From: Mythtical@aol.com Date: Sun, 20 Sep 1998 15:08:10 EDT TITLE: Mizpah AUTHOR: Christina M. Simmons EMAIL ADDRESS: Mythtical@aol.com (Please note - it's changed!) SPOILER WARNING: The End, XF Movie RATING: PG CONTENT WARNING: Angst, MSR-UST CLASSIFICATION: SRA - MSR/UST/Post-ep SUMMARY: Scully discovers the truth about Mulder and Diana Fowley's shared past. Author's Note: A mizpah coin is a coin cut in two, traditionally exchanged between lovers, married couples, or close friends, representing one soul shared by two persons. The verse engraved upon it, invoking protection in times of separation, is generally "The Lord watch between me and thee, while we are parted one from another." Quite romantic, yes? Unfortunately, the quote was taken out of context - the actual Biblical "Mizpah" was a tower built to keep a vow of honesty between two quarrelling brothers, a reminder of the importance of trust. Which is the actual meaning in this story? Both. - CMS Dana Scully leaned back on her partner's broad metal desk, eyes flickering briefly to the door of their newly-renovated offices in the basement of the Hoover Building. She sighed, rose and paced a few steps, then returned, eyes drawn to the door, watching almost despite herself. She didn't want to be doing this. She didn't want the conflict that was certain to follow Mulder's return. After all they'd been through in five years of partnership, in the past few months alone, she didn't want to be the one to open yet another rift between them. Not when, after what now seemed like forever, she'd almost thought that they both understood one another... that they knew where they stood... that they'd reached equal footing in their partnership, each valued and accepted and... *This is no time to go maudlin, Dana. And it isn't business... not something to get this worked up over.* She turned her eyes inexorably down, to the computer printout she'd laid on her partner's desk. *The hell it isn't.* Hard to believe, that only days before they had been standing outside that door... their first return to the basement since that afternoon they'd found it burned, charred, the work of five years... more than that... gone all to ashes. *** "Close your eyes." "Mulder, I'm not closing my eyes." "C'mon, Scully... get into the mood, willya? Trust me." Mulder's eyes danced, sparking with a light his companion, standing with arms folded across her chest outside the closed office door, hadn't seen for too long a time. "Pleeeeeease?" And the tall FBI agent turned his best attempt at "puppy dog eyes" on his partner. Against her better judgement, Scully quirked a smile, sighed, and complied. "Okay, okay, enough with the eyes... there, see, I trust you. Now..." The last word was drawn out and up into a startled shriek, echoing down the slab flooring and cinder block walls of the Hoover Building basement as Scully found herself suddenly lifted bodily and slung, sack o' potatoes fashion, over her tall partner's shoulder. She felt, rather than heard, Mulder grunt and laugh as he straightened, shushing her. She dropped her voice to a stage whisper, eyes now open wide and bobbing approximately four feet from the floor, pounding ineffectually on his broad back as he opened the door and stepped through. "Mulder, PUT ME DOWN!" "Shhh! Don't you know it's traditional for an agent to carry his partner over the threshold of their new office?" And just as suddenly, she was righted, dropped lightly back to her feet, smoothing her hair and clothing, as Mulder turned and gestured broadly. "Here we are. Home sweet home, Scully. Be it ever so humble... What do you think?" "I think that next time you pull something like that, Mulder, I'm going to knee you in the solar plexus. That's what I think." But Scully was smiling as she glanced at Mulder's beaming face, then flicking her eyes across the walls of what not so long ago had been a dim-lit corner masquerading as office space. A fire can do wonders for renovation, she thought... new filing cabinets, creamy walls and counter space, bright overhead lighting, shelves already restocked from Mulder's personal collection of eclectic and paranormal bric-a- brac and boxed-and-filed magazine archives... bulletin board already peppered with clippings and photos, and one poster declaring, "I Want To Believe." There, too, in its alcove, was his desk... almost the twin of its predecessor, government office supplies being what they were. Scully smiled. "It's good to be home, Mulder." she said softly, and touched his arm. He'd been bored and miserable during their sojourn in the World Above, as Mulder had called it... ill at ease among by-the-book contemporaries and logical, rational cases of drug smuggling and organized crime... but had refused placement in the Violent Crimes unit, opting instead to follow her into less glamorous cases, to keep their five year partnership intact. Now, with Dallas and all that had followed well behind them, the X Files in all their macabre glory were their sole property once again, and the basement offices refinished and refined per AD Skinner's express orders. It was, as Mulder had said, a sort of homecoming. "Spooky and Mrs. Spooky... there goes the neighborhood." a disembodied voice had muttered in the elevator that morning. But it was true