#I feel like Scully especially after Daniel does not want to hide

[whenmuldermetscully]

I like to believe that during the secret season of sex Mulder and Scully were discreet but not hiding their relationship particularly during out of town cases. They always had separate rooms yes but it wasn’t uncommon for them to share. As much as I like and accept the common fanon of an established rule of not having sex during cases, I think realistically they just had it when they wanted it.

I think on occasion a witness or local law enforcement would flirt with Mulder or Scully and they’d politely answer ‘yes I’m sorry’ to the inquiring “oh I didn’t realize you’re seeing someone…” Or early morning liaisons would run into the two of them having breakfast and witnessing some light hand holding or the even more incriminating: drinking from the same drink or sharing a bite from the same fork.

Housekeeping at some point or other came into Scully’s room for cleaning seeing it spotless, and Mulder’s head poking into the adjoining door to let them know “thanks but no need for this room today —- oh and… how many?..” his head craning toward his bathroom where a shower is running and scully’s voice trails out, and with a small nod “but could we get some fresh towels? We’ll be out of this one in a few minutes.”

Local PD investigating 2 terrains: the crime scene and MSR - piecing together picture after picture. Scully shifting the items in her hands straight into Mulder’s, who dutifully holds them as well as her, as she braces herself against his arm to inspect the bottom of her shoe. Mulder answering Scully’s phone and then slipping it into her pocket. A med tech overhearing phone conversations like “I left it on the night stand.”, “I moved it in the bathroom when I showered”, and the ever soft “I didn’t want to wake you.” Nurse aids and hospital staff catching the tail end of quick pecks and smooches after personnel clear out their room.

And on the very very rare occasion, some young lad on the task force tasked as a glorified coffee runner or an entry level secretary to the secretary of a large PD with way too many employees —- asks Scully/Mulder point blank or refers to them as their “partner” but in the distinct romantic sense and they give an honest, shy affirmative “yes”.

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

By the Dim and Flaring Lamps: Epilogue

Part One: One | Two | Three | Four Part Two: One | Two | Three | Four | Five Part Three: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six Part Four: One | Two | Three | Four | Five Part Five: One | Two | Three | Four

JUNE 1865 WEST CHESTER, PENNSYLVANIA

As they near Philadelphia, the countryside through which Mulder and Scully are riding becomes slowly more and more populous, empty countryside gradually giving way to farmland, then a series of small towns, growing ever closer together.

"How long now?" asks Mulder, and Scully smiles at the slight edge of nervousness in his voice, though his face betrays nothing.

"Less than an hour," she tells him. He nods shortly. "You know, Mulder," she ventures, smiling playfully, "if anyone has a reason to be scared, it's me."

"Who said anything about being scared?" he asks, giving her a smile that's probably meant to be carefree, but ends up just looking like a grimace. She shakes her head.

"I'm the one coming home after defying my entire family and exposing them all to potential shame and ridicule," she says.

"Oh, and I didn't do the same for my own family?" he asks.

"You?" Scully laughs. "All you did was to do exactly what every able-bodied young man is expected to do when war breaks out: you signed up to fight."

"For the wrong side," argues Mulder. "At least, according to my parents."

"Well, they forgave you in the end, didn't they?" she asks. "I honestly have no idea how my parents are going to react when I walk through the front door."

"At least you're not walking through the front door empty-handed," teases Mulder. "You might have run away to join the army, and you might have spent three years' worth of nights bedding down with hundreds of strange men, but at least you managed to snag one of them to be your husband." He puffs out his chest and grins teasingly at her. "And one of the wealthiest, at that." Scully laughs.

"You make it sound as though the only reason I went to war was to find a husband," she says, shaking her head. "Though, really, that may well end up being the best light in which to preset the whole thing to my mother."

"Especially given how well it worked," Mulder says. He shifts in his saddle, standing up in his stirrups to stretch his legs. "It's almost suppertime," he observes. "You sure you don't want to find another inn? Put off our arrival until after breakfast tomorrow morning?"

