After all that, why would he split the hair? Was it a love letter, sent through time, or a sad lonely gesture she'll never see, or a desperate grab to get her back, or just his alien sense of justice? Has he grown, through all this love -- through Gini, and Libby, and Barton -- into something like a man?
"Welcome home! How do you feel, Major?" Good, he says. And grateful. "What did you learn up there, in space?" they ask.
"Man can go anywhere. He just has to take his own atmosphere with him."
Henry's just evoked Ethan, the atmosphere he brings with him -- excited to tell him, about the race to space, about the Major, about this new world, the succession of halos -- when there's a knock at the door. She already knows who it is, of course. The rain's been saying his name all day.
Virginia: "My name's on it."
Masters: "You earned it. Both through your work, and your... It's only you and Scully that believe."
Virginia: "And you."
Masters: "It's over. I have nothing to offer you now."
Virginia: "That's all right."
"Except, maybe, the truth. I finally realized that there is one thing I can't live without. It's you. You."
I like to think the rain stopped, just after.
I like to think that one day we'll know everything, an apocalypse to end all apocalypses. We'll stop talking about what's natural and what's man-made, about what's science and what's desire, because we'll know so much we'll see them as they connect. There will be no fear and there will be no sadness, no rage, no shame. All those vestigial, memetic, useless fears and phrases will just drop away.
"Mature as he was, she might yet be able to help him to the building of the rainbow bridge that should connect the prose in us with the passion. Without it we are meaningless fragments, half monks, half beasts, unconnected arches that have never joined into a man. With it love is born, and alights on the highest curve, glowing against the gray, sober against the fire."
At some point when I was very young I came up with an idea that I have never been able to shake. It arrived, unbidden, perhaps in a dream: That every orgasm is the same orgasm. Future Spaceman orgasm, Ancient Aztec orgasm, male and female, all of them -- us --touching for one moment a bliss that is so brief and so divine that you forget who you are. The world falls away; curls away, under a succession of halos. The Eden beauty of Jane and Austin, that first perfect night in the lab. Bill's eyes gone wide at Betty's, as Dale made love to his friend. Everyone at the same time, in the same place, for just one moment. Unafraid, unashamed, and very beautiful. An undiscovered heaven you keep finding, every time, for the rest of your life.