Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

A/N: It seems I write the fluffiest, fruitiest, run-on-sentenceiest stuff after a long shift. This does not mean I condone working more. I have no idea where this little thing-a-ma-jig came from, but I'll take it.

His footsteps were quiet against the worn carpet as he moved through the joining door into his partner's room. He could hear a muffled noise, unfamiliar to his ears, but still very striking to his heart. The moonlight casted a silvery glow over the room, making everything seem stark and cold. Slowly, he made his way to the bed, hoping to get there before the sound stopped, hoping to catch her in it so she couldn't deny it. He sat down carefully, but she didn't move, somehow knowing that he had been there all along. The tears on her cheeks reflected the moonlight back at him, and he leaned over to brush them away.

"What's the matter?"

She shook her head and sniffled before she answered, succinctly and predictably.

"Nothing."

He gently pushed her hair back and ran his thumb over her ear, trying to give her some sense of comfort.

"Is it the case?"

"No."

He was prodding and he knew it, but for some reason that didn't bother her. Not this time.

"Is it family stuff? Emily?"

"Partly."

"And the other part?"

She shook her head and he knew exactly what she wanted to say. The other part was him.

He laid down behind her, pulling her back against him, pressing his lips to the crown of her head while she calmed her post-crying breathing.

"Tell me, Scully."

"Everything is just happening at once. Bill and mom are mad at me and for the first time in his life, Charlie didn't take my side. And I can't win the fight because I just don't yell loud enough. And I want to scream that they're wrong, but they won't even listen. And they know how much it hurts me. And I miss my dad and my sister, and I can't stop thinking about Emily and I've wanted to cry for so long and on top of it all, you're just… you're not around, Mulder."

He could only watch as her tears returned. Not sobs, but not tiny sniffles either. She shook in his arms and the cold guilt that wrapped around him rivaled the warmth that radiated off of her. She was right, he hadn't been around. Physically or emotionally. He had checked out, becoming disenchanted and cynical, becoming nothing more than a crotchety middle aged man with a disregard for anyone but himself. And instead of hurting only himself, he'd ruined his best friend.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, holding her tight, keeping his lips close to her ear. "I haven't meant to be. I don't have a good excuse either."

She sniffled again and rolled over to face him, quiet for several moments, picking imaginary lint off of his shirt.

"I don't expect you to be there all the time. But you always have been, and when you're not, I just don't know what to do. And I can't help but hurt when I need you and you're not around."

Nothing came to mind that he could say to soothe this ache. Everything sounded pithy and redundant and had been said hundreds of times over; hushed tones on nights like this, fewer words in a birthday card, through nothing more than a touch on the shoulder and a squeeze of the hand.

"I feel so alone sometimes," she whispered finally, the blunt confession hanging in the air like a tissue paper angel, beautiful in its honesty, and heartbreaking in its truth. "I want to run away a lot. Just go and don't stop until I can't take it anymore. Fall down and die and be done with it all. Because it wouldn't really matter. Not to me and not to anyone else."

The pain that surged through his chest was the most literal heartburn he had ever felt in his life. It howled through his arms and legs, down his fingers and toes, even through his ears. He couldn't form words, couldn't form thoughts, couldn't even let himself fully comprehend her words. Too much danger and pain dwelt there and he didn't want to touch it.

"It would matter to me," he managed to squeak out, taking her face in his hands and forcing her to look him in the eye. "It would always matter to me."

Tears ran fast down her cheeks, dropping onto her pillow and his hand, leaving indelible marks where they touched, outward types of the scars left on his soul.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he said, trying with everything he had not to break. "I'm sorry that I look past you and never see you. I don't want to be that way anymore."

She took a deep breath and looked up at him, not knowing if that was what she needed to hear. Just the sound of his voice and put out the fire in her. She hadn't really felt that way, not to the extremity that she had so boldly pronounced it, but the desire to escape and let herself fall apart was still there, and she couldn't stop the deluge of tears that cascaded down her cheeks again.

"I want to fix it," he confessed as the first sob sped through her body. "I want to fix it, Scully. Help me fix it. What can I do? What do you want?"

Her words were punctuated with frenzied tears and sobs and sniffles and hiccups barely making their way to him in their entirety.

"I… don't want… you… to… let go… of me."

His arms tightened around her at her request, his lips moving to graze over every inch of her tear-stained face.

"I'm always here, Scully. I'm always here."

His lips moved from her temple, across her forehead, down to her cheeks, ridding them off as much of this pain as he possibly could with such an act. He moved across her nose, her eyes, then lingered for a moment at the spot where death sat in waiting just beneath the surface, then back down to her lips where he applied the slightest pressure, in reassurance rather than intimacy. He pulled away and ran his finger over the trail his lips had left, willing it into her memory. She reached up and pulled his face back down to hers, the warmth of her hand conveying a forgiveness he had never felt as she touched her lips to his in reciprocation. It was nothing more and nothing less than what he had done before, but this time they pulled apart and searched each other's eyes for something that was only found when their lips met again.

Her mind begged with time to let her stay there for awhile, to shut out everything and loose herself in this near euphoria she had never felt before. She clung to it desperately, knowing it would have to be over, and even if it happened again, it would never be like this time.

His arms slid around her completely as he rolled onto his back, taking her with him, using gravity as a cheat to hold her closer. As physical and as intimate as it was, there was nothing sexual about this moment. It was two people needing to reconnect, to reestablish, to reinvent themselves as a whole.

Their lips finally parted and she rested her cheek against his chest, the last few tears falling and wetting his shirt before she closed her eyes. His hands moved against her spine as her breathing fell back into a normal rhythm, matching with his own. Words were lost on him as he felt her stress leave her, even for just a while. He ran his fingers though her hair and let his lips fall once again to her forehead.

"Go to sleep, Scully. I'll stay right here."

She nodded as his promise took precedence over the pain, easing the sting for this one perfect moment.