepily sipping champagne, to see this side of him that she never got to see.

“This is nice,” she murmured, unintentionally. 

“Yeah?”  He laughed and took another sip of his champagne.  

She studied the side of his face for a few moments as he drank the champagne and then looked down into the bubbles fizzing up and popping in her glass.  She wondered what a real marriage to Mulder would look like.  Would it be nights like this?  Would those be few and far between amongst the clandestine trips to secret government containment facilities in the middle of the night and the sudden urge to chase lights in the sky halfway across the country?  Would he even be capable of putting his energy into a real relationship?  Would anyone even believe that she’d marry him?  She frowned at the thoughts that rolled in like the dark clouds of a thunderstorm.

“Mulder, if…if push came to shove, do you think we’d be able to actually convince people we’re married?”

“People already think we’re married.”

“What people?”

“What people?”  Mulder lowered his beer stein and tipped his head at her.  “You don’t hear the gossip around the water cooler?  Or, the amount of times some well-meaning check-in clerk at a motel asks if we’d like a queen or a king room?  Not to mention the fishing expeditions into our relationship status by other agents or local PD trying to get your number and not wanting to step on my toes.”

“That’s never happened.”

“It happens all the time.”

She was shocked by that piece of information.  She’d been casually hit on a handful of times over the years, but Mulder was making it seem as though it was a regular occurrence.  “You’ve never told me that.”

It took a few moments for Mulder to answer and he only did so after taking a sip of his champagne.  “I guess I figured that if you wanted to get one of their numbers that you would’ve done it yourself.”

“That would be highly inappropriate.”

“Well, I guess now when they ask I can just tell them you’re spoken for.”

“What do you usually say?”

“That your personal life is none of my business.”  He paused and looked over at her.  “I can’t believe you didn’t know.”

“Why would I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?  You’re smart, attractive, awesome at what you do, probably the best in the bureau, let’s be real.  Who wouldn’t want your number?”

“Come on…”

“I’m serious, Scully.  You know, if we’d met under different circumstances, I’d probably have asked for it.”

“Okay, now you’re being ridiculous.”  She moved forward to set her glass on the coffee table, but Mulder squeezed her shoulder and pulled her closer instead.

“You don’t believe me?” he asked.  “Maybe we will have a hard time convincing people after all.”

She sighed.  “No, you’re very convincing, it would be me.  I just have a hard time lying.”

“Oh.”  He finished the champagne in his stein and then moved his arm from around her to sit forward.  He turned the TV off and she moved forward to the edge of the couch as well to finally put her glass down.

“I should go.”  She rubbed at her bleary eyes and blinked a few times.

“You okay to drive?”

“I barely had one glass of champagne.”

He nodded slightly and got up with her when she stood and stretched.  Once she’d slipped her shoes on he helped her into her coat and then held onto the lapels and gave them a little shake.

“Thanks for coming.  And happy new year.”

“Happy new year, Mulder.”

He bent and kissed her cheek and then let her go.  The hallway was quiet and warm as she made her way to the elevator.  She turned back several times, a part of her hoping that Mulder would suddenly be there behind her, calling her back inside, but he’d already shut the door behind her and she didn’t know why, but it felt like a rejection of some kind.

She slept fitfully again, filled with a restlessness she couldn’t explain.  She was agitated and anxious the next morning like she was waiting for something to happen, but didn’t know what.  Her head was pounding when she flipped through her calendar, trying to find an open date within the next 59 days that didn’t conflict with other plans.  The only date she could come up with was February 7th, which seemed entirely too soon.

When she arrived at work on Monday morning, she affixed a Post-It to Mulder’s blotter with the date and a question mark and he nodded at it and then folded it into a little square and tucked it into his wallet.  He then proceeded to tell her to grab her overnight bag, that they were headed to Fresno, California. They slipped back into the groove of work with ease and she welcomed the routine.  The week felt like a reprieve.  She was too busy trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Mulder was convinced they were hunting a mythical chupacabra to think about the fact that they were less than five weeks away from getting married, or how she was going to tell her mother.

After the case was wrapped up and they were back at home, Mulder knocked on her door at noon on Saturday, bearing Subway sandwiches and a banker’s box that he dropped onto her dining table with a thud.

“It’s Saturday,” she muttered, grumpily plucking at the lid of the box, but Mulder put his hand on it and kept it closed.  

“It’s not work,” he answered, tapping the top of the box lightly with his index and third finger before he turned to her refrigerator and started helping himself to a pitcher of iced tea.

“What is it?”

“First, we have an appointment at the Falls Church City Hall with a civil marriage celebrant on February 7th.”  He brought two glasses to the table from her cupboard and pulled out a chair for her to sit.

“Okay.”

“And second, you got me thinking on New Year’s.  What you said about not knowing each other.”   

“I was just in a mood.”  She waved her hand dismissively as she sat down.

“No, you’re right.  If we need to put this marriage to use and declare ourselves above the law, we need to plan accordingly.”

“We have a real license.  We’re going to have a real justice of the peace proclaiming us married.  That’s not above the law at all, that’s well within the parameters of the law.”

“That was my initial thought too, and then after this last case I thought…green cards.”

“Green cards?”

“People who marry for green cards.  The immigration process.”

“We’re not trying to get green cards, Mulder.”

“No, just trying to pull one over on the U.S. government.”  He poured tea for both of them and then sat down across from her.  “I had the boys hack into immigration and do some poking around.”

“You…told them?”

“No, I couldn’t risk breaking Frohike’s heart like that and ask a favor at the same time.  I just asked them for a copy of a questionnaire, or some of what they look for if they want to confirm or discredit a marriage.”

Mulder leaned to one side and reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a folded packet of papers, stapled at one corner.  He unfolded it, smoothed it out, and then handed it over to her.  Scully took it, but only took a brief glance at it.

“They get pretty invasive in those investigations, don’t they?” she asked.  “Home visits.  Interviews with friends and family.”

“You said you didn’t want to lie.”

“I said I had a hard time with it.”

“Well, how do you prove a lie, Scully?”

“You can’t.”

“Sure you can, with the truth.”

Scully pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on.  Mulder seized the opportunity to unwrap their sandwiches and put hers on a plate.  Tuna, no mayo, extra pickles for her.  She could smell the marinara from his meatball sub wafting towards her as he opened his up.  It made her stomach rumble, but she didn’t eat.  She looked at the papers on the table and then back up to Mulder.

“Some of them are pretty easy,” he said, wiping his mouth after taking a bite of his sandwich.  “How many brothers and sisters does your spouse have, what are their names, have you met their parents, things like that.”

“The first question here is how long have you lived together.”

“We don’t live together.”

“And why not?”

“We didn’t want anyone at work to find out that we’re married so we thought it best not to cohabitate.”  

“That’s…within the bounds of the truth, I suppose.”

“See.  Ask me another.”

She hesitated so long that Mulder reached over and took the papers.  He scanned it for a few moments and then looked up at her.

“What side of the bed do you sleep on?” he asked.

“From what perspective?”

“Standing at the foot, facing the head.”

“The left.”

“Great, I sleep on the right.  No lies there.  And what about this one, what does your spouse eat for breakfast?  That’s easy.  You like to eat light, usually just half of a plain bagel with lite cream cheese, an orange if they’re available, and you like a cup of coffee with one cream and one sweet ‘n low.”

“That’s during the weekday.  What about the weekends?”

Mulder squinted slightly.  “That’s a trick question,” he answered.

“How so?”

“Because you don’t do breakfast on the weekends, you do brunch.  Usually with your mother on Sunday if we’re in town, and you like a western omelette.”  

Scully narrowed her eyes a little as Mulder grinned at her.  She took the papers back from him and looked over them a little more carefully.  He was right, there were definitely questions there that they could get away with answering in ways that would qualify as truthful.  Some of the questions though, she wouldn’t even be comfortable answering in a real relationship; private things, meant only for a couple, not for a stranger.

“Hit me again, dealer,” he said.

“This isn’t a game, Mulder.”

“I know that.  Preparation is vital.  Why else would we be doing this?”

“Why do I feel like our positions on this are in the reverse here?”

“Because you’re hoping the people we’d have to answer to on this would take us at blind faith and I want to provide unimpeachable testimony?”

“Exactly.”  She sighed and put the papers down on the table, but she kept scanning the questions.

“It’s just the skeptic in you winning out, but you can take back being the voice of reason any time.”  Mulder smiled and winked at her as he took a sip of his tea.

“When did you decide to enter into a romantic relationship?” she asked, looking up to meet his eyes.  “How would you answer that one?  Truthfully.”

Mulder ran his tongue across his top teeth and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair.  “We would have to be in agreement about this, wouldn’t we?”

“I suppose so.”

“Then if I were answering, truthfully, I would say that I had come to the realization after your abduction that you meant more to me than just a coworker, that it took…losing you, to recognize that I felt there was more there and so…for me…I could say that though we weren’t romantically involved at that time, there was a shift in how I perceived our relationship and then I just waited for you to come to the same conclusion.  And that’s where you’ll have to chime in.”

It took a few moments for Scully to realize she was staring at Mulder with her mouth agape.  Her teeth clicked together as she snapped her jaw shut, but then almost immediately licked her lips.  Mulder came forward and put his hand over hers.

“Look,” he said.  “I wouldn’t even be entertaining this idea if I didn’t think there was a part of you that felt the same.  It isn’t lost on me that this is about more than the x-files, this is about us.  You and me.  Our fight for the truth.”

“But, can’t you see the irony that we’re fighting for the truth with a lie?”

“I told you, we don’t have to lie.  We can answer any of these questions and still stay within the bounds of the truth, as you put it.”  He squeezed her hand.  “You answer.  Truthfully.  Align what I just told you with what your answer would be.”

Ever since she was a child, Scully had been fairly reserved with her feelings.  Whether it was just part of her nature or a product of being a naval captain’s daughter, she couldn’t say, but it had been a lifelong struggle for her to speak from the heart.  Her gut clenched at the very notion of making herself so vulnerable.

“I…can’t,” she said.

There was disappointment written on Mulder’s face when he slid his hand from hers and sat back.  She dropped her eyes, ashamed that she was letting cowardice take over.  She could see the importance in being prepared, but she’d been caught off guard, not only by the questions he was bombarding her with, but also the intensity with which he’d taken her proposal.  It had been her idea yet it all felt so sudden and unexpected.

“Need I remind you that this was your idea,” Mulder said, as though reading her mind.

“I’m well aware of that.”

Mulder reached for the papers and then crumbled the packet in his hands and tossed it towards her trash can.  He missed, but didn’t get up to retrieve it.  A silence fell over the kitchen like a heavy blanket.  The room felt suddenly too warm and suffocating.  They both stared at their full plates, neither seeming to want to be the first to give in, not to speak or to eat or to deflate the tension that had ended their conversation.

It was Mulder that cracked first and the noise the chair made as it scraped across the floor as he made to stand up startled Scully.  “Wait,” she said.

“Just forget it, Scully.  If we ever have to pull the marriage card out, we’ll wing it.  Just cross our fingers and hope for the best.”

“Just give me some time to…to process all of this.”

“Sure.”  He shrugged and then put a hand on top of the box he’d brought over.  He pushed it over towards her a little and then flipped the top off.  “Maybe this is moot now, but I thought it might be prudent to have a few things here.  You know, just in case.”

Scully glanced inside.  She could see toiletries, socks, an unopened package of boxer shorts, rolled up neckties.

“I’ll see you Monday,” he said.

“Mulder, wai-”

“Enjoy the sandwich.”   With that, he left.  

Having lost her appetite, Scully wrapped the sandwiches up and poured the iced tea down the drain.

Their conversation aggravated her all weekend.  She was so annoyed, with herself as much with Mulder, that she had a headache for two straight days, however when she got a call at 1am Monday morning to come down to the Vietnam Memorial to meet an informant regarding potential proof of a downed UFO, the scale was tipped in Mulder’s favor in her exasperation.  

Mulder seemed annoyed with her as well, not letting it show during the interview with his informant, but later that morning in the office.  To her surprise, he showed up late, in casual attire, hurling sarcastic barbs her way all while condescendingly demanding she handle a dead-end assignment so he could take a forced vacation that had sprung up out of the blue.  She was fairly certain the vacation was an excuse to avoid her.

She was not proud of how she conducted herself over the next few days.  She made rash decisions that, even if what she’d done hadn’t led to a near-death experience, she still would have regretted by the time she returned home.  She wished she could say that the choices she made weren’t about Mulder, but it was her frustration at him and with herself at the predicament she’d put them in that brought out a rebellious side of her that hadn’t seen the light of day since she was a teenager.

“All this because I wouldn’t get you a desk?” he asked, like he hadn’t angrily walked out of her apartment a week ago.

“Not everything is about you, Mulder,” she answered, refusing to give him any confirmation that he’d had a hand in the chain reaction of events that led her to being nearly incinerated by a man with a talking tattoo.  “This is my life.”

“Yes, but it’s…”

The rest of his sentence died on the vine.  Scully looked down at her lap as Mulder tapped the eraser end of his pencil against his desk.  After a few minutes of the most uncomfortable silence she’d ever endured, he got up and very quietly closed the door to the office before coming over to lean against the front of the desk with his arms folded across his chest.  He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the floor a few times and then uncrossed his arms and gripped the edge of the desk.

“It’s just that we’re supposed to be getting married in less than a month,” he said.  “So, on paper, if anyone were to do some digging, there’s a record of your one-night stand in a file.  The question then becomes, why would we get married if you were cheating on me only weeks prior?”

“It wasn’t a one-night stand.”

Mulder raised his brows.  “You plan on keeping correspondence with him?”

She did not appreciate the sarcasm.  Her lips pursed in annoyance and her jaw tightened.  “I don’t owe you any explanation,” she said, the bitterness evident in her voice.

Mulder sucked his top teeth and narrowed his eyes before he went back around and sat at his desk again.  He cleared his throat and tapped his pencil a few times again.  “So, the wedding’s off?”

“I…”  Scully paused and her anger deflated like slowly letting the air out of a balloon.  Her shoulders slumped slightly.  She did owe Mulder an explanation.  He was right.  They were weeks from being contractually bound to one and another and the timing would definitely come into question.  “I…didn’t sleep with him.”

“But, you intended to.”

“Yes, I…I did intend to.”

Mulder’s face fell into an expression that was new to her, but she read it as disappointment.  He opened the case file that he’d started to tell Scully about and just started reciting details of the assignment with no preamble.  The message was clear that it was the end of their discussion.  They left for Texas later that afternoon and he made no efforts to book them seats together on the plane like he normally would do.  

Three days later, with the case amounting to nothing, they headed home in a similar fashion.  Mulder didn’t even try to cajole her into accepting a ride home from him with his car in long term parking.  He left her at the taxi stand with barely more than a wave and a ‘see you tomorrow.’  When she got home she realized that the box of his things was still on her table where she hadn’t touched it.  She took the crumbled questionnaire that she’d placed inside after he’d left and smoothed it out on the table.  She should return the box, but the thought of all of the effort they’d already put into the plan being all for naught filled her with a melancholy that she couldn’t shake.  

Much like she’d done when she’d raced to Muldr’s apartment in the middle of the night only weeks ago, Scully did it all over again.  She knocked this time, lifting her knee to momentarily have a place to rest the banker’s box in her hands.  He opened the door almost immediately, but looked surprised to see her.  

“Oh,” he said.  “It’s you.”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

“What if I was?”  He crossed his arms and leaned against the door jamb.

“May I come in?”

Mulder ran a hand across his lightly stubbled cheek, but didn’t step back to let her in.  He took a glance at the box in her hands and crossed his arms again.  His gray t-shirt was pulled taut across his chest.  “You could have just tossed all of that,” he said.

“It’s not what you think.”

It took him a few moments, but he finally stepped a few inches to the side to allow her to pass.  She had just enough room to squeeze by, but her shoulder still brushed his chest on the way in.  Feeling uninvited in his space, she stayed in the foyer, turning towards him and holding the box out.

“I never took you for a re-gifter,” he said.

“Take it.”

“What for?”

She sighed and briefly wrapped one arm around the front of the box to lift the lid and then tipped it in his direction.  He took a glance inside and then stepped closer, his hands covering hers at the handles.

“If anyone asks, your things are in the bottom right drawer of my dresser,” she said.  “Toiletries aside, of course.  I…you have the top shelf of the medicine cabinet.”

At least Mulder had the good sense to look a little sheepish when she slipped her hands free and left him holding the box.  She’d hastily thrown together an assortment of things that wouldn’t be missed.  The shampoo and conditioner were nearly empty, the lotion was a sample size she usually traveled with and could easily get another, the blouses she’d selected weren’t favorites, neither the bra or panties hidden beneath the black slacks and after some careful consideration, the half-empty box of tampons seemed like a wise touch.

“If you’ve changed your mind, I would understand,” she said.  “I haven’t.  Despite what you may think.”

Mulder shuffled his feet, looking down into the box.  “So I just take you back with open arms, is that the story we go with?  All is forgiven?”

“Is it the truth?”

He rubbed his lips together and shook his head slightly.  The long pause that followed made her nervous.  A heat spread from her chest to her cheeks, up to the tips of her ears.  Much to her embarrassment, her nose began to sting and her eyes watered.  Mulder glanced up at her as she angrily swiped at her eyes and opened his mouth to finally respond, but there was a knock on the door.

So he was expecting someone.  Scully took a deep, shuddering breath and closed her eyes as Mulder put the box back into her hands.  She didn’t want to know who was on the other side of the door, especially if it was another woman.  It had never crossed her mind before, Mulder with someone else, but the thought suddenly made her queasy.  And then she wondered if he too had felt sick when he learned what she’d been up to in Philadelphia.

“Yeah, thanks,” she heard Mulder say.  “Keep the change.”

Scully opened her eyes as the door closed and saw Mulder standing with a pizza box.  “You hungry?” he asked.

“No,” she whispered.

They stood across from each other in awkward silence for a few moments and then he glanced at the box in her hands.  She looked down at it as well and then put it on his table and stepped back.

“The top left drawer is yours,” he said, turning away to retreat into his living room with the pizza.

“Wait.”

Mulder paused in the archway between the foyer and living room and turned around.  Scully pulled the questionnaire from her pocket and unfolded it slowly.  She scanned the page and then her eyes bounced from the paper to Mulder and back and she took a moment to clear her throat.

“You don’t tend to eat breakfast on a daily basis,” she said, speaking down to the page.  “You might grab a piece of toast with jelly or maybe a bear claw from the truck outside of work.”

“What kind of jelly?”

“Strawberry.  You like your coffee black, one sugar.”  She hesitated a beat and looked up at him.  “There’s not much else I know.  I don’t know what your morning or bedtime routines are, I don’t know if you have a favorite restaurant, I don’t know wh-”

“Scully.”  Mulder shifted the pizza box to lean against his hip and took the paper from her hands.  “You know my birthday.  You know my family history.  You know I’m allergic to codeine.  You know my blood type.  If you really think about it, I think you also know my bedtime routine.”

“Falling asleep in front of the TV is hardly a bedtime routine.”

“Sure it is, and you disapprove.”

“I’ve told you, studies have shown it decreas-”

“See.  It can be one of those things that drives you crazy and we argue about it, but it helps my insomnia so you try to let it go.  We’ll go over all of this.  We’ll have an answer for everything on this list.”

“Honest answers.”

“Right.”

“Then I should tell you that, if asked, when did we enter a romantic relationship, I would say that I felt like something was different after my abduction, that you…looked at me differently, but I wasn’t sure what it meant.  And then…on that bridge when you…allowed the woman you thought was your sister to trade herself for me, I…I knew there was something deeper than friendship because...because you once told me nothing else mattered.”

Mulder pulled his bottom lip under his top teeth and nodded softly.  He put one arm around her, tentatively at first, but when she turned her head to rest her cheek against his chest, he put the pizza box on the table and wrapped her in a tight hug.

“It really wasn’t about you,” she said.  “What happened in Philadelphia, it was about me.”

She felt him inhale sharply, felt his chest expand against her cheek and then slowly deflate before his arms fell away and she almost shivered at the loss of his body heat.  Her nose started to sting and her eyes watered and she turned away from him, not wanting him to see her cry.

“Can I see it?” he asked, catching the crook of her arm and giving her elbow a tiny squeeze.

“See what?” she whispered.

“The tattoo.”

She started to shake her head, to pull her arm free and step away from him, but forced herself to stop and consider his request.  “Alright,” she said.

He let her go and with her back to him, she shrugged out of her overcoat and folded it over the chair in front of her.  She leaned forward a little and put one hand on the table, reaching back with her free hand to lift her sweater up and over her hip.  She felt him kneel down behind her and his hand moved over hers, lifting her sweater just a bit higher.

Gooseflesh rippled up her arms as he lightly traced the outline of the tattoo with one finger.  She held her breath and closed her eyes and for a moment it was almost like she could feel the flame of a candle hovering near her hip.  Mosquito bites. I got eaten up alive myself out there.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, his breath drifting over the spot at her back he’d just touched.

“Thank you,” she murmured, relaxing as she felt him move back and then stand up again.

“Ouroboros is one of the oldest symbols of alchemy.  Representing the circular process of the alchemist’s work.  An infinite loop.” 

“Yes, I know.”  She smoothed her sweater back into place and picked up her coat to put it back on and face him again.

“Scully, you don’t feel like…I mean, I know that…”

“It was just impulse,” she said, wanting to stop the train of thought he was moving down before he went too far.  “I just liked the look of it.” 

He moved his hand up like he wanted to touch her face and she couldn’t help but wince at the thought of contact with the bruise on her cheek.  He quickly pulled his hand away and his eyes darted to the abrasion on her chin and then back.

“As long as you’re okay,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

It was Mulder’s turn to wince and he reached up to squeeze both of her shoulders lightly.  “If you say so.”  He started to step away, but then leaned down and quickly kissed the corner of her mouth.  “Now if they ask what happened after Philadelphia we can say we kissed and made up.”

There was a sadness in his voice and in his eyes, even though he gave her the smile that she couldn’t.  He turned and picked up both of the boxes, leaving her to show herself out.  She closed the door softly behind her.

The rest of the week in the office was still awkward, but to a lesser degree.  They were both more subdued than usual, Mulder especially.  It was just as well.  The quiet and the stillness helped keep her head from aching too badly as she recovered from her injuries.

A new case in Pittsburgh brought them back to normal.  With their focus on locating the headless corpse of one Leonard Betts, a man Mulder believed was alive and well and eating cancer, Scully didn’t have time to dwell on the state of their relationship.  Even when they disagreed, they were always in sync when it came to the work.

Unfortunately, she left Pittsburgh shaken.  She was sure that Leonard Betts had implied she was sick in order to shock her, disarm her, and distract her in order to have the upper hand when she had confronted him.  She was also not confident he was wrong.  There had been some things that had been concerning her lately.  Her headaches, her impulse control being almost non-existent, her mood swings, the general feeling of her body being foreign to her.  When she woke in the middle of the night upon their return from the case with a bloody nose, she decided she might as well make an appointment for some tests.  Her doctor’s office booked her for February 10th, three days after the wedding date.

Mulder made sure they did not look into any cases that would take them out of town the week of the wedding, mainly because they had an appointment on Wednesday at his attorney’s office to sign the pre-nup.  As the big day loomed closer, Scully began to feel more and more anxious about it.  She still hadn’t told her mother.  She also hadn’t figured out what she was going to wear.  She was having sporadic nosebleeds now, mostly at night or very early in the morning.  She told herself it was just the stress of the week and she’d know more the following Monday anyway.

The appointment at Mulder’s attorney’s office to sign the pre-nup was not as intimidating as Scully had thought it would be.  They had both taken the afternoon off and left work together with Mulder following her to her apartment first and then driving them over to a tiny, private firm in Alexandria.  They reviewed and signed what was put in front of them, were given a copy for themselves, and that was that, no questions asked.  She had worn the engagement ring at Mulder’s suggestion and the matronly legal assistant that notarized the documents for them took some time to admire it.

“It’s a family heirloom,” Mulder told her, when she asked about the setting.

“You’re one lucky lady,” she said to Scully.

“I’m the lucky one,” he answered, pulling Scully close with a hand on her hip and smiling broadly.

Scully didn’t know how Mulder could make such small, casual touches and gestures feel so easy and natural.  She wondered if maybe that was the reason that people assumed they were together and she suddenly realized that it was the simple things that spoke volumes.  There was a level of comfort when he was near or when he put a hand to the small of her back when they walked together that she couldn’t deny.

With a small smile of her own, Scully tilted her head back to look up at Mulder and reached up to brush her fingers along his jaw.  He caught her hand and pulled her knuckles to his mouth for a brief kiss before twining his fingers with hers and holding their hands to his chest.

Mulder was still holding Scully’s hand when they left the lawyer’s office and he gave it a small tug to bring her to a standstill when they got to the parking garage.  “I was thinking,” he said.  “We need a first date.”

“Well, we’ve been out together hundreds of times, is there any-”

“No, something new,” he interrupted.  “Something where we’re both going into it knowing it’s a date.  It’ll make it more honest.”

“Right.”

“You have time now?”

“Now?”

“Yeah.  Why not?”

Scully looked at her watch.  “It’s barely three o’clock.  Too early for dinner and we’ve already had lunch.”

“I’ve got the perfect spot.  You trust me?”

“To plan a date?  No, somehow I think we’d end up staking out a haunted house.”

Mulder chuckled.  “That’s more of a fifth or sixth date activity.  Come on, Scully, we’ve only got one more day left before we become an old, boring married couple.”

That pulled a smile out of her even as she rolled her eyes at him.  “Alright, Mulder, but it better be good or else I might be forced to reconsider this whole arrangement.”

“You’ll love it.”

Less than twenty minutes later, their destination was reached.  Scully stood in the doorway of the arcade Mulder had just steered her into and folded her arms across her chest, one brow raised incredulously.

“You’re taking me to an arcade on our first date?” she asked over the low cacophony of video game theme music and clanging bells.  “You know we’re not in 7th grade, right?”

“I’m hoping the story goes, you were a bit surprised by the choice at first, but couldn’t remember the last time you had so much fun by the time we left.”  He held a five dollar bill up and waved it in front of her face for a few moments.  “I’ll even let you be in charge of the quarters.”

“In that case.”  She snatched the money from Mulder’s hand and he trailed behind her as she walked over to the bill exchange.  The machine spit out a handful of quarters which she pocketed and then turned to consider the games.

The arcade was fairly empty of people.  There was a lone worker at a ticket exchange counter and a couple of college-aged boys battling at Street Fighter.  It was logical to assume with kids still in school for the day, they’d pretty much have the run of the place for at least the next hour.

“That one,” Scully said, pointing to a machine with two, side-by-side screens and two holsters with red and blue plastic guns.

“I should’ve known,” he said.

She’d chosen a target practice style video game where advancing each round was based on accuracy and speed.  The machine came to life as soon as she fed it the appropriate amount of quarters and a cartoon character that looked like a rip off of Yosemite Sam explained the rules of the game.

“Cheers,” Mulder said, holding his gun out towards her.  She tapped the barrel of her gun to his and then took a firm stance as a countdown began on the screen.

Not only did Scully win, she beat the high score on the game by nearly ten thousand points.  The Yosemite Sam look-alike congratulated her on her success and instructed her to enter her initials into the top ten list by firing at the letters of the alphabet that appeared across both screens.

“What’s next?” Mulder asked, bobbing his head towards a row of racing games.  “You want to kick my ass at defensive driving as well?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” she said, smiling broadly.

She did end up winning the racing game as well, but just barely, and nowhere near the top ten range.  Mulder smoked her in the free-throw basketball game, which was to be expected, and that was the start of a ticket collection that continued with a few rounds of skeeball and whack-a-mole.  They played a very intense round of air hockey that resulted in a draw as time ran out and both had successfully blocked the puck from making any goals.

“This looks fun,” Mulder said, pointing out a game with an elevated platform and neon arrows on the floor.  

“Dance Dance Revolution?” she asked.

“Wouldn’t be a date without dancing, right?”

Reluctantly, Scully inserted the quarters into the machine and got up onto the platform.  She looked down at the four arrows and tapped her toe on the left side for a moment.  Mulder was bouncing from foot to foot like he was warming up for a run.  A video started playing on the screen and an unfamiliar song started blasting from the speakers in front of them.

Mulder had no trouble keeping up with the instructions, quickly moving his feet in time with the arrows that scrolled up the screen.  Scully, on the other hand, could barely land a correct step.  It flustered her at first, but her supreme lack of coordination and Mulder’s erratic Lord of the Dance footwork had her laughing so hard she could barely breathe.  She grabbed onto a bar that was behind her for support.

“Oh my god,” she said, bent over and wheezing with laughter as she compared her miserable score to Mulder’s spectacular clearance of the level.  “Mulder, how in the world do you know how to do that?”

“I’m a man of many talents, Scully,” he answered with a wide grin, obviously proud of himself.  “I thought you knew that by now.”

“I can’t take it,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes.

Mulder stepped off the platform and snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her close as she was still trying to catch her breath.  Occasional chuckles bubbled up from deep in her gut, making her ribs sore.  She hadn’t laughed like that in a long time.

“Let’s say we cash in these tickets and head next door to the pizza joint?”

“Yes, good idea.”

Their combined ticket total allowed for Mulder to get a neon purple monster finger puppet and for Scully to get a candy necklace and a happy face pencil eraser.  They sat side-by-side in a four-person booth at the pizza parlor with their slices of pizza and diet Cokes.  It was dusk by the time they left and Mulder went to the passenger side of the car first to unlock the door for Scully.  He put his hand on the frame though and leaned against it so she couldn’t open it.

“Tell us, Miss Scully,” he said, speaking in an almost Kermit the Frog-type voice while bobbing the monster finger puppet at her on his index finger.  “What did you and Agent Mulder do on your first date?”

“Dinner and dancing,” she answered, smiling somewhat coyly at him.

“Sounds so conventional.”  His finger curled and the monster puppet sagged sadly as though disappointed.

“Dinner was pizza.  Dancing was a game in the arcade we went to.  I will admit I was a bit skeptical, at first, but it was one of the best dates I ever had.”

“Oh really?”  He straightened his finger and the puppet’s arms jiggled frantically over its head.  

“Yes, really.”  She nodded.  It was the truth, not just adjacent to it.

“Out of all the-”  Whatever he was going to ask, Scully cut him off by reaching up and clamping down on the mouth of the finger puppet and Mulder pressed his lips together as well.

“Let’s just leave it at that,” she said.

Mulder nodded and they both lowered their hands.  He slipped the finger puppet off and put it in his pocket.  He hesitated to move away from the door. 

“Did I kiss you goodnight?” he asked.

She raised her brow in response and he gave her an innocent shrug.  There was a hopeful twinkle in his eye where she expected a challenge.  She knew it was just a roundabout way of asking permission this time around, which she appreciated, but it had certainly been easier being taken by surprise.  She supposed though, if they had been on a real date, she would expect him to kiss her, especially when they’d had such a nice time.

“It was a date,” she finally answered.  “After all.  So…”

Mulder grinned and stepped up toe to toe with her.  He put a hand to her neck, threading his fingers through her hair to gently cup the back of her head.  “I had a really nice time,” he said, his voice so low and gravelly that her stomach flipped and fluttered.

“So did I,” she answered, eyes dropping to his mouth in anticipation.  She licked her lips and then swallowed.

His kiss was light as air, but it still made her whimper softly, embarrassingly.  She hoped he didn’t hear it, but he must have because she felt him smile against her mouth and then he dropped his head and she almost gasped at the heat of his breath on her neck.  Her stomach flipped and dropped and a pulse of desire blossomed between her thighs like the opening of a flower.  It’s how she wanted to feel in Philadelphia, but couldn’t.  

With his index finger, Mulder pulled lightly on the elastic of the candy necklace she had bought with the arcade tickets and his lips grazed her collarbone as he bit one of the candies off and then pulled away.  Her body swayed towards him and for a moment she felt quite lightheaded and faint.

The dopey grin on Mulder’s face as he crunched on his candy faded quickly and Scully opened her mouth only to feel the hot slide of blood roll from her nose and over her lip.  She bent her head forward and cupped her hand under her chin as he sprinted back to the pizza parlor and then returned with a fistful of napkins.  He put his arm around her shoulders as she held the napkins to her nose.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she answered, her voice muffled under the bunched up napkins she held to her face.  Her heart was pounding though, which didn’t do much to staunch the flow of blood from her nose.  “It’ll stop in a minute.”

“Has this happened before?”

She glanced up at him, but almost immediately lowered her eyes as she pinched her nose shut with the napkins between her fingers.  “A few times,” she answered.  “I have a doctor’s appointment on Monday.”

“You do?”

“It’s nothing.”  She took her hand away to better assess the situation and dabbed at her upper lip a few times.  After she pinched her nose shut with a clean napkin again and it came away with only a dab of blood she nodded at him.  “See, it’s already stopped.”

“But-”

“I think we should omit the nosebleed from the first date story.  What do you think?”

“It is a little unconventional,” he answered, but his voice did not hold the usual mischievous tone he took when joking with her.  He was obviously still concerned.

“It’s fine,” she assured him, balling up the napkins and walking away from him to throw them away in a trash can just outside the doors of the pizza parlor.  “I’m fine.  We should get going, it’s cold out.”

“Yeah.”  He opened the door and waited for her to come back, brushing his hand down her back as she slipped into the passenger seat.  

They didn’t speak on the drive to her apartment.  The good mood of the date had been effectively spoiled and she tried not to sigh in her frustration.  She told herself it didn’t matter because it wasn’t a real date anyway, but they had had a nice time and it was a shame that it had to be ruined.  She told herself it was just the stress and the pressure and mounting anxiety of the wedding and that would all ease up in two days.  She could breathe again once they got back to normal.

Mulder wished her a good night when they got to her apartment and as usual, waited until she was inside her building to drive away.  The first thing she did upon arriving home was start a hot bath and then she flopped down on her bed, fully clothed, and stared at the ceiling while waiting for the tub to fill up.  She lifted her right hip slightly to slide her hand into her pocket and pulled out the ring she’d worn that afternoon.  She slid it on and off her finger several times before letting it rest down by her knuckle and she held her hand out to admire it.  It winked at her as she tilted her hand back and forth, catching the lamplight.  

“This is crazy,” she whispered to herself and then she pulled the ring off and stowed it back in its little pouch and in her jewelry box.  Soon enough, it would be locked in a safety deposit box and she wouldn’t have to think of it again.

In the bathroom, she studied her reflection as she undressed and as she pulled at the candy necklace to remove it, she swore she could feel Mulder’s breath on her neck all over again and she flushed pink from head to toe.  

“Don’t even think about it,” she told herself.

The bath didn’t help much to quiet her mind or settle the anxieties that had started to build.  She slept fitfully and was slow getting into work the next morning.  Mulder was uncharacteristically chipper, but also had a strong calming presence on her.  There was a bagel and a coffee waiting for her at her table.

“Trying to butter me up for something?” she asked, unwrapping the poppyseed bagel with one brow raised at him.

“No butter,” he replied, leaning back in his chair and tapping a pencil to his mouth as he smiled at her.  “Just cream cheese.”

She snorted lightly and took a slow bite of her breakfast as she booted up her computer.  

“I was thinking Mother’s for lunch today,” Mulder said.

Scully paused and took a moment to swallow her bite of bagel and wipe her mouth.  She raised a brow at him suspiciously.  Mother’s Kitchen was a small cafe that served homemade soups and sandwiches.  It was a short walk from the Hoover and just unobtrusive enough to fly under the radar of tourists.  She loved it, and she knew Mulder did too, but too often he preferred to grab a quick bite from the cafeteria upstairs or, heaven forbid, a hot dog from one of the street vendors on the corner.

“You want to go out?” she asked.

“Well, it is your turn to buy, don’t really want to pass that up.”  He smiled at her and then glanced around at the four corners of their office.  “And I figure the atmosphere is better for conversation than the upstairs cafeteria.”

It may have been Mulder’s paranoia rubbing off on her, but the implication in his glance was clear to her.  The walls have ears and they still had things to talk about before tomorrow.  It was best they did that away from work.  She bobbed her head in agreement and he acknowledged it with a slight nod.

They worked quietly throughout the morning after that.  Scully was so focused on a medical article she was taking notes on that she jumped when she felt Mulder’s hand on her shoulder and was even more surprised to find out it was already past noon.  She shut her computer down and shrugged into her overcoat that Mulder held out for her.  

Mother’s was as busy as Scully had ever seen it get, which wasn’t very busy at all.  About half the tables were taken and coffee could be heard percolating over the low murmur of conversation.  She and Mulder were seated at a small square table by the front window and paper menus were placed in front of them, not that they were needed.  Scully already knew she’d be having the chicken noodle soup and she knew Mulder would be getting the pastrami sandwich.  They ordered as soon as the waitress stopped by with glasses of water and a basket of fresh, hot biscuits for the table.

“We’re getting married tomorrow,” Mulder said.

“I haven’t forgotten,” Scully answered, bringing her glass of water to her lips to take a long drink.

“Haven’t changed your mind?”

“No, I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Me neither.”

“I didn’t think you had.”

“Well, at least that’s settled.”  He paused and rubbed at his chin for a few moments as he pulled his bottom lip under his top teeth.  “I uh…there is one thing I should…ask you.”

She frowned and her brows came together pensively.  “Something we haven’t already talked about?”

“There’s a hotel by the city hall in Falls Church.  A nice one, not some one star dive that fits the bureau’s expense budget.  I booked the honeymoon suite for the weekend.”

“A honeymoon suite?”

“Well, normal king suite, but I bought the honeymoon package.  There’s no champagne flute hot tub, but if that’s a dealbreaker I can get the number for a place in the Poconos.”

“God, no.”  She shook her head a little too profusely.

“I’ve been thinking that…well, maybe we should sleep together.”

Scully jerked her head towards him in surprise, her brows shooting up and her mouth falling open.  Her first thought was that she was glad he didn’t happen to drop this bombshell on her while she was taking a sip of water because she might have choked.  He was far too calm to have just said what she knew she heard him say.

“Hear me out,” he continued, holding his hands up defensively.

“What is there to hear out here?”

“I’m sure you noticed, but one of the questions on that paper refers to whether or not the marriage has been consummated.”

“Which is invasive and ridiculous and if that’s the kind of question they’re going to ask, my answer would be none of your goddamn business.”

“Okay, but what if you could also truthfully throw in an ‘of course I’ve slept with my husband’ into the mix after your verbal tongue-lashing?”

“Mulder…”

“I’m only suggesting we sleep together, Scully.  Literally, sleep together.  One king sized bed, you on the left and me on the right.”

“Are you being serious?”

“Seriously serious.  Check in is at two and check out is at 11 on Sunday.”

“What would we even do for an entire weekend?”

“Room service?  Study up on our marriage questions?  I think they’ve got HBO.”

Scully put a hand over her face for a few moments and rubbed at the dull headache that had basically taken up permanent residence behind her eyes.  Would there be value in staging a honeymoon weekend in the long run or would they just be taking their farce too far?  She just didn’t know.

“I need to think about it,” she finally said.

“I would say take your time, but we’re kind of eloping in less than 24 hours, so…”  He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a brochure which he handed to her from across the table.  “Here, take a look.”

She took the brochure rather reluctantly.  The photo on the front showed a nice, new-looking hotel at dusk.  It wasn’t large by any standard, no more than five or six stories, but architecturally sleek and modern.

“How’d you find this place?” she asked.

“The phone book, but then I went by and checked it out.  I have until 3pm today to cancel.  I mean, I suppose I could show up alone, but…that might stand out.”

“Yes, I guess it might.”

“We get connecting rooms all the time, it would be…maybe not just like that, but nearly.”

She looked down at the table for a few moments and ran her thumb along the outside of her water glass.  “I’m just…I guess I’m just wondering where the line is.”

“The line between us?”

“No, the line between reality and illusion.  What are you going to consider to be enough ammunition in the end?”

“It’s not about what I think, but you’ve seen for yourself the elaborate ways in which they try to spin false narratives to throw us off, to send us on wild goose chases.  I want us to be prepared to give as good as we get, in the long run.”

Scully sighed and Mulder came forward and put his hand over hers.  He gave it a squeeze and then tilted his head low and to the side until she met his eyes.

“I wouldn’t do this with anyone else,” he said, seriously.  “Would you?”

She shook her head, but said nothing.  He smiled softly and sat back, but kept his hand over hers.  She stared contemplatively at the red and white checkerboard pattern of the tablecloth knowing that she’d been foolish to think that this proposal would have ever been so simple.

“Appearances can be everything,” he stated, pulling his hand away as the waitress suddenly returned with their food.

Scully couldn’t disagree with that.  She nodded down at the steam rising from her soup and breathed it in.  “Okay,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Not really doing anything else this weekend.  Getting married was kind of my whole agenda, so…”

Mulder chuckled lightly and grinned at her.  There was no further discussion of the wedding or anything related to it for the rest of the meal, but as they waited for the check to come, conversation picked up again.

“So, what’s the game plan for tomorrow?” he asked.

“I thought maybe I’d come and pick you up,” she answered.  “You’re on the way.”

“You’ll bring the license and the rings?”

“Yes.”

“Do we need to…coordinate outfits or anything?”

“No, I don’t think that matters very much.”

“What about the whole something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue thing?”

She snorted lightly and shook her head.  “I think we’re already balking at tradition by eloping.”

“Yeah, maybe, but…you know…”

“Well the ring is old and technically borrowed.”

“So just something new and blue.”

“It really doesn’t matter.”  Scully turned her eyes away from Mulder to the approaching waitress and she leaned over to grab her wallet from her purse.

The temperature had dropped and a frigid breeze rattled what little leaves were left on the trees that late in the season.  It had been a sunny morning, but the sky had turned gloomy and gray during lunch.  They walked quickly back to work to get in from the cold.  She hoped snow wasn’t about to drop.  Traffic would be a nightmare if it did.

“Why don’t you just cut out early and start your long weekend now?” Mulder asked, as soon as they’d gotten back to the basement and before she’d even taken off your coat.

“I still have a few reports I want to file.”

“You can do that from home.  It looks like the weather’s turning, go ahead and get out of here.”

Scully hesitated, holding the lapels of her coat indecisively.  Getting home early would give her a bit more time to prepare for tomorrow, and now the unexpected weekend away.  She did want to tie up a few loose ends, but she could do that from home and didn’t need to be in the office to accomplish it.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

Mulder smiled and squeezed Scully’s arm lightly as he passed her on the way to his desk.  “I’ll survive a few hours without you.  Enjoy your day off.”

“Yeah, uh…you too.”

Scully packed up her satchel and left.  A half hour later she was home and though it still seemed to be threatening snow, no flakes had fallen.  She finished up what she’d been working on before lunch and then began contemplating the contents of her wardrobe to finally decide on what she was going to wear tomorrow.  Up until now she hadn’t given it much consideration, but it suddenly felt a lot more important now that the clock was running down.

Never one to be into or up on current fashions, Scully dressed for practicality and professionalism above all.  Her closet consisted mostly of pantsuits and a handful of dresses for church.  She’d assumed up until this point that she would just select a skirt or dress of a neutral palette, but she realized upon further contemplation that everything she currently owned was more appropriate for a funeral than a wedding.  There was one blouse, deep in the recesses of her closet and still wrapped in the plastic dry cleaning bag from the last time she wore it, which if she recalled correctly, was on the last date she went on.  It was white lace, which felt apropos, but the black slacks which she previously paired the top with did not feel right.

She had no choice, really.  It was either the white lace top or a black dress, and she wasn’t in mourning.  She pulled the blouse from the closet and selected the pants to pair it with and tried not to give it any more thought.  She still needed to make dinner and pack for the unexpected weekend away.

Packing should have been a breeze, but it was different packing for a leisure stay than work.  She checked the brochure Mulder had given her and discovered the hotel had both a pool and a gym, which meant she could take a swim and get in a couple workouts as well.  Aside from that, she honestly did not know how she was going to fill the time staying a full weekend in a hotel room with Mulder.  If he brought along old casefiles, so help her, she would leave him to spend their honeymoon alone and let him find his own way home.

When she finally felt like she was prepared enough to head to bed, she was grateful that Mulder had suggested she take off early.  It wasn’t late, but it could have been, and the extra time made her feel less anxious and stressed than she had been feeling.  Without thinking about it, she dialed Mulder’s phone as she got into bed and he answered on the fourth ring, sounding out of breath.

“Mulder.”

“Mulder, it’s me.”

“Hey, Scully.  I just got in, hang on.”  There was a muffled sound of shifting and scraping and then Mulder was back, sounding a little less out of breath.

“Just got in?  Where were you?”

“Stayed late at the office.  Had a couple errands.  Picked up Chinese on the way home.  What’s up?”

“Why’d you stay late?”

“Series of drownings in Nevada.  Local PD thinks it’s mob related, but residents are convinced it’s the Pyramid Lake mermaid.”

“A mermaid…in Nevada?”

“Don’t worry, it’s probably not her this time.”

“Mulder, it sounds like…”  Scully nearly laughed and she shook her head a little, putting her hand over her face.  

“Sounds like what?”

“It sounds like you believe in this Nevada Lake Mermaid in the first place.”

“I should say that technically her full name is the Spiteful Mermaid of Pyramid Lake, but she’s part of an ancient legend dating back to the Paiute that inhabited the area once upon a time.  Still inhabit the area, actually.”

“Mulder…there’s no such thing as mermaids.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree, for now.  Ordinarily, I’d be on a cross-country flight by now, but in this instance, I think the local PD is right.  It’s got mob fingerprints all over it.”

Scully puffed her cheeks and blew out a short breath of both amusement and relief.

“Besides,” Mulder added.  “I have plans this weekend.”

“Well then, I guess I better let you go.”

“Sleep tight.  I’ll…see you when I see you?”

“Yes, you will.”

“Night, Scully.”

“Good night.”

Scully hung up the phone with a smile and then slid down under her comforter to go to sleep.  With the wedding looming in a little more than twelve hours, she assumed she might toss and turn the whole night, but surprisingly, she fell asleep rather quickly and was awakened by her alarm the next morning.

She didn’t know how she expected to feel that morning, but her lack of nerves did surprise her.  While she wasn’t quite calm, she only felt a vague sense of anticipation.  Similarly, it was how she felt on the morning she was called into Section Chief Blevins’ office and assigned to the x-files.  She’d known something was going to be different after that day, she just didn’t know what.

She was up early enough to shower and dress with no need for urgency.  She had several hours before she needed to pick up Mulder and the lack of a rush definitely aided in keeping any anxiety that might creep in at bay.  She ate a light breakfast, did her make-up, and even had time to curl her hair a bit more than she normally would.  When the time came, she poured the rest of her coffee into a travel mug and grabbed her overnight bag and headed out.

The streets were wet, but no snow was on the ground, so yesterday’s ominous clouds may have just released a bit of rain overnight.  The sky was blue and the sun was shining when she left.  As she got closer to Mulder’s apartment, she called his cell to let him know she was only minutes away and by the time she arrived, he was waiting at the curb.  She double-parked and popped the trunk so he could stow his duffel bag and then he got in the passenger side.  

“You have the rings?” he asked.

“In the glove box, along with the license,” she answered.

He flashed her a smile as he opened the glove box.  “Good morning, by the way.”  

She gave him a brief once-over as he touched the velvet pouch and the manila envelope.  His hair looked freshly cut and his cheeks still looked damp with aftershave.  He had on a dark suit and tie and a crisp white shirt.  While not a tux, it looked just a step more formal above the business suits he wore on a day to day basis.

“Good morning,” she finally murmured.  “You look…good.”

“Oh?”  The smile on his face grew a bit wider and he chuckled.  “This old thing?”

“I mean…you look…”

“Appropriately attired?”

“Yes.”

He smoothed his hand down the length of his tie as though proud of himself and then turned his grin on her.  “You also look appropriately attired.  And very, very good.”

Her cheeks burned with the compliment and she dismissed it with a wave of her hand as she put the car back into gear.  They were still on track to be early to city hall, but she didn’t want any unforeseen delays to get in the way.  That’s what she told herself as to why she was in the sudden rush, at least.

There were no delays to Falls Church.  They arrived twenty minutes ahead of the appointment and Scully parked at the side of the building.  She shut the engine off and then looked at her watch as though she hadn’t just checked the clock on the dashboard before turning the car off.

“Should we go in now, or wait here?” she asked.

“Let’s go in.”

She nodded and they both got out of the car.  It was chillier in Falls Church than it was in DC and she pulled her overcoat closed.  Mulder grabbed the rings and the license and then met her at the front of the car and took her hand.  They walked to the front of the stately brick building and he held the door open for her to enter into the lobby.  They checked in at an information desk and were told to wait down a hall to the right in front of room 106.

“Hey, I almost forgot,” Mulder said, tugging on her hand as they stopped in front of the door.  He let go of her and slipped his hand into his right pocket.  “Something new and blue.”

“Mulder, I told you it-”  She stopped and suppressed a laugh, brows raised as he pulled his hand free and was wearing a bright blue finger puppet monster on his thumb that was nearly identical to the one he’d traded his tickets for at the arcade.  The purple one was on his fourth finger.

“His and hers.”

“I am not wearing that.”

“You don’t have to wear it, just put it in your pocket.  For good luck.”  He bent his thumb towards her and waited.  Finally, she took it from him and slipped it in her pocket and he grinned triumphantly.

While they waited, Scully removed her overcoat and Mulder did the same.  Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she wished she’d thought to bring a compact with her so she could check her face in the mirror.  She checked her pocket repeatedly for the pouch with the rings, forgetting each time that Mulder had it in his possession.  She was about to check her watch for what must have been the one hundredth time when a small, stout woman with a poof of slate-gray hair like cotton candy started coming towards them.

“Would you be my 11 o’clock?” she asked, her smile so broad it seemed to take up most of her face.

“Fox Mulder,” Mulder answered, holding his hand out in greeting.  “And my lovely bride to be, Dana Scully.”

“Rosemary Lee.”

The older woman shook both their hands and then brandished a set of keys which she used to open room 106.  It was a small meeting room with four rows of bench seating and a slightly raised podium at the front.  The view of the outside from the windows was blocked by overgrown bushes, despite being mostly bare this late in the winter.

“Well, first thing’s first,” Rosemary said.  “Let me have a look at your license and identification and then it looks like I’ll need to bring my secretary in as a witness, unless you have someone arriving late.”

“No, just us.”  Mulder handed the envelope with the license over to the celebrent.  Both he and Scully showed her their IDs and she gave a brief nod.

“Everything looks in order.  I’ll call Meg in and we’ll get started.”

Rosemary used a phone on the wall next to the door to call her secretary and they chatted politely while they waited for her to arrive.  They learned that the celebrant was also an ordained minister and a former law clerk.  She had two more marriages to officiate that day and eight the following Friday.

“Valentine’s Day,” she said with a wink.  “My biggest day of the year.”

The woman Rosemary indicated was Meg arrived and introduced herself before she took a seat in the first row of benches, obviously familiar with the drill.  Mulder took Scully’s coat and put both of them in the second row and then he handed a disposable camera to Meg and asked if she could just snap a few photos to which she seemed to anticipate.

“Now,” Rosemary said, moving to the front of the podium.  “You two, you can stand here in front of me.  Do we have any special vows or personal words we want to add into the ceremony today?”

Mulder and Scully stood facing each other in front of Rosemary and Mulder took both her hands.  He looked to her for guidance to answer the question posed to them and gave a tentative shake of his head.  She shook hers as well and then turned to Rosemary.  “No,” she said.

“We’re pretty minimalist,” Mulder added, one side of his mouth quirking up in jest.

“Short and to the point kind of folks?”

“Yes,” Scully answered.

“Do we prefer to use man and wife, husband and wife, bride and groom, or something of your own choosing?”

“What about…just…partners?” Mulder asked.

Scully nodded in agreement.

“Will we be exchanging rings today?”

“Yeah, yes.”  Mulder went to reach into his pocket, but Rosemary waved her hand to stop him.

“I’ll let you know when we’re ready for them.  Alright, this will be short, I promise, but you will have to indulge me in a few words as we start.”

Behind her, Scully could hear the click of the camera and the wheel advancing to the next photo.  Her eyes darted towards her shoulder self-consciously, but Mulder squeezed her hands and pulled her gaze back to his.

“We’re here today to witness the union of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully in marriage.  Today marks the start of a new journey for you both, one which you are promising to endure together, through good times and bad.  The promises you are making today should not be taken lightly, but with the bold assertion that you intend to commit yourselves to each other from this day forward.

“Though the future is unknown, it is guaranteed to be filled with adventure and challenge.  Only through trust and love and unwavering support of each other will you withstand the ups and downs.  It is my honor to join the two of you in marriage today and I wish you much success in this endeavor.”

Scully nervously licked the side of her mouth and had to use every ounce of her willpower not to look away from Mulder as the older woman spoke.  She could see a sheen of tears in his eyes which he blinked away and he gazed at her so seriously it was difficult to keep that eye contact.  Her pulse quickened and her breathing grew a bit shallow, but still she did not turn from him.  He held her hands tightly and she could feel his palms growing damp with sweat.

“Do you, Fox Mulder, enter into this union freely and willingly and promise to love and respect your partner now and this day forward?”

Mulder swallowed first and then nodded.  “I do,” he said.

“And do you, Dana Scully, enter into this union freely and willingly and promise to love and respect your partner now and this day forward?”

Scully took one deep breath and then another before she nodded as well and glanced first to Rosemary and then back to Mulder.  “I do,” she said.

“You may take out the rings now.  The wedding ring, a circle with no end, represents an everlasting bond and is a symbol of your love and commitment to each other.  Fox, I will ask you to place the ring on Dana’s finger and repeat after me.”

Mulder shook the rings from the pouch into his hand and Scully passed him her left hand so he could slip the ring onto her finger.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and devotion,” Rosemary said.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and devotion,” Mulder repeated.

“And of my commitment to you and to our partnership.”

“And of my commitment to you and to our partnership.”

Scully almost gasped at the choice of phrase.  It defined this marriage in a nutshell and somehow felt more symbolic and appropriate than the marriage itself.  It didn’t come to her as an epiphany, she’d already realized that they would be undertaking this pledge in the name of their work, but to hear it spoken out loud in the name of their partnership, it felt deeper than any marriage.

Rosemary put Scully through the same vows, having her put the ring on Mulder’s finger and repeat after her.  She did so almost breathlessly, the enormity of the moment settling in her chest and stealing the oxygen from her.

“By virtue of the authority vested in me by the state of Virginia, I pronounce you as partners in life.  Please, celebrate with a kiss and seal this partnership.”

Mulder let out a small chuckle and took a step closer to Scully.  She rested her hands on his hips under the lapels of his suit jacket as he cupped her cheeks with both hands and leaned down to her.  He tipped her face just slightly as he tilted his own and their mouths met softly.  The seconds ticked by, but they stayed pressed together until finally Mulder puckered his lips and broke free, but not without caressing her cheek with his thumb and brushing his nose with hers.  He then briefly touched his lips to her brow as he ran his hand along the back of her head.

“Congratulations,” Rosemary said, and Meg echoed the well-wishes.

After the license was completed and witnessed, Meg returned the camera to Mulder and they were free to go.  It felt surreal, walking out of the building knowing she was now married.  Mulder had taken her hand after helping her into her coat and once they reached the parking lot, he stopped and raised her knuckles up to his mouth.  It looked for a few moments like he was trying to speak to her telepathically, his gaze soft and unwavering.  It unnerved her slightly and she tipped her head, raising her brow in question.

“Well,” he said, casting his eyes down and taking a moment to clear his throat.

“What now?” she asked.

“Take you to lunch?”

To be continued..... 

Chapter Text

Mulder had tried, ever since Scully had proposed marriage, to tone down his enthusiasm for the idea.  He would admit to being taken aback by it at first, but it only took about twenty minutes of contemplation to be completely sold on the notion.  He never told her the specifics, but only an hour after she’d called him that night to let him know she was home safe, he left for the airport to get himself on a flight to Boston.  There was a part of him that was afraid that once she’d had time to stop and think things through, she would tell him to forget the whole thing.  Impulsive was his middle name, not hers.

Miraculously, though, Scully did not change her mind, but he’d still wanted to push things along as soon as possible.  He’d made a passing joke of it, but in some ways, he already felt married to her.  He trusted her like no other, he valued her knowledge and opinions above all, and he did love her.  That was a hard thing for him to admit, even to himself.  He didn’t want to love her.  Everyone he’d ever loved had either left him or betrayed him somehow and losing her was not an option.  He had already lost her once and it had been unbearable.

