Title: Damariscotta
Author: Susan
E-mail: touchstone98@tx.rr.com

Classification: post-ep story for Demons
Spoilers: Demons and various other references to
episodes from the first four seasons
Rating: PG13
Keyword: angst, UST

Archive: No archive without permission.
Disclaimer: On paper, these characters aren't mine.
In my head, they are.

Author's notes at the end.

Summary: After the events that occurred during 
Demons, Mulder takes off for parts unknown, but 
is running away really what he needs...or is it
what Scully needs?
******************************************************

Damariscotta 
by Susan
~~~~

When I woke up, I knew what I wanted.

Through most of my life, I sort of knew what I 
wanted, but I never knew with certainty if what 
I wanted was the right thing for me at the time.

But on this day, I knew.

I was going to leave my job, my apartment, my
partner.

The woman I pointed a gun at last night.  

Again.

Yes, I was coming off a jolt of ketamine at the 
time, but the truth is I knew exactly what I was 
doing.

I wanted to know the truth so badly I was willing 
to kill Scully to get to it.

And that's why I have to leave, and why I have to 
stay away for good.

~~~~

Two hours later, and I was on the road. Just me and
my car and a backseat full of assorted essentials.

In college, I used to take off on the weekends, 
just take off for parts unknown and stay in places 
where no one could find me.

At the time I needed to get away from the expectations, 
get away from the pressure I felt to be the perfect 
student, the perfect son.

But I wasn't the perfect son.  I was the son who 
lost his sister. I was the son who questioned his 
parents on their choices.

I was the son who carried a load of guilt on his 
shoulders every minute of every day.

And now here I am again, still carrying that guilt
and taking off for parts unknown.

Where I end up, it doesn't matter, as long as no
one can find me.

~~~~

Lunch consisted of a bag of sunflower seeds and
Diet Coke.  Dinner, a chicken sandwich, and a root 
beer I picked up at a 7-Eleven.  

When it came time to stop driving, I picked the 
first motel I saw from the highway: a Motel 6 
in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Chuckling at the 
irony of me, of all people, spending the night 
in Bethlehem, I pulled into the parking lot at 
11:00 p.m. and checked with the clerk.

Lucky for me, there was room at the inn.

Once inside my room, I kicked off my shoes and 
collapsed on the bed, my jacket still on, my gun 
still in its holster.

It was the last thing I remembered doing.

~~~~

Flashing lights.

Bright.  Yellow.  White.  Sometimes orange, but 
always flashing.  Always stinging my eyes.

Samantha. Mom. A man.

Cigarette smoke floating to the ceiling.

Flashing lights.

Lights so bright I can't see anything.  I can't
see...I can't see...I can't see...

And then she's gone.

Samantha is gone, and with her, the answers I so
desperately want.

Flashing lights shining in my eyes, pounding 
against my brain.

Flashing lights pushing down on my heart, and I 
can't breathe. I can't breathe...I can't breathe...
I can't...

My body suddenly jerking upright, I opened my eyes 
and mouth wide, gulping for air, still trying to 
breathe, but it wasn't a dream anymore.

It was real.

Sweat covered my face, chest, and arms, and my
back hurt. My eyes darted around the room, looking
at the drab green curtains by the window, the metal 
clothes rack by the sink, the familiar TV bolted 
down to the table in front of me.

I was alone in a strange motel room.

Again.

There was no blood on my shirt this time, although
there were sunflower seed crumbs in my pocket.

And there were no rounds missing from my gun, 
though there was a red indentation on my hip in 
the shape of the handle.

Peeling off my damp clothes as quickly as I could,
I threw them on the floor and hurried into the 
bathroom.

I don't know how long I stayed in the shower, but 
when I was done, all the hot water was gone.

Later that morning when I checked out, I slipped 
the clerk an extra $20 to cover the cost of the
water I used and the two towels I took.

~~~~

The next hundred miles were a blur.

Then again, that's pretty much what my life's been 
the past few years.  A big blur of disappointments, 
failures, and deceptions.

Except for Scully.

She's the one good thing in my life, the one person 
I can trust without question.

But what does she think of me now?

Two nights ago I pointed a gun at her and told her 
it was worth it to shoot her in exchange for the 
truth.

What the hell was I thinking?

The truth was, I wasn't thinking. I was hallucinating,
and I was willing to do anything to keep the images
coming, even kill my partner if I had to.

How can I ever trust myself with her again after 
that?

~~~~

Another fifty miles and a quick stop at a gas 
station to fill up and the little boy's room to 
empty out.

I also picked up another bag of sunflower seeds, 
a bottle of Coke, and one of those pre-made deli 
sandwiches wrapped in plastic.

If Scully were here with me right now, she would've
told me not to buy it and get something healthier
like one of those pre-made salads.

But she wasn't here.

She was hundreds of miles away, and she was safe 
from me.

And right now, that was the only thing that mattered.

Tearing open the bag of seeds, I popped a couple of
them into my mouth, turned up the radio, then pulled 
out of the parking lot and headed east on Highway 88.

Where I was going, I didn't know.

I just knew I had to keep driving.

~~~~

I spent the next several hours driving through 
New York. I've never come here as a tourist before, 
but I've been here a few times working on cases, 
and I remember coming here with my family one time 
when I was about fifteen.

My parents wanted to expose me to the opera back 
then, give me some culture, I suppose, and much
to my surprise, I liked it. Of course, I never 
told them that though.

Then again, there was a hell of a lot they never 
told me either.

I'm certain mom knows that cigarette-smoking 
bastard, and I'm sure dad knew him too, but what 
was their connection?

Was it possible that the man I thought was my 
father really wasn't my father at all?  And what 
about the other man?  Was he responsible for 
Samantha's disappearance, and if so, how?

All I saw in my flashbacks were snippets of events 
that may or may not have happened.

So, what was real and what wasn't?

When I confronted mom before about what happened, 
she slapped my face and ran away from me.

Does this mean that my suspicions were right, or
was she so shocked and appalled by my accusations 
that she simply lashed out the only way she could?

Either way, I still don't know the truth.

~~~~

Lunch consisted of a quick stop at the drive-thru
at McDonald's where I bought a Big Mac and a large
iced tea, then ate them while I drove.

The tea was cold and so was the sandwich.

It figures. Everything else in my life feels cold 
and hard right now. 

Why not my food too?

~~~~

After two straight hours of driving on the interstate, 
I was anxious to get out of the heavy traffic and 
start taking some of the lesser traveled roads 
instead.

Of course, I knew it would take longer to get to
where I was going, but since I didn't really know 
where I was going, that wasn't an issue.

When Scully and I would go to some of the smaller 
towns to investigate a case, it was often the less 
traveled roads I found to be the most interesting.

The types of homes we saw along the way, the people
we met, the normality in the way they lived their
lives...it was all so different than my own life.

Letting a doctor drill a hole in my head to bring
back memories of something that might not have 
even happened?

I don't know what possessed me to do something so
foolish.

Not to mention the fact that I spend most of my 
time trying to uncover governmental conspiracies 
and chasing after little green men that may or 
may not exist.

No, normal isn't what my life feels like at all.

When Scully was missing, I remember saying almost 
the exact same thing to Kristen, a woman I foolishly
slept with who was even more lonely and desperate 
than I was at the time.

And there have been many other times when I've 
done dangerous things, trusted the wrong people,
followed the wrong leads, chased after shadows
in places I never should've gone.
 
And yet sometimes I have these moments, these 
so-fast-if-you-blink-you'll-miss-them moments 
when I wonder what it would be like if I had 
what other people have.

A nice home. A stable job. Friends to hang out with.

A family who doesn't keep secrets.

But could I really be happy with that kind of life, 
or am I destined to always keep searching for those 
things that are beyond my reach?

I wish I knew.

~~~~

6:17 pm


Feeling too exhausted to drive anymore, I finally
stopped at a Comfort Inn in White River Junction, 
Vermont for the night.  

Once I checked into my room, I collapsed on the
bed again without undressing, but unlike the 
previous night I remembered to remove the holster 
on my waist and with it, my gun.

Holding it in my hand now, feeling its hard cold
edges pressing into my skin, I couldn't help 
thinking about just how powerful a weapon it was. 
With one simple pull of the trigger, I could end 
a person's life.

Or I could end my own.

What would it feel like to hold the barrel to my
temple and pull my finger back?

Would it hurt, or would the action and reaction 
be so instantaneous that I wouldn't feel a thing?

Two years ago, I asked myself the same thing.

Standing on Skyland Mountain in the middle of the
night, my gun in my hand, the wind at my back, I 
wondered what it would be like to end it all.

Of course, I knew I could never really do that to
myself just as I know I can't do it now, but still...

I also know that I could never do that to Scully.

For as much pain as I've caused her, for as many 
times as I've hurt her, I could never be that
selfish and cruel and leave her behind like that.

And yet, wasn't that what I was doing to her now? 
Making a decision to leave her behind?

No, this was something totally different.

Wasn't it?

I was keeping her safe, and I was staying away so 
I wouldn't hurt her again, and it was the right 
thing to do.

Wasn't it?

Setting down my gun on the nightstand beside me, 
I leaned back against the pillow, and pulled my
cell phone out of my jacket pocket for the first
time in two days.

I hadn't turned it on since I left my apartment,
knowing that Scully would try to call me the 
moment she realized I had left, and knowing that 
the moment I heard her voice on the other end, 
I'd want to turn right around and go back to her.

Sliding down further into bed, I flipped open the 
lid, then pressed the button, and checked my 
voicemail.

Not surprisingly, there were twenty messages waiting 
for me, all of them from her.

Seeing so many messages on the screen made my heart
pound faster, my throat tighten, and even though I
knew I shouldn't listen to them, I had to know that 
she was okay and that I'd made the right decision 
in leaving. 

Nervously pressing my thumb down on the button, I 
put the phone to my ear, and listened as she greeted
me with the same words she'd said hundreds of times 
before. 

"Mulder, it's me."

It was the last thing I heard before everything 
went black.

~~~~

I can't breathe.

Smoke is swirling in my lungs, and I can't breathe.

Not six feet away from me, he's standing in the 
doorway, a cigarette in his hand, his eyes cold 
and dark.

"You're a little spy," he says, taking a puff of 
his cigarette and blowing the smoke right at me.

The smoke stings my eyes, burns my throat, and I 
can't breathe.

"Fox," cries Samantha.  "Help me, Fox."

I try to move towards her, try to take hold of her 
arm, but it's so smoky, and I can't see, and I can't 
breathe.

"I'm scared, Fox.  Help me!" she screams.

But I can't answer her, and I can't go to her.

All I can do is watch as she's taken into the smoke 
and out of my life.

