Dana Scully was worried. Her partner wasn't answering his cell phone.
If it had been anyone other than Mulder she wouldn't have been concerned.
After all, it was 11pm on a Friday night. But Mulder had no social life.
He should be sprawled in front of his tv watching the Twilight Zone or some video about alien autopsies.
And Mulder *always* answered his cell phone.
Taken prisoner by a man whose wife's head had just exploded, Mulder *still* answered his cell phone. It was almost an extension of the man himself.
Scully turned the key slowly in the lock and gently opened the door. Gun in hand, she was prepared for anything...
Mulder was on the couch. He was not alone.
He was writhing with abandon on top of a smaller figure. Scully blushed as only a red-head could, and turned to leave...just as Mulder spotted her.
'Shit!'
His petit companion raised his head and gazed with interest at the fiery red and undoubtably stunned FBI agent.
'What's up, Doc?'
'Mulder, how could you?'
Fox Mulder shrugged. Bad enough he was incredibly frustrated. Did he really have to deal with Dana Scully in one of her 'how could you?' moods.
'Hey, you know I'm always open to extreme possibilities...' he said, weakly.
'I know,' Scully said wearily 'but how could you two-time Mickey Mouse like that?'
And that *really* is all, folks!