all things

I think one of the best parts of recapping old episodes that I have on tape, from, like, FX, or something, is seeing what else I thought was suitable to tape at various points in my life. For example, apparently at some point, I felt it necessary to tape several episodes of -- the ones from that summer season when Dylan and Kelly were having an affair and Mel Silver knocked up Kelly's mom. Why? No idea.

Open on Mulder's apartment. It's dark, because the sun never shines on poor, poor, poor Fox Mulder. Scully is in the bathroom. The faucet drips loudly as she pulls her apple green sweater down over her rib cage and zips up her skirt. Which means, to me, that she was topless at one point. I mean, who takes off her shirt to pee? I'm just saying. "Time passes in moments," she voice-overs. "Moments which, rushing past, define the path of a life, just as surely as they lead towards its end." The ceiling fan whirs. Scully smoothes her hair and looks over her shoulder, through the open door behind her. She walks out of the bathroom. The camera focuses on the dripping faucet. Fox Mulder: A Man Without a Plumber. "How rarely do we stop to examine that path, to see the reasons why all things happen?" the voice-over continues, as Scully stands in front of a window and shrugs on her blazer. "To consider whether the path we take in life is of our own making, or simply one into which we drift with eyes closed. But what if we could stop, take stock of each precious moment before it passes?" she asks, walking out of the frame. I am already practically napping here. Let's get to the nudity, people, and stop the yammering. Blah blah, path, blah blah fate, blah blah blah blah blah. Scully is still talking. "Might we then see the endless forks in a road that have shaped a life, and seeing those choices, choose another path?" she asks, as we pan down to Mulder's naked leg, protruding from a mass of rumpled bed linens. There's what looks like a head divot in the pillow to him, and it certainly appears that someone else spent the night in the bed with him, but it's hard to say. (Of course it's hard to say. It's hard to say if the sun rises every morning on this show.) At any rate, this is where everyone watching this episode the first time around starting screaming, either with unspeakable joy or profound agony.

Dee dee dee dee dee deeeeeeeeeeeee. Dee dee dee dee dee deeeeeeee. Dee DEE dee dee dee DEEEEEEE. Dee dee dee dee dee DEEEEEE. Dee dee dee dee dee deeeeee. Deee deee dee dee dee DEEEEEE. DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE DEEEEE.

Bright light. On and off. On. And off. On and off and on. Moby plays in the background. Like Mulder would listen to Moby. Gillian Anderson listens to Moby (a lot, apparently, since he's all over this episode, which she both wrote and directed). Mulder listens to ELO. Lights: on and off. On and off. On and off. Okaaaaay. Mulder, in casual wear, clicks his precious slide projector off and on a few more times and then starts loading his slides. The Wherefore Wert Thou Last Season, Oh Time Stamp? informs us that this is sixty-three hours prior to Scully doing the walk of shame home from Mulder's. Moby. Moby. More freaking Moby. I liked this album, too, but jeezum. We pan over to a portable CD player. Moby. Moby. Moby. Somewhere, Eminem gnashes his teeth. Mulder twitches his butt in time to the music as he puts slides in the projector.

Enter Scully. Mulder holds up his hand in greeting, and she says something I can barely hear over the music. She makes a crabby face and snaps off the music, telling him that she got the lab to "rush the results of the Sznznznznznynnyznzny autopsy, if [he's] interested." She drops a white paper bag on Mulder's desk and starts to unpack lunch. Mulder mildly remarks that he heard her the first time. She tosses him a burrito and unwraps a salad, telling him that the Snyzyzyzyzyggyzynnnngzyzygggy woman didn't die "as a result of the inhalation of ectoplasm, as [Mulder] so vehemently suggested." Mulder raises a brow and asks what she did drown in, then. "Margarita mix," Scully retorts. Blah blah blah, drinking, blah blah blah woods, blah blah Blair Witch Project blah blah dated pop culture reference blah. Mulder thinks this set of information demands further investigation. Scully shirtily informs him that it does not. He shrugs and tells her they have "bigger fish to fry," anyway.

