He stands there for another moment or two after her door closes, feeling the press of her fingers still. That's Scully for you - leaving her mark on him at all times, in all ways.

And then he's up all night, trying to figure out if he can figure out where she lives without asking Skinner. It'd be nice to be able to show up in the morning with something worthwhile to show for his work. But Scully's as paranoid as he is, even if she pretends she isn't; she's covered her tracks well. He's not able to turn up much of anything.

When the current Scully, the Scully of the past, wakes, the door to the office is ajar. Mulder's dozing in a computer chair, some incomprehensible search on the screen in front of him. He's probably going to wake up with one hell of a crick in his neck, at this rate.