Scully dozed off on the bed, waiting for Mulder to finish with his shower. He already took a shower before the date, she didn't think he needed another one, but she didn't ask.

The sound of the water lulled her into a light sleep, but the silence that followed alerted her senses, bringing her back to consciousness.

She sensed someone watching her and opened her eyes. It took her a moment to recognize a shadow standing at the foot of her bed, in dark silence.

Mulder.

She stretched lazily as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, noticing he was naked.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" she half smiled, half yawned.

He didn't answer. He was looking at the floor, still as a statue.

"Mulder?"

Still no answer.

She stood up and walked over to him, placing a hand on his cheek. It was soaked with tears.

"What's wrong?" she whispered.

"I can't do this, Scully," he said. "I'm so tired of trying."

Scully didn't know what to say, so she just wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. Mulder placed one hand between her shoulder blades, clutching the foot of the bed with the other.

"I just want to be normal," he sighed into her hair.

"I don't do normal," she whispered back.

"No, I guess you don't," Mulder chuckled. Killers, vampires, aliens, shapeshifters… Ever since he's known her, her taste in men has been more than a little questionable.

Shapeshifter… That one still hurt him, even after all those years.

He pulled away from the embrace to look her in the eyes.

"Do you remember…" he asked hesitantly, "Eddie Van Blundht?"

"Who?" Scully had no clue.

"Martinsburg, West Virginia. 1997."

She cocked her head, looking at him cluelessly.

"A shapeshifter, Scully! The one who fathered babies with tails."

"Oh," she took a step back, her eyes dropping to the floor. "I see."

"What did you see in him?" he needed to know.

"What do you mean?" she looked back up at him, royally confused. What a strange, random subject for a romantic evening. Mulder was literally standing naked in her dark room, babbling about a case older than Betty.

"I saw you with him," Mulder insisted. "I barged through your door and interrupted your… foreplay on the couch."

"Oh," she remembered. One of the most embarrassing, vulnerable situations Mulder has ever found her in. Thankfully, he never mentioned it.

Except, now he did. Now, after what felt like a life-time ago.

"What did you see in him?" he asked again, impatiently.

"Dammit, Mulder!" her eyes filled with tears. "You know what I saw. You saw it too. I saw YOU."

"He just looked like me."

"No, he didn't just look like you. He looked exactly like you, in every way. He dressed like you. He smelled like you. He knew where I live. I had no reason to suspect it wasn't you."

"Yet he wasn't me," Mulder insisted. "He wasn't me at all!"

"He tricked me into letting him in my home. He got me drunk. He was about to…" the words got stuck into her throat. The incident shook her to her core, but she never allowed herself to process it. She had nightmares in which Mulder was both inside her and on her door, and the one on top of her casually transformed into a… rapist. She would wake up in sweat, sometimes tears.

The nightmares lasted for a couple of months, until she successfully swiped the whole experience under the rug, with countless others, so that she could be fine and functional, as always. Fine.

Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine.

Why did Mulder have to poke under that rug? Why now?

"How can you blame me for that?" her voice broke into a sob.

"I'm sorry, Scully," he put a palm on her cheek and pressed his forehead onto hers. "I'm not blaming you. I was just asking what he… What he did right… That I didn't… If I had tried anything like that, you would've shoot me!"

"The only reason I didn't push him away was because I thought it was you. I was never appalled with the idea of being with you, I just thought you weren't interested in me. Or relationships… in general. I was always ok with that, but if you ever tried… Mulder, I don't know if you noticed, but Betty doesn't have a tail."

"No," he laughed, but his heart filled with pride. "No, she doesn't."

"You see?" Scully said gently, tracing his lips with her thumb. "You always had a chance with me. We had lots of moments where it almost happened… If you ever tried… Well… Do you want to try now?"

With a slight nod, his lips lowered to hers. She placed her palms on his bare chest, feeling his strong heartbeat with both of them, as his tongue explored her mouth.

As Mulder kissed her, Scully's hands started traveling over his body. She was searching for his scars, trying to remember the location of each and every one of them. It wasn't hard. She personally tended to some of them and never asked about the others. She just needed to know where they were, to check they remained healed, to remind herself that he survived yet again, that he was real, that she didn't lose him.

Mulder figured out what she was doing, and in response his fingers traveled to a particular point on her neck. Her smallest, but most significant, most mysterious scar.

Her chip.

It brought her back to that hospital, to that day, when she got a second chance at life after already having one foot in the grave.

There was Mulder, there was Skinner, there was her family, her doctors, her priest… So many people, so much noise, and one word she had a hard time processing.

Remission.

