From: WRITERGAL2000@aol.com Date: Thu, 3 Feb 2000 23:58:01 EST Subject: xfc: NEW STORY-Put to Rest (1 of 4) Source: xfc From: WRITERGAL2000@aol.com TITLE: PUT TO REST AUTHOR: writergal2000@aol.com RATING: PG13 (couple of bad words) CATEGORY: POST EP - AMOR FATI DISCLAIMER: We know who owns 'em. In Chris' honor, I will try to be true to the nature of the characters. My respects to all who are connected with the series. We're just having a little fun here and the more we spread the word, the more tickets are bought at the box office. Our only compensation is feedback. Thanks to Tara and Shanna for their help with my first fan fiction. Any mistakes are entirely mine. SUMMARY: On a snowy night, Mulder contemplates the meaning of his dream sequences during his brain surgery. What he comes to realize is shocking not only to his partner, but to himself. And he not only tells the truth, but also hears some truth from the only person who really matters to him. PUT TO REST 9:30 p.m. Fox Mulder's Apartment Special Agent Fox Mulder watched a light snow falling outside his bedroom window. Since the brain surgery, he had found his bed easier to fall asleep in than on the sofa. He was also still a little sensitive to light, so he had a candle burning on the bedside table. The soft glow was comforting and his thoughts drifted in a thousand directions. His dreams, as well as his waking visions, had created questions. One of the most disturbing was a vague memory of his mother being present at the hospital, standing by his bedside with CGB Spender next to her. Try as he might to remember what words she had spoken, it was as elusive as when he had tried to focus on her one voice among the dozens that besieged his brain. But she had been there - and she did nothing to help. She left him there. He hadn't spoken to her since that day in the hospital. But he knew, intuitively as well as telepathically, that Spender had discussed with his mother the plan for moving him out of the hospital, and she went along with it. The emotional pain that came with that realization was overwhelming. Mulder closed his eyes and let his mind drift away from that scene, but it was replaced with something equally as repugnant. Diana. The sequence of memories with Diana almost made him sick to his stomach. What the hell was that all about? How could his mind have wandered in such a demented direction? As a divergent life unfolded to him -- the different path he had chosen as he drifted in unconsciousness -- he was baffled as to why it was Diana in the role. Why not Scully? For days he had pushed the thoughts from his mind. But now, he decided to confront them, analyze why. He needed to have answers to this underlying and disturbing puzzle. And without very much contemplation, it started to become clear to him. Even before Scully had entered his life, but more recently over the last couple of years, he had been forced to question whether a different life could have been possible for him. He questioned it, because Scully was the one who occasionally prodded him to examine it, as she examined her own chosen path. With him. <Don't you ever want to just stop, get out of the damn car, settle down and live something approaching a normal life?> There was a time, long before Special Agent Dana Scully entered the basement office for the first time, that Fox Mulder had the same desires in life as most people. Home, wife, kids. He remembered his own family life - normal in most respects up until he was 12. <No need to analyze that any further>. And even after that time, he witnessed normal family relationships with his friends' parents. So he knew the typical ambitions of any man or woman in life. Then came the X-Files, and his hypnotic regression - then alienation from his parents when he begged for answers to his newfound insight into his sister's disappearance. And all hopes of following that conventional path ended. As the years passed, and the struggles became more complex, Mulder heard the little voice in his head, he felt the nudge from his subconscious that tempted him to wonder about the life he discarded. He could even replay the words, as rage framed the accusation from Diana that nothing mattered to him but finding the truth. It was apparent that she was ready to take the next step in their relationship. But he was not. And not just because of his personal quest. He may have some doubt about the road that he was taking, but he never doubted that he should take the journey alone. So he forced Diana away. And although she continued to love him, she never forgave him. Fox Mulder needed to have the final chapter revealed to him. Once and for all, he needed to rid himself of the 'what ifs.' He was desperate to come full circle, to put meaning to his mission. The true part of him revealed itself by showing him that had he chosen another life, another fate, his world <would> be unrecognizable and upside down. If there was a world. But most importantly, in his vision he saw his one true friend stepping into the light, guiding him gently at times, harshly when needed. She <was> his savior, his touchstone. Scully. The woman who, despite her own convictions, her own self-doubts and Mulder-doubts, stood by him in every storm. And Mulder knew he was a force to be reckoned with at times. <Then why not Scully?