This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO:

Sony LA Recording Studio
February 24, 1986
Monday

Static buzzed in Mulder's eardrums as he strode on the gray-colored hallways of the recording studio, shrugging off his cotton jacket as he walked, mouth upturned and eyebrows meeting in the middle. He draped the jacket on one arm, surveying with restless eyes the arrays of half-mast doors, and finally stopping when he found what he was looking for.
The door had a taped sign that read Danced Yesterday. Mulder jiggled the knob and entered without any hesitation.

"Mr. Mulder?" The musical album's producer, Leyla Harrison, jumped off her seat. She quickly swallowed the morsel of bread that she was chewing on, slapping off her quarter-sleeved blouse the remnants of her eating spree. "What are you doing here? I mean, sir, we didn't expect you in here at this crucial time -"

"Good afternoon too, Leyla," Mulder deadpanned, surveying the scene around him in akimbo and ignoring the fuss of his OST producer.

The small room was already half-full with the musical instruments, mixing table, corkboard that cited what songs were to be recorded for the day, and while Leyla was relaxing in her seat, two crews for the album were working haughtily with the artist currently recording: Sting. The singer caught Mulder's eyes and gave the Director a wave while removing the large earphones from his head. Mulder waved back, forcing a smile on his dry lips. It seemed like they were still in the middle of perfecting the song, since inside the recording room, there were still at least three people debating and poking their fingers on the lyrics Sting was holding.

Returning his attention to Leyla, Mulder scratched on his chin thoughtfully. "Where's Ms. Scully?"

Leyla pinned her shiny blond hair behind her ears nervously, "She's at Room 23, Mr. Mulder. She asked permission to musically coordinate Danced Yesterday."

"Really?" Mulder almost exclaimed. He didn't expect this from Scully. "I thought the Bee Gees had arrived and surveyed the song?"

"They did and they have listened to the melody … but there's more needed for the track. Ms. Scully has offered her services," Leyla said, "I think she's got to be as involved. This is her Mother's song, anyway."

"Then we give her the liberty. Nice call, Leyla." He patted her good-naturedly on the shoulder, making the pint-sized musical producer blush, "Tell Sting I said hi."

Leyla nodded like a dumb-founded sheep.

Mulder offered her one last smile before jamming his hand on the knob to leave the recording room, shutting the door behind him. He quickly strained his neck around the quiet hallways, searching for the mentioned room number. Finally, he found it, just a few doors across Leyla's. He headed to where it was and opened the door, not mindful of what could be happening inside.

His mood was a rash on a particularly sunny day, especially after finding out what he found out a few hours ago; yet, when he saw Scully's form seated a plastic chair, strumming a guitar that was splayed on her black spandex, grinning happily as small notes rose from her instrument … everything suddenly was too good to be true.
Ass-holing holy shit. He really was a love sick fool.

He beamed for what seemed like the first time in months, interrupting the session with his throat. Scully and the song's specific producer, Sandy Deep, snapped their heads up to him. Mulder didn't miss the excited sparkle that spilled from Scully's eyes as she discovered who their impromptu visitor was.

Sandy, an eccentric man of color and music that somewhat reminded him of the Folies Bergere's Jerry Jayson, shoved his orange-tinted shades up to the bridge of his nose in disapproval. "I know that this is your movie, Mr. Mulder," he toned, his Southern twang clear on his tongue, "and that this lady here is your star, but I'd appreciate a knock before you disrupt a musical session in process."

Scully bit back a snicker and tapped on her guitar, "It's well all right, Sandy … Mulder's just here to give us a hello." She raised an eyebrow at him. Mulder swallowed hard, twining his fingers behind him. She was so beautiful and it was pure will that was holding him back from pressing a kiss on her luscious lips.
"So, hello, Mr. Mulder," she kidded, in turn strumming a low note on the, his, guitar. She was wearing an off-shoulder shirt and her actions made the skin on her right shoulder ripple deliciously against her bone.

Mulder swallowed again, harder this time. "You shouldn't be working like this. I'm here to declare the session over," he cleared, making Sandy whisk his head away in disgust. "I'm sorry, you have to understand that it's S- Dana's birthday. I have a surprise for her."

The raised eyebrow was joined with another one. "A surprise?"

He tried to ignore the skepticism in her voice.

