Rating: Nc-17...so if you are under age you need to scoot because I'm not going to be responsible for corrupting your mind.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine in any way, shape or form. Property of CC, Fox and 1013.

by MoJo

Perpetual Light Cemetery
Bethesda, MD
10:30 a.m.

Diana Fowley was found murdered in her apartment three days ago. Beside me, Mulder silently watched them lower her coffin into the ground. Even now, I cannot tell what he actually felt for her.

My whole life I never doubted the existence of God until the alien ship provided concrete, scientific evidence that our origins may not be of this world. If it wasn't for Albert Hosteen's visit, I would have forsaken even prayer. I tried to pray for Diana's soul, but my intercessions were not as sincere as they should be.

Skinner was the only person I recognized of the funeral party; he was here under professional obligation. Diana had little family. A man Mulder identified as her brother was there. Her parents were already deceased. I kept searching the perimeter of the cemetery to see if anyone of the Consortium showed up. But there was no one. Diana had betrayed them by providing me the key and the book that helped save Mulder's life. Even though it was apparent she worked for the other side, Mulder always believed he could trust her. I never did.

After the minister concluded the ceremony, everyone began to disburse. I exchanged a glance with Skinner as he headed back to his car. He knew I wasn't coming into to work today. Mulder said he was being compromised and we had yet to discuss it directly with him. Until I knew the entire story, I couldn't really trust him. I maintained my distance for our protection, fulfilling my duty to him when necessary.

"Scully?" Mulder asked, breaking my thoughts. He turned to me, his breath white in the cold December air. "Are you ready to go?"

"Are you?" I asked, not wanting him to think I was rushing him. Our appointment wasn't for another two hours.

"I think so," he answered, taking a step towards me. He drew a deep breath and stared down at the coffin one last time. "I've said my good-byes."

He turned and walked away slowly. I closed my eyes, feeling my hair whipping wildly around my face in the cold, November wind.

Mulder had spoke of choosing the road not traveled, of a world that was falling apart. In his lucid dreaming, he was married to the woman lying in the ground. They had children together and grew old together. They shared hopes and dreams. In the end, he grieved for her like he did today. It was perfect life I was not a part of.


St. Mary's Mercy
Alexandria, Virginia
12:30 p.m.

I did not want to do this to Mulder, but I had to. I had to find out what they had done to him and what damage, if any, there was to his beautiful mind. I waited for him patiently in the MRI room and it seemed eerily similar to the room I'd found him in. Lying prostrate on the table with his head bandaged with my tears falling on his face as I begged him to get up.

I was so scared I wouldn't make it in time. I made silent promises that I would spend the rest of my life by his side. If he would survive this time, I would never take another moment together for granted. This was my affiance to him. In the past I had hesitated to make such a commitment. But when I was finally ready, I found out he had made one with someone else. Dream or no dream, the underlying message left me uncertain to our future once again. He'd made a conscious choice to live out a life away from the X-files and me.

"Are you sure I have to wear this thing?"

I turned around to find Mulder standing in the doorway. He padded into the MRI room, wearing only a hospital gown. His fingers pulled at the hem of the garment, inspecting it with mock disapproval. The corners of his mouth turned upwards in a smile.

"I think it would be best," I said, looking up at him. He stopped in front me, invading my personal space as he stood dangerously close. "You can't have any metal on. That includes zippers or buttons or..."

He laid a finger lightly over my lips. Mulder lowered his voice so the technician in the corner couldn't hear. "I was hoping you just wanted to catch a glimpse of my ass."

My lips quivered as I pulled them back into a slight grin. How he could still joke after all he'd been through was beyond me. I wish I had his resilience. He was eager resume the life that had been temporarily interrupted as if nothing had changed.

"Hey," he said, tracing the curl of my smile. "That's what I wanted to see."

Involuntarily, tears were welling in my eyes just like they did when I stopped by his apartment three days ago. I was so overcome with emotion then that I couldn't even stay. Here, I had nowhere to retreat and choked them back, swallowing hard to maintain composure.

