Chapter 2
Across town behind the door of apartment number 42, Fox Mulder didn't seem to be having any more luck than his partner; however, he was having an arguably better time. With his feet propped up on the coffee table and a pile of saliva-moistened sunflower seed shells on his chest, he was engaged in a deep sleep. His mind was not preoccupied with his assignment but instead busy incorporating himself into the episode of the three stooges he had fallen asleep to. The trio with their predisposition for assuming new identities had taken on the role of FBI agents. They were at a crime scene collecting evidence when Mulder joined in on the fun.
The phone rang causing Mulder to jerk forward sending a shower of sunflower seeds on to his lap and the floor. He leaned forward and grabbed the phone but by the time he clicked the talk button and put the receiver to his ear, the caller had hung up already. He yawned and stretched his arms over his head and slouched back into the indention he had left in his couch from his nap. His eyes surveyed his apartment; the pile of dirty clothes in the corner by the TV, the array of empty coffee cups cluttering the coffee table and the piles of papers and unopened mail scattered over his desk.
He swept the remnants of the shells from his New York knicks t-shirt into his palm and brushed it off onto the coffee table on top of a yellow memo pad. He thoughtfully picked up the memo pad and read over the notes he had scribbled describing the requirements of his report. In the upper hand corner '5 pages' had been underlined several times and the 5 had been turned into a caricature of Skinner with glasses and a shine spot atop of his head. He snickered to himself at his drawing.
What a shmuck.
He picked up the phone and punched in the digits of Scully's phone number.
" 'Ello?" She answered through a mouthful of something.
"Oh, hey Scully. You're not busy, are you?"
"No, no I was just eating a, uh, salad. Why, what's up?" She asked as she wiped the chocolate from the corners of her mouth.
"I was just calling to see how your report was coming."
"Fine." She paused. "How's yours coming?"
"Good. Mine is coming along good. I thought for sure we were going to get chewed out or a week suspension without pay. We got off pretty easy, huh?"
"Yeah, he must have been in a good mood." She replied as she scooped the softened ice cream onto her spoon and then let it drip back into its container as she stared at the blank word document before her.
"Okay, well I'll see you tomorrow." He replied enthusiastically.
"Good night Mulder."
He listened to hear her hang up before he did. He turned off the phone and tossed it beside him and flipped the page of the memo pad to reveal a clean sheet. He picked up a dulled pencil from off the coffee table and filled his cheeks up with air and released it with a frustrated sigh.
Dear Scully,
By now, my childhood is no secret to you. My family was the picture of the average American household, dinner at 6 pm every evening, breakfast at 6:30. Baseball games, bike riding, swimming in the lake down the street. Everything was care free and peaceful, that is until Samantha was taken. The rest of my childhood was spent questioning everything. The care free approach I once took for granted was ripped out from under me and I was inundated into a world where trust did not exist and there were millions of questions left unanswered.
He looked over what he had written and ripped it out. He threw the paper ball so that it landed on top of the pile of dirty clothes. His eyes moistened, but no tears formed. He covered his face with his hands and sniffled. This was going to be a long night.
Across town behind the door of apartment number 42, Fox Mulder didn't seem to be having any more luck than his partner; however, he was having an arguably better time. With his feet propped up on the coffee table and a pile of saliva-moistened sunflower seed shells on his chest, he was engaged in a deep sleep. His mind was not preoccupied with his assignment but instead busy incorporating himself into the episode of the three stooges he had fallen asleep to. The trio with their predisposition for assuming new identities had taken on the role of FBI agents. They were at a crime scene collecting evidence when Mulder joined in on the fun.
The phone rang causing Mulder to jerk forward sending a shower of sunflower seeds on to his lap and the floor. He leaned forward and grabbed the phone but by the time he clicked the talk button and put the receiver to his ear, the caller had hung up already. He yawned and stretched his arms over his head and slouched back into the indention he had left in his couch from his nap. His eyes surveyed his apartment; the pile of dirty clothes in the corner by the TV, the array of empty coffee cups cluttering the coffee table and the piles of papers and unopened mail scattered over his desk.
He swept the remnants of the shells from his New York knicks t-shirt into his palm and brushed it off onto the coffee table on top of a yellow memo pad. He thoughtfully picked up the memo pad and read over the notes he had scribbled describing the requirements of his report. In the upper hand corner '5 pages' had been underlined several times and the 5 had been turned into a caricature of Skinner with glasses and a shine spot atop of his head. He snickered to himself at his drawing.
What a shmuck.
He picked up the phone and punched in the digits of Scully's phone number.
" 'Ello?" She answered through a mouthful of something.
"Oh, hey Scully. You're not busy, are you?"
"No, no I was just eating a, uh, salad. Why, what's up?" She asked as she wiped the chocolate from the corners of her mouth.
"I was just calling to see how your report was coming."
"Fine." She paused. "How's yours coming?"
"Good. Mine is coming along good. I thought for sure we were going to get chewed out or a week suspension without pay. We got off pretty easy, huh?"
"Yeah, he must have been in a good mood." She replied as she scooped the softened ice cream onto her spoon and then let it drip back into its container as she stared at the blank word document before her.
"Okay, well I'll see you tomorrow." He replied enthusiastically.
"Good night Mulder."
He listened to hear her hang up before he did. He turned off the phone and tossed it beside him and flipped the page of the memo pad to reveal a clean sheet. He picked up a dulled pencil from off the coffee table and filled his cheeks up with air and released it with a frustrated sigh.
Dear Scully,
By now, my childhood is no secret to you. My family was the picture of the average American household, dinner at 6 pm every evening, breakfast at 6:30. Baseball games, bike riding, swimming in the lake down the street. Everything was care free and peaceful, that is until Samantha was taken. The rest of my childhood was spent questioning everything. The care free approach I once took for granted was ripped out from under me and I was inundated into a world where trust did not exist and there were millions of questions left unanswered.
He looked over what he had written and ripped it out. He threw the paper ball so that it landed on top of the pile of dirty clothes. His eyes moistened, but no tears formed. He covered his face with his hands and sniffled. This was going to be a long night.