"Yes, a surprise. This can be continued tomorrow. C'mon," he urged, holding a hand out. Scully gazed at it warily, painful reminiscent of her usual 'stabbing' gaze, and resigned to him with a shrug. She bid a warm goodbye to the musical producer with a warm kiss on Sandy's cheek while Mulder zipped his guitar in its carrying case.

When all was done, Mulder held his hand out again and this time Scully took it happily, without any more 'stabbing' gazes.

"….Tell me you didn't…"

"I did."

"Oh God … Mulder, no!"

"Yes, Scully," he grinned steadily, releasing the guitar on the ground, wrapping an arm around her waist, and elevating her a few scant centimeters off the ground. He descended his head until his mouth could reach her ear, "And stop arguing with me like we're in bed. She's all yours."

A dark crimson blush spread over Scully's face like wildfire, and she blinked furiously, trying to assess whether what's right in front of her was real - not some stupid mirage.

It really WAS true.

Before them was the latest 1986 edition Skyhawk, colored shimmering black and standing proudly under the Los Angeles heat. A humongous red lace ribbon was wrapped around its body, ending in a large knot atop the car's head, swirling with a bouquet of lilies that glittered with the car keys on top of them.

His Scully's eyes grew moist, and he rubbed her back to calm her down.

"You're the first to have this edition in the whole world. They won't be releasing this until next month." From her back, his hand ran up to her shoulder, tapping on the bare flesh. "What do you think? Do you like the color? You are quite fond of black AND you look good in black - "

"Oh, Mulder," Scully gushed, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself close to his body. Like he did, she pressed her warm mouth on his ear, hiding her face underneath the swirl of frizzy, auburn hair. "It's beautiful."

He'd test how durable that car was if they weren't just out here.

Since they couldn't do option number one, he'd settle for another option number two: "Why don't you step in and drive it around LA, huh? Then we can go home and do something else," he teased, anchoring his grip on her thin waist, marveling at how her hip bones became so well defined with her spandex.

"I'm not a good driver, Mulder," she whispered into his neck. "I crash into trees and I run over people. I bloody did that to my mate back in Wales."

"Then I'd give you free lessons." Mulder gently eased Scully out of his embrace, mindful of the people passing by and who were giving them curious glances. She seemed distraught when she disconnected from his body, her hazy eyes missing that faltering spark of reality once again.

There was something bothering Scully the whole day - from the moment they woke up until now, this afternoon. It was something he couldn't put his finger on, for some strange reason, and the fact that he could read this girl by just looking into her eyes … he couldn't understand why this time, he was having a tough time figuring it all out. He didn't know if he should be scared or what.

Nevertheless, it was her birthday, and he had other surprises for her at the Manor.

"C'mon, let's go home," he offered while reaching down to get the guitar, and Scully nodded mutely, allowing him to hold her hand to lead her to her brand new car, still seemingly lost in her own world.

It could be the scent of lilac littering inside the bathroom that had his throbbing temper calmed down to the minimum, or the soothing dinner of Scully's favorite pasta primavera that he cooked … but definitely, one of the reasons why he felt like a billionaire was the sensation of Spunk's bare back against his also bare front, her smooth ass on his half-erect groin, the sound of water silently sloshing inside the tub, his arms coming up and down her silky skin, the sighs she was making.

Was it really her birthday? 'Coz it also kind of felt like his.

Mulder pressed his lips on the tip of Scully's spine, also darting his tongue out to taste her wet skin. "I love you," he murmured, not knowing why he had to say it, just sensing that he wanted to, even if she already knew so.

She sighed yet again, her small fingers finding his wandering ones on her shoulder. She gripped them, pushing a floating red rose on his wrist. "Love you, too." Her body dipped back towards his tenderly, her head coming to rest on his shoulder and forehead sticking under his chin. The once invisible-to-his-sight-mounds-of-flesh were now very visible to his eyes, nipples stiff and moving in tune with her breathing as she arched her back to get a more comfortable position on the tub.

This was pure heaven. He could stay in here forever, thank you.

With the floppy green scrubbing cloth, he began to clean her body almost rhythmically, soothing the planes of her neck, arms, chest, until finally her vibrant breasts. These body parts he paid a great deal of attention to. He scrubbed them thoroughly, loving the way the hard peaks coursed against his palm, until Scully was moaning.

