We didn't talk as I drove us to my Mom's house in Baltimore. I had intended to take Mulder home -- it was a lot closer -- but I decided he could use a little mothering, and Mom was certainly capable of that. Maybe in the morning we'd go by Daniel's apartment and make sure everything was all right, pick up a few things he might need when he awoke.

And maybe, if Daniel did wake up, they'd let Mulder in to see him for a minute.

When we got to Mom's, she greeted Mulder with a warm hug, which was what I had expected, of course. She likes Mulder and he's always trusted her; I think he came out to her while I was missing, although neither of them has ever told me anything about what went on between them during that time.

But when she told Mulder how sorry she was that this had happened and how worried she knew he must be, I thought -- for the first time that day -- that he might cry. I thought I might, too: I hadn't realized until then just how badly he wanted someone to acknowledge what this meant to him.

Mom, being Mom, picked up on it immediately. She's raised two boys, and she's quite familiar with the tell-tale signs of a man who's trying not to cry. She gave him another hug, told him -- with an air of perfect certainty -- that Daniel would be just fine, and then ordered him firmly to go upstairs and take a shower, that she'd put out some clothes that ought to fit him, and that he would be sleeping in the first room at the top of the stairs.

I gave her a kiss, and headed upstairs to the other guest room, the one she persists in calling "Dana's room," although I never really lived in this house. Mom and Dad settled down here after he retired from the Navy, but by that time, I was already in med school and I stayed here only during school breaks.

I took a quick shower and put on a pair of pajamas that I keep at her house. I laid down and tried to sleep, but I could tell sleep wouldn't come quickly. I was too worried -- about Mulder, about Daniel, and about how Mulder would deal with Daniel's mother.

I knew very little about Georgiana Starlington Reilly except that she was Catholic, from Boston, and was the daughter of an admiral, the wife of a captain and the mother of three Navy officers -- Daniel, his sister, Lt. Grace Reilly Garland and his younger brother, Lt. James Reilly. The youngest child, Hope Reilly Hull, was the only civilian, and she was married to a Naval aviator.

But I knew Daniel's life story fairly well. He'd told me some of it, Mulder had told me some, and the rest I knew because I, like Daniel, am an Irish Catholic, a physician and a Navy brat. It wasn't hard to put it all together.

Daniel was not only the eldest of his siblings, he was the first grandchild for both families -- families whose Navy traditions went back to the days of John Paul Jones. Everyone had high hopes for him, and he didn't let them down; he not only did what was expected of him, he excelled at every step from high school to Duke University, where he was chosen to be a Navy ROTC Medical Officer candidate, all the way through Harvard Medical School.

Don't misunderstand: I know Daniel isn't perfect. He judges himself very harshly, and I hear he's almost as demanding of his surgical team as he is of himself. And as he himself put it, he's "a walking case study in internalized homophobia."

And there is, of course, the inescapable fact that he lied to Jill for years, and he was repeatedly unfaithful to her toward the end of their marriage. Maybe he couldn't help it; I don't know. I know he regrets it every day of his life.

No, he's not perfect. But he is truly an officer and a gentleman, a physician and a scholar, and one of the most gifted surgeons I've ever had the privilege to know, and I love him dearly in spite of his flaws.

He tried to be a good husband, too. He married Jill, his high-school sweetheart, while he was at Harvard. Daniel is too well-bred to discuss such intimate matters -- except, perhaps, with Mulder -- but knowing what I do about him, I can easily imagine that his marriage to Jill was either entirely or very nearly platonic.

But as far as anyone could see, Daniel was the All-American boy. I'm sure his family was very proud of him -- especially his parents, and well they should have been. They continued to be proud of him until the day he told them he was divorcing Jill after 12 years of marriage ... and why.

All their pride in their handsome, accomplished son vanished in that moment, to be replaced by revulsion, outrage and fury.

They tried hard to persuade Daniel to stay with Jill. They begged him to go into counseling. They called their priest in to talk to him. They threatened to disinherit him. They even warned that they might -- for his good and the good of the Navy, of course -- report him to his commanding officer if he didn't straighten out.

But Daniel had traveled a long, painful road to get to that moment. He had already tried counseling, had prayed and struggled and wept through endless years of frustration, shame and guilt before he finally acknowledged what he was. He wasn't happy about it, but he couldn't change it, and he was through pretending.

Daniel told his parents, quietly but firmly, that he was sorry he had disappointed them, that he had never wanted them to be ashamed of him, but that his decision was irrevocable.