Mulder’s exuberance was tempered by his partner’s fluctuating emotions.  While at times she seemed adamant about moving forward, other times she was unsure she could carry through with the plan.  He’d tried to get into her mind and figure out the best way to reassure her doubts.  Knowing that Scully liked to be prepared, that’s why he’d sought out that list of questions that might help her feel more at ease.  They could treat it like an exam to be studied for.  There was no doubt in his mind they would pass with flying colors.

Mulder should have known, though.  His scientist needed proof.  It would never be enough to have the answers, she would also need something tangible behind them.  He couldn’t say he wasn’t delighted by the opportunity to get to know her in ways that went beyond work and at the end of the day, it was nice to have a little fun together.  It was nice to be playful with her and in all honesty, it was nice to get to woo her a little. 

He had counted down the days to the wedding the way a child might to the last day of school.  The closer it got, the more his anticipation grew.  It wasn’t as though he expected things between them would change, but the marriage itself would solidify their partnership in a way that was important to him.  What he was subconsciously feeling and what he couldn’t put into words was that the marriage was bound to give him the security he didn’t even know he craved.

When they walked out of the city hall together as a married couple, Mulder felt different.  Some of what he’d always felt had been put to words by the celebrant that he could never dare to.  For a very long time his partnership with Scully was something sacred to him and he’d just vowed never to take it for granted, to take her for granted.  He would need to work on that.

Mulder stopped at the parking lot with Scully, bringing their joined hands to his mouth so he could kiss her knuckles.  He felt an overwhelming sense of tenderness for her at that moment.  Somehow, he wanted to convey to her that she made him want to be a better man, a better partner.  She kept him honest.  She made him a whole person.  

Scully looked at him quizzically, raising an impatient brow at him and he lost his nerve and dropped his gaze.

“Well,” he said.

“What now?” she asked.

“Take you to lunch?”

Scully smiled a little and nodded.  He was glad he didn’t make a crack about getting an early start on the honeymoon as he was sure it would have fallen flat.  Besides, they still had a couple hours before check-in. 

They found a quiet and cozy restaurant to have lunch at and pass the time.  When the time came, they drove to the hotel and a valet took their car to the underground parking garage.  Mulder grabbed both their bags and they made their way to the check-in desk.  A young and energetic lady smiled brightly as she asked for the name on their reservation.

“Mulder,” Mulder answered.

“Two nights in a king suite with a city view and oh, the honeymoon package!  Congratulations!”

Mulder grinned and put his arm around Scully to pull her close.  “Thank you.”

“So, let’s see, what time would you like your couples massages?  We have openings tomorrow at 11:30 and at 4:00.”

“I’m sorry, couples massages?” Scully asked.

“It’s all part of the package.”

Scully looked up at Mulder and he shrugged slightly.  A saleswoman on the phone had rattled off the list of amenities, but he didn’t pay much attention.

“What else is part of this package?” Scully asked, her tone hesitant.

“Oh, well, we can’t spoil the surprises now, can we?”  The check-in clerk giggled and then winked at Mulder.  “I just need to know what time to book you for.”

“How about the 11:30 one,” Mulder said, looking to Scully for her approval.  

“Fine.”  Scully smiled slightly, but Mulder could tell it was forced.  

“11:30,” he said to the clerk, grinning and squeezing Scully’s shoulder.  “That way we can spend the rest of the day…relaxing.”

The check-in clerk giggled again and began typing on her computer.  “The spa is on the third floor, just follow the signs off the elevator.  You’re all set for 11:30 tomorrow, just show up about ten minutes ahead of time.”  She activated a pair of room keys and swiped Mulder’s credit card and then gave them directions to their room.  “Thank you for staying with us, Mr. and Mrs. Mulder!” she said, with another wink.

Mulder laughed at the exasperated look on Scully’s face and then quickly steered her away from the desk lest she blow their cover and start protesting the new name.  It would not be the first time they’d been greeted that way by some well-meaning motel clerk without a clue as to who they were, but this time the woman had good reason to use the form of address.

“Relax,” Mulder whispered, squeezing Scully’s shoulder.  “She doesn’t know you’re keeping your name.”

Scully’s expression softened as she grabbed her bag from Mulder.  He slung his own duffel over one shoulder as they entered the elevator.  It was a short ride to the eighth floor and followed the signs to Room 728.  She opened the electronic lock and they got their first glimpse of the sun-drenched suite as soon as the door swished open.

“Nice,” he said, walking slowly inside behind Scully.

The lounge area was spacious and clean with gray berber carpet and an off-white paint job.  A plush white sofa dominated one wall and a big screen TV took up the opposite side on a long, low oak entertainment unit.  The windows were floor to ceiling glass with gray drapes and pull-down shades.  A round table and tiny bar was set up in one corner with a mini-fridge and a microwave and coffeemaker.  On the table was a gift basket and Mulder dropped his duffel bag to inspect.

“Scully, check it out.”

The gift basket included a variety of snacks and water bottles.  Had he not just eaten he may have been inclined to open up one of the bags of trail mix that was included.  There was an envelope in the basket with Mr. & Mrs. Mulder written in calligraphy.

“Part of the package?” she asked.

“Must be.”  He opened the envelope and unfolded the single sheet of paper and then gave it to Scully to read.  

“Please enjoy this gift basket with our compliments.  Breakfast and dinner are included as part of your package and may be ordered by dialing 111 or from the menu on the welcome screen on your TV.  If you prefer to dine at the on-site restaurant, please reserve a time by dialing 323 and providing your room number to the host or hostess.”

“I vote for room service,” he said.

“Works for me.”

The bedroom was nearly the size of the lounge and almost identically furnished with a king-sized bed taking up one wall and the same entertainment unit and TV set up along the opposite.  There was no bar or mini-fridge, but another smaller round table was in the corner.  On the bed were matching white robes and slippers, one considerably larger than the other.  

“His and hers,” he said, unfolding the larger robe to hold it up for size.  “These’ll come in handy for those massages tomorrow.”

“We’re not actually…we can’t get massages together.”

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“For a husband and wife, sure it would.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Think of it as an undercover assignment.”

“Investigating what?  Hotel spas?”

“Why not?”

Mulder moved on to the en suite bathroom.  There was another gift basket on the double vanity counter.  This one was filled with various bath products as well as two votive candles.  He opened up one of the bottles and gave it a sniff.  It had a light citrus smell mixed with some kind of floral undertone.  He snapped the cap shut and looked at the label.  Ylang ylang and orange blossom bubble bath.

“Hey, Scully,” he called.  Scully shuffled into the doorway and looked around.  Mulder held out the bubble bath to her and then jerked his head back to the side a little as she took the bottle.  “Nice jacuzzi tub in here you can take advantage of.”

She tipped her head and leaned a little to the left to look past him.  “Mmhm.”

“Do you really not want to do the massages?  What would be inappropriate about it, just because we’d be in the same room?”

“You wouldn’t find it awkward?”

“I don’t think so.  We can cancel if you want, but we should take advantage of everything the package has to offer to the fullest.”

“How much did you pay for this package?”

“I don’t remember.”  He shrugged.  In fact he knew down to the cent how much he spent on the package and it was nearly the same as a month’s rent.  He didn’t care about the money though.  “You wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure.”  There were a few moments of silence where neither were sure if they should pick up the conversation again.  Finally, Scully turned to walk out of the bathroom.  “I’m gonna get out of these clothes and into something more casual.”

“Good idea.  Meet back in the lounge in five?”

Scully went through her bag and took some things back with her to the bathroom.  While she was in there changing, Mulder quickly stripped out of his suit and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.  He was searching for the remote when Sculy emerged, also in jeans and a forest green sweater, so dark it was nearly black.  

“Can’t seem to find the remote,” he said, lifting the pillows on the sofa for at least the fourth time.

Scully joined the search.  She was the one that found it a few moments later by sliding open the cabinet on the entertainment unit.  The remote was tucked into the recesses on the top shelf, but there was also a stack of games on the bottom.

“Oh, hey,” Mulder said, walking over to the cabinet on his knees from when he’d been bent and looking under the furniture.  “Scrabble, Checkers, Backgammon, Uno, Guess Who, and Battleship.”

“At least there’s no possibility of us getting bored.”  Scully turned the TV on while Mulder inspected the games.  

“I think if you’re bored on your honeymoon, you’re doing something wrong.  Hey, go back.”

Scully looked at the remote in her hand and pressed the arrow to go back to the channel she’d just left.  “North by Northwest?”

“Eeeeehnnn.”  Mulder made a noise like a buzzer and shook his head.  “To Catch a Thief.”

“I didn’t know you were a Cary Grant fan.”

“Hitchcock.”

“Ah.”

Mulder got to his feet and he joined Scully as she settled in on the couch to watch what was left of the movie.  When that was over they decided to play a game of Scrabble.  It was the longest game of Scrabble Mulder had ever played.  While he was forming his words well in advance, thinking of possibilities he could play even with letters he didn’t have, Scully was a contemplative player, often taking more than five minutes to decide on her next move and several times he’d had to throw himself into one of the throw pillows from the couch that he’d tossed onto the floor just to growl his impatience at something other than her.

“I’m thinking,” she had calmly replied in the moments he’d start to whine and complain at how long she was taking.

“Think faster.”

But, she would not be rushed and her strategy worked well enough to put her nineteen points ahead of him when the bag was finally emptied.  Mulder triumphantly laid down six tiles, spelling out SIESTA, while also changing the word BANK into BANKS.  He was able to pick up a double word score for SIESTA and a triple letter score for the S.

“Twenty-nine big ones,” he said.

“You sure you want to play that?” 

“I’m one letter from tapping out my tiles and you’ll have to give me all your points you can’t use, of course I’m sure.”

Scully raised her brow and picked up a single tile, which she rubbed with her thumb and index finger.  “You’re really, really sure?”

Mulder narrowed his eyes and looked at the tiles he’d just placed onto the board.  He’d left a triple word score open, but there was only one space between the A and the word just to the left, MANTLE.  There was no way Scully could turn that into another word to score off of it.  Unless she was going to use that single tile and maybe she could go with AD or AT, but the score would be minimal.

“You’re just trying to psych me out,” he said.  “You know I can’t take back a word I’ve already laid down anyway, that would be cheating.”

“Alright then.”  Scully laid an X next to the A, taking the triple word score and Mulder groaned, but then she picked up another tile and also formed the word EX.

“Sonofa…”

“Nine times three is twenty-seven for AX.  Plus nine times three again for EX.  That’s fifty-four, plus two, for fifty-six.”

“I object, TE isn’t a word.”

“Sure it is.”

“Use it in a sentence.”

“Atomic number fifty-two, or TE, is the symbol for Tellurium, a silver-white metalloid related to sulfur and selenium.”

“Dammit,” he muttered.

“If you put a little more forethought into what was on the board, you would know I had an X and exactly where I could play it.”

“You know, counting cards is illegal in Vegas.”

“Good thing I wasn’t counting cards, then.”

“Rematch?”

“Room service?”

Mulder chuckled and nodded.  They were able to find the menu on the TV and followed the instructions to place an order for dinner.  Once they finished, a confirmation popped up on the screen and estimated twenty minutes until service.  They cleaned up the Scrabble game and stowed it back in the cabinet.  Scully stayed standing in the middle of the room though, looking pensive.

“What’s wrong?” Mulder asked.

“Nothing.”  She shook her head, brow furrowed.  “It’s just…I’m thinking about this as an undercover assignment.  Like you said I should.”

“Yeah?”

“We should undress.”

“Scully…”  Mulder put a hand to his chest and feigned shock.  He knew what she was getting at, but he enjoyed the blush that colored her cheeks and the exasperated stutter she took on almost immediately in response.

“I’m talking about…this room needs…you should…we should be in our robes.  When room service comes up, we should be in the robes.  This room should…clothes should be…strewn about…it should appear like…”

“Like we’re honeymooners?”

“Yes.”

“I like it.”  Without too much thought, Mulder whipped his sweater off and tossed it over Scully’s head towards the vicinity of the couch.  It hit the arm and crumbled to the floor.

“Mulder!  You could at least wait until I leave the room.”

“Where would be the fun in that?”

Scully rolled her eyes as she passed Mulder by and went into the bedroom.  He unzipped his pants and pushed them down over his hips so they pooled around his ankles and then he gave them a half-hearted kick to the side.  One by one, he pulled his socks off and slingshotted them at the couch.  The bedroom door was still open, but he poked his head through the door first to check for Scully.  The door to the en suite was closed so he went in and grabbed the robe left behind for him to don over his undershirt and boxers.  It was soft and he rubbed the arms appreciatively just as Scully emerged from the bathroom, robe on, clothes clutched to her chest.

“These are great,” Mulder said, following Scully back out into the lounge.  He watched her contemplate where to drop the clothes and he shook his head.  “Don’t think.”

“I’m not…”

He stepped up to her and took the sweater from her, tossing it over his shoulder just as soon as he’d grabbed it.  She scoffed slightly in protest and then he dropped the pants to the floor between them.  That’s when he noticed the bra she had gripped in her fist.  She seemed to realize it at the same time and pulled her hand behind her back, cheeks coloring slightly.

“Toss it,” he said.

She hesitated for a moment and looked around like she was starting to contemplate again, but then she met Mulder’s eyes and quickly flung the bra out of her hand to the side.  It landed on the TV, draped over the front like a limp flag.  He laughed and she put a hand over her face.

“Perfect,” he said.

Scully looked unsure.  Over the course of their four years together, he had cataloged in his brain all the little gestures she took on when she got anxious.  She would lick the corner of her mouth or give a jerk of her neck to flick her hair out of her face or pick at the skin at the side of her thumbnail with her index finger or tug at the cuffs of her blazer, depending on just how nervous she was.  He added a new one to the list at that moment, twisting the ring on her finger back and forth.

Only minutes later, there was a knock at the door.  Scully had gone back into the bedroom again, claiming the room was too chilly and she needed to put some socks back on.  Mulder opened the door to let room service in, eyeing the fancy setup on the rolling cart almost suspiciously.

“Honey,” he called.  “The food is here.”

The bellhop guided the cart over to the table in the lounge area.  “Would you like me to open the champagne for you, sir?”

“Champagne?” Scully asked, pulling her robe a little tighter as she came out from the bedroom.  “You ordered champagne?”

“Did I?”

“Part of the package, sir.”

“Ah, right.”  Mulder nodded and turned to raise his brows at Scully.  “Yeah, go ahead and pop the cork.”

The bellhop worked quickly, removing the champagne from the ice bucket it sat in and then wrapped a linen cloth around it before uncorking it.  When he was finished, he wished them a good night and made to leave and Mulder automatically reached for his wallet, but then realized he had a robe on and not his pants.

“Oh, uh…hang on,” he said, scanning the room for where his pants had landed.  He fished his wallet out from the pocket before he dropped them back on the floor and gave the man a generous tip.

“Thank you, sir.  Congratulations.”

Mulder grinned as he shut the door behind the bellhop.  Scully had taken the lids off of all the platters and raised her brow when he returned.

“Chocolate-covered strawberries,” she said.  

“Part of the package, I assume,” he answered, seriously.  “Champagne?”

“Might as well, if it’s part of the package.”

By the time they finished eating, Scully was on her third glass of champagne.  Mulder had never seen her truly inebriated before and it was something to behold.  She was just past tipsy, giggling at the slightest provocation and chattering more than usual.  She had probably had too much to drink, too quickly, or maybe that’s just what champagne did to her.  Either way, he was amused.

Just before they’d sat down to dinner, Mulder had turned the TV back on and scrolled to one of the music channels for some background noise.  It was just in time for a continuous block of hits from the 70s and 80s.  At one point, Scully paused with her teeth just closing on one of the dessert strawberries and started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“This song…it…”  She looked wistful for a moment and then started laughing again.

Mulder listened intently for a few moments with his head cocked.  “Hall and Oates?”

“I’ve never told you about my disastrous prom night, have I?”

“Color me intrigued.”  He perked up a bit.

“Mm.”  Scully bit into the strawberry and the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile even as she chewed.  She licked her lips when she finished and then swirled her index finger over the top of her champagne glass.  “My best friend, Sylvia, and I decided to make it a double-date.  She’d been with her boyfriend, Berwood, since-”

“I’m sorry, Berwood?”

“I honestly have no idea if that was his first name or his last name.”  She laughed, leaning so far onto her elbow on the table that Mulder thought she might slip out of her chair.  He quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her upright and she just continued to chuckle.

“So, Sylvia and Berwood had been dating since…?”

“Huh?  Oh, yes, Sylvia and Berwood had been dating since junior year.  He should have been in college, but he’d flunked his senior year.  Twice.  I don’t know what Sylvia saw in him, but he was older than us and able to buy beer.”

“I see where this is headed.”

“No, you really don’t.”  She chuckled again and her cheeks took on a rosy hue.  “My date’s name was Marcus.  I’d had a crush on him for…I don’t know, probably since eighth grade, but he always had a girlfriend and I always felt he was just out of my league.”

“I don’t believe it.  No one could ever be out of your league.”

“Glasses and braces, Mulder.  Red, frizzy hair.  Don’t forget, Farrah Fawcett was the ideal male fantasy at the time.  And I was no Farrah Fawcett.”

Mulder shut his eyes and was lost for a moment in reminiscing.  “I do remember the poster.”  Scully shoved him in the arm and he opened his eyes, laughing.  “Sorry, no thinking about any of Charlie’s Angels on our honeymoon.  Please, continue.”

“Well, I got lucky because about a month before prom, Marcus and his girlfriend broke up and on Sylvia’s urging, I asked him to the dance and he said yes.”

“Of course he did.”

She rolled her eyes a little and shook her head.  “I’m sure Sylvia had a hand in it.  She knew that…oh my god, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”  One hand went to her face and she shook her head again. 

“Knew that what?”

It took her a few moments to answer.  She moved her hand away from her face, took a sip of champagne, and then cleared her throat lightly.  “Well…I really wanted to lose my virginity before I went to college.”

“Ohhhh…is that where we’re going with this?”

“Maybe in a perfect world.”

“That’s right, you did say it was a disaster story.  So, what happened?”

“We got there late.  I remember this song.”  She paused and cocked her ear towards the TV for a few moments.  “I don’t even think we stayed a full hour.  The guys wanted to go get drunk in the woods behind the school.”

Mulder tried for a moment to picture a teenage Scully, sneaking out of prom to drink beer and have sex.  He remembered what she was like before they’d gotten so deep into the dark side of humanity and he could see it.  He saw her laughing in the rain with him in the Bellefleur cemetery and it was like a glimpse of what she used to be.

“We drank a lot,” she said.  “Someone brought a joint.  Probably Sylvia, her brother always had a stash somewhere that she was pilfering from.”

“Scully…” he murmured, in awe and impressed.

“At some point, Sylvia and Berwood went off and left us alone and…things were starting to…happen.”

Mulder bit his lip.  Scully seemed lost in her reverie.  She took a sip of her champagne and then started chuckling, shaking her head.

“So there we were,” she said.  “Two o’clock in the morning, me in my moire taffeta and Marcus in his…whatever the hell he was wearing…a kelly green cumberbund, I think.  And I know he’s thinking, it’s now or never.  And I’m thinking…”

Mulder waited, bending his neck forward a little in anticipation.  Scully rarely shared stories like this with him, but when she did, she had a way of leaving him on tenterhooks.  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I’m thinking…what is that siren I hear getting louder?”

“Someone called the cops?”

“It wasn’t the cops.”  Scully laughed, closing her eyes for a moment.  “It was the fire department.  Sylvia and her idiot prom date had built this campfire that went totally out of control and then we had to ride back on those…what do you call them?  Pumper trucks.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah.  Needless to say…”

“You never achieved your goal?”

“Oh, I did.  In the back of Marcus’s Chevy Vega about two hours later and the campfire was far more memorable.”  She smiled wryly and then her cheeks turned red and she put her hands over her face.  “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t.”

“Why would I?”

“Because…we’re friends?  Aren’t we?”

“We’re coworkers.”

“Oh, come on.  That’s it?  Coworkers?”

“Well…”  She sighed through her hands and shook her head a little.  “I mean, it’s just not workplace conversation.”

“You want to hear about my prom?” he asked.

“Yes,” she mumbled through the hands covering her face.  “Tell me.”

“The girl I asked turned me down and I didn’t go.”

“Mulder!”  She dropped her hands and stared at him wide-eyed.  “I don’t believe you.”

“Didn’t like dances anyway and I was also a bit of an outcast back then.”  

“That’s not what-”

“You’re after the virginity story, aren’t you?”  He waggled his eyebrows at her and she bit her lip.

It took her far too long to answer.  “No…”

“It was college for me, sophomore year.”

“Phoebe Green?”

“God, no.  If that had been the case I probably would’ve taken a vow of celibacy.  She wasn’t very forgiving of any shortcomings, no pun intended.”

“I think I gathered as much.”

“Her name was Corinne and all I can say is thank god she was patient because I wasn’t always the Greek God you see before you.”

Scully’s left eyebrow arched up.  

“I’m not saying it was a disaster,” Mulder continued.  “I was just a little too nervous for it to be memorable…for her.”

“Did you see her again?”

“Yeah.  I mean, we dated for maybe two, three months and then it just kind of fizzled out and we went our separate ways.  Phoebe swooped in not too long after and by then…I wasn’t as nervous anymore.”

“I see.”

“So, while we’re sharing things, we’ve still got questions needing answers from that list.”

Scully did not reply, at least, not right away.  She gazed at him, blinking slowly, her chest rising and falling with her steady breathing.  Finally, she stood and refilled her glass with the rest of the champagne, which wasn’t much.

“Is that a no?” he asked, as she walked away from the table.

“It’s a ‘might as well get comfortable,’” she answered, and then paused in the doorway to the bedroom.  “You coming?”

Mulder all but leapt up from the table.  He expected a little bit of resistance again to his request, but if she was willing, he wasn’t going to hesitate and give her time to find a reason to say no.  He was hot on her heels as she climbed up onto the left side of the bed, but then remembered he needed to grab the list.

“I found a more detailed questionnaire that I printed out as well,” he said, rifling through his duffle bag.  “Some of it was repetitive, but there were other things, new things there too.”

“Fine.”  She sat straight against the headboard and crossed her legs at the ankle.

Mulder climbed onto the bed as well from the left and moved over her to the other side.  He stretched out on his side with his head in his hand.  “You ready?” he asked.

“Go ahead.”

“Does your spouse have any annoying habits?”

“That’s what you want to lead with?”

“I thought it would be easy.  You’ve got to have a whole laundry list stored up, I’m famously a giant pain in the ass.  Lay ‘em on me, g-woman.”

“That isn’t true.”

“I’m not a pain in the ass?”

“Well, yes, but I don’t have a list stored up.”  She gave him a sideways glance and took a sip of her champagne.

He laughed lightly.  “Annoying habits,” he said.  “I’ll start you off.  I never listen, I leave sunflower seed husks everywhere I go, I throw my dirty clothes everywhere but in the hamper, I leave the toilet seat up too often, I squeeze the toothpaste from the middle, which I’m told is-”

“The middle?  What’s wrong with you?”

“The toothpaste comes out, does it really matter where I squeeze from?”

“It’s more efficient to squeeze from the bottom.”

“By the point zero two five seconds it takes to squeeze out the rest of the toothpaste when I’m running low?”

“Yes.”

“Totally fine with being inefficient.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but…toilet paper rolls.  Over or under?”

“Don’t care.”

Scully gave him a pained look.  “The correct answer is over.”

“More fodder for that list you don’t have.”

“What about me, though?”

“What about you?”

“What’s on your annoying list about me?”

“You’re perfect.”

“Come on.”

“No, that’s it.  You’re perfect.  It’s extremely annoying.”

“Play fair.”

“Is now a good time to point out that you never actually answered?”

She sighed softly and then her brows came close together like they did when she was studying something particularly intently.  What had been light and playful a few moments ago suddenly felt dark and serious.  “Sometimes I feel like you treat me as though I’m your enemy.”

“What?”  Mulder’s stomach flipped and he sat up, scooting backwards so he could look at Scully in the eye.

She hesitated then, waving her hand dismissively.  “Nothing.  Nevermind.”

“Don’t,” he said, catching her hand and holding onto it.  “Talk to me.  Tell me what you mean.”

A short silence followed in which Scully took her hand back and stared down at her knees.  She took a sip of champagne, then again, and then tapped her fingers against the glass for a few moments.

“What I mean,” she said, “is that it’s my job to apply science to our cases and there are times that you act like you have little to no regard for what I bring to the table and have even gone so far as to imply that I’ve been working against you, which is simply not the truth. So, please don’t sit there and say that I’m perfect, because of course I’m not, but when you say that, it just seems to me that you’re not taking this as seriously as you claim to be.  Because I know you don’t mean it.”

“That’s…”  He paused to take a deep breath and he could feel a lump forming in his throat, but he swallowed it down.  “I’m sorry that I made you feel that way, Scully.  I have the utmost respect for what you bring to our partnership, even if it seems like I don’t.  It’s…it’s…”

It wasn’t often that Mulder was thoroughly tongue-tied, but he was having a hard time trying to pull his thoughts together in a way that wouldn’t come off as disingenuous.  He could emphatically disagree with everything she just said, but it would never be enough to just say it without having anything to back his claims.

“What you bring is important,” he said, proceeding with caution.  “I know that.  I know from a standpoint of justice, we need that validation.  But, science isn’t always the answer.  And you have to agree with me when I say that it’s always evolving.  There are constantly new things to discover, new technologies, reversed opinions on what was once claimed to be fact.  There is so much we have learned, but so much we haven’t.  Scully, you said it yourself not that long ago, you told me that nothing happens in contradiction to nature, only what we know of it.” 

“Exactly, but my point was-”

“Your point was that neither of us know everything and for you, science is the place to start.  We may not have the same approach, but at the end of the day, we both want the same thing, don’t we?”

“Don’t say ‘the truth.’”

“Answers.”  He shook his head.  “Scully, it isn’t you that I don’t trust.  It isn’t you that I doubt.  It’s just that, sometimes what you can scientifically prove conflicts with what I have seen and experienced.  If…if science could solve every mystery, then there would be no need for faith.”  His eyes bounced from hers to the glint of her necklace where it disappeared under the collar of her robe.  “Surely you can appreciate that.”

There was a mixture of hurt and regret in the look she gave him.  Her lips parted as though she were about to respond, but then she sucked in a breath and pressed them closed again.

“When I question you…if it seems like I’m doubting what you’re bringing to the table it’s because something tells me there’s more there than what either of us can account for,” he said.  “Of course there are times when I’m wrong, but you’re not always right either.”  

Mulder swallowed again.  He had a momentary flashback to earlier in the afternoon, standing with her in the parking lot outside city hall.  She deserved to hear what he had to say, it was just difficult to convey without feeling like he was crossing into the forbidden zone where they leave everything unspoken so they don’t have to say the difficult things out loud.  He took a deep breath and forged ahead.

“I don’t want you to think that I’m not taking this seriously,” he said.  “I am.  You are perfect.  And what I mean when I say that is that you’re perfect for me.  Yes, we argue and push each other's buttons, but as difficult and as frustrating as it’s been sometimes, it’s your science and rationalism that have saved us a thousand times over.  It’s kept me honest.  You’ve kept me honest.  You’ve made me a whole person.  I don’t even think I could do it alone anymore.  More specifically, I don’t think I could do it without you .  And I am really, really sorry if I let you think otherwise.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed and unblinking, mouth agape.  His chest hurt with the admission, but he didn’t lower his gaze or turn away from her.  Her eyes began to well with tears and she tipped her head down for a few moments and sniffled.

“Say something,” he said, his voice strained at this point with emotion and fear.

“Something,” she whispered, chin quivering.  It took time, but finally she wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her robe and glanced his way.  She didn’t quite meet his eyes, but her gaze landed somewhere near his shoulder.  “I haven’t told my mother about the wedding.”

Mulder pursed his lips in question and then shook his head.  “Are we…changing the subject?”

“Yes.  No.”  She screwed her eyes tightly shut and her brows nearly came together when she wrinkled her forehead.  “If we’re going to admit to areas where we fall short, I also…are you familiar with the phrase, ‘ask for forgiveness, not permission?’”

“Know it?  I invented it.”

That brought a small smile to her lips even though her expression was still slightly pained.  “I’ve always had a hard time sharing things, private things, even with my family.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.  No, that’s not true.”  She breathed deep and sighed softly.  “I grew up with a strong sense of judgment.  From the church, my parents, my teachers.  And the more that I succeeded, the more judged I felt.  The more pressure I felt to not be a disappointment.  When I know I’ve done something they won’t understand, I just can’t…I didn’t even tell my parents when I’d turned down my residency and joined the FBI.”

“You didn’t?”

“Not until I’d made it through the academy.”

Mulder was shocked.  “What happened when you told them?”

“My father called me a quitter.  He said I was a fool to abandon all the hard work I’d put into med school, that he would have expected such impulsive flights of fancy from my sister, but not from me, who was supposed to have a good head on her shoulders.  That ultimately it was my life to waste or not.”

“Do you feel like it’s been a waste?”

“Not at all.”  She shook her head slightly.  

That piece of information put some puzzle pieces into place for Mulder.  He remembered how it was for her when her father had died and the fears she’d had, but why she’d felt that way had always been a mystery to him.  He’d chalked it up to grief and never had much of a reason to think otherwise, but it was starting to make sense.

“What about your mother?” he asked.  “You two are close.”

“We can be…”  She paused for a few moments and scratched her bottom lip with her top teeth.  “As long as I prepare myself for the inevitable criticism that comes with sharing pieces of myself.  She called our priest after I told them about Quantico.  Wanted him to urge me to pray harder for guidance in my life.”

“You wanna trade?  I think I’d prefer criticism over indifference.”

“No, I don’t want to trade.  I know deep down it comes from a place of love, it just doesn’t make it any easier to bear.  Just once I’d…I’d like the kind of support my brother, Bill, gets.  At least I’m not…” 

“Not what?”

Scully dropped her gaze again and her eyes shifted back and forth.  “I’ve never really told you anything about Charlie.”

“That’s the younger one?”

“Yes.”

“I think that’s all I know.” 

“I haven’t seen Charlie in close to ten years.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s some kind of estrangement that no one will talk about.”

“But…your nephews, the boys you see from time to time, those aren’t-”

“Stevie and Josh are my cousin Julie’s boys.  They call me Aunt Dana, so…it’s easier to refer to them as my nephews.”

“So, what happened with Charlie?”

“I don’t know.”  She turned her head slightly and looked away and for a moment it looked like she was blinking back tears.  “And I’m not trying to be evasive, I actually don’t know.  Melissa was the only one that was in contact with him and I don’t even think she knew what happened.  He just…”

Mulder reached over and put his hand over Scully’s.  To his surprise, she folded her fingers over his and gave him a squeeze.

“You miss him,” he said.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Why don’t you track him down?  Try to talk to him.”

She laughed mirthlessly and rolled her head towards him.  “Maybe because I don’t blame him for wanting out.”  She shook her head and pulled her hand free to cover her face for a moment.  “I don’t mean that, I just mean…”

“I know what you mean, Scully.  If you ever changed your mind, I would help you.  Go with you, if that’s what you wanted.”

“I appreciate that, but if Charlie wanted to have a relationship, he would reach out.”

“Maybe he’s thinking the same thing.  Maybe you’re a lot alike.”

“Stubborn to a fault?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, but that’s what you were thinking.”

Mulder put his hands up in surrender with a smile.  She gave him a small smile in return and then downed the rest of her champagne.  She wiped her eyes before putting the glass on the bedside table.

“What else is left?” she asked, turning onto her hip as she leaned into the pillows.

“Um…”  He briefly scanned the questionnaire and squinted slightly in contemplation.  “Do we have any pet names for each other?”

“Obviously, not.”

“If we did, what would they be?  Baby?  Sweetums?  Pookie?”

“God, no.”  She winced and shook her head.  It almost looked like she was in pain.  “None of the above.”

“Okay, no pet names since you’re opposed.”

“I mean, I’m not opposed, I’m just saying…it should be something less…infantilizing.”   

“Dearest?”

“You called me ‘Honey’ earlier when the room service arrived.”  

“It was the first thing I thought of.”

“I don’t mind that one.”

“Yeah?”

She shrugged, almost bashfully.  “If that’s the first thing you thought of, it seems rather organic then.”

“What would you call me, then?  The first thing you think of.”

She squinted her eyes and cocked her head in contemplation.  Her nose scrunched again and she shook her head.  “I guess Fox is out of the question?”

“Well…”

“I can’t really think of anything.”

“You can call me Fox, if you want to.”

“Not if you don’t like it.”

He shrugged.  “It was never about some distaste at the name itself.  Quite honestly I loved it when I was younger.  I loved that it was unique and different and that it made me stand out a little.  But, when I started to do my regression therapy, and the truth of what happened the night of my sister’s abduction started to come back to me, the sound of her voice, calling for me, so scared and small…”  He had to pause for a moment and rub away the memory from the front of his head.

“I’m sorry, Mulder.”

“No, don’t be.”  He shook his head.  “I probably should have explained it a long time ago.  It’s not as painful as it once was, it just doesn’t really feel like me anymore.”

“Well, I can’t really see you as anything other than my Mulder anyway.”

Mulder swallowed and then dropped his head for a few moments.  His heart had leapt at the thought of her feeling an ownership of him, but he wasn’t sure she even realized what she’d said or if she meant what he took away from it.  He was actually deeply touched, but he didn’t want to let his sudden sentimentality cloud their conversation.

“So, ‘Stud Muffin’ never came to mind?” he asked.

“Not now, not ever.”

“Love Machine?”

“Keep dreaming.”

“Aw, Honey.”

She dropped her chin to hide a smile and he took another look at the questionnaire.

“We’ve covered most of this,” he said.  “There’s a section about future goals.  Job stuff.  Do we want kids?  I think I know the answer to that, but we should probably be on the same page with it.”

Scully’s smile faded and she turned her head and stared into space for a few moments.  She rubbed her lips together and swallowed as she picked at a thread on her robe over her thigh.  “What’s the answer?” she asked.

“We do, of course, but we want to wait until the time is right.”

“You want children?”

“One day, sure.  Yeah.  I like kids.”

“That’s your actual answer, not just…within the bounds of the truth answer?”

His brow furrowed in confusion.  “Are we not on the same page with this?”

“Why would you assume it’s something that I would want?”

“I’m not assuming anything, we talked about it once.”

“When?”

“Home, Pennsylvania.  The Peacock case.”

“Mulder, that was a conversation about genetic abnormalities, it had nothing to do with whether or not I want children.”

“So…we don’t want kids?”

She sighed and tipped her head back, eyes closed.  “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“What’s complicated about it?  You want them or you don’t.  I’m okay either way, it’s not like it’s some lifelong dream of mine for procreation that would be shattered.  I guess I just always figured one day…one day I’d have a couple kids.  But, it sounds like you don’t?”

“I can’t have children, Mulder.”

“Sure you can.  It’s just an answer for a-”

“You’re not listening.”  Scully opened her eyes and turned her head towards him.  “I’m unable to conceive a child.”

“I…I don’t know what…that means.”

“It means exactly that.”

“How do you know?  Have you ever…tried?”

“Ever since my abduction there’s been…abnormalities.”

A rush of heat rose up from Mulder’s chest and a chill went down his back.  His stomach flipped and he swallowed.  “Abnormalities?”

“Irregularities.  I’d like to leave it at that.”

“But...”

“Because of those irregularities, I had to have some tests done and the bottom line is, I am unable to conceive.  I don’t know if it’s something that was done to me, or merely coincidence, or stress, or…like I said, the bottom line is that I am unable to conceive.  So it’s not a question of what I want.”

Mulder was at a loss for words.  Scully conveyed this new piece of information with relative calmness.  He couldn’t tell if she was purposefully keeping stoic about it, or if this was a fact she had reconciled with herself.  He was having a hard time wrapping his head around it.  It wasn’t something he would say out loud, or to her, but somewhere in the back of his mind when the possibility of children crossed his mind, he saw freckles and pigtails and dark red hair and bright blue eyes.  Tiny versions of her, with a little bit of him mixed in there too.

“Scully,” he said.  “If it was something you wanted-”

“No,” she said, a little too quickly.  “The truth is…the truth is that I don’t know if it was something I ever wanted.  I didn’t exactly feel disappointed when I was told.  Or maybe I did a little, but only because I think it was something I took for granted.  Maybe like you I had always just assumed it would happen, but in the way it seems to be assumed with all little girls when their mother’s tell them things like, ‘you’ll understand one day when you get married and have children of your own.’  At the same time I wasn’t one of those little girls that dreamed about a big wedding or a big family or even really played with dolls.  Besides, it’s not like....”

“It’s not like what?”

“It’s not like there’s ever been an offer on the table, if you know what I mean.”

Mulder could only describe the feeling that came over him as deep melancholy.  It felt like he’d lost something he never even had to begin with, but it was lost all the same.  He laid back on the bed and folded his hands over his chest as he stared at the ceiling.  When the silence dragged on, Scully reached over and put a hand on his arm.

“It doesn’t change anything for you, Mulder,” she said.  

He turned his head to look up at her.  It changed everything, but he couldn’t say that to her.  Instead he nodded slightly as though he understood.  “We can’t have kids,” he said.  “That’s our answer and…the truth.”

“For what it’s worth though, I think…I think you’d be a wonderful father.”

A lump rose up in his throat and pinched his windpipe.  “You do?” he managed to whisper.

“I’ve seen you with children.  You’re patient and kind and you listen.  I’m sure if things were different, I…”  She stopped abruptly and took her hand away, turning over so that her back was suddenly to him.  “I think I’m done with the questions for the night.”

His instinct was to turn with her and put his arms around her, but he didn’t.  He still reached for her though, his hand coming down gently on the ball of her shoulder.  As soon as he touched her, she sat up, shrugging him off as she pitched forward and let her legs dangle off the side of the bed.

“Scully…”

“It’s late,” she said.  “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah…”  He took a glance past her at the clock beside the bed, surprised that it was already past ten o’ clock.

She slipped off the bed and into the bathroom.  Mulder stared at the closed door for a few moments and then got up and used the time while she was in there to wheel the food service cart into the hall and hang the Do Not Disturb placard on the door to their room.  He came back to the room and stood at the side of the bed in contemplation.  The whole point of them being in this same hotel room was to sleep in the same bed together, but he had a feeling that she would want her space right now.  He would take a pillow and find a blanket and sleep on the pull-out sofa in the other room.  He was preparing to do just that when Scully came out of the bathroom, robe off, in navy blue silk shorts and a matching short-sleeved button down silk shirt with white piping and what he could only describe as green alien goo covering her entire face.

“Oh!”  His mouth froze in an ‘o’ and he raised his eyebrows.  She raised hers in return and he swirled his index finger in an oval in the air.  “Uh…you’ve got…something on your face.”  She put her hands on her hips and glared at him in response.  “Don’t give me that look, how do I know you’re not a pod person?” he asked.

“It’s a face mask.”

“Made of the mashed guts of little green men?”

She rolled her eyes at him as she started turning down the bed.  “Mulder, you of all people should know, the reticulan skin tone is actually gray.”

He breathed a sigh of relief that she would choose to banter with him instead of giving him the silent treatment and then had to chuckle at that and nodded in agreement.  He started to head out of the room with one of the pillows tucked under his arm, but Scully stopped him.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“The couch?”

She put her hands on her hips again and even under the pound of goop on her face, he could still tell she was frowning.  “Isn’t that defeating the whole purpose of why we’re here?”

“Yeah, but…I didn’t want to presume…”

“Come to bed, Mulder.”  She dropped her arms and then got into the bed and under the covers.

“You sleep with that stuff on?” he asked, tossing the pillow over her and onto his side of the bed.

“No, I need to wash it off in about ten minutes.”

“Then I guess it’s a good time for me to hit the head for my nightly routine as well.”

“Try to remember to put the toilet seat down this time.”

Mulder gave her a salute in response and shut himself in the bathroom.  Scully’s toiletry bag was on the counter and he made a beeline for it, poking a finger into the open space to look for the bottle of goo.  It was easy to spot, a white tube with decorative pastel swirls and bold letters.  Organic Green Tea Mint Mud Mask.

“Say that three times fast,” he murmured to himself.  He flipped the cap up at the bottom of the tube and gave it a whiff.  It had a mint smell, but also a sharper tang to it as well.  He put the tube back, storing the little nugget of information at the back of his head for possible future use, and went about his bedtime process which merely consisted of using the toilet and brushing his teeth.  He hung his robe up on a hook on the back of the door when he was through.

Scully was propped up against the pillows when he came back out, eyes closed, arms flat along her sides.  He was about to get into bed and suddenly remembered he didn’t put the toilet seat down and he backtracked to the bathroom to complete the task.  Almost as soon as he got into bed, she got out, heading back to the bathroom to wash her face.  It was strange to him that only a few minutes later when she came back out, face pink and shiny, that it didn’t feel that strange at all for her to shut her bedside lamp off and crawl into bed beside him.  The only thing that was strange was not having a TV on.  It had been a long time that he hadn’t fallen asleep to the lullaby of infomercials.

“Night night, Honey,” he said, shutting off the light on his side, leaving them in the dark.

She grunted in reply and turned her back to him.

“The thrill is gone,” he murmured, with a smile.

She looked back over her shoulder at him.  “Good night, Stud Muffin.”

He laughed and turned onto his side as well, his back to hers.  He thought he would have trouble sleeping that night with nothing to drown out the sound of the intrusive thoughts that always started to brew as soon as he laid his head down, but it wasn’t long before he could hear the deep and even breaths of his partner behind him and it quieted his thoughts and pulled him under.

It was the low growl of thunder that woke him in the morning and he sucked in a breath as he rolled his head to the side.  He was on his back, the pillow that had started under his head was now beneath his left arm.  Scully was curled up beside him, her head bent and resting gently against his right bicep.  She was clutching the sheets as though she was cold and he noticed the comforter had somehow been pushed low by his hips.  He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and then reached down and pulled the comforter up to cover her shoulder.  She snuggled closer to him as though unconsciously searching for the heat.  The rain pitter pattered against the window and he caught a flash of lightning through the gaps in the drapes.

Another rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, a little louder than before, and this time Scully’s eyes rolled open as she took a deep breath.  She came up on her elbow and shook the hair from her face, blinking in surprise.

“Good morning,” Mulder said.

“Mulder?”  She sounded breathless, even with that one word.

“That’s me.”

“You’re awake?”

“Are you?”  He chuckled.  She flopped back down and rolled away from him, pulling the covers up and over her head.  “I’m taking that as a no.”

While Scully hunkered down in bed, Mulder got up and used the bathroom.  He put the robe back on and went out to the living area to browse the room service menu on the TV, though he had to remove Scully’s bra from the screen before he could see the menu.  He wasn’t terribly hungry, but something told him it would be prudent for him to have coffee and something resembling a decent breakfast already available or at least on the way for when Scully woke.

After he ordered, Mulder was feeling a little restless and he considered going down to use the hotel gym to burn off some energy, but it didn’t feel very honeymoon-like to him, so he pushed the table out of the way to do some exercise.  He tossed his robe to the side and then pulled his shirt off as well, leaving him in his boxers.

Quite quickly he worked up a sweat and was in the middle of a set of push-ups when Scully emerged from the room.  Almost the same time, there was a quiet knock on the door, followed by a deep voice calling out, ‘room service.’

Mulder collapsed to the floor and rolled to his back.  Still in a slightly sleepy fog, Scully went to open the door and let the room service in.  The room was still in disarray from the night before and now Mulder was half-naked and dripping sweat while Scully had mussed hair and hooded eyes.  It was perfect.

“Honey, you wanna grab my wallet?” he said, tipping his head towards the couch where his pants were draped.

Scully fished the wallet from Mulder’s pants and tipped the delivery man while Mulder did some light stretching where he sat.  The uniformed man saw himself out and Scully leaned close to the coffee urn on the rolling cart and breathed deeply.

“Coffee,” she murmured.

“Don’t say I don’t know how to keep my woman happy,” he answered, getting to his feet.

“It’ll take a lot more than coffee for me to say that.”

“Well, there should be some bacon and eggs and toast under those plate covers.”

“That’s a start.”

Mulder smiled.  He liked it when she returned his volleys.  He knew somewhere under the Agent Scully armor was a flirt just lying dormant.  Every now and then he caught a glimpse of it.  She lifted the lids off the plates, one by one and he caught the appreciative smile on her face when she found the fruit platter.  He swiped a triangle of toast off one of the plates from over her shoulder and shoved it in his mouth.

Scully poured the coffee and they each fixed a plate for themselves that they took to the little table to eat.  Mulder ate quickly, feeling the sweat from his workout start to cool his skin and make him itch.  He excused himself to shower and shave, leaving her engrossed in the complimentary local newspaper that had also been delivered with the breakfast.

When he finished, Scully was still reading the newspaper, but she’d moved to the couch.  He noticed that she’d cleaned up their mess from the night before.  Her clothes were nowhere to be found, but his were folded neatly and placed on one of the chairs.  He flopped down beside her and leaned over to look over the top of the paper.  “Anything good?” he asked.

“Not really.”  She closed the paper and folded it over to toss it on the coffee table and then folded her legs up on the couch, tilted towards him.  

“Guess what I did in the bathroom.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Squeezed the toothpaste from the bottom and put the toilet seat down.”

“Congratulations on being civilized.”

“So far, I’d say the marriage is a success.”

“We’ll see if it lasts.”

“The marriage?”

“Civilization.”

He smiled and leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head and propping his feet up on the coffee table.  “What would you be doing today if you weren’t here?”

“And not on a case?”

“Free weekend.  What’s on the agenda?”

“Errands.  Cleaning.  Grocery shopping.  Maybe I’d try to find time to read a book.”

“Sounds like a wild and crazy Saturday night.”

“And what would you be doing?  Wait, let me guess, spending most of the day in the office and then making your way to the Gunmen’s lair to listen to them bicker until the wee hours of the morning?”

“Funny.”  He reached over and gave her knee a mild pinch.  “No, I’d probably only spend the morning in the office and then maybe try to find a pick-up game of basketball at the rec center.  And I’d only head over to the boys place if it happens to be chimichanga night.”

“What’s that expression again about glass houses?”

“I think it’s that those living there should invest in good curtains.”

Scully smiled and gave a brief snort of amusement.  Mulder looked towards the windows.  It was still drizzling and the sky was gray and dreary.  He sighed a little.

“Want to play a game?” he asked.  “We’ve got…two hours until the massages.”

“More Scrabble?”

“No, I’m still recovering from the ass kicking you gave me last night.”  He slid from the couch and crawled over to open the cabinet with the games.  He was familiar with all of them but Guess Who, which he pulled out and examined.  “This looks fun.”

“It’s for six year olds,” she said, as he came back to the couch and put the box in her lap.

“Six and up.  I think we fall into the ‘and up’ category.”

“What about Checkers?”

He took the box back from her and shook his head.  “I don’t trust you, you’re probably a Checkers shark just like you’re a Scrabble shark.  We’ll be on equal footing here.”

“Fine.  One round.”

“Three, at least.”

“Three at most,” she argued.

“Deal.”

Mulder read the rules out loud while Scully set up the two trays and sorted the little cards scattered around the box.  She gave him the red tray and took the blue tray for herself.  The cards were stacked into two neat piles.  She stayed on the couch with the tray on her lap and he sat across from her at the coffee table.

“I think we can already make this more interesting,” he said.

“How so?”

“We’re trained investigators.  None of this ‘is your person a man or woman?’ to eliminate the suspects.  It’s got to be something more like, ‘does your person bear a striking resemblance to Walter Skinner?’”

“Is that your way of asking if they’re bald?”

“See, this is why I always argue those team building seminars they try to force on us every year are a waste of time.”

“I hear next year’s in Florida.”

“Home of Epcot Center, retirees, and the world famous skunk ape.”

“The skunk ape?”

“Commonly known as the Florida Bigfoot.  If they try to force us to go, we can always-”

“I think I’d rather sit through three days of lectures than hunt down the world famous skunk ape.”

“I was going to say, we can always take a detour to Disneyworld.”

“Sure you were.”

“I’ll buy you some mouse ears.”

“Are we playing this game, or what?”

“Yes, go ahead, draw your card.”

Scully selected her card and Mulder selected his.  He indicated she could guess first and to her credit, she actually seemed to seriously ponder her question.

“Could your person legally vote prior to 1920?” she asked.

He chuckled.  “Clever.  Yes, my person could legally vote prior to 1920.”  He waited while she eliminated the possibilities on her tray and then asked his own question.  “Would your person ever travel with a tiny folding comb and a tin of wax?”

“Oh my god.”  She laughed and shook her head.  “No, they wouldn’t.”

Mulder flipped down all of the cards with mustaches in his tray.  “Hit me.”

“Um…does your person…make regular appointments with an optometrist?”

He scrunched his face, knowing the answer significantly narrowed the possibilities.  “In fact, they do.”

Scully triumphantly knocked down her cards until she was left with four potential suspects.  Mulder rubbed his chin.

“Is your person in the same club as you and Agent Pendrell?”

“Me and Agent Pendrell?”  She tipped her head to the side with a frown.

“Also the little mermaid.  Jessica Rabbit.  Wilma Flintstone.  The Wendy’s girl.”

“I get it.”  She waved her hand slightly to stop him.  “No, my person is not a redhead.”

“Darn.”  He started flipping down his cards.

“Should I be worried that you have a ready catalog of cartoon redheads at your fingertips?”

“Ariel is probably the most famous redhead in the world, Scully.  And Jessica Rabbit, come on.  No one forgets Jessica Rabbit.”

“If you say so.  Is your person considering a subscription to the hair club for men?”

“He’s not just a client, he’s the president.”

Scully smiled.  She had two possibilities left while Mulder had fourteen.

“Could your person possibly be a Bond villain?” he asked.

Scully started to answer, but then pressed her lips into a frown.  Her brows came together and she squinted her right eye.  “I think…there is a possibility my person could be a Bond villain,” she finally answered.

“Yes!”  Mulder flipped down all but two of his remaining cards.

“Oh, no way.”

“Yes, way.  One more question each and then we both guess?”

“One more question and I win.”

“Technically speaking, if you have the right person.  But, just for fun.  See if we really do need those team building seminars or not.”

“Fine.  Does your person look like a sketch artist rendering from about 95% of our witness descriptions of the most un-noteworthy suspects we get?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

“Is your person Joe?”

“Wait, let me ask mine and then I’ll answer.”

“Fine.”

“Does your person need a nose job more than I do?”

“Mulder, you don’t need a nose job.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“My person might want a nose job more than you, but no one needs a nose job.”

“You can say that because you have a perfect nose.”

“I don’t have-”

“Is your person Bernard?”

Scully stopped mid-argument and scoffed incredulously.  “Is your person Joe?”

“Count of three?”

“One, two, three.”

Mulder held up his card and she held up hers.  “Guess we get to skip Disneyworld this year,” he said.

“I am…honestly, I’m impressed.”

“Four years of my crack investigative skills and this is what it takes?”

“I guess the question is, can you keep it up?”

“Bring it on.”

They ended up playing four more rounds, tying two more times and winning one each of their own.  The game play evolved as they went on, both purposely trying to eliminate as few as possible with more specific and outlandish questions as though each testing whether or not they could read each other’s minds.  Mulder started developing psychological profiles for each card and he’d never seen Scully laugh as hard as when he asked if her person ‘had a stint as a nude model for after hours life art classes at community college, but was asked to leave when he wouldn’t stop making inappropriate eye contact with the older housewives who had signed up for something to do with their evenings now that their kids were in high school and they just needed some time for themselves.’  She nodded in the affirmative as she wiped tears from her eyes and then doubled-over on the couch when he triumphantly announced that Alfred was her guy.

They were both in a good mood when it came time to put the game away and start getting ready for their massages.  Scully made no protestations like she did the day before and met him back in the living space with an actual smile on her face.  He found it strangely endearing.  It also struck him as absurdly funny, shuffling down the hall together in their matching robes and slippers, and he couldn’t help but grin as he poked at the call button for the elevator.

The hotel spa was easy to find, just a short hall away from the elevator and through an open set of French doors.  The reception area was dim and quiet, nature sounds filtered in from a hidden speaker, punctuated by the hollow plunk and splash of bamboo tipping back and forth from a Japanese water fountain nestled in a rock garden climbing one wall.  It smelled faintly of eucalyptus.

“You must be Mr. and Mrs. Mulder,” the receptionist said.  She stood when she greeted them, smoothing the front of her crisp white uniform stitched with the hotel logo on the pocket of her vee neck shirt.

“That’s us,” Mulder answered, resting his hand on Scully’s shoulder and then thinking better of it and sliding it down her arm to land on her hip.

“If you’ll just sign here and put your room number there, I’ll let Florina and Camille know you’re here.”

Scully took the sign-in clipboard from the receptionist and Mulder gave her a subtle nudge as she started to sign her name.  She paused, pen pressed to the page at half of the ‘u’ in Scully completed.  A few moments later, she continued on, signing in as Dana Scully-Mulder, room 728.

“Perfect,” the receptionist said.  “I’ll be back in a moment.  Could I get you two any bottles of waters or tea?”

“I’m okay,” Mulder answered.  “Honey?”

“None for me, thanks.”

As soon as the receptionist disappeared behind a curtain, Scully stepped away from Mulder.  His arm fell to his side, suddenly empty hand clenching into a light fist as it bumped his thigh.  He turned away, feeling mildly disappointed for some reason, and put his attention to the water fountain.

“This is nice,” he said. 

“It’s called a sōzu,” Scully answered.  He raised his brows at her, impressed.  “My father was stationed in Japan when I was a baby.  He actually liked these a lot.  Tried to build one once in our backyard in San Diego.”

“I didn’t know that.  That you lived in Japan.”

She shrugged.  “I don’t remember it.  We left when I was two.”  

“What does sōzu translate to?’”

“That, I don’t know.”

“Tranquil, perhaps?”

“Probably not.  Its purpose is to frighten animals away from crops.”

“Oh.  Think they’ve got scarecrows up as welcoming features in Japanese spas?”

“My guess is, no.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Mulder, you can come on back with me now.”

They followed the receptionist through the curtain and down a short hall lined with doors on either side.  She led them to a room at the end where two women were smoothing the sheet-lined massage tables that were set up very close together in the middle of the room.  The eucalyptus smell of the reception area was stronger and instead of nature sounds, there were woodwinds.

“Welcome,” one of the masseuses stepped forward and beckoned them towards the tables.  She was taller than her counterpart, dark hair pulled into a tight bun.  Her forearms were sinewy and strong.  “I’m Camille, this is Florina.  We’ll step out for a few minutes and you can hang your robes on the hooks over there.  Start by laying face down on the tables.  We’ll give a little knock before we come back in to make sure you’re ready.”

“Okay,” Mulder said, suddenly feeling nervous to be in this intimate, dim space alone with Scully.  “Uh…sounds good.”

The women left, softly shutting the door behind them.  Mulder looked at Scully.  He was reminded of their first case together, her standing before him in her robe in candlelight.

“We can still back out,” he said.  “If you want.  I can, uh…fake a stomach cramp, or something.”

“It’s part of the package, Honey,” she said, her voice laced with sweetness and sarcasm.  She began unknotting her robe.  “Quite honestly, I could use a massage.  Turn around.”

He turned his back to Scully, chuckling softly to himself.  He could hear her shuffling around, the rustle of fabric, and the creak of the table as she settled.

“Alright,” she said.

Mulder made quick work of shucking his robe, hanging it on a peg next to Scully’s, and leaving his slippers beside hers just beneath both robes.  The table was warm when he crawled into position and the sheet was heavy, enveloping him like a hug.  There was a soft knock on the door and Mulder briefly lifted his head from the face cradle to let them know they were ready.

The next hour was an exercise in self-control.  He was not prepared for just how often his brain would shift during the course of the massage to Scully, or what she might be thinking or feeling.  He tried to let go many times, to just concentrate on relaxing and giving himself over to the strong hands kneading his muscles into submission, but then he would hear Scully sigh or the rustle of the sheet and just the awareness that she was so close would make him flush and tingle.

Inevitably, when they were both instructed to turn over, he caught a glimpse of the side of her breast as she shifted.  She caught his eye in that moment and he quickly turned his head to look up at the ceiling.  The masseuse brought his arm out from under the sheet and he was startled when his hand briefly brushed Scully’s with the tables being so close. 

“Too much pressure?” the masseuse asked him.

“Ah, no, all good,” he answered.  

