a/n of course I don't own anything X-Files related, the characters, plots, everything…everything is theirs. This is just some good non profit fun.

Spoilers: Set in season 6, so anything before then

MSR (yeah buddy!) but done in a non corny fluffy way.

What They Seem

Scully could hardly keep her eyes open. She was so tired that when Mulder brought up the idea the suspect had been abducted, she couldn't even raise her eyebrow up at him. Sinking lower in the seat, she squirmed out of her coat and set it on top of her. One good thing about having Mulder as a partner was his insomnia, a great trait for stake outs that aloud her to sleep.

That was till his elbow connected to her ribcage.

He was an insomniac that liked to talk.

"Mulderrr, can't you see I'm trying to take a nap?"

"Exactly. We're on a stake-out. I'm getting bored."

"Just because we're not watching for someone who eats livers or something? Wake me if something important happens."

Mulder chunked a soggy sunflower seed in her direction, but as her eyes were closed, his act went unnoticed. Sighing, he settled his eyes on the third floor window of the apartment complex they were watching, waiting for a light to come on. He was bored. In three months not a single X-File had come along. To get away from the paperwork, he had volunteered to help out the VCU by tracking down some murderer. An average murderer who used a gun instead of mind control. Who broke in through a window instead of squeezing through vents…All very blah.

Even though Scully would never admit it, she was equally bored. Equally ready for a real mystery to come a long.

She was asleep wasn't she? In fact, he began to feel a sudden amount of weight on his shoulder. Her head, and entire body had slumped over onto him. For a moment he considered setting her upright again, knowing had she awoken when slumped against him she'd become all awkward…But if she woke up while being pushed off, no doubt her feelings would get hurt.

Great Mulder…What to do now?

Instead of taking action, he ran his fingers gently through her hair, twirling the ends around his fingers. Not that he'd ever admit it, but maybe there was another reason for accepting this assignment…a reason other than avoiding paperwork…Mulder mentally chastised himself and pulled his fingers away from her hair and gripped the steering wheel.

This was Scully. His partner. His partner that trusted him enough to fall asleep next to him, knowing that nothing would happen, that she was safe. And trust was one thing Mulder never jeopardized. Their whole relationship was based on trust and respect.

He even managed to respect her as drool began to dampen his coat.

And honestly he wouldn't have woken her up, but the lights turned on in apartment 324.

"Scully, Scully wake up my drooling little friend."

One eye opened, then another. She saw that she was leaning against Mulder, but instead of pushing off right away like he suspected, her head rested on his shoulder for a moment longer.

"I do not drool."

"Then can you scientifically explain the presence of a watery substance on my shoulder?"

"Alien phenomenon," Scully teased as she sat up straight and pushed stray strands of hair away from her face, "Oooh the light's on."

"Precisely why I woke you up. Our suspect's alliiiveee."

In response to Mulder's Frankenstein impression, Scully got out of the car and closed the door behind her.

"It wasn't that bad," he murmured as they made their way up the flight of stairs.

Mulder led the way down the third floor corridor, but both had their guns ready. Safety catches off.

"Think he returned to the scene of the crime?" she whispered, "No units saw him…How'd he get in?"

"What if he never left?"

Three days earlier Joanna Swenson had been stabbed to death, and even though the crime scene had been cleaned and closed off, neighbors had been reporting the blinds opening, closing, lights going on and off…Hearing footsteps…Rumors had been swirling around, was it a ghost? A murderer?

Mulder even admitted that it hadn't been a ghost. After looking up Swenson's biography and interviewing neighbors, he learned she was the religious, sweet, gentle type. Not someone to come back and senselessly scare her neighbors.

"You mean…When crews were up there, photographing, taking pictures, dusting, he was watching? From where Mulder? The ceiling?"

"Ceiling…Interesting, we'll have it checked for adhesives and claw marks. But maybe something more mundane, Scully…Try not to be so out there."

He stopped talking, but only long enough to smile at her as she rolled her eyes.

"It's possible he found a place to hide in…A trash receptacle, laundry shoot, maybe somewhere even as obvious as under the bed. What's more important is why he's sticking around. Does he get a laugh at watching the investigating crews? Is there some sick connection that he gets a thrill when lingering around the site of the murder?"

"Mulder…Maybe it's only some homeless person that sneaks in and out…through a fire escape, or your laundry shoot. Don't you think the FBI would have looked under the bed?"

"That was an example. But just go with it, Scully."

For a moment they sniffed around the apartment with timid glances at each other, making sure they were safe. Their guns rested against their hips, held only by one hand. As Mulder dusted the blinds for prints, Scully stuck her finger in a mug of coffee.

"It's hot. Come dust this, too," she muttered as she studied her reddened finger, "Mulder…Mulder, it's too hot. It must have just been brewed."

Without speaking, they communicated with a curt nod and drew their guns up. Shuffling closer together, they edged toward the entrance. It was Scully who turned to open the door as Mulder remained on alert. She gave the knob a good, hard twist, but there was little evidence of her effort.

"Scully, what's wrong?"

"It's locked. But Mulder, we never locked it, and I…I," She tried to unlock it, but nothing gave. Finally she resorted to jiggling the handle with an intensity that bordered on panic, "can't even unlock it…Like its glued shut or someone's holding it from the other side."

Yet there was no one on the other side of the peep hole.

She rested a forlorn palm against the door, "And…and it's a little hot."

Mulder took his turn battling the door, but remained equally unsuccessful. Beaten, the agents leaned against the door, bodies tensed, ready to respond to any stimulus. He looked down at Scully, who's eyes were wide, but her breathing remained even, masking the fear that she must have felt. The fear he felt. Once again he had put her in the path of danger…and if anything happened to her…Mulder swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

"If he's holding the door shut…Then we're safe in here right?" Scully said, holstering her gun, "And it's not like he can sit there and hold it forever. Arm's bound to get tired."

"You're right," he said with a false hint of levity, "Wonder if they paid the cable bill."

"I doubt it. AC sure didn't get paid off."

Scully wiped away the beads of sweat that had begun to spread across her hairline and dot her upper lip. In fact, she took off her coat and draped it across her arm. About the same time, Mulder noticed himself beginning to sweat, beginning to think it was odd that they had been cooler earlier. Beginning to think things were going from bad to worse.

But for the moment, he took off his coat as well and undid the first few buttons of his shirt and ripped off his tie. Scully was following suit this time and undid her top few buttons. He couldn't help but smile.

"Oh, Scully,"

"Shut up Mulder."

And that's when he saw it, he saw it when he was still smiling, still thinking of her undone shirt buttons.

"Uh…Scully."

And that's when he stopped smiling.

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