~~~~

When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the floor.

I blinked several times, then scanned the room, 
trying to get my bearings, and quickly realized 
that I was in a motel room. Slowly pushing myself 
up into a sitting position, I looked down at my 
soaked shirt.

Thankfully, it wasn't blood.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I wiped the sweat
from my face with the back of my hand, then lifted
myself up onto the bed.  Although I was sweating,
my body felt cold, and my limbs were shaking.

Dr. Reese had told me that it would take the ketamine
at least 48 hours to work its way out of my system
and for my seizures to completely stop, but what he 
didn't tell me was how vivid my flashbacks would 
still be.

I thought that as time passed, the images would fade 
and decrease in intensity, but what I just saw, what 
I felt...it all seemed so clear.

And real.

Bringing my hand up to my forehead, I touched the
tender spot where Dr. Goldstein had made a hole 
in my head, remembering the shrieking sound of the
drill as its needle pushed its way into my brain.

How could I have been so stupid, putting myself in
danger like that?

My desperate attempt to recall my childhood memories
nearly cost me my life.

And my partner's.

Well, no more.

No more foolish risks. No more acts of desperation.  
No more chasing shadows long gone.

And no more hurting Scully.

Still feeling sluggish, but steadier than before, 
I got off the bed and went into bathroom. Forty 
minutes later, after a quick shower and an even 
quicker breakfast, I checked out of the motel and 
was on the road again heading farther north.

And farther away my life.

~~~~

4:14 pm


It was raining when I arrived in Damariscotta, 
Maine.

Having passed Portland about an hour ago, I wasn't
sure how much farther I wanted to travel, but then
I started driving through this town, and I knew.

This was where I wanted to stay.

Not just for the night, but for as long as I needed
to.

Maybe it was the old homes and harbors.  Maybe it 
was the tall trees and cliffs, or the quiet small
town atmosphere.

Or maybe I was drawn here simply because it was 
where I was meant to be right now.

Whatever it was, I felt strangely comfortable here. 

And safe.

~~~~

5:01 pm


After trying two of the local inns, I finally 
found a third one that had something available.  
It was called the Oak Gables Bed and Breakfast, 
and not only was there a main house with rooms, 
but it also had a couple of small apartments and 
a cottage for rent.  

Though the apartments were occupied and all but 
two of the rooms at the main house were filled, 
there was a last minute cancellation on the cottage. 
Wanting to be around as few people as possible, I 
put down a deposit on the cottage and made 
arrangements to stay there for an entire week.

"So, you'll be staying for a week then, Mr. Mulder?"
asked the woman behind the counter, sliding my credit 
card through the machine.

"Yes."

"And will there be anyone else joining you?" she 
asked as she glanced down at my left hand, no doubt 
checking for a wedding ring.

"No, it'll just be me for the week," I replied 
quietly, looking towards the window instead of 
at her.

"Um...okay, well, if you'll just sign here please,"
she said awkwardly, taking out the registration 
book from behind the counter and setting it down 
in front of me.

"We serve breakfast in the morning in the dining 
room of the main house, and there are several 
restaurants in town where you can have lunch and 
dinner. I can also give you directions to the 
local grocery store if you'd rather make your own 
meals.  You have a fully equipped kitchen in your 
cottage as well as cable TV, a telephone, and a 
fireplace, but if you have any other questions 
about the facilities or about what to see and do 
around Damariscotta, I'd be happy to help you. 
Oh, and by the way, my name is Martha," she said, 
extending her hand to me. "I'm a long time resident 
of Damariscotta and the owner of Oak Gables."

I shook her hand.  "It's nice to meet you, Martha," 
I said, "And no, I don't have any other questions 
about anything right now." 

She eyed me for a moment, then held out both my
credit card and the key.  "You do realize that the 
cottage has three bedrooms in it, don't you, Mr. 
Mulder?" 

I put the card back inside my wallet, then examined
the key in my hand. "No, I didn't know that."

Tilting her head to the side, she bit her bottom 
lip, then suggested, "Are you sure you wouldn't 
rather stay here in the main house?"

"I'm sure," I replied as I put the key in my pocket. 

"I...um...okay," she stuttered, uncomfortably 
looking down at the floor instead of me. "I start 
serving breakfast at 7:00, and here's a list of 
all the restaurants within a ten mile radius of 
here," she added, handing me a sheet of paper with 
a list of restaurants typed on it.

I shook her hand a second time.  "Thanks for all
your help, Martha."  Then before she had a chance 
to say anything else to me, I quickly hurried out 
the door.

A cottage with three bedrooms was waiting for me.

~~~~

10:20 pm


Sitting here tonight on the front porch of the 
cottage, I felt strangely calm.

Maybe it was the breeze blowing through the screen
windows.  Maybe it was the gentle lapping of the 
water along the shore of the Damariscotta River.  
Maybe it was the steady chirping of the crickets.

Or maybe it was because I simply stopped running.

Over the past four years, all I've done is run and 
search and try to give meaning to what happened to 
my sister, but now maybe what I needed to do for
myself, at least for a little while anyway, was 
to just stop.

Stop looking for answers I'm never going to find.  
Stop putting both myself and Scully in dangerous 
situations. 

Just stop and think about whether or not being an 
FBI agent is what I really want to do with my life.

When the X-Files were shut down three years ago, 
I had thought about the same thing, and had actually
considered leaving the bureau and pursuing my work 
in the paranormal some other way, but then I had
ultimately chosen to stay, realizing that I was 
right where I needed to be.

But things were different then.  

*I* was different.

Back then I was obsessed with finding the truth 
and nothing else mattered, but now there are other
things to consider and other priorities in my life.

And there's Scully.

She's been a good partner from day one, but over
the years, we've become so much more than just that.

She's my best friend, my sounding board, my support
system.

And the one person who continues to believe in me
no matter what I do.

So, why did I leave her exactly?

I'd been asking myself that question over the past
few days, and despite my constant insistence that 
I was doing the right thing for both of us, now 
I wasn't so sure.

Yes, I wanted her to be safe, and yes, I wanted 
her to be happy.

But how was my leaving her behind without telling
her why going to accomplish that?

Knowing her the way I do, she's probably been frantic 
with worry over the past few days, wondering what 
I've done this time, trying to figure out where I've 
gone and if I'm okay.

Was I wrong not to at least let her know that I was 
leaving town?

Of course, I was.

But did I really want to call her, knowing that 
she wouldn't want me to be alone and that she'd 
try to find me as soon as we hung up?

When I left town, I was so certain that making a 
clean break from her was what I wanted, but sitting 
here now, the lake breeze softly blowing on my face, 
my head clearer than it's been in days, I realized 
that I needed to talk to her, to let her know that 
I was okay and that she shouldn't worry about me.

But what would I say when I called her?

How would I explain that I needed to be away from 
her right now and maybe even for good?

I honestly didn't know, but I had to at least try.
I owed it to her.

And to myself.

Standing up from the chair, I closed my eyes and
breathed in the cool night air one last time, then
went back inside.

I had a phone call to make.

~~~~

10:40 pm


I knew I should call her.  

I knew I should just press the damn speed dial 
button and tell her that I was safe and that I 
needed to be alone for awhile.

And yet I couldn't do it.

I'd been sitting on the bed for the past fifteen 
minutes, my legs stretched out in front of me, 
the phone in my hand, and yet I couldn't bring 
myself to press that button and talk to her. 

But why?

Why is it so difficult for me to talk to the only 
person I trust?

Because I'm afraid, that's why.

I'm afraid to hear her voice, knowing that when 
I do, all my emotions will come to the surface, 
and I'll be unable to push them back down.

And I'm afraid of hearing my own voice, its tone
and cadence giving away secrets I'm just not ready 
to share yet.

And so I decided to wait. 

Until when, I wasn't sure. 

I just knew that it wasn't going to be now.

Putting the phone back on the nightstand, I stood 
up from the bed and headed for the door.  Before 
I knew it, I was outside of my cottage and walking, 
walking as fast as I could.

The night air was cooler than it was before when
I was sitting on the porch, but I welcomed it, 
its sharp edges hitting me in the face as I walked 
faster, faster, faster...

And the next thing I knew I was running.

I was running past the main house and the studio 
apartments on the property, past driveways and
trees, the wind slapping my arms as they pumped
harder, harder...

And I was running down one street and then another,
passing houses with cars in the driveways, dogs in
the backyard, and families inside.

Families with parents who didn't keep secrets and 
children who weren't taken away in the middle of
the night. 

Families that weren't torn apart by lies.

When I finally stopped running, I thought I'd be
miles away from where I started, yet somehow I
ended up making a complete circle, ending up back 
in the same neighborhood where Oak Gables was.

My face and neck covered with sweat, my heart 
wildly racing, I bent over and took several deep 
breaths, then stood straight up again, puffing 
out my cheeks and releasing a long stream of air.

As I was trying to get my breathing under control, 
I looked over towards the main house of Oak Gables. 
My eyes immediately drawn to the dimly lit street
light and the sign underneath it, I read the words 
out loud.

Pleasant Street.

How ironic was that?

After my first day on the road, I ended up spending 
the night in Bethlehem, and now I'm staying in a 
cottage on Pleasant Street.

Was it an omen, or a cruel twist of fate?

