+++
J. Edgar Hoover Building
8:00 AM
Scully walked down the stairs to the basement. After a full night's rest, she was ready for almost any case Mulder was to throw at her this morning. As she neared closer to the office, a loud banging from inside alerted her, and she pushed open the door.
There was Mulder behind his desk, smashing the wall with a sledge hammer, dressed in slacks and a blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. -The same thing she swore he had been wearing the day before.
"Mulder?" she questioned, her brow narrowing, her hand still on the office's doorknob. He hadn't heard her, and continued to bang, bits of plaster and cement making a messy pile below. He had already smashed quite a bit; a large mutilated hole had developed.
"Mulder!" she shouted to be heard over his noise. He heard this and turned around, lowering the sledge.
"What the hell are you doing? Redecorating?"
His eyes were wild and they looked almost excited. Sweat clung strands of his hair to his forehead and his breathing was rapid from the exercise.
"Scully-" His lungs got caught n his throar and he attempted to regain control over his breath. "You'll never guess what's going to happen." He continued to cradle the sledge in his two hands, showing no signs of quitting his destruction.
"Did you even go home last night, Mulder? You look terrible," Scully commented and shut the door. She took a step closer and folded her arms, showing no interest in his exciting news.
"The world is going to end Scully, the aliens are coming!" he almost shrieked. He was so giddy and scared. Scully narrowed her eyes further. Mulder was having delusions again. That's what happened when he didn't sleep.
"Mulder-"
"Did you hear me? The government, they're covering it up, but the aliens are coming to take over, and they already found a live one, and-"
"Mulder, stop. Sit down, you're going to give yourself a heart attack," Scully ordered and walked closer.
"No time to sit down, Scully. I have to finish this bomb shelter," Mulder lifted the sledge and went back at work on the hole.
"Bomb shelter?" Scully rolled her eyes. He needed rest.
He suddenly stopped the destruction and turned around slowly.
"Well, you don't expect me to die like everyoen else and miss out on the aliens, do you?" he said a little too seriously, which worried Scully even more. He always babbled about aliens, but never to this almost schizophrenic degree.
"Mulder, take the day off and go home and rest," she told him and walked around the desk a little bit.
"No time to rest, Scully. He didn't say when the world was going to end. It could be in an hour. Every minute counts." And as if his own words had fueled him, Mulder threw the sledge even harder into the wall, causing large chunks of cement to fall to the ground.
'This prison death cell in the basement is already surrounded by cement, why make an extra shelter?'
This was utter insanity. Mulder was destroying the building, his office, and even his own mental health.
"Who said, Mulder?" she interigated and uncrossed her arms. For a minute she didn't think he had heard her, but he answered quietly, "The smoking man."
Scully almost went into fits of internal rage. That fucking bastard. He just wouldn't leave Mulder alone.
"Mulder, you know better than to trust him-"
This caused him to abruptly stop the mayhem and he dropped the sledge top to the floor, holding the handle up along his waist.
"Don't you trust me, and my judgement?"
Uh oh, something was going wrong; he was angry. She didn't know what to say to him.
"Of course I do," she pleaded, "But-"
"But what? Do you think I'm crazy or something? That I'm seeing things? That I'm just a nutjob who belongs surrounded by padded walls?" he narrowed his eyes at her.
She was lost for words and didn't resoind. Neither did he as he picked up the sledge again and resumed. "I'm just trying to save your life," he mumbled under his breath and hit the wall harder.
"What?" What did that mean?
He stopped again and turned around.
"Scully, if there's even a *chance* that he's right about this.. I don't want you dead out there while my 'crazy' self is in here and alive."
She said nothing again. He was being sweet about the whole thing, but...
Again, he resumed. Scully left the office.
+++
8:30 AM
She returned about twenty minutes later, hoping to find that he had tired himself out and was sitting back at his desk doing some 'real' work. (If chasing after a troll that lived in the sewers *was* of course).
She was pleasantly surprised as she walked back down the stairs to find it almost silent. Okay, he was done. Now she would have to live with staring at that hole in the wall, and stepping over cement, plaster, and ripped papers that littered the floor.
Pushing the door open for the second time that morning, she spotted what Mulder was up to then. He had stopped with the sledge, yes, but was now on his knees in front of his 'bomb shelter' picking at it with a pen. His tie was off and beside his desk in the mess.
Scully crossed her arms again and watched him.
Was he sick? He didn't look sick.. Except for the sweating, but that had just been caused by his activity and excitement. Scully thought of alerting Skinner before this got too far, but then she thought of poor Mulder being pulled away in a strait jacket, with a bill from the Bureau for the damage clenched in his fist.
'How will encouraging him help either, Dana?'
It wouldn't. So she took a seat across from Mulder's desk and watched him silently drive himself insane.
+++
Time & Location Unknown
"We have his trust." The smoke billowed from his nostrils and he looked at the burning end of the cigarette. "Now he will be saved. For them." His cracked mouth curled up into a grin.
"What about his partner? We have to assume he told her," a voice came out of a slender man who looked as though he had just stepped fresh out of College.
The smoking man paused, holding the cigarette between his thumb and index finger, rolling it gingerly, he answered simply, "She can go too. She's done it before; she knows the drill." And with that he chuckled madly and tossed his cigarette butt ahead into the roaring flames of the fire place.
Fourty-eight hours to go. Time for a phonecall to Mr. Agent Mulder.