"Get on the bed, Mulder," I said, keeping my voice steady. I took a step back, wetting the corner of my mouth as he sat down, then reclined. Mulder stretched his long legs out and tried to get comfortable. Once he was settled, I came closer.

"There's room for two, Scully," he suggested, reaching over to tap my hip gently. "I can move over and you can join me. How about number 65 in an MRI?"

"You need to lie still," I said, trying to sound clinical. I skipped right over his overt comment. "It's going to take about 60 minutes to complete the test and we should have your results later today."

"All right," he said, nodding his head. I had already explained the methodology behind magnetic resonance imaging thinking it might make it easier. He looked around the tube cautiously. "This isn't the first one I've had, Scully. They gave me one. Maybe two."

"I'm sorry," I whispered. I couldn’t even imagine what ordeal they must have put him through. "But I have to find out."

"I know," he said, reaching up to stroke my cheek with this thumb. I seized his hand in both of mine and returned it to his side. Mulder frowned slightly at the gesture. "Will you stay with me?"

"Yes," I said, dragging a chair over to sit beside him. Patient companionship during testing was one of the reasons I chose this facility. They also had a non-confining, wide-body MRI. It was open on both ends with a skylight above. I figured it would be more comfortable for him.

The bed slid back into the MRI as the test began. I found myself thinking about the past few months and the events that lead us here. We spent the entire summer re-examining cases either Fowley or Spender opened involving people with heightened mental abilities. If only we opened the file with Kritschgau, maybe everything would have made more sense. As always, we were looking in the wrong place and staying one step behind the machinations.

"Scully," he whispered, after about ten minutes of silence on my part. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I replied, taking a deep breath. "I'm just trying to understand what happened to you. What happened this summer."

"I'm still trying to figure it out myself," he said, studying me thoughtfully. I turned away from his gaze, choosing to stare at the wall instead. "But I'd love to hear your theory."

"I believe you were like Gibson," I surmised, tucking a strand of errand hair out of my eyes. "You both showed activity in the temporal lobe I cannot explain."

"We both could read minds," Mulder said, checking my expression. He would see no skepticism from me this time. I'd witnessed first hand what power the rubbings and the artifacts possessed in Africa.

"You said Kritschgau performed remote viewing tests on you," I said, remembering Jeremy Buenger's scans. He possessed that same ability. Looking back, he was probably also infected by the virus at some point. Amber Eschler, too. The girl who could read auras.

"Yes," he replied, keeping his attention on me. "Random images were flashed on the three screens and I had to predict where a certain one would appear."

"That's consistent with how Buenger was tested," I said.

"Is he still alive?" he asked. Buenger was left in a coma after being shot point blank by the Smoking Man.

"He died while I was in Africa," I replied, wetting the corner of my mouth. "By the time I got back, he'd been buried."

"So Amber and Buenger are dead," he summarized. "Gibson, presumably, is alive."

"Based on what you told me," I began, attempting to offer a scientific conclusion. "All four of you 'evolved' in some way to the point where your minds showed activity in the temporal lobe. I suspect Jeremy and Amber never achieved the level that you and Gibson did and therefore, were murdered to cover up the experiment. That was probably the goal. To create this human-alien hybrid with telepathic skills."

"They must have done something different to me," Mulder said. "After Gibson's surgery, he was still able to read minds."

"The key to everything in the X-files," I said, remembering what Mulder had said about Gibson's ability. I sighed loudly, letting my head fall into my hands. I rubbed my eyes. Would we ever unlock their secrets?

Mulder reached out to me, trying to touch my arm. I was just far enough away to where he couldn't make contact. He let his hand fall back down with a sigh.

We had yet to re-establish our relationship. The one we fought so hard to keep hidden during the past year. This was the another test of our commitment to each other beyond the professional one we'd made so long ago.

It was apparent that we could not have both worlds. Wasn't that what the Smoking Man showed him? He had to decide between the X-files and married life. Perhaps I was overanalyzing, but it seemed very clear that they would stop at nothing to keep us from having both. They already knew about our relationship and had undermined it all summer.

"Everything is so different," I said, thinking out loud. I shook my head slowly. "We need time to sort everything out."