Too tired to give it any more thought than that, 
I wiped the sweat off my face with the bottom of 
my shirt, then slowly walked the rest of the way 
back to my cottage.

~~~~

"Mulder."

"Scully?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Scully, what are you doing here?"

"I need you."

"What's wrong?  Are you hurt?"

"I have cancer."

"What?  What are you talking about?"

"There's a mass growing on the wall between my 
sinus and cerebrum. If it pushes into my brain, 
statistically there is about zero chance of 
survival."

"I refuse to believe that."

"You can refuse to believe it, but it's true. I 
have cancer, Mulder, and there's nothing you can 
do about it."

"There has to be something."

"There's nothing either of us can do but wait for 
me to die."

"I don't accept that."

"You have to.  I'm going to die soon, and then 
you'll be all alone.  Is that what you want?  To 
be alone?"

"Hmmph..." I mumbled, my body roughly jolting awake.

Pushing my body up into a sitting position, I made 
myself take several deep breaths, pressing the 
sweaty palm of my hand to my chest and forcing the 
air into my lungs.

Breathe, Mulder.

Just close your eyes and take a deep breath. You're
hallucinating again. It's not real. It's not real... 

But then it hit me.

It wasn't another hallucination I'd had.  

It was a nightmare, and it was true.

Scully has cancer.

She has a tumor that's growing inside of her, and 
she's going to die.

She's going to die, and she's there and I'm here, 
and oh my God, what have I done?

My head pounding now, my heart racing, I quickly 
moved to the head of the bed, reached over to the 
night stand, and grabbed the phone. With trembling 
hands, I dialed the numbers on the old-fashioned 
rotary phone, then held the receiver to my ear.

According to the clock on the wall, it was 2:30 in 
the morning, but it didn't matter. All that mattered 
was that I had to talk to Scully.  I had to hear her 
voice, had to hear for myself that she was okay.

And I had to let her know that I was okay too, even 
though right now I wasn't anywhere close to being 
okay.

"Scully..." she answered, her voice groggy with 
sleep.

I immediately felt bad for interrupting her rest, 
especially since she needed so much of it now, 
but hearing her say just that one word made me 
feel better than I had in days.

"Mulder?" she asked, her voice sounding clearer 
now, more alert.  "Is that you?"

I leaned back against the headboard, closed my 
eyes. "Yeah, it's me," I replied softly.

I could hear a hitch in her breath then and a 
rustling of something in the background, probably 
the sheets on her bed as she sat up.

"Where are you? Are you okay?" she asked anxiously.

"I'm alright, Scully.  I'm fine," I lied.  

"You are not fine, Mulder," she said abruptly.  

Her suddenly sharp tone took me by surprise, and 
yet it was exactly what I deserved, given the fact 
that I'd left town without a word.

"I'm sorry."

And I really was sorry.

Sorry for letting Dr. Goldstein fill me with drugs 
and drill a hole in my brain.  Sorry for pointing 
a gun at her and telling her it was worth it to 
shoot her just so I could get to the truth. Sorry 
for leaving without telling her.

But most of all, sorry for not being there during 
those times when she needed me the most.

Duane Barry. Donnie Pfaster. Gerald Schnauz.

And now.

Now she has cancer, and I feel even more helpless.

"You should be sorry," she said, her harsh tone 
disrupting the even harsher thoughts in my head. 
"You scared the hell out of me, Mulder...leaving 
town like that without telling me."

And losing you to cancer scares the hell out of 
me, I thought.

"I'm sorry...it's just that...after what happened, 
I needed to be alone for awhile," I said, stumbling 
over my words.

"But I didn't know where you were, and I didn't 
know if you were passed out in a ditch somewhere.  
I didn't know, and I..."

"I'm all right, Scully," I interrupted.

"Are you?"

"And what about *you*, Scully? Are you really all
right? Are you taking care of yourself, doing what 
your doctor says?" I quickly retorted, trying to
change the focus of the conversation away from me 
and onto her.

There was a long pause, then an answer, but not 
the one I was expecting.

"You ditch me with a dangerous drug still in your 
system and run off to God knows where, and you're 
asking me if I'm taking care of myself? Now that's 
rather ironic, wouldn't you say?" she remarked 
sarcastically.

"No, it's honest," I replied quietly. 

"You want to talk about being honest?" she snapped 
back.

Damn it. This wasn't how I wanted this phone call 
to go at all. Still, I understood her anger and 
frustration.

After all, I was feeling it too.

My fingers nervously tugging at a loose thread 
on the comforter, I bit my bottom lip, let out  
a big sigh. "Yes, Scully I do...and I want to 
know why you can't be honest with me about what's 
going on with you right now," I said, repeating 
a similar comment I'd made to her in a hospital 
hallway less than a week ago.  

"Why can't you tell me what it's like, knowing 
you have cancer and there's not a thing you can 
do about it? Why can't you tell me that you're 
mad at me for all I've done, but that you need 
me now to help you get through this? Because you 
can't tell me for the same reason that I can't 
tell you," I said, my voice getting louder as I 
wiped the sweat from my forehead.

She said nothing then, but I could hear her 
breathing.

Or maybe it was my own breathing I heard, my 
heartbeat now loudly pulsating in my ears.

"You're afraid of dying," I stated, the words 
catching in my throat.

"I'm afraid of losing you," she whispered back.

What the hell?

I'm the one who ran away, afraid that I might do 
something else to hurt her, that I might lose her 
to a disease she doesn't deserve to have, and she's 
the one who's afraid of losing me?

Jesus...

"I'm in Maine," I blurted out.

"What?"

"I'm in Damariscotta, Maine at a place called Oak 
Gables," I said, my fingers still tugging on the 
thread, but my voice surprisingly calm now.

There was another awkward pause, then finally a 
response, but this time it was exactly what I knew 
it would be.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

~~~~

8:12 am


When I woke up, I was surprised to roll over and 
see that it was already past 8:00.

The only thing I remembered before falling asleep 
was talking on the phone with Scully and telling 
her where I was, and then nothing.

But it was a good kind of nothing.

For the first time in days, I didn't have any 
nightmares, and I didn't wake up drenched in 
sweat.

Could it be because Scully and I came clean with 
each other for once?

Sure, we both still had a long way to go in regards 
to telling each other how we felt about a lot of 
things, but I couldn't help thinking that maybe 
simply telling her I was here in Maine and letting 
her know how I felt about her cancer was a start.

And what she'd said to me...well, I'm still trying 
to wrap my mind around that one.

Three years ago she'd caught me off guard by telling 
me that I was the only one she trusted, but to hear 
her say that she's afraid of losing me was something 
I never expected her to admit to herself, let alone 
say out loud to me.

Did she say it in the heat of the moment, or were 
those five words the start of something even greater 
between us?

I honestly don't know, but I do know this.

It changes everything.

~~~~

3:30 pm


"I'll be there as soon as I can."

That's what she'd said to me hours ago, but where 
was she?

Standing here now, the quiet ripples of the river 
softly tapping against the shore, the wet breeze 
dampening my skin, I began to wonder if she'd 
changed her mind and decided not to come.

Or what if something had happened, and she wasn't 
able to come?

What if she'd had another nosebleed, a nosebleed 
more severe than the one she'd had last week when 
we were investigating Harold Spuller?

No, I would've sensed that something was wrong.

She probably just had a flight delay at the airport, 
or she was stuck in traffic. Then again, if that 
were the case, why wouldn't she have called and 
told me that?

Picking up a stone on the ground, I tossed it out 
into the water.  Watching the rock as it quickly 
disappeared beneath the surface, it suddenly 
occurred to me that I'd done the same thing when 
I had agreed to let Dr. Goldstein drill a hole in 
my head and help me conjure up memories that may 
or may not have been real.

I had disappeared beneath the surface and almost 
drowned, nearly taking Scully with me.

And yet here I was doing the same thing again.

I'd left DC because I didn't want to drag her 
down and hurt her again, yet I told her where I 
was, knowing that she'd want to come here and 
knowing that I wouldn't be able to stop her.

How could I have been so selfish?

Angrily grabbing another rock from the ground, 
I hurled it as far downstream as I could, then 
squeezed my eyes shut.

I couldn't let her do this.

I couldn't let her come here and get pulled back 
under with me, I just couldn't.

"You've got a pretty good arm, but your technique's 
all wrong," said someone from behind me.

My eyes immediately flying open at the sound of 
her voice, I spun around and saw her standing 
there.

She looked thinner to me and her hair seemed 
longer, though I'd just seen her a few days ago.

"Scully."

She took a step closer. "Mulder."

We both just stood there and looked at each other 
then, neither of us moving, neither of us speaking.

It was awkward.

Then again, there seemed to be a lot of awkward 
moments between us lately. 

We used to be so comfortable around each other, 
but ever since Scully told me she had cancer, 
things have become much more intense between us.

And guarded.

"Are you okay?" I finally asked, taking note of 
her pale skin and the dark circles under her eyes.  
"You look tired."

I started walking towards her then, suddenly 
overcome with the urge to touch her, but the 
flash of anger I saw in her eyes stopped me.

"And how should I look, Mulder?" she snapped back, 
surprising me with her sharp tone. "How should I 
look after worrying about you nonstop over the 
last few days? How should I look, not knowing if 
you were passed out in your car because of a 
seizure or lying dead in the middle of a field 
somewhere?" she said, her hands at her sides and 
clenched into fists.

As much as it hurt to hear her speak to me that 
way, I knew she was right. It was wrong of me to 
just pick up and leave without telling her.

Just as it was wrong of me to let her come here.

I put my hands in my pockets, looked down, kicked 
at a small stick on the ground.  "I'm sorry," I 
said softly, still looking down, this time at a 
worm burrowing its way underground to the left 
of my foot. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Scully."

"And I'm sorry too," she said, her voice still 
sharp, but softening. "I'm sorry you didn't feel 
like you could trust me enough to let me know 
where you were."

Tilting my head back, I closed my eyes and inhaled 
the misty air coming off the river, then turned 
to look over at her. "I didn't leave to hurt you.  
I left to protect you."

"I don't need you to protect me, Mulder," she 
argued.

I know you don't, but I need to feel like you do, 
I thought to myself, moving over a little closer 
to her.

She didn't step back.

I moved closer.

She looked up at me then, licked the corner of 
her mouth. "And I don't need you to worry about 
me, either. I had a checkup two days ago, and my 
doctor said I was fine."

"Are you?" I asked, just as I had asked her on 
the phone before.  

Tentatively cupping my hand around her cheek, I 
was immediately struck by how soft and warm it 
was.

And how much more delicate it felt since the last 
time I'd touched it.

She looked up at me with watery eyes, then quickly 
looked away. "I'm fine. Stop looking at me like 
that."

"You are not fine, Scully," I said, brushing my 
fingers across her cheek, then drawing her into 
my arms.

"I'm fine, Mulder," she whispered, her head pressed 
against my chest, her arms tightening around me.

"Yeah...and so am I," I whispered back, closing my 
eyes as I rested my chin on the top of her head.

Of course, I was anything but fine, but standing 
out here now, the light mist from the river gently 
wafting over us, I realized that all the things I 
was trying to deal with could wait.

Right now, the only thing that mattered was that 
Scully needed me to hold onto.

And I wasn't about to let go.

~~~~

"You ready to go inside?" I asked, finally pulling 
back from our embrace, but not completely letting 
go. "Your arms feel cold."

She looked down just long enough to slip back into 
guarded mode, then said, "It's been a long day."

Not wanting to get into any kind of heavy discussion
with her right now, I chose to ignore her obvious 
avoidance of what just happened between us.

And judging from the subtle twitch in her eyebrow, 
she knew it.

"I'm parked on the street in front of the inn," 
she said, taking a step backwards so I'd have to 
let go of her arms.

