She looks at me like I'm crazy. She looks at me like I have horns or a tail or a shiny red nose. She looks at me like I've never risked my life before. Modell is no different from any other criminal we've encountered, excluding, of course, his ability to 'will' people to do exactly what he wants. He's dangerous, but it's not like danger isn't part of the job description. It's not exactly in fine print.

"Smile, Scully," I tell her, wishing I were Modell for a moment, wishing I could 'will' her into ease. She grimaces at me, the corners of her eyes wrinkling, her rose petal lips pursing in worry. I offer her my gun and a look of disbelief paints over worry. She closes her mouth and shakes her head slowly, her hair brushing her beautiful face.

"Take it," she says, looking away from my searching eyes. She wants me to keep it. Desperately, I can tell she needs me to keep it, so that she can convince herself that I might be safe. I push the gun into her unwilling hands.

"I don't want to end up pointing it at anyone but Modell," I whisper, knowing that there's no way for her to know that I mean her. I again, envy my target, 'willing' Scully with my words to know. If I hurt her, I know for sure, I would never forgive myself or learn to live with myself. I put my hands on my knees, trying to chase nerves away.

She slips her hand on mine. I look up and my eager eyes find hers, big, blue, frightened. She blinks back a trace of tears, the agent in her ready to hide any evidence of feelings. Her rock hard determination to keep everything in check has been a good role model for me, one who is overly enthusiastic about letting everyone know just what I think, just how I feel. I hope that she can be strong for me now.

I squeeze her hand gently and rise, ready as I'll ever be to face Modell. I walk with as much nonchalance as a man opposite uncertain death can muster. I can feel her eyes on me. Please be strong, Scully. Make me strong.

The emergency doors slide open and I stride in, past the point of no return the moment my shoes touch the linoleum hospital floors. I flash my badge to the nurse at the front desk.

"Federal agent, go about your business as usual." She nods at me, and I keep walking. Every heel-to-toe of my footfalls leads me closer to Modell. I can't help but think of how they also take me farther from Scully.

"Scully, do you read me?" I question the headset, needing her assurance, her resolve, her voice.

"I'm with you, Mulder," her voice replies. And I thank God for that, Scully.