Daniel's parents hadn't reported him, but neither had they spoken to him since his divorce; nor, from what I knew of it, had his sisters. I knew that must have hurt him badly, but I had never heard him criticize them for it. If he had talked about his feelings toward his family at all, it was only to Mulder, and only in private.

I didn't know about his brother; James was serving aboard USS Dallas, a Los Angeles class submarine, and most of the time he couldn't have communicated with his brother if he'd wanted to. If he didn't want to, being in a tin can on the bottom of the ocean was certainly a workable excuse not to.

Forgive me -- the Scully men have always served in the surface fleets and they tend to look down their military noses at submarines. I seem to have inherited that attitude.

I was sure Daniel's mother would come to see him; I strongly suspected that, despite the distance that had come between her and her first- born, she wasn't cold-hearted, just hurt and angry. Yet I was even more sure that she wouldn't take kindly at all to being introduced to her son's lover.

I was not expecting Daniel's father to be there. I know his type of Navy man all too well to think he would relent.

As I lay there, tossing and turning, I heard a soft knock at the door.

"It's open," I called out. The door opened, and Mulder came in, wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that I recognized as belonging to my younger brother Charlie. He's just a little bigger than Charlie, so the clothes were a snug fit that showed his body off to perfection.

Now, understand: I've had years in which to adjust to being in love with Mulder, and to deal with my never-to-be-fulfilled desire for him, and I think I've done fairly well. The love I have for him has only grown deeper and stronger; the physical longing, while it is still there, is no longer the painful, unrelenting thing it once was, and I am glad of that. It makes it much easier for us to be together, and that's all I want, really.

Still, I don't think I will ever reach the point that my pulse doesn't speed up and my breathing grow deeper when I see him in a T-shirt and jeans.

At least, I hope I never do.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, more hesitantly than was normal for him.

"No," I said, sitting up. "Come on in. Are you all right?"

He laughed, and shook his head.

"Sorry," I said. "Foolish question. Of course you're not all right." I patted the mattress next to me, and he came over and sat on the edge of the bed facing me.

"I don't know what I am," he said. "Numb, I guess. I keep thinking I dreamed it and I'm going to wake up soon."

"I know that feeling," I said, and I took his hand. "He's going to be all right, Mulder."

"God, I hope so," he said, squeezing my hand. "I can't even imagine life without him."

"You don't need to imagine that," I said. "He's not going to die. He's young, and in very good health, and he's getting the best of care. All the nurses at Bethesda just love him -- they're not going to let anything happen to him."

"I know they won't," he said, but it was an automatic response. He didn't really seem reassured.

"I gave him your message," I said.

He didn't answer at first. For a long time, he just looked out the window.

"You know, while I was lying there trying to sleep, I kept remembering the day Daniel and I met," he said, after a long pause, almost as though he hadn't heard me. "I guess that's because we passed right by the place on our way here tonight."

That surprised me. "I didn't know you two met in Baltimore," I said.

Now it was his turn to look surprised. "I thought I told you that," he said. "Didn't I?"

"You told me you met playing basketball," I said. "I thought it was at the YMCA or something."

"No, it was here," he said. "At the school near St. Ignatius. Remember the day I drove you here for your cousin's First Communion?"

"My cousin Kathleen? Of course I remember," I said. "My car had broken down." Then I felt a horrible stab of guilt as I realized what that meant. "Mulder, you mean you met Daniel that day?"

Mulder didn't seem to notice my sudden turmoil, though; he just nodded. "I was shooting some hoops while I waited for you; some other guys saw me and a game broke out, and at some point, Daniel joined in. I twisted my ankle and he came over to see about it and ... things kind of went from there."

"Mulder, that makes me feel horrible," I said.

"Why?" he said, turning to look at me.

"Because I remember ... while I was dating Josh," I said, feeling more miserable with each word, "I remember how I accused you of running around, enjoying yourself and having plenty of free time to meet Daniel while I did all the work, and you really met him while you were trying to help me out ..."

"Hold on a minute," Mulder interrupted, in the firmest tone he ever uses with me. "In the first place, Scully, nothing you did or said during that time is going to be held against you. In the second place, I _was_ out playing around when I met Daniel, and to whatever extent you had anything to do with that, I'm grateful as hell. Don't ever doubt that."

"I'll try," I whispered, but I felt myself getting weepy again as I remembered those horrible days with Josh Larrimore, who battered me emotionally and physically and might have killed me had Daniel and Mulder not intervened. "You and Daniel saved my life, Mulder," I said. "And I treated you both so badly. I don't know how I ever doubted either of you."

