AUTHOR'S NOTE: Inspired by (with segments taken from) Nocturne, by CrashPadRedux, and the possibility of other endings.
_______________
Arms loaded with junk food he stands at Scully's door, watching but not really seeing the light flickering beneath it, accidental patterns colouring the hallway floor.
Midnight snack, Scully? With a laugh in his voice.
Midnight snack, Scully? A heavy pause before her name.
Midnight snack, Scully? His eyebrows raised, that puppy dog look.
The words hang unspoken. The question unasked. Three out of an endless string of possibilities and whichever way he asks, nothing fits. He feels foolish, standing here laden with food that Scully (Scully on her bee pollen kick) would surely decry.
He turns to leave. Falters. Turns back again to stand, undecided, at her door.
A distant train whistles; words splinter into fragments on the pavement. I do not gaze, he thinks, and knocks on the door.
When it opens, light spilling into crop circle patterns on the carpeted floor, she holds a Twinkie bar in one hand, a Coke in the other. She looks at the junk food he carries in his arms and smiles that long, slow smile.
"Midnight snack, Mulder?"
