Apartment 42
10:49 P.M.

Mulder stared at the tableau Melissa had set up on his coffee table. A bowl continued to emit smoke, a white candle slowly burned next to it.

"So, now what?" he asked, leaning forward from the edge of his couch.

"We wait until the contents of the bowl have completely burned out," Melissa replied. "Then we sprinkle the ashes outside."

"What's that supposed to do?"

"We're returning what we have taken from the Earth."

Mulder nodded blankly.

Melissa settled next to Mulder on the couch. "You need to believe that it will work, Fox."

"I want to believe it."

Melissa rested a hand on Mulder's shoulder. "Why can't you just believe in this?"

"It's very hard." Mulder turned to Melissa. "You know, your sister would probably have a harder time with this than me."

"She doesn't want to face the powers she might have."

"Why's that?"

"She doesn't want to lose control."

The smoke continued to dissipate. "Shall we try the wine Ms. Shindler gave you?" Mulder asked, heading towards the kitchen. "At least it doesn't require chilling." Opening a cupboard and pulling out some plastic cups, he added, "I don't have company over much, so I'm short on wine glasses."

Melissa reached towards the table and picked up the bowl. "It is done." Standing up, she turned to Mulder. "We must finish the ritual outside."

"We were just out there an hour ago." Mulder asked. "It's probably dropped a few degrees."

Melissa smiled slightly. "If there's one thing I've figured out about you, Fox, it's that you're practical when you shouldn't be."

After finishing the ritual, Mulder and Melissa gathered near the sink. After peeling the foil from the top of the bottle of Brangane's Number Nine, Mulder looked with bemusement at cap. "I'm not connoisseur, but c'mon. A screw cap?"

"Some people swear by boxed wine, too."

Twisting off the top, Mulder said, "Yeah, but at least you're not misled by fancy packaging."

"How do you even know it's wine? Maybe it's some other drink."

Mulder sniffed the top after removing the cap. "Doesn't smell like any wine I've ever had."

Melissa took the bottle. "Maybe it's mead, or something else."

"Something else is right. Some kind of fruit, I'd guess."

Holding the bottle under her nose, Melissa said, "Jasmine. Very light, sweet scent."

"Anything else you can detect?"

Melissa shook her head. "I suppose we'll have to drink it."

Mulder nodded. "May I do the honors?"

Nodding, Melissa offered her cup to Mulder. As he filled it, Mulder said, "I haven't been to a wine tasting in a while. I always wondered, though, where they come up with the descriptions of the smells."

Swirling and contemplating the sparkling liquid in her cup, Melissa said, "There's a logical explanation to it."

"Oh, really? It isn't somebody making up stuff?" Mulder poured a cup for himself.

"A wine gets its flavor from whatever grows around its grapes. So, if someone says that a wine tastes like berries, there's likely some growing nearby. Very scientific, really."

"You're beginning to sound like your sister." Mulder raised his glass. "Prosit."

"Prosit." Their cups clunked. After they each took a sip, Melissa asked, "Is that a toast?"

"It's German. Roughly, to one's health." Mulder looked at the cup. "This is like no wine I've had before. Very sweet."

"Maybe some saccaharine was growing nearby." Melissa moved her eyes from the wine to Mulder. "I still like it, though."

"Me, too. I can't explain it."

Mulder looked at Melissa. They looked at each other for a few seconds.

"To Dana's health?" Melissa finally asked.

"Of course."

Both of them took another sip from their cups, continuing to gaze at each other.

"She's in both of our hearts, Fox. For you, more than you realize."

"I know she is," Mulder replied.

The wine was so good, and Mulder's formerly dilapidated abode so safe now.

They drank of the drink again.

How many drinks of the drink they took?

Another toast.

To their friendship.

New to him.

Whom could he trust?

He trusted her.

As he trusted his sister.

More than he wanted.

He needed to.

He wanted to.

He ached to trust.

She looked upon him.

Smiles of gratitude.

Deeper than she thought.

She knew he loved her sister.

The ways she could not.

But what of her?

How many drinks of the drink they took?

They knew not.

Enfolded in the transfigured realm.

Of night.

And banished was the day.

They drifted towards slumber.

Loftily heavy.

Supreme Bliss

Awaited.