"Scully, I meant what I said," Mulder said, but his tone was gentler. "You weren't yourself back then. I knew it, and Daniel knew it, too. Just forget about anything you said back then, please?"

I nodded, and I was going to say something else when -- on a sudden impulse -- I threw my arms around Mulder's neck and hugged him tightly. He was surprised, I know, because I am not usually so demonstrative, but he didn't say anything. He just hugged me back.

"Mulder," I said, just barely above a whisper because I didn't want to cry, "I want you to know something."

"What?" he said, and I could feel his breath against my neck. It was a comforting feeling.

"You and Daniel," I said. "How much I love you both; how grateful I am to have you both in my life."

"I'm not sure we've really done you a favor," he began, but I interrupted him.

"Mulder, I know you worry about me," I said. "I know you worry that I'm so close to the two of you that I'll never find a love of my own. But you shouldn't. I'm happy; really I am."

"I hope so," he said, then gave me a quick squeeze and sat back where he could see me. "But if you want to know what I really worry about, it's that maybe you don't meet anyone because you think I don't want you to. And maybe I really don't. Maybe I'm such a selfish, jealous bastard that I'm not willing to give you up or even to share you with anyone else."

"You share me with Daniel," I said, and I took his hand again. "And you share Daniel with me. That doesn't sound like a jealous bastard to me; it sounds like a man who loves both of us very unselfishly."

"I do love you, Scully," he said, very gently, and he reached up to touch my face. I love it when he does that. "I know it's not the kind of love you really need, though."

"It is, too," I said, almost indignantly. That brought a little bit of a smile to his lips, and I was relieved to see it. "Mulder, I do need it," I said, more seriously. "I need you, and Daniel needs you, and tomorrow I'm going to see to it that you get in to see him."

"I need to see him," Mulder said, looking downward again. "I don't want him to die not knowing how much I love him."

"He's not going to die, and he already knows that you love him," I said, soothingly, but Mulder shook his head.

"Not unless he's a mind-reader," he said.

It took me a minute to realize what he meant. "Mulder, are you saying you've never told Daniel that you love him?" I asked, as gently as I could.

"Never have," he said, shaking his head again. "Not in so many words, anyway."

"Does he ever say it to you?" I asked.

"Yeah, sometimes," he said. "Not every time I see him, you know, but sometimes."

"And what do you say back to him?" I asked.

Mulder laughed, and shook his head. "I tell him he's an asshole, or that he's full of shit, or some equally stupid, macho crap," he said, then looked back at me. "I've tried to say it, Scully. I just can't; no matter how much I want to, I can't."

"Why not?" I said. "You don't seem to have any trouble saying it to me."

He smiled at that, sadly, though. "That's different," he said.

"Because ...?" I said.

"You're a girl," he said, with a little shrug. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to be sexist. It's just ... sometimes it's not any easier for a gay man to show another man his feelings than it is for a straight man, you know?"

"I can believe that," I said, and I kissed his cheek, softly. He looked surprised ... pleased, but surprised. "Now what?" I said.

"I was expecting a lecture," he said. "You know, on the necessity of getting in touch with my feelings, or something like that."

"You're not getting one," I said. "Although I think there's more to this reluctance than just societal conditioning and gender roles."

"Such as?" he asked, lifting one eyebrow.

"Such as it's easier to open up when opening up doesn't carry so many implications, Mulder," I said. "You forget -- I've been there myself."

"When have you been there yourself?" he asked, and I could see that he was genuinely puzzled.

I smiled, but I almost didn't answer him. We'd never talked about this ... we seldom even talked _like_ this, except in those late-night office conversations, which by our mutual, unspoken agreement, officially did not exist when the sun came up.

But the sun was down now, we were both exhausted and emotionally in shock, and we needed the bond of our friendship more than we ever had. This was a time for telling each other the truth, if ever there was one.

"Scully?" he said, when I didn't answer.

"Mulder, one of the things we both know," I said, very slowly, "and we've never talked about is that when was staying with Daniel after I got out of the hospital, I slept in the same bed with him most of the time I was there."

Now it was Mulder who wasn't answering. I waited; and finally, he spoke.

"I never said anything because there didn't seem to be anything I needed to say," he said, slowly but not at all as though it troubled him to say it. "It was what you needed, and it wasn't a threat to me -- not from you, anyway. Anyone else, it might have been. But not you, Scully."

