Lux Et Umbra.

Kill the work, and kill us.
Kill either one of us... we both die.
The bottom line?
Mulder and I will *never* lead 'normal' lives.  We shall never marry and live in a nice house in a nice neighbourhood, throwing dinner parties, going shopping, playing golf...
We're different, Mulder and I.
We need each other in the true sense of the word.  I couldn't go to Utah.  Leave Mulder?  The very thought is just laughable!
But so is us without our quest.

Mulder and I have been living together for years.  He is my constant companion, and I his.  I would awaken in the morning, and the first thing I would see is his face.  If not because we're on a case, I at his apartment after a late night at work, or he at mine due to a bout of nightmares, then because he is framed by my bed.
Often we would share a ride to work.  We never talked about it, we just do.  We would arrive at work and...
When life was fair, we'd take the elevator down.
Down.
Down.
To the basement.
Our office... our home.

Our lives.

Now?
Life is not fair.
They took our office - our home.  Put us in the bull-pen with the newbies.
Pure hell.
They took our files - our work.  Gave it to a man who is as much qualified for the job as Mulder and I are for ballet, and to that... Thing I refuse to think of.

They took our lives.

And by doing that, by taking our lives, they have taken us from each other.
Without our quest, we are lost.  Like a polar bear in the desert.

Mulder is scared.  He is clinging to false hopes.  That bitch, how I hate her!  She is in our office, in our home.  Mulder thinks she can help him.  He has blinded himself from the truth - 
Cut me off.
Abandoned me.  Mrs. Spooky.  The other polar bear.
I feel dirty working the way I am.  Mulder and I have barely talked for weeks.  I drive to work alone.  Sign in alone.  Go to the bull-pen alone.  Work alone, eat my lunch alone.  The other day he ventured over in the canteen to tell me I "Shouldn't eat that stuff," but all I did was look at him with sad eyes, and he left me again.
Alone.
And I go home alone to an empty apartment, and eat dinner alone.  Just as I was becoming dependant on take-out crap at two a.m. on the sofa in front of an alien autopsy video, my life tumbled down again.

I cry alone.

Strange.  I have never been one to cry; it was always seen as a sin when I was a child.  But Mulder cries a lot.  We used to cry together.  Sometimes all night.  He might cry if he saw something that reminded him of his sister.  I would tell him we will find her - together we will beat this thing.
Sometimes he would cry about me.  I cut my finger once, shopping something up for us to eat.  He saw the blood on my hand and thought I was having a nose bleed, and he broke down right there at the sideboard.  He would apologise for ruining my life.  He would tell me to go.
I told him I couldn't leave him, a million times.
And sometimes...
Sometimes we would cry because we can't find the words.  The understanding was simple:  don't try to move it on.  We are as far down the line as is possible in spiritual terms.  We know.  We would hold each other and cry, and cry, and cry.
I depended on Mulder to help me cry, for I had lost the ability before I met him.  I couldn't cry unless I was in his arms, safe and yet my heart breaking.

Now I cry alone.
It makes me feel sick.  The tears burn at my throat, cut me.  The sobs shake me.  I long for Mulder now, more than ever.  But unless we can have our lives back, we will be separated forever.

I am vaguelly aware of a pounding sound.  I had thought it to be my head, but now I hear a voice -
a silky smooth, husky voice -
Mulder's voice.

Before I can pull myself to my feet, he has let himself in.  He sounds frantic.
"Scully!  Scully?  Sc-"
He sees me and he freezes.
Mulder knows I never cry without him.  I wonder if his soul heard mine keening for it, and guided him here.  His eyes are welling up as we move towards each other, slowly at first...
and then I run across my apartment and cluth him to me desperately, so unlike me, but I don't care...

"I miss you..."

The words tumble simultaneously from us both.  We meld together in a needy embrace.  I cry and cry and cry.  The tears soothe my throat, embalm me, protect me.

But this time words are needed.

Mulder senses this in me.  He shakes his head a little.
"No, no, listen to me first, Scully.  You have to know this."  His voice is thick and shaking.  I nod finally.  Speak, Mulder.  Tell me.

We move to the sofa and sit.  I am fixing my gaze upon him.  His image is milk to my dying soul.
"Scully... we've won.  We've got out X-Files back.
Our life."

And I am in his arms again, and he is in mine, and we cry, we cry, we cry.

No more alone.
No more I.
Just us.
Ours.
A quest, a life, a belief.
A love.