Work Text:
In the FBI’s forgotten underbelly, a ceiling light burns out like a warning sign. Entering the office, Scully expects the gristle of soot on the doorknob, the sound of her loafers rustling through a sea of wrinkled papers, a carpet reeking of mildew from the fire sprinklers.
It smells like bleach, instead. The nauseating aura of new furniture. Fresh drywall. Cabinets straight from the warehouse.
Everything, months ago, had been destroyed in a flash, like scorched earth. A spontaneous event the fire department claimed originated from a sparking outlet. Burnt folders, melted specimens, years of archived cases trapped in dented filing cabinets they’d needed a crowbar to pry open.
All she’s here to collect is the last of the rubble, neatly categorized in evidence bags and boxes she’ll bring upstairs to Mulder’s temporary desk for digitizing.
“Oh, hello-?”
Scully turns around.
An unfamiliar woman taps a pen to her mouth while checking a journal. “I’m looking for Special Agent Mulder. Do I have the right room?”
“Dana Scully, I’m his partner.” Scully offers her hand.
“Cathy. I work for the White House. Well, not exactly.”
Raising her brows, Scully repeats, “Not exactly?”
Cathy hums, then corrects herself. “I’m on President-elect Bartlet’s transition team, assisting with the agency review outreach for briefing materials. Agent Mulder is on our list of contacts. Did your supervisor not inform you about this?”
“We’re dealing with some...structural changes.” Scully admits, “I’m afraid we don’t have a lot on hand, but I can give you the name of someone in Accounting who processes our travel expenditures.”
“That would be great!” Cathy scribbles out more notes. “I’ll arrange for you two to meet with Sam - my boss. He’s eager to learn about the work you’re doing.”
Anything that keeps the X-Files open, Scully thinks to herself.