enough, and somehow, Scully did not mind in the least. "New and improved." Mulder agreed... but he was steering her about, hands on her shoulders, pointing her towards a corner that had, in its prior incarnation, housed a jumble of metal shelves and an assortment of cardboard filing boxes, a table which had continually bemoaned its sagging middle, and an Apple IIe computer long since gutted for some unknown purpose, inner wiring hanging out its casing like an autopsy gone bad. But now... "Like it?" And now her partner's voice was softer, and without even looking Scully knew he was watching her, eyes intent on her reaction. The alcove was almost a mirror of her partner's... brightly lit, flanked by countertops and shelving, with its own desk nestled in like a ship come to its home port. Scully took a hesitating step forward, then another. The shelves contained a complete medical reference library, bound in faux leather... and beside it, dictionaries, encyclopedias, computer software. Other sections boasted tomes of biology and chemistry, Gray's Anatomy, bound collections of Scientific American and the AMA Journal, a stanard black-barrelled microscope, and metal cabinets housing sample jars, test tubes, and the foundations of a simple desk lab. And, on the desk, angled jauntily to catch the light, rested the name plate from her old instructor's desk at Quantico. "I may not catch on very quickly..." Mulder said, coming up behind her. "But at least I don't make the same mistake twice, huh?" He grinned at her silence, for she had not yet managed to find her voice. "Oh. Here. Happy deskwarming." Reaching into the desk, he produced a half-dome of plastic and water, blue- backed and clear-faced... a tourist shop snow globe with a foil ribbon stuck at a crazy angle to its top. Scully chuckled... the inner scene was one of garishly-painted tourists and bikini-clad penguins sunbathing on the Antarctic shores. "Mulder..." she said, glancing up at him, speaking around the lump in her throat. Her partner shook his head, stepping away, slightly flushed. "Don't get all mushy on me now, Scully..." he warned her, flashing his lopsided grin. "I got the medical reference set for the photos, not the articles. Interesting section on 'gigantism,' you know..." "Of course." And she turned, dabbing at her eyes even as she laughed. "Thank you, Mulder. With everything that's happened..." She let it trail off, glancing back. Mulder was watching her, a curious expression on his face. He nodded, then began shuffling the papers that were already on his desk. "You know, Skinner says he might even redirect a rookie or two down here... don't know if that's a threat or a promise. I put your desk closest to the door so you can bar it to keep me from fleeing in terror if it ever happens..." *** It had felt good to be home. And it was home, Scully realized... more home to her than so many places had been in her lifetime. The basement office, though not prime office space to those more traditional peers on the Bureau fast track, was reassuring in its organized chaos, and even when it had been more filled with shadows and clutter, it had been where Mulder would be. So many mornings she had made her way into the bowels of the building, sometimes dreading the next case, sometimes eager to begin, but always looking first to her partner the moment the door clicked shut, seeking out that first glance, that quirk of a smile, the devil's glint in his eye as their oppositions met for another day's work. He had been yin to her yang from the day they'd accepted one another as colleague, as partner, as friend, and in that separate equality, Mulder's wry humor and bland expressions had become as much a part of her as her science and Catholic faith. He balanced her, even as she knew she balance him. It was not as if it were an easy balance to maintain, of course. Time and again over the run of five years, they had often found themselves at odds. Angry words had been exchanged... looks that could have pierced a Kevlar vest. Oh, she'd hated him sometimes... his arrogance, his independence. But always she'd stayed by him, backed him up, sometimes against her better judgement... and had known that he, in his own way, would always be at her back, no matter what his own personal frustrations were, if she needed him there. They were stronger in their conflict than many partners were in times of complete agreement, as though those moments only strengthened their resolve to see their union through... and as a result, neither casework nor superiors could part them. Not for long. Of that, she'd been as certain as Mulder was that his truth was out there. *Or you WERE sure of that.