TITLE: The Healing Waters V: Truths Revealed (1/1) AUTHOR: xgirl EMAIL ADDRESS: xgirl@mindless.com RATING: PG CATEGORY: SA SPOILERS: Season Seven through 'all things' KEYWORDS: MSR ARCHIVE: Contact me first. SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully realize that they have to deal with the memory of Diana if they want to move ahead. DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and all the characters mentioned within belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, and Fox Broadcasting and are used without permission. No copyright infringement intended. AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the final "missing link", the last remaining chapter in The Healing Waters series, which takes place in my Crossing Lines universe. It and its predecessor (Just Breathe) almost never saw the light of day, but not being the sort to abandon what I start and with absolutely nothing new in the TXF world to inspire me, I decided to go back and rescue these orphaned pieces. This one answers the lingering questions (and poses even more - I've learned how to be evil from CC ) about Diana Fowley and her past history with Mulder. Anyway, let me know if it worked or if it should have stayed abandoned. As usual, feedback to xgirl@mindless.com is always appreciated and acknowledged. Really. :) ***** "Is he aware of how you feel about her?" "In a way, he must. I haven't been able to bring myself to talk to him about her; you know that. But when it comes to feeling threatened by the women in his life, I have this habit of overreacting. And unfortunately, it's usually so obvious that it's not something I can hide from him. So he must know in that respect." "Do you think that makes him hesitant to bring it up with you, knowing how you might feel?" "I'm sure it does. And I know what that means. It means that at some point, I have to take responsibility for clearing the air myself." ***** Dana Scully leaned back in the driver's seat of her rental car, patiently waiting to be directed into the appropriate stall. An airport maintenance crew was doing some repair work in the rental return parking lot, creating a bit of confusion for travelers this Sunday afternoon in San Diego. Normally, the delay would have annoyed her to no end. Despite having grown accustomed to airports and the associated aggravations of air travel, she still found the experience stressful. Today, however - despite also finding out that her flight back to D.C. was going to be late - she was grateful for the extra quiet time to herself. Even if she was doomed to spend it sitting in an idling car waiting for a parking spot, it was nice to have a moment alone finally. It had been a *long* couple of days, without even considering the gruelling work week preceding it. And while she loved her brother and his family, more often than not, her visits ended up being mired in that familiar, unpleasant tension brought on by her life choices and her work. It didn't even matter if nothing was ever openly said about it. She could tell - just by her brother's expression - what he wasn't saying that he really wanted to say. Ever since their near fiasco at Christmas last year, Bill had been quite willing to skirt around the topic of her relationship with Mulder. In fact, he was getting quite good at not even mentioning his name to her, except to ask perfunctorily how he was doing. Truth be told, if it hadn't been for her mother, she wouldn't have even made the visit. After their recent run of cases, a weekend to herself would have been much more appreciated. Or maybe a weekend of trying to think of a way to bridge the ever-widening gap that was forming between her and her partner on a personal level. In an unprecedented move for even two such repressed individuals as themselves, neither she nor Mulder had made any mention of their surprise Saturday morning meeting about a month ago, when they literally ran into one another outside Karen Kosseff's office. The shock from having been unceremoniously "dumped" in the cafeteria had left her glued to her seat for thirty more long and agonizing minutes that morning, totally unable to move. When she came into the office the following Monday, however, Mulder already had his face buried in a new case file and the first words out of his mouth had nothing whatsoever to do with what had transpired two days earlier. So she decided to follow his lead and act as though nothing significant had happened. A display of mutual stubbornness, perhaps? Or maybe it was a test and she was failing miserably. Whichever the case, life just wasn't peachy these days. While Mulder's anger had dissipated since having his say that morning, something still wasn't right between them. And he still wasn't doing much talking outside of work related matters. To her utter dismay, she had even allowed her vexation over his detached behavior to overcome her better judgment. The most notable incident occurred a couple of weeks ago, when she had agreed to come in to the office on a weekend to hear about a new case. Not that Dana Scully could understand even in hindsight what had caused her to be so absolutely and undeniably hostile to him, but there it was. He subsequently flew off to England to pursue the case on his own, leaving her - rather ironically - to embark on one of the most peculiar personal journeys she'd ever taken in her life. When he arrived home a couple of days later, she made it a point to apologize for her unspeakable rudeness. But something about the way in which he just brushed it off - as though it hadn't happened, much like the Saturday morning encounter weeks earlier - was worrisome. And even though her apology eventually led to an unusually open discussion between the two of them that night - at least on her part - there was still so much that she wanted to reveal to him, and so much that she wanted to ask in return. But the truth was, exactly as she had related to him that morning in the cafeteria, sometimes it was just difficult. She didn't feel ready to know that she might be right about her concerns; that there was, in fact, still *someone* between them. Someone who stood between them from virtually beyond this world. Scully jumped in her seat and turned abruptly in response to someone rapping on her car window. "Sorry, ma'am, didn't mean to startle you. We'd like you to back it up and turn to your right over there." Her eyes followed in the direction where his finger pointed. She saw the intended parking spot and nodded absently. For as long as the weekend had been, it seemed as though she had just been here, picking up the car after having flown in from L.A. She and Mulder had just concluded yet another California-based case, prompting her to take advantage of the situation and drop in on her brother for a visit. She never told Mulder her plans until the last minute, making for an oddly uncomfortable exchange, one that had continually replayed itself in her mind all weekend long.... "So whose turn is it to book the return flights?" Mulder stopped in front of his room, flipping through his wallet in search of his magnetic card key. It wasn't often that they actually stayed in hotel rooms with interior hallways, never mind those with high tech security features. "Yours, but let me do it." Scully stopped in front of the adjacent room. "Why?" "Because I'm not going back to D.C. just yet." "What do you mean?" Surprised, he stopped in mid-motion, the card inserted halfway into the electronic lock. "I'm going down to San Diego. Turns out Mom was talking to Bill and mentioned that I've been in Southern California a lot lately. You know, Mulder, the real X-File is why so many of our cases this year have brought us out here...." She stopped, sensing that work was suddenly the farthest thing from Mulder's mind. "Anyway, uh, I've sort of been waiting for one of these cases to wrap up close to a weekend so I can take a Bureau-sanctioned side trip to visit with my brother and his family." There was a moment of thoughtful silence before he said softly, "Well, it's good that you keep in touch." "I'm going to call right now. I'll get you on the next flight back to D.C." "When are you coming back?" He tried to sound casual in how he was asking but couldn't tell if it came out that way. "There's a flight on Sunday afternoon. I'll book it now, too; let you know the particulars. Can you pick me up at the airport?" "Of course." "Okay, then." She turned her attention back to getting her room door unlocked, struggling with the unexpectedly stubborn card that simply wouldn't give her the green light. "Dana?" It was her name, of course, but in a way it sounded extremely foreign to her. That he had used it purposefully was obvious. Just one of those moments when he made an intentional decision to address her as such, for whatever reason. Likely because he knew it would shake her up and give him her full attention. It usually worked that way. In fact, she was mildly irritated at how he succeeded in doing so *every* time. After all, it *was* only a first name, for Christ's sake. But because he hadn't used it in anything other than a joking manner for quite some time now, Scully found herself hesitating before turning to look at him. "Yes?" Another long moment of consideration. "Pass