In the course of their partnership, she has seen Mulder lose himself in any number of cases. Knows his tendency to disappear into some other mind is part of why he isn't a profiler anymore; he goes too deep too easily, but it gets results, and he has never been good at protecting himself when he could give himself up to some better cause.

If there's anything in his current form that scares her, it's that: he feels tenuous, like she could lose him to the undergrowth if she doesn't keep a firm grasp on him. A changeling child made of driftwood, left behind when the other was taken, seeking a chance to trade back.

Thank God he didn't try the spider thing or he'd be webbing the buildings by now, probably.

She stands under her own power and then threads her fingers through his branch of a hand, trying not to look too careful but trying to be as careful as she can. If he breaks one now, will it regrow? Or will he wake up tomorrow with his ring finger ending at the knuckle?

"I spend a lot of time basking," she admits, maybe to remind him that this, too, shall pass; that he's not the only one even if he's the only one right now.