* After hours of accumulated investigation into the most outlandish cases... flukemen and werewolves and Nazis, oh my... after facing humiliation and despair on account of things she barely even believed in... after her own faith in her world had been shaken to the core... it had not been any sort of X File that had chilled her to her core, and caused her to wonder whether Mulder *would* always be there. Diana Fowley. It had started as just another case... just another agent cooperating in the investigation, one of Mulder's elusive allies come back from beyond. She'd met his old partner once before, though she couldn't recall his name, and Mulder did have his contacts... but from the first, there had been something about Special Agent Diana Fowley that had given her pause, unsettled her, thrown her backwards into some junior high anxiety. Who was this woman? What did she think of Mulder? Of their partnership? Of her? It was utterly illogical, ridiculous, but she'd felt it to her bones, and shied away. And Mulder hadn't noticed a thing. He'd been too busy being with Diana. Scanning her face. Catching her eye. Speaking to her in those soft half-tones he usually reserved for his partner. Scully fought the jealousy, stabbed at the gnawing anxieties, and struggled to maintain a professional bearing. It was clear that Mulder and Diana had a personal history. Clearer still - it wasn't simply professional. Well, then hail to it... Mulder's life beyond the office was his own, just as hers was. *Just keep the hell away from my partner, lady.* She'd been ashamed to admit to herself that she'd been almost relieved when Diana had been shot... so ashamed that she hadn't even confessed it to her priest, though she knew she should. And she'd experienced the thrill of guilty pleasure when Mulder had agreed to partner her in the Domestic Terrorism unit... despite the hollowness in his tone, the loss of his precious X Files. She'd felt that loss, too... but for now, she still had her partner, and when Dallas had reared its head, she'd had the freedom to take him away from DC, where Diana Fowley lay in a lingering coma, unresponsive but stable. *Selfish.* And it had been that, and she knew it. For close to two months now, she'd enjoyed the renewed light in Mulder's face, the banter between them, the eagerness to return to the job they did best. It had been like it always had been... just the two of them... even when they'd discovered, on returning from that last unofficial case in the frozen wastes, that Diana Fowley had made a complete recovery. Mulder hadn't seemed overly moved by it, and she'd distanced herself from that... at the time, she was happy enough to know that her partner needed her, and that they would continue on together. But in the past days, something had shifted, subtly. It had started with the phone calls. She'd known it was Diana calling. She'd dialled the wrong extention at one time, connecting with Scully rather than Mulder, and had been guardedly friendly... even suggesting that they "do lunch" sometime. Both were relieved at the acceptability of a neutral reply... yes, we should, let's keep it in mind. Mulder, for his part, said nothing about the calls. Scully would glance at him from time to time, watching out of the corner of her eye as he played with the phone cord, his face intentionally neutral - but sometimes breaking into a pleased, even embarrassed, grin. Then he would glance at her, quickly, to be sure she hadn't noticed. She would already have averted her face, giving that impression. She hadn't asked whom he'd been meeting for lunch, either. She knew well enough. Mulder, the Mulder she knew, rarely took lunches, preferring instead to consume obscene quantities of sunflower seeds. But now, he'd flash her a grin on his way out, asking if she wanted anything, before sweeping out the door on the tick of noon. *And that shouldn't make any difference to you, Dana, and you know that. Mulder's a big boy now. This isn't a case, and you can just stop acting like the suspicious girlfriend before he notices. You aren't the latter, and you have no business being the former.* Well, she HAD no business... before she'd seen the ring. It was more of a guess than a sighting, really. Often, when Mulder was occupied in conversation, she'd notice him fingering something... the phone cord, sometimes, or a pencil. But on this occasion, he'd reached into his pocket and toyed with something small as he talked, oblivious to his partner... staring at whatever it was with a curiously detatched expression, considering its weight, its shape. It had glittered, flashed for a brief moment, before he'd placed it back in his pocket. She hadn't heard any word of the conversation... her eyes had been on that golden glint... but something in Mulder's tone as he hung up the phone drew her fully away from the file she was reviewing. He'd sat there, staring at the phone for a long moment, face unreadable. Then, as if waking up suddenly, he rose and reached for his jacket. Scully glanced at the wall clock. Half past ten. "What's wrong?" The expression on his face worried her... it was odd, layered with messages she could not decipher. Mulder started mildly, as if only just remembering that she was in the office. He shook his head. "What? Oh. Nothing." He looked away. "Listen, Scully, I've got to step out for a bit. It's... ah... personal." "I understand, Mulder. If you need anything..." He'd smiled then, though it was a slightly strained smile. "I'll call. Thanks, Scully." And then he was gone. She'd kept up the pretense of work for about an hour longer, but always her mind was drawn back to that flicker of gold. Yes, she'd known that Mulder and Diana had a past. Frohicke had confirmed that... Fowley was "Mulder's little chickadee when he discovered the X Files." And the little man hadn't seemed terribly pleased about telling her that, and she'd been aware of the glances his friends had exchanged... at the time, she'd been mildly annoyed, but hadn't read into the statement. But now... *Dana Katherine Scully, despite the fact that a working partnership is more like a marriage than anyone wants it to be, you are NOT going to get all paranoid because Mulder was playing with what simply appeared to be a wedding ring. You knew Mulder had been involved with Diana before this... you dealt with this...