along my regards to Bill and Tara when you see them, will you?" This time it was Scully's turn to pause. Mulder had just made a definite and obvious attempt to draw a line between work and personal life. She studied him for a brief moment, trying without success to ascertain which way his thoughts were going. In the end, she just smiled reassuringly and answered, "Of course. Consider it done." Mulder pushed his card in fully and turned the lever to open his door. He half-gestured, half-waved towards the inside of his room with his hand. "I'm gonna - pack. Call me when you get the flight details." With that, he disappeared inside. Scully heard the soft click of his door closing as hers finally yielded to her efforts. ***** John Byers left a tip on the counter and turned away from the bar. He scrutinized the room quickly and then walked towards a small corner table, his drink in hand, a ready smile on his face. "Hey, Mulder - thanks for meeting me." Mulder raised his glass of iced tea in a salute as the other man sat down opposite to him. "No problem. So where are Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee? I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen any of you guys apart." "I had to get out. Think about things. I'm not sure they'd understand." "And *I* would? I'm flattered." "Well, Mulder, short of calling Agent Scully, I don't have too many options here." "Scully? Now you've intrigued me. What's up?" "I got a note the other day. From *Holly*." "Holly?" It didn't seem to ring a bell for a moment, despite the fact that Byers had emphasized the name. But then, the look on the younger man's face clarified the memory for Mulder. Not really Holly, but Susanne. He leaned in closer and whispered, just to confirm, "Modeski?" "Yeah." "Is this the first contact you've had with her?" "Uh huh. In almost a year, ever since we left her in Vegas." "So where is she?" "The envelope was postmarked Paris. Says she's moving through Europe right now. There wasn't much detail, but she did say that nothing out of the ordinary has happened and that she feels safe." "So why didn't you think the boys would understand? I mean, they know more about your last adventure than I do. I'm sure they'd be happy to hear that she's okay." "Oh, I don't doubt that. And - and I *will* tell them at some point. Just that -" Just that we're men and this is so bloody hard, Mulder thought, pitying poor Byers while at the same time trying to deal with the sudden paralyzing twist he felt in his own heart. "Don't you ever think that there's gotta be more to life than just this?" Mulder couldn't help but laugh. Mostly out of irony perhaps, but maybe just a tiny bit out of real humor also. "You mean that after awhile, the excitement of what we do just *pales* in comparison to the mortgage payments and boy scout meetings provided by life in the white picket fence world?" "Something like that." "All the time, Byers. And even though I know that the 'full version' of that dream probably isn't for me, I sometimes wonder if I even have what it takes to move a *step* in that direction." "Yeah, well, it's not something that I suppose Frohike and Langly really think about, you know what I mean?" "Ah." He took a long sip of his iced tea and then studied Byers' expression carefully. Mulder had always considered him the "lone" Lone Gunmen of them all. Not quite belonging to the same extremes that his cohorts seemed to represent, yet not quite out of place among them. And yet if there was any person out of the four of them - himself included - that Mulder could see settling down and living an actual *normal* life, John Byers was that man. "Do you find yourself thinking that you want a life with her? Is she 'the one'?" "Well, Jesus, Mulder, don't you sometimes think that you want a life with Scully maybe?" Byers' face colored ever so slightly when he realized how brazen he sounded. Mulder, however, didn't react in any way to make him feel like he had overstepped his bounds, showing him nothing more than his usual poker face. In fact, the barely perceptible tightness in his voice when he finally answered managed to reveal much more than his expression. "I *have* a life with Scully. And at times I think it's the most frustrating life in the world, but at least we're in the same time zone and can work on it." That didn't sound especially promising to Byers, but he didn't want to push this silent understanding he and Mulder shared about "the Scully thing". He never asked specific questions about the two of them, but from answers such as the one that he just got, he sometimes had the feeling that Mulder wouldn't object to having someone to talk to either. Byers reached into his pocket and palmed something, then brought his hands back up onto the table. Mulder eyed him questioningly, a distinct look of surprise crossing his face when Byers opened up his right hand. "She gave me this when she left last year." "Well if that isn't all the rage..." It was barely a whisper. But he actually hadn't meant to say it out loud at all. "Excuse me?" "Nothing." Mulder stared at the small golden band for a moment, his mind circling to recapture a memory long pushed into the dark recesses of his past. After warring with himself for a few seconds, he blinked and looked up to see Byers staring back at him patiently. "You want to find her, Byers? Wear this ring for real and make it mean something?" "I don't know. There's a part of me that thinks she'll eventually find me if we're meant to be, but then there's another part of me that doesn't want to wait another ten years to find out, one way or the other." "I don't suppose you're asking for advice?" "Not specifically, but I wouldn't be unwilling to listen if you had any to give." "I don't think I'm at all qualified to give any. But I know what you mean; I don't even want to wait the first ten years.... Here's some advice for the both of us, my friend. Give yourself a time limit. Tell yourself that by this date - whatever it is - you're going to take some action: start searching for her, move on and forget about her, whatever. I'm starting to get the feeling that things only take ten years when you let them take ten years." The sound of a cell phone ringing broke through the thoughts of both men. "Mulder." "Hey. It's me." Speak of the devil herself. "Where are you?" "At the airport still. We're only just about to take off now, so it looks like I'll be about an hour late." "A little after eight thirty then?" "Is that all right? I can always just catch a cab." "Not like it's past my bedtime, Scully. It's not a problem." "All right, well, I'll see you later." "Scully?" "Yeah?" "How was your visit?" Short pause. "It was all right. I'll tell you about it later." Well, Mulder thought to himself as he clicked off the phone, if you don't, I'll be asking. ***** Settled into her seat with a varied selection of reading materials close at hand for the long flight ahead, Scully leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes in preparation for takeoff. Despite the usual airplane noise and distracting sounds of conversations around her, the fact that she was flying solo from the west coast brought back clear memories of one of the few times that she did so - right after Christmas of 1999... At the breakfast table on Christmas morning, Dana Scully concluded that mothers - bless their sweet and well-intentioned little hearts and souls - just couldn't keep secrets when it came to their daughters' love lives. That she could understand this fact didn't make the ensuing experience any easier to take, particularly as she was seated directly opposite to brother Bill and had to endure his looks throughout the remainder of the meal. Luckily she had a buffer of sorts with the presence of her other brother and sister-in-law, even though their curiosity was almost equally discomfiting. All things considered, she just wasn't ready to talk about it in roundtable fashion in front of her family. Of course, everyone except Bill was willing to let it go at that. He managed to recruit his sister's assistance to do the breakfast dishes while everyone else gathered in the living room to wait for the gift opening to resume, watching the kids enjoy their new toys in the meantime. The door to the kitchen had barely swung closed when he started - albeit relatively calmly and quietly - with his protestations. "You know, all this time I thought those naysayers were off their rockers when they spouted this crap about the year 2000 and the end of the world and all. But now - you and Mulder? It has to be true, right? The world's coming to an end? I mean, nothing short of that will convince me of why this is happening." "I'll ignore that, thank you very much... aren't you overreacting just a bit? It's not like he's asked me to marry him -" "Not like any of us would be wondering what your answer might be if he did. Really, Dana, of all the men in the world -" "In case you hadn't noticed, Bill, all the men in the world haven't exactly been beating down my door." In fact - she thought rather humorously to herself in spite of the strangely hurtful moment - Mulder was the only one who had ever done that. Beat down her door, that is. Literally. "Don't give me that. You know exactly what's happened. How much you've