"I don’t," Mulder said, his voice tearing right through my heart. "My feelings for you haven't changed."

"After what we've shared, I thought our future would be together," I said, folding my hands. I tapped my index finger against my lips as I stared past Mulder and let my eyes unfocus.

"It will be," Mulder said, with certainly. He reached for me again, this time leaning forward enough to grab my hand and squeeze it hard. I did not pull away this time. His words sank into my subconscious, settling deep within.


Mulder's Apartment
5:45 p.m.

Mulder was off work for six to eight weeks. His neurologist prescribed the exact same treatment of care that anyone having undergone brain surgery should follow. The importance of balanced meals, exercise and sleep were stressed. He was also encouraged to take one or two naps a day, since he would grow tired very easily.

I re-examined his head incision. They had done a much better job than what they had done to Gibson. Mulder would have minimal scarring after the stitches were removed.

"How does it look?" he asked as I gently probed his scalp.

"Good," I answered. We were in the kitchen where the light was better. Mulder sat in a chair and I hovered around him. "You'll need to be very careful after they take the stitches out. You can shampoo your hair gently in a couple days."

"Are you going to help me with that?" he asked, looking up at me hopefully. "You did a wonderful job washing my hair before."

My body shivered at the memory of sharing a bath with him. Holding onto the towel rack as his lips worked over me.

"I think we should take things slow," I said, forcing the image out of my mind. "You've been through a major surgery. Until we find out exactly what they did to you, I don't want to take any chances."

Mulder let out a sigh, catching my arm with his hand. The motion made me twist back around to face him.

"Scully, don't make excuses," he said, fixing me with a penetrating stare.

"It's not an excuse," I replied, trying to shake free. He relaxed his grip. "You need to recover, Mulder."

"We need to recover, Scully," he said assertively. "For almost two weeks, you've been keeping yourself away from me."

"I have not," I said, defensively. "I've been with you every chance I get."

"Physically," Mulder clarified. "Mentally, you've detached yourself. I could offer any number of psycho-analytical reasons for this, but I'd rather hear it from you."

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. I seized the opportunity to get up and away from him. He exhaled sharply and I went for the door. Through the peephole, I saw a man in a red shirt standing in the hallway.

I unfastened the deadbolt and opened the door.

"Access Courier," he said, handing me a large envelope and an electronic pad. "Just need you to sign."

I used the wand to sign into the keypad, tucking the package under my arm. "Thank you."

"Have a good night," he said, tipping his hat slightly before turning to leave.

"Who was it?" Mulder asked, coming up behind me.

"The courier," I replied, holding the package tightly in my hands. "These are your test results from the MRI and the EEG."

Mulder shut the door and I turned around to face him. He let his hand rest on the door so he was leaning into me. I looked down and started to tear the seal free.

"No," Mulder said, putting his other hand over mine.

"It's your results," I protested, as he pulled the package out of my protective grip.

"They'll still be here in the morning," he said, tossing them back on the couch. It landed with a thud on his leather cushions. "Tonight isn't going to about this. It's going to be about you and me, Scully."


Casey's Bar
6:23 p.m.

"Spooky. Long time, no see," said a blond-haired woman behind the bar. She finished wiping the counter down in rhythmic circles. "Missed you."

Mulder sat down on a barstool and gestured for me to do the same. I wondered who this woman was he let call him 'Spooky.' She was tall with large eyes and short, blond hair tucked behind her ears.

"What happened to you?" she asked, throwing the towel over her shoulder and leaning over the bar to study the bandage.

"A rubbing of an extra-terrestrial ship awakened regions of my brain, in affect making me an alien-human hybrid. I was then sent to a mental hospital were I was further experimented on and tested. I was held captive and part of my brain was removed. Hence the bandage," he narrated casually. I stared at him incredulously. Why was he telling this woman all that?

"Uh-huh," she said, with a smile. "I liked your last story. The one about the fungus on the mountain. That one was better. What can I get you tonight? The usual?"

"No," I interjected, knowing the usual was probably shots of hard liquor. "Mulder, you can't drink, you're on medication."

"Not even one?"

