CHAPTER 5: Reunion of Loyalty

"Everyone is changing,
There's no one left that's real,
Make up your own ending,
And let me know just how you feel,
Because I am lost without you,
I cannot live at all,
My whole world surrounds you,
I stumble then I crawl,
You could be my someone,
You can be my scene,
You know that I will save you
from all of the unclean,
I wonder what you're doing,
I wonder where you are,
There's oceans in between us,
But that's not very far...

Can you take it all away?
Can you take it all away?
Well you shoved it in my face,
This pain you gave to me,
Can you take it all away?
Can you take it all away?
Well you shoved it in my face,
This pain you gave to me?"

- Blurry by Puddle of Mudd

Scully sat impatiently on the cold hard stool of the bar, frowning at the creak it made whenever she attempted to fit one leg atop the other. One more minute spent on the chair and she would be forced to burst outside of the place – with or without meeting him. She didn't care if it was raining vigorously or if he'd come after she had just left (then he'd have to wait for her forever inside that bar thinking that he might have missed his chance or maybe she was the one late – well, it didn't really matter anyway).

Another thing that was bothering her was that gooey-eyed boy who kept staring at her with such … sloppiness. He tried to hide his hungry gazes behind his thick Chemistry book, but that only made it worse for Scully. Another eye at her and she would have to pull out the loaded gun inside her shoulder bag. Impatience was her best friend now; it had been thirty minutes since she stepped into the dark bar. He was supposed to come in any minute now. Supposed.

She slipped on and tightened her old trench coat around her, shielding her black dress with a high-cut slit beneath it from the rude Chemistry boy. Her eyes frantically canned the corners of the room to see if he was truly there. And my god, it wasn't just a he from the park she jogged in every morning to clear her thoughts; not just a he who approached her in the grocery to ask her the difference between skim and nonfat. It was him, the person she had tried to avoid for almost a year. The he she had tried to forget:

Fox Mulder.

It was all her mother's fault; it been for a year. She was the one who persuaded her to meet Mulder, since he was "in town" and he was desperate to see how she was doing … as a "friend." Scully snorted. As if it could ever be that simple between them.

When her mother made the suggestion in a nonchalant, playful voice, Scully nervously toyed around with the phone's cord as her hands grew cold. Her mother had been, she thought, purposely ecstatic: Maggie chose her words with care as she relayed the tidbit to Scully. "He has been worried about you, Dana. You know, Fox has been calling me more than twice very week since you left for the UK. He's so concerned about how you're doing there in his old haunt."

Ha. Trust Mulder to make her stay in the UK to still be ALL about him.

Her answers consisted of small phrases – usually with the words "I" and "fine" starting and ending them. When she would be extremely affected of a certain Mulder news or overjoyed by the fact that (at least) he was still alive, she covered her happiness with a small snort. She had been extremely careful of locking up her feelings in a tin box, for she didn't want her mother to know how much she still felt for the man who broke her heart. How could she? She had bitched about him and all their intimate details together during one vulnerable family dinner and cried while doing so. Bill wanted to kill him. Charlie had to restrain his brother. Her mother held her tight, but didn't say anything. She always felt that her mother loved Mulder like her own son, so she didn't blame her for taking his side during that chaotic family dinner. She just wished she'd stop talking about him when they spoke on the phone.

Mothers would be mothers. Her mother, in particular, was the zealous type. She knew that her dearest Dana loved her partner to death. She also knew (or felt, because Scully never confirmed) that despite being dumped (in layman's terms) by this partner of hers in the most compromising position ever, that Scully still loved him. It was a love that defied logic - a love that Scully tried to shake off by jogging in the morning until she was breathless; a love she tried to burn away with the scalding English tea she took in the afternoons at a nearby restaurant; a love she tried to forget when she was in her bed at night, crying out his name in both ecstasy and desperation.

She understood that her mom was only trying to make her feel better. Of course, it was impossible for Mulder to call her mother with such frequency just to ask how she was doing. She couldn't believe – how could she? She needed to be careful, now. Her heart might not have moved on, but her life had. She might not have gotten far ahead, but she was happy with her progress.

For two months after she had arrived in Oxford, she personally alienated herself from everyone who wanted to stay in touch with her. Her mother visited occasionally (she often wondered how she could spring tickets so suddenly on her conservative pension, but she never dared ask), as with her two brothers. She only clammed up and stopped speaking when Bill would rant about how right he was all along about that asshole. She didn't really need for him to pour acid on open wounds.

