Date: Mon, 15 Mar 1999 18:32:11 -0700
Subject: Fiction:Choices

"Choices" by Babs B.

Summary: Mulder and Scully cope with the anniversary of 
Samantha's abduction.
Rating: PG-13
Category: MSR, UST, angst
Disclaimer: This work of fiction is intended as an homage to the 
series. I do not own - in any way shape or form - these characters. 
They are owned by Chris Carter, 1013 
Productions. And Goddess know whom else. 

Well, this is my first attempt at fanfic. I hope everyone 
enjoys it. 




J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington D.C.
5:14 p.m.

Dana Scully sat at her computer in the office she shared 
with her partner, Fox Mulder. They had just gotten the X-
files back a couple of months ago, and had wasted no time 
settling back into their old routines.

It was, admittedly a little strange. So much of the 
paraphernalia that had once decked these walls was 
destroyed in the fire almost a year ago. As soon as they 
had been reassigned to the X-Files Scully bought Mulder 
another "I want to believe" poster. It wasn't easy to find. 
Scully swore that his eyes were misty when he thanked her.

The file cabinets were woefully empty. Mulder had put a lot 
of work into trying to reconstruct the files. He was able 
to recover a fair amount of material, but it was nothing 
next to what they used to have. Her own file was one that 
Mulder had tried to recover, along with that of his sister.

Now, he sat at his desk, staring at his sister's file. What 
little there was.

Scully was worried about him. Today was the anniversary of 
Samantha's abduction. He hadn't said a word about it. And 
so far, neither had she. Now it was time to go home and 
Scully found herself loathe to leave him alone. He simply 
sat there, leaning back, gently rocking in his leather 

chair. He absent-mindedly chewed on his thumb.

"Mulder?"

"Hmm?" he didn't look up.


"What do you say we cut out of here and get a bite to eat?"

He looked over at her. He smiled a wry grin. "Are you 
asking me out on a date, Scully?"

Scully cocked her head to one side and allowed him a small 
smile. "As a matter of fact..."

He smiled wider at her attempt to humor him. "Another 
time?"

"Do you have a girlfriend I don't know about?"

"Scully-"

"Mulder," she interrupted quickly. She looked down, at her 
hands, unsure how to proceed.

He leaned forward in his chair, regarding her silently for 
a moment.

She looked up at him, her mouth forming silent words.

"I appreciate your concern."

He knows I know, she thought. She stood and crossed the 
room, perching her hip on his desk. "I just don't see any 
reason why you should have to go through this alone."

He sighed slowly, leaning back. His finger and thumb picked 
imaginary lint off of his knee. "It's a tradition."

She covered his hand with hers. Surprised by the 
forwardness of her act, he looked up at her.

"It's a stupid tradition," she said quietly.

His hand turned upward, taking her hand in his. "I wouldn't 
be pleasant company."

She couldn't resist the opening he had left her. "And that 
is different...how?"

He shook his head and smiled. Pulling his hand away he 
stood. "Seriously Scully. I just can't."


Scully worried that she went too far. "I am sorry, Mulder."

He walked over to the coat rack and grabbed her coat. 
Returning to her he said, "There isn't anything to be sorry 
about."

She stood and allowed him to help her into her coat. She 
wasn't sure why when he felt vulnerable, he moved into 
Prince Valiant mode. But if it made him feel better"

"It's Friday night, Scully. You should have plans."

"I don't," she said as he packed up her laptop.

"Make some."

"What about you?"

"I have plans."

"Mulder, listen to me. I am serious. If you need anything, 
call me."

He regarded her for a moment, then nodded. Handing her the 
case to her computer, he escorted her to the door. "I don't 
want you to worry about me."

"Too late."

****
Dana Scully's Residence
9:30 p.m.

Scully sat on her couch, one black satin clad leg tucked up 
under her. She held her cup of orange spice tea in both 
hands, enjoying the warmth. She was trying to watch a 
movie, but her mind kept drifting to Mulder.

Where is he? Is he okay? 

Her mind played various scenarios, from Mulder drunk in a 
seedy bar, to him sitting in his dark apartment, a gun in 
his hand, to his picking up some slut and taking comfort in 
sex. She wasn't sure which of those last two bothered her 
more.

For the eight-hundredth time her eyes flitted to her 
telephone. Should I call? Will he be home? Will he have his 
cell on? Would I be interrupting anything? 

