Disclaimer:  most of the characters were created by and belong to Chris
Carter, also Ten Thirteen, FOX, etc.  I mean no infringement.  No money has
been made during the writing or reading of this epic, and no agents were
harmed. Except for the usual injuries.

"I guess this means he's passing you the torch."
-Frohike, The Blessing Way

Carrying the Torch by ML

I don't know how long I've loved him.  I'm not sure there was a defining
moment in our relationship, if you can call it that.  It was more like a
series of moments, scenes if you will.  At first, it was only the work I was
interested in--the X-Files, only that.  But little by little, he worked his
way into my consciousness.  Before long, the man and the work were
inextricably linked in my mind...and then he began to take precedence.

I should start at the beginning, I suppose, now that the story is so near its
end.  I started out in the clerical pool at FBI headquarters about eight
years ago.  Fresh out of school, excited and pleased to have passed all the
many tests the government throws at you when you apply for a job.  I didn't
think I had enough school, or the right kind, to apply to train as an agent.
I thought I wasn't smart enough to get into the academy, what with only a
liberal arts degree from a nondescript state college.  But I wanted to work
for the FBI, God help me.  I believed in truth and justice...yes, I guess I
was naive.  I didn't know then that sometimes you get one or the other, but
not very often do you get both.

As I said, I started out in the clerical pool.  We did the paperwork for
agents in the bullpen, or those without an administrative assistant, and the
jobs no one else wanted.  It was tedious and often boring work.  There was a
sort of "slush pile" of reports and such we were supposed to take for
transcription in order, oldest first.  I noticed that certain reports got
left in the pile--I could tell from the date received stamp.  Nearly all of
them were dictation tapes signed by Special Agent Fox Mulder.  I began to
look through them, and took a couple back to my desk to work on.

What I heard both fascinated and horrified me.  I couldn't believe such
things existed as the agent described. It was like listening to a Stephen
King story.  Not because the presentation was dramatic.  In fact, Agent
Mulder's voice sounded rather monotone.  But the cases and the circumstances
seemed so far-fetched.  His matter of fact tone made it all the eerier.

The images conjured up by Agent Mulder's report stayed with me, but it didn't
keep me from doing the work on his other jobs.  I'd always had a hobby-like
interest in the paranormal, and it was kind of fun to actually get to read
this stuff on the job.  Each one was stranger than the last.  The next day, I
gathered up my courage and asked one of the senior clerks about the X-Files.

"Honey," she said, "now you know why no one wants to transcribe these cases.
They're just too weird.  You've heard Agent Mulder's nickname, haven't you?"

I shook my head.

"They call him `Spooky,'" she said in a whisper.  "He used to be in
Behavioral, as a profiler.  Now he has an office in the basement.  He takes
on cases that are `outside the FBI mainstream'--way outside."  She used her
fingers to put quotes around the words.

I wanted to know more.  I kept my ears open--you couldn't help but hear the
gossip, especially about something as intriguing as the X-Files.

Most people spoke of them dismissively.  "Outside the Bureau Mainstream" was
the phrase used most often, usually in a certain tone of voice and an
expression which indicated exactly what the listener thought of that.  I
wondered if any of these people ever bothered to find out more than what
rumor told them.

I did everything I could to find out more, in my quiet way.  I began to check
for X-File reports first, much to the relief of the rest of the clerical
staff.  As I was the newest and youngest they probably would have been dumped
on me anyway.

I noticed that the distaste for the X-Files did not extend to Agent Mulder,
at least as far as the clerical staff was concerned.  I think all the women
(and for all I know, some of the men) had a crush on him.

The agents in the bullpen were another story.  While they may have respected
Agent Mulder's ability as a profiler, they were otherwise wary of him.  Part
of this was undoubtedly because he had abandoned what was obviously a
promising career path to start his own little corner of the FBI, his pet
project.  He didn't come upstairs very often, so it was some time before I
actually saw him in the flesh, as it were.

When I finally *did* see him, I remembered something from a lit. class I took
in college, supposedly said about the poet Lord Byron:  "mad, bad, and
dangerous to know."  Agent Mulder looked like he fit that description.  Must
have been the romantic in me to make that connection.  But by such small
associations were the seeds of my interest sown.  I was now intrigued by both
the work and the man.  What drove him to take on this work?  No one respected
what he did, and hardly anyone talked *to* him, just *about* him.  Whenever
he walked through the bullpen past our area, whispers followed in his wake
like a breeze.
 

