Canto Fermo

AUTHOR: bcfan
FEEDBACK: bcfan@shaw.ca
RATING: NC-17
CLASSIFICATION: M/Sk Slash
THANKS TO: MaybeAmanda, beta goddess and guide, for asking such good questions
SPOILERS: all things, Hollywood A.D.
SUMMARY: Orfeo ed Euridice? Orfeo ed Ercole? Entrambi? Mulder wants it all.

***
Prima di Tutto
***

"I'm a one woman man, Walt."

Eyes met in the double mirror. Skinner wasn't wearing his wire rims - without them, Mulder looked fuzzy around the edges, the outline of his nearly hairless chest indistinct. Steam from the shaving water further veiled the view.

"Glad to hear it, Mulder." Skinner's tone was dry. "I'm assuming you mean Scully. Or is there someone else I don't know about?"

"Ha ha. We need to talk."

Mulder looked down and to the left, a nervous habit Skinner recognized from past difficult conversations.

He thought back to last night. He had gotten back from Chicago late and was greeted by an empty apartment. Mulder had ghosted into their bed sometime early Saturday. Skinner remembered turning to curl around his lover, and being shrugged off.

Skinner swallowed, then deliberately steadied his hand to finish shaving. He concentrated on careful strokes around his chin and vulnerable neck, refusing to think the obvious - that Mulder had chosen Scully.

They performed a silent duet in the small bathroom, habit easing movement until both were clean-shaven. Mulder ducked out first - Skinner could hear clothes being pulled from hangers, dresser drawers opening and closing.

"Get us some coffee?" Skinner called.

"Sure."

Skinner splashed cold water on his face, rinsing off the remnants of lather.

Scully. Just the idea made his knees shake. He gripped the edge of the counter to steady himself.

Skinner finished wiping his face, stepped into their bedroom, and stopped.

Evidence of their life together was everywhere, from twin dressers to bedside tables littered with books and trinkets. Their discordant prints shared space on the bedroom wall. Durer's Young Hare segued into a free-flowing Matisse. Black and white to rainbow colours. Controlled to sensuous.

He quickly threw on Saturday garb - running shorts and a navy t-shirt - then strode into the front room. Mulder was hunched on the couch, contemplating his hands, two coffee cups sharing space with the Washington Post.

Settling at his end, Skinner took a long swallow of coffee, then turned. He spoke in measured tones that hid a churning gut.

"Something on your mind?"

Mulder looked up, smiling tentatively.

"Yeah - there is. You know how I went crop circle hunting last week."

Skinner waited.

"Well, I flew back early. The whole thing was a hoax." He held up his hand, and continued in a mocking voice, "Big surprise, I know."

"I'm sorry you were disappointed."

Mulder shrugged and licked his lips.

"I went out walking. I knew you were out of town. I was wondering if I should go back to my old place or come home, when I ran into Scully. It was like - it was like she was a changed woman, Walt. She started talking about fate, about how many different lives we would be leading if we made different choices."

"That doesn't sound much like Dana Scully."

Mulder nodded. "I was shocked, actually. I started stuttering some crap about how we would never know about our different lives. But I almost told her."

"Why didn't you?"

"I was just too surprised, that's all. One minute we were drinking tea and contemplating the vagaries of life, with me trying to get up the courage to finally spill my guts. In the next minute, I turned to her - and she was asleep."

Mulder suddenly stood and paced. He slanted a guilty look at Skinner. Skinner carefully arranged his features into the neutral expression he'd perfected during years of departmental meetings.

"It was late, so I covered Scully and went to bed, half-relieved and half-mad at myself for letting another chance at being honest go by."

"I was just starting to finally drift off when I felt the bed dip. Scully crawled in beside me. I - I pretended to be asleep, and after a while she got up and left."

"Oh."

"But a part of me was so tempted, Walt. I'm sorry but I wanted to make love to her."

Mulder hung his head, hands rigidly clasped. Skinner said nothing, although he was rejoicing on the inside. Mulder had stayed with him, chosen him. He ignored questions nibbling at his forebrain and basked in the knowledge of Mulder's decision.

Skinner grunted, "Come here," and pulled Mulder into his arms for a rough hug.

He felt Mulder's body tremor and relax slightly. Breathing in the scent of Mulder's hair, he closed his eyes for a brief kiss on the spiky strands. He tried to gather his thoughts into some semblance of order before speaking, but it was hard.

