Scully awoke for the second and final time that morning in the spot so briefly occupied by her husband. She rolled onto her back, not wanting to raise her head or move her body from that spot. It was the only contact she had with her husband in bed for a long time. A poor substitute, but one that had to suffice for now. Curiosity began to get the better of her sensibilities. Mulder had to have slept somewhere last night, but where?

The thought briefly entered her mind that she may not want to know the answer, but the torment was far too great. She had to know.

Reluctantly, Scully forced herself out of bed, and walked slowly to the other side of the room. She stood in front of the door that joined the two rooms. "Please," Scully thought as he hand touched the doorknob. She slowly turned it, and watched as the door opened into the other room. Her eyes scanned the room for any sign of Mulder - whether that sign was he chose to sleep in there, or that he was still asleep in that room.

The room remained untouched and unscathed. Unfortunately, Scully couldn't say the same for her peace of mind.

Scully paced the room, not wanting to face the inevitable. Despite her best efforts, her mind jumped to the conclusions she tried so hard to avoid. "It's not what you think, it's not what you think, it's not what you think..." In an effort to clear her mind, Scully walked over to the window and pulled back the shades. The window faced the garden and provided the perfect view of a beautiful English garden with a boxwood hedge maze in the center of it.

She could see everything. She could see Phoebe as she pulled Mulder's face down to hers.

Scully couldn't watch anymore. It indeed wasn't what she thought. It was much worse.

Scully began her descent into her own private hell. The wall was the only thing that supported her, and she leaned her petite frame against it hard. She sank as her spirit sank down to the ground, winding up on the floor in a ball, hugging her knees tight as the tears fell. "Why is this happening to me?"; "This is not fair!"; "This isn't right!" - all these questions, fears and anxieties swirled around her like crows, pecking at her psyche and tormenting her soul.

"Why has he stopped loving me?"

Scully had always loved Mulder. Even in the darkest hours, even when there was no hope, even now in her moment of bleak despair, she loved him. And during the darkest hours when hope was seen by outsiders as a foolhardy decision and dangerous pursuit, the only thing that held her together, the only thing created hope out of nothing was her unwavering belief and steadfast knowledge that Mulder loved her. He had always loved her.

And until today, Scully believed that he always would.

It was too much. They had been through too much. What was she thinking? What made their marriage, their union so special that it could withstand anything? If it could withstand anything, it would have certainly withstood the machinations and devious plots of an old love, and it was painfully obvious that it could not.

Their marriage, along with their hopes and dreams for the future, was dead.

Scully slowly stood up. She walked over to the dressing table to get a tissue to dry her eyes. When she reached her destination, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. It took longer than a minute to recognize the person in the mirror.

"My God," she thought. "This can't be me..."

Scully had never considered herself a vain woman, but now she found herself scrutinizing every inch of her face. The few wrinkles she had magnified under the weight of her recent discovery. She ran her fingers through her hair, counting more gray hairs than red. Who was this woman? Despite her best efforts, she found herself making comparisons. Phoebe looked as though she had a picture rotting somewhere in the attic. Her skin was smooth; her hair still dark. Her body looked like a woman half her age. She had no worries or cares....

Scully stopped for a moment at that last thought, and suddenly had an epiphany. Phoebe may not have had any worries or cares quite possibly because she avoided them. Scully had lived a full life. She raised a child and nurtured her into a wonderful and strong woman. She had a fulfilling career. She had a husband who loved her... Once.

"And by God," she thought, "he'll love me again."

Dana Catherine Scully-still-Mulder got her Irish up. "Snap out of it!" Scully thought. "You're going to let some pathetic tart with dyed hair and skin pulled so tight by plastic surgery that her eyes are in danger of popping right out of her head destroy your marriage?!" Scully stood squarely facing her reflection. "You are going to kick that woman's ass," she said aloud. Her husband may have stopped loving her, but she wasn't going to stop loving him.

Her marriage wasn't over - not by a long shot. And certainly not without a fight.

********************************************************************************

Phoebe's hand turned as her fingers made their way up Mulder's cheek. They wove and intertwined themselves into his hair. Mulder stood there, arms limp at his sides in surrender and total acceptance as Phoebe's hand followed her command, pulling Mulder closer.... closer.... closer.... until their lips almost touched, their lips so close together that they shared one breath; Mulder breathing out, Phoebe taking in his exhaled air with longing and passion. The air was still; the world around them silent except for the beating of their hearts and the sound of their breath. Phoebe moved in closer to close the gap between them when Mulder spoke.

"I love my wife."

Phoebe stopped and pulled back a little.

"I'm gong to say this in terms that even you will understand," Mulder whispered harshly. "I love my wife. I have always loved my wife. I will always love my wife, and will never stop loving my wife. And no, Phoebe - not even for you."

Phoebe's hand disengaged itself from Mulder's hair, and fell limp. "Then you're a bloody fool," she said. "That's not the first time I've heard that," Mulder replied.

Mulder pushed past Phoebe, and made his way to another branch in the maze. "You're a bloody fool, Mulder," Phoebe said again as she followed him. "For once, Mulder, why don't you see things as they are? See things the way they are, Mulder, not as you wish they'd be."

Mulder saw a break in the maze, and made his way to it. Phoebe called after him one more time before he found the break, and made his way out of the maze. "She doesn't love you, Mulder!"

Mulder, standing outside of the maze, turned to face Phoebe. "Maybe not," Mulder replied. "But I do. And that's all that matters."