If you are reading this now, then that means you have decided to give me a chance to right the major wrong I have committed in the last chapter, which was—of course—killing off Scully's character. I appreciate this opportunity you are giving me to do just that, and I assure you, it will not go unrewarded. Happy reading!

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CHAPTER 14

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Mulder sat with his feet on the desk in his office, staring at a piece of paper. "I heard you were here," came his boss's voice, interrupting his thoughts. "Mulder, go home."

"There is a case in progress right now, sir. I have work to do." Mulder didn't even look at the source of the voice. He knew who it was and had no reason to avert his eyes from the paper.

"Mulder, the case can wait. You experienced a traumatic event and it's important that you give yourself a chance to recover. You are a remarkable agent, but I can't risk letting you get clumsy."

"Thank you for your support, sir," Mulder said dryly. "But I think this case will have to wait anyway." Skinner's expression questioned him. "The lab tests came out negative."

"The ones Scully had taken in yesterday?"

Mulder's chest sank. Was it just yesterday? "Yes. Those."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that Dana's--Scully's--premise was wrong. The chemicals that were being dumped had nothing to do with the toxins created in the water. Maybe if she were here, she'd have another idea, that being her expertise and all. But I haven't a clue what to do."

"Go home."

Mulder was too depressed to argue, and the longer he sat in his office, the more he missed Scully sitting on the corner of his desk. I should have gotten her a desk, he thought, feeling guilty. She has--had been my partner for six years, and she never had her own desk. Though this never bothered him before, it bothered him now. He was finding that a lot of things like that were bothering him that never had in the past, and it was getting miserable. "Okay," he finally said to the assistant director, grabbed his coat, and left.

It was three o'clock when Mulder stepped into his apartment, carrying the manila envelope of lab results that he decided to bring home, just in case he thought of another approach to the problem. He also hoped it would take his mind off of other things, but every room he tried to work in reminded him of her. He was so exhausted because he hadn't been able to sleep the night before, so first, he tried to take a nap. Again, he lied down, but his bed felt empty without her in it next to him. He tossed and turned, moved pillows to create the feeling he wasn't alone, and lightly sprayed her perfume in the air next to him. However, when sleep finally came, it was often interrupted by images of her last moments in his arms. Every time he closed his eyes, he relived the horrifying experience. Gunshots rang out. She fell into his arms. Blood poured from her stomach and chest. It pooled in her mouth, dripping out the side. Sometimes he awoke then, but he was so desperate to see her that he didn't open his eyes until the nightmare ended. After a couple hours of futile attempts at his nap, he gave up and returned to the front room. He sat on the couch to read through the most current case report but was distracted by yet another memory. Mulder had been reaching for the file that lay on the coffee table, but he grabbed the wineglass next to it instead. He examined the smudges of lipstick on one small section of the rim. He inspected the shape of her bottom lip, the color of her lipstick, and the few drops of wine that she hadn't finished. He lightly kissed the smudge and set the glass down where it had been, next to his. For a moment, he stared at the bowl of popcorn that hadn't been finished either…along with the movie…along with their lives together. Nothing had been finished, and he didn't have the stomach to finish any of it without her. So he dumped the popcorn and rewound the movie, putting it and its case back in his movie cabinet. The wineglasses, he left as they were. Mulder lied down on the couch, his head pounding in response to sleep deprivation and hunger. He had considered aspirin for the headache, but it wouldn't have done any good. The three things he needed were the three things he couldn't have. Sleep was impossible. That had been proven. Food was certainly something that would help if he could stomach it. Unfortunately, he had been feeling ill since the night before, and the very thought of food made his face crumble with fatigue. The third thing he needed wasn't a thing at all. She had a name. A name that he couldn't bare to think because it caused him too much heartache. A name that he hoped he would remember and forget at the same time. A name that had been etched into his heart like initials in a tree. And just as he thought he might finally get another shot at a desperate slumber, the phone rang. "Hello?"

"Fox, it's Maggie."

He sat up, concerned. "Is everything okay?"

"Actually, I just called to give you the information on Dana's service."

"Oh. Let me get a pen." Mulder leaned over the table in search of a writing tool and a piece of scratch paper. "Okay," he prompted when he was ready.

"I know it's short notice, Fox, but it's going to be tomorrow afternoon."

"What time?"

"Two o'clock." She hesitated. "How are you doing? Better?"

As much as he wanted to talk about what he was going through emotionally, he didn't want to upset his partner's mother. She was facing enough of her own demons, and he didn't want her to face his too. "It's really hard," he admitted, "but…" He tried to think of something else to say but couldn't.