* *But that was BEFORE.* Before. Riiiight, she thought. Before. Before she'd decided to stay with the X Files permanently. Before the incident in the Antarctic. Before her partner had poured his heart out to her in his apartment hallway, pleading with her not to leave the Bureau. Before he'd almost kissed her. Scully sighed. They hadn't touched that encounter since returning to active duty. Neither had seemed to want to, and even if they had... where would the time come from? Speaking for herself, she almost wished she could banish the memory... return to business as usual without its touch on the edges of her consciousness... Mulder's words had gone to her heart, lodged there, and she would hold them close for as long as he was her partner, reminding herself of what he'd said, how he'd said it. But that kiss... Bad enough that she didn't understand what had come over him in that moment... that sudden tension, that half second that had pushed them from partners to friends to something far more complicated, almost. Bad enough that, despite her initial hesitation, that thrill of anxiety as she'd seen the expression in his eyes shift to something deep, something so liquid she could have drowned in it, that she'd realized that part of her *wanted* him to kiss her, that she wanted to kiss him back, to bind him to her that way, to assure herself of a unity that would last even if their working partnership was severed. Bad enough that, in those sleepy dawn moments just before full wakefulness came, she could still feel the warmth of his body only inches away from hers, still feel the softness of his palm on her cheek, the tender weight of it there, as gentle and protective as a lover, still feel the softness of his lips as they just barely grazed her own. Bad enough that she couldn't dismiss it from her mind or heart, and that part of her longed for some closure to the moment that, in her mind, cycled endlessly without beginning or end, and unless she bodily dragged herself into the realtime moment, she would be happily lost in that forever. *Damn it, Mulder...* She'd stood, shaking herself free of the memory-mists, and looked at the door. Then, suddenly decisive, she'd reached for her own jacket, and shut the door behind her with a click. She had returned to the office long before he had, armed only with a single sheet of computer paper, emotions roiling. The office, newly bright, seemed to be forcing itself on her, trying to block its emptiness. She didn't want to do it this way, but it had to be done (*didn't it?*) and she settled in to wait. She was still waiting for him when he returned to the office late that afternoon, still leaning on his desk. Still thoroughly unhappy with the situation, though she guarded her response to his arrival carefully. Mulder seemed surprised to see her there, glancing at the clock that reminded them that, for normal working folks, the day was all but over. He hung up his jacket in silence, then glanced at her. "How's Diana?" she asked softly. Mulder paused for the barest of seconds, then sighed. "She's been having headaches lately... trouble seeing... she wanted me to drive her to the doctor. It's been that way since she got out of the hospital." His tone accepted that she knew where he'd been, and seemed almost relieved. He caught her questioning look, and shrugged. "I don't know. She'll go in for testing tomorrow... I'll be in late; we can reschedule the meeting with Skinner. Unless you want to go without me?" Scully shook her head. "No, reschedule it. Mulder... why didn't you tell me?" "About the meeting?" He seemed genuinely perplexed. "Scully, you're the one who was reminding me." "About Diana." Mulder paused again, then ran a hand through his hair, looking at the floor. "She didn't want me to, Scully. We're... old friends, and she knows how partners can be. She didn't want to be causing any... tension... between us. With all that's been going on. And the headaches haven't been so bad, until now..." "Old friends." And that rankled in her, that even now, he'd almost lie to her... evade her. She reached out, found the computer-printed sheet, and regarded it before handing it to him. "Want to try again, Mulder?" She didn't want to sound defensive, shrewish, but she knew her voice had an edge. Mulder glanced at the sheet, and his face became a bit harder, though he tempered his tone with faint humor. "Been doing some digging, huh, Scully? Want to tell me what brought on the curiosity? Or is this the five-plus year background check I forgot about?" "I saw the ring this afternoon." She rose, walked past him, then turned to face him. He'd followed her with his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you'd been married, Mulder?" She kept her voice soft, steady, and kept her eyes on her partner's face. There was a pause, and Mulder looked at the floor for a moment before answering. "I don't suppose you'd take 'it never really came up in conversation' as a good excuse?" He offered a lopsided smile, but even that was pale as sunlight behind stratus clouds. "You know. UFOs... vampires... flesh eating viruses... my ex wife... 