Mulder walks around the slide projector, revealing a slide of crop circles projected on their screen. "Is that beautiful or what?" he asks. Scully is unimpressed. He blathers that it's computer imaging, or some such, and takes a giant bite of burrito. Scully stares blankly at her salad as Mulder explains that most people don't realize that there's been an increase in the size and complexity of crop circles over the last few years. Scully looks bored. Mulder keeps talking about crop circles. Scully examines the lettuce in her salad. Mulder talks more about crop circles. Scully takes a bite. Mulder just looks at her and keeps on talking. "In 1997, even more complex circles occurred and I'm not wearing any pants right now," he finally says. No reaction from Scully. Silence. Silence.

Finally, this registers, and Scully looks up with a "hmmmm?" Mulder raises his brows. "You're not listening," he says. "I am!" Scully insists, then chews thoughtfully. "I guess I just don't see the point," she finally tells him. Mulder explains that the point is, some computer has predicted that in forty-eight hours, there ought to be a complex set of crop circles appearing in a random field in England, and he'd like to get there before it happens. At this, Scully puts her foot down. She's not going to England. She still has to finish the paperwork on the autopsy he made her do. "And, to be honest," she says, "it's Saturday, I wouldn't mind, you know, taking a bath." Let me see: taking a bath versus England with Mulder? Someone's priorities need adjusting. Mulder makes a face. "What the hell does that mean?" he snaps. "What it means, Mulder, is that I'm not interested in tracking down some sneaky farmers who happened to ace geometry in high school," Scully says. Mulder stares at her. "And besides, I mean, what could you possibly get out of this? Or learn? It's not remotely FBI-related," she says. Mulder chews his cud and nods. "I'll just cancel your ticket," he finally says crankily, taking a bite of the burrito and dropping it in the bag. "Thanks for lunch," he mutters with his mouth full. Scully rolls her eyes. "Mulder! Look, we're always running. We're always chasing the big thing," she says. He puts his coat on and just stares at her. "I mean, why don't you get just stay still?" she asks. "I wouldn't know what I'd be missing," he says and leaves in a huff. The clicker for the slide projector falls to the floor as Scully stares at the empty walls and looks frustrated. The slides merrily click click click. I swear, the longer I recap the show, the more I suspect I'm turning into a noromo. I mean it. Sometimes I just think these two are wrong for each other. They seem to cause each other an immense amount of aggro. And they're each other's entire social structure. That can't be healthy. I mean, sure, I buy that they're hot for each other -- I mean, they're both gorgeous -- but love? I'm beginning to suspect they'd just make each other miserable.

So, the sound of the clicker clicking turns into a pencil tapping impatiently on a counter and I know Gillian Anderson is trying to do something Deep and Metaphorical with this whole incessant tapping thing (like, aurally representing the idea of time ticking by or something), but it's really just plunging me into a coma. And while, as you all know, I think Gillian Anderson is a really good actress and certainly no worse a writer or director than half of the people who've worn those hats professionally for this show, I kind of feel that this episode is just Trying Too Hard, and that it's actually more about Gillian Anderson than it is about Scully. Which is sort of frustrating. On the other hand, I know this episode had the shit edited out of it by 1013, so it's hard to say who to blame for the many problems I have with it. Anyway. We're at, per usual, a hospital. Scully walks up to the pencil-tapping receptionist and monotones that she's there to pick up a post-mortem folder. Man, Scully. Do you have to be so glum? I mean, I know you had cancer and your sister got shot and you can't have a baby and -- okay, never mind. One of the receptionists hands her the white envelope. In slow-mo. Scully takes it. In slow-mo. The pencil taps. In slow-mo. I yawn. In slow-mo. Finally, we switch back to regular-mo, as Scully signs for the envelope and turns to go. The Oboe of I Can't Think of Something Funny For the Oboe Because My Brains Have Melted in the Heat plays plaintively. Scully opens the envelope and removes an x-ray, which she examines with a frown. She glances at the envelope. It says "J Szczesny" (because 1013 can't name someone, say, "Jane Allen" when a name I can't spell will do). But, see, the x-ray is labeled "D. Waterston." Scully looks stricken. Because "D. Waterston" is such an unusual name! It simply must be that old dude with whom she had an inappropriate relationship when she was younger!