He ignored everyone equally.  If addressed, he was usually polite but
distant, perhaps a little wary himself.  He *had* to be aware of his
nickname.

Since I worked in Gossip Central, I heard a lot.  I learned early on that the
quieter you are, the more you hear.  Nothing got past the clerical pool, and
the agents in the bullpen were just as bad, or worse.  Between the two areas,
divided only by a narrow DMZ of gray carpet, just about everything was
discussed about everyone.  I indulged in the gossip as much as anyone at
first.  It was a good way to learn all kinds of things.  Not that the gossip
itself held much value, but you could tell who was allied with whom, who had
influence and who did not.  These were important things to know when just
starting out in a job.  I learned to keep my head down, and became a Good
Listener.

Most people would rather talk than listen so I didn't have much competition.
People told me things.  I became the keeper of a million mundane secrets.
And I gleaned bits of Agent Mulder's past, how he was first in his class at
Quantico, that his nickname "Spooky" came from his profiling abilities, not
his interest in the paranormal.  But of course it stuck once he became the
Ghost in the Basement.

The gossip heated up again when Agent Mulder was assigned a new partner.  An
extremely young, pretty partner, fairly new to the FBI.  The rumors really
started to fly then.  Before long, it was "Mr. and Mrs. Spooky."  I wondered
how she felt about that nickname.  Some said that she'd been sent to spy on
him, and plenty wondered aloud why his project hadn't been shut down already.
 It was a puzzlement.  Official disapproval seemed almost universal.  The
word was that he had some influential friends in Congress, that his father
had been Somebody in the State Department.

Nonetheless, within a year of Agent Scully's assignment the X-Files division
was closed down and both agents were reassigned, which would seem to make
true the rumor that Agent Scully had been sent to do just that.  She went
back to Quantico to a teaching position.  I for one wasn't sorry to see her
go.  Once she arrived on the scene, I never got to do another transcription
for the X-Files.

Agent Mulder ended up in the bullpen, doing routine surveillance.  Definitely
a slap in the face to him.  It certainly made the clerical pool happy, since
he sat across from us every day now.  Even I began to see what all the
excitement was about.  He was almost too good looking, and the perpetual
pouty expression he wore just enhanced the sad-looking eyes and full lower
lip.  He never smiled while in the bullpen, and seldom spoke.  I missed his
rumbly monotone.  Now that he was in the bullpen, the other agents there
didn't seem to be any more inclined to make nice than before.  For his part,
Agent Mulder ignored them and his surroundings.  The bolder women in the
clerical pool plied him with coffee and tried to engage him in conversation.
He was polite but dismissive.

I began to feel sorry for him.  He seemed so bereft.  What was it about the
X-Files that meant so much to him?

In the meantime, I didn't spend all my time wondering about the X-Files.  I
had a career to see to.  I took a lot of night classes, and any classes
through the FBI I could get approval for during office hours.  Most of what I
took had to do with computer programming and database management, anything
along those lines.  Amazingly, many of the FBI's older casefiles were not yet
stored electronically, and the computerized system currently in use was
rapidly becoming antiquated.  My plan was to be a part of creating any new
system that the FBI might go to.  I already had a reputation for discretion
and reliability, and was often requested to help with projects where
confidentiality was critical.  I won't say that even then I had additional
ideas about how I would use my knowledge and reputation, but I expect that it
was already in the back of my mind.

I began to understand a little more about Agent Mulder during a personnel
records project.  No, I didn't get into his personnel file.  It was not my
luck to get that section of the alphabet.  But two others working on the same
project--older women, who wanted nothing to do with a twenty-something--were
talking about Agent Mulder.  I was wearing headphones and they glanced over
my way once or twice to see if I was paying attention.  I turned the volume
all the way down on my CD player and kept on with my work as I listened to
them.

After the same old speculation about him and his former partner, and a
cataloguing of his physical charms, they started in on the interesting stuff.
 "He claims his sister was abducted by aliens," one smirked to the other.
"He thinks exploring all this nonsense will help him find her.  Those aliens
should've taken him instead."

"I guess his wife left him because of the X-Files."

"I didn't know he'd been married."  <neither had I>

"Yeah, to another agent.  She requested reassignment to Europe."  Another
snicker.  "Guess she couldn't get far enough away."