"Are you really so afraid of my father that you're willing to wait another day? Pay for another room?"

"I'm just saying, Scully, this is probably going to be the last time we have the opportunity to spend the night together for a very long time," he tells her, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Nobody thinks twice about giving a room to a couple of soldiers on their way home from the war. A soldier and a woman who's not yet his wife, on the other hand...." He shakes his head mournfully. "The only places that would agree to that, Scully, rent their rooms by the hour, and they come already furnished with a woman. Or two." Scully whips her cap off of her head, swats Mulder's arm with it, and replaces it with a sigh.

He's right, of course: the moment she walks into her parents' house, she will, in a sense, become a completely different person. Instead of Lieutenant Daniel Scully, decorated soldier, crack shot, aide-de-camp to Colonel Fox Mulder, she'll be Dana Scully, the spirited youngest child of Captain William Scully, one of two daughters who had had the audacity to leave home without being married first. She can almost feel the stiff and suffocating boning of the corset her mother is likely to thrust at her the moment she walks through the door.

"What's the matter?" Mulder asks, concerned, and Scully realizes that some part of her sense of dread must show on her face.

"I'm just thinking," she sighs, "about how different it's going to be. For me, I mean, once I'm a woman again."

"Scully, you've never stopped being a woman," Mulder says. "I think I know that better than almost anyone."

"You know what I'm talking about, Mulder," she says, rolling her eyes. "I suppose I've gotten used to being taken seriously when I speak. To having some weight given to my opinion, to not being dismissed out of hand every time I open my mouth."

"You don't think I do that, do you, Scully?" he asks her, his voice soft.

"No, of course you don't, Mulder," she says. "And I don't for one moment imagine you would ever put up with anyone treating me that way in your presence. I just... I'm going to miss the freedom, is all."

"Well," he cautions her, "I think that, at least for a while, you and I are going to be far too busy to spend much time going out and paying calls on anyone." He's right, of course: there are endless things to be done on the plantation, now that the war is over. And after they're married (which, Mulder has insisted, will be as soon as possible, if only because he claims he's gotten so used to sleeping next to her that he'll never again be able to sleep alone), Scully will be helping him with everything.

Two months ago, a letter had arrived for Mulder from James, who is currently in Boston, having located his mother and sister, whom he hadn't seen since childhood, and it doesn't seem likely that he will want to return to Virginia. Nor would Mulder ever dream of asking him to. Bill Mulder, under strict doctor's orders not to exert himself, has officially ceded the running of the plantation to his son, and in James's absence, Scully has volunteered to help Mulder oversee the day-to-day operations.

Mulder has arranged to sell the townhouse in Washington, and with the proceeds from the sale, they plan to tear down the slave cabins and replace them with sound and sturdy houses for their hired help to live in. The former slaves have been given the option to stay on, for fair wages, if they want. Mulder has also sold a parcel of land north of Culpeper, once slated to be farmed, and will divide the money amongst all of the former slaves, whether they decide to stay or go ("Back wages," he'd told his father shortly, when Bill had questioned his son's decision).

"Come on, what else is worrying you, Scully?" Mulder asks, jerking her out of her reverie.

Scully looks down at her hands, gripping the reins. "I know I've been joking about it, Mulder, but I really am nervous about going home again. I don't have any idea what my parents' reactions are going to be."

"At least it won't be a surprise to them," Mulder says bracingly. "You showing up in a uniform with your hair cut short." Scully had received a letter from Melissa right after Samantha's departure for West Chester- Sam and the letter must have passed one another on the road- to say that Daniel Waterston had paid a visit to Margaret Scully, during which he had spilled the beans on where, exactly, her youngest daughter was hiding, and explaining his reasons for no longer being interested in marrying her. Maggie Scully, Melissa had reported, had not taken the news well.

