Title: God! Stop Following Me Around!

Author: Neoxphile

Rating: Pg-13

Spoilers/time frame: Takes place sometime before "requiem" so spoilers up through that episode are possible. Catogory: Casefile Snark; written for the 'Write YOU into a casefile' summer 2003 challenge, which was an experiment to see if MarySue fics are more readable if they're written intentionally- it seemed so in every case =) ?msg=117814.1

Summary: Mulder and Scully are convinced that something, anything, is paranormal in my life. They pester me about it. Frequently.

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to the characters Mulder and Scully, who are the property of Chris Carter and 1013 productions. However, I do claim ownership to myself, my imaginary child, my imaginary dog and imaginary former spouse. I'd be willing to negotiate if CC wished to purchase us, though.

It all started on what, looking back, had been a pretty normal day up until that point. Markie had just woken up from his afternoon nap, so I was getting him out of his crib before he began to fuss. I remember thinking about how heavy he was getting, and reminding myself to put sunscreen on him before we went on our walk, because he'd inherited my coloring. We never did end up going on that walk. Just as I finished putting Markie into his (ok, my) favorite blue sleeper, the doorbell rang.

And rang, and rang... besides pausing to put the baby in his playpen, I had to scoot our little wiener dog, Chase, out of the way, since Chase tried to bolt every time the door opened.

When I finally did open the door, a grim looking man and woman stood on the steps. I quickly sized them up, noticing that they were both dressed completely in black. " I've found Jesus, but thank you anyway." I said, hoping to cut them off at the past. Unfortunately, they didn't budge.

" Are you Shannon Phile?" The man asked in an authoritative way that immediately got my back up. I was going to shut the door, but he and the woman whipped out official looking badges in a way that made me suspect they practiced. A lot. Probably in front of mirrors. " I'm special agent Mulder, and this is my partner, special agent Scully. We need to swatch to you."

I let them in without a word, mostly because I was wondering what was special about them. They didn't look so special to me. Oh, the man was handsome enough, in that tall, dark and lanky way, but his hazel eyes seemed devoid of anything like a personality or sense of humor. And the woman? She was about my height- short- if somewhat thinner, but that dye- job, who did she think she was kidding? No way anyone would believe that was real. However, I'm among 28% of polled natural redheads who detests red hair dye, so I might be prejudiced. A little. But those cold blue eyes...I'm sure mine look warmer when I give someone the finger after they've cut me off in traffic. I'm trying to break myself of that, though, before Markie is old enough to notice.

The man, "special" agent Mulder, made himself at home on the couch before I even offered him a seat. That was rather rude of him. I didn't say anything to him, because his partner was freaking my son out. She'd made a beeline for the playpen and loomed over him until I'd gotten the chance to pick him up. His little arms clung to my neck, half strangling me.

" He's precious." She said, almost displaying an emotion. " How old is he?"

" Nine months."

" Could I...hold him?"

I glanced down at the way he refused to look at her. " I don't think so."

" Oh..." Unbelievably, she began to tear up. " I can't have children, you know."

Of course I didn't know, I'd never seen her before in my life. Why would I know about the infertility woes of a complete stranger? " Uh...sorry about that."

She gave me a misty smile, and her partner patted her hand.

I gave up hopping that they'd get around to sharing the reason for their visit. FBI agents don't usually just drop by, so I was pretty sure they hadn't come just to test out my couch and to traumatize my baby. " You said you needed to swatch to me?" I prompted.

They exchanged a meaningful look. I hate when people do that.