"And yet as much time as you and I spend together," I said, "as much as I love you, as much as we've been through, you and I have never done more than nap next to each other on a long flight. I'm not counting that nap at your father's house because Daniel was there. Did you ever ask yourself why that is?"

"Maybe because the one and only time you invited me to sleep in your bed, I turned you down?" he said, very gently. "I'd have a hard time asking again if it had been me, Scully -- isn't that the reason?"

"Only in part," I said. "I never even asked Daniel -- I just woke up from a nightmare and I went looking for him. That was easy. With you, it's not easy."

"With me, nothing ever is," he said, that little bit of smile back again. "So what are you saying?"

"That if I asked you, and if you said yes," I said, "it would mean something to me that it didn't mean with Daniel, even though I love him dearly. And you know that, and so do I, so we don't let it happen."

"I've wanted it to happen," Mulder said, quietly. "I like being close to you, Scully. I just never felt that I could ask you."

"You're proving my point," I said, and I laid my hand on his cheek. His eyes closed, slowly, and he leaned into my hand in a way that tugged painfully at my heart. "If it were a casual matter with either of us," I said, more quietly, "you wouldn't have asked -- or, if you thought you had to ask, you wouldn't have hesitated to do so. It's not casual with you and me, and it never will be."

He opened his eyes then, and looked at me. "Okay, so it's not casual," he said. He covered my hand with his and pressed a warm kiss into my palm, then took my hand away from his face and held it. "So knowing that, knowing that it's going to have serious implications for both of us, I still want to know -- will you let me sleep with you tonight?"

Would I let him? I could scarcely breathe just thinking about it. It was only what I wanted most in the entire universe, to hold Mulder through the night and be close to him, as close as I could ever be.

And yet, for just an instant, I hesitated. We were in my mother's house; in my mother's house, you do not sleep with a member of the opposite sex unless you are married to each other.

But Mom always said that circumstances alter cases, and this was without question a unique set of circumstances in the annals of the Scully family.

It didn't really matter. Mulder had never needed me more in his life, and I wasn't going to turn him away. If Mom found out and got angry about it -- and I really didn't think she would -- she'd forgive me. She always does.

I reached over to the other side of the bed and drew the covers back. "Come here," I said.

Mulder kissed the tip of my nose, then stood and quietly, without any fuss, shed his jeans and climbed into the bed next to me. I put my arms around him; he laid his head on my shoulder and I held him.

And it was all so simple, after all, and so real -- his hair thick and silky under my hand, his cheek rough and his breath warm and alive against my skin. It was everything that, added up, was just Mulder: my trusted partner, my beloved friend and platonic lover, my father figure and my grown-up child -- my very soul -- lying next to me in perfect trust, warm and comfortable in my arms.

I'd held him in my arms before, and I'd kissed him a thousand times. But this -- holding him this way, in this most intimate of settings -- went far beyond anything I'd ever felt with him or with any man before, beyond sex to a complex of emotions so profound it staggered me.

"I always wondered how this would feel," he said, in a faraway voice, breaking in on my thoughts.

"How does it feel?" I asked. My throat felt tight, and yet in a way, I wasn't nervous at all -- perhaps because I was taking full advantage of the opportunity being presented to me by running my fingers through his hair with one hand while tracing a lazy path over the muscles of his back and arms with the other.

"Nice," he said, almost in a whisper. Then he raised his head and looked up at me. "It feels really nice, Scully."

"I'm glad," I said. I didn't know what else to say, but it didn't seem to matter. I had my arms full of Mulder, and there is just nothing in the world better for me than that.

"You know, there was one other thing I wondered about," he said as he laid his head back down and settled himself against me once more.

"What was that?" I said, resuming my greedy caressing of his body.

"When you had that nightmare, and you went looking for Daniel," he said, "how did you feel when you found him?"

I thought for a minute. "Safe," I said, finally. "I felt very, very safe, and very loved."

"Yeah," he said, quietly. "Daniel's good at making people feel very, very safe -- and very loved."

I felt a huge lump in my throat, and for a minute I didn't speak. For the second time that day, I was shattered by the knowledge of how inadequate a substitute I am in these men's lives, how little I can do to make up for everything they have lost, or have never had -- or might still lose if things didn't go well.

As gently as I could, I smoothed the hair back from his forehead and kissed him there. "You should go to sleep," I said when I felt certain of my voice. "Tomorrow's going to be a very long day."

"I'll try," he said, with a tone that said he knew better. Then he kissed me once more. "I love you, Scully," he said, so softly I almost couldn't hear him.

"I love you, too," I said. "Sleep now."