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Die Another Way
AUTHOR: bcfan
FEEDBACK: bcfan@shaw.ca
CLASSIFICATION: CD, Parody
RATING: R
SUMMARY: Three vignettes from the "What if..." universe
1. Sticky Fingers
Dana Scully beamed with pride as she surveyed her
kingdom, a pristine basement office. Books were lined
with military precision, the bulletin board was posted with
letters of commendation, and the last detritus of what she
could only think of as 'junk' had at last been hauled away.
The X-Files was her dream assignment - everyone said she
was on her way to bigger and better things. Tom Colton
and his earlier snide remarks be damned!
Sighing with pleasure, Scully sat at her large burnished
desk and reflected on her good fortune. It had all began
with the case file she held in her hands. She looked at the
label, Eugene Victor Tooms, and a bittersweet expression
ghosted across her normally impassive features.
Mulder Mulder Mulder, she reflected fondly, then shook
her head. So handsome, such a great butt and sexy smile -
and yet so clueless.
Everything had been business as usual until they'd found
Tooms' apartment hideaway. She remembered the conversation
as if it had been yesterday.
Mulder had exclaimed excitedly, "Hey, Scully, This is a
nest. Look, it's made out of rags and newspapers."
Scully was sure she must have expressed caution. She
prided herself on being the levelheaded, logical partner.
But had Mulder listened to her? No...
Mulder felt the opening and got a slimy substance on his
hand.
Scully was disgusted. "Oh my God, Mulder, it's smells
like, I think it's bile."
Mulder pretended not to panic. "Is there any way I can get
it off my fingers quickly without betraying my cool
exterior?"
He began flicking the stuff off his fingers, while Scully
searched her bag for a sterile wipe. She'd learned to
expect the unexpected with her partner.
Within moments, though, Mulder had stopped complaining
and collapsed instead.
"Maybe it's not bile after all, Mulder," Scully calmly offered
as she flipped open her cell phone. She had '911'
as number one on her speed dial. This was the fifth time
she'd called this year. Scully shook her head. The man
just had no sense of self-preservation.
The funeral was sad of course. Closed casket, since
Mulder's body had turned from handsome to horrific as the
mystery acid ate through his skin. Yes, it was sad - but
there had been unexpected benefits.
Let me count the ways, Scully delightedly considered.
Well, the cover article in the New England Journal of
Medicine was one bonus. Her investigation of the acid had
led to her discovery of a heretofore-unlabeled disease.
Scully was the first to identify toxicus pseudobilis, which
had opened up whole new vistas of medical research. She
was expecting a grant from the Guggenheim Foundation at
any moment.
Oh yes, Scully thought, and I can't forget how the X-Files
brand new, 100% solve rate was the talk of upper echelons
at the FBI. Could the director's chair be far behind?
Scully glanced down and noticed the file in her hands. She
carefully reached over and swung the revolving set of
stamps, thinking hard. To keep up the perfect solve rate
she had to evaluate each x-files case with scientific
precision. Ahh, yes, there's the one - Scully decided that Tom
Colton was correct in his assessment of the Tooms'
case.
She carefully inked the stamp and imprinted the word
'Insane' across the front of the file in big red letters.
Throwing the file in the solved box, Scully leaned back in
her chair with a sigh of satisfaction.
Another case closed. Scully was the department head of
her universe, and life was good.
2. 731 Ways to Leave Your Lover
"Ka boom!" echoed through Scully's phone receiver,
before the line went dead. Scully jerked the phone away
from her ear, shocked.
And also annoyed. Sure things didn't seem too good for
Mulder right now, if the bomb explosion was any
indication, but really - had Mulder found yet another way
to leave her? Mulder had promised last week, naked and
on his knees, that he loved Scully oh so much and would
never ever ditch her again, but since then he'd found three
new ways. Scully smiled ruefully and shook her head.
Mulder had looked so cute kneeling there, naked and fully
erect, a glowing red butt well punished from his last ditch,
tear tracks streaking his sincere face and soft pleading
eyes. She knew she was a softie where Mulder was
concerned. She should have been stricter and punished
him longer. Then he wouldn't have run off again.
Scully dug around in her purse until she found the small
notebook. Flipping through the pages, she added number
731 to her list and wrote the words "ditched by explosion"
carefully on the line, paused, then noted "strapping - 15
times." Since Scully had last seen Mulder, she'd already
written number 730 ("ditched by pretending phone went
dead - hand spanking - 12 times") and number 729
("ditched by jumping on moving train - strapping - 10
times"). Smirking, she added "corner time" to the list - if
Mulder survived his latest ditch, he was going to wish he
were dead.
Scully chuckled gleefully. I'd better go to the gym this
afternoon, she decided. I have to keep in shape to get
ready for Mulder's return - and chastisement. The nuns of
her girlhood had taught her well.
