The yellow school bus rolled to a halt at its stop. About ten teenagers, boys and girls, bustled off amidst a cloud of laughter and friendly chatter. She was last off, managing to step onto the curb just as the doors shut behind her with a loud whoosh of air. Sighing she readjusted her rucksack on her shoulder and began walking, hugging her folder and book to her chest.

She walked homeward as she always did, on autopilot. Her body knew where it was going so her mind didn't need to engage in the task of direction. It could wonder and drift freely, flowing wherever random thoughts took her. It was a cold day. Grey. January. But what was the date? 23rd. She smiled slightly to herself. In exactly a month it would be her birthday. Sixteen. Maybe then her parents would stop treating her like a child. She exited the alleyway and pulled her coat tighter round her as a blast of icy air hit her.

Maine was always bitterly cold in winter, she'd learnt that in the short time they'd lived there, but Portland was doubly cold, being on the coast. She continued her journey along the road, only half aware of the cars that passed her. The wind picked up again for a moment, sending a chill through her body and a piece of Titian hair across her deep, azure eyes. It was quickly brushed aside with a simple gesture of a gloved hand. She slowed slightly, turning down the short dirt track that led to her house. She reached her front door and fumbled in her pocket for her key. She turned suddenly at a sound behind her, only to realize it was a bird. Shaking her head at her own paranoia she withdrew her key from her coat pocket and slipped it easily into the lock, opening the door.

She stepped inside, her mind wandering again to her Trigonometry homework that was due in for the next day. Her mind was jolted quickly back to reality as strong arms grabbed her from behind. She opened her mouth to scream but was silenced by a hand clamping down over her mouth. She was roughly shoved into the house and the door slammed loudly, the only sound breaking the otherwise peaceful afternoon.

Special Agent Fox Mulder was wrenched from the comforts of slumber by music yelling at him from his clock radio. Slowly he opened one sleepy hazel eye and focused on the red LCD display glaring at him from his bedside table. 6:01 am. He groaned slightly as he lifted his head from the comfort of his pillow and pulled himself into a sitting position on the edge of his bed. After a few moments he stood up, shaking his head to clear it and remove the last groggy remnants of sleep before crossing his bedroom and entering the bathroom.

Exactly one hour later he stepped out of the elevator in the basement of the J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building.

"Home sweet home," He muttered to himself as he walked down the corridor, stopping at a door with his name on it. He smiled slightly to himself. Six years and she still didn't have her name on the door. He made a mental note to do something about that... soon. He placed a hand on the door knob and turned it to open the door. He was a little surprised when he met resistance.

He fished in his pocket for the keys before unlocking the door, letting it swing open as he flipped on the light and stooped to pick up the mail. He straightened, surveying the office that lay out before him. It looked just as it always did. The coat stand by the door, with the MENCAP hat perched on top, filing cabinets full to bursting with files, the crammed pin board, the 'I Want To Believe' poster boldly prominent; two desks, one noticeably neater than the other.

But this morning something wasn't quite right, and it wasn't just his partner's unprecedented lateness. Mulder couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was amiss. Shrugging off his coat and telling himself he was being paranoid and, had his partner been there she would've told him the same thing, Mulder sat down at his desk and flipped on his computer, ready for anything the day might throw at him.