Scully stumbles back to the reception desk and tells the nurses that she was supposed to get autopsy results. The nurses buzz around and finally get the right result, apologizing for the mix-up. Scully turns to go, then comes back and asks if the "D. Waterston" is "a Dr. Daniel Waterston." And it is! How convenient. Or, you know, fate or something. Whatever. Turns out he was admitted to the "coronary care unit" that morning and is now in room 306. Scully blinks thoughtfully.

Scully hits the coronary care unit and finds room 306, where a woman about her age is talking to a doctor. "Everything appears to be as it should, under the circumstances, so I wouldn't worry," the doctor says. The woman -- who looks sort of like Jorja Fox from C.S.I., but isn't -- nods. Scully ducks behind a wall until the doctor and NotJorja leave. Looking pale, Scully trudges in to see the patient.

Beeping. Staring. Ding! Another ding. And another ding. Oh, Gillian, stop it with the damn dinging. What's that supposed to be, anyway? Is it Scully's biological clock? One-note wind chimes? An attempt to drive Mark Snow mad by insisting that he just tap one note on his Casio over and over and over and over again? Has Mark Snow, for that matter, perhaps passed out on said Casio, after too much Boone's Farm? Scully stares into the room. "Excuse me? Can I help you with something?" the doctor asks. Our heroine identifies herself as "Dr. Scully" and makes some comment to the effect that she was at the hospital and she just happened.... The doctor asks her to step out into the hallway. Scully does, looking tremendously uncomfortable.

The doctor explains that he's the patient's cardiologist, Dr. Kevorkian (or something like that). And that Waterston patient mentioned her. Scully sputters that Kevorkian must be mistaken. But he's not. "You were a student of his, right?" Kevorkian asks. Scully blushes. "He has a heart condition?" she asks. All over North America, people get up for a snack. "Yell when Mulder comes back," they tell their roommates. Their roommates just snore. When I decided to recap this episode, I was thinking more about, like, all the nutty New Age stuff that Gillian Anderson learned about in Kabbalah class and shoehorned in here, and, of course, the whole Did They Or What? Conundrum. I forgot about this whole Scully Had An Affair With an Old Dude and Has to Reevaluate Her Life Whilst Talking to A Really Boring Doctor part. Yeah, so Kevorkian says some stuff about medicine or heart disease or something. I don't know. I really don't care about this segment. Can we get to the Wacky Healing Lesbian Physicist and the lip-synching to Moby? Anyway, there's a lot of long pauses and medical-speak and it all ends with Scully saying that Dr. Waterston was "a remarkable man" and running away. I'm already exhausted.

Casa Scully. The front window is -- incredibly stupidly -- wide open. Why doesn't Scully just invest in a nice neon sign, reading, "Hired Killers, Kidnappers, and Aliens Welcome!" The wind is wafting inside, making the pull cord to the blinds tap against the window frame. Tapping. Tapping. Tapping. We get it. Tapping = clock ticking = time passing = Scully feels like her life is going nowhere. Let's move on. Can we get some aliens, here? How about a mystical mystery baby? Whale songs? Anyone? Hello? Yeah, it's still tapping. Scully comes inside and tosses her stuff down. She takes off her shirt and eats a block of cheese. Oh, that's me. And it's not really cheese when it's this hot. It's more like popsicles and ice chips. I hate this weather. The phone rings. "You came to see him?" the caller spits. "Who is this?" Scully asks. It's NotJorja. She hates Scully. That's all you need to know. Also, Waterston wants to see Scully. Scully muses that she doesn't know if she has time to go see the sick old man. "Look, it's your choice," NotJorja spits. "But if you come, it doesn't mean I accept you being in his life," she says, and throws down the phone. Man, what is her problem? I mean, sure, she's all bitter that Scully sexed up her dad and ruined her parents' marriage, but obviously Scully hasn't been in the picture for years. Get some therapy, NotJorja, and get pissed at your dad (the guy who had the affair), not the woman he slept with. Scully looks pained as Mulder buzzes through on the other line.

