KENWOOD POLICE STATION

6:38 PM

The interview room hadn't long been re-decorated, because there was still the sharp odor of fresh paint in the air. A flimsy but new Formica-topped table had been placed in the center of the room with two plastic chairs on either side, all screwed down to the floor. Samuel sat in the chair farthest away, his back towards the iron-barred window. Mulder carried the red and white tabbed folder containing Samuel's X-file under his arm and was trying to balance two Styrofoam cups of coffee while closing the door with his foot. Samuel smiled in amusement.

'I'd offer to help, but if I got out of this chair I'd have about twenty cops jump me who I know are watching me through that mirror over there.'

'Hey, don't worry about it.'

'You know, this is the first hot drink I've had since breakfast yesterday. Thank you.'

Mulder took off his jacket and hung it on a hook behind the door. The room was way too warm, but he supposed that helped the suspects to be more co-operative. He dropped the folder down on the table and took the other chair.

'So, let's be clear before we start. You're not under arrest, and you are free to leave at any time. However, you have been identified as a person who may be able to help us with our investigation, and we ask for your co-operation at this time.'

'Formal. Okay. Good to know. I'm happy to help.'
'Great. Should make both our lives easier.'

'You got a smoke?'

Mulder frowned. 'How essential is that?'

'Very, if you'd like me to help you.'

He shook his head, but left the room for just a moment and returned with a packet of Morley's. 'Those things will kill you, you know,' he said, tossing them across the table to him.

'What, again?'

'Very funny. So come on, Samuel. Let's start at the beginning. What happened? Where've you been these past few years?'

He lit up and took a long, satisfying drag, puffing out clouds of fumes that unsettled Mulder on many levels. 'Around. It took me a while to get myself together.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Well I couldn't stay here, that was for sure. I didn't know why those guys attacked me like they did, I didn't even know who they were. I was afraid once they heard I was alive they'd come back to finish what they started. Besides, I was never sure if your people were still after me, thinking I was a murderer.'

'So where did you go?'

'Why does it matter?'

'Why are you being evasive? You've got something to hide?'

Samuel sighed and drank more coffee. 'I stayed with some friends out of state. I don't want them brought into it. They've been through enough for me already.'

'Where out of state?'

'Look, I don't see why it matters. I'm here now.'

'I don't have to explain to you the point of my questions. You just need to answer them.'

'I've been lots of places. All over the country.'

'Okay, okay. Let me tell you why this matters, Samuel. A man was murdered here a few days ago, Reverend William Cork. You know him?'

Samuel stubbed out the cigarette and sighed smoke. 'I did, yes. I met him a few times when we were travelling with the Ministry. Not real well, but yeah, I know who he was. I heard about it on the news. He was a good man.'

'Was he viewed like that by everyone?'

'I don't think I can answer for anyone else. Was the Reverend popular? Yes, he seemed to be. I can't think of any reason why someone should want to hurt him.'

'Have you met with Reverend Cork recently?'

'No.'

'Have you ever communicated with him? Letters, telephone calls, emails?'

'No.'

'Would it surprise you to learn that Reverend Cork was receiving threatening letters?'

'No.'

Mulder raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. The pressure of the silence forced him to break it.

'People who do what he does – did – often get threats from people who believe that they're charlatans, taking people's money in exchange for false hope, or tax dodgers, or outright conmen. I had threats once, too.'

'But the thing is, you see, Samuel, that other people in this line of work weren't seen in the Reverend's hotel trying to pass themselves off as bellhops on the night he was murdered.'

Samuel avoided Mulder's eyes, choosing to affix his gaze to the Formica instead.

'I was with my father.'

'What?'

'You asked where I'd been all this time. I've been in hiding. With my father.'

'He told us he hadn't seen you. He was supposed to report it to us if you ever made contact with him.'

'Oh come on. Seriously? He's my father, he would never betray me like that. Would you betray someone you cared about?'

