4. Coming Home

They went home again.

He went to the little house, she went to her apartment.

They went to Philadelphia for another case.

Then Margaret Scully went somewhere... somewhere they couldn't follow, a place where Dana herself had once been.

Back in the day, did we ever come across the ability to wish someone back to life?

I invented it. When you were in the hospital like this.

Pain and sorrow blurred her vision, clouded her mind, but there was one constant grounding her: his touch. She could feel his warm hands through the silk of her blouse, could feel his breath over her damp cheek, his chin on her head. She could feel his arms holding her together when the world was falling apart.

In his eyes, she didn't find pity but empathy, and his compassion carried her through the darkest hours.

"I'm here," he had said, and he was there.

Was there for her.

Back then, he had saved her like this over and over again, just like she had saved him. They were Mulderandscully, and people used to say their names in one breath. It had been a while, though.

Scully realized that being hugged by Mulder, that putting her head on his shoulder was like riding a bike. You might not have done it in years, but after mere seconds, it's as familiar and easy as always.

After giving her mother's ashes to the wind and the water, he held her for a long time, held her close to his chest. His heart was thumping reassuringly, his hands kept caressing her back, his Mulder scent was covering her like a thick blanket. Neither of them did speak, somehow this moment was too intimate for words.

It was hard to say goodbye.

But goodbye they said.

X

They flew to Texas. Technically, she flew to Texas, and then he flew to Texas as well, but in the end they succeeded together. It made no sense, how they were able to solve this case, but who asks about sense when hundreds of lives are saved?

Well, maybe Einstein and Miller did.

The two of them were so much like younger versions of Mulder and Scully that it made the older agents smile. They could become a great team one day, but as for now, they were still fighting their differences too much instead of embracing them.

Been there, done that, disabused, Mulder thought.

He didn't understand either, how he had been able to communicate with Shiraz... all he knew is that it had worked somehow. Where had he been, why had his mind conjured the Lone Gunmen, how had his body been marked by a mere psychedelic experience?

It made no sense. But it had happened nonetheless.

Grabbing his phone, Mulder left the house, taking a seat on the porch. He had always loved the view from their doorstep. When they had first found that little house, she had joked that the fields surrounding it provided plenty of space for crop circles. In the end, it had been Scully who had loved the farmland even more. She used to run her few miles every morning on the field roads. How often had he seen her approaching – out of breath, rosy cheeks, windswept hair. Mulder recalled waiting for her with coffee, sitting where he was sitting now; he remembered the salty taste of her skin when he had kissed her hello.

He didn't know anymore if she had forgone running first or if he had simply stopped waiting for her.

Mulder sighed.

In the distance, something was moving, coming closer. Mulder blinked, focusing. A car. Scully's car. The smile started in his chest and migrated to his face. He waved. Already his heart felt lighter.

He hadn't realized how much he needed to talk to her. Apparently, the feeling was mutual.

She got out of her car, walking towards him with a smile of her own.

"Talk to me, Mulder."

Exhaling deeply, he wondered, "Oh, where to begin?"

They started tentative, their words, reaching out to each other.

Wonders never cease. Powerful things. Deep and unconditional love.

"Walk with me, Scully."

Mulder got up, outstretching his hand. Instantly, she was by his side, accepting the invitation. Shoulders bumped, fingers intertwined. Their steps were in sync as they were quietly walking and talking.

About God and love and hate. The Bible and the prophets and finding a common language.

"Maybe it's beyond words. Maybe we should do like the prophets and open our hearts and truly listen."

Squinting against the sun, Mulder took in the woman in front of him. He had seen her in happiness, despair and everything else in-between, had seen her in youth and growing out of it; but it had been a while since he had really truly seen her.

Her hair was glowing in the afternoon light and so was her face. Around her eyes and mouth he noticed the first serious wrinkles. Her skin was still as pale as it had ever been, a complexion that blushes easily. Mulder knew a thousand different ways to make her blush, and fond and wicked memories appeared.

She was so beautiful to him.

Once upon a time, her beauty had been the first ray of light illuminating the darkened corners of his soul. Her kindness and her intellect had followed soon after, filling him with hope.

She had saved him a hundred times and more.

You've kept me honest, you made me a whole person. I owe you everything, Scully...

Scully had been his friend long before anything else. 23 years later she was still his friend... and everything else.

