There was silence for a long time. Mulder leaned his head back 
and stared at the ceiling. "Yes," he finally said, "Yes she *was* 
screwing with my head. I think she managed to overload my brain 
with pheromones. But dammit, that's no excuse."

"Mulder, I've got your blood on my hands. Literally. I've been 
so... so..."

"All the perfumes of Arabia," he muttered.

Scully laughed, a choking sound, and he looked over at her again. 
"I was just thinking... I'm not a priest, I can't give you 
absolution..."

He stared. "Is that what you think..."

"Well, I think you needed it." She gestured at his arms. "You 
were trying to say something, at least."

"I... yeah." Mulder stared at her until she looked away, a funny 
feeling in his throat. "Scully... Dana... can you ever forgive 
me?"

Silence. She took a deep breath, then looked back. "Mulder, you 
said... you trust me?" she finally asked.

He met her gaze evenly. "With my life."

She smiled. "Of course I forgive you. And I trust you, too."

Oh, God.

She crossed the room and put a hand on his shoulder. "All right. 
Now *heal*, okay? And don't do this again." Her gaze was wary. "I 
don't want to know what'll happen to you if you get desked."

He shook his head. "I'll be all right. I promise."

"Good." She turned to leave, then paused and said over her 
shoulder, "And we don't need to talk about this again."

The door closed softly, and Mulder slept.

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