It's an odd dilemma, trying to decide whether it's a violation of her own privacy to open this box. Mulder seems certain of what they'll find-- which means she can venture at least a vague guess.

The thing is... this isn't going to explain why his Scully is gone, or why she's here. Of that, she's nearly certain-- because it's not going to contain the remote control for a time machine, or a notarized deal with the devil, or anything like that. What is here, probably, is a record of a life she left. And for that-- she could just ask. Maybe that's what she should have done.

But they're here, the box in hand, and it feels like there's only one possible answer.

"I didn't think I had a future, Mulder," she says quietly, keenly aware of the space between her eyes, the time bomb still ticking away. "I think-- we should look," she says decisively.