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(The following day....)

His world was never darker.

Scully was gone. She left him to pursue a new life. A life that was, indeed, a dream come true. The tears had not stopped yet. When she sent her second message, the shock and disbelief were all he felt. When he wrote back and sent it to her, the sobs that filled him wouldn't go away for nearly an hour. His eyes still burned from the salty tears that leaked from them. His throat felt painfully closed and he couldn't make the feeling go away.

In his reply, he told her the truth. After twenty minutes of deleting and re-typing the last sentence of his letter, he finally decided to keep it. He told her, and now she knew. He was here and she was there, and she knew that he had bared his entire soul to her.

He finally said, "I love you."

It wasn't just a lie to make her come back. It was coming from his heart. He didn't know how she would interpret the word "love;" it was entirely up to her. For him, it meant respect. Admiration. Shared interests. Platonic intimacy. Friendship. Closeness. Honesty. It was a love that he had trouble expressing, but last night pushed him over the edge.

Scully hadn't written back yet. It was six o'clock in the evening, and no sign of her. She wasn't answering her phone. And now he wondered if he had gone too far. Maybe he should have deleted those last three words before his name after all....

The sun was nearly set, but he never would have known. He had stayed home all day, with the all the curtains closed. No lights were turned on during the day. He had cried too many times within the past 24 hours to cry anymore. The tears just wouldn't come. The despair he was drowning in was becoming overwhelming.

How could this happen? How could she promise to come home, then turn around and decide to stay there for the rest of her life? All the visits and phone calls and e-mails in the world would never be able to substitute for her.

Outside, a storm was rumbling in. It had not snowed in D.C all year so far. Only rain. And it was almost disturbing that there was a slushy thunderstorm rolling in. The weather guessers were calling it "rare" and "dangerous." The rain could freeze on power lines and causes outages and other problems in a matter of hours. He almost hoped there would be a power outage. More darkness for him to wallow in.

Angrily, he picked up the phone and dialed her number. After three rings, her answering machine picked up. "Fine, I'll leave a damned message," he mumbled.

"Scully, I don't know where the hell you are, but I wish you'd come back so that you'll at least know that I'm wondering where you are." He slammed the phone down and covered his face with his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. God, don't start crying again, he thought. Too late. His shoulders and knees started to tremble and a soft wince left his throat as the gasping sobs left him.

This was too much to sustain. A man, his age, crying? He held his breath to make him stop gasping for air. His temple throbbed and his lungs burned, but he finally took a breath. He had settled down again, and quickly wiped the tears off his face with the back of his hand.

For the next three hours, he sat, staring at the news reports that never seemed to end. He wasn't listening. He didn't care what happened now. He didn't care if the roads were becoming dangerous and people were getting into terrible accidents. He could feel his soul fading and dying, screaming out in pain and protest as it went. He ignored it and was sure he was starting to become numb to any feelings that he used to experience. And he fell into a dreamless sleep that was brighter than the room that he had trapped himself into for the past day.

Blackness and solitude were becoming his best friends rapidly, almost alarmingly, as more and more of his heart died out. And right when he was sure that there was nothing left for him to lose, he realized that he was growing bored with the attitude he was becoming accustomed to. Slowly, he went to the door to retrieve the paper from the hallway. He opened the door and his knees buckled.

There stood Scully, soaking wet, mascara running, red hair flat and dripping. In her hand was a soaked sheet of paper and his newspaper. Scully's eyes looked red and watery.

"M-Mulder?" she stuttered.

"Oh, my God-"

"I...I got your e-mail," she said, handing his paper to him. "And I wanted to say that I'm glad you said it first. I've been too scared to. I missed you so much, Mulder, and I just...I love you, too. And I'm so sorry." Her cracking voice failed her. He looked down at the paper, then to her. He threw the newspaper behind him and took her face into his hands. He stared down into her eyes, into her soul. He brought his face to hers in a heartbeat and kissed her with an unexpected amount of passion. It was brief, but got the message across. He pulled back, tears streaming down both cheeks, and he smoothed back her hair.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you-" Scully started, but Mulder just pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"Scully...I missed you...oh, God, you're home!" he whispered, burying his face in her wet hair. His face was covered with the water soaking her thick strands of red. He pulled back suddenly and gripped her shoulders. "You're...you're home for good, aren't you?"

Her eyes shined with blue and tears. She brought her hand up to his face, stroking his cheek softly, and she said with a soft chuckle, "Yeah."

He pressed his forehead against hers.

"I don't think there's anything else I'd rather hear right now," he whispered. He slid his arm around her and led her into the apartment, flipping the light switch. The lights came on, and everything was going to be all right.

Scully sat on the couch, and Mulder went to the closet and pulled out a blanket.

"Get that coat off, Scully, you'll get sick," he said softly and she peeled off her sopping wet jacket. He came to her and wrapped the blanket around Scully's shoulders. "Here, scoot over a little," he whispered. She obeyed and he pulled her back into his arms, and they sank down onto the couch, lying down. They didn't say anything. Neither had anything else to say for tonight. They held each other, Scully's head on his chest. And there was only one thing they knew.

The three months were over.

~FINIS~