|In the bedroom, she's singing Will the
"good morning" song. Eyes brimming, Mulder pictures the
toothless smile that she's no doubt getting in response. Staring into
the bathroom mirror, he jams the smile into his consciousness, squeezing
memory shut like a worn-out suitcase.
He won't hear Scully sing tomorrow. Will's delighted grin will be lost to him.
He turns away from the mirror and loosens the tie to his pajama pants, dropping the warm cotton to the floor, breathing in the rich smell of lovemaking, of Scully coming, of him coming with her.
Their last time together. He shivers in the cold.
The glass door tracks open, sharp-edged and glittering. Scorching rain scours his flesh.
Erasing her essence. Carrying her away.
He watches water circling the drain.
The sobs begin almost immediately. He presses himself against the wall.
The shower spits tiny bullets. He keens without making a sound.
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