I watch her go, watch her enter the car and calmly drive down the street and as I watch her, I can feel an undeniable anger race through me, starting at the very core of my soul extending to my fingertips. She drives by without even giving me a glance and, two years ago, that wouldn't cause me to be so damn angry at her, since I was relatively hidden. But now, now everything that doesn't happen the way I want it to, the way it should, no matter how small or insignificant it seems, pushes me closer and closer to my breaking point.

After all, didn't she say she loved me?

Of course, I said it too. And I said it first, maybe her declaration of love was just something she was forced into saying. And, to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure if I do really love her. I don't know what love feels like.

My father was never someone who said "I love you, son" when I made some great achievement. My mother, on the other hand, said it so many times to be myself and my father that I think she was trying to convince herself that that was how she felt. Samantha could have been someone I loved, and I think I did back when I was a child. But, for God's sake, she's gone now.

With Scully, it definitely wasn't love at first sight. More like wariness at first sight. She looked too eager, too much like someone you would picture as a suck-up. I was wrong with that, at least. I think I first felt love towards her when I heard her voice on the answering machine, screaming for help. It wasn't any kind of romantic love. It was more like "parental" love, I guess. I felt responsible towards her and protective of her. Nothing remotely romantic. Through the years, Scully's become more and more attractive and I've felt more and more protective towards her. Does that mean I love her? I don't know. I guess so.

Last night, I dreamt that Scully had wings. The weren't wings like an angel had or wings like a bird, they were butterfly wings, very, very fragile wings. Scully would fly just over my head, waltzing in the air and laughing, looking so happy. But occasionally, the gust of the wind would be too must for her delicate wings and she would flutter to the ground. I would catch her, hold her, make sure she was okay, then push her back up into the air where she would fly just out of reach, looking down and smiling at me, expressing her gratitude. But all of a sudden, her wings changed. They were no longer paper-thin butterfly wings, but strong, feather wings, wings of a hawk. She smiled once at me, and then a sharp gust of wind came. Instead of falling into my arms, she narrowed her eyes, spread her wings and soared away, leaving me alone and crying after her, asking what had I done.

When Scully first left me after the X-Files closed, I hated her. She abandoned me, when everything in the world I ever wanted had been denied of me, when I was so close to dying. She knew, she saw that dead look in my eyes. But she left me anyway.

I haven't asked her why yet, I don't think I really want to know the answer. She'll probably say something about how I was being selfish in being torn apart by the fire that ended my life's work and not paying attention to her. But I think she is the one who was being selfish. She knew that the X- Files were something that was a part of me, a living, breathing part of me that forced me to continue when everything I needed was gone, and the day was as black as the darkest night. But she wanted me to spend time with her, to comfort her. I just needed time alone, to collect my thoughts, like I'm doing now.

And I realize that I can't hate Scully. I never could. She's a human too, with all her faults and errors that she doesn't know are there. And right now, she needs exactly what I needed when the X-Files were lost forever and what she denied me. Well, I won't deny her. I pull out of my hiding position and follow her down the block, staying far enough behind so she won't see me, but close enough so that I can see her.

I follow her all the way to the adoption agency. I follow her out of the parking lot, and into the building, down the halls and, as the woman she was just talking to goes to get Elizabeth, I approach her.

"Hi Scully," I say quietly, placing a hand tentatively on her shoulder. She spins around, surprised. "I didn't think you were coming," she says tensely, clenching her jaw and narrowing her eyes.

I soften my features as much as I can. "I'm sorry," I lie, knowing what she needs to hear. "I've been such an ass lately. I've been selfish."

She smiles, and the smile lights up her entire face. "You have, Mulder. But I forgive you."

I smile at her, and that feeling washes over me again. I think its love. No, I'm positive it's love.

"Oh, you must be Mr. Mulder," a kindly voice chirps and I turn to see the woman that went to get Elizabeth. She smiles kindly at me, but she looks a bit wary and I wonder what exactly Scully told her about me.

"Come here, dear," she says, motioning to a young girl, hanging back. This is the first time I have ever seen Elizabeth and, for some reason, I feel instantly protective of her. Maybe its those beautiful and innocent green eyes of her's or maybe its that small smile. Or maybe, just maybe, its those fragile butterfly wings I can just sense around her.

Scully smiles so radiantly and I wonder if she's ever smiled at me like that. I don't think so. She bends over and holds out a hand.

"Hi Elizabeth," she says, her voice shaking a bit. "I'm gonna be your new mommy."

Elizabeth returns Scully's radiant smile and for a second, glances up at me, questionably.

"And Mulder here," Scully starts, looking up at me as well, "Mulder here is going to be your new daddy, if he's up to the job."

I nod slowly and gently push the butterfly into the cloudless blue sky, watching her fly out of reach and dance in the air.