She set her cup down and picked up the phone. Her thumb hit 
`memory,' then hovered over the number one. 

He wants to be alone.

Disgusted with herself she hung up the phone. He's a grown 
man. He can take care of himself. Then why am I always 
pulling his ass out of the fire? He can't always take care 
of himself now can he? He needs me, doesn't he? Or do I 
need him?

Sighing audibly, she tilted her head back on the couch. 
Where does one end and the other begin? When did I get lost 
in this man and his obsessions? When did I become obsessed 
with him?

She didn't know when she became obsessed with her partner, 
but she knew when she realized it. When she met Diana 
Fowley. Just thinking that name made her cringe. Gibson 
Praise had been right when he said that she didn't care 
what other people thought, except for her. Well, almost 
right. She also cared what Mulder thought. 

Was he with her? Is that why he shepherded her out of the 
office? Was she meeting him down there? Oh, God. I am 
jealous. Jealous of a woman because of something that may 
or may not be happening. Jealous because Mulder so 
willingly trusted this woman who had not earned it. This is 
what I have been reduced to? 

Pathetic, Dana. Mulder was right. It's Friday night, I 
should have plans. A date. Or maybe girlfriends to paint 
the town red with. She had neither. She had herself, her 
tea, and her ruminations about her depressed partner and 
his ex-girlfriend. P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C.

She looked at the clock. It was almost ten. Not too late to 

go out. Scully considered her options. There was a coffee 
house she had been to once, it was open late. There was 
that bar down the street she kept saying she would try. She 

could take in a late movie. 

None of her options had any real appeal. I must be getting 
old, she thought. Might as well hit the sack. Scully 
reached for the remote and paused as she heard a light 
knock at the door.


She smiled inwardly. About damn time.

She went to the door and checked the peephole. Mulder. He 
didn't look good. 

She opened the door. His face turned downwards, his eyes 
looked up at her shyly. Without a word, she backed up to 
let him enter. He walked in two steps and turned to face 
her.

She locked the door and turned to him. He looked like a 
little boy who had lost his puppy. Scully's heart flip-
flopped. Poor Mulder. My poor Mulder. His body was stiff. 
His hands in his jacket pocket, his arms held close to his 
frame. He looked as if his body would snap in two if 
touched the wrong way.

She reached for him, putting her hands on his upper arms. 
And he collapsed. His legs gave out and he dropped to his 
knees. Scully cringed at the thud sound his knees made. She 
wrapped one hand around the base of his skull, the other 
around his shoulder, across his back. She stepped into the 
embrace as he turned his face sideways, resting his cheek 
on her stomach. His hands held onto her lower back, holding 
her fiercely.

Mulder sobbed. Scully wept. 

They had each held the other in times of distress. Mulder 
had held her once letting her cry in his arms, when she had 
almost been killed by Donnie Pfaster. And Scully had seen 
Mulder cry too. But never, in all the years together, had 
they cried together.

Mulder melted in her arms. Somehow, they ended up with 
Scully sitting on the floor. Mulder lay in a fetal 
position, his torso across her lap. She leaned over him, 
covering him with her upper body, rocking him, stroking his 
hair. 

Mulder sobbed in grief over his missing sister. He cried 
because of the horrible pain that had ripped a whole in his 
soul and for the guilt that had taken up residence there. 
Scully wept for her partner's agony. For the childhood he 
had lost, and the innocence They had stolen from him. She 
wept for her own inability to help him. She wanted nothing 
more than to take his pain as her own, even if only for a 
day. 

They stayed that way for a long, long time.

A shrill sound erupted from Mulder's jacket and they both 
jumped.

Mulder sat up, studiously avoiding Scully's eyes. He pulled 
the phone out and answered it with his customary, "Mulder."
But his voice was uncooperative and he had to say it twice 

before it came out.

"Yeah, hi." He stood up.

Scully too stood up. Wiping her cheeks, she went into the 
kitchen. She began to prepare more tea. She had meant to 
give Mulder a little privacy for his conversation, but of 
course in her tiny apartment, she could hear every word.

"No, I'm okay. <<Pause>> Yeah, I'm sure. <<Pause>> Thank 
you, I know what day it is too. <<Pause.>> Look, I'm sorry. 
I just don't feel like talking about it."

A long pause. 

"Don't worry about me," he looked over at Scully, "I'm not 
alone."