'one of these things is not like the others...'" He thought on that for a moment. "Though from certain perspectives..." "That's exactly my point, Mulder." She did not smile in return. "It never really came up in conversation. Why? Even when she came back... when she was right here... you never said Word One to me." "There was a case, Scully..." The tone now held the faintest irritation, which stirred responding heat in her. "You know. A case. Those things that used to be in those filing cabinets over there..." He shook his head. "Okay, okay... I should have told you. You're right. I admit I was wrong... does that make you happier? I'll do the whole 'Men are from Mars' routine, if you want... but the case was occupying most of my attention, Scully, and I thought it was occupying yours, too. And then when Diana was shot... and they closed us down..." He shrugged, gesturing helplessness. "Call me crazy, call me absentminded, but I was just a little distracted." "If that's the excuse you feel you need to use, Mulder... I'll accept it if you will." She searched his face, sifting through the defensiveness and the sarcasm. "But I'm not asking for an apology... I'm not asking if it was right or wrong. I just want to know why it never came up. Not once in five years." "Maybe for the same reason I never knew about Jack Willis until he nearly got my partner killed." And now the shot was sharper, closer, like a pitcher brushing back the batter with a narrow fast ball. Scully stiffened at the mention of her former lover, of the case that had been his last. She hadn't wanted this to degenerate into an argument... a fight... but her partner was angry enough to play dirty already. Why? "Jack and I were never married, Mulder. That's entirely different." "Is it?" "It is!" She took a moment to turn away, to collect herself. There was nothing to be gained in letting him bait her, if that was what he wanted to do. *Is this going to be worth it, Dana? Is it worth it already?* *You're in too deep to stop now...* She turned to face him again, waiting for his reply. Mulder regarded her for a moment, then sank back to lean on his desktop. He nodded. "It was a long time ago, Scully. And it didn't last. Diana and I... well, I guess some of us just make lousy husbands. I was getting involved with the X Files on the sly... and Diana's the jealous type. She gave me the option to choose... and I guess I made the only choice I could. Or the only choice I thought I could." He corrected himself. "She asked for the transfer to Europe after the divorce was final." A long moment passed, neither meeting the other's gaze. "I wish I'd known," Scully heard herself say. Mulder snorted a humorless chuckle. "Why? I gave up one marriage for another, Scully... the X Files, to have and to hold, from this day forward, 'till death us do part. On the whole, I did better with the X Files. They never complain when I leave my clothes all over the floor." "It might have explained some things... when she came back." Scully paused, trying to choose her words carefully. "It might have given me... us... something to think about, maybe." Mulder's look was questioning, but steady. "Like what, Scully?" "Do you still have feelings for her, Mulder?" *Might as well come right out with it.* Mulder's reply was instantaneous. "Does it matter?" His tone was sharper than she'd expected... not angry, not accusing, but something else. She felt irritation flare. *HE* was the one who had hidden his past from her. *Of course it matters!* She fixed him with a piercing look, waiting. *You're my partner. I thought you were my friend. Does it matter, my big toe.* Mulder said nothing. For five seconds, six, he matched her gaze for gaze, then broke. "She's my friend, Scully... just like you're my friend." *Great, Mulder, that really clarifies things. *I* don't even know what that means, right now.* Scully lowered her voice. "Does she want a reconciliation?" "Why all the questions, Scully?" He was regarding her fixedly now, though his voice was tired. "Does she want a reconciliation? I don't know. Maybe. We're trying to put our past behind us... to move on. Do I want a reconciliation?" He caught her eye, guessing at the question she would not have asked. "I don't know. I don't know about a lot of things right now." His eyes flickered across her face. "Now a question for you, Scully. Fair's fair. Why is this bothering you so much? Enough for you to go digging for this..." he waved the printout. "Marriage licenses are a matter of public record." she said evenly. "So you're saying that this doesn't bother you in the least?" And his gaze was piercing now. "Good. Fine. Great." "I'm saying that I didn't go digging." she countered. "And I'm saying... that this gives me some thinking to do, Mulder. That's all." "Thinking about what?" His voice was genuinely irritated now. "Scully, this is my past. My history. It doesn't affect you." "After what you said in your hallway, Mulder, I wonder how