Much to their relief, however, Maggie had not turned Samantha away when the girl had arrived; on the contrary, both she and Melissa had taken to her at once, as Scully had known they would. When Melissa had eventually returned to her apartment in New York, Samantha had taken over her correspondence with Scully.

Today, though, Melissa should be at the house in West Chester, along with the rest of the family. Scully had written her from Washington, a week after the official Confederate surrender at Appomattox, and had asked her sister to come down and meet her, to be present when Mulder is introduced to the family as her fiance.

They're mostly quiet, each lost inside of their own heads, for most of the hour's ride to West Chester. Mulder gazes around, taking in the sights of the unfamiliar town, but Scully focuses only on what's directly in front of her, terrified of meeting someone she knows before she arrives at home. But her street, when they turn down it, is completely, blessedly empty.

Well... almost empty, at any rate.

For a moment, for Scully, it's almost a repeat of a scene nearly two years ago, when she and Mulder had ridden into Fredericksburg to stay with his family. This house, however, is decidedly less grand than Charles Spender's, and the girl waiting by the front gate is markedly taller- closer to a young woman, now, than a girl. But the delighted squeal she lets out at the sight of her brother is the same, and so is the way that Mulder leaps down from his horse to meet her. He lifts her off of her feet and swings her around in the air, both laughing joyously.

Climbing down from her own horse, Scully spies another figure standing on the front porch, watching them with tears in her eyes, her hands clasped over her mouth. With her heart in her throat and her stomach in knots, Scully approaches her mother, bracing herself to be screamed at, to be seized by the shoulders and shaken... but Maggie Scully does none of these things. Before Scully can speak a word, her mother has wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her so tightly that she can barely breathe.

The first thing Maggie does after releasing her daughter is to whip the uniform cap off of her head and run her fingers through Scully's unevenly-shorn red hair, smiling ruefully.

"It will grow back, Mother," Scully says, ducking her head, still too nervous to meet Maggie's eyes, afraid that she'll find nothing but disapproval there. Her mother takes her chin, forcing her to look up, and to her immeasurable relief, there is nothing in Maggie's face but love.

Love tinged with exasperation, certainly, but in truth, that's the way it's been for years.

"I don't care about your hair, Dana," Maggie tells her. "I care that you're here. I care that you're safe." She hugs Scully again. "That's not to say that I'm not absolutely furious with you, but I'm willing to let that go for today." Scully nods, understanding perfectly. There will be a reckoning, and she will have no choice but to sit through it... but that will not happen today.

Breathing out in relief, Scully turns, holding her hand out to Mulder, who steps up to her side, Samantha behind him.

"Mother, I'd like you to meet Colonel Fox Mulder," she says. "I'm sure Samantha has told you all about him." Maggie smiles and offers a hand to Mulder, who bends and kisses the backs of her fingers.

"She has indeed," Maggie confirms. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Scully."

The door behind Maggie opens, and Scully catches her breath as her father, every inch as imposing as she remembers, in spite of being out of uniform, steps out onto the porch, Melissa behind him. His face, at first, is unreadable, but moments later, the tears in his blue eyes give him away. Scully runs to him and flings her arms around his neck as he swings her around, exactly as Mulder had done to Samantha moments earlier.

Captain Scully steps back and examines his daughter's uniform, running his fingers over the insignia on her shoulders.

"Lieutenant?" he asks. "Not lieutenant colonel? Or colonel, even?" He shakes his head in mock disapproval. "I would have expected more from you, Sprout."

"I'm afraid that's my fault, Sir," says Mulder, stepping up beside her. Captain Scully looks up at Mulder, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh?" he asks, and Mulder nods.

