Inspiration: That now-infamous picture from 'People'.

Disclaimer: Not mine, never have been, never will be.

Note: It's been a while since I've done this, so I'm
starting small.

* * *

This is it. This is the moment. It's an old, familiar
feeling, one that brings back memories of a different time
and place. She's not the same person she was six years ago,
ten years ago, fifteen years ago. Neither is he. Yet this
thing has followed them, lying dormant, waiting for the
opportunity to resurface. She hasn't yet had time to decide
if she is relieved to see it or not.

The cold, icy wind that pierces through her layers of
clothing is insignificant compared to the pull of his
eyes, is no match for his steady gaze; it takes all her
strength not to meet it.

She's terrified. She doesn't want him to see it, doesn't
want to have to acknowledge it. But she can feel it taking
over, can feel it rising to the surface and surely it will
spill out if he takes one look into her eyes. It took some
time to adjust to this new life, to overcome the fear and
uncertainty, to stop looking over their shoulders at every
turn. But days passed and turned into weeks, weeks into
months, months into years. They found a certain normalcy
together, found some modicum of peace, even if was at the
expense of living in the shadows. The uncertainties were
still out there, to be sure, but she had felt she'd
regained some semblance of control over her life. Now,
though, she can feel what little control she has slipping
through her fingers even as he takes her hand into his.
Even his touch is different, is reminiscent of a man she
once knew and she can feel her heart pound more forcibly in
her chest.

She thinks these years have been harder on him than her.
She wouldn't be able to say when it happened, but somewhere
along the way, he changed. He's been stifled, forced to
become someone he's not. The fire once in his eyes had
reduced to embers, the need to search for an answer had
waned with each passing year. Her soul ached for him. But
this new thing he's stumbled upon has awakened something
inside him again. His renewed energy, almost tangible in
the air, sends a shiver down her spine. The risks are
greater than she cares to acknowledge, the stakes are
higher and the potential losses are enough to paralyze her
with fear.

For a split second, she considers running. But the thought
is gone as quickly as it came as his forehead gently
presses against hers. His love, his need, radiates from
that point and coats her slowly, filling her entire being
with warmth; her toes tingle with it.

"Scully..." he whispers.

He is as essential to her as breathing. How can she deny
him? She once told him she'd follow him all over again. So
back into the lion's den she'll go, at his side. He hasn't
given up, so neither will she.

She finally opens her eyes.

"Okay, Mulder," she says. "I'm in."

* * *