"Too bad, he's so good-looking.  But he must be into some weird stuff in his
personal life, too.  Otherwise, no woman in her right mind would give him up."

<Sour grapes>, I thought.  One of the women always made it a point to try and
chat up Agent Mulder.  He was as impervious to her charms as he was to
everyone else's.

One warm night I was working late and decided to walk down to the Tidal
Basin, just to get a little fresh air and exercise before going home.  I
found an ice cream vendor just about to close up his cart and bought a yogurt
pop.  I found a bench overlooking the water and sat, not thinking of much of
anything, just letting my mind wander.  I saw another woman sitting alone a
little further along, which seemed odd.  She looked vaguely familiar.

Then from somewhere behind me, I could hear a familiar voice.  "Is this seat
taken?"  I turned quickly and realized it was not to me Agent Mulder spoke,
but to the other woman,  She turned and smiled and spoke, and I realized it
was Agent Scully.

Agent Mulder took his place beside her and they began to converse.  I
couldn't hear what they were saying and I didn't really try to listen <I'd
make a lousy secret agent>.  I continued to sit where I was, afraid that if I
got up to leave it would draw attention.

The conversation didn't last long.  I heard rapid footsteps fading away and I
turned just a little to see Agent Mulder still on the bench.  He was turned
away from me, watching his former partner walk away.  After a few minutes he
rose and walked in the opposite direction.  I got up and more or less
followed him as he headed back toward the street.  He got into a car, alone,
and drove away.

It was not long after that Dana Scully was kidnapped.  It was the talk of the
Bureau when it happened.  And though the kidnapper was apprehended, he
subsequently died under mysterious circumstances, and Agent Scully still
wasn't found.  Agent Mulder really began to live up to his nickname then.  He
walked the halls like a zombie.

Then the X-Files was reopened and he disappeared into his basement domain.
The flap over Agent Scully's disappearance even died down; though she was
still missing, there was no new information.  As the weeks passed, most
seemed to think she was probably dead.  With nothing to feed the rumor mill,
everyone moved on to newer and juicier topics.

I wished I could have done something to help.  But what could I possibly do
which could benefit him, or the X-Files?  My interest was engaged and I kept
my eyes open for opportunities.

Which is how I happened to be near AD Skinner's office when the Assistant
Director found out about Agent Scully's return.  I had developed a knack for
being in the right place at the right time.  No one notices you if you have a
file folder in your hands and you walk purposefully along.  Even if you go up
and down the same hallway several times a day, no one will notice anything
unusual.  I always stopped by Kimberley's desk to see if I could deliver
anything for her and as a result we became quite chummy in an office way.
She didn't gossip, and I didn't pry.  But she trusted me to the extent that
she requested I sub for her when she had vacation or was sick, not that
either occurred often.  Which is also how I happened to be on duty the day
Agent Scully returned to work.

She came up with Agent Mulder, who hovered half a step behind her, his hand a
breath away from touching her.  I kept my head down and nodded as she asked,
"Is he in?"

"He's expecting you,"  I mumbled.

"Thank you," I head Agent Mulder say.  The door closed.

                         xxxxxxx

I did my best to stop thinking about Agent Mulder and the X-Files.  I
concentrated on my own work, always looking for my opportunity, my
career-making chance.  I found it in the basement, though not in the way
you'd think.

It turned out that the X-Files office wasn't the only thing relegated to the
basement.  There was a storage area crammed with older files, waiting to be
scanned or keyed into the computer database.  When I learned that, I knew I'd
found my project.  I pitched my idea to my supervisor and I guess that once
again I was in the right place at the right time, because I was given the
assignment to develop a new electronic filing system, using these older files.

A small room was allocated to me.  My supervisor warned me that it would
probably be just me working on the project, and that I might be pulled off of
it from time to time to work on more pressing tasks.  But I didn't mind.  I
now had carte blanche to come and go as I pleased in the basement, and I had
a ready excuse if either Agent Mulder or Agent Scully questioned me.

They never did.  I could often hear them talking when I was down there,
sometimes quite vociferously, but they never seemed to notice my comings and
goings.  On the rare occasions the door was open, I could see them absorbed
in their work, heads close together.  The glimpses I got of the office was of
a great disorganized mess.  There were filing cabinets and boxes filled to
overflowing with files and who knows what.

