Summary: My post episode take of "My Struggle II" but with inspiration from the episode "Tithonus."

A/N: Short chapter because I want to really branch out and get nitty-gritty with the next chapter. Sorry.

Seriously, with this being the first piece of fanfic that I have written in ten years, I've got the bug again. I have so many ideas I wanna get down. The past two chapters I wrote within the space of a few hours with no beta reader. This chapter is short because I want to flush out the majority of the plot in the next chapter. As always, for those of you following or even take the time to read my piece of work, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Disclaimer: The usual suspects, I own none of this, Chris Carter and company does, just merely borrowing.

It was Saturday morning. It was still early. Really early. Three a.m. early. He shifted in bed, arching his neck to glance at the at the digital alarm clock's comforting mute white glow that filtered throughtout the room. Mulder groaned at the thought of having to go back to work first thing Monday morning and the impending report that was going to be written by them. Some things never changed. But some things do.

Scully lay sound asleep, melted to his side. He moved his feet slightly and saw Daggoo look up from the end of the bed, disapprovingly, before settling his head back down at the edge of the bed. He had almost forgotten about the dog. The dog had been watched by neighbors all while the near apocalypse had occurred. And now that she had agreed to move back in, he found himself with a new roommate. But that didn't really bother him. He smiled, nuzzling her head and she grunted in her sleep approvingly. He smiled into her hair and relaxed, just enjoying the moment.

He had fully recovered without issue. He knew he had recovered faster than the others. Scully did not elaborate why although he suspected she knew. But he was alive, she was alive, their relationship was alive. Somehow that was all that mattered these days and he was happy with that. At fifty-five, he wasn't the young spud he used to be. But he felt himself crawling out of a darkness again, and with Scully by his side, he was sure to make it.

He sighed, contemplating the past few weeks. She groaned in her sleep, distressed, tensing, but quickly relaxed. He kissed her hair instinctively, willing any nightmares away. She relaxed slightly and turned into him. He smiled and looked up to the darkened ceiling.

Mulder thought for certain he was going to die. As they got closer to Washington D.C., he began to feel colder and felt like something had been waiting for him. Death. He had been certain of it. All of his luck had run out. And he had felt nothing but regret. Regret for not being in his son's life, regret for not being able to stop this, and regret for letting Scully walk out of his life. So much regret.

There was a little that he remembered between crossing the Virginia boarder and that bridge. He remembered the light and Scully staring fixedly at it, as if memorized. But something broke her out of her concentration. She had looked wildly at him. She asked him if he trusted her. What sort of question was that? Then he wanted him to close his eyes.

Mulder hugged her closer unconsciously, closing his eyes, letting his mind wander. He remembered feeling so cold but her holding him tightly, with both of their eyes closed, he held on. The the coldness faded and Scully had relaxed. He remembered Miller administrating the vaccine, but most of all, he remembered her blue eyes and smile, full of so much love and hope.

He did not question his survival but something, deep down, it was beginning to nag at him. And he knew Scully well enough that something was bothering her as well.

She shifted in her sleep and he spotted an old x-file, red tape and old, stuffed haphazardly into her briefcase resting at her bedside. He was careful, reaching arcross her petitie body and grabbing the file. Alfred Fellig. He sighed and glanced at her worriedly.

Why did she have this file?

….

Saturday. 5:45 A.M.

Scully had awoken before Mulder and before the sun. She walked Daggoo out in the yard, watching the little Jack Russell mutt run wildly, chasing after squirrels and birds. Even the country seemed to be doing the little dog good. Whistling, she called the little dog back in before grabbing a cup of coffee, a large oversize sweatshirt, and sat on the steps of the porch to watch the sunrise.

With the oncoming Monday, they both would be returning to work, back to the FBI, back to almost normalcy. She shifted and sipped the hot coffee, letting her thoughts drift. Since they had returned to the FBI, they fell into old patterns developed over years. But beneath the surface, there was this tension that couldn't resolve itself, but now...

Were they back together again? Did asking to move home justify it? She never stopped loving him. He never stopped loving her. Maybe they never really broke up. Maybe they just briefly found themselves lost and found again. She smiled at the thought. Maybe. Maybe they weren't meant to be together forever. She remembered recalling Fellig's words about love, how, if you're lucky, it only lasts 75 years. Bull shit, she thought determinedly, taking another sip of her coffee.

She was not as young as she used to be. Sure, they had sex, made love, but there was more to it, a real emotional connection that a part of her being that she could not ever let go. But that emotional connection, she actually felt genuine peace, contentment, and faith in their future together, for the first time in a long time.

She heard Daggoo running around excitedly in the house, telling her that Mulder was up. She heard him moving into the kitchen and then finally joining her on the porch. "You were always an early riser."

She bent her head up, giving him a good morning kiss. He returned it, slow and lovingly. "Did you sleep at all?" he asked gently, sitting beside her.

She shrugged. "I had a hard time falling asleep. I dozed sometimes."

"I remember," he replied. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her towards him. "Try to relax."

She let her body go limp like a rag doll and rest herself on his shoulder and bicep. "This is all too surreal, like the first time we made love together," she admitted in a whisper. "Do you remember?"

"The start of a new millennium," he joked, kissing her hair.

She chuckled. "Unfamiliar territory ahead, Ahab."

"Nothing we can't handle, Starbuck."

Silence encroached them as the sun began to rise. Scully sighed and closed her eyes, feeling Mulder squeeze his arm around her. This. This moment. This moment she tried to imagine and engrave into her mind like a priceless sculpture that was essential to history. Their history. The sun had taken on a luminous orange glow that reflected red and purple throughout the clouds. There was a light fog surrounding the property that clung like like a ghost to the past.

This moment.

Nothing could spoil this moment.

She could not remember the last time she felt like this: alive. She counted William's birth and her entry into the secret society of motherhood separately. But she remember the first time Mulder and her actually made love to her. Genuinely made love. Right after those zombies and the start of the millennium. Now, she actually felt hope for the future. Watching the sunrise, in her mind, symbolized a new beginning. Nothing could ruin this new beginning.

"Scully?" he whispered, after kissing her brow.

"Hm?"

He paused, nuzzling her forehead, before being able to draw up the strength to ask the question that danced in the back of his mind. He read the report before, recalling it through a fog. She had shut her eyes. He remembered that much. But he also remembered the research he had done...

"Why did you want me to shut my eyes?"

She stiffened slightly and looked up, trying to pretend it was nothing. "I didn't want you to panic."

A lie. A very cheap and ineffective one at that.

"Try again," he replied, narrowing his hazel eyes.

He felt her shift uncomfortably and look at the rising sun. "You'd think I am crazy," she mumbled.

Fellig's file. He shook his head, replying, "I found Fellig's file," he replied evenly, his eyes focused solely on her. "You hid, poorly, might I add. Why the sudden interest?"

"A hunch," she replied evasively.

"Scully," he coaxed. "Don't lie to me."

She sighed and closed her eyes. She sat straight up, her spine arching like a plank, and she felt Mulder instinctively rub her back, trying to smooth out any tension, figurative or otherwise. "Something Bruckman said to me." She took a deep breath. "And he told me to close my eyes. I didn't die. Neither did you."

"Scully," he coaxed.

She closed her eyes, feeling tears. Why was she crying? She wiped her eye uselesly. He grabbed her hand and cupped her cheek. She tried to free herself uselessly. He steadied her and until she met his gaze.

"Tell me everything, Scully."