"I'm sorry to say that I've selfishly kept Lieutenant Scully by my side for the past two years," he says. Scully swallows hard as she lays her hand along Mulder's arm. When she speaks, she tries her best to keep her voice even, to not give away how terrified she is. What if her father disapproves? What if he has it in his head that she can still somehow marry Daniel? She's not, of course, going to simply send Mulder on his way if her father is unhappy with her plans... but all things considered, she would much rather her father be happy for her and not angry.

"Father," she says, "this is Colonel Fox Mulder." Captain Scully raises his eyebrows in interest as he shakes Mulder's hand.

"Ah!" he says. "Miss Samantha's long-lost brother?" Mulder nods.

"I can't thank you enough for allowing her to stay with you," he tells both of Scully's parents. "It's been an enormous weight off of my mind, knowing that she's been safe up here." Maggie waves her hand dismissively.

"I've appreciated the company, Mr. Mulder," she tells him.

"I understand the two of you were in the same regiment?" asks Captain Scully, and Mulder nods.

"I was Scully's captain at first, then colonel...." He swallows hard, and Scully suddenly knows exactly what her chivalrous fool is about to do. "And with your permission, Sir, I would very much like to be her husband."

Maggie gasps and covers her mouth, and Captain Scully's blue eyes pop wide, and behind them, Melissa grins brashly at her little sister.

"You see? I can keep a secret when I want to," she says proudly, as Scully narrows her eyes at her. Their parents pay her no mind.

Scully's mother and father look at one another, and in that glance, Scully sees all that she needs to know. Maggie will have learned all about Mulder from both Melissa and Samantha. She and Captain Scully will know, by now, that aside from being wealthy, he's a good man, a kind man, fiercely protective of the people he loves.

They're not going to disapprove. The knot in Scully's chest loosens.

"Why don't we talk about this inside?" suggests Maggie. "The two of you must be tired and hungry. Come in and have some lunch." Scully nods.

"Just let us see to the horses, and we'll be right in," she tells her parents. They turn and enter the house, along with Samantha and Melissa, and Mulder and Scully unhitch their horses from the front gate. When the front door closes, Mulder grins down at Scully.

"I think that went all right," he remarks. "They didn't throw me out immediately."

"What were you going to do if they did, Mulder?" Scully asks, as they lead their horses up the drive. "You never told me you were planning on asking my father's permission. What would you have done if he'd said no?"

"I would have snuck into your bedroom later tonight and carried you off," he says with a shrug. "Sam would have helped. Your sister, too, probably." Scully shakes her head, but she's laughing. They lead the horses into the barn, unsaddle them, and wipe them down, making sure there's water in the trough and oats and straw enough for them to eat.

Just before they leave the barn, Mulder reaches out and grabs Scully by the arm. She looks up at him questioningly.

"Before we go in to your family, and I have to be the perfect gentleman, before I have to keep my hands to myself...." He smiles down at her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "Do you suppose I could have one more kiss to tide me over?" Scully smiles, her heart fluttering in her chest as he leans down. I hope he never stops making me feel that way, she thinks, as their lips meet and she presses herself against him, her fingertips digging into his hair below the brim of his hat.

She ends the kiss long before she wants to, knowing that if they're out here too long, someone is likely to come looking for them.

"Come on," Scully says, taking Mulder's hand. "We'll have all the time in the world for that, soon enough." Together, they walk out into the bright sunshine, hand in hand, for all the world to see.

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

By the Dim and Flaring Lamps: Part Two, Chapter Two

Part One: One | Two | Three | Four Part Two : One

JULY 6, 1863 NORTH OF FREDERICK, MARYLAND

The mile-long walk back to camp, completed in near-total silence, is not nearly as awkward or as uncomfortable as Scully would have anticipated that it would be.

No, the discomfort does not come until two days later, when the regiment makes camp for the night, taking the extra trouble to set up tents for the first time in days. It's at this point that Mulder suggests- innocently enough- that he and Scully continue the pattern that they had begun some nights before, and share his tent.