"I'll get your bag."

"I'm perfectly capable of getting my own bag, 
Mulder."

"I know that," I said, letting her get away with 
another remark I'd normally call her on.

Already heading towards the street, she called 
out, "What cottage number are you staying in?" 

"There's only one," I replied. 

Deciding it was better not to push things with 
her right now, I started walking in the other 
direction. I'd barely gone a few feet up the 
hill when I was blindsided by a pain so sharp 
it dropped me to my knees.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I grabbed the sides of 
my head and fell hard into the light.

~~~~

Her nose was bleeding, but this time it wasn't 
just a trickle of blood.

It was flowing.

Running over her lips, down her chin, and dripping 
onto her blouse.

Red splatters on white silk, and her eyes bluer 
than I'd ever seen them before.

Her blouse, now soaked in red, clung to her skin 
as she reached out for me, but then the room 
suddenly filled with smoke, and I couldn't see 
her and I couldn't take hold of her hand and I 
couldn't breathe...I couldn't breathe...

"Mulder, I need your help!"

"I'm coming, Scully!" I yelled back, trying to 
propel my legs forward, but completely unable 
to move.

"Mulder, help me."

"I want to help you, but I don't know where you 
are," I said, helplessly reaching out into the 
smoke.

"Please, Mulder."

"I want to help you, Scully, but I can't see you. 
Tell me where you are."

"I can't," she whispered, her words catching in 
her throat.  "Help...me..."

"Let her be, Agent Mulder," said the old man, his 
voice dripping with smugness as he stepped out of 
the smoke, then lit a cigarette. "She doesn't need 
you. She never has."

~~~~

"Mulder, can you hear me?" she asked, her words 
muddled, her face fuzzy.

"That's it.  Come on, Mulder.  Open your eyes."

"Scully?"  My eyelids fluttering open, I looked 
straight up and tried to focus on the eyes of the 
woman hovering over me.  "What happened?" I asked, 
suddenly realizing that I was lying flat on the 
ground, the river flowing alongside me only a few 
yards away.

"You must've had another seizure," she answered, 
pressing her fingers to my neck. "Your heart is 
racing."

I slowly pushed myself up to a sitting position, 
tried to catch my breath.  She touched me again, 
this time placing the palm of her hand on my 
forehead. "You feel warm. Do you know where you 
are, Mulder?"

I closed my eyes and thought a moment.  "Maine, 
right?"

She let out a sigh of relief, let her hand drop 
from my forehead.  "Right.  Do you remember what 
happened?"

Do I remember watching in horror as blood poured 
from her nose? Do I remember hearing her call 
out for me and being unable to help her?

Do I remember the stench of his smoke and the 
arrogance in his voice when he told me that she 
didn't need me?

I'll never forget it.

"I don't remember anything," I lied, looking at 
the pieces of grass stuck to my pants instead of 
at her.

"Let's get you back to the cottage," she said, 
putting her arm underneath my armpit so she could 
help me stand up.

My legs feeling a little unsteady, I held onto 
her arm for balance. "You'll get no argument from 
me," I said matter of factly.

"Now that's a first," she replied, a hint of a 
smile passing over her face as she straightened 
out my jacket. "Can you make it there by yourself, 
or do you need some help?"

I don't need any help. I just need you, Scully.

But do you really need me?

"I'm fine," I quietly replied, brushing the loose 
dirt and grass off my pant legs, then heading up 
over the hill towards the cottage.

We walked the rest of the way in silence.

~~~~

"How are you feeling?" she asked, setting her 
luggage on the floor as she closed the door 
behind her. "Better?"

I plopped down on the couch, leaned back against 
the cushions. "A little."

Walking over to the couch, she sat down beside 
me, placed the back of her hand on my forehead, 
then put two fingers on my neck. "You don't feel 
warm, but your pulse is still racing. Why don't 
you lie down, and I'll go get you a glass of water. 
The kitchen's this way, right?" she asked, pointing 
to the left. 

I nodded my head yes, then did what she told me 
to do, kicking off my shoes and lifting my legs 
up onto the couch. Although I was better than I 
was a few minutes ago, I still felt a little dizzy, 
and I was relieved to now be stretched out on some 
cushions a few feet away from Scully instead of on 
the ground a few feet away from the Damariscotta 
River.

"Here you go," she said, walking back into the 
room with a cup of water in her hand.

I took it from her and promptly drank it all down. 
"Thanks," I said as I set the cup on the coffee 
table. "So Scully, what do you think of the place?"

She sat down in the chair across from me, laid her
hands in her lap. "It's big."

"Yeah, I guess it is," I remarked, taking note of
the way her blouse hung so loosely on her shoulders. 

She pursed her lips, rubbed her hands together.
"Look Mulder, I know what you're doing," she said,  
looking down at the floor instead of me. "And I 
want you to stop it."

The tone in her voice was unsettling, and I quickly
pushed myself back up into a sitting position. 
"Stop what? What am I doing?" I replied, though I 
had a pretty good idea of what she was referring 
to.

"You know exactly what I mean. You're trying to
change the subject so that you won't have to talk
about what's going on here. Now I came all this 
way to talk and make sure that you were okay, 
and I deserve to know what's going on with you."

She finally looked up at me then, her blue eyes 
bright with anger, her cheeks flushed.

And it was then that I realized I'd made a terrible
mistake.

What made me think that leaving the most important
person in my life was the right thing to do?

When I left town a few days ago, I felt ashamed,
guilty, confused, and afraid, and I thought that
under the circumstances, leaving town and staying 
away from Scully was the best thing for both of us, 
but looking at her now, seeing how thin her arms 
were and how tired and drawn-out her face was, I 
knew I was wrong.

Despite the fact that I was still confused about
what I wanted, I suddenly needed things to be 
right with us, to be the way they used to be before 
there were nosebleeds and MRI's and drug-induced 
hallucinations rattling around in my brain.

And I needed *her*.

Up until a few years ago, so much of my life had 
been spent alone, and I'd preferred it that way, 
but then she walked into my office, and everything 
changed.

And my feelings for her grew.

So much so that I'd do anything for her now, do 
whatever I had to do to protect her and keep her 
safe.

"Well?" she asked, the harsh sound of her voice 
snapping me out of my reverie. "I'm listening."

"What do you want me to say, Scully?"

She stood up from the chair. "I want you to tell 
me what the hell you're doing here in this town 
and why you felt the need to ditch me...again," 
she said, her voice cold and bitter.

"I didn't ditch you."

"What else do you call it when your partner runs 
off without telling you where he is and doesn't 
leave you a note explaining why?"

"I couldn't leave you a note," I weakly retorted.

She folded her arms across her chest. "Why not?" 
she asked accusingly.

I leaned forward, rested my elbows on my knees, 
clasped my hands together. "Because if I did, I 
knew you'd try to stop me."

"Of course I'd try to stop you." She walked over 
to the couch, sat down beside me.  "You're my 
partner, and if there's a problem between us, if 
you think you can't trust me or yourself, then you 
have to talk to me about it, not run away from it."

"I know that in theory, Scully, but just a few 
short days ago I pointed a gun at you and almost 
killed you because I thought you were trying to
stop me from finding out the truth..." I said,
lowering my head. "And I don't know if I can ever
forgive myself for that," I softly added, looking
down at the floor. "If I'd shot you, I don't know 
what I wou..."

"But you didn't shoot me," she interrupted. You 
stopped yourself when you had to, and you didn't 
hurt me."

She put her finger under my chin then, pushed my
head up so I had to look at her. "I'm not dead, 
Mulder. I'm okay," she said calmly.

But that's the thing. She *wasn't* okay.

And no matter how many times she claimed to be,
cancer was still eating away at her body, and 
there wasn't a damn thing either of us could do 
to stop it.

"Are you? Are you really okay, Scully?" I asked
her for the second time today, knowing I was 
getting into dangerous territory, but pushing 
my luck anyway.

She glared at me, clenched her fists at her sides
as she stood up. "How can you even ask me that 
again, Mulder, when you're the one who's been 
having blackouts and hallucinations?" 

"And how can *you* stand there and tell me that 
you're doing okay when I can clearly see that 
you're not?" I angrily asked, grabbing her thin 
arm and holding it up in front of us. "You have 
cancer, Scully...but you won't let me help you, 
and you sure as hell won't let me in."

"Let you in?"

She looked completely bewildered by my comment, 
as if she'd never even considered the fact that 
she was shutting me out of her personal life.

Which, of course, pissed me off even more.

"Yes, let me in, Scully," I snapped. "Whenever
something's bothering you or you're afraid, you 
tell me you're fine and send me on my way.  Well, 
you're not fine, and I'm goddamn sick of you 
telling me otherwise," I added, standing up and 
bending down closer to her face, trying to 
intimidate her.

"And you're not fine either," she shouted back, 
her nostrils flaring as she put her hands on her 
hips and tilted her chin up.

Seeing her like this, so emotional and completely
unlike the way she usually is, I suddenly found
myself smiling.

I knew it was inappropriate and knew it would 
annoy her, but I just couldn't stop myself.

She was standing just inches away from me, alive 
and full of fire, and although I didn't like what 
she was saying, she was actually laying her 
feelings out there for me in a way she never had 
before.

And so I was smiling.

And then I was touching her. 

A simple touch to her arm. A complicated set of 
emotions to express.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she 
huffed, her eyes widening as she tried to decide 
whether or not she was going to push my hand away.

"You know, for two highly intelligent people, we're 
not very smart sometimes, are we?" I remarked as I 
curled my fingers around her right hand and lifted 
it up.

The crease between her eyes deepened as she pondered
my comment. "What?"

"Given the nature of our collective intellectual 
abilities, the decisions we make regarding our 
personal lives are rather ill-informed at times, 
don't you think?" I said, bringing her hand to my 
mouth and kissing the back of it.

"What are you talking about, Mulder?" she asked, 
obviously confused by the sudden turn in our 
conversation.

Then again, she wasn't the only one who was confused.

How did I go from being so angry with her a moment 
ago to being so calm and ready to share my feelings?

"I'm talking about us, Scully, how we are with 
each other when it comes to personal things." I 
let go of her hand then and added,  "We don't 
really talk much about anything other than work, 
do we?"

She tilted her head to the side, thought for a 
moment. "No, we don't," she replied pensively.

"Well, why not?" I asked, figuring that I'd 
already gone this far, I might as well push it 
all the way.

She had the oddest expression on her face then, 
and though she didn't really look angry with me 
anymore, she did look cautious, like she wasn't 
quite sure what to make of me at the moment.

And not being one to stop what I started, I took 
things even further. 

"I know that you're afraid, and I am too, but 
we've got to stop holding back and start really 
being honest with each other...and it's what I 
should have done instead of running off without 
telling you," I said, lightly placing my hand on 
her cheek and leaving it there.

She didn't push it away.

And she didn't push *me* away either, instead 
taking a step forward and letting herself hold
onto me for the second time today.

"I *am* afraid, Mulder...of so many things," she 
admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. 

My own arms quickly wrapped around her then, and 
as I gently held her warm body against mine, I 
couldn't help thinking back to about a month ago 
when I'd held her the same way in a hospital 
corridor in Allentown.

At the time I told her that the truth would save 
both of us.

And now as we stood there, tightly holding onto 
each other, I felt like maybe it could. 