He should be proud that she's this pleasured … but there was something different about the way her sounds of ecstasy were – the all seemed a bit too contrived, a bit too condescending. Before they push this further, he had to check.

"Do you want me to stop?" his husky voice queried, feeling the stirrings of arousal rising in between his legs.

Scully, who had closed her eyes during his ministrations, glided her teeth against her lip for a moment, kissed the side of his face, and nodded. In shock, Mulder dropped his hands to the side of the tub like a lifeless puppet, pushing petals of roses out and down on the floor.

"Is there something wrong?" he squeaked out desperately, feeling the lifelessness of his arms creep up into his other body parts. "Don't you like this? Is there anything else I can do?" Mulder didn't feign of the desperate creaks of his octave or the insistent pounding of his heart that he was sure Scully could feel against her shoulder blade.

She cleared her throat steadily, "No, Mulder, this is perfect…"

"Then what's wrong? There's something bothering you and I'm sure of it -"

Scully stopped him by squeezing his knee sharply, eliciting a surprised yelp from his throat.

"Let me finish, Mulder," she scolded him, though her hand started circling the pinched part of his skin. "This probably is the best birthday I've ever had, but I know that you have a problem behind this. You've told me about Alex Kryceck and MGM this morning. You didn't tell me about the investigator."

Mulder gritted his teeth, anchoring both of his hands on the edges of the tub. He didn't want to talk about this - not now, especially when he's planning on enjoying a wonderful night with Scully. He planned this to be perfect beyond means and words. He's not going to let talking shop screw it up.

"No, I didn't and I'm not telling you now. I'll tell you later," he pressed on firmly. Scully ignored this. She surprised him by lifting her body off his, coming to rest opposite his position so that they were effectively face-to-face: the soles of her feet landing underneath his inner thighs and on the porcelain wall behind him. Now that they were in this position, he could perfectly see the angry concern etched on her freckled face, her stiff, rosy pink nipples puckering even more in the cold air that met them when she straightened her body.

They may be involved now, but she's still Spunk. And Spunk got whatever she wanted. From him.

"I want to know NOW, Mulder. I'm not going to let you parade around, acting as if nothing's bothering you - I know your mood when you arrived at Sony this afternoon. I know why you were quiet on the way home. And I know that I'm not going to let you make love to me tonight without telling me what's going on."

Mulder relented, pushing his forehead down on his palm. "Scully, please, I don't want to talk about this. This is YOUR time -"

"I also know that it is my birthday, but … I'm not going to let you pretend. We're in this together, Mulder, and I want you to understand that even if … even if we're already in a relationship, I'm still your best friend," she gently probed his hand away from his face, cradling it close to her chest. "As your best friend, I want to help you. You're obviously upset by this."

She must be getting a few pointers from his 'no-quitting' lessons.

"Fine," he gave in, pulling his hand back from her. Mulder gazed down, watching the water stir in tune with his breathing, watching Scully's legs tense as she waited for his answer, and watching himself cross his arms, suddenly cold.

"Alvin Kersh," Mulder mumbled under his breath. The bathroom was so quiet that Scully immediately picked it up, reacting with a hand to her mouth.

"No …"

"Yes, it's Kersh. He was paid to divulge important information of Danced Yesterday. Since Kryceck saw in Vegas that you were working for me, he … searched for a loophole, a weak link. He found Kersh - giving him a cool one million - and the bastard admitted to his fucking …" Suddenly, all the frustration and anger that had been welling inside of him since that morning rose to his head. He smacked his hand on the water, splashing it everywhere and surprising Scully, and then jumped out of the bathtub dripping wet, half-erect, fuming with rage.

"Why did you have to insist?" he demanded, clenching his fists, keeping his eyes on the porcelain sink. "All I wanted was this evening to be perfect because it's YOUR birthday! I didn't want any bullshit reminders of what happened this morning! It's taken care of and that's all you NEED to know!"

"Since when did becoming your girlfriend reduced me to THAT? I'm still your main actress, Mulder, and I deserve information on this movie!"

"THIS wasn't supposed to ruin tonight! I planned this, Scully! I didn't let that fucking thing ruin it! And you just had to bring it up!"

"I BROUGHT it up because deep inside of you, you needed to have it brought up… you cannot hide the pain from me - I know you're trying to make this perfect …" Her voice faltered, and he realized that they had been arguing with his back to her.

