Just Your Average Day

Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com)

June 20, 1996

JUST YOUR AVERAGE DAY

by Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com)

It was one of those low emotional, physical and mental days when,

even if you had called in sick to work and pulled the covers back

up over your head to escape it, an inconsiderate 6.8 earthquake

would have shaken you out of bed. On Scully's shit list today was

her car (which had a flat on the way to work), her cel phone (which

had died during a call to her Mom), her sinuses (plugged up), and

Mulder (just on general principles).

The day had begun to really hack her off when her last regular pair

of panty hose had self-destructed and the only other stockings she

owned were a bright red color. She had never worn them and didn't

even know why she had bought the ugly things. Most of her clothes

were at the dry cleaners, so she had a choice of either a sunny

yellow or a cerulean blue suit, neither of which would go with the

barfy hose. Needing to wear stockings with her high-heeled shoes,

however, she bit the bullet and put them on, along with her blue

suit. She frowned at her blue-clad red-legged image in the mirror

and mentally threatened Mulder with thumb-screws if he dared to say

a word.

As she left the apartment, she planned to see if any stores were

open yet on the way to work where she could buy a decent pair. =

However, fate works in mysterious ways, and her car proceeded to

have a flat on the Beltway, she got a greasy smudge on her sleeve

from changing the flat, and then found herself talking to the ozone

when her phone suddenly quit in the middle of her Mom's sentence: =

"...Do you think it's too soon to...?" CLICK.

Scully was not normally one given to swearing, but she was calling

up some choice words and phrases that she remembered overhearing

her Navy father use. By the time she stormed into the office that

morning, she was - how do we delicately put it? - royally pissed.

"Morning, Scully." Mulder's mild greeting from where he was seated

at his desk was met with a terse, "Morning."

He looked up with concern in his eyes from the file he was reading

and immediately felt like he was on the wrong end of a sniper's

scope when she turned her gaze on him. He removed his glasses and

asked, "You OK?"

"Fine." Her standard answer.

Whenever Scully was in a bad mood, Mulder figured it had to have

been something he did (or forgot to do) to cause it. He would have

to tread lightly until he could figure out what.

Unfortunately for Mulder, his eyes travelled down to Scully's legs

at that moment; nothing new about that, but this time she caught

him at it.

"What's wrong with these stockings?!" she demanded.

He stared at her like a deer caught in the headlights and

frantically wondered what the hell was the right thing to say here.

"Uh..."

"For your information, these red ones were the only stockings I had

left to wear today until I get a chance to go buy some later."

With that, she sat down in her chair with her back to him and

flipped the switch to turn on her computer.

Mulder figured that he could play this one of two ways: Ignore her

nasty mood and wait until it improved; or tease her into a better

one. Again, unfortunately for him, he chose the wrong path.

In that smart-ass tone he used sometimes that could really rile

her, he commented, "I don't know, Scully. The color sort of

complements your eyes, I think."

Her hand froze as she was moving it toward the phone to pick up

where she had left off with her mother.

She pushed away from her desk so that her chair rolled over next to

Mulder, where she stopped. She reached towards Mulder, who was

getting nervous, grabbed his tie, and yanked him forward until his

nose was an inch from hers.

"I don't criticize your shitty tie; you don't criticize my

stockings," she snarled, her sinus headache getting the better of

her. "Got it?" Then she released him, got to her feet, and walked

out of the office.

Mulder was speechless. He couldn't imagine why she was so wound

up. She never got physical with him no matter how much he provoked

her. Actually, it kind of turned him on. "Beat me, whip me, make

me write bad checks," he murmured. Then he quit being silly as he

realized she needed someone's sympathy, not more irritation.

=0C

He went out into the hall but didn't see her. He thought that she

probably had gone into the rest room, and walked in that direction.

