[xfcreative] A bad day (1-1) PG-13
christy
I'm posting this for a friend.
TITLE: A bad day
AUTHOR: anonymous
FEEDBACK: please. all feedback will be forwarded
to the author. celli...@snet.net
CATEGORY: S, UST/MSR, sorta alt.
universe/crossover, but not really
ARCHIVE: go for it, just tell us wher eso we can
visit
DISCLAIMER: the bug Kahuna, Chris Carter owns all
RATING: PG-13, for a few bad words
KEYWORDS: M/S, DD
SUMMARY: the title says it all
SPOILERS: oh, everything up to and including the
movie
David Duchovny was having a bad day. Of course,
lately that seemed to be par for the course. It
had been a long day shooting the movie, going from
cold sound stages to blistering heat, shooting the
same scene again and again and again. And to make
it worse, another stupid reporter was lurking in
the shadows, emerging only to ask another stupid
question that David felt he had answered a
thousand times before. He was beyond cranky.
Cranky had been at lunch, when they had stood out
in the blistering sun to eat bland food from a
no-name catering company, because the studio was
too paranoid about the huge budget of the film to
treat the actors decently. No, now he was feeling
downright hostile.
"What would I tell Mulder if I could pull him
aside?" he snapped angrily at the reporter. "For
Christ's sake, Fuck that girl. Look at the way
she's looking at you. Are you blind? Why do you
think her mouth is always open?" He turned on his
heel, leaving the reporter frantically scribbling
his quote and ignoring the surprised and somewhat
ticked off look on Gillian's face. He figured she
was probably pissed off because he had made fun of
her answer to an earlier question: "What is the
X-Files about?" She had said trust. His response
to that had been "You know, because people want to
see a movie about trust. Huh. Talk about
high-concept. I want fifty million bucks to make
this movie. Okay, here's the pitch: Trust." And
then he had laughed. Afterwards he knew that
bone-headed reporter had told her what he'd said
and she was mad because whenever she looked at him
she pursed her lips and glared. Oh well. Fuck
her, he thought bitterly. He was so sick of being
around her, and this stupid movie, and this stupid
character…
"DAVID!!!" He snapped back to attention at Rob
Bowman's shout. "Are you ready?"
"Yeah, yeah," he groused, climbing into the
tunnel beside Gillian.
"Make sure you keep your focus. The bottom of
that tubing is getting a little icy so you both
need to be alert." Rob shouted. "Ready…action!"
Despite Rob's warnings to keep his focus, David's
mind was elsewhere, wondering how much longer he
would have to spend sitting in this stupid parka,
crawling in this stupid tube…
His hand slipped out from under him right before
he reached the end. He was so caught off-guard
that he banged his head against the side of the
small enclosure. The downward slope combined with
the icy surface sent him shooting backwards,
ricocheting off the sides like a pinball. He took
another sharp blow to the head, and the last thing
he heard was Gillian scream before he blacked
out.
************************************************************************
Awareness came slowly, in the form of a dull,
throbbing ache just behind his left temple. He
tried to open his eyes but was blinded by the
too-bright lights, so he decided to keep them
shut. As consciousness returned, he became aware
that the pain was not confined to his head, but
rather spread throughout his whole body. Slowly
he tested movement in all of his limbs, hoping he
wouldn't find any broken bones. He thought it odd
that he seemed to be alone-he knew there was some
kind of on-set medical unit. "The least they
could do," he thought, "is come over to see if I'm
all right." He tested his eyes again and found
that if he turned his head, the blinding light
wasn't so bad-"I'm staring directly into
fluorescent lighting," he realized, and that
struck him as odd, because the snow set didn't use
that kind of overhead lighting. It looked like
the kind you might find in an office. In fact…
"What the…?!" he muttered as he struggled into a
sitting position, and looked around. The
familiar surroundings of the basement office
greeted his still-hazy vision. "How in the hell
did I get on *this* set??" he wondered. He
gradually got to his feet, using Mulder's desk as
a support. He was vaguely aware of something-he
couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something
seemed different…
The door opened, and he turned to see a familiar
face. She was dressed in her FBI agent garb,
carrying a file. She glanced up at him, and then
did a double take.
"Mulder, what happened to you?" She asked,
concern furrowing her features. David stared at
her blankly.
"Aren't you even going to ask if I'm okay?" he
demanded, thinking it was uncharacteristically
insensitive of her to assume he would continue
with a scene after being injured. And what scene
*was* this, anyway? He was almost positive he had
fallen in the snow tunnel…he looked down at his
clothes. He was still dressed as if he was
preparing to spend the day in the Arctic. So how
had he been deposited on a completely different
set?
