A/N: I've finally gotten to the second part of the story. Hope you enjoy it. None of the characters are mine, they all belong to FOX and Chris Carter.

The Light

Light.

Blinding white light.

I race from the room, down the hall and into the kitchen with explosive speed. I have to squint against the force of brilliant light streaming into the room from the morning sun. My heart is pounding in my chest, threatening to burst. My breath is coming in quick, shaking rushes. My stomach clenches painfully. I brace myself against the sink, dropping my head down and closing my eyes to the intense bright.

What have I done? I question desperately.

I've killed a man. Not just that… I killed a man for her. I've crossed that thin red line and I can't go back. I can't. I love her and I can't go back. I can't.

Scully.

My feelings for Scully have always been my own. I've kept them under the surface, never more than skimming along the top. I have never admitted them to anyone, let alone completely to myself. I couldn't. I couldn't dive off that perilous cliff. So much of what is our partnership is about a balancing act. We've teetered along that slippery slope before especially during her battle with cancer.

I have always lusted after her from afar, ever since that first peek of flesh during our opening case in Oregon. How could you not working with a woman like Scully every day? She challenges me mentally and spiritually on a level I never even knew existed. That's what has always drawn me to Scully at my core. But that body… oh, that body is what keeps me up at night. That body, the one she desperately tires to hide under the professionally cut suits and high collared shirts. I've glimpsed enough skin, had sufficient brief touches to fill my mind with wicked thoughts at the latest hours of the night. How opportune of me that I get to have Scully, all for my own purposes, deep in the recesses of my mind for my own devious purposes.

Now I may have ruined it. Just because I couldn't keep a lid on it, I couldn't keep my hands off her once I got a taste, Oh, how she tasted, sweet and smooth. I may have ruined it all. Not only the potential I just had in that room but the actual lack of a physical or romantic relationship. Since I've felt her, actually touching her in places and in ways I've only literally dreamed about doing with her, I don't know how I could ever go back. Yet, I am here, trembling and away from her. My fingers are still tingling from the feel of Scully.

I shouldn't have done that, echoes loudly in the front of my mind. In the back, the more nagging question of do you mean kissing her or do you mean leaving her? Which shouldn't you have done?

I open my eyes and stare out into the light of the morning. It's bright and burning and hard to look at. I use it as attempt to keep my thoughts from drifting back to that feeling, the emotions in the bed room. I don't last long before I drop my head back down and squeeze them shut.

I've created a problem. I've let her see what I've tried so hard to keep hidden. She is my partner. Scully is the only one I have been able to trust for years. I've always trusted her, there has been no doubt about that. I trust her with the X-Files, with my search for my sister, with my own life. Ah, but I've never trusted her with the hidden affection buried deep within my own heart. I've never given her a glimpse of the truth of my own denied feelings.

What am I going to do?

There is a soft knocking at the door. My head jerks up. Who could that be? I try to process, my body is rigid and tense. The rapping at the door comes again, louder this time.

Exiting the kitchen, I slowly but deliberately pad across the carpeted floor of the living room to the front door. I look through the peep-hole. Mrs. Scully. Crap. I run my fingers through my unruly morning hair. This is going to take some explaining as I glance down at my shirtless torso. I release the bolt on the door and slowly open it.

Margaret Scully opens her mouth to greet the opening door but nothing comes out when her gaze lands on me. A startled surprise is pressed on her face and in her wide blue eyes. She blinks several time and still says nothing.

"Good Morning, Mrs. Scully," I offer, stepping aside so she can enter. It is unnerving under her stare as she walks through the door, standing in front of her shirtless and wild haired. I desperately want to sink into the background, to disappear. Unable to do so, I do the next best thing and cross by arms over my bared chest. It's the best I can do with the situation as Margaret Scully enters the domicile.