At this point, there was a critical piece of information Mulder did

not have which would have greatly influenced what occurred next. =

He did not hang around with the FBI staff at break time, getting

the latest gossip. The latest gossip would have included the fact

that someone (male) was hanging around inside the ladies rest rooms

for some unknown reason. No one had actually seen him yet, because

he either was inside a stall with the door closed or entering the

room after the woman visiting the place was already in a stall when

the encounters had happened. The speculation was that the weirdo

was someone employed in the building.

The ladies restroom in the basement of the FBI building was seldom

used because of its remote location. So Mulder just gave a

perfunctory tap before opening the door and walking in. If Scully

were here, she could barely have reached the room before he did,

and should not be in any embarrassing situation.

Scully was not there. Elaine dumenil from Violent Crimes was,

however, standing at the sink washing her hands. She was a field

agent, 5'10" tall, and had no fear of anything she had yet to

encounter.

When Mulder walked in and came to an abrupt halt behind her, she

looked up, startled, into the mirror at his image. She whirled and

said, "You!" before landing an uppercut solidly on his jaw.

The impact knocked him backwards into the bank of three stalls, so

he didn't land on the floor, but he was hurt and confused long

enough for Elaine to connect with a well-placed knee as she shoved

up against him.

"Ooof!" was all he could manage. And Scully opened the door to

enter the rest room.

"Go tell your boss that I have the ladies' room lurker red-handed!"

Elaine yelled at the bewildered Scully. "I'll keep him here until

you get back."

Scully said, "I don't think...uh...the ladies' room lurker? =

Mulder?" She snickered and then broke into laughter that echoed

really well in the tiled room. After she could stop for a second,

she wiped her eyes and said, "Mulder's not the 'lurker.' Whatever

gave you that idea?"

"What else would he be doing in the ladies' room?" Elaine demanded. =

"I was washing the dust off my hands that I got from some ancient

files down here, when he comes prancing in like he knew just what

he was doing." She folded her arms and looked menacingly at

Mulder, who was still bent double in pain.

Scully raised her eyebrows at him and said, "Well, Mulder? What

*were* you doing in here?"

"Looking for you," he managed to groan. "I wanted to see what was

bothering you, see if I could help." He whimpered a little when he

tried to stand upright.

Scully turned to Elaine and said, with amusement in her voice, "I

guarantee that Mulder is not your famous pervert," and she glanced

out of the corner of her eyes at him, adding, "At least not in the

way you think. I was upset this morning, and I'm sure he really

was trying to see what was wrong."

Elaine was reluctant to let it go, but finally, reluctantly, gave

up and went back upstairs.

"Scully, you know the whole place is going to hear about what

'Spooky' Mulder was caught doing."

Scully said brightly, "Yup. Adds a new aspect to your already

infamous legend."

He gave her a hurt look, then limped out the door into the

corridor. She noticed that he walked very carefully all the way

back to their office, but refrained from commenting.

"Well, at least my pain and ruined reputation has managed to cheer

you up. I didn't realize that I was to be your entertainment for

the morning." Mulder hobbled to his desk and gingerly sank into

his chair.

Scully stood and just looked at him for a moment, deep in thought.

He fidgeted, then said, "You're not going to hurt me, are you?" He

did manage a smile, but it turned into a wince when he shifted in

his chair.

She smiled a genuine beautiful Scully smile, and said, "No, Mulder. =

I think you've had enough of that for one day, and it's only 9:15."

She went to her desk and sat down, but still faced him with an

enigmatic look on her face.

He finally looked down to see if his fly was zipped (it was), then

back up at her, asking, "What!?"

"Well, first I want to apologize for the rotten way I was acting

this morning. A lot of things went wrong, and I was taking it out

on you. I'm sorry."

He cautiously said, "OK. And...?"

"We don't have any X File cases pending right now, and none of the

paperwork is urgent, is it?"

Not knowing where this may be leading, he decided to go for it. =

"No, nothing is pressing at the moment."

"Good," she said, as she stood and took her suit jacket off and

arranged it over the back of the chair. As she was taking her

shoes off, Mulder's eyes opened wider as he waited to see what came

next.

