***

Out of the jumble of thoughts and voices that crowded into Mulder's
head came one clear, distinct presence, and he would have smiled if
he'd had the energy.  Scully was back.

"I have to see him," she said, whether out loud or in her own mind.
He couldn't really distinguish anymore.  "I'm his doctor.  Let me see
him."

She was so beautiful, standing there looking like she'd just stepped
off the plane.  Apparently she had done just that.  He sensed the rush
in her, her haste to get to him and her relief that she was finally
next to him.

Scully had never been so beautiful to him.  He knew the significance
behind every move she made, every flick of her eyes, because he could
hear her thoughts.

If he could have turned off that ability, he would have.  At least he
hoped he would have.  Scully's privacy was not a domain in which to
tread lightly.  But there was no help for the flow of consciousness
that ran from her mind into his.  And the enigma that had always been
Scully began to get clearer.

As she stood next to him, telling him about the key she had found, he
could hear the delicate shadings of her words invoked by her thoughts.
He knew her every struggle for the correct phrase, knew her yearning
to be able to tell him precisely what had happened without the
constraint of time that the doctors and nurses were placing on her.

When she fell silent, her mind went on, and she told him things that
he'd been longing to hear for what seemed like forever.

*I can't bear to see you like this...*

*You are so beautiful...what can I do to help you...*

*Why couldn't I understand what I was looking at? If I was more like
you, I would have found the key, and you would be all right now...*

*Can you read my thoughts?  Do you know how much I love you?*

*Love you...love you...love you...*

The phrase echoed in her head, as if she enjoyed thinking about it.
He caught a swift image of the two of them in the hallway, so close,
their eyes locked together...and then that image morphed into one that
revealed even more about her feelings for him.  An image of the two of
them, lying together, unclothed, Mulder kissing Scully with all the
tenderness and passion that one could hope for.  It was totally unlike
the fantasies that he had about her, but the intent was the same.

Scully loved him.  She wanted him.  The knowledge worked on his mind
even as it could not work on his body.  When she left him, the
connection was broken.  But another one was about to form.

Finis