In the morning, Daniel knocked on the door, and Mulder got up to answer it. I couldn't hear what they said, but it was pretty clear from the tone of their voices that neither of them wanted to keep the argument going. After a while, Mulder stuck his head into my room and said something about taking a shower and going home.

I got up, tossing my robe on, and went out to make some coffee. Daniel was sitting on the couch, looking a little forlorn.

I went over and sat beside him, and took his hand. He looked at me gratefully, and gently squeezed my hand in his.

"He's a complicated man, Dana," he said, shaking his head.

"Complicated but wonderful," I said, softly. "He's certainly not hard to love."

"No," Daniel said. "No, he's not."

Then we were silent for a moment.

"You knew all along, didn't you," I said, finally.

"That you're in love with him?" Daniel said. He nodded. "Yeah, it wasn't hard to see that."

"How did you know?"

He shrugged. "The way you look at him; the way you talk to him with your eyes. The way you trust him, and he trusts you."

"He trusts you, too," I said. "I know he does."

He laughed. "Not in the same way," he said, shaking his head ruefully. "Do you know that I still don't know what happened to you two yesterday?"

That stunned me. "Daniel, I'm sure he was going to tell you," I started, but he shook his head.

"No, he wasn't," he said. "He never tells me about the dangerous parts of his job. I know when something's gone wrong, but I never know what."

"Do you want me to tell you?" I asked him.

"No," he said, smiling sadly. "I want him to tell me. But that's not going to happen, is it? The things you two go through, you never tell anyone else, do you?"

I thought about that for a moment. "No," I said, finally. "We don't."

He nodded. That was the answer he was expecting. "Will you tell me one thing, at least?" he asked.

I nodded. "If I can."

"This thing that happened yesterday -- whatever it was -- was it bad enough to be worth all this to him?" Daniel asked. "Was it really so dangerous?"

I knew what he wanted. Daniel needed to know that he was still first in Mulder's heart, that his lover hadn't ditched him or shut him out for anything less than a life-or-death matter.

If I'd wanted to, I suppose, I could have taken the opportunity to drive a little wedge between them, try to plant just a little doubt.

And I'm sure you know that I didn't.

"It was worse than dangerous," I said. "Mulder saved my life yesterday, and several other people's lives, too, at the risk of his own. It could so easily have gone the other way; if he hadn't done what he did, one of us would be dead now, maybe both of us. But you can be proud of him, Daniel. It took all his strength, and all his courage, but we made it out alive."

Daniel nodded. "Thank you," he said, very quietly.

He looked down, lacing his fingers together in his lap, and for a moment we just sat there in silence.

"Dana," he said, after a moment, speaking slowly, "I know you love Fox; I know you're committed to him as your partner, and I am grateful for that. I also know that there's a part of him you can't have, however much you want it, and that's the part of him that belongs to me."

He looked up at me then. "But I'm betting that you didn't know until today that I feel the same way about you; that it hurts sometimes to know that you share things with him that I'll never be part of."

"I had no idea at all," I said, trying to smile reassuringly. "But I think I'm beginning to understand. It's like you said; he's a complicated man. Neither of us will ever have all of him, Daniel."

"No," he said, agreeing. "I see that now." He smiled back, just a little. "So I guess we either learn to live with that, or we move on."

"I don't want to move on," I said, softly. "I don't even want to think about it."

"Neither do I," Daniel said, also very quietly. "And I'm not going to. But it's always going to be difficult. I know what you mean to him, and I know why, but that doesn't make it any easier when he leaves me in the lurch and comes running over here, without telling me why, because he thinks you need him."

"That's just the way he is, Daniel," I said, squeezing his hand. "He's run off and left me more times than I can count. At least once in every major investigation, you'll hear me say, 'Mulder, where are you going?' I don't usually get much of an answer, either. He's going to run off sometimes, and he's going to keep things from you -- and from me -- but it doesn't mean he doesn't love you. "

He smiled, and pressed a kiss on the back of my hand. "Well," he said, gently, "just because he doesn't sleep with you doesn't mean he doesn't love you, either."

"I know," I said. "I know."

There was another silence. I was really struggling now; there was one more thing I had to know. It was a pitiful scrap of what I really wanted, but I was willing to take whatever I could have, however small it was.

"Daniel?" I said, hesitantly. "Can I ask you just one thing that's absolutely none of my business?"

He looked at me uncertainly. "I guess," he said, slowly. "What do you want to know?" I had to stop then and swallow hard, several times, before I could get the question out.

"Daniel, when you ..." I said, finally, looking down at the floor, "when you ... make love with him, is he ... is he beautiful?"

It was a strange question, but Daniel understood. He held my hand a little tighter.

"Yes," he said, gently, with exquisite compassion. "Yes, he is. Very beautiful."

I nodded. I could not speak.

And that was that. We heard the shower stop running, and I let go of Daniel's hand and went into the kitchen and made breakfast for all three of us.

When the guys left, they both kissed me goodbye -- Daniel kissed my cheek, and Mulder kissed my lips.

And then they went home together to finish making up. I hoped it would be good for them both -- hoped it would heal their hearts and bind them back together. I really did.

It will never be that way for me. I cannot, as I said, respond that way to a man I don't love, and there is only one man I love.

About once a week, now, the three of us meet at Daniel's apartment, or Mulder's, or mine, and we have dinner. We spend the evening together, drinking wine, laughing, sharing the stories of our lives. With a little prodding from me, Mulder has relaxed his rule of absolute silence and begun to talk a little more about our work, but always emphasizing the funny stories and downplaying the danger.

There are still some things that neither of us will ever tell anyone else.

Daniel, who -- like me -- has always been so reserved in front of people, has relaxed a little bit, too. He now seems comfortable sitting next to Mulder, holding hands, or letting Mulder put an arm around his shoulders, or -- rarely -- kiss him, even with me in the room.

And it is a balm to my soul to see them so happy together.

Mulder, of course, has always been more tactile. He gives physical affection easily, comfortably. It is his soul he shares with no one but me ... and, now, with Daniel.

More and more often now, Mulder will put his arms around me, hold me for a moment, kiss me. He knows the effect it has on me, but he hasn't let that keep him from showing me his love in any way that he can.

If he wonders what I do with all that pent-up sexual tension, he hasn't asked. Let's just say that these days, when we're on a field assignment, I can go out and size up a bar pretty quickly and that I will zero in as fast as lightning if I find a tall, dark-haired man with hazel eyes. I have learned for myself how to be careful, and discreet.

I have only two rules for these men: Don't talk to me while we're doing this, and be out of here before the sun rises.

I don't ever want to hear their voices or see their faces too clearly; if I did, it would never work.

If Mulder knows, he hasn't said anything. I know he doesn't condemn me. He tells me often now that he loves me, and I know that he does. He tells me that he can't love me as much as he knows I would like, but that he loves me as much as he can.

And I know that he does.

I'm quite sure that someone out there would look at this situation and decree that I have, indeed, become a fag hag. I imagine someone is already saying it, outside my hearing. That's something else I have learned to live with.

I have learned to live with what I can have of Mulder's love, and his friendship, and Daniel's, and with whatever Mulder can give me of his touch ... his intimate, warm, welcomed, loving and utterly non-sexual touch.

The alternative would be to lose him altogether.

And I couldn't live with that.