He tried hard to give his mind over to the rest of the massage, to not think about his partner lying so close, to not think about the hands on his shoulders or arms or calves as being hers.  Several times he felt a tell-tale stirring in his groin and he had to quickly turn his thoughts to more unpleasant things like the time he and Scully had to dig through medical waste to find the lost head of Leonard Betts.  That helped.  He breathed a sigh of relief when the massage was over.

“You can take your time getting dressed,” the masseuse said.  “Go to the front when you’re ready.”

Mulder opened his eyes, but didn’t turn his head until he heard the door close softly.  He looked over at Scully and she turned towards him with a drowsy gaze.  Her eyes closed and then she smiled as she breathed deeply and sat up, holding the sheet to her chest.  He stared at the line of her naked spine from nape to tailbone when she swung her legs over the side of the table.  The dark circle of her tattoo stood out prominently against the paleness of her skin, even in the dim light.

He looked away when she slipped off the table and gave her a few moments to get dressed before he got up from the table.  She was knotting her robe when reached over her to grab his own robe off the hook.  She didn’t turn away or avert her eyes as he dressed.  In fact, her gaze seemed to linger on his bare chest.

“In case I forget to say it later, thank you, Mulder.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know, convincing me to take this weekend.”

“Maybe instead of those team building seminars they could just send us out for partner massages every month.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t you like to see Skinner’s face if we drop the suggestion in our next meeting?”

“I think he’s lost enough hair over our department, don’t you think?”

Mulder laughed and put his arm around Scully’s shoulders as he opened the door to the hallway.  He kept his arm around her on the way out, even as they said their goodbyes to the staff, and as they headed back to the elevator.  For her part, she didn’t even make a move to pull away.

“What if we went to the restaurant tonight for dinner?” she asked, as they waited for the elevator to reach their floor.

“Sure.  Should we order lunch when we get back?”

“I’m not very hungry.”

“Neither am I, actually.  What should we do for the rest of the afternoon?”

“How about, nothing?”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

The elevator dinged open and Mulder followed Scully out and down the hall.  “What does one do, when they do nothing?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she answered.

“Huh.”

“Why don’t you make the dinner reservations.  I need a shower.”

“That’s something!  Two somethings, if you think about it.”

“Let the record reflect that I’m amending my earlier definition of nothing to mean, nothing important.”

“Dinner’s important, if you’re hungry.  Showering is important, if you stink.”  He leaned down as though to sniff Scully’s neck and she laughed and pushed his face away.

“Go make the reservations, Mulder.”

“And then what?”

“Go do something.”

“Something that’s nothing?”

“Exactly.”  She left him in the foyer of their room to head to the en suite.  

Mulder called to make reservations for an early dinner at the hotel restaurant before getting dressed.  Thirty seconds later, he was already bored and picking through the snacks in the gift basket.  He didn’t feel like watching TV and there wasn’t a pack of cards amongst the board games so he couldn’t play a round or two of Solitaire.  After some thought, he went into the bedroom to knock on the bathroom door.  

“I’m going down to the gift shop,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the running water.

“What?” she called in return.

“I’m going to the gift shop,” he said, a little louder.

“Okay.”

“Do you need anything?”

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

He grabbed his wallet and one of the room keys and headed downstairs.  The gift shop in the lobby was small, decently stocked with snacks and travel-sized toiletries as well as tacky souvenirs with the silhouette of Virginia stamped on most of them.  There was a rack of books and magazines in one corner and he browsed the selection of bestsellers.  He picked through the latest John Grisham and Stephen King and Danielle Steele novels and then one called An Anthropologist on Mars caught his eye and he thumbed it open to read the jacket description.  He didn’t have to get very far before tucking the book under his arm and moving on.  He also grabbed the latest issue of Time Magazine which promised an article on the discovery of two new planets and then he went to peruse the various hats and t-shirts and knick knacks available on the other side of the small store, figuring they should come away with some kind of token of remembrance from the honeymoon.

A small display of clearance items caught his eye and there was an assortment of keychains, magnets, and postcards spread out on a table.  He picked up a keychain with an insignia of the Apollo 11 and studied it.  It seemed out of place amongst the Virginia license place logos and state silhouettes it was surrounded by.  That felt fitting though, like an appropriate analogy for the weekend.  They might as well be on the moon for how out of their element they’ve been. 

He turned the keychain over and read an inscription on the back.  ‘Commemorating Apollo 11 and the mission to the moon.  July 1969.’  He remembered watching the moonwalk on television.  His father had woken him up when it started, telling him that those men were about to change the world, son, you won’t want to miss it.  He had been rapt, and for years after had held a secret desire to be an astronaut.

There were people in the world that didn’t believe the moon landing was real.  He wondered if Scully was one of those people.  Proof, to her, was more than what she saw with her own eyes.  Except…  He squeezed the keychain in his fist.  Except, where she had faith.  The men in the Apollo 11 mission didn’t have proof they would succeed either, but they had faith.  He knew, in a way, this marriage was a show of faith and he was determined not to let her down.  

“Help you find anything?” 

Mulder started and turned to face the store proprietor, an elderly woman with a bouffant of silver hair that looked to him like cotton candy.  “No, I was just looking,” he said, turning back to the display and setting the keychain back down.  He hastily grabbed a Virginia is for Lovers magnet.  “How’s a hotel in Falls Church end up with Apollo 11 keychains?”

“Mix up with shipments,” the clerk replied, nodding at the table.  “Meant for the Houston shop.  Cheaper to clear them out here.  Everything on clearance is buy one, get one.”

“Oh…”  He turned again and his eye was drawn back to the Apollo 11 keychain.  “Then I guess someone’s mistake is my lucky day.”

“There are no mistakes, just happy accidents.”

Mulder smiled and followed the older woman as she shuffled off towards the registers.  “I like that philosophy.”

“I can’t take credit for it, I heard it on The Joy of Painting.”

“Bob Ross, painter and modern American philosopher.”

“This everything for you?”

“Um…”  Mulder glanced around and then grabbed a package of peanut M&Ms from a rack next to the register.  “Little treat for the wife.”

The woman nodded her approval and started punching numbers into the register.  “Eighteen forty-six.”

Mulder gave her a twenty dollar bill and the woman gave him back his change and his purchases in a small, brown paper bag.  

The shower was still running when he returned to the room.  He dumped his purchases out of the bag onto the coffee table and crumbled the bag with one hand.  He plucked the keychain from the pile and went into the room with it to stow it in his duffel bag.  He already had a strange sentimental attachment to it.  The shower went silent and he went back into the main area, grabbing his magazine before plonking down on the couch to thumb through it.

A few minutes later, he looked up as Scully passed by the open door to the room, in her robe, towel wrapped around her head like a turban.  He smiled to himself.  It felt like such a normal, yet sweetly intimate thing to do.  He also assumed she didn’t realize he was back in the room or that the door was open, otherwise he was sure she wouldn’t have risked him seeing a glimpse of her fresh out of the shower.

“How was the gift shop?”

Mulder looked up again, this time in awe.  She was in the doorway, still in her robe and the turban-towel, rubbing her hands together and up the sleeves like she was spreading lotion onto her skin.

“Mulder?”

“Uh, great.  I got you a book.”

“You got me a book?”

“Yeah…”  He leaned over and grabbed the book from the coffee table and held it up.

“An Anthropologist on Mars?”

“It seemed like something you would enjoy.”

“You thought I’d enjoy a…oh!”  Scully suddenly grabbed the book from Mulder’s hands and turned it over and back.  “Oliver Sacks.”

“I assume you read The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat like a good little med student.”

“You assume correctly.”

“I got you something else, too.”  He cast his eyes down to the table and back to her.  She followed his gaze and then smiled.

“M&Ms?” 

“Tell me this isn’t the best honeymoon you’ve ever had.”

“What is this?” she asked, picking up the magnet.

“Wedding present.  Apropos, right?”

She shook her head and dropped it back on the table.  “You make the dinner reservations?”

“Yes, Honey.”

“What time?”

“Five o’clock.  I thought since we’re not eating lunch we could go early.”

“Okay.”

They spent the afternoon ‘doing nothing’ with their respective reading materials.  Mulder read his magazine cover to cover and Scully was engrossed in her book.  Several times, he looked over to find her with her brows furrowed and her lip caught in her teeth.  When he was done with his magazine, he worked on the crossword puzzle in the newspaper until it was time to start getting ready for dinner and they had a minor disagreement about whether or not they should be dressing casual or not.

“We’re not at the Ritz Carlton,” Mulder argued. 

“But, we’re supposed to be on our honeymoon,” Scully countered.  “Don’t you think we should treat it more formally?”

“We already made the commitment, we don’t have to treat it like a first date.”

“You took me to an arcade for our first date.”

“And I seem to recall you enjoying yourself.  Would you rather we’d gone to a fancy dinner at some upscale restaurant with a five course meal?”

“No.”

“I think we’ll be fine.  You look good.”  He gave her a once-over.  She was wearing a pair of dark, form-fitting jeans and an emerald green sweater.

“I…”  She put her hands against her middle for a moment and then slid them down over the tops of her legs, suddenly looking embarrassed.  

“What?  You do.  You always look good.”

Her chin dropped and she slid her hair back over one ear.  “I guess I’ll just…go get my shoes on.”

“And I’m gonna grab the camera, we should have some more snaps from the weekend.”

The restaurant was nearly empty when they arrived and were given their choice of seating.  A group of four older women in matching blue sweatshirts occupied their own booth and a balding man nursing a whiskey sat at the bar.  Mulder and Scully selected the booth adjacent to the ladies, who paid them no attention.  The seats were dark green leather, high-backed and rounded in a half-circle, affording a decent amount of privacy for both parties.

“Would you call this casually elegant, or elegantly casual?” Mulder asked.

Scully lowered the menu they were given when they were seated and shrugged as she glanced around.  “What’s the difference?”

“Is it a casual place, bringing a bit of elegance, or is it an elegant place trying to be a little understated.”

“A casual place, bringing a bit of elegance.”

“Elegantly casual.”

“Have you given up your usual reading material in favor of a subscription to Martha Stewart Living?”

“Scully, I already told you those magazines aren’t mine.”  He winked at her as he brought a glass of water to his lips.  “But, thank you for implying I kept them for the articles.”

“I think I’ll have the salmon.”  She put her menu down and leaned into the cushioned back of the booth.

“I was thinking the same.”

She raised her brows and he raised his back in question.  “I’ve never seen you eat seafood,” she said.  “I assumed you didn’t like it.”

“I grew up on an island, Scully.  You don’t eat seafood, you perish.”

“You also get seasick just by looking at the ocean.”

“Good thing we didn’t honeymoon on a cruise then, right?”

Their conversation was interrupted by a waitress that appeared at the table.  “Could I get you folks something to drink?”

“I think we’re actually ready to order,” Mulder answered, looking at Scully.  She nodded in agreement.  “Well both have the salmon and a bottle of whatever you have that pairs well with salmon.”

“Nothing red,” Scully added.  “Reds tend to leave me with headaches.”

“We’ve got a nice Riesling folks seem to enjoy.”

“That would be good.”

The waitress went through the rest of the options that came with the salmon dinner.  Mulder opted for the cesar salad, while Scully went for the house, Italian dressing on the side.  They both agreed on the seasonal vegetable, but she picked the baked potato and he picked the mashed.  They handed their menus over and Mulder started to relax back into his seat, but then pushed himself forward.  

“I’m going to ask one of those ladies behind us to take our photo,” he said.

“Now?”

“Yeah, before the food gets here or they leave.”  He slipped out of the booth before Scully could lodge a protest and knocked slightly on the wooden divider that separated the sections from one another.  “Ladies, I’m sorry for the interruption, I’m just wondering if I can implore one of you to take a photo of my wife and I.  This is the last night of our honeymoon and we’d like to have a little memento from the evening.”

“Gladys’ll do it!” one of the women offered, bumping shoulders with her friend.  “She’s the artsy fartsy one.”

“Oh, well, we don’t need anything too artsy fartsy.”  He chuckled.  “A couple simple photos will do.”

The lady that Mulder presumed to be Gladys pushed herself out of the booth with a smile.  “I’d be happy to,” she said.  “Scootch on in with that pretty wife of yours and get real close.”

Mulder did as he was told, putting his arm around Scully as he slid back into the booth.  He pulled her into his side and she leaned against him, dropping a hand to his knee for balance.  Gladys took a step back and to the side and then to the other side, one eye squinted and the other peering intently through the viewfinder.  She took the snap and Mulder went to pull away, but he noticed the rest of the ladies from the table were now peering at them from around the other side of the table.

“Give her a kiss, then!” one of them said, and the rest of them cackled.

Mulder chuckled, but his smile faded as Scully’s fingers dug into his knee.  He turned toward her and she tipped her head back a little when his hand came up and cupped her cheek.  He tilted his head to the side to gently press his lips to hers and felt her smile as the ladies hooted behind them.  They both started laughing and she dropped her forehead to his shoulder when they broke apart.

“I think I got a few good ones,” Gladys said, handing the camera back over to Mulder.  “You make a lovely couple.”

“Thank you,” he answered.  

“Congratulations!” the other ladies called before their grinning faces disappeared from view.

“Oh my god,” Scully whispered, still laughing softly.  “That was embarrassing.”

“Why?”  Mulder still had his arm around her and he gave her arm a squeeze.  

“I don’t know.”

“Not a fan of a little PDA, are you?”

“It’s not that, it’s…”  She sighed.  “I guess it is that.”

“Don’t worry, I think they got a kick out of it.  I know I did.”  He gave her a sideways glance and gave her another squeeze.

She scoffed and shoved him away, but with a smile.  He took his arm back from around her and shifted back just a little.  They made small talk until the meal arrived.  She asked him if there was anything interesting in his magazine and he asked her about her book.  The ladies next to them left while they were eating and stopped by the table to congratulate them again, giggling amongst themselves when they waved goodbye.  

The wine that was brought out seemed to make Scully sleepy.  She became gradually more relaxed, almost lethargic as they ate.  Conversation dwindled as she became more introspective and quieter, looking at him ponderously at times when he spoke, even at basic questions like whether or not to get dessert.  She held onto Mulder’s arm as they went back to the room and leaned against him in the elevator and in the hallway.

“You know what I’m thinking,” she murmured.

“I have no idea,” he answered.

“I’m thinking I want to luxuriate in that nice, big bathtub when we get back to the room.”

“Oh, really?”

“I haven’t felt this relaxed in…I can’t remember when I felt this relaxed.  A hot bath sounds so good right now.”

He looked down at her, eyes hooded, swaying slightly.  “Are you sure it’s a good idea?” he asked, genuinely concerned.  “You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

“Mmm, I might.”  She smiled.  “I’ll leave the door cracked though, if it makes you feel better.”

He fumbled with the card key to open the door, his eyes growing wide for a moment.  When the light finally turned green and he shoved the door open, she stepped under his arm ahead of him, pulling her hair up off her neck with both hands.

“I’m disappointed,” she said, turning so she was shuffling backwards. 

“At what?”

“No wisecracks about the bath being big enough for two or conserving water.”  She bumped into the wall and then dropped her hands.  He made a mental note to himself right then, red wine gives her headaches, white wine apparently loosens her tongue.

“I only like to make passes at you when you’re sober.”

“When you know I’ll turn you down?”

“What can I say, I’m a glutton for punishment.”  He reached out as she started to slide to the side a little and gripped her arm to hold her up.

She shook her head and her eyes went a little wide as though she’d just made a startling revelation.  “We got married, Mulder,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“Married.  To each other.”

He was half amused and a little nervous by the stunned look in her eyes.  He laughed softly, trying to keep the mood light.  “Is this a case of buyer’s remorse?”

She shook her head back and forth, very slowly.  “No regrets.”

“That’s good.”

“But, I want you to know, you can’t be like you’ve been this weekend when we go back to work.”

He cocked his head to the side in question.  “How have I been?”

“Like a husband.”  

He stuttered on a response, his mouth opening, but his brain failed to come up with a response other than an eventual, “I’m sorry.”

She rolled her head from side to side slightly.  “I like this side of you, Mulder,” she murmured, reaching out and touching her index finger to his chest, letting it slide down his sternum gently before her hand fell back to her side again.  “But the Mulder I’m used to has a singular focus.  The Mulder I’m used to doesn’t get distracted from his goals.  He ditches me when I hold him back, he leaps before he looks, he doesn’t always stop to consider if his actions have consequences.”

“Well it…it sounds like you’re the glutton for punishment.”

“I just want you to know that I know where your priorities are.  I’m not expecting anything to change because we’re married.”

“Maybe some things should change, though.  Maybe…maybe you only think you know what my priorities are.”

Silence fell over the room like a heavy fog that permeated all four corners.  Finally, Scully blinked slowly up at him and then straightened and stepped away from the wall.  “Gonna go have that bath now,” she said.

He tried not to sigh.  “Okay.  Go…luxuriate.”  He let her go, but saw her through the doorway to the bedroom with a hand to the small on her back.  

While Scully gathered her things to prepare for her bath, Mulder gathered his own to prepare for a night on the couch.  He heard the running of the water behind him and took a glance at the en suite, noticing that she had indeed left the door slightly ajar.  Quickly, he changed into his sweats and a t-shirt and grabbed one of the pillows from the bed.

It was still early and he wasn’t at all ready to go to sleep, but he was feeling rather lethargic from the massage and the wine.  He darkened the room and flipped through the channels on the TV, settling on a black and white movie he hadn’t seen in years.  He couldn’t pay attention though, his thoughts turning to the conversation he’d just had with Scully.

In theory, he could pass off what she’d said as the wine talking, but he knew it was also the truth.  He was singularly focused and he’d told her as much on their first case together.  He’d toyed with her back then, trying to test her loyalty, trying to scare her off, but she didn’t fall for his manipulations.  Not once.  He’d done her a great disservice if she thought the man he’d been back then was the partner she deserved.  He couldn’t really believe that she believed that.

It was a good forty-five minutes before Scully emerged from the bathroom.  Mulder had actually gotten up from the couch a few times just to stand quietly by the door to make sure he could hear some movement.  He could make out the flickering of a candle burning through the slight gap, but that was all.  When he heard a splash or a sigh, he would go back to the couch and his movie.  

Scully radiated heat and the smell of the bubble bath he’d taken a whiff of yesterday when she sat down beside him on the couch.  Her flannel pajamas were soft against his arm where she leaned against him.

“Nice bath?” he asked.

“Mmhm,” she answered.  “What are you watching?”

“It Happened One Night.”

“You really like old movies, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

They watched together in silence.  The volume was low enough that Mulder could hear Scully breathing softly beside him.  Her head came to rest heavily against his shoulder and he glanced down at her.  His nose nearly touched the part in her hair and he caught a faint whiff of the sweet smell of green apples.

“Mulder,” she whispered.

“Yeah?”  

“I’m…I didn’t mean what I…I don’t want you to think that I…”

He rested his cheek on the top of her head.  “It was the truth.  It’s okay.”

“No.  The truth is…”

“Out there?”

She snuffled slightly and he reached up to brush the side of his finger along her chin.  She didn’t say anything after that and it wasn’t long before he could tell she’d fallen asleep.  He let the movie play on and when it was over, he muted the TV and sat in silence.  It was raining again.  He could hear the soft patter of it tapping against the window.  When his own eyes began to grow heavy, that’s when he decided to take Scully to bed.

As gently as he could, Mulder brought his arm around her, keeping her head on his shoulder and her face against his neck as he bent to put his other arm under the back of her knees.  She stirred as he lifted her and he felt her tense and pick her head up.

“Go back to sleep,” he said.  

“What are…where…?”

“Checking the box for carrying you over the threshold.  Go back to sleep.”

He felt her relax, though she didn’t bring her head back down to his shoulder.  When he reached the side of the bed, he had to lean down and bring the covers back with one hand before he put her down and she rolled onto her side with a sigh.  He brought the covers up to her chin and gave her shoulder a small squeeze.  It seemed she was already fast asleep again.

Quietly, Mulder went about his own nightly preparations for bed in the bathroom.  The room smelled of bath bubbles and blown-out candles.  One of her damp towels had slipped from the rack and puddled on the floor.  He hung it back up as he brushed his teeth.  A glance in the trash can as he disposed of his used dental floss gave him pause.  There were several bloody tissues wadded up in the can and he frowned at them.  He presumed it meant that Scully had another bloody nose at some point today and that didn’t sit right with him.  He knew she had a doctor's appointment coming up and he could only hope it would help.

After finishing in the bathroom, Mulder went back to the bed to put out the lamp on the bedside table.  Scully had kicked the covers away, but was still curled up on her side, facing the outside of the bed.  He brushed her hair back over her ear and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

“Sleep tight,” he whispered.  As he moved to put out the light, he was startled by a tug on his t-shirt.  Scully had blindly reached out and twisted his shirt in a loose fist.

Gently, Mulder unfurled her fingers and rubbed her wrist as he placed her arm back on the bed.  Her brow furrowed and she made a noise of disapproval, but she didn’t open her eyes.

“Go back to sleep, Honey,” he whispered.  “I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

She groaned and reached out again, flailing as she searched for him.  He took her hand again, this time between both of his, and bent his head to kiss the underside of her wrist.

“Mulder, come to bed,” she mumbled.

He stroked her arm for a few moments, kissed her wrist again, and then brought it back down to the bed, holding it there until it naturally slid away from him.  She rolled to her other side, now facing away from him.  He put out the light and then backed away and went back to the front room where he stood in contemplation for a few minutes.  Finally, he picked up the pillow he’d taken from the bedroom and turned off the TV.  In the dark, he slowly made his way back to Scully and climbed onto his side of the bed.  On his back, he stared up at the shadows on the ceiling, listening to her breathe beside him.  After some time, he rolled towards her.

Slowly, as not to cause any disruption, Mulder laid his hand next to hers where it rested just beneath her chin.  He could feel her short puffs of air on his fingertips.  “I love you,” he said, though his mouth moved without making a sound.  He bit his bottom lip and then turned onto his back again with a sigh.  He twisted the wedding ring around his finger with his thumb, back and forth, back and forth.  He closed his eyes and thought about nice little houses in the country, white picket fences, and Scully by his side.

When he woke, it was in the midst of a dream where he was making love with Scully.  They were in an unfamiliar house, in an unfamiliar bed, but they seemed at home there and with each other.  Everything was slow and easy between them.  He kissed her all over and she smiled and laughed when he found ticklish spots.  Her hands moved skillfully over his body, caressing, kneading, clutching.  He gasped and his eyes shot open.

Unsurprisingly, he was fully aroused and sweating profusely.  He sat straight up, his heart pounding and his groin throbbing.  He glanced over at Scully, still sleeping, and he wasted no time in rolling out of bed and hurrying to the bathroom where he locked himself inside.

It was not the first time he’d had a sex dream about his partner, but it was definitely the first time he’d had a sex dream about her while sleeping in the same bed as her.  He was mortified and desperately hoped she was truly asleep and had been asleep the whole time.  There was a wet spot on his sweats and his t-shirt was practically soaked through.  It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that the sheets also smelled of his arousal.  He groaned at the thought and yanked at his clothes to get them off.

It was too late to try to reverse course with thoughts of medical waste and he refused to touch himself while Scully lay sleeping in the next room.  The thought crossed his mind that there’d been plenty of times they were out on the road and he’d needed release and there wasn’t much difference between a door and a wall, but he wouldn’t do it.  It wouldn’t be right.  He turned the shower on, as cold as he could tolerate, and gasped as the icy water doused his overheated skin.  Quickly, his arousal faded and he stood shivering until he couldn’t take it anymore and then turned the temperature up to wash himself all over.

He was feeling much calmer after finishing his shower.  He wrapped a towel around his waist and used another to rub his head.  He shaved at the sink, brushed his teeth, and then collected his dirty clothes from the floor.  It was then that he’d realized, in his hurry, he hadn’t brought anything with him to change into.

Cautiously, he opened the door to the bathroom and peeked into the room.  Scully was sitting up in bed, yawning and stretching as though she’d just woken up.  She squinted and blinked at him as she dropped her hands to her lap.

“Morning,” she said.

“Good morning.”  He bundled his clothes under one arm and kept his hand on the fold of the towel where it was tucked closed at his hip.  

“Do you feel okay?”

“What?  Why?”

“You rushed out of bed this morning, I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“Oh.”  He grimaced slightly, but tried to pull his face back to a neutral expression.  “No, everything was alright, I was just…I got kind of hot.  Sweaty.  I, uh…thought a cold shower would do the trick.”

“Did it?”

“Mmhm.”  He nodded and then pointed at his bag.  “I’m just going to grab some clothes.”

He could feel Scully’s eyes on him as he moved across the room and then fought, one-handed, with the zipper on his duffel bag.  He pulled out a fresh pair of boxers, jeans, and a black t-shirt.  When he turned, she quickly looked away and pushed the covers down with her feet.

“You want to order breakfast while I finish?” he asked.

“Sure.  What do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

He closed himself back inside the bathroom and then leaned back against the door.  Scully would probably want to check out after breakfast and as soon as they left the honeymoon would be over.  Sadness washed over him.  He knew that after they walked out of this hotel room, the closeness they’d shared over the weekend would evaporate and he didn’t want that to go away.  Maybe he’d try to get her out of the office more and into social settings.  Her birthday was coming up, and though he’d never acknowledged it before, he could ask her out.  He could make the effort, and whether or not she was game was up to her.  He’d try not to hold it against her if she wasn’t.

He dressed and then packed up his Dopp Kit.  He noticed that Scully had added the bottle of complimentary bath bubbles to her toiletries, so she must have liked it.  He took another look at the bottle, committing the brand and type to memory for later.  

“Bathroom’s all yours,” he said, after he dropped his things off at his duffel and came out into the living space.

“Breakfast is ordered,” she answered.

“What’d you get?”

“It’s a surprise.”  She patted his chest lightly as she moved past him, but he put his hand over hers and she had to stop.  He looked down at her, wanting in that moment to tell her that he didn’t want this to end here, but he chickened out.  She tilted her head and raised her brows. 

“Nothing,” he said, tapping his fingers against her hand and then releasing her.  

Room service was quick to arrive and Mulder uncovered each platter like a kid on Christmas morning.  He found scrambled eggs, mini pancakes, sausages, belgian waffles topped with powdered sugar and tiny bowls of various compotes.  There was orange juice and cranberry juice and a carafe of coffee.  It all looked as delicious as it smelled.

“Is it alright?” Scully asked, returning to the room.  She was dressed in dark jeans and a baby blue sweater.

“I don’t know about you, but I never knew I was missing daily room service in my life until now.”

“It is nice.”

“First thing I do when I win the lottery is find a way to incorporate daily room service into my life,” he said, pulling out one of the chairs for Scully to sit.

“Since when do you play the lottery?”

“I bought a scratch off once a few years ago.”

“How do you expect to win if you never play?”

“Relying on beginner’s luck.”  He shrugged at her with a smile and took his own seat across from her.  “What would you do?”

“If I win the lottery?”

“Yeah.”

“How much are we talking about?”

“Cool million.”

“It’s probably not even half that, after taxes.”

Mulder groaned, spooning what could be a blackberry compote onto a quarter section of a waffle.  “Tax free, you take home a million, what do you do with it?”

“I might look into funding a grant for medical research.”  She shrugged with one shoulder and stabbed her fork into a lump of scrambled eggs on her plate.

“That might be the most boring answer I’ve ever heard.”

“You didn’t specify that the answer was supposed to amuse you.”

“Scully, it’s a fantasy question.  It requires a fantasy answer.”

“I prefer to live in reality.”

“Are you saying you don’t fantasize?”

“I fantasize plenty, just not about winning the lottery.”

“Oh?”  He leaned closer to her and raised his brows.  “Pray tell.”

She smiled at him, but took a bite of her eggs instead of answering and he didn’t push further, knowing he’d gone far enough.  During the rest of breakfast, they traded sections of the newspaper.  He skimmed the Garfield and Peanuts comic strips, but neither pulled a chuckle from him.  He put down the paper when he noticed Scully was finished eating.

“Anything you want to do before we check out?” he asked.  “Go for a swim?  Try to weasel an early lunch out of room service?”

“I can’t even think about lunch right now,” she groaned, rubbing her stomach lightly.  “And if I tried to swim, I’d probably sink like a stone.”

“So, I guess we pack up and…and that’s it.”

He couldn’t help but keep the hint of disappointment out of his tone, but the look she gave him told him she might feel the same way.  It took her a few moments to nod in agreement, but then she  looked around the room with a thoughtful expression.

“What about…?” she started.

“Yeah?”

“Guess Who rematch?”

He grinned.  They cleared the breakfast off the table to make room for the game and spent the next hour laughing over how ridiculous they’d turned a children’s game into for their own enjoyment.  Soon enough, though, they had to start getting ready to leave.

Mulder shouldered his duffel and took Scully’s rolling bag from her as they closed the door to the room.  They made a silent trek down the hall to the elevator and he put his arm around her as they descended to the lobby.  She leaned into him momentarily, and then pulled back when the doors opened and she led the way to the check out desk.

“And how was your stay with us?” the clerk asked, smiling brightly as she scanned their keycards.

“Best honeymoon we’ve ever had,” Mulder answered, pulling Scully tight against his side and grinning at the woman.  “Right, Honey?”

“How many have you had?” Scully asked, raising her brows a little and looking up at him.

“One and done, I promise.”  He bent and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

The clerk printed a receipt and tucked it inside an envelope before she slid it across the table.  Mulder quickly swiped it from the counter and put it in his back pocket.  With checkout complete, they headed out the door and Scully handed over their ticket to the valet.

They listened to the radio on the drive to Mulder’s apartment, but didn’t talk much.  The closer they got to home, the more fidgety he became.  If he was driving, he’d be able to tap his fingers on the steering wheel, but he had to settle for bouncing his knee in the tight confines of the passenger seat.  Scully pulled the car into a spot in front of his building and turned off the engine.

“Did you want to come up?” he asked.

She tipped her chin down for a moment almost bashfully and then looked up at him.  “I think I’ll take a rain check, if you don’t mind.  I have some things to get done.”

“Okay.”  

He unlatched his seatbelt and paused with his hand on the door handle.  Instead of opening the door, he shifted towards her and then reached up to cup her jaw.  She put her hand over his and he leaned in, moving slowly to test the waters.  When she didn’t pull away, he touched his lips to hers, pulled back a little, and then tilted his head and kissed her a little harder, though not much.  She ducked her head when he broke from her and he rubbed the apple of her cheek with his thumb.

“I meant it, Scully.  Best honeymoon ever.”

“Of all the many honeymoons you’ve had,” she replied.

“One and done, Honey.”  He made a move to get out of the car, but she put a hand on his arm.

“Mulder, wait.”

He looked at her expectantly, hoping she’d changed her mind about coming up, but she looked at her hands and then wiggled the wedding ring off her finger and held it out to him.  He took it from her with a disappointed nod and then took his own ring off and held them both in his closed fist.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“I’ll be in later, remember.”

“I remember.  I hope it goes well.”

“I’m sure it will.”

He got out of the car and then opened the back door to grab his duffel bag.  She started the car and pulled away.  He gave a wave to her taillights and when she turned the corner, opened his fisted hand to look down at their rings.  What happens now, he wondered.

/End part 2

Chapter Text

Doctor Julia Fennessy had been an acquaintance of Scully’s from medical school and was now a physician with a private practice associated with Holy Cross Memorial Hospital. Though the FBI had its own medical offices, Scully preferred her regular care to be handled outside of the bureau. Her appointment was for 6 o’clock in the morning, before normal office hours, but Julia had made the exception.

Scully arrived early to her appointment and the lone receptionist that was already prepping for the day handed her a clipboard and pen and told to fill out the front and back sides of four pages of paperwork. Scully sat down and entered the basic information almost on autopilot. Name, date of birth, address, phone number, and then paused with the pen pressed to the box to check off ‘single’ in the marital status section.

“Damn,” she muttered, under her breath. Even after careful consideration of what entering into marriage with Mulder would look like, she hadn’t thought about things like this. What would be the appropriate thing to do here? Technically, she was married. Technically, it was supposed to be a closely guarded secret. Technically, it was also supposed to be treated as truthful. She rubbed her thumb along the phantom band at the underside of her ring finger.

After closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Scully checked the box next to ‘married’ on the form and moved on, hoping there’d be no further questions about it. She was about to pull out her insurance card to copy down the information when she was interrupted by Doctor Fennessy.

“Dana, it’s so nice to see you,” Julia said. “Don’t worry about that right now, come on back and let’s have a chat.”

Scully stood and followed her former classmate into a small, windowless office. There were no decorations aside from the requisite framed degrees on the wall that were in every doctor’s office. Scully remembered attending a study session once upon a time in Julia’s dorm room and noting how orderly and spartan the room was and how nothing had changed. She still wore her blonde hair into a tight, low bun at the top of her neck. She still wore the same brown loafers that had tormented some of the male professors in school, insisting she should opt for a more professional and feminine heel. Scully still remembered how Julia had smiled politely and told them she would consider their fashion advice if they could point to the chapter in any of the medical textbooks that explained how the choice of a doctor’s footwear could save a life. Julia had not only been a thorough and focused student, she did not waste time, mince words, or suffer fools, which Scully had always appreciated and that she was counting on now.

“Have a seat,” Julia said, gesturing to one of the two chairs across from her desk. “Tell me why you’re here.”

“Well…” Scully started, and then her throat closed on her. She quickly swallowed and glanced down at her lap, unaware that she’d been rubbing her thumb along her naked ring finger again. She covered her left hand with her right and cleared her throat. “Headaches,” she said. “I’ve, um…I’ve started to have frequent headaches. Nosebleeds.”

Julie nodded as she began to take notes on a blank sheet of paper. Scully ran through a litany of symptoms, trying to maintain a clinical detachment to her own circumstances, but she could hear her voice getting smaller, weaker, her throat squeezing the breath from her.

“How much time do you have this morning?” Julia asked, gently setting her pen down onto the paper.

“How much time do you need from me?”

“Well, obviously I’ll order blood work that we can do here, and a neuro exam, but I’d like to send you over to Holy Cross for a CT scan.”

“A CT scan. Do you think that’s necessary? I mean, today?”

“Yes, I do. But, I think you already know that.”

Scully swallowed heavily and then nodded.

“I’m going to have my PA take you to the exam room and get you set up for vitals. Has anything changed in your paperwork from the last time you were here? Address still the same, insurance? Any new allergies or medications?”

“Nothing’s changed, though I…I got married recently.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

Julia picked up her phone and pressed an extension button. “Cecily, if you or Naomi are free could one of you please come to my office to take a patient to Exam 3? And do you know if Ann-Marie is in the lab yet? Good, thank you.”

A tall, dark-skinned woman knocked on the door only a few moments later to collect Scully. She introduced herself as Naomi and led Scully to the exam room with a brisk step. In quick succession, vitals were taken, blood was drawn, and a whole host of other questions were asked and tests performed. When that was finished, she was sent across the street to Holy Cross to the radiology department.

No more than an hour after Scully had arrived for her appointment, she was laying on a table and being strapped down to hold her head in position for the scan. A heart monitor was clipped to her left index finger. Fuzzy socks were placed on her feet and a soft blanket was draped over her body from her chest down.

“Try to relax,” the lab technician told her, kindly. She gently adjusted Scully’s head to her liking and then nodded at her. “Just keep still. I might need you to hold your breath every so often, so you’ll hear me ask you to do that over the intercom. Any questions?”

“No,” Scully answered.

“You’ll be done in half an hour, I promise.”

As the table slid back into the scanner, Scully looked up at the red lights that formed a grid across her forehead and then she closed her eyes and did as the technician asked and held as still as she possibly could. The machinery clicked and whirred around her. Her nerves were on edge, but she wanted to keep her heart rate down and so she tried to clear her mind of all negative thoughts and simply count the seconds as they went by. She was mildly nauseated by the time she was pulled out of the machine.

Scully knew the moment the technician freed her from the straps and she sat up that the results were not good. There wouldn’t have been multiple doctors gathered around the imaging screen behind the window to the technicians station if there was nothing to be found. Even Julia was there and when she met Scully’s gaze, the grim set of her mouth told her all she needed to know. Julia quickly left the group of doctors and came into the exam room.

“How bad is it?” Scully asked.

“Before we have this conversation, you should get dressed. I can call your husband for you.”

“No, I’d like to hear whatever it is you have to say right now.”

“Dana, the important thing to remember is that we still need to do further testing, okay? Just remember that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“The scan shows a nasopharyngeal mass.”

Scully bowed her head from where she still sat on the exam table and closed her eyes. She took a few moments to keep her composure and then took a deep breath. “What are my options?” she asked.

“You really should speak to the oncologist about this, he-”

“Julia. I know what a nasopharyngeal mass is. I know what it means. I want to know what my options are.”

“Like I said, we will have to do further testing, but from what the CT shows, I would say that the options are…the options are limited.”

“I’d like to see the scans.”

“Of course.”

Scully didn’t even bother getting dressed first before waiting for the films to be displayed for her. She stared at the images of her skull, at the very clear and very defined mass behind her sinus cavity. When she’d felt that the image had been sufficiently burned into her memory, she finally turned away.

“I need to call my partner,” she said.

Julia nodded. “Come with me.”

Her call to Mulder was brief. She dialed the office number, picturing him at his desk, flipping through files and waiting impatiently for her to arrive. He answered after only the second ring.

“Mulder.”

“Mulder, it’s me.”

“Oh hey, Scully. You on your way? There may actually be a development in that Pyramid Lake case I was telling you about.”

“Mulder, I need you to come down to Holy Cross Memorial. Can you do that for me? The oncology ward.”

There was an extended silence that followed. So quiet she could hear his chair creak over the phone. “I’m on my way,” he finally answered, hanging up before she could even respond.

In the twenty minutes between her call and Mulder’s arrival, Scully got dressed and had a brief consultation with the oncologist that had been reviewing her films. She half-heartedly peppered him with questions like they were colleagues working a case together and not like a doctor and patient. He was kind, but seemed startled by her bluntness and lack of emotion. It was a relief when he left her alone to ponder the films. It was only a few minutes later that Mulder showed up, bearing a bouquet that he joked about stealing from a man with a broken leg.

“How you doing?” he asked, his voice soft.

“I guess that’s the question.” When she looked up at him, she could see the uncertainty and fear in his eyes as he nodded at her. “Actually, I feel fine.”

It wasn’t a lie, exactly. She did feel fine, but she knew that even as she said it, reality was starting to creep in and she was afraid. Her eyes dropped to his chest as she spoke, betraying her confidence.

“Good,” he murmured, nodding again. She met his gaze once more and it was like a silent pact was formed in that moment where they agreed that she was fine and it was okay to keep up the pretense. She nodded slightly in return, grateful that he would trust her enough not to press harder.

What she was also thinking was that this was the man she had just spoken vows to only days ago, and the words of their officiant came back to her as they held their silent conversation. About committing themselves to their partnership. About promising to endure together, through good times and bad. She knew that the Mulder she was standing in front of today would uphold those vows, but she wasn’t sure if she could allow herself to let him.

As though he knew where her thoughts were headed, Mulder turned to the wall of films and gave them a once-over. “What exactly are we looking at here?” he asked.

“It’s what’s called a nasopharyngeal mass,” she answered. “It’s a small growth between the wall of the superior conchae and the sphenoidal sinus.”

“A growth?”

“A tumor.” She sighed softly off his shell shocked expression. “You’re the only one I’ve called.”

His head bobbed slightly as he digested the news. “Is it operable?”

“No.”

“But, it’s treatable,” he stated, as though if he said it emphatically enough it would be true.

“The truth is, that the type and placement of the tumor make it difficult.” Her voice dropped slightly in the way it often did when she was speaking with a bereaved family member on one of their cases. She hated being the bearer of bad news. “To the extreme.”

Mulder stared at her and then blinked and shook his head. He began to stutter. “I refuse to believe that, I…I…”

“For all the times that I have said that to you, I am as certain about this as you have ever been.”

He shook his head at her.

“I have cancer,” she said, out loud, for the first time. Even the doctor’s hadn’t said it as plainly to her as she just did to Mulder. As a doctor, she had studied this in med school. As a doctor, she knew exactly what was coming. “It is a mass on the wall between my sinus and cerebrum. If it pushes into my brain, statistically there is about a zero percent chance of survival.”

“I refused to accept that,” he said, as though arguing with her could change things. “There must be some people who receive treatment for this. We can…”

“Yes, there are.” She sighed because he knew who those people were, just as she did, and because she’d already had the same thought. She began taking the films down from the lightboard, yanking a little harder than was necessary.

“Scully…” He grabbed her wrist, pushing his fingers into her fist to hold her hand. She didn’t pull away, but she kept her head downturned and didn’t look at him.

“Mulder, I don’t want-”

“We’re gonna fight this,” he said, emphatically, squeezing her hand. “Okay? We’re gonna fight this.”

Part of her wanted to push him away and yell at him that he wouldn’t be doing any fighting, she would, but that was her fear trying to take over. He brushed his fingers along the side of her jaw to get her to look at him. She jerked her chin away from his hand, but turned her eyes up.

“Okay,” she whispered.

He tugged on her arm, trying to pull her into an embrace, but she side-stepped out of it, instead walking away with the films clutched in one hand. She did not want comfort at that moment. If she accepted comfort, she would also have to accept that she was sick and it might break her. She wouldn’t break. Not here in this hospital, and not in front of Mulder.

It wasn’t long before she heard Mulder’s footsteps behind her and felt the light touch of his hand at the small of her back. She stopped at the nurse’s station and requested an envelope for her MRI results from a nurse that had been assisting the oncologist she’d spoken to. The older woman gave her a sympathetic smile as she handed over the envelope, one that made Scully’s cheeks burn with resentment and she quickly turned away from it, bumping into Mulder as she tried to escape. He put a steadying hand at her back and thanked the nurse as he guided her out the door.

Mulder kept his hand between her shoulder blades as she walked to her car and then held the door open for her as she got into the driver’s seat. “Where are you headed?” he asked.

“To the office,” she answered.

To his credit, he hid the disapproval she knew he must have had back from her. Instead he nodded softly. “Mind if I catch a ride, then?” he asked. “I took a cab over.”

“You did?”

“Thought it would be faster.”

“Get in.”

He closed her door and she unlocked the passenger side for him.

“I’d like to call Betsy Hagopian when we get back to the office,” she said as he buckled his seatbelt.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

She had felt like the car ride yesterday after leaving the hotel had been somewhat solemn, but today it was downright melancholy. Mulder was quiet, which was unusual for him, and it made her anxious. The car idled at a red light and she dug her fingernails into the steering wheel, leaving half moon imprints in the soft leather. A car horn blared behind her and she stepped on the accelerator too roughly, lurching them forward through the intersection. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mulder rub his chest and adjust the seat belt that had locked into place.

“Sorry, Mulder,” she mumbled.

Aside from her apology, they didn’t speak at all during the car ride, nor when they exited the car after parking in the garage, nor on the elevator down to the office. Mulder hung his overcoat on the rack next to the door and immediately went to the filing cabinet behind his desk.

They spent the next half an hour trying to get in touch with Betsy Hagopian. None of the numbers in the file seemed to be active and the database was producing any results. The only way they had to contact her was at her home address.

“We need to go to Allentown,” Scully said.

Mulder looked at his watch. “If we leave now, we might be able to make it there by four.”

“You have a bag with you?”

“You know me, Scully, perpetual boy scout.”

“I guess we’ll have to let Skinner know.”

“Why?”

“If we requisition a car, we’ll have to put in a 302.”

“We can always go rogue.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “No one has to know.”

She tipped her head in amusement and gave him an appreciative smile. “It wouldn’t be right. This isn’t about me…this isn’t just about me, Mulder. I don’t want to be the x-file.”

He gazed at her silently and then reached up and put his right hand on her shoulder, bringing the left up a few moments later. He puffed his cheeks slightly and then lowered his head as he nodded. “I’ll…take your lead on it,” he said, dropping both hands from her shoulders.

“Thank you.”

He accompanied her up to Skinner’s office and anxiously shifted from side to side as she explained the situation to their boss. Most of the times they’d dealt with Skinner, he was stoic and gruff, but she could sense his unease from the moment she’d opened her mouth. There was even a long pause as he seemed to struggle for words and Scully looked to Mulder, who gave her a reassuring nod.

“Ah, this news comes as the worst kind of surprise, Agent Scully,” Skinner said. “I’m sorry. Very sorry.”

“Thank you sir. I don't mean for this to be awkward and I would appreciate it if we could keep this matter confidential.”

“I understand. I assume you’ll be taking a leave of absence.”

“No sir. Actually I've asked my doctors to hold onto my medical records until Agent Mulder and I can exhaust a possible avenue of investigation.”

“Investigation?” He cocked his head slightly and frowned.

“Last year Agent Scully and I pursued a case in which a number of women, purported abductees, experienced similar symptoms after having implants removed from the base of their necks,” Mulder interjected. “A woman in Allentown, Pennsylvania, named Betsy Hagopian was undergoing treatment for a nasopharyngeal tumor. We just haven't been able to contact her yet.”

Skinner turned his attention back to Scully almost imploringly. “I'm sure you're aware we have contacts with the best physicians and medical facilities in the country.”

“Yes, Sir, but for my own reasons I'd like to pursue this through the justice department rather than a personal matter.”

Skinner looked like he wanted to argue, like he was going to turn down her request, but then looked at Mulder and back to her and he gave them a nod before he sat down behind his desk and picked up a file folder. His signal for dismissal. She walked out of his office ahead of Mulder and then blew out a deep breath. Skinner’s secretary gave her a curious look which she ignored and headed straight for the elevator bank, Mulder at her heels.

“I’m gonna go put in the req for the car,” Mulder said, punching the button for the elevator with the side of his fist. He shoved one hand in his pocket and pulled out his keys, holding them up with the ring around his index finger. “You’ll lock up and grab our bags?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’ll take care of the car. You grab the bags.”

Mulder cocked his head slightly, but then put his hands in his pockets and nodded. It was not what they usually did and she didn’t know what compelled her to switch it up, but she felt like she wanted to have control over something at that moment. She punched the button for the third floor after they got on the elevator, and he hit the button for the basement.

After securing the car and heading down to where their cars were parked to pick up Mulder, she had already decided she would rather take her usual navigator position. Long car rides were much better when he drove. She popped the trunk before she got out and he watched her move around the back of the car, past him, to the other side, as he loaded their bags. He said nothing as he adjusted the seat, but he looked over at her after he shut the door.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

Nothing more was said on the drive to Allentown. Scully fell asleep somewhere in Maryland and woke to Mulder shaking her knee a mile before their exit. She felt groggy and a little disoriented, but she sat up in her seat and rubbed her eyes.

“Scully, look…” Mulder slowed as they pulled into Betsy’s neighborhood. A sign on a telephone pole indicated there was to be a garage sale at Betsy’s address on Saturday. “Maybe she’s moving and that’s why we can’t get in touch with her.”

“Maybe,” Scully answered, but her stomach turned. She had a bad feeling and that bad feeling turned to dread when a strange woman answered Betsy’s door.

“Sorry,” the woman said. “No early birds.”

“We’re not here for the garage sale,” Scully answered. “We’re looking for Betsy Hagopian. No one’s returning our messages.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, um…Betsy passed away a few weeks ago. Are you any relation?”

Bile rose in Scully’s throat and she swallowed it down.

“No,” Mulder answered, reaching into his pocket to pull out his badge. “We’re with the FBI.”

“Some kind of trouble?”

“Betsy was with a MUFON group.”

The woman shrugged slightly and looked perplexed. “I don’t know, I’m just the realtor.”

“Would you mind if we came in and took a look around?”

The woman stepped back and let them through. Scully took a few cautious steps towards the front room, the image of that group of women she’d met last year imprinted into her mind. All of them with their implants. Chills went up her spine and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away, startled when Mulder called her name.

“Scully, listen to this.” He held up the receiver of Betsy’s phone and she could hear the garbled static before she even put it to her ear. “There’s two lines coming into this house, this one was lit.”

“Someone’s sending a fax or it’s a computer modem.”

“But who, and for what?”

Scully hung up the phone and followed Mulder as he took off for the stairs to the lower level. The basement was dark, but a sliver of light from a covered window illuminated a desktop computer. Mulder turned the monitor on.

“Someone must have remote access to the system,” he said.

“And downloading data,” she added, reading the screen.

“Copying files. Let’s get a trace on it before whoever it is hangs up.”

Scully pulled out her cell phone and called in a trace on Betsy Hagopian’s phone. Her heart hammered swiftly, seconds slipping by as she waited for an answer. Finally, an address and phone number were returned and she grabbed a pen and paper from the desk to hurriedly take down the information.

“I’ve got an address and an apartment number,” she said.

“There are loads of files in here. We’re gonna need to get back to these sooner rather than later.”

“I agree, but right now, we need to figure out who wants this information and to what end.”

Mulder was able to convince the realtor for a copy of the key to Betsy’s house before they left. It was unnervingly easy. They asked if she was familiar with the street address Scully had written down and she said she thought it might be on the east side of town, but wasn’t sure. It took them over an hour to find the place, much to Scully’s frustration, and it was dark by the time they pulled up to the apartment building.

“Apartment 234,” Scully said, reaching for the buzzer. “Registered to Kurt Crawford.”

Her attention was pulled from the bell as Mulder, without even waiting for a response, had already headed back down the short flight of steps and looked up at the building. “I’m gonna check around back,” he said, already sidestepping his way across the manicured lawn. “Why don’t you see if you can try to reach the manager.”

Scully searched the intercom panel for the manager’s apartment and depressed the buzzer a few times. When there was no answer, she took another step back and looked up at the windows above. She assumed that Mulder had probably gone to find an alternate way inside, most likely a fire escape, and she thought about following. As soon as she turned the corner, she saw a man running towards her and with lightning reflexes she had her weapon drawn and pointed at him.

“Stop!” she yelled. “Federal agent!”

The man stumbled and then tried to backtrack the way he’d come.

“Hold it!” Scully cried, and no sooner had she shouted after him, Mulder launched himself from the side alley at the man, knocking him into a brick wall and tackling him to the ground. “Put your hands where we can see them!” she ordered, running forward with her gun trained on the man, hoping if she was forced to shoot that Mulder wouldn’t take the hit. “Is your name Kurt Crawford!?”

The man stopped struggling, but lay on the ground out of breath, his head pinned by Mulder’s strong grip and a knee to his back. “Yes,” he answered.

Scully was tense, panting softly, her brows knitting together as Mulder seemed to relax and turn towards her. He looked her up and down and she frowned, her eyes darting from him to Kurt Crawford and back.

“Scully…”

“What?” she barked.

Mulder reached up and touched a thumb to his nose, brushing his top lip softly. Scully reached up as well, suddenly aware of the blood oozing from her left nostril. She angrily wiped it away. “I’m fine, Mulder,” she said, annoyed at the sad and concerned look on his face. “Quit staring at me, I’m fine!”

When Mulder turned his attention back to Kurt Crawford, Scully wiped her nose again. She kept her gun drawn as Mulder hauled the man to his feet and then cuffed him. He pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her as she holstered her weapon.

“Thank you,” she said, quietly.

“I think it’s time Mr. Crawford invited us up for a little chat, hm?” Mulder yanked on the man’s arm to push him forward and they headed down the alley towards a set of stairs that led to a back entrance, where Scully presumed he’d tried to escape from.

Apartment 234 was dark and sparsely furnished. It seemed unlived in with moving boxes everywhere and only a table and lamp in the living room.

“There’s a bathroom just down that hall,” Kurt said, inclining his head towards Scully. “To the left.”

“Uh…” Scully felt heat rise to her cheeks in embarrassment. “I’ll uh…I’ll be just a minute.”

As she moved down the dark hallway, Scully could feel Mulder’s gaze on her. She didn’t look back as she shut herself into the small bathroom. The light flickered as it came on and then she looked at herself in the mirror for a long while, blood still trickling slowly from her nose. She watched it slide down her upper lip and splash into the sink, little red dots splattering onto the bone white porcelain.

She was beyond frustrated. To have a nosebleed was one thing. To have one in the middle of chasing a suspect, was another. She’d already made up her mind that she was going to keep working, to persevere through this for as long as she could, but she would be unable to if this kept happening.

“God dammit,” she mumbled to herself.

The handkerchief that Mulder had given her was ruined and she threw it away. She found a washcloth hanging on a small towel rack and she wetted it down before attempting to clean her face. There was a soft knock on the door and a muffled, ‘you okay in there, Scully?’ from Mulder on the other side.

“Yeah,” she answered, her voice coming out a little too chipper as she forced herself not to sound angry. “Just washing up.”

She could see the shadow of Mulder’s feet under the door, hesitating for a few moments before finally walking away. She finished clearing the blood away and then soaped and rinsed the washcloth a few times before considering it ruined as well and tossed it into the trash can with the handkerchief. She dried her hands and then emerged from the bathroom, already concerned by Mulder’s casual stance at the end of the hall.

“You took his cuffs off,” she said, eyeing Kurt Crawford’s loose hands as he sat hunched in a chair in the living room.

“He says he's a member of the same mutual UFO network that Betsy Hagopian belonged to,” Mulder said. “That he was downloading files for safe keeping as Betsy had instructed him to.”

“Then why did he run?” she argued.

“He thinks his life’s in danger. He thinks there's a government conspiracy to suppress the information gathered in those files.”

Scully narrowed her eyes at Kurt before turning to look up at Mulder. “You think he's credible?”

“He seems to know an awful lot about Betsy and the other women in the MUFON group that you met at her house.”

“Well, that will have to be cross-checked.” Scully turned to stare at Kurt again, distrustful of everything she’d just heard, exasperated by Mulder’s eagerness to believe in it.

“We can't.”

“Why not?” She whipped around again to face Mulder. Something in his tone sent alarm bells ringing. He had his hangdog expression on, the one that always made him stutter and search for words.

Mulder’s mouth opened and he shuffled his feet, but she didn’t want to hear him say it. She already knew. There was no one left to cross-reference with. Rage flared up inside of her and she moved towards Kurt Crawford, crossing her arms tightly across her chest as much to take an intimidating stance as it was to stop herself from throttling him.

“How did they die?” she asked him, her voice coming out more fearful and less aggressive.

“Brain cancer,” he said. “All within the last year.”

“All of them?”

“From the group you met there's only Penny Northern.” He looked down, shaking his head a little. “But, she's in hospital and it doesn't look good.”

“What makes you think it’s a conspiracy, that the government is involved?”

“What makes you think it isn't?” he countered, pausing for a moment before he went on. “Eleven women are abducted, all with similar recollections about the experience, all developing identical brain tumors, and all refuse state or federal health care because of their insistence of the facts. And all dying within the span of a year.”

Mulder stepped up from behind Scully and put his hand on her shoulder. “Scully,” he murmured, “I want to talk to you for a second.” He put his arm around her and guided her back into the dark recesses of the hall. “I want you to listen to me.”

“About what?”

He sighed. “About what you won't admit to yourself. What you're denying.”

“What am I denying?” she asked, petulantly.

“Where your cancer came from.”

She shook her head and furrowed her brow. “Mulder, it doesn't matter.”

“It does matter,” he insisted, moving closer into her space. “If what you have is a result of your abduction and that abduction is something the government knows about then those are facts that should be brought to light.

“I don't know what happened to me,” she spat, her voice rising slightly. “I have no clear recollection, and I don't think these abductions are even abductions.”

“These women are dead,” he told her, his eyes growing wide like he was just realizing for the first time that her days were also numbered.

“No, they are not,” she argued, realizing as she said it that she sounded like a toddler having a temper tantrum. She softened her voice. “One woman isn't. There's Penny Northern.”

“Well…” He nodded sadly and gave her a defeated shrug of one shoulder. “If you won't listen to me then I think you should go talk to her.”

“About what?” she asked, the anger bubbling up inside her again and making her jaw clench. “What it feels like to be dying of cancer? What it's like to know that there's absolutely nothing you can do about it?”

Mulder shook his head and lowered his eyes. She knew it was difficult for him to hear her say that, but she couldn’t feel bad about it. Her buttons were being pushed. Jabbed at, by him. It was far easier for her to admit that she was dying than it was to believe her illness could possibly be orchestrated by the government. She stared at him, coldly, and he demurred slightly, but didn’t give up.

“You’re an investigator,” Mulder whispered. “This is an active investigation. You have one remaining witness, Agent Scully. I'd think you'd want to know what her story is.”

She narrowed her eyes, feeling manipulated by his change of tactic. She cut her eyes away before she gave a brief nod and then licked the side of her mouth. He shuffled closer to her, lifting his arm towards her and though she regretted it as soon as she did it, she shoved him back from her with both hands on his chest. He instantly put his hands up in surrender, his eyes wide.

