CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"Well, I don't care how many girls you've dated, you ain't lived till you've had your tires rotated by a red headed woman, a red headed woman, it takes a red headed woman to get a dirty job done."

--Bruce Springsteen, "Red Headed Woman"

When I left the hospital the next day, I was still barred from doing most activities. Though the saying 'doctors make the worst patients' is true, I did agree with my doctor that I should try and spend some time off my feet. Anyone who has had abdominal surgery knows that recovery is usually very painful. I was just happy to be home, since they wanted to keep me in the hospital another day. The kind of surgery I had to remove the bullet requires cutting around my abdominal muscles, very carefully moving or reattaching them to remove the bullet, while avoiding my organs. Luckily, it was a clean entry, though it didn't go straight through, as the Kevlar slowed it down. It's better that it didn't go through, because it would have taken a trip through one of my kidneys on the way.

Because using my abs hurt quite a bit, and jeopardized quick healing, I spent most of the time lying on my couch while Mulder played doctor/chef/housekeeper, all while being my basic source of amusement. We spent the time catching up with each other, talking about all the things we'd been afraid to discuss since we met about a decade ago.

We traded information about the little things... our first real kiss, (Mulder was quite amused by my story of kissing a neighbor in the woods during a game of late night manhunt with the all the kids on the block...Bill was on the opposing team, and came to look for us, and nearly ripped the poor kids head off.) the first time we went 'steady' with someone, our college years, our families, favorite musicians, favorite colors, favorite novels... Mulder kept unfolding, although some of his responses were not surprising. He loved the Doors and Hendrix, he couldn't really pick a favorite color because he couldn't differentiate some of them, and he related to the character of Holden Caulfield while he was growing up.

Mulder did a wonderful job helping me out while I was hurt, and he reveled in the idea of getting to take care of me. For his sake, I didn't grow too angry while he fawned over me. Besides, it's nice to have somebody fawn over me once in a while. I let him know, however, that when we were back in the field, I could take care of myself. I didn't need him to look out for me, and I was going to take the same risks I always had. He understood, of course, and it was nice to be able to live on both sides of the spectrum for once.

Soon enough I was back on my feet, and Mulder and I were back at work. We spent some time investigating the X-Files that had been piling up while I was away, but all the while we were looking for clues as to where we could find the colonization date without involving a third party. In between that searching, we went back to our old routine of finding plenty of the strange and unusual.

I remember the first X-File we investigated together after the infiltration attempt...we ended up chasing a bat boy--yes, a bat boy. We were in this tiny town, Hope Falls, and apparently we were late to the party...the bat boy was dead, and he took a few people with him. It's a long story about how it all went down in the tiny town, one that I was not inclined to believe. Anyway, I did a brief autopsy, and I couldn't deny there were some odd things about the body, but I wasn't about to accept that there was a bat-boy running around in this town for a month before we arrived. Before we could definitively run any tests, the body was stolen and cremated by his "mother," who was NOT a bat.

"Scully," Mulder had said, in that tone he gets when he's so sure he's correct, "you CAN'T deny the evidence."

"What evidence?" I demanded.

"THE EARS!"

"Mulder, pointy ears DO NOT make someone a bat!"

"Well if we would have had time to look at his DNA--"

"We didn't have time, Mulder! Without that, there is absolutely no proof that Edgar was anything more than a boy--no, I'm sorry, he was more than a boy--he was a murderer!"

"The entire town--"

"Have you SEEN the people in this town, Mulder?"

"I don't understand why you have to be so dismissive."

"Because there's no proof!"

"You're so damn frustrating I just want to scream, sometimes, Scully," his voice raising.

"So scream then!" I shouted back at him.

"FINE! I will!" And he did.

Tension filled the room for a short moment, but I felt a small smile burning inside of me. I tried to keep it hidden for a while, and I knew he was fighting the same battle. After a while, it slipped, and I felt the corners of my lips lift the slightest bit. His did the same, and we met one another's eyes for a moment.

"Our first fight since..." I whispered.

"Do you know what this proves?"

"That I'm a bat-girl?" I asked sarcastically.

"That we're okay. We're back to normal."

"Yeah," I whispered. "Yeah, we are."