Sadly, Mulder did not return. There was no casket or
funeral, since there wasn't enough of Mulder to put
together. Instead, Scully wept at his memorial service and
was gratified when Agent Pendrell offered his support.
With Mulder's demise, Scully had been left well exercised
and with no outlet for her considerable organizational
skills. Scully had been so engrossed with her relationship
with Mulder she had never given Pendrell two looks
before. Suddenly she remembered one of dear departed
Mulder's favourite sayings - "Consider the possibilities."
"Thank you for lending me your arm, Agent Pendrell."
Scully looked up at him and smiled endearingly.
Pendrell, unused to Scully's attention, blushed to the roots
of his hair.
"No - no problem at all, Agent, uh, I mean Dana."
Pendrell stuttered.
"Please continue to call me Agent Scully," she pronounced
coolly, "until I tell you different."
Pendrell gulped. She knew he admired her professionalism.
"Pendrell, dear, I believe I'll call you Penny in private.
Would you like to come back to my place? We can get to
know each other. I've been meaning to discuss your
slovenly lab practices."
"Yes, ma'am," Pendrell squeaked.
Scully smiled. Her universe, listing badly because of
Mulder's death, was righting itself once again. She vowed to
ceremoniously burn Mulder's notebook, then move on.
Perseverance, organization and justice had been her
earliest lessons, and she was happy to continue them.
Scully knew - she made the world a better place. It was
her duty to teach her lessons to others.
3. Die! Bug! Die!
Scully was part of a frozen tableau at the Ashford Medical
Centre emergency room. She and the doctor were
stumped, helpless to know how to proceed with the beetle
infestation currently choking the life from Mulder.
Suddenly Skinner entered with Daryl Weaver and Scully
sprang to action.
"Wait a minute. Wait a minute." She demanded. "Get me
30 milligrams of methyl pyrrolidinyl pyridine."
The doctor sounded shocked, "Nicotine?"
"Yes. I think this could save Mulder's life."
Unfortunately, it didn't. Mulder convulsed on the
operating table, then expired. As the life drained from his
infested body, thousands of tobacco beetles began to pour
from his mouth and nose - and all seemed to be heading
straight for Agent Scully.
She screamed - not a girlie scream - but a full-throated
wail of horror and began to back out of the room, her gun
drawn at the myriad of insects. Luckily, she only fired off
three rounds before Skinner and a muscular orderly
restrained her.
***
Mulder's memorial was unique as his life. Scully had
insisted - from her temporary residence at the Happy
Acres Psychiatric Institute - that Mulder's body would
make perfect compost, so he was planted under a red cedar
next to their favourite bench.
Shortly after her release, Scully decided to venture into the
Hoover Building once again. She'd made a few changes of course -
sensible changes. She'd been blind to the fact
until now that vicious, sneaky insects were everywhere.
Scully strode into AD Skinner's office, a vision in white
from her insect net helmet to her sensible white loafers.
Skinner stood and stared, seemingly mesmerized by
Scully's pale ethereal beauty.
"Agent Scully," he cleared his throat, "I understand you've
commissioned a HAZMAT team to inspect your office."
"That is correct." Cool reply. "And the findings were
conclusive. I will not be able to go back there. The
basement is a potential insect breeding ground."
"Hmm. And I further understand, Agent, that you've
refused to perform autopsies."
Scully held the scented white hanky to her face, breathing
deeply. Her fainting spell averted, she fluttered her eyes
and pleaded, "Can you blame me, Sir? I mean, I'd be
handling disease ridden corpses!"
Skinner stared, silent. As he did so, Scully managed to
consider her boss carefully for the very first time. His
brilliant white shirts, his clean naked scalp - why had she
not noticed this paragon of perfection before?
"Excuse me, sir," Scully began nervously. "Do you mind
a personal question? I've just been admiring your bald
scalp. Do you have much body hair?"
Skinner swallowed, his eyes wide behind wire-rim glasses.
A look of regret seemed to fly, fleeting, across his face.
"Sorry to say, Agent Scully, I am quite hairy. Does that
disturb you?"
"It's only that a body is so much cleaner without any hair." Scully
sighed. "I've been searching for someone new, Sir, since Mulder's
unhappy passing. I had hoped..."
Skinner suddenly strode forward, his voice
determined. "Search no longer, Agent. I'll book a full
depilatory treatment immediately. As long as you - that
is," his words came out in a rush, "As long as you don't
mind continuing to dress so beautifully in white. It
reminds me so much of my wonderful nurse in the V.A.
hospital."
Scully smiled, happy for the first time since her insect-
ridden nightmare had begun. Her future looked bright -
and very clean.
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