We weren't always good for each other is going to ring in his head for a while, the truth of it simple and stunning. Time and distance makes it easy to see that she's right, his sense of defensiveness dulled when she's right here in his arms. Scully needs people to thrive in the world; he remembers how much she'd loved the hospital, even at the moments when it seemed like another dead child might kill her, too. He'd kept her apart from the world, even if he hadn't meant to, even if she'd agreed to it. And he can't do that to her again.

There are solutions, some he likes and some he doesn't. All kinds of suggestions he could make. The one he likes best is the first that comes to mind. Mulder whispers it into her skin, rolling her nipple between finger and thumb. "So come see stars from the porch - on the weekends. And I'll meet your neighbors during the week."

Until it turns out he really does hate having neighbors and turns tail out of the state of Maryland. But maybe it could work. For Scully, he could make it work. She had plenty of green space, after all - it was pretty secluded. Nice yard. That little waterway under the front walk. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes it.

Of course, it all depends on whether she minds him inviting himself into her home and her bed. But at the moment, when he's nibbling at her pulse and working a leg between hers, his thigh pressing in against her, it feels like he could ask for anything - not because of some kind of sexual bait-and-switch, but because if she's still into this, maybe she could be into it every night.

Even if she can't say yes, Mulder, I'm staying, maybe I'll go with you could be close enough.