"Mulder, this might be a good time to turn around."

He did, squinting a little.   The drone of the bone saw changed to
a stuttering, wet staccato as it passed from rib to rib, drowning
out the classical music playing over the autopsy.

"Almost there," Scully yelled over the din.

"Uh huh," he said.  He'd taken to staring fixedly at his
shoes.

Finally, the saw began to whine, and then cut out.  "Okay,
just removing the rib cage..."

"Just let me know when you're finished."  Really, the stitching
in the leather was just fascinating when one truly stared at
it.  Bach, he thought randomly.  She's playing Bach.

An explosive "crunch" and metallic clattering later,
Scully stepped into his field of vision.  "Goggles on," she said,
unsuccessfully suppressing a smirk.  "Let's take a look."




"So you can see, Mulder, there's no reason to suspect anything
more unusual than death by exposure.  Years of alcohol abuse
certainly didn't help."

"Which you can determine from the condition of the liver?"

She nodded, gesturing towards the examining table full of
dissected organs.  "Advanced cirrhosis -- very clearly detect..."
She did a double-take.  "Detectable.  Mulder, where is Mr. Blume's
liver?"

"Excuse me?"

Scully wiped at her goggles with the back of a gloved hand.  "The
liver.  The one we were just examining.  The one you insisted on
poking at."

"I put it right back on the tray!"

"This tray?"  She wheeled it at him dramatically; he pinwheeled
backward.  "This liver-less tray?"

He pushed it back towards her with a tentative foot.  "Yes.  That
tray."

"Mulder, are you suggesting that the liver just got up and slithered
away?"  She folded her arms in an attempt to look threatening, an
attempt partially thwarted by a sudden flickering of the fluorescent
lights.

"No."

"Abducted, perhaps?"

"No."

"Then where is it?"

On-cue, the lights went out.  Deprived of electricity, the
CD stopped as well.

There was silence for a moment, and then shuffling.  "Mulder?"

"Scully?  Where are you?"

"I'm right here where I was before -- I haven't moved.  Stop moving."

"I'm not moving."

More silence, and more shuffling.  Scully felt something touch her
foot; something cold.  She stumbled back in the darkness.

"Mulder!  Stop that!"

"Stop what?!"

"Stop trying to scare me."  More shuffling, and then a sliding
sound.

"Scully, I'm not trying to do anything but see.  You're the one who
keeps poking at my shin."

Colorlessly, Scully said, "Mulder, that isn't me.  I think there's
something in here."

She could hear his satisfied grin even in the pitch black morgue.
"Something?  Scully, we're the only ones in the room.  I saw you lock
the door yourself."  He paused.  "Geez, your hand is freezing.  Are you
really that scared?"

"That is not my hand."

They said nothing for some time.  Both listened to the sliding,
shuffling sound for what seemed like an eternity, until there was
silence once again.

Scully was about to say something when the lights came back on, and
the quiet classical music resumed.

Each was standing frozen in their original positions.  Each turned
to stare in the direction of the shuffling noise -- the corpse
on the examining table.  Each took in, wide-eyed, the dead man's
liver, snug back in its proper place.

Mulder nodded towards Mr. Blume.  "Did you..."

Scully was still staring at the body cavity.  "I didn't think I put
it back.  But I must have."

"Yes," Mulder agreed, "you must have."

Moments later, the only sound in the empty morgue was the swinging
of the hurriedly unlocked door.