Dana Scully lie lazily across the couch, a quilted afghan barely serving its purpose. Her father sat next to her in his chair reading his newspaper. As he turned the page, Dana threw her book to the other end of the couch in disgust. It seemed that she had called upon Ishmael one too many times in the past week.

Absently, she watched the fire crackle in front of her, though her thoughts were miles away. In fact, they were the same distance between Fairfield and Chilmark. Irony? She knew better.

"What's the matter, Starbuck?" Bill Scully peered around his still-poised newspaper.

"Nothing, Daddy," Dana sulked.

"Don't worry, Saturday will be here before you know it," her father reassured her with a knowing smile before returning to his newspaper.

Dana turned her gaze to the hardwood floor. This was definitely not good. She had become one of Those Girls.

Those Girls always need to have a boyfriend, no matter what. Whenever the aforementioned Girl is unable to be in the near vicinity of her Boyfriend, her life is at a standstill. Those Girls seem to make a point of letting their lives revolve around their boyfriends. The sun rises and sets on Boyfriends.

Her idle thoughts too much to bear, Dana leapt from the couch in search of something—anything—to bide her time. She was desperate.

"Dad, I'm going on a walk!" she yelled through the kitchen before slipping out of the back door. She ran through the backyard and down two blocks before turning on Mulder's street.

Once on the side of his house, she checked for anyone visible. Then, as quietly as possible, she lifted the old ladder from beneath the shrubs and positioned it right under the attic window. Carefully, she climbed the two- and-a-half stories to the attic and pried open the window. She hoisted herself into the drafty room and dragged the ladder after her. A small mew greeted Dana, causing her to jump in surprise.

Laughing at her own skittishness, she bent down and scooped up her cat. "Hey baby," she crooned into the little animal's face, only to be rewarded with a lazy yawn. "We have to think of a name for you, don't we?"

She put the cat back on the floor and walked over to the cat's corner of the attic. She poured a scoopful of food into his half-empty bowl and took the water bowl downstairs to refill it. Even though she knew that nobody was home—the whole family went to Chilmark—she still only used those steps that were safe. Every day that week, she had come to take care of her Christmas present. She had wanted to bring the cat to her house, if only for this week, because she felt guilty about leaving a small kitten in a musty attic by himself for that long. Carefully, Dana had half-mentioned adopting a cat to gauge her mother's reaction, but her mother left no room for argument. A cat was completely out of the question as far as her mother was concerned. Margaret did not even offer an excuse or alternative. Dana quickly changed subjects, not wanting to deal with an angry mother, and resolved to let the cat stay in the attic.

She returned to the attic and sat on the mattress to watch the cat play. It was an awfully cute kitten, she thought, though she was pretty sure that all kittens were pretty. Of course, it being hers made it all the more wonderful. Her life had changed dramatically since she moved to Fairfield. Actually, she was relieved that her father had decided Connecticut of all places to settle down in—well, settle down in the Navy's terms, at least.

Mulder. As hard as she tried not to think about him, her thoughts always drifted back to her boyfriend. She felt rather ashamed about that, you know, having to become one of Those Girls, but she consoled herself by rationalizing that Those Girls never had such a perfect boyfriend. Therefore, she had more of a right to act as she did.

In reality, though, she was acting perfectly normal. Without her only social life, Dana became bored. She wished that she had become closer with Mulder's other friends, the ones they went to the movies with, but she thought that she would always only be "Fox's Girlfriend" to them.

"Fox's Girlfriend"

"One of Those Girls"

Whatever happened to "Dana Scully: Misanthrope Extraordinaire"? She must not have unpacked her after this move.

Irritated that she felt that she had lost part of herself, she flung herself back onto the pillows. As her head hit the pillow, a crinkling noise followed. Figuring that Mulder had left a stray piece of wrapping paper on the bed, she shoved her hand under the bedding and pulled it out. It turned out, though, to be a note. From Mulder. Relieved to have any contact with him, she sat up and tore the envelope, tossing it off the mattress.

My Scully,
I don't even know if you will find this before Saturday, but I felt that I should write you in case you did. It goes without saying that I miss you, and that I can't wait to come home again. I hope you aren't having too much fun without me, but I also hope you don't miss me too much.

I hope the cat suffices to keeping you company in the attic. We really should name him, it's not right not to be called something.

