Sometimes Scully looked at him as if she had forgotten herself, as if she could get lost in his eyes. At the moment she was not giving him that look. There was tenderness in her face, but also a strange regret. It was the look of a lover seen through a train window, and it chilled him to the bone.

"Hey, where are you?" he asked.

She shook her head. The strands of her bangs felt like raw silk drawn between their skin. "It's nothing."



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