The Cave's X-Files Commentary Archives:  Episodes:  3

Post by Littljoe:

Those of us without FX were privileged to see "3" last Sunday night, which for me was the first time I had seen it in several years, and I wanted to make a few general comments on it, with everyone's indulgence. 

I know there were a lot of fans who were wildly upset at this episode, since of course Mulder becomes involved with someone other than Scully, and I myself was unsettled when I saw it the first time (way back when it was new). But if we can put aside our distress at seeing Mulder with "someone else," I think we can see that this is a really *good* episode. Seeing it at several years' remove and with the new perspectives that the people on this forum have given me, I realized that there is something else, extremely serious, going on here. 

When we first see Mulder, six months have gone by since Scully was abducted, and he has not been in his office. (Where has he been? What on earth has he been doing? As far as I know, we never find out.) The phone rings, and he is off and running. Well, not running, exactly--he seems barely able to stand up. This surely was one of the episodes that gave David the reputation of being expressionless; comparing him to the animated, bright-eyed zealot we had come to love in the first season is heartbreaking. This is not even remotely the same person. He reports bitterly that he didn't even check into his motel, because he never sleeps. Instead he seems to be sleepwalking through his life, more than half dead--and appropriately so, because what starts out as an attempt to get back into the routine of investigations becomes, very quickly, a man face to face with his own death wish. What we see is the horrifying spectacle of a man offering himself up to death--which refuses to take him. 

It seems very clear that Mulder gets involved in this case because he wants to find the "vampires" and put himself in their path; but it not until he goes to the nightclub that he understands this himself. The scene there is truly queasy, because we see Mulder, formerly so engaged in life, knowingly seduced by the erotic power of what certainly must be the ultimate perversion--aroused by the prospect of blood and death. Though he refuses Kristin at this point, we can see in his eyes--when she leaves with her next victim--the moment when he really understands what he wants and why he came here. 

When Mulder waits for Kristin in her house at night, ostensibly to warn or protect her, he knows exactly what he is doing. This is not just a lonely, guilty, grief-stricken man looking for some emotional and physical release; he is beyond exhaustion in every sense of the word, and he just wants it all to stop. He actually believes that she is a vampire ("What I believe you to be"). He knows what has happened to other men who have been with her, and willingly accepts that this will happen to him as well. The moment we see that he is actually *wearing* (not just carrying) Scully's cross is a real jolt--we have to assume that he has been wearing it the whole time, under his suit and tie, like a secret message to himself--"don't forget why you deserve to die." He wants to take Scully with him on this journey--he wants her somehow to understand. He keeps it on even after undressing to shave, even while making love to Kristin. (I wouldn't be surprised if, in these despairing moments, a part of him savors the thought of being found dead wearing the cross--this is a message he could not communicate while still alive.) 

When he prevents Kristin from tasting his blood, and refuses to taste hers, he says it is for her sake--"Aren't you afraid?" and "That's not who you are." But he *does* believe that's who she is--he has seen what she does. I believe it's much darker than that. I think he doesn't want to exchange blood because he does *not* want to live forever; he wants to die, he wants to be her victim. And it's very likely that Kristin understands this--she does seem to be somewhat psychic. But, of course, decides to save him, at the cost of her own life; she knows the only way to save him is to persuade him that he is saving her. But in the process she deprives him of the only purpose he had left. 

No wonder, at the beginning of *One Breath, we see him lying in the dark, completely without will or purpose. No wonder, as he tells Skinner, he "hates what he has become." No wonder he lies in wait to kill Scully's abductors--blood and death still seem, to him, the only way out--if not his death, then the deaths of those who have hurt him and Scully. It is only when he decides to be with Scully and help her rather than give in to death, that the cloud is lifted from him. Though he does not know it yet, by choosing life over death he has redeemed himself. He has done for Scully what he could not do for Samantha: he has brought her back, and he did it by turning his back on death. 

