Charles Grant

“Mulder stumbled, and Scully grabbed his arm to steady him. He smiled at her wanly. 'Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?''Since when did you ever think I was helpless, Mulder?'Never, he thought; never.”

“Scully, you're a doctor, for God's sake. You gonna tell me you actually go along with this s---?' [said the Sheriff].Mulder held his breath.'Sheriff,' [Scully] answered in her most official, neutral voice. 'I have never known Mulder to be so far off-base that I would dismiss everything he says out of hand.'...Thank you Scully, Mulder thought with a brief smile. I'd rather have a resounding 'Absolutely and how dare you,' but that'll do in a pinch.On the other hand, the day that 'Absolutely and how dare you' actually came, it would probably kill him with amazement.”

“Really?' [Scully said]... 'And you think that makes sense?''It does to me.' [said Mulder].'Of course it does,' she said flatly. 'Whatever was I thinking of.”

“And the...' [Mulder] stumbled several times, making [Scully] smile, before he managed, 'Sangre Viento?'He winced when he heard himself; his Spanish was still lousy.”

“Besides, you have to remember that the thinner air out here slows down the intellectual process, the result of less oxygen flowing to the brain.'He grinned and looked at her sideways. 'Is that a doctor thing?''No that's a Scully thing... The doctor thing is, get some sleep... or you'll be useless in the morning.'He nodded as he waved a weary good night over his shoulder, sidestepping a garden wall just before he tripped over it. Another wave- I'm okay, I know what I'm doing- before he disappeared into the passageway.”

“I'm okay,' [Mulder] said, shifting over to make room for Scully. 'Just thinking.''Out here, that'll get you pneumonia.''Is that a doctor's truth thing?'...'No, it's cold, that's what it is. God, Mulder, why can't you ever have a mood someplace warm?”

“It's hot,' [Mulder] said, dropping on the bench beside [Scully].'It's July, Mulder,' Garson reminded him. 'It's New Mexico. What did you expect?''Heat I can get at home. An oven I already have in my apartment.”

“Dana?' [asked Garson].She nodded to show him she was listening.'Why does he call you Scully all the time? I mean, you do have a first name.''Because he can,' she answered simply, without sarcasm, and didn't bother to explain. Just as it would be hard to explain why Mulder was, without question, the best friend she had. It was more than just being partners, being able to rely on each other when one of them was in danger, or when one of them needed a boost when a case seemed to be going bad; and it was more than simply their contrasting styles, which, perversely to some, complemented each other perfectly.What it was, she sometimes thought, was an indefinable instinct, a silent signal that let her know that whatever else changed, whatever else happened, Mulder would always be there when he had to be. One way or another.”

“Mulder strolled into his office whistling.It was the kind of day that began with a gorgeous, unreal sunrise... he was half-afraid he was dreaming...It took a second for him to notice Scully in his chair.'Morning,' he said brightly.All he needed now was a generous supply of sunflower seeds, and things would be perfect.Scully reached down beside her, and tossed him a plastic bag.He caught it against his chest one-handed and held it up. It was a half pound of sunflower seeds. He smiled. A sign; it had to be a sign.”

“You know,' he said as they made their way down the hall, 'I appreciate the support, Scully, but I don't need defending. Not really.'She looked up at him and sighed. 'Oh yes you do, Mulder.'He looked back blankly.'Trust me,' she said, patting his arm. 'On this one you'll have to trust me.”

“[Mulder] slowed as he approached the front walk, slipping his left hand into his pocket to wrap around his gun. Front or back? Wait for Scully, or do the stupid thing and go in on his own?He had no realistic alternative.”

“Scully-''I screwed up.' Her hands again. 'Damnit, I screwed up.''Nope' [Mulder] said... 'If I was dead, then you would have screwed up.' She saw the grin. 'Then I'd have to haunt you.''Mulder that's not funny.''But you don't believe in ghosts and goblins...”

“You're supposed to be sleeping' Mulder didn't jump, didn't turn his head. 'The day you figure out how to turn off my brain Scully let me know.' He shook his head, but carefully. 'Amazing isn't it?' 'Your brain?' She leaned her forearms on the railing. 'It's okay but I wouldn't call it amazing.”

“I want us to cool down for a while before we end up on horses' said Scully. 'What?' Hank asked.'A definition of confusion.' Mulder explained, hands clasped behind his head. 'He jumped up on his horse and rode off in all directions.' He winked. 'Scully likes wise sayings like that. She hoardes fortune cookies you know.”

“My friends, tonight we bring you something entirely different. Something special. The poets will rest, the sonnets will be silent, and what words of love there are will not be spoken. Tonight, my friends, and I can hear you out there, sitting alone, like me, in your chairs, your beds, driving down an empty street with no one but me to listen to your weeping; tonight, I'm going to bring you Armageddon.”

“The cover was pebbled black leather, the pages onionskin, and he opened it carefully. It was his first Bible, the one his mother had given him, the one that had taken its time showing him what he was supposed to do with his life, his size, that voice of his. It was the one used for his ordination, and when he had buried his mother on a autumn hillside in Tennesee five years ago. King James. He didn't care about the scholars or the accuracy or the bringing of his church into whatever century they claimed it was these days; he cared about the poetry, and about the comfort it brought to those who needed to hear it.”