It's not fair in the slightest. It's terminally unfair, arrestingly unfair, and he doesn't regret asking, because hearing it like this is everything. Mulder realizes he's grinning, a stupid wide smile that's reserved only for Scully and when the Knicks beat the Bulls.

And since she's been willing to say it, the whole thing, the exact phrase they've skirted around for years of their lives, he rewards her in turn. "You know what I thought when you first came down to the basement, Scully? Why couldn't they have found an ugly spy? Instead, they found a genius with great legs and banished her to my office.

"I'm not going to lie to you and say I loved you even then, but it wasn't that long after." He'd been drawn to her back then, and maybe that wasn't too far off. Fascination turning to love, given time and a few well-placed near-death experiences. More seriously, his gaze turning intent: "I'd say it every day if I thought you'd want that. I love you. I love you, and the thought of getting back to you was the only thing keeping me alive some days."