totally disregarded any possibility for a normal life over the past ten years. Ignoring how much time has passed and pushing aside any attempts that we've made to bring it to your attention. That's why it's ludicrous that you're entertaining thoughts of wasting even more time with this... Mulder." "What exactly do you have against him, Bill?" "Are you serious, Dana? You have to ask?" "Yes. Yes, I do, because I don't know. Or if I might *suspect*, I don't understand how you can still feel that way. Nothing that's happened to me or to this family has been his fault. And the fact is, you don't even know him beyond what you think he's done to me." "All I know is that if you hadn't been with him in his insane pursuit of God knows what -" "I'd have been doing something else just as dangerous. I'm an FBI agent, remember?" "And what about *that*, Dana? How does the Bureau allow you guys to have any sort of relationship? I can't imagine that's condoned." "For now, it's none of their business. It's not like we're making out in the hallways. For your information, we haven't *done* anything." "Oh please, spare me the details of what you have or haven't done, okay? Look, I know you don't think I'm showing it all that well, but I have a lot of respect for you and the decisions that you make in life. I don't know if you'd ever intentionally get involved with someone who's going to do you harm, but.... I don't know him, like you say, but at the same time, I don't think I'm being unreasonable either. It's not that I suspect him of being an axe murderer or that he actually means to put you in danger. Hell, as little as I've talked to the man, I even believe that he *does* care about you. But I don't know *how* he cares. He's so driven -" "That's much of what I admire in him." "'Admire'? Jesus, do *you* even know how you feel about him?" The exchange came to a halt as two equally strong Scully siblings stared at one another, one surprised that perhaps he had hit onto something significant, the other not wanting to carry on the conversation any further because it had just taken on a new and different complication. "Dana, I want you to have the chance to love someone - and to have someone love you back - in a way that'll see you through to old age, not just through to the next alien-chasing case. I'm not convinced that Mulder's the man for the job. Or that he even knows what to do with the job. And you've said or done little to convince me otherwise." "I wouldn't know where to start, Bill." "Start anywhere, Dana. Just convince me." The sound of jet engines revving up brought her back to the present, back from memories of her clumsy, futile attempt at explaining her feelings to her brother. As the plane moved forward on the tarmac, she was struck by a sudden flash of insight that seemed so simple as to be obvious. It finally occurred to Dana Scully that it wasn't Bill that she needed to convince. ***** "What bothers you the most about the increasing distance that you've felt?" "That I don't know how she feels anymore.... Maybe she actually prefers the ambiguous games that we used to play, I don't know. Or maybe she's had a taste of what a relationship with me really entails and it's not what she wants. Or it could just simply be that I've read her wrong all these years and she never did love me in that sense." "Do you really think that's possible?" "That last one? No. I don't often read people wrong. And six years of reading Scully had resulted in some pretty consistent observations long before I ever made a move. But it's because I don't often read people wrong that I'm all the more convinced that something's changed in how she feels." "What are you prepared to do about it?" "I don't know. I guess that's partly what I'm here to find out. But the bottom line is, I'm not going to spend my life chasing after someone who really doesn't want to be caught by me. That's not what I want out of life. That's not what I'd want for her, either." ***** Mulder stole another sidelong glance at his partner's preoccupied face and pulled the car over at the next available opportunity. He shifted the vehicle into park, sat back, turned towards her and waited. Thinking something amiss, Scully quickly turned in all directions to assess the traffic. Seeing nothing other than cars whizzing by as usual, she looked at him in amazement and asked, "What's the matter?" "Us. We're the matter." "What do you mean?" "*Don't* ask me that. You *know* what I mean. These days I can't tell if you tolerate me or just plain hate me. It's aggravating and I need to know. I need to know how to fix it. Or if we can't fix it, I need to know that too." Despite the way that his words seemed to tumble out nonstop, his impression was that she understood both his meaning and motivation. However, the expression that he saw on her face - whether she intended it or not - resembled vague accusation, like he should have known better about something. It was a look that he had been seeing far too much of lately. "Dammit Scully, what is it? Why do you let your brother get to you like that? That *is* it, isn't it? Every time you come back from seeing him, you're distant." "It's got nothing to do with Bill -" "Then who or what's it got to do with?" As they sat and stared one another down, something clicked into place. Whether it was a decision made or an irrevocable step taken, Scully knew that the time was finally at hand, regardless of whether she - or he - was actually ready for it. "It's got to do with the truth, Mulder. The truth that you haven't told me." He was stunned. No less than if she'd clobbered him over the head with a bat. "The truth that I haven't told you?" He parroted back at her when he finally found his voice again. "What truth is this?" "The truth about Diana." She said it calmly and evenly, in much the same way as she imagined the woman she just named would have done. He continued to stare at her, seeing real emotions flitting back and forth underneath the calm surface, knowing that this wasn't just something that she had pulled out of a hat to avoid further confrontation. Knowing that, in fact, this was going to be the confrontation that they had both been avoiding since Agent Fowley's death in the fall. Knowing how hard it had been for her to bring up the subject to him, finally. And yet – sometimes - "knowing" just wasn't enough to alleviate pent-up anger and frustration. Obviously not hers and certainly not his. In fact, he was in serious danger of losing control entirely. "I can't believe this. You mean to tell me that all *this* - everything that's been making you run hot and cold on me over the past few months - is about a *dead* woman?" "No, it's not. It's about a life that could have been -" He interrupted her impatiently, "Didn't we have this conversation already?" Her eyes narrowed in puzzlement. "When?" "The other weekend, when you told me about your doctor friend and how maybe we only have one right path to take in life." "*That* is entirely different -" "How is that different? Just because *I* haven't gotten myself all screwed up over who *he* might have been to you?" "No." Her face turned a deep red as a combination of frustration and embarrassment flooded over her inexplicably. "The difference is that I told you about him." "But you *knew* Diana!" "Not as well as you did, apparently." "And what do you really mean by that, Scully? Is that just something to make me feel bad for having slept with her before I knew you, or what? I *thought* we've been all over that too." "We've been over it without actually getting *into* it. Mulder, I know you had real feelings for one another. It would be easier if I believed that she really was just one of the bad guys out to get you the entire time. Or if somehow I thought that you never loved her at all. But I know differently, and yet all you've ever done is hide it from me. Even in death, you can't talk about her -" "Even in death, you can't leave her alone!" He clenched and unclenched his fingers around the steering wheel and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I understand where you're coming from, but you also have to understand where I'm coming from. It was never part of my grand plan to go through the rest of my life without talking about Diana - but *you*, Scully... *you* really haven't been giving me much of *anything* lately to make me think that you're still interested. Like I said, *I* don't know how you feel anymore." She saw him swallow hard after that last statement, as though hearing his own words had caused him unexpected pain. It would have been understandable, since those same words had just triggered genuine panic in her. It was questionable whether she ever really had the advantage of time, but she certainly no longer had the luxury of being able to proceed slowly. She had the distinct impression that if she didn't take action now, something precious was going to die a painful death right here on the car seat between them. Scully extended her hand towards him slowly, letting it drop onto his forearm. His tightly clenched muscles rippled beneath her fingers. "Can you take us back to my place so we can talk about this, Mulder? Let's not do this here on the roadside, okay?" ***** The unnervingly silent drive back to her apartment