He folded his hands in his lap and intertwined his fingers, then spread them on his thighs, tapping harshly. Every few seconds he raised his right hand to comb through his hair anxiously. An elderly woman toying with her needle point cleared her throat and glared at him through wire-rimmed spectacles. Mulder realized that he'd been tapping his feet as well and was creating quite a racket on the vinyl floor--an obvious bundle of nervous energy. He focused an immense amount of effort on pressing the soles of his feet against the floor, creating tension through the muscles in his legs to abstain from movement.

The clothing ensemble he was currently sporting was managing to turn a few curious heads: hospital gown, dress slacks so wet they stuck to his skin, and shoes that left a puddle trail after him due to the water that squished through his socks. The striped button-down shirt he'd been wearing was still with Scully; he'd tied it around her chest to act as a tourniquet against the blood loss. He had surely been a sight for the EMTs when they had finally arrived. After he'd called, he was convinced they were taking far too long and decided to take matters into his own hands. He'd scooped Scully's limp body into his arms and had begun to sprint in the direction of the car. So there he'd been-shirtless, screaming, bloody, and running for dear life holding an unconscious woman, when the ambulance managed to catch up with him.

Mulder turned his hands over to inspect his palms and found they still bore the horrible crimson stains. He squeezed his eyes shut and remembered the nightmarish journey to County General Hospital. He didn't let go of her hand; they had to move around him as they worked on her, and he did the only thing he could: ramble. "Scully, this is nothing. You can do this; you've been through much worse. Please Dana. You're the only one I trust, my one in 5 billion, my touchstone, remember? This is not the end. This cannot be all there is. You have so much life ahead of you--we have so much to do—and I'm not talking about the X Files; I don't give a damn about any of it. I won't let tonight be the end for you-for us. What I said-oh god-I…please know that I love you…please…"

When they arrived at the emergency bay, a team of nurses and doctors pushed him away when he tried to follow. "Are you her husband?" a blonde nurse asked.

"No…she's…she's my partner. We're FBI agents."

"You'll have to stay in the waiting area, sir. Someone will give you an update shortly."

Mulder checked his watch: 31 minutes and 43 seconds since he last saw her

"Excuse me…Mr….uh….Mulder?" Mulder jumped to his feet and raced toward the bald man in the white coat. "I'm Dr. Pearlman. I worked on your partner."

"How is she?"

"She's upstairs in surgery now, and although she's not completely out of danger yet, but I'm very optimistic. Dr. Scully is extremely lucky. The bullet was obviously intended for her heart, and was only a few inches too high. Fortunately, it was also too far to the left, so it missed the major arteries. It perforated just below her collar bone and lodged in her scapula. There was some minor arterial injury and probably nerve damage as well."

"But she's going to be okay?"

"Yes, I think so. She'll need physical therapy, but she should be fine."

Mulder released all of the tension in his body in one enormous, cleansing sigh, and smiled.

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

The light seeped into her consciousness with a biting awareness. Death was not a possibility, because the feelings were too intense. The pain wasn't excruciating or throbbing with intensity; it was more of a constant ache surrounded in a mist of drugs and fatigue. The world had transformed into a void of dull whiteness, muffled noises, and nauseating antiseptic odors. She tried to speak through the haze of this new existence, but the words couldn't vibrate through parched vocal chords. A buzzing hum managed to escape her lips, and she struggled to move her numb joints. A male voice echoed from far away. He's holding my hand. Dad? She thought. No, Ahab's dead. It can't be Daddy. Because I'm not dead. The logic slowly began to surface through murky surrealism. She willed her eyes to remain open and focus on the looming figure that was blocking out the light. Gradually his features came into her vision, and if she was able, she would have burst out with laughter at the sheer boyish joy in his face.

"Scully? It's me—Mulder. You just had surgery—well, a few hours ago. Right now you're coming out of anesthesia. Everything's okay. Do you remember what happened? Can you hear me, Scully?"

"Water." she croaked

Mulder quickly grabbed the pitcher on a rolling cart beside the bed, poured a small cup, held Scully's head forward, and gently tilted the cup back for her. The liquid dribbled down her chin, and he gingerly wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"Better?" he asked.

Scully tried to nod, but the attempt made her dizzy.

"Hospital gown on you—why? Hurt?"

He smiled. "Nope, I'm good. Not a scratch. I just lost my shirt, so they're letting me borrow this, and I think I look incredibly sexy—don't you agree? You're a bit banged up, but you're gonna be just fine. The bullet got you near the collar bone and shoulder, and the doctor says that with some therapy, you'll be able to get most function back... Well, someone was using you for target practice. I think we were followed from the stakeout by a crazy Russian drug lord, of sorts. But anyway, there's plenty of time to go into that. How do you feel? Are you in pain?"

"I feel drugged. No pain really."

"That's good. If you start to hurt, just tell me and I'll get the doctor…You really scared me, Dana. I thought…I'm just so happy that you're alright. And…I guess now's not the best time to go into it…but what we talked about—if you remember…what I said…"

"You're right. Now is a bad time."

"I just want to tell you that I did it—the kiss—I did it because I'm tired of not showing you what I'm feeling… when I'm with you it's like everything makes sense and…I feel like I'm home. Like Chopin. God, that doesn't make any sense, does it? Damn it, um…You make my life worth living. No matter how shitty things get sometimes, seeing you everyday keeps me going—makes me happy. The thought of losing you…I can't even…I don't know how to exist without you. You're my perfect other. I don't know why it's so hard to just put this into words… I guess, what it is …what I'm trying to say is that…I love you."

