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“Termites?”
Well, that was surprising.
He’d been looking for a hidden door, maybe a false wall concealing some sort of passageway. What he’d found instead -- a seemingly solid section of wall crumbling away under the barest pressure -- he couldn’t yet explain. And that wasn’t the only question he was currently having trouble answering.
He glanced over his shoulder at Scully before returning his attention forward. It didn't take an Oxford-educated psychologist to see that something was up with her lately. And yet, even with his degree and years of profiling experience, Mulder couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.
She'd been unusually protective of her personal space during their undercover assignment. And then uncharacteristically territorial around Karin Berquist. And now? Voluntarily putting forth a paranormal explanation for this latest murder? She, the queen of skepticism and rationality?
And not just as a joke or a one-off comment. She was continuing to pursue a working hypothesis of spontaneous human combustion, which was wildly at odds with her usual investigative approach. In anyone else, he would have called it a form of mirroring, either conscious or unconscious, behaving in a manner so as to strengthen your rapport with someone. Except there was nothing wrong with their rapport. In fact, if it got much stronger, they would be verging on “more than just friends” territory.
But she couldn’t mean that, right?
Hadn't she already made it clear that she didn't think about him that way?
“What in the hell… what did you do?” the guard boomed from behind him. Mulder turned around, shelving the “Scully situation” for the time being.
“It just gave way under my hand,” he said, gesturing at the hole he’d made. “Was this wall recently replaced or temporarily patched in some way?”
The guard shook his head, then set down the cardboard box he was carrying. “No. No, this building hasn’t been touched since it was put up.” He came to stand beside Mulder, reaching out one hand to touch a jagged piece of wall, jerking his hand back when the piece broke away and fell.
“Could it perhaps have been damaged in the storm?” Scully asked.
“I don’t see how. Damndest thing I ever saw in my life.” He pointed vaguely over his shoulder, still staring at the mess in front of him. “I, uh, brought Rawls’s effects, if y’all want to take a look.”
Mulder nodded. “Thanks. You mind if we take that into the other room?”
