"So we'll send those samples out." Simple enough, completely worth the time, effort, and expense. He's going to be walking on air for the rest of the day. "Do whatever you can here. The X-rays are possible, right?"

He's too wired to get any rest that night, and he knows it before he's even left the morgue. After they're finished for the day, he goes for a run. Even offers to let Scully join him, despite the fact that it'd mean a slower pace. She doesn't take him up on it, though, and he pushes himself until he's sweaty and panting, flying through the sleepy streets of this tiny town.

The next day is even more exciting: time loss, more information on the missing Ray Soames, a thunderstorm so powerful it blacks out the motel. Mulder finds a candle - incredible, inexplicable, unless this happens more often around here than the proprietors would like to admit - and is ready to settle in for a night of listening to the rain and maybe jacking off when he hears a knock at the door.

Scully's on the doorstep, and while he doesn't remember most of the French he took in high school he's pretty sure the term for her just then is déshabillée. His eyes remain on hers, his expression exactly as casual as it'd be if she'd come over in one of her suits. "Hi."