The Other Man Disclaimer: These characters are the property of the people who own them, which correctly implies that I am not one of those people. The party of the first part ('lil 'ol me) wishes to dissuade anyone from the party of the second part (those 1013 and Fox folks) from suing me over my use and representation of their characters. You can't get blood from a turnip, nor can you get money from a starving fanfic writer... so don't sue me, I didn't make any money on this script (big adjustment for me, I can assure you). I conclude by saying that if you would allow them to have a little more fun, they wouldn't need me to provide them with a personal life... But I'm not bitter... Send feedback to ~Marti Mulder Dana Scully loved the way the mica and stone in the DC sidewalk glittered in the light of the sunset. She hadn't seen Mulder since he'd exited the office for "lunch" and never returned. Though perturbed, she was used to his habitual disappearances. Her mind wandered to the rich fantasy life that kept her sane in a strenuous career. As she arrived at her car, which she'd parked atop the parking garage, she took in the warm autumn breeze, the rose and violet of the sunset, the smell of flora, and the bird's-eye view of forms passing busily on the street below. The ache of isolation tugged at the place in her mind where she stored up the things she wished she could share with someone. A man. Her cell phone rang, snapping her out of auto-pilot as she commuted home. A stray thought, a tinge of excitement, passed as she realized that she really didn't care who it was. "Scully." She answered, cradling the phone against her shoulder pad. "I need your help." Mulder sighed. "Can you come right away?" Scully felt the familiar combination of resentment and arousal as she realized that she'd probably have to give up another weekend to help him on what was becoming an eternal and quite endless quest. "Sure, Mulder. Where are you?" She said resignedly. "The Airport. Gate 12. I swear, I wouldn't do this if it weren't an emergency...Please hurry." He hung up. Two hours later, they were flying out of DC Destination: the Bermuda Triangle. Again. As they sat together on the plane, Mulder was perspiring, ringing his hands, and his eyes were swollen. Scully wanted to ask about his demeanor and where they were headed, but couldn't bring herself to ask the question. He was a wreck. He looked dark, different, tanned and harsh. She sat silently beside him on the plane, waiting for him to explain. He said nothing. Another three hours passed, and they were on a boat. Scully still couldn't ask what had happened. After picking her up in the small cabin cruiser, its procurement shrouded in mystery, she realized Mulder had never looked so afraid, so intent. He drove the small craft on at full speed, and Scully held her hair with one hand and the arm rest of her seat with the other. It was dark, and the sky was cloudless and ablaze with bright stars, their colors visible in the absolute darkness of the ocean. The chilled air and wet spray took turns biting into her face. Finally, hours later, Mulder cut the engine, then unfastened the small anchor and strained as he tossed it overboard. "Scully, I know I have some serious explaining to do. Just know that I never meant to fail you. I've screwed this all up, and I just..." He stopped, and took a deep breath as tears pooled in his tired eyes. " I am not the man who let you down. I mean, I am , I would have except that I wasn't there. But, you have to trust me on this. Damn it..." he turned away from her and ran both hands through his wind-whipped hair. "Slow down. What are you talking about? From the beginning." She tried to calm him, but he started to tense up. He wiped tears away from his eyes, and then mumbled a vulgar curse. He bit his lips, leaned his head back, and moaned in pain and frustration. She reached out to touch him, and he crumbled, leaning over and engulfing her in his arms. He kissed her hair and his large hands held her head and came to rest on her back. "I'm so sorry Scully. Please trust me. Just trust me, and hold on." Mulder spoke in one defeated, desperate lyric. She was terrified now, and pulled back to look in his face for some clue, some idea of what was about to happen. "You have to tell me what is going on Mulder. You're scaring me." "Hold on to me, Scully." He ordered, fear creased in his eyes. The wind picked up, and a full spectrum of auroral lights rose all around them. A horrible sound surrounded them, and rose in pitch until a distorted cyclone of air and water and light imploded into darkness. She heard him scream, and felt his face buried in her neck as maneuvered her and held her fast