> Mulder rose from the bed and crossed to the window. He looked through the reflection of his image superimposed onto the dark, wet night. On the street below him, bare tree branches moved stiffly in the cold wind. Clouds of moisture were forming around the street lamps; by morning there would be heavy fog. A car cruised slowly down the street. Some brave soul with a purpose out on a snowy night. He was still plagued with questions. He asked himself again, why the marriage, the children -- <Why not Scully?> The answer came to him simply: Scully wasn't with him when the course of his life was determined so many years ago. When he contemplated how differently things might have turned out for him, he had no choice but to exclude her from the picture, because she hadn't existed for him yet. When the visions of his dreams unfolded, he realized that the tragic consequences that he witnessed were not just the result of choosing the creature comforts, but the <absence> of Dana Scully in his life. The dreams revealed what might have happened had he never met Dana Scully. <The Armageddon version of It's A Wonderful Life.> They showed him a future predicated on the past. He knew his own mind was telling the story, his subconscious perhaps helping him justify all his sleepless nights, wondering whether he was throwing his life away. But Mulder knew that one of the keys to his own brilliance was his uncanny intuition, his insights, his ability to put facts together to form a picture. In essence, he had profiled his own life and come to a devastating conclusion. He didn't know what to think about the <physical> world coming to an end based on a cerebral stage play of past decisions, but he saw it as a metaphor -- as his <own> world coming to an end resulting from mundane choices encouraged by the manipulations of another. The thing that surprised him was that his subconscious doubts had played such a large part in his dreams, because he could not ever recall seriously wondering whether he had made a mistake when he sent Diana away. He supposed that she was simply a thespian, someone needed to fill the role of significant other in his dream sequences. But then again, his dreams were being influenced by those around him who were fucking with his brain. The traitors. And Mulder had always known what the end result would be if he were ever betrayed. Listening to the soft slushy flakes hit the windowpane, Fox Mulder was suddenly staggered by a revelation about his partner so profound it coursed through his body like an electric shock, numbing his senses to finally allow replacement of a deep inner peace. There was a reason Dana Scully was still with him. Unconditional love. The truth he searched so relentlessly to find had always been standing right at his side. He closed his eyes briefly to trap the unshed tears. A gust of wind rattled the window and Mulder looked over at the trees to gauge the force of the wind. It was then that he noticed the car had pulled up to the curb across the street from his apartment. Giving more attention to the vehicle, he suddenly recognized it. The headlights shut off and the driver's door opened. The occupant didn't bother with an umbrella, but as the hood of her parka was pulled up to cover her head, he saw the familiar shine of copper hair. Mulder smiled to himself. Perfect timing. End of Part 1 From: WRITERGAL2000@aol.com TITLE: PUT TO REST AUTHOR: writergal2000@aol.com RATING: PG13 (couple of bad words) CATEGORY: POST EP - AMOR FATI DISCLAIMER: We know who owns 'em. In Chris' honor, I will try to be true to the nature of the characters. My respects to all who are connected with the series. We're just having a little fun here and the more we spread the word, the more tickets are bought at the box office. Our only compensation is feedback. SUMMARY: On a snowy night, Mulder contemplates the meaning of his dream sequences during his brain surgery. What he comes to realize is shocking not only to his partner, but to himself. And he not only tells the truth, but also hears some truth from the only person who really matters to him. PUT TO REST (Part 2) Mulder pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a clean white tee shirt. Then he went into the living room and switched on the small desk lamp by his computer, turning his head away as