Though a lot of fans would like to ignore "3" because of its unsettling implications, (or simply because they think that Mulder is being a "bad boy" or somehow betraying Scully), I think it has a crucial place in the abduction arc. It helps us to understand a lot about Mulder, and his feelings about Scully and about himself. And we can understand, looking ahead, his feelings at the end of *Gethsemane, when it must seem that it is all happening again; when once again, he can save Scully only by resisting the power of death and corruption. And Mulder has never been so tempted again. Since *Gethsemane I think we have seen him grow in strength and purpose, resisting despair and self-blame, having learned something from these experiences. 

Well, there's my humble opinion. A lot of you will probably disagree violently with me on this analysis. If so, speak up! I would love to hear what you think. 


LoneThinker (bardsmaid) replies:

V-e-r-y interesting, Littljoe. I must admit I've always found this one intriguing in its own way, and I don't suffer from the reject-it-because-Mulder-ends-up-with-someone-other-than-Scully syndrome. As you point out, that particular emotional firestorm keeps people from seeing the character development that occurs within this ep.

Now, after reading your post, I went back and watched it twice (plus little mini-rewinds of key scenes). I even watched the Ascension-3-One Breath sequence. Your theory is really well-put and thought out; however, I just didn't see what you saw. I did see a Mulder who was reduced to a mere shadow of his former self, the exuberance gone, the 'life' drained from him. He finds himself, once Scully is taken away, less than he had been before he met her (which I think is why he reacts so explosively at the hospital once she reappears; even here he has caught an inkling of the significance she holds for him.)

As you say, some have pointed to this ep as David at the height (depth?) of non-acting, and yet I think what we are really seeing is Mulder in the depths of non-being, totally lacking in purpose. I don't think any of us, unless we have been in this situation, probably has much of a grasp of exactly what it would be like to have someone missing in that way, month after month going by but no word, no sign. Not definitively dead, but not alive (to us) either. You hear it said that the not knowing is worse than finding out they are dead, and I think this state of mind is reflected in Mulder, augmented by the fact that he feels some degree of responsibility for her disappearance.

Mulder is going through the motions--after all, he still has to pay the rent--but that is all. I think there are elements that draw him into this case. In the police station he listens to John's soliloquy about how death is final, that he sees it in people's faces at the moment of their death; that there is nothing beyond--no afterlife, nothing. From what I can see on his face, this doesn't hold any fascination/attraction for Mulder. There is a little gulp there, a little swallow, as if perhaps he is thinking of Scully and her fate. And obviously we are meant to see the connection between Scully and this episode, because it is brought up pointedly on several occasions ("I don't sleep anymore" and "An FBI agent without a partner?") Obviously her loss has drained him of life as well, but I don't see a death wish manifest in what David shows us. After all, if Mulder really wanted to die, wouldn't it be a lot easier to just put his service revolver to his head? Why go through all the elaborate choreography?

Mulder goes to the club in search of John's accomplices. Yes, he is immediately attracted to Kristin. There may be a certain element of morbidity to it; the first shots we see of Kristin make her skin look very pasty (dead?) in contrast to the very red lipstick (this could have been the lighting, but it strikes me as something that may have been intentional on the part of the director.) But if this is so, then he is toying with morbid thoughts, putting a toe in the water, so to speak. And as we see in the scene where she offers him a taste of her blood, he can't go through with it. Which leaves him with the physical attraction, and I think something additional right there behind it in the shadows.

I believe at this point Mulder needs something to let him know he's alive, and his attraction to Kristin does this--or at least, at this juncture, holds the promise of it. It's something beyond mere emotional and physical release, although I am not discounting--or diminishing--the physical component here. Nothing makes you feel like a zombie more than extended hopelessness--when you have nothing to look forward to, not a speck of anything on the horizon, not a single reason to believe tomorrow will bring anything more than the gray nothing of today. (I know this first-hand from two years spent living in extreme poverty. You will latch onto whatever gives you that feeling of being truly alive.)

