Agent Fox Mulder got up quickly from his perpetually lumpy excuse for a couch in response to a hesitant knock on his door. Habit and past experience had drilled into him a state of perpetual awareness, his body jerking in response to the sound like a just released tightly wound coil. Habit had also taught him to reach for his gun, a reaction that was involuntary now as he warily approached his door in a couple of strong, quick strides. Looking around him as if he expected to see some anomaly in his apartment, he asked in his clear, distinct voice,

"Who's there?" There was no voice, no whisper, no sound in response. Gripping his gun more firmly, he ventured a look through the peep-hole in his door but spied only empty stillness. There seemed to be nothing amiss in the hallway.

He opened the door and stepped outside, looking around for any signs of danger. His eyes immediately fell onto the morning newspaper lying on the floor, neatly rolled and tied with a rubber band. Taking one last glance around, he picked it up and retreated inside his apartment.

He warily unrolled the newspaper, partly expecting something to jump out at him. Instead a plain, pristine white envelope dropped onto the floor. Discarding the newspaper hurriedly he ripped open the envelope and snatched at its contents. A moment or two of scanning it was all that was needed to prompt him to pick up his phone and call the only person in the world that he still trusted.

"Scully. It's me, Mulder." He held up the contents from the envelope again for reassurance. "Can you meet me at my apartment, say, half an hour? I've got something to show you." He placed the phone down and walked into his bedroom, hiding the envelope under his mattress. Not the most original place, but it would have to do, he thought wryly. Just until Scully gets here.