"Oh, for fu-fu...Achoo!...for fuck's sake!"
The frustration broke through Special Agent Dana Scully's usual calm and controlled facade, one that she kept up even when alone. As she was now. It was half-past-eight in the morning, but it was already humid and stuffy in this small basement office of the Hoover building. Scully had arrived early in the day, while most of the morning commuters were still snug in their beds, and had already wasted more than an hour trying to get her computer to work. And now here she was, on her hands and knees in the deep, dark corner under the desk, disturbing layers of dust that had been gathering for years, while her tailored business suit awkwardly twisted and pressed against her perspiring body.
Her hand gave another wiggle to one of the cords at the back of the computer, and then she finally heard the dull rumble of the computer coming back to life. Lights flashed and a few beeps sounded as she backed out from under her desk, brushing the hair out of her eyes, getting a few deep breaths of slightly-fresher air, and then putting a fist over her mouth as she coughed again.
Scully's eyes darted around the room; she reminded herself she was alone and then exclaimed fairly loudly, "Fucking hell! At least that works now. I hope."
She sat down in the large black leather office chair and waited for her computer to boot up. It was really the only practical desk in the office and it was hers exclusively now, with Mulder on seemingly endless suspension and exile, and the other various agents now re-assigned -- the X-Files were now Dana Scully's personal little obscure kingdom.
As soon as her computer booted up she checked her email. It was the usual array of things she already knew, things she didn't need to know, and things that were actually incorrect. Though, among them there was a note from one of the human resources people, a woman Scully had had a few friendly chats with. It read, in part: "I know you're always asking for help down there in your office, so I've roped two guys who are on the apprenticeship program for the summer. You've got them at least for today and maybe longer if I can swing it, and if you want them. They're not exactly prodigies at Quantico, but I figure they might be able to handle filing some paperwork or lifting some heavy boxes for you. They're kind of cute though!"
Just as Scully finished reading the note a knock was heard on her office door. "One minute!" she called out, and pulled out a mirror from a drawer, made sure that she looked at least presentable, and didn't have a cobweb hanging off her forehead, and then strode towards the door.
When she pulled it open she saw, standing right in front of her, one man in grey pants, a white short-sleeved dress shirt and tie. He had dark hair in a short brush cut and thick-rimmed glasses. Behind him, leaning against a wall with arms crossed and affecting a definitely casual attitude, was another man, in dark slacks and a purple silk shirt with several of the top buttons undone, and long blonde hair that was brushed behind his ears and flowed halfway down his neck. They were both about six feet tall and looking relatively fit, with the blonde man having a slightly bulkier body.
As Scully stood there with her hand on the doorknob she felt them looking her over too, the barely five-foot tall woman with red hair parted on her left side and falling just past the line of her chin, in a tailored subtly-pinstriped skirt and jacket, her white blouse unbuttoned just enough to show the golden crucifix hanging around her neck. Her legs were in dark hose, and that day she had chosen to wear black heels with a significant platform under them that not only slightly boosted her height but always raised eyebrows when she wore them to work.
For a few moments there was just the buzz of the vents circulating air until Scully spoke up, "So you're the cadets sent down to help me out today?"
The man with the buzz cut extended his hand, "Clarence Sipkowetzer. Pleased to meet you. I hope I can learn a lot."
Scully shook his slightly sweaty hand. "Sip...Ship...I'll call you Clarence. Agent Scully, nice to meet you. Come inside."
The blonde man came up and extended his hand, "Hey. Andy Jones. Nice little hideout you have here." He walked in.
Scully gave a little amused smile as she closed the door. "Hey? Hey? I think you'll want to be a little more formal, Andy, especially when greeting senior agents." She stood in front of him, looking up to his face from the broad chest at the level of her head. "Is that a regulation haircut for a male agent? Quantico's discipline must be slipping."
"Um, well...yeah, they've been hassling me about it..."
"I can imagine. Grab a seat, boys, and I'll give you a little briefing about your duties for today." Scully sat down on the edge of her desk and crossed her legs. She watched as the two men glanced around for chairs. Then looked around further. Scully realized that there really wasn't much adequate seating for visitors, them being so rare. As the two new arrivals looked in all the corners, Andy finally pulled up a cheap office chair that had sat against a small desk in the far corner. With a little disappointed look on his face Clarence had to settle for a small footstool, which he also pulled up in front of the main desk.
Scully intertwined her hands over her knee and began talking. "Now, FBI work may seem a lot of fun, but being a good detective is really about diligence, persistence, and attention to detail. And this office is in bad need of an overhaul of its filing system." Scully continued on talking on these themes for several minutes, thinking about the valuable lessons she was imparting to these prospective agents.
Occupied in trying to verbally express herself effectively, she almost lost her train of thought as, a few minutes in, she looked at her audience and saw that neither one was looking at her face, and not even at her chest. Andy's eyes focused on the slowly-bobbing toe tip of the foot highest up in the air, while Clarence, from an even lower perspective, certainly seemed to be focused on where her hemline met her thigh. Scully glanced down and saw that the beginning of the top of her stockings was beginning to show. Both boys had their mouths slightly open, and their breaths were quick and shallow.
"Anyway!" Scully exclaimed, and pushed herself off the edge of the desk, standing up. "Let's get to work. Uh..daylight's burning!" She felt like she had just narrowly missed venturing into something, though she wasn't sure what. "Let's detail what I want to get done."
She led Clarence to a file cabinet and pointed at the bottom drawer with the tip of her shoe. "This. It's a mess, I don't think I've been down there in years. Take the contents and arrange them first categorically, then alphabetically. You'll find some sheets on top here where I want you to index the contents." Clarence sat down on the floor and readied himself to work.
Scully guided Andy over to the small desk in the farther corner of the office, and indicated several old cardboard boxes that were water-stained and smelled of mould. She said, "These are some boxes of evidence I recovered during a recent investigation. They're all photos of suspected UFO's. Same idea, index, categorize, cross-reference...and document it all."
Andy wrinkled up his nose and opened up the top box. It was packed full of photos. He pulled out a few and glanced at them. "These...aren't these just dust, sunspots...clouds...fingers?!"
Scully was already walking back to her desk, swinging her hips and wiggling her ass in that tight skirt as she exclaimed, "That's why I don't want to deal with them!"
