Disclaimer: Is this seriously still necessary? Has anyone ever really been sued for Fan Fiction? All right, all right, here's my obligatory spiel: Not mine. It sucks. The end.

Rating: PG…13. Probably going to escalate.

Spoilers: Heavy Fowley spoilers. The End/The Beginning, Two Fathers/One Son. Also FTF. Post-Agua Mala.

Author's Notes: Thanks to my friend, Stephanie, for reminding me that Scully's MOM would probably call her on her birthday. I just couldn't work it out that Bill Jr. would call. Sorry, girl. ;-)

Feedback: I stalk my email for feedback harder than I stalked David Duchovny last year.

He had taken me to play mini golf. Yes, mini golf, of all the things. I had been surprised that he not only remembered my birthday, but actually planned something more than a Snowball sparkler cake in a restaurant. Not exactly what I would have chosen to do with him for my birthday. It was cold. I can play decent mini golf, but I had been rushing through the course a little, not particularly trying. Having forgotten my gloves, I was a little miserable. Mulder, of course assuming that I didn't know how to play, stood behind me at one point to help. 'Yeah, uh huh,' I remember saying as he was moving my arms telling me what to do. I was more paying attention to his chest on my back, his arms wrapped around me to rest on my forearms above the putter. He had been very warm, and it had felt nice to have contact with another, breathing, human being that wasn't for medical reasons. Or after some huge tribulation. He smelled good, too.

Now we are sitting in this restaurant. He's just said all the right things and my eyes are stinging, they're blurry and I don't want to blink for fear a tear my fall. "Happy birthday, Scully," he says. His index finger is still resting under my chin from when he had forced me to look at him.

I open my mouth and take a long, slow breath. My mouth is moving but I can't find any words. I'm still looking in his eyes when I see that same look I saw from him in his hallway last summer. I feel the same reservations, but at the same time, curiosity. He's got two fingers on my chin now, feather lightly touching me. A question in his eyes. Just as I look at his lips, my phone trills in my pocket. I jump at the distraction, pulling it out as he pulls his hand away from my face. He clears his throat and takes a sip of his wine as I answer.

"Hi Mom," I turn my face away, very quickly dabbing at my eyes with my napkin.

"Dana, are you ok?"

I clear my throat, sipping my own wine. "Yeah, yeah, Mom. I just…I just ate some spicy food." I avoid Mulder's knowing, surely accusatory glance.

"Oh, are you out?"

"Yes."

"Are you on a date?" I hear the smile in her voice.

"Mom…"

"Well are you?"

"I'm with Mulder."

"Are you two on a case?"

"…No."

"Dana…" Her smile has gotten bigger.

"Mom…"

"I only called to tell you happy birthday, Dana. Have a good time. Tell Fox 'hello' for me."

"Thank you, Mom. I'll call you soon. Bye." I hang up the phone and put it back in my pocket. "My mom says 'hello'…" I take a gulp of my wine, finally chancing a glance at him.

He is grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "What else did she have to say?"

"Nothing…? What, Mulder?"

He gives me his boyish grin, chuckling softly. "Nothing," he echoes back at me.

I sigh and look down at my half finished meal. I consider eating more, but push it away. "This was good, Mulder. Thank you."

"You're welcome, birthday girl." He is waving for the check.

"Would you please stop reminding me? I thought you only celebrated every four years, anyway." Not that I ever really acknowledged his. After our second year together, I started getting him greeting cards with some punny little joke on them, scribbling some equally punny caption above my name. 'Scully,' of course.

"Well you deserved it…" He's putting his credit card in the book with the check. "I'm sorry, did you want dessert?"

"Aren't you charming?" I blame the wine. It comes out before I think about it, I usually refrain from saying such things. Still, he looks amused. "No, thank you. I need to use the restroom, I'll meet you up front."

A few minutes later I find him by the door. He has my jacket and is holding it open for me. I let him put it on me, his fingers lingering on my shoulders for just a moment. I straighten it up and we walk outside. When we get back to the parking lot of the entertainment center we have both parked at, by my car, he turns and looks at me.

Neither of us say a word for a few moments though. I wrap my coat tighter around me against the cold. "Do you want to go home yet, Scully?"

"No, not really." I actually let myself answer before I make myself analyze it.

One side of his mouth pulls back into a smile, he's looking at me with something like surprise. I feel a little pull on my heartstrings at his smile. "Where to?" I shrug, I don't really know this area. "There?"