At that, she looked at him. In his eyes shone a mixture of 
affection, respect, devotion and -

Scully tore her eyes away and busied herself with the tea. 
No. Definitely not. She did not see desire. Wishful 
thinking Dana.

"I have to go." He pushed the end button and turned off the 
phone. Putting it back in his pocket he joined Scully in 
the kitchen.

"I'm sorry."

She cut her eyes to him. "No need to be sorry."

"I-" he sighed, looking shamefully at his feet. "I just 
needed to see you."

She smiled. Handing him a cup, she moved past him toward 
the couch. "Come on. Sit."

They sat together on the couch for a few moments in 
silence. Mulder shifted his body so that he faced her.

"I'm not alone anymore."

She tilted her head, considering his words. Reaching for 
his hand she said, "No. No, you're not alone."

He looked down at their hands. "You are my angel, Scully."

"Your angel?"

He couldn't look at her. He spoke in the softest whisper. 
"My guardian angel."

Scully's heart swelled with love for this man. "I wish I 
could take away your pain." She looked down at her feet, 
then back up at him. "I wish I could make it all better."

He looked up at her. His face was raw with the emotions 
that he normally kept buried. "I know. That's why you are 
my angel."

Scully felt her eyes tear up. She looked down, suddenly 
feeling very shy.

"You can't be human. I mean, you pretend to be. But even 
you're imperfections just add to your perfection. If you 
were human, Scully, you would never put up with me." He 
smiled ruefully, shaking his head. "Most humans can hardly 
tolerate me. You, you..."

"Mulder, I..."

He looked down again. He looked defeated. And exhausted. 
She took the cup from his hand and put it on the coffee 
table. She pulled him to her, and he molded against her.

"I am shit, Scully."

"Sshhh."

"You should have run screaming the other way a long time 
ago." 


"Mulder-"

"I have caused you so much pain."

"Mulder, stop."

"I am so sorry. So sorry."

He broke down into sobs again.

"Mulder, stop blaming yourself."

He pulled back, but Scully kept her arms around him. 
Gingerly, he tucked a stray red lock behind her ear.

"It's all my fault Scully - everything." His finger traced 
an imaginary line from her ear to her chin.

Her features set in determination. She prepared herself for 

the argument.

His words came out in an anguished rush. "They took you and 
they-they-TORTURED you because of me. They gave you cancer 
because of me. They killed your sister. They took away your 
fertility then-then. Then Emily. They infected you with an 
alien virus and stowed you away on an alien ship in the 
Antarctic for Christ's sake."

As soon as he drew a breath, she tried to cut in.


"Mulder."

But he continued his self-tortured litany. "I ditch you, 
only to need you to save my ass. I drag you across the 
country on cases on your days off, half of the time keeping 
information from you like its all some game. I've ruined 
your career, your reputation. I treat you like shit, 
Scully."

He paused, taking a ragged breath. Looking down he said, 
"and yet you stay."

She took his face in her hands, ducking her head down to 
make eye contact. Reluctantly, he held her gaze.

She could see the fear in his eyes. 

"I am a grown woman, Fox Mulder." She was surprised by how 
steady her voice was. "I make my own decisions. I follow 
you cross-country on cases because I choose to."

His expression changed. He searched her eyes, questioning. 
His lips moved soundlessly.

"I stay, Mulder, because I-"

She halted. Because I love you, Mulder? 

"Because I choose you. I choose you Mulder." She emphasized the last
sentence. Scully watched as his facial features relaxed. His 
shoulders fell slack. His eyes showed relief. And 
gratitude.

He reached up, touching her face with the palm of his hand.

Scully held her breath, and Mulder's gaze. Her hands began 

to move of their own accord, to his hair.


He caressed her cheek, jaw, then neck. His eyes dropped 
down to his hand. He watched his thumb trace her jaw-line 
to her chin, sliding up to her bottom lip, as if it were 
someone else's hand.

Scully felt her heart skip a beat. Is he going to kiss me?

She titled her face up. Her eyes closed.

He placed the softest kiss on her bottom lip.

She felt him pull away. She held her eyes closed for a 
second, reveling in the moment. She could hear Mulder's 
breath become more rapid, shallow.

A small smile played across her lips as she opened her 
eyes. What she saw would forever imprint itself on her 
memory. Scully knew that what ever happened in the future, 
this moment she would always treasure.