was uncomfortable but ultimately provided a welcome respite. It gave them both the opportunity to cool off, take stock of their situation, and decide how best to proceed. By the time they sat down in front of Scully's fireplace with cups of hot cocoa beside them - the evening had been unusually chilly for May - they appeared willing, if not entirely ready, to settle whatever issues needed settling. They joined one another on the floor, half facing the glowing flames of the small fire and half facing one another. He was leaning back against the heels of his hands, his long legs outstretched and crossed in front of him. She had her knees drawn up close to her chest, with her hands clasped in front. There were no lights on except for a nightlight in the kitchen; Mulder had been the one to turn off the floor lamp once Scully finished with the fire. He knew that the semi-darkness would be welcome. It was always much easier to talk without being under the bright lights of interrogation. "Before I forget, Bill and Tara wanted me to return your hello." "He did?" Their eyes met knowingly for a brief moment before Scully turned her attention back to the fire. "Well, he asked how you were doing. I told him about your mother and he... he wanted to pass along his condolences." Mulder kept his eyes focused on her face, acutely aware of the fact that it made her uncomfortable. "He knows about us, doesn't he?" A quick darting glance indicating surprise and several seconds of ensuing silence was his answer. "You told him?" Scully reached for her mug and took a careful sip before replying ruefully. "No. Mom did. Not quite foreseeing *or* understanding how it might be taken, obviously." He played a long-held hunch... "Last Christmas?" ... and could tell that he scored a huge bulls eye. Not bad for a guy who eschewed target practice. "Jesus, Mulder, you're not just spooky, you're *scary*." "I'm flattered, but you obviously don't realize how much you're capable of telling me sometimes without actually saying anything." "But -" "Look, there's not a whole lot that could have explained why you were so closed off when you came back from San Diego last December. That and the fact that I never heard from you on Christmas Day when you said you'd call. Not to mention the look on your face after I kissed you on New Year's Eve..." "What look?" He watched the varied emotions play across her face as he continued. "I wish you could see yourself sometimes, Scully. You think you have this mask that you hide behind - and for those who don't know you like I do, it probably works - but you don't succeed with me as often as you'd like. I haven't been imagining all this ambivalence... something has either changed your mind about us or you're struggling to convince yourself that this is what you really want. Well... I don't want you to do that. If this isn't what you want, then I think I deserve to know. In real words. Real soon." "Mulder -" An unwelcome obstruction suddenly formed within the narrow confines of her throat, stopping her from uttering another syllable. He sat back and waited, determined not to be affected by her reaction. She took a well-measured breath and recovered sufficiently to say, "Is *this* -" she paused and gestured generally with her hands, indicating herself, "really what *you* want?" Mulder thought for a brief second that he might seriously have to consider shaking this woman to make her come to her senses. "Are you putting this back on me, Scully? Am I the one who's not sure? Are you *positive* about that?" "Bill thinks that you and I might be... *confused* about what we feel for one another. Whether or not that's the case, the last thing I want is for either one of us to be obligated towards something that we really don't want." "That's what *I* just said." "Then what's our answer?" "Well *my* answer is that *I'm* not confused about how I feel. I admit to having had years of confusion before we ever talked about trying to make a go of this, but not since and not now. I guess that just leaves whatever answer you and Bill might have." She felt the sting of his jab and thought it was well-deserved. "Bill has nothing to do with us." "I'm glad to hear that, Scully." "It's just that I've always been told that when you feel too close to be objective, you have to listen to what others around you say. It's not often that the whole world is wrong and you're the only one who's right." "Since when did Bill become your 'whole world'? And are you saying that anyone who knows about us would think badly of this arrangement?" "Nobody knows about us, Mulder. I really don't know *what* anyone else might think." "Before we even care about what others might think, maybe it's time for us to consider what *we* think... where *we* want this to go. If we really care about *us*, it's time we paid *us* some attention and gave *us* some priority. If there *is* an 'us'." "You're right. But we still have to get something out of the way first. About what I said in the car… I really *do* need to talk about Diana Fowley, Mulder. I need to know the truth about something that she said to me. And maybe - maybe you also need to know the truth about how you really feel." He heaved a weary sigh before replying, equally intrigued and annoyed by her last comment. "Fine. Where do we start?" "Anywhere. It doesn't matter." "Where would *you* like to start?" "Well... I know you dream about her. I've been there when it's happened. Like you're fond of saying, it must mean something." The dreams. Those cryptic answers to life's elusive unasked questions. "I've dreamt about you too, but I guess you were never around for those, huh?" Mulder swallowed down his irritation and reminded himself that it was a small price to pay if they could finally put this to rest. If it meant revealing some unsettling truths, so be it. Perhaps the fates had decided that this was the time for that long delayed talk. "When I was in that coma, whatever it was... I had a lengthy, detailed dream about living a life with her." "I know." He looked at her questioningly for a brief moment, but it didn't take long for both sides to know instinctively that - even though he hadn't specifically revealed it to her at the time - she had guessed correctly. "Those first few days after I came back home, I kept having parts of that same dream over and over again. I think I told you about it... sort of. Then they basically stopped for awhile…" "But it still happens." "Maybe it's an x-file. Look, Scully, I can't understand *why* it's happening but then I don't see it as being particularly meaningful either. Really, I don't." "But it might be. Maybe it's because you haven't laid her to rest, Mulder. For some reason, you haven't let her go." Her words had been carefully chosen, as though she were opening the door for him to confess that he still loved her. That, if it were only possible, he'd want to make that life with Diana a reality. He read her thoughts perfectly. "I'm not in love with her, Scully. You *have* to know that." "I *want* to know that. You have no idea how much I want to know that." "But I'm *telling* you that." There was nothing about his delivery that would have made her second-guess his words. He was not just earnest, he was matter-of- factly earnest; as though he were explaining some indisputable truth like the fact that the sun rose every morning. In that sense, she couldn't understand why that niggling element of doubt persisted. Maybe it was because sometimes people just didn't realize that they still held torches for ex-lovers. Or maybe it was something much simpler and more complicated. "Were you ever married to Diana, Mulder?" Scully had a brief disconnected thought that her therapist would have been proud of how she finally took the initiative. Now if she could only convince herself to breathe normally while she waited for his answer. Fox Mulder sat in silence, staring blankly at his partner's face. Oddly enough, the question of where she even got such an idea didn't occur to him. He was suddenly rendered speechless by a montage of memories taking him back to a time before the X-Files, before he ever met this woman who sat across from him. A series of frantic images flashed through his mind's eye like an advertisement for a movie, ending abruptly with a prolonged, slow-motion zoom-in shot of a wedding band being slipped onto his finger. What a lifetime ago that was.... Then the sound of Scully taking a somewhat labored breath brought him back to the present and reminded him that he should answer her question. "No." "No? It took you that long to say no? Mulder, the woman said that if things had been different, she'd *still* be your wife." She could not have foreseen how merely repeating the phrase to him would be so distasteful. The words bore the stigma of an unsubstantiated accusation, as though she were telling him that she had caught him in a lie when in fact she had no knowledge whatsoever. Not to mention she had no real basis for believing *anything* that Diana Fowley ever told her. Still... "What did she mean by that?" Her voice trailed off in a wavering whisper, barely audible over the low crackling of the fire. She felt her last remaining ounce of control drain away, worn down by months of agonizing self-doubt and conjecture. Sensing