It was the end of the world. Mulder brooded on his couch. Scully stalked through his apartment, looking for things to clean. He wanted to tell her to stop, but it didn't seem fair. Cleaning allowed her to reorder the world, improve it. Since neither of them could do that with their office, he let Scully do it for his apartment. So far, she had cleaned out his fishtank, vacuumed the entire place twice (the second time she'd vacuumed the walls, cleaning out any cobwebs or surveillance devices), and run three loads of laundry. Now she was dusting his bookshelves, book by book. He listened to her snort at the titles on his shelves. At least someone was getting some entertainment out of this nightmarish time. "_Dark Conspiracy of Secrecy and Silence_...any Gothic adjectives you leave out there, 'Dr. Adam Quest'? Cave, Treasure, and Castle maybe...." A rustle, and then another mutter. "_Chariots of the Gods_ was bad enough. This woman is giving them trailerparks." Mulder grinned at that one. He could tell which book she meant. "_Hidden Powers of the Enlightened Mind_. I guess there were more Gothic adjectives out there, after all." Another shuffle, then.... "Mulder!?" "I didn't do it, you can't prove it, and whatever it is, it belongs to Frohicke," he rattled off. "What is it?" "Trixie Belden." He looked at her. Scully's drawn face relaxed into a smile as she hunkered down and turned back to the bottom shelves of this particular bookcase. "The Mysterious Code. I remember that one. It was the first one I found...oh, and Secret of the Emeralds! And the Blinking Eye! Mulder...may I...." He smiled hesitantly. "Just don't dogear the pages. I still read those sometimes." She looked up at him hesitantly. "They didn't belong to your sister?" "She wasn't old enough yet. I was reading Hardy Boys when I was six, but she didn't start to get into Nancy Drew until a little bit before she was taken. No, these were mine. I read all the mystery books I could get my hands on when I was a kid: Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, Alfred Hitchcock's Three Investigators, Tom Swift, Alvin Fernald...you name it. But I liked the Trixie Belden ones best, to tell the truth. Even if they did have a girl in them." "Me, too," she confessed. "Trixie was more like a real person, because she had three annoying brothers. Nancy never had to deal with siblings." "Speaking as an annoying brother, I resemble that remark." Scully's eyes narrowed. "Yeah. Mart Belden. Tall, dark and verbose." "Verbose?" He grinned. "Pot. Kettle. Black. Though you look a lot more like Trixie -- short, strawberry-blond, tendency to be overly independent. Besides, I identified more with Jim Frayne." "Tall and brooding. And you're the one who's always running off after a clue." "I _meant_ good at sports." She gave him a bland look. "And we even have a friend named Dan. Well, Danny." "Okay, so where does Skinner fit in?" They thought for a minute. "Spider the cop," Mulder finally offered. "Regan," Scully countered. "Including the mysterious past."