“I’m sorry,” she said, holding her hands up as well and took a step back. “I just…don’t want you to touch me right now.”

“Okay,” he answered.

Chagrined, she tipped her head down and moved past him back to the living room. Kurt Crawford was still hunched in the chair, staring at the floor. She wondered if he’d heard or seen any of that. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Mulder leaning against the wall again, his head bowed as well.

“Do you know where Penny Northern is right now?” she asked.

“Allentown Bethlehem Medical Center.”

“Is it nearby?”

“A fifteen minute drive, give or take.”

“Let’s go, then,” Mulder said, looking pointedly at Kurt Crawford and not at Scully.

“No,” Scully said. “I’ll take a cab. You stay with him.”

Mulder looked like he wanted to protest, but he sucked his bottom lip in under his top teeth and held a long breath. Finally, he nodded. “Call me if you need me,” he told her.

She used a Yellow Pages that Kurt gave her to call a taxi and went outside to wait. It arrived in minutes and the driver let her out at the entrance to the ER. She showed her badge to the front desk and asked for Penny Northern’s room. The halls were quiet at that time of night, past dinner, between rounds, after shift changes. She encountered a handful of nurses, but mostly just eerie silence and the sound of her own footsteps. She found Penny’s room with ease and hovered in the doorway after she let herself in.

Penny looked small and frail, lying in the hospital bed. It made Scully’s breath catch slightly as she fought off the vision of what her future might look like. Penny opened her eyes before Scully could spiral too far down the rabbit hole and smiled at her like they were old friends.

“Dana,” she said. “Hello.”

Scully blinked, startled out of her sudden reverie into the present and awash in confusion. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Did someone tell you I was coming here to see you?”

“No.”

“Then how did you know it was me?”

“I recognized you. I told you when we met last year.”

Scully closed her eyes with a sigh. This is what she was afraid of.

“I held you and comforted you in the place,” Penny continued. “After the tests.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but, um…” Scully trailed off, shaking her head. She found it hard to open her eyes, to look at Penny, but she forced herself to raise her eyes, even if she couldn’t lift her head up. “I don’t share those memories.”

Penny looked unphased, smiling mildly. “It’s alright.”

Scully cleared her throat and then sat down in the chair beside Penny’s bed. “I’ve come to ask you some questions.”

“About Doctor Scanlon?”

“No, who’s Doctor Scanlon?”

“He’s treating the cancer. He treated Betsy too. He thinks he might have isolated the cause.” Penny paused and her mouth fell into a slight frown. “And that if he’d caught it earlier he might have been able to do more for her. And for me.”

Scully bowed her head. It felt selfish, but she was only thinking about her own chances for treatment at that moment. “His name is Scanlon?”

“Yes. What did you want to ask me?”

“Um…” Scully squared her shoulders and tried to put her professional armor back on, but her chin started to quiver and her nose started to sting. Almost out of habit now, she put a hand to her face and checked her fingertips for blood. There was nothing there and she sighed in relief.

“Oh, Dana,” Penny said, softly, knowingly. “You need to see Doctor Scanlon.”

“I…” Scully tried to pull herself back together, but she dropped her head again and nodded. “I think you’re right.”

Penny turned her head away and reached for a nurse’s call button. Only moments later, a middle-aged woman with short, dark hair hurried into the room.

“Is everything alright, hon?” the nurse asked, taking Penny’s hand in her own and then putting two fingers to her wrist.

“Everything’s fine, Regina. This is my friend, Dana. Dana is in need of Doctor Scanlon.”

The nurse kept hold of Penny’s hand and turned towards Scully with a concerned, but kind expression. “Doctor Scanlon has already left the hospital this evening,” she said.

Scully nodded, swallowing down her trepidation. “Oh, I didn’t expect-”

“I can page him though, if you’re here to see him he’ll want to speak with you as soon as possible.”

“Well, I…”

“Page him, Regina,” Penny said. “Let him know a friend of mine is here.”

“I’ll ask him to call your room, how does that sound?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

“Do you need anything else? How’s the pain?”

“Feeling better than this morning.” Penny briefly glanced at Scully. “I should be okay for the rest of the night.”

“Alright, hon, you call if you need anything. I’m going to get Doctor Scanlon on the line for you.”

Penny smiled. “She’s wonderful,” she said, as soon as the woman had left the room. “Everyone here is. You’ll see.”

Scully nodded, but didn’t trust her voice just then. It didn’t matter how nice the staff here was, it wasn’t going to change the fact that she was dying. She grimaced and rubbed her forehead with both hands. She should leave. Call Mulder to pick her up. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to face what was ahead of her. She was about to stand, to apologize to Penny for not being able to stay, but the phone rang.

“You should answer it,” Penny said.

Scully hesitated and then got up and picked up the phone. She held it to her ear for a few moments before she finally spoke. “Hello,” she said.

“Is this Dana?” a man asked. “My name is Kevin Scanlon. I’m told you’re a friend of Penny’s and that you’d like to speak with me.”

“Yes. I’d…like to know more about the treatment you’ve been administering here. For Penny as well as another patient, Betsy Hagopian.”

“Well, I can’t disclose any patient records.”

“I’m not…I’m actually asking for…myself.”

“I see. May I inquire about your diagnosis?”

“A nasopharyngeal mass was discovered on an MRI. I actually just found out this morning.”

“Just this morning? I’m sorry, you must still be in a bit of shock. I’d like to take a look at your records and get started on a treatment plan right away. Tomorrow, if possible. Would you be comfortable signing a release so we might have your records faxed over?”

“Yes, I can do that.”

“We’ll get you admitted tonight and then I can explain more about what’s going to happen in the morning.”

“I have some idea of what to expect. I’m also a doctor.”

“Alright, so we can speak candidly when I meet with you tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to have someone come down and bring you our admittance forms and the release. They’ll get you settled in and we’ll talk soon.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, Dana, I look forward to meeting you.”

“You too.”

Scully hung up, but kept her hand on the receiver until Penny reached over and gently covered it with her own. “There’s something I want you to have,” she said, letting her hand slide away to point at the drawer where Scully was standing. When she opened the drawer, Penny nodded. The only thing inside was a leatherbound journal and pen.

“Your…diary?” Scully asked.

“It’s blank. I brought it with me, intending to record my feelings about all that’s happened, but I just never felt up to it. You should try.”

Scully ran her hand over the front of the journal. She was never that great at putting her feelings into words, she was much better with facts. Once, in college, she’d found a diary she’d kept when she was eight and it read like a daily itinerary. Aunt Olive took Missy and me to lunch today. I had a sandwich that was cut into a triangle. Missy had tomato soup and spilled it on her dress. Mom was mad about it. Bill pushed me down and I skinned my knee. He said if I tattled on him he wouldn’t take me to shoot BBs tomorrow.

“I’ll try,” Scully said.

The nurse that had called Doctor Scanlon, Regina, came back into the room with a clipboard and a packet of papers. “Dana, I understand you’ll be staying with us awhile?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to need you to fill these out as best you can and you can just press the call button when you’re done.”

“Doctor Scanlon mentioned there’d be a release there as well.”

“Top page,” Regina answered, patting the top of the clipboard before she handed it over to Scully. “Once these are filled out and I get you into the system, I can get you settled, how does that sound?”

“Fine,” Scully answered.

For the second time that day, Scully sat down to fill out medical forms and a questionnaire about her health. She checked the same boxes as before, hesitating again at the marital status question before scratching an ‘x’ next to Married. The packet of papers was thicker this time with more specific questions asked about symptoms and past medical history and treatment. It took her some time to complete. Across from her, Penny dozed lightly. Opening her eyes every so often to smile at her, but then fall back to sleep.

Instead of calling Regina back to the room, Scully went out to the nurse’s station to hand her the paperwork herself. She took the clipboard back, looked it over and then nodded her thanks.

“Leandra is one of the evening nurses on duty tonight,” Regina said. “She’s been making up a room for you. We should have everything ready in twenty minutes or so and then we’ll go ahead with vitals and blood work.”

“I need to call my partner and have him meet me here. Will he be allowed in?”

“Of course. We don’t have strict visitation hours in this wing, but there will be restrictions after certain treatments as your immune system might be compromised. The doctor will go over that schedule with you tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, hon.”

The kindness of the staff made Scully feel a little on edge. She wasn’t accustomed to medical facilities where everyone from the chief resident to the janitor wasn’t overworked and in too much of a hurry for pleasantries. It was one of the reasons that using her medical training elsewhere appealed to her. Maybe if she’d found a place like this, where it seemed like they actually cared to help, she wouldn’t have considered joining the FBI.

Scully went back to Penny’s room and watched her sleep. It was hard to fathom that the woman she’d met only a year ago was the same woman in that bed. It was hard to fathom that of all the women she’d met a year ago at Betsy Hagopian’s house, that Penny was the only one left.

Before it got too late, Scully called Mulder and asked him to bring her overnight bag back to the hospital. He’d gone to Betsy Hagopian’s house after he’d dropped her off and there was excitement in his voice as he relayed to her what he’d found. Excitement that she couldn’t share. She wanted to go back in time, just two days ago, and savor their weekend together a little more.

“Mulder, I need you to come up here,” she interrupted.

“Why? Did you find something there?”

“I need you to bring the overnight bag from the trunk of the car and…I need you to call my mother and ask her to bring some things to the hospital.”

“Is there something I should know?”

“Mulder, whatever you found, or whatever you might find, I think that we both know that, right now, the truth is in me. And that’s where I need to pursue it. As soon as possible.”

“I will be right there.”

Scully hung up before things could get more awkward. It was cowardly of her, she knew that, to have asked him to call her mother for her, but she didn’t think she could do that right now. Everything was happening so quickly and she needed more time to process it.

“You must be Dana?”

Scully turned around and a plump, matronly nurse stood in the doorway. Her gray hair was teased into a bouffant and there was a wide split in her top two teeth when she smiled.

“Leandra, is it?” Scully asked.

“Come with me, dear. I have your room all ready.”

Scully was in a gown, sitting in her hospital bed after having blood drawn for the second time that day, when Mulder arrived. Regina showed him into her room with a few light taps on the door to announce their arrival.

“Your husband is here,” Regina said.

“Partner,” Scully corrected reflexively, remembering a half second later that not only did she check the box that she was married on her paperwork, but it also asked her to write her spouse’s name beside it. “We prefer partners.”

“Just like my son and daughter-in-law.”

Mulder held her bag up as he approached the bedside. Regina had already disappeared, so it was just the two of them.

“You can just put it over on that table there,” Scully told him, lifting her chin towards a long table that was beneath the window.

“You, uh…told them we were married?”

“No. I mean, it was on the admissions form, so I…I thought it best to answer truthfully.”

“Good thinking,” he said, taking a seat beside her after he’d deposited her bag. “So, um…Penny Northern. Did you speak with her? Did she have any answers for you?”

“I did speak with her. I didn’t get a chance to really question her. Not yet. She thought I was here to ask her about Doctor Scanlon.”

“Who is that?”

“The doctor that’s been treating her. And that treated Betsy Hagopian. The doctor that will be treating me.”

Mulder nodded slowly and swallowed. “Do you know what that will be yet?”

“Not yet. I’ll find out in the morning.”

“Good.” Mulder bobbed his head a few times. “That’s good. Your mother will be here in the morning. I did as you asked, I called her.”

“Oh.” She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together as she shook her head. “I’m sorry for asking you to do that. I just…”

“It’s okay. In sickness and in health, right?”

She winced. “Does she…did you…tell her about…?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“I leave that in your hands. There’s only so much bad news I can deliver for one night.”

She gave him a weak smile and then stared down at her lap. “Mulder, in light of the fact that circumstances have changed, if you…if you wanted an annulment, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Why would I want an annulment?”

“I don’t know. Because…because it would seem irrelevant right now.”

He tipped his head a little and narrowed his eyes as though he was trying to solve a quadratic equation. Slowly, he shook his head from side to side. “You’re not getting rid of me so easily just because you’re afraid to tell your mom.”

She didn’t know why, but his stupid joke made her eyes water and suddenly he reached out and laid his hand down beside her, palm up. She stared at it for a few moments and then placed her hand in his and he folded his fingers over her knuckles. He rubbed his thumb along the side of her hand and he bowed his head with a sigh.

“It’s unexpected,” he said. “But, it doesn’t change anything for me. I don’t want an annulment. Do you?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Okay. No annulment. You’ll have to keep remembering to check the married box for the foreseeable future.”

“I will.”

He glanced at the clock across the room and squeezed her hand. “I wish that I could…stay. I wish that I could stay, but…”

“You need to do things your way right now,” she said, gently squeezing his hand in return before pulling hers away. “And I need to do them mine.”

He bit his bottom lip as he nodded and he sat back and rubbed his forehead.

“Just…be careful,” she said.

“Aren’t I always?”

She raised her brow at him and he chuckled. On impulse, she reached for his hand again and he folded it between both of his, bringing it up to his mouth to rest his lips on the flat of her wrist. He held it there, staring at her for some time.

“I’ll be fine, Mulder.”

“I know.”

After a few more seconds of wistful staring, he nodded and slowly disengaged her hand from his, lowering it back to her lap. He stood and her heart sank as she realized he was about to leave. Her watering eyes spilled out two tears that rolled heavily down her cheeks. Before she could angrily swipe them away, he did it for her, cupping her face with both hands and brushing them away with his thumbs before he leaned down and lightly kissed the corner of her mouth.

“Call me if you need me,” he murmured, lips a fraction away from hers.

“You too.”

Scully’s gut clenched and her throat constricted as soon as Mulder walked out the door. As a means to combat her fear, she picked up the journal that Penny had given her. The blank pages intimidated her and she didn’t know where to start. After a few attempts, she forced herself to just start writing.

Mulder, if you’re reading this, it will mean that I am no longer here, and for that I sincerely apologize. Whether this should be a record of my decline in health remains to be seen. I am hopeful, but realistic. I already told you that the prognosis is bleak.

I think of what you said to me this past weekend though, that where science can’t bring answers, faith steps in, and it gives me comfort and hope. I know that you want answers for me and I hope that you find them. Not for me, but for you. I want you to have peace, Mulder. Please know that if you’re reading this, I want you to be happy.

She stopped and then had to close her eyes and take a few steadying breaths after she’d finished. She stowed the journal in the drawer on her nightstand and switched off the light that was above her head. A strip light she had no control over still glowed dimly across from her, one that would stay on for routine checks. The hospital environment was not conducive to sleep, but exhaustion took over and she succumbed quite quickly.

When the light of the day finally pulled her awake, she was surprised by how rested she felt, and then startled that there was a strange figure by the window. The man stepped closer to her and smiled at her. He introduced himself as Doctor Scanlon.

Flustered and slightly embarrassed, she pushed herself up in bed. “Hi, sorry, I was sleeping.”

“I noticed.” He chuckled lightly. “How’s your energy level, generally?”

“I actually don’t feel sick at all.”

“Well, your MRI and your charts aren't here yet but I have an idea of what to expect. You probably do too from your medical training.”

“I know that the chemotherapy’s gonna make me sick.”

“And the radiation.” He spoke candidly, which Scully appreciated. Nothing was sugarcoated or gentled for her benefit. “They're both part of a high dose approach to knock your system down so we can attempt a gene therapy on P53. You’re going to feel like dying.”

Scully was about to ask how often the treatment would occur and how long she would have to stay, but her mother burst into the room and she shut her mouth.

“Dana,” her mother said, radiating nervous energy.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi.”

“This is…uh, this is Doctor Scanlon.”

Her mother shook the doctor’s hand, but she immediately put her attention back on Scully. “I drove,” she said, nonsensically, voice quavering. “I was going to take the shuttle but it's only an hour more by car. Can you imagine?”

“Mom,” Scully said, gently, trying to quell her mother’s fears. “I’m fine. I’m going to be fine, I’m just here for treatment.”

“I’m going to go,” Doctor Scanlon said, already heading for the door. “I've ordered some additional blood work and I'd like to start this afternoon.”

“Thank you.” Scully waited until the doctor had left the room, and then she addressed her mother. “Mom, I know what you're gonna say, but I don't have any experience being sick. I promise you, I feel fine.” As if to prove it, she pushed her blankets away and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I feel-”

“I don't know why you didn't tell me,” her mother interrupted, teeth clenched in anger. “I don't know why you didn't tell me immediately!” She punctuated her ire by throwing her jacket down on the chair in the corner.

Chastised, Scully hung her head. She remembered her mother angry like this once, when Melissa had missed her curfew in high school and had come home in the wee hours of the morning smelling of alcohol and cigarettes. Her mother had thrown something then, too. A library book she’d stayed up reading, if Scully remembered correctly. The corner had scuffed the wall and Charlie had painted over the mark so their father wouldn’t see it.

“I wanted to get all the answers first,” Scully whispered.

“And you found them here?”

“I’ve found some clarity, and maybe a way to fight back.”

“I don't want to be kept in the dark.”

“No, Mom.”

Suddenly emotional, Margaret Scully moved forward and kissed her daughter’s cheek before she wrapped her arms around her in a desperately tight hug that made Scully mildly uncomfortable, but she held on. “You have always been the strong one,” her mother choked out, “but, you are my only daughter now.”

“I know.”

“Oh, Dana.” Margaret sobbed softly on her daughter’s shoulder. “I’m just so…I know you keep so many things from me, but this? And to find out from Fox? When he called, I thought…I thought the worst. I thought you’d been…taken again or…you can’t imagine what I thought.”

“I’m sorry.” Scully sighed and then had to pull away. “I’ve only known for a day, less than a day, actually. I just needed time.”

“What else are you keeping from me?”

“Nothing,” she answered, hesitating a beat after she’d said it. It was an opportunity to tell her about marrying Mulder. Her mother looked at her imploringly, but Scully shook her head. “Nothing.”

A new nurse that Scully had yet to meet opened the door to the room right then and Scully had to breathe a sigh of relief at the interruption. She loved her mother, she did, but she was seriously uncomfortable with the strong display of emotions and the way her anger and judgment made her feel like a small child again.

“You must be Dana,” the woman said. She was tall and had dishwater blonde hair and a prominent mole on her cheek. She was much younger than the other nurses Scully had encountered so far. “I’m Chloe. I’m going to be taking you down to have some blood drawn.”

“Of course.” She glanced at the nurse and then at her mother. “Mom…I appreciate you coming, bringing my things for me, but it might be best if you went home.”

“You want me to go?”

“I…it’s not that. This treatment…it’s not going to be easy. I know you have things to do back home, with your friends, with the church.”

“That can easily be canceled.”

“I don’t doubt that.” She looked down at her lap, feeling callous, feeling heartless. “I just think it would be easier for me to get through this if I was focused on myself and not…worried about you as well.”

“If that’s what you want.” The bitterness in her mother’s tone was obvious.

“I think it’s the best thing for both of us.”

“I see.”

“And…and I would appreciate it if you kept this to yourself. I don’t want anyone to know that…I don’t want anyone else to know.”

Her mother said nothing, but gathered her jacket and folded it over her arm before she headed for the door.

“Mom…” Scully closed her eyes, taking a calming breath. “I’ll call you.”

“I’ll pray for you,” her mother said, but it almost sounded like a threat.

The nurse that had interrupted them, Chloe, came over to Scully’s side and put a hand on her arm. “It’s always hard on the families,” she said. “Mothers especially.”

Scully nodded. It was a selfish thing for her to want to fight this battle alone. She’d pushed away Mulder, and now her mother. At least with Mulder, it was because she didn’t want him to have to see her weakened. With her mother, she couldn’t shoulder the responsibility of being her only living daughter every time she looked at her and also be focused on her treatment. The pressure would be too much to bear. The guilt would be too much to bear.

After blood was drawn, after a small breakfast of yogurt, granola, and apple juice, Scully was brought back to her room where the staff radiologist was waiting to explain to her what to expect when they brought her down for her first treatment.

“I’m told that your films have been couriered up and should arrive within the hour,” the woman told her. “Once I review those, I can fit you for your mask.”

“Mask?”

“It’s not as intimidating as it sounds, I promise you, but you’ll have a plastic mask that’s meant to keep your head completely still. It’ll be marked with the exact location of the tumor and that way the laser can be lined up appropriately.”

“I see.”

“Are you claustrophobic at all? Suffer from anxiety?”

“No.”

“Some folks are a little intimidated by the equipment on their first go. I can give you a mild sedative if you think you might need it.”

“I think I’ll be fine.”

“All right, then. You just let me know if you change your mind.”

After the woman left her, Scully opened up the bag her mother had brought to her. Neatly folded at the top was the white robe from her weekend at the hotel. She hugged it to her chest and brought the collar up to her nose. It smelled of the bath bubbles she’d used and she smiled a little, thinking about how nice it felt to cuddle up to Mulder and watch a movie after her bath. How he’d put his arm around her and then carried her to bed. Her smile was fleeting. The reality was that she may have felt on the precipice of something deeper with her partner three days ago, but now she was in a hospital, her future uncertain. Whatever she’d felt that last weekend, she would have to put it behind her.

Scully unpacked the rest of her things, which only amounted to some pajamas, some casual clothes, and toiletries, and then pulled out the journal from the drawer at her bedside and turned to a new page. She sat with it in contemplation for some time before she was able to put anything down.

In med school, I learned that cancer arrives in the body unannounced, a dark stranger who takes up residence, turning its new home against itself. This is the evil of cancer. That it starts as an invader, but soon becomes one with the invaded, forcing you to destroy it, but only at the risk of destroying yourself. It is science's demon possession.

My treatment, science’s attempted exorcism. Mulder, I hope that in these terms you might know it, and know me, and accept this stranger that so many recognize but cannot ever completely cast out. And if the darkness should have swallowed me as you read this, you must never think there was a possibility of some secret intervention, something you might have done. And though we've traveled far together, this last distance must necessarily be traveled alone.

But, was it necessary to travel alone? She sighed. The last thing she needed was to second guess her decisions.

By lunchtime, Scully was locked into the plastic mask the radiologist had told her about, able to blink and breathe, but unable to do much else as the fit was tight and secure. The next hour crawled by. She felt nothing, but the longer she lay on the table, listening to the slight buzzing of the machine above her, the more restless she grew. She badly wanted to move, to shake an arm or a leg. She felt trapped, and it reminded her of being locked in the trunk by Duane Barry. It was all she could do not to start trembling. Maybe the next time she would ask for that sedative.

After the radiation, she was immediately taken to another room where her first dose of chemotherapy was administered and by the end of it, she was so drained, so absolutely exhausted, she fell deeply asleep as soon as she was back in her room.

In sleep, she was plagued by nightmares. Vague snippets of medical torture that felt like memories that she couldn’t escape from, but nothing was ever in focus. A cold clamp over her hips. Pain in her abdomen. Jabbing, prodding, slicing, extracting, pinching. Pain between her legs. A hot iron at the base of her skull. Pain in her neck. A drill above her, centered between her eyes, slowly moving closer and closer. Paralyzing fear. There were faces, too. Men in lab coats, no eyes or mouths. Penny Northern was there squeezing her hand. Blinding light that hurt her eyes and she could hear a voice calling her name, telling her to move. Mulder?

Wake up, Dana. Wake up.

Scully fought against her restraints and her limbs suddenly jerked free. She moaned, still in the grips of terror as she roused from the nightmare. She was hot, her upper lip moist with perspiration, heart racing. She reached out, almost sure she could feel Mulder beside her, whispering her name, telling her everything would be okay.

“Hey,” he murmured. “It’s alright.”

Scully’s eyes rolled open, going in and out of focus. It was not Mulder beside her, it was Penny Northern. She patted her hand against the woman’s face, unsure if she was real or an illusion. Had it been her the whole time and not Mulder? Penny took her wrist and pulled her hand away to squeeze her fingers as though to prove she were real.

“Where am I?” Scully asked.

“You’re in your own bed, now. You’re safe.”

“I feel nauseous.”

“It’s the chemo. The chemo is always the worst.”

“I had a bad dream. Someone…someone was doing something bad to me.” She paused when a wave of nausea came over her. “You were there. I heard your voice.”

“They let me come to you during the procedures.”

Scully moaned slightly in objection to the narrative that she refused to accept.

“I don’t know why,” Penny continued, undeterred. “Human compassion is not something that they have.”

“I’m sorry, Penny, I can’t…” Scully’s voice caught and her forehead wrinkled against the strong wave of paralyzing terror that washed over her. “I can’t hear this right now.”

Penny smiled sadly and squeezed Scully’s hand. “You’ve got to try to make sense of it, Dana. It’ll help you through the pain. Understand why this is happening to you.”

Scully shook her head and her stomach clenched. She clamped her jaw shut against the tightening in her throat and slapped a hand over her mouth. Penny moved quickly, grabbing a basin from a shelf behind the bed and holding it in place as Scully turned to her side and vomited. When she had expelled all she could, she collapsed onto her back and Penny took the basin away to the bathroom, returning moments later with a damp cloth that she used to gently wipe her mouth and dab at her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Scully murmured.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Penny said, lightly caressing Scully’s forehead and pushing her hair back.

There was something familiar about it for Scully. Snippets of her dream came back to her, not just of the one she was having earlier, but of past dreams as well, dreams that felt real, but couldn’t be. Bright lights, cold tables, a warm hand on her head, a whisper that she would be alright.

Scully opened her eyes, looking up at the ceiling with a watery gaze. She felt hot tears roll down her temples and into her hair. She was so tired. So much more tired than she’d ever been.

“I know this is hard, Dana, but you’ll get through this. You’re strong.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I witnessed it. The way you fought. There were times in the white place where I felt like giving up, or giving in, but I have to tell you that your strength encouraged me.”

Scully’s forehead wrinkled in consternation. She shook her head and then pressed her lips together, swallowing back another bout with nausea as the movement made her dizzy. She breathed swiftly through her nose, in and out, until it subsided.

“I don’t feel very strong right now,” Scully finally whispered.

“If you only knew what you’ve already been through, I think-”

“I don’t want to know.” Scully’s chin began to quiver and she sucked in a breath. The wave of emotions embarrassed her and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her body curled in on itself. She felt Penny adjust the blankets over her and then run a hand up and down her arm, from shoulder to elbow.

“You don’t need to be afraid of the truth, Dana.”

She whimpered softly. “You sound like Mulder.”

“Mulder?”

Scully remembered that Mulder hadn’t been with her when she’d initially met Penny. “Sorry,” she said. “My partner.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense.”

“What makes sense?”

“I assumed it was a name, but I wasn’t quite sure. You often called out for Mulder in the white room. Sometimes during the tests. Sometimes in your sleep.”

Scully flushed with embarrassment. Even if she still had a hard time believing what Penny had told her, the thought of calling out for Mulder in her time of need made her feel exposed.

“You must be mistaken,” Scully said, weakly. “Agent Mulder is…he’s…”

The phone on her bedside table rang and before she could tell her not to, Penny answered it. “This is Dana’s room. Yes, it is. I’ll ask. Dana? Are you up for a phone call? It’s your partner. It’s Agent Mulder.”

Cheeks burning, Scully struggled slightly to turn over. Penny handed her the phone with a smile and then dropped her hand down to squeeze her shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said.

Scully waited until Penny had left to bring the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Scully?”

“Mulder.” She sighed a little and closed her eyes.

“Sorry to call so late, I just wanted to check in.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

He was slow to respond. “Things are going well, then?”

She sniffled lightly, picturing him alone in his dark apartment, or for all she knew, sitting in a dark Sedan outside of her window. “It’s been harder than I thought it would be,” she said. “But, I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me, partner, everything’s a-ok on my end.” After a short pause, he changed his tone to something softer. “I’ll be fine, too. I know you’re doing what you need to do, I just…”

“You’re doing what you need to do as well.”

“And never the twain shall meet?”

She responded with a short hum and then a sigh. Her head was starting to hurt and she rubbed at it. Silence took over and she could hear the clock on the wall across from her bed ticking softly. She thought about hanging up, but instead she hugged the phone against her ear and closed her eyes.

“I should go,” Mulder murmured. “Let you get some sleep.”

“Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m…afraid.” She bit her lip and turned her eyes up to the ceiling after the admission.

“I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t be, Scully.”

“I mean, I’m…I’m having dreams. I’m not sure what’s real or…”

“Scully, I know you were against regression hypnosis once upon a time, but what if-”

“Mulder, I can’t. Not now, I…I can’t.”

“That’s what you’re really afraid of, isn’t it? The truth.” When she didn’t respond, he went on, a quiver in his voice that wasn’t there before. “Scully, last night you told me that the truth was in you, and that’s where you needed to pursue it. What’s changed?”

“Nothing has changed. I…Mulder, every time we look for answers, all we seem to end up with are more questions. Being here now and going through this, I don’t…I don’t know if I have the time or the strength that it takes to keep stumbling into rabbit holes.”

Scully’s stomach rolled again and she pressed her lips together. Just making her case took energy that she felt like she didn’t have and she braced herself for Mulder’s protest that she’d have to fight against.

“I understand,” he said.

“You do?”

“Of course I do. Just like I know you understand when I tell you that I’m not giving up either.”

“Even if…even if it means going on alone?” Tears filled her eyes and she looked up at the ceiling, biting her lip. He’d just told her, not more than three days ago, that he didn’t want to do it alone.

“I’ll miss the constant second-guessing, of course, but it’s just for now. You’re not going anywhere, Scully. And if…if for now ends up being a little bit longer, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Okay.”

“Get some sleep, partner. Keep in touch.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

Despite the exhaustion and nausea and headache, when she tried to go to sleep after hanging up the phone, she was unable to. After fitfully shifting around in the small hospital bed, she turned her light back on and brought the journal out.

I feel time like a heartbeat, the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning. The luminous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal, threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth, but only in its passage.

I feel these words as if their meaning were a weight being lifted from me, knowing that you will read them and share my burden, as I have come to trust no other. That you should know my heart, look into it, finding there the memory and experience that belong to you, that are you, is a comfort to me now as I feel the tethers loose and the prospects darken for the continuance of a journey that began not so long ago, and which began again with a faith shakened and strengthened by your convictions, if not for which I might never have been so strong now.

As I cross to face you and look at you, incomplete, hoping that you will forgive me for not making the rest of the journey with you.

Scully put down the pen, her hand cramping and head pounding. Tears gathered in her eyes as she re-read what she’d written and then pressed the pen to the paper again after her last sentence.

I can already foresee that my one regret in this life will be that I lack the courage to speak these words to you out loud. I pray that you know that what we have shared together has meant as much to you as it has to me. I pray that you know that our partnership, the one that we consciously entered into so recently, was a choice I would make again, regardless of the circumstances that led us to it.

Unable to write anything further, Scully finally closed the journal and succumbed to her exhaustion. In the morning, she awoke groggy and disoriented, her brain in a fog. She felt sluggish and weak, slow to get up. The breakfast they brought her went largely untouched. The smells of the bland food nauseated her and all she could stomach was a few bites of toast and a spoonful of yogurt.

The next two days were almost identical to the first. She was taken to radiology, followed by chemotherapy, and then she would spend the evening laid up. She acclimated, though, the dizziness and nausea subsided more quickly and not as strong. As she was becoming more tolerant, Penny Northern was growing weaker. Scully had suspected that it took an awful lot out of her to come to her bedside that first night. The following morning, Penny had come to her room in a wheelchair, and then she hadn’t seen her since.

On her third night in the hospital, feeling more able to, Scully sought Penny out, slowly shuffling down to her room, feeling a mixture of concern and embarrassment. She’d behaved badly, coming off as whiny and dismissive, when the woman was only trying to be kind to her. She wanted to apologize.

Doctor Scanlon was just exiting Penny’s room as Scully approached, looking grim and unhappy. He paused when he saw Scully and hastily pulled the door closed, waving Scully back.

“Doctor Scanlon?”

“Dana,” he said.

“Is it a bad time?”

“You know I’m not able to disclose another patient’s records.”

“I realize that.”

“That being said, I don’t want you to be discouraged.” He took a glance back at Penny’s room. “Penny’s cancer was in much more advanced stages than yours is when she came to me. You already know that.”

“Are you saying that…are you saying that Penny is-”

A pager on Doctor Scanlon’s hip went off and he pushed his coat back to look at it. He frowned at it and then quickly unclipped it from his hip and started backing away. “I’m sorry, I need to take this.”

Scully’s brows came together with concern as the doctor hurried down the corridor. Running into the doctor had sidetracked her, though. She had come to see Penny Northern. With trepidation, she pushed the door open to Penny’s room and stepped in quietly, suddenly apprehensive at what she might find behind the door.

Penny was lying peacefully in her bed. She smiled warmly when Scully opened the door and held her hand out to her. “Dana,” she said

Scully took Penny’s hand and pushed the chair beside her bed closer so she could sit down. She looked her over, trying not to put herself in Penny’s place in a year from now. Penny squeezed her hand with a strength that surprised her, but one that she could only hope she would also have.

“Penny, I want to apologize to you.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I do.” Scully lowered her head. “The memories that you have, the ones that I can’t share, the truth is…the truth is that I don’t want to know. I don’t want to remember what they did to me.”

“Maybe that’s for the best, then.”

Scully looked up, startled at Penny’s change of heart. She’d been so insistent that Scully recover her lost memory just days ago, she’d expected some kind of argument.

“I made my abductions my whole life,” Penny said. “I’m not saying that I have regrets, but I’m wondering if I could have done some things differently. Made room for other things. You always think you have time.”

Penny turned her head and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m not afraid of dying,” she said, and Scully had to swallow a lump that formed in her throat. She squeezed Penny’s hand a little tighter. “It will come as a relief for me. But, I would like you with me, Dana. In the end. I don’t want to be alone.”

Scully’s mouth fell open and she stuttered a little, but nodded. “I can do that.”

Penny closed her eyes and smiled. A few moments later, one of the night nurses that Scully had only met once came into the room, rolling a tray of equipment. Chloe was right behind her, looking grim. They not so subtly suggested Scully go down to get herself some dinner while they tended to a change of Penny’s sheets and gown. Scully promised to be back in an hour.

Back in her room, Scully sat down heavily on her bed. She felt sad and a little defeated. Her eyes began to water and she pulled the cuffs of her robe over her wrists and pressed her hands to her face, hoping to staunch any tears before they could flow. It took her a few minutes to compose herself and then she wiped her cheeks and grabbed her cell phone. Her first inclination was to call Mulder, but she put the phone back almost instantly. She couldn’t talk to Mulder in this state of mind, she was too raw. Instead, she pulled the journal out of the drawer and added another entry.

I have not written to you in the last 24 hours because the treatment has weakened my spirit as well as my body. Mulder, it's difficult to describe to you the fear of facing an enemy which I can neither conquer nor escape. Penny Northern has taken a downturn. I now look at her with a respect that can only come from one who is about to walk the same dark path. Seeing her I can't help but see myself in a month or a year. I pray that I have her courage to face this journey.

Mulder, I feel you close though I know you are now pursuing your own path. For that I am grateful, more than I could ever express. I need to know you're out there if I am ever to see through this.

“Agent Scully?”

Startled, Scully nearly dropped her pen. “Byers?” Her stomach dropped in fear. There was absolutely no reason that John Byers, on his own, should be at the hospital she was at unless something had happened to Mulder.

“I need to speak with you, urgently,” he said.

“What is it? Is it Mulder?”

Still hovering in the doorway, Byers took a step back out and glanced down both sides of the hall before he moved inside and closed the door. “I’m here because Agent Mulder is indisposed.”

“Indisposed? What does that mean?”

“He’s on his way. He’ll be here when he can, but I need to tell you about what we found tonight.”

“What did you find?”

“Records. In a database for the Lombard Research Facility.”

“What is the Lombard Research Facility?”

“It’s a federally funded fertility clinic.”

“Okay.” Scully shook her head. “What kind of records?”

Byers looked mildly uncomfortable. “Records for women undergoing fertility treatment with this facility. Your name was amongst them.”

“My name? I don’t understand, I’ve never been treated for any-”

“And the names of the women in the MUFON group you met last year. Betsy Hagopian. Your friend that’s here now, Penny Northern. All of them.”

“What?”

“Agent Mulder sent me here to tell you to stop the treatment you’re receiving immediately.”

“Stop the treatment? Why?”

“Your Doctor Scanlon is on staff at Lombard.”

A fresh wave of fear and nausea came over Scully. The journal she’d been writing in slipped from her lap and fell to the floor. She jumped at the sound and then quickly retrieved it and put it on the table. “I have to…I need to check on Penny. I’m not sure we’ll be able to get her out of here.”

“I’ll stay with you.”

Scully nodded. She probably should have sent Byers away, but should anything happen, she needed some form of backup and the loyal gunman was better than nothing. She wouldn’t put a weapon in his hands, but she trusted him to think quickly and act quickly, if needed. He followed her down the hall to Penny’s room and told her he’d wait outside and keep watch.

On entering Penny’s room, Scully was disheartened. Penny seemed to be declining swiftly. She was alone again, barely conscious, mouth slack. Her eyes were at quarter-mast, but tracked Scully as she slipped through the door and sat down.

“Penny,” Scully whispered, reaching for the woman’s hand. It was cold and clammy, no strength at all in her grip. Nothing like how she’d held onto her just a few days ago.

Penny’s mouth moved a little and she swallowed. “You came back,” she said.

“Penny, can you tell me how you came across Doctor Scanlon?”

“Betsy found him. She’d read some articles he’d written about experimental treatments with the kinds of tumors our group was suffering.”

“Have you ever visited a place called the Lombard Research Facility?”

“No.”

“Have you…have you ever sought out fertility treatment? You or Betsy.”

“Fertility treatment? Having a child was the last thing any of us wanted. There was too much fear that the abductions would continue with a new generation. We never had to worry about that, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“You must know. Nothing is ever normal again after the white place.”

Scully’s mouth went dry and her gut clenched. “All of you…you were all told you would be unable to conceive?”

“That’s right.”

“Do you know where Betsy found those articles? The ones on Doctor Scanlon.”

“From the internet. Someone had shared them on one of our message boards,I think, and she researched them. Why? Is everything alright?”

Scully was reluctant to lie to Penny, even to hedge a little about what the implications of what Byers had just told her might mean. She gave a slight shake of her head and squeezed Penny’s hand. Penny’s eyes rolled back slightly and her head lolled a little to the side. Scully reached up and brushed a small tear from her friend’s temple with the back of her hand.

Behind her, Scully could hear a slight commotion in the hall and she turned to find Mulder in the door, a panicked, harried look on his face. She acknowledged him, but turned her focus back to Penny.

“Doctor Scanlon isn’t coming back, is he?” Penny asked.

“No. I don’t think so, Penny.”

“Dana, I want you to get well. You’ve been such a comfort. You’ve got to be the one. You can’t give up hope.”

“I haven’t,” Scully whispered, fighting against a tremor that started in her chin. “I won’t.”

Mulder retreated, softly closing the door behind him. Alone with Penny, Scully silently let the tears slip down her cheeks. It wasn’t long before the dying woman slipped into a doze that Scully knew she would not wake from. By midnight, Penny was no longer conscious. Scully merely held her hand and stayed by her side, sometimes praying a little. She contemplated a lot as well, wondering if she’d actually have had the strength to be a doctor, to balance compassion with stoicism in the face of death and grief. At times, her thoughts also turned to her sister, wishing she’d have gotten the chance to sit by her bedside like she was doing now so that at the very least, she could have said goodbye.

In the wee hours of the morning, Penny took her last breath. Scully could tell from the heart monitor and the long pauses between the rise and fall of her chest that she had reached the end. Penny’s hand, that had been warmly resting in Scully’s for hours, grew cold.

Scully wasn’t sure how long she waited. Ten minutes, twenty minutes, maybe half an hour, but she finally let go and slowly stood, woozy from having spent all night folded in the hard chair at Penny’s bedside. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to Penny’s brow and then she pushed the call button for the nurse’s station and waited until one of them came rushing in to make her exit.

She felt profoundly sad in a way she’d never expected to feel. She hadn’t known Penny long, or well, but it was clear she was a very warm and compassionate woman and it seemed like such a senseless loss. The resigned way that Penny had succumbed to her fate had also scared her a little. When her time came, she wanted to fight until her last breath.

“Is she gone?”

Scully turned quickly at the sound of Mulder’s voice. She nodded, not trusting her voice. Tears stung the top of her noses and squeezed her windpipe shut.

“I’m sorry,” Mulder said. “I know what she meant to you.”

Scully tipped her head in confusion. She hadn’t spoken to Mulder in days and nothing in their last conversation could have led him to that conclusion. He shifted his feet almost bashfully and waved his hand slightly as she wrapped her arms around herself and moved towards him.

“Um,” he mumbled. “I came to find you. You weren’t in your room and I got scared that something had happened to you. And…I read some of what you wrote.”

Her shoulders lifted and fell heavily in a sigh. She turned her head down and her brows came together as the pain of embarrassment washed over her, but she was too exhausted to care that much. “I didn’t want you to read that,” she whispered, lifting a brow towards him, but not looking up. “I’d decided to throw it out. I decided tonight that um…that I’m not gonna let this thing beat me.”

She finally raised her head. Mulder’s bottom lip twitched slightly as he gazed at her. He looked mildly startled, like he was surprised there was any doubt, maybe a little scared that she’d lose her resolve.

“I came into this hospital able to work,” she said, shifting her eyes away again when she felt her chin begin to wobble. “And that’s how I’m leaving.”

He gave her a small smile and a nod, nothing more than that, and she was grateful that he didn’t make anything more of it than it was. “Byers tell you about Doctor Scanlon?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“He may very well have killed those women.”

“That’ll have to be proven. If we find him.”

“When we find him,” Mulder said, emphatically, bending his head closer to her. “Scully, something was done to you. Something that you’re only just beginning to understand. You can’t quite figure it out, but it can be explained and it will be explained. No matter what you think as a scientist and a doctor…there is a way. And you will find it. To save yourself.”

Scully took a deep breath, shaking her head slightly. “Mulder, I can’t kid myself. People live with cancer. They carry on. And so will I.” Her voice cracked and her eyes filled with tears, but not from sadness, from the realization that she did have hope. “You know I’ve got things to finish. Things to prove to myself, to my family…but for my own reasons.”

This time, Mulder didn’t hide the smile on his face. “Come on back,” he whispered, opening his arms. She went willingly into the circle of his embrace and put her own arms around him, holding on tight. She turned her head to his chest and she could feel the faint thump of his heartbeat at her cheek. His chin rested heavily on the top of her head and he pulled her impossibly closer.

“The truth will save you, Scully. I think it’ll save both of us.”

Scully closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath. Mulder rubbed the side of her arm with his thumb and kissed the part in her hair. She lifted her head back to look up at him and he took her face in both hands, leaning down to press his lips to her brow. He lingered there, softly stroking her ears for a few moments before he moved to kiss one cheek, and then the corner of her mouth, and finally pressed a soft kiss on her lips. His lips were wet and salty with her tears.

“I need to get out of here,” she whispered, his breath still warming her face. She dropped her head down to his chest again, letting herself rest there.

“Okay.” He loosened his hold on her, but he didn’t let her go. His cheek was heavy against the back of her head.

Eventually, she pulled away and he tipped her head up to him again. She gave him a weak smile to let him know she was okay even as his thumbs skimmed over the tears on her cheeks. His hands trailed her back as moved away from him, keeping her eyes forward so she wouldn’t be tempted to return to the comfort of his arms, just for a little while longer.

Back in her room, Scully spotted the journal on her nightstand and ran her hand over the open pages. She read over what she’d last written, what Mulder had seen, and sighed. It was her own fault, leaving her intimate ramblings on display for anyone to read. She’d been distracted and gotten careless and it was exactly why she should not keep a diary. She closed the book and shoved it as deep into her duffel bag as it would go, intending to destroy it when she got home.

She was packing the rest of her things when Mulder came to her room. She’d just changed into the business suit she’d checked into the hospital in and already felt more like herself.

“Almost ready?” he asked.

“Almost.”

They both turned as nurse Regina came into Scully’s room. “I thought I saw your husband come down the hall,” she said. “I just heard about Penny as I checked in and wanted to come see how you were doing.”

Scully glanced at Mulder and then at Regina. She didn’t want to think that the nurse, or any of the staff that had been nothing but kind and compassionate, had anything to do with whatever Doctor Scanlon was involved with. Quickly, she shoved the last of her belongings into her duffel and zipped it closed.

“I’m actually checking myself out,” Scully said. “I’ll be seeking alternate treatment.”

The woman looked confused and dismayed. “Alternate treatment? But, Doctor Scanlon has been making so much progress.”

“Doctor Scanlon…may not be who you think he is.”

“What?”

“Do us a favor,” Mulder said, pulling out a business card from his wallet. “If the good doctor does happen to show up here again, give us a call.”

They left the stunned nurse behind as they walked out, Mulder carrying Scully’s duffel over one arm and his free hand at the small of her back. She spoke to no one on the way out, simply kept her stride in time with Mulder’s and followed him to their rental car.

She fell asleep within minutes of starting the journey back to DC and Mulder had to wake her after he’d parked the car in front of her building. She rubbed at the cramped muscles in her neck as she got out of the car. Mulder was right behind her, hoisting her duffel bag over his shoulder. He looked bedraggled, stubbled cheeks and chin and bloodshot eyes. She realized that he hadn’t slept all night either and it only just occurred to her that perhaps they should have gotten a hotel in Allentown and not attempted the drive home on no sleep. As much as she wanted to be alone, she couldn’t let Mulder go back out on the road until he’d gotten at least a few hours of shut eye.

“I’m good,” Mulder argued, even while rubbing his eyes. He opened them wide and blinked at her a few times before his eyelids drooped again and he was left squinting. “Maybe I could grab a coffee to go, though?”

“Come on, Mulder,” she said, leading him towards her bedroom.

Though it wasn’t quite noon, sunshine streamed into her room and made it almost alarmingly bright. Scully took a moment to unzip and step out of her boots, one by one, and then went to the windows and twisted the blinds closed.

“I could just take the couch,” Mulder said.

“Mulder, I barely fit on the couch. Just lay down.”

It took a few moments, but he finally took his jacket off and hesitated before he gently draped it over the back of the chair next to the bed. She pulled a set of flannel pajamas out of her dresser and then locked herself in the bathroom to change. It was there that she looked at herself in the mirror for the first time in several days. There were dark smudges under her eyes and her skin looked pale and dull. A far cry from just a week ago when she’d last stood and scrutinized her appearance and wondered if she looked the part of a blushing bride.

“Jesus,” she whispered. It seemed impossible that only a week ago she and Mulder had gotten married. At the time, she’d thought that it would take her time to recover from the concept, that her thoughts would be consumed by what they’d done until they could reestablish their working routine and forget all about it, but how quickly it had been pushed aside with one little word.

Bone tired, Scully let herself out of the bathroom to get into bed. Mulder was laying on top of the covers on the bed, still fully dressed, but at least he’d removed his shoes. His eyes were closed and his hands were folded almost primly across his chest.

“You know you have…what I assume to be what you sleep in in that bottom drawer over there,” she said, pulling the covers back on her side of the bed.

“You don’t know what your husband sleeps in?” he quizzed, cracking one eye open to look at her.

“I’m just saying, you could get more comfortable, if you wanted.”

“I am comfortable.” He closed his open eye and wiggled his shoulders a little. “Is it always so warm in here though?”

“You’re wearing a turtleneck.”

“It’s winter.”

“Outside.”

He sighed a little and just as she pulled the covers back to lay down on her side of the bed, he got up. “Bottom right?” he asked.

“Yes.”

She watched him pull clothes from her dresser drawer and then it was his turn to shut himself in the bathroom. It felt odd to have him in her space, but she would have to try to stop thinking about it as odd.

She was half asleep by the time Mulder came out of the bathroom. Her back was to the middle of the bed, but she felt the covers lift and the mattress dip with his weight. She pondered, very briefly, what it might be like to turn to face him, to inch herself up alongside his body and rest her head on his chest. It had been a long time since she’d been held, something she missed very much about being in a relationship, and judging from how good it felt to be embraced by Mulder, it would probably feel really nice to be held by him as well. Especially right now. He would probably do it, too, if she asked him, but she would never ask him.

She squeezed her eyes shut a little harder and pulled her pillow close. She would just have to keep reminding herself that the marriage between them wasn’t real and that she had other things to put her mind on right now. Number one, making sure she stayed well enough to do her job. That was her priority and she didn’t need to distract herself from that. But, then she thought about what Penny said to her about doing things differently and maybe she needed to allow space for something more in her life.

“I can hear you thinking,” Mulder murmured.

“What?”

“The silence is deafening.”

“I’m sleeping, that’s why.”

“That’s not why. I told you I can go grab a nap on the couch.”

“That’s not what I was thinking.”

“So, you were thinking?”

She sighed. “Mulder, go to sleep.”

He said nothing, and for a few minutes, she thought maybe he’d listened to her. She opened her eyes, staring at the wall across from her. Hesitantly, she turned her head back to look over her shoulder at him and he turned to look at her. He was still bleary-eyed and it almost looked like it was a struggle for him to open his eyes. With a quiet sigh, she turned over and faced him, folding her hands up by her chin.

“You know last weekend when I asked you to…stop acting like a husband?”

“Was I doing it again?”

“No.” She cast her eyes down for a few moments. “But, maybe, sometimes you could.”

“Is now one of those times?”

She nodded a little and he opened his arm up, drawing her up to his side. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest, putting her arm over his middle. He pressed his nose to her hair, chin against her forehead, and rubbed her arm.

“It’ll be okay,” he said.

She wasn’t sure if he said it to convince himself, or her. But, in all the impossible and fantastical things he believed in, she hoped he would be right about that one.

When she woke up some time later, she was still in his arms, but her stomach was growling almost painfully and she realized it had probably been over a day since she’d last eaten. Carefully, as not to disturb Mulder, who was deeply asleep with his head tipped away from her and his lips slightly parted, she slid away from him and out of bed and then crept quietly down the hall to the kitchen.

It was past three o’ clock. Too late for her to make a cup of coffee and hope to get to sleep at a decent time later. She opted for a cup of tea and put the kettle on while she rummaged in her cupboards for something decent to eat. She was heating a can of soup and separating a package of saltines when Mulder came trudging out of her room, rubbing the back of his head. He’d pulled his jeans back on, but they were unbuttoned and his white t-shirt was wrinkled from sleep.

“Timeizit?” he mumbled.

“Close to four.”

“I didn’t mean to sleep so long.”

“You obviously needed it.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Not long.” She turned and stirred the soup on the stove with a spoon. “I’m making soup, if you’d like some. And tea”

“Yeah, sure.” He sat down at her table and then scrubbed at his face with both hands.

Scully pulled down two bowls and two mugs from the cabinet and ladled out the soup and fixed the tea at the stove. One of the bowls had a slightly larger portion, which she placed in front of Mulder. She brought spoons and the sleeve of crackers over to the table before she sat down, the steaming mugs of tea between them. The soup was still too hot for her, even when she gently blew on a spoonful to cool it.

“Not that I’m anxious to talk about work right now,” she said. “But…the information you gathered on Doctor Scanlon, how did you come about it?”

“A little late night field trip to the research facility.”

“But, how did-”

“Scully, I think the less you know about the how right now, the better.” He glanced up at her and then quickly shifted his eyes back to the soup bowl. “Suffice to say, he was up to no good. I only wish I could’ve known sooner.”

She felt no real irritation at his rebuff, but his demeanor told her he’d come by the information in a less than safe manner. She pressed no further, instead dipped a cracker into her soup a few times and ate it before it turned soggy.

“What kind of mattress do you have?” Mulder asked.

“I don’t think I remember off the top of my head. Why?”

“I should probably get a bed.”

“You don’t have a bed?”

“I have a very comfortable couch.”

“Mulder, how could you not have a bed?”

“I mean, I have a bed. Sort of. Under a lot of boxes, somewhere.” He paused and puckered his lips. “I, uh…I just haven’t used it in a very long time.”

“How long?”

“Like…seven years?”

“Seven years?” She raised her brow at him and paused with a spoonful of soup at her lips. “Mulder, why haven’t you used your bed in seven years?”

It took him some time to answer. “I lived with someone,” he finally answered, stirring his soup in little figure-eights. “Briefly. She left and…I was more comfortable on the couch after that.”

“What happened?” Immediately chagrined, she closed her eyes and shook her head a little. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. Nevermind.”

“It was right around the time I found the x-files. She was supportive, at first. Also interested in the cases.”

“She was an agent?”

He nodded. “We worked together.”

“You had a…partner before? On the x-files?”

He shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. Not a partner. Just…had occasion to work together. She was also with behavioral sciences.”

“Would I know her?”

“I doubt it. She took an overseas position with counterterrorism and I haven’t seen her in seven years.”

“I’m sorry.”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It was a long time ago.”

“And yet you haven’t been able to sleep in a bed in seven years.”

“I’ve slept in a lot of beds in seven years, just not that one.”

“That’s what I mean.”

“Well, I’m gonna get a new one anyway. Probably should have done it weeks ago.”

“Or years.”

“You should come with me.”

“Where?”

“To test drive some new mattresses.”

“Why?”

“Because, theoretically, you’d want a say in it.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “And left to my own devices, I’d probably end up impulse buying a waterbed or something equally as appalling.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Salespeople can be very convincing when they want to be.”

“Well, in that case.”

Despite his larger portion, Mulder finished his soup before she did. He stretched and then brought his dishes to her sink and excused himself to use the bathroom. When he came back out, he had his jacket on and his shoes tied.

“I’m gonna get out of your hair,” he said. “Get some rest this weekend and…call if you need anything.”

“I will.”

“Oh…uh…” He hesitated, shuffling back and forth on his feet for a moment before he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a long, rectangular envelope and a small, flat box. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh…” She accepted the envelope and box almost cautiously, cheeks darkening slightly in embarrassment. “I didn’t even…”

“It’s okay, you obviously had other things on your mind. I just, I had this before…everything…so, Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Should I…do you want me to open it?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Scully eyed the small, white box with some trepidation. It looked like a jewelry box of some kind. For earrings, maybe, or a bracelet. Definitely not another ring, thankfully. She pulled away the gold ribbon holding it closed and pushed the lid up with her thumb. Inside was a commemorative keychain of the Apollo 11 space mission. She couldn’t help the noise of surprise that left her throat.

“It’s just something that reminded me of you,” he said, when she hooked the keyring with her index finger and pulled it into her hand. “Turn it over.”

She glanced up at him and then turned the gold charm over to inspect the other side. There was an inscription that she struggled to read in the low light in her kitchen, but she tipped the keychain towards the light and cocked her head.

“Commemorating Apollo 11 and the mission to the moon. July, 1969.”

“Believe it or not, that was in the hotel gift shop in Falls Church.”

“Strange.”

He chuckled and it seemed like he was about to say something, but his cell phone rang and she decided to clear her own dishes while he answered the call. “Mulder,” he murmured. “No, no, everything’s alright. I know. I know, and I will be there in twenty minutes, I was just dropping Scully home. Yeah, I will. Settle down, Frohike, I said I will.”

“The gunmen?” she asked, turning from the sink.

“Frohike sends his love.” Mulder took a deep breath as he stowed his phone back in his pocket. “Uh…I’m sorry, I have to get going.”

“Well, thank you.” She took a few steps towards him and paused before awkwardly reaching for him and putting her arms around him. He wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace.

“I’ll see you Monday,” he said.

“Yeah.” She nodded into his chest and then stepped back when he loosened his arms. “And…happy Valentine’s Day.”

After Mulder left, Scully washed the dishes and then went and stood in the middle of her living room in contemplation. There was dust on the furniture, hardly any food in her refrigerator, and a full hamper of laundry waiting for her. She was also sure there were unpaid bills in the pile of mail beside the door. Though she hadn’t really been home in over a week, she still felt neglectful. There was one other thing she was neglecting to do, more than dreaded housework.

With a sigh, Scully sat down on the couch, brought her blanket over her, and then picked up her phone. She dialed one of the few numbers she knew by heart and waited while it rang, hoping that it might just go to the answering machine. Much to her dismay, there was an answer,

“Mom,” she said. “Hi.”

“Dana.” Her tone was slightly frosty. “How are you?”

“I’m home. The treatment that I was planning on…it isn’t going to work out.”

“Oh.”

“I want to apologize for…pushing you away. This has been difficult for me to accept and I…I just…”

“As a child, I worried about how independent you were. You never wanted anyone’s help, you always needed to do things yourself. Do you remember the Christmas that Grandma Rose bought you that jigsaw puzzle of the sailboat?”