he did so. It gave just enough subdued light from across the room to chase away the darkness without causing Mulder any eye discomfort. He waited patiently by his front door for only one knock before he yanked it open. Scully's hand was raised to knock again and there was an expression of surprise on her face. He allowed her the first comment. "Not still reading minds are you, Mulder?" "I wish," he teased, stepping back so she could enter. With her back to him, Scully started to remove her coat. She felt it being lifted from her shoulders as Mulder instantly assisted her. "Thanks," she said, turning to face him as he tossed it over his desk chair. When she turned to him, he recognized her familiar doctor-mode as her eyes went to the bandage around his head. Gently she turned his cheek and leaned around him, balancing with her other hand on his shoulder, so she could check for any bleeding on the back of his head. The bandage was clean. He allowed two seconds for her inspection, then took both her hands in his. "Your hands are cold," he said, squeezing them gently. "I still have some of that tea you brought over when I had the flu. How about I make some?" "Maybe in a minute. You obviously weren't sleeping." "I was laying there, just ..." he shrugged lightly. "Thinking," she finished for him, her lips curled in that all-knowing smile. He grinned. "Good thing, too. I don't think I would have heard your knock if I'd been asleep." "That was my intention. I didn't want to wake you, so I would have used my key." "I see," he said, motioning with his hand toward the sofa. "And for what purpose? To borrow some of my videos, perhaps?" "If I want to watch pornography, I can order it right from my remote in my own living room." Mulder caught her glancing down his hallway towards his bedroom before sitting next to him on the sofa. "Pornography? No-no-no," he answered playfully. "Pornography is back-alley stuff. This is <adult entertainment> that I <buy> in a <store>," he emphasized. "I stand corrected." A moment of silence gave Mulder the opportunity to admire his partner. She was wearing a heavy pale pink sweatshirt that came to mid-thigh of her black leggings, which were tucked into waterproof black boots. Her hair was pulled into a short ponytail with softly curled tendrils framing her face. She had removed her earrings. Her necklace caught a sparkle of light and, as had become a habit of his, he hooked his index finger under the delicate chain, moving it down to the tiny gold cross. Placing it on the pad of his finger, he inspected the symbol of her faith as if it might hold answers for him as well. Then he laid it back against her sweater, his fingers just brushing the cotton threads. She looked absolutely stunning without makeup. Scully was well aware of his scrutiny, but didn't comment. She was used to it. Instead she nodded toward his bedroom. "What is that flickering in your bedroom?" "Candle," he said sheepishly, as if it weren't exactly a manly answer. Scully's eyes narrowed with worry. "Still having trouble with pain from light?" His eyebrows raised as if preparing to deny it, but found he could not lie to an expression of such deep concern. He nodded, "Yeah, but it's getting better. It really is." "We can turn that light off, Mulder," she said, pointing to the desk lamp. "No, it's fine. Scully, why <did> you come over here?" She looked down at her hands and he saw her chest rise with a soft sigh. Her hesitation was a familiar signal to him. "Hey," he said, waiting for her to look up. "How about you accompany me into the kitchen to supervise the tea-brewing? I don't navigate that well in the dark." Then his eyes twinkled. "Well, at least not in the <kitchen>." Scully snickered and shook her head, but she was pleased that he was admitting he needed her help. "How about you wait here." She lowered her voice to a seductive whisper, " I prefer navigating with the light <on>." "Oooh," he moaned, "you know what I like." "No, but it's safer that way," she said bluntly. "Always the sensible, logical Dr. Scully. You and Mr. Spock would have been perfect together." "But Mr. Spock had no emotions," she said, standing up. "Ah, but he did. The Vulcan side of him tried to deny the human side of him by suppressing his emotions. There again, much like -" "Don't go there, Mulder," she warned, pointing a deadly finger at him and trying to look serious. Mulder chuckled and it was music to Scully's ears. She hadn't expected this kind of mood from him tonight and she was relieved. He watched her walk into the kitchen, and when the light came on, he turned away from it on the sofa. He could hear her opening the cabinets. "Hey, Scully, question." "Hmm?" she answered, unseen. "Have you made any plans for New Year's Eve?" "Not really." "With your mom?" Mulder was glad she wasn't in the room to see his anticipation. "Mom's going to stay in San Diego through New Year's." He heard the teakettle being filled with water and waited until she turned off the faucet before commenting further. But she beat him to it. "Why?" she asked. "Well, normally I just hang out here on New Year's Eve, you know, another night of crazies I don't need." He heard her chuckle, "I hear <that>! It's why I didn't plan on being with <you>." "Very funny. But after all, it is the millennium. I feel remiss if we don't do <something> different. What do you think?" "I think <your> idea of <different> is scary." <God, thank you for sending me a woman who can match my wit!