“Scully-- Scully. Are you paying attention?”

Mulder was used to his office being silent; he even preferred it that way, to an extent. But the silence that had settled in it since she left was different. It made the entire place -- cluttered and cramped as it was -- stretch out into a foreboding, lonely sort of emptiness. It was not the same place now that he had grown accustomed to her presence within it. 

So he left it, albeit for a short time. This must have been his third visit to her in the past two days, and he hoped she didn’t mind-- he stopped by a nearby florist’s on his way to her apartment and grabbed a dozen roses; the woman manning the cash register was beginning to recognize him, even remember his name. He decided then to buy a box of chocolates too, just for the hell of it. 

The feverish click of heels sounded through the halls of the J. Edgar Hoover Building, their echoes coming in a consistent and almost methodical loop as they retraced their steps, scurried forward, and stopped as their owner took brief breaks to draw in deep breaths and compose herself. It was only her first day on the job, and Amal was lost. Clutching her briefcase to her side, she silently reassured herself that she would find her destination-- that she would not blow this internship. Checking again that the lanyard around her neck affirmed her clearance to the more ominous parts of the bureau building, she started down another series of hallways in search of the X-Files unit. 

It was not until she found herself in an especially desolate corridor that a man with a grey suit and copious wrinkles-- a man that almost struck her as reptilian-- offered her some directions. Lighting his cigarette, she forced herself to smile as he explained, some sort of amusement in his eyes when she mentioned the X-Files unit. She thanked him and moved on, making her way to the basement. 

The basement floor felt more like a storage area than a place where an office was-- it was far more silent and subdued than what she had observed so far-- but soon enough, she found her destination. It was tucked away, as if intentionally hidden, and she began to question the judgement of her cigarette smoking guide. With a few more clicks of her heels she neared the door, finding it slightly ajar, and knocked.