I turn and see the bar he's pointing at across the street. Looks just as good as anywhere else I can think of. "That'll work." He holds out his arm, motioning me to walk ahead of him. His hand rests only momentarily on the middle of my back as we walk in the direction of the bar.

We walk in, take a look around and walk to the less crowded side of the bar. There are a lot of young business people, mostly men. The men are all crowded around the handful of women in little groups, laughing and talking. I sit on the last high bar chair, up against the wall after hanging my jacket on the back. Mulder sits next to me. While we wait for the busy bartender, I pick up the small menu with mixed drink specials. Mulder glances over it, over my shoulder for just a minute before leaning back onto the bar, his hands folded in front of him. He's not interested in any of the fruity drinks listed there.

I let out a laugh, more loud than I meant it to be. He looks at me with a questioning smile, so I point at a certain drink on the menu, tilting it towards him. "I'm getting this." I'm pointing at the 'Hurricane.'

He lets out a dry chuckle, holding the toothpick he had picked up at the restaurant in his mouth as he speaks. "Check for sea monsters." We are smiling at each other when the bartender comes over and takes our order. I do in fact get a Hurricane. He says, "I'll have a…whiskey and…Coke." He turns to me as the bartender goes to make the drinks. "It's a happy occasion, don't suppose I need to be shooting them back."

"Are you happy, Mulder?" He's pondering, looking up at a basketball game on TV, rolling that toothpick over on his bottom lip in one place. He starts rambling about the meaning of happiness and about it being relative and I'm buzzing just enough to have no patience for all of that. "Mulder…" I laugh.

He looks from the TV to me, turning in his chair a little. He visibility relaxes when he looks at me, smiling at him. He lets out a dry chuckle. "Sorry, Scully. Uh…short answer: yes. Most people wouldn't consider my state of mind happy, but I'm uh…in a better place than I've ever been since..." He takes our drinks from the bartender, gets out his wallet, hands the bartender his card, stops my hand from reaching to my pocket to get my own card. "I got it…keep it open," he says to the bartender. He nods at my thank you. "Anyway…since 1973. Maybe before that, even." He says it in such a matter of fact way. I am at a loss for words, looking at him with not just a little bit of wonder. There isn't a question on the end, most people expect to hear the same in return when they say something like that to you. Not Mulder. He shrugs off the thought, straightening up a little. "Anyway, drink up, birthday girl." He points at my drink, raising his own. I raise the straw in the tall glass, pushing the ice down to stir it around, blending together the alcohols and juices. Then I raise my glass to his. "To birthdays and hurricanes."

"Or something like that." I smile and take a drink. "Wow…" I take a few breaths, feeling the burn before taking another sip. "That's a strong one."

"I'll tip him well then."

I smirk at his mock mischievous leer. "Mulder…"

"What?" He asks with the straw in his mouth before taking another sip.

"Nothing." We both look around at the rowdy young people, him glancing at the game on the TV now and then. I suddenly realize these people aren't much younger than we are, I just feel like they are. I catch Mulder looking at me. "What?" I ask

"You, what? What are you thinking?"

"How much younger they all seem."

He looks around again. "Yeah, you're right."

I chuckle. "Well, they *are* considerably younger than *you.*"

"I'll kick your ass, Scully."

"With all of these young men here to defend me?"

He's looking at me, half amused, half surprised at my comebacks. "You're funny."

"Hey, I *can* let my hair down, believe it or not." I stretch my back a little and run my fingers through my hair at the mention of it.

"You always wear it down, unless you're doing an autopsy."

"Thanks for noticing." I deadpan.

"I'm SURE you can let your hair down. I imagine you were a handful growing up." He waves at the bartender, already finishing his first drink. I still have quite a bit left, it's bigger and stronger. He watches the game while waiting for his drink, and for a minute after. I don't mind, I'm just watching him. He kept his straw from the first drink, asking the bartender for another. Now he's chewing on his first straw in the way he had been the first time he acknowledged my birthday. Pacifying that damn oral fixation. My cheeks flush from that thought alone just as he turns to look at me again. He's looking at me with a questioning look, squinting. Holding on to that damn straw as he bites it with his back teeth. "Were you a handful?"

I turn my face away from him a little, laughing, glad for the distraction. "I was…sometimes, yeah."

"Did you ever get in trouble? What's the most trouble you ever got in growing up?"

