She's always been a workaholic, but it's different at the hospital. When they were on the x-files the odds were always stacked against them, but in medicine it's sure to be a losing game. The house always wins in the end, and that does take a toll on her. (It's rewarding work. That's the truth-- it's not just something she tells herself-- but it weighs on her, too.)

And... yes. She's happy, or happy enough. It's not the life she'd planned on having-- but that's been off the menu for decades. It's maybe not the life she'd pick now, if she could have anything-- but they aren't good for each other. It's not even that he's not good for her. She thinks maybe that's what he took away from her leaving, and of course he did-- of course that's what it sounded like on his end. That she was trapped and so she was escaping. But neither of them were doing well, living like that. She'd been at a loss to fix it, so she--

Well, she ran away.

It's so strange to sit across from one another like strangers. Like colleagues, at best, except when they were colleagues it was never like this. Objectively it's a good thing that they're able to do this-- that they can stay in each other's lives in some capacity. (That she can keep an eye on him, if only occasionally, from a distance.) But at the same time it's impossible, knowing what they used to have, not to wish for more.

"Maybe we should talk more," she says softly. It feels like a dangerous suggestion.