"Well…are you?" Gillian asked, moving forward to
rest her hand against his forehead. "You feel a
little feverish," she commented, and she gently
turned his head to the side, examining him. "How
did you get that bump on your head?" David pulled
away from her touch.
"Enough playing doctor, Gillian, you *know* how I
got that bump. Chris and Rob are going to *hear*
about this," he muttered darkly.
"*Gillian*?? Mulder, what are you talking about?"
She asked, looking even more perplexed.
"Quit calling me that!" he said, getting angrier
by the minute. He was feeling extremely slighted
that she would insist on staying in character when
he was injured.
"What should I call you?" she asked hesitantly,
obviously puzzled but not wanting to excite him
further. Just then the door opened and they both
turned. David found himself staring into a
mirror. It was *him*-dressed as Mulder, carrying
a file, and his mouth frozen open on the first
syllable of "Scully". For a second that seemed to
last an eternity, no one moved, but just stood
there staring at each other. Then all of a sudden
David found himself staring down the barrels of
two Sig Sauers.
"Who are you?" his twin demanded angrily.
Stunned beyond belief, David couldn't utter a
reply, but merely stared, backing up slowly as
they advanced on him.
"WHO ARE YOU?" Gillian…or was it Scully?
Shouted. He felt his back hit the wall, and
suddenly he realized what it was that had bothered
him before the entrance of Gillian/Scully…the wall
was *real*. This wasn't a set. It was a real
room in a real building with solid walls. All of
a sudden the effort of standing became too much
for him, and he slid down the wall slowly. Their
guns followed his descent, even as she stepped
forward to examine his face again. "He's had a
head injury," she remarked to her partner. "I
don't think it's serious but he may have a slight
concussion."
"Unless he's a clone," Mulder said darkly,
keeping the gun trained on him. "Or a shape
shifter." He inched closer, while Scully
continued to examine him. "Who are you?" He
demanded again, and David belatedly realized that
Gillian…hell, Scully…was digging for his wallet.
"David Duchovny," She read aloud from his
driver's license. "Age 37, resident of Los
Angeles, California." She peered at him. "Needs
corrective lenses." She continued to examine his
wallet while she asked, in an almost casual voice,
"So, David, how did you come to be lying on the
floor of our office?"
"I don't…I…I don't know," He stammered, feeling
like there was just too much information for his
brain to process. "I was on the set, and I fell…"
"The set?" Mulder echoed.
"I'm an actor," David explained. "And Gillian
and I were crawling up this tube, and I slipped,
and hit my head a few times, and when I woke up, I
was here." Scully looked up at him, and then
exchanged a meaningful look with Mulder.
"Who's Gillian?" She asked.
"She's…she plays…she is…" He stammered, realizing
he couldn't very well say "She plays Dana Scully"
without risking being shot. "She's my co-star,"
he finished finally. It suddenly occurred to him
that he was sitting here, allowing these people to
go through his wallet, stuck in some bizarre
travesty of reality…
"Who are *you*?" he demanded, reaching up to
pluck his wallet out of Scully's hands. He
belatedly realized he shouldn't have been quite so
abrupt when Mulder trained his gun on his head.
But both he and Scully reached for their ID's and
shoved them in his face. He stared disbelievingly
at the familiar badges. Fox Mulder and Dana
Scully. The strangeness of the situation was just
now sinking in. He slowly got to his feet,
mindful of the two drawn weapons still aimed in
his direction. "This can't be happening," he
muttered to himself. The two agents stared at him
blankly. "You are not real people," he said,
turning to face them. "You are *characters* in a
TV show."
"You think he's delirious, Scully?" Mulder asked.
"HER NAME IS NOT SCULLY." David said, raising his
voice. "Her name is Gillian Anderson." She
stared at him.
"You need to calm down," she said, stepping
towards him with one hand outstretched.
"NO! You're an actress. You have a daughter.
Piper. You live in Los Angeles. You got married
in the first season of the show. You," he turned
to Mulder. "You do not exist. You are me. I
*play* you. You're not a real FBI agent." Scully
stepped forward and put her hand on his shoulder.
He just stood there, staring at her.
"Sit down," she said gently, and she guided him
into one of the chairs in front of Mulder's desk.
He noticed that she had holstered her weapon but
he had not. As he sat down, she crouched next to
him and peered into his eyes. He stared back at
her. "Track my finger," she said, holding her
hand in front of him.