> "What'd you have in mind, Mulder?" "Well, the FX channel is running an Alfred Hitchcock marathon that night -" "I like Alfred Hitchcock." "I know. So I thought ..." <Careful, Mulder>. "... we could hang out here, or your place --your apartment would be nice with the fireplace -- get a deli tray or pizzas or something, see which one of us can guess the episode by the first scene." Mulder saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head toward the kitchen, squinting to minimize the light. Scully was standing in the doorway, weight on one foot, an empty mug in each hand. "You must be kidding. You have a photographic memory. How could I possibly win, because I'm assuming you've seen every episode, and once is all it takes with you because you never forget ... one ... single ... thing, unless of course we're talking about putting the toilet seat down ...." "Well, okay, forget that part." She nodded and was out of sight again. He wet his lips and continued on. "We could get a couple bottles of champagne ..." He hesitated, waiting to see if she would appear in the doorway again. And, on cue, she did. He prepared for her verbal assault on that little idea. "Champagne, huh?" He nodded pensively. Scully drew out the moment, obviously readying herself to cut him down at the knees. When she spoke, it was the last thing he expected. "Real champagne? Not two bottles of Cold Duck for five bucks? Real champagne." She made the last part a statement, not a question. Mulder was so ecstatic he was afraid Scully could monitor his heartbeat from across the room, but he maintained his cool. "Real champagne. Let's make it three bottles." "Sounds good," she answered offhandedly disappearing once more into that brain-slicing light, "but with our luck we'll probably get a case." He sat there in shock for a couple of minutes, then heard the brief whistle from the kettle and the click of the burner being turned off. A moment later Scully flicked off the kitchen light and returned to him on the couch, setting the tea on the table. Mulder carefully lifted the steaming mug and caught a whiff of lemon. He wasn't partial to tea, but right now, in his heightened state, she could serve him battery acid and he'd be eternally grateful. Their moments of playful bantering were over. They put some quiet distance between their jesting and Scully's reason for being here. Mulder sipped carefully, waited until she was ready. To his surprise, she kicked off her boots, then turned toward him, bringing her feet up to sit cross-legged in front of him. "I talked to Skinner earlier. He said he'd be glad to drive you to the funeral tomorrow." Mulder's face fell. He had been kidding himself. He knew sooner or later they'd have to talk about it. But he didn't realize that Scully misinterpreted his expression. She put a hand on his wrist but he was quicker in responding. "What do you mean? Have you decided not to drive? Is Skinner going to pick you up first?" Scully met his eyes and saw something else there, something beyond the grief she expected. "Mulder ... I'm not going to the funeral tomorrow." She thought she knew her partner pretty well, but she was seeing something uncharacteristic of Fox Mulder -- an edge of panic in his demeanor. He put the tea down, then turned to face her fully, placing his arm along the back of the couch. His fingertips just touched her shoulder. "Not going? Why?" he asked, his voice a harsh whisper. "Because I don't belong there. You know that ... I never trusted her. I disliked her immensely, and ..." Scully looked deep into his eyes, trying to decide whether she should admit the truth. It was time, long overdue in fact. "I was jealous, Mulder. Almost to the point of being unprofessional." Mulder was shaking his head. His face looked so sad. Although she had tried to prepare herself for his feelings for Diana, she was taken back by his insufferable face. <He still loves her. He's in so much pain over losing her>, she thought with utter despair etched on her face. End of Part 2 From: WRITERGAL2000@aol.com TITLE: PUT TO REST AUTHOR: writergal2000@aol.com RATING: PG13 (couple of bad words) CATEGORY: POST EP - AMOR