AN:

Ok, I am writing another story, and it's almost finished, so I decided to give y'all part of it. I got the idea for this from watching way to many xfile episodes. Hopefully I was able to explain it all well enough and believably enough. This is just for fun, I have had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while and wanted to write it out. Let me know what you think and I'll post the rest as soon as I can. Thanks in advance for any reviews and cc.

I only own the unrecognizable characters.

Enjoy

Hank Stanley walked into the day room. Paperwork was piled to the ceiling and he wanted a cup of coffee to help him relax before he got back to it.

"Oh yes I can!" Johnny retorted. His glare was settled on the phantom, who was casually sipping coffee and smirking behind his mustache. "Just because I don't take many girls on second dates doesn't mean I can't. I just don't wanna."

"Any girls, Gage. Never one that I can remember. You should be more like me. I have the charm and finesse to handle the ladies. You gotta admit it, Gage, I have it, you don't."

Hank cleared his throat and sat down at the table.

"Anyone want to grab me a cup of coffee?" He asked, looking at no one in particular. Johnny jumped to get him a cup and placed the steaming mug in front of him. Hank paused to sip it before nodding his thanks. Several minutes passed, with Roy flipping channels on the tv and Marco turning pages in the newspaper. Johnny squirmed in his chair and Chet leaned back to balance on the back legs of his seat while twisting his mustache between thumb and forefinger.

"Don't let me interrupt your conversation, guys." Hank said. Johnny almost instantly was on his feet and said "I'm gonna go shine up the squad." And disappeared into the bay. Chet dropped his chair back onto it's front legs and stood, stretching. "I guess I'll go shoot some hoops. Marc, you wanna join me?" he asked. Marco set the newspaper aside and followed him out. Roy kept his eyes on the television.

"Ok, I give up. What did I do?" Hank asked, standing and pulling a chair over to sit in front of Roy.

"Sir?" Roy asked innocently.

"None of that, Roy. All I did was come in and everyone clears the room. Except you, though I expect you would have too, if you could have thought of an excuse."

"Actually," Roy said, leaning forward to switch the tv off. "I stayed behind because I thought you might want to talk."

"About what!?" Hank exclaimed. "I'm not the one acting bizarre. It's you guys."

"Then where's Mike?" Roy asked, leaning back as a look of understanding passed over Hanks face. "Cap, you haven't even noticed he wasn't in the room, did you? I don't mean to be pushy, but you bit his head off earlier over a little mistake."

"A mistake is a mistake. And it was a rookie mistake. All I did was call him on it." Hank said defensively. "Alright, so maybe I was a little hard on him." he sighed.

"Cap, you yelled at him. In front of us, all those bystanders. Can you imagine how embarrassing that would be? He disappeared as soon as we got back to the station. Right after you slammed your office door."

"Well, he won't make the same mistake again, I guarantee that." Hank said coolly. He knew he had gotten to angry, but he had had a bad morning and just wanted to relax, and a time consuming error was just what he needed to lose his cool.

"Cap, you've been upset this morning, I get it. We all have bad days. But I don't think you are the only one having a bad day. You were stuck in your own little world. And I saw something you missed."

Hank shifted uncomfortably. "What do you mean?" He felt panic rising in his chest. He always tried to look out for his men and be there for them. If he hadn't been there...

"When Mike came in this morning, he didn't look so good. Upset, or tired. I dunno. He asked me if you had gotten in yet, and I said no, why? He said he needed to talk to you. He wouldn't tell me what was wrong, so when you got in about five minutes later I told him to go see you. He went to see you and do you remember the first thing you said to him?"

Hank drew a deep breath. He remembered. And in context with what Roy had said, he was regretting it more and more.

"You said, 'this coffee stinks. Make it right this time." While dumping it into the sink and leaving the room. He made more coffee. And then he went out to check over the engine. He never did have that talk with you."

Hank groaned and put his face in his hands. "I've really messed up, haven't I?" He asked.

"I think you can fix it." Roy said. "Mike was cleaning the latrines, like you told him to earlier. He might still be in there.

Hank stood slowly and headed toward the door. He pushed the door to the latrines open and frowned. Mike wasn't in there. He headed to the dorm room and looked in. There at the end of the room, Mike was sitting on his bed. A piece of paper was laying on the bed in front of him, but he wasn't looking at it. Instead, he seemed to be a hundred miles away, his right hand clenched at his side.

