*Chapter XXX*

8:35 P.M., 14th and K Streets, Washington, D.C.
Tina Hill rubbed her eyes and glanced up at the crown of 
Dana Scully's head. The pathologist's cheek was propped 
on her forearm, blue eyes blinking with the slow 
deliberation of the newly awake. 

"Your roots are showing." 

"What?" Dana's little jump sent a pen rolling across the 
coffee-stained print-outs in front of her.

"Roots." Tina waggled a lock of hair her raven hair. "My, 
what a lovely shade of light brown." 

Dana scowled as she lifted her head. "Red hair has run in 
my family for generations." 

"Uh-huh. Better living through chemistry. I bet you've 
been dying it since before Quantico. How did you 
manage without me catching you?" 

 "Ah." The corner of her friend's mouth twitched. "You 
know those weekends at home?" 

"You mean the ones where your mom overfed you so you 
couldn't climb rope afterwards?" 

"I hated that rope. But Missy and I..." her voice caught 
for a moment. She cleared her throat. "Missy and I spent 
hours matching the color so the dye jobs wouldn't show." 

Tina grinned. "You phony. Fraud!" 

"Hey, I'm not the one with the padded bra." 

"Heap big injun ought to have heap big boobies to match. 
I'm flat as goddamned board." 

"Tina, a B cup is not flat."

"I think I'm too young to be hearing this," Langly's dry 
voice cut through the familiar neigh of Mr. Ed from the 
corner where the blond had barricaded himself. Hill 
turned, catching the glint of blue television light on his 
plastic lenses. Tina let the chuckle bubble up out of her 
belly, richer and lower than Dana's wild giggle. It only 
lasted a moment, then Dana's smile thinned. Tina's throat 
went tight and a dull ache settled in her chest as Dana 
squeezed her eyes shut. Mr. Ed's stuttering neigh was 
loud over her harsh, fast breathing.

"Mutt, we'll find him." Tina's leaned forward to touch 
Dana's arm. Her voice sounded thick. "I promise I will 
help you find him." 

Hill barely heard her reply. "I know you will." 

Tina's whisper surprised them both. "I really had it bad 
for you." 

Dana's eyes opened to look back, unshrouded for once. 
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I've missed you so much." 

"God, Bunny. Me, too." 

"I...Tina, it all gotten so strange. I thought I knew what 
reality was. I thought he was so wrong, and I'd turn that 
big spotlight on everything and it would all be--" 

"All be nice and clear and true the way you always tried 
to tell me?" Tina smiled. "You were always so sure that 
if you just knew the right things...." 

"I don't know what the right things are anymore. Tina, I 
don't know what's real anymore." Dana swallowed. Her 
small hands spread out, gesturing to the wider space 
around the two women. "Is the world I grew up in real-- 
where God gave us the rules? Is it the physics I learned 
that told me how things would work...could work? Or is 
it the medicine that tells me I just look hard enough why 
things go wrong and how long a body's been dead if? Is it 
this? Is it you?" 

Tina stared, shaking her head in little motions that let her 
keep her eyes on the woman across from her. "Real's 
what you make it, Bunny. Real is...it's the sunrise and 
corn and rain. Real is the wind and sky." 

The laughter that answered her was short and Dana's pale 
features went still again. "Is that it? Mulder always wants 
to find the truth, like everything he has on hand is a lie. 
Or a half-truth. He doesn't know what real was. I don't 
know if anything is real to Mulder. I don't know if 
anything's real to me anymore. Tina, I keep learning 
things and they take it all apart."

Hill answered the voice that had cracked and faded as 
much as she answered its words. "What's real is us and 
the people we care about. And you care about Mulder. 
Real is what this pile of paper tells us and how it gets us 
closer to him. We haven't found it yet. But we will. When 
Byers and the Hickey pull all the Handford stuff out of 
that pile of crap they got today, we'll be closer to the 
truth." 

Dana was staring at her, eyes needy and lost. Hill ached, 
just not able to look away. "Don't ever cut me off again, 
please," she heard herself beg in a whisper.

Dana shook her head. "Never. Not ever."