"NO! You are not a doctor," he said pushing her
away. "You are an *actress*." She turned and
looked at Mulder again. He took the other chair
next to him, while she remained crouched at his
side.
"What show is this?" he asked, finally, for lack
of a better question.
"The X-Files," he said, waiting a little
uncertainly for their reactions. He was still
mindful of the sig in Mulder's hand. They just
stared at him.
"There's a *SHOW* about the X-Files?" Mulder
asked incredulously. Scully turned to look at
him.
"Mulder, don't be ridiculous," She said. "This
man has suffered a severe head trauma." She saw
the look on his face and frowned.
"Scully, think about it. You have no idea how he
got in here, right?" Mulder said, getting an
excited glint in his eye.
"No, he was just standing here when I walked in,
but Mulder…" she started, but he cut her off.
"Scully, I think somehow he stumbled in from an
alternate reality." She just stared at him.
"I don't even know what to say to that." She
said, turning back to look at David. David didn't
say anything. It seemed a ludicrous idea to him,
that there should be an alternate reality where a
TV show was real, like something out of…well, the
X-Files…but not even the X-Files, more like some
cheesy sci-fi flick shown late on a Sunday
afternoon…and yet he could find no other
explanation for why he should be confronted with
these two individuals. It seemed too much for
even his Ivy-league educated mind to comprehend.
"Look, David, this Gillian person," Mulder said,
leaning forward eagerly. "God, is that really
what I look like?" David wondered. But even as he
thought that, he knew it wasn't. There was a
child-like innocence to this man, this version of
himself, an impatient eagerness that he knew he
lacked. "This Gillian person, she looks just
like Scully, right?" He nodded.
"Okay, if this theory of yours," and she glanced
at Mulder on the word "theory", "if this theory of
yours is correct, then tell us about a case." She
said. He looked at her blankly. "Or something
about us, anything." They both looked at him
expectantly. David racked his brain for something
of importance-a whole case he could remember, a
detail, anything…
"You have cancer." He blurted out, and instantly
regretted it when he saw her eyes widen and her
face get a little paler. "You got it from the
little implant you took out of your neck." She
jumped to her feet and drew her gun again, shoving
it right in his face.
"How do you know that??" she shouted, as Mulder
jumped up and gently pulled her back.
"Easy, Scully, relax," he murmured, glaring
suspiciously at David. He stood there, with one
arm wrapped around her shoulders. "It's in
remission," he said slowly, and she turned to him.
"Mulder," she said angrily, and he squeezed her
shoulders. David thought about it for a second,
and then he remembered that Chris had already
written the first few episodes of the fifth
season. So apparently as soon as a script was
written, it became their reality.
"Okay, then, you *had* cancer, and then it went
into remission when you put the chip back in your
neck. And then you," he looked at Mulder, "named
that guy Blevins as a mole in the FBI, and he got
shot," he stopped when he saw their astonished
faces. Slowly Mulder sat back down in his chair.
He looked thoughtful.
"It does sound crazy, Scully," he finally said,
"but how else would he have gotten here?"
"Mulder, we don't know anything about him!" she
protested, turning to face her partner angrily.
"He looks *just* like you. He could have walked
right in here, and nobody would have noticed.
There are dozens of ways he could have found out
that information." She turned to glare at him.
"Hospital records, obituaries…"
"Hey, I don't *care* about your lives," David
says, jumping to his feet. They both stared at
him, taken aback. "You are both cold, angry,
unsmiling workaholics," The shock registered on
their faces only served to anger him more. "I
don't have time to deal with this," he muttered,
and he stalked out of the office. He half
expected them to run after him, brandishing their
weapons, but he managed to find the exit without
interruption. He supposed that his appearance had
thrown them for quite a loop. Feh. Some Oxford
education. And her, with a MD. He was not
impressed. "If they're so used to dealing with
the paranormal, you'd think they wouldn't be so
shocked by it." he thought bitterly. He found
himself suddenly outside, in the bright Washington
D.C. afternoon sunlight. Thoughtfully he looked
around. It wasn't his first time in the city, but
he hardly found the streets familiar. He began to
wander aimlessly.
The area around the FBI building wasn't
particularly nice, so he continued on for about an
hour until he reached the downtown area. It was a
hot summer day, and he was sweating profusely. He
passed a Gap and hurried in. 10 minutes later he
emerged wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, and
sunglasses, carrying his parka outfit in a bag.
