All she can do is weep. Taken by surprise, she doesn't have the strength of will to be self-conscious about it; and maybe it's just Mulder finally letting himself come close to her that truly opens the floodgates. She crumples against him, crying over things she doesn't fully understand-- grieving the loss of a child she doesn't know, couldn't anticipate.

It's a story that makes some kind of sense, at least. They had a little girl, they lost her, and it broke them. It's terrible-- but it's understandable; and, admittedly, there's a bit of horrid relief to think that she didn't leave him on a whim.

She couldn't say how long she cried; it leaves her feeling wrung-out, lighter and heavier at the same time.

"When did she die?" she manages to ask eventually, somewhat muffled.