Over to the hospital once more. "Ah, Hurricane Scully is here," Waterston announces as she makes her entrance. "I was summoned," Scully retorts crabbily. Yeah, she's dying to hook back up with you, old man. Apparently, Waterston is having an argument with his doctor about his treatment and is calling Scully in for backup. NotJorja watches as the three doctors talk about medicine for, like, a hundred years. Finally, after I grow old, die, am reincarnated, and return to this mortal coil as a bee (the better to transport the black oil virus. Or not. Or -- no, that way madness lies) and fly into the living room of my former apartment, Scully agrees with Waterston's proposed method of treatment. The doctor rolls his eyes and stomps out. "You come off so rational. But maybe you know less than you think," NotJorja snaps at Scully and stomps off herself. That seems to be her character's raison d'être: say something snippy, then stomp off. Kind of like me at the office.

Scully rests her hands on her hips and looks tired as Waterston obviouses that NotJorja is very angry. "How did she even find out?" Scully asks. Waterston sighs. "I screwed up, Dana. Things got bad at home, after...." He trails off. Scully looks vaguely uncomfortable and takes a seat in the chair to his bed. She swallows. "Bad how?" she asks. Waterston finally admits that he hasn't been "completely honest" with Scully. "It was hard for me," he says. "When you walked away. I shut down, from my family. Needless to say, it was very difficult for Barbara." Whatever, Waterston. Apparently, he felt like crap for sleeping around on his wife and handled this by moving to Washington. Scully looks vaguely stunned and asked when this whole Moving to Washington to Stalk the Girl I Slept With When I was Her Professor thing happened. "Almost ten years ago," he says. "Ten?" Scully whispers, all teary. "You didn't move here for me?" she asks. Waterston just tells her that he didn't mean for it to "happen this way." Scully's about two seconds from bursting into real tears. "You've come at a such a strange time," she finally tells him. "I know. You have a life," Waterston says. Scully makes a very pained face. "I don't know what I have," she finally says. Man, as much as I take issue with some of the silly New Age Hoo-Ha in this episode, Gillian Anderson's acting is really topnotch. As usual, really. Scully sighs. She bursts out with a sobby laugh. "Your x-rays were in the wrong envelope," she tells him. "I wouldn't have even known you were here if it wasn't for a mix-up." Sigh. Teary. Smile. Teary. "What do you want, Dana?" Waterston finally asks. She looks at him. A tear runs down her face. "I want everything I should want at this time in my life," she says. "Maybe I want the life I didn't choose." Eyebrow. Waterston reaches out to her. Scully stares at his hand, then finally touches her palm to it, slowly. They grasp hands. She cries. His various monitors beep. Scully lies her head on his chest and cries. He strokes her hair. Blah blah blah. The beeping of the heart monitor gets louder and louder and louder. Scully closes her eyes, which is the heart monitor's cue to freak out. She leaps up and Waterston flatlines. Scully, calling for the nurse, leaps on his chest and begins CPR.

Nurses run in, but no doctors. I guess they figure Scully's got it covered, because they roll in the crash cart and one of the nurses intubates him while Scully attacks her ex with the paddles. Riddle me this, Batman: why are they letting Scully do this? Does everyone in the world know that she's a doctor? Because I've never been in a hospital where they let visitors use the equipment. Shocking. Shocking. Scully yelps for an amp of epi. This is like Gillian Anderson's audition for ER, or something. After lots of yelling and running around, Scully and the nurses get a pulse. "Thank you," Scully breathes.

This prompts Scully to go visit Colleen, New Age Guru. Colleen's girlfriend lets Scully inside the house, which is covered in bizarre paraphernalia, including several strange, twirly copper spiral sculptures. Colleen's girlfriend kisses Colleen goodbye and takes off. Scully looks at her feet. Colleen comes over and just looks at Scully, finally saying that she's surprised to see her. Scully weakly apologizes for being rude the last time they met. "I'm a medical doctor and a scientist and you're right, I don't know what it is that you do," she says. Here's what I'd like to know: why does Scully always have to specify that she's a "medical doctor"? I think when you say "doctor," people assume you mean, "of medicine," not that you have a Ph.D. in, like, Russian literature or chemistry, or something. It's bizarre. It irritates me. Anyway. "There's something that you said that I wanted to ask you about," Scully says. "About slowing down?" Colleen asks. "Would you like to sit down?"