to the wheel of the small craft. Then it faded to gray. Scully awoke to Mulder lifting her off the deck of the small boat. She was so stunned that when he kissed her on the lips intently, she didn't even react. His warm hands held her, his damp body sheathing her as she struggled for balance. "Are you OK? Thank God." Mulder spoke, looking her over and making eye contact. Having had enough of the mystery long ago, Scully began to get angry. She was embarrassed, frightened, and intended to get an explanation or to beat one out of him. She began by punching him, hard, in the jaw. "What in the Sam-Hell is going ON here?! I can see you're upset, but damn it Mulder! Enough is enough!" His reply was enough to justify homicide, she decided. If he hadn't looked so elated. "You're alive. Again." He rubbed his jaw, and stared at her, grinning like a boy who'd just discovered a stash of Playboy magazines. "You were lost to me, but I did it. I brought you back. Oh, Scully..." He slumped to the deck, and then extended his hand to her. "This had better be good, or you are fish food." He laughed, then took her reluctant hand in his own. "I didn't come back from the Triangle. I did, but I also came out in the future. Ten years in the future. I have spent the past year in and out of the time-distortion trying to get back to this, to here and now. See, after you rescued me, that me, he made a mistake that cost you your life, and..." "Hold it. STOP. You are telling me that you are not Mulder, not the Mulder that I've spent the past two months with?" "I'm me, I guess, but so was he. Well, did you know that he was intimately involved with Diana Fowley?" "I assumed it." Scully was reeling with anger, and confused not by what he was saying, but that it was true. It had to be... But, how? "He, well, I...No, he was wrapped up in where she had disappeared to. Then you were killed shortly after C.G.B. Spender and Fowley disappeared. You were murdered. I know this because I came out at a different point--in the future you never made it to see. I've been on this stretch of water ever since I went back into the Triangle. I've emerged in at least fifty other times, trying to get here, now. I didn't think I could do it." He began to speak quickly, crazed. " I didn't think I'd be able to correct this. I vowed that I couldn't give up, but... I was going to give up after this attempt. I just wanted to make it right, but didn't think I could so I just wanted it to stop..." He stammered, sobbing in his dry throat and absorbing her with wide, wild eyes. "Make this stop, please. Please." His hands flew to his face, and all the stress and fear began to drain. "Jesus, Mulder. Come here." She wrapped herself around him while he broke down. She allowed him to kiss her deeply as he wept, to hold her and touch her legs, arms, and grab handfuls of her sun- drying suit. The story must be true though she needed to figure out how, to prove or disprove it to her intellect. She pulled her head back to look at Mulder as she cradled his head in her lap. His jacket disregarded, she noticed for the first time that his sweater was covered in sticky, drying blood. "Where did the blood come from, Mulder?" She asked softly. "Please, Scully. Don't ask me to explain that part of it." His eyes pleaded with her, implored her to let it go. "You need to tell me where the blood came from. Just tell me." She became rigid, fear and danger pulsed in her aching muscles. "Whose blood is this?" "It's my blood, Scully." He said, hoping she'd let it go, but knowing better. "You mean...You mean his blood, don't you? The Mulder that came out in this time, two months ago. What did you do to him?" She was shouting now, as she pulled away from him and enforced the distance by holding her hand out in a gesture of warning. Mulder flinched, hopes dashed for this little factoid remaining his secret. He had done it. He'd killed himself, murdered his doppleganger. As far as Mulder was concerned, the bastard deserved it. He was sure of the way he felt about Scully, and sure of the way he felt regarding Diana. She was a murderess. He knew it for a fact. He vowed to catch her, but he knew he had to fight another battle first. "Scully, listen to me. I pulled you out of the timeline; I did what I had to do. Part of Fowley and Spender's plan was to use me to get to you. I had no choice. I couldn't allow him to live, because if I couldn't get ahold of you, get you to come with me, he would have endangered your life." "I-I don't know, you have to let me think about this." She dropped her hand, but her stance told him that he was still not trusted. "Well, there's more. In order to catch them, bring them to justice, we have to go back, to