Mulder was across town in his own apartment, most likely fast asleep. Scully flopped back down and buried her face in her pillow. She had been dreaming again. One of THOSE dreams that had plagued her over the last couple of months with their vivid and hyper realistic nature.

For a moment, just a moment, he experienced a fierce urge to roll her over and plant his flag for God and country. But that would come later; this was all for Scully.

He just wanted to get into his dark room, unzip his fly and forget the horrific image of that warped man with his hands on Scully. Perhaps a questionable reaction in the eyes of some, but for Mulder it was the only way he could feel close to her. Scully held the power to hold the darkness at bay but she kept it locked up tight, by choosing to remain distant.