Dana Scully crossed the open courtyard in front of the Hoover Building, forgoing her attache case for several hot brown paper bags. She nodded her thanks to the door guard who helped her navigate the heavy-framed doors without spilling coffee and eclairs on her teal suit.
The building's hallways were a pale maze, constructed at odd one-hundred and twenty degree angles. Half the time, you could see down two corridors long before you reached them, and half the time, you were guaranteed to run into someone coming around the sharp corners. This problem was true for even the veterans of the Building who had already learned not to lose themselves in the mess of labyrinthine corridors.
And so Agent Scully found herself swinging from side to side, ducking much taller Agents as she negotiated the corridors. Sometimes, it bothered her that she had to sidestep shortsighted people with alarming regularity. Sometimes, she was the one marching through the halls with her nose in a file, and she never noticed. But now it seemed almost fun, dancing left and right around obstructions like a football receiver. Or a SEAL.
The bullpen of junior agents was in good form today, but Scully didn't notice. She had an entirely different set of concerns on her mind this morning. She hustled down the dim stairwell toward the basement, almost certain of what she'd find there.
It took her long seconds of fumbling with the doorknob and her bags before Scully managed to open the dark door to Mulder's basement office. And sure enough, Fox was seated behind his desk looking up at the door, nonplussed. Dana knew she'd been scrabbling at the door long enough for him to have helped her had he been well. Slightly out of breath, Scully wore a tolerant grin as she glanced sideways at Fox's pale, drawn face.
"Decided to come in to work today." She couldn't quite manage to make a question out of it.
"No. I was abducted and forced to watch daytime soaps for weeks. The Grays just set me down here." Mulder smiled back, but settled into his leather armchair, repositioning his sling.
Scully dropped the bags on Mulder's desk, and started pulling out coffee cups and breakfast danishes. "I dropped by your apartment on the way here. Figured you didn't need to make your own breakfast one handed every day while you're out."
Mulder raised his eyebrows while he sipped his coffee. "Toast and eggs don't take a lot of work."
"Eat that eclair before I get to it." Scully dropped a croissant and a danish on her desk, avoiding the custard-filled pastry. She draped her jacket over the back of the seat, and settled in with her breakfast.
Mulder studied Dana while she was eating, noting that she wasn't leaning back in her chair. He took another drink, and tried to sound casual. "So, when's that military debriefing scheduled for?"
Dana set down her croissant and cleared her throat, buying time. "Last week."
Dana and Fox met one another's eyes across the office. Scully flushed lightly, and tried to read her partner's dark expression. Mulder looked aside for a moment, then down at his stiff and bound arm. He looked up at Scully, and grinned sadly.
"Well then, how did it go?" Dana thought that was a loaded question if ever she had heard one.
She sighed, and carried her coffee back over to his desk. Obviously he wanted to plow into work, and she perched alongside his desk to eye him better. He wouldn't like the news.
"Officially, we're getting commended for our work stopping a viral epidemic." Scully's clear blue eyes looked up from her light coffee into Mulder's face.
"What? A virus? Who are they kidding, Scully?" Mulder started to push himself out of his chair with his good arm, but dropped back into the seat immediately. "We've got a dozen witnesses of every rank in the military . . ."
Mulder slowed when he saw the look in Dana's face. He blinked slowly, then pushed his half eaten eclair across the desk toward a tottering pile of folders. "I haven't seen Quiddis or Meyer in a week."
"They've been reassigned. Paddy's in a VA hospital on Kuai. Recovering well, I'm told. Soun's doing a tour as an attache to the embassy in Switzerland, and Meyer is on detached duty with the UN."
"Quiddis?" Fox's mouth drew up into a long, thin line, his eyes tight.
"I can't even find a reference to him anywhere. His Commanding Officer sent him to Wood's Hole for training. The base commander there says he never showed up. According to payroll, he's drawing a check from Fort Bragg, if you can believe it. But no one has seen or head from him in ten days. It's almost as if-"
"He disappeared."
"Or was reassigned, doing classified work." Dana set down her coffee, not wanting to sit there holding it dumbly.
"And everything corroborates whatever story the Navy has concocted. Damn!" Mulder leaned back in his chair and blew out an exasperated breath. He used his left hand to rub the raw skin over his healing right shoulder.
Dana saw him working the sore bones and muscles, and opened her mouth to say something. But she stopped, watching Fox stare darkly at his files. Instead she pursed her lips, and waited.
"We were right there. We were right there." He tried to drum up the anger to pound his fist on the desktop, but dropped it limply instead. He deflated for a moment before catching his breath and turning to Dana.
"There's no reason for me to be here today. I'm going home."
Dr. Scully reached out, and laid a manicured hand on Mulder's long forearm. For a moment, it felt odd; the tailored cotton shirt was so much thinner than the rough workshirt he'd been wearing.
"Uh uh, Mulder. I need to start files on all the people involved here. And I have no idea where to start in all this." Dana waved at the file cabinets with her off hand, not removing the one from Fox's arm. "You start in on that, I'll do the report for Skinner."
Mulder nodded, and smiled. His hazel eyes smiled as well, and shared a knowing look with his partner. He picked up the eclair, and bit messily through it. Dragging an empty folder out of his desk, he licked away some of the custard from his lip.
Dana returned to her seat, and tapped her computer to life. While it started humming, winding up to speed, she looked back at Fox. He was already tearing through a yellow sheaf of notepaper, not in the least slowed by the necessity of writing left-hand. His brow was drawn up, and from the way he chewed his lip, she guessed he was deeply engrossed in his work already.
"What do you say we knock off to Michael's for lunch?" Fox's head snapped up, and it took a moment for him to drag the confusion from his face. "If I have to eat any more cafeteria food I'll die of Jello poisoning."
"Sure. It'll be a good break from the basement. Right?" Mulder smiled, his eyes a little apprehensive.
"Definitely. Nice to get a change of scenery." Dana made a pretense of logging in and entering her password. Surreptitiously, she watched Mulder bend himself to his papers.
He didn't seem nearly as intent as before.
The sand dunes rose darkly out of the water, the seagrasses blending them in with the surf and the night sky. The rolling gulf waters and the grasses blended together in the still night air to create a soft night music that was almost hypnotic. The pale sands were wet and darkened, and uncrossed by any tracks.
In this part of the world, the water is both god and devil. It pours out, spilling tons of soil and sand into the gulf. It builds bars, and flats, and all manner of land. But it also rolls in, and rips them apart. Year after year, sections of shoreline come and go, whipped by wind and water.
A tumbler rolled in out of the dark night, depositing its load of flotsam on the beach. A dark green bag spilled ashore, half buried by the flowing sands. The letters 'USN' were still visible above the sand.
As the next wave rolled in, a slick, gleaming figure staggered out of the water. Swaying slightly, it dropped to its knees, and pushed its bundle further up the sand.
In the dull glow of moonlight, a thin rivulet of blood trickled down its shattered chest, and burned the sand into glass where it struck. Its long, slick black head rolled back on hard narrow shoulders to scan the endless expanse of rolling dunes with an eyeless face. It hissed, saliva clinging to its long teeth.
It reached out a hand, the fingers cracked and broken. Pushing hard, it started to slide the egg up the beach. It hissed loudly as blood flowed from the wound across its featureless head. Despite the pain, it continued to push.
It only had to go so far.
The End.