And in addition to this, Kristen offers him understanding. She recognizes right away that he's lost someone, and she discerns exactly who it is. This is the type of thing guaranteed to make Mulder sit up and take notice. And feel that he has connected in some way. By the time we find him waiting in her house at night, he understands that Kristen is not in fact a vampire. He puts this together from the bread filled with blood--a sign that she is trying to protect herself--and the history of moves she has made, always leaving where John and the others have followed her.

Of course, it's not his only motive for being there. The voice he uses, even when showing his ID, is definitely not an FBI voice. The lack of tie and the unbuttoned shirt are obvious giveaways (Sara Stegall, in her review, speaks of David's ability to "peel the paint from the walls" in this scene.) But what's going on here is not very Mulder as we know him. Does he tend to fall into bed with suspects on a whim, or as a release from the constant tensions in his life? This is why I see something larger going on here. In the same way that people are known to say, "Pinch me so I know this is really happening," Mulder is seeking to know--feel--that he's not walking dead. Kristen has given him a taste of that already, and he wants more, craves more. He is tired--so tired, worn, exhausted--by zombiehood, in the same way she is tired of running.

Her story of childhood abuse, I think, only serves to support the theory in Mulder's mind that she is not indeed a vampire (I think this is what he's told himself he had come here to prove), but rather a victim trying in some way to compensate for her past experience by taking on this wished-for role. This is why he stops her from tasting his blood; it is why he tells her, "It's not who you are. It doesn't make you happy." It's a declaration that she is normal, acceptable and, yes, desirable. (Before he says the line about, "...what I believe you to be," he has told her that John has picked up others, that they are three again--complete (complete without her)--thereby implying that she is not one of them. I think his "what I believe you to be..." refers to his theory that she is merely an unhappy human trying to cope with her past, and if you look carefully, after he says this line, she gives him a sudden, small, angry look and then walks away.)

If Mulder is indeed seeking out this aliveness (back to Joseph Campbell and the goal of the quest being the essential experience "of BEING alive'--not "finding the meaning of life"), it doesn't speak to a death wish. Yes, I think he wants the pain to be gone, and the loss, but everyone at some point has to deal with pain and loss. Beyond this I think he wants--yearns--to feel life again in all its throbbing vibrancy; after all, vibrancy is what he had once, way back in the Pilot where he stopped the car by the X he 'd made on an Oregon road, nearly danced his way back to it and exulted, "Not in this zip code!"

In the end, of course, Kristen hasn't the strength to escape her situation. She decides to join John and the others by taking the life of a believer--her own life. (Of course, she has to trick Mulder to do this, realizing--even for as little as she knows him--that he will not let her take her own life if he has the power to intervene.)

So at the end Mulder has seemingly lost again, another in the long string of losses he has suffered: of his sister, of Scully, of the tantalizing evidence he seeks that seems always to disappear before he can show anybody. And in this state of deepened hopelessness he reaches out to the only thing that seems now to offer a faint glimmer of hope: his partner, who has not actually been proven to be dead. He touches her cross, as if somehow it may give him some tiny but perceptible connection to her, something he can feel and follow to wherever she is.

Hadn't thought of this until just now, but the scene in his office at the beginning now strikes me as indicative of hope, too, however faint. The office is covered in plastic when he comes in, his calendar is six months behind. But he does come in--however wearily--and he does flip the calendar until it's current. But what I find most significant is the necklace. He has not been wearing it all this time. It has been in the envelope with her glasses and ID. It is only at this point, in the office, that Mulder makes the conscious decision to take it from the other things and wear it himself. For as tired and wearied as he is, he has reached out here to a glimmer of hope, however faint, and he returns to this very same symbol at the end.

Well, that's my take on what I saw here. Glad you put out your theory and made me go back and consider this whole thing again, and that you pointed out the continuity aspect of the arc, which we don't always remember to take into account. (And isn't it great to be able to say, "If you don't agree with me, I'd be glad to hear what you think"! It says something--a lot, I think--about this group.) Thanks again, Littljoe, for an impetus to thought. Feel free to rebut my position if you like. 


