Corey, Nebraska Saturday 5:19 p.m. A gust of wind snatched at her hood with icy fingers, sending a shiver of panic down her back. Her red hair might as well be a flashing neon sign, and she grabbed frantically to cover it with navy blue wool. Scully pulled the drawstring tight under her chin and squinted into the gathering December dusk. She hadn't been followed. She was sure of that. But even here, surrounded by plowed, featureless ground for miles in all directions, she could not drop her guard even for an instant. There was too much at stake. She wanted to be the woman he remembered, not the pale echo she had become in the aching vacuum of his absence. There was nothing she could do to hide the weight loss, and the pallor of her thin face was beyond even the most skilled application of make-up. Her reflection had screamed back at her from the bus station bathroom mirror, garish blotches of blush against translucent ivory. Her lipstick had looked like a splash of blood on snow. She'd scrubbed it all off and hoped the wind would chap some color into her cheeks. Five months with no contact from him. Then two days ago, she had found Frohike waiting in the shadows next to her building when she got home from work. Mulder wanted to see her, and Frohike was there to tell her when and where. He'd left "how" up to her, and she'd chosen to take the bus, just as he was doing. She had started in Pittsburgh, following such a circuitous, meandering path across the country that only the most tenacious tail could have kept up with her. No one had. Corey, Nebraska consisted of a gas station-cafe combination which also served as the bus station, a feed store-post office, and a six-cabin motel. Mr. and Mrs. George Hale were currently the only registered guests, though Mr. Hale had yet to make his appearance. Scully had chatted for a few moments with the ruddy-cheeked proprietor who had insisted on helping her with her bags, hauling them down the gravel walk to the last cabin on the left. The motel was almost always empty, the woman had told her cheerily. Her late husband's last grand plan for keeping them solvent in the face of failing crops and falling prices. It was now her home, their farm having been foreclosed and sold out from under them years ago. "Your husband coming in on the bus?" The woman's willingness to share her own life story was second only to her apparent fascination with Scully's. "Yes. In about twenty minutes." Scully checked her watch pointedly. She hadn't followed the woman into the room, choosing instead to stay at the door to hasten her host's exit. The woman waited for a moment, expecting Scully to elaborate. When it became clear that her guest had nothing more to say, she wiped her hands on her apron and returned to the door. "Well, you folks let me know if you need anything. I live in the apartment behind the office. Just press the buzzer on the front door and I'll hear you." That had been over two hours ago. Scully had checked with the counterman inside the cafe and was told that the bus rarely arrived on time. An hour or so late was typical. So here she stood, nose running from the cold and eyes stinging with tears that were equal parts icy wind and heartache. She had never known such longing, never even imagined it. The need to see him, to touch him, had become all-consuming. And the waiting was slowly stealing her ability to breathe. The wind was relentless. She was going to freeze where she stood. The tinkle of bells drew her attention to the warm, yellow rectangle of light that fell across the gravel as a well-bundled patron left the cafe. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted out in his wake. Scully looked once more down the darkened highway, then followed her nose into the bright warmth on the other side of the door. The proprietor looked up and smiled. "You gotta be half froze. Come over here by the stove." He motioned her to the table he was in the process of clearing up from its last occupant. "Looks like it's just you and me for now." She draped her navy pea coat over the back of one of the chairs and sank gratefully into the other nearest the stove, holding out her hands to the radiating heat. "Could I have a cup of coffee?" "Sure thing." He headed for the counter, snagging a heavy china mug as he passed the dish rack. "Your husband's gonna be late. Maybe not 'til tomorrow." He filled the mug and started back toward her table. "I was just on my way out to tell you." Scully looked up at him so quickly that he stepped back, sloshing coffee over the edge of the mug. "How do you know who I'm waiting for?" He shifted the mug to his left hand, briskly shaking his right to cool the steaming liquid that had splashed onto it. "I meant no offense. My sister runs the motel, is all. She...she mentioned you were waiting for your husband." His expression had changed from jovial to warily contrite in seconds. He made no move to come any closer. "What do you mean, he's going to be late?" He set the coffee mug on the counter behind him and wiped gingerly at the burned spot on his hand. "The bus had engine trouble about forty miles west of here. They towed it back to the nearest town for repairs. I don't expect they'll have it running before tomorrow afternoon." His voice was gentle and apologetic, and Scully felt the flush rising in her face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I just..." She noticed his hand. "Did you burn yourself?" She stood and walked over to him. He turned it back and forth, flexing his fingers. "Yeah. Stings." He held it out for her inspection. The flesh between his thumb and forefinger was red and hot to the touch. "You should hold it under cold water for a few minutes." At his dubious look, she added. "Really. I'm...I have some medical training." He considered it for a moment, then walked to the sink and turned on the faucet. He winced as icy water flowed over the burn. "Looks like I stuck my nose in where it don't belong. Kind of a hazard of the job, you know? I'm just a natural-born busybody." Scully picked up the mug he'd brought for her and let the heat soak into her hands. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just a little anxious." He turned off the water and carefully blotted his hand with a clean towel. "How does it feel?" He turned to face her, leaning back against the sink. "Better. Thanks for the tip." He studied her closely for a moment. "You look like you could use some supper. Got some beef stew here might hit the spot." He turned to the stove and lifted the lid from one of the pots. The rich aroma made her mouth water immediately. "That would be great. Thank you." "Name's Hank, by the way." He ladled stew into a thick china bowl and set it in front of her with a large soupspoon and a red gingham napkin that matched the tablecloths and curtains. "I'm Dana." She dipped the spoon into the rich gravy and brought it to her lips, blowing softly to cool it. The first taste was exquisite. "This is very good." Hank's face crinkled into a delighted grin. "All you can eat, same price." He watched her for a moment, then turned back to the sink and busied himself with the remaining dishes. Scully managed to eat less than half of her serving, but it warmed her so thoroughly that she removed her heavy sweater and hung it on the chair with her coat. Hank turned to see her coming back to her seat at the counter. He eyed the half-full bowl and frowned. "That the best you can do?" "I'm afraid so. It's excellent, but I don't have much of an appetite." She smiled ruefully and pushed the bowl toward him. "He been gone a long time?" He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "Sorry. It's a habit." He gave her a small smile. "It's okay. Yes, he has been gone a long time and I-- " The tinkle of bells made them both turn toward the door which opened to admit another well-bundled patron and a gust of frigid air. The man stood just inside the door, shaking off the cold and stomping his feet. Then he unzipped his coat and pushed the hood back from his face, and Scully leaped from her stool with a soft cry. She buried her face in his broad chest and wrapped her arms around his waist, her hands moving over his back under the shelter of his coat. She couldn't get enough of touching him. Mulder rested his chin on her head and pulled her tightly against him, as oblivious as she was to the man observing their reunion from the other side of the counter. He whispered softly into her hair. "I missed you." The words trembled with emotion. Finally, Mulder stepped back so he could see her face. He tipped her chin up and studied her tear- filled eyes. "Are you okay?" Scully gave him a tremulous smile. "I am now." She read the next question in his eyes. "He's fine, Mulder." He nodded, emotions much too close to the surface for anything more. "How did you get here? They said the bus--" "I walked." He gently disengaged himself and shrugged out of his coat. "I hitched a ride as far as Ellsworth and walked the rest of the way." Hank couldn't hold his tongue on that one. "Ellsworth? That's...that's more'n ten miles from here! You walked ten miles in this weather?" Mulder regarded him cautiously, glancing at Scully for her assessment. She smiled and nodded, and Mulder relaxed a bit. "Well, I jogged most of the way." He looked back at Scully. "I had somewhere I wanted to be." "Well, you gotta be froze solid. Sit down and have some stew. Your wife can tell you how good it is." Mulder's eyes grew so wistfully soft at the word 'wife' that it squeezed her heart. She also realized suddenly how cold he had felt under her hands. "You need some hot food. And it *is* very good." They sat at the table next to the wood stove. Scully sipped hot coffee as Mulder polished off three large helpings of Hank's excellent stew. She had so many questions for him, and she wanted so badly to get him alone. He kept glancing up at her, and his smile told her that he could read it all in her eyes. Finally, he pushed the bowl away and sat back. "Do we have a room?" The look in his eyes melted every joint below her waist. She nodded. Mulder stood and crossed to the counter. "What do we owe you?" Hank smiled at both of them. "Your wife already paid for her meal. Far's I'm concerned, you just ate the second helpings she didn't have room for." He pushed back the ten dollar bill Mulder had laid on the counter. The man's kindness tightened Scully's throat past the point of speech. She stood and put on her coat, hoping her eyes would tell him what was in her heart. Hank read her message and smiled. "You come back tomorrow and I'll fix the finest breakfast you'll ever sink your teeth into." Mulder smiled his thanks. "We'll do that." The icy wind hit them full in the face as they opened the door. Their destination was in the opposite direction which thankfully placed the wind at their backs as they turned toward the motel. Mulder held her hand all the way to their door. Her fingers shook as she fumbled the key into the lock, nearly dropping it twice. Mulder touched her hand and she gave him the key. When they were inside, Scully walked to the bed and removed her coat while Mulder secured the door. When he turned to face her, his eyes took her breath away. No words were necessary. They undressed in silence, their unwavering gazes saying what could be expressed no other way. Bodies pressed so close that their physical boundaries seemed to melt away, leaving only sensation, and need, and the overwhelming fulfillment of a long journey completed. When the pleasure finally crested, it left them breathless and content in a boneless, sweaty tangle of limbs-- his