They were lying down the earth, up the waterfall, their bodies intermingled and joined in a tight embrace; not wanting to rise up and move away, not yet.
When Scully had pulled Mulder one last time with all her strength, they had fallen onto the ground together and their first reflex had been to crawl and put away any inches left separating them. They had whispered a few half-words or sentences —some 'Muul', 'Scull', 'got ye', 'fine'— that had been quickly lost in each other's breath because words weren't what they were craving for.
They kissed frantically at first, satiating a primal thirst and hunger, melting and swallowing their shared saliva, their hands grasping each other's face as if loosening their grip would send them apart, once again. But they were heavily grounded now —gravity sticking them to the muddy soil, love locking their hearts— and no immediate threat was lurking over them. So, when realizing how safe the bubble they were in was, they indulged in their physical proximity with less haste but no less neediness.
They had to touch, to taste, to smell, to lick, to inhale; just to feel the other one whole essence.
Despite the dirt, the tears, the sweat, the clothes shielding their bare skin, they stole flavors and sensations —fingers running through hair and tracing curves over faces, teeth nibbling lips and soft neck skin, nose wandering and tongue following its tracks.
Then, reassured in their most primitive core, they joined their foreheads and dived into their mutual gazes, quiet and still.
Their minds settled here and elsewhere, in the present moment and back in time, but all together. They traveled to Antarctica where they had clutched to each other in the white coldness, alone and miraculously alive. They went back to their ride in an ambulance driving far away from a deathly mushroom and fate, holding hands and grateful for the communion and complementarity of their brains. They shared one more time their shy hand shake on Scully's first day in the basement office, then sped forward to their clasped hands, moans of pleasure in each other's ear, on their first time over Mulder's disheveled sheets.
They navigated through their shared history, remembering their strength as partners, friends and connected souls, reliving a few milestones in their relationship, not because they were on the verge of death but because they were fully alive, all flesh and blood, breathing and vibrating.
Finally, exhaustion falling upon them, they closed their eyes, lying down the earth, up the waterfall, their bodies intermingled and joined in a tight embrace; not wanting to rise up and move away, not yet.