Zuffy's response: Sex, Life, and Death

Thanks for a really good discussion, everyone. The first time I saw 3 (without understanding the sequence or context) I really hated it. Since then it has improved with watching and your analyses really help. I'm torn between what Littljoe and LT have each written and find myself thinking about the complex cultural interplay of sex, death, and life. Considered in this frame, the apparent opposites of Mulder seeking life/Mulder seeking death seem less exclusive. 

There is a large tradition in which sex and death are tied together: by disease, by the "moment of oblivion," and the temporary loss of self, to name just three, along with the long history of sex-related murder. (And of course, there are those insects that eat each other when they can't find the Morleys.) The links between sex and life are equally well-known, procreation, affirmation of life force (the throbbing vibrancy), and affirmation of connection. Since a number of these things come into play here, I can't easily see that Mulder is seeking death or life exclusively. I believe that he has gravitated to a need for human connection to escape from zombiehood, and in this instance that connection takes a sexual form. I say gravitated rather than decided, because I think he is very much pulled along to Kristen without much energy to decide clearly and forcefully. And I think that in doing so he seems to accept that a connection carries the risk of loss (his or another's death at the extreme) as well as the promise of life/reinvigoration. 

When the program opens, he returns to his office as the X-Files are finally reopened, having been shut down after the Ehrlenmeyer Flask. He does seem very tired and washed out, almost drained of emotion. In an ironic touch, there is a trio here for Mulder. At the end of LGM he told Scully that he could continue because he had his quest for truth, he had her, and he had himself. Of those three things, only one is left and we see how insufficient that one element is. As LT said he is less now than he was before Scully arrived. He was a loner because a vital connection was severed in childhood, but even as a loner he found he was not sufficient unto himself after all. The part of his soul that found its counterpart in Scully seems to have been abducted with her. (What has he been doing all this time? My guess is that he has been back at the desk eavesdropping criminal conversations, a mind-numbing task for someone whose soul has also been numbed.) 

We are shocked, I think, to see Scully reduced to a file, a case number, a slim folder of items shut away in a dead office. The first reaction to the visual is to think that he shut her away, almost as though she were just another case. Impossible! In recovering the necklace, I think he had determined to reaffirm his connection with her, although at this point I'm not sure whether we can tell whether he believes it to be a connection in life or death. But I think it is safe to assume that until this moment even the symbol of Scully had possibly been too painful to contemplate. It is conceivable that he has been living in a state like death before this moment, without connection. The recovery of the necklace is to me a symbol of his willingness to begin feeling again even if the feeling is guilt and risk.

Mulder enters the case unbidden; the pattern of killing is something he has seen before. He is fascinated by it, but I don't think he has any intention of putting himself in the path of the vampires until he meets Kristen. When he encounters her in the club, he says, "normal is not what I feel." On first viewing, I thought he was telegraphing that he felt turned on by her. On rewatching I see a double meaning: he is teased by attraction, but it is a simultaneous willingness and reluctance to feel. Doesn't he seem to be thinking about feeling rather than feeling? She zeroes in on the fact that he has lost someone, "Not a lover, a friend," and senses his void. She offers him connection--a feeling of life--through what she knows, the exchange of blood. But this is not the connection he needs or seeks. He responds not to that offer, but rather to the sense that she has understood something about him. How much is he willing to risk for that sense of connection and exactly what will he risk? Will he risk death? Yes. To risk his life is almost routine. Will he risk his soul? 

Blood is a key element here, another symbol of life and death. Mulder rejects the exchange of blood not because it is risky or weird, but because it involves the symbolic consumption of the other. For the vampires, the consumption is not only symbolic; their lives depend on it. For Kristen and the other denizens of the club, blood is eroticized, predatory, and dangerous. It mimics vampirism: the pursuit of life through the obliteration of the other. It also increases risk of disease. In short, drinking blood tips the balance toward sex-death away from sex-life, taking the participant to a dangerous edge: Kristen says 'blood tastes dangerous.' (Of course, there is a religious side of the symbols of trinity and drinking blood, but I am not the right person to get into that.) Mulder rejects this. Although he is not afraid of danger to himself (and without Scully, death may hold less threat), he does not seek alive-ness through danger and his hunger is not to drain another. Quite the contrary. 