What came next were four straight grueling hours of hard work

cleaning out the jam-packed storeroom where everything had been

thrown by generations of agents and clerks to gather dust and mice

droppings. What Elaine had said in the restroom about the dusty

old files had reminded her that this was a chore they had long been

putting off. Mulder was perspiring even though he had his jacket

off and shirt sleeves rolled up. He felt filthy from the ancient

grime by the time they decided to break for lunch at 1:30. He was

able to walk around with more ease now, and his jaw only throbbed

now and then.

Scully had been sneezing from the dust they raised, and by the time

they stopped, she was practically wheezing. Her sinuses had been

in bad shape to start with, and were now on a real rampage.

Scully stood up from where she had been perched on a stack of files

and brushed her hands together to shake off the dust. Mulder

smiled at a long streak of dirt across her cheek.

"What's so funny?" Her voice sounded raspy from the congestion.

"Nothing," he said, wishing he could lick his thumb and rub the

dirt away, but she would kill him if he tried that. "We had both

better wash up before going to lunch. I'll meet you at the

elevator."

After washing, Mulder waited for Scully, idly reading the sign over

the call buttons for the zillionth time since coming to work in the

building: "In case of fire, do not use elevator." He suddenly

realized that he had been smelling a faint odor of smoke ever since

he had approached the elevator area.

"Shit," he said, then, "shit!" more fervently when he felt the door

to the stairwell. It was extremely hot to the touch.

He ran to the women's restroom, pounded on the door shouting

"Fire!," then raced back to their office and grabbed the telephone

receiver. To his surprise, the phone worked, and AD Skinner's

secretary answered on the first ring.

"Assistant Director Walter Skinner's office."

"This is Agent Fox Mulder. Is there a fire? I haven't heard any

alarms...." Just then, a loud clanging noise filled the air, and

he saw Scully come into the room hurriedly, with a frown on her

face.

"Oh, Agent Mulder. We're evacuating the building. Where are you?"

Scully started to say something, but Mulder held up his hand and

answered Kimberly, "In my office with Agent Scully."

There was a pause, then she said, "The reports I've had are that

the fire is on the ground floor, and is rapidly spreading. I have

to get out now, but I'll get someone to help you. Don't use the

west stairwell, and...." The connection was suddenly broken.

Mulder slowly hung the receiver up and realized that he was

perspiring heavily and his breathing had quickened, as had his

heartbeat. "Why did it have to be fire," he thought. "Now I'll

panic and make an ass of myself in front of Scully."

Scully took one close look at him and knew that his phobia was

kicking in with a vengeance. Trying to get him to calm down, she

kept her voice even and asked, "Can we get out through either

stairwell?"

He took a breath and said, "The east door is hot. Kimberly just

told me that the fire is located on the ground floor, and not to

use the west stairwell. She started to tell me something else, but

the line went dead." His grin was shaky. "We may just have to

wait to be rescued. This is the basement, you know, and there are

no windows to use as exits."

He looked up at the vent in the ceiling, and said, "Maybe we could

get out, or at least somewhere away from the fire, through the air

vents."

Scully shook her head. "No, the alarm system will have closed the

shutters in the dampers by now, isolating this area from the smoke

and fire. Besides, the duct is only 26 gauge sheet metal with

light steel strapping holding it up, so it probably wouldn't even

hold you, Mulder."

He looked in surprise at her. "Where did you get *that* from?"

She gave him a wry smile and said, "Norm on 'This Old House'. =

Don't you watch Public Television, Mulder?"

"Just when they have alien autopsies featured."

"What about your cel phone," he asked. "Mine is in the car."

"She wrinkled her nose and said, "Dead," not wanting to get into

the whole sordid story.

He noticed that the air was getting hazier and the smell of the

smoke was much stronger now. It was hard not to cough a lot. His

Scully-protectiveness was going into overdrive.