He carefully examined the menu of every restaurant
he passed, until he finally settled on a veggie
wrap from a tiny little deli. All around him,
people dressed in business suits and tourists
dressed in shorts wandered around, shopping and
eating, or hurrying back to work. He settled at
an outdoor table and ate slowly, contemplating his
situation. Although he didn't *want* to believe
that he had somehow been transported into some
bizarre parallel universe, he could think of no
other explanation. Everything seemed surreal and
strange. He couldn't quite get his mind around
the idea of Mulder and Scully as real people. He
wondered what sort of lives they led-did they
really spend all of their time, devoted to work
and their ridiculous "quest for the truth?" He
shuddered when he thought of Mulder wasting his
life and intellect away.
And then a thought occurred to him. Without
Mulder's help, he may never get back to his own
time, or dimension, or whatever. He had been too
busy contemplating the strangeness of his
surroundings to think of how he might return. He
stood up, suddenly full of purpose. He was
certain Mulder would help him, this whole
situation seemed to be the sort of paranormal
thing he loved. He bought a tourist map of DC,
and made his way back towards the FBI building in
the setting sun. Upon entering the lobby, he
realized suddenly that it was a bit late; if
Mulder had gone home, David would have no way to
reach him until tomorrow. He supposed he could
find a hotel for the night, but then he was eager
to get back. He thought longingly of Tea, and
wondered if she was worried about him. He
wondered what the people on the set thought of
this. David walked around to the side of the
building, and entered the building. The security
guard glanced up at him, and then waved him by.
"Forget something, Agent Mulder?" he asked
cheerfully.
"Uh, yeah," he muttered. He walked quickly to
the elevator and rode down to the basement. He
walked down the dark corridor and frowned. "How on
earth does someone work in this?" he wondered. He
thought of his trailer on the set-filled with CD's
and a satellite TV hook up, and of course Blue.
"Still, though, I guess he finds this rewarding.
At least he doesn't have to deal with sitting
around all day." David thought bitterly of all
of the wasted hours of his days, spent sitting
around, doing nothing. He reached the door marked
"Fox Mulder" and tentatively knocked. There was a
pause, then the sound of someone eagerly getting
up and shuffling papers.
"Scully?" Mulder asked hopefully, opening the
door, and was taken aback to see who it was. For
a second they just stared at each other.
"Uhh…hi." David said. He watched the visible
slump in the other man's shoulders.
"C'mon in," he said, stepping aside. "I figured
I might see you again."
"Where did Scully go?" David asked, feeling a
little like he shouldn't be asking. Mulder turned
away from him and walked back to his desk.
"She went home," he said, and sat down, wearily
rubbing his hands over his face. "She was, uh, a
little shaken by your unexpected visit today, I
think." David slowly sat down. He shrugged.
What was he supposed to do? He had to convince
them. "She doesn't exactly believe that you're
visiting from another reality," Mulder continued,
looking at some point past David's shoulder. A
small smile spread across his face. "She tends
not to believe in that kind of thing," he said, in
a decidedly wistful tone. David suddenly
remembered his conversation with the reporter
earlier that morning.
"You need to fuck her," he said bluntly.
Mulder's attention snapped back to him.
"What?" he said.
"Look at the way she's always looking at you.
Why do you think her mouth is always open? Are
you blind? She wants you," he said. He was mildly
surprised when Mulder leapt to his feet.
"Get out!" he shouted angrily. David didn't
budge. He just stared up at the angry man.
"You can't tell me after 5 years together it's
never crossed your mind," he said calmly. Mulder
continued to glare angrily at him.
"That is my *best friend* you're talking about,"
he spat.
"And…?" David said. Mulder just stared at him as
if he was from another planet. Check that, David
thought wryly, he'd probably be less amazed if I
*was* from another planet. Mulder slowly sat
back down behind his desk.
"I couldn't do that to her," he said slowly. He
looked away. "Maybe you don't understand, but
Scully means more to me than that." He looked
down, and then quickly back up at David. "You're
married?" he asked, sounding surprised. David
glanced at his ring.
"Yeah," he said. Mulder frowned.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound surprised. I just
thought-well, that 'advice' you just gave me, it
doesn't sound like it would come from a married
man." David shrugged.
"I was lucky to find her," he said with a
smile. "She thinks like I do." Mulder didn't say
anything for a second. Then his face brightened
as a thought occurred to him.
"Hey, is it that woman who looks like Scully?" he
asked hopefully. David laughed.
"Gillian? No. Sorry." He said. He reached into
his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped
to the picture section. "This is my wife," he
said, handing it to Mulder across the desk. "Her
name is Tea." Mulder examined the picture and
nodded.
"She's very pretty," he said. David smiled.
