PART ONE
"There has to be an end, Scully."
Mulder tightened the hold of his arm around her as he turned his face to softly kiss her temple. Scully nestled deeper into the pillow, resting her cheek on her clasped hands and fighting the tears stinging their way to the surface. She closed her eyes and swallowed.
The quiet hum of the radiator was the only sound in the dimly lit cabin. Soft light from the bedside lamp fell on the scattered photos Mulder had just pushed from the bed to the floor. When Scully opened her eyes again, they landed on painful images of abduction scars far too like her own; she looked away and willed herself to stop trembling.
She was cold, so cold—despite the weathered woolen blanket, his body pressed against hers, and his warm breath on her cheek. Mulder noticed and moved to pull another blanket from the bed over the both of them before settling his arm tightly around her again.
Scully let herself relax into him, allowing her calves, forearms and shoulders to release the tension she had been holding. She breathed deeply, focusing on the gentle rise and fall of his chest against her back as the chill finally began to ease.
They lay this way for some time longer, as Scully slowly digested the last things he had said.
There's so much more you need to do with your life. There's so much more than this.
She swallowed and willed her voice not to falter, as she prepared herself for a conversation she had known would one day have to come.
"Mulder, what are we doing?"
It came out as a whisper, though she hadn't wanted it to. She could feel her heartbeat quicken and knew he, too, could feel it through his chest.
He cleared his throat and drew his face back slightly from its place against her cheek.
"You mean what are we doing here in Oregon?"
She shook her head, concentrating on her words.
"No, I mean, what are we doing. You and me. What comes next – for us?"
He pulled back a little farther and she could feel him nod slowly. "Oh," he said, inhaling long and deep. He waited several minutes before responding.
Though she could feel her own face getting hot and her hands getting clammy, all she could sense from him was complete calm: his breathing and heart rate remained slow and even, his grip around her relaxed and sure.
Finally, he spoke.
"Well, Scully, I think what comes next for us depends on what you want," he said, his voice unhurried and gentle.
She chuckled nervously. "Sometimes I don't know what I want."
She could feel him nod against her. He waited.
She swallowed again.
"What do you want, Mulder?"
He laughed, surprised. "What do I want?" He paused. "I thought what I want has been pretty clear from the start," he said lightly, and she could hear his smile.
"And what is that?" she breathed, willing her voice not to waver.
He sighed, pulling his cheek to rest on hers again and tightening his grip around her. He waited several breaths, and then, with a tone that was steady, sure and unafraid, he began:
"Scully, I've followed your lead on this from the beginning, because I didn't want you to feel pressured into anything you didn't want, too. But if you're really asking what I want, I will tell you."
He took a breath, and his voice remained effortlessly composed as he continued.
"Here's what I want, Scully: I want more. I want more than waiting for the odd night when you knock nervously on my hotel room door. I want more than hoping you'll let yourself have that second glass of wine when we're at your place finishing a case report. I want more than pretending I'm asleep when you sneak out of my apartment at 2 A.M."
Scully bit her lower lip and felt the heat rising from her neck to her face.
He went on.
"I want Saturday mornings on the couch in our pajamas. I want to kiss you whenever I want to – which, frankly, is most of the time. I want to fight over what's for dinner every night. I want your stupid oat milk creamer in my fridge and your fancy face wash in my shower. I want to get nagged for leaving towels on the floor and drinking juice from the carton and loading the dishwasher wrong. Hell, while I'm at it, I want matching pillboxes and denture cases and those four-pronged canes with the golf balls on the end."
He sighed, paused, and dropped his voice to a whisper as she fought back the tears threatening to fall.
"Scully, I want to fall asleep with you next to me every night, and wake up every morning to the sound of your tiny, adorable, perfect little snores."
He turned his head, kissed her temple again, and whispered: "Forever."
Then he waited.
Scully allowed the tears to flow freely now and didn't bother to wipe them away. Mulder moved his hand to pull a wisp of hair from her cheek and tuck it behind her ear, letting her cry silently.
He turned his mouth to her ear and laughed into her hair, "Surely this doesn't surprise you."
She met his laugh through her tears and shook her head against the roughness of his evening stubble.
"But Mulder, you know none of that is possible the way things are. You know the FBI's policy."
She could feel him nod slowly.
"You're right. It's not possible the way things are."
She swallowed.
"What are you saying, Mulder?"
He inhaled deeply, and now she could finally feel his heartbeat quicken against her back. His voice quivered slightly as he spoke.
"I'm saying that something has to change, Scully. I don't think things can stay the way they are. But not just for that reason."
He paused.
"Scully, more than anything I want for myself, I want for you to be happy. And if I'm right, which I think I am, I don't think you will be truly happy until you have a chance to be a mother."
He waited, and her tears began to pick up again. Anticipating this, he reached and brushed one away with his thumb, giving her a moment before continuing.
"And Scully, I don't think that is possible while you are working on the X-Files."
He paused and let his words sink in, then continued quickly.
"I could never let you endanger yourself constantly like we have to, knowing there is a child at home depending on you. I couldn't drag you all over the country for days at a time, not knowing when we'll finish a case, when there's a child at home waiting. It just wouldn't work, and you know it."
She felt herself becoming defensive, anger building in her chest and tensing her fingers. She bit her lip again, willing her breath to steady.
"Scully, I want you to try again. With your own ova if we can, or with an egg donor if we can't. Or try adoption, or surrogacy. I want you to have the child I know you desperately want."
He swallowed, then continued quickly, obviously sensing the tension.
"And I want you to leave the X-Files so that you can."
She choked, tensing against him. She felt the blood course through her temples as he nervously adjusted his grip around her.
"Scully, I've been selfish long enough, asking you to stay with me on this work and keeping you from living the normal life you wanted. I need to let go. I need you to let go."
She was silent, letting the words ring through her ears and wishing they weren't true.
"And I wonder if fate is trying to tell us something, bringing us back here to Oregon, back to our first case. I just can't help wondering if this is supposed to be the end for our time on the X-Files."
Finally finished, he exhaled slowly, his pounding heart gradually slowing against her back as the tension she had sensed building in him steadily released.
The radiator continued to hum and the two of them lay silently, the weight of his words palpable between them. A car drove past the cabin, its lights flashing through the blinds as it turned, tires crunching over the gravel parking lot.
Scully wasn't sure how long she stayed in his arms, silently letting the heat of her emotions give way to another chill. She pulled the blanket closer and waited for it to pass.
Finally, she moved back the covers and rose from the bed. Avoiding his eyes, she bent down to slip on her shoes and tucked her hair behind her ears. She wiped her cheeks with both hands and walked quickly and resolutely for the door. Without a glance back, she stepped out into the crisp night air.