long arms and legs folded around her like a cocoon. As their breathing slowed, the wind outside rose to an intensity that shook the walls. Mulder moved his body from hers and lay on his left side, pulling her close against him. They lay like that for a long time, alternately sleeping and waking as the storm outside ebbed and flowed around them. When he finally spoke, his rough whisper shivered through her. "I won't do this anymore." He pulled back so he could see her face, tipping up her chin with two fingers of his right hand. He kissed her softly. "I *can't*." Any possibility of misreading his meaning was erased by the love in his eyes. "Mulder, you know it's too dangerous. How can you even *think* of coming back now?" God, there was nothing she wanted more than to have him with her again, but not at the risk of his life. Nothing was worth that. "I know I can't come back," He ran his fingertips gently over her cheek...her lips, "but you could come with me." His eyes were so tender that the breath caught in her throat. "Both of you." The lump that formed in her throat made it hard to breathe. She struggled with her voice. "How, Mulder? Nothing's changed to--" "Oh, but you're wrong. *Everything* has changed." He released her and leaned back against the pillows. "It just took me five months to see it." Scully propped herself up on one elbow and began to run her fingers gently back and forth over his hand where it rested on his chest. "I know how much you miss us, but you can't let emotions get in the way of the decisions we've made. We knew how hard this was going to be--" "No, we didn't." He turned his hand quickly and grasped hers to still it. "Scully, did you understand...*really* understand...what it was going to be like to have a child together? That you were going to feel so much? Care so much?" "Mulder..." She curled her fingers in his hand. "I know how much you love Will--" "Do you?" He sat up so suddenly that it made her jump. "Because *I* didn't. You'd think a degree in psychology would buy me a little insight..." He pressed his lips tightly together, shaking his head in frustration. Scully sat up and took his hand. "You're so damn hard on yourself, it breaks my heart." She gently turned his head to face her, gave him a teary smile. "Don't you think I know how much you want to be with us? Mulder, everything you've done, you've done for us. You have to believe that this isn't forever, that we'll be together--" He took her gently by the shoulders. "It's already *been* forever, Scully. Do you want me to believe that you've been fine without me? Do you think I can't see what it's done to you?" She tried to look away, ashamed that she hadn't been able to hide what the past five months had been like for her, but he wouldn't allow it. "Scully, I've been through the same hell you have. At least you've had someone to hold on to." She smiled at that, but her voice trembled. "He looks more like you every day." "I've missed too much of his life already. I don't want to miss another day." He pulled her into his arms. "I have a place all set for us, Scully. We'll be all right. I promise we will." Scully leaned into his warmth, craving the contact that for months now had haunted her dreams. She knew how much he wanted to believe what he was saying, but even if he could hide the truth from himself, he couldn't hide it from her. She knew him too well. "Mulder." She pulled back, instantly missing his warmth, and cupped his face gently with both hands. "You can't possibly know how much I want to believe you." His eyes darkened with a pain she was about to multiply tenfold. "I know you mean what you're saying, but I also know that you would never be able to walk away from the fight. Not for long." She brushed her thumbs softly over his lips to stop the denial she saw forming. "Please let me finish." He nodded, bit down on his lip to hold himself in check. "You're such a good man. I know that you would give it all up...everything you've worked for... everything *we've* worked for...and never let me see what it was doing to you. But I would still know. Do you really think I could live with that?" "We're *not* giving up." His voice was rough with the need to make her understand. "We're just discarding a strategy that has never worked. Pounding away at the same brick wall without making a dent in eight years isn't noble, it's insane. This is no longer our battle alone. There are others. I've met with them, and..." He was struggling to find the right words. "Scully, I know what you're afraid of, but we can *do* this. I've never needed you to believe me as much as I do right now." *I guess it all comes down to a matter of trust.* She remembered saying those words to him so long ago, desperate to make him see Diana Fowley for what she was. How many times since then had he asked for her belief? And how often had she been able to give it? *I guess it all comes down to a matter of trust.* The questions were complex, but the answers... She cupped his face again and brought their eyes together. "You're not an easy man to love, I hope you know that." That earned her a small smile. "And I haven't always been able to believe what you wanted me to, but I think you know that I've *always* believed in *you*." Mulder dropped his gaze and nodded. "I hear a big 'but' coming." It was her turn to tip his face up to hers. "No 'but', Mulder. If our history has shown us anything, it's that we're only safe when we're together." She touched his lips softly, then rested her cheek against his. "We're coming with you." He exhaled his relief, pulling her close. "I love you." The desperate urgency of a few hours ago was gone. This time their touches were soft, gentle...unhurried. He entered her with a sweet reverence, their bodies blending as their souls had always done. end ***