=0C

"Do you know of another way than the stairwells or elevator to

reach the sub-basement? I've never studied a floor plan, but I

know this area pretty well and can't recall seeing anything."

She grew thoughtful, then they both looked at each other and said

at once, "The freight elevator!" The old, original elevator was

located in a remote part of the building, and maybe the fire would

not have reached it yet.

They ran down one corridor, up another, turned several corners,

crossed a large dark warehouse-like room, and arrived at the wide

doors of the freight elevator. The area had an abandoned

appearance, looking like no one ever came back here anymore. And

they found that the fire door to the stairs was jammed tight,

against all regulations. Mulder was unable to even budge it.

"Boy is the Fire Marshall going to be pissed about *that*," Mulder

panted, and kicked the door as he turned his attention to the

elevator.

He tentatively laid his palms against the metal elevator doors and

felt only coolness. He pressed both the "up" and "down" call

buttons, crossed his fingers and looked at Scully.

"This is going to be a gamble. If we go up, we may be trapped in

the path of the fire. If we go down, we may ultimately die if the

smoke from the fire fills up the sub-level."

The elevator came, the doors opened, and an innocuous "ding"

sounded its arrival.

Mulder was still mentally trying to decide which way to go, since

their lives probably depended on which decision was made, when

Scully stepped into the elevator and pressed the "up" button.

He quickly followed her, and demanded, "What are you doing? How do

you know that's the safest direction?"

As the doors slowly shut, Scully looked up impatiently at him and

said, "If Kimberly can be evacuated, then there's no fire in the

rear of the building where the back entrance and this elevator is

located. You said that the west and east stairs are not an

option."

He prayed that her logic was right, and that the doors didn't open

onto an inferno. He kept his hands against the door and thankfully

could not detect any appreciable change as the old elevator

lumbered upward.

With a loud creak and some clanking, the elevator suddenly jerked

to a stop. The floor indicator had not changed from "B" for

basement, however, and the door did not open.

===========================================================================

From: fox42@ix.netcom.com

Date: Thu, 20 Jun 1996 17:59:48 -0400

Subject: NEW: "Just an Average Day"

Same disclaimers as Part I.

JUST YOUR AVERAGE DAY

By Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com)

Part II

They looked at each other, both getting a sinking feeling about the

situation. And the smoke in the air had thickened appreciably,

which was causing eyes to water and more frequent coughing.

After a minute or two it was obvious that the elevator was not

going anywhere. Mulder tried half-heartedly poking a few buttons,

with no result.

"Help me try to pull the doors open." Mulder worked his fingers

into the pliable rubber bumpers between the two doors and pulled

with all his strength. Scully came up under his left arm and

hooked the edge of the left door with her fingers, then pulled for

all she was worth.

The doors reluctantly parted, moving very slowly, requiring force

until they were all the way open.

The outer elevator opening was above them a bit, and the floor was

at Mulder's waist level. He figured that they could manage this

pretty easily, until he reached up and touched the outer doors.

"Dammit!" He jumped back and shook his hands. "It may have been

OK earlier, but that's not a way out any more."

He looked down with concern at Scully, who was having a major

coughing fit. Smoke was coming into the elevator car in more

volume than before; the fire must be pretty bad up here. He tried

not to think about the fire, but that's like telling the person

with arachniphobia to just ignore the giant spider that's sitting

on his arm.

Scully was trying to draw a breath without coughing, and finding it

difficult, if not impossible. She was aware of the fact that most

fire-related deaths were from smoke inhalation, and not from

burning. Good to know.

In a kidding tone but in a voice which shook a little bit, Mulder

asked, "Would you think less of me, Scully, if I freaked out at

this point and started drooling?"

Scully coughed and said, "But that's not unusual for *you*, Mulder. =

You don't need fire as an excuse." She touched his arm in a

calming gesture, however, since she realized he was feeling the

panic rising that was born of his phobia.