the unmistakable sting of tears, she dug her fingernails deep into her ankles to force her nerves to focus on something else. "Maybe she meant that we were thinking about getting married." He sounded unrecognizable in a peculiar way. There was a hollow, lifeless tone in his voice that she wasn't familiar with and didn't know how to interpret. She looked up to search his eyes but found nothing there other than the reflected image of the flames from the fireplace. She was therefore all the more surprised when he continued without prodding. "We had talked about getting married in the fall of 1989. Instead, she disappeared for six months, without a trace, without a word. As you might guess, things were never the same after that." ***** Atlantic City, NJ April 1989 "You were amazing, Fox. Cool as a cucumber. I'm surprised you've never done this before." "And I probably never will again. Who would have thought that a simple local child molester case would turn into this complicated, international money laundering pornography ring?" He took one final lingering glance back at the gaggle of arresting officers in black FBI jackets in front of the casino and retreated down the street, away from the hotel entrance. "Well, what's important is that you nailed the bastards." "Yeah, well, it's not quite over yet. I think I'm going to need a few hours with a therapist before I can deal with this case going to trial..." "Thank God we haven't been on this case full-time, all the time, over the past eight months. You've been so consumed, it's frightening. Are you sure you're all right?" Her concern was so genuine and real that he had to force himself to shake off his preoccupation in order to allay her worries. "I'll recover. I always do. Like you say, the intermittent involvement was a lifesaver... And by the way, you said *I* nailed them. I think *we* nailed them. You and me, 'Mr. and Mrs. Kensington'." "You know, that's been the most enjoyable part of this gig, Fox. I think I can get used to it." The brief flash of uncertainly in his eyes was quickly replaced by a trademark flirtatious leer. "Are you making a pass at me, Agent Fowley?" "Not if I go by the book. We're still on duty, even though we're on duty as a married couple and can get away with a lot. But as of tonight - in fact, as of twenty-three minutes from now - we're officially done with this case. And it's Friday night and I don't think we have to rush back to DC just yet, do we?" "No, we don't," he replied softly. "Then what say I go get us a different room in another hotel and let Mr. and Mrs. Kensington unwind like they deserve to after a job well done?" "That sounds serious." "It *is* serious." She seemed almost insulted that he might have thought differently. "I mean, *really*, Diana - that sounds serious. We've been pushing the rules, but what you're proposing -" "We're not partners, Fox. Come Monday, we're back to our regular routine and whatever we are to one another is not an issue for the Bureau." "That's not what I'm getting at. I don't really care what the Bureau thinks. Just that we've been working a dangerous case, together twenty-four hours a day for days on end, on and off over the course of many months.... All I'm saying is - if we start anything now, I'd like it not just to be a case of us blowing off steam." "What are you implying - that I'd use you and throw you away?" He didn't answer with words, but it was clear that was what he meant. "I wasn't just making idle chit-chat the other night, Fox. And I wouldn't have told you how I felt if I'd had any suspicions that the feelings weren't returned. I think I've been in love with you since the first week we were on this assignment." "And what does that really mean?" "It means that someday, I want us to spend the rest of our lives together. I don't have any doubts about how *I* feel. If you have doubts, that's all right because I'm prepared to work hard to change your mind -" "I don't have doubts..." His voice was unusually low against the noise of the street, but she *did* hear and smiled warmly in return. "Then why are we standing on the sidewalk talking when we can be doing something much more interesting?" She reached between them and clasped his hand, bringing it up in front of them. She indicated the wedding ring that he still wore on his finger. "Maybe by the end of the year, you'll consider wearing one of these for real." "With what we've uncovered in those files back at the Bureau, I'm sure stranger things have happened." "I mean it, Fox." "I know you do. But let's see what happens this weekend first." ***** J. Edgar Hoover Building, Washington DC March 1990 Fox Mulder nudged open the door with his knee, managing only a quick glance at the woman standing in the middle of the room before making a beeline for his desk. Every nerve ending in his body felt the crackling jolt that passed through him, exactly as he knew would happen. He had just stood outside his own office door for two minutes before entering, trying to think up some way of avoiding that painful eventuality. Ultimately, nothing came to mind and the box that he carried in his arms just got heavier and heavier. He set the crate of files down on top of his desk and closed his eyes briefly before turning around to face her. "I was told that you were here waiting for me. So how've you been, Diana? Or should I say, *where've* you been?" "Are you rushing off somewhere or do you have some time?" Good God, the mere sound of her voice felt like a crushing blow to his chest. How in the world was he going to survive this conversation as unprepared as he was? "You should have called first. But then again, I guess you've already set a huge precedent for not doing so. I have a meeting upstairs at two thirty. Whatever you have to say will have to be said quickly." He turned away from her to retreat behind his desk, but she reached out and latched onto his arm, stopping him temporarily. He couldn't help but notice what was on her left hand ring finger. "Are you on an undercover mission again, Agent Fowley?" He felt his heart take a pathetic leap at the possibility that there may in fact have been a good explanation for her disappearance after all. "In a way. An undercover mission in real life, you might say." "So you *were* on leave from the Bureau?" "Yes." "It was nothing FBI-related that kept you away?" "No." The air between them grew distinctly chilly, despite the fact that her hand was still warm on his arm. He extricated himself and sat down, motioning towards the chair in front of his desk. Diana sat down, but appeared to be engrossed in weighing her choices before attempting another statement. He was, however, in no mood to be patient. "The clock's ticking, Diana." "First of all, I want to say I'm sorry. Whatever you're feeling, you have every right to be feeling it." "Thank you. But I don't need you to tell me that. I was a psych major, remember?" He regretted the sarcasm almost immediately, knowing that throughout all of the past several months, he had been determined to remain as cool as possible in this inevitable moment of truth. "I've always known you to be fair and reasonable, Fox." Her voice, even and steady as usual, revealed much less than her expression. "Might you be able to give me the benefit of the doubt for just the time that it takes me to tell my story?" On the one hand, it would be *so* much easier if he could hold onto some semblance of anger, but of course, she was right. As much as he didn't think any explanation would suffice, there was also a not- so-small part of him that cried out for something to soothe the wound that she had inflicted on him six months ago when she disappeared into thin air. "Sorry. Go ahead." "Several years ago, when I was first recruited to the Bureau, I made some contacts that appeared to be highly placed. It soon became clear to me that while they may be highly placed, they weren't exactly 'mainstream FBI'. In a very short time, however, I had already gotten involved to a degree that - to them, anyway - made it impossible for me to get out." "What are you talking about?" "I can't be any more explicit than that, I'm sorry. But it's basically why I had to leave like I did. My life was in danger because I wasn't following specific orders that I didn't even realize were orders. Have you ever agreed to do something, just to turn around and find yourself in the position of thinking it the most despicable thing that you could ever do?" The resulting pause grew lengthy, indicating to him that she was waiting for an answer. Surely it had to be a rhetorical question? After another beat, he shrugged slightly and quietly replied in the negative. "Well, I hope you never have to face that." "Okay, fine. So you had a moralistic battle to fight. I still don't get where you're going with this." "Where I'm going with this, is that it wasn't just *my* life that was being threatened. Apparently, you and I have *both* been in the wrong place at the wrong time." He didn't say any actual words, but the sound of his dismissive snort communicated itself clearly enough. "You think that I figured it would be easy to convince you when I have *nothing* to show you as proof? Nothing that I *can* show you as proof? The thing is, I didn't have to come back. The only