"Mulder. You're telling me about your attraction to Scully. Tell me something I don't know."

A shrug against his chest.

"Be honest. Do you want to be with Scully instead of me?"

"I'm such a selfish prick, Walt. I want you. I want my life here. But I want Scully too. Are you asking me to make a choice?"

"No."

Mulder sighed again. "Okay."

Mulder turned around to face him. Skinner trapped his lover's face in his hands and kissed him hard before playfully tweaking his nose.

Mulder yelped. "Watch it, bud. I just finished my self-defense upgrade. I'm a lean, mean fighting machine again."

"Mean, anyway."

Skinner surged up, toppling Mulder to the floor. Mulder glared and rubbed his butt.

"C'mon, Mulder. Let's go for a run. We can catch a late breakfast somewhere afterwards."

Mulder leapt to his feet with an agility Skinner envied. "Sounds good. Loser pays."

Twenty minutes later, Skinner was cursing under his breath in between gasps for air. Mulder was setting a killer pace and he knew he'd be paying for his attempts to catch up with more than breakfast - his knees were already twinging. He began to fantasize evil plans about luring Mulder to the gym. Weights and boxing were less Mulder's style than his own.

As their loop through the neighbourhood park took a final turn, Skinner couldn't help but admire the lithe grace that was Fox Mulder. From his long legs to his tight runner's butt, Mulder ran on, oblivious of flirting coed smiles and covetous glances.

Skinner hauled up his t-shirt to mop up the sweat from his face. He yanked down the front to see Mulder playfully glancing back.

In a pseudo-solicitous voice, Mulder teased, "How you doing back there, bud? Ready to pay for breakfast?"

Skinner gritted his teeth and sprinted forward.

"I'm fine."

Mulder slowed at Skinner's gasping response, gave him a speculative glance, eased his pace to a quick walk. "Let's head home for a quick shower. I'm getting hungry."

A brisk walk later found them luxuriating under the hot steam. Watching water sluice off Mulder's beautiful, lean body was one of Skinner's secret pleasures.

He turned, then sighed as Mulder soaped his back, using the loofah for a sensual scratch. He could feel the muscles in his back and legs loosen and was about to return the favour when Mulder nipped his earlobe. A whispered, "Brace yourself, Walt. Stay still," and Skinner swallowed heavily.

He loved it when Mulder took charge.

Skinner spread his legs as far as he could, and leaned forward slightly to slap his palms on the front tile.

"Good. Just like that."

Mulder soaped the loofah and leaned into his back to scratch a hot trail down his chest. Skinner's nipples were on fire, and he began to slowly pant, unable to stop his hips from jerking slightly. He gasped with pleasure when Mulder abandoned the loofah and began to open him with lube-slick fingers. Two fingers later, he felt Mulder ease his cock into his passage, heard Mulder whisper, "So good."

Skinner moaned in agreement. He reached down to his own aching cock, but his hand was slapped away.

"My turn," Mulder growled.

Walter's breath was fast becoming ragged. Mulder began a slow thrust against his ass.

Skinner closed his eyes and jerked himself into Mulder's fist as he felt himself impaled, again and again, faster and faster.

Lightning struck - and he roared with release.

Mulder held him close and thrust once - twice - then sagged momentarily against him before righting himself.

Skinner lay his head back on Mulder's shoulder, lazily licking the side of his neck. A hum of contentment.

He felt Mulder slip out - then turned and held on, surrounding Mulder with his hug. After the morning's revelations, Skinner relaxed into the comfort of touching and being touched.

He stepped back and smiled at Mulder while finishing his clean up, but Mulder's look was serious.

"I'm a one woman man, Walt, but I'm also one man's man. Don't forget it."

Skinner nodded, pleased with Mulder's rare declaration of affection.

"Gotcha, Mulder. Same here. But just to be clear - we're splitting the lunch bill."

A shout of complaint, and Skinner couldn't help laughing as he hastily exited the shower and grabbed a towel. He walked into the bedroom and found his watch. 10:30 a.m.

The start of another weekend with Mulder. He wondered how many more he would have.

***
Cesura
***

"Mulder, where the hell have you been?"

Mulder looked up from his desk, startled.

"Good morning to you too, Scully. Nice weekend?"

Scully dangled his spare key in front of his face.

