The slide projector whirred on, testing her patience. Mulder slipped another slide into the contraption.
He attempted to tamp down his excitement, but every so often his voice would pitch an awkward few octaves when he'd spew another fact about his latest find. She pretended not to notice his voice cracks, feigning a yawn every so often to half-cover them. For his sake. And her's. The second hand embarrassment was contagious at 9 am. However, she could sympathize with his jubilation somewhat; he had known her long enough at this point to hear her little shrieks when she was examining a body and made an interesting discovery. To each their own, she supposed.
Her lanky coworker glanced up momentarily from the written notes he had been using to guide himself. Usually he didn't need notes, but this case captivated him in a way no other had. Sh-lick! Another slide fell into the projector. Five Minnesota children, ages ranging only in even numbers from two to ten, had gone missing within the meager span of five days. Local authorities were at a loss of what to do, except to put out a slew of missing childrens' signs and file reports. That and issue a controversial curfew. But beyond that, their hands were tied. It was unfortunate.
Scully found herself staring down a piece of floppy hair that refused to stay put on Mulder's quiffed head. It looked Elvis-esque, almost. It bobbed with his jaw. She curbed a smile, and brushed back a loose strand of red that had strayed from behind her ear.
"Scully, are you listening?" Mulder inquired, tossing his pad to a nearby desk. He sounded like one of her old Catholic school teachers. "I really need your help on this case."
"No bodies have been found," Scully said, standing up to dust off her baggy business suit. She glanced in the direction of his notes. "Can I see what you've written down?"
Mulder blew out a sigh, only slightly peeved at her. "If you'd been listening, you wouldn't have to look..." He announced. He placed the looseleaf notebook on her shoulder, balancing it.
She slid it off, rolling her eyes. "I was listening. And I didn't say I wasn't going to help you. I'm assigned to this unit, anyway. It's my job to, Mulder. Plus, even if it wasn't...I'd still help you." She noted the faint smile quirking his lips. "I'd find a way."
"Alright." He hid the smile from his face. "You know, first, I think we should talk to Mary Blaine. She's the mother of the first missing child."
Scully examined the pages, finally coming to the correct one. What could only be described as a pure liquidation of the english language assaulted her eye sockets. She squinted, attempting to make out his Bs from his Ds. Jesus, his handwriting is illegible, she thought.
Mulder unplugged the machine, removed the slides, and pushed the cart which held said contents to the corner of the office. He turned to her. "What time would be best for boarding a plane to Saint Paul, Scully?"
His words didn't reach her ears.
"Scully?"
Scully blanched, her vision blurring. The book dropped the floor with a weak thunk. A clammy hand flew to her head for support, and she braced herself against a desk, suddenly exhausted.
Mulder flew to her side without a moment's hesitation.
"Dana? Are you okay?" Mulder bit his bottom lip in worry, bringing a digit to her chin. She slowly lifted her head to meet him.
Something inside her had shifted. It was like coming home from vacation, to find your dresser a miraculous inch to the left for no explicable reason. Like waking up and having your hair seem slightly shorter. A shoe out of place. A hand where it shouldn't be. Scully stared at him with dark eyes, and he withdrew his hand. She couldn't read the book.
Scully cleared her throat. "Uhm," she feigned a laugh, and looked down to her heels. Dizzy morning light glinted off the dark edges. "I...I'm fine. Thank you."
She felt his eyes on her scalp, and blood began to rush back into her face.
Mulder took a step back. "Are you sure? Do you...want some water?" His voice creaked out the word "water" a little too enthusiastically for her.
She shook her head, wildly. "No, no. I'm fine, really. I just didn't sleep very much last night. Sorry."
The disorder of the room slowly settled to the carpeted floor like a shaken snow globe. She smiled. His worry lines decreased a bit.
"But you came into work late, this morning," Mulder countered. "I thought you'd overslept."
"I wasn't sleeping…" Scully replied, her face made of stone. She fetched her coat off from the hook.
"I don't sleep anymore," Mulder said.
She didn't miss the look of confusion that ran across her partner's face as she made her way past him.
He followed her two steps into the hallway. A fluorescent flickered above him in silent laughter. "W-where are you going?" He faltered, ignorant to what he'd apparently done wrong.
"Taking the day off," His red-headed partner answered flatly with her back to him, turning the corner.
Gone.
Mulder hesitated running...then denied himself the luxury of going after her. This wasn't a movie-a man can't just run after a woman and demand they talk out their love. He felt his cheeks flush as he reentered his basement office alone. Their love? There was no love. It was completely platonic. Any hints that indicated otherwise had to have been fabricated in his head. That's just the way it was. She probably hated him. Mulder looked back to the fallen notebook which sadly laid on the floor, curled spine up.
He hated him.