reason I'm here is to tell you that I still love you like I've loved no one else before in my life. That I will *die* loving you if that's what it means. But I won't act on it if it'll put you in danger." "So what are you saying? That I should get myself some protection because I'm being targeted? By whom? For what reason?" "It's not as simple as that. I've had access to information that I didn't know was classified. This is information that I've been forbidden to discuss with anyone.... *Especially* you." "And why would I want to know this information?" "Again, I can't say, but I think you're meant to know in due time. It's just that I can't be anywhere in the vicinity when you uncover it. Fox - I know from the look on your face that you think I'm full of it, but I've been told these facts in no uncertain terms by people you just don't argue with. I've seen the results of their 'work'." "Come on, Diana, doesn't this sound crazy to you?" "Of course it does. And I would have just as much trouble believing me as you are if the tables were turned, but sounding crazy doesn't mean it's not true." "So why can't you try harder at giving me a better explanation?" "If I were making it up, I would, Fox. That's the whole point." "Okay, so this is unbelievable because it's the truth.... What's the bottom line, then? You came back to tell me that you're gonna be gone for good?" "Not for good, for now. I have no choice in the matter." "We *always* have choices, Diana." "Well then, Fox, all of my current choices are worse than you thinking that I'm a conniving bitch of a liar who's played you for a fool." Had she chosen an emotional approach, it probably would have worked to her disadvantage. Making her statement with strength and conviction - despite the fact that she had to know that he didn't exactly believe her story - increased her credibility in a way. At the very least, his belligerence level eased somewhat. "Where've you been - or is that classified too?" "In Europe. And I will be back there as of next week." Her steely control faltered momentarily, forcing her to look away before continuing. "I've heard it said that even after you've sold your soul, if you work hard enough at it, you might be able to buy it back." He didn't know what to say anymore. Perhaps it was the hard-won truth uttered by someone regretting past decisions or perhaps it was simply just a melodramatic put-on. He knew that she was capable of both. As to what could possibly motivate her to do either, however, was still as big a mystery to him now as it was before he stepped into the room. "Am I going to see you before you leave?" "I was hoping to... if you're not out and out rejecting me." "That wouldn't be fair or reasonable. The thing is, I have to prepare for this meeting and -" She got up, uncertain as to how to end their conversation when it had barely even begun, but knowing it was pointless to stay if he wasn't ready to talk. "I'll leave you to your work." "Diana?" "Yes?" He gestured towards the ring on her finger. "Is that a prop?" "No. But if you think that this story has been hard to believe so far, you may not want to ask about that part of it now." ***** "She'd gotten *married*? To whom?" "Let's just say that she was right about me not wanting any details." "You never asked her?" "No. We met at my place for a couple of hours the next day to say our goodbyes. By then, it wasn't even bitter, just *odd*. But that was it. Exit Diana Fowley from my life until the day I saw her in that debriefing room with you and the others.... And as I recall, she was 'unmarried' by then. I think over the years, I had come to see her little disappearance as less a betrayal than as something that she had little choice in." He paused and considered for a moment how painfully and pleasantly nostalgic that day had been, being so abruptly reunited with her when he truly hadn't thought about her in years. "Scully, part of the reason I've never been too eager to talk about Diana is because I never really knew what to make of her after she left me. She apparently had a secret life that I knew nothing about. But even when it looked bad, I could never picture her deliberately working against me. I can't explain that feeling, it was just there. Even when I tried to be objective like you wanted me to be and see her for what she was, there was still some part of me who refused to lose faith in her. At the same time - and you may not believe this - I didn't doubt for a second that she had one foot stuck in something really nasty. Just that I could never convince myself that she'd purposely do me harm. In the end...." "She saved your life." "Knowing what would happen to her. You know, Scully, we've seen all kinds of people pay the price. Some as a direct consequence of the actions that they take, some just because they were simply in the wrong place. I think it's fair to say that most of them don't see it coming. But Diana knew all along that if she got in too deep playing the other side that she'd pay for it with her life. She did it anyway. So Scully, I'll repeat it again: I'm not in love with her. But something tells me that she deserves to be better remembered." "What's stopping you from doing that?" "There's you." "Excuse me?" "I've been fighting a 'Diana versus Scully' battle for almost two years now. When she was alive, you didn't trust *her*. Now that she's dead, it's like you don't trust *me*. I've done my best to shove aside any memory of her, but somehow it hasn't been enough to remove her 'presence' from your life." "You think that's what I want? For you to forget her and for her 'presence' to be removed from my life?" "Like I think I said earlier, Scully, I don't know *what* you want or feel anymore." "Mulder, what I want is to know that you're not trying to forget her for the wrong reasons. It's obvious to me that you never got the chance to make a choice, one way or the other. I can reconcile myself with being second prize, but I don't want to find out later that you've always wished for someone like Diana. In all the years I've known you, I've never been anything like her... and I won't ever be." "And you think I don't know this, or what? Of course you're nothing like Diana. Most of the time - believe it or not - I'm utterly grateful that you're nothing like her." "Most of the time?" "Well you *do* tax me with your rigid ways, but as I recall saying to someone a long time ago, it's mostly a good rigidity." He smiled slightly at the distant memory of both simpler *and* more complicated times. "Look, Scully, give me a little credit for knowing what I want and knowing what's good for me." "But why have you avoided every mention of Diana to me, even when it's obvious that...." She let the thought trail off, knowing that she didn't want to highlight her jealous nature yet another time to someone who seemed unfamiliar with the concept. "That what? That you're curious? I'm not sure I'm under any obligation to satisfy that curiosity if you can never bring yourself to ask." It was harshly put, but essentially true. Sometimes old habits were hard to break. "I've never thought that *anything* I could tell you about Diana would make you feel better or change your mind about her. So where's the good in dredging up old memories that I'm not sure I even want to relive?" A slight frown creased his forehead as he considered what he had just said and where their conversation was taking them. "No matter how spooky you think I am, some things aren't always 'obvious' to me. I mean, you've *obviously* been unhappy with how things are between us, but damned if I know why..." "*This* is why. Don't you see that? If you dream about spending your life with her and you've got this 'almost marital' history and she was such an important part of your work and in the end, she gave her life to save yours.... Well, don't you think that's a hard act to follow?" "I don't know, Scully, I didn't take it to be any sort of competition." They fell silent as she pondered how to tackle the final obstacle in her way. She had one more potentially insignificant but nagging thing that had to be addressed. "Mulder, a couple of months ago, you got a package from Wisconsin. I was the one who signed for it - you knew this, my signature was on the courier slip. I couldn't help but see the name on the return address." Fowley, of course. "It came from Diana's family." He knew that she wanted to ask the next *obvious* question and decided to save her the trouble this time. "Something that she had specified in her will that I was to have six months after the fact. Basically a collection of letters, addressed to herself at her parents' home during the years when she was in Europe. They were apparently meant for me." "Have you read them?" "No.... I didn't even really open the box. The enclosed letter from her estate lawyer just explained the contents on behalf of the family." "Why didn't you open it?" "What would be the point?" "The point?" Scully was more than mildly surprised at his question. Was it *always* true that physicians and their ilk couldn't heal themselves? "The point being, Mulder, that you've related this story to me about a woman who - while she may have been led into making some wrong decisions at one time - *loved* you and I believe you loved