Mulder's eyes shone with love.

And exhaustion.

Oh, poor Mulder, thought Scully. He looked so drained. And 
she had to admit she felt tired herself. A good cry can 
make one so sleepy...

"I think you should spend the night here."

A sleepy grin crossed his features. "My, my Scully."

Scully quickly averted her eyes. She hoped that in the dim 
light he couldn't see her face color.


Mulder stood. "I think that I should go home." He moved 
towards the door. "Thank you for everything."

Scully crossed to him. "Mulder, seriously, you are 
exhausted. You're in no condition to drive."

He looked over to the couch. "Maybe."

She arched her eyebrow in question. Maybe, Mulder?

He looked back to her. "I guess it would be safer if I 
crashed on your couch than wrap myself around a tree."

"I'll take the couch, you can take the bed."

"Uh, um." He looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I don't want 
to put you out."

"You're not," she whispered. Taking his hand she led him 
into the bedroom. 

She pulled back the comforter and top sheet. She turned 
around to see Mulder standing there looking very uneasy.

She cocked her head to one side. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he said, his voice a bit higher than usual. He 
looked to the floor and cleared his throat. "Really, I'd be 
more comfortable on the couch."

"I think that you are too tall for that tiny couch. Why 
don't you," she motioned in the air, "get comfortable. I'll 
be right back."

She went to the living room, busying herself with putting 
the dishes in the sink. She wanted to give Mulder plenty of 
time to take off--her thoughts faltered. Take off what? Will 
he sleep in his boxers, or will he be too shy? Will he 
sleep in his jeans? That didn't strike Scully as too 
comfortable. And yet she suspected that Mulder would not 
feel at ease sleeping in her bed in his underwear. Yes, she 
thought, he'll just take off his shirt. 

She returned to the bedroom to find him already under the 
covers. On a chair in the corner he had carefully - and 
uncharacteristically - folded his turtleneck. And socks. No 
jeans. 

"Are you comfortable?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

She crossed the room to the other side of the bed and 
crawled in. 

"Scully?"

Reaching up to turn off the lamp she asked, "You don't mind 
do you?"

"Of course not," he said quickly. "I just-"

She turned on her side, facing him, one hand tucked under 
the pillow. The light from the street spilled in between 
the blinds, illuminating his form.

Mulder shifted to mirror her position.

She extended one hand across the distance between them. 
Gingerly, Mulder covered her hand with his.

"Good night, Mulder."

"Good night, Scully."

****
Dana Scully's Residence
Saturday 8:50 a.m.

Light hit Mulder's eyes with excessive force. He covered 
his face with his arm and moaned. He lay there for a 
moment, trying to wake up.

Suddenly he realized that another body was pressed up 
against his. Slowly, he pulled his arm away and looked 
toward the form.

Scully.

I'm in Scully's bed. 

Somehow in the night they had both drifted toward the 
center of the bed. Scully now lay with her head on his 
shoulder, her body curled up against him.

Uh-oh. Oh, damn. I'm hard as a rock. Mulder was accustomed 
to waking in this condition, and he was accustomed to being 
able to handle it in whatever manner he saw fit. But in his 
partner's bed, his options were limited.

Mulder groaned inwardly. I shouldn't be here. This was 
stupid, dangerous. And yet, thought Mulder, I'm not leaving 
am I?

The bathroom. Mulder tensed his body to move but halted. 
His left arm was pinned under her. She had felt his 
movement and wrapped herself around him in response.

Mulder was simultaneously pleased and chagrinned.

Since it was clear he wasn't going anywhere until she woke 
up, Mulder decided that he was going to have to take care 
of his `problem' psychologically.

Basketball. The dumbasses finally came off of strike and 
started the abreviated season. How will that affect the 
playoffs?

Who gives a fuck!? The most beautiful woman on the planet 
is wrapped across me. He looked down at her head. Her red 
hair was brilliant in the morning sun. Gently, he brought 
his right hand over and stroked her hair. 

Mulder wasn't sure when he fell in love with this woman. 
But he knew when he realized it. The Gibson Praise case. 
When Diana came back.

Diana Fowley. He had never told Scully about her. There 
were times when he had considered it. Times when he wanted 
to. But he and Scully didn't have those kinds of 
conversations very often, and Diana was so hard for him to 
talk about. 

She had ripped his heart out. 

She had come to him last night.