+++
J. Edgar Hoover Building
8:00 AM
Scully walked down the stairs to the basement. After a full night's rest, she was ready for almost any case Mulder was to throw at her this morning. As she neared closer to the office, a loud banging from inside alerted her, and she pushed open the door.
There was Mulder behind his desk, smashing the wall with a sledge hammer, dressed in slacks and a blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. -The same thing she swore he had been wearing the day before.
"Mulder?" she questioned, her brow narrowing, her hand still on the office's doorknob. He hadn't heard her, and continued to bang, bits of plaster and cement making a messy pile below. He had already smashed quite a bit; a large mutilated hole had developed.
"Mulder!" she shouted to be heard over his noise. He heard this and turned around, lowering the sledge.
"What the hell are you doing? Redecorating?"
His eyes were wild and they looked almost excited. Sweat clung strands of his hair to his forehead and his breathing was rapid from the exercise.
"Scully-" His lungs got caught n his throar and he attempted to regain control over his breath. "You'll never guess what's going to happen." He continued to cradle the sledge in his two hands, showing no signs of quitting his destruction.
"Did you even go home last night, Mulder? You look terrible," Scully commented and shut the door. She took a step closer and folded her arms, showing no interest in his exciting news.
"The world is going to end Scully, the aliens are coming!" he almost shrieked. He was so giddy and scared. Scully narrowed her eyes further. Mulder was having delusions again. That's what happened when he didn't sleep.
"Mulder-"
"Did you hear me? The government, they're covering it up, but the aliens are coming to take over, and they already found a live one, and-"
"Mulder, stop. Sit down, you're going to give yourself a heart attack," Scully ordered and walked closer.
"No time to sit down, Scully. I have to finish this bomb shelter," Mulder lifted the sledge and went back at work on the hole.
"Bomb shelter?" Scully rolled her eyes. He needed rest.
He suddenly stopped the destruction and turned around slowly.
"Well, you don't expect me to die like everyoen else and miss out on the aliens, do you?" he said a little too seriously, which worried Scully even more. He always babbled about aliens, but never to this almost schizophrenic degree.
"Mulder, take the day off and go home and rest," she told him and walked around the desk a little bit.
"No time to rest, Scully. He didn't say when the world was going to end. It could be in an hour. Every minute counts." And as if his own words had fueled him, Mulder threw the sledge even harder into the wall, causing large chunks of cement to fall to the ground.
'This prison death cell in the basement is already surrounded by cement, why make an extra shelter?'
This was utter insanity. Mulder was destroying the building, his office, and even his own mental health.
"Who said, Mulder?" she interigated and uncrossed her arms. For a minute she didn't think he had heard her, but he answered quietly, "The smoking man."
Scully almost went into fits of internal rage. That fucking bastard. He just wouldn't leave Mulder alone.
"Mulder, you know better than to trust him-"
This caused him to abruptly stop the mayhem and he dropped the sledge top to the floor, holding the handle up along his waist.
"Don't you trust me, and my judgement?"
Uh oh, something was going wrong; he was angry. She didn't know what to say to him.
"Of course I do," she pleaded, "But-"
"But what? Do you think I'm crazy or something? That I'm seeing things? That I'm just a nutjob who belongs surrounded by padded walls?" he narrowed his eyes at her.
She was lost for words and didn't resoind. Neither did he as he picked up the sledge again and resumed. "I'm just trying to save your life," he mumbled under his breath and hit the wall harder.
"What?" What did that mean?
He stopped again and turned around.
"Scully, if there's even a *chance* that he's right about this.. I don't want you dead out there while my 'crazy' self is in here and alive."
She said nothing again. He was being sweet about the whole thing, but...
Again, he resumed. Scully left the office.
+++
8:30 AM
She returned about twenty minutes later, hoping to find that he had tired himself out and was sitting back at his desk doing some 'real' work. (If chasing after a troll that lived in the sewers *was* of course).
She was pleasantly surprised as she walked back down the stairs to find it almost silent. Okay, he was done. Now she would have to live with staring at that hole in the wall, and stepping over cement, plaster, and ripped papers that littered the floor.
Pushing the door open for the second time that morning, she spotted what Mulder was up to then. He had stopped with the sledge, yes, but was now on his knees in front of his 'bomb shelter' picking at it with a pen. His tie was off and beside his desk in the mess.
Scully crossed her arms again and watched him.
Was he sick? He didn't look sick.. Except for the sweating, but that had just been caused by his activity and excitement. Scully thought of alerting Skinner before this got too far, but then she thought of poor Mulder being pulled away in a strait jacket, with a bill from the Bureau for the damage clenched in his fist.
'How will encouraging him help either, Dana?'
It wouldn't. So she took a seat across from Mulder's desk and watched him silently drive himself insane.
+++
Time & Location Unknown
"We have his trust." The smoke billowed from his nostrils and he looked at the burning end of the cigarette. "Now he will be saved. For them." His cracked mouth curled up into a grin.
"What about his partner? We have to assume he told her," a voice came out of a slender man who looked as though he had just stepped fresh out of College.
The smoking man paused, holding the cigarette between his thumb and index finger, rolling it gingerly, he answered simply, "She can go too. She's done it before; she knows the drill." And with that he chuckled madly and tossed his cigarette butt ahead into the roaring flames of the fire place.
Fourty-eight hours to go. Time for a phonecall to Mr. Agent Mulder.
+++