Margaret Scully, being the teacher of her daughter's abilities to read people, knew that Mulder was only trying to protect her by not going into detail. "It's okay, you know. Let me be here for you."

Mulder was disappointed with himself for what he was about to say. "I'll see you tomorrow." He set the phone back on its cradle, imagining Margaret's face the moment she realized he had hung up. So, tomorrow's the day, huh? He thought about Bill and practiced what he wanted to say to him quietly. "I'm very sorry about your sister," he whispered in the silence of his empty apartment. He imagined Bill would say, You should be! You got her killed! Just like Melissa! My two baby sisters are gone from my life, and you are to thank for it! You are a disgrace, and you deserve to spend the rest of your life miserable. I hope when you leave here today, you look forward to your future in Hell! He hoped it wouldn't be that bad.

Suddenly, Mulder felt a warm, comforting sensation on his face. Nothing was there, but it reminded him of Dana's soft, tender kiss, and he lulled his head back on the couch. He was warm as if he had been covered by an invisible blanket. His headache had faded away, and his stomach muscles relaxed. For the first time in thirty-four hours, he fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep, and didn't wake until the next morning.

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Everyone was there. All three gunmen, wearing tuxedos. What was rest of Dana's family. All of her and Mulder's superiors. A few peers, coming to see how Spooky was holding up at "Mrs. Spooky's" service. Many of the people they had helped during the past six years attended as well. Mulder let his eyes scan the crowd for the elders, mostly looking for Smoking Man. Thankfully, they were not there…or not visible, anyway. Margaret walked over to him, surprised by the turnout. "I didn't realize you and Dana had so many friends."

Mulder just smiled, not wanting her to know the truth that many of the people were only there to make an appearance. One thing about working on the X-Files was there were more enemies than allies. "Maggie, I don't know if it's a good idea for me to be here. You know Bill has never liked me, and Dana was his sister. He should be able to grieve in peace."

"Don't be ridiculous! Fox, you deserve to be here more than anyone…perhaps even more than most of our own family. I won't let you miss it. Come on. You said you wanted to talk to Bill. He's right over here."

Mulder followed her reluctantly to a tall man, his wife, and his children. His wife and children were crying, and went to take their seats. Bill was just standing there. Margaret and Mulder walked up to him, and Maggie spoke first. "Bill, how are you doing, honey?"

Immediately, his eyes fixated on Mulder as if he was shocked to see him there. "Mom, I still think this should have been family only," he said, still glaring at Mulder.

"Dana had a lot of friends, and Fox was one of them."

He was speaking to Mulder now. "How did she get shot?"

Mulder preferred not to start there, but he didn't feel like dancing around the question. "She was protecting me." Even though that was the answer Bill was thinking, he wasn't prepared for Mulder to actually admit to it. His face twisted in a mixture of angst and sadness. "I miss her too, you know."

"Where do you get off--?"

"Bill!" interrupted a strong, harsh voice. He had forgotten his mother was standing there.

"Well," Bill said, continuing to talk to Mulder, "she always did feel obligated to protect you."

Mulder became defensive and couldn't stop himself. "You know what? Protecting me was never something she felt obligated to do! She did it because she was a good, honest person--unlike you! She cared about me and respected me, believe it or not, for who I am! And I loved her for it!" Mulder was doing everything he could to not break down crying. "I would have laid down my life for her, and she knew it. But she did it for me first." Bill looked at the agent, unsure if he was finished. Mulder was only done yelling, for there was now a small audience, but he wasn't done talking. "Whether or not you will ever believe me, I have always tried to put Dana's safety first. The last thing I wanted was for anything to happen to her." His eyes went from Bill to Maggie and, then, to the ground. "I loved her so much."

"What did you say?" Bill growled.

"I said that I was in love with her." He looked up to find Bill's eyes scowling back at him. "And she was in love with me."

"I don't believe this."

Getting cocky again, Mulder was tempted to tell Bill about his and Scully's relationship, but it was a quarter to two, and he didn't think it was appropriate. To his surprise, however, Maggie reentered the conversation, talking to her son. "Fox and Dana had been together for a while before this happened, Bill."

Mulder and Bill both turned to her with shock displayed on their faces. Mulder wanted to say something, but he was afraid that "badeetbadeetbadeet" would be all that would come out. Bill, on the other hand, had no trouble reacting. He turned to the dumbfounded Mulder and punched him across the face, throwing the agent into the dirt. As Bill stormed off, Maggie rushed to Mulder's side. "Fox? Fox? Are you okay?"

He lingered in the air for a second while he tried to get up. "Actually, that went better than I thought it would." He took Maggie's arm gently and walked her behind a tree so that everyone would stop staring at him. "Mrs. Scully, I'm sorry, but Dana wouldn't want this."

