The reality of their bodies pressed together is enough to - briefly, anyway - chase away thoughts of anything but this moment. To hell with alien abductions and near-death-experiences and government conspiracies; to hell with the slowly healing wreckage of his skin. Every moment he spends here with Scully is restorative. He fucks her hard, holding her close, and he reaches between her legs when she makes it clear she wants it.

They're somewhere beyond everything else in existence, the whole world narrowed into the space taken up by two tangled bodies. She isn't his one in five billion, because there's only two people left alive. He speeds up as he's reaching his own end, fingertips sliding wetly over her clit in double time. Normally, he can hold out, but here with her now, fresh from the grave, maybe he could be forgiven for failing to be a gentleman about it tonight. With a moan, his whole body curling in against hers, he comes.