Mulder squatted beside the dark patch of carpet, pretending to study it intensely. Blue patch, gray patch...had Mulder been thinking about the discoloration of the floor-covering outside the crime scene's office door, he would have cursed his impaired vision--no telling if that gray patch was actually red, or something else besides. But Mulder's mind was occupied elsewhere.
That look she'd given him just before she fell asleep last night. That sleepy, satisfied smile weighed heavily on Mulder's mind. It wasn't exactly an expression he saw every day. In fact, he couldn't remember ever having seen it before. And as she'd dozed off, nestled against him, a sweeping feeling of serenity had crept into him before he'd realized it.
Maybe she'd grown used to him. No, scratch that. She'd grown used to him long ago, eccentricities and all. By the end of their first few months as partners she'd already known him better than a fish knew water was wet. And now she had...what? What had changed? Cold, impersonal, clinical Scully hadn't left. That aspect of her personality was still there when it needed to be. But now, it seemed, *only* when it needed to be.
She'd accepted him. The thought came to Mulder in a rush, and he straightened suddenly, standing and turning to speak to a detective. "Could you get a sample of this material, tell me what it is, maybe?" He heard himself speaking to the man, and, now that he was getting a response, reminded himself vaguely to listen to what he had to say.
"This stuff?" That same doubt Mulder had heard in a thousand police officers' voices made a reappearance. "Sure, okay, but I doubt it'll be more than ink or something." The officer turned to an associate and started speaking to him.
Accepted him. Had she moved on to better things? _God, I hope not,_ Mulder thought to himself, stepping carefully over the darker patch of carpet back into the corner office that was the crime scene. He took in his surroundings once again.
Sighing regretfully, he promised himself that he could think more about Scully later, and allowed himself to sink into the case.
_Okay. Gunshot wound to the head, shot executioner style,_ Mulder started going through the mental checklist. Body had already been removed, leaving the spattering of blood across the desk prominent in the room. Bright red droplets stood out boldly against the white of the paperwork that was scattered over the desktop.
Panorama windows, looking out over..._Well, not much of a view, really, but it's the fact that he *had* a view that counted._ Framed awards adorned the wall, along with a picture of the recently deceased. _So he was full of himself. Not a surprise, with his rank in the company._
The victim had been an almost-executive in Sail Away Industries(TM), probably drawing a paycheck with considerably higher digits than those that appeared on Mulder's. Crossing the small room, Mulder peered behind the desk at the dead man's chair, noting that it looked exceedingly comfortable. _Especially after six hours on that plane. Yowch._
_All right, then, possible motive: envy. So maybe one of his employees did it._ Mulder rolled his eyes at the lack of view as he crossed the room again, this time to the windows. _And the guy was in charge of about half the company. I'll be interrogating for *hours,*_ he moaned inwardly.
_Wonder what Scully's doing right now...no! Stop that! Mind on case!_
"Agent Mulder?" A voice queried from the doorway. He spun, spied a man in a blue uniform. "Ah, you wanted to interview prime witnesses?" The guy looked nervous, and young. Probably his first time encountering a federal officer on the job.
"Oh boy," Mulder cracked, trying to quell the younger man's fears. He didn't look particularly assuaged by this. A wry smile crossed Mulder's lips. "Lead me to 'em."

***

This was the most unusual autopsy that Scully had ever performed, and that was saying something. She had dissected the bodies of mutants, worked meticulously through procedures to determine a cause of death when it turned out that there was none that could be determined, had even searched for clues for a case in the body of a supposed 'alien,' but this--this took the cake.
Nothing else was out of place, tox screen came back negative, no injuries beforehand, even. Just a gunshot wound to the head, and this man's life had ended a few short milliseconds later.
_So this is what normal pathologists encounter every day,_ Scully thought ruefully, stitching the Y-incision carefully, pulling the thread into a clean knot before removing her gloves and tossing them in the wastebin. _No eyes moving after the person has died._ She glanced back at the body, and corrected herself, _No eyes, *period.*_ It had been an extremely close shot. Wheeling the corpse back for an assistant to take care of, Scully searched her memory for any other cases she had encountered quite like this one.
No obvious clues as to the killer, no little mementos stolen. Not even a weapon found, or any trace evidence--merely a dead man, some sand under the door (which could have been there anyway, really), and an iffy dark patch outside the office, which she knew that Mulder would investigate on a hunch. Scully turned off the light in the lab on her way out and made her way out of the building. The sunlight nearly blinded her as she stepped into the parking lot. Shielding her eyes, she made her way to her car, but as soon as she sat down and closed the door, she realized. _I've got nowhere to go._
Mulder would probably still be at the crime scene, or maybe at the local police station, tracking down leads. _I'm not going to call him._ Her cell phone smiled at her dubiously from the adjacent car seat. _I *could* call him,_ she reasoned with herself, _or I could just *find* him._ Making her decision, she shifted the rental car into the appropriate gear and pulled out of the lot, ready to go find her partner.