FATI DISCLAIMER: We know who owns 'em. In Chris' honor, I will try to be true to the nature of the characters. My respects to all who are connected with the series. We're just having a little fun here and the more we spread the word, the more tickets are bought at the box office. Our only compensation is feedback. SUMMARY: On a snowy night, Mulder contemplates the meaning of his dream sequences during his brain surgery. What he comes to realize is shocking not only to his partner, but to himself. And he not only tells the truth, but also hears some truth from the only person who really matters to him. PUT TO REST (Part 3) Mulder read her like a book. <No, Scully my grief isn't for the slain Diana Fowley, but what I've done to you, the woman I care most about in the whole world.> Now, he needed to put it into words. It was time to make her understand. She had deserved the truth a long time ago. "No, Scully. What's happened - what you <think> has happened, has clouded what you knew to be the truth." "I don't understand. But it doesn't matter. I would feel like a hypocrite being there with you. She was your friend. I want you to be able to express what you feel tomorrow without worrying about how I'm taking it. This is not about me. And I'm so ..." Her voice began to quiver and she bit her lower lip, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to see her shame reflected in his eyes. Fighting tears, she felt a soft hand cup her cheek and she opened her eyes. She didn't expect him to be smiling, his eyes bright. When he spoke to her, his voice was soothing, calm, assured. "Scully, we just made plans for New Year's. If I had lost <you> ..." she saw a flicker of terror which he blinked away quickly, " ... I wouldn't even want to be alive in the new year." Even though the statement was tragic, she knew what he was trying to say, and she smiled as a lone tear broke from her constraint and trailed down her cheek. Mulder's thumb brushed it away without his hand ever leaving her cheek. "Too many tears lately, Scully. But I think this is a new beginning for us." She nodded again, not daring to use her voice yet. Mulder moved his hand from her face, taking each of her hands firmly in his and resting them on his thighs. "I want you to listen to me. I needed to talk to you, but ... I didn't know how to start ... where to start." He smiled at her. "You're so much better at that than I am." Scully saw his eyes drop to her lips, to her chest, as if constantly reassuring himself that she was still there, in the flesh. His eyes locked with hers once again. "Have you asked yourself the question? <The> question, Scully?" At her puzzled face, he shook his head sadly, answering for her. "No?" Mulder's jaw clenched and his eyes dilated slightly. Scully knew, both as a doctor and as his best friend, that adrenaline caused that physical change in Mulder. But in this case, it was not the rush of pleasure or excitement, it was contained anger. "What question, Mulder?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. She saw a shadow of pain pass over his face as he spoke. "How did Diana Fowley know where I was?" Scully had no answer. She realized that she hadn't really given it much thought. She had been more concerned about Mulder's return and his recovery. Mulder saw her eyes drift aimlessly to a point just over his shoulder as she considered the question. "Scully," he said softly, bringing her attention back to him. "How did she have access to where I was being held?" he asked in the same soft voice, but with an edge to his words. "I assumed she got the information, somehow. Unofficial channels?" she said with a weak smile, trying to ease the tension. The almost imperceptible shake of Mulder's head sent chills down her spine. His next words were spoken as if dipped in ice water. "She was there." Through Scully's hands in his, Mulder felt her body shudder. "She stood right over me as they cut me open." Her mouth opened slightly in horror and tears refilled her eyes. She was still speechless. "She didn't save me. She gave me to you when they were finished. You saved me." Mulder's eyes were glassy and his hands tightened around hers. "She betrayed me. This person ... that you never trusted," he said, his words trailing off. <Oh Dear God! First his mother, then her>. Her tight rein on composure crumbled. Scully's emotions burst forth. Her arms flew around her partner and she hugged him tighter than she had ever held him. And she cried, openly, without restraint. She finally felt what he felt, because in an odd turn-around, she went from distrusting Diana, to crediting her for saving Mulder's life, to sudden realization that Diana had lied to him and helped perpetrate a dangerous, life-threatening invasive procedure. A roller coaster of trust and deceit. <How does he stay sane?