She moves between the bedroom and bathroom in silence. He is asleep and she doesn't want to disturb that, having seen him rest like this too seldom in the years they've spent together. His forehead is unfurrowed and an intermittent audible expulsion of his breath is the only sound in the room.

Outwardly she is composed. She checked herself hurriedly while dressing and passed muster. It is time to go, but she lingers for just a moment to take in the view. He's kicked off part of the sheet and the graceful limb that is exposed is an object of beauty. He is the only man she's ever known whose physical presence at any given moment in a day can take her out of her mundane world. Kicking and screaming, figuratively, back in the day. But, no longer. Well, most of the time.

She walks out the bedroom door.

In the living room she moves toward the soft blue-green glow of the aquarium. The pretty fish have been his steadfast companions for as long as she's known him. She has never asked him when he first acquired the tank and its inhabitants. In her mind they're ubiquitous; she can't imagine Mulder without them any more than she can imagine her existence without him.

She loves him. Has for years. Last night was a long time arriving, but she believes that this is how it was intended to be. She still prays and, yes, she said a prayer upon waking an hour ago.

She looks out the window. The rain has given over to a gentle fog as she leaves on little cat feet.

~ End ~

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

- Carl Sandburg

Archiving: If you would like to archive anywhere, I'd appreciate a quick note first. E-mail: leighchristine@hotmail.com

Feedback: Always happy to receive it.

This story is (c) Copyright 2011 by Christine Leigh. "The X-Files" and its characters are the property of the Fox Network and Ten-Thirteen Productions and are borrowed here without profit or intent for profit.