Title: Analysis
Author: Frances Hartman 
E-mail: fhartman1@rcn.com
Spoilers:  None
Timeline:  Somewhere in Season 7
Rating: PG 
Category:  SR 
Keywords: Angst, MSR 
Summary: Mulder is distressed to discover 
that once the truth got out there, all he 
wanted to do was run like hell.

Disclaimer:  The characters of Mulder and 
Scully as they appear on "The X-Files" are 
the sole property of Chris Carter, Fox 
Broadcasting, and 1013 Productions, and no 
profit is intended or expected from this 
work. After reading, fold in two egg whites, 
whisk briefly, and let stand for an hour.  
Serve chilled.
 
Thanks:  To Donnilee, who kicked me in the 
butt and told me it was fine, and I should 
stop worrying about the ending; to Satina, 
who has been enormously patient and not given 
up on me completely, as well as being the 
best page hostess a gal could ask for; and to 
Sdani, who likes to poke me with sharp, 
pointy objects when I take time off from 
writing.   I wanna be Porthos...the rest of 
y'all can fight over the other Musketeers.

**********

"The strength of women comes from the fact 
that psychology cannot explain them.  Men can 
be analyzed, women...merely adored."  --Oscar 
Wilde



"You still haven't told me why you're here."

Mulder laughed dryly.  "I would, if I knew 
that myself."  He sighed and dragged a hand 
through his hair.  "I can start with the 
obvious.  I'm...having trouble with my 
partner."  He paused, then chuckled again.  
"Trouble.  It's such a boring word, but I 
don't have a better one.  I think...well, I 
don't know if I can work with her anymore."

"So why not ask for a transfer?"

He shook his head. "I can't do that. The X-
Files...this is my project. My baby. I can't 
just leave it. Besides, I don't exactly play 
well with others.  I don't know another 
division that I could be as happy in.  
Certainly no other division would give me the 
autonomy and freedom to pursue my own 
interests as this one does."

"You're the senior partner. You could have 
her transferred out instead, if you don't 
want to leave your assignment."

"That hardly seems fair. I mean, the 
problem's mine, not hers.  Seems to me that I 
should be the one to deal with it."

"And you would be, if you had her 
reassigned." 

He said nothing. 

"What's the real reason you won't transfer 
her, Mulder?"

"She's...you have to understand. Before 
Scully, I went through partners like most 
people go through Kleenex. I've been with her 
for seven years. The last thing I want to do 
is break in another partner. Scully's 
comfortable.  We're used to each other."

"Not that comfortable if you think you can't 
work with her anymore."

"That's not..."  He broke off in 
exasperation.  "All right.  That's not it, 
exactly.  But it's part of it.  I just..."

"Just...?"  

There was no response.  

"Okay, Mulder.  Let me ask you something.  If 
you couldn't work with other people before, 
what makes Scully so different?"

He cracked a smile.  "Well, she's female, for 
one thing."

"And that makes her easier to work with?"

That startled a laugh out of him.  "Not at 
all.  I never had to worry about being the 
PMS poster boy before.  It's a whole new set 
of challenges."  His smile faded.  "No, 
Scully is...see, it's hard being the Bureau 
wing nut.  It would be easier if I didn't 
realize how crazy I sounded sometimes.  But I 
know it.  And so does she.  But no matter how 
far out on a limb I go, she's right there."  
He grinned fleetingly.  "Usually with a saw."

"So she doesn't usually agree with your 
theories?"

"Not usually?  Try hardly ever.  And that's 
the point, I think.  Most people...well, they 
just look at me like I'm a few curds short of 
a cheese curl and walk away. Scully sticks 
around and argues with me."  He shook his 
head.  "That's amazing. She actually thinks 
about these things and works them through. 
Sure, she puts 'em through the meat grinder 
of her logic, but that's what's so great.  
She takes me seriously enough to bother 
trying to poke holes in my theories.  Which, 
in turn, makes me work even harder."

"So what are you saying, that she brings you 
credibility in the Bureau?"

"Not really."  He gestured helplessly.  "I'm 
not sure anything could do that.  The things 
I deal with, they're too strange, too 
obscure, and usually too disturbing for 
anyone to want to examine closely enough to 
lend credence to them.  You have to work with 
them day in and day out like we do for that 
to happen.  And I've invested too much energy 
in trying to fuck with people to care what 
they think."

"But you care what she thinks."

Mulder paused for a moment, turning that over 
in his mind.  "You know, not really," he said 
with some surprise. "It's just that when I 
know I'm going to have to run them past 
her...I have to make sure I've got something 
concrete to back my ideas up, even though it 
might not match the outside world's 
definition of concrete.  We follow different 
rules of evidence, of investigation...hell, 
even of nature, sometimes...in the X-Files. I 
hadn't realized before how lazy that made 
me." He shrugged. "She gives me credibility 
with myself, I guess you could say."

"But now you know.  Couldn't you police 
yourself, if she left?"

He shrugged.  "I guess.  But it wouldn't be 
the same."

"What if they gave you another partner with a 
scientific background?"

Mulder chuckled.  "That would be deadly.  I'd 
have to jump through hoops all over again.  
But even if they could find someone like 
that...it still wouldn't be the same.  It 
wouldn't be Scully.  We have a history 
together.  We understand each other.  We 
trust each other."

"Couldn't you learn to trust someone else?"

He laughed shortly.  "Unlikely."

"That's hard for you."

"You could say that, yeah."

"But you trust Scully."

"I do.  Almost from the beginning, I trusted 
her.  It was strange...I mean, I know why she 
was assigned to work with me.  In my paranoid 
moments, I figured she was sent to spy on 
me...to keep me from uncovering the truth.  In 
my more rational moments, I thought at best, 
she was sent to debunk my project...to prove 
the scientific invalidity of my life's work.  
Either way, I was fully prepared to be on my 
guard from point one.

"But on our very first case, something 
happened. I'm not exactly sure what it was, 
but I realized Scully had integrity.  It 
didn't matter what the powers that be had in 
mind for her; she was going to do her 
damndest to solve each case, no matter what 
it took.  She gave me hell, but it wasn't 
because of anyone else's agenda.  It was 
because she wanted the truth as much as I 
did...she just had a different way of going 
about it.  And in all this time, with 
everything we've seen and been through 
together, that's never changed.  The one 
thing I can depend on, no matter what else 
has been thrown at me or taken away from me, 
is Scully herself.  Still there, still 
honest, still backing me up.  Even when she 
thinks I'm full of shit, she backs me.  She 
might not believe me sometimes, but she 
always believes *in* me."  He shrugged.  "She 
knows what makes me tick, and she sticks 
around anyway, but she never uses it against 
me.  If that's not trust, I don't know what 
is.  What are the odds I'm going to find that 
with anyone else?"