just before I came for you. We have to go back and ambush them, get everything prepared. In order to make this right, we have to let them kill us. Again." Scully stared at him in horror. She was paralyzed with terror at the man before her. Was this Mulder, with the dark tan and the crazed, desperate expression, was he trustworthy? Was any of this even possible? Or was this just another plot by the remnants of the Consortium to destroy them? She began to feel ill, lightheaded. Her vision doubled, and as she laughed resignedly at the irony, she fell to her knees onto the deck and beat on the fiberglass surface with her fists. "Scully, please. It's really me. Please, I swear this is the only way... Scully?" As he came to her side, she released all the bottled up emotion from six years of tragedy. Drawing her gun on him, she decided that there was no way to resolve her doubts about the convoluted situation. She howled, pushing him back with all the strength she could muster, and aimed the pistol at his brow. "Now, you listen to me! I cannot DO this anymore. NO MORE. Whatever your PLAN was... It's over. Do you hear me? It's done! If this is what it takes to finally get some peace, for Mulder... For myself..." Her screams became sighs, and she turned the gun on herself. "It stops, here and now." "NO! Don't do this. I can prove this to you. Give me one chance to prove it to you. Ask me anything. Just give me one chance..." "What happened to Mulder after I was killed?" She demanded sarcastically. "He killed himself. He died, obsessed with his new quest, a miserable, broken man less than a month after we lost...He lost you. Skinner filed an official report, and he was found dead right after he went public with the details." Mulder reached out his hand to her, hoping she would hand the gun over. She didn't. Mulder paused and smiled slightly, as if recalling something important. "Did he ever tell you, Scully?" "Tell me what?" She said hesitantly, backing away another step. "I vowed that if I ever made it out of the Triangle, that first time and every time since, that if I ever saw you again, I'd tell you how much I-I loved you." She whimpered, softly, realizing that there was no way anyone else but Mulder could know that. He had, she recalled with absolute clarity, told her he loved her. She had stood by his bedside. He told her with glazed eyes and bruised and broken body, told her just that. The gun fell to the deck. He rushed to her side and held her. She wept lightly into his chest. "I can't do this anymore. Never again. Promise me that, if I go along with you, whoever you are, that the insanity will stop. That I can get out of the damn car, off the damned boat, and start living." "Why," Mulder smiled, "does that sound like and in-joke to me?" Scully looked up into his eyes. The morning sun was blazing behind her, setting off the green and brown and gold hues in his eyes. She remembered a few short hours ago, the beauty of the light reflecting off the minerals in the simple sidewalk. Longing to share these simple observations, these stray thoughts, with someone. He knew her so well. "It was an in-joke, I guess." "I'm sorry I missed it." He took her face in his hands and pushed a lock of copper hair behind her ear, letting his thumbs trace the line of her cheekbones. "After we catch them, after we bring this nightmare to a close, you have to fill me in on everything I've missed. I want to know every detail. And I want something else." She looked up at him. His face was close, his lips grazing hers as he spoke. "I want you to fill me in on everything I missed while we were together the past six years. Everything." He held on to her, savored her vitality, the evidence of her agency. He subconsciously checked for her pulse as he kissed her, listened with passionate pleasure at the whisper of her breathing, and his body crackled with energy as her hands moved over his neck and back. In this timeline she'd never grown cold, never died and had the damp earth swallow her up. His selfishness and hesitance never allowed her to be taken away from him--from her own life-- as his perceived failures had with Samantha. Scully was here, now, with him. They floated together to the deck like the Oracle of an Ouija board moved by honest hands. Whether or not he was able to bring C.G.B. Spender, or Diana Fowley, or any of the Consortium bastards that may have survived to justice, he had Scully back. And he had no intention of letting her out of his sight again. Scully was bifurcated. One part of her was afraid, skeptical, and wanted nothing more than to get back to DC and figure out what the hell was going on. Not that she could verify anything he'd said outside of