The last few months, as she had determined, were more promising for her. She started exploring Oxford, enjoying (yes, actually enjoying) the nooks and crannies of the picturesque city. She saw new things, breathed in the England air, and let these occupy the darkness within her. Though her mom and brothers had been sending her weekly checks to help her relax for the first few months in her new flat (they apparently didn't want her to jump into a new job after being in such stress for the past seven years), enough was enough. Scully had never been idle for most of her life and she wasn't going to start now.

Her mother wasn't so happy about her hunting for a job, but she disobeyed her and started hanging around a local university. She made friends with some of the professors there and one day found herself as a substitute for an absent faculty member. She taught medicine, specifically pathology, to a group of wide-eyed and eager medical students and it reminded her so much of Quantico. It made something inside of her burn, as if she had suddenly been lit with a match. She thought the students liked her enough, because while having tea with some of the professors one day, the Department Chair approached her and asked her if she was interested in applying full time.

She was fixing her resume, after having not updated it for the past decade, and she would have been done if it wasn't for her mom's phone call two days ago. Yes, that Mulder was coming to England just to see her. Just to see her. If all went well with this reunion, she would be back in action for the next academic year. She only hoped her future students wouldn't be as forthcoming as the teenager a few stools away from her, who by the looks of it was then mentally stripping her of her trench coat and black mini dress.

Honestly, she didn't know what she was thinking when she agreed to meeting Mulder. The mere thought of being face-to-face with the man who broke her heart almost rendered her in epileptic fits.

The idea was tempting, though. She wanted, no, needed, to see him again, to see how he was doing – wait, no, to see if he had been as miserable as she had been. She was only afraid that if she stood in front of him, every ounce of anger she had simmered in her veins for over a year would disappear with one of his smiles. Then, she would surrender back to his arms …

Yeah right, Dana, her mind snapped at her, as if he'd want you back.

She hated herself then. She was still hoping … hoping that Mulder would magically sweep her into his embrace and say that he never meant what he told her that fucked up night. She couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling that he would come back to her, that he'd tell her he had been a fool, that he was sorry and he wanted her back. Oh god, it was impossible … but the truth was that this hope had sustained her. It sustained her throughout the first few months when she slipped in and out of painful loneliness. Maybe it was still sustaining her now that she was moving on.

She missed him, dreadfully. So, when her mom asked her to do this as her lovely daughter, she didn't have the strength to say no. How could she? This was what she had been waiting for, unconsciously or not, for almost a year.

How stupid was she? She shouldn't have agreed to this. She shouldn't have at all.

Look at her: she was wearing her best dress, made-up as if she was going to a date, sweeping her hair back naturally the way she knew he liked, even if it was longer now. She wondered if he would like it long …

Oh god, she was so pathetic.

He was an asshole to you, Dana, and you're still hopelessly in love with him. You're not any different from him, you know …

"Lonely night?"

The familiar voice cut through her thoughts like fire to ice. She took a deep breath, so deep it almost collapsed a lung, and for a moment she couldn't do anything. She felt him: his presence, his body heat, his eyes scanning every corner of her. His presence overwhelmed her, intoxicated her, and she thought, finally, finally, finally, like a prayer, a chant that kept on blinking in her head, and she felt herself swirling in a colorless haze.

"Can I join you for a drink?"

Scully gripped the counter tightly. She had to get a hold of herself; she had to remember that she was supposed to be angry at him. She was still angry at him. She had to be. Damn it, this was harder than she thought it would be!

She finally was able to move and she jerked her head lightly against her shoulder to see him.

Their eyes met, and the world stopped. Everything stopped, even time. So much emotions rushed into Scully that moment – fear, anger, frustration, embarrassment, and yes, love, always love – and whatever she felt she saw mirrored in his hazel eyes. Her hold on her glass faltered and she released it on the table with a thud.

Fox Mulder was a few inches away from her. She couldn't believe it. And god, she looked at him hard: his hair was slick from the droplets of rain, his muscles visible against the fabric of his thin shirt, his long fingers were wrapped around a bouquet of red roses and the other hand was clutching a briefcase. His eyes, his beautiful eyes, were shining – no, they were tearing up. Before she could make any hasty conclusions behind this reaction of his, she partially smiled and spoke a name she hadn't allowed herself to say publicly for the longest time:

"Mulder," she said, stopping when it echoed in her brain, "hey."