She was contemplating climbing up or down the elevator cable in the

shaft as a last resort, when a violent jerk of the car knocked her

to the floor, with Mulder landing on top of her. Then they both

realized that the elevator had begun moving down at it's normal

slow, uneven pace, and that the doors had hissed shut.

"Now what?" came a muffled voice from somewhere under Mulder, and

he quickly shifted so that he wasn't squashing Scully.

He looked at her lying on the floor with her hair disheveled, her

suit hiked up around her thighs and face slightly flushed, and,

forgetting the fire in that few seconds, felt a wave of un-partner-

like feelings wash over him. He fought it back down, realizing it

definitely was not the time nor the place.

"Are you OK? Did I hurt you?" He anxiously asked, when she had

made no move to get up.

She lay there a moment and then the coughing forced her to sit up.

"Yes I'm OK and no, you didn't hurt me," she said when she could

speak again. "This filthy floor may give me a disease, though, and

I hate to think what it's doing to my suit."

He helped her to her feet and commented, "We've just passed 'B' and

seem to be headed down to 'LL.' At least it's going away from the

fire."

The elevator finally came to a stop and the doors opened to reveal

a cavernous, crowded space with less-than-desirable lighting. The

good news was that it didn't seem too smoky, at least for the time

being.

Scully said, "Just a second," and reached up under her skirt. =

Mulder was so surprised, that he just stood there, staring. She

tugged her pantyhose down, kicked off her shoes, and drew the

stockings off her legs and threw them into the corner of the

elevator, where they floated down in a delicate heap. She slipped

the shoes back on and said, "There. I've been wanting to do that

all morning."

He was struggling with mixed emotions as he thought, "Me, too." =

And wondered if she thought of him as a male of the species at all,

or just a partner who was a little weird. OK, a lot weird.

She looked up at Mulder and noticed a slight flaring of the

nostrils and was he blushing? "Guess that wasn't very ladylike,"

she thought, "but what the hey."

Leaving the brightly lighted elevator, they stepped out into the

murky half-light of the sub-basement, and heard the elevator doors

slide shut behind them.

"This is where the sewer monster usually comes leaping out from

behind those file cabinets," Mulder helpfully whispered to Scully,

his breath tickling her ear, and making her shiver.

"Thanks, Mulder. I'll keep that in mind."

As they moved forward, she added, "I suppose we should just find a

spot to sit down and wait for the cavalry. There won't be any way

to get out of the building from down here, except for the elevator

and stairs leading right into the fire."

They could see that the warehouse-like room was literally crammed

with obsolete and broken furniture and equipment.

Scully said, "I thought that old furniture was supposed to be sold,

repaired, re-cycled, donated or something."

"Right. This is the 'or something' room."

Walking down the rows between the high stacks of discarded junk,

they realized there was order of some sort: Desks were in one

area, chairs in another, file cabinets formed a wall in one row,

and so on. Towards the rear, they found hundreds of free-standing

metal shelves filled with tons of paper and forms. There was so

much paper that some of it was stacked on the floor, forming an

obstacle course in the pathway.

Out of curiosity, Mulder snagged one of the forms from a nearby

shelf. His mouth turned up in a wry smile, as he said, "Listen to

this one. 'Request for Partner Reassignment, for use only in cases

of extreme incompatibility'."

"You're making that up," Scully accused.

"Yeah," he said, and laughed. But he glanced upward uneasily and

Scully knew he was thinking about the fire above them.

When they reached the back wall, they found a door, and Mulder

peeked in. He found a light switch on the wall, then stood back

and bowed at the waist, sweeping his arm through the air in a

courtly gesture for Scully to enter, saying, "Your bed-chamber

awaits, mademoiselle."

She strolled into the room, noting that the lone fluorescent light

on the ceiling flickered and buzzed annoyingly. There was a

single-sized bed in the corner, with a bed-stand and a lamp, a worn

and well-used recliner, a small table, and even a medium-sized

color television.