"Oh, no, Mulder…" I'm laughing, knowing what story I'm going to have to tell him. I take a big gulp of my drink.

"Tell me…"

I sit up and turn towards him more in my chair. He does the same, leaning in to hear me better. I tell him the story of what happened after my prom night and his reaction is much different from Eddie Van Blundht's of course. He is, understandably, more surprised that the Scully he knows could be involved in such mischief. He is laughing his dry laugh, non stop by the time I am through, telling him about getting a ride home on the pumper truck.

"That is…wow, Scully. I think you made that up."

I take a big gulp of my drink, about three quarters of the way finished with it and definitely feeling a heavy buzz. Actually, I am past the buzz. This, on top of the wine with dinner, I am drunk. I will take a cab home tonight, we both should. He is less drunk than I, but still over the limit. "I did not make that up."

"I just don't believe it."

"Believe it! *And,* I've told you that story before."

"Slow down, Scully," he says, glancing at my drink while taking a sip of his own. "No, you haven't."

"Well, not you, exactly. Van Blundht." I am drinking my drink pretty quickly, it tastes delicious now that I can no longer taste the alcohol.

"Oh…you almost kissed him."

"You almost kissed me." I want to grab the words out of the air and shove them back into my mouth as soon as I say them.

"I still want to…sometimes."

My cheeks are burning. "Sometimes?" I'm avoiding his eyes, pushing the ice around in my glass with my straw.

"All the time." I bite my lip. It's hot in here, I can't breathe. I finish my drink.

"Mulder…" I can practically feel electricity between us. Like the hair on my arms would raise up if I wasn't wearing this sweater.

"I meant what I said to you in that hospital bed, Scully. I mean it." I am puzzled for a moment, then I understand. I look at him. His face is an open book, his eyes burning. I fell a chill go down my back and curiosity really is starting to get the better of me. But still, I am afraid. We have a good thing, a very good thing. Would it be worth it?

I clear my throat. "Excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom." I don't even look at him as I turn in my chair, pushing past him to get up and go. I walk quickly to the restroom, curling my fingers into fists and then stretching them back out nervously the whole way there.

When inside, I stand in front of the mirror. Frozen. Staring at myself. I see my flushed cheeks, my dilated pupils. I'm unsure if it's the alcohol, Mulder's words, or some combination of the two. "I can't do this…" I say to myself, shaking my head. "You can't do this."

Two girls bust through the door behind me. Laughing. I scare one of them, and she puts her hand to her chest and puts out her hand, laughing, I only startled her. I give her a tight lipped smile in the mirror, straightening my hair so it doesn't *look* like I was standing here talking to myself in the mirror.

They each go into a stall, laughing and talking about Mark and John, whoever they are. They are both obviously going home with someone tonight. Why won't I? I look into my own eyes, right on the edge of deciding that I will make a change. I see his eyes burning into mine. I imagine those eyes looking at me that way as we make love. I bite my lip at the thought, at the phrase. I shake my head, leaning in the direction of fear again.

The two girls both stumble out of their stalls, drunk, happy and carefree. I move so they can use the sinks, going into a stall myself. I exit and wash my hands, looking in the mirror one more time. What am I going to do. I still don't know. I take a deep breath and walk back out.

I don't sit down when I return to him. I put on my jacket. "I'm ready to go."

He nods, could he look more depressed? I observe that he's chewed the hell out of that one straw, not one place left to bite on. It is discarded on the bar, shriveled and sad looking. He's got another in his mouth, giving it the same abuse. He pulls some cash out of his wallet, hands it to the bartender and asks for his card back. We walk outside, where a drizzling, misty rain is falling. There happens to be one cab sitting on the curb.

He motions to the cab. "Go ahead, I'll wait for another one." I walk to the back door, very slowly. I am still walking a thin line, still so very curious. Then so very afraid.

Then, when I open the back door of the cab, and am standing on the curb between the door and the back seat, I look back at him. I am holding my hand in front of my face, blocking the mist from landing in my eyes. The sidewalk is well lit, but he's standing there under the awning to stay dry. He is looking back at me with those burning eyes from the darkness, and I see them brighter than the sidewalk lights. I lose nearly all the breath in my lungs. I look away for a moment, down the sidewalk both ways. I lick my lips and take a deep breath before I look back at him. I feel like I'm preparing to jump from a plane. "Do you want to come over, Mulder?"

THE END…Psyche! To be Continued…