Back by popular demand, it's the adventures of Charlie Scully and his Observations! And folks, this really is the last chapter. Huzzah for definitive endings!

I just want to thank everyone who's been reviewing. Thank you guys! You're great! Support is like sunlight—without it, we'd all whither and die.

Disclaimer. Alright, fine, yes, I am Chris Carter. I am David Duchovny. I'm Gillian Anderson. I'm EVERYTHING! I OWN EVERYTHING!

I hope that cleared a few things up for you.

I'm sure that somewhere in the world, there's a bastard who'll tell you that you can learn a lot about someone by seeing how they arrange their kitchen. I'd like to kill that person, if I ever find him or her. You see, I suffer from a terrible affliction, one that is not uncommon to most of the world. In the mornings, I absolutely cannot wake up unless I've got some caffeine in my system.

So I'm stumbling around my sister's kitchen, which, while very small, seems to be as complex and bewildering as, say, the Amazon rain forest. I find everything that I don't need—salt, curry powder, ramen noodles, uncooked chicken breasts, lots and lots of yogurt, and a box of something called "nonfat tofutti rice dreamsicles." But no tea. Or coffee, for that matter. I feel like I'm about to fall asleep standing up or go on a murderous rampage.

The sound of someone running into a kitchen chair draws my attention to the doorway where my sister stands. Her red hair is rumpled and her eyes are half open. "Left hand cabinet, second shelf," she mutters to me, sinking into the chair and clutching her robe about her like a blanket. "And hurry." She rests her head in her hands, in danger of falling asleep, just as I am.

I follow her directions and soon a pot of coffee is bubbling away on her countertop. The smell alone wakes us up a little, and once we've both got a mug of the delicious dark-brown liquid in our hands, we feel up to talking about the day we've got ahead of us.

"So, Mulder'll probably drop by around noon," Dana explains, sipping her coffee. "He's really excited about this tour of DC for some reason I can't understand, but then again, I don't understand anything about that man."

I laugh quietly. That's a complete lie, I think to myself. She's probably the only person in the world who understands him. Without her, he'd have nothing left. She's got no choice but to understand him.

I don't say any of this, though, because if I do, Dana might take the coffee away, and I'm not sure that I can deal with that loss. So I just chuckle to myself, marveling at how in the world people can be so blind to what's so obvious.

Twenty minutes and two cups later, we go our separate ways. Dana showers and then changes, and I bide my time as I wait for the shower. When she emerges, she looks completely different than she did last night. When I'd shown up at her door, she'd been dressed in a baggy t-shirt and sweat pants, and her hair had been tied back messily. She'd looked like my sister—someone who I was related to, someone who I'd fought over the last bit of the cereal with when we were younger.

Now she looks—well, she looks like she sounded when she was talking with Mulder. Professional. Her hair, while slightly damp, is fashioned very stylishly, and she's wearing an attractive navy blue skirt and top.

"Wow," I say, raising my eyebrows. "Miss FBI."

She sticks her tongue out at me, reminding me that she is still my sister, suit or not, and throws a clean towel at me.

We'd both overslept—woken up at about 10:30—so when I get out of the bathroom, clean and changed, Mulder is already sitting on the sofa in the living room, looking through some papers that he'd brought with him. Dana is sitting next to him, and they're sharing opinions. Or rather, one of them offers their opinion and the other shoots it down.

"Mulder, the man was hit by a bus," my sister is saying helplessly. "He was a very depressed person, his family has told investigators this. There is no x-file to investigate!"

Her partner gives her a grin. "But witnesses describe some very strange behavior displayed by the victim just before he jumped in front of the bus. Behavior that is characteristic of mind control."

"Please don't tell me that it's Pusher all over again," Dana says, sinking back into the couch.

I clear my throat, getting their attention. Both agents turn to see me standing in the doorway to the bathroom. "Hey, Charlie," Mulder says, standing. Dana stands as well, flashing her partner a Look that says that their discussion about the case is not over.

"Shall we?" I ask, gesturing towards the door. Dana picks up her purse and we all walk out the door.

In deference to the complete and total lack of parking that is part of all DC summers, we take the Metro downtown. Waiting in the station, I find myself watching my sister and her partner again. They behave differently, here in the light of day, than they had last night in Dana's apartment. It's almost as though they're afraid someone will see their fierce attraction to one another and do something to separate them. And I get the feeling that separation would be each agent's worst nightmare.

The subway arrives, and I catch Mulder placing his hand on my sister's back to guide her onboard. I smile. No matter how great their fear, nothing can suppress or disguise their love. It's rather hilarious, actually.

The ride is not long, and it's pleasant. I find this man friendly and easy to talk to. Really, I think that the only reason that Bill hates him is that Mulder is just the easiest person to blame for the losses our family has suffered. I shake my head. Bill has never had the strength of character that my sister has displayed—or my mother, for that matter.

We arrive at Metro Center and then we have to switch lines to take us to the Smithsonian stop. Making our way through the crowded, dark underground station, we arrive at the next platform with only a brief stop for Mulder to consult a map to get his bearings.

Finally we are stepping out into the fierce DC summer sun. The humidity hits me like a hammer over the head, and I'm reminded of why I don't like coming here in the summer months. It's too much like a sauna.

The Mall stretches before us, all green grass and hurrying tourists. There are very few business people or DC natives here, and I feel the familiar shame of being a tourist and not belonging. But at least I'm here with two people who know where they're going—at least I won't have to carry around the dreaded Map.

It's the beginning of a lot of traipsing around Capitol Hill and the Mall. I feel like my feet are about to fall off, but it's worth it. Quality time with my sister is not something I get a lot of, and I'll take whatever I can get. And if I end the day with no feet—well then, so be it.

At about 8:30, we find ourselves at the Tidal basin. Mulder and Dana are sitting on the edge of the concrete wall that lines it, talking. I've excused myself to buy hot dogs and sodas from a nearby vendor. As I wander back to my two guides, I notice something about them that makes me want to drop everything and roll about on the ground laughing.

They're holding hands.

I'm really not sure whether or not they even realize that they're doing it, but as they stare off into the sunset, their fingers entwine and hold. My sister is leaning slightly on her partner's shoulder—not for comfort or for protection, but simply because she wants to. Mulder's head turns, and he looks down at my sister. His lips curve up in a soft smile, and I bet that, if I was close enough, his eyes would be filled with a light that rivals that of the setting sun. His free hand reaches over and brushes strands of hair out of Dana's eyes, and she grins at him. In my mind, I realize that I will always see them like that. They're like two parts of a whole. They're the yin and the yang, locked together and impossible to separate. They belong together, there's no debating that.

Then Dana glances at me and suddenly they've separated, sitting with a respectable eight inches between them. It's as if their moment of intimacy never happened. I want to shake them and shout "It's so obvious! Stop trying to hide from love! It's going to find you no matter what you do!"

But perhaps I don't understand the big picture. I get the feeling that what these two are fighting for is bigger than just the happiness of two people. Maybe to be together would be to admit a weakness, a weakness that neither of them can afford to have.

I have faith, though. One day, once their demons have fled for the hills, they'll be able to face the truth.

So there you go. Charlie Scully, everyone! Isn't he great? Why don't you show appreciation by reviewing? It would make so, so many people happy.