"Thanks," he said. "So seriously, what about
Scully? Why not get with her?" Mulder laughed
quietly and shook his head.
"She wouldn't want to put up with me," he said,
with a sad smile. David paused. He didn't quite
know how to respond to that. There was an awkward
silence for a moment. Mulder shifted in his
chair.
"So, how exactly does this work?" Mulder said,
bringing his mind back to the situation at hand
with an effort. "How do you know so much about
us? Has everything that has happened to us
happened on this TV show?" David shrugged.
"That would be my guess," he said. He thought
for a second. "Although I suppose your life may
not necessarily be limited to what happens on the
show." Mulder nodded.
"Or the show may not be limited to what happens
in our lives," he said, and David realized that he
hadn't thought of that.
"So you're saying that Chris Carter-he's the
creator-he and the other writes are somehow
channeling your existence?" He said. Mulder
shrugged.
"Either way, it doesn't make a lot of sense."
Another silence. David could tell Mulder was deep
in thought. "Now, how did you manage to get
here?" he mused. "What happened, exactly, on the
set before you woke up in our office?" David
frowned.
"Well, I was doing this scene where we have to
crawl through a pipe, and it was inside a cold
soundstage because we're supposed to be in the
arctic. We were almost to the end when I
slipped-I banged my head a few times on the way
down, and woke up on your floor."
"Well, somehow, you managed to cross…dimensions,
or realities, or whatever," Mulder said. "And
now we have to figure out how to get you back."
David nodded.
"I'd appreciate it," he said. Mulder thought.
David waited. Mulder sighed. "Look, I honestly
don't know what you could have done to knock
yourself over here, but it's getting late." He
stood up. "Why don't you stay at my place, and
maybe we can think of something." David was
surprised by the generous offer but he said
nothing. He accompanied his twin self out of the
building and into the parking garage. They rode
to Arlington in silence, and entered Mulder's
darkened apartment. Mulder flipped on the
lights. "I don't really have any food, I usually
order out. Pizza okay?" David made a face.
Mulder turned to look at him. "How 'bout
Chinese?"
"Could I look at the menu?" David asked. The
thought of what Mulder probably ate-heaps of
greasy, disgusting fried Chinese food-turned his
stomach. He carefully examined the menu while
Mulder changed. He selected a steamed vegetable
dish that sounded fairly harmless from the short
description. Mulder emerged and called in the
order. David felt horribly awkward as he examined
the surroundings of Mulder's plain surroundings,
as if he were 12 years old and his mother had
forced him to spend time with the kid on the block
that no one liked. "This guy is a loser," he
thought, and somehow the thought made him feel
guilty. He almost felt responsible. "Maybe I'll
pressure Chris a little bit more to give Mulder a
social life."
"So," Mulder said, bringing David out of his
reverie. He turned to face his twin. He couldn't
get over how odd it felt to be looking at
himself. They sat down at opposite ends of the
black leather couch. David looked at him
expectantly. "Tell me more about this show."
David sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Look, don't take this the wrong way," he said.
"But I *really* don't like talking about it."
Mulder just stared at him. "I mean, I've been
playing this character for *five* years, almost.
We've done thousands of interviews, talk shows,
and so on. All I *ever* talk about is this
show." David felt himself getting heated. "I am
so *sick* of aliens, government conspiracies,
strange mutants…" he trailed off as he saw the
look on Mulder's face.
"You think you're sick of *playing* it?" he said
quietly. "You should try living it." David
waited for the lecture about nobly fighting the
truth, but nothing was forthcoming. Mulder looked
away, and David was struck by the incredible
sadness that settled over him like a heavy cloud.
David's mind raced back over the previous
seasons…he thought of the harsh reality this man
must face every day-his cold, unforgiving father,
now dead, his mother's stroke-his fault, David
realized guiltily, as he thought back to the
script he had helped write…the endless loneliness,
relieved only by the support of one friend…and
Scully! Cancer, her dead sister…he turned back to
Mulder and felt an overwhelming mixture of guilt
and sorrow.
"Hey, look, I'm sorry." He said softly. " I
didn't mean anything by that. I just get a
little…frustrated sometimes." He paused. Mulder
seemed not to have heard him. "Gillian would say
I have no patience for anything," he continued. A
tiny smile tugged at the corner of Mulder's
mouth.
"Scully would probably say the same thing." He
said. Another awkward silence was interrupted by
a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of
their food. Without another word passing between
them, they sorted out the cartons and began to
eat. David noted with a smile that Mulder really
did eat greasy, fried Chinese food. They were
halfway through when another knock on the door
came. Before Mulder could even get up to get it,
they heard a familiar voice call out.