A miracle she didn't even dare to pray for anymore. And she prayed a lot in that hospital. She prayed for the quick, painless death, for her family to move on with their lives, for her mother to survive it, for Mulder to be ok without her. She prayed for many things, but she didn't dare pray for what she needed the most. A cure.

Then all the people were gone and she was alone in the room with her chip and the thoughts she didn't have enough strength to handle.

So she stepped outside of the room, looking for him, hoping he was still around.

"Scully!" he jumped from his chair as soon as he saw her. "You should be in bed!"

"I can't," she said.

"Why? What's wrong?" he extended an arm towards her, ready to catch her if she falls. "Do you need me to call a doctor?"

"No, I'm fine," she assured him. "I just… I don't want to fall asleep."

"But you should sleep," he objected. "You need your rest."

"Mulder," she whispered. "I'm… afraid…"

"Of what?"

"I'm afraid when I wake up, my remission will be just a dream."

"I'll stay awake," he promised. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen."

"No, Mulder, you are exhausted."

His eyes were red, she could see he was crying. Realizing that, he averted his gaze to the floor.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all of that alone," Scully touched his cheek with her fingertips. She needed to make sure he was real. That she was real. "I'm sorry I couldn't be with you."

Mulder shook his head, and covered her hand with his, pressing it hard to his cheek. "You are always with me."

Then he lowered her hand and pressed it to his chest, against his heart.

Scully just nodded, so overcome with emotions that she wasn't able to speak.

Still holding her hand, Mulder planted his lips to her forehead. It was something he started doing after he found out about her diagnoses, as if he was trying to defeat her cancer with a kiss.

Well, maybe he did… Maybe it worked. It wasn't all that less plausible than the chip being the cure.

And now, so many years later, she was still in remission, and Mulder was still kissing her, but now he was naked, she was aroused and the whole night was in front of them, looking promising.

But promises can be hard to keep.

All was well until Scully's hand traveled a little too low for Mulder's comfort. She only barely touched his pubic hair, when his body suddenly stiffed.

"Stop," he pleaded, trying hard not to pull away from her.

"I'm sorry." She raised her hands to his shoulders, a safe distance. She felt him relax a bit, but not much.

"Are you afraid of me?" she wondered.

"No," he said, but she wasn't convinced.

"Do you trust me?"

"You, yes… I don't trust myself."

"But I do."

She whispered into his ear, and he pulled her into a hug, stronger and more desperate than he ever did before. If it was any stronger, she might've been unable to breathe, but she wasn't going to stop him.

When he finally released her, she got an idea.

"Take my hand," she offered. "Show me how you like it. You be in control."

Mulder hesitated, so Scully placed her hand in his to encourage him.

"Show me…"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but he didn't move. He didn't let go of her hand either. His palm started to sweat.

So did hers.

"Mulder…" she whispered in a way that he didn't recognize. It wasn't a statement, or a question. It sounded like she was just learning how to talk.

"It's ok…" she tried to assure him. "It's just me…"

"It's… It's wrong, Scully," he stated, fighting with the urge to pull her to himself and never let her go. "It's… disgusting."

"No… It's… natural. It's how we made Betty. Isn't she perfect?"

"Yeah… She is."

"How can this be wrong, then? You and I, how can it be dirty?"

"You and I…" he repeated.

"Against the world," she whispered.

"Against the demons."

"Against evil."

"Against…" he sighed. "Against ourselves."

"No…" she disagreed. "It led us here. Today. Everything we ever did, it all lead us here."

"What now, Scully? Where do we go from here?"

"Now… You show me how you made the donation."

"Donation?"

"For making a baby. For Betty. Do you remember?"

"Yes…"

"Show me…"

Before his trauma had a chance to talk him out of it, Mulder bravely guided Scully's hand to his crotch.

Scully closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. Her cheeks started to burn from a sweet shyness and modesty. The rush of excitement and naughtiness made her dizzy, so she grabbed Mulder's shoulder with her free hand to ground herself, admiring his strength and stability, while feeling him grow and come to life in her other hand.

He moved her hand slowly at first, but his pace gradually quickened, along with his breathing. He pulled her closer, with his sweaty palm burning a hole in her lower back, nervously traveling lower and lower on her body.

Just as she thought he was going to pull her pants down, he suddenly pushed her away.

"Sorry… I can't…" he mumbled and run to the bathroom.

Scully contemplated following him, but her knees felt too weak, so she collapsed on the bed instead. Her hand was burning from the encounter, and not knowing what to do with it, she slid it between her legs. It didn't help with the heat, it only ignited the fire.

She hoped she'd finish before Mulder came back to bed, and at the same time she hoped she wouldn't, imagining him catching her like this, raw and vulnerable, imagining him watching her, maybe even touching her himself.

Maybe…