And so they sit. Colleen's living room is covered in candles and little teeny rock fountains. I imagine that Gillian Anderson's trailer has a similar candle/little teeny rock fountain dcor, actually, while Duchovny's has a little basketball hoop over the back of the door and some back issues of Celebrity Skin on the floor. Scully announces that she has "a strange feeling about an ill friend." Colleen looks thoughtful. "You sense something?" she asks. Scully sort of nods. And then Colleen yammers about how we're all composed of energy and consciousness and auras and truths and, oh my God, Colleen is Moronica, Version 1.0. Am I a masochist? Why did I decide to recap this? Did some part of me subconsciously miss her endless blathering about feelings? But how can that be? Oh, God, what has this show done to me? "What are you saying that I saw?" Scully finally asks. "Pain. And when there's pain, there's a need for healing; physically, mentally, spiritually." Blah blah blah. How much longer until we get to the sex? "But he has a heart condition," Scully says. Colleen purses her lips. "When we hold on to shame and guilt and fear, it creates imbalance. Makes us forget who we are," she says. Scully closes her eyes. "This is difficult for you to accept," Colleen remarks, and puts a hand on Scully's knee. Scully looks at her. In the distance, a teakettle whistles. "Would you like to have some tea?" Colleen asks.

Kitchen. "Have you ever had moments when everything seems incredibly clear? When time seems to expand?" Colleen asks. Scully thinks about it. "Yes," she finally admits. "You may be more open to things than you think," Colleen tells her, pouring the tea. I want to die. She is Moronica, the Prequel. I'm in hell, all over again. And this time I did it to myself. What was I thinking? That this episode would engender good conversation, sure. That it's important in the overall scheme of the show, yes. That we'd be able to talk about the differences between Gillian Anderson's Scully and the 1013 version of Scully. But I completely forgot that all this talk about being open and sensing things and feelings only makes me want to feel a sharp object in my eardrum. Scully looks thoughtful as Colleen hands over the mug. "I used to be a physicist," Colleen says. Colleen never shuts her yap, does she? She explains that she was a "successful workaholic." And she thought she was happy: "Truth is, I was cut off from the world and myself. I was literally dying inside." She was in a relationship with her girlfriend, she explains, but she was in the closet. Then she got breast cancer. "I'm sorry," Scully says. Colleen shrugs. "Don't be. It's the cancer that got my attention." I nap through another whole long monologue, the gist of which seems to be that Colleen met a healer who taught her to "release shame" and "tell the truth" and then her cancer went into remission and now she's a happy, healthy, copper-sculpture-purchasing crop-circle researcher. Scully looks down at the floor. "You still aren't sure," Colleen says. "You came here looking for answers and you want something to take back with you." I wish Scully were all, "Actually, I was thinking about how my cancer went into remission when they stuck this alien chip back in my neck." Instead, she just shoots Colleen an eyebrow. "Everything happens for a reason," Colleen chirps.

Hospital. Scully walks inside, holding a bouquet of flowers. NotJorja meets her outside Waterston's room. "Are you happy?" she demands by way of greeting. Scully is all, huh? See, apparently, Waterston fell into a coma about two minutes after Scully left the hospital. Scully makes a face, and then tries to tell NotJorja that she broke it off with Waterston to make NotJorja's life easier. NotJorja won't hear it. "Don't try to be reasonable with me," she snaps. "I am so sick of being reasonable! You moved on, but we've had to live with what you left behind." And, yet again, NotJorja -- who is, by the way, at least Scully's age, not twelve -- stomps out. Scully looks vaguely chastised. "This is soooooo boooooooring," the Mulder action figure says from the top of my coffee table, where he's lying on one of those Blue Ice thingamajigs that you're supposed to keep in your ice chest. It's hot in here. Last night, the Scully tried to convince me to put her in the freezer for the evening, but the Mulder started screaming about Antarctica and the Syndicate and it was a whole big thing. "Yeah, aren't we supposed to have sex in this episode?" the Scully asks. "Could we just get to that?" She fans herself with an empty matchbook.

"The Sky is Broken" (by, yes, Moby) plays as Scully walks very slowly out of the hospital.

Scully walks through the city streets in slow motion. Suddenly, she's in Chinatown. Don't ask.

