Short Chested
Everything had to come to an end.
“No one said he was coming,” Mulder privately fumed all the way to Skinner’s office. Their quiet morning had been invaded by Chesterton “Chesty” Short, who politely walked into their office, stood between their desks, and stated he was there to discuss their budget spending with them.
“I think that was the point,” Scully murmured as they rounded the corner to where Arlene sat, already expecting them. “Internal affairs never wants you to know an investigation is coming.”
“Seriously, I haven’t bought a big screen television on the company dime of late, I don’t know what their complaint is.”
Scully thought of their trip to LA the month before, their idyl in the observatory, and flushed, but chose to not bring that up. “Things have been too quiet with us of late. Must have made someone nervous.”
Before Mulder could reply, Arlene escorted them both into Skinner’s office. Already their supervisor was on the defensive. “I knew nothing about this in advance.”
“That they were targeting us?” Mulder was stormy with disbelief, throwing himself into a chair in front of Skinner’s desk. Scully, more sedate, settled next to him.
“They aren’t targeting anyone, Agent Mulder, the news came from on high yesterday.” Skinner snagged a memo from his file drawer, passing it across the table. “The recent budget deals on the Hill mean that Justice is having to go through everything with a fine tooth comb. Federal lawyers, US Marshalls, us too. OEMB is asking for a full audit of all of our accounts immediately.”
“Nothing in the government ever moves that fast,” Mulder scowled dubiously at the paper. Privately, Scully agreed with him.
“Does when money talks,” Skinner muttered darkly, clearly not happy with any of this. “You think you two have been the only ones who have had the business office stop in on you? I’ve had a dozen department heads and budget managers storming in my office today wanting to know what the deal is, and you two would just be the latest.”
“So what are they doing? Looking for areas to trim down?” Scully of course had heard this spiel before, many times over with her father, who often complained about similar tactics in the Navy budget. “It’s not like we ask for $100 ballpoint pens and $1000 toilet seats.”
“‘Cause if they had $1000 toilet seats available, I would have ordered one by now,” Mulder offered unhelpfully.
Skinner chose to ignore Mulder’s flippancy. “No, but wasteful spending doesn’t have to be ostentatious, and you know that. Let’s start with your travel spending, which admittedly is extravagant for a department your size, and end with the fact that there are those who would perhaps loudly proclaim that a separate department doing the work you do isn’t an efficient way of using the taxpayers money.”
And there it was. The old, familiar argument, now packaged in a new threat. Scully wished she could feel surprised, but the only thing that shocked her was that no one had suggested this tactic years ago. Nothing was more effective at killing something that no one wanted around that bureaucratic red tape.
“So they will use this to close us down,” Mulder intoned finally, speaking out loud the very thought in Scully’s head.
Skinner’s only response was to grimace darkly.
“Does this Chesterton Short really have the ability to shut us down?” Scully couldn’t believe the small, pugnacious fellow with his weak, insipid smile could really have that much authority.
“Not immediately, no. But his suggestions will be referred to me and to all the Assistant Directors as we go through budgets.” Skinner spoke of the process like most people would speak of seeing the dentist. “There will be a push to cut out all extraneous spending.”
There was no need to read between the lines on that statement. Scully could see it clearly, and she knew Mulder could too. He scowled darkly at the memo sitting in front of them. “So this is it?”
Scully’s heart ached at the finality of that statement. Everything that Mulder had spent the last decade of his life on was wrapped up in those files, all the truths he was seeking. All the answers he sought were tied to those files, and without them, she knew he could find no peace. No end. Where would that leave them if the X-files were to close, just like that? Without the answers that they both sought.
Skinner could only offer cold comfort to them. “The process is going fast, but the ADs are dragging their heels, most of them don’t want to be caught up in this, and there are projects being funded at the moment that could be impacted. It could be months before anything definitive would be decided.”
“And in the meantime we’d have to just sit on pins and needles and hope that they don’t shut us down and, do what, reassign us back to the bullpen?” Mulder sneered with disgust towards Skinner’s office door, remembering all too well their stint in there. “No thanks.”
“No one is saying you’ll be shut down tomorrow, Mulder. Talk to Short, perhaps you can convince him to keep your work open.”
Scully’s eyes cut sideways to Mulder in silent agreement. Both of them knew that wasn’t going to happen. If anything, Short would be all to happy to recommend the X-files be closed for good. Who needed to solve unsolvable cases when there were other, more useful ways of spending money?
“Right,” Mulder finally muttered, rising without bothering to be dismissed. “Let’s go do what we can to save Uncle Sam a dime, shall we, Scully?”
She paused, even as he sauntered towards the reception area, glancing at Skinner seriously. “This could be bad for us, right?”
Skinner at least didn’t sugar coat it. “It’s going to be bad for a lot of people, Scully. Believe me, the X-files is small compared to some of the waste around here.”
“Yeah, but they aren’t as annoying and are far more redeemable.” That was the fact, and they both knew it. “If they close us down again, they won’t ever open it back up, not this time. Where will that leave Mulder and I?”
“That depends on what you want to do, I suppose.”
It was the diplomats answer. It told her Skinner would fight to keep them on, but he couldn’t guarantee they would like the options open to them. “I could go back to Quantico.”
“You could,” he agreed. “But there’s no place for Mulder there.”
“No,” she agreed. And Mulder didn’t play well with anyone, really. Anyone, except her.
“You both are overthinking this for now, Scully. There are options.”
Scully wasn’t so sure she wanted options. Whether she said it out loud or not, there was a tiny part of her that thought that perhaps, just maybe, the closing of the X-files wasn’t completely a bad idea. And she felt guilty for even thinking it.
“You’ll let us know what Short’s findings are,” she asked.
“As soon as I know, yeah.” Skinner didn’t looked pleased with the notion. He glanced towards the door Mulder had wandered out of. “Do me a favor, I know your partner has a tendency to be a smart ass. Try to help him curb that tendency, here, Short doesn’t have much of a sense of humor.”
“Does any accountant,” Scully quipped, rising. “I’ll try, sir, but you know how he is?”
“Yeah, that’s the problem.”
With that dismissal and the bleak prospect of her professional future, Scully wandered in search of her partner.