Mulder poured two coffees, adding cream and one packet of sugar to Scully's. Checking the prepackaged food, he shook his head and decided on just the coffees. Paying for them, he left the hospital cafeteria and went to the elevator to go upstairs and rejoin Scully.

Tests had been run on Peter, multiple ones, and now they were awaiting the results.

Stepping off the elevator, he saw her standing at the nurses station, a chart held in her hands. He watched her sigh and roll her neck, a sure sign that she was tired.

Setting the chart down, she glanced to her right and smiled gently at the sight of him walking towards her with the coffees.

"Thank you," she said, taking the one he offered her.

"Any news?"

She shook her head and started walking away from the nurses station.

"Yes and I don't understand it."

"What?"

Opening the door to an empty waiting area, she sat at a small round table, setting her coffee down. Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, she shook her head again as he sat across from her.

"Peter was dying, Mulder," she said quietly. "There is no other way to put it. His previous charts show that. The center he was trying to get into… I question why they would have accepted him as a candidate."

"Why?"

"He had a zero chance of survival. With or without treatment. I can honestly say that he would not have survived." She looked at him with sad eyes and sighed deeply. "His doctors… I don't know why they wouldn't tell him. Why would they give him that hope?" She shook her head and picked up her coffee. Taking a small sip, she stared out the window with a sigh, the late afternoon sun burning brightly.

He watched her, thinking about when she had told him about her tumor. Her own acceptance and bluntness in her words had stopped him in his tracks. Yes, she'd had time to absorb and adjust to the news before sharing it with him, but she had faced the truth of it far quicker than he had.

"Maybe his doctors weren't as optimistic. Maybe that's why he sought a second opinion from a cancer center so far from home," he said, watching her swallow another sip of coffee.

"Maybe," she whispered, setting her cup down.

"But you said there was news?"

"He had a zero percent chance of survival, Mulder," she said again and he nodded as she looked at him. "His previous scans show his lungs were full of cancer. And now, it's gone. Completely gone."

"There's not a chance of a mix up with the old files?" he asked, even as he felt a thrill of excitement and intrigue as to why and how that could happen. "Perhaps they sent the wrong ones?"

"No. There wasn't a mix up."

"Did you check his neck for a possible chip implant?" he teased and she shook her head.

"It's not funny, Mulder," she said quietly.

"I wasn't-"

"Six weeks he was given. Then he was gone for a month, only to return clear of the disease that was killing him. He has extremely minor injuries. He's not emaciated, despite obviously not eating much during his disappearance. He's healthy and whole. How?"

"What are you thinking?"

"Nothing good," she said, sighing before picking up her cup and taking another drink.

"Elaborate, please," he said, taking a drink of his own coffee.

"It had to be someone with medical knowledge who held him against his will and… experimented on him. It could have killed him. He could have died alone and suffering at the hands of someone sworn to protect and do no harm."

"You think it was a doctor?"

"Yes. It would have to be."

"Or it could have been something else."

She drew in a breath through her nose and let it out slowly.

"What are you thinking?"

"Just working on a theory."

"Which includes how Peter knew to ask for you?" she asked, her eyes holding his. "Him implying that you felt something?"

"Scully-"

"Mulder," she interrupted, licking her lips and setting her cup down. "You were spooked out in that cemetery today. We both know that."

"I-"

"Did something happen? Something more than a belief in a mythical creature giving you a bad feeling?"

"How do you mean?"

"Did you hurt yourself? When you slipped?" She looked down at his hand lying on the table and he dropped his gaze as well, frowning when he saw that he was clenching and unclenching his fist.

"I didn't know I was doing that," he said softly, shaking his hand and attempting a smile.

"Let me see," she said, holding her hand out.

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

"Mulder," she whispered, looking up at him and sighing. "Let me see."

He exhaled as he stretched his hand toward her and she took it into both of her own.

She ran her fingers gently over his palm and he swallowed as he both watched and felt her doing it. It was an odd sensation, clinical and yet almost slightly erotic.

Her focus was completely on his hand and his focus was on her fingers. She traced them over his palm, the fronts and backs of each finger, over the top, and then down to his wrist. He marveled, as he always did, at the sureness and steadiness in her touch.

"I don't see anything that could be construed as an injury," she said, rubbing his palm with her thumb as she moved down to his middle finger and closed his hand, gently squeezing before letting go. "A little bit red, but that could be from the weather or the warm cup of coffee."

Giving him a smile that did not reach her eyes, she sat back and stared at him.

"You could get it looked at, as we are currently in a hospital. Just to be sure."

He smiled and shook his head.

"With regret, I must decline that request," he said and she laughed softly as she shook her head.

"Sounds about right."

"Hmm," he hummed as she looked out the window again. "Are you hungry?"

Turning back to him, she nodded slowly.

"Me too and let me tell you, the cafeteria downstairs isn't exactly appealing," he said, making a face. She gave him a small smile and he smiled back. "Do we need to stay for more test results?"

"Honestly?" She shook her head and sighed. "I don't think it will show anything different. His cancer is gone. I can't explain how, but I don't think any further tests will explain that aspect of it."

"How about I buy you dinner and I tell you what I'm thinking?"

She tapped her fingers on the table and stared at him before nodding and letting out a sigh.

"A café or diner," she said. "Some place where I can get a piece of pie because I have a feeling your theory is going to be a bit hard to swallow and sugar always helps in situations like that."

He laughed with a nod, picking up his coffee cup and standing to his feet. She smirked at him as she stood and picked up her own coffee, pushing the chair in and raising her eyebrows.

He began to hum A Spoonful of Sugar as they walked toward the door. She laughed softly and bumped him with her shoulder. He grinned, tossed his coffee in the trash and opened the door, the quiet of the room left behind.