what_wings_dare | 🅧 Please explain to me the scientific nature of 'the whammy'

Mulder doesn't take her hand, staring up at her like he's not sure where she came from or why she's in here. Sure, she just explained it - but why?

(The answer's obvious: Someone up there wanted her down in the bowels of the building, watching him spend the Bureau's money. She's here to report back on his investigative techniques, his demeanor - hell, maybe his neckties. The whole package. Which just leaves one question, and he has to admit he's curious.)

"You must've drawn the short straw." When he gets out of his chair, pulling off his reading glasses and folding them up in the process, he towers over her. "Who'd you piss off to get X-Files duty, Agent Scully? You can name names - I won't tell."

Under other circumstances, maybe he would...but at this point, who would he tell? Even if he stopped burning bridges at this very moment, he'd be left with a lot of fire-damaged wood.

Irrational hope aside, she didn't really think he'd remember her-- or be thrilled about the coincidence if he did. But she wasn't expecting outright hostility. She doesn't mean to wear that surprise on her face, but can't keep her eyebrows in check.

He stands, and she has to look up to meet his eyes-- but it doesn't cow her at all. The upside of being short is she's used to this, and holding her own.

"I don't know what you mean," she answers, her tone much more neutral after a moment to gather herself. If nothing else it confirms he has no idea who she is, which is fine-- but it hardly feels like the moment to tell him.

"Your record speaks for itself, Agent Mulder. I'm looking forward to working with you."

It's a nice sentiment, but under the circumstances, it doesn't mean a damn thing. The quality of his work is a double-edged sword: It's the only reason anyone's letting him at these cases, but it's also the reason they all want him back on serial killers, rapists, and robbers.

She doesn't hesitate when he questions her, though. He does like that - the way she stands there like she could fill up the whole room if she wanted to. It's easy to see how someone would recruit her to the FBI.

"My record," he repeats, dubious. "See, I was under the impression you were here for some inter-departmental espionage."

(They say Spooky Mulder is a little crazy. She's never taken that too seriously-- Dana Scully has context for him that much of the Bureau lacks-- but for a moment, she has to wonder if she's the one mistaken.)

"Espionage," she repeats, incredulous. "My background is in medicine-- I'm here to provide a scientific perspective on cases. Evidence-based analysis." She's here to help, Fox.

"Medicine and physics," he corrects, though that doesn't change his opinion on the nature of her presence. It takes a moment of hunting through stacks of paper, but he eventually comes up with her CV, sitting underneath his phone. (He put it there because it was important, believe it or not. "Einstein's Twin Paradox, A New Interpretation. Dana Scully, Senior Thesis. That's bold - rewriting Einstein."

It catches her off guard, a little, which is no doubt what he intended. So her showing up hadn't been a complete surprise-- unless he'd thought, or hoped, that she'd try to turn it down. (As if she could; she hardly has the standing to refuse an assignment.)

"Constant questioning is a fundamental facet of science; there's no understanding that can't be used as a stepping-stone to learn more." It had been... bold. She recognizes that, but what's wrong with boldness? "Have you read it?" she asks, deadpan but halfway joking, because why would he?

She's willing to argue. He can imagine her defending her thesis - do they bother with that for a BS here? - with the same aplomb, staring down her professors as she lays out her vision for time travel. And he can't deny his interest in the subject. Reading it had been an interesting way to spend an hour, late on the night he'd first been made aware of her.

(Admittedly, he hadn't been sure she was a her, at first. He'd been given her CV without any preamble in a terse memo informing him of his new subordinate. Dana Scully could have been a male medical doctor.)

"Of course I read it," and his voice is nimble, something lightening it. Admiration of her work, if not her presence. "I found it compelling."

Of course. The answer surprises her, and for a moment she isn't sure how to reply. It's almost complimentary, a complete turnaround from his attitude thus far.

"Then you should know I'm perfectly well-qualified to help with your work. Our work."

He snorts. Our work. He'll be the judge of that - but he's at least tentatively willing to give her a try. It won't be possible to fob her off on anyone else if it doesn't work out, but he can probably make it miserable enough that she'll ask for a transfer.

And maybe she'll work out. She hasn't been scared off by what she can see of his work; she might be able to hack it.

"Let's test that theory." He reaches for the slides he's been peering at, poking them into a slide projector's carousel. "Hit the lights."

Part of her wants to object to being ordered around, but if it's our work then they're also our light switches, and you catch more flies with honey. (You don't, though. You catch the most flies with shit. Still.)

It's a chance, and that's what she needs, right? Right. And she's curious, genuinely.

So she crosses, heels clicking dully on the worn carpet, and flicks the lights off.

"Okay," he says, letting the slide projector's glow fill the room in lieu of the fluorescent lights. The first slide he clicks to is a photo of a corpse's face. "Case out of Oregon. Victim is female, twenty-one, no established cause of death. Only thing the autopsy turned up were these."

Click. There's her back, and on it, two lumps.

Here's the thing about Dana-- something he knows, but doesn't know he knows-- curiosity is a powerful motivator for her. It's gotten her into trouble more than once. It likely will again. Still, she drifts back across the room, eyeing the projected slide thoughtfully.

"Some kind of bite? Or needle marks-- maybe an attempt to make it look like a bite."

His attention stays on her. These slides aren't new to him, at this point - he's been squinting at them for the last day. What is new is seeing Agent Scully react to them; this is a test of sorts, of her commitment to her new work.

And so far, he has to admit she seems engaged. "The county coroner couldn't tell us. All we have to go on is the substance found in the surrounding tissue."