"It sounds like she's pretty important to 
you."

"Yeah.  Scully's not only my partner, she's 
my best friend...maybe my only real friend.  
And when we're working together, it's 
like...I don't know.  Like we're two halves 
of a whole, somehow.  It's not something we 
plan, we just complement each other 
perfectly.  Half the time, she knows what I'm 
thinking before I do.  And the reverse is 
true too, but..." He smiled ruefully.  "But 
she still manages to surprise me.  Keeps me 
coming back."

"Mulder.  Are you listening to yourself?  
It's pretty clear that you don't want her to 
leave.  You still want to keep working with 
her."

He took a deep breath and then released it.  
"Yeah.  Yeah, I do."

"Okay, then.  If you don't want her to leave, 
and you feel you *can't* leave...what's the 
alternative?  You've got to try to work out 
whatever the problem is."

He sighed heavily.  "I guess that's true," he 
said reluctantly.

"Can you try to put it into words?  The 
problem?"

He gave a dry smile. "I can try." Restlessly, 
Mulder got up to pace, and for long minutes, 
there was no sound in the room but footfalls 
on the carpet. Finally, he came to a stop. "I 
think I'm in love with her," he blurted.

The words hung in the air for a moment.  

"Ah."

"It's kind of hard to tell, you understand.  
I'm not entirely certain I've ever been in 
love before.  There have been times I thought 
I was, but..." He shuddered in remembrance.  
"I don't know.  Call me a helpless romantic, 
but I think there's supposed to be at least a 
nanosecond of happiness associated with the 
thought of your partner, if that's the case."

"Usually, yes.  And does thinking of Scully 
make you happy?"

"I guess it depends on how I'm thinking about 
her.  You mean when I'm thinking about the 
next great way someone's going to hurt her to 
get at me? No. You mean when I'm thinking 
about how much her partnership with me has 
cost her personally? No. You mean when I'm 
thinking about how I'm indirectly responsible 
for the deaths of her sister and her 
daughter? No. You mean when I'm thinking 
about the look on her face when she sees 
other people with homes, families, normal 
lives, and I realize she could have had all 
that, if it weren't for me? Not particularly, 
no."  He closed his eyes for a moment.  "And 
if you mean when I look into her eyes and 
realize that her innocence is all but gone, 
and I'm the one who took it away from her?"  
A muscle jumped in his jaw.  "No.  No, it 
doesn't make me happy.  Not one damned bit."

"Wow.  That's quite a load of guilt you bear, 
Mulder."

"Well deserved, I assure you."

"And are those the only things you think 
about when Scully comes to mind?"

"No," he allowed with a self-deprecating 
smile.  "No, that's not all I think about."

"And these other thoughts...do they make you 
happy?"

"Sometimes."  Mulder's gaze turned inward as 
he explored some private vision.

"And when are you happy?" 

"Sometimes...when I think about what it might 
have been like if we'd met in another place, 
another time," he said quietly.  "If we could 
have that normal life I know she wants.  I 
guess I want it too, or I wouldn't think 
about it so much."  His eyes were unfocused, 
and a small smile curved his generous lips.  
"I think about making her coffee on Sunday 
mornings, or waking up with her in my arms, 
or sometimes just being able to hold her 
hand. I think about things like cooking 
dinner with her, or painting the kitchen, or 
taking turns walking the baby, trying to get 
him to fall asleep."  He blinked, and the 
curious blankness of expression returned to 
his eyes, masking the tenderness that had 
been so apparent the moment before.  "And 
that's usually about the point in the fantasy 
where I stop being quite so happy."  He shook 
his head.  "Scully can't have any children," 
he said after a moment.  "And that's a result 
of her work with me, as well."

"And is that the deal breaker for you, 
Mulder?  The fact that she can't have 
children?"

"Of course not!"  Mulder was indignant.  
"That doesn't matter to me, except for how it 
hurts her.  If all I wanted was to perpetuate 
my genes, we wouldn't be having this 
discussion."

"Mm. But the scenario you were describing... 
it led you there anyway.  So if it isn't 
about the children...if it isn't her 
infertility itself that snaps you out of the 
fantasy, it must be the guilt." 

Mulder was silent. 

"You're more at home with your guilt than 
your happiness, at least where Scully's 
concerned.  Would you say that's a fair 
assessment?"

He paused, clearly taken aback. "No...I mean, 
I don't think so..." He trailed off, 
assessing the implications.

"Well, it is the first thing you brought up 
when I asked you if thinking about her makes 
you happy. Your guilt. Did you realize that?"

He chewed on his lip for a moment.  "I don't 
know...I mean, I've never thought about it as 
guilt, exactly.  More like responsibility."  
He studied his fingertips intently, working 
it out.  "So many times, I've been tempted to 
walk away.  But I can't stand not knowing.  I 
can't stand the idea that they'll get away 
with it all.  But it's strange.  Every time I 
feel myself getting tired, like I need to 
rest...Scully will say something to me that 
turns it all around for me."

"You mean she encourages you to keep going?"

He gave a harsh bark of laughter.  "Not at 
all.  I could share the responsibility if 
that were the case, you see.  But this one's 
all me.

"No, she says something like, 'Don't you ever 
want a normal life, Mulder?'  Or maybe, 
'Don't you ever want to just get out of the 
car, Mulder?'  Or how about my personal 
favorite...'Maybe you should ask yourself if 
your heart's still in it, too.'

"And then the strangest thing happens. The 
second she says those things...it's like I 
suddenly realize I have no choice. Maybe...I 
don't know...maybe it's just realizing that 
if I don't do this, no one will. And it needs 
to be done.   Right when she says those 
things...it...well, it shames me, somehow.  
Like she knows what I'm thinking and she's 
telling me that if I quit, I shouldn't be 
expecting her to carry on. But if *I* stay, 
*she* will." He rubbed his eyes tiredly.  "So 
I can't share the responsibility.  Every time 
she tells me she wants to stop, it just makes 
me want to keep going.  How selfish does that 
make me?"  

The question hung in the air for long 
moments.

 "Well.  That was a loaded statement."

He quirked an eyebrow.  "Loaded in what way?"

"Well, let's take things one at a time.  Are 
you expecting her to carry on?"