her back. You say that she deserves to be better remembered and yet you refuse to open the door to every good memory that you may have had with her. Please don't do that. Not for me. Above all, please don't use me as an excuse to justify it. It'll all just backfire someday and that's the last thing I want to have happen." It was clear that she had struck a nerve. Mulder gathered himself up off the floor and walked away to seek refuge beside her front window. How many times had she stood in that exact same spot, staring out at the passing world while trying to decipher life's often obscure lessons? Spurred by an unexpected boost of confidence, she scrambled to her feet and followed. As she moved closer, she felt overcome by an irresistible need to touch him. There hadn't been much touching of any kind lately, and it suddenly occurred to her that they had both been avoiding it. Raising her hand hesitantly, she let it hover above his left shoulder blade for a spell before bringing it down to rest against his back. It was nearly imperceptible, but she *did* feel a reaction from him. "I'm so sorry, Mulder, if my insecurities made you to think it was the right thing to do, but it's not.... To quote your own words, it's not fair or reasonable. Not to Diana, but most importantly, not to you." After an extended silence, he finally spoke. "Sometimes we can't control what's fair or reasonable." His voice had taken on that distracted, faraway tone again. She began to suspect that it was the result of some self-preservation thing on his part with regards to the whole subject of Diana Fowley. "When I was in the hospital, I was scared out of my wits like I'd never been before in my life. And it wasn't so much the fact that I could have died. I'm not sure that ever bothered me... not as long as I thought that it might provide some sort of evidence of 'whatever'. It was the thought of what other crazy things would happen to me *before* I died. You can't know how unsettling it was to 'hear' what people were thinking. Every time someone passed by or entered the room, I'd catch the top layer of their thoughts... you know, that 'talking to ourselves' thing that we all do in our heads? I heard it all. And the rest of it sounded like the noise from one big room of people talking all at once that I could never shut out. I thought I'd go mad." Scully smoothed her hand over his back towards his right arm, continuing along its length until she encountered his hand. His fingers played absently with hers before grasping them firmly. "Circumstances being what they were, I never did have much of a chance to talk to Diana after she came back to the Bureau. Like I said before, I had my suspicions about what she was doing, but I really didn't want to get close enough to have them be proven right. During my stay in the hospital, however, I couldn't help but find out things. And what I found out surprised me." "What was that?" "Mainly that she loved me. For real. But we weren't in the same place anymore. I couldn't return the feelings. But it made me remember that I *did* love her at one time. I guess it also made me wonder what might have been... the life that we had made plans for but never lived." Although she hated herself for the reaction, just hearing Mulder admit to "wondering" was disheartening, despite what he just said about not loving Diana anymore, *and* despite her own assessment that perhaps he *should* wonder about her. Once upon a time, Scully's feelings were only that Diana was more Mulder's *type*. In recent months, it had begun to gnaw at her that Agent Fowley's belief system likely meant that she was also a more capable and compatible working partner for Fox Mulder than Dana Scully could ever be. The reality was that she had been assigned to the X-Files to provide scientific credibility to his work. However, in all these years, she had never really found Mulder to be tragically clueless about the importance of a rigorous scientific approach. And - as he had reminded her at critical junctures in their working relationship - it wasn't as if he was often wrong, anyway. It made her consider how true her statement from two years ago might have been after all. Maybe she *did* hold him back. With no more life-changing battles to wager, maybe - regardless of what conclusion they would come to this evening about their personal relationship - her time with the X-Files should soon come to an end. Talk about self-revelations.... "I think she felt she owed a debt of some kind to Mr. Spender. Wound up working alongside him because it was preferable to something much worse. I wasn't adept enough at the mind-reading to do any sort of probing; all I ever managed to gather was what was already 'out there'... the stuff that's waiting to be said but not yet verbalized." He paused, as though deciding whether to continue to the brink or pull back and play it safe. In the meantime, her fingers slipped away from his hand, symbolic of a lifeline that she couldn't hold onto no matter how hard she tried. "It was the same with you. I knew what you wanted to say, but couldn't.... Do you love me anymore, Scully, or is that basically over?" Something cold and ominous pierced her very soul. Once again, the fact that there was no apparent emotion in his voice made the question seem infinitely worse, especially since his back was turned to her and she couldn't see his face. "Oh God, Mulder, how can you say that...?" "Because I don't know. And I *need* to know." "How can you -" He turned around to face her and what she saw stopped her in mid- sentence. When had he acquired this amazing newfound talent - the ability to remain so unreasonably controlled in what she could only describe as a gut-wrenching moment? "The thing is, Scully, even though you thought I was dying, I never heard you say it. I could tell the words were there in your mind, but *something* held you back. Maybe they were good reasons, but I couldn't tell what they were." He appeared as cool and unmoved as she had ever seen him. They could just as easily have been sitting across the desk from one other at the office discussing a case, the way he just spoke. Maybe her worst fears were being realized; maybe he had simply given up. As much as that possibility haunted her on a regular basis these days, the potential reality of it staring her in the face right this second made her stomach lurch. "Mulder, I can't explain what was going through my mind at that time. I don't know. All I know is that I love you so much and so deeply that I have trouble convincing myself that it's even real. It terrifies me and I don't doubt that's why you question me. I don't handle fear well and I don't handle uncertainty well. Not only that, you and I both know that I've made some strange choices in the past. Every time I think about how *you* fit in with that pattern, it occurs to me that you don't. And that scares me even more. I don't know what it means for the future and I end up being convinced that you'll wake up one day and realize that I'm totally wrong for you." There was a painfully long pause before he responded. "And who *is* right for me, Scully? You think Diana's right for me? You think I'm still pining for her even though she's gone?" "Will you do me a favor?" The question seemed to catch him off guard. He shrugged, a puzzled look on his face. "What?" "Go home and open that box. Read what she wanted you to know and say goodbye to her. Until you do, I don't think you can be sure of how you really feel." "Why does it have to keep coming back to this?" "Because it's why we're here, Mulder. I need to clear the air about Diana. You've apparently chosen to ignore her, but I can't. Day after day, I *wonder*, I *assume*, and... and it slowly kills me inside. Don't you see? All it does is turn me into this person who can't -" She stopped, no longer able to match his detachment. She was surprised by how calm she felt even as the tears threatened to spill over. But what was even more surprising was the corresponding change she observed in her partner, obvious even through her blurred vision. The controlled facade suddenly shattered, allowing the empathic side of Fox Mulder to resurface. The look on his face, however, made her want to cry just as much for him as for her. Mulder never did react well to seeing her this way, but it was all the more distressing when he perceived himself to be the cause of it. He had disregarded her suffering for too long and it was finally taking its toll on him. Actually, *many* things were starting to take their toll on him. And the longer he gazed into those watery blue eyes pretending not to care, the harder it was to deny and the harder it was to keep up the fake emotional distance. It wasn't something he was naturally good at, that much was certain. Out of nowhere, he heard himself whispering, "She didn't deserve to die like that, Scully..." "I know, Mulder -" "- not for me..." It was added under his breath as an afterthought, but she heard it clearly, along with the anguished tone that he tried to disguise. She should have guessed that it was more a guilt thing than a love thing. Small wonder he hadn't wanted to open up any memories of the past. If he valued their time together at all, it would hurt all that much more that