"Not even one," I said sternly. I looked at the bartender sympathetically. "He'll have a tonic water and I'll have the same."

"Coming right up," she said, disappearing down the counter for a moment.

"Thanks," Mulder said, pulling out his wallet and paying for both drinks. He gave her a generous tip as well.

"Here's your tonic water," she said, as she put the drinks down. She grinned at the large bill before tucking it into the pocket of her apron. "If you need anything else, just let me know."

"Thanks," Mulder said, letting his eyes follow her as she headed into the back.

"I take it you both are old friends?" I asked, fingering a napkin to avoid his eyes. After nearly eleven months together, there was still so much I didn't know about Mulder.

"I come here occasionally," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "When I need to sort things out. But tonight, I'm not unclear about anything."

"And I am," I concluded, swirling the ice around in my glass.

"I was given a choice, Scully. And I know my decision hurt you," he started, covering my hand with his. "Even thought it was a dream, I won't lie to you and tell you it didn't seem real because it did. They gave me everything. A wife, children, a home, my sister."

"Is that why you stayed?" I asked, wanting desperately to hear his explanation. I looked over at him, meeting his gaze.

"It was all the things I'd given up on," he said. "Things I desperately want. But it ended in chaos, Scully. I died alone and the only thing I wanted was you. I wanted my life with you. All the things they offered me were things I can still have in this life. And I don't have to sacrifice us to get it."

Mulder took my arm and rotated the barstool around so we were facing each other. He pulled me off the stool and led me to the door.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"I want to show you my version," he answered, lacing his fingers with mine.


Chelsea Beach, MD
8:30 p.m.

Mulder drove us north. Past Annapolis to Chelsea Beach on Magothy Bay. Outside, the road narrowed as we traveled past the remote houses that were set off from the bay. He would not tell me where we were going, since that was what the Smoking Man did in his dream.

Eventually, he turned onto a narrow, private road. We were very close to the water. I could see a lighthouse up ahead, its bright beacon cutting through the darkness. Without warning, the road tapered off into gravel driveway. Mulder stopped the car and turned off the lights.

"Where are we?" I asked, looking over at him.

"Home," he answered. Mulder fished a key out of his pocket and handed it to me. "This is your new life."

"Is that what he told you?" I whispered, cautiously taking the key from him.

"Yes," Mulder answered, his voice tinged with regret. "He then told me I could drive back to you and the X-files and my death. But I should take a look around first."

"Is that you want me to do?"

"I want you to see the road yet to travel," he clarified, opening the door and stepping out into the night.

I got out of the car as well. I folded my arms around my body for warmth as I headed towards the house up ahead at the end of the road. Beneath my feet, gravel crunched. Mulder followed me, staying about three steps behind to give me space to absorb the surroundings on my own.

The house was nestled amid the trees. As I got closer, I could see it overlooked the bay. A house on the water. The cool, salt air filled my lungs and I was hit with memories of the last year with Mulder through the filter of our relationship. I remembered each and every encounter; each marked by number thanks to his eidetic mind.

It was a modest two-story with Cape Cod windows and a huge porch that wound around the front and sides, providing a clear view of the bay. I climbed the stairs to the front, then turned around to find Mulder standing at the base of the stairs. I held up the key and he nodded.

"Go ahead, Scully," he coaxed, gesturing to the door.

I put the key in the deadbolt and turned it, not knowing what to expect inside. I felt for a light switch and found one. Above me, the hall light revealed a huge staircase not unlike the one in my mother's house. To the right was a dining room, to the left was the family room. All completely furnished in both antique and modern pieces.

"It's beautiful," I whispered under my breath.

"Like it?" Mulder asked, closing the door behind him.

"You didn't buy this house, did you?" I asked, feeling my heart pounding.

"No," he said, walking around the foyer. "I'm leasing it for the month of December. I know I'm using up all my vacation and sick time right now and will probably have to work on Christmas. But we can come up on the weekends. They said I could have it through the first of the year, so we could spend New Year's here if Christmas doesn't work out."

I was curious to see what was on the second story. I moved past Mulder and headed up the stairs. There were a few smaller bedrooms, but what I saw in the master bedroom made me stop in my tracks.