what the date was. If it was earlier than the point at which she'd left with Mulder, she would know that at least part of his story was authentic. But the other part of her psyche was in control--the part that just wanted this to be a figment of her fantasy life. If he was right, if she had just been rescued by him, and he wanted to love her, she wanted this to be the dream she was living out on the deck of the small craft, with the sun blazing above. As Mulder--this Mulder--took her jacket off and pulled her clinging silk blouse over her head with gentle force, she mused that this was the first time she considered her reason and emotion to be dichotomized. "Alive..." Mulder mumbled, sucking delicately on the back of her neck. "Want to taste you..." "We should get back." She breathed into his ear, then immediately regretted it. Mulder stopped, stiffened. It occurred to him that he was pushing this along at what to her would seem a rapid rate. He just wanted to convince himself that she was really alive again. Burned into his memory was the record of her death, the research he'd done in the future. After laying a rose on her gravesite in that horrible future, seeing her young and beautiful and half nude made him need to taste her, smell her, feel her. But he realized how selfish he was being--making love to her ought to be for her, not himself. "I'm sorry Scully, I just can't help myself. If you'd seen what I've seen, gone through this nightmare..." He held her, but moved his head to her revealed breast and rested it there, listening to her heart beat. That was enough for now, he decided. Her hands weaved into his sun-bleached brown hair, drawing his face up to her own. Kissing him softly at first, she suddenly decided that all she ever wanted was this with someone. This need, this moment. If it passed, like the million other times with Mulder had passed just as they were about to connect, she knew she'd regret it for the rest of her life. With desperation, she began to suckle his tongue, hands moving under his sweater to memorize the muscles of his back. She wrapped a leg around his hip, and he moaned deep in his throat. He frantically pulled the garment off, afraid that it would remind her of her doubts about him. When she ran her hands over his chest, up first, then down to the button of his jeans, he sighed with relief. He closed his eyes and let her roam with eyes and hands and mouth. He held himself up with one hand and unfastened his jeans with the other, then reached for her slacks. It was too far, to advanced now, and he had to have her. His pulse thrummed in his ears as the boat rocked, making him lose his balance. He rolled back, and she got up the second their bodies separated. Scully took her slacks off, not caring if she didn't look graceful in the action. Mulder watched, laying on his back. His hands moved to his hips as his eyes questioned her for permission. She moved over him, covering his hands with her own and pulling on his jeans. She tugged them down as he arched up on his back to allow her to get them off. He sat up, nude, and looked at her as she knelt at his feet and dropped his jeans in a heap. She felt suddenly self conscious as he looked her over, but she couldn't move. Eyes wandered to his body, lean and brown. Skin creased on his tight stomach. His erection was dark and larger than she had fantasized that it would be. The moment passed, as he extended his hand to her, began to move, to crawl the few feet between them to close the distance. She kissed him, and he pulled her into his embrace so her body was pressed parallel into his. He savored her silk skin, and he thought randomly that she was too fair for the beating sun. He pulled her around him, positioned her legs around his hips, and got up on all fours. She sighed as he got to his feet and carried her below to the small cabin, his hands holding her backside provocatively, her body cradled snug to his groin. Once down the three small steps, he knelt on the small bunk and put her under him, eyes locked with hers. He wondered if he was grinning, not able to feel any part of himself that wasn't touching her body. Her expression was novel, hungry, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. "Love you so much..." He whispered and kissed her messily. His lips roamed to her ear, down to her collarbone, further to her breasts. He licked with his tongue, then nipped with his lips, careful not to scratch her sensitive flesh with his emerging stubble. Scully moaned aloud in response, whispered for him to hurry. Hurry, before one of us changes our mind, she thought. Before something stops us from doing this. "Mulder, please. Please..." He couldn't believe how