Scully placed the vase of flowers on the kitchen table in the farmhouse. "I want to put up a windmill."
Mulder looked up from his newspaper. "What?"
She looked at the floor, suddenly sheepish. "I, um, I had another vision last night."
"What are you talking about, sweetheart?" He was trying to be gentle but firm with her about William's fate.
"He's alive, Mulder."
He shook his head sadly. "That's not possible, Scully, I saw him shot right in front of me. He's gone."
She took his hand earnestly. "I think we need to learn to start accepting the impossible, Fox."
He nodded in understanding; she'd first-named him, so she had to be serious. He sighed. "Okay, so what color are you thinking?"
"Brown, like the one in the snowglobe he kept in his room. I want him to be able to find his way home. I believe that he will, when it's time."
"He will."
Scully smiled, then turned somber. "What if he does? What do we do then?"
"I think we should offer to adopt him. I know, he doesn't want to be tied down or anything, but we could just give him sort of a home base to come back to if he needs, you know?"
She sniffed. "That sounds perfect."
"And then he really would be ours...finally." Mulder remarked, in a rare show of vulnerability. She knew he had been trying to grieve gently for her sake, but she sensed he was more distraught over William's apparent death than he let on.
She smiled widely. "Finally."