Once he confirms that she is not a vampire, he dismisses the other police, and sets on his course. And what is that? To protect her, I think (a penance for his failures? a rekindling of his compassion?) and to free her, but clearly also to feed his own needs. In turn, he offers her a connection that does not involve consuming the other person, thereby demonstrating to her that the taste of death is not necessary to feel alive. For him, the seduction substitutes for the connection he is missing (the deep friendship) without being its precise equivalent. Mulder has his pornographic outlets, but interestingly they do not come into play here, being impersonal and commodified.

I'm not sure when exactly, but she decides to save him. She realizes that because he is a believer, the others will make him their third victim. I wonder if she also thinks that she cannot give him what he needs (a friend, not a lover) to restore his soul. So she tricks him and sacrifices herself to end the cycle. 

God, what a ramble. So, here's what I am saying. He needs a connection again, first by reclaiming Scully's cross, then by his liaison with Kristen. The connection is life-seeking in each case, I think, but accepting of the possibility of death without particular regret. Yet even if death were the outcome of his liaison with Kristen, it would be without compromising his refusal to become a predator. That is the decision he reaches here, despite temptation. That is the same decision that he eventually reaches in One Breath where the temptation is even greater. Scully's cross around his neck might not have protected him from the vampires. But it symbolizes his decision to remain the person he had been with her. 


Littljoe responds:

This reply is mainly to the long posts by LT and Zuffy, but I want to thank everyone for their input here, and apologize for taking so long to come back (holidays, you know). Special thanks to 11-13 and Y Indy J for setting the chronology right, and reminding me that Mulder spent several months working out of "the office" before Scully disappeared. I agree, the statement in *Emily has to be a simple continuity error. 

Thanks for all your great input--this is a fascinating discussion for me. The idea of Mulder's death wish did not come to me in a rational fashion, but rather in a kind of Gestalt leap about halfway through the episode--I suddenly said to myself, "This is a man who wants to die, even though he doesn't fully realize it himself." Then, with that idea in mind, I went back and tried to figure out what clues (some virtually subliminal, some more obvious) had brought me to that conclusion. And though I really appreciate everything you said about his need for connection, his willingness to begin feeling again, and though I agree with many of your points, I cannot find enough reason to give up the gut feeling that led me to my conclusion. Let me try to expand on my ideas--and yours-- just a little bit. I apologize in advance if this post is a little disjointed and repetitious here and there--I am having a hard time working all your excellent comments into any kind of a cohesive narrative. 

First of all, LT, I want to respond to your statement that a person will "latch onto anything that makes you feel truly alive." I couldn't agree more, if this were normal circumstances, but for Mulder these are not normal circumstances. I don't think his guilt is at all mitigated by the fact that other people were involved in Scully's disappearance, any more than his guilt over Samantha's disappearance is lessened by the fact that he didn't cause it. In both cases, he feels overwhelming guilt over the fact that something happened to someone he loved because of him, because of his very existence. Samantha was taken right from under his nose, and he was unable to defend her (at this point he doesn't know yet that his father chose Samantha, rather than him--if he had known that, it would have been even worse). This is classic survivor guilt; but Scully's case is even worse. Scully was taken because she continued to work with him, even though she was not supposed to, even though Mulder had been warned that they were risking their lives in doing so. In his statements to Skinner in *Ascension, and later to Melissa in *One Breath, it is clear that he feels completely responsible for Scully's abduction; he sees now, too late, that he had a right to risk his own life, but not hers. This overwhelming load of guilt would be enough to put almost anyone into the emotional state we see in *3. 

