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INT. FBI'S QUANTICO, VIRGINIA, MORGUE LAB - NIGHT
A DIGITAL CLOCK ROLLS TO "9:00PM" beside a LARGE SPECIMEN DISH OF A SLIVER-DICED HUMAN BODY PART.
RYAN PETRANSEK'S DISCARDED, SOILED LAB COAT lands on top of DANA SCULLY's. A mid-50s, beer and blue-collar man, he leans on her shoulder in an approving uncle-like manner. With their nearly matching auburn hair he could be.
PETRANSEKShe reads the COMPUTER DATA SHEET.
I know everything about everyone around here;
but, I didn't know that you're a friggin' genius,
(feels his forehead)
You must be ill. That sounded like a compliment.
That was. I even bet Hardwad'll make you an
offer to be a permanent inmate here. Wait
Ryan, I'm already committed.
Being Mulder's partner can do that to yah.
(yawns, points to data sheet)
Hm, with these kinds of results maybe life
as a freewheeling "X"-er's the answer.
And not "42"?
(RE: data sheet)
This one set worries me. We should run it
Not now. Not with total synaptic failure
She pulls a page off a NOTEPAD and listlessly wads it.
After only 30 hours straight? What kind
of example is that for Ryan Jr?
Exactly, that's why I do regular
office hours. You can have your field O.T.
and live psycho killers.
Speaking of dangers, I'm late for a special
dinner I can't be late for ...again.
She pulls several FILE FOLDERS and the printout together.
I'm not crying for you. Patti's a sweetheart.
When she has witnesses. Poppies.
Poppies. Colorful and pretty. Various
medicinal uses.... Poppies for me, after
"sweetheart's" done with my carcass.
He claps his hands, rousing them both.
Let's go, D.S. For once, be a slack off.
Enjoy your "surprise" getaway. Me, I'm
going home for a...thorough tongue-lashing.
I'll "slack" as soon as I print my notes
and leave a copy for Ja---.
"Jamison"! Geez, Louise, I didn't lock up
the R7 and R8 specimen Peck sent. He'll
string me up, when he finds out.
I won't tell.
He'd like anything you'd tell him.
This seems to startle her. He shrugs.
I know everything about everyone.
I thought you were late for Patti killing
Yep. "Killing Me Softly". 'Night, Short
He stops at the door.
Harwell's still pissed at me, so, could
you slip her bad boy Peck a little tongue
A hard wad of paper bounces off Petransek's forehead.
He mocks injury and playfully SNAPS OFF THE LIGHTS, leaving only the GLOW OF HER MONITOR. He steps into the BRIGHT CORRIDOR. The DOOR CLOSES.
Scully EJECTS HER COMPUTER DISK, tosses it in a FOLDER, and wedges the folder between MANY OTHERS in her BRIEFCASE. It doesn't fit.
She slips the disk out and into her RAINCOAT POCKET.
She CLICKS OFF HER COMPUTER/MONITOR pitching herself into virtual gloom. She drags towards the door, and out into the corridor, now camouflaged in DARKNESS.
INT. LAB CORRIDOR, QUANTICO - SAME
Scully reacts to the absence of adequate visibility.
Ryan, if Patti doesn't kill you, I will.
A SLIGHT SCRAPING?
More alert, her tired eyes peer into the silent shadows.
Nothing before her in her line of sight. A TRANSLUCENT SHADOW PASSES behind, across her back.
A GUN'S CLICK?
She pulls her REVOLVER, noiselessly sets her case down, braces against the wall, and glides along it, approaching a blindspot at the corner to the INTERSECTION OF THE CROSS CORRIDOR.
She peeks around the corner.
You're too damned tired...and too damned
Thank you, Mulder.
She reholsters her weapon, collects her things, and steps into the cross corridor.
Her CASE FALLS OPEN.
She stoops and fumbles with its contents as
A BRIGHT GREEN NIGHT SIGHT'S CROSSHAIRS fix on and ADJUSTS FOCUS on her bright hair.
From behind her, a GOLDEN DARK, TRANSLUCENT HAND rips at Scully's coat, yanking her yards back,
out of sight of the CROSSHAIRS' SHARP FOCUS.
She lands on her tush, striking her head on the wall but turns immediately to see who's there.
SCULLY (continues)FOX MULDER'S INDISTINCT SILHOUETTE lies prone, inert and featureless, yards away behind...yet, part of...a woman.
A woman who is more precisely, a GOLDEN DARK, TRANSLUCENT HUSK OF A WOMAN. She hovers; her size and density wavering, as if fighting to keep her form but losing to the hall's darkness.
SCULLY (continues)Scully scrambles to her feet, colliding with Petransek who skids to a stop in the intersection.
PETRANSEKA SOFT POOF precedes a hollow, surprised look on his face. His hand moves to his ear then presents its REDDENED TIPS to Scully.
A TRICKLE OF BLOOD leaks down from behind his ear as Petransek tips over like a felled bowling pin.
Scully cautiously runs to her fallen companion.
Again, she sees no one in the cross corridor. She turns.
All is empty around her, except for her SPILLED BRIEFCASE.
[END OF EXCERPT]