you can say that." Okay, so what he *said* wasn't so much the issue... but she didn't need to correct herself. Mulder straightened, took a step forward, eyes on her, watching. "This doesn't affect what happened there." he said, and his voice was odd in tone. "Doesn't it?" Scully shook her head. "I think it does, Mulder. I really think it does. It has to." "Are you saying that if you'd known then what you know now..." The irritation was back, creeping into a tone that was almost too quiet. "That you'd have responded differently?" "Mulder, you're being vague." "So are you. Answer the question, Scully." "Would I have responded differently, if I'd known you'd been married to Diana?" "You know exactly what I mean. Would it have changed anything?" He'd raised his voice slightly, and that triggered the anger in her, emotion flaring hotly. "Yes!" It was out before she could censor her thoughts, and contradiction would only heighten its impact. For a long moment they stood, a tableau, each shocked into stillness by the naked honesty there, the meaning... the meanings... of one simple word only just beginning to assert themselves. Mulder was the first to speak, his face now carefully masked, blank, his tone guarded, neutral. "Why?" A loaded question, lobbed with all the ease and grace of a hand grenade, Scully thought. She took a moment, reminding herself to breathe, studying her partner... stance, expression, tone. There was something he was consciously holding back, that much was clear... and it frightened her how easily he could close himself off, tuck that part away, awaiting her answer. Why? Why should it affect her? Why should past history cloud the present... or a relationship he'd severed infringe on something neither of them had yet contemplated, or wanted to? *You've stepped into it now, Dana. Stepped? Jumped. Blindly, irrationally, stupidly. Walk carefully, kiddo, before you say anything else you'll regret...* "From a purely rational position, Mulder, it's not as simple as 'why.'" Two could play at emotional cloak-and-dagger. She drew herself up, regarding him as though they were discussing physics, or chemistry, or some otherwise clean and bloodless science. "If you're asking me why the fact that you were married once would affect me, I'd have to logically admit that it wouldn't. It's an aspect of yourself, and standing alone, you're right, a random variable such as knowing that you were married should not affect... our partnership... in the least, regardless of who you were married to." "Nice recovery, Dr. Scully." And Mulder allowed himself a flicker of a smile, though the one was cool, bordering on sardonic. "The psychologist in me applauds you. But... and correct me if I'm wrong... your initial reaction came from the gut, and was neither logical nor rational. I asked you if knowing that I was married to Diana would have affected your decision to stay with the FBI, and how you responded that day in my hall. You said yes. Throwing logic and reason out the window, Scully, I want to know why. I don't think that's an unfair question." He had her there... cat-and-mousing her back into the corner. It wasn't an unfair question, given her earlier questions, given her response, and they both knew it. *But what if my reason is an unfair reason?* "No, it's a fair question, Mulder. It's just that there's no easy response I can give you. No clean, pre-wrapped 'why' answer. I can't undo my decision to remain with the Bureau because of this..." She paused, self-corrected. "I won't. But I also can't say with any certainty why knowing this would have affected my decision to stay. I didn't know about this then, and while I'm certain it would have had some effect, that knowing... I don't now the whys, or the whats. "Knowing that you were married... knowing that you were married to Diana... came as something of a shock. I wasn't even sure if I should let you know... or wait, and hope you would tell me. But it was a shock. Not because of what it is, or what it means... but because of the fact that you never thought to mention this to me. It made me wonder, after five years of working together, of building trust, exactly who you are. Because knowing this... knowing it now... made me realize that I've committed a large portion of my life to someone who is, in essence, a stranger to me." She shook her head. "But it doesn't change anything." Mulder's voice was low, intense. "My past is MY past. And that's what it is... the past." "Is it?" And her voice was soft now, interrupting like a whisper. "Mulder, the past is something we build on... stand on. A foundation. It's not gone, not put away in storage, not drifting down some river of time... it's a constant part of the present. And now... your past is here, in your present, and it's in mine, too. And it does change things. It has to. You are my partner. When you asked me to stay... you said that our partnership made you a whole person, that it gave you the strength to continue when you might not, alone." "I said..." Mulder's voice now matched her softness. "That *you* made me a whole person. That I didn't want to do this without you. That I didn't think I could." He paused, weighing his words. "And I mean that as much now as I did then. *You* are a part of me, Scully. You are my