Time eased and began to tick. The world started moving – first in slow motion, then normally. He grinned. She swallowed a sigh; so familiar, so him.

"Hey," he said softly. He still didn't move.

She raised her eyebrows. "You don't have to stand there forever, do you? Have a seat." She hoped her fingers didn't visibly tremble when she motioned to the empty stool beside her. Mulder chuckled nervously – music to her ears, damn it – and he did as she indicated. He settled the briefcase in front of him on the countertop and shyly handed her the flowers. Her heart leapt from her chest to somewhere in the room. She didn't care where it went.

"I, I didn't wrestle them from any guy, this time. I bought them just for you."

She took them in her arms and held them close to her chest. She mouthed a small 'thank you' then lifted the bouquet to her nose so she could breathe in the fresh fragrance. She reluctantly let them go and rested them near her glass.

"You didn't have to get me anything." Her tone was suddenly guarded. She remembered the time she allowed Mulder to buy her flowers during their romantic relationship. It seemed so far, far away.

"It's just a little something," he reasoned out, searching her face. It was the same eyes that she stared at during cold nights in her bed, in her old apartment, and those same eyes that kept her warm when she needed to be; those eyes scanned her now, every single bit of her, and she felt naked. She shifted uneasily in her seat, hearing the creak, and she realized she had nothing to say to him. She was too overwhelmed by this meeting, his presence, and she couldn't look at him, so she looked at the flowers instead.

As she studied the flowers and as he continued to silently memorize her features, she felt an unfamiliar surge of resentment pushing up at her throat. Scully hated the way she melted in front of him, hated the way she yielded to his gaze, hated the way she was responding. The tin box of her heart clanked and clamored to get out, but she effectively clamped it with the curling of her fists. She couldn't do this – she couldn't do this with him. She had to stop looking at Fox Mulder and his smiles, to stop hearing his chuckle, to stop letting him drink her in.

She had to stop letting him control her life.

As if he sensed the change in their dynamic, Mulder shifted his body away and slumped against the counter. His gaze was still on her, but they were sad now. As if he was expecting her onslaught any moment then. And he didn't do anything about it. He just sat there and waited, which infuriated her even more.

She closed her eyes and with a deep breath, they flew open. She squinted at him and she knew he was squirming in his seat. "Why did you want to meet me, Mulder?" she demanded, and he kept his cool, nodding gravely as if he understood what she wanted from him. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands together in front of him as if praying for an unknown god to save him from what was about to happen.

"I-I wanted to see how you were doing." When her eyebrows raised simultaneously, he choked back on what he said and changed it. "Your mother told me that you have been having a great time here in the UK for the past few months. It … It was great to hear. I'm happy for you."

Scully crossed her arms. She surveyed Mulder's frightened posture and it gave her a sense of delicious pleasure. It gave her the last push to finally, finally let the next few words spill out of her mouth:

"Thanks. I'm so happy I'm about to marry a man I met just last night. We fucked the whole night. Is that also great to hear?"

Mulder's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"No, bullshit aside, Mulder, what do you want from me this time?"

His eyes cleared and she knew that he understood what she wanted. He sighed heavily, and decided to be honest: "Scully, I want to talk to you about us."

She was surprised. What the fuck is he talking about? "As I have come to accept, there was never an us," she deadpanned.

"No, please … listen, okay? I could justify what happened back there."

"Wow," she laughed, bitterly, "do you want me to hold you in contempt of court, Judge?"

"Just listen to me, Scully. Please. All right?"

The fire in her burned; burned so bright it almost blinded her eyes. Or maybe those were her tears – stinging, pushing, prodding.

"No, I will not listen to you, Mulder! The last time I listened to you was when you told me that you fucked with my mind and heart! So please, if you think I'm about to listen to whatever you had to say – spare me the details. I'm through with that."

Her veins throbbed in the sheer lunacy of her anger and it felt good to finally get it off her chest. The anger was driving her high – she felt like she was about to fly out of the bar and into the streets of Oxford. As for Mulder, he was staring back at her with a look of unabashed hurt. It could never equal what he had done to her, but it would do for now.

She wanted to do more – she wanted to shout at him, slap him, hit him, and she was about to do something, something, when Mudler blinked back tears and placed a shaking hand on her arm. Lightly.

Contact was made.