Scully shook her head as she thought back on her childhood, but came up blank. “No,” she said.

“Well, you were only seven and it was a thousand piece puzzle and I knew it would be challenging for you, but you insisted you could do it. Your father set up a card table in the den for you. You really don’t remember?”

“No.”

“You worked on it for weeks with such determination. I would only let you spend an hour on it a day, which you were very unhappy about. And then you were so close to finishing, maybe fifty or sixty pieces left in the box and Billy happened to go into the den to get a book. He found one puzzle piece and put it into place and you were absolutely livid. I don’t think I had ever seen you so red-faced, so angry you were near hysterical.”

A very vague memory of her fury came back to Scully. She started to recall the incident without specifics to the event itself, but to her emotions attached to it. Anger, embarrassment, failure.

“Well, without any warning whatsoever, you just…destroyed the puzzle. When I asked why you would do that to all your hard work, you looked me straight in the eye and told me that even if you finished, it wouldn’t count as having done it by yourself. Over one piece. One piece that you very well could have just removed if you felt so strongly about it, but you chose instead to demolish the whole thing.”

Scully tried to picture herself at that age and what her fury and irrationality looked like. No wonder her mother worried about it. “I don’t remember,” she said. “But, it…it sounds like something that I would do.”

“I know you, Dana, and I know you think that you need to go through this alone, but you’re wrong.”

Scully’s eyes filled with tears, but she was just too drained, emotionally, to cry. She had cried enough the past week. “If you’re free, would you like to come over tomorrow? Just to…be here?”

“Sweetheart, even if I wasn’t free, I would be there. I’ll bring lunch, how does that sound?”

“It sounds nice.”

“That’s settled then, I’ll be over by noon.”

“Okay.” She paused for a moment. “I love you.”

“I love you too sweetheart.”

When she hung up the phone, Scully wasn’t sure if she felt better or worse. She curled up on the couch and closed her eyes, but then remembered she hadn’t opened the card that Mulder had given her, only the box with the keychain. She got up and grabbed the envelope from the table and then went back to the couch and ripped open the envelope.

The outside of the card depicted cartoon-like drawings of cheeses, twelve in all, in rows of three. Mozzarella, parmesan, gouda, one she’d never heard of before called stinking bishop. They all had little arms and little legs and happy, smiling faces. On the inside, the text read: I picked the cheesiest card I could find. Happy Valentine’s Day. Mulder had signed it simply with the letter M. She turned it back over and looked at the little cheeses again with a smile. It was exactly the kind of card she would expect from him. She brought it over to her mantle and placed it beside a potted plant that needed watering and then on second thought, hid it in the top drawer of her nightstand. Her mother might spot it on the mantel and would inevitably question it and Scully still just wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet.

She spent the rest of the night flipping through movies on cable and slept late on Saturday morning. Her mother arrived before noon, a casserole in her arms that she promptly put in the oven and Scully spent the day making every effort not to let it rankle her when the way she folded towels was criticized or how often she was going to mass was questioned or any of the other millions of small, but irritating ways her mother got under her skin.

Her health was avoided for most of the day, though not entirely. A few comments were made about how she should be careful not to do too much, not to overtax herself, that she should eat better, that maybe she should look for something less strenuous. ‘No, now I didn’t say you should quit the FBI, just that you should look for something less strenuous, Dana. Think of your health.’ The irony was, she was more exhausted spending the day with her mother than she ever was by work.

By Sunday evening, she’d had enough of relaxing and turned her computer on to check on things she might have missed while she’d been away. An email from Quantico caught her eye and after spending most of the night researching, on Monday morning she was in the office ahead of Mulder, preparing a case file she hoped he’d see value in because chasing down murder suspects in New York was much more appealing than hunting cryptids in the forest, or whatever else he might have up his sleeve.

The new case was an easy sell to Mulder, and they were on a plane to New York before noon. What she had counted on as being a straight forward retaliation for a hate crime had turned out to be anything but. Mulder, of course, immediately jumped to the least likely conclusion that a golem was responsible for the string of murders, but all she saw was an angry and grieving family looking for justice of their own making.

After they wrapped up, Mulder was unusually quiet on the flight home, restlessly bouncing his knee and plucking at his bottom lip. “What’s wrong?” she asked him.

“Just thinking how sad it is,” he answered.

“What is?”

“Ariel and Isaac. Days away from their wedding. It should have been the start of their life together and instead it was callously ended before it even began.”

“It is sad.”

“I know why she did it. I can’t imagine what I would do if…” He cut himself off and then shifted in his seat. He looked down at her hand, gripping the seatrest as usual, and he pulled her fingers up, lacing them with his. He didn’t say anything after that, just held her hand for the rest of the flight. She didn’t tell him about the nosebleed she’d had the night before in the motel room, probably the worst one yet.

On Friday, they spent the day doing paperwork that needed catching up on. Mulder was characteristically restless. He hated paperwork, especially expense reports, and he kept trying to get her to shut down early. He wanted to take her to dinner, calling it a belated Valentine’s date, and she just wanted to get home, take a hot bath, and have a stress-free weekend, for once. He gave her his best puppy dog eyes and she hemmed and hawed about it, finally agreeing to go on the condition that he have all his receipts entered by five o’clock.

The waiter at The Headless Woman placed them at a table that had just been vacated, in the middle of the room and next to the bar. She’d been hoping for a booth, but the place was packed. She spotted a handful of agents that she recognized from the halls, but didn’t know the names of. Mulder draped his jacket over the back of his chair and rolled his shirtsleeves up to get more comfortable. He’d already slightly loosened his tie on the walk over and it was slightly askew.

Dinner was easy. She had a salad and Mulder had a burger, but they shared his fries. Conversation was kept light, no talk of work and no talk of her illness. She told him about her mother’s visit. He told her about an old friend he’d run into at a pick-up game of basketball at the Y. Cheers or jeers occasionally echoed around them in response to a game that was on a television in one corner.

As they waited for their check to come, Mulder excused himself to go to the restroom. Scully pulled a small compact from her pocket and checked her face. It had been three days since she’d had a nosebleed, but over a week since she’d last had a headache. She prodded the bridge of her nose a few times and then pocketed the compact again.

Minutes after Mulder returned, suddenly a slew of waiters appeared with a sparkling candle stuffed deep in a Hostess Snowball, singing an off-key ‘happy birthday dear Dana’ while a grinning Mulder clapped along.

“I didn’t know it was your birthday, Scully,” he said as she blew gently on the sparking candle.

“Mulder, you’ve never remembered my birthday in the four years I’ve known you,” she said.

“That’s the way I like to celebrate them. Every four, like dog years.”

“Dog years?” She paused mid-puff towards the candle and raised a brow at him. “Thank you.”

He leaned in close towards her and lowered his voice. “What kind of husband forgets his wife’s birthday?”

She glanced around, knowing that no one could overhear them over the noise of the bar, but was still nervous about it. There were already enough rumors about Mr. & Mrs. Spooky floating around the Hoover and the last thing they needed was to add fuel to the rumor mill.

“Come on, Scully, make a wish. Before it runs out.”

Scully finally blew hard enough to put the candle out and Mulder leaned back again. “I have something for you,” he said. “But, I can’t give it to you here.”

“What does that mean?”

“Somehow I don’t think you’d ever forgive me if I brought it out in public.”

“Mulder…” She felt the tips of her ears getting hot with embarrassment.

“Excuse me,” a young woman with blonde hair and a harried expression approached their table. “Are you Scully? And Mulder?”

“Oh, please tell me this isn’t leading to something embarrassing,” Scully mumbled, glaring at Mulder.

“My name is Sharon Graffia. I'm sorry to approach you like this, but I followed you. I was asked to find you if something happened.”

Scully frowned and her brows came together. “Excuse me?”

“You have no good reason to believe me, but my brother, who I believe you know, said you'd understand what to do.”

“About what?” Mulder asked.

“If he didn't make it.”

Scully shook her head and looked to Mulder, who also didn’t seem to have a clue as to who the woman was, or who she was referring to. “Excuse me, who are you talking about?”

“Max. Max Fenig. He was on his way here to deliver something that made him fear for his life, something he said the government would kill for, but his plane…it went down two hours ago.”

And suddenly, her dream of a hot bath and stress-free weekend evaporated. After heading back to the Hoover to run a quick investigation of downed aircraft, they were headed back to New York to arrive in the wee hours of the morning.

The crash site was like nothing Scully had seen before. The size, the scope, the mass casualties, were overwhelming. She did her best to distance herself from the reality of it, assisting in the flagging of twisted metal and body parts, but also letting Mulder take the lead on their approach to the investigation. She got angry, though, when his alien abduction theories were derisively dismissed by those around them. It’s not that she believed him, or believed in whatever implausible theory he came up with half of the time, but it was also her job to prove otherwise, not sneer and judge.

They spent the next two days in what felt like a labyrinth of twists and turns. They spent their days and their nights hunting down witnesses, pouring over letters and correspondence that Max Fenig had written to his sister, who had also gone missing. They also positively ID’d Max’s body and discovered he’d been traveling under an assumed alias. She was exhausted, running on fumes when they made it back to the motel. She started to head to her room as soon as she got out of the car, mumbling a goodnight to Mulder over her shoulder.

“Hey, Scully.”

“Yeah?”

“Happy actual birthday.”

She stopped. She’d forgotten that it was her birthday. She pulled her phone out, checking for any messages she might have missed, but there was nothing. No missed calls or voicemails.

“I have something for you, remember?” he asked. “Come in, let me give it to you.”

“Now?” She checked her watch. It was barely eight o’clock.

“While it’s still your birthday.”

Begrudgingly, she followed Mulder to his room. She hovered by the door, afraid that if she took a moment to sit down in one of the chairs, she’d never get up again. He took his overcoat off and tossed it onto the bed before he went to his bag. The gift he brought out was wrapped in newspaper and it was the size and shape of a hardcover book. She tested the weight of it when he handed it to her.

“Definitely not a keychain,” she said.

“Not this time.”

She tore through the newspaper wrapping and uncovered a plain, gray photo album. There was a square window frame on the cover with a generic photo of a flower. It was actually a beautiful album, simple, but elegant.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You haven’t opened it yet.”

Scully opened up the cover and the first photo was of the two of them standing before the celebrant, facing each other with their hands clasped. “Oh…” she whispered.

“I got the film developed last week. They came out pretty good.”

“Yeah.” She flipped through the pages. Seeing the photos from that weekend, them together, looking the part of a happy married couple, it felt real. Not that it wasn’t real, it happened, she was there, but holding the tangible evidence of what they’d done in her hand, made it feel real.

“The negatives are in the back,” he said. “I only had single prints made. And I thought that you should hold onto them.”

“Okay.” She felt overwhelmed and a flush came over her, causing her knees to weaken a little. She sat down on the edge of the bed and Mulder immediately knelt before her.

“Scully?”

“I’m alright,” she said. “Just tired.”

He put his hand on her forehead and then against her cheek. Squeezing her knee lightly, he got back up and went into the bathroom. He came back out with a damp washcloth and a plastic cup of water. She dabbed her cheeks with the cloth and took a sip of the water. Mulder knelt down in front of her again and pulled one of her feet towards him to unzip her boot.

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to pull her leg back.

“You need to lay down.”

“You’re right, I do. I need to go back to my room.” Her protests were weak. He already had one of her boots off and he was working on the other.

“Well, there’s only one thing wrong with that.”

“What?”

“I’m not there to watch your back.” He stood and went to the top of the bed to pull the covers down.

She knew that once she’d sat down she wouldn’t be able to get back up. Mulder took the cup and the cloth from her, setting both on the nightstand, and then he helped her out of her overcoat and up to the top of the bed. He took the photo album she was still holding onto and put that on the table under the window.

“Just a nap,” she said. “Wake me in an hour.”

“Of course.”

She woke the next morning to the motel phone ringing in her ear. Her instinct was to reach out, to silence the shrill bell, but a hand covered hers and picked up before she did.

“Mulder.”

Scully turned over, rubbing her bleary eyes with one hand as she struggled to sit up.

“What? When? Yeah, yeah, Scully and I can…why? Yes, but… Sir, if… Fine.”

Obviously frustrated, Mulder sat down on the side of the bed and rubbed his forehead with one hand. He was still in the suit he wore the night before, just rumpled and wrinkled. Scully slid up so her back was to the headboard.

“We’ll be on the first flight out we can get,” he said.

“Mulder?” she asked, as soon as he’d hung up the phone.

“Sergeant Frish apparently turned himself into the FBI last night, claiming he was asked to lie about what happened to flight 549.”

“Sergeant Frish…he was the tower operator for the military we spoke with the other day?”

“Yeah.”

“Who does he say told him to lie?”

“Who do you think? He’s saying the military knowingly, and willingly, shot down a civilian jet.”

“What about his partner? Gonzalez? Can he corroborate any of this?”

“I don’t know. Skinner is ordering us back to DC to talk to Frish. They’ve got him under federal protection right now.”

Scully scrubbed at her face with both hands and then finger-combed her hair back away from her face. She checked the time on the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was half past seven. She’d slept almost twelve hours.

“Why didn’t you wake me last night?” she asked.

“You needed the rest.”

She pushed the covers away and found her boots still at the foot of the bed. Her overcoat was draped over the back of one of the chairs. She checked her pockets for her phone, which had a dead battery, and her room key. She picked up the photo album from the table and hugged it to her chest.

“I just need to change,” she said. “It’ll only take a few minutes to pack.”

“Knock when you’re ready.”

It didn’t take long for Scully to change and to pack up. She gazed longingly at the shower in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. At the very least, she felt well-rested. When she knocked on Mulder’s door, he greeted her in his undershirt and a toothbrush hanging from his mouth. He gave her the car keys to put her bag away and the keys to both their rooms so she could check them out while he finished.

Mulder brooded on the flight back to DC. She could tell he was frustrated and upset and there was nowhere to direct his energy. She could practically see the wheels turning in his mind, concocting new theories by the minute.

“I have a new theory,” he told her, ripping open the package of complimentary peanuts the flight attendant had just passed out.

“Of course you do,” she mumbled into her cup of water. He didn’t hear her.

“If what Sergeant Frish is claiming is true, then there are only two possible scenarios as to why the military would be shooting down a civilian plane.”

“Mulder, first of all, we don’t even know what Sergeant Fish is claiming. Why don’t you wait until we’ve heard what he has to say before you start jumping to conclusions.”

“I’m tired of innocent people dying in vain, Scully.” He looked over at her and his eyes drifted up to her forehead before he looked away. Neither of them said anything else for the rest of the flight.

They picked up Scully’s car from long-term parking once they landed and went straight to the Hoover building. They stopped down in the basement only long enough to drop their briefcases and overcoats and for Scully to plug in her phone to charge. As they exited the elevator on the fourth floor, they ran into Agent Pendrell.

“Oh hey, Dana,” Pendrell said. “I heard it was your birthday. Happy birthday!”

“Um, thank you,” Scully answered. She kept walking, keeping pace with Mulder, and Pendrell followed along.

“Maybe I can buy you a drink after work. If you’re free. To celebrate.”

“Uh, maybe some other time, Agent Pendrell. We’ve got an active investigation going right now.”

“I get it. Rain check! Well, if you need any lab work, you know where to find me.”

She didn’t say goodbye to Agent Pendrell, just walked through the door to the anteroom of Skinner’s office that Mulder held open for her. She caught him raising her brows at her, but shook her head slightly.

“Someone’s got a not-so-secret admirer,” Mulder whispered to her.

“I don’t even know his first name,” she answered, and then she glanced up at him and subtly waved the fingers of her left hand in his direction. “Besides, I’m spoken for.”

The surprised smile he gave her faded as soon as they saw Skinner, standing beside his secretary’s desk with a file in his hand and a grave expression. “Hold my calls,” he said. “Mulder. Scully.”

“Sir,” Scully said.

Their boss got right to the point when they sat down before his desk. “An hour ago, Sergeant Louis Frish was taken into military custody.”

“For what?” Scully asked.

“Suspicion of murder and providing false testimony in a federal investigation.”

“Murder? Of who?”

“Sergeant Armando Gonzalez, his partner in the control tower.”

“Well, isn’t that convenient,” Mulder said. “The only person that can corroborate Sergeant Frish’s story is dead and they pin it on the whistleblower.”

“It’s the military that’s responsible for downing that plane,” Scully added.

“They’ve admitted as much,” Skinner said.

Surprised, Scully glanced at Mulder. “Sir?”

“All of a sudden they just decide to take responsibility for the crash of flight 549?” Mulder asked.

“They had no choice. Not in light of the facts that have come out.”

“What facts are those?”

“That tower control gave bad coordinates to a fighter jet, causing it to collide with flight 549 over military airspace.”

“The tower.” Scully could practically hear Mulder’s eyes rolling in the tone of his voice. “And let me guess, by the time they realized their error, it was too late. And I’m guessing the military is saying that Sergeant Frish lied about it to save his own skin. Oh, and that he found out that Sergeant Gonzalez was going to turn himself in and so he killed him in order to prevent him from doing so. How’m I doing here? Do I get a stuffed bear if I get enough right?”

Skinner looked away.

“Do you believe them, Sir?” Scully asked.

Skinner tapped the end of his pen on his blotter, but didn’t answer.

“What kind of fighter jet was it that they say intercepted flight 549?” Mulder asked.

“An F-15 Eagle,” Skinner answered.

“Well, then there’d be a second crash site.” Mulder got up as though he was already on his way back to upstate New York.

“Sit down, Agent Mulder.”

It took Mulder a few moments with his hands on his hips and his nostrils flaring, to finally sit back down. Scully kept her eyes on their boss, her lips pressed together. She also found the story too convenient, but she knew that would be about as much as she and Mulder would ever agree on.

“Sir,” she said. “We were out at that crash site. There was no physical evidence whatsoever that flight 549 was involved in a collision.”

“That’s not what the official report is stating,” Skinner answered.

“What official report? From what I saw, and in speaking with the IIC, a collision was not part of any working theory as to what brought that plane down.”

“The IIC filed the report this morning.” Skinner opened a file on his desk and held up the first paper inside. He turned it towards himself and lowered it at reading level. “After review of the flight data recorder and the tower transcript the evidence collected doesn't support anything more conclusive than the Air Force's assertion that the cause of this crash was a midair collision. He goes on to thank the two of you for leading them to the fact of military involvement.”

“The facts are still a matter of speculation,” Mulder argued. “And after listening to what’s in that report, the IIC clearly thinks so as well.” He turned towards Scully. “You believe that story from the military?”

“Mulder, I don’t know what to believe,” she answered. “The evidence would suggest-”

“The evidence they want you to see and not the evidence they destroy or cover up, you mean?”

“What evidence are you alluding to, Agent Mulder?” Skinner asked.

“Evidence that we’ve been unable to obtain. I think there was one man on that plane who knew the truth, knew flight 549 was going to go down before he even boarded, but got on anyway.”

Skinner narrowed his eyes a little. “What man?”

“Max Fenig. He had something with him, an object, and I believe that object was what ultimately brought down that plane.”

“What object?”

“Proof of the existence of extraterrestrial life and intelligence.”

“Mulder…” Scully shook her head slightly, but it didn’t deter him.

“I think that Max was followed onto the plane by someone who wanted that object, would’ve killed to get it, knowing the value was greater than not just one life, but the lives of all 134 people on that plane. But, flight 549 was then intercepted by a second aircraft, one that did not appear on any radar.”

“A UFO,” Skinner stated. “Is that what you’re positing?”

“Max knew immediately what that craft was and that he wouldn’t be completing the rest of the flight, as scheduled. He would have immediately recognized the signs of a class abduction scenario. The craft took control of the plane and its systems, preparing to take Max, but something went wrong. Another aircraft, probably an F-15 Eagle, was given the coordinates to flight 549.”

“Now you’re saying you believe the military’s version of events.”

“I’m saying I believe they knew about the craft and the F-15 Eagle was given specific orders to take down the UFO. And if not for that order, in the nine minutes that time stood still for the passengers on flight 549, time that would have been erased from their memories, Max would have been abducted and returned without any loss of life.”

“All I can say, Mulder, is that there seems to be as much proof of your version of events as the military’s.”

“We need to get back to New York.” Mulder stood again as though he was already preparing to head back to the airport.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Skinner ordered. “The investigation is closed.”

“There’s still the matter of Max’s sister,” Mulder argued. “We have to find her.”

“Who?” Skinner asked.

“Sharon Graffia,” Scully interjected. “She went missing from her motel room two days ago.”

Skinner flipped a few pages in the file he had and then paused before he handed a paper across the desk to Scully. She read it quickly and then took a deep breath and looked up at Mulder.

“What?” he asked.

“Sharon Graffia was found wandering around in a daze at the crash site last night. She was taken to the hospital for evaluation.”

“We need to speak with her. She’s the only one who might be able to tell us what Max had with him on the plane.”

“Mulder, she’s not Max’s sister.”

“What? Who is she?”

Scully looked down at the paper again. “She's an unemployed aeronautical engineer who spent time in and out of mental institutions. That's how she knew Max.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“She’s a disturbed person, Mulder. She’s not even who she claimed to be.”

“Yet she knew Max well enough for him to write her thousands of letters. Well enough for him to call her and tell her he was going to die.”

“Do you honestly think that’s so strange? Given the circumstances.”

Mulder said nothing, but she could feel the frustration coming off of him in waves. The whole atmosphere of the room changed and made her heart race and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Skinner broke the silence, dismissing them by reiterating that the investigation was considered closed and with a reminder to have their reports in by the end of the day.

Mulder stayed with his hands on his hips, his jaw tight. Scully got up as well and lightly touched his arm. “Come on, Mulder,” she said.

Mulder jerked his arm away from her and as he left, he ripped open the door to Skinner’s office so fast Scully was actually surprised the hinges didn’t break. Skinner looked up at Scully, his jaw locked and lips pressed into a thin line. Scully leveled her gaze at him. She had always tried to respect his position, but there were times where she truly did not understand where his loyalties lay. There were times when it felt like he was intentionally blocking access to the truths that Mulder was so desperate to reach.

An odd look came over Skinner’s face and for a moment, she thought he may have read her thoughts, but then she felt the trickle of blood slide over her upper lip and she fumbled in her pocket for a tissue. Skinner beat her to it, reaching across the desk to pass her a handkerchief which she pressed to her face. Embarrassed, she turned away.

“Are you alright?” Skinner asked.

“I’m fine.”

He came around from his desk and stood in front of her and she steeled herself under his scrutiny. “I have a responsibility for the safety of the agents under my supervision, Agent Scully,” he said, not unkindly. His tone was gentle, almost apologetic. “I'm not going to put another agent's life in jeopardy just to keep her on the field.”

“I said, I’m fine.”

He looked away and then went back to his desk. She took it as her cue to leave, ducking her head slightly as she passed his secretary, hoping she wouldn’t see the bloody handkerchief she dabbed her nose with.

Before she went down to the office, she slipped into the ladies room to wash her face and toss the handkerchief. Deep down, she knew that Skinner was right. Even if she felt fine, the nosebleeds were a problem. It wasn’t just her own safety that was in jeopardy if this continued, she had to think of Mulder as well. As her partner, she had a duty to him as well.

There was a box of tissues on the counter in the bathroom and she grabbed a few to put in her pocket. Her fingers slipped over the smooth side of the keychain Mulder had given her and she pulled it out to look at it. It was such a strange gift for him to give her. The space missions didn’t mean much to her, but they did mean a lot to him. She kept it out with her as she went down to the basement.

Mulder was at his desk with his head in his hands. She sat down across from him and waited for him to say something, but he didn’t look up. She rubbed her thumb over the engraving on the keychain.

“I’ve been thinking about this keychain you got me,” she said.

“What about it?” he mumbled.

“You were going to tell me something about it, but never got the chance. I think I know, though. I think that you appreciate that there are extraordinary men and women and extraordinary moments when history leaps forward on the backs of these individuals. That what can be imagined can be achieved. That you must dare to dream, but that there's no substitute for perseverance and hard work and teamwork.”

She paused when Mulder finally took his hands away from his face and looked up.

“Because no one gets there alone,” she said, stroking the curve of the keychain back and forth in a half moon. “And that, while we commemorate the greatness of these events and the individuals who achieve them, we cannot forget the sacrifice of those who make these achievements and leaps possible.”

He blinked. “I just thought it was a pretty cool keychain.”

She snorted a little as she smiled and shook her head. He laid his arm across the desk with his palm up. She put her hand in his. They stayed that way for a few moments and then she pulled away and went to her desk to work on her report. She checked her phone, but there were no missed calls and no messages.

Things seemed to return to normal for them, whatever they could call normal. Her health was under constant scrutiny and she promised herself if there were any indication of decline, she would step away as it was the responsible thing to do. But, her weekly blood tests were stable and her scans revealed no changes. She still had nosebleeds and headaches, but with medication, they were tolerable.

Mulder made good on his request to have her choose a mattress with him. He picked her up one weekend and dragged her to three different stores where he punched and bounced and rolled around on a variety of different bed sets. They were mostly able to avoid the salesmen that were eager for the commission, but not all of them.

“Can I help you folks out?” Jim, the ‘sleep expert’, as it said on his nametag, asked.

“We’re just looking,” Scully answered, walking from one staged bedroom to another.

But, Jim wasn’t actually speaking to Scully. He ignored her altogether and went to Mulder, who was sitting at the edge of a bed, bouncing lightly. “You look like the kind of guy who knows a good deal when you find one. I’ve got just the offer that I think you and the little lady would love.”

“I do love a good deal,” Mulder answered. “But, you’ll have to run it by the old ball and chain over there first.”

“Hey man, I just want to find you a nice mattress.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to be here.” Mulder got up and grabbed Scully’s hand.

At the next store, which was only just up the street, Scully braced herself as a petite older woman greeted them as soon as they walked in the door. “Welcome,” she said. “Feel free to look around. My name is Debbie if you have any questions.”

Scully relaxed a little. Mulder put his hands on her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. She followed him around from mattress to mattress. Finally, he had it narrowed down to four different ones he liked. She never expected he would be so picky. She honestly thought he’d just walk in and take the first thing he found.

“What about this one?” he asked, lying back on the mattress he was sitting on and splaying out like a starfish.

She pressed her hand onto the top. “Seems good.”

He caught her hand and gave it a tug. She laid down beside him and he scooted over to make room. “Wait,” he said, getting up on all fours and then hovering over her. He pushed on her hip and she frowned. “We’re on the wrong sides. You’re the left, I’m the right.”

She rolled her eyes and then pushed herself to the left while he lifted his arm to let her through. He flopped down again and they both stared at the ceiling. He wiggled his shoulders.

“Yay or nay?” he asked.

She wiggled her shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s a little firm.”

“Too firm?”

The saleswoman moved back in towards them. “This one is recommended for stomach sleepers,” she said. “How would you say you sleep?”

“Back, I guess,” Mulder answered. When Scully didn’t say anything, he shifted his knee slightly and bumped her ankle.

“Um, side,” Scully answered.

“I think you’ll find you might prefer this one over there.” She pointed towards the front corner of the store and both Mulder and Scully got up to follow her. “It’s made of a newer material called tempurfoam. The makers used technology developed by NASA to create it.”

Mulder crawled onto the mattress first. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“What do you think?” Debbie asked.

“I think I’m going to have to get some sheets with little rockets on them,” he said. “Honey, what about you?”

Scully laid down with her arms at her sides. “It’s nice,” she said.

“Just nice?” Mulder asked.

“Make sure you also move into any position you’re most comfortable sleeping in,” Debbie said.

“Usually we just spoon up like little baby cats, don’t we honey?”

“In your dreams,” Scully murmured, turning onto her side with her back to Mulder.

Debbie chuckled. “I’ll give you two a few minutes to discuss.”

Mulder rolled over as the saleslady walked away and propped himself up on one elbow. The mattress stayed fairly sturdy. She didn’t roll towards him and barely felt a dip in the bed. He put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“What do you think, little lady?” he asked.

She glanced back at him with her brow raised. “I think Sleep Expert Jim could learn a thing or two about the art of making a sale from Debbie.”

He smiled and turned onto his back again with his hands folded over his stomach. “It’s softer than I would have gone for, but I like it.”

“I don’t like this pillow, that’s for sure.”

“Come here.”

He touched her shoulder and she turned over so she was facing him. He brought his elbow up and she put her head on his shoulder. After a few moments, he reached up and ran his fingers through her hair. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep. He was warm and she could smell his cologne. It made her drowsy.

“How’s this?” he asked.

“Better.”

“It feels right. Don’t you think?”

“Hm?”

“The bed.”

It felt strange, is what it felt like. It felt strange to be there, picking out a mattress with Mulder, but also like something that they would just do. The bell above the front door that chimed whenever someone came in went off and she opened her eyes and pushed herself up and away.

Mulder went to locate Debbie to purchase his new mattress and Scully lingered by the front, running her hands over the samples of pillowcases. There was everything there from cotton to silk. She checked the price of one that was the most luxurious fabric she’d ever touched and the set was over five hundred dollars.

“All set,” Mulder said, coming up behind her. “See anything you like?”

She shook her head. She’d already ruined several pillowcases and a fitted sheet with her late night nosebleeds. Luxury sheets would just be a waste of money.

The following week, they were out in West Virginia on one of their more unusual cases. A series of infants born with vestigial tails that, of course, initially piqued Mulder’s interest because he thought the babies had been the product of alien impregnation. Once they had their suspect, their very human suspect, Eddie Van Blundht, that theory went out the window. Scully was fairly certain it was a matter of rohypnol use and opportunity.

In the course of their investigation, they found the body of their suspect’s father, Eddie Van Blundht Sr., hidden in the attic of his home. The anomalies in his autopsy were fascinating. The corpse had a thin stratum of voluntary muscle tissue underpinning the entire dermal layer of his skin. She’d never seen anything like it before. In fact, it was all she could really think about when she said goodbye to Mulder for the weekend, intending to head home to do more research on it.

She was surprised when Mulder showed up out of the blue that Friday night, grinning broadly into the fisheye lens of her peephole. “Mulder?” she questioned, opening her door to him. “What’s up?”

“Is this a bad time?” he asked.

“No…uh…come in…” She looked down and narrowed her eyes. There was a bottle of red wine in his hand. “Who’s that for?”

“Us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, you and me.” He handed her the bottle and then shoved his hands in his pockets. “I thought…maybe we could talk about us.”

“Okay.” She looked at the bottle and then at him. “I guess I’ll go open this.”

“Great.”

Reluctantly, Scully moved into the kitchen. The man in her home was not Mulder. It wasn’t that long ago on their honeymoon that she had told him that red wine gave her headaches. There was no way that Mulder wouldn’t remember that. And coming over to talk about ‘us’ with the wrong bottle of wine? Absurd.

Scully’s service weapon was in her bedroom. She supposed she could grab a knife from one of the drawers, but she would much rather have her Sig Sauer in her hand when she confronted the imposter. She opened the wine and subtly slipped the corkscrew into her back pocket just in case, and then poured out two glasses, all while keeping her eye on ‘Mulder’ as he inspected the knick knacks on the table behind her couch.

“Here we are,” she said, handing him a glass.

“Thanks.” He tapped his glass against hers in a wordless toast and she watched him over the rim of her glass as she lifted it to her mouth. She let the wine just touch her lips, but did not take a sip, which he didn’t seem to notice.

Maybe the red wine thing was an anomaly. Maybe she was wrong and maybe he did forget and he did want to talk about them. The marriage had put them in a peculiar place and she was starting to feel things she knew she probably shouldn’t be feeling. Maybe he’d noticed. Maybe he felt them too. She had to think of something to test him that would seem innocuous, but would give him away at the same time.

“This um…this reminds me of…have I ever told you about my senior prom?” she asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Me, Marcus, Sylvia, and…Berwood.”

“Berwood?” He laughed. “What kind of name is that?”

She put the wine glass down on the table. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning to walk backwards towards her bedroom. “I forgot, I was just about to put some laundry in the dryer when you knocked. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’ll tell you all about it when I come back.”

“Okay.”

Quietly and calmly, Scully opened her bedside drawer and grabbed her handcuffs, which she stuffed into her front right pocket and then unholstered her weapon. She took the safety off and then pointed the gun at the doorway, taking a few deep breaths before she moved back into the hallway. As the living room came into view, she kept her aim on the back of the imposter’s head.

“Keep your hands where I can see them,” she said. “No sudden movements.”

“Scully?”

“You’re not Mulder.”

“What do you mean, of course I am?”

“No, you’re not.”

Scully kept her distance as she moved to the front of the couch, far enough back that if he lunged, she had time to fire and close enough that the shot would incapacitate and she wasn’t likely to miss, even if startled. When she felt secure enough, she took the handcuffs from her pocket.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, Eddie.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.”

He frowned deeply and his eyes narrowed into an expression she’d never seen Mulder make before, making it even more obvious that it was not Mulder in front of her. She braced herself as he pushed his hands down into the couch and she knew he was preparing to spring forward. Before either of them moved though, there was the sound of splintering wood and the front door flew open. A disheveled and wild-eyed Mulder stood panting in the doorway.

“Mulder!” she called.

“Scully? Eddie?”

“Damn.” The imposter on the couch morphed before her eyes into Eddie Van Blundht. He shrugged at her and then held his hands out, wrists together and palms up.

She blinked in disbelief and lowered her weapon. Mulder was the one who cuffed Eddie and pulled him to his feet.

“I already called the police,” Mulder said. “They’re on their way.”

“How did you know to come here?” Scully asked.

“Before this one cold-cocked me and left me locked in a ventilation shaft at the hospital, he made a rather derogatory comment about my ‘hot piece of a partner’ that I’m not going to repeat.”

Eddie sighed unhappily. “I was just trying to help you out.”

“Come again?” Mulder asked.

“You got a girl like that, you make sure to lock it down. You put a ring on it, put a kid or two in her, not just bang on the weekends and live like a bachelor the rest of the time.”

“You’re insane. And as a matter of fact-”

“Mulder,” Scully said, grabbing his elbow, cutting him off. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“In that case,” Eddie said, looking her up and down. “You should know that he has shirts in his closet that are your size. And that shampoo you use in his shower. I know because I have a great sense of smell. You probably don’t want to imagine what he must do with those things. You better watch out because I’d say your partner is a pervert.”

“The only pervert is you, Eddie,” Mulder said.

Only moments later, officers with the DCPD came rushing through the door and took over custody. Eddie turned back towards Mulder as they led him out.

“You know what’s funny?” he asked. “I was born a loser, but you’re one by choice.”

“Get him out of here,” Mulder said.

After their statements had been taken and the landlord had been called up to look at the broken door, Scully packed a few things to check into a hotel for the weekend. She couldn’t stay in her apartment with a busted door.

“Sorry about that,” Mulder said, picking at the broken bits of wood.

“I don’t imagine you need to be told this, Mulder, but you’re not a loser.”

“I’ve been accused of worse.” He shrugged and looked around her apartment. “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“When I busted in, you had a gun pointed at my head.”

“Eddie’s head.”

“Yeah, but…from what I saw, you were pointing a gun at my head. How did you know it wasn’t me?”

Scully went over to the table and picked up the bottle of wine. “He showed up and said he wanted to talk about us,” she said. “And then he handed me this.”

Mulder took the bottle from her and looked it over. “Merlot. Red wine gives you headaches.”

“I thought it could have been a mistake, that maybe you just weren’t thinking or forgot.”

“Well, that would just be so unlike me, wouldn’t it?” He smiled and they both chuckled slightly.

“And I asked if I’d ever told him about my prom and he said no.”

“Guess it’s not likely I’d be forgetting about dear old Berwood so quickly.”

“I didn’t think so.” She picked up her overnight bag. “Let’s get out of here. Do you need a ride home?”

“Why? Where are you headed?”

“A hotel. I’m not staying here with a broken door and you heard the landlord, he won’t be able to fix it until tomorrow afternoon.”

“I can’t let you go to a hotel, Scully.”

“Why not?”

“Because any decent husband would never let his wife leave their sight after something like this.”

“Mulder…” His words make her stomach flip and her heart start pounding. “You can’t use that as a bargaining chip. That’s not what we did this for.”

“I only mean…” He sighed and then rubbed the back of his head and winced. It was then that she noticed the dried blood at the back of his neck.

“Mulder?” She dropped her bag and then reached up and gently ran her hand up the back of his head, her fingers sliding through his hair and grazing a knot about halfway up from the base of his skull. “You’re injured. We have to get you checked out.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, you probably have a concussion.”

“Probably, but I’m still fine.”

She sighed. He was as stubborn as she was at times. She picked up her bag again and then pointed him towards the door. “We’re going to your place.”

“Really?”

“Only because you need to be monitored. Not because…for any other reason.”

He pulled her bag off her shoulder and put it over his own before dropping a hand to her back to lead her down the hall to the elevator. “It’ll be great. We can stay up late, braid each other’s hair, tell ghost stories.”

“Or, I can clean you up and wake you every two hours to check your pupils.”

“I like my idea better.”

“I don’t.” Off his hurt look she shook her head. “At least hotels have room service.”

“But, do hotels have brand new, never been slept in beds made of space technology?”

“Why haven’t you slept in your bed yet?”

“Just waiting for the right time.” He smiled and guided her into the open elevator. “One little ghost story?”

“We’ll see.”

Scully drove them to his apartment, silently questioning whether or not it was a good idea to do so. She would rather go to a hotel, but she would also rather not leave Mulder alone with a concussion, so there really was no choice.

The first thing Mulder did upon arriving home was go from room to room, trying to determine what Eddie might have touched or moved. There was a pile of clothes on the floor of his room that Scully insisted they bag for evidence, but that was about all they found. Nothing else seemed amiss, according to Mulder.

Once that was settled, Mulder let her inspect and clean the wound on the back of his head. She dabbed at the trail of dried blood on his neck and flaking in his hair. He moaned and groaned through it, even though she tried to be as gentle as possible, keeping her touch light. The knot on the back of his head was concerning, but he insisted he wasn’t dizzy or nauseated, just had a bit of a headache. She checked his pupils and gave him some ibuprofen and told him he had better let him know immediately if there was any change.

“You wanna order a pizza and watch a movie?” he asked.

“Sure.”

She wasn’t terribly hungry, and knew that a movie would probably just make her fall asleep, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do. Mulder let her have control of the remote while he ordered and she flipped through the channels, but all she found were commercials and more commercials.

“There are some tapes in the TV cabinet, if you can’t find anything,” he said.

She raised her eyebrow. “Do I want to know what kind?”

“The normal kind. Mostly. If you come across anything questionable, just pretend you didn’t see it.”

“Oh, trust me, I will.”

She didn’t find anything questionable in the cabinet, but more proof of how much Mulder enjoyed the classics. There were a lot of black and whites, film noir, sci-fi, and a few comedies. Some she’d heard of, most she hadn’t.

“That’s a good one,” Mulder said, nodding at the tape in her hand. “The best movie Hitchcock never made.”

“I think the only Audrey Hepburn film I’ve ever seen is Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”

“Not even Roman Holiday? Or Wait Until Dark?”

Scully shook her head. “We went to the drive-in occasionally in the summer when I was a kid, but aside from that, I don’t think I set foot in a movie theater until I was in my teens. And the television was all but banned in my house.”

“Well, I watched a lot of movies. And a lot of TV. It made the best babysitter, according to my mom.”

His attachment to the TV, and why he fell asleep in front of it all the time suddenly made perfect sense to her. It was like a child’s security blanket for him. Whereas she hadn’t grown up with any such attachment. Unlike Mulder’s mom, her mother preferred the four very loud, very active Scully children to be outdoors and out of the house.

“Well?” Mulder asked. “Is Charade what we’re going with?”

“Oh.” She nodded, passing him the tape in her hand. “Yeah.”

Mulder loaded the tape and they were only about ten minutes into the movie when the pizza arrived. Even though she didn’t have much of an appetite, she had a slice. She picked the pepperoni off and ate it separately even though she knew it drove him crazy when she did that. They’d had the argument many times over many pizzas. She just liked the way it tasted better on its own, pulled away from the slice with a glob of cheese stuck to it.

As predicted, and even though she was enjoying the movie, she felt her eyelids growing heavy and she yawned a few times before she nodded off, head coming to rest against Mulder’s arm. He woke her sometime later, brushing the side of his finger against her cheek until she sat up, blinking in shock and disorientation.

“Sorry,” she immediately whispered. “I fell asleep, didn’t I?”

“Scully, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you have narcolepsy.”

She smiled a little, stretching her neck and then her back. Mulder got up, grabbing the pizza box on his way to the kitchen. She stood as well, about to wish him a good night and she’d see him on Monday, but then remembered she wasn’t leaving. She was there to stay. Her overnight bag was by the door where she’d dropped it.

“How’s your head?” she asked, sliding into the kitchen after Mulder in her socked feet.

“Well, it definitely feels like I got clubbed, but it could be worse.” He bent as she lifted on her toes to see for herself. She ran her fingers up through his hair and checked him over. Satisfied, she came back down on her heels.

“Do you mind if I use your shower before I head to bed?”

“Course not. Wait, let me find you a clean towel.”

Scully grabbed her bag and then followed Mulder through his bedroom and into the bathroom. She remembered the first time she’d been in his bathroom, surprised by how clean it was, despite being cramped and cluttered. The only cabinet was under the sink, but there was a rack above the toilet and floating shelves that held toiletries and washcloths. The towels were rolled and stacked on the top of the rack. He took one down and sniffed it before he handed it over to her.

“If you turn the fan on, the mirror won’t fog,” he said. “The labels are wrong on the taps, so left is cold and right is hot. Oh, and the showerhead is removable and has like ten different settings or something, so pick whatever you want.”

“Thanks, Mulder.”

It felt so strange to be undressing in Mulder’s bathroom and then to stand naked in front of his sink, twisting her hair up off her neck so that it wouldn’t get wet. She tentatively turned his shower on and heeded his warning about the opposite taps. It took some time to find the right temperature, but she finally slipped behind the curtain and then let herself adjust to the warm water before she began fiddling with the settings on the showerhead. When she turned to put her back to the water, she saw the built-in shelves in the tiling and found that Eddie had been right. Next to Mulder’s shampoo was her own, the one she’d left him in the box of her things. She didn’t know if Eddie had assumed it was hers, or guessed, or his sense of smell really was what he said it was.

Out of the shower, she did a little bit of harmless snooping, opening the medicine cabinet and the cupboard under the sink to poke around. She found the rest of her toiletries scattered amongst his own things and she stopped to sniff a bottle of aftershave. The tube of toothpaste squeezed from the middle made her roll her eyes.

Mulder had turned down the bed for her while she was showering. When she stepped out of the bathroom in her flannel pajamas and fuzzy socks, she noticed that the covers were pulled back and the pillows looked like they’d been fluffed. When she ran her hand over the sheets, she almost gasped. They were the same sheets she’d been admiring at the mattress store, the ones that were impossibly soft and exorbitantly priced, only instead of the bright white the sample had been, these were a pale blue.

“All set?” Mulder asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway. She nodded. “Guess that means it’s my turn. I won’t be long.”

She sat down on the bed, stroking the sheets as he went through his drawers and collected things for the bathroom. It had been days since her last nosebleed, but suddenly she was nervous. She should have insisted on the hotel. But, then she’d just be worried about Mulder’s head injury the whole time. By the time she heard the water shut off in the bathroom, she hadn’t moved, and she was still sitting in the same spot when Mulder emerged.

“You’re still awake,” he said.

“Yeah.”

He went over to her and bent over, pressing his fists to the edge of the bed on either side of her hips. She leaned back and put a hand on his chest, thinking he was about to kiss her. “Mulder?”

“How are the pupils?” he asked.

“Oh.” She reached up to hold his chin steady. His jaw was still damp from the shower and she could smell his soap. She only took a brief glance at his eyes, his gaze too intense for her. “They’re fine.”

“Cleared for bed, then?”

She ran her hand through his hair, back from the top of his head to cup the back of his skull. “Still no dizziness? Nausea?”

“Nope.”

“All clear.”

He pushed himself away and stretched his back. “Alright, if you need me, you know where to find me.”

“Mulder, don’t…don’t stay on the couch tonight.”

He raised his brows slightly and pursed his lips.

“I’d rather you stayed close,” she said. “In case you need me.”

“Sure, doc.”

She slid into bed while he went out to turn off the lights in the other room. When he came back in, he turned off the lamp on the bedside table before climbing in beside her. She watched the shadows on the while, her back to him, as he settled. She heard him groan softly and she looked back over her shoulder as he rolled to his side.

“Mulder?”

“Can’t really lay on my back right now.”

“Oh, no I guess you couldn’t.”

“This is good though.”

“Good night.”

“Night. Hey, Scully?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we should have a password?”

“A password?”

“Yeah, so if any other shapeshifting weirdos show up on our doorstep we just ask for the password.”

She smiled and then quietly chuckled. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”

There were a few beats of silence. “How about, Berwood?”

That got a bigger laugh from her and when she rolled back to look at him, her shoulder bumped his chest. She hadn’t realized he was that close. “I like it,” she said.

“Good night, Scully.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

She slept miraculously well that night. So well, she didn’t even wake up until after nine, much to her surprise and horror. Upon rolling over in an empty bed and seeing the fuzzy numbers on the alarm clock, she sat straight up. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so late. Quickly, she shut herself in the bathroom to comb her hair and brush her teeth. Her stomach was rumbling though and she could smell coffee percolating and so getting dressed was put on the backburner.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Mulder greeted as she crept out into the living room.

“Good morning. Why’d you let me sleep so late?”

“I wasn’t aware you wanted a wake-up call.” He snapped the newspaper in his hands to turn a page “There’s coffee and bagels in the kitchen. Or…”

“Or?”

His eyes moved down to her toes and then back up. “It’s not room service, and you’d have to get dressed, but I can take you out to breakfast.”

“You haven’t eaten?” She stepped towards him. “Are you feeling nauseated? How’s your head?”

“I wanted to wait for you and my head is fine.” He dodged her as she tried to give him another inspection. “No thanks to you poking around back there.”

She backed away and then considered his offer for a moment and then reluctantly shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, really, but I need to get home so my door can get fixed.”

He looked disappointed and he actually felt disappointed herself. She would actually really like to go to breakfast with him, maybe even spend the day with her. The more time they spent together outside of work, the more she found herself looking forward to it, even pining for it a little.

Before she got dressed, she had one cup of coffee and half of a bagel. Mulder ate the other half, loaded with both cream cheese and jelly. She knew it was time to leave when her brain started to tell her to do foolish things, like consider the fact that they’re married and it would be okay to kiss the dab of strawberry jelly off the corner of his mouth.

He walked her to his door, carrying her overnight bag over his shoulder. An awkward silence fell over them as she took her bag, but didn’t open the door. She didn’t know why she did it, but she suddenly put her arms around his middle and squeezed.

“What was that for?” he asked, when she pulled away.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, well…” He paused and then pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek and then her mouth.

“What was that for?” she whispered.

“I wanted to?”

“Okay.” Her tailbone bumped the door handle as she took a step back and she winced. She reached back to rub the sting out of it, but Mulder had already put an arm around her and his fingers were softly circling her spine.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she squeaked.

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Uh huh.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

“Have a good weekend.”

“You too.”

And still, she hadn’t opened the door. Finally, she turned away and he was so close to her when she did manage to unlock and open his door that her back was pressed to his chest. He stepped through the threshold with her and stood in the hall as she made her way to the elevator.

She stayed in a fog on the drive home, lost in her thoughts about what she and Mulder were doing. She’d long ago learned to suppress her feelings for him out of pure necessity. Back in the early days of their partnership, when he was only Spooky Mulder of profiler lore, the agent whose work she was sent down to debunk and dismantle, he had still been attractive to her. Where others were off-put by his boldness, by his unabashed determination and unwavering commitment to his principles, she had admired him for it. In very little time, had even loved him for it.

She loved him. That much she could admit, maybe could say it out loud, if pressured, but what she still had trouble reconciling with was the fact that she was possibly in love with him. Every time the question came up in her own thoughts, she would immediately shy away from the thought. It wasn’t possible to be in love with him. No. Even if she was, she couldn’t be. She just couldn’t be.

That weekend she decided that they couldn’t play this game any more. It was too dangerous, it was too confusing, it was too crazy. They needed to get back to keeping a professional distance from each other. The marriage meant nothing. It was just an act of protection and ‘they’ could either believe in it or not, but the legal piece of paper was all that mattered, not who they fooled in the process. Only the signed contract mattered.

That’s what she was going to tell Mulder on Monday morning at work, but she never showed up at work. She went to her weekly doctor’s appointment first thing in the morning and there was some concern with her bloodwork and they wanted to keep her for more tests and more scans. She was in the hospital for the next four days, in which time she wrote and rewrote about a hundred versions of a resignation letter. As much as she wanted to work, and she desperately wanted to work, if her health was going to continue to be unpredictable, if it was going to decline, she needed to do the responsible thing and step away from being a field agent. She couldn’t have her partner’s back this way.

Mulder kept her informed on his latest case in dribs and drabs. His calls usually came late at night, when she was medicated and drowsy. Something about a dead postal worker, someone impersonating him, switched samples. She found that she was too cloudy to concentrate on the things he said. She was clear-headed though, when he anxiously insisted that his investigation had led him to smallpox.

“That’s not possible,” she told him. “Smallpox was eradicated over fifteen years ago.”

“According to the coroner, it’s an especially virulent strain caused by a mutated variola virus.”

“I want to see that report. I want to know how someone could contract a disease that doesn’t even exist anymore.”

“Bees.”

“What?”

“I’ve got a sample, a small vial containing bee stingers and venom sacs recovered subcutaneously from the latest victim’s face, arms, and neck.”

“Mulder, are you implying that bees are carrying smallpox?”

“I’m not just implying it, Scully. We’ve seen this before, you know we have. We just couldn’t get the proof of it.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know what to think, here.”

“Well, I know what I think. I think that somebody is trying to engineer a method of delivery for a disease that has killed more people throughout history than any other contagion known to humankind.”

“Who? Who could possibly want to do that, or have the means to? And for what purpose?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I really wish…nevermind.”

“What?”

“I was just going to say that, I really wish you were with me on this, but…”

“Send me the coroner’s report. I’ll…do what I can.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’d rather you focused on getting better. In fact, I probably shouldn’t have called. I won’t call again. I’ll wait until you’re back.”

“But-” She couldn’t protest because he’d already hung up on her.

Their relationship had always felt like it swung on a pendulum, reaching high points and low points on a fairly regular basis. The fact that it had mostly been in that high zone for some time should have been a warning sign of things to come.

Scully was cleared to go back to work the following week. She arrived early, even before Mulder, using her keys to open the basement door. Somehow, she expected their little office cave to look different, but it was the same. Files were piled on Mulder’s desk. Invoices were crumpled and scattered over his ink blotter. The message light was blinking on the phone, but she put her things down and booted up her laptop before she checked the voicemails.

The first call was from a ballistics tech, asking Mulder to be sure to complete the form he was sent for their evidence reporting requirements. The second was from a man named Dr. Goldstein returning Mulder’s call. The message itself made Scully frown.

“Mr. Mulder, this is Doctor Goldstein returning your call. To answer your question, yes I am the doctor who treated Amy Cassandra. I’d be happy to provide you with more information on the procedure and my approach to unlocking repressed memory. I won’t have any openings for new patients until next month, but we can always do the initial consultation by phone. The best time to reach me would be during my office hours at 401-555-3717. I look forward to hearing from you.”

Scully wrote down the phone number on a Post-It, but she also wrote down the doctor’s name and the name he mentioned, Amy Cassandra, on a separate piece of paper and took it back with her to her computer.

As she waited for Mulder to arrive at the office, she searched the FBI database for both names and then did an external search. She found an article on Amy Cassandra as well as several on Doctor Charles Goldstein. She grew hot and then clammy as she read the results. Her heart began to pound and she thought she might be sick with fury.

“You’re here early.”

She started at the sound of Mulder’s voice and stood up so fast she nearly knocked her chair over. The smile on his face faded when she faced him and he slowly took off his overcoat to hang on the rack.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“It is most certainly not alright,” she answered, as calmly as she could. She wanted to scream, she wanted to yell, she wanted to throw something at him.

He looked around as though trying to spot the source of her anger, as though he had nothing to be guilty of. She set her jaw and crossed her arms.

“I’m not sure what I did, but I’m sorry?” he said.

Scully picked up the pages of articles she’d printed out before his arrival and held them up, giving them a rough shake so the pages rattled. “You had a message this morning from a man named Doctor Goldstein,” she answered.

He didn’t respond. He just put one hand on his hip and rubbed the back of his head with the other.

“How dare you,” she hissed and he had the audacity to look annoyed. “I’ve told you, many times, I am not interested in regression hypnosis-”

“It’s not regression hypnosis,” he interrupted.

“Shut up.” She stepped up to him and slapped the papers against his chest. “This is the last time I’m going to tell you this. I don’t want to remember. Whatever happened is already killing me and reliving that trauma won’t help.”

“Not everything is about you, Scully.” His expression darkened as he echoed what she’d told him mere months ago and he ripped the papers out of her hand, taking a step back and away from her.

“Then what are you doing contacting doctors who claim to treat repressed memories from alien abduction? What are you doing trying to make appointments for consultations and treatment?”

“I have things in my own life I need to remember. Things I need clarity on.”

“This is…this is about your sister?”

“This is about what I need to know.”

Her anger subsided somewhat and quickly morphed into concern. “Mulder, you can’t possibly believe this doctor can help you.”

“He helped Amy Cassandra.”

“The woman in the article. You’ve spoken to her?”

“Yes.”

“What did she tell you?”

“That it works.” He shook his head slightly and moved past her towards his desk, but she caught his arm and held him with as strong of a grip as she could. She tried to think of something to say, but words failed her.

As Scully stood in silence, Mulder wrenched his arm away from her to go to his desk. She stayed standing in the middle of the room, shocked, but also feeling awkward and embarrassed by her assumption. Her anger had dissipated, but his clearly hadn’t. Then again, she’d provoked him before he even walked through the door though, so she supposed his lashing out was somewhat deserved.

“Mulder, I…I apologize for jumping to conclusions.”

He ignored her while he booted up his computer and flipped through a few pieces of mail stacked in his inbox. She took a deep, steadying breath and took a few quiet steps over to the front of his desk, resting her fingertips on the edge. He continued to ignore her while he clicked his mouse and stared at his monitor. Finally she sat down in her own chair and tried to concentrate on her email. A few minutes later, the printer behind Mulder started spitting out paper and he turned to grab the printout. Suddenly, he got up, turned off his monitor and then breezed past her to grab his jacket.

“Where are you going?” she asked, turning in her chair.

“Angie’s Midnight Bowl across town.”

“You’re…going bowling?”

He handed her the piece of paper he’d pulled from his printer. “New case. You can come with me or meet me there.” And with that he left, leaving her to decide if she would catch up with him or find her own way.

She hesitated too long and by the time she got to the parking garage, Mulder’s car was gone. She read what he’d given her on her way to the car. It was simply an email from a detective Mulder knew from DCPD sending him a snippet of a report of a murder that had occurred the night before outside the bowling alley, except the owner insisted he’d seen the dead woman minutes before, stuck inside the machinery of the pinsetters. When she did arrive at the bowling lane, she was given a pair of bowling shoes at the check in desk and her partner was pointed out to her down at one of the far left lanes, speaking with an older man.

Their recent fight was difficult to shake off. She tried to push it aside and put on her professional mask and for the most part, she could, but as soon as Mulder started up with his theories on ‘disembodied souls’ and ‘what the Irish call a fetch,’ she had a hard top keeping her eyes from rolling outside of her head. Even the bowling alley manager seemed to think he was crazy when he poured a cup of soda onto the lane to reveal the words SHE IS ME etched into the wood. She almost felt like he’d pulled the case on purpose just to piss her off. She also felt like they were on a wild goose chase, going from the bowling alley, to a briefing session, to a psychiatric hospital.

By the end of the day, she was emotionally spent, which explained the headache she had and the sudden nosebleed she got while she was reading the file of Harold Spuller, one of the patients that Mulder suspected some kind of involvement in with their case. She excused herself to go to the bathroom and while she was there washing her hands, when she looked up, the words SHE IS ME were written in blood on the mirror. An icy chill ran down her back and she turned to find the ghostly image of a young woman standing before her with her throat slashed.

She closed her eyes and the woman was gone when she opened them, as were the words in the mirror. Seconds later, Mulder knocked on the door to inform her that there’d been another murder. On the drive over, she kept replaying what she’d seen in the bathroom and then reminded herself that she was tired, recently out of the hospital, that her mind was playing tricks on her because what she saw wasn’t real.