"Believe me, no one's going to think twice about it, especially not once my promotion is officially finalized," he promises her, when she tries to protest. "Not to mention yours. It makes perfect sense that the colonel would want his aide close at hand at all times, in case he needs anything."

"Yes, but... in the middle of the night?" Mulder shrugs.

"They'll just assume that I'm particularly demanding. I'd rather they do that than have you end up being found out through some unfortunate accident that comes about as a result of you having to share a tent with some other soldier, one who has no concept of privacy. If I'm the colonel, you can bet that absolutely no one is ever going to come barging into my tent unannounced. Your secret will be much safer that way."

Logically, of course, Mulder's proposition makes perfect sense. Every single time that Scully has come perilously close to being discovered thus far, it's been as a result of her sharing a tent with several other men. Bunking with Mulder every night instead would eliminate that problem once and for all. And it's not, as Mulder has pointed out, as though they haven't done it several times before.

In practice, however... it's not nearly as much of a non-issue, not now that Mulder knows the truth about her. At least, it's not for Scully.

"You don't need to sleep all bundled up, you know," he tells her, as she stretches out on her sleeping roll fully-clothed. He's already divested himself of both his jacket and his vest, and is in the process of unbuttoning his shirt and shucking that off, as well. He yawns and lies back on his own sleeping roll in nothing but trousers and an undershirt, and Scully, scarcely a foot away, lies very still, staring up at the canvas roof of the tent, determinedly not looking at him. "Scully?" Still, she looks up and does not move. "Hey, Scully? You still awake?" He rolls on his side and pokes insistently at her arm through her jacket, and the brief contact, even through two layers of wool and cotton, sends a flash of electricity through her.

"What?" Against her better judgement, she turns her head to the side and looks over at him, doing her best to keep her eyes on his face, and not allow her gaze to wander down to the exposed skin of his lean arms, or to the muscles of his chest, on display in sharp relief under his suspenders and thin undershirt.

"Are you all right?" Mulder asks, concerned, and clearly oblivious to the true source of her discomfort.

"I'm fine, Mulder," she promises him. "I'm perfectly used to sleeping in my jacket by now. I've been doing it ever since I joined up." Mulder seems to accept her explanation readily enough; at any rate, he rolls onto his back and closes his eyes. He's asleep, for once, within minutes.

Scully, on the other hand, doesn't find it nearly as easy to drift off as she usually does. The regiment hasn't done all that much today- they'd drilled briefly, more to alleviate the boredom than anything else, but there had been no marching, nor any word of when they can expect to move out again, or where they'll be going when they do. With such an abnormal lack of physical activity, Scully is not nearly exhausted enough to shut down her brain and go to sleep.

This, right here, this hot and living energy buzzing in the air, all at once both uncomfortable and incredibly exhilarating, had been the exact reason why Scully had not willingly let Mulder in on her secret. It had been difficult enough for her to keep herself under control, to look rather than to gaze, to watch him warily and not longingly, because he undoubtedly would have found such expressions on the face of another young man to be, at best, discomfiting, and at worst downright disturbing. But now that he knows, now that he'll never again think of her as just another one of the boys, trying to hide how she feels from him will be just that much more difficult. There's little chance, now, were he to catch her looking at him in a certain way, that he would ever interpret her interest as anything other than what it really is.

Fox Mulder is unlike anyone that Scully has ever known before, in a multitude of ways. He's intelligent, but not constantly and supremely in awe of his own mind, the way Daniel Waterston so clearly was. He's open to new ideas, willing to put forth the effort to see things from another's point of view, even if it sharply contradicts what he already believes. On learning the truth about her, he had accepted it without argument, without expressing shock or amazement that a woman should make a good soldier. She's well aware of how few men would be so agreeable to the notion. Most men, she's certain, would have been adamant that a battlefield is no place for a proper lady. Most men would have seen what she had done as a scandal of outrageous proportions, and would have immediately demanded that she return home to her family, lest they be shamed by her actions.

