The blood had congealed in the space between their fingers hours ago. He knew that with movement the blood seal would be broken, so he didn't move. 25, 26, 27, the drops of blood he counted falling from her chin to her chest. Her strong chest that his heavy head lays on, her own heavy head spilling blood into his hair. The dark color of her blood seemed so unpure- and he knew it was his fault. The poison that is him had been filling her veins for far too long. It was only a matter of time before her body wanted no more. His poison doubled as an addiction. If you didn't have enough you would withdraw, if you had any at all you would overdose. This drug is not for everyone though. A special prescription for Dana Scully that no one even wrote. Why didn't she ever stop? She knew what she was doing. She was a doctor after all. But he knew that it wasn't her fault. He knew that he never truly wanted her to stop, because he needed frequent doses of her too. You can't yell at an addict while you feed their addiction.

*
Hand still sealed in hers, he cast his eyes to the ceiling. Her beautiful brain was sprayed onto the off-white paint, arranged like the constellations she once loved. That beautiful brain that knew so much. That beautiful brain that was unlike any other. That horrible, deceptive brain that loved him. He could see Orion.

*
His eyes traced her clavicle, ignoring the blood that pooled in the deep indentations. Stagnant, dark, and unpure. Her necklace was crumpled in her lap, almost disappearing in the crevice of where her thighs touched. If he were to call upon his profiling abilities, he would have to infer that the force of the shot caused her tightly wound fingers to snap the chain. For years she wore that cross. For a year he wore it as his own. He was relieved when he got to give it back to her. He didn't deserve something so precious.

*
When the tears left dry and flaky lines across his face, he knew it was time. He broke the seal. The blood had scabbed. It was trying to repair them. He picked up her cold hand, accessorized with an even colder glock. (such a fearless woman). With five sickening pops he had the gun out of her hand and into his. He propped himself against the headboard just as she had. He finally knew he was going to make the right choice.

*
He should have known she wouldn't have left him any bullets.

*
He sat on his knees like a child, now scared to touch. He knew the hole in her head was facing him, but he wouldn't look. Her neck was bent in a terrible angle, her torso folded in on itself. 102, 103, 104. Drip drip drop. More blood that he had tainted. He was her biggest mistake. He was anyone's biggest mistake. He was a mistake. Samantha was a mistake. It was supposed to be him, it should have been him. He could never let anything go like any other normal human being. He pushed and he pushed until he had nothing and no one left. Maybe that's why she had stayed. She was a pusher too…. a more civilized one. Her life had drained quickly though, much like his had. He watched the pain grind her features away, darken her eyes, slap the smile from her mouth. This life had punched her in the teeth, stabbed her in the tummy, and stomped on her heart. And he knew it was all his fault. He told himself everyday, yet he still wanted more of her because he was selfish and he needed his dose. He shifted on the bed and her body finally gave, sliding sideways across the headboard until she was laying down. Her brain soaked the sheets. He threw up.

*
He found the note by the sink.

Dear Walter,

I know you will be the one that finds me, and I will forever regret that. I am so sorry. As a woman of faith, I have always believed in signs, and I refuse to ignore them any further. I have been given too much pain in this life and Im thinking it's because I need to finally let go. I love you. Tell him that I got William back and that we are happy.

Dana

There was a teardrop by where she signed her name. He had to go.

*
He walked back to the bed. Stared. Stared and stared. This was real. This was real and it was his fault and she has shed her unpure blood for him yet again, but this time was the last. One knee on the mattress, he knelt over her translucent body, limp and freezing all because of him. He kissed her lifeless lips, bumping into her teeth. His last tear fell into her open mouth. He closed her clouded eyes. He had to go.

*
He locked the door behind him because he knew she would want her privacy. The halls of his building creaked with the sound of night. He took the stairs.

*
The cold wind dried his unblinking eyes as he made his feet walk. He was on the side of the big gray highway. As he felt the loose gravel push into his back and saw the two headlights become so close that they merged into one huge and blinding PURE light, he hoped that he wouldn't end up where she was. She deserved so much more than to endure his poison again.