The auditorium at the FBI Academy in Quantico was nearly empty now, the low hum of conversation fading as the last attendees filtered out. Dr. Dana Scully stacked her notes neatly, her mind already drifting to the next case waiting on her desk.

She heard footsteps echoing down the stairs and glanced up to see a tall man approaching. He was young, sharply dressed in a dark suit, though the effect was somewhat undercut by his garish tie.

"Dr. Scully?" he asked, his voice confident but not overbearing. "I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Scully raised an eyebrow. She knew the name. Everyone in the Bureau had heard of "Spooky" Mulder, the Oxford-educated profiler with a brilliant but unconventional reputation. Still, this was their first face-to-face meeting.

She stood straight, folding her arms. "Sure. Would you like to discuss more about why the scratches on this body are non-extraterrestrial?" she asked, a hint of humor lacing her tone. Mulder had asked that very question during her lecture, and it had drawn a few amused murmurs from the audience.

Mulder smiled faintly. "Actually, no. I'd like you to have a look at this report."

He held out a folder, and Scully hesitated before taking it. She glanced at the cover and then back at him, her skepticism barely hidden. "Why me? Can't you ask Dr. Jones?" She tapped a finger on the name of her colleague listed in the report.

Mulder shook his head. "I could," he admitted, "but I'd rather you do it. I really liked your lecture—and the way you didn't rule out certain possibilities."

Scully's expression softened slightly, but her clinical detachment held firm. "You do know that you can't just pick your pathologist like that, don't you?"

Mulder's grin widened. "I do. But here I am trying."

Scully exhaled, flipping open the report. "Okay. I'll have a quick look."

In Scully's small but tidy office, the air was filled with the soft rustle of paper and the occasional tap of a pen. She sat at her desk, meticulously flipping through the pages of the report Mulder had handed her, her brow furrowing slightly as she processed the data.

Mulder stood nearby, hands in his pockets, his eyes keenly watching her every move. Despite her composed demeanor, Scully's ability to quickly make sense of the information impressed him.

After a moment, she closed the report and looked up. "Alright, Agent Mulder. Based on what's here, I'd say these tissue anomalies are more likely the result of prolonged exposure to environmental toxins than anything else. See these markers?" She pointed to a line in the lab results. "They're consistent with—"

"Toxic exposure in controlled environments?" Mulder interrupted, leaning closer.

"Exactly." Scully nodded. "Specifically in confined, high-humidity spaces. This pattern also explains the apparent cellular breakdown you're seeing here." She tapped another section.

Mulder tilted his head, intrigued. "But what about the discoloration in the epidermis? That doesn't seem to align."

Scully glanced at the data again, flipping a page for reference. "Actually, it does. The discoloration is likely from secondary fungal growth. If the body was exposed post-mortem, it would account for the inconsistency."

Mulder blinked, taking it all in. She made it sound so simple. "That… actually makes a lot of sense," he admitted. "I hadn't connected those dots."

Scully gave him a small smile, leaning back in her chair. "That's what I'm here for."

Before he could thank her properly, Scully abruptly stood, her expression shifting. She glanced at her watch and then at the window, where sunlight still streamed through the blinds. "It's late already," she said briskly, standing and heading to the coatrack by the door.

Mulder frowned, confused, as Scully shrugged into her coat, grabbed her bag, and snatched her keys from the desk. "I have to go," she added quickly, her voice firm but polite.

"It's barely afternoon," Mulder pointed out, glancing at the clock on the wall.

Scully paused at the door, looking back at him with a slightly apologetic expression. "Sorry, Agent Mulder. I have… an appointment."

She didn't elaborate and was gone before he could press further, her heels clicking briskly down the hallway.

Mulder stood alone in her office, the neatly reassembled report in his hands. He glanced out the window again. It wasn't late at all.