Seeing them gave me an idea about a way to help them.  It started out as a
vague thought as I worked on the update project, then grew into an obsession.
 I would find a way to create a database for the X-Files, separate from the
FBI database.  It would take cunning and subterfuge on my part.  I spent all
my waking hours trying to figure out how to gain access to their office and
how to accomplish the work without anyone knowing.

The trouble was the kind of hours the two agents kept.  If I came in early
and worked late, they came in earlier and worked later.  If I happened to
stop by the Hoover Building on a Saturday, I often saw a light in the
basement and one (usually Agent Mulder), or both were there, poring over a
file or viewing slides.

My first break came when the two agents went out of town on a case.  Breaking
into their office was depressingly easy; I could only hope that any really
confidential stuff was kept elsewhere.  I couldn't help myself; as scared as
I was that someone would come by and find me there, I had to look around the
office a little.  The walls were covered with weird pictures and articles of
phenomena, some familiar from when I transcribed some of Agent Mulder's
cases.  There was only one desk down there and it had Agent Mulder's name on
it.  I wondered where Agent Scully worked. The file cabinets which contained
most of the old casefiles were not locked at all.  I grabbed some folders
from the back of the first drawer and left immediately, locking the door
again behind me.

I was careful to take only the number of files I could do in a day.  I worked
on them during lunch and after hours, taking care to scan and input directly
to disk so that nothing would show up in the main database.

Eventually I grew brave enough to take files home with me.  I had a great set
up at home, and scanning the documents didn't take long.  I spend two or 3
hours a night scanning documents into my computer.  During the times I
couldn't get into their office I spent my time cataloguing and
cross-referencing.  I learned a lot about the history of the X-Files by
reading the case files.  I got a lot less done on those nights because the
subject matter fascinated me so.  Fascinated, and sometimes, horrified.

The oldest files went much faster, though they were messier.  An agent named
Arthur Dales had the X-Files for several years, and his documentation was a
bit sketchy.  Maybe he wasn't as obsessive about it as Agent Mulder seemed to
be.  After Agent Dales, there was a long gap, and then Agent Mulder took
over.  There was also an Agent Fowley, whose name appeared for about a year
with Agent Mulder's.  Then it appears he was alone for a while, and I
recognized some of the files I had transcribed.  But when Agent Scully took
over most of the reporting, the notes were clear, concise, and
well-organized.  And a strong vein of skepticism began to run through them.
But their solve rate went up with Agent Scully, who managed to find some
rationality in all their cases, even the largely unexplained ones.

Working on these files kept me busy outside of work for some time.  I seemed
to be living and breathing the X-Files, and though I was conscientious about
my regular work, I couldn't wait to get home and delve back into my "real"
work.

I almost lost heart a couple of times.  When Agent Mulder went missing,
presumed dead the first time, I almost gave up.  But I took my cue from Agent
Scully, who kept her shoulders squared and her head held high throughout.  If
she could maintain her dignity, so could I.  He seemed to run off a lot
without her, from what I could see.  But he always came back, eventually.

I was present at his most dramatic return.  AD Skinner, through Kimberley,
asked me to go to the Committee hearings to take notes when Agent Scully was
testifying.  I jumped at the chance--with Agent Mulder among the missing yet
again, I couldn't concentrate on anything else, anyway.

AD Skinner was there that day as well.  Agent Scully was attempting to read
her statement in to the record while the committee chair tried to get her to
disclose what she knew about Agent Mulder's whereabouts.

He had to have been listening outside the door to make such a perfectly timed
entrance. I never saw anyone so self-assured, so totally in control of the
moment.  All eyes were on him.

I have to say here that although I never cared that much about Agent Scully,
I have never believed the gossip about her.  Favored nicknames for her were
"Mrs. Spooky" or "Ice Queen."  I always thought of her as reserved,
self-possessed, and my dislike (if I could even call it that) stemmed more
from jealousy of her proximity to Agent Mulder and the X-Files than anything
else.  But on that day her reserve was gone.  I saw more than her heart, I
saw her soul shining out of her eyes as he walked through those doors, his
eyes locked on hers.

Up to that point I never believed the rumors that they were more than
partners.  Now I looked for signs.  If they *were* involved, they were
extremely circumspect in public.  And I drew the line at spying on them in
their off hours.  I did see Agent Mulder sometimes, but only because we both
lived in Alexandria and sometimes shopped at the same place. Besides, *my*
work on the X-Files took most of my free time.