Mulder immediately swirled around, finding Scully's eyes downcast on the water. The fury was replaced with fear and empathy; he inwardly cursed himself in his head for arguing with her. It was like a physical pull when they bickered. It came out so naturally that he didn't have the right reflexes to stop it.

"I'm sorry, Scully. I must've really ruined this now." He kneeled down beside the tub, anchoring his elbows on the rim. He picked her hand up and held it inside his grip, while his other hand came to tilt her head, forcing her to look at him.

Scully swallowed hard, and he sensed that she was trying her best not to cry. "No, you didn't - it still is perfect, and it IS - but there are some things that cannot be settled for later. This matter had to be settled right now. Don't run away from me, Mulder." She kissed his hand that covered hers gingerly, tracing her nose on his rough knuckles. "This affects me too, so I had no choice but to bring it up as soon as possible. You were obviously bothered. I know how much this means to you."

"Not as much as you mean to me," he bent forward to kiss her earlobe, praising Shakespeare Mulder's appearance, lingering his lips to chew on the softness of her skin. "You don't need to worry, it's fine, it's under control. I didn't think you'd need to know."

"Mulder, you don't have to protect me."

"I DO," he firmly stated, removing his lips from her ear and looking at her straight in the eye. "You are my actress, you are my girlfriend, and it is my job to make sure you get the best publicity. This shouldn't be your concern," he paused. Hearing the word 'best publicity' tugged something inside of him. What they were exactly doing wasn't going to give Scully 'best publicity.'

"It's okay, I don't care how they would see me, that's their problem. I may be only twenty, well, twenty-one, Mulder, but don't … hide anything from me. I don't want you to feel that you have to protect me."

"You're so fragile, Scully."

He melted into a puddle of liquid as those words were vented out, resting his head on the tub's rim, the sudden shift of his emotions indescribable. "You're so beautiful, so small, so thin, so sickly, you still get occasional nosebleeds … I'm almost afraid of making love to you tonight. It's just so overwhelming. You, Kryceck, the pressure to finish the movie - I want to wrap it all in one ball so that I could juggle it accordingly. I don't want to screw up." He ran a hand through his partly-wet hair. "God, what am I talking about? I must be delusional tonight, I'm sorry."

"No, you're not delusional. You're just right. You're fine." Scully nuzzled his hair, breathing in his scent until he felt as if there was none of him left. Christ, it felt good to be devoured by her. "You're not going to screw it up. I'll make sure that you don't."

"And what if I do?"

"Then, we'll rebuild it all over again. We fucked and I'm not going to take that back. It's too bloody good to take back."

He lifted his head towards her face and laughed.

The scent of chamomile wafted in the room, caressing his nostrils and bleeding away his surroundings until all he could see, hear, touch, and feel was this small woman underneath him. Scully was lying on her front, her face bent to one side, hands flat on the cushion, naked from head to toe. Meanwhile, he was straddling her with his ass resting on the back of his heels to crush his enormous weight, palms glistening with oil and roaming all over his lady's back.

The evening was progressing as he wanted it to. After they settled their argument in the bathroom, Scully allowed him to lead her towards the bedroom, where he set up dozens of candles, readied the chamomile oil on the bedside table, and surrounded the bed with lilies. Other women would prefer roses, but not Scully: lilies were her go-to flowers.

He padded his thumbs on the indention of her shoulder, rubbing the chamomile slowly on her glowing skin. "You know what chamomile does?"

Scully opened one eye, lifting her head slightly from the bed. "What?" she asked curiously.

Mulder glided his palms from her shoulder, and straight to her neck, circulating his fingers on the tip of her spine. He was no professional masseuse, but he grabbed whatever felt best for his woman through the sounds she emitted. "Its properties are almost hypnotic … relaxing your bones and is known to be very appealing to the sense of smell. But the reason why I chose it for tonight is because it's anti-anemic." He grinned when he saw that she also did. "I spent a whole hour of reading labels in the aromatherapy store."

"It feels good," she confessed, moaning when his thumbs worked down her spine once again.

"I'm glad you're not getting nosebleeds frequently anymore."

"You … your d … damn liver steaks are helping …"

"Good to hear," he whispered, leaning close to her ear, prodding his stiff rod on the soft cheeks of her ass, making her whimper. "Let's make like Romans, Scully, and do this four times a day. They used to bathe themselves with essential oils …"

"And milk baths?"