"Looks like a lot of the motel rooms I've stayed in, Mulder," she

remarked. "Do you think that this is a break room for Security to

use?" Turning around, she caught sight of the large poster on the

wall by the door.

She chuckled and commented, "This is more like your kind of place

than mine."

=0C

Mulder stepped into the room to see what had caught her attention,

and his eyes nearly fell out of his head at the sight.

"Trust me, Mulder, that is not anatomically correct."

"Who cares?" he breathed. "I think I'm in love."

She snorted, then sat down on the edge of the bed and took off her

shoes. "This seems as good a place as any to wait," she said.

She saw that Mulder was still transfixed by the poster.

"Mulder!"

"Hmm?" he said guiltily as he glanced at her.

"I said..."

"I heard you, Scully. Listen, why don't you stay here while I

explore around some more. We might need to find a different refuge

for later if this gets any worse before we get out of here." He

pointed upward.

He was gone before she could respond, and she sighed. Looking down

at her dirty and rumpled suit, she wondered if it was salvageable

any more, but took off her jacket anyway, and placed it at the foot

of the bed before lying back against the pillow.

But then she realized that her focal point was now the infernal

poster, so she closed her eyes. Before too long, Scully was

lightly dozing, despite the fire threat. And unnoticed, the smoke

was slowly but steadily thickening.

Mulder was desperately trying to keep his mind off the fire on the

floors above. He felt as though he were suffocating, and the

infrequent impulses to start bouncing off the walls and screaming

like a banshee was becoming more frequent lately.

He stood in the dim storage space, wondering which way to explore.

- -----------------------------------

Up in the Assistant Director's office, Skinner was at his desk. =

Because the fire had been concentrated on the main floor and was

being contained to some degree, he and a few security personnel had

opted to stay on the job. They were able to provide coordination

and information for the firefighters when they needed it.

Skinner was in contact with the fire chief on his cellular, and was

asking for a status report.

"The fire has damaged most of the ground floor lobby and

surrounding areas, but we've stopped it from climbing up any

further. It's slowly coming under control, and we should have it

out within the half hour."

Knowing that Agents Mulder and Scully were probably still in the

basement somewhere, he asked, "What about the basement offices? We

have at least two agents down there, and I don't see how they could

have gotten out."

The chief paused, then said, "The fire did reach the basement to

some degree, and we haven't been able to send anyone into that area

yet, but we're close to doing that now. From the floor plans I

have, there's a sub-basement, so they may have gone down there. =

It's difficult to say how bad the smoke might be for them, but

we're not wasting any time in trying to get them out."

Skinner thanked the man and let him get back to his job, which was

obviously pressing at the moment.

He tried once more to reach either Mulder or Scully on their cel

phones, with no result.

He was thinking, "After all those two have been through, they can't

die right here at FBI headquarters." He wouldn't admit it to

himself, but he was worried sick about them. He liked to think of

them as his biggest pains in the butt on his staff, but he had

secretly grown to like and even respect them. Not that he would

ever let *them* know that.

His phone rang, and he grabbed it. "Skinner."

It was the fire chief again. "Reports have come back that your

agents are not in the basement anywhere. We've found a pair of red

women's pantyhose in the freight elevator. Looks like they were

able to use that way down into the sub-basement. I'm sending

someone to look for them now."

Skinner had a curious expression on his face. Red pantyhose on the

elevator floor? "Uh, thank you, chief. I'll stand by the phone."

- ----------------------------------------

Mulder broke into a fit of coughing, and finally noticed that the

smoke had become much worse.

He tore himself from his inspection of an interesting cardboard box

full of old files he had found in another room, and realized that

he had to return to Scully. He could always come back and look at

this stuff later. "If I make it," was a disturbing thought that

crept into his mind.

He became increasingly worried as he neared the break room where he

had left Scully. Breathing was getting more difficult, as the

smoke was even thicker down this way.

As he neared the doorway, he saw Scully coming out, bent almost

double, as she gasped and coughed.

