Author's Note: Angst, MSR. Scully considers Mulder's proposal.

This is the final chapter of part one. If you would be interested in my continuing part two, please review and let me know. Part two is already about half finished. Thanks to everyone that has followed me through posting this and taken the time to review. I really appreciate it!

Chapter Eleven

Scully didn't know where Mulder was. She had heard the door slam shortly after she'd gone back into her bedroom. Maybe he'd gone out into the night by himself, or maybe he was just wandering her halls. She entertained all sorts of possibilities and weighed the safety of each of these options methodically as the hours ticked by on the electric alarm clock by her bed. Sure, Mulder could take care of himself, she argued with herself, but then who can protect themselves against what is really out there—against those things only very few people even knew about.

William was asleep; she could tell by the pattern of his inhalation and exhalation that usually had a calming effect on her. She envied him, but she knew she wouldn't sleep until she was sure that Mulder was all right. She wanted him to walk back through that door, but she suspected that if he did, he would be coming back to insist that she rethink her answer, which she didn't want to do. But after more than an hour had gone by, Scully reasoned that Mulder was the type of person who would not return to be rejected a second time: he had been too emotionally empty for too long to expose himself to that chance. Her rejection had sent him away—probably for good.

At four in the morning, Scully wrapped a silk robe around herself, giving up on sleep, and moved into her living room so as not to awaken William, who was thankfully still slumbering. She opened her bay window and breathed in the somewhat chilly early morning air. She decided to make herself some tea and sit on the windowsill until the sun came up. She stirred some honey into her tea and tested the warmth with her finger, just as she did with William's bottles, before returning to the window to drink in the brisk air. The warmth from the tea created white puffs of steam in the quickly cooling air of her apartment, which she watched mindlessly.

Even at this hour there was activity outside: cars drove by, taxis went by in a flash with their bright yellow paint drawing her attention, and some daring souls even walked the sidewalks. Scully's apartment was on the first floor, close enough that she could tell whom everyone was as they passed by, but separated from the road by a stretch of green grass.

She tried not to think about what she'd done. The things she had said. How hurtful they must have been. Mulder had returned from God only knows what unspeakable torture, only for her to push him away. She couldn't bring herself to open up. She couldn't even ask him what had happened to him while he was gone. She was completely shutting down. She knew it, but she tried not to think about it.

If he was gone, she hoped it wasn't far. Even if she had driven him away, she wanted him close. She wanted to know he was safe. She couldn't bear the thought of him being a question mark once more in her mind.

Scully's eyes had begun to droop, when she heard a noise inside her apartment, and she stood up, realizing she had not checked to see whether the door was locked after Mulder left; anyone could be entering her apartment. But as she awkwardly slipped from the windowsill and turned to her right, she saw Mulder standing there. He looked tired and thin. She realized that he looked a lot worse than she had been willing to acknowledge before—even with her thirst for tests to prove that he was harboring some awful illness.

The fear gripped her once more, and she recognized it for what it was: she was afraid of losing Mulder again to the unknown, so she was pushing him away. Better to push him away than to pull him into her and have him ripped away. It was the logic of old rearing its head once more; the logic she thought she'd banished when she'd begun to slip into his arms at night over a year ago. Why hadn't she embraced him and told him she loved him the minute she saw him in the hospital?

And since powerful men like Mulder always reminded her in a strange way of her father, she briefly let her thoughts drift to William Scully: he would have never wanted one of his children to turn out to be a coward. She'd always imagined that her father would have looked on her chosen career as a failure. The truth was more painful: she was setting herself up to be a personal failure—a failure at life.

She understood the fear and she understood the terrible mistake she had made.

She pulled the window shut and placed her mug of tea on the table. As she took a few steps towards Mulder, she realized that her feet were frozen into almost painful numbness.

"I saw you from the street. It's cold," he said simply without moving forward or backward.

"I'm fine."

Mulder nodded in a seemingly irritated fashion. "Of course you are."

Scully wanted to take another step towards him, but she couldn't will her frozen feet to move.

"I didn't think you were coming back," she said softly.

"I took a cab back to my place. I used some money you had there on the counter, but here, I'm repaying you," he said digging in his pockets to produce some bills.

Scully shook her head to indicate that she didn't mind. "Why did you come back? Not to pay me, I hope," she said as she watched him toss the wadded bills on the table.