different she sounded, her voice low and sensual. Begging for him. His groin convulsed, and he decided that the only thing he wanted more than to bury himself in her body was to taste her. He ran his hands over her legs, and held her knees, pulling them apart slowly. He licked his way down to her clitoris, then positioned himself on his stomach to perform. His hands wound around her legs, came to rest on her hips. Her hands found his, covered them, then held them hard until the blood was forced out. This slight pain only made him more determined. Her body tensed, began to tremble as he licked in tight circles. Her hands left his, grabbed the sheet, and he increased the tempo slightly. Peeking up at her, he watched her face tighten to a look resembling pain, and watched in amazement as he made her moan and shudder beneath him and then fall silent. He wiped his face, and began kissing his way up her stomach, which rose and fell with her quick breath. Her hands hooked under his arms, and he followed as they guided him up to her face. A tear streamed down from her eye, fell in a trail over her temple. He smiled, full of pure white hot joy, and kissed the tear away, licking the wet salt from his lips. Her hands engulfed his head, pulled him into a deep kiss as her legs forced him to her. "Ahhhhh" Escaped his throat as she writhed, her whole body drawing him to where she wanted him to be. She watched him, eyes closed, put his hand between them and guide himself into her. His teeth were set tight together, and he drew a deep breath through them, making her close her own eyes against the sight of his overwhelming beauty. His mouth covered her, and she opened herself to him. With every circular thrust, his mouth and tongue claimed her, and he inhaled her breath as quickly as she exhaled. All thoughts disappeared, only the feel of him pumping and touching her with his free hand made it into her awareness. He made no sound. His mouth relented, moving off to nuzzle the side of her head. She smelled him, salty and fragrant as he rocked his body on hers. She latched to his neck with her lips, tasting his damp skin. This pushed him over threshold, and he stopped for a split second, deciding whether to withdrawal or stay inside her. She sensed this, and wrapped arms and legs around him tighter still, and his breathing turned to a slow hiss as he pressed his face into her hair. His thrusts slowed to long strokes, and she felt his spine go rigid, then seconds later relax. His kisses lost no potency after he'd climaxed. They rolled together on the small bunk, their motions countering the rocking of the boat. He knew that he was about to cry when she whispered into his ear "Never stop..." Not caring anymore how he appeared, he let the tears of relief come, telling her in short gasps how he'd longed for her over the time since he'd seen her last, thinking he'd lost her. She wanted him again, fiercely. One hand supporting her, she sat up halfway, wrapped her other hand around him. She stroked him gently, and as he hardened into her hand, she straddled him and reclaimed him. Hands snaked under his back, over his shoulders, for leverage. When she had him all the way inside, she moved in quick circles, hundreds of concentric circles until she spasmed minutes later against his strong chest, crying out. Moving only her hips, she lay totally against him, their mouths an inch apart as they stared into each others eyes as if in a mutual trance. His hands guided her motion suddenly, and he rolled his head back against the mattress. She set her mouth on his Adam's apple, felt the vibration with her tongue as he moaned low and enunciated an indecipherable vowel. He then fell silent and still as he smiled, open-mouthed and eyes closed. Moving off to lay beside him, he stopped her. "Stay" formed on his lips, and she held him and settled on top of him, her head in the curve of his shoulder and neck. His palms and fingertips traced her back and the curves of her waist, coming to rest on her buttocks. The sun was setting outside, orange light streaming in the starboard windows and warming their skin. Scully breathed in his scent, nose pressed into his chest. She knew they had to go, had so much work to do. She felt afraid again, and worried on some level that she had betrayed Mulder. The vision of his soft hands harming himself, his other, made her tense up and want to disengage from the man inside of her. She tried again to move. "Give me another minute with you..." He breathed into her hair. He kissed her scalp, ran his hands up to rest on her spine. "Just another minute..." Hearing the sad sweet timbre of his voice made her cry, tears streamed from her eyes onto his chest and she