"I don't even know why you gave this to me any more, Mulder. I've been trying to call you for the last three nights. No luck. So I went over to your place - twice. What do you think I found?"

Mulder scowled and pulled out his cell phone, stared at the blank screen - then placed it deliberately on his desk.

"Phone's dead. Sorry."

Scully waited, arms crossed.

"I wasn't home. Why did you want to talk, anyway?"

When she finally started speaking, he had to strain to hear her quiet words.

"I just want some honesty, Mulder. I said some things on Thursday night." She held up her hand. "And yes, I was a coward for not bringing them up again at work on Friday. I'd hoped to talk to you on our own time."

Mulder breathed deep, levered himself up with resolute hands, and stepped around his desk. Scully's instincts were right, he knew - this was no discussion for a basement office in the bowels of the FBI.

"C'mon, Scully, let's go have lunch."

"It's eight in the morning, Mulder."

"Okay then, a coffee break - now."

They left the building, feet turning by instinct towards a bench at the edge of the Potomac.

Mulder hid behind sunglasses as he walked a pace behind Scully, felt his face settle into its customary reserved expression. But his insides were twisting.

They sat in the morning sun, within a hairsbreadth of touching. Mulder waited. He saw Scully swallow.

"I have something to tell you, Mulder. And I think - I think you have something to tell me too."

"Something to tell me? Why don't you go first. You've had more practice with confession than I have."

"Fine." Scully stopped, appeared to gather her thoughts. "Remember what I said to you last week, Mulder. About wondering if there have been signs along the way to pay attention to. Signs to help a person make the right choice."

"Yes."

"Ever since I reconnected with Daniel I've been thinking about us, Mulder. About you. Wondering if I should have made a different choice a long time ago. And if I should tell you how I feel now."

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

"Try telling me what's going on, Mulder. The second time I went to your apartment to talk, I took a hard look around. Some things are missing - your favourite books, most of your clothes, your basketball. Are you even living there? Have you already made a different choice?"

If time really was a series of connected moments, Mulder knew that this one would always be marked 'personal coming out party'. The thought curved his lips despite the tension in his gut.

He gently placed his hand on top of Scully's and gave it a squeeze.

"You're my one in five billion, Scully. Always will be. But I - I'm also in love with someone else. A man. I've been living with him for the last four months."

Scully blinked, then stared straight ahead. Her hand was lifeless under his own.

Long, silent minutes ticked by. Mulder had trouble breathing as he struggled to sit silent, be patient.

"I see." Neutral tone.

Scully began to rise, brushing invisible lint from her skirt. She avoided Mulder's anxious gaze.

"Wait, Scully."

He patted the bench. After a lifetime of hesitation, she settled back.

"Are you okay about this?"

"I'm fine."

"I know you must be surprised."

Scully shrugged. Mulder began to worry his lip with his bottom teeth.

"Do you want to talk about it? Do you have any questions?"

"No. Yes. Anyone I know?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Skinner."

Scully sat up straighter, looking so stunned that Mulder felt nervous giggles trying to escape.

"Walter Skinner?"

Mulder nodded.

"Wow." Scully crossed her arms tightly in front of her. She swallowed hard enough for him to hear. "This is way out of left field. Even for you, Mulder."

Mulder shifted, nerves jangling, then looked down into Scully's face. "I know."

Scully sighed.

"I thought you were pining over another woman."

"Pining?" A tentative smile.

"But Skinner -" Scully flushed " - I never imagined."

Mulder began to idly toe the dirt, whorling patterns with his shoe. So many connections, he thought, but only two important ones. He waited.

Eventually, Mulder felt a nudge, then his hand was clasped firmly. His eyes slipped closed, relief washing over him, so strong it made him waver where he sat. His throat closed with emotion.

"I have a confession to make too, Mulder. I'd made up my mind about us. I even - even went so far as to crawl in bed with you on Thursday night, hoping you'd wake up." Scully's laugh seemed forced. "I didn't - how did I miss - I didn't realize you're, um, gay. Why didn't you ever -?"

"Not gay," he corrected. "Not strictly speaking. I'm bisexual."

"Ah." Scully's mouth set in a prim line.

"Ah," he agreed.

Then there was silence. Mulder waited for her to say something, anything. When she didn't, he finally did.

"I love you, Scully. I've loved you for years - been attracted even longer. I want you, want there to be an us."