It was not a question that sat comfortably with him. Especially now. He pushed it aside.

'After Vance was arrested, you were no longer wanted. We just needed to speak with you. There was no threat, you had no real reason to hide.'

'Neither of us was sure about that. We just wanted to put the whole thing behind us and move on. Anyway, I already had a huge following at the time I 'died'. Do you think I'd ever get a moment's peace if people thought I was still alive? I'd be hailed as the new Messiah, I'd have a never ending line of people outside my door. I'm nothing special, Agent Mulder. I don't want to inspire false hope in people. I can't help everyone and I don't want to choose. You have no idea what this thing, this ability, whatever the hell you want to call it has done to my life, and the lives of people I care about. It's been nothing but a damned curse. You think I had no reason to hide? You have absolutely no fucking idea what you're talking about.'

'If you feel that way, why did you come back here at all? And then walk through a supermarket, of all places, where you must have known that someone might recognize you? After taking so much trouble to hide, it seems like kind of a dumb thing to do.'

'I…I had things that needed to be done here. It's been a long time. Staff change. People forget. No-one did recognize me except you, anyway.'

'What things did you need to do, Samuel?'

'None of your business.'

'We'll see about that. What about your own miraculous raising from the dead then? Would you like to explain why you were seen walking out of the morgue?'

'I guess I wasn't dead.'

'No kidding. You want to try the non smart-ass answer?'

'Look, I have no idea what happened, Agent Mulder. All I remember was being woken, then beaten until I lost consciousness by a couple of guys whose faces were covered. I guess Vance must have wanted me dead pretty badly. But I suppose that the Lord was with me that day and saved me. He must have something important He wants me to do. He strengthened my powers and furthered them, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do with them. To tell you the truth, they frighten me.'

'Furthered them?'

'The healing powers I was blessed with when I was born were just the beginning, Agent Mulder. Since I was attacked, I can heal people just by thinking about it, praying for it, I no longer need to even touch them. But I've also developed other abilities. I hear people's thoughts.' He exhaled slowly. 'I hear yours.'

'That so? Guess I should have brought my tin-foil hat.'

'It's hard to ignore them, the pain associated with them. Scully…I keep hearing that name. That was your partner, right? The one who was hurt today.'

'That's not telepathy. You heard her name a dozen times already.'

'Maybe. But she fills your thoughts. You're not even really here. You're with her, in the hospital. She's not just ill, is she? It's worse than that. Far worse. She's dying. And consequently so are you.'

Mulder felt as though he'd been slapped in the face. It was swiftly followed by a surge of fury that was almost too much for him to control. He took a breath and changed the subject.

'What other abilities do you claim to have developed?'

'I can move things.'

'Wow. Your dad must be so proud.'

'I'm serious,' he said angrily. 'I could have escaped out of those handcuffs in the car long before you came back if I'd wanted to.'

'Why didn't you then?'

'What would be the point? You know I'm still alive, you would have told other people. I guess I'm hoping that speaking to you will allow me to go back to quiet obscurity before things get out of hand.'

'I'm not sure whether that would be a realistic expectation anyway under the circumstances.'

'Maybe it is. The other thing I've found I can do, as well as seeing thoughts and experiencing feelings, is affect them.'

'What do you mean?'

'I can influence will. It's not as potent as some of my other gifts, but it is still there.'

Mulder stood to stretch his legs. He wandered over to the window and opened the vertical slats of glass slightly and drank in the cool, clear air from outside and thought of her.

'You know, Samuel, I'm really not sure that I believe any of that.'

'Yes, you do. You saw your sister, didn't you? I showed her to you, Agent Mulder. I took your thoughts and made them manifest.'

'I saw what I wanted to see.'

'No, you saw what I wanted you to see.'

Mulder turned back to face him. 'Samuel, were you at Reverend Cork's meeting last week?'

