"But, It's My" . . . An awkward silence filled the air of their basement office and for one of the few times in their relationship, both were at a loss for words. Finally unable to bear the quiet tension any longer and in a struggle to understand Scully's inexplicable behavior, Mulder burst out softly, anxiously, "all this because I," he paused, a slight exhalation of breath rushing from his lips, his eyes locked on her bent head, "because I didn't get you a desk?"

      "Not everything is about you, Mulder," and she spoke the mistruth with a tired admonishment in her voice -- not so much castigating Mulder as she was the fact that what she spoke was in many ways a lie. For the last four years, Fox Mulder's life had essentially become the center of her life, as she had become the core of his.

     Still denying their connection, trying to grab onto an independence that was unneccessary in regards to this man, she continued softly.

     "This is my life."

     And on his face was soul-deep pain as he sought to acknowledge what they had, what they were to one another. "Yes, but it's my . . ." he began and then stopped as a questioning look appeared on her face -- instead of one of understanding. And so he was silent a moment longer, staring at her, needing her to meet him at least halfway.

     But she did not.

     He tried to speak once more, but the woman sitting across the desk space from him was not the Dana Scully he knew. She was distant. She was deyning him . . . them, and so he said nothing more, not even uttering the words that had been about to fall from his lips.

     She obviously did not care.

      Her gaze fell and he was lost and alone despite her presence, the distance separating them an ocean wide.

Note: Thanks to Rhoni for the extra title!