she had sacrificed herself to save him. According to Fox Mulder's book of life, people just didn't do that on his behalf. "She loved you. It wasn't even a choice." He seemed unconvinced, prompting her to pin him with a look and a question. "Did you consider for a second not going to Antarctica to search for me?" Without any thought or hesitation, he shook his head. "Then I think we *both* understand what Diana did. Maybe we should accept it and let it go at that." Before either of them could become completely overwhelmed, Scully closed the distance between them and drew him into her arms. There was an immediate connection in their embrace that caused her heart to swell. Was this what was meant by the saying that "it hurts so good"? It took a while longer, but Mulder eventually allowed his body to relax against hers. The release was accompanied by an intense shudder that shook the both of them from head to toe. "I shouldn't have to tell you this, but you can't just decide to remove her from your past." She thought back to something that her mother had told her years ago - in response to some long-forgotten teenage angst - and realized that it was good advice no matter how old the recipient. "We're the sum total of *all* of our memories. If we arbitrarily cast any of them aside, even for what we think are noble reasons, we become less than what we're meant to be. Not to mention that it just isn't healthy." He took a deep breath - enough to bring himself under control - but remained silent. She had the distinct impression that any emotional outbursts would be saved for a more private time. In an ironic way, she understood totally. In fact, she had a much clearer understanding about this than she could have ever thought possible one short month ago. This first step of acknowledgment was only the bare beginning. Scully had no doubt that the complete adventure could wind up being a bittersweet journey for him, even more so than what she herself had experienced a couple of weeks ago on that fateful weekend. All in all, it was just another demonstration of how life's hard lessons weren't necessarily doled out in the most convenient and timely fashion. "Scully...?" "Hmm?" She lifted her head from his chest to look up at him and was pleasantly surprised by the near-instant touch of his lips on hers. It was a kiss not unduly chaste like the one he had initiated on New Year's Eve; nor was it mind-numbingly passionate and out of control like the ones they had shared a few months ago at his mother's house. It was just pleasurably sweet and soulfully satisfying, she thought, as she tilted her head back against the support of his hand and parted her lips in response to his familiar, gentle prodding. As usual, the simple act of being kissed by him delivered an exhilarating rush of warmth throughout her body and set fire to her extremities. It left her feeling emotionally vulnerable and sexually liberated at the same time. It was a battle that she could never tell which side would win. Dana Scully had no idea what part of her would prevail if pushed to the limit by this man. Before she could think further on it or wonder whether their activity might escalate into something more serious, Mulder pulled away from her suddenly, as though an alarm had gone off in his head. "I think I should go." The disappointed expression on Scully's face was immensely gratifying, all things considered. So was the tone in her voice when she asked, "You're not staying?" He reached down and took hold of her right hand, placing it against his chest. "I have things to do... as you well know." "I never meant that you should go home right this minute to do that –" "No use procrastinating any longer, right?" "I think you have to do whatever feels right for you, Mulder." "I'd like to stay, Scully, but I shouldn't. If I do, things might happen and even though that might be a *good* thing for us, tonight wouldn't be the best time. My mind's not clear..." He was being honest. While a substantial part of him wanted to lose himself in a night of hot blooded, violent lovemaking, he knew that the last thing either of them needed was to have second thoughts at some point in the future over who might have been most prominent in his mind: Diana or Scully. It just wasn't the right time. All the same, as he peered into those misty blue eyes, he couldn't help imagining what the right time might eventually feel like. For a few months now, he had been stricken with the thought that such an event might never take place. That their stairway encounter at his mother's house would end up being the humiliating carnal "high point" of their doomed relationship. Speaking so softly that it sounded like he was making a promise to himself, he whispered, "Someday, though, Scully. Someday soon." He took a closer look at the hand that he held clasped to his heart and noticed that she was wearing a ring that he couldn't recall ever seeing before. Scully didn't normally wear much jewelry. While one part of him absently considered its possible significance, another part was reminded of something from a long time ago, something that had initially occurred to him this afternoon while he was having a drink with Byers. Things seemed to be coming around full circle at last. "What is it?" "Nothing." He smiled reassuringly at her. It was a smile not exceptionally spectacular in her memory of famous Mulder grins, but it was full of genuine feeling like no other that she had seen in a long, long time. He added softly, "Just remembering something else that I have to do." "Something good?" "Yeah... you might say that." He smiled again. This time, there was a nostalgic hint of bashfulness in him as he impulsively brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingertips. Not a new or life-changing gesture, but she saw it as a sign that they were once again headed down the right track. And while Dana Scully knew better than to assume that it meant no more dark tunnels ahead, she took it as a strong indication that there might eventually be a bright new day at the end of them. ***** The clatter of keys landing against the table shattered the quiet stillness of the late evening. Fox Mulder stood and stared at them for several beats before he shrugged himself out of his jacket and slung it across the back of a chair. He glanced down at his watch for the second time since entering the apartment, even though he knew precisely what time it was and exactly how many hours he had at his disposal before daybreak. Throughout the drive back from Scully's place, he had been weighing the pros and cons of fulfilling his promise to her, tonight. He felt totally drained already, which might be a good thing. On the other hand, he really didn't feel up to enduring yet another emotional battering that would undoubtedly keep him up all night. He had avoided this chore for good reason. His feelings for Diana Fowley had always puzzled him. Despite professional admiration and personal appreciation of obvious assets, he wasn't sure if he had ever given himself fully to her. Even though some of the happiest times in his life had been spent in her company, it occurred to him that he had consistently held back *something*. Was it just his famous spooky intuition all along or had he not been fair to Diana at *any* point in their relationship? Maybe that was what he needed to know. Was it love, guilt, or something else entirely that he needed to establish closure for? He wandered into his bedroom and snapped on the bedside lamp, pausing for a final moment to make a decision. He opened up the closet door and reached into the far corner to retrieve a box. It was nondescript, just a box. In fact, it still looked pretty much like it did when he received it two months ago. He carried it to his bed and peeled back the top flaps. Under the first layer of bubble wrap was a cassette tape and a small collection of letters bound with a rubber band. The cassette was unmarked but with no other instructions to be found, he surmised that he should play it. Walking over to the sound system, he popped in the tape, pushed play, and returned to his bed. Sitting cross-legged with the box in front of him, he fingered the bubble wrap absently and waited. When he finally heard the haunting strains of the Moody Blues' signature tune, he smiled inwardly at Diana's choice. Appropriate in more ways than one. Mr. and Mrs. Kensington had had quite an experience on white satin sheets in Atlantic City. Mulder sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. Scully was correct in her assessment, of course. His time spent with Diana was an important part of who he was and there was no point in trying to bury that fact right along with her. Maybe this *was* the step that would finally move life forward for him and Scully. Maybe, in some strange way, it was what Diana would have wanted him to do. Outside, the night continued to fall. Inside, the music played on. And under the dim light of a solitary lamp, Fox Mulder closed his eyes and braced himself for a soul searching journey into his past. ***** The remainder of this series concludes in Water's Edge; it and all preceding stories in this universe can be found at my website: http://xgirlsfanfic.coolfreepages.com or http://xgirlsfanfic.topcities.com