"Tell me again why you had to leave."

He knew why.

The stranglehold they put on your very existence...

The stranglehold he had put on her.

Sometimes, love is not enough. His crusade had come in between, had finally swallowed him until even she couldn't reach him anymore. Ever since she had walked out on him, Mulder had merely existed. Eat, breathe, sleep, watch TV, browse the Internet for the foul odor of conspiracy.

Was he still that man? Reopening the x-files had finally brought some answers. Not the answers he had been looking for, but answers about himself. Among kind-hearted monsters and monstrous men he had found some kind of solace. Mulder had spent the better part of his life chasing the evil with a butterfly net, but suddenly he wanted to stop the chase, wanted to resume living.

"Tell me again why I should stay."

Despite her 51 years, her grin was still girlish and as infectious as ever.

Leaning in, he brushed her hair with his cheek, and her intimately familiar Scully scent called out to him.

"There's red wine in the kitchen."

Tilting her head, she wrinkled her nose.

"Red wine? Do you think I'm that cheap, Mulder?"

"Not at all, Scully. I just happen to know that you like red wine."

Reaching out, he tucked a reddish strand of hair behind her ear and his hand lingered. Her face turned serious.

"You know why I left, don't you?"

He nodded sadly.

"Yeah, I know. Honestly, I can't even blame you, I was a piece of shit to live with. The question is, Scully, are your reasons still valid?"

And that was the one-million-dollar question, she mused. Scully knew that Mulder would always be Mulder. Spooky, passionate, caring Mulder. The man who wanted to believe. The man she had fallen in love with half a lifetime ago. In the past weeks, something had changed, though. The darkness that had clouded his mind for so long was gone. His eyes shone brightly, his face was free of pain.

Averting her gaze, she took a leap of faith.

"I feel close to you, Mulder. Maybe closer than ever. And... I miss you," she confessed.

His heart did a somersault and using his free hand, he lifted her chin, forcing her gently to meet his eyes.

"Scully... I've missed you every day. I miss laughing with you, sharing meals with you, going to bed with you. I even miss grocery shopping. Come home?"

"Home?" She tasted the word on her tongue.

"Yeah. Please... let me be your home again. We can redecorate the house or move someplace else entirely. I don't care where we live, as long as we're together."

He was looking at her so lovingly, so candidly that something inside of her flew wide open.

"Dagoo would love this place," she finally said, and he laughed out in relief, pulling her closer, taking her into his arms just because he wanted to.

"I love you, I love you," he murmured right before his mouth found hers, finally again. Stealing her breath, her response, her doubts.

The kiss lingered, taking its sweet time to unfold. Lips greeted each other like long-lost friends, whispering, caressing. Then tongues joined in, and Scully wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him as tight as possible. The sensation was so well-known and brand-new at the same time that she wanted to weep.

"Mulder," she finally sighed into his mouth, "my Mulder."

Breaking the kiss, she stepped back in the circle of his embrace, studying his dear face with shimmering eyes.

"I love you, Dana," he finally repeated. "You're still my one in, well, seven billion."

Even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant. My touchstone...

"Love has never been our problem, has it?"

He shrugged, "Let's make it work, then. After everything we've been through, let's finally change the outcome."

"I love you, too, Mulder. I never stopped."

She leaned in for another kiss, feeling lightheaded and drunk somehow. Coming home, oh yes, she was coming home. He was her home, the only place she ever wanted to live.

"I never signed those divorce papers," she finally said.

"I know. And neither did I."

"For better or for worse?"

"For better, Scully, for better."

Their fingers linked again, as he guided her back to the little house.

After all, there was red wine in the kitchen.

They would talk. Dawn would break. They'd kiss again. Maybe there'd be tears, but there'd be joy as well. Eventually, he would take her to bed. Make love to her and with her.

And it would be great, would be everything.

For she was his home as well.

Has been for 23 years.

Time passes in moments, moments which, rushing past, define the path of a life just as surely as they lead towards its end. How rarely do we stop to examine that path, to see the reasons why all things happen; to consider whether the path we take in life is our own making or simply one into which we drift with eyes closed.

But what if we could stop, pause to take stock of each precious moment before it passes? Might we then see the endless forks in the road that have shaped a life? And, seeing those choices, choose another path?

The end.