fought the urge to sob. She knew she loved Mulder, had known for a long time. And for this brief period of time, she decided not to question the concept of other. He crossed his arms over her back, and they slowly deepened their embrace, desperate to hold onto each other in this moment, to freeze it in time. Scully awoke some time later in the darkness. The engines of the boat were roaring, and she swung her legs off the bunk, finding her clothes folded at the foot of the bed. She ached to find a bathroom. Once she'd relieved herself and dressed, she emerged to find Mulder driving the boat, glassy-eyed and shirtless. He didn't look at her. When she lifted herself up beside him on the white leather bench seat, he shifted toward her as she touched his cold bare skin with small, warm hands. "We're nearly to shore. If we didn't emerge back far enough, we'll have to find food and go back out into the distortion again." "You're cold." She said, her hands rubbing his bare back. He ignored her words. "Where is your sweater?" "I tossed it." Scully realized why, and looked around for his black leather jacket. It was slumped on the deck, and she retrieved it, putting it around his shoulders. He looked at her, the expression on his face showing weariness and love and sheer exhaustion. He took her hand, put it on the wheel, then put the jacket on. They sat silently together at the wheel until they reached a dock. Mulder switched on the radio, and they listened until an announcer said the time and temperature. "At midnight, they say the date." Mulder explained, tinkering with the dial and not looking at her. He waited, scarcely breating until the announcer confirmed what he feared. They'd come out of the distortion a bit late, and they'd have to rush back to DC as fast as they could on the Red-eye flight in order to be where they had to be to ambush the murderers. "Come on, we have to move fast." He said, taking her hand. He checked his watch, and made a face. "Uh-oh. Hurry!" He helped her onto the dock, and jumped out after her. Scully noticed that there was an identical boat docked a hundred feet away. She paused, and he pointed a finger at the craft they'd just exited. "Here's a little empirical data for you." He said with a lilt in his voice. Scully understood as she saw, on the other craft, Mulder speeding off as he stole it, dividing the waves at full speed. Another Mulder. She inhaled sharply, in shock as she realized that today was, in fact, yesterday. "Full circle." He said with an arrogant grin, as lights came on around them in the marina, and men began shouting that a boat had been stolen. He took her hand, kissed it, held it as they moved off quickly into the cool night air. A bright spotlight passed over the boat behind them, and men ran to investigate why it was tethered here, how this could be after they'd just seen it speed away into the night. Hand in hand, Mulder and Scully quickened their pace. This time, not to fight the future, but to salvage it. Whatever the nature of it was. Thirteen hours later, they were sitting in a rental car in DC. Waiting. Watching. They had phoned Skinner, and he sat in the back seat. He had vocalized his skepticism, but agreed to come with them at the ungodly morning hour when Scully, tears in her eyes, implored him to help them. They had explained to him all the events of the past day, omitting only the part about them making love. Skinner had rolled his eyes and rubbed at the spot where his "Mulder" headache was beginning to form, but came along for the ride. In unison, Scully and Skinner gaped as across the street, the other Mulder and Scully arrived to follow up on an anonymous tip Mulder had received regarding the whereabouts of Fowley and C.G.B. Spender. It was surreal, for each of them, witnessing the scene. The other Scully ran to the rear of the abandoned building as the alternate Mulder ran to the front door and kicked it down. "Get ready to move in, NOW!" Skinner said loudly into his walkie- talkie, signaling the swat team he'd assembled. They leaped from the car and moved in, guns drawn. Chaos ensued as gunfire was heard in the distance. Scully watched as Mulder winced, stopped, and took her by the arm. Her looked asked him why he'd stopped. "I can't...I can't see you like that, Scully. You go. I'm gonna go see if SWAT caught the shooter." "OK, Mulder. Be careful." "You, too. And Scully." She paused, turned to him. "Yes?" "I love you." Mulder said it loud enough for Skinner to overhear, and he turned from his position at the door of the building, staring in disbelief. Mulder didn't wait for her reply or Skinner's reaction, and dashed off to the rear of the building. He could hear voices screaming, and