"Mulder, it's me." She said, and David noted
with a smile that Mulder couldn't run to the door
fast enough. When he let her in she peered past
him at David. "I figured he would be here." She
said she walked in and nodded brusquely.
"We ordered Chinese, do you want any?" Mulder
offered, as he pulled a chair out for Scully. She
gave him an odd look. David smiled. His jarring
comments about sleeping with Scully had no doubt
sparked a few impure thoughts on Mulder's part,
and he was going out of his way to be nice to
her. "Bet I hit a nerve," he thought proudly. He
studied the two of them closely. At first he had
gotten the impression that Scully was somewhat
indifferent towards Mulder but it had suddenly
occurred to him that it was probably for his
benefit. He didn't really see it until Mulder
began spouting off on his theory that David was a
visitor from another dimension, but the look that
Scully gave him was positively adoring. He sat
back in his chair, satisfied. "These two need to
get together, " he mused. His mind wandered to
various moments in the show…a hand hold, a
hug…"What a lonely, frustrating experience," he
thought. The ring of the telephone brought him
back to earth.
"Hello? What is it, Frohicke?" Mulder said as
he answered, and it was all David could do to keep
from laughing out loud. "Those losers!! I forgot
all about them. I wonder if I'll get to meet
Skinner…" the thought made him smile. Mulder got
up & walked towards the back of his apartment for
some privacy, leaving David and Scully at the
table in a moment of awkward silence. Scully
regarded him for a moment.
"Look, I want you to know, I don't buy this
'alternate dimension' thing." She said suddenly.
"I don't know how you know all of these things
about us, but I find it highly implausible that
you stumbled into a different reality that is
controlled by a television show." She paused,
biting her lip. David wondered where on earth she
was going with this. "But I…I want to know,
purely for curisoity's sake…" she hesitated again,
as if she thought she had chosen the wrong words.
David waited expectantly. She met his eyes, and
the mix of emotions-anguish, love, fear-that he
saw written there surprised him. "On this TV
show, what happened to Samantha?" David was
stunned into silence and he just stared at her
dumbly for a second. That after all she'd been
through, all the answers he might be able to
provide for her…and everything in her life always
comes back to Mulder, he thought. He suddenly
wished fiercly that he had an answer for her. But
he knew that Chris was still debating whether or
not he liked the answer they had filmed in the
movie,and he hated to give her false information.
Who knew, ultimately, how that question would be
answered?
"I don't know," he said very slowly, and she sat
back with a look of mingled satisfaction and
disappointment.
"I didn't really think that you would," she said,
and David felt compelled to explain.
"Well I don't write the scripts," he said
hastily. "The answer to that would be up to Chris
Carter, the creator." She looked at him cooly,
and he stopped. There was, he reasoned, no point
in arguing with her. She was not one to be easily
convinced. Mulder emerged with the phone, his
face eager and excited.
"Scully! That was the lone gunmen," he said
excitedly. She rolled her eyes. Mulder crouched
down and murmured something in her ear. She
turned to look at him, and they exchanged a
meaningful glance.
"We need to go out for a little while," Mulder
said, and David just stared at him.
"I thought you were going to try & figure out how
to get me out of here?" He asked, but Mulder was
already putting on his coat and Scully was
standing with the car keys.
"We'll only be a little while." He promised.
"Well at least tell me what's so urgent," David
said. Mulder and Scully looked at each other.
"Come on, I know everything about you anyway,"
David said. Scully looked unconvinced.
"Someone was seen accessing a locker in National
airport that hasn't been opened in a long time.
Someone else has the key," He said slowly. Mulder
thought. Air port, locker, key…Nick…
"Is it that digital tape?" He asked. Scully's
eyes widened, and Mulder smiled.
"Yeah. We've gotta hurry & see if we can catch
this person. We'll be back." They turned and
left. David stood there for all of two minutes,
then he grabbed Mulder's keys off the table and
ran outside.
"Shoot, I spend so much time *acting* this
life…it might be kind of fun to see it for real."
He remembered the signs for the airport on the way
from the FBI building, he figured it shouldn't be
too hard to find.
Once there, he entered the main terminal and
headed over to the lockers. He didn't see Mulder
or Scully. Thoughtfully he scanned the area.
Where would they be? "Pretend this is an
episode," he thought to himself. "They'd probably
be somewhere they're not supposed to be." He
peered through the windows to the runway and the
darkness beyond, but everything looked in order.
