Eva: This is beautiful, Neil. So? I know you have something to talk about. Spit it out.
Neil launches into a 10-minute nonstop romantic monologue until Eva finally pinches his cheek.
Neil: Ow, ow, OW! Okay, okay! I’ll talk! I’ll talk! Just let my face live!
Neil’s expression shifts from playful happiness to a grave seriousness.
Neil: Do you remember when we worked with Skinner… when it felt like we were assassins for the FBI?
Eva: Yeah. I asked you once, "You have regrets, right?" So? Did you?
Neil: At first, I did. I regretted everything. But now… I don’t. Not anymore. Because my illness is gone. Punch and her father finally found a cure—and they saved people who were suffering from the same illness I had.
Eva: Uh-huh.
Neil: You know… this place. My grandfather used to bring Mom here. Did you know she was just like me?
Eva: Your illness. I know.
Neil: No. I mean… she was a little cold. A little distant. She chose to be an introvert, a person who didn’t really have any friends. Even so… even with all that, she was braver than I’ve ever been. She still let herself fall in love with my dad. She held love in her hands—in all its beautiful, terrible wholeness—and she still chose it. That’s something I’ve never been able to do.
Eva: Neil…
Neil: So… I’m doing it now.
Eva: Doing… what?
Neil: Choosing. Even though I’m terrified. Even though I don’t know how this ends.
Eva looks at him, the noise of the world around them fading into a dull hush. The wind brushes past, carrying the faint scent of lavender and old memories.
Neil: I’ve spent my whole life running from that. Keeping people at a distance. Smiling, joking, pretending I was fine… when really, I was just afraid. Afraid to need anyone. Afraid to let anyone see how much I hurt. But you… you stayed. Even when I pushed you away. Even when I tried to make it easier for you to leave. I don’t know how much time I really have. None of us do. But I know this: I don’t want to leave this world without ever having chosen love. Not really. Not fully. So I’m choosing it. I’m choosing you. With all the mess, all the risk, all the ways this could end badly… I’m still choosing you.
Eva’s throat tightens, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. The air between them feels heavy, charged, like the moment right before a storm breaks.
Eva: You idiot… Is this supposed to be some kind of proposal?
Neil: What? No! This is a highly sophisticated, FDA‑unapproved, side‑effect‑ridden love confession.
Eva: Side effects?
Neil: Chronic hand‑holding, random forehead kisses, severe dependence on your cooking. Also, a 99.9% chance of me being extremely annoying for the rest of your life.
Eva: The rest of my life, huh?
Neil: Yeah. So, purely for medical research purposes… would you, uh, maybe consider signing up to be my lifelong test subject?
Eva: Uh-huh.
Neil: 😫I’m a scientist, Eva! This is as romantic as my lab brain gets!
Eva: …You’re lucky I like nerds.
Neil: So that’s a yes?
Eva: Before I change my mind, Neil.
Neil: Yes!
Eva: Before we go on our adventure, we don’t know what’s waiting for us out there. All these supernatural things could kill people like us. But what I was going to say is… when we retire, and we finally have our own garden… let’s plant some lavender. When the world is peaceful or the end of the world, at least we can have our own little field.
Neil: Yeah... I really like that. Let’s go hunt some aliens!
Eva: Yeah! Peter, Punch, and Mulder have probably been waiting on our dumb asses forever.
Neil: Your nerd.
Eva: Unfortunately, yeah. You’re such a nerd.