"Milk baths are good … sticky, sweet, good." He skimmed his hands over her ass, resisting the incredible urge to touch himself. Jesus, she was so lovely, lying there on her back, not making a single effort to seduce him and there he was: wanting her all the same. He had never felt such an incredible need for anyone - feeding off from his unconsciousness and striking his lust from where he had kept it hidden all those years. His sexual desires had been suppressed for so long that when they were released from their cages, they were unstoppable. And he swore, only Scully will ever have the key to them.

"You like this?" He pinched her ass cheeks, making her give out a half-moan/half-yelp. When she didn't answer, his index finger dipped lower, down into her softness, teasing the outer walls until she was clutching the bed sheets desperately.

"Do you?"

"Yes," she hushed out, and that was all the consent he needed for him to plunge a finger inside of her.

Scully hitched a breath upon feeling his digit within her, slicking her depths, moving inside and out slowly. Her eyes shut, forehead contorting in extreme pleasure. He let another one of his fingers join inside, his other hand firm on her ass to keep her from bucking into him and dislodging himself from his position.

"Mulder, please … please … in me, NOW," Scully desperately pleaded when his thumb swirled dangerously slow against her clitoris.

Even if she couldn't see him, he shook his head, flicking of strands of sweat to who-knew-where. "No, Scully, I pleasure you first, and then you get me."

She heaved out a sigh of frustration, making him snicker, increasing the frantic pumping of his fingers into her cervix.

Then, to his utter shock, Scully hooked one leg on his ankle, pulling it to her right and suddenly toppling him to his side, fingers immediately leaving her insides. Another pull made him land on his back, with his two feet still stuck in the kneeling position, high up in the air. Scully giggled, pushing his knees down and straightening his legs. The sharp numbness reminded Mulder of the minutes he had spent on his knees, and he would've protested if Scully didn't straddle him at once, grasping his cock on its base.

"Damn you!" he cried out, acting as if he was annoyed by her interference. But she knew better - by the look on his face, anyway, she should know better.

"So, you're cursing me now, huh? A shift in our relationship changes respect?"

"I've been cursing you for a long time," he said with a glimmer in his eyes, reaching out to touch her hipbones, framing her small waist. "You know what kind of cursing I do."

"Fuck me?" she tried, and he raised an eyebrow, replicating the way she usually did with hers. Scully shook her head as if disappointed in him.

"Ah, but Mr. Mulder," she placed a hand on his lip, his tongue darting out to taste her. "It's the other way around tonight … I'm going to fuck you."

Mulder's tongue on her finger stilled when she said those words, his eyes widening. Damn fuck shit. Damn. Fuck. Shit!

During the limited lovemaking that they had the chance to experience, it was him who always was on top. He wasn't sure if Scully was comfortable with the idea of him watching her, or being in the spotlight - he just thought that it would be better if he didn't ask. But now, it seemed like Scully had the last laugh.

Making her hand flutter through his rod one last time, and in his fuzzy mind, he registered her reaching over on the table, grabbing a sealed condom from the box he bought last Saturday. Scully ripped it open with her teeth, tossing the remnants of the packaging on the floor, and then eased the rubber over his dick. She anchored her legs on the blank spots beside his hip, biting her lip as she stretched her legs apart. In one swift stroke, she impaled herself, surrounding his hardness with her slick caverns, making them both groan.

The hands he had on her hips shadowed upwards to her breasts, stroking softly at the flesh before pressing and tugging incessantly, bending Scully towards him for a kiss. Sloppy, passionate, heady, intoxicating.

Upon the release, Scully shifted her hips upwards, causing a spasm somewhere inside of his brain. "Y- you called … m- me .. aa … something … during our … first … n-night together," she was able to say, anchoring her arms on his chest, while his own fingers were busy pinching her bosoms.

Mulder drew forward and licked a trail of sweat from her brow, "What did I call you?" He was actually surprised that his voice sounded calm, almost serene even if her cunt was sliding up and down his cock in a steady rhythm that slowly was driving him wild.