***

_Just one more after this, just one more after this, just one more after this,_ Mulder chanted to himself silently, loosening his tie and running a hand through his hair. God, did he hate these things. _Forget anything I ever said about cases being hard. *This* is hard. Well, not hard. Boring._
A woman dressed provactively in a fitted suit that had obviously been taken down a few sizes crossed her legs and stared at him openly from a cubicle chair. "Miss..." he looked down at the clipboard provided by the police department. "Grating."
"Gratling," she stretched, thrusting her breasts forward towards Mulder. He raised an eyebrow at her. She didn't seem to notice.
"You're a secretary here?"
"Yes, here at Sail Away Industries(TM), where we work hard for your pleasure," she said, instantly Saleslady. But then her voice changed to a huskier tone as she leaned toward him, "We work *very* hard."
Mulder resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the woman. "So, Miss Gratling, where were you last night at 6:37?"
She pouted a little at his impersonal tone, and backed down. "I was working late, going through some paperwork. You'll never get ahead in this company if you don't work extra. Anyway, I was at this desk," here she pointed at her ground, long red fingernail very visible from the way she arched her hand, "writing up some couple from Milwaukee or some such place, when I heard this shot. Then about six people ran over there," she pointed to the corner office this time, "screaming, so I stayed put."
"Thanks, Miss Grating-"
"Gratling."
"Right. Thank you, Miss Gratling, you've been very helpful," he said, marking her down as 'useless.' "Is there any other information you can offer me?"
"Umm..."
"For instance, who has moved up the ranks as a result of this homocide?"
"...what?"
He sighed heavily. "Who got the promotion?"
"Oh! Earl Stanson. Little prick," she curled her lips in disgust.
"Earl Stanson," Mulder checked his list. "Funny, that's who I'm seeing next. Well, Miss Grat...ling, thank you again for your help."
She smiled and batted her eyes in a way she probably hoped was coquettish. "No problem."
As soon as Mulder got out of her sight, he let loose the biggest eyeroll he'd had in years. "One left," he said to one of the few officers remaining. "Where's my next lucky contestant? Earl Stanson," he supplied.
"Through there."
"Thanks," Mulder stepped into the plush office. There were boxes piled on the desk, and the man he supposed was Stanson was placing his last 'Employee of the Month' award on top of his stapler. "Mr. Stanson?"
"More questions? I'm getting *really* sick of this," the man remarked snidely. Just for the hell of it, Mulder flashed him his badge.
"My name's Fox Mulder, I'm with the Federal Bureau of Investigation."
"Whoop-dee-doo." Now *there* was a reaction Mulder hadn't seen before. "Come on, get on with it, I wanna get home."
Clearing his throat, Mulder complied. "Were you acquainted with the deceased?"
"Sure. He was my boss."
"Did you like him?"
"Who likes their boss?"
Mulder blinked. "*I* like *my* boss."
Stanson rolled his eyes, sitting down behind his soon-to-be-ex desk. "I'm so happy for you."
_Moving on..._ "Where were you at the time of the murder?"
"At home. Watchin' tv."
"Is there anyone who can prove you were home at that time?"
"Yeah. Six girls and one *sexy* goat." He rolled his eyes again. Mulder felt his mouth twitch.
"Can you think of anyone who might have a motive for killing Mr. DuPori?"
"Pfft. Half the people in this building, easy." Stanson leaned back in his seat, and the sun, which hung low in the sky, flashed behind him.
And then Mulder caught it. An extra sort of glint from the direction of the man's face. "...Do you have a glass eye, Mr. Stanson?"
This got the guy's attention. "Yeah. Got it a few years ago. Why?"
"How'd that happen?"
"Boating accident," he shrugged. "Most people don't notice."
Leaning a little closer, Mulder inspected Stanson's eyes. They were a vivid, shocking blue, something you don't often see in nature. "Contact?"
"Yeah. Most people don't notice *that,* either." Mulder leaned even closer. "Are you checkin' me out?"
"No, just--thank you for your time, Mr. Stanson," he leaned back, disappointed. Nothing really that unusual about a glass eye. It was the jerk behind it that was important in the case. Mulder stood, spouting "I hope you enjoy your new position in the company," as he disappeared through the office door.
***