"That's a tough one."  Mulder rubbed a hand 
across his chin.  "Expecting it, no.  I 
wouldn't expect her to do something I 
wouldn't do myself."

"You say that like she'd have no reason of 
her own to see this through.  And if what you 
tell me is true, about what this search has 
cost her, don't you think she'd have reason?"

He faltered for a moment.  "I...I suppose 
that's true.  I guess I've never really 
thought of it that way.  But either way, I 
don't expect it of her, exactly."  He exhaled 
sharply.  "Or maybe I do.  It's more accurate 
to say that I would never think less of her 
if she didn't.  It's just that, knowing her 
the way I do, I more or less assume that she 
would."

"But you just said that you never considered 
that this quest would have personal relevance 
for her.  If that's the case, why would you 
think she'd carry on regardless?"

"Because..."  Mulder broke off sharply, 
aghast at the turn his thoughts had taken.  
"I don't think I want to answer that right 
now."

"Okay, we'll come back to that.  You said 
that she seems to be implying that if you 
quit, so will she.  Is that her talking, or 
you?"

He arched an eyebrow.  "Meaning?"

"You're the one with the eidetic memory, 
Mulder.  You tell me.  Think back to those 
things she said to you, the ones you just 
told me, and repeat them back to me.  One at 
a time."

He shrugged.  "Don't you ever want a normal 
life, Mulder?"

"Don't you?"

"I think I just said that, didn't I?"

"Okay, question answered.  What's the next 
one?"

"Don't you ever just want to get out of the 
car, Mulder?"

"And do you?"

His answer was quieter this time.  "Yeah.  
Yeah, I do."

"And..."

"Maybe you should ask yourself if your 
heart's still in it, too."  The words were a 
barely audible whisper.

"Have you asked yourself that question, 
Mulder?"

"No.  It's been my life for so long, I can't 
imagine..." There was a flash of naked fear 
behind his hazel eyes before he quickly 
resumed a neutral expression.  "I can't, not 
yet."

"You said earlier that Scully often seems to 
know what you're thinking even before you do.  
I have to be honest with you, Mulder.  I'm 
not hearing any censure in the things she's 
saying to you.  What I'm hearing is the 
genuine concern of someone who knows you very 
well and cares about you."

"So you're saying that she wants me to stop."

"Not exactly, no.  I think that maybe she 
senses that you do.  Tell me something.  If 
you did...stop, that is...would Scully think 
less of you, do you think?"

"No...well, maybe."  He frowned.  "I don't 
know what she'd think, actually."

"Have you considered the possibility that 
this is her way of telling you that it's 
okay?"

He shook his head emphatically.  "No.  You 
can't hear her voice when she says these 
things.  I can.  She's tired.  It's not just 
in her voice, it's in her eyes, the way she 
moves..."

"So why doesn't she?  In your opinion."

"Because..."  Once again, Mulder stopped 
himself in mid-sentence.

"It's okay, Mulder.  We'll come back to that 
one, too.  But here's the big question."

"Shoot."

"Okay.  Here's what we have so far; stop me 
when I make a mistake.  You've been thinking 
that you're tired.  You're wondering if it's 
time to rest...to stop running, but maybe 
you're not sure yet.  Right so far?"

"Yeah."

"So you start playing with it in your mind, 
but whenever you do, Scully says something 
that makes you think better of the idea.  For 
whatever reason.  Right?"

"So far, so good."

"But what she says, in essence...not what you 
hear, mind you...is simply a confirmation 
that she knows what you're thinking."

"I suppose that's true."

"And that's not what seems to stop 
you...after all, she's second-guessed your 
thoughts before, and it's usually more 
comforting than frightening, isn't that 
correct?"

"Correct."

"So if I'm hearing you right, it's not what 
she's saying that's giving you pause.  It's 
what you're hearing.  And what you're hearing 
is that *she* wants to stop."

"That's what I think I'm hearing, yes."

"So why don't you?"

"Why don't I what?"

"Stop."

Mulder greeted that simple question with a 
stunned silence.

"Mulder, it's clear that you don't want to be 
separated from Scully.  You want to stop.  
She wants to stop.  If you did, you could be 
together, maybe have that normal life you 
fantasize about.  So why haven't you?

"I think the question you need to ask 
yourself is why the idea that Scully actually 
agrees with you about this frightens you so 
much...so much so that you simply drop the 
question and choose to maintain the status 
quo.  That's not a choice; that's inertia.  

"But whether to stop or go on...that question 
is actually less important.  What's 
significant here is that you're so easily 
influenced by her feelings on the subject."  

He raised his brows, but said nothing.

"You know, I haven't turned this around for 
you.  Would you think less of her if she got 
out?"

"No."  Mulder's response was instant and 
definite.  "She's suffered so much...how 
could I possibly blame her?  Frankly, the 
smartest thing for her to do would be to get 
out.  The fact that she hasn't...it blows my 
mind.  And in my more selfish moments, I'm 
terrifyingly grateful that she hasn't."

"Why is that?"

Mulder looked away quickly, chewing on his 
lip.  "I don't want to lose her," he said in 
a small voice.  "She's...she's too important 
to me."  After a moment, he glanced up, a 
self-deprecating smile on his face.  "But you 
know something?  At the rate things are 
going, if she stays, I'm going to lose her 
anyway.  Physically, maybe, if one of these 
times, one of us is a bit too slow.  
Emotionally, probably.  I think being with me 
is killing her inside."

"But she doesn't leave you.  Not even to 
protect herself."  

He didn't respond.  

"Are you punishing her for something, 
Mulder?"

"What?"  His eyes widened in disbelief.

"Are you punishing her?  You think you know 
she'll stay if you do.  You think you know 
she wants to leave, somewhere deep inside.  
And when you think you hear her telling you 
these things, it just makes you want to keep 
going, sometimes when even you want to stop.  
You think this persistence is hurting her, 
and she's making no effort to protect herself 
against it.  If you're taking responsibility 
for causing that pain...and I'm not saying 
that's appropriate, mind you, just restating 
what you've told me...you also then could 
take responsibility for stopping that pain.  
And yet, when I suggested transferring her 
out before, you flatly refused.  What's going 
on here, Mulder?" 

He was silent for long, long minutes, 
processing this in his mind.  "It's not her 
I'm punishing," he admitted at last.  "I 
think it's me."

"Being with Scully is a punishment?"

"Not...not exactly.  I think," he said 
slowly, "that I'm doing penance."

"For the sins we talked about earlier?"