SWAT officers barking orders. He ran at top speed, to find Fowley and another man dressed in black and handcuffed together. They had been found in a car, starting the engine to escape. A gun, long and black, was carried by a SWAT officer, wrapped in a white cloth at the barrel. Another officer approached with an evidence bag. Mulder made sure protocol was followed exactly before walking over to where Fowley and the other man had been loaded into a police van. He nodded at the officer, and the man opened the door. Mulder stared at Fowley, who looked down and stared at the floor. He looked over the other man. "You evil bitch. You're both gone. History." Mulder leered. He slammed the door and talked to the officer in charge, seeking assurance that the prisoners would be taken to a high security holding facility for processing. He silently wished for their deaths. Thought that, if events didn't go just according to plan, he'd spend the next hundred years if necessary in and out of that distortion until he came out with time enough to kill them with his bare hands. Scully walked to the corpse. Years of autopsy experience couldn't prepare her for the chilling sight of herself, dead. Skinner came to her side, put a guiding hand at her back and moved her away from the scene. Mulder, not her Mulder, but the Mulder native to this timeline emerged from a back room. He resisted the SWAT officer who Skinner had ordered to keep him out of the room, shouting and pushing until he came to Scully's dead body and cried out, dropping to his knees. Scully looked at Skinner, unsure of what to do next. "I'll deal with this." He offered, and went to Mulder. Mulder looked up, saw the A.D. approaching, then his jaw slackened as he saw Scully. He was confused, horrified. He wailed, looking up, then down, and began to stammer. The other Mulder entered, and motioned for Scully to join him. Scully crossed the room, but the Mulder who was kneeling over her corpse leapt to his feet, drew his gun. "Tell me what's going on here!" He shouted, aiming the gun low but keeping it at the ready. "Put the gun down, Mulder. Let me explain this to you." She said, as Skinner held his hands up in a gesture for him to calm down and disarm. Just then, the enraged Mulder followed Scully's gaze. He saw himself, his double, leaning in the doorway. Rage flared in his eyes, and he raised his gun. "You're not me!" Mulder dove for cover as the enraged Mulder shot at him. He fired five rounds, but stopped when he realized it was a futile endeavor. He turned the gun on Scully. With all the courage he could muster, he aimed. A single shot was fired. Mulder, from the doorway, lay on the ground and had fired, hitting his double with a clean shot to the heart. Scully screamed, ran to the crumpled body and cradled him. "Who are you?" Mulder demanded as a trickle of blood ran from his mouth. "I'm me Mulder...Why did you fire like that, damn it! Don't die..." She cried, as his body went slack in her arms. Scully began to lose consciousness with the grief, the lack of understanding...All this was alien to her, and although she had thought herself educated on the concepts and prepared for the situation regarding the time shifting, she couldn't handle watching Mulder die. Skinner ran to her, tried to lift her up and away from Mulder's body, but she held fast, fading in and out of reality. Mulder ran to her, but instinct and madness took over and she rejected his touch. "Nooooo!" She bellowed, putting her hands on the dead man's face and closing his eyes with trembling fingertips. "No, Mulder, nooooo." "Scully! Get hold of yourself!" Skinner shouted, taking her by the arm and jerking her up to her feet. She wept, and covered her eyes with bloody hands. "Mulder, maybe you'd better go outside for a while." Skinner phrased it like a suggestion, but his tone made it clear that it was an order. He began to tear up as well, and looked helplessly on as Skinner cradled his Scully in his arms. Mulder wanted to comfort her, but moved off to the front door as Scully fell apart in Skinner's arms. Every sob she made wracked his body with rage and pain. He hated himself. He knew that, if the situations were reversed, he would have reacted the same way. He would have jumped to a conclusion that the two doubles were aliens, or some damned far fetched thing, and started firing. Fifteen minutes had passed, but it felt like an eternity to him. Skinner brought Scully out of the building. They walked past Mulder, and to the car in which they had arrived. Scully sat in the back seat, and he watched as she lay down across the seat. Skinner approached. "She needs rest, Mulder. She doesn't want to see you. I'm going to take her