To make a long story short, we never did end up agreeing on the whole bat-boy issue. It was a significant step for us to have what Mulder called an "old-school X-Files argument," though. It was somewhat of a signal to us that we had gone back to partners smoothly, without really changing anything. We were friends and lovers after work, and partners at work. The same partners who had once argued over garbage monsters and demonic possessions and UFO sightings. Now, we were adding bat-boys to the list. I had never been so pleased with an argument in my entire life, though I must admit I was more pleased with the making up that soon followed.

I kept my new apartment, and Mulder remained in good old number forty-two. We went into work and chased an assortment of freaks and monsters, and even plain old serial killers once in a while. I never thought those things would be what I considered normal, but for us, that was normal. We also quietly resumed the work of accumulating information regarding colonization. After work, we began to spend more and more time together, and our relationship got easier and easier.

At first there was some difficulty. Things were far from perfect, and both of us had expected that. I had some trust issues, but slowly they began to fade. He had fears that he wasn't worthy of having me back, and sometimes he was worried when I'd absently mindedly finger the ring around my neck that maybe Rob had been my "meant-to-be." Losing Rob continued to take its toll on me, and the guilt that I was responsible for his death still lingers with me… I suppose it always will. Sometimes I dream of him, of our home in the suburbs. But it always ends the same way, it never works. I know in my heart that it never could have. I know in my heart that where I belong is here, with Mulder.

Time heals all wounds, and our wounds did heal, but there were scars left behind. Scars that we sometimes found ourselves caught up in, trying to cover and forget them. We had fights, in the office, and out of the office. I often found myself biting my tongue in personal arguments, which usually started when I was being emotionally closed off, and I found myself about to yell something along the lines of "At least I never slept with you and then took it back," and sometimes I did say something like that. Then, he'd get even more upset, I'd feel awful and lose it and occasionally cry, he'd feel bad for making ME feel bad, and we had this whole big mess on our hands. I knew it was unfair to bring up his past, and I tried my best to never do that, but sometimes things are said in the heat of the moment. It always ended the same way: we'd talk it out, put our pride aside, and fix things.

There were serious fights, about things like trust and emotional honesty ("You're not the only one with feelings, Scully, and by hiding them you hurt mine!"); there were X-Files fights, about things like UFO clones ("Why must there ALWAYS be a reasonable explanation, Scully?!); there were little fights about the way Mulder couldn't squeeze a tube of toothpaste ("It's not my fault you're an anal-retentive neat-freak lunatic, Scully!"). And then, of course, there was making up after those fights. Lots and lots of making up. That alone, without the healthy value of arguments between lovers, was enough to make each and every fight worth it...although I maintain that I am NOT an anal-retentive neat-freak lunatic. He's just a slob.

For Labor Day weekend this year, Mulder and I took a big step in our relationship. We went to the beach. Up until then, the beach had still reminded me of the night that my life had changed. We created new memories as we spent the weekend on the beach and although I couldn't bring myself to take a late-night walk beneath the stars, we did walk along in the bright sun. We shared a kiss in front of the roaring sea, and afterwards, we exchanged a grin. I must admit that I did not miss late-night beach walks; I had a fine time in the hotel room with Mulder each night that long weekend.

Things were good. We kept searching for the more locations where the colonization date was housed, but we did not receive any further threats on our lives. We didn't question our good fortune, but we didn't take it for granted, either. We were careful, completely aware that the Syndicate was capable of quietly plotting anything. We worked diligently, because Mulder believed our future depended upon it. As for me, colonization was a real threat...not one I was totally sure of, but a frightening one nonetheless.

We shared all of the things I'd always wanted us to be able to share. There were lazy Sunday mornings, cool autumn evenings, quiet candlelit dinners, and secrets that at the start of our partnership we never would have imagined telling. Despite all of the pain, in the past and present, and the pain that was sure to come, we were happy. That pain had only increased our ability to appreciate joy. The simplest things mattered the most to us. We took our lives into our own hands, instead of letting the past guide our way. We took back the painful memories and made them joyous, like we had done that Labor Day weekend on the beach. We were moving on.

Thinking about the beach doesn't hurt me anymore.