Still, it spooked her in a way she hadn’t been before. She wasn’t just afraid that her mind was playing tricks on her, but that it was playing tricks on her for a reason. Her doctors had assured her that her tumor was progressing very slowly, but what if they were wrong? What if none of the stabilizing medications or the close monitoring was doing a single thing?

And then she arrived at the crime scene to find that the murder victim was the woman she’d just seen standing in an empty bathroom. She felt sick to her stomach and lightheaded. Woozily, she walked over to Mulder to tell him she was headed to the hospital. In an instant, the animosity he’d directed at her all day was replaced with visible concern.

“Do you want me to drive you?” he asked.

“No,” she answered. “No, I’m fine. Really. I’ve had the doctors keep a close watch, it’s just a precaution.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m fine.” She was trembling all over as she said it and she wasn’t as steady on her feet as she would have liked as she walked past him. Her palms were sweaty and her heart rate picked up and by the time she got to her car, she felt like she was having trouble breathing.

As she sat in her car, trying to calm herself down enough to drive, there was a soft knock on her window. She jumped and her fingers tightened painfully around the steering wheel. Mulder opened the door and then crouched down beside her.

“Scully?” He used the gentle and soft voice with her that he usually reserved for trauma victims. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

She was unable to speak. It was too hard to even breathe. She shook her head just slightly and he reached up and put his hand flat on her chest, over her heart.

“Scully, I think you’re having a panic attack.”

She nodded and then gasped for a breath.

“Look at me.” When she didn’t move, he pulled her hand free from the steering wheel and squeezed it hard. “Come on, honey, look at me.”

Mulder shifted to put himself in her line of sight and then she was able to turn her eyes towards him. He nodded and then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She did the same.

“Good,” he said. “In. Out.”

She focused on the way he nodded his chin up to inhale and then dropped it down to exhale and eventually her breathing started to slow and her heart rate also dropped. Her hands were clammy and she felt a chill as sweat cooled on her back. Little by little, she was able to relax and sink back into her seat.

“Can you stand?” he asked. She nodded and he helped her out of the car and walked her around to the passenger door.

He drove to the hospital, reaching over and taking her hand at the first red light they came to. She gave him a small, reassuring squeeze, but then curled up close to the door, exhausted. They were both unusually quiet. She was lost in her own thoughts and so was he. Without a word, he helped her from the car and kept a hand on the small of her back as she led the way to the oncology unit to check in with the nurse’s station. He stayed with her when she was sent into a lab room while they called down the phlebotomist to draw her blood. Scully sat in the drawing chair with her forearms resting lightly on the wide padded arms, jacket draped across her lap, and Mulder straddled a backless rolling chair. He pushed himself back and forth, always unable to sit still.

“You don’t need to wait with me,” Scully said.

“Don’t worry, I checked my social calendar earlier and it turns out I have no pressing engagements, so I’m good.” He rolled from one side of the room and then spun around in the chair to face her. “Listen, Scully, about this morning…”

“Mulder, I don’t want to-”

“I just want to apologize,” he interrupted. “That’s all. I’m just sorry that…sorry for…”

“You’re sorry I found out.” The way he twisted his lips and squinted his eyes told her she was right. She closed her tired eyes and sighed, shaking her head a little. “Mulder go home.”

“What?”

“Go home. I don’t need you here.”

Mulder stared at her, his mouth opening and closing. Finally, he clenched his jaw and rolled himself up right in front of her. He put his hands down alongside hers and curled his fingers around the back of her elbows. She tried to look away, but was held captive by his gaze and could barely blink, let alone turn her eyes.

His bottom lip plumped and folded as he pushed his chin forward to speak and she held her breath. “Maybe I-”

“You must be Dana,” a young woman in standard issue pale blue scrubs said. “This should only take a few minutes.”

Scully jumped and blinked. She looked away, discreetly moving her right hand up to wipe the stinging from her eyes.

“I’ll wait outside,” Mulder said, sliding his hand down along her left arm as he stood and pushed the rolling chair aside with his foot.

The phlebotomist took a few minutes to prepare to draw Scully’s blood and when it was over, Scully pulled her jacket on and then went to look for Mulder. She found him at the other end of the hall, feeding quarters into a vending machine. He held up a package of M&Ms at her in question and she shook her head.

“They give you a cookie and a juice box before you left?” he asked.

“Not even a lollipop,” she answered.

“That’s too bad. When will you…hear back?”

“I should get the results tomorrow. I’m sure it’s fine.”

He nodded and they both stood quietly, uncomfortably. Neither seemed eager to return to their earlier conversation, but then it gave them nothing to say.

“I’ll drive you home,” Mulder finally said.

“Actually, I…” She stopped. For the first time in a long time, she felt like going to church, but she didn’t want Mulder to know that. “I’m feeling better. I’m okay to drive myself.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I can take you back to the crime scene or…”

“I’ll just catch a cab.”

He walked her out and walked her to her car. She glanced at him in her rear view mirror a few times as she drove out of the parking lot. There was a church in her neighborhood that she’d never been to, but driven past many times. The doors were unlocked and aside from an older man who was kneeling at one of the front pews in prayer, there was no one else there. She headed towards the confessional, but then stopped short and sat down in one of the pews instead. Almost as soon as she’d sat down, the older man in the front ambled to his feet and then shuffled over to the votive stand and lit a candle. Moments later, he shuffled away and she heard the echo of the door open and close and then she was alone.

As a child, she loved going to Mass. She hated having to dress up and hated how her Mary Janes had always pinched her feet and the starched collars of her dresses strangled her and her hands would sweat inside the white gloves her mother had made her wear, but she’d loved being inside the church, loved the ritual of kneeling and praying and the grown-up feeling it gave her to respond accordingly when the priest closed the Lord’s Prayer. ‘Peace be with you.’ She remembered her small hand in her father’s big hand, murmuring ‘and with you’ with the rest of the congregation, buoyed by a sense of belonging.

By the time she was a teenager, blind faith wasn’t enough for her. She had questions that no one wanted to answer, because they couldn’t answer, and going to church had started to make her feel angry. When she tried to extricate herself from the obligation, her mother had refused to allow it. At thirteen, she remembered furiously scouring the bible for any passages that might support her argument that God didn’t care if she went to church or not. When she found it, she had slammed the book down in front of her mother one evening and stabbed her finger at the page so hard it nearly ripped.

“Matthew, chapter six, verses five through eight,” she said. “When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, who love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on street corners so that others may see them. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you.”

Her mother had been clipping coupons at the time, a week’s worth of newspapers and magazines spread out at the table before her. She had scissors in one hand and a half-smoked cigarette pinched between her index and third fingers on the other hand. She would quit smoking just a few years later. She looked up at her daughter and Scully had been chilled by her expression. There was no anger, no disappointment, only sheer disdain.

“You win, Dana,” was all her mother had said, and then she’d stubbed her cigarette into the ashtray and got up from the table.

Scully’s chin had begun to wobble and she’d closed the bible and then pulled it up to her chest, hugging it like a teddy bear. She was sure her mother hated her. She felt so guilty about her behavior she’d kept attending Mass even long after her siblings had managed to free themselves. It wasn’t until she’d left for college that she finally felt like she could stop. Ironically, it was her recruitment to the FBI that brought her back.

It’s not like she’d lost her faith in those years, she just didn’t find it necessary to attend church regularly. On being offered the job as a bureau pathologist, she found herself right back in Mass every Sunday, saying prayers for the souls of the victims she’d autopsied, prayers for their loved ones to find peace, and prayers for justice to be served. That familiar sense of belonging to something bigger that she’d had as a child was a comfort to her as she spent her days in and around death.

A door opened and clanged shut somewhere, echoing loudly in the empty church. An elderly priest emerged from the sacristy and nodded to her. She bowed her head in return and then raised her eyes when she heard him approach.

“Would you mind if I sat with you for a moment?” he asked.

“No, Father,” she answered, sliding over in the pew to give the priest some space.

He sat down with a soft groan and then patted his knees and smiled. “I’m afraid the old bones aren’t what they used to be. I’m Father Llewellyn, but everyone calls me Father Lew.”

“Dana.”

“You look troubled, Dana.”

“I am troubled, Father,” she said.

“Would you like to share what’s troubling you?”

Maybe Scully had been influenced by too many black and white movies lately with Mulder, but the priest reminded her of Cary Grant, just with white hair and a ruddy complexion. He had a benevolent smile that made her feel at ease. Still, it took her a few moments to answer. She sat up a little straighter and then rubbed her palms against the curve of her knees.

“Several months ago, I was diagnosed with a cancerous mass,” she told him. “A nasopharyngeal tumor that can’t be operated on and…can’t be treated by conventional medicine.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, my child.”

“I don't mean for it to sound too dire. My health has been good. I’ve had checkups on a weekly basis. It’s just that…I saw something tonight, and I don’t know if I can trust that it wasn’t influenced by stress or the power of suggestion, but I…had a vision.”

“You had a vision?”

“I think so.”

“What did you see?”

“I work for the FBI. My partner and I were called to a crime scene and the murder victim…I had a vision of what appeared to be that same woman before we were called down there. I think she was trying to tell me something.”

“Do you know what?”

“No.”

“Have you had visions such as these before?”

Scully frowned a little and her brows came together. She thought of the night that her father had died, how she’d woken to find him sitting in the chair across from her, opening his mouth to speak, but no words came. And of the time that Mulder had come to her in her dreams, reassuring her that he was still alive when he’d been given up for dead.

“I don’t think God is speaking to me,” Scully said. “If that’s what you’re trying to tell me.”

“No, but you said you thought that stress or the power of suggestion had a hand in what you saw. I’m wondering if there’s an established pattern for your concerns.”

“Oh.” She nodded and looked down at her hands. “Just strange dreams, nothing while I was awake. Not like this.”

“Well, the mind does play terrible tricks on us at times.”

“I know that. Lately I guess I’ve just been feeling like…like I can’t trust myself. Like I can’t trust my own judgment.”

“Whose judgment do you trust?”

She shook her head, at a loss.

“You have friends?” he asked. “Family? A husband?”

“I’m…” She glanced up at the crucifix hanging over the altar. It was one thing to lie to herself about her situation, another to lie to a priest, in a church. “I haven’t been a very good friend or daughter or sister in the past few years. I’ve made other things a priority, namely my work, and I think…I know it’s damaged those relationships. I’m…I am married, but...”

“Has your relationship with your husband been damaged as well?”

“No.” She almost laughed, but just gave a soft snort. “No, my…he’s always been the most understanding. The most supportive. I know he’s concerned though.”

“Have you confided in him?”

“About what?”

“Your fears. Your visions. I’ve counseled many couples through challenging times and one of the most common causes of disconnect that I’ve been able to observe is a breakdown in communication. A fear of sharing fears. I know it can be quite difficult.”

“Yes.”

“I should remind you though that you’re never alone. God is always with you and you can always talk to Him.”

“Thank you, Father.”

The priest turned and gestured for her hand. She gave it to him and he held it between his own and then closed his eyes. “Father, I ask that you look with mercy upon those that are suffering that they be comforted by you. I ask that you heal them and protect them and that when they should be fearful, ease their fears and give them your strength and your courage. When they feel that they are alone, show them that you are with them. Direct and reassure when they are confused, ease their suffering when they are in pain, and if they despair, please Father, give them hope. We ask this in your holy name. Amen.”

“Amen,” Scully whispered.

Before he opened his eyes, Father Lew squeezed Scully’s hand between his own and then crossed himself. “You’ll be in my prayers, my child,” he said.

“Thank you, Father.”

He held onto the back of the pew and got up with the same soft groan as when he sat down. “Sunday is Easter,” he said. “You’d be welcome here at Mass.”

She bit her lip for a moment. She hadn’t realized Easter was approaching. Her mother usually called well beforehand to cajole her into attending, but she hadn’t heard from her.

“Thank you,” she said. “But, I normally take my mother to Easter Mass. She attends Saint John’s in Bethesda.”

“Hm.” Father Lew closed his eyes for a moment and turned his face up. “Father McCue? Is he still there?”

“Yes, you know him?”

“We’ve attended retreats together over the years. Be sure to give him my best.”

“I will.”

The priest shuffled away and Scully was alone again. She only stayed a few minutes longer before she got up and left. She drove home feeling lighter and less burdened, but tired. She called her mother when she got home, but there was no answer and she left a message on the machine to ask her about Easter Mass.

The next morning the phone rang as she was getting ready. It was her mother, thrilled that she wanted to join her for Mass. The call was brief, but Scully was put at ease by it. There was no awkwardness at all, just a pleasant exchange and a plan to meet at her mother’s house and see you soon.

She also got a call on her way to work from her doctor, letting her know that her blood tests were fine and they could consider anxiety medication if she continued to have attacks. Scully promised to think about it, but she didn’t feel like it was necessary.

Mulder was already in the office when she arrived, but the phone calls had made her a little later than usual. It looked like he’d been there for some time. His jacket was off and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. He had a book in one hand and a pencil behind his ear. When he looked up at her, it was almost as though he was surprised to see her.

“Good morning,” she said, ignoring his gaze and booting up her computer.

“Good morning,” he answered. “Everything…okay?”

“Everything’s fine. You’ve been here for awhile?”

He shrugged. “Not that it’s done me any good. I was planning to head back down to the bowling alley to look for Harold Spuller, but it doesn’t open for another hour.”

“You still think he’s involved?”

“I’d like to ask him a few questions.”

“You think he’s capable of answering?”

“Only one way to find out.” He closed the book in his hand and shelved it in an empty slot above the door. “You saw yourself how he reacted when we asked if he knew what ‘she is me’ meant.”

Scully gave a vague nod. She thought about her conversation the night before with the priest and the fear of sharing her fears. “Mulder, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

She turned in her chair and tried to meet his eyes, but kept her gaze low. “I saw something last night. The latest victim. I saw her in the bathroom before you came to tell me about the murder. And ‘she is me’ was written on the mirror.”

“Is that what had you so spooked?” He leaned against the front of his desk and frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I don’t know what to believe.” She put her hands over her face and rubbed at her forehead with her fingertips.

“Scully, I need you to be honest with me.”

“I am being honest with you.” She looked up and frowned at him. “It’s not possible, Mulder. It’s stress or, or you know that tumors can cause hallucinations if the optic nerve is compressed and…”

He stood up quickly. “Has something changed in your scans? I thought…”

“No, I’m just…the doctor said I was fine.”

“Scully, if you need to take time, you should take time.”

“So I can stay at home and wallow in the fact that I’m dying?”

Mulder sucked in a breath and then they both looked away from each other. He shoved his hands in his pockets and paced the room. She closed her eyes and then breathed in and then out, in and out.

“I’ve written dozens of resignation letters in the past few weeks,” she whispered. “I lose my nerve every time I try to submit one of them because I’m afraid of what will become of me if I let go of the one thing that keeps me going right now. But…sooner or later we’re both going to have to accept that I’m probably a danger to myself, and to you.”

“No,” he said, coming to her and taking her shoulders in his hands. “Take some time. Find a different treatment. You’re not dying, you’re going to get better.”

“Now who’s not being honest?”

He dropped his hands from her shoulders and took a step back. She got up and smoothed her skirt down. She felt flushed and her eyes were glassy, but she blinked her tears away and went to grab her overcoat. There was more to be said, she knew, but she didn’t want to do it in the office.

“We should leave if we want to get to the bowling alley when it opens,” she said.

Mulder stared down at his feet until Scully picked up his jacket and brought it to him. She waited as he unrolled his shirtsleeves and buttoned his cuffs and then took the jacket from her. They didn’t say much on their way to the alley and then it was back to business for the both of them. They found Harold and brought him in for questioning, but didn’t get anywhere with him.

The lead investigator for the DCPD and Mulder clashed about how Harold fit into the murders. DCPD was ready to charge him, but Mulder had other ideas. He led Harold and the investigators back to the bowling alley and while they were all in the narrow hall behind the pinsetters, facing thousands of score cards that Harold had memorized, he started screaming and rushed out of the hall. Mulder went after him, followed by Scully, followed by the officers that had joined them. In the front of the alley, the manager was on the floor, lips blue and eyes rolled into the back of his head. One of the officers that had stayed behind was giving him CPR.

“Let me through, I’m a doctor!” Scully called.

“He just keeled over,” the officer said, panting slightly. “A heart attack or something.”

“No no no no no!” Harold cried.

Scully felt the man’s neck for a pulse, but found none. She looked back at Mulder who had his hand on Harold’s shoulder and shook her head. An ambulance arrived minutes later and Mulder pulled Scully to the side.

“I think that Harold saw an apparition of his boss when we were back in that hallway, a preminatory vision of his death, and that’s why he ran out,” he said.

“Mulder…”

“Just hear me out.”

“We were all standing right there, no one else saw anything.”

“Because we don’t have that kind of connection.”

“Connection to what, exactly?”

“I don't know its exact nature, but I think it has something to do with his autism. I think that Harold experienced a profound attachment to these victims, but because of his disability he was unable to express the depth and power of those relationships, so somehow a psychic or preconscious bond was formed that went beyond the temporal.”

“But, you know he’s not the only one that’s seen things. The 911 callers from the first two victims. His boss…” She paused and glanced around, afraid of being overheard. “Me.”

Mulder bit his lip and nodded. “I know that, but I think there’s a common link there too.”

“What kind of link?”

“The first caller suffered from emphysema. The second, cancer.” He looked over at the EMTs who were loading the body of the manager onto a gurney. “Heart disease…”

Scully swallowed. “And a nasopharyngeal tumor.”

Mulder puffed his cheeks and then exhaled a puff of air. “Was there anything at all in Harold’s file that indicated he had any medical conditions beyond his disabilities?”

“No.”

“I think we need to go back to the center and talk to his doctors.”

“Mulder…” She grabbed his arm before he could turn away from her and held on. “If…if you’re right about this, you know what it would mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything other than there’s a connection.”

“Will it help find the killer?”

“I don’t know.”

They brought a distraught Harold back to his resident psychiatric center. The staff psychologist had been alerted ahead of time about his boss’ death and was prepared to help calm and console Harold upon his return. They were met by a nurse who said she’d be giving him his meds and would see him to his room.

Shortly after they left to find the doctor, they heard screaming from down the hall. Both of them raced back the way they came and discovered the nurse on the ground, a cut on her head. She seemed dazed and woozy and told them that Harold had attacked her and ran off. Scully wanted to examine the nurse, but she brushed her off and said she would go clean up on her own.

“I’m gonna go look for Harold,” Mulder said.

“Not without backup.”

“He’s not the killer, Scully.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t think he meant to harm that nurse, it was a superficial wound. That’s not the work of a murderer.”

“Then why did he do it?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” He glanced over Scully’s shoulder and then bent his neck towards her. “I think you should talk to the roommate.”

“Be careful.”

Mulder nodded and cupped her cheek before he walked away. She turned and glanced out into the hall where Harold’s roommate lingered. He scurried away as soon as she made eye contact with him and she followed him down the hall to his room.

“Chuck, isn’t it?” she asked him.

“Uh huh.” He nodded profusely and then spelled his full name for her.

“You share this room with Harold, don’t you?”

“He’s my friend.”

“Do you know where he is, Chuck?”

“He’s dying, isn’t he?”

Scully hesitated. “Why would you say that?”

“Nurse Innes is trying to poison him.”

“How do you know that?”

“Harold told me. He said she told him she was putting poison in his medication, so he hasn’t been taking it.”

“Harold told you he hasn’t been taking his medication?”

“Harold’s my friend and he wouldn’t hurt anybody.”

“I know he is Chuck, but that’s not what I asked. Are you sure that Harold isn’t taking his medication?”

“I’m only a human being!” Chuck cried and then lifted his shoulders bashfully and bowed his head. “He really loved them, you know.”

“Who?”

Chuck went over to a small nightstand and opened the drawer. He took out a book and handed it to Scully. She opened the book and she had to react quickly to catch a set of photographs that slipped out. She went through them one by one. All the victims were there, plus more.

“Harold gave them to me,” Chuck said. “He was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“That Nurse Innes would take them away again.”

“Nurse Innes knows about these?”

Chuck dipped his head and spoke so low that Scully had to move closer to hear him. “She does bad things.”

“What kind of bad things?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know! I’m only a human being.” Chuck started to cry and then ran out of the room.

Scully pulled a plastic baggie from her pocket and put the small book and photos inside. She tried calling Mulder, but the reception in the ward was not great and she couldn’t get through, not even to leave a message. Following the signs, she headed to the ladies’ room, keeping her eyes open for Nurse Innes.

Slowly, Scully pushed open the door to the restroom. Nurse Innes was standing before the sink and she jumped as Scully entered and then appeared to hide something behind her back. Scully tried to act casual and not show any outward signs of suspicion.

“How are you feeling?” Scully asked.

“Oh, you know,” the nurse answered. “Shaky.”

“Understandable.”

“Working with these people starts driving you crazy too. I’m just looking forward to going home.”

Scully’s mouth twisted slightly and she tamped down her disgust. “Will your family be a comfort to you?”

“I live alone.”

“No children?” There was something in the woman’s hand and she stepped closer, trying to get a better look without being obvious about it.

“Just the one my husband ran off with.” A collection of pills fell from the nurse’s hand and skittered across the tile.

“Nurse Innes, I’m going to have to ask you to step outside with me.”

Suddenly, the woman snapped, wielding a scalpel above her head as she lunged at Scully, all the while growling and snarling like a rabid dog. Scully moved backwards and found herself pinned to the door. She struggled to gain the upper hand and grabbed the nurse’s arm as she tried to bring the scalpel down towards her throat. The woman then screeched in pain when Scully slammed her hand into the wall, forcing her to drop the scalpel. She blocked a punch and then grabbed Scully’s jacket and yanked her away from the door, sending her down to the ground and sliding across the floor.

As the nurse went to grab for the scalpel again, Scully whipped her gun out from her holster and pointed it at the woman’s head. “Stay where you are!” she screamed. “Drop it!”

Nurse Innes growled and lunged at Scully. From the ground, Scully squinted and fired one shot, hitting the nurse cleanly in the shoulder and sending her reeling backwards. Scully held the gun on the woman as she scrambled to her feet. She inched closer and then kicked the scalpel away from her reach. The nurse was slumped against the wall, legs sprawled out akimbo. Blood seeped from the wound on her shoulder, blooming in stark contrast with her white sweater. Moments later, Mulder burst through the door, the staff psychologist right behind him.

“Get a paramedic in here,” Scully ordered. “And call the DCPD.”

“Ask for Detective Hudak,” Mulder added.

The psychologist left and Mulder looked around, assessing the situation. “You’re bleeding,” he said to Scully, taking her free hand.

“She attacked me.”

Mulder glanced at the nurse and then moved over to where the scalpel lay on the floor and bent over it.

“You might want to bag that,” Scully said. “I’m pretty sure it’s the murder weapon?”

After the paramedics had tended to the wounded nurse and Detective Hudak had taken Scully’s statement and the evidence, Mulder walked his partner outside, a hand at the small of her back. The EMTs had bandaged the cut on her hand, but it still stung a little and she rubbed at it.

“How did you even suspect her?” Mulder asked. He hadn’t been in the room when Scully gave her statement to the police.

“When I talked to the roommate, he said that Harold had told him that Nurse Innes was poisoning him. I went to question her and she just went off. A tox screen will have to be run to be sure, but I suspect she’s actually been taking Harold’s meds. Clonazepam and Clozapine, the unregulated effects of which are violence and unpredictable behavior. What I can’t understand is why she’d kill those women, though.”

“Maybe in some drug-addled way, she was trying to kill happiness, Harold's happiness, his love for those women. Maybe she was trying to destroy something she thought she couldn’t have.”

“She is me,” Scully murmured. “Were you able to find Harold?”

“Yeah. DCPC found him in an alley a few blocks from here, face down on the pavement. They worked on him for twenty minutes but he couldn't be revived.”

“What happened?”

“Preliminary diagnosis is apnea or respiratory failure.”

“As a result of what?”

Mulder shrugged and shook his head. “The paramedics are at a loss to explain that, but if what you're saying is true, that Harold stopped taking his medications, then that could have been a factor in his death. At least in the visions that he was seeing.”

“But Harold Spuller wasn't dying, Mulder. He was killed as a result of what that woman took away from him.”

“Isn’t it the same thing?”

“No. I know you want to find a connection here, but-”

“I don’t,” he said, quickly, pulling Scully to a stop and stepping in front of her. “I don’t want there to be a connection.”

“This isn’t me being in denial. I don’t think there’s a connection, but I do think we’re going to have to come to terms with the inevitable.”

He shook his head.

“Mulder, I know what you’re afraid of. I’m afraid of the same thing.”

“Stop.”

“I’m not giving up,” she said. “But, I need to accept the fact that there’s going to come a point where I won’t be able to do this anymore. We both do. And I need you on my side in this because…you’re the only one I trust.” Her voice cracked and she turned her face away as tears suddenly flooded her vision.

Mulder pulled her in against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “I am on your side,” he murmured to her. “Always.”

She put her arms around his waist and he cupped the back of her head. She closed her eyes and the tears rolled down her cheeks and seeped into his shirt or dripped from her chin. He rocked her gently, resting his cheek on the top of her head. Finally, she opened her eyes and then gasped, jerking out of Mulder’s arms. Harold Spuller was standing next to them, silently staring.

“What?” Mulder asked, gripping her arms tightly. “What is it?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again. “Harold,” she said, turning to the left and then the right. “I saw him.”

Mulder looked momentarily stricken and then he pulled Scully close again. “We need to get out of here,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”

He was fidgety in the car and she was stoic. She thought about asking him to take her back to the Hoover where her car was, but she figured it was more trouble than it was worth and she would take a taxi or the Metro in the morning. He wanted to come up with her when they got to her apartment, but she assured him she was fine and would see him in the morning.

The next day in the office was awkward and they didn’t say much. Mulder worked on his report and she worked on hers and when she’d had enough, she wished him a nice weekend and went home.

On Saturday she did her usual household chores. On Sunday she went to Mass with her mother, where she was able to pass on Father Lew’s message to Father McCue and if he wondered how she crossed paths with the other priest, he didn’t say, but thanked her for coming and said he hoped to see more of her. She took her mother to lunch and they made small talk about what seemed like everything but her health. She found out that her brother, Bill, was going to be in town next month and her mother was planning a dinner party in his honor, which she agreed to attend. It wasn’t until she got home that evening that she realized she still hadn’t told her mother about her marriage. The one thing that Mulder asked of her. She needed to take care of that, but it had to be in person, not over the phone.

The next few weeks at work dragged by. She felt like Mulder was purposefully being discretionary about their cases, keeping them local and accepting assignments that could hardly be classified as x-files. She loaned herself out to Quantico on several occasions just to feel useful. And then Mulder called her on a Saturday morning.

She’d been thinking of going down to the cherry blossom festival parade, just for something to do, but the call came at 5:00 a.m. and as soon as she saw Mulder’s name on the caller ID, she knew she wouldn’t be doing anything remotely festive that day.

“I need you to come to Rhode Island,” Mulder said, in lieu of a greeting.

Scully shielded her eyes from the lamplight and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mulder, it’s five in the morning.”

“Amy Cassandra is dead. I need you up here.”

“Who?”

“The woman who was being treated by Doctor Goldstein for memory loss.”

“Oh.”

There was a long pause on Mulder’s end of the conversation. “You were right, Scully.”

“How was I right?”

“Providence PD called me last night. They’d found my card at the crime scene and wondered if the Cassandras were involved with a case. They think Amy killed her husband and then turned the gun on herself. Not only that, one of their own officers also shot himself after returning from the crime scene. He was also being treated by Doctor Goldstein.”

“What do you need me there for?”

“An autopsy on Amy Cassandra, and the officer. I want to interview Doctor Goldstein, and I’d like you there as well.”

“Alright, I’ll…I’ll see what I can do.”

“You think you’d be able to make a seven a.m. out of Regan?”

“I’m guessing you already booked it?”

“I took a chance.”

“I guess I’ll see you in a few hours then.”

“I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

Mulder appeared tired and disheveled when he met her at the Providence airport. There was stubble on his cheeks and his eyes were bloodshot. He filled her in on the investigation into the Cassandra’s deaths, but there wasn’t much to tell. The detective in charge of the case, Detective Curtis, believed it to be an open and shut murder-suicide, but he was begrudgingly humoring Mulder’s insistence that the deaths of an older couple, and of one of his officers, were somehow linked. He hoped the autopsy was going to provide some kind of evidence, but Doctor Goldstein’s involvement in treating both of the deceased, and the fact that both believed that they were alien abductees, was enough for him to agree to allow Scully to participate in the autopsies.

Mulder dropped Scully off at the medical examiner’s office where the autopsy of Amy Cassandra was just about to proceed. The officer’s autopsy was performed shortly thereafter. The medical examiner was gruff, but welcoming. He was focused on what killed the bodies on the table though, and Scully was interested in why. When the reports were done, Scully got a ride to the police station to meet back up with Mulder.

In a small interrogation room, Scully presented her partner, and Detective Curtis, with all the evidence she’d been able to gather as part of the autopsies.

“The toxicology report on Amy Cassandra and Officer Fazekas indicates the presence of Ketamine in their systems.”

“What is that?” Detective Curtis asked.

Scully took a glance at Mulder. “It’s a rapid-acting anesthetic that can cause hallucinations.”

“Well, that would explain some things.”

“Like what?”

“We found these in Mike’s place.” The Detective opened up his own file and showed Scully photographs of old pictures covering the dead man’s desk, the faces cut out and littered across the surface.

“But, evidence of the same obsessive behavior was also found in the Cassandra home,” Mulder added. “Paintings of the same cottage home, over and over, covering the walls.”

“So, Mike and Amy Cassandra had the same mental illness?”

“Possibly,” Scully said. “But, in addition to the Ketamine found in their systems, both your officer and Amy Cassandra had identical puncture wounds at the top of the frontal lobe, deep enough that they went through the cranium to the dura mater.”

“How did that happen?”

“That’s what we need to find out.”

“And why we need to speak with Doctor Goldstein,” Mulder said.

“According to what we know about Amy Cassandra she was being treated by this doctor in an effort to recover her past,” Scully explained. “I can't say definitively, but judging from the same repetitive behavior, the nearly identical suicides, and the fact that both were receiving the same psychiatric care, I believe that the victims might have been suffering from something called Waxman-Geschwind syndrome, the symptoms of which are trance-like states leading to vivid dreams about the past, dreams that are more detailed than the conscious mind can recall. It's also called Dostoyevsky syndrome because the Russian novelist was suffering from it, too.”

“Then, I guess that warrants a field trip down to Warwick so we can find out what this Doctor Goldstein has to say for himself,” Detective Curtis said.

“Wait,” Mulder said, shaking his head slowly. “Maybe that actually isn’t the best approach.”

“Mulder?”

“We go in asking questions, that’ll just tip him off that we’re looking into him. We need to know exactly what he does and how it works.”

“So, we get a warrant for his patient list and to search the place for this Ketamine or any other hallucinogens,” Detective Curtis said.

“You asked why Amy Cassandra had my information when you called me,” Mulder told the detective. “It’s because I was looking into Doctor Goldstein for myself. He already knows who I am and knows that I’m interested in what he has to do.”

“Mulder, no,” Scully said, the realization of what he was suggesting suddenly dawning on her.

“How else are we going to get the truth?”

“Which truth is that?” she asked, staring at him as hard as she could.

“What’s going on here?” Detective Curtis asked.

“I believe Agent Mulder is suggesting he be used as bait,” Scully said.

“Just an undercover assignment,” he argued. “A patient seeking treatment for the recovery of memories. I'll go in, let him treat me, then we’ll know.”

“I don’t like it,” Detective Curtis said, and Scully was momentarily relieved, until he finished his thought. “Not without a wire.”

“I’ll call him now,” Mulder said.

“Mulder…” Scully grabbed her partner’s elbow and pulled him to the side. “I need a word with you.”

“You can get a team together today, if need be?” Mulder asked.

“Sure can.” Detective Curtis nodded and then left the interrogation room, leaving Mulder and Scully alone.

“Mulder, you can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Two people are dead because of what this doctor has done to them.”

“That’s mere speculation until we actually know what he’s doing.”

“So let’s bring him in for questioning.”

“And do you think if he is doing something that got Amy Cassandra and Officer Fazekas killed, he’s just going to happily tell us all about it?”

“No, but-”

“Then he goes back to doing the same thing and more people end up getting killed. And then word gets out that we had a chance to stop him and did nothing. Is that what you want?”

“No.” She dropped her head into her hand for a few moments and rubbed her brow.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the wall. “Come on, Scully, I’ve walked into more dangerous situations than this one before. We both have. What’s the problem?”

“Because I don’t think stopping this doctor is your main goal here.” The way he averted his eyes told her all she needed to know. “I promise you, Mulder, this is not the way to the truth. It would appear that all this doctor is offering is a more reckless version of an acid trip.”

“Scuse me while I kiss the sky.”

“Dammit, Mulder,” she husked. “If you’re not going to listen to me as a doctor, then as…as your wife, I would beg you, do not even consider this. It is dangerous, it is life-threatening, it is not worth it.”

“And I thought we couldn’t use that as a bargaining tool,” he murmured, pushing himself away from the wall and starting to walk away from her.

“Mul-”

“You’ve made your point.”

“No, I haven’t.” She grabbed his arm and yanked hard, bringing him back to face her. “I’m…I’m doing everything possible to hold on and make use of the time I have left and it’s like you’re actively trying to find a way to…you’re just unappreciative of the fact that you have all the time in the world and I…I can’t stand by and watch.”

Mulder’s face took on a myriad of emotions as she spoke. Surprise, hurt, confusion, and then finally went blank. He slumped down in one of the plastic chairs and then grabbed Scully’s hands and pulled her into the chair in front of him and bent his head low to hers.

“None of us know how much time we have, Scully,” he said. “We are dying from the minute we’re born and it’s not like someone slapped us with an expiration date so we can look at our watches and think oh, ten years left, better get to that thing I said I was going to do and haven’t started yet. You might think of it as careless, but I am actually deeply, profoundly, very much in appreciation of the fact that there is a fine point on life. What I am actively doing is trying to find a way not to waste the time I have because if I leave this place without having gotten anywhere closer to the truth than where I started, then what was it all for?”

It was hard to hold his gaze while he spoke, but impossible not to. His face was so close and his head was tipped just so that even if she tried to look away, he’d still be there. She could feel his breath on her cheek and the low rumble of his voice gave her goosebumps.

“And I know what you’re going to say,” he continued, bowing his head just a little and shaking it back and forth slightly. “But, Mulder, you may never know the truth. I know that. I know and I’m…I can’t give up. I won’t give up. And if I die trying, well…at least I tried.”

She couldn’t think of any response to that, so she stayed silent. Mulder sighed and his forehead came to rest against hers. She felt tears building and it stung her nose. When there was a soft knock on the door, she jumped and Mulder pulled back. She quickly turned her head to the side to swipe her knuckles along her eyes.

“We trying this undercover idea?” Detective Curtis asked.

“Yeah,” Mulder said.

Scully kept her face turned away while Mulder placed the call to the doctor. He apologized for not having called him back, but said he was in town on business for the day and wondered if he could see him. An appointment was made for an hour from then and Detective Curtis gave a thumbs up.

The plan was simple and that should have made Scully feel better, but it didn’t. Mulder was to ask the doctor about his treatment, let him get started, and when the officers outside listening had heard enough, they would swoop in and arrest him. She had to trust in this detective and this police force that they wouldn’t act too slowly.

As Scully watched Mulder getting hooked up to the comms unit in a van across from the doctor’s office, she thought of the Modell case. “Let me have your service weapon,” she said to him. He crouched down in front of her like he had the time before and put his gun in her hands and lingered. She touched his face and he turned his head so that her hand slid across his jaw and her thumb was pressed to his lips.

“Be careful,” she mouthed. He nodded and then stood back up.

“Testing,” he said. “This thing on?”

“Hear you loud and clear, Agent Mulder,” the comms officer said.

Mulder left then and headed across the street. Scully took up a pair of headphones from the bench and listened to the sound of Mulder breathing as he took the stairs up to the doctor’s second floor office and then checked in with the receptionist. When he finally got in with the doctor, Scully straightened, on high alert. The conversation was slightly muffled, but clear.

“You must be Mr. Mulder, please have a seat.”

“I apologize again for not having called you back before. I travel a lot for work and I’d been out of town.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright. Tell me, what brings you here to me.”

“A few months ago I’d read the feature on Amy Cassandra in Abductee Quarterly and how your treatment had helped her recover her memories.”

“Have you been abducted, Mr. Mulder?”

“Not me. My sister. I was twelve when it happened, she was eight. I was there, but all I can recall is a bright light.”

“I see.”

“It’s been…a struggle for me these past twenty-five years. I don’t sleep much, or well. Sometimes I feel…desperate for answers.”

“I understand. I can certainly help with that.”

“How?”

“The treatment I offer is an aggressive method to access buried or repressed memories.”

“What do you mean by aggressive?”

“I use a method of therapy that simulates an electrical impulse in the brain, using light and sound.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, there’s a little more to it than that, but it helps to trigger those deep-seated memories and bring them forth. And as a nice bonus, after undergoing treatment, most of my patients report that they experience periods of extreme happiness and creativity.”

“I’d like to try it.”

“We can do it now, if you like.”

“Now?”

“It won’t take more than fifteen minutes.”

“That sounds great. What do I need to do?”

“Just follow me.”

There was shuffling and the sound of a door opening and closing. The rustle of protective paper for an exam table and a cabinet banging shut. Scully had her bottom lip between her teeth, waiting for more conversation.

“Any allergies, Mr. Mulder?”

“Codeine.”

“And are you currently on any medications?”

“No.”

“Very good.”

“What is that? What is Ketamine?”

“It’s an anesthetic.”

“And it has to be injected?”

“I’m afraid so, it's intramuscular.”

“Okay. Sorry, I just don’t like needles very much. And then what does it do?”

“Then you’ll wear this mask over your eyes and there’ll be a pulsating light and you’ll hear a high-pitched sound wave.”

“But, why the anesthetic?”

“I need to administer an electrical impulse to your brain by drilling a small hole at the frontal lobe.”

“Doctor Goldstein, is that safe?”

“Perfectly safe. Go ahead and lie back, Mr. Mulder. You’ll be feeling better soon.”

At the sound of a drill firing up, Scully threw her headphones down and burst out of the van. She heard detective Curtis order his team to gain entry and she watched the officers that were stationed just outside the office bust through the door, shouting at people to stay where they were, to stop what they were doing, to put their hands in the air. She took the stairs two at a time and by the time she’d made it into the interior of the exam room where Doctor Goldstein was being handcuffed, Mulder was being pulled to his feet. He was too unsteady and he crashed back down to the chair as his legs collapsed under him. A trickle of blood oozed its way down from his forehead to his brow.

“We need a medic,” Scully ordered. “Get a medic in here now!”

“‘mfine,” Mulder slurred.

“Mulder, you are not fine. Sit still.” She cast her eyes over the small exam room, looking for cotton or gauze to staunch the blood with, but there was nothing there and she wouldn’t leave his side.

Finally, the EMTs arrived with their bags and she watched like a hawk as they checked Mulder’s vitals and cleaned his head. The wound was superficial and small and once cleaned, did not even require a Band-aid. He still appeared woozy to her, though, and agitated. As soon as they cleared him, Mulder grabbed her hand.

“I need to get to Quonochontaug,” he told her.

“What?”

“We have a home there, I need to get there.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s something locked in my head and I need to get it out.”

Scully hesitated. The knowledge that she still had possession of his weapon made it a little easier when she acquiesced and told him she would drive them there. She felt a little guilty slipping out on the investigation, but neither Detective Curtis or his team seemed to pay them any mind as they left.

It was night by the time Scully pulled into the driveway of a dark cabin in a heavily wooded neighborhood. Mulder had mumbled directions to her once they’d gotten off the highway and had said little else on the hour-long drive, but he rolled his head back and forth a lot and put his fists to his eyes at times. It was so dark that Scully kept the headlights of the car on so that they could find their way to the front door where Mulder tipped over a potted plant and picked up a rusted key from underneath. His hands shook as he tried to open the door and she took the key from him to do it herself.

Inside, it smelled like mothballs and the furniture was covered with white sheets. She tried to turn on a light as she followed Mulder down the front hall, but the electricity was off. She turned her penlight on to see where she was going, but he seemed to have no trouble. He stopped in a den where a short flight of stairs led up to what looked like an alcove that overlooked the first floor of the house.

Slowly, Mulder sank to his knees and Scully lurched forward to try to catch him, afraid he was about to faint. He just sat forward on his hands, head hanging low. “There’s something here,” he moaned. “I saw it. I can see it, but it’s just out of reach.”

“Mulder, you were given a powerful hallucinogen. Whatever memories you think you have right now, you can’t know that they’re yours.”

“Samantha,” he whispered.

“Mulder, this is not the way to the truth. You’ve got to trust me.”

“Please, Scully. I’ve got to know.” He put his hands over his head and groaned. “It’s there, it’s always been right there, I just...”

Scully knelt down and rested her head against Mulder’s back. With her ear against the soft cotton of his thin t-shirt, she could hear the rapid-fire beating of his heart. She wrapped an arm around his chest and softly kneaded his pectoral. Even though his skin was warm, he trembled all over.

“I need to know, Scully,” he slurred. “I just need to know.”

She squeezed him tight and then lifted her head to drop a kiss to the side of his neck. She wanted to tell him that he’d already done more than anyone ever could, but she knew he wouldn’t hear it. She hated to see him so anguished and longed for a way to ease his suffering. She prayed silently as she held him, prayed that he be released from the demons that tormented him and for God to protect and watch over him when she was gone.

After some time, Mulder sat back on his haunches, with Scully still draped over him. He covered her hand at his chest with his. Her legs were cramping so she stood and with him on his knees, he was still nearly as tall as she was. He pulled her into a tight embrace and she rubbed the back of his head and neck while he rested his cheek against her shoulder.

“I’m so tired,” he mumbled.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered.

She had to help him to his feet and he leaned on her as they shuffled their way out of the house together. The headlights from the car blinded her and she raised a hand up to block them out. He rested against the wall of the porch as she locked the house and returned the key to its spot under the pot.

Mulder slept the entirety of the drive home. He didn’t wake when she stopped twice for gas and coffee, not even when there was a near accident on the Jersey turnpike and a big rig blared its horn at the car in front of them that nearly sideswiped the front of the cab changing lanes. Scully was forced to wake him by gently kneading his shoulder.

“We’re here,” she whispered.

He came to with a deep breath and straightened from his slump. It wasn’t quite daybreak, but the gray of morning light was starting to creep in. The grass outside was still wet with dew and shimmered in the street lights.

“Do you want me to come up with you?” she asked.

He looked like he was going to say no, started to shake his head a little, but then looked over at her with bleary eyes. She put her hand on his cheek, a long day's worth of stubble scratching her palm. He closed his eyes and she thought he might fall asleep again so she got out of the car and opened the passenger door so he could climb out as well.

He trudged up to his front door, no longer needing help, but his back was bent and his head was low. When they finally got inside his apartment, she guided him straight to the bedroom with her hands at his hips. He fell into bed without protest and she sat down beside him to pull his shoes off. He was already asleep again, breathing deep and even. Watching him made her drowsy and her head fell forward. She quickly stood up and went into the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. Her eyes were bloodshot, but she’d been up for almost twenty-four hours, so it wasn’t surprising.

Quietly, Scully unzipped her boots and then removed her blazer. She untucked her shirt and then crawled onto the bed and laid down beside Mulder, facing him. The dawn light from outside and filtered through the blinds gave his face an orange glow. She put her hand on his face to stroke his brow with her thumb and then inched a little closer, just until her nose brushed his. She fell asleep like that, but woke up alone a few hours later. There was a note on the bed, Mulder was out for a run.

Scully put her boots and blazer on and left her own note for Mulder on the same paper. She would see him tomorrow at the office. She needed to return the rental car to the airport and pick up her own car from short-term parking.

Mulder did not show up for work the following day, however. He called Scully while she was on her way in, after she’d been to the hospital for her weekly scan and blood tests, and told her that he wasn’t feeling that well, maybe a side effect of the Ketamine injection, and he was going to stay home. She was about to turn around and head for Alexandria, but he insisted she let him be and not to worry, he’d see her tomorrow. Not knowing what to do without him in the basement, she went to the fourth floor to her own office that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d even worked in. She was surprised they still let her have it, but there were her diplomas on the wall and her medical texts on the bookshelf.

It was late in the afternoon when her doctor called and judging by the tone in her voice, Scully knew it was what she’d been dreading. The cancer had metastasized. Short of a miracle, it would continue to aggressively invade her body, advancing faster each day toward the inevitable. She hung up the phone in a daze and went home to her silent, empty apartment and cried herself to sleep.

The next day, Mulder showed up to work like his usual self and Scully tried to act like nothing had happened, not to him or to her. Her mother called while she was working on a report to remind her of the dinner party that was the next night and she almost came up with an excuse to back out, but then she looked over at her partner and her voice caught in her throat.

“Mom, hang on.” She put her phone on mute and crossed over to Mulder’s desk. “Mulder?”

“Hm?”

“My mother is having a dinner party tomorrow to welcome my brother home on leave. Do you think…would you be able to come with me?”

Mulder looked up at her and then at the phone in her hand. “Have you told her?”

“Not yet.” She swallowed and then shook her head. “I thought maybe if you were with me, it would…we could explain why…”

“I’ll go.”

“You will?”

He nodded. Scully took the phone off mute and turned away to finish her call.

“Mom, I’m sorry about that. I was…would it be alright if I brought Mulder with me?”

Her mother replied that of course Fox would be welcome, but there was a slight pause before she answered that made Scully wonder. She thanked her and let her know they’d see her tomorrow.

Scully ended the call with a deep exhale and then turned back around to face Mulder. He raised his brows at her, but didn’t say anything. She went back to her work station and they didn’t talk much for the rest of the day, though he did ask if they’d be leaving straight from work tomorrow and she said yes, she thought that would be a good idea.

The party seemed to already be in full swing when they arrived the next evening. Scully felt nervous and uncomfortable around all the strangers in her mother’s house. She’d met a few of her mother’s friends from church in passing, but knew no one well enough to converse freely. Her plan was to tell her mother, her brother, and Mulder all together about her cancer once everyone had left. And she would also then have to inform them of her marriage.

Her brother arrived and she hadn’t seen her mother so happy in a long time. Bill, too, seemed to be in high spirits, even making jokes about his ship being held up in traffic. She hadn’t really known her brother to ever crack wise, so it came as a bit of a surprise. When she stepped away from his embrace, she turned to wave Mulder over.

“Bill,” she said, taking a light grip on Mulder’s bicep. “This is my partner, Fox Mulder.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Mulder said, holding his hand out.

“Hm,” Bill answered, looking at Scully before he finally shook Mulder’s hand. “I know something about you, what Dana’s been through with you.”

“Uh.” The corners of Mulder’s mouth fell and he blinked as though startled.

“What I’ve been through?” Scully hissed, stepping up close to her brother and in front of Mulder. She felt a flare of anger, like the spark of a match, and she glared at her brother so intensely that he actually took a step back in retreat. “What do you know about what I’ve been through, Bill?”

A knock at the door and the arrival of Father McCue was enough of an interruption for Bill to walk away unscathed as their mother pulled him over to welcome the priest. Mulder also quickly took the opportunity to lead Scully away and they ended up in the laundry room. She paced in front of the washer and dryer, shaking her hands out and rolling her neck to try to quell her anger.

“Where the hell does he get off saying something like that?” Scully barked.

“We should know by now, my reputation precedes me,” he said, taking her by the shoulders to stop her pacing. “I mean, if I were him, I’d probably…I’m sure I’d be particular about any guys that my sister introduced me to as well.”

“Don’t. Don’t defend him like that. That wasn’t some moment of brotherly protection, it was beyond rude and I want to know where he would get the idea that I’ve been through something, or that it had anything to do with you.”

“I’m sure all he knows is the danger I’ve put you in and the consequences.”

“From who? Not from me.”

He shrugged. “Maybe it’s just assumptions.”

“Then he should be placing the blame for that on me because it’s what I chose to do, what I continue to choose to do.”

“But, you were assigned to the x-files because of me.”

“I was assigned to debunk your work. To rein you in, to shut you down.” She put her hands over her face and shook her head. “Mulder, I can’t keep having this same argument with you. When are you going to accept the fact that you’re not responsible for any of the bad things that have happened to me? I could have turned the assignment down. I could’ve played their game at any time and invalidated your reports based on simple scientific logic at any time.”

“Why didn’t you?”

She looked up at him with indignation. He had to know what kept her there, what compelled her to follow him when he called, what drove her to defend him at every turn. Maybe she had never said it out loud, but he had to know, so why did he have to ask? Why did he have to put her in this position? Every cell in her body screamed out at him. Because I love you, god dammit!  I wouldn't have married you if I didn't!  She heard the voice of Father Lew in her head, telling her to share her fears, to communicate before it was too late. The celebrant for their wedding even chimed in to remind her that only trust and love could help them endure.

The struggle she was going through must have been obvious because Mulder moved his hands from her shoulders to her face. Her breath caught and she stuttered slightly.

“Be...because, I…”

A loud knock on the door startled the both of them and though they both jumped, before they could break apart, the door swung open and Bill stood outside looking annoyed. Mulder moved his hands from her face and dropped one to the small of her back as she turned from him.

“Mom wanted me to find you and tell you that dinner’s ready,” Bill said.

“We’ll be right there,” Scully answered, patting her cheeks lightly.

Bill narrowed his eyes and looked from one to the other several times before he stalked away. Scully rubbed a hand against her forehead and Mulder swept his hand up and down her back a few times.

The seating arrangements put Scully next to Father McCue for dinner and she was certain her mother had orchestrated it so that the priest would somehow try to lure her back to church on a more regular basis. Sure enough, in short time he brought up the state of her faith and how concerned her mother was.

“With the threat to your health,” the priest said, “going back to your faith is important and essential.”

She was instantly rankled. She’d specifically asked her mother not to tell anyone about her diagnosis. She supposed it was too much to ask to keep it from her priest, but she’d still gone against her wishes. As she tensed in annoyance, she felt Mulder’s hand on her knee, giving her a gentle squeeze and she relaxed a little. She put her hand down over his and he hooked his thumb over hers.

“Father McCue, I appreciate my mother's concern, and yours, but I'm being treated for my cancer and taking every precaution.”

“Faith can make you stronger.”

“I haven't felt the need. I have strength and I…” She trailed off, momentarily distracted as Mulder’s cell phone rang. He pulled his hand free and excused himself to go answer it and she watched him step away. She caught Bill’s eye across the table and he looked irritated at the interruption, though there was no break in any conversation and no one seemed to notice or care.

“I’m not accusing you of turning your back completely,” Father McCue said. “I was pleasantly surprised when you passed along the greeting from Father Llewlyn on Easter. I just think that perhaps-”

“Excuse me, Father,” she said, rising in her seat when she saw Mulder in the hallway, putting on his overcoat.

“That was Doctor Arlinsky from the Smithsonian,” Mulder told her as she approached.

“Should I know the name?”

“He's a forensic anthropologist that I've been in contact with over the last four years. Several years ago he was involved in an embarrassing UFO photo enhancement scandal, but he continues to profess his innocence.”

“What did he say that has you rushing out the door?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. You’ll have to apologize to your mother and brother for me.”

“Mulder?”

“He wants me to take a look at an ice core sample pulled from a mountain in Canada.”

“And it can’t wait?”

“It’s what’s inside the ice core and…no, it can’t wait.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No.” He shook his head and then leaned over to take a glance into the dining room. “I’m already in the red with your brother. If I drag you away now, I’ll just be digging a deeper hole.”

“I don’t want to be here,” she admitted, quietly. “Whatever this man has at the Smithsonian, I want to see it.”

He scratched his teeth over his bottom lip and then nodded. “If that’s what you really want, I would…I do really think I need you to see what he’s got.”

“I’ll go let my mother know.”

Mulder waited in the hall while Scully went to tell her mother a work emergency came up. Her mother gave her a tight-lipped smile and nodded at her. She gave her brother a stiff hug and apologized for leaving so soon, promising she would see him again before he left.

She was left unimpressed by the meeting with the doctor at the Smithsonian. The man claimed to have found the preserved body of an alien, perfectly intact, that was found in a remote area of the St. Elias range by a Canadian geodetic survey team. It was an obvious hoax to Scully, but clearly Mulder wasn’t convinced one way or the other. The doctor implored them to take the sample and have it tested. On the way out of the museum, they argued about the legitimacy, as they usually did.

“You think it's foolish,” Mulder said, a step behind her as they descended the stairs.

“I have no opinion, actually,” she answered.

“You have no opinion?”

“This is your holy grail, Mulder. Not mine.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It just means proving to the world the existence of alien life is not my last dying wish.”

“Okay, but it was only hours ago that you told me you could invalidate our work at any time. I’m telling you I’m as skeptical as you are on this one, but it could be proof…definitive proof of sentient beings sharing the same time and existence with us, that would change everything. Every truth we live by would be shaken to the ground. There's no greater revelation imaginable, no greater scientific discovery.”

“I can think of a plethora of greater scientific discoveries.”

“What, the existence of God, for example?”

“For example.”

“But, you’re not out looking for proof of the existence of God, you just take it at face value.”

“We’ve had this conversation before.”

“Would you go on believing, even if there was irrefutable proof that God didn’t exist?”

“You can’t prove a negative.”

“Well that just makes it easier to believe the lie then, doesn’t it?”

She narrowed her eyes, tired of going in circles with the same arguments over and over again. “You already believe, Mulder. What difference would it make? I mean, what would proof change for you?”

“I think the real question is, what would proof change for you, Scully? All I’m asking is that you take a look at the core samples. Disprove it. Invalidate me, since that’s what you really want to do.”

“Fine.”

She did as Mulder asked and the following morning, took the samples to a lab at American University. She knew one of the professors there and their paleoclimatology team had a good reputation. The lab tech’s initial report was surprising. Upon his review, he indicated that the sample contained a chimera, one that he wanted to view under the electron microscope. The only way he could do it was under the supervision of the doctor that headed the department. Scully left the lab with the plan to return later that afternoon to meet with a Doctor Vitagliano.

She tried getting in touch with Mulder, but his cell phone went straight to voicemail. He had told her he’d planned to find out more about the ice core sample and the team that found it, but she didn’t know what that entailed. She pulled some of her textbooks at her office to refresh her knowledge on chimeras.

When she returned to the lab, she was surprised to find it dark and a strange man inside who clearly wasn’t Doctor Vitagliano. When she questioned him, he all but ignored her and walked out with something he clearly wanted to hide from her. Suspicions raised, she looked around the room and noticed the refrigeration unit holding the ice corp samples was in disarray and one of the tubes was clearly missing. Immediately, she ran into the hall, just in time for the door to the stairwell to snick shut. It didn’t occur to her to call for backup, she just gave chase.

There was no one inside the stairwell and she was caught between heading up the stairs or down when the side door burst open and knocked her against the wall. Her cheek exploded in pain and before she could react, she received a rough shove backwards and her feet went out from under her. She tumbled down the stairs, feeling the treads bite into her back, tearing the skin. She landed in a fetal position, throbbing all over.

Only moments later, the lab tech she was working with earlier in the day came rushing down the stairs to her side, having heard the commotion. The wind had been knocked out of her and though she tried to protest when he said he was calling an ambulance, she wasn’t able to. She was sitting up, leaning against the wall when the EMTs arrived and took her to the hospital.

Fortunately, she had no broken bones and the abrasions on her back weren’t deep and didn’t even require a bandage. She showed no signs of being concussed, but they would not let her drive and she would have to be picked up.

“We called your husband,” the nurse that had done her intake said. “We didn’t get an answer. Is there someone else we can call?”

“My mother,” Scully answered, after some hesitation, and provided them with the number.

Her back was cleaned and swabbed and a police officer took her statement regarding the incident. Finally, she was able to get out of the hospital gown and put her bloodied shirt back on. As she was buttoning her blouse, her brother came in, surprising her.

“Bill? What are you doing here?”

“I picked up the phone at Mom’s,” he said. “They said you could use a change of clothes, so…” He handed her a blouse still in dry cleaning plastic.

“Thanks…where’s Mom?”

“I didn’t tell her what happened.” He paused and looked around the room for a moment. “What did happen?”

“I was knocked down a flight of stairs. Luckily, I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay, Dana. I know about your cancer.”

