"Well," he says, a little weakly, "the good news is, we have plenty of soup."
The rest still feels like a mystery, a difficult one. They have two apartments, two last names, two separate lives - even if they're as twisted up together as their hands right now, there's still a certain degree of separation. And it's not solely on his end of things; Scully's the one who had the occasional habit of disappearing in the middle of the night, leaving him to wake up alone.
He wants answers, the same insistent way he always does, but Scully seems comfortable with the ambiguity at the moment. He's ready to press for more, right up until she changes the subject to one that catches him up short.
"After your father," he says after a moment, because after me sounds so irrepressibly sad. She'd expected to raise this child alone, hanging the only respectable moniker he has on it as a memorial.
no subject
The rest still feels like a mystery, a difficult one. They have two apartments, two last names, two separate lives - even if they're as twisted up together as their hands right now, there's still a certain degree of separation. And it's not solely on his end of things; Scully's the one who had the occasional habit of disappearing in the middle of the night, leaving him to wake up alone.
He wants answers, the same insistent way he always does, but Scully seems comfortable with the ambiguity at the moment. He's ready to press for more, right up until she changes the subject to one that catches him up short.
"After your father," he says after a moment, because after me sounds so irrepressibly sad. She'd expected to raise this child alone, hanging the only respectable moniker he has on it as a memorial.