She walked into her apartment and slammed the door behind her, shoulders sagging and fists clenched. So many emotions were fighting for dominance, her head and her heart both aching in an attempt to control them all.

"I should have known better," she chastised herself, kicking off her shoes and throwing her jacket to the floor. The keys in her pocket thumped loudly and she jumped at the sound, then began shaking.

Her skin felt itchy-hot. Prickly all over. She wanted a long, scalding shower to rid her body of the imaginary grime of betrayal. With trembling hands she managed to pull off her clothes, moving toward the bathroom in her underwear.

She had nothing. She worked every single day at a job that drained her of more than just her energy-it sapped her pride and destroyed her confidence in innumerous things. Big things like the fate of humankind; and at the end of each day she had nothing. Nothing to come home to, nothing to recommend her for promotion, nothing to win her the respect of her peers.

The faucet creaked as she twisted it violently on, holding her hand under the gushing water until the heat turned her skin an ugly red. She added just enough cold water to make it bearable, then tugged on the knob that started the shower spray. Sitting there on the edge of her bathtub, the water bouncing off her arm and wetting the white cotton of her undergarments, she began to cry.

The salty tears rushed down her face, slipping into her open mouth, dripping off her chin. She swung both legs into the tub, leaning forward onto her knees until her head was immersed in the stream of water. The tears were washed away before she could taste them.

He was angry with her. The fear he had felt during the last few days had eaten a hole in him that was now filled with disappointment and frustration. That she had left without making things better only made them worse.

The loud knock of his fists against her door echoed in the empty hallway. He scoffed at the idea that anyone felt safe with her living here. They should fear it. Where she was evil would always be, not because she invited it, but because it stalked the two of them wherever they went. Sometimes it even invited them out and they accepted the invitation.

"Dammit!" He slapped his palm hard against the door, listening carefully for any response from within. She was home. Her car in front of the building proved it. But she wasn't answering her door, and she should have known he would come. Of course he would come. It just wasn't in him to wait for resolution.

Fumbling in his pocket he pulled out a wad of keys, fingering through it until he found the one for her front door. He felt no remorse at using it, and there was no reason to pump her landlord for information. Her silence was bringing back the fear inside him.

The door swung open and he heard the sounds of the shower running. His eyes lit upon her discarded clothes, each item crumpled up and tossed on the floor, her shoes lying on their sides and apart. He could feel her anger in the haphazard display and bent to pick up her suit, smoothing out the wrinkles and placing the separates on the back of a chair. The tenderness of the action was not lost on him.

"This is hard enough without your disapproval, Mulder." She was standing in the shadow of the hallway, covered in a towel but still dripping on her hardwood floor. He would see a puddle forming at her feet.

"I never said I disapproved, Scully." He began to walk toward her, wanting to draw her out into the light. She backed away until he stopped his progress.

"It was written all over your face. It was clear in your voice. It was in the fucking way you couldn't look at me while we searched that disk."

"I didn't want you to get hurt." His voice sounded tighter than he wanted, her own harsh words affecting him immediately.

"Bullshit. You didn't want me to learn anything important without you being part of it." She was starting to shiver, the water droplets on her arms and legs running in cold little rivers over her skin. She pulled the towel tighter, holding it in place with one hand while the other ran through her still-soaked hair.

"How can you say that?" he asked her.

"How can you believe it's not true?" She was not going to back down.

"I knew right away something was wrong, Scully. I could hear it in your voice, in that message you left me. And I felt this terrible panic, that you were in danger, and that maybe this time I wouldn't be able to help you. How can you accuse me of being selfish, when I only wanted to help you?"

"I've felt that way for years," She spoke softly, but her voice maintained its terse quality. "Each time you went off on your own I wondered when you would come back. You travel such a twisted road, Mulder. Sometimes I wasn't sure you'd be able to find your way home."

"I didn't want to drag you down with me." It was a delusional excuse, and he knew it.

"This time, I couldn't take you with me."

"Together we might have been able to get the real information. If you had only trusted me, Scully. Maybe I could have helped you out."

"Or maybe we would have both been manipulated. Isn't that what you said? It was the ultimate manipulation. I don't think so, though. Getting both of us to play along, that would have been the ultimate."

"What did he say to you? To make you go along with him?" This was the crux of Mulder's anger. So many times she fought against him, but her decision had been immediate in this case.

"Get out of my head, Mulder." She was afraid it would come to this, and she didn't want to feel as if she owed him an explanation. I don't, she thought to herself, I don't owe him.

She was freezing. The wet cotton of her panties and bra were sticking to her skin, raising goosebumps along the back of her arms and thighs. She wanted to finish getting undressed and slip into some flannel pajamas, crawl into bed and pretend to sleep. She knew real rest would not come tonight.