"I got to my apartment and it was depressing as hell. Was it always that depressing?" he asked.

She bit her lip, unsure whether he was really asking her opinion on the pitch of his apartment. It had several moods, and she imagined that she had experienced all of them during the years she'd known Mulder.

"So, I'm here. This isn't where I want to be either though," he sighed with exacerbation, running his hands through his wet hair.

Scully realized he must have taken a shower at his apartment, since it was not raining. Her brain seemed to be working very slowly as she worked out these mundane details.

She didn't know what she was going to say to him, but before she knew it, words were spilling out of her mouth as if her tongue had a will of its own. "Mulder, we need to talk."

"I don't want to," he said flopping down on her sofa.

Scully followed him doggedly, sitting on the edge of the sofa and scooting as close to him as she dared. "Then I'll talk and you listen. I have to tell you how frightened I've been…how frightened I still am."

Mulder licked his lips and gave her his attention somewhat begrudgingly.

"I'm scared that five days or five years from now we're going to find out that you have a tumor in your brain and I'm going to lose you, and that terrifies me. I'm a doctor and I know we all die, but I don't want to lose you like that."

"Doesn't sound so grand to me either, Scully."

"I'm afraid to ask you about what happened to you even though you might want to tell me. Afraid to know about the things I've dreamt of…I dreamt things, Mulder. Horrible things. The whole time I was pregnant I'd have these vivid dreams about what was happening to you. They were terrifying. I'd wake up bathed in sweat and crying. I've lost my strength. I've become someone that's afraid. Constantly afraid. That's why I don't want to marry you: I'm afraid."

Mulder was about to open his mouth to say something, but Scully placed her fingers over his mouth, applying only the slightly of pressure to his lips.

"I never thought I lived my life guided by fear. I thought being your partner for all those years proved that I was strong and brave."

Mulder knit his eyebrows and tried to shake her hand off, seemingly to object to something she'd said, but Scully kept her fingers pressed to his mouth.

"But most of the time I wasn't taking personal chances. I was holding back. Protecting myself. I thought I was protecting the both of us by closing you off. And I can't afford to do that anymore, especially since I'm making decisions for two. How could William ever forgive me if I didn't give you a chance, Mulder?"

Mulder swallowed, but remained silent even after Scully dropped her hand from his mouth. She pressed her fingertips into the heavy grain of the thigh of his jeans. Feeling him beneath her fingers was further evidence that he was here in the flesh.

"It doesn't matter what the tests say about your health…it doesn't matter what happened while you were gone…it doesn't matter what bursts through that door to threaten us next. Nothing could make me feel differently…I want to be with you."

Mulder put his own large hand over Scully's delicate one. "I didn't come here to give you an ultimatum, Scully. I was wrong to make that demand of you."

He'd wanted to tell her how much he loved her. How he wanted to make everything right and give her everything she had ever wanted in life. How grateful he was to have her in his life and how he never wanted that to change. How grateful he was that she had given him a son and made them a family. It had come out as an angry demand for her to promise to bind herself to him for eternity. At least, that's how he imagined she had interpreted it. Accusations and demands were not the way to win over the stubbornly independent Dana Scully; he should have known better.

"It doesn't matter what you came here for. We never discussed where we were going with this," she said, squeezing his hand, "and I suppose we should have. I was wrong to say 'no' to you."

"Maybe not. You don't need to say it, Scully: I know you think I'd be a disaster as a husband. Maybe you're right."

"I won't listen to you say things like that. I've never wanted you to be anything but yourself. I'm not asking you to become something else. I don't need that."

"Scully, it's okay. I walked out, but I'm back. I'm not going to disappear, if that's what you're afraid of. It won't change anything, if you don't marry me. You're under no obligation to me."

"I know I'm not obligated to you. This isn't about obligations. Mulder, I'm saying yes. I'm saying yes to you…to us."

Mulder scrubbed his face with his hand, trying to absorb what she was saying. It wasn't what he'd expected when he'd walked back through her door. He was ready to accept whatever crumbs she could offer him, and he knew how pathetic that was. He couldn't help his need to be with her at whatever cost to his pride. If she'd told him he could stay around, if he played babysitter and handyman, he would have; but she was offering more than that.

"Mulder, I didn't mean anything I said earlier. I would never wish that things were different between us. I need you to believe me," she pleaded, her voice cracking. She tilted her head down to look at their intertwined hands. "You were gone and I never for a minute regretted loving you…I only regretted not telling you sooner."