He smiled. 'You believe me, don't you? Otherwise you wouldn't have asked that.'

'I want an answer.'

'Yes, I was.'

'So why did the Reverend report seeing a man named Virgil Anderson?'

'He saw what I wanted him to see. Virgil always was trouble. He seemed an appropriate face to hide behind.'

'So if you were able to do this, why didn't you influence me? Or Scully?'

'It's not something I can summon with the wave of a hand, like Obi Wan Kenobi. "This is not the healer you were looking for",' he mimicked with a laugh. 'It takes time. Preparation. I'm ashamed to admit you caught me by surprise.'

'You're prepared now.'

Samuel sighed and shook his head. 'Why do I feel like a freak in a sideshow?'

'Why do I feel like I'm being taken for a ride?'

'Agent Mulder, I can't - '

'You're wasting my time, and time is something that I don't have right now.' Mulder stood and headed for the door.

'No, Agent Mulder. Time is something I don't have.'

He turned back, but Samuel had gone. Instead, Scully was sat in his place. He was speaking with her voice.

'You care about me. I know you do. But you won't tell me. Maybe I need to know, did you ever think about that?'

Mulder stumbled back against the wall, crushed beyond his capacity for speech.

'You want to be with me, but instead you're here, wasting time accusing an innocent man of murder.'

'Alright, that's enough,' Mulder stammered, ramming his palms into his eyes. 'This isn't real.'

When he opened his eyes again, Samuel was sitting at the table.

'I'm sorry. It was the strongest thought I picked up on,' he said.

'Stay out of my goddamned head, you got that?' Mulder spat, trying hard to control the urge to finish what those men had started years ago.

Samuel held up his hands.

'Why? Why would you want to threaten the Reverend like that?'

'Because I wasn't thinking clearly. The abilities I have are hard to deal with. They always have been. I didn't ask for them, and though most people think that I'm blessed, I'm not. Vance used it against me, and others have too. They always will. I can't ever explain to anyone else what that feels like, but it's a nightmare. Sometimes, I hear people thinking so loudly it's like they're screaming in my ears. I'm still coming to terms with that. Drinking helps me to handle things a little better. It also makes me a little more…vocal. Reverend Cork had no special gifts. What he promised people was nothing more than false hope. It's wrong, Agent Mulder.'

'So you were drunk? That's your excuse? He was the business you had here, wasn't he?'

'Alright…yes, I wanted to talk to him. I was disappointed in him. But I never said I was drunk. I'd had a few drinks, that was it.'

'Does your father know about this?'

'About my drinking? Yeah. But the way he sees it, and the way I see it, is that the work I do when I help people goes at least a little way to making up for the weaknesses of the flesh. Jesus himself appreciated a little wine now and again. Haven't you read the story of the wedding in Canaan?'

'Not lately. Did you mean everything you said?'

'The truth is I don't really recall a whole lot of it. I liked Reverend Cork. Like I said, I didn't know him that well, but I knew him enough to know he was a good man. I met him a few months back when he and my father were both ministering in Covington, in Georgia.'

'So why did you disrupt his meeting?'

'I respected his beliefs. Really I did. But he and I do not share the same gift. There are many false prophets out there, and I'm afraid that he was one of them. Did you know that most of the people he healed were either already getting well or had nothing wrong with them anyway?'

'How could you possibly have known that?'

'Because many ministers out there pay people to pretend to be healed in order to bring people into the meetings, make more money. Don't misunderstand - I don't believe Reverend Cork was lining his own pockets. He wasn't. He gave a lot away to charity and put it back into the mission and he did help many people. But it was still an immoral way of gaining money and when people like that are found out, it stops people from believing in others like myself who truly have been given the gift.'

'You believe it's your mission to root out these people then, do you, Samuel?'