"What?"

"This! She wouldn't want her brother and me fighting like this. Obviously, he will never forgive me for being a part of Dana's life, so I need to be the one. I will stay to pay my respects. But he's right. It should be family. Thank you for being so kind, but I think I should let you and your family grieve in peace. It's not my place."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, and I'm sorry that Bill has made this even harder on you than it already began. I shouldn't have said anything."

"I'm glad you did." He smiled and looked up, noticing the priest was ready. "Let's go do this."

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CHAPTER 15

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That night, after the funeral, Mulder sat up in his bed. This was making him mad. He had thought he was finally on his way to closure when he had, yet, another nightmare. This one was different, however. It didn't take place in the warehouse, but rather in his own apartment. He was looking for her but couldn't find her. In his dream, he had grown more and more frustrated and feared what he would find. He woke up before he found her, which may have been for the best. He slid out of bed and put on a pair of dirty jeans. Throwing on whatever T-shirt was closest, he grabbed a coat and walked toward the door. Mulder wasn't sure where he was going, but he felt like walking, and any place was better than his apartment.

He was drawn to a twenty-four-hour florist. He didn't even know there was one. When he got up to the counter, he bought a dozen roses. "Let me guess," the florist said, glancing at his watch, which read just past midnight. "You did something wrong, and you think that if you buy her roses, she'll forgive you."

"Something like that." Mulder sighed, giving the florist a weak smile. It was ironic to him that after all the years they had been friends, it wasn't until her death that he bought her roses. He didn't really know what he was going to do with them, but he bought them anyway.

Before he knew it, he looked up to find the cemetery in front of him. Did I mean to come here? he thought, confused. Deciding to give into his subconscious desire, he entered the cemetery and walked directly to his partner's grave. He looked at the dozen roses in his hand and realized why he was there. Mulder laid the roses on her headstone and looked down at the message he had asked Margaret to have engraved on it. "A rose among weeds," he read aloud. He leaned against the headstone and slid down to the ground. "You know, I'm having one hell of a time trying to figure out this case." He suddenly seemed to feel better, as if she was really listening. "It took a turn on us. I thought for sure you would be right about that chemical dumping, but according to the lab results, those chemicals have nothing to do with our case. They are completely harmless just as the manager said. Even their combinations with each other and their combinations with the water in the streams and rivers. I don't know what to do, Scully. You are the scientist…the chemist…not me." He smiled and remembered how good smiling felt. "Your brother has an awesome left hook. Now I know who taught you." Silently reminiscing about a particular case a few years back, Mulder recalled his partner's excellent fighting skills and almost felt sorry for the killer that tried to attack her. How could he have known that her self-defense would leave him with a very sore right cheek? "You and your left hooks," he laughed. He continued to tell his partner what she had been missing. In all likeliness, he wouldn't have been saying any of it if she had really been in front of him, but for now, small talk was all he could bare. It made him feel like she was sitting behind him…there but out of sight.

Suddenly, he heard another voice. This was a voice he had despised his entire adult life. But, this was a time that any familiar voice was consoling. "Hello, Fox," said an elderly man, smoking a cigarette.

"What are you doing here?" Though the familiarity of Smoking Man's voice comforted him, Mulder had not lost his senses completely. He had learned that paranoia often prevented poor judgment and problems that came from it. If he had to be careful about poor judgment around anyone, it was Smoking Man.

"I figured you'd be here."

"What do you want?"

"To make you a deal."

Mulder shook his head like a little kid. "No. No deal," he said.

"You don't even know what it is."

"You want me to work for you, but I told you before that I would never do that."

"Fox," Smoking Man said as he let a dark cloud escape from his mouth and nostrils, "I happen to know how much you want her back." Mulder looked up. "You work for me, and I can make that happen."

Mulder fought to stay loyal to what his inner voice was saying to him, but he was curious and desperate. "How? How can you bring her back?"

"Ah-ah-ah," he said coldly, shaking a frail finger at him. "So, what do you say?"

Mulder thought about it, which was further than he got the last time this deal was offered. When Scully was dying of cancer, Smoking Man promised to make her better if Mulder changed sides. He refused, and Scully's cancer went into remission anyway. Unfortunately, reversing death wasn't a possibility on its own. He shook his head. "She would never forgive me. I know her, and the last thing she would want is for me to turn around and ally with our enemies. I would rather do what's right and suffer than become a part of your lies."

"You say it with such conviction," he taunted. "The offer still stands."

"How do I even know you aren't lying?"