The bedroom had French doors that lead out onto a balcony. I walked over to it, pulling the doors open. Below, was the most breathtaking view of the bay. Mulder walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. The cold made my eye water, but I kept staring out.

"What do you think?" he asked, his mouth by my ear. He rocked me gently from side to side.

"It's just what I always dreamed of," I breathed. "What I wanted. A house on the water where we could grow old together when our work is done."

"It's what I want to give you," he said, holding me closer. "When the time is right, Scully. This is the dream I came back for. The one I can make a reality with you."


The cool air chilled my skin, making my nipples harden in response. Mulder lowered his mouth to one and swirled his tongue around it. I ran my hands carefully through his hair, watching out for the bandage. My head slid off the satin pillowcase as I arched my back.

"Hmmm," I moaned, as he switched sides. Giving my other nipple the same consideration. We were lying naked in the center of the king-size bed. The curtains were drawn back so we could still see the water below.

"I love how you taste," Mulder said, feathering kisses down my stomach. He slid my knees over his shoulders and raised my hips up. His tongue dipped into my folds, spreading them slightly so he could find the bundle of nerves of my clitoris. I shuddered in response when he made contact. "I missed you so much, Scully."

"I missed you," I breathed, exhaling the words. One finger traced my opening, triggering a flood of moisture below. Its hot warmth flowed out over his hand as he inserted another. He pumped in and out of me in perfect rhythm with his mouth.

"I want you to come for me," he whispered, stopping momentarily. "I need to see you, Scully."

I relaxed my body, completely surrendering myself over. He resumed his pace and I grinded against him, building and building the pressure up until it threatened to explode.

Just when I felt my insides tremble, I forced my eyes open and looked down at him. I nodded, seeing his dark eyes filled with lust and longing. I knew instantly this was no fantasy world built by lies and deceit. This was the world we both created. Through years of friendship, trust and now love.

My insides shattered into a million pieces and pleasure pulsed through me. I kept my eyes locked with Mulder, hiding nothing from him. I cried out, signaling my release in simple, wordless sounds. He rocked in time with me, riding out the orgasm and prolonging it.

When I stopped throbbing, Mulder smiled. He withdrew his hand and my mouth, crawling up over me until his mouth was hovering above mine.

"I love you, Scully," he said, lowering his hips into mine. I wrapped my legs around him, eager to have him inside me. I felt myself stretching to accommodate him and he pushed himself complete inside. Penetrating my mind and my soul at the same time.

Mulder's mouth moved over mine and we kissed for the first time in weeks. I parted my lips, allowing our tongues to meet. This was almost as satisfying as making love, the joining of our bodies this way. I relished the taste of Mulder's mouth, knowing this provided an intimacy we also denied ourselves for far too long.

Breathless, Mulder began to thrust. My body was already charged from the earlier stimulation and I eagerly met each motion. Wanting him so far inside me that I didn't know where I stopped and he began. I'd imagined this moment so many times when I was in Africa. Our reunion. But nothing compared to the actual experience of making love to him again.

I clutched his shoulders, strong and supple as he moved above me. He slid in and out of me, increasing friction each time. His breathing grew ragged and I felt him swelling with growing hardness. Mulder groaned loudly, sinking into my depths one final time as he emptied himself into me. His pulsing triggered my body to quiver in response, sending me again into orgasm.

"Did you?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Yes," I smiled, as he collapsed into my arms. "Together, Mulder."

He let out a long, satisfied groan. "Sixty-five times is the charm. Finally, we finished together."

"It was worth the wait," I whispered, holding him tighter. We shifted positions so we were facing the window, his body spooned around mine.

"Someday, Scully," he said, resting his chin on my shoulder. "We will have this life. We've made it work for almost an entire year. I'm not going to give up on this until we make it."

I closed my eyes, visualizing it along with him. I imagined this was our house and this was our bedroom. Down the hall our children slept soundly in their beds and neither of us had work in the morning.

"I can't give this to you now," he continued, his lips brushing against my skin. "But someday, I will."

"I know," I said, holding him tighter. And in my heart, I believed he would.


The End