A/N: Work kills. I hate it oh so much.

A week after her first session with Karen Kosseff, Scully went back to work. Mulder wasn't sure if it meant she was slowly recovering, or if she was trying to bury her emotions. He watched her carefully when he could, wanting to catch her before her breaking point. She acted mostly like nothing had happened. It was as if the last few weeks were erased. But then it was time to go home, and she got a look of terror in her eyes. He knew she wanted him there, and when it came down to it, he didn't have another choice. She was brave enough now to sleep in her bed alone, but she still liked Mulder to at least be out on the couch. The lamp next to her bed was always on.

Scully was sitting at the table reading her mail while Mulder finished making dinner. He never thought he could actually cook, much less that he would enjoy it. He was just taking the French bread out of the oven when he heard a strange sound come from Scully. It was somewhere between a squeak and a gasp, and he tossed the bread onto the counter and spun around.

Scully had turned the color of buttermilk and her hands were shaking as she looked at the paper in front of her.

"Scully?"

Her eyes slowly met his and he thought she might hyperventilate. He rushed over to her, taking the paper out of her hands and holding her close.

"Breathe, Scully. Just breathe."

Her skin felt clammy and he was worried she might be going into delayed shock. He picked her up quickly and took her into the other room. He settled them both into the couch and she leaned against him, her breathing slowing a little. He brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead.

"What happened?"

"The letter," she croaked, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"What letter?"

"On the table."

He moved her out of his lap and stood up to retrieve the letter. It was sitting on the table, the corner where he had grabbed it from her slightly crumpled. It was white paper, probably average printer paper. The handwriting sloped to one side, but was very precise otherwise. He didn't touch it, instead reading it where it lay.

Dana,

I know you didn't want to leave me. How could you have? Don't worry. No matter what they say, I'll come back for you. I'm sorry how things happened. Maybe someday we'll get another chance. We just have to wait until it's safe. I miss you.

Gavin

Mulder nearly threw up as he read the letter. This man had ruined her life, and now he was back for more. He went to the cupboard and got a plastic bag, then used a pot holder to put the letter inside. Maybe there was some trace evidence on it that they could use to find him. He got another bag out to put the envelope into. It was addressed to Scully, care of the FBI. At least he hadn't found her home address yet. He sealed both bags and put them in his briefcase so she wouldn't have to see them again.

"Scully?"

"This is never going to end, is it Mulder?"

"What?" he asked, sitting down on the couch next to her.

"He's always going to be there, isn't he? If we find him, I'll always know where he is. If we don't, he'll always be out there. He'll keep sending me letters. I know he will. He's always going to be a part of my life. I don't know how to deal with that."

He slid his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him, closing her eyes.

"None of this happened because of anything I did, and I can't make it go away. I can't change it. I have no control over it. I never have any control over anything, but this one is the worst."

"Oh, sweetheart."

"I need to get out of here," she said, wiping away the few tears that had escaped from her eyes. "I need to go somewhere else."

"Like where?"

"I don't know. Can we just drive? Just get in the car and drive until we're out of gas. I don't want to think or feel, I just want to do."

"Okay. Let's go."

He grabbed his keys and her hand and pulled her out the door.

They drove north for almost an hour, the sun setting to their left and the ocean on their right. The radio played softly, and neither one of them spoke. They didn't really need to anymore. He understood, and she knew that, so it didn't really seem like there was anything else to say.

"Pull over."

"What?"

"Pull over, Mulder."

He obeyed, pulling into one of the parking lots for beach goers. Scully got out of the car and before he knew what was happening, she was running down the beach. He got after the car and instinctually chased after her. At first he tried to catch up with her, but then thought it would be better to stay back.

They ran that way for almost a mile before Scully slowed, hunched over with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath as she cried. He was glad to see this explosion of rage or fear, or whatever it was. It was good for her. She needed this to heal.

"Scully..."

"I can't do it anymore, Mulder. I can't fake that I'm okay. I just want out. I want to be done with it all. I hate feeling like that. I hate feeling desperate and lost and hopeless. But I can't feel another way. I just can't."

She sunk down into the sand and he joined her, wrapping his arms around her.

"You can, Scully, and you will. But it's not all going to happen overnight. Give yourself time. It's all going to be alright."

"I want it to be alright now."

"I know you do. So do I. But we don't have that option. So we're just going to work through it."

"We?"

"What, does that surprise you?"

"No, not at all."

He turned her face to his and wiped her tears away.

"It's not always going to be like this, Scully. I know it feels like it, but it's not. It's not hopeless, and you're not lost. Okay?"

She nodded and sniffled one last time before he helped her to stand up.

"Let's go home, Scully. We'll watch stupid TV and by the time you go to bed, your equilibrium will be back. Okay?"

"Thank you, Mulder."

"Anytime."

He took her hand and they walked back down the beach together.