> She felt the betrayal like a punch in the stomach. Scully knew, deep down inside, that Diana had given Mulder reasons to trust her. But she had been filling two agendas at the same time, and in the end, the trust he placed in Diana was twisted into what he had come to expect from everyone ... everyone but Scully. Mulder could hear and feel his partner's desperation. With one hand around her shoulder, the other on the back of her hair, he held her head to his chest and put his lips to her ear. He was somewhat startled at the magnitude of her emotional reaction. "Shhh, Scully, it's okay. I've dealt with it in my own way." "Oh, Mulder -" He pulled away from her and lifted her chin. Her lip quivered and tears ran down her cheeks, but she looked him in the eye. He had never seen her this upset. Their emotions were still raw, and this was too much. He knew her tears were for him, knowing how few people he trusted, wondering how this was going to affect him. Gently, he took hold of her shoulders. "Honey, it's not the worst that could have happened." The endearment slipped, but it got her attention and for an instant she didn't know how to respond to it. But she didn't have to. Mulder went on; what he had to say was important, no matter how he said it. "Diana was someone I felt I could trust - <to a point>," he emphasized. "It's the same with Skinner and the Gunmen, maybe to a little lesser degree with them because I've known Diana longer. But it's not even the same universe where you're concerned. What I have with you, Scully, I <never> felt with Diana or anyone. "<Never>," he repeated, gently gripping her by the shoulders as he emphasized the word. Mulder dropped his hands to her knees and she retained contact by holding his wrists. "Let's go back a little further. It's time I explained a lot of things." He leaned his head closer, his eyes seeking permission to go on, his nod encouraging her assent. She nodded. Yes, she needed to know things. "When we got back from Antarctica, I wasn't the same man. I was scared. I've known for a long time how dangerous this work is for you, but it wasn't until I found you in the ice chamber that the full impact of losing you hit me. It ..." Mulder swallowed and felt Scully's grip on his wrists tighten. "I wasn't going home without you alive. There was no other alternative." "You saved me. No one but you could have pulled it off." "Yeah. <That> time. What about the next time? That single thought haunted me night and day. I battled with myself to let go, to let you do your job. But that fear that I kept inside was affecting my decision-making, our partnership. I know now why married agents can't be partners. But I knew that if you realized what I was doing, you'd leave me." Mulder saw her struggling with his confessions. She smiled through her tears, as if relaying that he was wrong, when they both knew he was right. Mulder went on, not concerned with the chronology of events, just the facts. "The afternoon when I got the call that one of the female FBI agents guarding Gibson Praise had been shot, I was frantic. The first report was that the agent was possibly dead. I didn't know which of you had been with him last, and I wasn't able to get any information. You weren't answering your cell phone. I just knew it was you. I lost it, Scully -- literally. I ran in the bathroom and threw up. When my cell phone finally rang and I heard your voice, I almost fainted with relief. Ask Skinner. He said I went white as a ghost and he grabbed me, making me sit down with my head between my knees. When I picked you up to take you to the scene, I know I was harsh with you. I can only imagine what you must have been thinking. So I'll tell you now. I was feeling guilty because when I imagined you hurt and bleeding, maybe even ... all I could say in my mind was <please don't let it be Scully. Dear God, not Scully>. That's about as close to a prayer as I'd gotten in a long time. So seeing that you were okay, I was rude. I could be rude because you were safe and that's all that mattered. It was as if treating you badly would somehow minimize how little concern I had for Diana." Scully nodded, understanding. She glanced down at the discarded tea cooling on the table and Mulder's words brought her focus back to him. "But there's more." End of Part 3 From: WRITERGAL2000@aol.com TITLE: PUT TO REST AUTHOR: writergal2000@aol.com RATING: PG13 (couple of bad words) CATEGORY: POST EP - AMOR FATI DISCLAIMER: We know who owns 'em. In Chris' honor, I will try to be true to the nature of the characters. My respects to all who are connected with the series. We're just having a little fun here and the more we spread the word, the more tickets are bought at the box office. Our only compensation is feedback. SUMMARY: On a snowy night, Mulder contemplates the