She goes back to the diner.
He's still there, eating the pie. Which in itself is odd, because he told her once apple is his favorite pie, not sweet potato, but he's there and the chef set out a whole pie in front of him, again, and she knows in the morning he'll groan and complain about having eaten it, but for now, he just keeps sticking his fork in.
"Mulder."
He doesn't look up at first, and when she says his name again, he does, mouths till full of sweet potato pie.
"Oh hey Scully," he says. "Have a seat. Pie?"
"No thanks," she says, and she pulls up the stool next to him. There's no one else in the diner. "Mulder… where is everyone?"
He shrugs. "Home, I guess."
"You guess?"
She realizes she doesn't know how long he's been here. How long she's been here. This town makes her feel like maybe he's right, maybe time is just a fiction humans created so they could measure the immeasurable.
This case has her shaken, this thought of the military being the ones to do experiments, on that girl, on her...
It almost makes her want to believe. She wishes she could believe as fervently as he does, that aliens are real, that they are out there. She wishes she could trust in it the way he does.
But she trusts in him, and maybe that's enough. They won't always have all the answers, but they'll have these late-night diners, the X-files, the cases, the sleepless nights and road trips to cities and places and strange happenings she can't explain.
Better still, they'll have each other.