Scully looked troubled. "How can you even say that now, Mulder? You just told me you're in love with someone else."

Mulder spread his hands. "I love Walt, too. I told him how I felt about you. He - he said I didn't have to make a choice."

"He did?" Skeptical. "He doesn't seem like the sharing type."

"Things aren't always what they appear." He grinned.

She grinned back, but then her expression became serious. "I'm not exactly the sharing type, either."

"I, I can respect that, Scully," he said, finding his usual well of persuasive argument had run dry. "Just - just think about it, okay?"

"I will," she said, but her head was shaking 'no'. "Let's head back."

They rose.

Mulder tamped down his frustration and set his feet steadily on the path. As he kept pace with his friend, his companion - perhaps his lover? - his hand in its place at the small of her back, an awareness of other strollers seeped into his consciousness. A teenager with an excited terrier on a leash. A couple holding hands. A family with a picnic basket. Everyone seemed to be happy in their own little world. Mulder felt out of step.

"Scully? You okay?"

"No."

"No?"

Scully slanted him a shadowed look, then pasted on a smile. "I'm still trying to get used to the idea of you and Skinner, Mulder."

He smiled back. "Me too, sometimes."

As they entered the Bureau, Skinner was on his way out. Mulder's faint smile turned to dismay as he spied Scully's icy glare directed at their boss. Skinner nodded, then shot Mulder a questioning look at the stiff formality of her greeting.

Mulder shrugged - and felt his shadow between them.

He wasn't sure how to make things right again. He wasn't sure if Scully and Skinner could accept his need and desire for them both.

He was only sure that he'd have to try.

***
Coda
***

"Sir, have I pissed you off in a way that's more than normal?"

"That's enough, Agent Mulder. Mr. Federman will accompany you today to Christ's Church where he will act as an observer on this case. You will extend to him every courtesy and protection you would a friend of mine and a friend of the Bureau's. That will be all."

Skinner schooled his face to blandness, ignoring Mulder's glare.

Alone, he slid open the drawer and dry-swallowed an antacid tablet.

What a gigantic fuck-up.

Mulder had spilled his guts to Scully. Now, when he met with the agents, it was like he was in a tennis match - with Scully as the referee, tallying points.

He'd never felt life was simple with Mulder in his bed, but it was a hell of a lot simpler before Scully started playing her 'will I/won't I' game. If Mulder and Scully got together, he wouldn't be happy - but he'd deal.

He pictured a tall glass of scotch, no rocks, and nodded. He'd already increased boxing to four times a week.

Skinner smirked. His sparring partners were less eager to join him lately.

He opened the door cautiously later that evening, not sure what to expect from his lover's mercurial temperament. Mulder could be feeling acquiescent or demanding, playful or withdrawn. It was one of the unexpected pleasures in their relationship. His ordered existence had been flipped on its head and tickled under the arms. He loved it.

What he did not expect, however, was to hear the start of a song. It was only as he hung up his overcoat and drifted towards the kitchen that the message became clear.

"What's the job of the FBI
Assigned to Scully and me -
Babysitting,
Image,
And a church conspiracy."

Skinner loosened his tie and stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

"Not fair, Mulder. I didn't create this assignment."

"Oh, you're home?" Innocent voice. "And what did you say before - Federman is a friend of yours?"

Skinner took off his jacket and hung it over the ladderback chair. He rotated his neck, heard vertebrae pop, tried to relieve some tension before he answered. He didn't want this to end in argument.

Skinner searched for his calm place, and found it while swallowing half a glass of cold water.

"Sure - a college friend from so many damn years ago I can hardly remember him. Look - he came on board through the director, claiming a personal connection with me. I was ordered to go along with it."

"Okay."

Mulder circled his arms around Skinner's waist.

"Sorry, Walt. I know we agreed to keep work and home things separate."

"No problem." He gave his lover a squeeze, the released him with a small shove. "I'm starving. Something smells great."

Mulder, smiling, turned back to the stove. "It's just roast chicken."

"My favourite."

"Anything you don't have to cook is your favourite."

Skinner laughed. It was true.

A change into casual clothes, then dinner. Conversation avoided all shoptalk. The Knicks were coming up on TV, so Skinner hurried through kitchen clean up and soon joined Mulder on the couch. He sighed in pleasure as he propped long legs on the coffee table.

Work. Hard exercise. A quiet evening at home. A basketball game. Someone to share it with. Life was good.