There have been so many crises over the years.  Like when Agent Scully got
cancer and almost died.  That was a very dark year for us all.  I could
barely stand to go down to the basement for my regular work.  I couldn't get
much access to their office anyway; they didn't go out in the field very
often or for very long while she was sick, though I heard her insist to him
more than once that she was fine and able to work.  They seemed at odds most
of the time.  Then I heard that he'd apparently committed suicide.  At about
the same time, Scully went into the hospital for what looked like the last
time.  <This is really it>, I thought.  I felt as though I was losing a big
part of my life, and I didn't have the right to mourn it publicly.  Then,
almost before I could process this, Agent Mulder turned up again and Scully's
cancer went into remission.  No one could have been happier than I, but again
I had no one to tell this to, and no right to celebrate, really.

Their mutual return from the dead seemed to revitalize them both for a while,
and they spent a lot of time out in the field. I was revitalized as well and
it was my best year for transcribing.  I was close to finishing, and I began
to fantasize about how I would present the files to Agent Mulder.  Should I
make it a mystery and leave a locker key in an envelope somewhere?  An
anonymous phone call, directing him to meet his benefactor?  Or, perhaps
leave them on his apartment doorstep?

Or I could just march down to his office one day and present them in person
but I doubted I'd ever have the courage to do that, let alone explain how I
was able to access the information.  And never mind telling him how or *why*
I did it, either.  Much as I imagined Agent Mulder's face, dreamed of the
admiration in his eyes, I delayed giving him the files.  I wanted them to be
as up to date as possible, I told myself.

Looking back now, I can see that it was easier to keep my distance and
worship from afar.  The thing about fantasies is that they have no flaws.  In
my dreams, I could match Agent Mulder in intellect, debate him as spiritedly
as Agent Scully.  In reality the mere thought of being near him left me
tongue-tied.  In my dreams, I could also match Agent Scully for personal
appeal.  The reality was, if anyone thought of me enough to give me a
nickname, it would probably be Mouse.  Mousy brown hair, brown eyes, average
height and so on.  Of course, having a forgettable appearance has its
advantages, as I may have mentioned.

In the meantime, my regular work helped enhance my reputation for
thoroughness, accuracy, reliability, and discretion.  It was known that I did
not gossip or disclose.  I hardly mingled with anyone any more.  My
extracurricular activities kept me busy at lunch, and before and after work.
I suppose in my small way I had as unapproachable a demeanor as Agent Scully.
 I even began adapting my style of dress to hers.  I believe it was
unconscious at first, but when I started considering dyeing my hair auburn I
realized what I was doing.  I didn't dye my hair, but I continued to dress a
la Agent Scully.

I was almost done with the X-Files project when the absolute worst crisis
occurred, which set off a terrible chain of events.  Agent Mulder's office
was torched, specifically the filing cabinets.  Once again the X-Files was
shut down.  But the worst was, when they were re-opened, two other agents
were assigned to the division instead.  I'm sure this was a worse blow than
just shutting the division down, a real slap in the face.

At least this time, Agents Mulder and Scully were still partners.  But the
danger they faced seemed to be from within this time, not without.

I wouldn't have believed Agent Mulder would ever look at another woman, but
whoever chose Agent Diana Fowley to work on the X-Files knew something about
the past she shared with him.  Whatever happened between them in the past,
Agent Fowley had two attractions to Agent Mulder:  she seemed to believe in
his work, and she had the X-Files.

For the first time, I felt bad for Agent Scully.  Outwardly, she probably
didn't seem much different to most people.  But after observing her so
closely for so long, I could see how all this troubled her, personally and
professionally.

Both Agents Mulder and Scully worked in the bullpen now, and reported to AD
Kersh.  Their duties seemed to be pretty menial, background checks and the
like.  Scully went about her work like the conscientious person she was.
Mulder found any excuse to leave the area, and frankly I saw him several
times down in the basement when I just happened to be retrieving something
from the archive room.

I didn't think very well of Agent Mulder during this time.  How could he be
so blind?  Agent Fowley was so obviously sent to try and drive a wedge
between him and Agent Scully, and it looked to be working.