He frowned and walked around for a few minutes,
then gave up and decided to leave. On his way
out, however, he noticed signs for the cargo
receiving area…and he smiled. "A big, scary
warehouse. Where else would they be?" He
thought. He took the exit.
When he arrived at the shipping area, he saw
Scully's car and a big white van parked alongside
it. David was proud of his intuition as he got
out of the car. Ineffectual spotlights lighted
the perimeter of the building, making the darkness
beyond the small pools of light even scarier. He
walked carefully along the edge of the shadows,
listening intently for any sound. He heard
footfalls approaching and he stepped back,until he
saw it was Scully rounding the corner, weapon
drawn. Nervously he cleared his throat, and she
stopped and aimed at the noise. "Scully, it's
me," he said. She lowered the gun.
"Mulder?" she asked, peering at him. He stepped
into the light.
"No, David." He said and she stared at him.
"What the hell are you doing here? This is
dangerous." She glared at him.
"I just wanted to see what a real X-File is
like." He shrugged. "Besides, what's gonna
happen?" He knew that no matter how dangerous
everything seemed, nothing would happen to Mulder
or Scully. He and Gillian were still under
contract.
"This is not pretend. This is real, and you need
to leave right now." Scully said, enunciating
every syllable in a taut, angry way. "You don't
understand-" Suddenly she stopped and her eyes
focused on something beyond his shoulder.
"What?" He asked, half turning around. He didn't
see anything.
"Get down," Scully whispered, raising her weapon.
"It's probably just Mulder," David said, wishing
he could make her understand that the main
character in a show wouldn't be killed off, so she
had nothing to fear. David turned and began to
walk in the direction Scully was looking.
"NO!!!" She shouted, and she lunged forward,
tackling him to the ground. David was surprised
at her strength, for someone so small. At the
same time, he heard a loud bang, and pounding foot
steps behind them. David slowly sat up. He felt
a little dazed. In the distance he heard tires
squealing. Mulder came running up behind them.
David turned to face him, and he saw Mulder
freeze, his eyes widen and his jaw drop. David
stared at him blankly, not understanding, until he
heard him whisper, in a voice filled with fear.
"Scully?"
David looked down and saw her, lying on her back
on the pavement, in a pool of light, her gun lying
a few inches away from her open hand. Mulder
knelt at her side and gently put his hands on her,
shock and disbelief evident on his face. His
hands came away from her body covered in blood.
They trembled uncontrollably as he pulled out his
cell phone and called 911.
"This is Special Agent Fox Mulder, I have an
oficer down…" he rattled off their location as
David stared in horror at the still, lifeless
body. He could barely make out her shallow
breathing. He watched as Mulder carefully took of
his jacket-that nice leather one that David loved
wearing-and tenderly laid it over Scully. He
moved behind her and sat so that he could hold her
head in his lap. He began to stroke her hair and
talk to her, and David felt his heart wrench as
Mulder struggled to keep the tears at bay.
"It's gonna be okay, Scully," he murmured softly,
and David felt his own tears welling up. He slid
a little closer to her, and Mulder looked up at
him. The expression in his eyes clearly told
David it was all his fault.
"I'm sorry," David said, and Mulder just looked
at him for a long moment, then went back to
comforting Scully.
A few minutes later they were on their way to the
hospital, sirens blaring loudly. David was a
little surprised that Mulder had permitted him to
ride in the ambulance, but when he had climbed in
the other man had barely spared him a glance.
Mulder thought of the fake ambulance in the movie
and nervously watched the scenery go by until they
arrived at the emergency room. Mulder and David
were regulated to the waiting room, where Mulder
sat, red-eyed, and stared out the window. Just
when David thought the silence would drive him
insane he spoke.
"Why were you there?" he asked quietly, and David
felt as if the vise around his heart had been
twisted tighter. How did he admit to this man
that he had gone there just to see if art really
mirrored life, and endangered the life of his
partner in the process? David cast around wildy
for an excuse, and found none. He lowered his
eyes to the ground.
"I wanted to see…what it was really like." He
said lamely, and he waited with bated breath. He
glanced up tentatively and met Mulder's eyes. The
message was loud and clear. "It's all my fault,"
David thought, and he felt himself tearing up
again. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and a tear
rolled down his cheek. Mulder looked away.
"Maybe to you, it's not important." He said,
without facing David again. "Maybe to you she's
just some piece of ass." David winced. "But my
*best friend* may die," he turned to look at
David, tears pouring down his cheeks. "She may
die without ever knowing the truth," he
continued. "She may die not knowing why she had
cancer or who gave it to her." Mulder was barely
holding in the sobs. "She may die never knowing
that I…how…that I love her," Mulder choked on the
last sentence, and cringed as if the words hurt
him physically. David was now crying openly.
