J. Edgar Hoover Building
Basement office of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully
7:35 a.m.

Special Agent Dana Scully had only been at work for an hour and a half, yet she already felt the pressure building up in her temples. With one hand she rubbed at them, the other busy flipping pages as her bloodshot eyes darted across the words before her. A brow began to inch towards her hairline as she read the reports of her partner, Fox Mulder. Despite all the things she had seen in the years of their partnership, she remained a scientific sceptic, though she was admittedly more open to some of his milder hypotheses. However, the ones contained in the text before her were no less than madness to her methodical mind, and she knew their boss, A.D. Skinner, would be less pleased than she. With a weary sigh, she turned to her computer and opened a new document, then began to type, her slender fingers dancing across the keys as she attempted to shed a different, more neutral light to the account. Not entirely riddled with U.F.O. reports and arguments of the supernatural, but not entirely explained away by the usual weather balloon or drug-tripped hippies lark. The room was soon filled with the click-clacking of the large keys, and she almost didn't notice the partner in question's entrance until his low voice broke her concentration.

"God, Scully, you look awful." Scully shot him a glare and a scowl as he made himself comfortable at his desk. "Thanks, Sunshine," she muttered darkly.

Mulder paused in the act of tossing his suit jacket across the back of a chair. "You alright, Scully?" A frown of worry creased his brow. "You're not getting sick on me, are you?"

"I'm fine, Mulder," she replied with a smile. "Really. Just a bit tired is all."

He sighed and shook his head, taking a seat and crossing his legs. "I can understand why. You've been running yourself ragged lately. It's not healthy."

She bit back a retort about all of the decidedly unhealthy things he did on a regular basis. Instead, she opted for a safer, kinder option. "I'll be fine, Mulder. All I need is a good night's sleep and a good book, and I'll be back to normal."

Suddenly, Mulder sat forward, eyes glittering as they were wont to do when a mad or genius idea danced through his brilliant mind. "You need a holiday," he declared.

Scully arched a brow."A holiday? And where do I get the time to go on this miraculous holiday?"

He rolled his eyes. "Scully, do you know just how many sick days and time off you have saved up? You've probably got enough time for a month-long holiday."

She considered this for a moment, then conceded. "True. But who's going to baby-sit you while I'm gone?"

Mulder's hand flew to his heart and his jaw dropped in mock offence. "Why, Scully! You make it sound as if I'm not a grown man who can make his own sound, logical choices!" He relented after a minute under her glare. "I'll be fine here, going through old X-files and such." Her eyes flickered to the pockmarked ceiling over his head, then back to him. He had the good grace to look a bit sheepish. "And I promise I won't do too much damage here."

Scully bit her lip. "I've always wanted to go to France," she admitted softly. "If I were gone for a week's holiday, would you try not to harm anyone or yourself?"

"Of course." He flashed her a small smile. "You deserve a vacation, Scully. Go to France. Have fun. Drink wine. Learn their kissing techniques." He ignored her glower. "Have fun, Scully."

With another sigh, she relented, a tired by happy smile sidling onto her features. "Thanks, Mulder. Just let me finish this report and I'll go."

"No, no. Go now. I'll finish the report."

"Mulder, it's because of you and your alien cow hypotheses that I had to re-do the report in the first place!"

"I'll leave out the alien cows this time. Promise."

She eyed him warily for a moment, then nodded, pushing away from her workspace and standing, pulling on her trench coat. "Thanks again, Mulder. See you in a week."

"See you, Scully."

Then, after a turn of her heel and a swish of her coat, she was gone, stopping by Skinner's office to O.K. her trip before making her way down to the parking garage and starting her car, driving away towards her flat and wondering what wonders France would hold for her.

God, that was awful. Oh well. As you've probably noticed, this is my first X-Files fan fiction. This is a sort of crossover with The Phantom of the Opera, with references to both Leroux's Phantom and Webber's Phantom. If you have a spare moment, please take the time to drop me a review and give me some constructive criticism, yeah? It'd be eternally grateful. Thanks again for reading, and kudos if you were actually able to make it to the end before clicking out of the page in disgust! Until next time, my dears.