Chapter Text
She inspects the reflection on the mirror with the same absorption she gives corpses, and the secrets their cold bodies whisper. They speak of their lives as vehemently as their deaths and it’s one of the myriad of reasons she decided on forensic pathology, years ago, because she’s adept with secrets– having them and keeping them. She chose forensic pathology the way that she chose Mulder: part instinct, part fate, part desire.
The woman staring back at her has aged, undoubtedly yet beautifully. There are subtle lines that mark her countenance, both from laughter and from regret. Her face has thinned, the way that a mother’s face does, despite the fact that she has lost both children to inconceivable circumstances and has been robbed of the right and privilege of raising them.
She knows he is coming with questions. She knows he won’t be satisfied with her answers, but she also knows he will stand too close and try to breathe her in and think she hasn’t noticed. The colour of her scrubs is plum. She’s decided to forgo clothing underneath, aware that he will catch her concealed nakedness but not acknowledge it until he is ready. Until she opens the door for him and lets him in to wash away the current case and the past altercations with his body and his tongue.
They have both aged. Excruciatingly. The wear and tear of growth has marked them and bound them inextricably together. When she allows him to kiss her again, she knows that the creases in their foreheads will align. That when she sighs into his mouth, the hard angles of their features will soften, and for a moment they’ll be back in Hegel Place, where once upon a time the soothing glow of a fish tank shimmered over their bodies, and filled them with the giddy prospect of their future together.