Time has changed them both, but their time apart, somehow, has not changed the way they fit together. Instinctively greedy in her groggy state, Scully leans up into his kisses, shifting to make room for his knees, sliding an arm up over his shoulders. They could spend the day like this: aimlessly together in a nest of blankets until they need to eat again, and then, back to bed.

Ignore all the big questions of what this means, how long she's staying, where they stand: just enjoy each other and the time they have together.

She sighs against his mouth, her other hand stroking his jaw. How can anyone be so lucky-- not just to have this, but to have it again?