"She may die because you wanted to see what our
lives were really like. Well now do you know?
Are you happy now?" The two men sat facing each
other, both crying. David paused for a moment,
trying to catch his breath enough to speak.
"It may be my fault that she got shot," he said
slowly, and he turned to look Mulder directly in
the eyes. "But it is not my fault that she may
die not knowing how you feel." They stared at
each other for the longest time, until Mulder
finally dropped his eyes.
"Then I guess we're both guilty." He said
softly. A tear dripped on the floor. David
leaned forward.
"Scully is strong. She'll make it through. I
believe that," he said. Mulder looked up. "But
you have to tell her." Mulder's eyes dropped
again. "I can't," he whispered.
"Yes you can. You have to tell her how much she
means to you. Mulder," David said, and he laid a
hand on the other man's shoudler. "I'm sorry
about what I said before. I didn't mean it. But
I'm serious now. She needs to know. And I don't
think she'll walk out on you. Scully wouldn't do
that." They were interrupted by a nurse.
"Agent Mulder, your partner has come out of
surgery. The doctor would like to talk to you in
her room." Mulder jumped to his feet.
"Is she okay?" He demanded.
"The doctor will be able to tell you more, but I
think it looks good." She said. Relieved, Mulder
practically ran out of the room. David sighed and
wiped his face with a tissue, then leaned back
against the wall.
"What an awful day," he thought. He gazed out
the window without seeing anything. "I guess this
means that the scripts come from this alternate
reality somehow. I guess that explains why we
only have about three writers." He hoped Scully
pulled through. He kept telling himself that she
would, until he felt exhaustion settling in.
Almost against his will, sleep dropped over him…
He had no idea how long he had been asleep for,
but when he opened his eyes, he found himself
staring into the depths of two pretty blue lakes.
"SCULLY!" he shouted, sitting up eagerly. To his
surprise she burst into laughter.
"Scully?! My God, David, you must have really
whacked your head," she said, smiling, as the
other people all standing around him started
laughing. He stared at her dully.
"Gillian," he said slowly, realization dawning on
him, as he looked around. He was lying in the
snow, still in his parka outfit. Half the cast
and crew were standing around looking at him. He
looked back at her, still disoriented and
confused. Her smile faded and concern took over.
"How do you feel?" She asked, reaching out to
lay her hand on his forehead. Her touch was
different, somehow-it lacked the assurance of
years of training and practice bring. He made no
move to shrug it off, though.
"I'm okay, I have a little bit of a headache," he
said quickly, trying to sound normal. She still
looked a little doubtful. He carefully got to his
feet. She and another crew member helped him
up. Rob Bowman walked up and looked at him, then
turned back to the crew.
"Okay, folks, we're going to take an hour break,"
he yelled, and then he looked at David. "Why
don't you go lie down for an hour, see how you
feel, and then if you're up to it, we'll continue,
okay?" David nodded and exited into the hot
sunshine. Back at his trailer he changed into a
t-shirt and boxers, and was just about to lie down
when there was a knock. He answered it and saw
Chris Carter standing there.
"I just wanted to see if you were okay," he
said, and David nodded.
"A little sore and bruised, but otherwise fine,"
he said, and Chris looked at him a little
strangely. David knew he was waiting for him to
go off on the unsafe working conditions, but he
said nothing. Chris cleared his throat.
"Uh, I know you need some rest, so uh, you don't
have to do this now, but we changed the hallway
scene. I got an inspiration this morning for some
great dialogue, so uh…if you could look it over…I
know you hate those last-minute re-writes…" David
took the papers from his hand and began reading.
Slowly a smile spread over his face.
"You know what? This is great. No problem at
all. Just let me know when I need to have it done
by." Chris stared at him.
"Uh okay, great. Now you'd better get some
rest," Chris said, backing away slowly. David
just laughed. He picked up the papers and grabbed
a bottle of water from his tiny little fridge. He
walked back to the bed in his trailer and
stretched out. He felt happy and light-hearted.
He picked up the new pages and read the dialogue
again.
"I owe you everything, Scully, and you owe me
nothing," he read aloud, and for some reason, he
couldn't stop smiling.
END
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Atakia
newsgroup! It is cut off at:
"He heard
footfalls approaching and he stepped back,until he
saw it was Scully rounding the corner, weapon
drawn. Nervously he cleared his throat, and she
stopped and ai"
Please repost it!!