His words turned into a stream of jargon as blackness tugged at her consciousness. Long before he finished, she was sleeping again.

"Just looking at this bullet I can tell you it came from a .22 caliber double action revolver." Danny leaned back in his chair and squinted his eyes as he rolled the small piece of metal around his palm. Mulder stood against the wall, arms folded, brow creased, and chewed on his lower lip.

"That's odd though, isn't it? Most organized crime circles have upgraded to the semi-auto these days. I didn't know revolvers were still around."

"Oh yeah. They're cheaper, for starters, and they also tend to be more reliable; six-guns hold up longer…what is it, Mulder?"

"I'm just wondering, what if someone was using this weapon to cover their tracks? They could have been trying to make it look like whoever pulled the trigger was just some poor, ignorant member of another drug conspiracy—using a cheap, simple weapon. In that case motive would be simple: forcing two annoying FBI agents to back off. But I have a hunch that this was more calculated than that. It's just too much of a coincidence that Scully and I were the targets after everything we've seen and learned from the X Files."

"You are so paranoid, Mulder."

"How long will it take to run this through ballistics? Do you think we'll get a match?"

"I can probably have it done by tonight—tomorrow morning at the latest. A match is possible, but if we do get one, it means this guy is sloppy."

"Or intentionally sloppy…" Mulder frowned, unable to shake the uneasiness.

"How is Agent Scully doing? Will she be back to work soon?"

"She's doing a lot better. Her left arm is pretty much immobile for now, but she's already started therapy; so there'll be a great deal of improvement over the next couple of weeks. The doctor told her to take this week off, but you know Scully, she'll be back tomorrow."

"Sounds great…well I'll go ahead and get started on this so I can get back to you as soon as possible."

"Thanks Danny."

Scully struggled to manage keeping her purse on her shoulder, hold a bottle of water, and open the door all at once with one hand. Mulder must have overheard her losing battle (complete with uncharacteristic cursing interjections) from inside their office, because he quickly appeared to hold the door open for her. He took her purse from her and set it on a chair.

"How are you feeling?"

"Aside from being pissed off at this sling, I feel fine."

"Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? A bagel with light cream cheese?"

She couldn't help but smile. "No, I'm fine. Did you hear from Danny?"

"Yes. The results are quite interesting. The bullet came from a gun registered to one Ivan Vatseev."

"Is that supposed to sound familiar?"

"Well no, but I did some digging last night, and there appears to be more to our friend Ivan than ties to the Russian mafia. He has worked as an assassin in various circles of power, and in three of his jobs I have discovered ties with Alex Krycek. Apparently they worked as partners several years ago, which means this guy could also have connections to the Syndicate."

"There is no Syndicate anymore. They're all dead…with the possible exception of C.G.B—the Smoking Man, and it isn't like he can do anything on his own now. We can stop reaching on this one, Mulder. Even if the shooter has ties to Krycek, I still think this was just an isolated event with a clear motive. If the conspiracy were still alive, what more could they want from us anyway?"

"Maybe you're right, but I don't want to take any chances. This case is staying open, and I'm not going to stop searching until something conclusive turns up…Scully, you really shouldn't be back so soon. We aren't busy at all. Why don't you take some more time and I'll cover for you?"

She had to restrain herself from snapping at him. Of course he only wanted to help, but he could seem a little patronizing. Scully's greatest fear was feeling helpless and dropping her stoic façade. However, his puppy-sweet hazel eyes melted her annoyance away immediately, and the familiar warm tingling sensation spread through her chest, making her heart beat faster. Stop it, Dana. He doesn't want you, and you have too much dignity to chase him.

"I'm fine Mulder. Really. Why should I sit at home and do nothing when I can easily do that here?"

She smiled and silently took her seat at the desk.

Two weeks passed without any leads on the shooting, and Mulder had begun to accept Scully's Occam's-Razor conclusion. Most of the Bureau agreed that Vatseev and other mafia members had probably managed to escape out of the country since there were no updates on their activities. Mulder and Scully had handled three X Files cases from their office, all of which turned out to be some kind of apparent hoax and didn't require traveling. So for the past few days, they had been banished once again to the art of paper pushing. Scully's mood was much improved, because she was finally able to rid herself of the arm sling, and it was at last a good time for Mulder to put his plans in action.

He wanted to do something special for her, to show her what he was unable to say. He'd thought of gifts, but nothing he could buy would do. The idea for the trip came to him three days before, and every time he was about to ask her, he chickened out at the last second. He watched her typing at her laptop and pretended to be working at the desk.

"Mulder, what is it?" She threw him a curious glance and a furrow of her brow.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"You're staring at me with that weird expression again."

"Can't the cat look at the queen?"

"Mulder, you don't have any reports done, do you? Have you even started?"

He looked away and shrugged his shoulders innocently. Come on. Do it now. Just ask. The worst that can happen is she says no…please don't say no. Mulder took a deep breath and casually cleared his throat.

"When was the last time you took a vacation Scully?"

"Vacation? I don't know."

"Yeah vacation. You know, it's that thing people go on to get away from their hectic lives. And on vacation another thing can happen called relaxation. Just because you and I don't partake in this strange phenomena doesn't mean it can't exist."

"What are you getting at Mulder?"

"Well, since we both have three years of vacation leave stored up, I was thinking we could take a nice break from the paper work for a few days."

"And do what, exactly?"

"Go somewhere to relax …um, together. To get away from the stress of the past month."

"Mulder, I-"

"You don't want to. That's okay. You're probably right. We have a lot to do around here anyway."

"I'm not saying no… So where are we going?"