Scully felt the fire from her chest rise up to her cheeks. She stared down at the hand on her arm, to the sleeve where it came from, to its shoulder that was shaking, to the neck that had a nervous Adam's apple bobbing up and down, to the lips that trembled, to the green eyes that were pools of liquid. These eyes implored at her, begged her, and she was captivated by them. They knew that she never meant what she had just said.

Mulder nodded in her direction. "You made yourself clear that you won't listen to me, Scully. So I won't talk anymore." His voice was so calm, so damn calm that she wanted to slap him, but she didn't. She just stared at him, and her body couldn't help but savor the heat of his hand on her skin.

His fingertips left her arm so gingerly, as if Mulder was scared that the minute he broke free from her she would start biting his head off. But she had no more strength left in her; the anger was gone as fast as it had come. All her strength was concentrated on his eyes, and against her will, she found herself trying to read them as she had done so many times before. Gently, he broke their gaze off, too.

He opened his briefcase and before she could speak, he shoved a manila envelope onto her lap. She held the envelope and looked at him once more, searching again for anything, but found nothing there but hope. Hope for what? she wondered. She opened the envelope's flap and pulled out the contents.

What Scully saw before her appalled her.

"Wh-What are these?" Her fingers flipped through approximately fifteen photographs of the aftermath of a large explosion. Some were in plain black and white; some were colored graphically, vividly. In one photograph, she saw the top view of a tattered building. There were debris everywhere and the white outer walls of the structure was one pile of heap on the street. The bomb was so powerful it almost wiped out the whole driveway before the building and its neighboring sidewalk.

Mulder didn't answer her. He watched her silently as she studied each photo. She found it strange that some areas looked familiar - strangely so. This feeling continued until she reached the last snapshot and it came over her:

In the photo was a damaged car. She peered closely at the plate number and she recognized it immediately. It couldn't be …

"Mulder?" she managed to choke out. He reached out her and held her shoulder.

"That's your apartment building, Scully. I'm so sorry."

She raised the photograph of her car to his face. "What happened her? My neighbors, are they okay?"

"We managed to get them out of the place a few days before it happened. We have anticipated it."

"Who, why did they do this?"

Mulder's eyes turned green, as green as fresh grass, and suddenly, Scully was mesmerized. His hand on her shoulder moved to the bare skin of her arm, and it stayed there steadily as he related to her every single bit of information that he had kept from her: Jeremy Cromwell's prediction of her death – the one he had purposely omitted the last few weeks they were together working in the X- Files, the one he had disregarded as the musings of a psychotic madman. He articulated every bit of information from his fantastic memory, but also from his heart. There was the link of her vaccine in Antartica to the two other victims of the new rebellion, what Cromwell suggested him to do, and so much more. When he began to narrate how he came about his decision in the office of the Lone Gunmen, Mulder's voice became low and serious. He seemed to almost be afraid for her to hear what he had decided on that last few days.

Even as he talked, Scully needed no more words. She had figured it all out. Her hand tightened on her open mouth while the other wiped away the tears that kept on gushing out like a waterfall. It made no sense – his sacrifice, his treachery, his desire to save her despite the pain he caused not only her, but also him. It didn't make any sense. Her tears began to materialize through her voice, and she began to mumble unintelligible phrases which caught Mulder's attention.

He removed his hand from her arm and with this, took her hand away from her mouth. He kept it close to his chest, his heart. "I'm so, so sorry, Scully." He squeezed her palm tenderly, tears springing from his eyes and falling freely on his cheeks. "I'm so, so sorry. I really am. I've been for the past year." He tried to catch her eyes with his own, but they were both drowning in a pool of green and blue. So much sadness, Scully realized, not from me, but from him. From Mulder.

But why all the sadness? What was the point of all this? Why did he have to hurt her instead of telling her the truth? She had to ask, she needed to. She cleared her throat. "Mulder, why didn't you just tell me? It could've save us both a lot of …" she couldn't continue.

His eyes looked so transparent with all the water swimming around his irises. His grip on her hand tightened. "I knew you'd never agree to leave me alone, Scully. I knew you would want to be beside me – to face the threat, to fight this out to the end. Do you remember what we promised to each other?"

She couldn't answer verbally. She nodded and it was all he needed to continue.