Scully sighed and closed her eyes. First it was Father McCue, and then her brother. “I told Mom not to tell you,” she mumbled.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s very personal.”

“Personal? Dana, we’re family.”

“Bill, I haven’t…how many times have we seen each other in the last five years? Three times? We may be family, but we’re not close enough to be comfortable with you knowing the details about my health.”

“Well, whatever you might think, I still care about you. And I don’t understand what you’re doing at work, getting knocked down and beaten up when you should be taking care of yourself. What are you trying to prove? You’re that hellbent on going out fighting?”

“Come on, Bill.”

“Do you even care what Mom’s going through in all this? Why do you think I didn’t tell her when they called?”

A lecture from her brother was not what Scully wanted or needed at the moment, but it seemed to be unavoidable. She didn’t appreciate his accusations one bit and that was only part of the reason why she’d not wanted her mother to share this with him. Her head was beginning to ache from the tension.

“What should I be doing, Bill? You tell me.”

“All I’m saying is that you have a responsibility here, not just to yourself, but the people in your life.”

“You are not in my life, Bill! And just because I haven’t bared my soul to Mom or to you or Father McCue, to God, it doesn’t mean I’m being irresponsible. I’m doing things that are important to me.”

“Are they really important to you? Or are they important to him?”

Scully clenched her jaw. Her chest burned with fury. “Mulder has been more supportive of me than you will ever know.”

“Yeah? Well, where is he? How come he’s not here?”

“That’s rich, Bill. Mulder spent three months turning the world upside down looking for me when I was abducted and every day at my bedside when I was returned. Where were you?”

Bill balked and shook his head. “And as I understand it, it’s some crap he believes in that has to do with aliens that got you into that whole mess in the first place.”

“It was a case that we were both assigned to, that involved a lunatic making claims of alien abduction that got me into that whole mess, as you called it, not Mulder. If you have any intentions of coming away from this conversation with a relationship with me, you might want to shut your mouth about things you have no clue on.”

“Dana…”

“I need to get back to work.” She turned to go into the small bathroom in the exam room to change her shirt, but Bill grabbed her arm.

“Tara’s pregnant,” he said. “Six weeks. Due in December. We haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Congratulations.” She was still too angry and raw to muster a smile and her voice was flat. “I’m happy for you.”

“I would really like it if my son or daughter had their aunt in their life. I’ve…we’ve already lost one sister. And I don’t even know where Charlie is. Even if I don’t see you all that much and we don’t call or…we don’t keep in touch that often, I don’t want to lose you.”

Scully deflated slightly. She and her brother had butted heads ever since they were children, but she did love him and she could understand where he was coming from. If the situation was reversed, she would probably feel the same about him prioritizing the Navy over his health. But, they were alike in that respect. Bill would do the exact same thing that she was.

“I need to get dressed,” she said.

Bill made no further comments on her health or her choices. He drove her to the Hoover building as she asked and told her if she needed anything, she could call him. She nodded her thanks, but went inside without looking back.

The crime lab was already working on trying to identify her assailant, word having spread to AD Skinner once she made her statement to the police. She went down to the lab to find Agent Pendrell diligently performing a fingerprint analysis.

“Dana!” he cried, jumping from his chair when she walked in. “I mean, Agent Scully. Dana. How are you? Sit down. I was just…I heard about what happened. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Agent Pendrell. What have you got?”

“Oh, well, um…as you can imagine it's a heavily traveled stairwell, where you were attacked. But, we found a partial match in the stairwell just four centimeters from one of yours.”

“Have you run it through the NCIC?”

“Yep. This is your assailant.” Pendrell tapped the enlarged image of the fingerprint on the screen with his pen. “Unfortunately, he doesn’t have a criminal record.”

She didn’t think he would. Something about the way the man had conducted himself in that lab told her he was government. “Try the federal database.”

“Huh, okay.” Pendrell pulled up a search screen and changed the parameters. A name popped up. “I'll be damned! How did you know it would be a government employee?”

“Where does he work?”

Pendrell pulled up the profile for the name that appeared. “Right here in Washington. Michael Kritschgau, formerly of the US Army, now attached to the Pentagon Research division in Virginia.” After a few more keystrokes, a photo appeared on the computer screen. “Is this your guy?”

Scully nodded, staring at the photo on the screen. “Can I get a printout of that?”

“Sure.”

Pendrell got up to get the printout for her. She took it from him and committed the name and address to memory. “Thank you,” she said, turning to walk away, but then she stopped. “Agent Pendrell?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your first name?”

“Sean.”

“Thank you, Sean.”

“You’re welcome!” He smiled brightly at her.

Against medical advice, Scully drove herself over to the Department of Defense and waited outside. An hour passed. It was getting to be quitting time for normal nine to fivers and she kept her eyes on the front door. Finally, she saw Michael Kritschgau. He exited the building and turned the corner to a parking garage. Scully started her car and followed.

It was probably an irrational thing to do, but she was in a state of mind where she no longer felt like she had much to lose and she ended up chasing the man down with her car. When he ran from her, she pointed her gun at him, and when he tried to drive away, she beat him to the exit and stood her ground as he came at her full speed with his Sedan. She was ready to fire, but he slammed on his brakes and put his hands up in surrender.

“Get out of the car!” she screamed.

“Please don’t shoot,” he answered, quickly getting out of the car. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I had no choice.”

Scully pushed the man down to the hood of the car, her gun at the back of his head.

“If you arrest me, they’ll kill me,” he pleaded.

“Who? Who will kill you?”

“The same people who are trying to kill you. The people who gave you your cancer.”

Scully struggled to decide whether or not he was telling the truth. Her hold on her weapon wavered and then she finally dropped her arm and let the man stand up.

“I want to know what you know and how you know it,” she said. “Right now.”

Both Scully and Kritschgau got back into his car and he parked in a corner space, away from other cars. He told her all he knew and she listened. And though it was Mulder’s belief, and not hers, still she doubted what he had to say.

“The lie your partner believes, that they have cleverly led him to believe, Agent Scully, is that there is intelligent life, other than our own, and that we have had contact with these life forms.”

“Who are they? And why would they use Agent Mulder in that way?”

“To perpetuate their hoax. The lies are so deep, Agent Scully, the only way to cover them is to create something even more incredible. They invented Mulder. The regression hypnosis he went through, the story of his sister's abduction, the lies they fed his father. He wants to believe, so badly. Can you blame him?”

Scully pressed her lips together and turned her head to look out the window. She was frustrated and tired of being told she was a puppet. “How do you know this?”

“I ran the DOD’s agitprop arm for a decade. I can show you records of disinformation dating back to the Korean War.”

“Records can be faked.”

“I understand your suspicion.” He rubbed his chin for a few moments. “I can tell you that as we speak, your partner is witnessing what he thinks is an alien autopsy, but is nothing more than a body meticulously constructed out of biomaterials created through the hybridization of differentiated cells.”

“Chimeras.”

“Exactly. Frozen into place over the course of a year using sentiment and materials that would bear out its age, poured through a small channel drilled in the rock above.”

“You can’t fake that. It’s easily provable with carbon dating.”

“The body is never going to actually be tested.”

“But you just-”

“Agent Mulder is only meant to witness it, to make him believe the lie so that he will go public with what he believes.”

“Agent Mulder already believes.”

“Except that you demand there be proof and he’s determined to give it to you. You have both been deceived, Agent Scully, and used. You’ve lost a family member due to your allegiance and now they’ve given you a fatal disease for it.”

“What does my cancer have to do with this?”

“It all comes down to ensuring your partner’s belief in extraterrestrial life.”

“The women in Allentown? Their abductions, their cancer, their deaths?”

“There will always be collateral damage.”

She flushed and started to feel like the world was closing in on her. She felt sick. She didn’t know what was worse, believing in a conspiracy that killed dozens of women, that was currently killing her, or that Michael Kritschgau was simply another liar sent to deceive and obfuscate. She needed to speak with Mulder. With a disgusted glance at Kritschgau, she got out of the car and stood for a few moments with her hands on her hips, breathing hard, and then she pulled out her cell phone. It took four rings for Mulder to answer, but at least his cell phone didn’t go straight to voicemail.

“Mulder,” he answered.

“Mulder, it’s me. I need you to stop whatever you’re doing and meet me outside the DOD.”

“I really can’t do that right now.”

“Are you…are you viewing an alien autopsy?”

There was silence in the form of a static hiss for a few moments. “Yes,” he finally said.

“Mulder, I have it on good authority that it’s not what you think it is.”

“What’s happened?”

“I’m with a man right now that has systematically laid out, point by point, each and every way in which you and I have been deceived, and used.”

“Scully, I don’t have time for this.”

“Mulder, you’ve got to listen to me. You’ve got to listen to him. Everything…everything we’ve thought to be true or real, Mulder…it’s all been a lie.” She got choked up as she tried to finish and she swallowed down a lump in her throat.

“I can’t get to the DOD. Meet me at my apartment in half an hour.”

“We’ll be there.”

Scully took a few moments before she got back into the car. She didn’t trust Kritschgau not to run off on her, so she instructed him to drive to Mulder’s apartment. She would pick up her car later. They arrived before Mulder and waited for him in the foyer.

As she might have expected, Mulder was less than impressed with what Michael Kritschgau had to say. He asked the same questions she did and got the same answers. She hovered in the doorway while the tale was retold, watching her partner grow more and more petulant and hostile over the course of the next twenty minutes.

“This man is a liar,” Mulder concluded, gazing at him with contempt.

“You can see for yourself, Agent Mulder,” Kritschgau said. “The body is already gone.”

Sure enough, when they went back to the warehouse that Mulder claimed he had witnessed the alien autopsy in, it was empty. He was visibly distressed, angrily stomping through the warehouse and turning it upside down for clues. They found nothing but the bodies of the two men Mulder had been working with.

“What we had here was proof, Scully!” he yelled. “There’s no way it could have been anything else.”

“You said it yourself, Mulder, more tests needed to be run.”

“But, the ice core samples checked out. If the ice wasn’t tampered with, how could the body be fake?”

“Cellular material found in the ice core samples were a direct match for what this man Kritschgau described. Hybrid cells, chimeras within the matrix.”

“How can we be sure those cells aren’t extraterrestrial?”

“Mulder, everything this man described, you can't just guess at these details. I'm sorry, but the facts here completely overwhelm any argument against them.”

“We don’t even know they’re facts, you said that yourself. Lies upon lies, supporting more lies!”

“The only lie that’s here now is the one that you continue to believe.”

Mulder put his hands on his hips and shuffled back and forth. He looked like he wanted to kick something, and kick it hard. “After all I’ve seen and experienced, I refuse to believe it’s not true.”

“Because it’s easier to believe the lie, isn’t it?” She didn’t mean for the comment to come out as snide as it did, throwing his words back at him in the moment, but she felt wrung out and done. Just done with all of it.

“What the hell did that guy say to you to get you to believe his story?” Mulder bellowed.

She didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to hurt him with the truth, especially when she’d told him to stop feeling so guilty for the things that were done to her, but she had no choice. “He said that the men behind this hoax, behind these lies, gave me this disease to make you believe.”

If she’d shot him again, it would probably have been less painful. He looked utterly gutted by it, his shoulders dropping and Adam's apple bobbing up and down. When he turned and walked away she let him go, not blaming him for abandoning her at a crime scene, which she called in a few minutes later and then waited as the police arrived and questions she couldn’t answer were asked.

It was late when she finally got home, approaching midnight. She checked her answering machine in case there were any messages from Mulder, but it was empty. Nothing on her cell phone all night either. She didn’t bother turning on any lights as she moved to her bedroom and started to undress. She had her shirt untucked, poised to pull it off.

“Keep going FBI woman,” Mulder said.

She jumped, spinning around to the dark corner of her bedroom. She could see him in the shadows, sitting in the chair next to her bedside table. “Mulder? Why are you sitting in my bedroom in the dark?”

“It was too crowded in my apartment. I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Good, neither am I.” He got up, slinking towards the windows while staying in the shadows. He looked outside and then turned her blinds closed before he put on a light. “There's a dead man on the floor of my apartment, and it's only a matter of time before he starts to stink the place up.”

“What are you talking about, Mulder? What's going on?”

“Apparently somebody thinks my life is interesting enough to put on video tape. My apartment's been under electronic surveillance for at least two months.” He pulled something out of his pocket and passed it to her. It was an ID card for the DOD with the name Scott Ostelhoff on it. “Look at this. Courtesy of the US government.”

“That’s the dead man in your apartment?”

“It is.”

“How did he die, Mulder?”

He twisted his lips up and lowered his eyes. “Gunshot wound to the face.”

“Have you contacted anybody at the Bureau?”

“I can’t do that, Scully. I can’t go to the authorities with this.”

“Why not?”

“This man, Ostelhoff, worked for the military.”

“So, the hoax is connected to the military, just like Kritschgau said it was.”

“This hoax, your cancer, everything.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “It doesn’t just lead back to the military, it leads right back to the FBI.”

“What?”

“Come…” He took her arm, taking her out of her bedroom and into the table by the kitchen. She sat down and he gingerly laid out a half-burnt piece of paper before her. “This man, Ostelhoff, was set up in the apartment directly above mine,” he said. “I caught him trying to destroy phone records on which the same number was called seventeen times.”

“This is a PBX operator at the Bureau.”

“Who would he be calling at the FBI?”

“I don't know.”

It shouldn’t have taken her by such surprise, but still she was shocked. To think that someone they worked with, or worked for, could undermine them, sabotage them, lie to them. “How can we ever know who to trust?”

He crouched down next to her chair and put his hand over hers. “I know that there are those who can be trusted. What I need to know is who among them is not. I will not allow this treason to prosper, especially if they’ve had a hand in what’s been done to you.”

“Mulder, we can't just go to the Bureau making these accusations without proof.”

“No, but as they lie to us, we can lie to them.” He squeezed her hand. “And I know how you feel about that, but…”

“A lie to find the truth.”

He nodded.

“I don’t care anymore,” she said. “What do you want to do?”

“I need to buy time. The police will call you once they discover the body. I want you to go down there and identify it. Say it’s me.”

“Where will you be?”

He held up Scott Ostelhoff’s ID card between two fingers. “Seeing what doors this will unlock for me at the DOD.”

“If you get caught…”

“You’ll visit me in prison, won’t you?”

“Mulder, I…” She was suddenly overcome with emotion and very afraid. She didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to go on and she still didn’t know how to tell him, but the thought of him not being with her through it was terrifying. She felt so desperate. Desperate for more time, desperate not to leave him behind, desperate to hold on to him.

Something broke within her and all that she’d been holding back washed over her. She started to tremble and grabbed fistfuls of his sweater to bring him closer. He moved to his knees and put a hand to her cheek. Concern was evident in the way his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

“I don’t want you to go,” she said, the words staccato as she fought back tears.

“Scully?”

She pulled him into her, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her knees to his ribs. It took him a few moments, but he wrapped his arms around her as well, holding her as tightly as she gripped him.

“Don’t go,” she whispered, dropping her head and pressing it to his shoulder. He ran his hand up over the back of her neck and into her hair and she gasped as her skin rippled with gooseflesh.

Not only was she enveloped in his arms, but his scent as well. Every breath she took filled her nostrils with him, his faded cologne and whatever else it was that just made him always smell so good. And how did he always manage to have the softest sweaters, ones that made her want to put her hands all over him.

She pulled back, startled by her own desire for him. It wasn’t new, it was just something she’d worked so hard at suppressing and ignoring, but she no longer saw the point in restraining it any longer. He was her husband, after all.

Without any further second-guessing, she kissed him. Not the hesitant, shy kisses they’d shared previously, but one that conveyed intent and longing. She kissed him until she was dizzy and even when she had to gasp for air, she kept her mouth pressed to his, stealing his breath and making it her own. She was unwilling to be any further apart from him than she had to be. Being so close it was like she could actually feel how electricity was created. Spark, flutter, heat, surge.

Though Mulder kissed her back, she worried that it was without the same passion she felt. He seemed hesitant to touch her, like he was holding back, but then his hands swooped down to her thighs and he pulled her forward. He opened his mouth to her and the wet, hot slide of his tongue over hers made her whimper. He groaned and then he got to his feet, dragging her up and out of the chair, lifting her easily. She locked her ankles behind the small of his back and held on as he moved with the utmost confidence and purpose down the hall and to her bedroom.

They were both trying to work his sweatshirt free by the time he dropped her back onto her bed. She pulled at it from the middle of his back and he tugged at the collar. The sweatshirt came off inside out and was tossed somewhere behind him. The black t-shirt underneath came off next and then he was quickly back in her arms like he’d been away for months. An exposed sliver of skin at her belly rubbed against his bare abdomen and it was frustrating to have so much of his skin available, but so little of hers. She just needed to be able to stop kissing him long enough to get her own shirt off.

Maybe he read her thoughts, or maybe he was as impatient as she was, but Mulder reached down between them and dragged her shirt up, thumbs skittering over her ribs as he went. He did have to pull back briefly, just so they could bring it up and over her head, and then his mouth descended again and this time when his chest came down to hers, she relished in so much of his flesh meeting hers with little to no barriers between them.

She was wrapped around him like a vine and he slid a hand behind her back, opening her bra with suspicious ease. The straps went loose around her shoulders and he pulled his hand free to move the thin cotton aside to palm her breast. He moaned and his hips rutted up against hers as his thumb circled a pert nipple. And then she groaned in protest when he broke their kiss and instead pressed his face against her sternum. She pushed her nails through his hair and he moved his head over to close his mouth over her breast. The tip of his tongue swirled over her nipple and then his top teeth grazed the tip and she arched her back up with a gasp.

It occurred to her that she should be surprised by how much desire she felt, so much and so soon. She’d never been so turned on and never so quickly. With her illness and medication, she didn’t even know that she could experience pleasure so acutely, or at all. And if this was just the beginning, she didn’t know how she would possibly survive such exquisite torture.

Just when Scully thought Mulder would never get enough of her breasts, he dragged his face down low over her belly, the stubble on his chin scratching her skin and making her clench with arousal. He brushed his nose back and forth along the waistband of her pants and she could feel him breathing deeply, ribs expanding where her calves were pressed to his sides. He had to smell the desire leaking out of her.

He tipped his head up and gazed drowsily at her and she at him. Slowly, he backed off of her, off the bed, and then stood in front of her and unbuckled his belt. While she unbuttoned her pants, he took her foot and unzipped one boot and dropped it to the ground with a thud. She shimmied her pants and underwear off her hips and he removed her other boot. She kicked free of her pants as Mulder pushed his jeans and boxers down and she crawled backwards up towards the head of the bed to make room for him as he crawled over her.

She held his gaze, staring into his eyes as he moved up and over her and she held his arms as he sank into the cradle of her thighs. She was grateful that he didn’t stop to ask if she was sure or if this was what she wanted. She loved his voice, truly she did, loved listening to his rambling stories and slideshows, but now was not the time for second guessing. She didn’t want to worry about tomorrow or the next day, she just wanted this moment and him, nothing but him.

They fumbled together, shifting and reshifting to try to reach the right angle. When he pushed into her, it was slow and hesitant. He met resistance and her hips jerked, unaccustomed to accepting someone into her body after a long period of neglect. Maybe neglect wasn’t the right description, she was not neglectful of her needs, but the small, battery-operated assistance to bring herself to ecstasy was much different than the real thing. Her face must have showed her discomfort at the stretch and burn for her stopped and held her face, kissing the tension away from her brow before he went any further. She relaxed completely, loosened her legs, let her body become pliant and accommodating.

Once he was fully inside of her and the tear that slipped free from the corner of her eye was licked from her temple, they began to move together. Their rhythms were initially off, but it took almost no time at all for them to fall into the ebb and flow of each other. She found that a slow caress of her fingertips up and down the sides of his back spurred him faster while a grip on his backside slowed him down, but pushed him deeper.

He surprised her by suddenly dropping down and flipping them over. She pushed herself to sit up, knees folded beside his ribs, and pressed her hands to his chest for balance and purchase. It was immediately clear why he’d done it. It gave them both a better view of each other and him access to her breasts. She set a new pace for them, slow but steady, and his freed up hands roamed over her body.

The change in position also seemed to be a way for him to hold out longer. He’d taken to biting his lower lip and the muscles in his neck strained as she tilted her hips forward and rubbed her pubic bone against his. She didn’t want him to hold back or wait for her, wanted him to let go and give in to it. It always took her longer, creeping up on her slowly before taking a fierce grip before sending her spiraling and she knew she just wasn’t quite there.

And suddenly his jaw clenched and he growled from behind gritted teeth as he bucked his hips up into her. She watched his face intently as he found his release, memorizing the way he grimaced and how the veins pulsed under the thin skin at his temples and beneath his eyes. He lifted his chest slightly and froze, suspended briefly in ecstasy. It was the single most erotic thing she had ever witnessed and it made toes curl and she shivered.

She held that image of him in that moment in her mind’s eye and it ignited that pulse of her own impending rapture. She circled her hips and grinded her body down against his. They were both slippery with a combination of sweat and satisfaction. Her vision blurred and her head fell backwards as her hips lurched. Her whole body tensed and then quaked and Mulder wrapped a hand behind her neck, pulling himself up to her and holding her hips steady with an arm slung behind her lower back. He kissed her as she came down, just his open mouth against hers, both of them panting and moaning softly.

She didn’t exactly know how to handle the next moments of post-intimacy. She didn’t feel done being close with him, didn’t want to move on to cleaning up and pillow talk. She just wanted to stay there and not move and forget all the obstacles that were behind them, but especially the ones ahead of them.

Mulder finally laid back, taking her with him. He turned them onto their sides, legs twined and arms wrapped around each other, nose to nose. He reached up to tuck her hair back over her ear and then passed his fingers over her cheek. He looked awestruck, but also a tinge fearful. She took his hand and their thumbs moved over one anothers in a gentle caress.

“Is this real?” he asked. “Or a dream?”

“Berwood,” she whispered.

His brows twitched and moved down momentarily, but then he smiled and let out the puff of a nervous laugh. She gave him a soft smile of her own.

“I knew it would come in handy one day,” he said.

Though she loathed doing it, she had to get up. She needed a cool washcloth and a glass of water. The muscles in her legs trembled when she stood and Mulder leaned up on one elbow as she inched towards the bathroom. He watched her walk away and though she was not one to be fully comfortable walking around in the nude, she did it for his benefit.

In the bathroom, behind the closed door, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were pink, her hair was messed, and her eyes looked slightly glazed over. She felt calm about things though, unashamed of it. She’d always thought there was risk in letting herself love him too much, in crossing the boundaries of their professional relationship, but she decided that leaving this world with regrets would be far more painful. It was like a gift to both of them, letting there be no mystery about what it would have been like to really be together. Maybe it could be something he could hold on to when she was no longer there. Or would it just make it harder?

When she came out of her bathroom, Mulder was gone, but he returned just a few moments later with two glasses of water. She picked up his t-shirt off the floor as he took his turn in the bathroom. She held the collar to her nose for a few moments and then slipped it on. She pulled the comforter off the bed. There was already a dark stain in the middle, but she didn’t care. She could wash it out later. It was warm enough anyway that the top sheet and blanket would be enough.

Mulder came out of the bathroom and opened up the bottom drawer of her dresser to get a fresh pair of boxers. They got into their respective sides of the bed without discussion. She put out the light and he opened his arm up after settling on his back. She snuggled up beside him and put her head on his shoulder.

A cramp in her arm woke her some time later. She had drifted from Mulder, turned to her side at some point in the night and seemed to have cut off the blood flow to her arm enough to wake herself up. She got up, also feeling the urge to use the bathroom, and rolled her shoulder a few times to encourage the circulation. Mulder shifted a little as she got out of bed, but didn’t wake.

She closed the door to the bathroom before she turned the light on and then recoiled from the brightness. She used the toilet and then when she stood, she almost stumbled, feeling lightheaded. A chill went up her body and then her nose started to sting and burn. She pressed her index finger across her nostrils, but there was no blood. Still, she felt like something was wrong.

She opened the door to the bathroom, swaying in the doorway for a moment before she clutched the door handle to keep herself upright. “Mulder, she said. He roused instantly, sitting up and squinting. His hair was spiking up everywhere and he looked disoriented.

“Scully?” he croaked.

“Something’s wrong,” she whispered, and then it felt like something inside the far recesses of her nose broke open and a gush of blood rushed out into her cupped palm. She felt her knees begin to wobble and her equilibrium was off. She felt like she was tumbling over, but while standing completely still. And then she just couldn’t keep herself upright and she felt Mulder’s arms around her and heard his voice calling her name as she slithered to the ground and things went black.

/End part 3

Chapter Text

He was in a peaceful, dreamless sleep when he heard her call his name and it sounded like a gunshot.  He sat up, blinking furiously as the light from the bathroom burned his eyes.  She was a featureless, black silhouette in the doorway, but he knew that something wasn’t right.

“Scully?” he croaked.

“Something’s wrong,” she murmured, and by then his vision had focused enough that he could see the gush of blood from her nose like black oil.  He sprang out of bed and managed to catch her as she slithered to the ground, falling first to his knees and then ending sprawled in the doorway with her limp body between his legs and her head lolling in the crook of his arm.

“Scully?”

She didn’t respond at all and panic washed over him.  He needed to get to a phone, but was afraid to leave her side, even for a few moments.  The priority was calling for help, so with great reluctance, he eased her down to the floor and raced to the cordless phone at Scully’s bedside table.  He was back beside her before he even finished dialing and then brought her back up into his arms, holding her head against his chest.

“911, what is your emergency?”  The woman that answered had a soothing voice and the slight hint of a southern accent.

“I need an ambulance,” Mulder said.  “107 East Cordova Street.”

“I already have your address, sir, what’s your emergency?”

“My partner, she…she just passed out on the bathroom floor.”

“Is she breathing?”

“Yeah.”  He put a hand to her chest, closing his eyes as he felt her lungs expand and contract softly beneath his palm.

“Does she have any medical conditions?”

“Cancer,” he whispered.  “She’s being treated at Holy Cross Memorial.  I…I can’t remember her doctor’s name.”

“That’s okay, sir.  Can you tell me what type of cancer?”

“A nasopharyngeal tumor.”

“How long has she been unconscious?”

“Uh…two minutes, maybe?  Her nose just started bleeding and then she fainted.  I called right after that.”

“Is her nose still bleeding?”

“I can’t tell.  There’s so much blood, it’s…I can’t tell.  It’s never been this bad.  I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”  A lump formed in Mulder’s throat.  There’d only been one other time in his life he’d felt so helpless.

“Is she choking at all?  Is her airway clear?”

“No,” he said, weakly.  “She’s not choking.  Please, tell them to hurry.”

“Just stay on the line with me, sir.  The paramedics are on their way.”

The operator kept him busy until the ambulance arrived, asking him questions and having him perform small, simple acts like checking Scully’s pulse or having him read the labels on her prescriptions.  He could hear the quick clack-clack-clacking of the keyboard as she typed his responses.  When he heard the low wail of sirens in the distance he had to leave Scully again to open the front door.  After letting the two men in with their bags and the gurney, he disconnected his call with the operator and paced back and forth in front of the bathroom door as they did their work.

He was prepared to ride in the ambulance with Scully as they loaded her onto the gurney, but one of the medics looked him up and down as he started to follow and it was only then that Mulder realized he was in nothing but his boxers and his torso was smeared with blood.

“Where are you taking her?” he asked. 

“Holy Cross,” one of the EMTs answered.

Mulder nodded.  “I’m just going to get dressed.  I’ll be right behind you.  Tell her I’m on my way if she wakes up.”

The next five minutes tested Mulder’s patience.  He nearly slipped in the pool of blood on the floor and he stubbed his toe so badly it made him see stars and brought tears to his eyes.  He limped around Scully’s room, thankful at least for the clothes he had stored in her drawers and closet.  On his way out the door, he called Skinner.

“Agent Mulder,” Skinner answered, gruffly, sounding half-asleep.  “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“I don’t, actually,” he answered.  “I just put Scully in an ambulance and I need you to meet me at Holy Cross Memorial.”

There was a pause and then Skinner’s tone shifted.  “What happened?”

“Nosebleed and lost consciousness.  I need to go, will you meet me?”

“I’ll be there.”

The drive to the hospital, though short, felt excruciatingly long to Mulder.  He broke a few traffic laws in his haste, but managed to avoid getting pulled over.  He parked in the emergency lot and ran into ER expecting his badge to open doors with the nurses, but no one at the admitting desk seemed to pay him any mind.  He was growing increasingly frustrated at being ignored.

“Where is my wife!?” he shouted.

“Agent Mulder.”

Mulder whipped around and came face to face with Skinner, who was looking around uneasily as though he was being watched.  The assistant director was dressed casually, in jeans and a sweater, but Mulder could still see the bulge of his service weapon at his hip beneath his overcoat.

“Sir…they, um…they won’t tell me where Scully is.”

Skinner’s jaw shifted as he glanced past Mulder at the nurse’s station and then he sighed and pulled out his badge from his inside breast pocket.  Mulder stepped up alongside him as he flashed his ID to the nurse who was transcribing information from a file into a computer.

“My name is Walter Skinner, I’m an assistant director with the FBI.  A special agent was brought in by ambulance tonight, Dana Scully, and I need to know where she’s at.”

“Can’t release any information except to the family or next of kin,” the nurse replied, without even looking up at either of them.

Mulder cringed and shifted uncomfortably back and forth from one foot to the other.  “I’m her husband,” he said.  “Fox Mulder.  She’s being treated here by a Doctor…an oncologist whose name is…is on the tip of my tongue, but I just can’t…It should be in your records.  Dana Scully.  I can give you her social security number and her insurance information.”

The nurse sighed and finally looked up.  “Sir, if your wife is being treated in oncology, you need to go to the third floor.”

“She passed out this evening and an ambulance brought her in.  I don’t know if she’s in oncology, that’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“What did you say her name was?”

Mulder had to keep his anger in check and he took a deep breath and a sideways glance at Skinner.  “Dana.  Scully.”

The nurse typed the name with one finger.  “Date of birth?”

“February twenty-third, 1964.”

“Do you have ID?”

Without taking his eyes off the nurse, he pulled his ID from his pocket and held it up in front of her.  She barely took a glance at it and started typing again. 

“She’s in ICU,” the nurse said.  “Sixth floor, east wing.  Check in at the desk.”

“Thank you so much for your help.”  Mulder couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his tone as he put his ID back in his pocket.

Skinner and Mulder walked side by side to the elevator bank.  Mulder tried not to look at him.  He’d thought nothing of using his status as a husband to get in to see Scully, but didn’t intend for his boss to be there when he needed to play that hand.  Given the circumstances though, he didn’t care what the repercussions might be, as long as he got to see Scully.  The short ride up to the sixth floor was uncomfortably silent, and Mulder felt the urge to explain.

“Sir, Scully and I-”

“I don’t want to know,” Skinner cut him off and shook his head.  “The less I know, the better.”

The elevator dinged and without another word, they exited and followed the signs for the ICU.  The atmosphere was subdued and quiet, but at least the nurse at the desk was more helpful and directed Mulder and Skinner to a waiting room where she said a doctor would be out shortly to speak with them.  The room was empty and though there were plenty of chairs to sit in, both men stayed standing, Skinner facing a window overlooking the parking area and Mulder pacing by the door.  It was only a few minutes later that a woman in blue scrubs came in.

“Fox Mulder?” she asked.

“Yes,” Mulder answered.

The woman put her hand out.  “Julia Fennesy.”

“Scully’s doctor,” he nodded, shaking her hand.  As soon as she said her name, he remembered hearing it from Scully once before.

She looked past him towards Skinner and then inclined her head towards the door.  “Would you like to step out so we can speak privately?”

“No, this is…”  Mulder trailed off as he glanced back at his boss.  “He’s our…it’s okay.  He’s fine to be here.”

She nodded.  “We have Dana in a medically induced coma at the moment.”

“She’s in a coma?”

“A temporary one.  I’d like to get her in for an MRI as soon as possible to rule a few things out, but now that the tumor has metastasized-”

“I’m…I’m sorry, it’s…you said it’s metastasized?”  The news hit him like a blow to the chest and his stomach flipped.

She paused and then gave a brief nod.  “The results only came back a few days ago.  Sometimes it takes people time to process the information.  Can you tell me anything about the events leading up to the loss of consciousness?”

“Uh, we had…we’d been…”  He paused and cleared his throat.  “We were intimate, earlier in the evening.”  He felt his cheeks darken as he said it out loud, suddenly afraid that the two of them finally succumbing to their desire for each other had been the cause of this.  “I think we both fell asleep around midnight.  I woke up to her calling my name and she was standing in the bathroom door.  She said that something was wrong and then blood just started pouring from her nose and I could tell she was going to pass out.  Do you…think that…?”

“Probably not,” the doctor answered, seemingly reading Mulder’s mind.  “With the location and size of the tumor, the possibility of stroke or seizure is fairly high.  I’ll know more after the MRI.”

He felt a surge of bile rise in his throat and he swallowed it back.  “Okay,” he murmured.

The doctor left and Mulder dropped his head into one hand, rubbing the tension out of his forehead.  He had to take a few deep breaths in and slow breaths out.  He hated feeling so useless.  The only thing he felt like he could do at this point was to bring some justice to Scully.  He puffed his cheeks and audibly expelled a burst of air before he turned to his boss.

“I have to…I have to go,” he said.

“Go where?”

“There’s a reason I called you.  Something I couldn’t discuss over the phone.”

“What is it?”

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

Mulder took a deep breath and scrubbed his face with one hand before he proceeded to tell his boss everything about the past few days from the ice core samples to the alien autopsy he’d witnessed to the meeting with Kritschgau.  Skinner listened with the same tight-jawed stoicism he always gave, revealing nothing.  He only reacted when Mulder got to the part of his story where a dead man was suddenly on the floor of his apartment.

“Are you crazy, Mulder?”

“I’m not crazy.  Someone in the FBI is having me surveilled and I need to know who.”

“What?”

Mulder took the half-burnt printout from his pocket and handed it over to Skinner.  “He dialed the same number seventeen times.”

“This is the number for the PBX operator.”  Skinner frowned and then pulled his cell phone from his pocket.  He put one hand on his hip as he dialed.  “Holly, this is Assistant Director Skinner.  I need you to look something up for me if you can.  I have some calls placed to the Bureau on consecutive dates to the PBX Operator.  I can give you the dates and times of those calls when you’re ready.”

Mulder shifted impatiently as Skinner read off the information to Holly.  Skinner looked over at him and just for a moment, his brows twitched and then he turned away.

“Okay, thank you,” Skinner said, disconnecting the call.  He pocketed his phone before he looked Mulder in the eye.  “The calls that came in were routed to an executive extension.  Could have been to anyone at that level.”

“What level is that?”

“Deputy Directors, Section Chiefs-”

“Assistant Directors?”

“Mulder, I know nothing about this.  I can promise you that.”

Mulder scrutinized his boss.  His trust in the man was usually tenuous, at best, and he thought back on Skinner’s after hours activities he’d investigated a short time ago.  There were things the man was definitely a part of, but his gut was telling him that he wasn’t lying now.  He’d long presumed there was a mole on the inside and didn’t think his boss was the right fit.  He shook his head.

“Someone ordered the surveillance,” Mulder hissed.  “Someone obviously on the inside.  That person, that mole, is connected to the men responsible for giving Scully her cancer.  And I need to find out who, before it’s too late.”

“You’ve got a dead man on the floor of your apartment, Mulder, I’m surprised there’s not an APB out for you already.”

“Well, I’ve got an airtight alibi.”

“Which is what?”

“I was with Agent Scully all night.”

Skinner pressed his lips together and rubbed the back of his head.  “Well, that’s convenient.”

“Isn’t it?” Mulder smirked.

“Why are you telling me all this, Mulder?”

“Because I know it’s only a matter of time before the PD pulls me in, but I need the head start.”

“To do what?”

Mulder flashed the stolen ID at Skinner.  “Add impersonating a DOD employee to my rap sheet.”

Skinner took the ID from Mulder’s fingers and stared at it.  Mulder went to take it back, but Skinner put his hand out and pressed it to Mulder’s chest, holding him back. 

“Sir?”

“You need to get your priorities straight right now, Mulder. ”

“My priorities?”

“What can you hope to do for her if you’re sitting in a jail cell?”

“So, I’m supposed to just let this go?  There’s a chance I could find out who’s responsible for Scully’s cancer, the deaths of all those women in Allentown, my sister’s abduction, and you want me to walk away, is that what you’re saying?”

“Your partner is dying,” Skinner barked.

Mulder recoiled and sucked in a breath.  If Skinner had punched him in the gut it would have hurt worse.  He felt dizzy and nauseated.  His boss looked away from him as though embarrassed by his outburst and then he raised an arm up as though he were going to put his hand on Mulder’s shoulder, but turned away at the last minute and rubbed the back of his own head.  He hesitated to turn back and when he finally did he kept his head down, eyes averted.

“All I’m saying is, be careful what you put first,” Skinner said.  “You don’t have to make the same mistakes that I did.”  

Mulder blinked in surprise.  He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.  Skinner rarely brought his personal life into a conversation, however indirectly.  He thought back on the case that had inadvertently caused him and Scully to cross paths with their boss’ ex-wife and the regret had been deep and obvious. 

Skinner heaved a sigh and stared at the ID card still in his hand.  “I’ll look into the DOD situation,” he said, slipping the plastic card into his breast pocket.

“Do you even know what you’re looking for?”

“Would you?”

Mulder sighed and rubbed the back of his head.  He didn’t know what to do if he wasn’t out chasing leads.  Sitting still made him feel useless.  But, he thought back on all the times he’d been injured and woke up in the hospital and there was Scully, waiting at his bedside.  He’d been relieved every time to find her there and it was time he was there for her.  And he’d never be able to forgive himself if he wasn’t beside her in the end.  He nodded.

“I guess I’ll be here then,” Mulder said, wryly.  “Provided the law doesn’t catch up to me.”

“Keep your head down.  If I can hold them off in any way, I will.”

“I appreciate that, Sir.”

Skinner didn’t reply, just gave a short nod and then left.  Alone, Mulder sat down in one of the chairs against the wall, facing the door, and waited.  His thoughts never strayed from Scully.  Silently, he begged for her well-being, for a miracle, for more time.  He hadn’t even had the opportunity to process the lines they’d crossed last night and what it could mean for them moving forward.

Mulder dropped his head back to the wall with a dull thud.  He wasn’t so sure about the future anymore.  Scully wasn’t getting better, she was getting worse.  Time was running out and he was just sitting there, doing nothing about it.

“God dammit,” he muttered, bumping his head into the wall again.

Anxiety took over in him and he bounced his leg and pulled at the bottom of his lip, wishing he had a bag of sunflower seeds.  He’d never been good at waiting and he’d never been good at being left alone with his thoughts.  He jumped up when the doctor returned and wiped his sweaty palms on the front of his jeans.

“She’s stable,” the doctor said.

“What happened?  Can I see her?”

“A ruptured blood vessel in the nasal cavity.  The sudden blood loss caused her to go into hypovolemic shock.”

“What is-”

“Hypovolemic shock occurs when the heart isn’t able to pump the blood as fast as it’s being lost.  But, the good news is that it’s treatable, we’ve got her on fluids now, and she should be awake soon.”

“And I can see her?”

“Yes, I’ll take you back now.”

Mulder followed the doctor down the hall and through a door that required a keycard to enter.  He saw Scully through the open window before they made it to her room and it took his breath away.  When the doctor had said she was in stable condition, he’d pictured her sleeping peacefully, not pale and drawn with wires and tubes everywhere.  It took him back to the night he’d sat vigil at her side when she’d been returned from her abduction.

“It’s temporary,” the doctor said.  “All this will be gone within the next few hours as we bring her out of the coma.”

He nodded vaguely and looked down at her limp hand.  There was an IV in her arm and an oxygen mask over her face, which he breathed a small sigh of relief over that she wasn’t intubated.  He looked up at the heart monitor and watched the steady green blips move across the screen.

“Can I stay?” he asked.  “Can I sit with her?”

“Of course.  The nurses will be in and out, just don’t get in their way.”

“My reputation must precede me.”  The doctor looked at him quizzically and he shook his head slightly.  “I won’t get in the way.”

After jotting a few things down on Scully’s chart, the doctor left the room.  There was a hard plastic chair in the corner of the room.  Mulder moved it over to Scully’s bedside and sat before her.  He carefully slid his hand under hers and ran his thumb over her knuckles, trying not to jostle her at all, mindful of the IV.

“Hey, Scully,” he whispered.  “You know, I read an article a few years ago that said there was evidence that coma patients could hear what was going on around them, even remember some of it when they woke up.  It was in one of your medical journals, JAMA, I think, so you can’t really argue with me on that.  You want to do a little experiment right now?  For science?”

Mulder leaned close and ran his thumb over Scully’s knuckles.  He wanted to pick up her hand and kiss the soft skin at the underside of her wrist, but he settled for brushing his thumb back and forth across the tops of her fingers.  

“There’s something I forgot to tell you,” he said.  “Something really important.  When you wake up, I want you to ask me what that is, okay?  But, you gotta wake up first.  You have to…you just have to wake up, Scully.”

A pinch in his throat closed his airpipe and he dropped his head as his eyes began to water.  He bit down into the flesh of his bottom lip and sucked in a breath.  Once he’d blinked away the tears and swallowed back the lump in his throat, he looked back up at her.

“I willed you back from the brink once,” he said.  “I can do it again.  I’ll do it a thousand times if I have to.”

He half-expected her to open her eyes at that, to give him that look she so often did when he said something she thought was incredulous, but she was still and silent.  Not even a stutter on the heart monitor.  He squeezed her fingers and lifted himself out of the chair just enough to put his face near to hers.  He glanced over his shoulder and then pulled the oxygen mask aside to touch his lips to hers.  With a sigh, he nuzzled her cheek before putting the mask back in place and then sat back down.

Like clockwork, every fifteen minutes a nurse came through to check on Scully.  Mulder continued to sit beside her and quietly rambled about old cases in between their rounds.  The sun was just starting to creep through the blinds when her eyes finally fluttered open.  By then, the IV had been removed and the oxygen mask replaced with a nasal cannula.

“Hey,” Mulder said, rising up from the chair and putting his hand to Scully’s cheek.  “Welcome back.”

Scully’s eyes rolled back and then opened again.  She focused her gaze upwards to the ceiling and when Mulder ran the back of his hand along the curve of her jaw, she turned her eyes to him.  Her eyelids drooped, but she leaned into his touch.

“What happened?” she mumbled.  “Where am I?”

“You had a nosebleed, a ruptured vessel, and then you passed out.  The doctor said it was hypovascular?  No, that’s not right.  Hypo-something shock.”

“Hypovolemic?”

“That sounds right.”

Scully winced and shifted uncomfortably.  “Can I see my chart?”

“Uh…”

“At the end of the bed.  I can see the clipboard there.”

Mulder took a step to the side and leaned over the foot of the bed.  He unhooked the clipboard from its place and handed it to Scully.  She read what was there and then handed it back to him with a sigh.  He put it back and then quickly put a hand on her shoulder as she started to struggle to sit up.

“Hey, hey,” he said.  “Just stay put.”

“I want to get out of here, I want to go home.”

“I know you do, but you’re in the ICU.  You were just in a coma.  You can’t just get up and walk away from this.”

Her eyes started to well and he held her face, rubbing the tears away from her temples with his thumbs.  Her chin wobbled and he bent down so he could press his forehead to hers.  “I’m afraid,” she whispered.

“I am too.”

“You know that it’s metastasized.”

His nose brushed hers as he nodded.  “I know.”

“I don’t know if I can go back to work.”

“I don’t want you even thinking about that right now.”

“Mulder, I-”

“Just rest, honey.  Please.” 

He was saved from any further argument by Scully when one of the nurses came in.  He stepped back to let her check Scully over and shortly after, the doctor came in as well.  Of course the first question Scully asked was when she could go home, but the doctor was adamant that it would be a few days, that they’d need to monitor her and make sure there wasn’t a chance for another rupture.  The only concession they were willing to make was that Scully could be transferred from the ICU down to a room in the oncology ward.

“I suppose I need to call my mother,” Scully murmured, once the room had cleared.  

“You want me to do that?” Mulder asked.

She shook her head and looked towards the window.  “I’ll do it.”  Suddenly her expression changed and she looked deeply troubled.  “What was the important thing you needed to tell me?”

“What?”

“You said you had something important to tell me.”  She squeezed her eyes shut like she was trying to concentrate.  

His eyes grew wide and he grabbed her hand.  “You heard me last night?”

“Last night?  Last night you were sitting in the dark in my apartment when I came home…oh my god, Mulder, the bod…the man who was surveilling you…the one who-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted.

“Don’t worry about it?  The police are-”

“Scully, don’t worry about it.”  He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.  “I called Skinner on my way to the hospital.  He knows.”

“He knows?”

“I told him pretty much everything.”

She looked alarmed and pulled her hand free.  “Why would you do that?  Skinner could very well be the one who ordered the surveillance.”

“No.”  He shook his head.  “I don’t believe that.”  

“What if you’re wrong?”

“When have I ever been wrong?”  He smiled at her, but she frowned in response.

“Then, I want you to lay it on me.”

“What?”

“Tell them I was the one that killed that man.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can.  It could save you.  Let me do that, at least, before…let me give some meaning to what’s happened to me.”

Mulder sucked in a breath and held onto it as he bit down into his bottom lip.  He shook his head.  Before he could protest further, the nurse that had been in before with the doctor and two orderlies came into the room and announced they were there to transfer Scully to oncology.

“Why don’t you go and get yourself a cup of coffee, Mr. Scully,” the nurse said.  “Let us get your wife settled in.  Room 403 in about an hour.”

He nodded and leaned over to kiss the corner of Scully’s mouth before he left.  She grabbed his hand and held it firmly, her eyes filling with tears.  He tried to smile at her, to let her know it would all be okay, but she wasn’t buying it any more than he was.  

Inside the elevator down to the cafeteria, he fell back against the wall and put his head in his hands.  He wasn’t prepared for how rapidly it seemed that Scully’s cancer was progressing and how resigned she seemed to be to her fate.  Anger bubbled up inside his chest and he clenched a fist, fighting back the urge to punch the wall.

The doors opened to an empty hallway and he squinted at the bright sunlight beaming in from the glass walls in front of him.  He checked his watch and saw that it was nearly ten a.m. and then he pulled out his cell phone to call Skinner as he headed to the cafeteria.

“We need to make this quick,” Skinner said, in lieu of a greeting.  “I can’t really talk right now.”

“Sir?”

“I’m going to need the number for your housekeeper.”

“What?”

“I stopped by your place after we spoke.  It’s clean.”

Mulder stopped in his tracks.  “Who would…?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t even wager a guess at this point.”

“And what about the lead on their employer?”

“It seems he no longer works there.  The card was deactivated.”

“Damn.”  He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.

“How’s Agent Scully?”

“Out of the coma.  They’re transferring her to oncology.”

“Keep me informed.  I have to go.”

“Yeah.  You too.”

Skinner disconnected and Mulder pocketed his phone.  He followed the signs for the cafeteria and got himself a coffee from the self-service station.  As he was shaking a sugar packet, he looked up and out the window.

“Sonofabitch,” he muttered under his breath, dropping the sugar packet and abandoning the coffee on the table.  He headed for the nearest exit and shoved the automatic door open with force.

As he stalked towards the man standing casually on the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette with a smug smile on his wrinkled face, Mulder clenched his right hand into a fist.  He’d just been looking for an outlet for his anger and punching the hell out of the slippery, black-lunged bastard felt like a great choice.

“Please,” he said.  “Tell me you’re here with chest pains.”

“You should be glad to see me.”  The old man tapped a bit of ash from the end of his cigarette and glanced down at Mulder’s fisted hand.  “Show some respect.”

“Go to hell.”

“Sending Mr. Skinner to do your reconnaissance work is unlike you.  What did you expect to find with a level 1 access security card?”

“I don’t know, a map to the lost city of Atlantis.”

“You’re quite funny when you feel threatened, Agent Mulder.  You know that?”

“Yeah, I’m a real barrel of monkeys.  Get the hell out of here.”  Mulder turned to walk away, afraid he may actually pull a punch on the old man.  As it was, he was relieved he didn’t have his weapon on him otherwise he may have already used it by now.

“Don’t you even want to see the gift I’ve brought for you?”

“Not especially.”

“You might change your mind when you see her.”

That gave Mulder pause.  He turned back and the old man casually dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk and crushed it under his foot before gesturing towards a black Sedan with tinted windows.  The passenger door opened and a petite woman with dark, curly hair stepped out.  She moved timidly, glancing about the parking lot as she slowly moved closer.  Mulder came closer as well, stepping off the sidewalk and squinting into the sunlight.

“Samantha?” he murmured.

“I was afraid I’d never see you again,” the woman said.  “He told me something bad happened to you that night.”

“To me?  Who told you that?”

“My father.”  She glanced at the old man and he put a hand on her shoulder.  Mulder seethed, but was too stunned to do more than stare.  

“Why don’t the two of you go inside and get a cup of coffee,” the old man said.  “I should think you’d have some catching up to do.”

Mulder nodded, but the woman looked frightened at the prospect.  She went with him with obvious hesitation, looking back at the old man every few steps and then at the ground.  Mulder held the door open for her and guided her towards the cafeteria, but was careful not to touch her.  She reminded him of a wounded animal.

“Can I get you a coffee or a tea or…bagel?” he asked.

She shook her head.  He noticed the coffee he’d abandoned was still on the counter, but he purchased another and then they moved to a table next to the windows.  The old man lurked outside, smoking another cigarette as he gazed inside at them.

“Do you mind if I ask you something kind of strange?” Mulder asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Can I see the back of your neck?”

She turned to look out the window at the old man and Mulder leaned forward, putting his hand out towards hers where they were folded on top of the table, but he still didn’t touch her, he just wanted to get her attention.  She pulled back slightly, startled, but looked at him again.

“I know it sounds weird, but you’re not the first…you’re not the first Samantha that I’ve…there’s been others that have claimed to be you.”

Her face softened slightly into a more puzzled expression and then she reached up and lifted her hair as she angled her body away.  “What are you looking for?” she asked.  “A birthmark?”

“Not quite,” he answered, tipping his head to inspect her smooth skin.  “You’re fine.”

She dropped her hair and then folded her hands again, but she was less tense than before.  “Others?”

“Clones.”

“Clones?”  She narrowed her eyes slightly, but the corners of her mouth twitched.  “You always liked to tease me.”

“Yeah, I did.  What else do you remember?”

Her brow furrowed and she looked away again.  Mulder took a sip of his coffee and took a discreet glance at the old man.  He hadn’t moved.

“I try not to think about it,” she whispered.

“Yeah, but-”

“Can you tell me why I can’t tolerate the smell of oranges?” she interrupted.  “Every time I smell an orange, it makes me queasy.  Has it always been like that?”

He was surprised by the question and if he had doubts that the Samantha before him was a clone or even a highly sophisticated android, that eased them somewhat, because how could she know that?

“Yeah, I can,” he answered.  “You were probably six at the time and mad because Mom wouldn’t let you get an Orange Crush from the vending machine at the store.  When we got home, you got the club soda from the drink caddy in Dad’s study and mixed it with Tang.  You managed to drink at least half a glass before hurling what had to have been a vile concoction all over the kitchen.”

Her face scrunched up and he caught a glimpse of the little girl she was when he tried to convince her that gummy worms were made from real worms.  “I knew there was a reason,” she said.  

“I can tell you anything you want to know.  I’m kind of the opposite of you in that I never stop remembering things.  I think about you all the time.”

“It doesn’t hurt you to do that?  Your brain…doesn’t hurt?”

“Is that what happens when you try to think about it?  Your brain hurts.”

She closed her eyes and touched her fingertips to her forehead.  He glanced out the window at the smoking man and then hunched down so he was bent across the table and could look between her fingers at her.

“I don’t know if you’re who you say you are,” he said to her, keeping his voice low.  “Even if you aren’t, I can help you.”

“What do you mean if I’m who I say I am?  Help me with what?”

“You were abducted, Samantha, I can help you remember.”

Her face crumbled and she shook her head fiercely.  “No, Fox.” 

“Why do you call that man your father?” 

“Because he is my father.” 

“You know that’s not true.  You came from a family.”  He put a hand on his chest.  “I’m your brother.  If you know that, how can you say that man is your father?”  

“He told me that it had all been a secret.  That Dad wasn’t my real dad and that he and Mom hadn't told anyone to protect the family.”

“And you believed that?”

A tear ran down her cheek and she brushed it away.  “He was so kind to me, and he was the only one I could remember from...before.”

“From before?  From before what?”

“I don’t know.” Her face contorted slightly like her head hurt.  “From when I woke up.”

“Sam, you were taken.  You have to remember that.  You have to.  I can help you recover those memories, you’ve got to-”

“I don't want to, Fox,” she snapped, slapping her hands down on the table so forcefully he jumped.  “I don't.”

“Then why come here at all?”

“My father told me that he'd found you.  He said you wanted to see me very badly, that you'd been looking for me for a long time.  Is that true?”

Mulder sucked in a breath and looked out the window again.  The smoking man had finished his cigarette and now stood with his hands in the pockets of his overcoat.  He could see the hint of a smile on the old man’s face and it made his blood boil.  He clenched his jaw and then looked at Samantha, trying to keep the anger he felt out of his voice.

“I want you to listen to me,” he said.  “Please, hear me.  What you've been told by that man is not true.”

She furrowed her brow.  “Why do you say that?”

“Because he’s known where I've been for a very long time.  He’s known all about my search for you for years.”

“I don't understand.  Why wouldn't he tell me?”

“I don't know, but I think he's kept a lot of things from you.  And me.”

“I don't believe you.”  She shook her head emphatically.  “He's been a good father to me.  He's given me a life and he cared for me when there was no one else.”

“What are you talking about, no one else?  He took you from your family, Sam.  If you don’t believe me, come home with me, then.  Come home and see Mom.”

She gasped and her voice wavered.  “Mom is…alive?”

“Yes.  And I know she'd like to see you very much.”

“I can't.”  She screwed her eyes shut and let out a small sob.

“Why not?”

“It's too much.”  She shook her head again and started to slide out of her side of the booth.  “I didn't want to come here at all, Fox.  I was afraid to see you.  I have another life now.  I have children of my own.”

Mulder slid out of the booth as well and caught her arm.  “Children?”

“Please, let go of me,” she whispered.

“Sam…”

“I can't stay here right now.”  She tried to tug her arm from, but he tightened his grip, panicked at the thought of losing her again.

“Tell me how I can find you, at least.”

“I need some time.”

“Please, just tell me where to find you.”

“Let me go, Fox.”

He stared into her wet eyes and eased his hold on her, letting her slip away from him.  He followed her out the door, moving slowly as she hurried towards the old man.  He stayed back and watched as she embraced him, putting her head down on his chest while he stroked her hair and whispered something to her.  She nodded and went back to the car, never looking back.  Mulder watched her go and the old man watched him.  Lighting another cigarette, the smoking man sauntered towards Mulder with a smile.

“Looks like things went well,” he said.

Mulder glared at the smoking man, wanting to smack the smile off his face.  As if he could read Mulder’s mind, the man grinned even harder before taking a long drag on his cigarette and then blew the smoke towards Mulder’s face.

“You don’t like my gift?” the man asked.

“There’s no such thing as a gift where you’re concerned.  I’m sure terms and conditions apply.”

“Don’t you believe in selfless acts, Fox?”  The smoking man chuckled and tapped ash from his cigarette.  

“Go to hell.”

“I can tell you the truth that you've so desperately sought.  About the project.  About the men who've conspired to protect it.

“I already know the truth.”

The old man chuckled again.  “Do you?”

“I spoke to one of your men.”

“Michael Kritschgau?”  He scoffed.  “He’s deceived you with beautiful lies.  He's told you that everything you've ever believed about the existence of extraterrestrial life is untrue.”

Mulder gritted his teeth.  He could feel the vein in his neck throbbing painfully. 

“As I said,” the old man continued, “I'm offering you a chance to know the truth.”

“In exchange for what?”

The old man shrugged.  “Maybe one day I might need a favor from you, and you’ll think about my generosity.”

“No deal.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said, Fox?  I can make your problems go away.”  

“I’m sure.  And your timing is rather convenient, isn’t it?”

The old man took a drag from his cigarette and looked up at the hospital windows.  “A mere coincidence, I assure you.  But, exactly how dire is Agent Scully’s condition right now?”