Mulder had done none of those things. He had been surprised, without a doubt, and somewhat hurt that she had kept the truth from him for so long, but the idea of sending her away had not even seemed to cross his mind. She had already proven her competence beyond a reasonable doubt; her sex, learned after the fact, was then irrelevant to him.

She should be grateful, certainly... but in the hazy state just before sleep, Scully is able to admit to herself that, in reality, she would love nothing better than for Mulder to think of her sex as anything but irrelevant.

Morning brings no further clarity to the situation, not when Scully opens her eyes to see Mulder, lying on his side facing her, watching her with eyes full of what she's almost certain must be pure tenderness, though the expression is gone from his face so quickly that Scully can't be sure that it was ever there at all. It's entirely possible, she tells herself, as Mulder sits up and sets about re-assembling his discarded uniform, that she had simply imagined it into being.

But, then, why is he blushing?

Mulder's promotion to colonel of the Eighty-Third Pennsylvania is formally announced later that day, just after the announcement that Colonel Skinner is to assume command of the entire Third Brigade in Colonel Vincent's place. Both announcements are greeted with raucous cheering from the men, though there is no small sadness over the departure of Skinner, who has always been well-liked by the entire regiment. Scully's promotion to lieutenant seems to be accepted, by most of the men, as a matter of course, which comes as a relief. There are scattered grumbles about favoritism, to be sure, but they come mostly from men who would complain about anything at all, given enough opportunity.

The day holds one further surprise for Scully, though if she'd had the time to give the matter any thought at all, it would not have come as a surprise at all: she and Mulder are presented, following their promotions, with horses, and Scully is delighted. There is not much that she misses about home, these days, now that her father and sister are no longer there and her mother is so dead-set on convincing her to marry Daniel... but Scully badly misses her father's stables. They had not had many horses, but Scully had been extremely attached to the four that they did have. Riding had been among her favorite methods of escape since childhood, in spite of her mother's insistence that it was unseemly for a young lady to be galloping about the countryside with one leg on either side of a horse, rather than trotting along the roads in town in a proper side-saddle. Her father, of course, had waved such notions aside as being old-fashioned. If Scully could have found a way to sneak back home and take one of her family's horses before enlisting, she absolutely would have joined the cavalry, but such a venture had seemed far too risky.

The horse she is given is a spirited young filly, full of energy, excitable, but more than ready to do Scully's bidding, once she's gotten up into the saddle and has asserted that she is the one in charge. The feel of being in the saddle again is exhilarating, liberating, and Scully takes the horse on several circuits along the border of the field on which the regiment is encamped, before she reluctantly climbs back down and allows the animal to be led away and seen to by the regiment's grooms. She approaches Mulder, who has been leaning against a young sapling and watching her ride, a wide smile on his handsome face.

"I think that might be the happiest that I've ever seen you, Scully," he says, lazily acknowledging her formal salute (he's told her that she doesn't have to salute him every time, but she insists, arguing that her failing to do so could make the others suspicious, and at the very least, would attract the attention she's so desperate to avoid).

"It's been far too long since I've been on a horse," she says with a shrug.

"Well, something tells me that from here on out, you and I will be riding until we're both sick of it," he sighs. "We're to begin marching again tomorrow, but I'm not clear on where, exactly, we're headed."

"Where is General Lee?" Scully asks. "I thought that General Meade had decided not to pursue him after all."

"He did," says Mulder. "In spite of every general under him urging him to do otherwise, and in spite of President Lincoln demanding that he give chase, I've heard."

"Washington must not be happy with that decision," muses Scully.

"No, I don't imagine that they are," agrees Mulder. "Lee was severely weakened when his armies retreated from Gettysburg. He was on the run. And with all of the rain that we had immediately following the battle, you can bet his men were delayed crossing the river and getting back into Virginia. If we'd pursued them, we most likely could have ended the fighting in the east once and for all. Then the only thing that would have remained would have been for General Grant's men to end things in the west." He shakes his head sadly. "But he lost the chance, and who knows how long things will go on now?"