"Yeah.  She's given up so much..." he 
swallowed hard, "...for me," he finished 
quietly.  "The road to Hell and all 
that...she's followed me more times than I 
can count. I can't give back her fertility or 
her innocence or the years she's lost, but 
maybe I can give her some sense of closure.  
She deserves to know why.  If it were just 
me, I don't think...I think it would have 
been over for me long ago, one way or the 
other.  But after all she's sacrificed, I 
can't devalue that by giving up so easily. I 
can't come to her with that on my conscience, 
along with everything else."

"Does Scully blame you for these things?"

He looked up with bleak eyes.  "I honestly 
don't know.  I can't see past blaming 
myself."

"Have you asked her?"

There was just the slightest trace of a 
sardonic smile on his lips as he answered.  
"I do believe that is what is known as a 
rhetorical question."

"Is it?  You told me that Scully was a woman 
of integrity, that she was always honest with 
you.  Don't you think her honesty would 
extend to this?"

"I don't know.  I hope so, but..."

"But?"

"I know that Scully wouldn't want to hurt 
me," he said.  "She's a woman of integrity, 
but also of great compassion.  It's one thing 
to think she ought to blame me," he confessed 
painfully.  "It's another thing to actually 
hear her say it out loud.  And I think she 
knows that."

"It sounds like you've already decided that 
she does blame you."

He shook his head sadly.  "Not really.  I...I 
don't think I know what would be worse; 
hearing that she does blame me, or that she 
doesn't."  He sighed.  "She probably should, 
if she has any sense, but I don't think she 
would.  She has a tendency to take an awful 
lot of responsibility for things that are 
beyond her control."

"Sounds like you two have a lot in common."  

Mulder's head jerked up, but he remained 
silent.

"Mulder, here's what else I'm hearing.  I'm 
hearing that you think there are two 
different Scullys.  There's the one you 
described at the beginning of our 
session...she's strong, self-assured, and 
confident.  She stands up for herself and 
lets you have it if you step over the line, 
but isn't afraid to stick her neck out and 
back you up.  She's loyal, honest, and 
straightforward.  Sounds like a pretty tough 
lady."

He smiled.  "Yeah.  Yeah, she is."

"Right.  Well, then there's the other Scully.  
This one I can't quite figure out.  She's a 
victim, rather than a survivor.  She's 
secretive, rather than direct.  She holds 
grudges.  She's a martyr.  She's willing to 
sublimate her personality for you and your 
whims, for some private agenda that she's not 
sharing with you.  Doesn't sound like someone 
that should scare you so much."

"She doesn't...I mean, that's not what she's 
like at all.  Where did you get that from?"

"From you, Mulder.  I think I understand 
where most of your fears come from, but you 
have to realize that you're projecting them 
onto Scully, onto what your guilt tells you 
her reactions ought to be.  And that brings 
us back to those things we passed on 
earlier."

Mulder took a deep breath.  "I figured that 
was coming."

"It's truth time, Mulder. Why hasn't Scully 
left you long ago? I'm sure you've asked 
yourself that question before; let's finally 
answer it.  Why?"

"I...I don't know.  I've thought about it and 
thought about it, but..."

"Don't think, Mulder.  From the gut.  You're 
the one who knows her so well.  She's pretty 
tough, but even so, hanging in there all this 
time with everything she's gone through is 
asking a lot.  So why?"

"I think..."

"Don't think."

His mouth worked soundlessly for long 
moments.

"You know the answer already, Mulder.  Just 
say it."

"But I don't..."

"You do.  Just say it."

"She..."  He faltered for a moment.

"She what, Mulder?"

"She...she..."  He drew a deep, shuddering 
breath.  "She loves me," he whispered 
brokenly.

"Why is that so hard to admit?"

"Because...I...Jesus," he muttered, running a 
hand through his hair.

"You knew that.  That's how you knew she 
would carry on your quest, and how you knew 
she wouldn't leave as long as you continued.  
She loves you.  How long have you known 
this?"

"I...for a while now," he admitted.  
"Since...well, I've suspected it for a while, 
but over the past year or two, it...well, I 
knew.  I just...try not to think about it."

"Why not?"

"I'm not sure..."

"You need to stop hiding, Mulder.  You've got 
to get this all out in the open, even if it's 
only to me.  Why are you so afraid of her 
loving you?"

"Because she deserves better!"  The words 
exploded from him.  "If I...if we were to..."  
He sucked in a breath.  "If I face the fact 
that she loves me...and I love her...what's 
the next step?  Every day of my life, I face 
the fact that I've dragged her down into the 
darkness with me.  I can't ask her to live 
with that, too.  I've already ruined so much 
of her life, don't you think she deserves 
better than my ruining the rest of it, too?"

"Does she?"

His eyes narrowed.  "What's that supposed to 
mean?" he asked belligerently.

"Mulder, listen to yourself. If you're really 
the man you describe to me, what does it say 
about her judgment that she fell in love with 
you?  Maybe she deserves you."

His mouth fell open in shock.  "I don't 
believe you just said that.  Scully is..."

"Is what, Mulder?  Strong, independent, and 
capable of making her own decisions?  
Intelligent, loyal and caring?  Of sound 
mind, good character, and deserving of the 
best life has to offer?"

"Yes."

"And she chose you, Mulder.  *You.*  No one 
else.  If she's really the woman you describe 
to me, she could have chosen anyone she 
wanted.  She's thirty-five, Mulder.  I'm sure 
she's had the opportunity, no matter how busy 
you keep her.  And she chose *you.*

"Which Scully is she, Mulder?  The strong or 
the weak?"

"The strong," he whispered, mind whirling.

"The victim or the survivor?"

"The survivor."

"The heroine or the martyr?"

"The heroine," he responded quietly.

"If that's what you believe, what does that 
say about you, Mulder...the man she chose?"

"I..."

"Does it say that maybe, just maybe, she does 
deserve you?" 

"I...I can't."  Tears were pricking at his 
eyes.  "If we tried this...I couldn't handle 
it.  Eventually, she'd come to hate me...I 
couldn't take that.  As it is now, I still 
have my dreams."

"But you could have them.  You could be 
living them, Mulder.  All you have to do is 
reach for them."

"Dreams don't last," he said with a touch of 
bitterness.  "Not once daylight hits them."

"Why are you so sure of that?  What makes you 
think that her love would turn to hate, if it 
hasn't already?"

"Because she doesn't...I mean...she doesn't 
know..."  He trailed off, unable to complete 
the thought.

"Because she doesn't know the real you. And 
if she did, she wouldn't love you anymore."