"We said, when we started our relationship, we are stronger together than apart. It was our silent agreement before and after we became more than just partners. We were supposed to keep that promise, no matter what. But when Jeremy Cromwell had died, I tried to come up with a better plan with the Lone Gunmen. I really did. Something that would honor what we promised to each other. It was all for naught, Scully. I only realized that if I wanted to see you alive and happy, it had to be without me. I had no choice. I had to break that promise to make sure that someday, I'll see you living your life freely – without monsters chasing you with every step you take. This battle we've waged, this war we've fought … it had to end, Scully. In some way or another, it had to end."

"No," Scully breathed out, pulling away from Mulder. She suddenly felt so guilty, stupid … how could she ever have doubted him?

"Don't blame yourself, Scully," he quickly retorted back, as if reading her thoughts, "don't. I did this because I had to. I did this because it was the only way I could save you." Mulder drew forward, touching her moist cheek with his own. His mouth settled on her ear. "I did this because I love you."

The words he spoke awakened Scully's heart. She felt it unravel, breaking free from its tin box, and spilling out on her chest to give the life she had missed for the past year. She lifted her head suddenly, almost colliding with his forehead in the process. She gazed deep into his eyes, searching again and again for anything to prove his words wrong, but found nothing. Nothing but passion, love for her. She saw what she had seen for the seven years they had been together. It was all there. She saw Mulder, her Mulder, before her. And he loved her. He still loved her.

She threw her arms around his neck and she pressed against his front, body to body. She convulsed against him and cried against his neck, as his hands climbed her spine up and down to calm her down. He repeated her name over and over again like a prayer in her ear, and she surrendered to him. She surrendered everything, even her soul.

"Oh, Mulder, I'm so sorry," she whispered into his skin. Her fingers combed through his hair. "What you had to do … I'm so sorry."

"We used a decoy to make the rebels think that you were inside your apartment, Scully. The Gunmen had someone set up a lifelike doll of you and it moved just like you did," Mulder chuckled, despite himself, "the new rebels didn't have any time to waste to prove it was you, so they triggered the bomb and the explosion happened."

Scully nodded, then kissed the side of his neck. "And you, Mulder? What have you been doing all this time?"

"I have been working in the X- Files. Maybe searching for the truth with a shovel in the middle of the desert." His lips met her earlobe she couldn't help but shiver. He smiled against her skin and she laughed lightly at his familiar joke. "Actually, we've anticipated the rebel's own destruction. That took longer than expected. It happened last week. And another thing, Scully," he pulled away from their embrace and pulled another file from his briefcase, "here are the pictures of a recent explosion just south of DC." More black and white prints landed on her lap. She surveyed each of them. They were photographs of a massive blast that featured at least fifty charred bodies of who, she assumed, were the new rebels.

"All dead, every single one of them. We obtained the list of their names a few months ago and everyone is accounted for. You're technically safe, but we don't want to be too confident. Here." He handed her a thick wad of papers. She breezed through them and couldn't help but smile.

"It's a new identity," she cleared, then read her new name out loud, "Dana Summers. Thank you for not changing much at all. And I have a new resume – almost similar to my real one, well, I was figuring out how to come up with one the past week so this takes the cake. Thank you, Mulder."

"I know you wanted to get back to working. I, I kind of talked to your mom about holding you back from getting a job. For safety reasons."

"Oh, I knew it," she breathed out. "No wonder mom seemed to always be on your side, huh?"

"I guess so," he sheepishly replied, "I call her to check on you almost every week. I, I even bought her some tickets so that she could come and see you here. Umm, now, all you have to do is get on with your life," Mulder said, grinning at her. She couldn't help herself, she smiled back. Yes, despite her mom keeping Mulder's plan from her, she couldn't really blame her at all. She had been honest to Scully about Mulder's intentions. Then again, there was still something else she had to know …

"There's something else missing here. Tell me what it is that links us all – all of us that were given the vaccine. Mulder, what are you trying to keep from me? I want the truth now. There's no sense in holding back."

He hesitated, then resigned. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair and faced her. Mulder held onto her knee and squeezed it tenderly.

"What the original rebellion didn't know, what was successfully hidden from them by the former Shadow Government, was that the vaccine against the alien holocaust COULD be the only hope of humanity against colonization."

"Mulder."

"Scully, you could be the only human being immune to the incoming colonization, whatever you want to call it! You are the only hope."

She looked at the ceiling as the words began to sink in. She sighed deeply, falling into the familiar rhythm of their banter. "That's impossible, Mulder. I'm sorry, but I couldn't accept that –"

"Then, that's like telling me that whatever happened to us the past year was nothing more than a lie - another lie for us to succumb into the grand scheme of this conspiracy. You see, you may be the Holy Grail, Scully. You are what they are afraid of."