~~~~

An hour later, it was as if nothing had changed 
between us, even though we both knew that everything 
had.

Telling each other how we really felt and being 
brutally honest about our fears was rough, and 
although there were still many things left to say, 
I felt like we'd both finally stepped over a line 
that was drawn four years ago.

"I still can't believe you rented such a large 
place, Mulder," she commented as she turned away
from the window and looked at me.

And I still couldn't believe that she was here 
after what I'd done to her.

"I needed some room," I said simply.

"Well, you've certainly got plenty of that." She 
smiled. "So, which bedroom is mine?"

"Pick one, and it's yours."

She tilted her head, narrowed her eyes. "What?"

I stood up from the couch. "This place has three 
bedrooms. Just pick the one you want, and you 
can have it for tonight...or longer...if you 
need it," I said, wondering if she'd actually 
consider staying beyond tomorrow.

"I don't want to kick you out of the room you're
already in. I'll just take the room across the
hall from you, if that's all right." She walked
over to her suitcases, picked up the medium-sized
one with her right hand, the small one with her 
left.

"You need some help?" I asked, regretting the
question as soon as the words came out of my 
mouth.

Of course, she didn't need any help.

She was a strong independent woman perfectly 
capable of carrying her own luggage, and the 
last thing she wanted was for me to do something 
that she could easily do for herself.

Or so I thought.

"Sure," she said, handing me the larger of the 
two bags, then heading towards the hallway.

I held onto the handle tightly and followed.

~~~~

This was all so strange, sitting outside here on 
the front porch of a cottage in Maine while inside
my partner was sleeping, her bedroom just a few 
yards behind me.

And yet it felt right.

Sure, we still had issues to work through, but for 
now we had come to a sort of a truce, an agreement, 
if you will, for lack of a better word.

She'd be honest with me about her cancer, and I'd 
think things through more thoroughly before doing 
something as drastic as having a hole drilled in 
my head.

Or coming to Maine to get away from my life.

I still can't believe I thought that running away 
from her was what I wanted.

Having her here now and knowing that tomorrow when
I woke up she'd still be here is more than I ever 
could've hoped for, especially after how I'd treated 
her.

"What are you doing, Mulder?" she asked, her quiet 
voice interrupting my thoughts. She let the door 
close shut behind her and walked over to me. "You 
okay out here?"

"I was just thinkin'."

She sat down in the porch chair beside me. "About
how stupid it was to ditch me?" she replied, her
lips curving into a slight smile as she looked at 
me out of the corner of her eye.

"Something like that."

I reached over and placed my hand on top of hers 
then, not because I wanted anything to happen
between us, but because I was grateful that she'd 
come all this way to check on me.

And grateful that even though she was angry about 
what I did, she was still listening to what I had
to say.

Surprisingly, she was letting me touch her too.

"Don't ever do that to me again," she said, her 
voice low and serious, her eyes now locked on 
mine.

"I won't, but only if you promise that you won't
keep things hidden from me about your cancer."

"Mulder, I..."

"I mean it, Scully. It's like I told you before.
If you keep things from me, you're working against 
me." I squeezed her fingers and added, "And I don't 
think you want that."

She nervously licked the corner of her mouth,
looking down at our joined hands. "No, I don't,"
she replied softly, squeezing my fingers back.

I sat in silence then, waiting for her to tell 
me I'd better not keep things from her either
and to let go of my hand, but she did neither
of those things, instead choosing to sit beside
me quietly.

Then again, maybe this was what we both needed 
right now, to sit in silence and contemplate 
just what it was we wanted to happen next.

When I left two days ago, all I wanted was to
distance myself from her and to keep her safe,
but sitting beside her now, knowing that she
traveled all this way to be with me, I wasn't 
so sure that's what I really wanted anymore.

And what about her?  What did she want?

I didn't know, but maybe being here alone together 
in Damariscotta was our chance to find out.

"It's getting late," I said as I watched her yawn
for the second time. "You should go back to bed,
Scully, get some rest."

"I'm not tired," she protested, stifling a third
yawn with the palm of her hand. "Okay, maybe a 
little," she admitted. "I guess the flight and 
the long drive out here took more out of me than 
I thought."

And it meant more to me than she'll ever know.

She stood up from her chair then, and so did I.
"And what about you? You need to take it easy 
too, especially since all the ketamine probably 
still isn't completely out of your system yet."

I pushed the chair I was sitting in up against 
the house. "I haven't had any blackouts since 
this afternoon."

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't get a good night's 
sleep," she said, pushing her chair next to mine.

As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. It
had been a long day, and though I tried to fight
it, keeping my eyes open was starting to become
difficult.

"No, I guess it doesn't." Walking to the front 
edge of the porch, I took one last look at the 
river and breathed in the chilly night air. 

"Let's call it a night, Scully. Then we can start 
fresh tomorrow."

"We're not on a case, Mulder," she said, grabbing
hold of the screen door handle and pulling the 
door open.

No, we weren't, but I had a feeling we were about 
to go down a path neither of us had ever traveled 
on before.

And I wanted to be wide awake and hallucinogen
free when I started on it.

""No, we're not," I said quietly as I turned 
around and walked over to her. Putting my hand
on the door right above hers, I bent down next
to her face and added, "But that doesn't mean 
we can't stay here for a few days, soak up some 
of the local culture."

"Mulder, I didn't come here to have a vacation."

"Neither did I, but now that we're both here, I
think it'd be good to stay here...at least for 
a little while anyway," I suggested, not quite 
sure if she was going to consider my idea or 
reject it.

"I thought you came here because you wanted to be 
alone," she argued, though it was a half-hearted
argument at best.

"I did, but that was before."

"Before what?"

"Before I saw you."

She tilted her head, raised her eyebrows. "What 
is it you're trying to say, Mulder?"

"I'm not sure. I just know I don't want you to
leave tomorrow."

She let go of the door then and looked up at me,
not with the anger and frustration I saw in her 
eyes earlier today, but with a quiet trust and
acceptance that nearly took my breath away, then 
replied, "I don't want to leave either."

~~~~

"Mulder."

"Who is it? Is someone there?"

"Agent Mulder, how nice to see you again. You're 
looking well."

"Why are you here? What do you want?"

"The same thing you want."

"You don't know what I want. You don't know anything 
about me."

"On the contrary, Agent Mulder. I know everything
about both you and your partner."

"What do you know about Scully?"

"I know she has cancer and that you're desperately 
trying to find a cure for it."

"Let me guess. You want to give me that cure."

"Of course, I do."

"Out of the goodness of your black heart, right?"

"Are you questioning my motives?"

"You could say that."

"Let me assure you that I only have your best
interest at heart...just as I did when I directed
Dr. Goldstein to help you retrieve your memories."

"What are you talking about?"

"He gave you access to your past, about the night 
your sister was taken, didn't he?"

"He gave me access to something...I'm not sure 
what."

"I was the one who asked him to do it."

"What? Why?"

"Ask yourself, Agent Mulder. Why is it that I
always seem to appear in your dreams?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do."

"Because you're a chain-smoking son of a bitch
who has nothing better to do than to manipulate
me and my partner?"

"It's much simpler than that, Mulder."

"Then enlighten me."

"You want to know why I have an interest in you,
why I've protected you all these years?"

"Tell me."

"I'm your father, Fox."

"Hmmphh..." I grunted, my eyes suddenly flying
open in the dark. Quickly sitting up in bed, I
took a deep breath and surveyed the room, trying
to get my bearings.

It was 3:00 in the morning, and I wasn't on my 
couch at home.

I was in an unfamiliar bedroom in an unfamiliar
place, experiencing a very familiar scenario.

Another nightmare and another possibility too 
unimaginable for me to consider.

Or was it?

Was it possible that that bastard really was my
father, or was this just another twisted version
of reality working its way through my mind courtesy 
of the ketamine still trying to get out of my 
system?

Just a few days ago, I remember pondering the same
thoughts about my mother and about her involvement
with him.

I also remember the fear I saw in her eyes the night 
I asked her about it.

But was questioning her betrayal really the right 
thing for me to do without knowing which facts 
were true and which ones were planted in my head?

I honestly didn't know, and right now, I didn't 
want to know.

My hands starting to shake, I took in another 
long breath, then slowly got out of bed and made 
my way to the kitchen. Opening the cupboard door 
and getting some water from the faucet as quietly
as I could so I wouldn't wake up Scully, I walked 
back over to the table on unsteady legs and sat 
down.

It was dark in the kitchen, but because of the 
moonlight shining through the thin curtains on 
the cottage window, not so dark that I couldn't 
see what I was doing. Bringing the cup to my 
mouth, I shut my eyes and took several gulps of 
water.

"You okay, Mulder?" asked Scully, her unexpected
voice causing me to nearly choke on the water I'd 
just started to swallow.

"Jesus, Scully...you scared me," I said in between
coughs.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," she 
said, giving my back a gentle pat as she walked 
by me, then sitting down in the chair next to
mine. "Another bad dream?"

I nodded my head, then set the now empty cup down 
on the table and coughed again, trying to get the
last bit of water to go down my throat. "I'm sorry 
I woke you."

Bringing the tissue she had in her hand up to her 
face, she pressed it against her nose and tilted
her head back. "You didn't wake me, Mulder."

Suddenly realizing what she was doing, I leaned 
over closer to her, put my hand on her arm. "You 
had another nosebleed, didn't you?"

She nodded.

"Oh, Scully."

"It's okay. I've had them in the middle of the 
night before," she said, lightly dabbing at her 
nose, then bringing her hand back down.

Thankfully, there were only two small dots of 
blood on it.

"It's just about over with now, I think," she 
added.

"What can I do?" 

"You can stop staring at me like that." She wiped 
her nose again, then looked down at the tissue.

Only one dot this time, but bigger than the other 
two.

