NOTES:

Written for the Case File X-Files FanFic Exchange 2020.

Some remarks (further notes in the end of the work, don't want to spoil anything here):

1) I want to warmly thank FragileVixen, who had helped me when I began writing this fic. I had difficulties to really start for good, and then, thanks to her, the flow of words just came.

2) The story hadn't been betaed (except for the very beginning and early on, but it's a part that had been rewritten afterwards). So, I apologize for all the errors that could appear in the text, hoping there are just a very few of them.

TEASER

Sunday, March 4, 2018 - Early Morning - Different homes

The movements by his side quietly awakened him from what he thought had been a dreamless sleep -certainly, for his own sake, his brain was just preventing him from recalling his internal conflicts that had taken spooky shapes during the night.

"Hon, already getting up?" he asked.

"I have to," she answered, getting out of the bed.

"I'm really worried about you. About your safety."

"Don't. I'll be fine."

Then, leaving the bedroom, she yelled:

"Take good care of the kids!"

His tools. The screwdriver. The pliers. The hammer. The drill. The chainsaw. He had to do something with them. But what? If only he knew.

The struggles in his inner head made him open his eyes, sweating and confused.

Had he really spent the night here, lying on the leather couch?

And where was she? How was she? Had she come back home? No, surely. If so, she would have awakened him, told him she was safe and sound.

The noise of a key in a lock. The opening of the front door.

"Cathy, is that you?" he called.

Darkness. Cold. Silence. Then, brightness. Sharpness. Stabbing.

Mulder jolted awake.

He turned on his side and stretched out his arm under the sheets of the bed.

Nobody here but the most unwanted absence. Nothing but her ghostly presence on the mattress.

A vivid want of her body and her words to soothe him after his terrible nightmare. Still, hope and trust in the future. In their future.

Low shining rays of sun were already hitting him through the window. Maybe it would be a bright happy Sunday, after all.

For himself and for Scully.

For both of them.