Mulder was very much awake tonight.
Lying on his back on the couch usually drove him to use his overactive imagination. Tonight was just like any other; it’s just that his mind was hyper-focused on other things.
The case in Oregon went well, in his opinion. Scully was witness to what she claimed to be impossible. A small part of him said it would take a hell of a lot more proof before she’d admit to it, but she was partially on board… in some way, at least. He remembers explicitly the way she stared at Billy Miles during his hypnosis interview, and the blank, stern state of her face. Rationality and Science, it seemed, were her best friends and they left no room for others. Including him. Her husband.
But not for long, huh?
Was it wrong to want the company of a beautiful woman who looked at him as if he wasn't nuts? And it honestly didn’t occur to him that she’d want to break this… contract. It was really just a piece of paper, of which was sitting in his desk drawer and had been since he moved here. It left a strange feeling in his chest. And he, being the “big” profiler he was suppose to be, couldn’t figure it out.
No. Actually he very well could put name to his emotions. He just didn’t want to voice it.
Mulder sighed and scanned his silent apartment. The TV was on and the volume turned off, glowing from some cheesy game show he didn’t know the name of. It was time to get off his ass and work, he decided.
He put on a cup of coffee to brew and took a shower, dressed in his suit and with his drink in hand left for the office. It was late, but there were still a few people milling about in the building. Passing the bullpen on his way to the elevator, some nameless agent called out and said, “Burning the midnight oil, Spooky?”
“Graveyard shift,” he jibed.
Mulder sat at his desk with files around him, scowling. The file on Miles had seemingly vanished. Or, he thought more seriously, taken from him. Keeping his annoyance poorly in check he picked up the phone and called Skinner’s desk. His secretary picked up and took up his question, “Where’s the file on Billy Miles?”
“I’m sorry, Agent Mulder. It’s not here.”
He hung up by smacking the phone down. He took a deep breath, and picked it up once more, this time typing the number to the D. A.’s office in Raymond County. “Do you have the case file on Billy Miles?”
“Sorry, Agent Mulder. No file.”
Fucking hell, he thought. Damn them. Why did he work for the government again?
In a way it made sense. They had no way to proof of what happened, besides Billy or his father, or Theresa or her father. What could stop them from taking all the things they had on this eye-opening case? Nothing. Nada.
Mulder worked on calming down. He tried to take a deep breath, then another, then another, until his heart stopped racing with anger and frustration. They had no right to take this from him, from his work, but he’d expected it. It just furthered the proof to the truth, and what they were trying to hide. What they were keeping from him.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, and picked up the phone for a third time.
It rang what felt like ages until she answered.
“Hello?” She responded sleepily, her voice sounding like cool silk against his nerves. He calmed down tremendously.
“Scully? It’s me. I haven’t been able to sleep… I talked to the D.A.’s office in Raymond County, Oregon. There’s no case file on Billy Miles. The paperwork we filed is gone. We need to talk, Scully.”
They had a lot to talk about.
She was silent for a long time. “Y… yes. Tomorrow.”
A tense silence filled the air again. Then she hangs up, and he gently sets the phone down, too.
Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.