Mulder tied the last knot in the fishing line. He reached for the bag that contained the noise makers. He began methodically hanging each aluminum can from the fishing line that encircled the small camp. It was a simple, but effective technique to keep unwanted intruders out long enough to get a few hours of sleep. Setting this make-shift alarm had become the nightly routine. It was important, he knew, for their safety. But it felt like just one more way of passing the time and marking the days. And the nights. The nights seemed to stretch longer and longer all the time.

As he hung the last of the cans Scully emerged out of the darkness. Even in the dim moonlight she looked filthy. He hadn't seen his own reflection in months, but he imagined he looked about the same or worse. Mulder was trying to remember the last time either of them had bathed when Scully said, "There's no movement out there. It seems pretty quiet tonight."

"Fantastic," Mulder replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Another quiet night."

Scully shot him an annoyed look, but she felt concerned. Mulder had been so morose lately. She was worried about him. She worried he was losing his will to keep going. Sometimes she wasn't so sure why she continued on herself. "Would you prefer another attack to liven things up?"

Mulder rolled his eyes at her. "You know what I mean. Every day is the same as the last. We don't know where we're going. We have no direction. We're just wandering and trying to stay alive. What kind of an existence is that?"

Scully replied, "Well we are still alive. Given the current circumstances I think that's some kind of existence worth celebrating. Don't you?"

"I'm just observing what a miserable experience this is."

Now it was Scully's turn to roll her eyes. "Don't worry, Mulder. I fully appreciate how miserable this experience is." Mulder looked slightly hurt by her remark. "Oh, come on, Mulder. Cheer up! You can't let yourself get depressed. We have to keep our spirits up if we're going to keep moving forward."

Mulder asked, "How do we know this is moving forward? It feels more like we're wandering in circles. I'm not even sure where we are anymore. And I'm not just talking about where we are on the map." Scully didn't have an argument for that. If they ever had a goal they were working towards, she had lost sight of it long ago.

Scully decided she may have better luck cheering him up if they both had a little food in their stomachs. She searched through their supplies and found a depressing dinner that they would have to share. She handed him half of an expired protein bar. Mulder looked at it in disgust. Scully tapped her half against his and said, "Cheers." He leaned into her and they ate together, side by side, in silence.

Later that night they did what little they could to clean themselves up and tried to get some sleep. They lay on the ground, using their backpacks as pillows and stared up at the moon through the trees. Mulder found himself lost in thought. He knew Scully was right, he couldn't allow himself to get depressed. There was no room for sulking in this world if he was going to keep himself alive.

Scully interrupted his train of thought. "I know things look bleak, Mulder. I know you feel defeated. But in a way I think you won. Before the outbreak your biggest frustration in life was people not knowing the truth. People wrote you off as a crackpot, alien-obsessed, conspiracy theorist. You always said 'the truth is out there', but now the truth is here! The world can't deny it anymore. All your years spent searching for the truth, all your conspiracy theories, all the unexplainable things you've seen and done, you were right about all of it."

Mulder pondered this for a good long while. "Maybe you're right, Scully. But so what? So the truth is here. I was right. It's a pretty pathetic consolation prize, don't you think?"

"I know, but it's better than nothing, isn't it? We've got to find something to hold onto."

"What good is it to be right? Right and wrong don't matter anymore. Dead or alive, that's all that matters now. And that's not much to hold onto"

Scully considered his statement. She knew he was right. It didn't matter anymore that they knew what caused the outbreak. It didn't matter that they saw the outbreak coming or that they understood the implications it would have for the world. None of it mattered because they had been helpless to stop it. After a long silence Scully finally said, "What about love, Mulder? Doesn't love still count for something? Isn't that something we can still hold onto?"

Mulder rolled onto his side and looked into her eyes. He sighed and said, "Yes." He gave her a small, sad smile. "Yes, love still counts for something. I'll try to hold onto that." He kissed her on the forehead and wrapped his arms around her. As he held her close and they both tried to fall asleep, Mulder attempted to picture the love that was left in the world. What was love without people to share it with? He held onto his long-time partner, his friend, the mother of his child, the woman who had always kept him grounded. He promised himself that he would find a way to keep going. If not for love, then at least for her.