########
He had been sitting in the dark, contemplating his life and 
his sister's abduction. Once again he played it through his 
mind, wondering what he could have done differently. He 
knew logically there was nothing he could have done to 

prevent it. He was himself only a child. Her abduction was 
planned by their own father. One way or another they would 
have gotten her. But it was easier to blame himself than to 
admit his own powerlessness.

A knock.

Scully?

He rose and crossed the room. Opening the door he was 
disappointed to see not a petite red head, but a tall, lean 
brunette.

"Diana." He stated plaintively.


"Fox. Can I come in?"

He considered saying no for a moment, but that would be 
excessively rude. So instead he walked back inside, leaving 
the door open.

She followed him in. "Why is it so dark in here?"

"The lights are off."

She laughed lightly and sat next to him.

"I was worried about you."


He didn't look at her. "Why?"

She paused, looking away. "Twenty-five years ago today."

He said nothing.

She turned back to him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"You never make things easy, Fox."

"Mulder."

"What?"

"Call me Mulder."

"But I haven't called you Mulder since-" 

He was silent. 

Diana kept talking, trying to draw him out. 

Her presence frustrated him. When she had suddenly dropped 
back into his life, he had been surprised to discover that 
he still had some feelings for her. He stilled cared for 
her. But her return upset the balance between him and 
Scully. It was then that he realized that his feelings for 
Scully went beyond what was appropriate for a partner. More 
than best friends, and yet less than lovers.

And here she was, yammering on about the old times. 

"Why was it we always got the worst waiters? There was one, 
I don't remember where we were, but he spilled wine in my 
lap. Do you remember?"

"Yeah, I remember. That was our trip to Europe."

Her face became unreadable. "Oh, yeah."

"Remember I proposed to you that night? You said yes."

She didn't respond. 

"We came home, and two days later you just disappeared. I 
found out through a friend that you had accepted an 
assignment overseas."

"Fox, I am so sorry."

"You never even said goodbye."

"I made a terrible mistake."


Finally he looked at her. "And it took you seven years to 
figure that out?"

"Fox, please-"

"Mulder."

"Mulder, I was young and scared."

"You broke my heart, Diana."

She inched closer to him. "Give me the chance to fix my 
mistake." She touched his cheek with her palm. "Please."

"I got over you."

"I never got over you." She leaned in and kissed him. 

He gently pushed her away. Standing, he turned to her. 
"Don't get me wrong, Diana. I do care about you. But I am 

not in love with you. I think you should go."

"I'm sorry, I moved too fast. Fox-"

"You need to go."

####

Scully stirred. He looked down and watched as she struggled 
to wake up.

Clearly, she was surprised when she realized where she was. 
She looked up shyly.

"Hi."

"Good morning."

She smiled sheepishly and pulled away. He watched as she 
indulged in a deep stretch. 

"How did you sleep?"

"Like a baby."

"Good." She rolled out of the bed. "Do you mind if I take 
first shower?"

"It's your shower."


"Help yourself to something to eat."

He waited until he heard the water, and then helped himself 
to something else.

#####


When it was Mulder's turn in the shower, he found himself 
just standing under the warm water, letting it roll over 
him. The heat, the pulsing pressure, the wetness. He 
reveled in the sensations on his skin.

When was the last time I just felt?

He couldn't remember. Certainly, he had never felt this 
whole the day after Samantha's anniversary. 

I owe Scully a big thank you. He smiled as he thought about 
how he might accomplish that.

Last night I kissed her. It was a chaste kiss. One could 
argue that it was a kiss between friends. But she slept 
next to me. And no one's life was in danger. But still, 
nothing has happened that we can't pretend that it didn't. 
And Scully and I are pretty damn good at that.

They had not crossed the point of no return. 

Reluctantly, Mulder picked up a bottle of shampoo. He 
didn't want Scully to make him pay the water bill. 


Citrus. Well, thought Mulder, at least it wasn't Freesia. 

As he squirted a quarter-sized amount into his palm, his 
thoughts drifted to Diana. If he had any intention of 
crossing the relationship-bridge with Scully, she deserved 
to know what had happened there. Mulder lathered his hair 
with a vengeance.

Scully does not like Diana. She won't like her anymore when 
she hears about Europe. 

Mulder smiled as a mental picture of Scully in pit-bull 
mode crossed his mind. 

He ducked his head under the stream of water.