"Are you sure you're all right? You want me to 
see if they can give me the name of a doctor at 
the front desk? I can get dressed, go to the 
lobby, and..." I offered as I started to get up 
from the table, but before I could stand up all 
the way, she reached out and grabbed my arm.

"Sit down, Mulder. I'm okay. My doctor says that 
nighttime nosebleeds are common with nasopharyngeal 
cancer, especially for those people that move around 
a lot in their sleep. I must've rolled over onto my 
side too fast or something," she explained.

But the more I listened to her, the more I didn't 
want to hear her explanation.

Why hadn't she told me this before? 

Why hadn't she said anything all those times we'd 
stayed up late working at my apartment? All the 
times we'd had to spend the night in a motel over
the last few weeks?

Why hadn't she been honest with me?

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" I 
asked, my fingers now firmly gripping the cup in 
front of me as I watched her wipe her nose a third 
time.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, though I
could tell by the expression on her face that she
knew exactly what I was talking about.

I bit down on my lip, squeezed the cup harder.
"You kept this from me, Scully. All these weeks
you knew that having nosebleeds like this could 
be a problem, and you never told me," I angrily 
answered.

She set the crumpled up tissue on the table. "I 
didn't think you needed to know."

"Didn't need to know?" I abruptly stood up from
my chair, almost knocking it down in the process.
"Of course, I need to know. What if we're on a
case somewhere, and you have a bad nosebleed in 
your motel room during the middle of the night?
What then, Scully? Do you want me to find you
lying unconscious on the floor because you lost
so much blood you couldn't get to a phone?" I 
asked, my frustration level rising right along 
with my voice.

"That's not fair, Mulder."

"And it's not fair for you to keep things like 
this from me, Scully," I snapped, walking over 
to the counter and leaning against the edge of 
the sink. "Especially when we talked about being
honest with each other just yesterday."

She didn't say anything then, and I didn't blame 
her. She had come out to the kitchen to check on 
me, and in return, all I'd done was throw one 
accusation after another at her.

"You're right, Mulder. It's not fair," she finally
said as she got up from her chair and tossed the
used tissue into the wastebasket. "I should've
told you."

I looked at her standing there in the dark, holding 
her robe closed over her thinning body, and almost 
as quickly as my anger had taken over, it disappeared.

She was dying, and here I was, shouting at her in 
the middle of the night when all I really wanted 
to do was take care of her.

"I'm sorry.  Now I'm the one who isn't being fair. 
I have no right to accuse you of withholding 
information from me when I've done the same thing 
to you many times." 

"You're right, you don't," she said, her tone brusque, 
her posture defensive.

Walking over to her, I put my hands on her shoulders,
leaned down by her face.  "I just want you to be 
okay, Scully," I said, gradually letting my hands 
slide down her arms. "Just tell me what I need to 
do to make things okay for you, and I'll do it."

I thought she'd push me away then, but instead 
she moved closer, slowly letting her body relax 
in my embrace. "*This* is what I need," she quietly 
replied.

And it was at that moment that I knew for certain
what I'd been denying to myself for years.

As much as I wanted to figure out the truth about
my sister and the cigarette smoking man, none of 
it meant as much to me as the woman I was holding 
in my arms right now.

Pressing my cheek against her hair, I closed my
eyes and whispered, "Just tell me when you want 
me to let go, okay?"

She looked up at me then, her dark eyes damp with
tears, then whispered back, "How about never?"

~~~~

The last thing I remember was standing in the 
kitchen hugging Scully.

So how come I'm sitting slumped over on the couch 
with my arm on her hip and her head on my lap?

Blinking my eyes several times, I looked down at 
the woman sleeping on my legs, then laid my head 
back against the cushion and thought back to what
had happened between us last night.

Another nightmare, this time about the cigarette 
man telling me he was my father. Going out to the 
kitchen for some water to calm myself down. Arguing 
about another nosebleed she'd had, then realizing 
just how important she was to me.

Her arms around my waist and her cheek pressed 
against my chest.

And now it was pressed against my thigh, and she
was drooling.

She'd fallen asleep by me before, a couple times
in the car while on stakeouts, a few times at my
apartment while working late at night on cases,
but she'd never fallen asleep *on* me before.

There was a time when something like this would've 
made me feel extremely uncomfortable, when I would've 
awakened her immediately and quickly moved to the 
other end of the couch.

But not now.

Now I trusted myself with her, and I trusted what
I was feeling.

And apparently she trusted me too.

When she came here yesterday, we'd laid our emotions
on the line, and though it was messy and awkward, we 
talked to each other in a way we'd never been able 
to do before.

So, now what?

Part of me wants to continue working with her on 
the X-Files, challenging each other's intellect 
and fighting against the bad guys just the way 
we've always done.

Then there's the other part.

The part of me that wants to explore the personal 
side of our relationship and see where it takes 
us.

But then there's that pesky third part, the same 
complicated part that made me take off and come 
here in the first place so that I wouldn't hurt
her any more than I already have.

And the same frustrating-as-hell part that keeps 
telling me that keeping my distance from her is
the best thing for both of us.

"It's kind of early in the morning to be thinking
so much, isn't it, Mulder?" said Scully, wiping 
the sleep from her eyes as she slowly lifted 
herself back up into a sitting position beside 
me.

Surprisingly, she didn't seem at all embarrassed 
or uncomfortable about waking up with her head 
in my lap so I acted like it wasn't a big deal 
either.

Even though it most definitely was.

"How'd you know what I was doing?  Last time I
checked, you were leaving a nice little puddle 
of drool on my leg," I said, curving my lips 
into a smile as I pretended to wipe some off my 
pants leg.

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm not."

She looked at me then, ran her fingers through 
her hair and straightened her pajama top. "Well, 
then I guess I'm not either," she said, getting 
up from the couch as if sleeping on me was the 
most natural thing in the world. "I'm going to 
go get cleaned up and dressed...unless you want 
to use the bathroom first."

"No, go ahead. I can wait," I replied, watching 
with fascination as she stood in front of me and 
fiddled with the sash on her robe. "How are you 
feeling? Better?"

"Better, and you? Any more bad dreams?"

"No, at least none that I can remember anyway."

"Well, good. Maybe all the ketamine is finally 
all out of your system now."

"Maybe," I replied, though having her sleep so 
close to me probably had more to do with the fact 
that I hadn't had any more dreams than the lack 
of ketamine did. 

I got up from the couch, stretched my neck from
side to side. "You hungry, Scully? They serve a 
good breakfast over at the main house," I said, 
trying not to be too obvious about noticing how 
small her waist looked now that the sash of her 
robe was tied around it. "Muffins, fresh fruit,
cereal, scrambled eggs, bacon, things like that," 
I said, really hoping that she'd eat some of those 
things instead of just having coffee and a bagel.

"Actually, I am kind of hungry. Just give me a 
few minutes, okay?" she answered as she started 
to move towards the bathroom. "And Mulder..."

"Yeah Scully, what is it?"

"Thanks for last night."

Both surprised and pleased by her unexpected
declaration, I smiled at her. "You're welcome." 

Putting her hands in her pockets, she let out a
small sigh and smiled back at me, then headed 
down the hallway.

~~~~

"You sure you got enough to eat there, Scully?" I
teased as I watched her set a plate with a banana 
nut muffin, an apple, some grapes, and two slices 
of bacon on it down on the table.

"Not any more than you do, Mulder," she replied,
surveying the overflowing contents of my plate.
"You planning on making this your lunch too?"

"I was kind of hoping to take you out to lunch 
later."

Where I could hopefully get her to eat another
big meal, of course.

"We'll see," she said, raising her eyebrow as she 
popped a grape into her mouth.

We both started eating our breakfast then, the two
of us blending in with the rest of the patrons at 
the inn as if we were on vacation too.

"Ah, Mr. Mulder, it's nice to see you again," said
Martha, walking over to our table and greeting us
with a smile. 

"Good morning, Martha," I replied, standing up 
from my chair and extending my hand.

"Oh please, sit down. Enjoy your breakfast," she 
said, shaking my hand, then giving Scully the
once-over.

"Martha, this is my partner, Dana Scully," I said,
looking down at Scully. "Martha is the owner of
Oak Gables."

Scully reached up and shook Martha's hand. "It's 
nice to meet you. You have a lovely place here."

"Thank you. My husband and I have been running
things for going on twenty years now. So, you 
two are partners, huh?" she asked, a curious 
expression on her face.

"FBI partners," I clarified, though I felt like 
we were partners in so many more ways than just 
that.

She nodded her head in understanding, then suddenly
leaned down closer to our table and asked in a 
hushed voice, "You're not staying in my cottage 
because you're tracking a suspect or something, 
are you?"

"Relax, ma'am. We're not here on business," 
reassured Scully.

Martha let out a big sigh of relief.  "Oh good. 
You had me worried there for a minute. So, I take 
it you're just getting away for some rest and 
relaxation like all these other people then."

"You could say that," I said, giving Scully a 
knowing look.

"Well, you've come to the right place for that. 
While you're here, you'll definitely have to 
drive down to Bristol and go to the Pemaquid 
Point Lighthouse."

"Pemaquid Point? I think I saw a sign about that
when I drove here. Is it very far?" 

"It's about 14-15 miles from here. Just go south
on US-1, and I'm sure you'll see plenty of signs 
for it."

I nodded my head. "So, what else can you tell us 
about it?" I anxiously asked. "I've always found 
lighthouses to be quite fascinating."

"You think everything is fascinating, Mulder," 
teased Scully, happily popping another grape into 
her mouth.

'*You* certainly are, Scully,' I thought to myself 
as I watched her roll the grape back and forth 
inside her mouth, then delicately lick her lips 
after she swallowed it.

"Well, I won't go into all the details...you can
read about the history of it once you get there...
but I can tell you that besides the lighthouse 
itself, they also have a museum and an art gallery 
there, and the whole place is surrounded by these 
beautifully layered rocks, which you can climb 
on to get a better view of the Atlantic Ocean," 
explained Martha. "It's really quite spectacular."

"It sounds like it," I remarked, watching Scully 
break her banana nut muffin in halves, then quarters
before putting a piece into her mouth.

"Oh, it is, but you've got to watch out though. If
you go down too far, you'll get drenched by the 
waves. It's almost worth it though just to see the 
view. I've lived here for thirty years now, and I 
still get choked up whenever I go out there," she
said wistfully.

"We'll definitely have to check that out," I 
casually replied, though inside all I could think 
about now was finishing my breakfast as quickly 
as possible so we could drive out there.

