"Deal." Frozen meatballs, the lingonberry jam, those mashed potatoes that look like packing peanuts when you dump them out of their freezer bags - he won't even need to fix a real dinner, at this rate. More importantly, picking up a couple of chairs for the living room means she's giving him a stake in the way this place looks, even if it's a small one. Heady stuff for a guy who's only been asked inside in the last few weeks.

When he comes back inside, sourdough dumped in the bin along with everything else, Mulder surveys the place. "Any other problems we need to take care of? Closets to clean out, sinks to unclog?"

He doubts it. But damn, he can't ask now what again. He's already made it clear enough that he's not entirely sure where he belongs in this space, even if he's starting to believe he does.