My most important reason for my opinion, I think, has to do with something you have repeatedly stressed, LT, and rightly so: Mulder is a doer. Though he is very intuitive, and very much a thinker, in the end he needs to do something about his feelings in order to be a whole person. But the very first sight you see of Mulder in *3, and the impression that you carry all the way through, is that he no longer can find the strength to do anything. To borrow the catch phrase from *Ice, he is no longer who he is. He is not the cause of anything that happens in this story--he only responds, reacts, and even that in a very passive, enervated fashion. He is not just, as you said, reduced to a shadow of his former self--he is altered virtually beyond recognition. Your point that his behavior with Kristin "isn't very Mulder"--that he doesn't normally fall into bed with suspects as a release--is very true. (As far as we know, he hasn't fallen in bed with anyone for a very long time; and after this episode, that drought continues! But that's another subject. There's a little more on it later in this post.) To me, that just makes this occurrence all the more dramatic, and is all the more support for my idea that he is working on something very self-destructive here. 

When he goes to Kristin's house, whether or not he thinks she is a vampire is moot. He knows that if she isn't a real vampire, she pimps for the real ones--he knows her lovers wind up dead, and he knows how, with or without raspberry sauce. (I think it's significant that for him, finding out she is not a vampire doesn't seem to make any difference at all, nor does her anger at being taken for one seem to register with him. It doesn't matter.) It seems a thin thread of hope to hang on to, that she would somehow care more for him than for any other victim, just because he says he wants to protect her, or because they have both lost someone. When he decides to be with her, if he is not actively seeking death, he is at the very least accepting it, opening himself to that (very likely) possibility with no protest. He even falls asleep in her house--making himself as vulnerable as he could possibly be. Once again I have to emphasize, he knows what Kristin does; he knows that if her vampires do come, the end will be inevitable, painful, horrifying, degrading. This is not accepting a risk. This is opening oneself to the very likely possibility of destruction; this is presenting oneself as a victim. 

(He also knows that for their third victim, they will choose a "true believer," and he knows he fits that description!) 

LT, you mention that Mulder could just put his gun to his head. This is true, and we see him coming close that in *Redux. However, that again would be the action of a doer, which he is NOT right now. At this point, I think he is so exhausted, so completely lacking in purpose and direction, that even that avenue is closed to him. He projects all the signs of an accident waiting to happen--someone who wants to be a victim, someone who wants to be taken, not someone who has the will to go on his own. I think this is why, as you noticed, he doesn't look interested or or attracted when John talks about his death; but notice that he doesn't show his usual cockiness, either, and does not come up with his usual smart remark. He does say something like, "It's more likely I will be watching you in the electric chair," but he says it with none of his accustomed energy, as if by rote. 

When Kristin wakes him up, saying "You have to go," he replies simply, "Are they here?" Once again, there is no emotion in his voice, neither fear nor eagerness nor shame at falling asleep. After all, if they are there, it's too late to leave! But she says they have to go because of the fire, and he quickly springs into action. Why? Because the fire would kill her too, and that's not what he wants at all. Here, and again later when she sends him back to get John, Kristin tricks him into being saved by letting him think that he is saving her. LT, you noticed this as well. 

I agree with you, Zuffy, that putting Scully's file in the cabinet is not to shut her away, or to sever his connection with her, but I am not so sure that taking the cross symbolizes his willingness to feel again. He has the cross in his hand, considering, when the phone rings; but it is not until he hears about/gets involved in this case that he puts it on. In other words, there is a strong indication that wearing the cross is somehow connected with this case in particular, and relates to what I said before--that he wants Scully with him on this *particular* journey. It is very significant that he does not carry the cross, but actually wears it, as Scully did. Why does he WEAR her cross during this case? Why does he put it on AFTER he hears exactly what case this is, and recognizes the criminals? I think it is not to remember her, not to reaffirm life, but to take her along, to be WITH HER. And she is most certainly "lost," and very likely dead. 