“You son of a bitch,” Mulder hissed, stepping up toe to toe with the old man.  “You murdered my father, you killed Scully's sister, and if Scully dies, I will kill you.  I don't care whose father you are, I will put you down.”

“Well, you're certainly capable, aren’t you?”  The old man dropped his cigarette onto Mulder’s shoe and Mulder kicked it away.  “It looks like my offerings aren’t enticing enough, but that’s alright, I know what you really want, what you’re holding out for.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“The cure for Agent Scully’s cancer, of course.”

Mulder stared at the old man, disgusted by the look of smug satisfaction on his face.  “You’re a liar,” he hissed.

“Am I?  Well, there’s only one way to find out.  Come to the Lincoln Memorial at midnight.  Don’t be late, my generosity has an expiration.”

With that, the old man walked away.  Mulder watched him get into the driver’s seat of the car Samantha had gotten into and drive off.  He stood outside for a few more minutes before he finally went back in and bought a third cup of coffee that he was finally able to drink.  He sat in a corner of the cafeteria with his phone on the table, contemplating making a call, almost dialing the number, but then ultimately abandoning it out of an abundance of caution.  He checked his watch.  More than an hour had passed, so he made his way to the oncology ward.

To his surprise, Scully’s mother and her brother, Bill, were in her room when he entered.  Mrs. Scully had her back to him, while Bill stood on the other side, facing the door.  He could feel the tension in the air and in the way Mrs. Scully greeted him.  Her tight smile and the terse, “Hello, Fox,” she gave him over one shoulder gave him pause.  Scully looked paler and more sullen than when he’d seen her just a few short hours ago.  She was sitting up, more alert than before, but also looked as though she’d been crying.  Her eyes were red.

“Uh, I can…I can come back later,” he said, already hesitating at the door.

“No,” Scully said.  “Mulder, come in.”

“I think that would be wise,” Bill said.

“Bill, please.”

“It’s okay,” Mulder insisted.  “I’ll just-”

“Mulder, stay,” Scully pleaded, imploring him with her eyes.

“Dana,” Mrs. Scully started.

“Mom, don’t.”

“This is a family matter,” Bill said.

“Mulder is my family,” Scully argued.

“He is not.”

“Would you say that about Tara?”

“That’s different and you know it, Tara is my wife.”

“Well, Mulder is my husband!” Scully snapped.  “And he’s staying.”

Mrs. Scully gasped.  “Dana!”

“What the hell?” Bill growled.

“Uh…”  Mulder grimaced and rubbed the back of his head.

“You and Fox are…”  Mrs. Scully clutched at the front of her sweater, worrying the top button between her thumb and forefinger.  “And you didn’t say anything?  When did…how long have…?”

“We got married in February,” Scully said. 

“It’s my fault,” Mulder interjected.  “We wanted to tell you, but it’s a complicated work situation and I-”

“Mulder.”  Scully cut him off and shook her head.  “That’s not true.  Telling my mother was the one thing you asked me to do and I didn’t do it.”

“I don’t understand, Dana.  How could you be married?  In what church?”

“We didn’t get married in a church, Mom, we went to city hall in Falls Church, Virginia.”

“So, it was kind of a church,” Mulder said, hoping to lighten the mood a little.  Bill glared at him and he lifted his brows a little at Scully in apology. 

“But, it’s not a valid marriage if it’s not in the church.  When you have children, they-”

“Mom!” Scully snapped.  “Do you hear yourself?  Of course my marriage is valid.  Children?  Look around you.  Look at where I am!”

“Dana,” Bill said, quietly.  “You don’t need to-”

“Yes, I do!”  Scully put her hands over her face and shook her head.  “I do have to, because, I can’t…I don’t have the energy for this anymore, I just don’t.”

“You’re right, sweetheart, I think what you need right now is to save your strength.”

“No, Mom, you’re not hearing me!  I fight and I fight and I fight and I fight and I…I can’t…I just can’t…”  She broke down in sobs, bent over with her shoulders shaking, gasping for breath.

“Scully…”  Mulder rushed over, pushing past Bill, and pulled Scully into his arms.  He sat perched on the side of the bed and she nearly crawled into his lap as she clutched at his shirt and buried her face in his chest.

Mrs. Scully looked positively stricken.  Bill finally moved to the other side of the bed and put a hand on his mother’s shoulder.  Mulder held onto Scully, his arms engulfing her while he pressed his face to her neck.  Her emotional outburst was short-lived, sobs dying on a shuddering breath and then she was pulling away and Bill put a box of tissues in her lap.  Mulder stayed sitting beside her, rubbing her back in soft circles.

“I’m sorry,” Scully whispered, wiping her nose with a tissue.

“Dana,” Mrs. Scully said, taking a seat on the other side of the bed, facing her.  She put a hand on Scully’s knee.  “This is exactly what I was talking about earlier when I suggested calling Father McCue.  You need to speak with someone.”

“I don’t want to talk to Father McCue, Mom, I just…”  She sucked in a breath and, shoulders sagging again, she reached up and thumbed the chain of her necklace.  “I don’t even know why I wear this.  I put it on every day and for what?  It won’t save me.”

“You can’t lose faith, sweetheart.”

“I already have.”

A heavy silence blanketed the room.  Though Mulder didn’t know Scully’s brother at all, he could tell the man looked crestfallen.  Mrs. Scully stared out the window, her lips pressed tightly together.  Mulder squeezed Scully’s arm and she rolled her head towards him just a little.

“Everyone in here needs to face the fact that I’m not getting better,” Scully said.  “I’m…out of time.  And, I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Mrs. Scully swallowed and closed her eyes and the room fell silent once more.  Mulder breathed deep and then held it.  His emotions were already bubbling close to the surface and the resigned tone he heard in Scully’s voice felt like a knife in the gut.  Bill walked to the window and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I need you to do something for me,” Scully said, reaching for Mulder’s hand.  “You know that deli by my apartment that has the really good bagels you like?”

“Yeah.”  Mulder nodded and furrowed his brow.  “You want me to get you some bagels?”

“No, I’ve changed my mind.  I do want to speak with someone.  There’s a church on the same block as the deli, on the corner of Prospect, I think.  Or the next block down.  Our Lady of Sorrows.  There’s a priest there, Father Llewellyn.  Will you find him?  Will you ask him to come?”

“Yeah.  I can do that.”

“Tell him I stopped in just before Easter.”

“Okay.”

She squeezed his hand and he wanted to tell her that she was too strong to give up.  Instead, he encased her hand in his own and brought her wrist to his lips.  He kissed the bump of her wrist bone and then leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth.

“I can still bring you some bagels, though,” he mumbled against her lips.  “The coffee downstairs was pretty mediocre, I don’t know if the food up here is going to be that much more palatable.”

Scully lifted her free hand to his face and rubbed his cheek.  He rested his forehead against hers for a few moments and then stood back up.  She held onto his hand as he backed away and their fingers finally unwillingly slipped apart.  He had to avert his eyes as her lips were pulled into a deep frown and he was afraid he wouldn’t make it out the door before the tears he felt coming on would gather in his eyes.  Out in the hallway, after the door closed and he’d moved a few paces away, he bent over and put his hands on his knees, taking in a few deep breaths.

“Mr. Mulder?”

Before turning around and facing Scully’s brother, who had apparently followed him out, Mulder took one more deep breath and then brushed the side of his thumb across his right eye and then his left.  He straightened and nodded once at Bill.

“You can just call me Mulder.”

Bill stared at Mulder with the same disdainful, distrustful look he’d given him when they’d met at Mrs. Scully’s house.  “I’ll admit, I wanted to walk out here and tell you what a sorry, sonofabitch you are, and to leave my sister alone to die in peace.”

“I guess if I were in your shoes, maybe I’d feel the same way.”

Bill unexpectedly held his hand out to Mulder and Mulder stared at it for a few moments before reaching out as well.  Bill’s handshake was firm and rigid, almost threatening.  His grip tightened and for a moment, to Mulder, it felt more like a warning than an olive branch, but then he released him and stepped back.

“I don’t like you, Mr. Mulder, but I’m willing to try to accept that you’re part of my sister’s life.  That’s the best I can do.”

“That’s…good enough for me.” 

Bill gave Mulder a brief nod and then he turned and went back into Scully’s room.  Mulder sighed.  It wasn’t good enough for him.  He didn’t want there to be animosity between him and Scully’s brother, but he had other priorities and Bill Jr. was the least of his concerns.

On the drive to the church, Mulder turned over his options regarding the smoking man.  He didn’t trust him in any way, but it was hard not to believe that he would have access to a cure.  As for the story his alleged sister told, he supposed it could be plausible, but the timing was more than a little suspicious.  He would sell his soul if it meant Scully survived, but she would probably never forgive him for it.  She would hate him for it, but at least she would be alive.

Our Lady of Sorrows was easy to find.  As soon as Mulder passed the bagel shop, the church loomed on the corner, a squat, red brick building with large stained glass windows on all sides.  He parked in an empty lot and cut across the neatly trimmed lawn to the front door.  He took his sunglasses off and hooked them at his collar.  The interior was dark and warm and, he would have to admit, rather inviting.  He looked around, even knocking lightly on the confessional box to try to find someone that could help him find Father Llewellyn.  

“Hello?” he called out, looking up as his voice echoed into the vaulted ceilings.

“Hello?” someone answered.

Mulder turned.  An older, bald-headed man peered over the side of a balcony in front of a large pipe organ.  He got to his feet, wiping his hands on a blue jumpsuit.

“Can I help you?” the man asked.

“Yeah, I’m looking for Father Llewellyn.”

“Check the garden out back.”

“Alright.  Thanks.”

The man waved and ducked back down to whatever work he’d been doing.  Mulder went out a side door and down a short flight of steps that ended at a walkway that led to the rear of the building.  He pushed through a wrought-iron gate into a garden and spotted what must be Father Llewellyn in his black robe and a straw hat, watering tomato vines.

“Are you Father Llewellyn?” Mulder asked.  Out of habit, he started to reach for his badge.

The priest turned with his watering can and smiled congenially.  “I am.”

“My name is Fox Mulder.  My…my partner asked me to come for you.  Her name is Dana Scully.  She spoke with you a few weeks back.  Around Easter.”

The smile on Father Llewellyn’s face dimmed and he put his watering can down.  He pushed his hat from his head and it fell to his back, dangling by the black ties at his neck.  Tears sprang suddenly to Mulder’s eyes as the older priest shuffled towards him and he blinked them back.

“I…I don’t mean for you to think the circumstances are dire, but…but, she asked for you, and…”

“Tell me where I’m needed,” the priest said, resting a gentle hand on Mulder’s arm.  “I will go.”  

“She’s in the oncology ward at Holy Cross Memorial.  I can take you.”

“That’s quite alright.  I have a man that drives me.”  He shuffled forward, but kept his hand on Mulder’s arm and Mulder walked with him.  “I haven’t been to Holy Cross in some time, I was there more frequently when I was assigned to St. Marks.  Have you ever been there?”

“No, I’m not…my partner is the religious one.  I’m a bit of a heathen, I’m afraid.”

“Something tells me there’s a part of you that wants to believe, though.”

Mulder stopped.  “What makes you say that?”

“Your wife is a believer.  And you’re here.  My guess is also that you find yourself praying for her, at times.”

“I guess I do.  At times.”

The wrought iron gate squelched as the priest pulled it closed behind them as they exited the garden.  Mulder followed him back towards the side door he came out from, his arm hovering behind the older man as he pushed himself up the stairs with a strong grip on the handrail.

“My knees,” the priest said with a smile.  “Aren’t what they used to be.”

Mulder held the door open for him and followed him inside.  “Can I ask you something, Father?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever witnessed a miracle?”

“Such as?”

“Such as someone with terminal cancer making a full recovery.”

“When I first entered the seminary, all cancer was essentially terminal.  And now it isn’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Are you familiar with the parable of the drowning man at all?”

“Is that the one with the two boats and a helicopter punchline?”

“Indeed.”

Mulder shook his head.  “I don’t follow.  How is that relevant?”

“Miracles don’t just happen by prayer alone, but they don’t exist without God either.  The scientists, for example, who work towards finding cures for diseases, that takes time, and effort, but God granted them that ability.”

“Or they studied hard and a college granted them a degree.”

“Spoken like a true heathen.”  The priest smiled congenially and Mulder shrugged apologetically.  “I believe that God is the creator and that we are all but his instruments.  I wouldn’t suggest praying for miracles, I would suggest praying for the doctors and the chemists and the scientists that they may allow Him to work through them.  Pray for progress, as I have been witness to progress.  And that gives me hope.”

Mulder sighed, but nodded.  He actually appreciated what the priest told him on an intellectual level.  It was grounded and rational, even if Mulder disagreed with the philosophy of it.  It didn’t make him feel any better, though.

“I’ll let Scully know you’re coming,” Mulder said, and started to walk away, but the priest called out to him and he turned around. 

“Why do you ask about miracles?” the priest asked.  “If you don’t believe.”

Mulder shrugged.  “She does.”  He turned around and bent his head as he walked towards the door.  “And maybe I want to believe,” he murmured to himself.

In the parking lot, he sat in his car for some time mulling over his conversation with the priest.  He’d essentially said the same thing to Scully not too long ago, that progress was being made all the time, but he wished it would move faster.  And he thought about the drowning man parable.  Surely Cancerman wasn’t an instrument of God, to offer him a cure for Scully’s cancer.  God would never require getting into bed with the devil in exchange for sparing a life.  But, a potential lifeboat was still a lifeboat.  

Still in his car, Mulder pulled out his cell phone and called the hospital.  Scully picked up the phone after he asked to be transferred to her room.

“Hey, Scully, it’s me,” he said.  “I found Father Llewllyn.  He’s on his way to you.”

“Thank you.”

“Is your mom still there?  Bill?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.  I have to run an errand, alright?  And then I’ll be back.”

“You should go home and get some sleep.”

“I think Mr. Sandman lost my address a long time ago.  I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

“Hey, Scully?”

“Yeah?”

“That important thing I needed to tell you.  I told you that last night when you were in your coma.  I told you that when you woke up, I would tell you if you asked.  It wasn’t about what I was in your apartment for.  It was…it was about what happened after that.  You remember what happened after that?”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.  “I remember,” she finally said, and Mulder sighed a little with relief.

“With everything that’s happened, I know we really didn’t get a chance to talk about it.  The important thing is that…I probably should have said it to you when we…but I…”   

He stopped.  He desperately wanted to tell her he loved her, that last night was perfect and wonderful, but it felt as cowardly saying it over the phone as it felt whispering it in the dark when she was asleep.  He should have told her last night.  He should have told her four months ago.  He should have told her years ago.

“We both should have,” Scully said, after some time.

“Is that something that we can…talk about?  Later, I mean.”

“I think so.”

There was a long pause in the conversation after that.  Mulder finally took a deep breath and sat up straight in his seat.  “I’ll see you soon,” he said.

“Okay.”

He heard her disconnect and he stared at his phone for a few moments before he reached for the keys in the ignition to start the car.  He was feeling a little better.  He was feeling more hopeful.

A short while later, Mulder pulled up in front of the offices of The Lone Gunmen.  He leaned into the fisheye lens of the security camera as he pressed the buzzer and waited for them to let him in.  He only stepped back when he heard the locks turning and clicking and then Frohike appeared in the doorway and ushered him inside.

“How’s Scully?” he asked.

“In the hospital,” Mulder answered.  “That’s why I’m here.  Sort of.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Byers said, offering Mulder a chair at one of their many workstations.

“I’ve got a new theory that I want to run past you boys.”  Mulder took a seat and moved past the well-wishes to get down to business.  He had a limited amount of time and too much to say.

“We’re always up for new theories,” Langly said, spinning around in his chair and crossing his arms.  “Especially yours.”

Mulder started with his discovery last night about his apartment having been under surveillance and then he got his friends up to speed with the events of the last several days.  It was much of what he’d told Skinner in the hospital, about the ice core samples, about Kritschgau, about the alleged alien autopsy and the man he’d shot in the apartment above his.  He felt uncharacteristically dispassionate about all of it, sticking to the facts as he had them, and he only faltered a little when he told them of how Scully had gotten a nosebleed and how he’d had to call 911 and get her to the hospital.

“She’s okay now, though,” he said, holding his hands up a little as he could see Frohike getting agitated.  “The coma was temporary and she’s awake, mostly fine, it’s just…it’s metastasized.”

“So soon?” asked Byers.  He shook his head and looked embarrassed.  “I’m sorry, I just thought it might progress…more slowly.  Given what we know about the other women.”

“You said you had a theory,” Langly said, changing the subject.  “None of that is a theory, it’s just a chain of events.”

“You’re right,” Mulder answered, tapping his fingers together.  “I haven’t gotten there yet because I haven’t finished updating you.”

“What else is there?” Frohike asked.

Mulder continued with the story, telling them about the cigarette smoking man and about Samantha and the offer of the cure for Scully’s cancer.  Frohike sat stone-faced through most of it, while Byers looked concerned.  Langly was the only one that didn’t have much of a reaction one way or the other, until he did.

“The Lincoln Memorial,” Langly pondered, spinning in his chair again.

Mulder nodded, glad to see that Langly had picked up on the first context clue.  “Pretty specific, right?”

Langly slid his chair over to his computer and began typing.  “You know there’s a rumor that the undercroft of the memorial has a secret tunnel that leads to the Pentagon?”

Mulder pointed at his friend.  “Now we can step back in time and I can start telling you my theory.”

Technically, the theory that Mulder was about to unfold had been percolating in his mind for quite some time, but in the last 24 hours, pieces of the bigger picture started to fall into place for him.

“I have asked myself, time and time again, what exactly was my father involved in and how much did he know about my sister’s abduction?  What was the end game for this group he took part in, what were they ultimately working towards and why?  After all that I’ve seen, after all that’s been uncovered, what of those things are lies and what is the truth?”

“Maybe they’re one and the same,” Frohike said.

“Bingo.”  Mulder pointed to his friend.  “Aliens are a red herring.”

Byers looked befuddled and blinked as though he’d been startled.  “You don’t believe in aliens?”

“Oh, I believe in them, but two things can be true at the same time.  They can be real and they can also be a smokescreen.  I think that in some ways, the group of men that my father had once been a part of, has been using me as a pawn since the beginning.”

“How?” Frohike asked.  “And for what purpose?”

“Because if they’ve got an FBI agent out there investigating alien abductions, it validates their work.  It sends the message that they’re not a hoax and that message spreads and then they can just keep doing what they’re doing.  The cover-up is the scapegoat.”

The Gunmen looked at one another like what he’d just told them was not exactly new information, or something they’d already postulated, but Mulder was just warming up.

“And I think this goes back to the beginning, back to when they assigned Scully to the x-files.”

“I thought Agent Scully was assigned to the x-files to shut them down,” Byers said.

“She was.  I think that was the original intention, but then they saw how well it was working in their favor and they pivoted.  I think her abduction was specifically designed to push me deeper into the narrative they were spinning, and I hate to say it but it worked.  Except they went a little too far, and forgive the pun, but they’ve alienated some of their allies on the inside.  Like Skinner.”

“You think your boss is involved?”  Frohike straightened like he was preparing to go to battle.

“For a time, I think he was compromised.  But, he was assigned to oversee us, the same way that Scully was assigned to work with me.  And it was the same person who did the assigning.  The same man that I now believe is the one who ordered the surveillance of my apartment.”

“Who?” Frohike asked.

“Section Chief Scott Blevins.”

Langly jumped to attention and started typing away at his computer again.  Frohike and Byers looked at each other and back to Mulder.  Byers rubbed his chin for a few moments.

“But, what of this meeting tonight?” Byers asked.  “You said the cigarette smoking man wants to meet you at the Lincoln Memorial and it seemed to trigger something.”

“You’re right.”  Mulder nodded.  “Like Langly said, there’s a rumor that a secret entrance to the Pentagon can be accessed from under the memorial.  I think that Cancerman has access and he wants to show it to me.  He wants me to see the treasure trove of things they’re hiding to lure me in, to get me to flip sides.”

“Why would he do that?” Frohike asked.  “When you just said that what you and Scully’ve got going on is providing such great advertising.”

“He wants an heir to the throne.  And who better than the son of the man who turned his back on the group?”

The printer behind Langly whirred to life and started spitting out pages.  Mulder leaned over to try to see what was there.

“Ultimately what you’re saying is that Scully’s cancer was man made, but using alien technology,” Frohike said.  “And that it was made to seem like the result of an alien abduction that was actually a hoax.  That it’s all been manufactured by the same group of men.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”  Mulder nodded.  “And I believe that the cigarette smoking man does have the cure.  He’ll give it to me tonight, I’m sure of it.  And I need you boys to be ready to examine whatever he hands over.”

“Why are you so sure?” Byers asked.

“He needs me to trust him now.  And he knows that I would go to the ends of the earth to save Scully’s life.”

“Do you have some sort of plan?” Frohike asked.

“Other than grab the cure and get the hell out of Dodge, not really.”

“Take a look at this,” Langly said, handing Mulder the printout and then sitting back and pushing his glasses up his nose.  “Scott Blevins has been taking payments from Roush Technologies.”

“Should I know that name?” Mulder asked, taking the printout from Langly.

“That’s a biotechnology company we’ve actually had our eye on for a bit,” Byers explained.  “They’re rumored to be experimenting in cloning.  And stem cell research.”

Mulder looked up and raised his brows.

“That other man you mentioned earlier, Michael Kritschgau, his name is on the bankroll as well,” Langly added.

“Are there any other names on that list?” Mulder asked.

“I’d have to hack their system.  Their security is probably pretty good.”

“But, you’re better.”

“Well, yeah.”  Langly shrugged, already typing again.  

“Do you think it was the Cancerman who removed the body from your apartment?” Byers asked. 

“That’s my guess.”  Mulder checked his watch and then stood up.  It was getting to be late afternoon and he needed to make one more stop.  “I need to get going.”

“We’ll get the van ready,” Frohike said.  “Find somewhere in the area to park and wait.”

“Can you boys do me a favor and try to get this information to Skinner?  I’m almost certain his phone is tapped, he’s probably got eyes on his email as well.  I want him to know where we’re at, especially about Blevins, but it might raise alarms if I go into the Hoover today.”

“We’ll work on it,” Byers said.

“Thanks.”

Mulder nodded and then bit his lip.  He’d left something out of the story, not that he felt like it had much bearing, but he still hadn’t told the Gunmen about marrying Scully.  He thought about telling them now, but it really didn’t seem to matter that much.  It was quite possible they already knew anyway, but hadn’t said anything.  It was public record, after all, and they didn’t go to any lengths to hide it.

“I’ll call you,” he said.  “When I have something.”

Outside, Mulder checked his watch again.  He needed to get downtown and to Cradock Marine Bank before they closed.  He had roughly forty minutes and parking in the area was always a nightmare.  He made it, though, and got what he needed and then he headed to his apartment to check for any evidence.  Skinner was right, someone did a pretty thorough clean-up of the place.  The hole in the ceiling was plugged.  The floor was spotless.  And upstairs in the empty apartment above his, though it smelled like fresh paint, it was completely empty.  No trash can of half-burnt papers, no surveillance equipment, no blood spatter.

Mulder collapsed onto his couch, exhausted.  He stared at the fish tank, zoning out to the blue light and bubbles.  He needed sleep, but there was no way he was going to be able to get in a decent amount of shut-eye, and if he tried now, he’d just end up groggy.  Before his midnight rendezvous, he still needed to get back to Scully’s apartment and pick up his service weapon and he wanted to get back to the hospital.

With a deep sigh, Mulder pushed himself up from the couch.  He went to the bathroom and grimaced at his reflection in the mirror.  He needed a shower and a shave and a fresh set of clothes.  He hurried to get it done, opting to use his electric razor to avoid nicking himself in his haste.  He fed the fish before he left, bending down to watch them for a few moments and wishing he could somehow tap into their little fish brains to know what they’d seen.

It was getting dark by the time Mulder got to Scully’s apartment.  The blood on the bathroom floor had dried, turning sticky and brown and there were clothes on the floor and of course the bed was unmade with sheets and blankets thrown to the side.  He first cleaned up the blood and then he found fresh sheets in her linen closet and then stripped and remade the bed.  When he took the old sheets off, he got a whiff of her scent from the pillowcases and he paused to bring one up to his face.  He could smell her shampoo on it.  Like a spiced pear.  He’d often found himself leaning towards her when they spoke so he could smell it.  And when she’d brought the box of her things over and he put her hair products in his shower, he’d find himself cracking the top of the bottle open just to breathe it in for awhile.

He pulled himself out of the reverie.  The old sheets and the clothes went into her laundry hamper.  If he had more time, he might have done a load for her, but he needed to head out.  As it was, he was fairly certain visiting hours were over at the hospital and he’d either have to use cunning or charm to get into Scully’s room.

It was easier than expected to slip past the nurse’s station into Scully’s room, which was a little disconcerting.  With the knowledge that Cancerman had been loitering around that morning, maybe he should have asked for a security detail to be posted outside her door.

Scully was asleep, and her room was dark, but there was moonlight hitting her face and the glow of the monitors behind her.  He felt the reality of the situation hit him hard as he looked down at her and he bit back a sob.  The stakes were the highest they’d ever been.  If tonight was a failure, he would lose her forever, and he wasn’t ready for that.  She was the world to him.  His partner, his best friend, his confidante, his touchstone.  His wife.

He didn’t want to wake her with his emotional breakdown, but he felt like he was going to implode.  Tears streamed down his face and he dropped to his knees, laying his head down next to her pillow.  He screamed silently and choked in a breath as he covered her hand with his.  If he could, he would trade places with her.  She didn’t deserve any of what had happened to her and she didn’t blame him, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was all because of him.  He sat back on his heels and wiped the tears from his cheeks before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a velvet pouch.

When he’d pulled the rings from the safety deposit box that day, he’d immediately slipped the simple band on his finger and then took a few moments to study hers.  He remembered feeling a strange surge of pride when he’d caught glimpses of it glittering on Scully’s hand on that weekend.  It was like the normal life he’d always imagined for himself was right there and he was free to pretend for a little while.

Carefully, Mulder took Scully’s hand and slid the wedding ring down until it rested snugly in place.  His hope was that he’d be here in the morning before she woke, but in case he wasn’t, she would know he’d been here and that his commitment to her was real.  He moved a chunk of hair back that had fallen across her cheek and let his fingers skim the underside of her jaw before he pulled away.

“Don’t give up,” he whispered, and then he stood up and allowed himself a last look at her before he left.

It was still twenty minutes to midnight when he parked on the street opposite the memorial.  It stood out against the black, cloudless sky, the massive columns brightly lit from below.  There were no other cars on the street and he didn’t see anyone around.  On occasion when he’d walked through the National Mall in the wee hours of the morning, he’d come across a late night jogger or two.  Tonight it seemed quiet and empty.  Before he got out of the car, he checked his gun and then tucked it into the back of his pants.  He’d had his ankle holster on since he left his apartment.

He took the curved path up to the base of the monument and stayed at the bottom of the grand staircase.  It was getting brisk out and he rubbed his hands together for warmth.  He compulsively checked his watch, the seconds seeming to drag endlessly towards midnight.  At 12:01, he squinted into the dark recesses of the mall, convinced he could see a figure in the distance.  He heard the scrape of shoes against concrete and he whirled around.  Coming from the backside of the monument was Cancerman, the orange glint of his cigarette a giveaway.

“Glad you could make it,” he said, stepping into the light.

“You’re late,” Mulder answered.

Cancerman held the cigarette in his mouth while he checked his watch and then he took a long drag before he answered.  “So I am.”

“Let’s get this over with.”

“What’s your hurry, Fox?”

“I’m not interested in playing games with you.  You told me to be here at midnight and you’d give me the cure to Scully’s cancer.  Well, I’m here.  Where’s the cure?”

“You’ll indulge me in a story first, won’t you?”

“I don’t care for your stories.”

“Always straight to the point.  You know I’ve always admired that about you, Fox.  That’s why I think you should come and work for me.”

Mulder shook his head.  “No.”

“Even after all that I’ve given you?”

Mulder took a step towards the old man, his annoyance and impatience starting to rise.  “What have you given me?” he asked.  “A woman you claim is my sister, only to take her away?  A claim that you have the cure for Scully’s cancer, well where is it?  You’ve given me nothing.”

“I must say, I’m disappointed in you, Fox.  You always say you want the truth and here I am offering it to you on a platter and you turn me down.”

“You don’t know how to tell the truth.”

“Then let me show-”  The old man suddenly gasped and grabbed his left bicep, stumbling forward and into Mulder.  Mulder immediately pushed him away, thinking for a second he was having a heart attack.

Cancerman’s eyes were wide.  The cigarette stayed stuck to his bottom lip as he opened his mouth, but then fell to the ground as the old man groaned.  He pulled his hand from his arm and stared at it and then turned his blood-smeared palm towards Mulder.  And then it was Mulder’s turn to gasp as the old man’s temple exploded in front of his eyes and he was splattered with blood and bone fragments.

Immediately, Mulder drew his weapon and tried to move in all directions at once.  He hadn’t heard a shot, but judging by the fact that Cancerman had taken a hit to the left shoulder and left temple, he guessed it had to have come from the direction of the copse of trees in the mall.  And then he saw the same dark figure from before, moving towards him this time.

“Stop!” he yelled.  “Federal Agent!”

He squinted, his finger tightening on the trigger of his weapon when he heard someone call his name from the right.

“Agent Mulder!”  His boss came running towards him, but Mulder could only see him in his peripheral vision.

“Skinner!  I’ve got a shooter at twelve o’clock, do you see him?”

He saw Skinner draw his weapon as well and stop, aiming in the same direction as he was.  The figure only paused for a few seconds, but still moved forward.

“I will shoot!” Mulder yelled.  “Stop where you are!”

“You won’t shoot me, Mulder,” the voice was familiar, but Mulder couldn’t quite place it.

Mulder shifted his stance as the figure drew closer.  It was a man in dark jeans and a dark hoodie, pulled up so that it obscured his face.  His hands were empty, and one arm appeared to be injured in some way, hanging stiffly at his side.  When the man got close enough, he pushed the hoodie back.  Mulder’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t lower his weapon.  

“What do you want, Krycek?” he asked.

“Not even a thank you?” Krycek asked, stepping nonchalantly towards the two men who had guns pointed at him.  He stepped on the cigarette that had fallen from Cancerman’s grasp and then shoved the old man in the shoulder with his foot so that he rolled to his back, lifeless eyes staring up, mouth agape.  Blood leaked from his temple and pooled under his head. 

“Where’s your weapon?” Skinner asked, and Krycek dug into the front pocket of his hoodie and casually handed over a Glock with a silencer attached.  His boss snatched it out of his hand and ejected the clip before handing it back to him.

Mulder finally lowered his gun.  Krycek crouched down over Cancerman’s body and started patting the front of his chest, one-handed.  He pulled the dead man’s jacket back and pulled a small square of paper from the pocket.  He chuckled and then handed it to Mulder.  

Mulder recoiled.  It was a wallet-sized version of a photo of him and his sister taken only weeks before her abduction.  “What the fu-?”

“Got it,” Krycek called out, pulling a small glass vial from the pocket as well before he stood.

“What is that?” Mulder asked.

“This?” Krycek asked, shaking it slightly up by Mulder’s face.  “This is what you came for.”  

Mulder inspected the vial, no clue as to what was inside.  “But, what is it?”

Krycek shrugged and unscrewed the top off the vial, pouring the contents out onto Cancerman’s body with a smirk.  He dropped the small bottle onto the ground and broke it with the hell of his boot.  Mulder watched in horror as the contents of whatever was in that life-saving vial vanished forever, along with Scully’s chances of survival.

“You sonofbitch,” Mulder growled, lunging at Krycek.  Skinner grabbed Mulder and held him back, his arms locked tightly around Mulder’s chest.  Krycek merely took a step back, unphased, as calm as ever.

“It’s not what you think,” said a voice from the shadows.

Both Mulder and Skinner whirled around.  An older man stood behind them dressed in an expensive suit.  He approached cautiously, using the end of an umbrella like a walking stick, stealing glances at Cancerman’s body.

“It was a chip,” the man continued.  He had a posh English accent.  “Similar to the one your partner had removed last year.  Only that one that Alex just destroyed would have most certainly ended your partner’s life.”

“What?”

“Allow me to explain.”  

The man moved close to Mulder, taking a silk handkerchief from his pocket and offering it to him.  Mulder grimaced, realizing he’d been splattered with the dead man’s blood and what he’d thought was sweat at his temples probably wasn’t.  He took it and wiped his face, waiting for this new man to say something.

“Well?” Mulder asked, shoving the bloodied handkerchief into his pocket.

“First, you must understand that the majority of our group was strongly opposed to involving your partner in our work.”

“So, I’m right?  This whole time you were just using her like a lab rat?”

“She was supposed to bring the end of the x-files.”

“So she was taken as punishment?”

“No, no.  He wanted to see what you would do, what lengths you would go to for her.  He thought it would make you vulnerable to us.  That we could then exploit those weaknesses.  And as I said, our group was opposed.  We felt, as we still do, that it would be a grave miscalculation on our parts to allow one man’s quest to turn into a crusade, as it were.”

“But, he went ahead and did it anyway.”

“Against our wishes, yes.  Always thinking he knew better than the rest of us.”  The Englishman paused, looking primly annoyed.  “Assuming too much power and moving us farther and farther from our original intentions.”

“What were your original intentions?” 

“To facilitate the best chance of survival for the human race.  Back in 1947, colonization was imminent, the aliens planned to eradicate all life on this planet through a virus.  We were able to stall the invasion, however, through clever negotiations.  It was your father who suggested we use the alien DNA we acquired to create a vaccine, in secret, for when the time came.  It was the only reason I agreed to it in the first place.”

“Agreed to what?”

The Englishman looked away.  

“Agreed to what?” Mulder asked again, his voice rising as he stepped into the Englishman’s personal space.  “My sister’s abduction, is that it?  Are you telling me he orchestrated that too?”

“Your father resisted,” he said, somberly.  “It was the most painful of sacrifices, you must understand, but it was the only way they would give us what we needed.  We thought they were going to be returned to us.”

“Are you telling me you willingly gave up your children?” Mulder hissed, his jaw clenched painfully.  “What is wrong with you?”

“It was the right thing to do,” the Englishman barked.

“Offering up a child to be tested on, experimented on, for them to do god knows what to, that’s the right thing to do?  You’re despicable.”

“We forestalled an alien invasion.  We saved billions of lives!”

“No, you merely postponed it.  To save your own skin.”

“We were trying to fight the inevitable.  We were trying to fight…the future.”

Mulder had to turn away.  He was afraid he might shoot this man on principle.  He took a few steps away with his hands on his hips.  He looked at Skinner out of the corner of his eye, wondering what his boss would do if he killed Krycek and this Englishman in front of him.  He couldn’t take the risk of withering away in a jail cell while Scully withered away in a hospital.  

“What did you mean just now?” Mulder asked.  “You said you hoped they’d be returned to you.  They weren’t?”

“Your sister is dead, Agent Mulder.  They all are.”

Mulder pointed down at Cancerman’s body.  “He brought me a woman just this morning, claiming to be my sister.”

“A clone.”

“Courtesy of Roush Technologies?”

The Englishman looked momentarily alarmed, but nodded briskly.

“Yeah, I know all about them,” Mulder answered.  “That’s what your little group has been up to lately, not working on vaccines or trying to save the human race, you’ve been abducting women, giving them cancer and letting them die, all the while making sure the credit goes to your alien buddies.  Because a little bad publicity goes a long way, doesn’t it?”

“I told you,” the Englishman said, “we’ve disapproved of the direction the group has been moving in for some time.  It’s time to shut down certain projects.”

“Well, you better do it fast because tomorrow morning I’ll be calling an inquest into Roushe’s activities, and certain members of the government that are on their payroll.  Certain Section Chief’s at the FBI, for example.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Krycek said, sneering at Mulder slightly.  

“Why not?  Threats won’t work on me, I’m a man with nothing left to lose at this point.”

“Just your wife.”

“Alex.”  The Englishman gave Krycek a disapproving look and then took a vial from his pocket, thin and metallic.  “This is what you really came for.”

Reluctantly, Mulder took the vial from the Englishman.  It was cold in his hand and weighed next to nothing.  He looked up at Skinner who gave him a wary gaze in return.

“You're right.  Agent Scully’s cancer was triggered by the removal of her implant.  The one I’m giving you now is designed to reverse the spread of the cancer in her body.”

“And what else does it do?”

“I assure you, that’s all this particular chip is designed for.”  

“I’m supposed to trust that?”

“We want to put an end to this as much as you do.”

“And the best way you could think of to do that is to blackmail me?”

“It’s not blackmail, Agent Mulder.  It’s simply a means to an end.”

“Get off your high horse, Mulder,” Krycek said.  “The only reason you have that chip in your hand is because of facilities like Roush.”

“The only reason I need this chip in the first place is because of facilities like Roush,” Mulder countered.  “How many of them are there?”

“Only one with the vaccine.”

“Alex!” The Englishman barked.  “You’ve done enough here.”

Krycek snorted.  “In that case you can clean up the body.  Might do you good to get that suit of yours a little bloody.”

“Oh for god’s sake.”

“Shut up,” Mulder said.  “Just shut up.  I don’t have time for this.  Here’s a deal I’m willing to make.  This cure works, and Agent Scully lives, I’ll stall on an inquiry into Roush.  But, I want your word that the abductions stop.  The experiments stop.  And, if you’re lying, if she dies, I will expose this conspiracy for what it really is and there is not a rock you can hide under that I won’t find you.”

“Relax, Mulder,” Krycek said, calmly.  “Your wife will be just fine.”

“Forgive me, Krycek,” he said, “but that doesn’t exactly spark reassurance.”

“I give you my word, that is the cure,” the Englishman answered.  “All projects not related to the production of the vaccine will be halted immediately.”

There was a loophole there, Mulder was sure of it, but reluctantly, he gave a perfunctory nod.  He walked away without another word and Skinner fell into step with him.  He heard Krycek call a ‘das vedanya’ at him, but he didn’t turn around.  Neither he or his boss said a word until they were well past the trees, back to the street where Mulder had parked his car.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Mulder said.

“Your friends got word to me.” 

“I figured.”

“What do you make of all of that?  You think it’s the truth?”

“I think it’s truth adjacent.”  Mulder opened his hand and looked down at the thin vial in his palm.  “Honestly, Sir, I’m a little beyond caring one way or another, as long as what they’ve said about this is true.”

“It better be.  We both just walked away from a crime scene for it.”

“Nothing we haven’t done before, right?”

Skinner lowered his chin and turned his head slightly.  “And I hope the last.”  He suddenly changed the subject.  “When your friends stopped by, they ended up sweeping my office for listening devices.”

“Find anything?”

“Four bugs.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.  When was the last time Blevins was in your office?”

“Just this morning.  He was right outside my door when you called.”

“There has to be a way we can get him removed from access to the x-files.  Even if I do call an inquest, I can’t prove he ordered the surveillance of my apartment and all the evidence was destroyed anyway.”

“Not to mention you’d have to admit to a shooting.”

“Well, let’s hope it’s the last, right?”  Mulder squeezed his fist around the vial.  “I need to get this analyzed so I can bring it to Scully.”

“I hope it’s what they say it is.”

“So do I.”

In his car, Mulder stared at the photo that had been in Cancerman’s pocket, wondering how he got it and why it was there.  It was the least of his concerns, but it was still a concern.  He couldn’t have carried it around because of a guilty conscience, that was for sure.  Just the thought of that man carrying around his photo made him ill.  He tore the picture into pieces and threw them in the ashtray.

Before starting the car, Mulder called The Gunmen to find out where they were and then met them just a few blocks away in front of a row of abandoned townhomes under renovation.  The sidewalk was blocked and scaffolding stretched along the length of the block.  They let him into the van and he handed over the vial to Byers.  

Mulder had only been in the VW van a few times, but every time something was different about it.  The windows had been painted over for years, and the back seats had been removed for a little workstation, but there was new equipment strewn about the floor and Langly opened up a hatch on the roof and stuck an antenna outside.

“There’s supposed to be a chip inside,” Mulder said.

Frohike grabbed a petri dish and the crowded space at the back of the van got even more crowded as they all leaned over when Byers poured out the contents of the small vial into the dish.  A tiny metal object spilled out, no bigger than the head of a pin.  Langly grabbed a helmet with magnifying lenses built into the front and took up a pair of thin tweezers to gently grasp the object.

“It’s a computer chip alright,” he said.  “Smallest one I’ve ever seen though.”

“This is what’s supposed to cure Scully’s cancer?” Frohike asked.

“So I’m told.”  Mulder took the proffered helmet from Langly to inspect the chip himself.  “It’s a replacement for the one she had removed earlier, only this reverses the cancer.”

“And you don’t think he was lying?”

“Ah, well.  About that.”

Mulder filled the trio in on the events that had unfolded that night.  They all expressed different levels of shock and unease.

“After you left, we did some more digging on Roush,” Byers said.  “There’s overlap with some of the staff there and the  Lombard Research Facility.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Mulder murmured.

“And some kind of connection with another fertility clinic called Zeus Genetics,” Langly added.  “As well as a lab in San Diego called Transgen Pharmaceuticals.”

Mulder rubbed his face with both hands.  “In other words, more rabbit holes.  Well, the good news is I only said I’d stall on Roush, if the chip did its job.  But, that Well-Manicured Man gave me his word that all projects not associated with the vaccine would be shut down.  Keep digging.  We’ll see if he’s as slippery as his cigarette smoking pal or actually has some integrity.  And, oh…”  He pulled out the bloodied handkerchief he’d pocketed and dropped it on the workbench.  “If you’ve got any buddies working in DNA sequencing, have them take a crack at that.”

Byers looked queasy.  “Is that…?”

“We know a guy,” Langly answered, using tweezers to put the rag into a plastic baggie.

There was no information to be gleaned off the chip, so the contents were put back into the vial and handed back to Mulder.  He left the van in the wee hours of the morning utterly exhausted.  He’d been awake for over 24 hours and the lack of sleep was starting to take its toll, but he made his way to the hospital anyway.

Even sleep deprived, he managed to charm the on duty night nurse into allowing him into Scully’s room.  He put the vial on the table next to her bed and pulled up a chair to sit beside her.  Within minutes, his eyelids were drooping and he slumped back in the chair.  He was asleep before he knew it.  The next thing he knew, he felt fingers running over his head, scratching lightly.  It felt heavenly.

“Mulder?” Scully whispered.

It was a struggle to open his eyes.  He was no longer slumped in the chair, but his upper body was laying heavily on the mattress, his face pressed against Scully’s knee and an arm curled over her shins.

“Mulder?” Scully said again, pushing her fingers through his hair again.

“Mmph,” he gave a muffled reply and then slowly sat up.  Judging by the look on her face, he probably appeared as bedraggled as he felt.  “Hey.”

“How long have you been here?  Why didn’t you go home and get some sleep?”

“What do you mean?” he said, yawning.  “I’m fresh as a daisy.”

Scully moved her hand down and brought it to Mulder’s cheek.  He took it, folding her fingers down and rubbing his thumb over the ring he’d slipped back on last night.  She glanced at it briefly and then back to him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, brushing his lips back and forth across her knuckles.

“Yesterday was very…tiring,” she admitted.  “But, right now I’m feeling fine.”

“A lot happened last night that I need to tell you about.”

Scully frowned.  “What do you mean?”

Mulder started to tell her about the day, but was immediately interrupted by a nurse coming in to check vitals and deliver Scully’s breakfast.  He stood and stretched out the kinks in his neck and back.  While the nurse was taking Scully’s blood pressure, she picked up the vial from the table.

“What is this?” she asked.

Mulder took a glance at the nurse and shook his head slightly.  She inspected it a bit further before putting it back.  He was anxious for the nurse to leave so that he could tell her everything, but even before the nurse was finished, Bill Scully and Mrs. Scully arrived.

“Good morning, Fox.”

“Mrs. Scully.  Bill.”

Bill nodded at Mulder.  The three of them hung back in awkward silence, waiting for the nurse to finish up, which thankfully was only minutes later.  Mrs. Scully started to prod Scully to eat the breakfast that was dropped off and it only took her asking twice for Scully to get impatient.

“Mom, I’m fine,” she said.  “I’m not that hungry.  Why don’t you and Bill go get a coffee downstairs, I need to speak with Mulder about something.”

“It better not be work,” Bill said.

“I need some time alone with my husband,” Scully snapped.  “How’s that, is that better?”

Bill raised his hands up in surrender.  Mrs. Scully put a wary hand on her son’s arm to urge him towards the door.  As she passed Mulder, she paused and gave his elbow a squeeze.  He put his hand over hers for that brief moment.

Once they were alone again, Mulder could start relaying the story to her once again.  He told her everything starting from Cancerman showing up at the hospital, down to the Gunmen inspecting the vial she now held in her hand.  She said nothing the entire time, didn’t interrupt once, and the expressions that crossed her face were unreadable at times, but mostly she looked deeply troubled.  Mostly, she just stared down at her lap, at her hands that were slightly folded, cradling the vial.

“Say something,” he said.

She lifted one hand and turned it over.  “Did you have this ring resized?” she asked.  “It seems to fit better than it had.”

“Yeah.”  He paused.  “Yeah, before it went into the safe deposit box.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I guess I thought maybe one day you might…want to wear it.”

“Huh.”

A few moments passed and her focus never wavered from the ring.  “Um, Scully?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we talk about…the chip?”

She sighed and tipped her head back, closing her eyes.  “Will you see if Doctor Fennessy is available?”

“Sure.”  Mulder kept his eyes on her as he got up, but she didn’t give him a glance.  

Outside of Scully’s room, he leaned against the wall for support.  He had a sinking feeling that she was going to reject the chip, and he didn’t know if he would be able to take it.  He also didn’t know if he could blame her.  They didn’t know what it did and moreover, didn’t know if they could trust the man that gave it to him.  It was like playing Russian Roulette.  More than anything, he wanted to be able to be supportive and respect her choices, but he knew the reality of what it would mean for her to turn even the slightest chance down was more than he could bear. 

He shuffled slowly down the hall to the nurse’s station and then asked if the doctor could be sent to Scully’s room.  Needing a few minutes to himself, he went to the men’s room and splashed some cold water on his face.  His outward appearance wasn’t as bad as he’d presumed.  His eyes were a little red and his clothes were a little rumpled and he had the hint of a 5 o’clock shadow coming in.  The cool water revived him a little though and he made his way back to Scully’s room.

The doctor, Bill, and Mrs. Scully, were already gathered by Scully’s bed and they seemed to be waiting for him.  Mrs. Scully looked anxious while Bill looked impatient.  The doctor looked perplexed.  Only Scully looked calm and serene.

“He’s here,” Bill said.  “What is it you want to tell us?”

Mulder swallowed, hanging back to the side so he could steel himself for what was coming.  Scully gave him a brief look and then held the vial up between her thumb and index finger.

“I only want to explain this once,” she said.  “In this vial is an implant that Mulder was able to obtain and…this implant…this implant may be the cure to my cancer.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Bill muttered.

Scully sighed and looked at her brother.  “It’s hard to put into words what it is that Mulder and I do.  There’s a lot that I can’t tell you and a lot that I could, but that you’d never want to know in the first place.  But, what you need to know is that, three years ago I was abducted and in the three months that I was missing, we only know some of what happened to me during that time.  What we do know is that one of those things was that a small chip was implanted into the back of my neck, the exact purpose of which…has remained unclear.”

Bill shot Mulder an uneasy look while Mrs. Scully looked like she was about to start weeping.  Mulder lowered his head a little, scuffing the floor with his toe.  His stomach was in knots and his chest hurt.  He had to remind himself to keep breathing.  To just keep breathing.

“Last year I had that chip removed,” Scully continued.  “And upon doing so, discovered that there had been other women, like me, that had been abducted, and that had the same implants in the back of the neck.  These women are now all dead of the same cancer that exists in me.  The last of which I sat with as she took her last breath a few months ago.”

Mrs. Scully audibly gasped and then covered her face with both hands.  Bill put his hand on his mother’s shoulder while Scully lowered her gaze with a somewhat guilty expression.  Mulder bit his lip.  His heart was thudding erratically.

“Mom…” Scully said.

“I’ve prayed,” Mrs. Scully said with a whimper.  “I’ve prayed for you morning, noon, and night.”

“This is not something you can pray away and hope for the best,” Scully said, tiredly.  “I’m sorry.”

“Maybe it is,” Mulder interjected.

Scully quickly turned her head towards him, her brow furrowed.  He knew it was unlike him to promote faith in such a way, it even came as a surprise when he said it.

“What I mean is…two boats and a helicopter,” he said.

“Two boats and a helicopter?” Bill asked.  “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Um, I think it goes that there was a flood and a man refused to leave his house, telling his neighbors that God would save him.”  He glanced at Scully, but directed his answer at Bill.  “As the waters started to rise, a rowboat came by and they told him to get in the boat, but the man refused.  He said God would save him.  The waters rose even higher and he was stuck in his attic.  A motorboat came by and they told him to get in the boat, but the man said that God would save him, and wouldn’t get in.  The waters continued to rise and then he was trapped on his roof.  A helicopter came by and lowered a ladder.  Climb on, they said.  The man refused and said God would save him.  The man drowned, and when he reached heaven he asked God, why didn’t you save me?  And God said, what do you mean, I sent you two boats and a helicopter.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”  Bill frowned and for a moment, Mulder could see that the incredulous scowl Scully sometimes gave him was a family trait.  “My sister is on her deathbed and you’re telling jokes?”

“No,” Mulder answered quickly, turning his attention back to Scully.  “It’s a parable.  I actually discussed it with Father Llewellyn yesterday.  What I’m saying is, you have to consider what you’re praying for.  Science…medicine…experimental treatment…it just might be an answer to a prayer.  Faith…maybe faith just provides you with the tools to save yourself.”  

Scully held his gaze and then suddenly dropped her eyes, but for a moment, it looked as though she was about to smile.  They were all quiet for the next few moments, even Mrs. Scully, who only sniffled occasionally.

“Mom,” Scully said, quietly.  “I know you’ve prayed for me, your friends have prayed for me, you’ve had Father McCue praying for my soul, and I was able to speak with Father Llewllyn yesterday about some things that have been on my conscience for some time.  I want you to know that my heart is clear, I know that’s important to you.”

Oh God, Mulder thought.  She’s saying goodbye.  He swallowed a lump in his throat.

“Bill, I want to apologize for not realizing how important that family is to you.  If I had known, I would have put in more effort in being there and in getting to know my sister-in-law better.”

“It’s…it’s alright, Dana, there’s time,” Bill answered, but Mulder could tell her brother was struggling to speak.

“Mulder…”

Mulder pressed his lips together and shook his head.  He looked down at the floor, unable to meet her eyes.

“You’ve done everything you could do,” she whispered.  “Don’t ever think you haven’t.”

Mulder sucked in a breath and then had to press his fist to his chest.  His knees were shaking and he blinked out two tears that dropped onto his shoes.

“I think everyone in this room thinks they know what’s best for me,” Scully said.  “Thinks they know what I should do.  And I know all of you have your heart in the right place, but this is my life.  My decision.  And I don’t want there to be any contention over it.”

It was at that point that Mulder felt for sure that he would have to leave the room.  As it was, he didn’t know if his knees were going to hold out any longer.

“Julia, can you just briefly explain what my prognosis is right now?  Where we’re at at this time.”

The doctor nodded and spoke very matter-of-factly to the room.  “We’ve been going after Dana’s cancer as aggressively as we know how.  The problem has been with her immune system.  We haven’t been able to get her cytolytic cells to recognize her tumor as something to attack.”

“And at this stage, if the conventional treatments haven’t produced any results, do you see any possibility of a turnaround?”

Julia took a pause before she shook her head.  “You would need a miracle,” she said.

“Thank you,” Scully whispered.  She licked the side of her mouth and held up the vial again.  “Julia, I’d like you to insert this chip in my neck.  The scar from the previous implant should still be visible.”

The room went completely silent.  It seemed that they were all surprised by the request.  Mulder had been so sure she would say no, it was taking him time to comprehend that she’d said yes.  

“This is crazy,” Bill muttered, shaking his head.  “Dana, you’re only doing this because you don’t want to disappoint him.”

Mulder held his tongue, though he would have liked to have told Bill he didn’t give a rat’s ass what he thought about it all as long as it worked.

“Bill,” Mrs. Scully said, her voice suddenly strong and her shoulders square.  “Your sister asked that we respect whatever decision she made and she’s made it.  Frankly, I’m surprised at you for this display of animosity.  Dana is right, there are things about what she and Fox do that we can’t know and don’t want to know.  You and I don’t have all the facts, but your sister does, and so does Fox.”

Bill looked astonished at receiving a scolding, but then appropriately contrite.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and then nodded slightly.

“It will either work, or it won’t work,” Scully said.  “Right now I’m at a point where nothing has worked.  Fifty-fifty odds are better than none.”

“It’s in God’s hands now,” Mrs. Scully said.  She moved to the side of the bed and kissed Scully on the cheek.

Before they left, Bill also went over and embraced his sister.  They held each other for a few moments and then Bill stepped back.  He stared down at her for a few moments and then looked at Mulder.  They nodded at each other in what Mulder felt was a mutual understanding.  They didn’t have to see eye to eye on everything, but they both loved Scully and wanted the best for her.

Mulder stayed by Scully’s side, even when she insisted that he could go home.  He hung out in her room watching daytime talk shows while the doctor took her into another room to implant the chip.  Later that evening, when the less than appealing hospital dinner had been delivered, he went and got her a burger and fries and chocolate milkshake which she scarfed down, much to both their surprise.  Her appetite hadn’t been the best in the last few weeks.

He tried to keep things light.  He was anxious to know if the chip had done anything, if there would be immediate effects, but he wasn’t going to push it.  Doctor Fennessy had told them she’d run another scan in the morning, and so there was nothing to do but wait.  Waiting was not something he was very good at.

That evening, Skinner called while they were watching Jeopardy! on the TV hanging from the corner of the room across from Scully’s bed.  Scully was beating the pants off of him, but only because they’d had two medical categories and, as he discovered, she was also surprisingly good at Botany.  None of the contestants had touched the Quotable Quotes category yet and he was pretty sure he could clean house on that one.

“Mulder,” he answered.

“Blevins is dead,” Skinner said.

“What?”

“Ate a bullet some time this morning and his housekeeper found him.  They’re calling it a suicide.”

“Was it?”

“Maybe.  If he caught wind of the chance of an inquisition.  If he knew what was uncovered.  There were no signs of forced entry, no signs of a struggle.  The gun used was registered to him and his computer seems to have been wiped.  They found remnants of shredded documents and a recently extinguished fire.”

“That could easily be staged.”

“I don’t disagree.”

“Is anyone going to…investigate?”

“It doesn’t appear that way.”

Mulder pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned forward in his chair.  He didn’t know if he should be angry or relieved.

“How’s Scully?” Skinner asked, changing the subject.

“We don’t know yet.  She has a scan scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll check back later.”

“Okay.  And, uh…thanks for the update.”

Skinner hung up and Mulder disconnected as well.  When he looked up, he realized that Scully was staring at him and the TV had been muted.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Blevins is dead.  An apparent suicide.”

“And you don’t believe that.”

“Do you?”

“Mulder, I don’t know what to believe anymore.”  She sighed and then winced as she leaned back against her pillow.  “I know that I’m tired.”

“Oh.  We can turn the TV off.  I can go down and hang out in the cafeteria for awhile and let you-”

“I mean I’m tired of being some kind of experiment, some kind of puppet, some kind of…x-file.”

“I know.”

“This has to be the last time.   I can’t…I won’t let them have this kind of power over me again.”

Mulder dropped his eyes and bounced his fingers off each other a few times.  “You want to quit?  Leave the x-files, I mean?  Leave the FBI?”

“You’re so sure this will work.  That I’ll get better.”

“I know it will,” he said.

“How?”

“Faith?” he managed to chuckle a little before coughing out a short cry.

“Mulder.”  Scully reached out her hand to him and he took it, hiding his face against her knuckles.  “Come here.”

Mulder didn’t have to be told twice.  He crawled into the narrow space beside Scully as she scooted backwards to make room for him.  They faced each other, forehead to forehead, and she put a hand on his cheek.

“We could get a little house somewhere in the middle of nowhere,” he whispered.  “You can be a doctor in some small town hospital.  I can…I can coach baseball at the local high school.  Maybe investigate crop circles on the weekend.”

She smiled a little and shook her head against his.

“It doesn’t have to be a lie anymore,” he said. 

“Was it ever?”