"I don't, that's not what I meant, Mulder …"

"Scully, believe me. I really believe this is true," he pleaded, both hands on both of her knees. Scully tensed during the sudden contact and he immediately pulled back.

She shook her head with finality, dismissing whatever rift separated them and telling him in her own way that she wanted to believe. How could she not? After what he had done for her, there was no place for her anger or doubt. She also didn't want to consider that what happened between them was another excuse for whichever Shadow Government was in operation now to write her off from the X- Files. It was the most plausible explanation, yes, but she was sure that it went deeper – maybe as deep as the truth Mulder was begging her to believe.

She really wanted to believe.

She reached over and caressed his cheeks. Mulder closed his eyes in response. She continued, "It would take time for me to accept what you are saying, but I believe you, Mulder. I do. I always will." He leaned into her hand and kissed her palm. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of their skins against each other, then opened them suddenly when she felt him moving away.

She started to panic. What was going on? she thought to herself when she noticed that there were tears in his eyes again. He also was profusely packing his things and moving further away.

"Mulder?" Scully's voice cracked.

"I have to go, Scully."

"What do you mean?"

"I need to go back to DC. To the X- Files. ASAP."

"Oh," was the only reply Scully was able to give. Her heart dropped and it rolled somewhere away from her and again, she didn't have the strength to find it. He could keep it if he wanted to, he could pack it up in that briefcase of his and it was fine – she'd gladly let him have it.
She thought it was all over now – his crusade, his mission to find the truth, a mission she shared with him a year ago. She guessed the truth was still out there for him, and maybe especially now that he was closer than he had ever been to what he had been searching for. Proof was in his hands for the incoming colonization and there was no stopping him from finding out what the conspiracy's next step would be. There was really nothing holding him back … except for her.
There were tears again in her eyes. This was it. She had to let him go. She had to allow him to walk away. She couldn't follow him anymore. If he wanted to find that missing puzzle piece that will give him the bigger picture he had always wanted, she would let him. She owed him that much. It was his life now; not hers, not theirs.

Mulder didn't want to look at the woman he loved anymore. He forcefully returned the photos back into his briefcase and thought that if he stared at her any longer, he would sink back into her arms. He had to let her go, if he ever wanted to see her happy. Life with him was never worth it – he had gotten her abducted, sick, barren … god, he was such an asshole, really. If he wanted to see Scully safe for the rest of his life, he had to let go. Even if she married someone else, that would be fine. As long as in his heart, he knew he did the right thing to let her go because he wanted to save her. And it would save her. He truly believed that it would.
There was nothing else to say, nothing more to do. His life had been an unending circle since she left him. Their meeting today would always stand out in his mind as the moment when the circle stopped and for a moment, just a split second, she brought him out of that circle and allowed him to be free. She saved him. She always did, always will.
He had to give her up for her own good. She didn't need him anymore. He was just the part that always held her back.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah, Scully?"

"Could you at least leave me the photographs? I want to …"

"Sure."

He grabbed the photographs that he shoved into his briefcase and handed them back to her. She sadly smiled at him and placed them down beside the roses. There was another pregnant pause between them.

"So I guess … this is goodbye," she drew out, breathing hard. She hated the way it sounded and she hated that she was the one who had to say it.

Mulder nodded. "Yeah, I guess it is."

They stood and stared at each other for the what seemed like the longest time and before anything else could happen or be said, Mulder made his move. He turned around and walked away, his mind a frightening blank.

"Mulder?"

He stopped in his tracks.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For … for everything."

He found himself grinning despite it all. "No, thank you. And you're very welcome."

She didn't want to see him walk away from her. She didn't want to be the witness to the way they finally said goodbye. She didn't want to be the one who watched it end.

Through tears, Scully grabbed the photographs and scanned them. As she was doing so, a neat single sheet of paper broke away from the photos and dropped to the tiles. Curious, she picked it up from the floor and gasped when she read what it was.

This is not happening! This couldn't be! Scully's hands shook as she held the paper before her face. Then, before she could think or rationalize her decision, she ran to the door and chased after Mulder.

"Mulder!" Scully cried out, holding the paper close to her chest. He paused in his tracks and whirled around to face her.

END OF CHAPTER FIVE