She wasn't sure when she had made the decision to turn off the road--it was probably when she had spotted the gorgeous little beach. Or perhaps when she had missed her exit. Either way, when it came right down to it, she'd rather be looking out at the water than looking at case file photos. Her cell phone had rung about half an hour ago, and she'd had to tell Mulder where she was. He hadn't sounded particularly upset about it--maybe he'd had a frustrating day as well. _No, don't think about your day. Think about the river...the ocean._ Now she lost herself in the way the sun glinted off the waves in *just* the right way as to make it the most beautiful view of a large body of water she'd ever seen.
"Looking for lost treasure?"
Scully looked up at his silhouette, blinking against his penumbra. "In a way." She shifted on the sun-warmed sand beside him as he sat down. He was looking at her in that questioning way he had, half-joking, half-insanely-curious. Her eyes drifted back out to the ocean. She reveled in the sight. Perhaps it wasn't *the* *most* beautiful view she'd ever seen. She'd never thought the ocean could be more beautiful than when she was a kid. Come to think of it, she really didn't know if this was the ocean or just a river. She just knew that it didn't seem to matter. "Just remembering some stuff from when I was little." Letting herself glance at him, she looked back towards his car. "They let you park here?"
"Yeah. Why, they didn't let you?"
"No. Said I had to park at least a few blocks away. They didn't explain why."
Cracking a smile, Mulder said in the worst possible imitation of a Cajun accent: "Welcome to N'Awlins, where we don't let you park close to the beach."
Scully smiled, turning back to the water. _We must be facing East. The sun's behind me,_ she thought, then commented aloud, "God, the sky is gorgeous." Mulder remained silent, letting her think.
She was letting him in, he had decided by now. The startling thing was, no life-changing event had prompted it. In the past, she'd only let him see that she was human (not that he didn't realize that anyway) when something had hurt her spirit, or when she'd had some sort of traumatic experience. And now...now she was doing it of her own accord. No prompting, no silent entreaties from him to let herself go.
As his eyes flitted over her form, which was transfixed by the waves lapping at the shore, he pondered about how he appeared to her. He knew very well how she appeared to him, as it had been pointed out in the past that he saw people differently than most. Instead of searching for distinguishing features like hair color or a familiar face in a crowd, Mulder's mind recognized people a different way: by their stature, their way of holding themselves. And, as far as he was concerned, no one else he had ever met held themselves like Scully. The way she held herself to her full height at all times, she always looked accurate and alert, ready to use her full power to accomplish anything she set herself to do. Not even physically gigantic men who had seen a tour of duty in the armed services held themselves like that. In Scully's stance, Mulder saw pure determination.
So now he wondered what she saw in his. He was determined to do things, sure, but he was also afraid of things, too. For instance, he was afraid of this new development in his partner. Now that she was letting him in, would she let danger in as well. Would the way she moved reflect that? Would she suddenly appear more vulnerable? Mulder hoped not. And, furthermore, was his worry affecting the way that *he* moved? Could she see his concern? More questions wanted to push themselves in Mulder's mind, but she began to speak again.
"My dad would always be out at sea when I was a little girl. And my mother was a full-blown Navy wife, keeping all her problems and worries inside and just taking care of us kids better than three people could. And she says that *I'm* the strong one," a smile crossed Scully's lips. "Every once in awhile, we would get a report that there was some danger to my father's ship. So we'd stay up all night, or we wouldn't go to school, and we'd just stay at home together on the couch, all clustered together as if by sheer willpower we could get dad out of danger.
"Charlie always fell asleep with his head on somebody's lap, usually mine. Bill would sit at the end of the couch, brooding," she chuckled a bit. "And mom and Mel would just hug each other, each pretending it was for the other's benefit. The longest we ever had to wait to find out was eight hours. About four hours in, we started joking about what we would do to Ahab when he got back. Mom always said she would hug him 'till all his bones broke and he wouldn't be able to go back out to sea." She turned to him, and he smiled at her. "So, anything on the case?" she asked, as if nothing was out of place.
Mulder shook his head a little bit to clear it, surprised at her quick change of tone, then shook his head more fully. "Nothing. No good leads, no real suspects...well, at this point, I guess everyone's a suspect." He leaned in closer, asked her deadpan, "Did you shoot Frank DuPori, Scully?"
She rolled her eyes, "No, I didn't. But I can tell you how he was shot. Point-blank to the head, with a 9mm. But other than that, I can't give you any more information."
Mulder sighed. "I was really hoping this wasn't going to be a dead end. I don't want to have heard over fifteen earnest appraisals of Sail Away Cruiselines' services for nothing. Oh, excuse me, Sail Away Industries(TM)."
"Did they find any fingerprints?"
He shook his head again. "None. There was nothing to implicate anyone."
"And he didn't shoot *himself*..." She sighed now, too. "Well, we came out here for nothing. But on the bright side, we did get to see this magnificent view...oh, no." Looking back at the water now, she saw that the sun had moved further down on its path. The waves were no longer crested by the glow of late-afternoon sunlight.
"Hey, nothing lasts forever," Mulder reassured her. "But, look, we can come back here tomorrow, same time, and I bet if you're with me they'll even let you park within a block of the beach."
***

Author's Note: About the height thing. Yeah. Scully's short. That's not why she holds herself to her full height all the time, I don't think. Personally, as an extremely short person (same height as Scully, in fact), I have found that once you reach a certain age, standing up straight is no longer about an inferiority complex, but about wanting to look people in the eye. If I can get over the inferiority thing by sixteen, I'm sure Scully could manage by her mid-thirties. Thank you. Read on! :D