There was a shocked silence, and then, to 
their mutual surprise, Mulder suddenly burst 
out laughing.  "I always knew I'd eventually 
be reduced to a cliche."

*****************


"Mulder, why are you sitting here in the 
dark?"

He looked up in surprise, only then realizing 
that the shadows that had just begun to 
stretch across the floor of his apartment 
when he had come home earlier now shrouded 
the entire room in an inky blackness.  He 
could barely make out the form of his partner 
standing just inside the door, and laughed 
quietly.  "You know, years ago, your sister 
said almost those exact words to me, in just 
that tone of voice."

Scully's lips twitched, a sad yet fond smile 
flirting with the corners of her mouth.  "And 
what reason did you give her?"

"That the lights weren't on."

"I bet she loved that."  Slowly, she crossed 
the room and lowered herself to sit beside 
him in the gloom.  "Darkness, light...they 
were her metaphors for life," she commented 
after a moment.  "She probably had a field 
day with you, telling you that you were 
walking in darkness."

"She did.  But she was right.  I was, 
especially then."  He sighed softly.  "Maybe 
I still am."

"If things had turned out differently, you 
probably would have become her pet project.  
I always wondered if..."  Her voice trailed 
off uncertainly, and he turned to look at 
her.

"You wondered what?"  He raised an eyebrow in 
the darkness.

"Just that..."  She shrugged self-
consciously.  "I don't know.  You and 
Melissa..."  She looked away, suddenly glad 
of the shadows in the room that masked her 
sudden blush.

"Ah."  He pondered for a moment, then shook 
his head.  "I don't think so.  Two flakes...I 
think we'd have driven each other nuts...if 
we survived the first dose of reality."  He 
shook his head in exasperation.  "Do you 
really think that's what I want in a woman?"

"Mulder!"  She was outraged.  "You may be 
crazy, but you're not a flake."

He blinked.  "Scully, that statement doesn't 
even make sense.  And what, are you saying 
your sister was?"

She faltered a moment.  "I...well, maybe a 
bit.  And anyway, I don't think I ever really 
thought about it in terms of whether you'd be 
attracted to her.  I just knew that she'd be 
attracted to you.  You were...are...exactly 
what got her going."

"That being?"  

"Well, apart from the obvious--"

"Nothing's obvious, Scully, you know that."  
His voice was teasing.

"Nothing except your fishing for compliments, 
you mean."  Her smile faded as she reflected.  
"No, Melissa took being a big sister pretty 
seriously. She would have been a great 
mother, I think. She loved taking care of 
people. And you would have been like a magnet 
for that.  And she was...I don't know, I 
think she felt drawn to heal, in some way. On 
the soul level, I think. She always swore she 
could sense people's pain, and always felt 
compelled to try to banish it.  I always 
thought that if she found the right man, she 
would have dedicated her life to making him 
happy.  But at the same time, she didn't have 
any patience for people who would rather 
whine than try to help themselves.  It isn't 
that she wanted someone to mother; I think it 
was more that she wanted someone who was 
strong enough to help her, and strong enough 
to let her help him." She smiled again. "Of 
course, she also always wanted someone smart, 
who could make her laugh at life, and at 
herself.  I think because she felt other 
people's pain so deeply, it made her want to 
experience joy that much more."

He was silent for long moments.  "It sounds 
like you knew her pretty well; you know, what 
made her tick."  He laughed hollowly.  
"Unlike me."

"I think that's to be expected, Mulder.  She 
wasn't just my sister, she was my friend.  I 
knew her for her entire life.  You only knew 
her a few months."

"I didn't mean me knowing her, Scully.  I 
meant you knowing me."  

She frowned.  "Mulder, why *are* you sitting 
here in the dark?  And I'm not Melissa, so 
there's no need to belabor the obvious."

"There's that word again."  He paused for a 
moment, gathering his thoughts.  
"Scully...you said Melissa wasn't just your 
sister, she was your friend."

"Right.  What's this about, Mulder?  What's 
wrong?"

He continued as if she hadn't spoken.  "And 
I'm your partner.  We haven't known each 
other all of our lives, but for, what, seven 
years?  That's a pretty long time.  Would you 
say I'm your friend?"

Her brow creased.  "Of course.  You're my 
best friend, you know that."

"Do I?"  He shifted uncomfortably.  "That's 
hard to believe sometimes.  You don't know me 
at all, I think."

She crossed her arms.  "That's the second 
time you've said that, and I think I'm a bit 
insulted.  Why on earth would you say I don't 
know you?  I think I know you as well as 
anybody."

"And that, my dear partner, isn't worth the 
paper those words are written on. No one 
knows me like that. Not like you knew 
Melissa."

She opened her mouth to reply, then stopped 
herself.  There was a wealth of sadness 
behind Mulder's words, and like her late 
sister, she suddenly felt compelled to try to 
ease his pain.  "I think I do," she said 
softly.  "At least, better than you think I 
do."  She swallowed hard.  "Melissa and I had 
a lot in common, you see."

"Yeah?  I get you going, Scully?"

The teasing lilt was a desperate attempt to 
lighten the mood, but she chose to answer him 
seriously.  "Of course you do, Mulder.  
Surely you knew that."  For such weighted 
words, they were spoken in the most casual of 
tones, and he blinked in surprise.  For the 
first time, one of the dangerous thoughts 
swirling through both of their minds had been 
uttered aloud.

After a moment, he commanded himself to 
breathe again.  "If I do, then that proves 
more than anything that you don't really know 
me, Scully." The undercurrent of loneliness 
was back, and her heart ached for him. "If 
you did, I...doubt I'd have quite that effect 
on you."

"You think?"  

"I know."

"So tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"What you've been hiding from me.  This 
terrible thing that I don't know."

His mouth worked for a moment. "I...anything.  
It isn't...I mean..."  He broke off with an 
exasperated snort.  "You don't understand, 
Scully.  It's not something I've done or 
haven't done, or said or haven't said, or 
have or don't have. Or...I don't know.  Maybe 
it's all those things.  It's just who I am."

"I think I do understand, Mulder." Carefully, 
she reached through the waves of tension 
rolling off him and rested her fingers atop 
his cold, clenched fist.  "Why don't I tell 
you what I do know, okay?  Stop me when I 
make a mistake."  He blinked and tensed at 
the familiar words, but remained silent.

She paused, gathering her thoughts. "You do 
get me going, Mulder," she began.  "I could 
say that's because you're beautiful.  And 
that would be true, but I don't think that's 
what you need to hear right now."  She held 
up her hand to forestall his response. "Or 
what..." She faltered, then strengthened her 
nerve. "Or what I need to say.  I think what 
we both need to hear is why I think that."