partner. Without you... there IS no partnership. None." "Mulder..." She stumbled over words in a suddenly-tight throat, willing her eyes to remain clear, dry. "Mulder, you have to understand. You... you're as much a part of me as... as you say I am of you. You always have been. And now, that means that there's a part of me that is as alien as anything that we've ever pursued through the X Files. And that means that the question you're asking isn't 'why'... but 'what now?' Where do we go from here?" Another silence, as Mulder dropped his eyes, pacing a bit as he absorbed her words. Then he looked up again, his face was still neutral... but his eyes were deep, clouded. "So where do we go from here, Scully?" "I don't know." His eyes on hers did not waver, but held her, searching her, for some further answer. Even when she looked away, she could feel his unspoken questions... those deeper words that neither of them wanted to say... and tried to reign in the questions of her own. If knowing this changed the framework of their relationship, reaching deeper would almost certainly shake them to their foundations. Scully wasn't certain she wanted to test how sturdy those foundations stood... not now. *But he knows that there's more there than what you've said... that you've diverted him, if only barely. He knows. Look into his eyes... you can see that he knows.* "What are you afraid of, Scully?" The question took her entirely by surprise, and she looked up to see that Mulder had closed the distance between them, and that his face was no longer blanked of emotion, but an unclear mixture of them... an eddy in an emotional stream, and she was at its center. "What?" Inane repartee, she knew... but Mulder was not shaken. "You heard me." But this time, it was tempered with the ghost of a smile. "Five years, Scully... you don't spend five years with someone and not get to know some things. Even if after five years, she tells you that you're practically strangers. Scully... what are you afraid of?" He stepped forward again, a half a step, and she could feel the warmth radiating off him. She took a step away, placed a hand on his chest to hold him there. *I'm not afraid...* *The hell you aren't, Dana Katherine Scully.* She tried to reply, but was stopped by the unnerving reflection of herself in her partner's eyes... and something more. Something his face did not... could not... would not reveal. In the silence, his eyes spoke to her, answering her own question. *You're scared. You're as scared as he is right now.* "I'm afraid of the same thing you are, Mulder. Whatever happened between you and Diana... whatever happens... you're a part of me, Mulder. More than my friend. You're... my partner. In your hallway... you showed me that I hadn't been placed with you. That you'd chosen me, that I'd chosen you... that we'd found some wholeness in that. Together. And... and I don't want to lose my partner." She choked on that last word, wanted to swallow it back, but could not. Scully fought the urge to run... to bolt... to break away. There. It was out, and done. Unsmiling now, Mulder bowed his head as her words burrowed home, closed his eyes - whether against what she'd said, or to hold them inside, she could not tell. It suddenly sounded as ridiculous, she thought, as a small child being afraid of losing her best friend... "You'll like her better than you like me!" And that was what it was, in essence. Childish. Foolish. Whether Mulde= r reconciled with Diana or not, their working partnership would certainly remain intact... he must think her terribly foolish... weak... insecure... to fear that. Maybe she'd misread the look in his eyes. She must have. She flushed, deeply ashamed, and wished she hadn't spoken at all. Mulder's breath came in a soft exhalation as he stepped away, and Scully forced herself not to move after him. He turned, his back her, his hands buried deep in his pockets. Then, in a sudden, decisive motion, he turned and closed the distance once more... but moved this time behind her, one hand stilling her instinct to turn, resting on her shoulder to quiet her words. She could feel his fingers, thick and warm, slightly callused, at the nape of her neck, beneath the collar of her blouse... felt them find the gold chain that was there, almost a physical part of her. The hand on her shoulder left its resting spot, and fingers lifted the chain, fumbled for the clasp. A sound barely audible... slick, metal on metal... and then an unfamiliar weight slipping down her shoulder to find the chain's center of gravity. The barely perceptible click of the lock catching again, and both Mulder's hands rested on her shoulders, heavy and warm; she could feel his breath catch through that contact. He would not let her turn to him, even as her own fingers sought the chain, and as she drew it up and out, body-warmed, he stepped away, his face behind her. "Diana isn't my partner." Mulder said. "She never was." He left the room, footfalls quiet, fading. Scully did not turn to see him go. The wedding band was thick, solid, its gold surface unmarked by engraving or design, though scarred with many nicks and scratches... and as Scully touched it, parting it from where it now hung beside her own gold cross, she found that it was still warm. -The End-