'No. I most likely wouldn't have said anything at all if I hadn't had too much to drink. To be honest, I regret the embarrassment I caused him. I could have remained hidden, knowing that he thought he saw Virgil, but I felt I owed him more, given his history with my father.' He suddenly realized he'd said too much, rolled his eyes, and smiled. 'Alright, alright. You got me. That's why I'm here, isn't it? Someone saw me at the hotel.'

'What do you want to tell me about that?'

'You probably won't believe me, but I was going to apologize to him for the way I behaved. I knew he was leaving the following day. I took a uniform from the staff room next to the kitchen. One guy saw me, but I guess he thought I was new or something because he just smiled at me. They wouldn't win any prizes for their security.'

'How did you know that the Reverend would order room service?'
'I didn't. Not for sure, but it's pretty likely, isn't it? Besides, even if he hadn't ordered anything, I could still have gone up to the room to, I don't know… turn the bed down or something. I would certainly have been able to get up there more easily in a uniform than if I'd just walked up there and knocked on the door. In any case, it was a chance I was willing to take.' He paused, finishing his coffee which was probably cold by now anyway. 'They pin the room service orders to a corkboard above the little window between the kitchen and the dining room, and leave the orders there for anyone who is available to take up to the room. As it turned out, I got lucky.'

'So you went into the Reverend's room at what time?'

'It must have been around eight twenty, maybe. I'm not sure exactly.'

'And he seemed okay to you? Not worried or upset or - ?'

'No, he was dead, but I talked to him anyway.'

'Samuel, I swear, I don't have the patience for this.'

'He was fine,' he shrugged, 'we didn't have long to talk because I didn't want the police outside to get suspicious. But I managed to apologize, he accepted it, asked how my father was, hoped he would see us again soon, and then I left.'

'He didn't ask why you were in a hotel uniform?'

'Of course he did, but he knows the way things are. He thought it was quite amusing, all this sneaking about,' he said with a mischievous grin.

'All the secrecy and lengths you went to, just to apologize.'

'Don't judge everyone by your own standards, Agent Mulder. It meant a lot to me to apologize. I can't influence that many people, I had to hide. I knew the Reverend had received threats after seeing it all over the papers, and I knew he was guarded. Was I supposed to explain who I was to the cops?'

Mulder sighed and rubbed at his forehead to try to dispel his growing headache. He believed Samuel, though he wished that he didn't, and wasn't sure where else to go from here. He wanted this case over so that he could be with Scully.

'You said that you knew the Reverend was receiving threats. It wasn't you sending them?'

'No, of course not. Not my style. I figured when I read about it that it was just some kook. There are a lot of them around, like I said.'

'Have you been to Atlanta recently?'

Samuel's brow furrowed. 'Atlanta? No, not for more than two years. Why? What's that got to do with anything?'

'Are you sure?' Mulder leaned forward, hands clasped over the folder on the table. 'It's just that some of the things you've told me this evening sound similar to what was said in the notes.'

Samuel shook his head. 'I didn't send anything. Why the hell would I bother doing that, and then go yell at him in the meeting? Anything I had to say to him, I said then.'

'Samuel, you need to understand something here. I can place you in the Reverend's room on the night he died. I have your own confession that you disagreed with what the Reverend was teaching. I have motive, opportunity. That alone would be enough to arrest you.'

'You don't think I understand the situation I'm in here? I wish I knew something more, I really do, but the Reverend was alive when I left him. If you need me to submit fingerprints, DNA, handwriting samples, whatever, I'll do it. I'll help in any way I can, even though I know it's going to mean that people will know I'm still alive. I could have run many times since you caught up to me, but I haven't. I'm sorry that Reverend Cork is dead, Agent Mulder. But I did not kill him, and I did not send him any threatening notes.' He reached for the cigarettes. His hands were shaking at he lit one.

'There weren't any fingerprints found on the notes.'

'That's…unfortunate. But, with respect, that's your problem. Not mine.'