"You don't. But is that a risk you are willing to take? Think about it, Fox." And, with that, he disappeared into the darkness of the trees.

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CHAPTER 16

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Skinner approached the door that read "42" on it. He knocked, but there was no answer. "Mulder, open up!" he yelled, worried that something might have been terribly wrong.

No answer.

"Mulder!" Finally, he checked the door and found that it was unlocked. He walked in. "Mulder?"

Mulder was lying on the couch in the dark with a gun dangling limply from a fingertip. Skinner feared the worst until the agent looked up at him. "Hey, Walter. Come to spread some cheer?"

"What's with the gun?"

Mulder looked down at it as if he had forgotten it was in his hand. "Just thinkin'."

Skinner walked up to the couch and extended his hand. "Give it to me, Mulder."

"Who do you think I'll use it on?" Skinner didn't answer, and Mulder handed him the gun. "I've been offered a deal by the devil."

"Oh? What was it?"

"Smoking Man. If I work for him, he'll bring Scully back."

"Mulder--"

"I know. I refused it earlier, but now I'm not sure. What if he could?"

"You know she wouldn't want this. She wouldn't want you to join the forces you've spent your life fighting." Skinner sat down on the coffee table carefully and noticed a wineglass with lipstick on it.

"I don't want to do it, but I can't help feeling like…"

"It will get easier. Smoking Man is a rotten liar, and you know it. He will let you do his dirty work for him and then leave you with nothing…not even your dignity."

"Can I have my gun back?"

"No."

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CHAPTER 17

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Mulder walked up to his partner's grave, but he wasn't there to talk to her. It was the middle of the night, and he knew the devil would be out. "You've changed you mind," came an old voice out of nowhere.

"You knew I would."

"Go home, Fox, and take a nap. Tomorrow…you change teams."

Mulder was going to ask about his partner, but Smoking Man had already gone. He turned toward the headstone, noticing his roses had fallen to the ground and were withering away. "Forgive me," he whispered, and then, he walked home and went to bed.

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It was the morning before he knew it, and Mulder dreaded the thought of waking up until…

"Morning, sweetie," came a soft, familiar voice from behind him. He felt his heart racing and a surprised smile tore across his face. He rolled onto his other side and saw her. Mulder didn't remember a time she looked more beautiful than that moment. "Did you sleep well?"

He couldn't find any words that would answer that. Instead, all he could say was, "Where did you come from?" He didn't really mean to say it, but there was no taking it back.

Scully looked confused and insulted. "What are you talking about? I've been here all night." Mulder apologized as he tried to figure out what Smoking Man had done. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Scully. I'm okay. As long as you are really here, I'm okay." She still looked confused, but she wasn't insulted anymore. She snuggled into his arm and put her hand on his chest, rubbing his skin with her thumb. "I'm sorry. I just had a bad dream. That's all."

"I can relate to that," she said, yawning.

"It was so horrible, and I thought it was real." She tilted her head so that she could see his face. "What day is it?" he asked, not caring how crazy of a question it was.

"Saturday."

"Saturday? You mean you are going to take in those samples today?" Could it possibly be the day she died? He was starting to figure out what it was Smoking Man had done.

"Yes, Mulder. That is the plan."

He smiled, relieved that he had a second chance, and pulled her close. Mulder began to remember what had happen the night before when he realized they weren't wearing anything, and he hugged her body tightly. Almost too tightly. "You can be late," he said before kissing her. He missed her so much, and now that he had her back, there was only one thing he wanted to do more than anything in the world.

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While his partner was taking the samples to the lab, Mulder sat in his apartment and waited for his new boss. There was a knock at the door, but when he opened it, he only found an envelope on the carpet. Inside was a letter. To get instructions for your first assignment, meet me at the cemetery. You know where. Though there was an empty space where his partner's grave had been (or would have been, rather), he knew exactly where Smoking Man meant. He left right away and headed for the cemetery to their favorite tree. "Hello, Fox." Mulder was getting tired of being greeted by that man in such a personal way, but he didn't say anything. "I'm surprised you came."

"Surprised that I kept my word?"

"I'm sure the only reason you are here is because he who has the power to do also has the power to undo. But, lucky for you, reasons don't matter. All that matters is you work for me now, and you do what I say." Mulder was wearing his best poker face, but he was terrified that Smoking Man would order him to do something to a friend. Never in his life would he want to have to choose between his partner and a dear friend…even though his partner would always win. "Your first assignment, I think, will be an easy transition." Then, Smoking Man said, dryly, "I want you to kill Alex Krycek."

"You're kidding, right?"

"When was the last time I wasn't completely serious?" He had a point.