home. I'll come back for you as soon as I take her home." "Sir, could you take her back to your place. I don't want her to be alone tonight. In the other reality, where she was murdered...Well, I don't know if the killers had a back-up plan to eliminate her. I don't want her to be left alone until I get this thing figured out." Skinner, who before had been reluctant to trust this Mulder, considered his request. "Sure. You'll be allright?" "As long as she's allright, I'll make it." He stated, stone faced and concerned. Skinner looked into his face, and frowned. "I don't know how were gonna fill out this paperwork. This is the damnedest thing I ever saw." "They say if you travel far enough, you'll eventually meet yourself. For your sake, sir, I hope you never have to know how it feels." "Me, too, Mulder. Me, too." As Skinner drove off into the night with Scully, they medics brought out two body bags. The dead. Them. Scully, and himself. Mulder had to run away. He ran toward Georgetown, desperate and aching. Mulder spent the night at Scully's apartment. He was waiting all night, to see if anyone had come to make another attempt on Scully's life. No one did, and he woke up at three-thirty the next afternoon to the sound of someone entering the apartment with a key. Mulder went for his gun, then lowered it as Scully entered. She tossed her keys down on the table beside the door and picked up the phone. A long pause, then: "Mulder, it's me. I...I need to see you. Please call me." She hung up the phone and began to pace, her lower lip quivering. "Scully, I'm here." Mulder said, emerging from her bedroom. Scully jumped, whirled around. Frantic eyes looked him over, and then her expression softened. She walked to him, threw her arms around him. "Make this make sense to me, Mulder. Please, help me." She clung desperately to him, nearly choking the wind out of him with her embrace. "It's OK Scully. We are going to be OK." "We came in and took their lives, their place. He died in my arms..." She argued, her voice rough and unsteady. "We killed them." "I guess you could look at it that way, but we are here, now. I've been through hell for over a year now. I had to plan this out. I had to commit suicide twice to get you back, to keep you alive. And I'd do it again, as many times as it takes me to keep you out of danger." He held her to him tightly, speaking hurriedly into her hair. He lowered his face until his lips were brushing her ear, then whispered: "I love you, Scully, and if I had to kill myself here and now, I would do it without a second thought. Because I believe that out there somewhere, for every time I fuck up, there is one of me that deserves you, who is fighting for the right things. It took all this, but I understand now. I understand faith." Scully gazed up with swollen eyes into his face, moved deeply by his words. This time it was she who needed to feel him warm and alive against her, needed to prove to herself that he was indeed alive. Mulder, finally sure of himself and his place in the universe, bowed his head and kissed her with abandon. A man possessed, he picked her light body up with strong arms and carried her to her bed. "You are mine." He whispered, laying her down and covering her with his body. "Tell me. Say it out loud." Shocked, Scully went to object, to question him, but he raised a finger to her lips and looked her powerfully in the eyes. She had never known Mulder to be so self-confident, and the wrinkles around his eyes deepened as he smiled. "No." He warned. "No objections. I've waited a year for this, and I want you to tell me yes. Tell me yes, and tell me you love me." "I love you." She breathed, captivated. "Yes." He kissed her, and she trembled violently under the awesome pressure of his mouth and full lips, his tender hands. He undressed her deftly, and the sheer power of his motions erased all the doubt and turmoil she had held inside her mind. It did make sense to her. It was a tragic, horrible few days, but it all made sense. Everything finally made sense. As the sun set, the phones rang, and this world and this time demanded answers of them, they answered their own questions without words. They finally let go of each other the next morning, when Skinner came knocking at her front door, angry and worried sick. As Scully watched Mulder patiently answer the long tirade of questions, and explain the distortion, she knew that this reality was the only one she wanted to be real. He stole glances at her, knowing looks that told her with absolute clarity that he felt the same way. And for the first time in his life, Mulder felt as if fate had finally given him a break. He knew happiness. Peace. He had completed his quest.