"So... you have no idea what direction we'll be moving now?" Scully asks.

"South. That's all I know," says Mulder. "It's possible we're heading for Washington, at least for the time being, with Lee's army being so close to it. Or maybe to Fredricksburg. I don't know." He gazes out over the horizon. "You know, if it does turn out that we're headed towards Fredricksburg, coming from this direction, we may pass by my family's home."

"Really?" asks Scully. The idea makes her unaccountably nervous. "Where do they live?"

"My father's tobacco plantation is near Culpeper, Virginia," Mulder says. "It's about thirty miles to the west of Fredricksburg. My family has a house up in Washington, as well, actually... we spent a good deal of time in the capital when I was growing up. My father's friend was always very active in Washington politics, and my father assisted him a good deal." Mulder looks down, scuffing the toe of his boot into the dirt. "Of course, they can't really use the house in Washington now, after the secession." Scully is quiet. Their respective families have always been a touchy subject- though, she supposes, her own family is no longer off-limits for conversation, now that Mulder knows why she's not in contact with anyone except her sister. She decides, recklessly, to venture into once-forbidden territory and see what happens.

"You never seem to write to your parents," she says, hesitantly. "Just... well...."

"Just to Diana," Mulder finishes, and Scully just barely keeps from wincing. "And sometimes I write to my younger sister, Samantha, as well... but I don't know if she's been getting my letters, since she never answers me." He shoves his hands into his pockets. "It's entirely possible, I suppose, that my parents have forbidden her to write to me at all."

"Were they that upset with you?" Scully asks. "For leaving home and joining the Union?" He nods.

"You could say that they felt that I was... working against the family's best interests, I suppose," he says. "My joining the Union meant I was supporting a cause that could cost them a good deal of money."

"By which you mean that they own slaves," Scully surmises.

"They're certainly not working the land themselves," Mulder says with a derisive snort. "Nor are they paying anyone to do it for them... unless you count paying for the upkeep on the shacks where their slaves live." He turns away from Scully, walking back towards their tent... but Scully can tell that she's not being dismissed, that she's free to walk with him and keep talking if she wishes. Which, of course, she does.

"None of it ever seemed right to me," Mulder continues, his voice quiet. "Not when I was a child, and certainly not as I grew older. Most of the other children I knew seemed to see it as the natural order: these people, who work our fields and clean our houses- and raise our children, even- are not truly 'people.' They are our property, they are ours to do with as we see fit." He shudders. "My sister and I, we didn't see it that way. But any attempt to question the status quo was shot down by our parents before we scarcely had the words out." He looks down as they walk. "When I was sixteen, my father took me aside and asked whether I understood just how much I was embarrassing him, espousing these 'ridiculously radical views,' whether I knew how much I was corrupting my younger sister, possibly making it impossible for her to ever find someone willing to marry her, when she was so apt to spout off subversive opinions at any given moment."

"Your father wasn't worried about your prospects for marriage, though?" Scully asks.

"It was always more or less assumed that I would marry Diana one day, after I had finished with my schooling," Mulder says with a shrug, and Scully winces again. "And Diana is about as non-political as it's possible for a person to be, so she never really cared about any of it."

"She didn't have any viewpoints on the matter whatsoever?" Scully asks, frowning. "It seems strange that you would be all right with that." Mulder looks down at her, eyebrows raised, and Scully breaks his gaze quickly. "I just mean... your beliefs were important enough for you to deny your family, to go to war with people that they perceive as the enemy. It just strikes me as odd that you wouldn't be at least somewhat bothered by her indifference towards something that clearly means a great deal to you."

"I didn't say that I wasn't bothered by it," counters Mulder. "But for Diana... she doesn't see it as affecting how she'll live her life, one way or another. She knows I'm not going to own slaves, regardless of who wins the war, so the outcome isn't really going to make a difference in the way that she eventually runs our household."