meaning of his dream sequences during his brain surgery. What he comes to realize is shocking not only to his partner, but to himself. And he not only tells the truth, but also hears some truth from the only person who really matters to him. PUT TO REST (Part 4 of 4) "But there's more. My worst nightmare came to life when the creature showed up in Arizona. Whether you believed it or not wasn't relevant to my own fears. It's not possible for me to even describe what images flashed in my head, the all-consuming terror. On the highway that night, with you in the back seat with Gibson, Diana pleaded with me to go with her to find the creature at the nuclear plant. I should have gone with you to make sure Gibson was safe, but I knew what would happen later. You and I would end up searching for the creature. And I ..." Mulder stopped and momentarily released her hand so he could rub his tired eyes. Then he took her hand again and resumed. "Again I made a choice, Scully: if my partner's going in there with me to face my single most terrifying memory, and if my partner's life will be put in serious jeopardy - which I believed with every fiber of my being it was - then I want my partner to be Diana Fowley, not Dana Scully. I want Dana Scully to be safe in a brightly-lit hospital, not following in my footsteps to find a creature that will literally rip to pieces anything within its reach. And again, I didn't explain it to you. How could I? How do I tell my partner of six years, who's saved my ass more times than I care to count, that for right now anyway, I want you as far away from me and danger as I can put you, without you suspecting and thereby leaving me in a trail of dust on your way to a transfer?" Mulder took a deep breath after that long tirade and went on. "And then I use my trust in Diana as the <excuse> I need to do it over again, if it comes to that. To put <her> in harm's way instead of you." She felt his hands tighten on her knees. "Don't you see? I was the one being unprofessional." There was a tremor in his next words. "I've never been that scared in my life." Scully was speechless. Of all of the explanations she thought of for her partner's behavior where Diana Fowley was concerned, she never considered any of what he just said. Mulder finally dropped his eyes, his chin almost resting on his chest. "I'm so sorry. I knew that you were misinterpreting all of my actions, but my two alternatives were to jeopardize your life, or tell you the truth and watch you walk out on me. I knew that I hurt you, but I knew you were safe, and at the time that's all that mattered. I just hadn't coped yet with what we had been through, and I couldn't go through it again ... not with you. I just couldn't." He looked up at her, his face a mask of pain, beseeching her to understand beyond his words. As his head dipped again, his voice cracked in whispered torment, "I just couldn't come that close to losing you again." Mulder felt relief at his confession, like a weight being lifted off his shoulders, but he was apprehensive about Scully's reaction. He knew that his partner had fought hard to get where she was. The last thing she ever wanted was to be protected because of emotional reasons, not duty-bound ones. She was his equal, and he had done anything but treat her as such. Scully's fingers slid up his wrists, then back to clasp his hands and the gesture made him look up at her. There was no anger in her face. Her eyes glistened with tears, but he knew that face so well, the one she wore when telling him, without words, that she understood him for who he was, and that's how she accepted him. She had made that decision a long time ago, like a marriage, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. "Mulder, you don't have a monopoly on guilt. I have my own confessions to make." His expression was pensive. Whatever his partner was ready to confess to, it paled in contrast. Scully read this on his face, but continued to hold his trembling hands tightly. "I told you more than once of my suspicions about Diana Fowley. I even <looked> for proof, getting the Gunmen to hack into overseas case files as well as personnel files. You were right when you said I was making it personal. At times, you did hurt me. I felt like slugging that I-know-more-than-you-do smirk off your face. I prayed for the day when you'd see for yourself that you'd been wrong all along about Diana, and that I'd been right. I wanted to bring you down a notch with that, partner," she said, her voice breaking on the last few words. "I wanted to see the look on your face when I said 'I told you so.'" Scully swallowed hard, and the shock on Mulder's face brought on a new rush of tears. She let go of his hands, locking her fingers together behind his neck, and bringing his forehead to rest against hers, as