I really liked my Christmas presents; the pictures sit on my nightstand. I don't know if I've ever told you how much you mean to me. Sometimes it's just easier to write my feelings instead of telling you face-to-face because they're so real. I want you to know that I think of you all the time, and count my lucky stars that I found you. You are so beautiful, inside and out, and your intelligence is one to be rivaled. I can already recognize how deep our relationship is, and I can only imagine how deep it will become in the future.

What a blessing you've been. Don't ever think I don't notice.

Yours, Mulder

Scully laughed as she sniffled. He always knew just what to say. Or write. She carefully folded the note back up and placed it on the makeshift table. She pulled her knees to her chest as she sat up, resting her chin on them, the thoughtful smile brightening her face.

After the letter, she lost that sense of failure that had left her brooding before. She realized that the absence of her misanthropy was filled only because of him. That he had peeled away the cold layer to reveal a more complete Dana. That thought scared her, too, though. That he made her more complete. She tried to rationalize that it was not so much Mulder that made her more complete, but the companionship of a kindred spirit. She knew better.

Slowly, she kissed her cat and left the attic by way of the window, somehow reassured that everything would be okay. As she weaved through the backyard to her house, the last line of the theme song to The Mary Tyler Moore Show played in her head, and she laughed at her own silliness.

The next few days seemed to fly, as she purposefully kept busy. She went shopping with her mother and Missy in Hartford, a long-standing tradition among the Scully women. The best sales occurred right after Christmas. Saturday, she spent the whole day with Bill Scully. After all, he was only on leave until Wednesday. She even took him to the coffee shop, where now she too was a regular, greeted by name and a "Do you want your usual?" She laughed at the surprised look her father tossed her way.

They sat down on a brown upholstered couch near the window, with a view of the gently falling snow. Sophie brought them their order and Dana smiled as Sophie winked. "You've grown up a lot, Starbuck, since we moved here," Bill said after Sophie returned to the kitchen.

Dana just smiled, not quite knowing where the conversation was turning. She really did not want an "It's Important to Save Yourself" speech from her father of all people. Too much discomfort, talking to her dad about sex.

"Do you like it here?" Bill asked over the rim of his coffee.

"Yes, Daddy. I really do," Dana said as she let out a relieved sigh.

"So, would you like to stay here, as we had planned?"

"Until I graduate? Yeah," she replied.

Her father smiled.

"Why do you ask?" she queried. "Are we moving again?" Her voice rose in pitch.

Bill shook his head vigorously. "No, no. No worry of that. I just want to make sure that you're settled here. You always did take the moves the hardest."

Dana straightened her back, "No, I didn't."

Bill Scully chuckled at his daughter's resentment of any weakness. He knew better and let it drop. "Okay, okay. Just making sure."

The conversation took an inevitable turn towards the nautical. Bill enthralled his daughter with his most recent escapades. About how the newest recruit spent his first time aboard the ship as an officer with half of his body bent over the side of the boat.

"It was the worst case of seasickness I've seen in fifteen years!" Bill finished. At this point, he glanced at the empty mugs and his watch. "Looks like it's about time we head on home, Starbuck. Mom'll have dinner in the oven, and isn't that boyfriend of yours due back today?"

Dana stood with her father; she had not thought of Mulder too much since this morning. She beamed, "Yep. He said sometime tonight, but he wasn't sure when."

Bill smiled as he held the door for his daughter. He was proud of her.

Dinner went by quickly, as did the night spent in front of the television. Dana, along with her mother and sister, were watching reruns of Rhoda while Bill sat in his chair, flipping through the Moby Dick Dana had discarded days before. Just as the show returned from a commercial break, Bill took a cigar out of its box and clipped it before fishing his lighter out of his shirt pocket.

"Bill, must you do that in the house?! That awful smell stays in the upholstery for days!" Maggie admonished.

"Would you rather have me turn into an icicle outside?" he countered as he defiantly pushed the red button on his lighter, the flame popping out immediately.

The phone rang, though Dana thought she was the only one to notice amidst the tension. "I'll get it!" She hopped off the couch and ran into the kitchen.

"Now who would be calling at this hour?" Maggie asked as the clock chimed half-past nine.

"It's Saturday," Missy explained. "It must be Fooox," she drawled out his name into three syllables.

"Missy," Bill growled around the cigar that filled the room with the offending odor.

"Sorry."

