"Keep Going, F.B.I. Woman" . . . Dana Scully stepped into her darkened bedroom, removing her jacket as she did so. Stopping before the bed, she pulled her grey shirt out of the waistband of her pants and began to lift, exposing her bare midriff.

     As she pulled the shirt higher, a familiar voice came out of the darkness, halting her movement.

     "Keep going, F.B.I. woman."

     With a start, Scully spun around, her shirt dropping back down. "Mulder?" she questioned his presence in her bedroom, not his identity.

     "The Cure for Scully" . . . Kritschgau faced Mulder, his voice solemn.

     "You have access to everything, Mr. Mulder, things I don't. Things I can only tell you about." Mulder's response was immediate and to the point. "I need to know who did this to Scully."

     "What you can have, what you may find," offered Kritschgau, "is so much more than that."

     "What?"

     "What you want most desperately of all," Kritschgau replied enigmatically.

     A look of half-hope and half-dread that hope was an elusive wish he was not allowed, Mulder responded, a question in his voice. "The cure for Scully's cancer?" and his voice cracked just the slightest on the disease's name.

     Without words, Kritschgau nodded and speculative look entered Mulder's eyes, followed by a resurgent hope visible in the briefest smile upon his lips.