Scully finds sanctuary

Scully burst through the door of the coin laundry, which was blessedly empty. The little bell over the door jingled.

She ducked inside, glancing back towards the window to make sure she wasn't visible for the street. She couldn't believe what she'd just done. She was breathing heavily. And the craziest thing was, she was pretty sure she'd gotten away with it.

Nobody was shouting "Stop!" or "Pervert!" or "Hey, look, that FBI agent's got no pants on!" She'd timed her run exactly right. It had taken her maybe fifteen seconds to get across that street, and for the whole of those fifteen seconds she'd felt like the eyes of the world were upon her, but now she was pretty sure she'd pulled it off. In the coin laundry. Safe. And nobody around to see her without any pants on.

Now for the important part. Finding pants.

Only a couple of the washing machines were running. Looking over her shoulder to make sure nobody was about to walk in the door and catch her in the act, Scully pulled open the first one she came to.

She frowned. There was nothing inside but lingerie, frilly bras and lacy panties all tangled up together. Not what she was looking for. She already had panties on. Lack of panties wasn't the problem.

She shoved the lingerie back in the machine and tried to shut the door, but it wouldn't close. The machine bleeped at her, demanding another coin to start up again. Scully scowled at it. Stupid machine. Didn't it know she didn't have another coin? There were some in the pockets of her pants, but she didn't have her pants!

She left the lingerie spilling out onto the floor and ventured deeper into the store, where another machine was humming away. She knelt down in front of it, looking through the glass door.

What she was inside was pants. Four or five pairs of pants, all exactly her size. And they weren't even wet. The machine hadn't started properly, so they were nice and dry.

Finally! Her nightmare was over! Not that it had actually been a nightmare, of course. That was Mulder's idea, and she wasn't going to give him any credit for it.

She pulled the door handle.

It didn't open.

She pulled it again, harder. It didn't budge. The door was stuck.

"You have to be kidding me," muttered Scully, looking at the pants. They sat inside the washing machine, warm and comfortable, mocking her. She crouched outside the washing machine, still wearing nothing but high-cut panties between hip and ankle. She pulled the door one more time, and got nowhere.

The pants were in there. And she was out here.

She thought about all the times she'd worn pants. Gone about her work day, decently clad below the waist, her underwear hidden from the world, her female dignity preserved. Imagine, she thought, how difficult life would be for women without pants. Especially professional women like her. It didn't bear thinking about. If she got out of this, she was never going to take pants for granted again.

But that didn't help her now. Right now, she needed to...

The bell over the door jingled again.