Dana, though, was oblivious to the conversation in the living room. As soon as she picked up the phone off its cradle, she leaned against the wall. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby," a honey-over-gravel voice floated through the receiver. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too. Did you have fun on your trip?"

"It was okay. Boring stuff, though. Do you want to come over?"

"Now? It's nine thirty."

"Oh that's right," Mulder playfully smiled into the receiver, "you're supposed to meet your other boyfriend at ten."

"Mulder, stop," she giggled into her phone. Giggled? Those Girls.

"So, wanna come over?" he repeated his query.

"Hold on, lemme ask my parents. It's kind of late, ya know," she conceded, though it really was not much of a concession. She wanted to see him as much as he her.

She gently placed the receiver on the counter and strolled into the living room. "Ahab," she asked, "Do you think I could go over to Fox's house. He and his parents just got home."

"It's late, dear," her mother chided, nodding towards the clock.

Dana turned away from her mother, "Please, Daddy?"

"All right, Starbuck. But you must be hope at eleven thirty, no excuses."

"Dad! That's thirty minutes later that my curfew!" Missy pouted. Dana shot her a look.

"It's just for tonight. I'm not setting a precedent," their father pointedly noted. "Missy, you've walked through that door much later than eleven thirty, curfew or no," he warned her.

Missy shrugged it off. Dana took the keys from his father and made a mad dash to the car. "Drive carefully!" Maggie hollered after her.

"I will!" Dana promised as she shut the door behind her.

She threw the car into park in front of Mulder's next door neighbor's house, just in case his parents became suspicious, though she doubted they cared anything about their son. Bill and Teena disgusted her.

She hopped out of the car, and jogged towards the bush that hid the ladder. Mulder was already leaning against the house. Immediately, she increased her speed and he met her halfway, pulling her close to him in a strong embrace. Scully stretches her neck to kiss him. The kiss expressed their emotions in a way words could never. She was happy, giddy even, at his return. Mulder was relieved to be able to hold her against him, seriously missing her support as he faced a week with his family alone. Mulder rested his forehead against Scully's, his hands now clinging to her biceps. "I got your letter," Scully broke the silence, leaning back to make eye contact with him. "Thank you."

Mulder smiled a small, quick smile. "You're welcome. You want to go upstairs?"

Scully nodded and he wrapped his arm around her waist, underneath her coat. She scooted towards his embrace. They bypassed the ladder and walked through the front door, neither of them caring if his parents noticed. She followed him through the darkened house, down the hall, and up the stairs to their attic. It was drafty, but otherwise familiar. The cat greeted their entrance.

"Hey, Cat," Mulder greeted it with a small pat on its head. "Do you have a name for him yet?" Mulder asked Scully as she picked up her pet.

"Yep, I think so," she responded as she walked towards the mattress. Mulder followed her. She placed the cat on the bed and took off her coat before sinking next to the cat, pulling the blankets over her body.

"Well?" Mulder asked as he sat beside her. "What is it?"

"Spooky," she responded, with a smile.

Mulder scrunched his face in amused confusion. "What kind of name is that?"

"Well, he's kind of like a ghost, you know, because he lives in a dusty attic. I didn't want to call him Casper or anything because he doesn't look like a Casper. Plus, he's always sneaking up on me, all spooky. Get it?"

Mulder smiled, "Then Spooky it is."

Scully kissed his cheek then playfully rubbed his stubble. "So, how was your trip?"

"Nothing exciting. My grandfather is exactly like Dad, just ten times worse. I like Grandma Mulder, though. She was always incredibly kind. A doting old lady."

Scully smiled into his chest as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"I told her about you," Mulder murmured.

Scully lifted her head, "Really? What did you tell her?"

"That I had this beautiful, wonderful girlfriend who kept me in line, and that she is the best thing that's happened to me," he replied.

"What did she say?"

"She became all excited. Actually, I had told her a while ago, after you and I first, well, became a couple. She calls me every Sunday. Has for years. Anyway, I guess she remembered me telling her about you because when I arrived last Saturday she had a Chanukah present all ready for me to bring home to you. It's in that box," Mulder motioned to a rather large box that sat next to Scully's side of the bed.

"Awww, Mulder, that is so sweet!" Scully could not help but gush. "She shouldn't have! What is it?"

"Go ahead and open it," Mulder replied as he turned on the lamp to his right. Scully smiled before sitting up and placing the box in her lap. Carefully, she tore away its wrapping and took off the lid.