"Scully, this isn't about--"

"Sh.  Please."  She glanced away for a 
second.  "This isn't easy, Mulder.  But I 
think that..." She drew in a calming breath.  
"I think that these are things that need to 
be said.  That I need to say.  And maybe I'm 
being selfish here, because I know that 
something's eating you up inside right now, 
and my needs are the last thing you should be 
worrying about.  But I need to talk, and I 
need you to listen, okay?"

He stared at her in horrified fascination.  
How the hell did she do that?  One minute, 
she was all prepared to give him a pep talk, 
and the next, she was turning into an episode 
of True Confessions.  And he knew that the 
end result was going to be the same.  He was 
going to have to sit and listen to her tell 
him how wonderful he was, when they both knew 
it was a crock of shit she was feeding him 
just to make him feel better. And because she 
had put him on the spot by telling him it was 
for *her*, he didn't have a choice.  Curtly, 
he nodded once.

Her lips tightened.  "You know, for someone 
who claims I don't know them, I didn't have a 
single problem reading your mind just now."

"Yeah, Scully?  Ya think?" he mockingly 
parroted her earlier question.

"I know," she answered in the same tone.  
"You're still thinking this is all about you, 
isn't it?"

He crossed his arms defensively.  "Well, 
isn't it?  This isn't the usual 'chin up 
Mulder you're really an okay guy' speech?"  
He laughed bitterly.  "Thanks, Scully, but I 
still have a tape recording of the last one.  
You don't need to go into it again.  Besides, 
you're a crappy liar."

She studied him for a moment, brow creased.  
"Well, if you were trying to prove that I 
really don't know what's going on inside your 
head after all, I think you've just 
succeeded.  Now you're the one who's not 
making sense."  She chewed on her lip for a 
moment.  "So I'm just gonna take that at face 
value.  Heard it all before, have you?"

"Yup."

"And nothing I can say will make a difference 
in your suitably black mood this evening, 
right?"

"It's more of a dark gray, but yeah, I don't 
see what would."

She nodded.  "What if I say something that 
you haven't heard before?  Not just something 
different, but something that would 
completely surprise you?"

Despite his growing annoyance, Mulder was 
intrigued.  "Give it your best shot, Scully."

"Okay."  Shifting to face him, she took his 
face between her hands.  "You said I'm a 
lousy liar.  So you should know whether what 
I'm about to say is the absolute truth."  
Cautiously, he nodded, and she stared him 
straight in the eyes.  "I love you, Mulder.  
I'm head over heels, completely gone, totally 
and truly in love with you."

He blinked slowly once, then twice.  She had 
indeed surprised him, but not in the way that 
she thought she would.  He blinked again.

A slight frown twisted her lips.  "Well, 
that's certainly an overwhelming response."

Gently freeing himself from her grasp, he 
leaned back on the couch.  "I'm sorry, 
Scully," he said quietly after a moment.  "I 
think...I think I knew this already.  But if 
it's any consolation, you did surprise me.  I 
didn't think you'd actually say it."  
Absently, he rubbed his hand over his eyes 
and sighed heavily. God, he wasn't ready for 
this confrontation.  Not yet.  Maybe not 
ever.  "I'm not sure I know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything." Her voice 
was tight and controlled, and when he glanced 
up, his stomach twisted at the carefully 
hidden pain in her expression.  Carefully 
hidden from anyone but him, that is.  After 
years of knowing her, watching her, loving 
her, he had learned that what she didn't show 
spoke louder and more clearly than what she 
did.  He had hurt her badly with his 
reaction, and he closed his eyes against the 
awful emptying pain the knowledge brought.

"Oh, Scully.  You don't understand, I--"

"It's okay, Mulder.  Really, it is."  She 
shook her head and jumped to her feet.  "I 
shouldn't have--"

"Shouldn't have what?"  He rose quickly, 
catching her hand when she would have fled.  
"Shouldn't have told me how you felt?"

"Oh, lots of things."  She pulled away and 
quickly walked to the door.  "Shouldn't have 
told you, shouldn't have pushed you to 
talk...hell, I shouldn't even have come over 
here tonight."  She grabbed her coat and 
yanked the door open.  "I have to go."

"No!"  It wasn't quite a shout, but Mulder 
put enough emotional force behind the word 
that she stopped dead in her tracks.  
Strange, he thought wildly.  A minute ago, 
this conversation was the last one he wanted 
to have. But now...he had to make this right.  
Forcibly, he softened his tone.  "Don't go, 
Scully.  Please."  

For long moments, neither of them moved, 
until finally, she closed the door gently and 
leaned against it, keeping her back to him.  
"What?" she whispered, the word barely 
audible around the lump in her throat.

He froze.  Now he had her, and she was 
listening, and he had no idea how to start.  
Stymied, he floundered for something to say.  
"Scully, do you know where I was today?" he 
suddenly blurted, then blanched as he 
realized what he'd said.  What was he doing?  
Why was he torturing himself like this?

"Does it matter, Mulder?"  Her voice was 
tiny, but her weariness...and wariness...was 
apparent.  

Without warning, something snapped and broke 
inside him, and all the fight flowed out of 
him as he stared at her bent head.  "Yeah.  
Yeah, it does," he said with some surprise.  
His expression was pensive as he studied her 
slight form, braced against the door as she 
awaited the lash of the next words out of his 
mouth.  How did we come to this, he wondered 
with a touch of shame.  Combatants, instead 
of partners?   He shook his head slowly as he 
realized that she expected him to hurt her 
again; a worry which, he acknowledged 
painfully, was entirely justified, 
considering his behavior tonight.  And yet 
she stayed.  Waiting, though she was 
obviously convinced that he was going to 
throw the gift of her love back in her face 
again.

She knew that he would hurt her, and she 
stayed anyway. Just like she always had.  
Because she loved him.

Just like she always had.  How many times had 
he put her in this position over the years?  
Tensely awaiting the next blow of the axe, 
she would stand perfectly still.  Waiting for 
him to hurt her again.  And yet she stayed.

He knew she wasn't weak.  Just this 
afternoon, hadn't he railed at the too-calm 
assessment of her as a martyr, as a 
professional victim, as an abused innocent?  
Scully was strong and made her own choices; 
if he knew anything about her, it was this.  
She never did anything she did not want to 
do.  Neither he, nor circumstance, had ever 
made choices for her.  She alone chose.