Except...

"Mulder."

"Hmm."

"Never mind."

The announcer crowed. A perfect no-net shot was instantly repeated on the screen.

Diverted, Skinner focused back on the game.

They shared a smile when the Knicks won in overtime, then Skinner stood and stretched.

"Bed?"

"Go ahead. I've got some things to do. I'll be there in a bit."

Skinner shrugged, then loped to the bedroom, stripping off clothes and meticulously putting each item away. He carefully tucked his gun into the nightstand drawer.

Ten minutes later he was under the covers with the reading light on, a novel in one hand while the other idly scratched his stomach.

The book was losing his interest. After a long passage describing the weather, he snapped it shut.

Skinner turned to the empty side of the bed. He bit his lip and let his hand dip lower. He lay back and cradled his balls, then moistened two fingers in his mouth before stroking himself.

Closing his eyes he saw Mulder, wearing a goofy smile and nothing else, stretched out on the grass at the edge of a lake. Mulder's hands had been relaxed by his sides, but Skinner remembered how Mulder's groin had glistened.

Skinner breathed deep and began rocking his hips - then snatched his hands away when footsteps entered the room.

"Watcha' doing, Walt?"

Skinner sat up, growled. "Get over here."

He tried grabbing Murder's shirt, but Mulder laughed and sidestepped out of the way.

Mulder casually pulled his shirt over his head and aimed a hook shot, landing close to the hamper by Skinner's side of the bed. Jeans and briefs followed. When Mulder finally stood in front of him, Skinner's hands clenched on his lover's ass. "My turn."

"I thought you were already taking your turn."

Skinner's knees slipped to the floor. He gave Mulder's cock a long lick before sucking him in. Skinner felt Mulder blossom in his mouth. His tongue swirled around the head over and over. Mulder began panting between small thrusts. Mulder's hands on his head, urging him on.

Mulder groaned with abandon, and Skinner's mouth released him. He stood and pulled Mulder to the bed.

Skinner lay behind Mulder, careful to stretch him slowly. When his groin was flush with the curve of Mulder's ass, he stroked Mulder with his free hand. Soon they rocked back and forth in unison, Mulder's hot flesh clenching Skinner tight.

Skinner felt pleasure ignite somewhere at the base of his spine. He throbbed and groaned with release, felt Mulder pulse in his hand. He savoured bliss.

But as he carefully pulled out and snagged Mulder's t-shirt for a quick mutual clean up, he remembered his earlier worry.

Scully.

Mulder was under the covers, starting to drowse. Skinner elbowed him gently in the side.

"Wha..."

"Mulder, what's going on with Scully?"

Mulder blinked owlishly. "What?"

"Is she okay with us?"

Mulder shrugged and closed his eyes. "She hasn't said anything."

"She may be okay around you, but she's been more reserved than usual around me."

Mulder pushed himself up. "How can you tell?"

"I can tell."

"Just give her time."

Skinner kept his voice and gaze steady, but a muscle ticked in his jaw. "And what about the two of you? You haven't said anything."

Mulder's gaze never wavered. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Skinner found it hard to believe.

"Nope. Nothing."

Skinner tried to tell himself Mulder didn't sound disappointed.

"But," Mulder added, "I promise to be honest if it does. Honest with both of you."

Skinner nodded, grateful Mulder couldn't read his heart, and turned off the reading light.

Mulder slid back down, and Skinner relaxed into the warmth of his back. Mulder's muscles loosened and slid bonelessly into sleep.

Skinner held on. Mulder was here, with him in his bed.

For now, that was enough.

***
Alla Fine
***

Sixteen months.

For sixteen months, Mulder had been waiting with growing impatience for Scully to tell him how she felt. He never imagined it would take this long.

They were flying back for the Hollywood premiere of Federman's film, and Mulder was ready to snap. It was the not-knowing that was really getting under his skin.

While Mulder and Scully sat in knee-crunching economy, he could barely glimpse Skinner sitting stolidly in first class, his A.D. face on. Skinner hadn't mentioned Scully in a long time. Mulder wryly considered the fact that Skinner was an excellent manager with well-developed people skills.

Mulder bent next to Scully, their heads touching so he could start a quiet conversation. He lightened his voice.

"So Scully, we're heading back to L.A. Like to have some fun in Sin City?"

"What kind of fun?"