She lifted back the tissue paper and gasped. "Mulder, it's...beautiful," she whispered as she pulled a large quilt out of its box.

"I knew you'd like it," Mulder smiled.

She stood up and spread the quilt on the bed, in all of its glory. She carefully admired each piece of patchwork. The pattern was simple, just tiny one square inch pieces sewn together, but it was the colors that made it brilliant. Brilliant jewel toned colors in perfect shades of magenta, jade, cerulean, crimson, gold, and violet made the blanket a kaleidoscopic work of art. Off at the bottom right corner stood a singular, out-casted gray patch.

"Mulder, why's that one different?" Scully asked curiously.

"Granma believed, as did her mother, who taught her to quilt, that she must have one imperfect piece in her quilt, to signify our own imperfections. It's symbolic."

Scully nodded, "It's beautiful."

"She asked me a while ago if you would prefer a patchwork quilt or one of her elaborate designs. I told her patchwork because, too me, you seem more of the type to go against the mainstream, and I thought that maybe you would appreciate the personalization of scraps of fabric. No two are the same. She always made a point never to use two patches from the same type of fabric in one quilt."

Scully leaned down and kissed him, "You definitely made the right choice. Your grandmother is so thoughtful. And you don't know how much it means to me that you told her about me. I'm glad she likes me, even though she never met me."

"Me liking you is enough for her to like you as well. She may come for a visit when the weather gets warmer."

"I want to call her and thank her," Scully decided.

"Well, she's supposed to call tomorrow. Do you want to talk to her then?"

Scully nodded.

"Okay, well then come over around seven tomorrow. That's what time she calls."

It was decided. Mulder and Scully curled up in her new quilt and told each other what had transpired over the past seven days. Scully yawned as she glanced at her watch.

"Oh, Mulder, I have to go. I'm supposed to be home by eleven thirty."

"But Sculleee," he whined, "We still have fifteen minutes.

"I know, I know. But it'll make my parents happy if I come home a little before curfew."

"Okay," Mulder started to fold up the quilt, but Scully's hand stopped him. "Let's leave it up here for tonight, at least. It's still really drafty up here."

Mulder walked her down the stairs and let her out the front door. Just before she turned onto the street towards her car, she turned around, "Oh, I almost forgot. My parents bought you a Christmas present. Come over around lunch time and they'll give it to you. You'll really like it."

"Okay, I will. Sweet dreams, Scully," he replied.

Scully smiled that soft smile that warmed his heart, "Sweet dreams."

Mulder went inside after she drove the car away. He went into the kitchen to fix himself a glass of milk. Grandma had sent him home with two dozen of her homemade cookies.

Scully was almost to the intersection when she saw the car coming head on. It seemed to be accelerating as it approached. With no other alternative, Dana swerved the car sharply to the left, though she hadn't reached the intersection. Her small car squealed into a 180 degree spin. After only turning forty-five degrees, it fishtailed the opposite way as the offending automobile's front right-hand corner made contact with the back right side of Scully's car's trunk, The front of Scully's car accordioned as it wrapped itself around a light pole. The tire tracks that Scully left were S shaped.

"Stay away from what's mine!" the other driver, a woman's voice, yelled.

Scully began to panic, realizing that the driver's intentions were malicious. She tried to get out of the car, but searing pain shot up from her toes to the base of her scull. She knew better than to try to move, for she had obviously suffered back injury. Knowing Mulder was most likely awake and his house was only three houses down, she did the only thing she could in her predicament. She carefully moved her hands from the edge of the steering wheel to its center, pressing with as much force as she dared, hoping the car's horn was loud enough to reach Mulder.

Mulder had heard the horn, as had some of his neighbors. Though the men who emerged from their houses in little more than a bathrobe were much closer to the accident, Mulder arrived before them, running towards her with his heart in this throat.

"Scully!" he yelled as he skidded to a stop next to the driver's window, "Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

Scully choked back tears as well as her mounting panic. "I can't move. I think I broke my back or something."

Mulder took her shaking hands off of the still-blaring horn. "It's okay, it's okay," he cooed, "I'm here."

He turned from his girlfriend to the sleepy neighbors. "Somebody call 911. We need an ambulance."

A small man doning crooked glasses and a worn robe nodded and ran back into his house.

"Mulder, don't leave me," she pleaded. "Please don't leave."