she had done in the past. "Now I would give anything <not> to see that look on your face, the haunted uncertainty behind your beautiful eyes. How insane for me to wish that upon you, when I know that your pain is mine." She felt him nod slightly. "Mulder, I just don't know how you hold on sometimes." Mulder pulled back slowly, taking her hands once again. She was surprised to see him smiling, even though his eyes were weary. "I heard a story once, Scully, about a man running for his life from a hungry tiger. He ran until he reached the edge of a cliff. He looked behind him at the tiger advancing on him, and below him hundreds of feet to the waves crashing on the rocks. He made his decision, and he jumped. But on the way down, he was lucky enough to catch a branch jutting out of the rock wall. He hung there, realizing he could neither climb up, nor down. And the branch was slowly pulling out of the rock. Just as he was about to let go, put himself in the hands of fate, he looked over and noticed a big, red, ripe strawberry growing on a vine just beyond his reach. Shifting his body carefully, he stretched his arm. When he felt the branch loosening more from the rock, he prayed for courage, and a few extra seconds of life. With his free hand slowly inching up the face of the rock, he was able to bring the vine down and pluck the strawberry between his teeth. As he chewed the juicy morsel, he closed his eyes, savoring the sweetness. And his only thought for those precious seconds: that it was the most delicious strawberry he had <ever> tasted." Mulder raised his eyebrow, trying to elicit a response from her. The story had hit the mark, and Scully was slightly overwhelmed at the analogy. "There's always a reason to hold on, Scully. You never know when you'll find something sweet," he said, caressing her smooth cheek with the back of his hand. Her smile broadened into a grin, "Or a hunter with a long rope." Her remark caught him off guard and he laughed, an honest-to-goodness, deep, sincere Mulder-laugh. It made her heart leap with joy. "See, you <are> open to extreme possibilities." "Don't insult me, Mulder, by implying that I'm beginning to think like you," she replied, barely restraining her amusement. As both agents looked deep into each other's eyes, their thoughts were in tandem. <After all we've been through, we're finally back home.> Although some apprehension remained on Mulder's face, his voice was surprisingly strong. "I need you with me tomorrow to bid farewell to a fellow agent. You're my partner, and I'm yours, and we should be standing side by side. It's where everyone expects us to be. It's where expect us to be. Tomorrow, we put it to rest, Scully." <It. Not just Diana, but all of it>. "Yes, we will," she answered, her voice matching the strength in his. She saw his immediate relief, and she gently touched the bandage at his forehead. "You need to sleep now, Mulder. We both do." Mulder watched her put her boots on and he stood up when she did. He glanced over at the window, frosted over with ice crystals. "I'm worried about you driving home," he said, following her to the desk for her coat. "The roads weren't that bad, and it's really just a heavy sleet. Actually it's safer driving in weather like this because everyone is more careful. And it's really ... quite beautiful." Mulder smiled and nodded, then Scully saw him avert his eyes from the lamp. She tapped her finger against his chest. "Don't forget your sunglasses tomorrow, even though it's forecast to be cloudy." "Believe me, I won't." He held her coat as she slipped her arms in. "Call me when you get home. I'll feel better." "Yes, Dad. I'll be here at ten a.m., so have the coffee ready." The two agents looked deep into each other's eyes, and automatically their arms went around the other's waist. Their actions continued to mimic each other as they smiled, and touched foreheads again. "Thank you, Mulder." "For what?" "The truth. But mostly, for just being you." "Ditto, Agent Scully." Mulder planted a tender kiss on her forehead and she turned and opened the door. "Hey, Scully?" he said, delaying her a moment more. "Yes?" "What I said about you, and Mr. Spock, and emotions ... I was wrong." She tilted her head as if she'd heard him incorrectly and then he winked and said, "First time for everything." He was rewarded with a good, solid chuckle from his partner. For several seconds she transfixed him with eyes that burned as brightly as a winter fire. Only by turning away from him did she break the spell. "Good night, Mulder." "Don't forget to call me when you get home." Scully acknowledged with a nod. Mulder leaned against the open door as she walked down the hallway to the elevator. "Good night ... partner," he whispered in a voice inspirited with the anticipation of a new dawn. THE END