"I'm looking for Dana. We were supposed to have brunch today at Martin's Tavern," she tells me, the worry etched in her eyes. "I called when she didn't show up. There was no answer. It went straight to voicemail. I was worried…"

"I took the phone off the hook last night. It's my fault. I'm sorry to worry you, Mrs. Scully," I tell her sheepishly.

She cocks an eyebrow at me. I know the thoughts that must be running through her mind. She already sees too much between us. Or maybe she just sees it before us. It seems she may be right considering what just happened a few minutes ago.

"Where is Dana? Is she still sleeping?" she inquires, concern melting from her face and a small smile replacing it.

I nod, lying. "She… she had a rough time yesterday. She was…" I struggle for the right words. Why is it so hard to explain what happened yesterday for both of us? Scully struggled for the words the same as I do. My guess it's not so much the circumstances of the attack but the aftermath that is the problem. Something has changed. Something is different. I could feel it changing yesterday and now it will never be the same.

Before I can finish answering, a grated voice comes from behind us, "Mom?"

Scully steps out of the darkness of the hallway. Even with the adversity of last twenty-four hours, she looks stunning to me, enough to create an ache low in my gut. I know I shouldn't be thinking that or feeling that but I can't help myself, not when it comes to Scully. Despite my own feelings, she still looks so damaged from the nightmare she experienced. Her face is porcelain pale against the purple bruises ringing her neck. Her red hair, which is more composed than the messy morning hair I'm currently sporting, is partially covering the scabbed stitches on her brow.

"Dana," Mrs. Scully gasps upon seeing her injured daughter, bringing a hand to her mouth. "My- Dana, what happened to you?" She crosses the room hurriedly, engulfing her daughter in her arms.

"I'm fine, Mom." Scully's eyes connect with mine, so cold and distant. I swallow thickly under her detached stare. "I was attacked while working a case. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Mrs. Scully states as she pulls back and looks at her daughter. She glances back at me, over her shoulder. "Fox, is she okay?"

Scully rolls her eyes and sighs. "Mom, I'm fine. Mulder… Mulder stayed last night to make sure I was. He… he checked on me this morning and was just about to leave. Right, Mulder? I'm fine."

I guess I'm leaving. I nod quickly, not quite trusting my voice as her blue orbs meet mine again. This time there is something there, just under the surface. Something akin to distress. I'll give her this, I won't stay. It's probably best considering I just deserted her after our attempt to further this… this partnership.

Thank goodness Mrs. Scully is too distracted by the condition of her daughter and doesn't pay me a whole lot of attention as I hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. My t-shirt is still crumpled on the floor. I struggle into it, trying not to look at the bed with its wrinkled sheets and jumbled comforter. The reminder of where I left… who I left. The image is stark and too frank for me to delve into at the moment. The room looks so different in the light of the day. Last night, Scully was a trembling and crying mess, failing to pieces quickly. I gave in last night, I let myself sink into her as I took hold of her, trying to comfort her. She's always so strong, so controlled and poised. It wasn't pleasant to see her that way but it was revealing, knowing there was a softer core to Scully underneath her hardened shell.

The women's quiet conversation brings my attention back to the fact that I should leave. I am hesitant to leave the sanctity of the bedroom but I do. I try to catch Scully's attention but she keeps her head slightly turned and away as I walk across the room and talking with her mother. I grab my jacket and dress shirt from the end of the couch, stuffing my tie in my pocket.

I walk slowly to the door. As I get ready to leave, I turn and ask, "Scully, you sure you are okay?" I mean the question on so many levels. After the attack, the nightmare and whatever the hell just happened in the bedroom, how can this woman truly be fine?

She doesn't look at me, her attention still mostly directed towards Mrs. Scully. "Yes, Mulder. I'm fine," she replies and nods. "Thank you. I'll see you later." She's telling me to leave again.

I comply. Mrs. Scully gives me an appreciative smile and wraps her arm around Scully, leading her to the kitchen as I exit the door. I hate that word. Fucking fine.