She glimpsed Mulder approaching through the haze, and felt relief

that he was still OK and she wouldn't have to go searching for him.

He grabbed her hand as he reached her, croaking, "Let's try this

direction. The other way isn't much better."

He pulled Scully along, for which she was grateful, since her eyes

were tearing so badly from the smoke that it was becoming difficult

to focus as well as breathe.

They managed to reach the far corner of the storage area, when

Scully dropped to the floor, yanking his arm downward. The smoke

was really bad now, and Mulder held his sleeve over his mouth and

nose as he knelt by Scully.

He had no idea what to do other than get to fresh air, and that

didn't seem to be an option right now. She was gasping and clearly

unable to go any farther. He picked her up in his arms, but

staggered as a wave of dizziness hit him. Holding her to his

chest, he leaned against the wall for a moment, feeling as though

he were trying to breathe cotton down into his lungs.

When he fell, he somehow managed to let Scully land on top of him,

this time.

- --------------------------------------

When Mulder regained consciousness, he was in an ambulance being

fed oxygen, on the way to a hospital. His brain was still fogged,

and he was trying to grasp the hazy memory of outer space-looking

creatures bending over him and one saying, "They're still alive. =

Get those masks on them; hurry up!" He blearily thought that he

saw Scully's red pantyhose dangling from the arm of the nearest

space-creature.

He drifted back into unconsciousness, vaguely puzzled about this

remembered vision.

The next conscious thought was to wonder why his chest hurt so bad. =

He tentatively opened his eyes, then quickly closed them at the

brightness they encountered. They felt as though someone had taken

them out, rolled them around in sand, then stuck them back in.

He gave a dry cough, and wished that he hadn't, since it didn't

help clear his sore throat, and it just made his chest hurt worse

that it already did.

He tried the eye-opening trick again. This time, he expected the

light, and was able to keep them open. He was not surprised to

find himself in a hospital bed. His only thought now was to find

Scully and see how she was doing.

A woman in a white uniform was passing by his door when Mulder

staggered out, clutching the back of his hospital gown with his

left hand to keep it from flapping open.

"Excuse me," he croaked. "Do you know where my partner is?" At

the blank look, he wheezed a little, then tried again. "Her name

is Dana Scully, and we were in the FBI building fire."

The woman's eyes grew wider, and said, "There's a woman down the

hall who didn't make it," she said as she pointed to her right.

Mulder's head snapped around to stare down the corridor, seeing a

gurney with a sheet-covered form on it leave a room with a young

orderly pushing it toward the elevator. His heart felt as though

a fist had grabbed it and squeezed.

Oblivious to anything but that still form on the cold metal gurney,

he made his way as quickly as he could, and caught up to the

orderly just as the elevator arrived.

He rasped, "Wait!" and grabbed the man by his arm.

Startled, the orderly obediently stopped his progress and watched

as the disheveled patient in his ill-fitting gown, his hair spiking

up in all directions, and his eyes bloodshot, reached down with an

unsteady hand and pulled the sheet back from the body in his care.

Mulder sagged a little with relief when he saw that it wasn't

Scully. He recognized the petite black woman as one of the guards

from the lobby of the FBI building. She was the one he joked and

mildly flirted with when he passed through the lobby, and he would

miss her. He reached out and tenderly laid his hand against her

cheek for a moment.

A familiar voice from back down the hall caught his attention, and

he turned to see a short, red-headed woman in a hospital gown

laying into one of the nurses. He could hear his name come up a

few times, and he smiled. Thanking the orderly, he quietly padded

on bare feet toward the escalating encounter she was having with

two nurses.

"What do you mean, he's disappeared?!" she was croaking, sounding

like it hurt to talk, much less raise her voice like that. "You

don't just lose someone who's over six feet tall in a small area

like this."

Mulder saw that her gown, unlike his, covered her body completely,

but he did catch a tantalizing glimpse of skin when she waved her

arms like that.

