A/N: Yeah, umm, random chapter title I know, but you'll just have to live with it .... any update is a good update, right? ... Right?

Chapter Nine: A Decidedly Fishy Rendezvous

Mulder snatched the sheet out of Scully's hands. "Deteriorating? What do you mean it's deteriorating? How can that be possible?"

Scully took the sheet back out of Mulder's hands with a scowl. "A simple 'please' would have sufficed," she sniffed. "And I meant exactly what I said. This DNA is constantly breaking down." She looked over at the lab technician, who pointed at Mulder in response to her unspoken question. "Alright," Scully said, not at all surprised. "Where did you get it from Mulder?"

"Its evidence from that first crime scene we visited," he explained, sneakily nabbing the printout and holding it up to the light. "I found some goo on the wall, and sent it off to be analysed."

Scully didn't look convinced. "Goo?"

"Yes, that's what I said," Mulder shot back, handing the plastic sheet to the now completely confused lab technician. "Look, over here!" Scully followed him over to one of the computer monitors, where he was running his finger along the surface of the desk. He then thrust the finger in her direction. "Go on, smell it."

"I'm not smelling your finger, Mulder."

"Stop complaining and just smell it!"

Scully gave in, and took a sniff.

Mulder stared at her. "And…?"

"It smells like your fridge, Mulder," she admitted. "With maybe a slight whiff of unwashed dock worker."

"Exactly!" Mulder exclaimed thrusting his finger up into the air. But his face fell when her words actually sunk in. "My fridge doesn't smell like month-old fish, does it?" Scully responded with a nod. "Oh. Perhaps I should clean it out every once in a while. What I was trying to say was-"

"Guys," the technician piped up, "there's something else about this sheet you should see." Mulder and Scully both turned to him, the former with his finger still sticking up in the air. "Look at this chromosome here." The technician held the sheet up, and pointed to one particular mark on the plastic readout.

Scully leaned in closer. "But that's impossible…"

"Exactly," the technician said, echoing Mulder's words. "Not a single living thing on the whole of Earth has that chromosome. By all rights, it shouldn't exist. What we're looking at is a previously undocumented form of life!"

Mulder snatched the sheet again (getting to be a bit of habit, isn't it?), and stared at it closely. "Do you know what this means, Scully? Proof of alien life! This sheet here is the proof we need!"

"I didn't say alien life," the technician pointed out. "I just said a previously undiscovered form of life."

Mulder, however, was not listening. "We can prove it now! We can prove that aliens actually do exist!" But before he could rashly run off and immediately prove it to someone, his phone rang, and he reluctantly answered, tucking the printout into his pocket for safekeeping. "Mulder," he said into the mobile. "Yes, we can be there right away. You did the right thing. Good job. Alright." He hung up, and slipped the phone back into his pocket. "Scully, our two suspects have been spotted."

His partner raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Where?"

"The Golden Globe Hotel," Mulder said. "And while I don't think they killed Mr. Thomas, I have a feeling they might know who did."

Approximately fifteen minutes later, the two FBI agents pulled up outside the Golden Globe Hotel, which didn't seem too bad, as far as dockside hotels went. It was clean, which was a plus, but it smelt a little bit like unwashed dock worker and air freshener, which wasn't so good. Standing at the stairs, doing his best to appear nondescript while at the same time keeping a close eye on the staircase was a single police officer. He spotted the two FBI agents, and waved them over.

"Where are they?" Mulder asked as they approached the officer.

The policeman pointed up the stairs. "Fifth floor, room 502. Are they –" he tried to say, but Mulder and Scully were already off and running up the stairs as soon as they'd heard the room number. They reached floor five without trouble, both slipping their guns out of their holsters. Mulder lead the way, counting along the doors until he was standing opposite room 502. He nodded for his partner to stand next to the door, while he positioned himself straight in front.

Then he wrinkled his nose. "Can you smell-"

"Yeah," Scully finished for him, "tuna."

Mulder frowned, steadied his gun, and aimed his foot at the door. But before he could let loose a kick, the door swung inwards, and a friendly face grinned at him from underneath a mop of unruly brown hair.

"'Allo," the man said, with a distinct British accent, "I'm the Doctor. You must be Agents Mulder and Scully, yes?" He stepped aside, and gestured for them to come inside. "Do come in, and join us for a cuppa."

"Doctor –" Mulder began, but the Time Lord was going to have none of it. He grabbed the FBI agent, dragged him inside, and sat him down in a chair. A woman with flaming red hair smiled at him as she pushed a steaming cup of tea across the table, her expression saying 'please forgive him, he can be a bit of an over-excited child sometimes'. Scully entered of her own free will, but didn't sit down in case things got nasty. Even though Mulder was sure they were innocent, she wasn't so quick to jump to conclusions. They were still their best suspects after all.

It was then that they noticed the walls. It appeared that they were completely covered in…

"Tuna?" Mulder said, entirely at a loss for anything else to say.