Mulder, feeling a mixture of excitement and anxiety, left the cemetery with his initiation job all planned out for him. Smoking Man had given him strict instructions on how it would go down. The only problem was that it would have to go down that night. He walked into his apartment, and Scully was waiting for him. "You're here early," he said, feeling a sense of déjà vu.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Don't be. I just…"

"What's wrong?"

"We won't be able to watch that movie tonight. I'm afraid something came up."

Scully looked disappointed even though she tried to hide it. "That's okay, Mulder. We can watch it tomorrow. What are you doing tonight?"

"Uh, my mom called. She wants to talk to me, but I'm not sure what about."

"Oh. Okay. Well, that sounds fine because I can go have dinner at my mom's too. I haven't seen her for a while, and I miss her."

"That sounds perfect. I'm sure she would love to see you." He grabbed some things and headed back out the door, insisting she stay as in his apartment as long as she wanted.

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Mulder pulled up to a nearby apartment complex and looked up at the corner window on the fifth floor. The light was on. It bothered Mulder that Alex lived this close to him and he never knew it. He got out of the car wearing his trench coat and concealing a gun Smoking Man had given him. Even if Skinner hadn't taken his gun, Mulder knew this one couldn't be traced back to him. As he entered the building and rode the elevator up to Alex's floor, he thought about how much he had wanted to do this for the past four years. Alex had murdered Mulder's father and Scully's sister, and he had tried to kill Mulder and Scully more times than they could count. He walked down the hall to the last door on the left and listened for movement on the other side. Mulder heard footsteps come close to the door, and moved to the side. The light under the door disappeared, and then the footsteps receded back into the apartment where they finally stopped. Mulder pulled out his lock kit and unlocked the door. What do you know? Alex Krycek doesn't use the security chain. Aw, what a shame, he thought sarcastically. He walked quietly into the dark room with the gun out and the silencer on. Alex was asleep in his bed. This seems too easy. Mulder raised the gun to Alex's head and pulled the trigger. Spew. And just like that, Alex was dead. He never even woke up to see it was Mulder, his worst enemy, that took his life. Mulder replaced the gun in his trench coat and left the apartment, relocking the door behind him.

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In the cemetery, Smoking Man awaited the agent. "How'd it go?" he asked when Mulder arrived.

"Just as planned."

"Good. What did you do with the gun?" Mulder pulled it out and handed it to him. "Good."

"What now?"

"Now, you wait for my next assignment. In the mean time, go home and enjoy the rest of the evening." Smoking Man walked away with a cigarette in hand. Mulder took the long way home.

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CHAPTER 18

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"I thought you'd be eating dinner at your mother's house," he asked, finding Scully asleep on his couch. She seemed to be awakened by his comment.

"Oh, I did. What time is it?" Mulder looked at his watch and realized enough time had gone by for her to go to her mother's, have dinner and a nice conversation, and be back at his apartment a long time ago. "It's ten o'clock," he said surprised. Have I been walking around for that long? Finally, he chalked it up to nerves and moved the conversation along. "How is she?"

"Good. I told her about us," she yawned.

"What'd she say?" He already had a pretty good idea, but he was still curious.

Dana blushed. "She wasn't surprised. She said that it was just a matter of time… How's Teena?"

"Good…she's good. She just wanted to visit apparently."

"That's nice." Scully was having another yawning attack and could barely keep her eyes open.

"Why don't you go to bed," he suggested. "I'm going to stay out here for a while."

"Okay." She forced herself up and walked to the bedroom, collapsing on the bed. Mulder went in to tuck her in, seeing she was asleep before she hit the pillow, and then he returned to the couch.

There is no doubt in my mind that the deal was worth it, he thought as he thumbed through the case file. He knew that the tests she had taken in that morning would be negative, and he wanted to get a head start on thinking of other possibilities. One idea he had come up with was, perhaps, there were chemicals in the already existing ground water that combined with other coexisting natural chemicals. That would match the environmental history report Skinner had given him. All they needed was proof. After about an hour, he decided to call it quits and go to bed. He went into the bedroom and looked at his partner. She was sleeping so soundly that he almost woke her just to make sure she was okay. He stopped himself, though, when he saw her chest moving up and down. She was fine. She was still breathing. It was after eleven o'clock--four and half hours after she would have died--and she was still breathing. He got in bed and curled up next to her. His entire adult life, he had hated Smoking Man, but right now, he was thankful that CSM existed. Suddenly, he didn't mind losing everything to Cancer Man in the past because, as much as he had taken away, the one thing he returned was worth more than all that was lost.

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See, I told you so. And thus begins new worries of a new problem, right? Well, there's only one way to find out if I right that wrong too! Read on…