I stopped working on my X-File project.  I know Agent Mulder spent a lot of
his time trying to re-create the burned files, and I could have handed over
what I'd done already, but it sure looked like he might just turn them over
to Diana Fowley.  Or at the very least, use them to coerce her into letting
him help on the X-Files.  And I hadn't done all that work for *her*.

It was a very dark time.  I pondered what to do.  I gleaned what information
I could about Agent Fowley and contemplated presenting it to Agent Mulder.
Instead, I left it on Agent Scully's desk.  I don't know if it did any good,
or if she even paid attention to it.  If I knew anything about Agent Scully,
she was probably doing plenty of her own investigating.

One thing she might not have known, though, was that Agent Mulder had in fact
been married to Agent Fowley for a brief time.  It seemed to end at the same
time her association with the X-Files ended the first time.  I don't know if
it was even in his personnel file, it was so brief.  I only knew where to
look in the X-Files because of the gossip I'd overheard so long ago.

Whatever she decided to do or not do with the information, Agent Scully and
Agent Mulder seemed to be farther apart than I'd ever seen them.  On the rare
occasions when I saw them together, they seemed very cold and formal toward
each other.

Then Fowley's partner was killed.  Not in the line of duty, but apparently in
cold blood, right here in FBI headquarters.  They never caught the killer, or
even found out who it was.  I don't mean to sound callous about another human
being, but he seemed to be no more than a pawn in whatever big game was being
played.  The few times I saw him in the basement office, he seemed out of
place, uncomfortable in his role and unsure how to approach it.  Agent
Spender seemed to be trying to serve two masters:  his own ambition, and the
agenda of whomever placed him on the X-Files.  Ultimately, he didn't serve
anyone very well, least of all himself.  It's a terrible shame that he served
the X-Files best by dying.

So much of what occurred during that time happened away from the Bureau, in
the shadows somewhere else.  Since it appeared no one was writing up any
reports, I couldn't even sneak into the office and view the files.  I heard a
lot of wild rumors, though.  Not long after Agent Spender's death, and with
the usual lack of fanfare, Agents Mulder and Scully were back in the
basement, messing it up again, making it look like it should, and hadn't
since before its remodel by fire.  Here was another opportunity for me to
turn over the files to them, but for some reason I delayed.

Not long after that, Agent Mulder got sick.  Then I heard he was in the
hospital for some sort of psychological or neurological disorder.
Considering all he'd witnessed and experienced over the years, I suppose it
should not have come as a surprise.  But even though his theories were often
off the wall, I don't think anyone who saw him or spoke with him would ever
think he was crazy.  Certainly Agent Scully would never have stayed working
with him if that were the case.  Nonetheless, that was the rumor, and
Kimberley inadvertently confirmed it for me, when she told me where AD
Skinner had gone to see Agent Mulder.

Then Agent Scully disappeared, which seemed *really* strange, with her
partner locked away.  AD Skinner seemed desperate to find her but wasn't
having any luck.  She must've learned a thing or two from Agent Mulder over
the years about disappearing.  Then one day I saw her striding through the
halls, disheveled and wild eyed, heading straight for the Assistant
Director's office.

I never heard the complete story of the events which followed, though I could
piece together some of it from various sources.  Mulder disappeared himself
for a time, and when Agent Scully was able to find him, something unspecified
had been done to him.  I just know he had to have surgery, and was missing
from the office for several weeks after that.  Also during that time, Agent
Fowley was found dead in her apartment.  Like Agent Spender, her assailant
was never found.

When Mulder and Scully finally both returned to their basement lair, things
seemed as normal as they ever did for those two.  They seemed comfortable
with each other again, and I felt more like an outsider than ever.  I put
away all the disks of the X-Files documents and shut down my covert
operation.  There had been so little access for so long, and evidently they'd
both learned a little something about security during the last enforced
vacation from the X-Files office.  The new cabinets were much sturdier, and
had locks.  In fact, the lock was changed on the office door.  The decision
to end my project wasn't entirely my own.

I began to eat lunch in the cafeteria again, to reconnect with old
acquaintances, make new ones.  I only went down to the basement when I really
had to.  Still, I kept tabs on their comings and goings.  The cases still
seemed interesting, but it had become clear to me that this division would
never need more than the two of them <correction>, my inner voice sneered at
me, <Agent Mulder will never need anyone but Agent Scully>.  I told my inner
voice to shut up.

continued in Part 2
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