'Samuel, I want to believe you. But what I want and what the police out there want are two different things.' Mulder was tired and frustrated, and his head was exploding. The cigarette smoke was making him feel sick.

'There's nothing more I can tell you, Agent Mulder. I wish I'd never gone to the hotel. Lord only knows that after my last brush with prison life, I couldn't stand to face anymore, but it's beginning to look as though I've only been hiding from the inevitable. I guess the Lord has other plans for me.' He stubbed out the cigarette, sighed smoke, and met Mulder's eyes. 'I know how bad it looks for me. All I can do is swear to you that I'm innocent. But I guess you'll do what you have to do.'

Mulder leaned closer to him and whispered, 'Samuel, I'm sorry. It looks as though this is out of my hands now. But for what it's worth, I believe you, and I promise that I will keep investigating, and I will find the person who really did this.'

Samuel nodded, and lowered his gaze to the table. 'I understand.'

Mulder propped himself up on his elbows, his hands gently massaging the pain in the back of his neck. He wished that Samuel had never gone to the hotel too. Then there wouldn't be such a problem and Mulder could be in the hospital with Scully. He wondered if she was okay.

'She is. For now. But she's very sick. She…she has cancer, doesn't she?'

Mulder just sat there, stunned. Staring. 'You…you heard that thought?'

'It's a powerful one. It's hard to ignore. As is your pain. I'm truly sorry, Agent Mulder.'

'Well…thank you for the insight.'

'I could try to help her. If she'll let me.'

Ever since they had come here, he had secretly, deep down, hoped to hear Samuel say those words. He just hadn't expected to hear them under these circumstances. Still, Samuel's abilities had been proven, unlike some other ministers who claimed to be able to save people. Although he had entered into this case for Scully's sake, a part of him wasn't expecting anyone to be able to help her other than the men who had given her the disease in the first place. But then again, he'd never really expected to see Samuel Hartley again either. If Scully believed, maybe that's all that was needed.

'You could cure her?' he asked, not daring to allow himself to believe it.

'That, I'm not sure about. Her sickness is…advanced. Complicated. I would need to see her in person. I need to touch her.'

'I thought you said that you could heal people with thoughts and prayers.'

'I can, but not like this. She is very close. And there is something…I don't know…unusual. I have to see her. Could you bring her here?'

'No. She's unconscious. Even if she wasn't, her doctor would never allow here, not now. I'm not sure I want her here either.'

'I understand. I'm sorry, I wish I could do more. I feel that you want to help me, and I appreciate that. But I suppose my hands are tied. Or cuffed, as it were. I will pray for her.'

A black and seething anger suddenly engulfed him, so dark that it blocked all other thought and feeling. It took every ounce of restraint Mulder possessed not to rip Samuel's throat out with his bare hands.

'You would blackmail me with this? You sick, evil, manipulative - '

Samuel's eyes went wide and he recoiled, as though the strength of Mulder's thoughts alone had punched him in the face. 'No, Agent Mulder, please…I would never do that. That's not my intention, I swear. Haven't you understood anything of what I stand for? Why would I criticize Reverend Cork when I would be committing his sins twelve times over by being a hypocrite? I'm just stating facts, I cannot heal her over such a distance, not when she is so ill, but I will do everything I can.'

Mulder stared at him, considering, trying to control the demon within. He picked up the file from the table and went over to get his jacket.

'You do your best for Scully, and I will do my best for you.'

'That's seems fair,' Samuel replied with an uncertain smile. 'Thank you.'

'One more thing. Your father, is he in town?'

'Yes, but he's not holding any meetings. We're on a kind of vacation, I suppose. If you want to talk to him, he's staying in the Radisson.' He added with a smile, 'With his nephew, John Smith.'

'Original.'

'Wait, Agent Mulder,' Samuel said as Mulder opened the door. 'Don't give up on her. Or yourself. It's not over yet, although you may believe it is. There are greater things here…I wish I understood what that means, but I feel that it's right.'

