EPILOGUE

Saturday, 9/30

Sag Harbor Marina

11:00 a.m.

The azure sky is cloudless and sunlight skitters on the surface of the bay, fracturing into brilliant shards wherever it alights. Sailboats point their canvas wings into the wind like so much origami on the harbor, enjoying the brisk winds that trail in Giselle's wake. The occasional motorboat putters out from the marina.

Scully stands at the edge of the dock, taking in the tranquil scene that belies the prior evening's chaos. She remembers confronting Julian, then losing consciousness until she heard Mulder's voice calling her name. Then she was in the sea, being held against her will and battling for her life, and his. Their rescue is a blur. She was diagnosed with minor hypothermia and held for observation overnight. Her blood chemistry was unaffected and her heart betrayed no irregularities. Even so, it will be some time before she feels truly warm again.

She wraps her arms around herself, fingers plying the softness of the alpaca ruana that drapes around her in fawn-colored folds. Mulder's extravagant and unexpected gift gives her pause. He can irritate her to insensibility with his arrogance, his propensity to embrace myth over fact and his subtle manipulations. He can also dazzle her with random acts of kindness, leaps of intuition, and the more overt expressions of his feelings for her. He'd needed sutures for a nasty gash on his thigh, but she'd yet to hear him complain about it. She senses his presence behind her without seeing him.

"Coast Guard still hasn't found any trace of them," he says in a straightforward manner.

"They're gone, Mulder. And we're done here."

"I gave Guarino my report, our report." She nods as she follows the swoop and cry of terns and gulls that beset an incoming trawler. "At least they're together."

"In death?" she says, considering how easily they might have ended up like Olivia, like Julian, like the cargo heading into harbor. Her tone must betray her cynicism.

"In life, Scully," he refutes. "I know what I saw and yeah, I think they realized their destiny together. I know you don't believe in the idea of a soul mate, but there *are* animals that mate for life, you know. The wolf, the gorilla, even swans and geese."

"That's instinct, not choice." Deepening intimacy with Mulder is proving as difficult a task as she always imagined it would be, wounded psyches held captive behind protective walls. The glimpses into what might be, however, keep her on course towards a future she cannot imagine without him. "Still," she adds, her voice softening, "I do think we're where we're supposed to be, to learn what we're supposed to learn."

"That's pretty Zen for a scientist." She can see his amused smile in her mind's eye.

"Did you know the word science comes from the Latin word 'scire,' to know? That's all science is. A way to know something-a method."

"And what does science say about the possibility of soulmates?"

"It says nothing, Mulder, because there's no way to prove it.

But..." she adds as an afterthought, then pauses.

"But?" His tone is laced with curiosity.

"I suppose that assuming everything can even be explained by science is a presupposition that begs further inquiry."

"Are you saying the idea of soulmates is a possibility?"

She hesitates a moment, then says, "As a choice, Mulder. Not instinct."

She feels him step closer behind her, the weight of his hands on either side of her shoulders. They stand just so for several seconds and then she turns to face him. He drops his hands and she looks up. His eyes are serious, greener than usual with the refracted blue of the water and sky around them.

"You promised me a walk on the beach," she reminds him in a soft voice.

"So I did. Still interested?"

She grabs his hand. "Always. I just need another minute."

"I'll be waiting," he says, then turns towards the car.

She allows the loss of his presence to impact and watches him retreat. She considers their words. The idea of a soul mate is romantic, but highly unlikely, in her mind. Whatever it is that draws two people together has more to do with common interests, shared goals and plain old chemistry than some mindless karma. She thinks of Mulder. Soulmate? She shakes her head and chuffs at the thought. Then she turns and looks seaward once more.

She's in love with him. He knows this. Has known for some time. Still, he doesn't press her for more than she is ready to give and she's grateful for his abiding patience. Whether destiny has fated them to be together, she cannot say. What she does know is that this case is over and there's a seven-hour drive back to D.C. ahead of them. Maybe she'll offer to make him dinner when they get home and maybe he'll say yes. After that, is anyone's guess.

She looks back over the water and wonders if Atlanteans are happy.

END ~ EPILOGUE ~ Ancient Mariner

published August 2000

A/N: Ahh, Season 7. Someone asked about the Virtual Seasons and here's the skinny: Google "I Made This Productions VS8" and you should get the link by the same name. This story was 8x10. Thank you to those of you who commented or favorited or followed. It's my pleasure to serve the muse for your entertainment. Peace out.