Scully looked across the table at me and smiled.
"Yes, we will." Her eyes still on mine, she added, 
"It sounds like a place we'd both like."

It sounded like just the kind of place we both 
needed to go right now.

Away from government conspiracies and drug-induced
hallucinations. Away from unexpected nosebleeds 
and sisters who disappear into the night.

Away from the job that has consumed our lives for
the past four years.

"Thanks for the suggestion, Martha, and thanks 
for the breakfast. Everything's delicious," said 
Scully.

"You're welcome, and I hope that you two will 
enjoy the rest of your time here in Damariscotta," 
she said, lightly tapping my shoulder as she moved 
on to greet some guests at another table.

"Thank you, I'm sure we will," I said, shoveling
up some scrambled eggs with my fork and sliding
them into my mouth. "So, what do you think, Scully? 
You wanna go do the sightseeing thing and check 
out that lighthouse this morning?" I asked as I 
scooped up another forkful of eggs.

Taking a big bite out of her last piece of bacon,
she smiled and replied, "Let's go be tourists."

~~~~

An hour later we were on US Highway 1, me in the
driver's seat, Scully sitting at my right.

It could've been the two of us on any morning in 
any town on our way to investigate a case.

But it wasn't.

Just two months ago, I would've been happy if it
had been us. After all, driving from place to 
place, putting the clues together, and solving 
other people's problems was what we did, who we 
were.

But then Scully was diagnosed with cancer, and I
got a hole drilled in my head, and who we were
became a hell of a lot more complicated.

She kept things from me, and I was driven to do
things that I never would've done otherwise, and 
we both ended up hurting each other.

But now, things were changing.

In the short time that we've been together here,
some of the barriers we've put up have been lowered, 
some of the broken places have begun to heal, and 
for the first time since I met her, I feel like 
maybe our partnership could evolve into something 
more.

Of course, we both still have issues...hell, my 
entire life's been built on issues...but I think 
we've got something else now that we didn't have 
before.

A better understanding of each other's needs.

Yesterday, she let me see who she was and what
she needed, and in doing so, I got what I needed.

Her trust.

Sure, I know I've had her trust for quite awhile 
already, but this time was different.

This time she trusted me with her heart, and that
meant more to me than I could ever express.

"You're awfully quiet. You okay over there, Mulder?"
she asked, lightly touching my forearm as she 
interrupted my musings.

"I was just thinkin' about some things."

"What things?"

"Us," I replied, deciding that being honest was 
the way to go.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was thinking about how driving on the 
highway with you like this kind of feels like 
we're on our way to a case."

She looked down at her clothes, then over at me. 
"Except I don't usually wear jeans when we're 
working on a case, and you usually don't wear a
t-shirt."

I laughed. "Well, maybe we should. It's a lot more 
comfortable, don't you think?"

"Yes, I guess it is, though I don't think Skinner
would be too keen on the idea."

"Skinner's not too keen on a lot of my ideas," I
said dryly.

She smiled, then quickly turned serious again.
"So Mulder, what's going on, really? You weren't
just thinking about us in the context of work, 
were you?"

I should've known she'd see right past my answer
to her earlier question.

"No, I wasn't," I admitted.

"And?" she asked, tilting her head to the side in
anticipation of my answer.

"And I'm just really glad you came here," I said,
looking over at her as I slowed down for the exit.

"I'm glad I came too," she replied, her voice soft
and sincere.

Pleased with her response, I smiled at her, then
turned my attention back to the road.  Quickly 
locating the sign at the end of the exit ramp that 
was for the Pemaquid Point Lighthouse, I turned 
right and kept on driving.

"Do you think this lighthouse will really be as 
fabulous as Martha said it was?" asked Scully.

"Every other lighthouse I've seen has been, so I
suppose this one won't be any different."

"Since when did you become a lighthouse expert?"

"Since I lived on the east coast when I was growing
up," I replied. "Having a summer house in Rhode
Island, taking day trips to various places along 
the coast, I saw quite a few lighthouses."

"Being the daughter of a navy captain, I saw my 
share of them too. I remember there being some 
great ones in North Carolina, but I always thought 
the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse was the coolest one
because it looked like a giant black and white 
candy cane."

"Did you just use the word 'coolest', Scully?" I
teased.

She playfully hit my arm. "Shut up, Mulder."

"Better not give me a hard time, Scully, or I'll
turn this car right back around."

"Whatever. So are we there yet or what?" 

"I'd say we're just about there," I answered, 
taking in the sight of the Atlantic Ocean as we 
drove over a hill.

It was even more magnificent than I remember.

And just what I needed to see to put things in 
perspective.

So much of my life has been spent chasing the 
truth that I've never really taken the time to 
enjoy or even notice the simple things like just 
how blue the ocean looks on a clear day.

Or how blue Scully's eyes look right now with the 
sun shining through the window.

But if being here these past few days has shown 
me anything, it's that I need to change that.

Of course, I told myself that exact same thing 
after I quit the Violent Crimes Unit, that I'd 
take time to slow down and smell the roses, but 
it lasted all of a couple weeks once I discovered 
the X-Files.

And then it was back to the 80-hour work weeks 
and driving myself to the point of exhaustion.

And for what?

A truth that I might never find?

No, if I wanted to have a life with Scully outside 
of the X-Files, I needed to change.

I needed to slow down and take time to enjoy the 
simple things in life and not let myself become 
so consumed with things that I ultimately had no 
control over.

And I needed to be honest with myself about what
it is I really want.

"Hey, you're going to miss the turn," she suddenly
called out, the urgency in her voice snapping me 
out of my reverie.

"Sorry about that," I said, stepping on the brake 
and flipping on the turn signal as we approached 
the entrance to the parking lot.

"Thinking about us again, Mulder?" she asked, 
though I had a feeling she already knew my answer.

"You could say that."

And maybe before the day was done, I'd actually 
tell her *what* I was thinking about us.

Maybe...

I pulled into the parking lot then and found the
nearest available spot, which happened to be fairly 
close to the main entrance. Turning off the ignition, 
we looked out the front window at the majestic 
lighthouse sitting on the hill, the layered granite 
rocks surrounding it, and the waves wildly crashing 
against them.

"Wow, I guess Martha was right," remarked Scully 
as she opened her door.

"It really is spectacular, isn't it?" I said, 
opening my door too.

Both of us getting out of the car, we walked 
around to the front of it and leaned against the 
hood, taking in an even better view. "It's just 
beautiful...and listen to those waves, Mulder," 
she said, tilting her chin up and closing her 
eyes, then taking in a deep breath of the ocean 
air.

"I'm listening, Scully."

I was also looking at how completely relaxed she 
was, how the dark circles she had beneath her 
eyes last night seemed to have disappeared and 
how much more radiant her skin looked today.

She opened her eyes again, and I quickly looked 
away, not wanting her to catch me gazing at her. 
"Isn't it great? I'm so glad we decided to come 
here," she said excitedly.

"Well then, what are we standing out here in the 
parking lot for? Let's go be tourists, Scully," I
said, repeating the same words she'd said during 
breakfast.

"Sounds good to me," she agreed, her eyes shining 
as she lightly brushed her fingers across my arm.

~~~~

"It says here that the Pemaquid Point Lighthouse 
is one of the most visited attractions of the 
Maine coast, about 100,000 visitors a year," I 
said, reading the brochure I picked up on the way 
into the museum.

"I'm not surprised. Now that we're here, I can 
understand why people would want to come here."

"There is a certain feel to it, isn't there?"

"Yes, there is," she replied as she slowly started
walking through the room in the opposite direction
from me, studying each display as she went.

"Hey Scully, did you see this?" I called, beckoning 
for her to come over to where I was standing. "Check 
it out," I said, pointing to the rather large lobster 
mounted on the wall.

"It's a lobster, Mulder."

"Not just any lobster, Scully...a 26 pound lobster."

"And?"

"Pretty cool, huh?"

"Did you just use the word 'cool', Mulder?" she 
asked, a playful glint in her eye.

"Yes, I did."

"I wonder how long it would take to eat a lobster 
that big."

"Play your cards right, and you can have your very
own lobster for lunch later," I offered, wondering
if she'd look as good in a lobster bib as she did
two years ago when she'd worn a barbecue bib and
pounded down half a dozen ribs.

"Only if you share it with me."  

I smiled at the thought. "That goes without saying."

We moved to another part of the museum then, but 
in the same direction this time.

"According to this sign, Pemaquid Point has been 
the sight of several shipwrecks both before this 
lighthouse was built and after, mainly because of
the rocky coastline."

"That's understandable, given the rocks we saw 
outside. With the waves as strong as they are, I
would imagine it'd be easy to crash into them."

"Hey, listen to this, Scully. One particularly
heartbreaking story was about a man who sailed 
for the new world in 1635 on the Angel Gabriel, 
leaving his wife at home so he could establish 
a new home before sending for her. However, along
the way, his ship was smashed to pieces during a 
terrible storm. Although the man survived the 
ordeal, he was unable to go back to England, and 
his wife was too afraid to follow him on such a 
dangerous journey so they never saw each other 
again," I read from the plaque on the wall. 
"Could you imagine what it would be like, never 
seeing your husband again simply because you're 
too afraid to cross the ocean?"

"There's nothing simple about it, Mulder," she 
said quietly, the carefree expression she had
just moments ago, now a contemplative one. 
"People make decisions about their lives all 
the time, thinking that what they're doing is 
best for everyone, when it's really not a good 
thing for anyone."

Her eyes now looking straight ahead, it suddenly 
occurred to me why her mood had changed so quickly 
and why she'd turned away from me.

That story was about us.

She was the one who'd been left behind while I
traveled to a "new world" without her.

"This isn't us, Scully," I said, turning her to
face me. "I could never leave you behind like 
that."

"But you did leave me...and unlike those two 
people, you didn't even tell me what you were 
doing," she argued, though not with the same 
anger she'd unleashed on me when she first 
arrived in Damariscotta.

"You're right, I did do those things, and I was
wrong. I know that now." I put my hand on her
shoulder and leaned in closer. "And I know that
I won't do it again."

She looked up at me, searching my eyes, then said, 
"I want to believe you, Mulder."

"You can," I said firmly, surprising her with a 
kiss on the cheek.

Her eyes widened as she took a step back from me.
"You just kissed me," she said incredulously.

"Yes, I did."

"In public."

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Scully, but I'm 
not sorry I kissed you."

This time it was her mouth that widened as it 
dropped open at my declaration. "I don't know
what to say to that, Mulder."

"You don't have to say anything."

And she didn't have to.