He couldn't reply.

Mulder needed to get out into the fresh air for a while. It was getting dark and most of the stores were closing up, so he just wandered up and down the street, glancing in at the brightly lit windows offering him everything from a manicure to home insurance. Nothing he saw could pull him out of his black mood. He thought about the offer Samuel had made to him, and wished there was something he could do to free him. He had promised Samuel to do everything he could to help him, but the truth was he had no idea where to start. Could he believe Samuel really wanted to heal Scully, or was it just a ruse? Was it true that Samuel needed to see her? Was there any chance that if he was charged, he could get out on bail, and then help Scully? He went over to a bench overlooking a children's park at the end of the street and slumped down, suddenly feeling very tired. His gaze turned to the sky above, hoping to find the same comfort and solace there as he always had, but the setting sun was still molten gold on the horizon leaking through a narrow fissure in an otherwise clouded sky. It gave everything a sepia tone that emphasized the feeling of the past, endings of so much more than just another day. Frustration, loneliness, and grief overwhelmed him and he had to close his eyes against their manifestation. He didn't want to go back to the motel, even though he needed a shower and some sleep, and he certainly didn't want to go back into the station. By the time he'd walked to his car and turned on the engine, he realized there was only one place where he wanted to be right now.

When Mulder arrived at the ward, Doctor Allen had just finished her shift and was pulling on her coat. Before he had chance to say anything to her, she saw him and smiled.

'Agent Mulder, I'm glad you're here. I was going to call you before I left. Dana has regained consciousness and she's been asking to see you.'

Relief flooded him, but it was only a momentary calm. It was soon drowned beneath grief again. 'Good…great. How is she?'

'As well as can be expected. Look, it's not visiting hours, but as long as you're quick, you can go and see her if you like.'

'Thank you. I'd appreciate that.'

'Fourth on the left, just down the hall here.'

The door was slightly ajar, but he still knocked before entering. Though she didn't reply, he gently pushed the door to peep around it. The curtains were drawn, and a light shone from the lamp above the bed. She must have dozed off while watching the television which was still on with the volume turned down. He reached up and flicked it off, then picked up the chair from underneath it and placed it by her side. He was so grateful that there were no monitors as there had been when she had been returned to him before, he didn't think he'd be able to stand the sight of them. There was a drip, but it was only to keep her fluids up. She looked a little better than she had when she had collapsed, but she was still pale. The chair scraped against the floor as he sat down, waking her.

'Oh, I'm sorry…I guess I'd never make a burglar, huh?'

She smiled sleepily. 'It's good to see you.'

He leaned over to kiss her cheek, then took her hand. Her skin was like ice. 'You know, there are easier ways of getting some attention. If you were that desperate to go to hospital or be flown home you should have said and I'd have shot you. Call it returning the favor.'

She tried to laugh, but it turned to a grimace as pain flashed across her eyes.

'Are you okay? Do you want me to get someone?'

'No, I'm alright. It comes and goes. I think I bruised my ribs when I fell.'

Mulder wasn't convinced. His headache had returned, pressing hard against the back of his eyes.

'I'll tell you one thing though,' she said as she pushed herself further up in the bed, 'you begin to appreciate the patient's side of things when you've been one as many times as I have.'

'I guess so,' he smiled.

'I take it you've spoken to Doctor Allen? She's given you the good news?' She had to smile and fight for fear of finally giving into the tears that were welling in her eyes.

He couldn't speak. He simply nodded.

Her fingers tightened around his. 'I really thought I could win, Mulder. If I carried on for long enough, we'd find a way. I'm so sorry. I feel as though I've let everyone down - my mom, my family, you.'

That hurt, that he had made her feel that way, that she should feel as though she had to live up to his expectations. 'I think I'm the one who's let you down. You have nothing to prove to me, Dana. All I've wanted, all I've been working for, is to get you well. I'm the one who's failed you. You don't deserve any of this. It should be me lying here,' his voice returned to a whisper. 'It should have been me.'