Click.

"Recognize that molecule?"

For a long moment she studies it.

"Some kind of synthesized protein?" she hazards, unsure. "I don't recognize it. What is it?"

At this point she could care less about whether Fox Mulder is kind of a jerk, or if he remembers her. This still isn't a Hardy Boys book, but these days she absolutely could help solve a murder, or catch a serial killer.

"Search me." It's promising that she doesn't recognize it, though. Scully's clearly bright, but her expertise is decidedly earthbound, from the sound of it. If, as he suspects - hopes - they're looking at something sourced from a little further afield, it's liable to be unrecognizable for them both.

Click. This one's a teenage boy.

"I haven't been able to identify it, and neither has anyone in Sturgis, South Dakota." Click. Another body, unidentifiable so close up. "Or in Shamrock, Texas. We have a nationwide mystery on our hands, Scully. Probably international, but I haven't been able to verify cases outside the country."

She hums thoughtfully, low, considering the images one after another.

"Do you have autopsy reports?" The pictures don't show much detail, especially not with the fuzziness of the projector. And though Fox clearly knows his stuff, she doesn't expect him to have answers for all the questions she might come up with, the nuts and bolts of mysterious deaths.

"What's your theory?" Of course he must have something in mind.

"I do," he says, "and I have a theory."

She's on board - he thinks she is, anyway. Even if all of this is going to end up in the inboxes of a few well-placed suits upstairs, her questions sound genuine so far.

He's been walking around as he talks, in what space there is to pace, and now he comes back to her. "My theory is that we should take this case out of the category of unexplained phenomena and put it somewhere a little more concrete. We're investigators, Scully. Refusing to investigate, consigning this case to history's junk drawer, is a cowardly act."

"I thought that was the point," she answers, watching him move, still not entirely sure where things stand. "Explaining the unexplained."

It's an awkward thing to say, she realizes. But she doesn't sound the least bit sarcastic-- she's fully on board with the notion. His reputation does speak for itself.

"Agent Mulder, what are you suggesting?"

Mulder gives her a wry look. She's playing along - not playing, really - and it's been so long since someone was willing to discuss his work with him. He blossoms under attention, especially now that it's positive.

"Theories the Bureau would prefer we weren't pursuing. Tell me, Scully: Do you believe in extraterrestrial life?" One hand comes up, fingers wiggling - oooh, spooky.

Oh, well. That wasn't what she expected.

Which was probably an intentional move on his part. She blinks it off.

"Not in the way you're suggesting-- it's logically impossible, to imagine that beings would be able to cross the sort of distances necessary-- even that they'd want to."

Well, he thinks. Nobody's perfect.

"Where's the logic in these deaths? Our Oregon female -" and he's turning back to grab the clicker, backing them up to the face of their most recent victim - "isn't the first person from her school to end up this way, Scully. She's the fourth.

"Science has failed her and her classmates. Reason has failed her. And if we can't rely on science and reason -" with a little flourish, like he thinks this is a teaching lecture rather than the start of a criminal investigation - "at some point, we must start to consider more...extreme possibilities."

"That's an argument in favor of it being a local cause-- not extraterrestrial. I don't see how saying aliens did it-- with no evidence to prove or even circumstantially support it-- is any better than throwing up our hands and saying we don't know."

She frowns, glancing back at the screen.

"The fact that science hasn't yet uncovered an answer doesn't mean it's failed her. It means there's still work to be done."

"As long as you ignore South Dakota and Texas," he cuts in, though he doubts it'll score any points with her. It's not going to convince her, but this conversation doesn't have to. If they find what Mulder thinks they'll find, she'll have to concede the point.

In the meanwhile, though, she's right about one thing - that last one. "That's why they put the "I" in F.B.I. Our plane departs for Oregon at eight AM tomorrow."

If they were continuing the argument she'd pick it up there-- certainly Texas and Oregon are closer together than Oregon and Mars, or wherever his little green men come from-- but it doesn't seem like he's inclined to stay on the subject right now. Maybe that means, if this was a test, that she passed it.

She lifts her chin a little with a small, professional smile.

"I'll see you then," she says decisively, and without anything else, turns to head for the door.

But she pauses before stepping out, hesitant. She can't say it was nice to meet you because she already has, but this doesn't feel like the moment to get into their earlier brush with investigating the unexplained. So she settles on:

"I am looking forward to working with you."

Restatement, because he hasn't scared her off, and she doesn't want him to think it's only stubbornness (even if it's largely stubbornness) that will have her at the airport on time tomorrow, packed and only slightly bleary with sleeplessness.

Turns out she's polite, even as she's stubborn and argumentative. If nothing else is true, this first little interview suggests that Dana Scully's going to be interesting to work with. Even if she's here on assassination duty, she's willing to bring her own ideas to the fore - and who knows? Maybe he can convince her.

Even if he can't, he has the feeling the next few days are going to be interesting.

In the morning, he slings his overnight bag over a shoulder and heads out to Dulles, meeting up with his new partner at the gate.

"Morning, Scully." Mulder has the irritatingly chipper manner of someone who woke up at two in the morning and made his peace with exhaustion. (It's a long ride to the other side of the country. Maybe he'll sleep then.) He holds out a sizeable foam cup of coffee to her. There's another in his other hand, already half drunk. "Ready to look at some extremely pedestrian and definitely terrestrial phenomena?"

[ n a m e ; ]	Dana Katherine Scully
[ c a n o n ; ]	The X-Files
[ g a m e ; ]	spicy times in noctiumrp

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