Walking. Moby. Walking. Chinatown. Scully stops in front of an apothecary shop and turns to look in the window. The music stops. Suddenly, she catches sight of the blonde ponytailed woman she almost ran down with her car and runs after her. Behind her, a bike bell rings.

So, Scully runs though Chinatown, running and running and running and chasing and running. At last, she comes to an unmarked door. Blonde Ponytail is nowhere to be seen. Scully gently pushes the door open. Bells ring softly.

Behind the door is a small garden and another set of doors. Scully opens them softly. Inside the building is a large golden Buddha statue. Scully walks inside the temple, her mouth hanging open. Staring at the Buddha, she falls to her knees. The horns of Dear Audience, Please Forget That Scully Was Raised SuperCatholic And Is Thus Unlikely to Behave in This Manner toot in the background. Scully closes her eyes. This is weird. She starts sort of shaking and then she...has a vision? All kinds of people flash before her closed eyes: her mother, CSM, Mulder, Melissa. The vision finally focuses on the naked and somewhat transparent body of Waterston. Ew. His eyes are closed and his heart beats. We focus tightly on his face, and his eyes open suddenly. Scully opens her own with a gasp, breathing raggedly. She glances up at the Buddha. Whose eyes are now open. Huh. Interesting. Didn't see that coming.

Hospital. Where Waterston is being tended by a psychic healer while Colleen and Scully watch. I'm sorry. There is no way that Scully would ever buy into psychic healing. Ever. I don't care what kind of visions she saw. She's seen any number of, like, space ships and shape-shifters and whatnot and she's still all skeptical, but she has one little vision of a tertiary character and she's hiring aura cleansers? No. Just, no. Okay, so what follows here is a whole bunch of boring shit about Dr. Kevorkian and Scully and NotJorja and I'm really just trying to get to the step-up for the sex (or was it?) and could this episode go any more slowly? Pick up the pace, people! Long story short: Scully ordered this psychic treatment for Waterston without anyone's permission and Dr. Kevorkian is rightly pissed. But NotJorja thinks it's okay! Even though she hates Scully and doesn't know Colleen! Sure, go ahead! Fiddle with her father -- the guy in the coma for whom she is ostensibly responsible! That makes sense! The psychic healer says some crap to the effect that Waterston is "ready to move on," but "unfinished business is binding him to the physical plane" and he needs to "release it" before he can, like, go into the light. Oh, my God. I mean, I'm sure that this whole psychic healing thing has worked for some people -- and that's wonderful for them. Seriously, yay for alternative medicine! -- but Scully? Would never hire a psychic healer. A priest, I can see. A psychic healer? Never. She didn't consult a psychic healer for herself. She didn't consult a psychic healer for Emily. She didn't consult a psychic healer for Mulder any of the nine or twelve times he was about to drop dead. She's a Catholic, she's a scientist, she's a skeptic, and it's out of character. Period.

Casa Scully. Moby sings. I wish they could have gotten Moby to act like the town troubadour guy on Gilmore Girls and featured him in this episode. You know, walking into the corner of the frame and...spinning, or whatever it is that Moby actually does. He could carry his laptop instead of a guitar. What? It would have been whimsical. Whatever. Moving on. You people are no fun. So, Scully walks around in her bathrobe and gets into bed. thing you know, she walks into a hospital room and stands over herself, lying all sick and Cancer-Arc-y in the bed. "Speak to me," Cancer Arc Scully lip-synchs to herself. Realtime Scully wakes with a gasp in her own bedroom. Her phone rings. NotJorja needs her to come to the hospital. I think Dana needs to cut back on the sleeping pills before she climbs into her lonely, lonely bed to try to drown her pain with sleep. Because the last thing this poor girl needs is wacky nightmares.

Scully heads to the hospital, but not before putting on the really cute apple green sweater she was pulling over her head in Mulder's bathroom. At the hospital, it turns out that Waterston is healed. Scully goes to Mulder's and they finally get it on. The end.