'I'm glad it's not, I've got enough to worry about already. Maybe there's nothing anyone could ever have done. Maybe this is my destiny.' She paused, her eyes fixed on Mulder's hands. 'I have to face it now. It's a reality. I have things I need to do, to finish. It's time to stop running.'

Her final defenses were collapsing; her spirit breaking, along with Mulder's heart. He felt more anger than he could deal with to think that they had finally succeeded in taking the light from her eyes and fire from her soul that he loved so much. But more than that, they had succeeded in breaking him. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. He decided then to resign from the Bureau. It was over. Everything was over.

But as though she could hear his thoughts, she said, 'I don't want you to give up though, Mulder. I've told you before that I admire and respect the passion you have for your work and the last thing I want is for you to throw away everything we've worked so hard for. I need to know you'll continue.' Her free hand caressed his cheek and brushed away the tear she found there. 'I need to know you'll be alright.'

'I'm not sure I can do that, Dana. It's not worth what it's cost you.'

'That's why it's worth it. If the truth is worth killing for, then it must be worth dying for. I want my life to mean something. If you give up, then it was all for nothing, and I can't deal with that, Mulder.'

'Dana…I…I can't…'

'You can. You have to.' A bright tear slipped down her cheek. 'Please promise me, Mulder.'

He raised her hand to his face and kissed her palm. 'I...I'll try. I promise to try.'

For a few minutes, silence descended. Neither of them could have spoken, even had they wished to. He just held on to her hand, and she held on to his, content simply to be there, in the brief peace of a fleeting moment.

'So,' she whispered, kissing his fingers, 'did you find Samuel?'

'Yes,' he replied, grateful for the change of subject. 'He's been arrested. They're holding off on charging him because they still haven't established a link to the needle or the morphine. I've already spoken to him, informally. I don't believe he murdered Reverend Cork, but the circumstantial evidence looks bad for him.'

'Did he confess?'

'No. But he was resigned to going to prison when I left him. I don't know what else to do for him. We've just hit a wall, Dana, and I…I just don't know where to go from here.'

'Why are you so convinced he's innocent?'

'Instinct, I suppose. He admitted he was at the hotel, but when he left he claims that Reverend Cork was still alive.'

Mulder proceeded to relate the conversation that had taken place at the station, purposely omitting the end part that still disturbed him greatly.

'It's thin, Mulder.'

'I know. But he sounded so genuine. Who could make up a story like that anyway? It would be easier to lie and say he was never there. Besides, he seemed really upset about the Reverend's death.'

'He was probably more upset that he was caught. If he didn't do it, I hope he has a better defense than that or the prosecution will eat him alive.'

'He'd have a better chance if I…we can find the real killer.'

She smiled at his slip. 'No, I think, as much as I hate it, you're more or less on your own here. I'll help where I can though. Do you have anyone else in mind?'

'Not really. But we still have the letters. They were handwritten, so it shouldn't be too difficult to prove he didn't send those. He hasn't been anywhere near Atlanta for a long time. Plus we have the fact that he was searched by two police officers, who would have found a needle. There must be an explanation, but we're just not seeing it.'

'Mulder, listen to me. There are no other feasible options here. Please, for both our sakes, leave it alone. Let's go home.'

It annoyed him because half of him knew that she was right. He wanted so much to just get on a plane and leave this case behind. They'd caught Samuel, Callahan and Pryce could handle things now. But he couldn't, especially not considering what Samuel had told him.

'Whatever happens, you'll be going home soon anyway. I spoke to Skinner earlier today and he wants you off active duty.'

'It was to be expected. It's alright, I understand.' But he could feel her pain, even if he hadn't seen it in her eyes.

'I'm sorry, Dana. He just wants what's best for you.'

'I know that.' She sighed, and her hand sought his again. 'I want you to come, too.'