And she chose...to stay.  No matter how many 
times he had hurt her, ignored her, used her, 
manipulated her, or taken her for granted, 
she chose to stay.  Just like now.

Just like she always had.

He stood mutely as understanding flowed over 
him.

Just like she always would.

"God, Scully," he murmured, a catch in his 
throat.  "I don't deserve you."

She turned to face him, startled by the hitch 
in his voice, and her mouth dropped open in 
surprise at the tears brimming in his eyes.  
"Mulder..." she broke off in bewilderment, 
her tongue slicking over her lips nervously 
as he slowly crossed to stand before her.  
Instinctively, she pressed her back against 
the door, seeking some reassurance, some 
support.  He swallowed hard at the self-
protective gesture.  "Mulder, you don't need 
to say things like that. If you don't feel--"

"It's true, Scully.  I don't.  Deserve you, 
that is.  I never have."  Never breaking 
their locked stare, he slowly sank to his 
knees in front of her as she regarded him in 
amazement.  "But I will," he vowed, sliding 
his arms about her waist and burying his head 
in her stomach. "Before God, I swear I will." 

The words were muffled against her midriff, 
but Scully heard.  Stunned, she raised a 
shaking hand to brush his hair back off his 
forehead.  "Mulder..."  The word emerged on a 
strangled sob, and she quickly cleared her 
throat and said the first thing that came 
into her mind. "Mulder, tell me where you 
were today."

His arms tightened about her for a moment 
before he sat back on his heels and gazed at 
the floor, looking for all the world like a 
penitent making obeisance at the foot of an 
idol.  "I went to see one of the EAP 
counselors today.  About us," he confessed 
softly.  "I told him that I didn't think we 
could work together anymore."  After a 
moment, he shook his head.  "No, that's not 
quite right.  I told him I didn't think I 
could work with you anymore."

She swayed slightly.  "Because you knew how I 
felt," she replied tightly. "I can understand 
that."

"No!  I didn't mean--" Sighing, he looked 
away.  "I'm not saying this well, Scully.  
Like you said, it isn't easy.  But you were 
right when you said that it needs to be said, 
and heard."  Painfully, he pulled himself to 
his feet, never releasing his grip on her.  
"Listen.  Just listen," he whispered.  
"Please.  I promise it'll be okay."

After a moment, she nodded and allowed him to 
lead her back to the couch.  Sitting beside 
her, he took her cold hands in his.  "I 
didn't know why I was having trouble, but it 
became pretty clear what the problem was 
before very long.  At least a big part of 
it."  He swallowed hard and stared at their 
clasped hands.  "I told him...and believe me, 
I was as surprised as he was when these words 
came out of me...I told him that I was in 
love with you."

She inhaled sharply, shock and amazement 
painting her delicate features.  "Oh," she 
said finally.

"Yeah, that's pretty much what he said."  He 
shook his head in wonderment.  "And that 
should have been the end of it, at least at 
that point.  I mean, if I realized I loved 
you..."  He trailed off and shrugged self-
consciously.  "But of course, I had to make 
it more complicated than that."

"Oh, Mulder."  She touched his cheek.  "But 
you knew how I felt.  You couldn't possibly 
have believed I'd reject you.  Could you?"  
He remained silent.  "You did, didn't you?  
But why?"

"Like I said, it's more complicated than 
that."  Dropping his head back on the couch, 
he gazed at the ceiling.  "It took me forever 
to admit that I did know...how you felt.  I 
just didn't want to believe it.  And I wanted 
to believe it more than anything you could 
imagine.  It's just that reconciling those 
two feelings...sucked.  And that's what I was 
trying to do, sitting here in the dark."

"And then I barged in here."  Scully bit her 
lip.  "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I don't think I could have done it 
if you hadn't come over. Or maybe I could 
have, but it wouldn't have turned out the way 
it should have."  He glanced over at her, his 
heart contracting at the taut expression on 
her face.  "Hey," he murmured, touching her 
cheek.  "I told you it would be okay.  Just 
listen."

He exhaled heavily, letting his hand fall 
from her face.  "I was scared to death.  
Still am, you know.  But I think I can deal 
with it now."  Idly, he began tracing 
patterns on the back of her hand with his 
thumb.  "It took everything I had to actually 
say it out loud...that I thought you loved 
me.  It terrified me.  It paralyzed me.  All 
I could think was that I'd been in this 
holding pattern for God knows how long, and I 
could do that because as long as I didn't 
*say* it, it wasn't real.  But now it was out 
there, and I had to actually do something."  
He smiled briefly.  "Isn't that great?  The 
truth was out there, at last.  And all I 
wanted to do was run like hell.  

"Don't get me wrong, Scully.  I didn't want 
to run away from you...this...us.  Not 
exactly.  It's just..."  He shook his head 
again.  "God, I don't know how to say this 
without hurting you even more.  And it isn't 
something that should hurt you.  I just don't 
have the right words, and I'm afraid that--"

"Mulder."  She stopped him with a gentle hand 
on his lips.  Looking up, he started at the 
open tenderness on her face.  "I've been 
jumping to conclusions all night, and all 
it's done is make you scared to say anything.  
I'm sorry."  She gave him a sad smile.  "No, 
I really am.  God knows, I've wanted you to 
talk to me...really talk to me...for what 
seems like forever.  The last thing I wanted 
to do was tie you up in knots so badly that 
you couldn't tell me truth, no matter what it 
is.  You just talk, and I'll just listen.  I 
promise."  She squeezed his hand lightly.  
"We'll deal with everything else later.  Tell 
me what scared you so much.  What made you 
want to run away."

He brushed a soft kiss over her fingertips 
before recapturing her hand in his.  "I do 
love you, Scully," he said after a moment.  
"Despite how it might appear.  Even with 
everything I've done to you, to hurt you, I 
do love you."  

He was pensive as he stared into the 
gathering shadows. "Time heals all wounds, 
they say.  And I suppose that's true, but it 
also creates new ones.  And you know, no 
matter how much I might want to be half of a 
whole, that desperation doesn't guarantee 
I'll know how to do it when the time comes.  
It isn't something that I've ever been able 
to pull off successfully.  And the more time 
marches on, the more uncertain I am of my 
ability to acquire that particular skill."  
He chuckled.  "It's too bad you can't 
practice without really hurting someone in 
the process.  Yourself, usually.