Zuffy, I like your statement that what he is seeking is connection, without caring where it leads. That's beautifully stated, and I pretty much agree with it. However, this attitude is hardly one that is found in people who really want to live. His essential passivity, so different from his usual self, is what is so striking in his relationship with Kristin. If he is seeking a connection, he isn't seeking very hard--he doesn't even expend the energy necessary to come on to her, he just puts himself in her way and waits for her to make her move--or not. He can't respond to her in the night club, but he follows her and spies on her activities with a man who can. How passive is that? (Parenthetically, I must comment that, out of all the indications we have of "Mulder on the edge" in this ep, the sight of him sinking to voyeurism really turned my stomach most of all. He didn't know she was involved with the vampires at that point--he couldn't even claim that he thought the guy was in danger. Porn is one thing, but this was real--and sickening.) Interestingly enough, it is his very passivity that makes him so sexy here. He is so lost! When he steps out of the shadows in Kristin's house, looking disheveled, exhausted, guilty and lonely, and with his every movement, word, and tone of voice saying, "Do with me what you will"--Good Lord! Who wouldn't try to save him? His hunger is not to drain another, that's true. His hunger is to be drained--metaphorically and in actuality to be drained of life, to be GIVEN (not to take) a way out--and that's my point. 

Both of you point out how he emphatically refuses to let Kristin taste his blood, saying "It's not who you are--it doesn't make you happy." By this time, yes, he realizes she is not a real vampire, that she is simply a lonely, victimized, and very perverse human being, and the impulse to save her kicks in, the same way as it does with other female victims and suspects he has encountered before, and will encounter in the future (we can all think of examples. One in particular (*Oubliette) even had a blood connection as well.) I suspect he wants, after hearing her story, to protect her from any actual blood guilt in his death, if it should occur--he does NOT want a blood connection between them. I also suspect that he would find a blood connection between them much too intimate, because although sex--and death--are involved here, intimacy is not. But at this point, he couldn't very well tell her that. 

The connections between sex, blood, life, death, and intimacy are, as Zuffy points out, ancient and powerful ones--older than humanity itself--and so complex that all kinds of permutations of meaning are possible. The deep symbolic connections between blood, death and guilt are, I think, why Mulder puts himself in the way of this case--it appeals to his dark frame of mind and, on an unconscious level, to his desire for oblivion. When he encounters Kristin, sex becomes part of the mix as well. In Kristin's case, blood and death have become inextricably linked with sex, to the point where sensation is impossible without risk. Mulder's feelings are a variation on that theme, I think, with a guilty twist--his openness to death, his lack of purpose, render him open to sexual arousal in a way that seems difficult for him when he is "himself" (that's also another question, another angle on sex and death, and of marginal appropriateness for this forum!). Maybe this is part of what Mulder means when he says, "Normal is not how I feel," and why he feels this instant attraction for Kristin (and you're right, LT, about her "corpse-like" appearance!) and this perverse curiosity about what she does (she twice tells him, "You want to know.") Perhaps part of Scully's ultimate purpose in Mulder's life will be to cut these connections in his mind between sex and oblivion, to allow him to feel the connections instead between sex, love, and life. 

Does anyone want to comment on the look on Mulder's face when Kristin says "I hope you find her"? It is so complex--a mixture of surprise, despair, and hope. Does he think Kristin is indicating that Scully may still be alive? Is he thinking, No, I never will? Is he thinking that he can only find her by dying, or becoming "lost" himself, and that Kristin can help? I incline toward the latter, of course, but that is such an interesting look, there is an awful lot there. 

As to how this episode fits into the arc, I think, like both of you, that it is here to show that Scully is the only one who can make him whole. Yes, Kristin saves his life, but she has not saved HIM, and the effort to save her has not saved him, either; we can see that at the beginning of *One Breath. Only saving Scully can save him. I agree, Zuffy, that at the end of *3 he decides to remain the person he had been with Scully (what a beautiful phrase; I love it!); but I think that decision would have been impossible for him to carry out if Scully had not returned, if he had not had a chance to save her. I couldn't agree more, LT, about his "explosive reaction" when she shows up at the hospital--he has more than an inkling, he KNOWS this may be his best and only chance to get right with himself.

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