'I want to, but there's…there's just something that bothers me about this, and I…I'm just not ready to let this go yet.'

'Why is this case bothering you so much? Is it because you think he's a link to your sister, because of what he told you before?'

'I don't know,' he lied, and was going to leave it at that, but felt bad for not being more open with her. He sighed. 'I guess it's because I believe he didn't do it and it's not fair that someone as young as him should have to pay for someone else's crime. Besides, he said that…' The words had slipped out before he even realized what he was saying. 'Well, I guess it doesn't matter now.'

Scully leaned forward to get a glass of water from the cabinet. 'It clearly does. You've started now, you might as well get it off your chest.'

He sighed. 'The attack that almost killed him changed him. Changed his abilities. He knows things, Dana. He can see inside your thoughts, feels what you're feeling, and…well, he knows you're sick. He knows you've been detained in hospital.'

'So? He was with you when I was taken ill.'

'I know that. That's not the point. He knows that you have cancer and he knows that it's…' Mulder hesitated, not wanting to say the words. It would be like acknowledging that there was no hope and he still couldn't bring himself to do that. Even now.

Scully for her part sensed the need for silence, and just lay there waiting for him to continue. When the pain that cut right to the core of his being had passed, he continued. 'He knows how serious it is, and what the doctors told you. To cut a long story short, he's offering to help you.'

'In what way? I don't understand.'

'You were the one who came down here hoping for a miracle, Scully. He's offering you one.'

'What, he wants to heal me? He can heal me? Why would he want to do that?'

'I guess it's just because that's what he does, it's what he's always done. I thought that was what you wanted.' He wasn't going to mention the allusion that Samuel had made to a deal, that would certainly set Scully dead against any miracle that he may be able to offer. Besides, Mulder desperately wanted to do everything for his partner that he possibly could, and if that meant withholding the full truth, then that was what he was prepared to do. There may come a time when Scully would find out, but that was a risk he was willing to take.

'I don't know what I wanted, Mulder. I was in a different frame of mind then. I can't believe I actually considered…' She paused, sighing. 'I have always held science as sacred. To believe in something else…it upsets everything I've ever known, depended on. When I came down here, I thought I was ready to at least open myself to other possibilities, but now… I was desperate, clinging to false hopes, and I can't do that anymore. It's too painful.'

She closed her eyes and lay back into the pillows. 'I've been lying here thinking about my faith, my beliefs, how I'm really doing with all this. I feel as though I'm standing at the edge of a cliff and I'm slowly being pushed further to the edge and I'm powerless to stop it. Do you know what frightens me more than anything? What if there's nothing there - no rocks, no ocean, nothing? I want to believe in something, I really do, but I'm finding it so hard, Mulder. How can Samuel help me if I don't believe?'

Mulder looked down at Scully's hand still in his. She had such beautiful hands; long, slender fingers and perfect nails, although some were scratched and broken now after today. He enclosed it in both of his and gently stroked her soft skin with his thumb. 'I believe. Maybe enough for both of us. All you have to do is say yes.'

He spoke from the heart, his eyes shining as he looked up at her. She felt his desperation, and understood how much this meant to him. 'Alright,' she said softly. 'I guess I don't have much else to lose.'

For the first time in weeks, he felt real hope like the rising sun on the horizon and couldn't help smiling.

Scully withdrew her hand and tapped his knee. 'Go on, Mulder, get out of here - you look terrible. Go take a shower and get some sleep.'

'Thanks for the compliment. I'd like to see you looking any better if you'd had the day I have.'

'And change your suit,' she added helpfully.

'Where would I be without you to take care of me, hey? I'll see you tomorrow.' He smoothed her hair away from her face and kissed her forehead. 'Look after yourself, okay?'

'I will. And Mulder?'

'Yeah?'

'Trust your instincts. They've never let us down yet.'

He understood, and smiled.