"It's funny.  I knew a girl once who waited 
until she was twenty-five to have sex... 
saving herself for marriage, she said, but 
she got tired of waiting. Only problem was 
that people had been filling her head for 
years with the idea that it was going to hurt 
the first time.  And when the time came, she 
couldn't enjoy herself at all, because she 
was so busy waiting for the pain.  I can 
relate."  He shrugged.  "I'm not sure who 
would have more of a field day with me, 
Roosevelt or Freud.  I can't figure out what 
scares me more, the pain, or the fear 
itself."

True to her promise, Scully said nothing, but 
inside, she was seething with a million 
emotions.  She was quaking with terror.  She 
was sick with anxiety.  She was aching with 
tenderness.  But most of all, she was 
overwhelmed by the desire to take him in her 
arms and convince him somehow, some way, that 
the pain he expected was far from 
predestined.   He doesn't know that I'd die 
before I'd hurt him, she thought in 
realization.  The trick is to make him 
believe it.

But for now, she simply listened.

"It's so hard to shake the idea that if you 
knew me, really knew me, you wouldn't love 
me," he said after a moment.  "I mean, sure, 
of course you do, on a certain level.  But 
the inner me...the blood and guts of my 
somewhat twisted psyche...I've kept that 
hidden from you.  And if I face this...what's 
between us...I can't keep hiding.  And the 
more I thought about it, I mean...I don't 
know what frightened me more, that you might 
leave, or that you might stay."

"But--"

"You don't know what I've done, Scully.  Who 
I am...what I'm capable of.  It scares me, 
and I have to live with me.  How could I ask 
you to accept it if I can't accept it in 
myself?  I see it on your face sometimes, you 
know. The horrified fascination when you 
catch stray glimpses of the demons that drive 
me.  Sort of like staring at a fatal car 
crash, isn't it?"

"Mulder..."

"Still, I can't help myself."  In agitation, 
he got to his feet and paced restlessly. 
"There's something about you that seems 
to...I don't know, purify me, is the best way 
I can put it...and sometimes, the compulsion 
to reveal those darker sides of myself to you 
is almost overwhelming."  He spread his hands 
helplessly.  "I only wish I could be sure 
that the compulsion is from a need to heal 
myself, and not some sick desire to drag you 
down into the darkness with me.  All I know 
is that when I open the door to that place, a 
part of me lightens and becomes free, until 
the moment I realize what I've done.  And 
then the only thing I can do is slam the door 
shut again and run like hell, wondering if 
this is the time that I've gone too far.  
Wandered too close to the truth."  He snorted 
in self-deprecation.  "Listen to me.  I'm a 
fucking poet."

He thrust his hands in his pockets and turned 
to face the window, staring out unseeingly.  
"But this is the weird thing.  No matter how 
far or fast I run, you're always there on the 
other side. Waiting.  And oddly enough, it's 
at that point that I'm most confused.  I 
can't decide whether I want to scream at you 
to get the hell away from me before it's too 
late, or throw myself into your arms and hang 
on for dear life.  I've done both, at various 
times, and you've never once either walked 
away, or turned me away, regardless of the 
cost.  And that's what I meant when I said I 
didn't deserve you."

Scully's eyes burned with unshed tears.  How 
had he gotten this far in his life, she 
wondered dimly, being so sure that the world 
would turn against him?  To be so touchingly, 
heart-rendingly grateful for the simple human 
kindness and support of a friend, yet be so 
deeply certain that it would be taken away 
the instant he reached out for it?  It was a 
good thing she had promised not to speak, 
because she wasn't sure she could push words 
past the emotion choking her throat.

Give me a chance, Mulder, she thought 
fiercely.  Give me half a chance and I'll 
love you so well, so thoroughly, that you 
won't know what hit you.  

"But tonight, when you tried to leave...God, 
Scully.  All I could think was that I'd done 
it again.  I'd hurt you again, and this time, 
I didn't do a damned thing. I hurt you 
*because* I didn't do a damned thing.  I 
stopped you because I couldn't let you leave 
like that.  Thinking what you were thinking.  
And the amazing thing was, you did.  Stop, I 
mean.  You'd just said this incredibly 
personal, intimate thing to me and I reacted 
like an ass.  If it had been me, I would have 
been out the door so fast you wouldn't have 
seen me move.  But you?  Even though I'd been 
a jerk...and hell, I've been a jerk all 
along, why would you think that was suddenly 
going to change in the next five 
minutes...even then, you stayed, just because 
I asked.  And that's when I figured it out.  
It happened.  The blue streak of recognition, 
I think they call it.

"Scully, I can't count the number of times 
I've sabotaged a good relationship before it 
ever began.  I guess that's easier too...hurt 
them before they can hurt you, and all that. 
Or maybe it's just that the little hurt in 
the beginning is so much better than the big 
hurt later on.  That way, when things don't 
work out, I can convince myself that I was 
never relationship material to begin 
with...that it was never meant to be...that I 
wasn't worthy."  He chuckled again.  "God, it 
sounds so pathetic.  But it's true.  It's 
amazing how well I know myself, when I put my 
mind to it."

Scully couldn't take it anymore; she had to 
say something.  "Mulder, you're so hard on 
yourself, and it's so unnecessary.  You--"

"Sh, Scully.  I'm just getting to the good 
part."  He crossed his arms over his chest, 
eyes dancing with sudden excitement.  "See, I 
looked at you standing there, and I got it.  
Like a two by four across the back of the 
head, yeah, but I got it. You already know 
all that about me."  For the first time that 
evening, a full, genuine smile spread across 
his face.  "It blew me away.  You can look at 
me and see all my bullshit for what it is.  
You see the man, the child, and deep in the 
darkness I carry around inside, you see the 
person I wish I could be.  In my whole life, 
you're the only one that's been able to do 
that, or even wanted to try.  There's almost 
no point to all the barriers I put up when 
you can destroy them with just one look."  He 
grinned again.  "You got my number, baby.  
God damn it, you know me."  His voice 
softened to a whisper.  "You...know...me."

She blinked in amazement as his cryptic 
comments from the start of the evening 
finally fell into place.  And with that 
knowledge, she finally understood the root of 
his fears...that she had fallen in love only 
with what he had chosen to show her. But now, 
the masks had fallen away, and he stood 
metaphorically and emotionally naked before 
her.  The totality of his trust humbled her, 
and silently, she vowed that no matter what, 
she would never betray it.  Never betray him.

Once again he knelt before her, all mirth 
gone from his expressive eyes. "You believe 
in me," he said softly. "You know the truth 
about me, and still, you believe."  He rested 
his cheek on her thigh.  "I want to be worthy 
of that faith."

"You are," she declared firmly, stroking his 
hair.  "And you will be.  No matter what."