The sparkle in her eyes and the blush spreading
across her cheeks was all I needed to see.

~~~~

"I can't believe you did that, Mulder," she said
as we left the museum and stepped outside onto 
the porch. "It was completely inappropriate."

"Since when is it inappropriate to show someone
that you care about them and that you're sorry 
for hurting them?" I countered.

She didn't know what to say to that, and instead
just looked at me, the creases in her forehead
deepening as she pondered what I'd just said.

And then it was my turn to be surprised.

Instead of blasting me with all the reasons why 
we shouldn't be discussing such personal things 
in public like I thought she would, she leaned 
in closer to me and quietly said, "The next 
time you kiss me, I expect it to be in private."

Then she walked right past me and started heading
towards the lighthouse. "So, are you coming with
me or not?" she called out over her shoulder as
she continued to walk.

Picking up my jaw from the ground, I zipped up 
my jacket, then hurried after her.

~~~~

"Well, it looks like we're out of luck for actually 
getting to go up inside the lighthouse today," I 
said with disappointment as I read the sign posted
outside. "We missed the opening date by eleven days."

"That's okay. We can still enjoy it from here."

"Or we could enjoy it from somewhere else. What 
do you say, Scully? Should we take a walk on the 
wild side and climb out on the rocks like those 
people over there?" I asked, pointing to a young 
couple about thirty yards away from us.

"I didn't come all the way out here to just stand 
on the sidelines, Mulder," she stated as she started 
making her way down the rocky slope.

I smiled. "Neither did I, but be careful. The rocks 
are slick from the waves."

Carefully working our way down each layer, we found 
a good place to stop, close to the ocean, but not 
so close that we'd get drenched by the waves.

"Let's just stand for awhile, take in the view," I
suggested.

"It really is magnificent, isn't it? The way the 
lighthouse sits so elegantly on the hill...all the 
different layers and colors of rocks...the steady 
roar of the waves crashing against the shore..." 
she mused, tilting her chin up and breathing in 
the mist-filled air the way she'd done earlier.

'You're the one who's magnificent, Scully,' I 
wanted to say.

You're the one who's intelligent and confident 
and strong and puts up with me, even though I 
don't always make things easy for you.

You're the one who continues to watch out for me 
and take care of me despite fighting your own 
battle with cancer.

And you're the one I can see myself spending the 
rest of my life with.

"Yes, it is," I said instead, slipping my hand 
into hers, which felt a lot colder to me than it 
should've been. 

"Scully, your hand's cold," I said, immediately
putting my other hand over the top of it to warm 
it up.

"It is kind of chilly out here. I guess I should've
worn a heavier coat," she replied, letting go of
my hand and pulling the lapels of her coat tighter
across her body. 

The last thing she needed right now was get sick,
and I quickly started to take my own jacket off. 
"Here, take mine," I offered.

"But then you'll be cold."

Standing behind her, I put it around her shoulders, 
then slid my arms underneath hers and placed my 
hands on the sides of her waist. "I won't get cold," 
I said, amazed that she was letting me hold her so 
closely. "Especially standing like this."

"But you're shaking, Mulder, and that's not good
for you, especially after the trauma your body 
went through over the past week."

"And it wouldn't be good for you to get sick right 
now," I argued.

"I told you before. My doctor said I was doing
fine."

"I just want you to take care of yourself, Scully,
so humor me, okay?"

"Okay."

We both just stood there quietly then, my arms 
still around her, her body leaning back into mine, 
the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean spread out in 
front of us.

"Feeling warmer now?" I asked.

"Yes, I am, thank you."

"We should probably go back in the museum soon,
get out of this wind, or we could go check out
the art gallery," I suggested, still concerned 
about her getting too wet and cold.

"I'd rather stay out here."

"Me too," I said as I noticed a large ship looming 
far off to my left.

Watching it as it slowly moved towards the horizon, 
I was reminded of the last time Scully and I were 
out on a ship.

We nearly died then, the two of us stuck out in 
the middle of nowhere and aging at a rate much 
faster than I ever dreamed possible.

At the time, I remembered telling her that it 
wasn't fair we were going to die, that it wasn't 
our time and that we still had to work to do.

And now as we stood there on the edge of the ocean, 
I still felt the same way.

Except now we have so much more than just work to 
do.

We have a relationship to build.

"You're awfully quiet back there, Mulder," she said, 
still staying in my embrace, but turning her head 
and looking up at me. "Are you all right? Do you 
need your jacket back?"

I didn't need my jacket back. What I needed was 
to be honest with her.

And I needed to do it now.

"Before when you referred to the next time I kissed 
you...did you mean that? I mean...do you want me to 
kiss you again?" I stuttered, nervous about what I 
was doing on the outside, but strangely calm on the
inside.

She turned the rest of the way around then, my
leather jacket still draped around her shoulders.
"Yes."

"I guess you wouldn't mind if I did this then," I 
said, leaning over and surprising her with a kiss, 
not on the cheek like before, but on the lips.

And not a quick kiss, but a lingering one that
tasted of bacon and coffee and ocean mist.

And promises.

"Mulder, what are you doing?" she asked breathlessly 
as we finally broke apart.

Gently cupping my hand around her cheek, I replied, 
"Something I should've done a long time ago."

"Kissing me by the ocean?" she remarked, a hint of 
a smile on her face.

"Letting you know how much you mean to me."

I lifted my hand from her cheek then, held it out 
to her. "Sit down, Scully." Taking hold of her hand, 
I helped her keep her balance while she lowered 
herself down onto one of the larger, flatter rocks, 
and then I joined her.

Around me the wind seemed stronger, the waves louder 
as they hit the shore, but inside I felt warmer and 
more certain of what I was about to say than I ever 
was before.

And so I began.

"When I left town a few days ago, I thought I was
doing the right thing, that staying away from you
was what I wanted...but then you came here, and I
realized that it wasn't what I wanted at all."

"So what is it that you want?" she asked, her eyes 
fixed on mine.

"I want more for us, Scully...more than just an FBI
partnership," I said with certainty. "And I think
that you do too, or you wouldn't have come out here
to Damariscotta to be with me."

There, I did it.

I laid my emotions on the line, and I did it without
hesitation.

"But why now? Why not two years ago, or two months 
ago, for that matter?"

"I wasn't ready then," I answered matter-of-factly.

"And you are now?"

I considered her question, but only for a second.
"Yeah, I guess I am."

She looked down at the rock she was sitting on,
slid her shoe back and forth across the dark 
streaks on it. "I have cancer," she said softly.

"And I have a hole in my head," I countered.

"Mulder..."

"Along with all of the other scars that I've 
accumulated along the way...but that's the thing, 
Scully. There are always going to be things out 
there that are dangerous for us. There are always 
going to be times when one of us gets sick or 
hurt, or has to deal with the lies our government 
is trying to perpetuate, but we shouldn't let 
that stop us from pursuing something beyond those 
things," I said, the words tumbling from my mouth 
in a jumbled rush.

I turned even more so I was facing her, held both
her hands in mine. "So I'm thinking that if we've 
made it this far together, why not go even farther?" 
I asked, my heart now thumping so forcefully in my 
chest, I thought it was going to burst right through 
it.

She took a moment to think about what I said, then
squeezed my hands and replied, "I think I'd like 
that."

"You're agreeing with me?"

"Contrary to what you may think, I agree with you
on quite a few things, Mulder." She smiled, then
added, "Especially when it's something I really
believe in." 

"I don't know what to say, Scully."

"You don't have to say anything," she said, repeating
the exact words I'd said to her earlier.

And so I didn't, instead giving myself a chance to
process all that had happened between us.

When I left my apartment several days ago, I knew 
my life was going to change, but I never expected 
that it would be like this. 

That Scully would come here, that we would talk
through our mistakes and share our fears, and that
we'd ultimately end up closer to each other than 
we've ever been.

And yet here we were, sitting on a big rock just a 
few yards away from the Atlantic Ocean discussing 
the start of a new relationship between us, a 
thought that both excited and terrified me.

"When I told you that you didn't have to say 
anything, Mulder, I didn't think you'd actually 
do it."

"Sorry about that. I guess I kind of zoned out 
there for a minute."

"It must be all this fresh air. It's affecting 
your brain," she teased.

"It's not my brain that's being affected right 
now," I said, leaning in for another kiss.

And she leaned in too, putting her hand behind my
neck and pulling my mouth to hers.

"Stay with me, Scully," I murmured, leaving a trail
of kisses on her lips, her jaw, the arch of her 
cheek, and not giving a damn who saw me do it. 
"Stay here in Damariscotta with me for the rest 
of the week," I whispered in her ear as my fingers 
sifted through her hair.

"Mulder..."

"Hmmm?" Another kiss, this one right above her 
left eyebrow.

"You're kissing me out in public again."

A kiss to the side of her neck, to the delicate 
curve around her ear. "What's your point?"

"Maybe we should take this someplace else," she 
suggested, tilting her head to the side to give 
me better access to her neck.

"What'd you have in mind?"

"I seem to remember you offering to take me out
to lunch for some lobster."

"I was thinking more along the lines of someplace
private...like the cottage," I offered, brushing
her hair from her face.

"I'd like that, very much, but right now I think
my stomach has other ideas," she said, putting
her hand on it and giving it a light tap. "I'm
surprised you didn't hear it rumbling before."

Not wanting to deprive her of food when she really
needed to keep her strength up, I agreed. "Lobster
it is then," I said, though I couldn't help being
a little disappointed that we weren't going back
to the cottage right away.

"Thanks, Mulder."

I smiled. "You can thank me later...in private."

"Maybe if you're lucky."

"I'd say I already got lucky today," I replied,
pressing a quick kiss to the back of her hand, 
then helping her up off the rock.

And I was lucky, for finding a place that helped
me put things into perspective and for having 
someone to share it with.

And though I knew that things would become difficult 
for us again once we left Damariscotta, I intended 
to make the most out of the time we did have and 
enjoy the simple things.

Like sharing a lobster with the incredible woman
standing beside me.

"You know, you never gave me an answer before about 
staying here for the rest of the week, Scully," I 
said as we began to make our way back up to the 
top of the rocks.

Sliding her hand into mine, she looked up at me
and smiled.

It was all I needed.


~end~

To those of you that made it this far, thank you.:)
Thank you for reading, but especially for sending 
me all your wonderful notes of encouragement when 
I was struggling with this story. You kept me going, 
and for that, I'm very grateful. If you feel so 
inclined, I'd love to hear from you. 

Susan
touchstone98@tx.rr.com


possibilities
http://possibilities.bravehost.com/


Story started March 2004. Completed June 2005.