Okay. Fine. But you know you want to get to that section, too. So, the hospital. Waterston is all sitting up in bed and feeling fine. He makes some snide comment about "the voodoo ritual" she pulled on him. "I was afraid it didn't work," Scully breathes. "Of course it didn't work," Waterston cracks. "Where do you get that crap?" Scully sputters that said crap could have saved his life. "Whether you're open to it or not," she adds. Oh, sweet God. Please, go do an autopsy, stop reading Annabeth Gish's lines, and get back to your regular self, Scully. Waterston waves this aside. When he gets well, he says, they need to talk about their relationship. You haven't seen her for ten years, buddy. What the hell kind of relationship is that? Scully mentions that she talked to NotJorja. "It's time that you took responsibly for the hurt you caused in your family," she tells him, before saying that "it was no accident" that he got sick. "You've been running from the truth for ten years." Waterston looks at his lap, and tells Scully that she was "all [he] lived for." She brushes this aside and tells him that he needs to make a lot up to NotJorja. "That's [NotJorja] talking, not you," Waterston says. Well. He's enormously arrogant. Has he even asked if she's involved with anyone? Now that you mention it, actually, is she involved with anyone? In the conventional sense of the term? I mean, if she and Mulder did have sex in this episode, was it the first time, or just the first time we saw it? Well, sort of. You know what I mean. Although that's something we're never going to know for sure, anyway. Scully finally just tells Waterston that she's "not the same person." And that she wouldn't have known that if they hadn't seen each other again. NotJorja, having heard all this, finally steps into the frame. Scully licks her lips, pats Waterston on the leg, and leaves.

Scully sits on a bench outside the hospital, thinking. Two nuns walk past in the background. Scully is perfectly still, as everything moves around her. Soon, she sees Blonde Ponytail walking right past her, smug smile and all. Scully leaps up and goes running after her. This time, she catches up and grabs Ponytail's arm, pulling her around. And...she's Mulder. What does that mean? That everything Scully's been chasing is Mulder? That that which distracts her is Mulder? That she needs to pay closer attention to Mulder? That Mulder is...a woman? "Hey," he greets her mildly. "Mulder?" Scully asks. He says that he was just looking for her. Don't ask how he knew to look at the hospital. On the other hand, everyone on this show ends up in the hospital on practically a semi-weekly basis, so it's was probably his best bet after all. Anyway, the crop circles were a bust. "Big waste of time," he says. Mulder's wearing a baseball cap that reads "Stonehenge Rocks!" Hee. "Maybe sometimes nothing happens for a reason, Mulder," Scully muses. He wrinkles his brow. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, not rudely. "Nothing," Scully responds, and smiles. "Come on. I'll make you some tea."

Mulder's place. The kids have their feet up on the coffee table, drinking tea and shooting the shit. Scully looks really tired. Mulder finds her entire adventure very hard to believe. She doesn't know what he means. "The part where I go away for two days and your whole life changes," he explains. "I didn't say my whole life changed," Scully slurs. I think Mulder slipped a mickey into her tea. "Speaking to God in a Buddhist temple, God speaking back?" Mulder asks. Scully shrugs that she didn't say she spoke to God. She said she had a vision. "For you, that's like saying you're having David Crosby's baby," Mulder snarks. Oh, honey. You have no idea how hairy that entire issue is about to get. Scully smiles thoughtfully. "I almost considered spending my whole life with this man. What I would have missed," she says. It's not a question. "I don't think you can know," Mulder says. "I mean, how many different lives would we be leading if we made different choices? We don't know." Scully nods sleepily. "What if there was only one choice? And all the other ones were wrong?" she asks. "And there were signs along the way to pay attention to?" Mulder makes a thoughtful expression. "And all the choices would then lead to this very moment," he muses. "One wrong turn and we wouldn't be sitting here together." Scully, clearly mightily turned on by her hot, hot partner, just falls asleep. "Well, that says a lot," Mulder says to himself. "That says lot, a lot, a lot. It's probably more than we should be getting into at this late hour," he continues, turning to look at her. She's out cold. Mulder stares at her face and very gently (and, it must be said, rather intimately) moves a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Moby kicks out the jams one last time, as Mulder fixes Scully with a rather intense, schmoopy look, then covers her with a blanket and tucks her in very carefully. He watches her sleep for a long moment, before we pan to the fish tank as he gets off the sofa. The fish swim around merrily as we pan across the floor to the corner of Mulder's living room. A small gold Buddha shines in the darkness.