His gaze is soft-edged and sad, the face of a man who never expected to see her again. (Well, occasionally. Probably occasionally, if only to justify the medication he hates taking. Not like this, though.)

"Maybe you'll write a case report." He's speaking a language he set down years ago. Even as he marinates in the search for the truth - all day, every day - he's long since lost the trappings of their Bureau lifestyle. His is the world of newspaper clippings and endless internet arguments. "When do you belong, Scully? What were we doing?"

It probably won't help them solve the mystery of her presence, but at least he'll know what to expect from her.