Mulder could feel the discomfort coming off of her in waves. He shuffled toward her, not stopping until he stood directly in front of her and could see the slight tremors running through her body. He could see the wet straps of her bra and the droplets of water still clinging to the ends of her hair. Her tear-streaked face sent his stomach spiraling, but he did not touch her.

"Why don't you dry off? We can talk about this after."

"I'm not your moon, Mulder." She continued to clutch at the towel, wishing her body would stop shaking.

He took a couple of steps back, willing his brain to solve the puzzle she was giving him. To him, she was not just the moon, she was the stars, too. Did she know that? Was that was this was all about?

"The moon shines in the sky because it catches the light of the sun. I'm not your moon," she said, and he knew she was adamant.

"Is that what he said to you? That I overshadowed you?" Mulder frowned when she shook her head.

"He made me question myself in other ways. Whether my life was dictated to me or chosen by me. He said that I'm drawn to power, but that I'm afraid of it."

"He played on your emotions," Mulder said flatly. He couldn't believe that she would allow that.

"Actually, he played on your emotions," she said, sounding as if the notion had just occurred to her. "He offered me the chance to be the savior of the human race. That's not something I ever wanted for myself. That was your quest."

"It was our quest." He believed this was true.

"He told me I don't love you."

Mulder stared at her, shocked that she would share this part of the conversation with him. They never talked about this thing between them. It wasn't safe. People would use it against them- that's what they told themselves. But the real truth was that it wouldn't do any good. Talking about it, that is. He could never be everything she wanted.

"What did you tell him?" Mulder knew that she expected him to ask.

"Same thing I told you, Mulder. Get out of my head."

"Oh." He knew her better than to expect an honest answer, and was surprised when she continued.

"I thought I felt it once, but I'm not so sure anymore. If it was there, and then it left, does that mean it wasn't true?" She was speaking in riddles again, not answering his question directly, talking circles around him.

"Maybe it's buried inside you. Love is an elusive thing, Scully."

"Is that why I feel this way?" She huffed in derision. "He told me it was fear."

"He's a liar."

"Perhaps."

Mulder heard in her voice that the moment of openness was gone. She had given him a little peak, but was through with it now. He was left standing in her hallway, unsure of where they had just been or where they were going.

"None of what happened was your fault," he said.

"Of course it wasn't!" she spat out, letting go of her towel and flinging her arms into the air. The man in him watched to see if it would come loose. She narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you talking about, Mulder? That's not why I'm upset."

"You're upset?" It seemed like a better option than asking why, which he really should have known the answer to.

"Fuck you, Mulder. I didn't ask for your help."

"And I didn't offer it," his voice was steely, low, resonating between them.

"You come over here, without being invited. You look at me like you feel sorry for me, like I need you to take care of me. You don't have to say it, Mulder. It's all there."

"Forgive me. I promise to never worry about you again."

"Worry about me, Mulder. Don't pity me. And don't you dare appoint yourself my caretaker."

He stood staring at her, watching her clutch again at the towel, her chest heaving in anger. She looked wild in that moment, her hair sticking in clumps to her cheeks, the tautness of her neck and shoulders as the muscles clenched in the cold. She looked so proud, despite the obvious discomfort of being wet and half naked.

"Then what am I?" He brought them back to the forbidden topic, but he was beyond worrying how it would affect them. "What's the happy medium, Scully? I'm always going to worry about you, want you to be safe. I'm always going to make that my responsibility. How much is okay with you?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? That's great. Makes it real easy. I'll just give until it makes you mad."

"It's impossible to explain."

"So we agree to meet somewhere in the middle of impossibility? That is, if you think we can. Or if you think it's worth it." It had to be worth it, he thought to himself. This was not going to be the thing that derailed them.

"I'm not your moon, Mulder. Nor am I a mystery that needs solving."

Her eyes begged him to understand. If he ever learned anything about her, this was what he needed to learn. She was not his satellite.

"Go get dressed. You're obviously freezing." His eyes raked over her body, seeing for the first time how beautiful she looked, the way the passion was boiling just below the surface. "I'll see you in the morning."

She watched him leave, so many emotions fighting for dominance, her head and her heart both aching in an attempt to control them all.

"He should have known better," she said out loud, finally allowing the towel to drop to the floor. She peeled off the wet remains of her clothing and left them in the wet puddle on the floor. Moving into her bedroom she found a pair of worn flannel pajamas and pulled them on, crawling under the covers.

Snuggling deeper into the sheets she felt the welcome warmth seeping into her limbs. And she pretended to sleep.

The end