Mulder pulled her head to his chest and drew in a sharp intake of breath, trying to suppress a sob.

Pressed against his chest, listening to the hammer of his heart and feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath, Scully began to feel at peace. She had made a mess of things, but he was here. He hadn't left her. They still had a chance.

After his breath slowed, Mulder spoke firmly: "I'm going to quit, Scully. There is no place for me in the FBI, assuming they'd even tolerate me anymore."

Scully sat upright and took both of Mulder's hands. "Mulder, it's me. You don't have to do that for me. The X-files have been your life's work. I know how much the work means to you."

"Not anymore."

"Look, I don't know what it is you think I want, but I told you—I don't need you to pretend to be something you're not. You wouldn't be happy giving up like that. Quitting."

"Sometimes, Scully, you have to know when to walk away, and that's what I'm doing. There's nothing more either of us can do there…especially not for the X-Files."

"That's not true. I've still been investigating. It's only been half of what it could be with you there, but I made sure they wouldn't shut us down. We can be a team again…partners."

"No, listen. Before…when we were in Oregon, I'd already decided that I didn't want you to endanger yourself anymore," he said staring intensely at her.

"Mulder, I'm fine."

"Why do you always say that?" he asked edgily.

"Mulder, I have always wanted to be your partner."

He smiled weakly: "not always."

"Always. It's my life too. I'm as wrapped up in it as you are after all these years."

"What a gift," he said, shaking his head. "And what about William?"

"William is alright. I've managed."

"There's no point, Scully. Why bother managing?"

"Stop. Don't say that you can't make a difference. Don't say that we can't. Then what did it all mean? Everything we've sacrificed? What happened to the truth?"

"I don't know."

His tone was completely flat. This confession scared her more than anything else he'd said to her since he came back. Just what had happened to him?

"Mulder, I won't let you give up."

She had assumed that her dual character role was over: Mulder was better at being Mulder than she ever could be, but now he was bewilderingly rejecting his part.

He grabbed her wrists somewhat roughly so that she could feel each finger pressing into her flesh. "Listen, Scully. I'm telling you: it's over."

He looked into her eyes, trying to communicate the finality of his decision. He didn't want to tell her the truth that he had learned—didn't want to break her spirit.

"Then what will we do, Mulder?"

"Lay low for awhile. You can teach. Whatever you want."

She wanted him to stop sounding so distant. He was still gripping her wrists, but she didn't think he was aware of it.

"And where…where do we go?"

He let her wrists slip, before drawing her back into his chest.

He spoke into her hair: "Anywhere…middle America. I really like corn."

Scully would have laughed, if she wasn't so confused. Her mind, always wary of quick moves and lack of planning, was slightly spinning—she wasn't sure how he could turn off that inner driving obsession—but she urged her nagging inner voice to be quiet. Maybe this was what he needed for the time being.

"We just pack up and leave?"

"Why not?"

Scully could think of half a dozen reasons right off the top of her head, but she could tell he wasn't truly interested in reasons to stay here. She tucked her hand under his shirt and drew small circles on his warm taut skin, trying to communicate something through her touch. If he needed to leave, she would go with him. She felt his chest slowly sinking as if the tension was beginning to drain out of him.

"But we can't go anywhere just yet," he said quietly.

Scully sat up to look him in the eye and cocked her left eyebrow.

"I want to get married first," he said reaching up to stroke her cheek, "make you an honest woman."

Scully rolled her eyes before leaning into the palm of his hand.

"We can apply for a marriage license in a few hours from now and be married at the courthouse within a week," Scully offered with eyes half-lidded, enjoying the feeling of Mulder's hand against her cheek.

"No grand cathedral wedding for Dana Katherine Scully?" Mulder asked teasingly.

"I'm past the point of fairytales, Mulder," she acknowledged softly.

Mulder stroked her hair.

"Scully?"

"Mmm?" she murmured without opening her eyes.

"You're the bravest person I know."

Scully opened her eyes and leaned forward to whisper in his ear: "I love you."

THE END

Author's Note: For those people that might be interested in a part two...you may have noticed that Mulder seems to be harboring some secret--there will be more on that. Also, it won't be the kind of marriage fic where they're experiencing diaper hi-jinks, in case that might scare some people away!