Scully ran her tongue all over her lips, cleaning up and down, thinking hard, before finally saying: "Chéri, you called me … in French." The strokes that she began were now incessant, heavenly against his throbbing dick, and he couldn't help himself when he let out a thrust, making sure he had a firm grasp on her upper torso so that she wouldn't fall down. She pressed her lips on his hair, for the first time slightly taller than him. "What … what does that mean?"

Mulder smiled lovingly at her, caressing the soft flush of her pale cheeks, brushing away wayward strands of auburn hair from her sweaty forehead. "Chéri means darling," he choked out, feeling his heart swell in gargantuan proportions.

Her rhythm halted for a moment, her dilated blue eyes probing into his amber, lust-filled ones. "I … I like that very much, Mulder." She breathed in, "It sounds so … classic. Darling. Chéri." Her always evident British accent created a wonderful twang to the word.

That was when the world closed in on them, urging them to give themselves to each other, to give themselves to what was natural. Their strokes met urgently, leaving behind the fine art of seduction and finesse, suddenly too overwhelmed with the wanton need that they were like two animals searching for truth in the vast world - finding it within each other. Too crazy in love to remember that they were still two separate beings, that there was still man and woman. No, Mulder and Scully were now one being, one entity; merged, unified.
And it must be what John was talking about, about that devotion, about that love: the someone who would replace his wine addiction because he'd rather taste her than the fine red liquid. He suddenly knew what was his defining title for him and Scully: man-woman, nothing less and everything that's more. They were beyond girlfriends and boyfriends, well past that stage. They were lovers, in the truest sense of the word.

Who could've thought that a simple start could end up to this? He swore against swearing that he hated this woman and that she'd never dominate him. He assumed that she thought the same about him. Look at where they were now.

He must've really done something good in the past few years that pleased the Big Guy up there.

When their orgasms came, rocking each other to oblivion before she dropped heavily on his chest, panting, her inner muscles still trembling on his softening dick, he noticed fresh tears at the edge of his Scully's eyelids. He brushed them away with his thumb.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" he probed. Scully held the hand that flickered her tears away and pursued her lips on it.

"Thank you for tonight, Mulder," she replied, raising her head to gaze at him. "This is more than perfect."

He agreed outright, before removing her body gently atop his, wincing at the lost of contact. The decision for him to use condom - even if he could always withdraw - was immediately his, even if Scully offered to take birth control pills. He didn't want any more pills inside of Scully, judging from the usual placid paleness that she had been sporting, and the pounds that she had been losing because of her continuous dancing.

Mulder plucked the used condom from his penis, inching Scully down on the bed. He stood up, telling Scully to relax and that he'd clean up the mess so that she wouldn't bother in the morning. She nodded, overcome with fatigue.

In no time, Mulder was back in the bed with her, easing his head on her chest, pillowing on her soft breasts. When they first tried this position, he vaguely wondered if he was ever hurting her this way, but Scully seemed to enjoy his soft weight on her chest, so he didn't question anymore.

He hugged her tightly against him, stroking her backside, feeling Scully slip slowly into dreamland. "Je vous aime, Chéri," Mulder said, leaving a kiss atop her porcelain skin.

Scully threaded her fingers through his hair, and then finally rested her chin on the crown of his head. No translation needed, this time: "I love you too, Mulder." Maybe, no translation would ever be needed between the two of them for as long as they were together.

Mulder hugged her tighter around her waist. It wasn't his birthday, but he couldn't help but also make a wish: Forever, he thought, just give me forever with this girl and I wouldn't ask for anything more. Then, he fell asleep and dreamt of lilies, Scully laughing with him on that familiar grassy plain, where the pond nearby shimmered like the sparkles in her blue eyes.

END OF CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

This is the last chapter that has ever been published online. The next ones up until the end are all unpublished. As for my writing, I'm only three chapters until the end of Spunk. A bit of an anecdote: my writing mentor, upon finding out that I have had three novel-length fanfics online that I never finished (or abandoned during the most interesting parts), remarked that I have a problem with "letting go." I've thought about what he said and realized that it's true: I see my stories as real people and I often panic when they're about to end because it feels like they're leaving me, so I leave them first. Spunk took me fifteen years before I could finally decide that I'm ready to let it go. The last few chapters are giving me enough time and space for the let go. I'm ready. I hope you readers are, too.

As for making Mulder and Scully happy … hmm, I can't promise that just yet. Scully's past has a lot to do with this so we have to wait and see if and when we'll find out what she's hiding from him!