"If I remember from before, we've got a great hotel room. King-sized bed, double tub. What do you say?"

Scully blinked. "Excuse me? What about Skinner?"

"House rule, Scully - we don't mix business with pleasure."

"Good rule." Scully shook her head. "This isn't the time or place to talk about this, Mulder."

"Tell me when and where we should talk, then."

Scully turned slightly and glued her eyes to the window. "Not here, not now."

Mulder slumped back into the narrow seat. They sat without speaking.

Self-doubt began to gnaw at Mulder's gut. He'd never imagined that Scully might not want him. Had he been reading the signals wrong all this time? Or, if he was honest, was it that Scully wanted only him - no attachments?

Christ. What a mess. Skinner had told him long ago that he wouldn't make Mulder choose. It troubled Mulder to realize that unless Scully was willing to see that he also needed Skinner, the choice - and responsibility - rested firmly on his own shoulders.

Mulder didn't want to choose.

He wanted them both, plain and simple.

After long hours of silence they were ready to land. Scully looked towards him.

"You're right, Mulder. We do need to talk," she said as Mulder handed her bag down from the overhead compartment. "Give me some time to get checked in, and you can come up to my room."

"Thanks, Scully."

Mulder's feet felt detached as he headed down the aisle, and he barely noticed the suitcase in his hand. His thoughts were too busy spinning around the possibilities.

*

He wiped his palms on his jeans before knocking on Scully's door. When she led him inside and gestured for him to sit, he settled nervously, his foot gently tapping the carpet.

"How are you doing?"

"I'll be honest, Mulder. I'm not used to talking about my feelings."

A shrug. "Me neither."

Mulder relaxed fractionally. He smiled into Scully's eyes. Scully gazed back, serious.

"I've spent some time watching and thinking. Skinner's been good for you. You're happier now that you're with him."

"I'd be happy with you too, Scully."

"There's no evidence to support that theory, Mulder." A bittersweet smile.

"So...?"

"So, you want an answer and I can't give you one now."

Mulder nodded. "Is it because I'm with Skinner?"

Scully stood in front of Mulder. She put a hand on his shoulder, and he felt an immediate, electric connection to her touch. He titled his head and gazed up into her face.

"You are who you are, Mulder. I'm not asking you to change."

"What then?"

"I am who I am, too."

"Scully..."

"Remember when I told you about Daniel? About my experiences when I reconnected with him that weekend?"

Mulder nodded. Guilt still nibbled at his conscience when he remembered how he'd hurt Scully that night.

"I learned something then. To pay attention to signs along the way before making choices. I'm doing that, Mulder. Paying attention. I'll know when the choice is right."

Scully brushed back his hair with a gentle hand, and Mulder circled her waist with eager arms. He breathed Scully, felt her warm and welcoming hug. He never wanted to let go.

She took a step back, and he reluctantly rose from his chair.

"I guess we'd better get ready. See you in an hour?"

*

Mulder couldn't hide his obvious misery during the movie premiere, and hunched lower in his chair at every turn. It was mortifying. They were being portrayed as buffoons.

He turned once again to complain.

"Now Federman's got me misquoting Milton."

"Shhh. It doesn't matter."

Mulder turned to search for Skinner.

Skinner's smile seemed frozen in place, and Mulder felt a spurt of unreasoning jealousy when some no-name starlet kissed him on the cheek.

Mulder gave Skinner a curt nod, then bolted from the theatre. There was nowhere to go, so he sat slumped, disgusted, on a plaster tombstone and picked at his popcorn. "The Lazarus Bowl" was awful - worse than awful. It would probably be a huge hit. If not with the public, then definitely with other FBI divisions. Just great.

He felt his spirit lift when Scully came to join him, and they wandered over the hill in the graveyard movie set.

"Skinner was so tickled by the movie that he's given us a Bureau credit card to use for the evening."

Scully held up the card and laughed. Mulder couldn't help but smile at her high spirits.

"Come on," she urged him, running down the steep slope of the hill to a path. Mulder began to anticipate a rare carefree evening, and was delighted by Scully's laughter. Joy bubbled up inside him, thinking how well his generous lover understood him.

"Mulder, I have something to confess."

"What's that?"

"I'm in love with Associate Producer Walter Skinner."

Mulder laughed in delight and dumped the rest of his popcorn on a convenient statue.

"Ah... Me, too, Scully. Me too."