- The X-Files (2)
The day your mother died, you and Mulder had gone to that beach that you used to like to go to sometimes, back when the sun still shone.
You had cried and he had let you. You had called him Fox and it felt foreign on your tongue but also appropriate. You had looked out into the water and wondered how the horizon could seem so far away when you were reminded—constantly, over and over again—how finite everything really was.
It was sometimes lonely, in that big house of theirs, with all of the ghosts.
[My attempt to rationalize the pre-Season 10 break-up]