It was time to talk to Scully.

###

Mulder emerged from the bedroom, rubbing a towel through 
his hair. He looked up to see Scully talking to someone at 
the door. From his vantage point he could not see who she 
was talking to. But it didn't take long for him to figure 
it out.

"I know he's here, his car is parked out front."

Scully sighed, decidedly irritated. "Fine," she hissed.

She spun on her heel, and stopped when she saw Mulder.

Diana came in the room behind her.

"Fox," she said, sidestepping Scully and walking to him. 
She handed him a manila envelope. "I found this under my 
door this morning."

Mulder looked to Scully, who glared at Diana's back.

If looks could kill...

Wordlessly, he opened the envelope. He removed a 
photograph, 8 x 10, black and white. The subject: Gibson 
Praise. He looked up at Diana in surprise.

"Scully, take a look at this."

She joined him, and took in sharp breath when she saw the 
photo.

Gibson lay in a hospital bed. He looked to be unconscious. 
He was hooked up to a heart monitor and a breathing 
machine. The environment was sterile, no cheesy hospital 
paintings on the wall, no window.

"Where did you get this?" Mulder asked.

"I told you, someone pushed it under my door."

He looked back in the envelope. It was empty. He turned the 
photo over, hoping to see an address, a city, or even a 
cryptic riddle. Nothing.

"This is it?"

"Yes," she nodded. "No identifying information. Nothing to 
tell us where he is." She paused for a moment. Looking to 
Scully, then back to Mulder. "I think the first thing to do 
is find out whether the photograph is even genuine."

Mulder stared at the photograph in his hand. 

Convenient. 

That was the word that kept coming to mind. I reject her 
advances, go to Scully, and the next morning she has 
magically come into possession of a photograph of the boy 
that is physical evidence that human beings are the 
descendents of aliens. The key to everything in the X-
Files. The key to my life's work.

Mulder nodded. "You're absolutely right." He handed the 
photo to Scully. He moved forward in Diana's direction. He 
placed his hand on her shoulder blade in an impersonal, 
business-like manner. With his other arm he reached toward 
the door.

"Thank you for bringing this to our attention. Scully and I 
will get on this right away."

Diana was clearly confused. "But, Fox." She lifted her 
hands in front of her in a `but wait' gesture. "I think we 
should get Agent Horowitz on this. He's one of the best-"

He continued to move her toward the door. "I can't trust 
Bureau people on this one. Scully and I have 
other...sources."

She twisted out of his grasp. "This is my case too."

"This is an X-File, Diana," Mulder said gently. "You're not 
on the X-Files anymore."

"But-"

"Hey, its me. I'll keep you up to date, unofficially."

"Fox-"

"Mulder."


She sighed. "Mulder. I want to work with you on this."

Mulder shook his head. "I already have a partner."

Diana drew herself up to her full height. Jutting out her 
chin and setting her shoulders she glared at Mulder. "I 
see."

And she left.

Mulder leaned his back up against the door. He smiled 
ruefully at the ceiling. "That was relatively painless."

He turned to Scully just in time to see her quickly wiping 
her cheek.

"We should call the Lone Gunmen," she said, moving to the 
phone. She avoided his gaze.

"The photo is real. But it won't get us any closer to 
finding him."

She stopped, and turned slowly towards him. "I don't 
understand."

He shook his head. "Maybe she doesn't really know where he 
is, but she does know who knows."

"Mulder, what are you saying?"

"I think you were right about her, Scully."

She arched an eyebrow.

He pushed himself off of he door and crossed the distance 
between them. "There are some things I want to tell you 
Scully." He took her hand and led her to the couch.

She sat silently next to him. He didn't let go of her hand. 


Mulder took a deep breath. 

He looked her evenly in the eye. 

When he spoke, his voice was soft and quiet. "I want to 
tell you about what happened between me and Diana."

"You don't have to explain anything to me."

He looked at her earnestly. "I want to."


She cocked her head to one side. "Why?"


His eyes drifted toward the window for a moment, as if the 
answer were written there. He looked back at his partner. 
"I-I think...you should know."

"I already know everything I need to."

His voice was a whisper. "What is that?"

Mulder watched with rapt attention as she bit her lower 
lip. She reached up and gently caressed his temple, her 
fingers splayed through his hair. She took a slow, uneven 
breath.

"You chose me."

THE END

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