"Oooh, Scully. Watch out for drafts." He reached back to make

sure his gown covered his modesty.

She whirled around and her face held a mixture of surprise, relief,

and irritation, all at once. She decided to settle on the relieved

emotion for the moment. "Thank God, Mulder. You made it OK."

"Had to check on my mail. You know I'm in here so often, I've had

my address forwarded."

Scully shook her head and put her hand on his arm, feeling the need

to make sure that he was really there and in one piece.

He smiled, but couldn't resist, "Now your stockings would *really*

match your eyes."

"Yeah. Yours, too."

"But it's not to be, Scully. Last I saw of them, some guy was

wearing them tied around his arm like a trophy."

She raised her eyebrows at that, and said, "Good. I hated the

bleeping things anyway."

They were interrupted by a doctor and a large nurse they hadn't

seen before, and were hustled off to their respective beds. The

last thing Scully saw of Mulder was a bare backside disappearing

into his room with Attila the Nurse scolding after him.

She smiled.

EPILOGUE

Seated in front of Skinner's desk that bright and sunny Monday

morning, Mulder and Scully were feeling much better and ready to

begin the latest X file investigation. It involved Mulder's

favorite: Possible alien abduction. Of course, to Scully, it

looked more like simple kidnapping, but he'd bring her around to

his way of thinking. Or so he liked to believe.

He was relieved that his precious X files and all the other

material in his office had escaped the fire. Everything smelled

like smoke, but at least nothing had been destroyed. The basement

itself had taken some damage, but mostly from the firefighters. =

Until things returned to normal, he and Scully were working out of

an office on the fourth floor, which actually had a real, live

window. It was almost scary, after the comforting dimness of the

basement.

While waiting for Skinner, he ventured, "New suit?"

Scully looked suspicious. He almost never commented on her apparel

except to tease. Taking the remark at face value, she replied,

"Yes."

"Looks...nice."

What was he up to, she wondered. Then, from the sparkle in his

eyes, she realized that he WAS teasing, although subtly for once. =

The heather-colored suit she had bought was worn with a soft blouse

that was draped lower than what she usually wore. And the skirt

was a little shorter than usual, too. She blushed. Damn, she

hated that he could make her blush so easily.

Skinner re-entered his office after ending a conversation with

Kimberly, and sat down. He was silent for a full minute,

contemplating the two agents who were expectantly waiting to see

what had brought them to this meeting.

"Agent Scully," he began, "Could you please tell me why the firemen

discovered your discarded panty hose on the floor of the FBI

building's freight elevator?" He had decided to get directly to

the point. "Was it like dropping bread crumbs in the forest so we

could find you?"

Mulder grinned, and Scully's light blush deepened.

"Would he believe that I just hated them and couldn't wait anymore

to get them off?" she asked herself. "Maybe not; he's never had to

wear the things. At least, I hope not." She manage to contain a

smile at the thought.

"Agent Scully?"

"Uh, sir, we were in a situation where we could be encountering a

major fire at any moment. I don't know if you are aware of it, but

women who are wearing panty hose are 90 percent more likely to

sustain severe leg and pelvic injuries from the fire than women who

are bare-legged. I've seen horrible injuries in some of the

autopsies I've done, where the material from the stockings has

literally melted into the flesh of the woman..."

Skinner was holding his hand up, looking pale, and saying, "That's

enough, Agent Scully. I get the idea."

He didn't have to ask how they were feeling - they looked ready to

tackle anything today, for some reason. It must have been the

enforced four-day rest they had gotten.

"Well, if you have nothing more to add, you're dismissed." He

picked up a file and began to open it.

Scully stood, but Mulder was still seated, asking, "Sir, do you

think we could find the fireman who has Scully's panty hose and get

them back? She was really attached to them, I understand."

Scully didn't know whether to laugh or hit him over the head. She

decided there and then that she would get Mulder back for this,

somehow, somewhere.

The End