Damn fucking awkward question, anyway, when you stopped to think about it. Much easier to avoid it, since they were both so good at avoiding things. They could just say goodnight, like nothing happened, and open the doors to their separate rooms. Cold rooms. Hard beds. An hour from now she could be lying awake, sleepless and alone, thinking of Mulder on the other side of the wall. One hour from now? Two? Next week? Next month? How many nights? How many years could this drag on? 

Elbows on her knees, Scully dropped her face down into her fists.



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