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[Nighttime at a baseball field; Mulder is wearing a "Grays" jersey, hitting balls thrown by a pitching machine.]Scully: So, uh... I get this message marked "urgent" on my answering service from one "Fox Mantle" telling me to come down to the park for a very special very early or very late birthday present. And, Mulder... I don't see any nicely wrapped presents lying around so, what gives?Mulder: You've never hit a baseball, have you, Scully?Scully: No, I guess I have, uh... found more necessary things to do with my time than- (a foul ball hits the fence; she jumps) slap a piece of horsehide with a stick.Mulder: Get over here, Scully. (he holds the bat out to her, she takes it, but he keeps his hands on it, wrapping his arms around her and holding the bat with her, around her hands)Scully: (warily, not thrilled) This my birthday present, Mulder? You shouldn't have.Mulder: This ain't cheap. I'm paying that kid ten bucks an hour to shag balls. Hey, it's not a bad piece of ash, huh? (gives him a "Look.")The bat - talking about the bat. Now, don't strangle it. You just want to shake hands with it. (doing silly voices) "Hello, Mr. Bat. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." "Oh, no, no, Ms. Scully. The pleasure's all mine." (she laughs, and they hold onto the bat) Okay, now, we want to... we want to go hips before hands, okay? (holds his hand a few inches from her hip) We want to stride forward and turn. That's all we're thinking about. So, we go hips... before hands, all right? (gingerly touches her hip and, with his hands and his own hips pressed against her, turns her correctly)Scully: Okay.Mulder: One more time. (he touches and turns her hips more confidently) Hips... before hands, all right?Scully: Yeah.Mulder: What is it?Scully: Hips before hands.Mulder: (speaking right into her ear) Right. We're going to wait on the pitch. We're going to keep our eye on the ball. Then, we're just going to make contact. We're not going to think. We're just going to let it fly, Scully, okay?Scully: Mm-hmm.Mulder: Ready? (he tries to readjust their grips on the bat; they struggle with it for a moment)Scully: I'm in the middle. (gets her hands back between his; both grining)Mulder: All right, fire away, Poorboy. (a ball comes at them; they hit it together) Ooh! That's good. All right, what you may find is you concentrate on hitting that little ball... The rest of the world just fades away - all your everyday, nagging concerns.[Scully giggles; they continue hitting the ball.]Mulder: The ticking of your biological clock. (hit) How you probably couldn't afford that nice, new suede coat on a G-Woman's salary. (hit) How you threw away a promising career in medicine... (intimately into her ear) to hunt aliens with a crackpot, albeit brilliant, partner.[She gives him another "Look"]Mulder: Getting into the heart of a global conspiracy. Your obscenely overdue triple-X bill. Oh, I... I'm sorry, Scully. Those last two problems are mine, not yours. (hit)Scully: (smiling happily) Shut up, Mulder. I'm playing baseball.[They continue to hit the balls. Scully laughs. As the balls fly up into the black, star-studded night sky, we see them turn into shooting stars.]

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