"Not for her, maybe," says Scully, unable to keep the disgust out of her voice now. "But it's going to make one hell of a difference for every man, woman, and child currently being viewed as nothing more than property. Isn't that enough to sway her opinion in one direction or another?" Mulder looks down at her curiously.

"You really don't like her, do you?" he observes. "And you haven't even met her."

"I don't need to meet her," spits Scully. "I'm sorry, Mulder, but that sort of self-centered attitude is abhorrent to me. Not caring about something as important as this just because she doesn't see it as having an effect on her, personally? I find that disgusting."

"Hey," says Mulder, his voice suddenly sharp. "You're talking about someone who's very important to me. I don't expect you to like her, but you don't know her, Scully. Not like I do. And I would very much appreciate you not passing judgement on her without even meeting her first. Not if you respect me or value my friendship at all." Scully lapses into a brooding silence, her anger stewing hotly in her gut.

She doesn't need to meet Diana in order to know how she feels about the woman. Anyone who can look at the suffering of a human being, of millions of human beings, and shrug it off as unimportant because she thinks that it's not going to have any impact on her supposed future household, is not someone that she trusts herself to meet- not without saying things that will likely result in Mulder never speaking to her again.

"Scully," Mulder says, as they approach their tent, "I'm sorry, okay?" He reaches out and touches her arm gently. "I just... I think that I'm probably not painting her in a very positive light, you know? She's a good person, she really is. And I just... don't like hearing her put down. I promise you, if you got to know her, you would like her, too." I doubt that, Scully thinks, but she keeps it to herself. She's well aware that there's no sense in pushing him too far, especially not now, when they're going to be riding side by side every day, when they're continuing to share a tent at night, when he's going to be relying on her to be his right-hand-man, presumably until the end of the war, whenever that may be.

"I'm sorry," she sighs, doing her best to sound sincere. She is sorry, after a fashion: sorry that she's offended him, even if she's not the least bit sorry for how she feels. "I guess maybe I just worry too much. The idea of letters with details of our regiment's movements being sent south, and potentially being intercepted by someone who can use the information against us... it's troubling." Mulder says nothing, but he looks thoughtful. "I only ever tell my sister Melissa where we are in the most generalized sense, and only when we're about to move on that same day, so that the information will be useless within hours. And those letters are going north to New York, not south to Virginia." Still, Mulder is quiet. "You want me to be your lieutenant, right? To be your right-hand-man?"

"I do," Mulder concedes.

"And would I be correct to surmise that my duties would include tactfully pointing out decisions that could, potentially, compromise the safety and security of your men?"

"You would," Mulder admits. Cautiously.

"Well, then, Sir, I respectfully submit that this practice of putting sensitive information about the position, plans, and movements of our regiment has the potential to endanger both you and the men under your command- not to mention the men of the other regiments marching and fighting alongside us. Not because of the trustworthiness of the recipient, but because of the possibility of such communications being intercepted." Mulder is silent. "Respectfully. Sir." Scully holds her breath... and after a tense moment, Mulder chuckles and shakes his head, smiling ruefully.

"You're going to make me regret this, aren't you Scully?" he says. "Making you my aide?"

"Not if you want someone who will always tell you the truth, even if I think that hearing it might anger or offend you," she replies.

"All right, Scully, you win," Mulder says, still smiling. "I see your point, and I concede that letters sent from members of our regiment- myself included- should contain only personal information and, at most, a general idea of our location- particularly if said letters are heading south." He looks at her pointedly. "Is that satisfactory?"

"Completely satisfactory," Scully replies, grinning. Mulder continues to look wary, though all traces of anger are gone.

"You're not going to let me get away with anything at all, are you?" Scully's smile widens.

"Not a thing," she promises. "Colonel Mulder."