Hank took a cautious step into the room.

"Mike." When his engineer looked up, he immediately saw what he had missed. Hurt, confusion. He moved closer and Mike looked away, clearly expecting Hank to still be angry with him.

He pulled the paper closer and folded it in half, keeping his eyes on it to avoid looking at Hank.

"Cap, I'm sorry, for, um, what I did earlier. I wasn't paying attention and it could've been something more..."

"Mike, stop." Hank said. "I, I came to talk to you. But not about what you did. I've been a fool, and I came to apologize."

"For what, sir?" Mike asked.

"For the way I spoke to you earlier. For the fact that I didn't see that something was wrong. Roy told me. That you wanted to talk to me."

Mike stood up suddenly and turned away from Hank. His hands were shoved in his pockets. Hank glanced at the sheet of paper lying on the bed.

"Mike, I'm sorry. For what I did, and for not being there for you."

Mike turned back, but his expression was unreadable.

"Cap, you didn't do anything. Of course I forgive you. I, I just need some time."

"Can you talk about it?" Hank asked gently. "Has that letter anything to do with it?"

"Yes. But, I don't know. I don't even know how to talk about it. Friday I got a phone call. While I was here, remember? I took it in the dorm."

"Yeah. You were gone for a while." Hank frowned. Mike had seemed more serious after the phone call, but not like anything was actually wrong.

"Well, uh, it was my Dad. He..."

At that moment the tones went off.

Station 51 possible fire at the Bank. 1475 Northridge dr. Time out 13:27

Hank ran out to the bay with Mike behind him. He grabbed the mic and confirmed the call. Mike had already pulled his turnout coat on and was in the drivers seat. Chet and Marco were glancing between their captain and engineer. Hank looked over at Mike as he pulled out into the street. Whatever he was feeling was hidden behind a mask of complete concentration.

Mike knew there wasn't time for personal feelings during work. He had made the mistake of letting his mind wander back to his dad just at the end of the last call, and he certainly wasn't going to do that again. He drew in a deep breath and focused on the road, while quickly going over in his mind where the closest hydrant to the bank was. If the fire was confirmed, he would have to hook up fast, so they could clear the building. As they pulled up in front of the bank, he could not immediately see smoke, but there was a group of at least seventy people standing outside, and the crowd was growing. Mike slowed to a stop in front of the hydrant as an officer jogged over to the engine and waved Hank out. After a moment, Hank signaled for them all to come over.

"There's no fire." The officer repeated. "One of the customers hit the alarm when a guy came in swinging a handgun around. It's already over." He pointed toward a body draped in a sheet near the doors. "He wasn't gonna kill anyone, but he sure acted like it. Forced us to shoot him."

"Suicide by cop." Hank said, shaking his head.

"Hey, man, I've seen all the crazies before, but this guy. I thought I had made a connection, y'know. I got him talkin'. He even admitted he had a grandkid he wouldn't mind seein' again. But then, you know. Well, I lost him. He wouldn't listen anymore. Put his gun to a girls head. We had to take him out."

Mike turned and went around to the drivers side of the engine and climbed in. He picked up the mic and called the station in as available. A few minutes later, Hank and the others climbed in and they started the drive back to the station in silence.

As soon as they arrived, Mike jumped down and started towards the dorm, but Hank caught his arm and guided him toward his office, shutting the door behind them. The others took the queue that they were not to interrupt and headed for the day room.

Inside, Hank pointed to a chair as he rounded his desk to take his own seat.

"Mike, you started to talk to me before we got that call. Something about your dad. What's going on? Is everything all right?"

Mike leaned his elbows on his knees and looked at the floor. Finally, taking a deep breath, he sat up and looked at Hank.

"You are gonna think I've lost my mind." He said bluntly.

"What?" Hank asked.

"So my dad has always been a little, um, eccentric, I guess. He kinda believes in supernatural stuff."

"Like ghosts?" Hank raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, like ghosts. Or anything really, that can't be logically explained or scientifically proven."

"So, aliens? Vampires, werewolves, etc.?"

"Yeah. And he loves to study anything about it he can find. He'll follow up on clues, sightings, anything he can. I never believed in it, but, he's my dad, so I didn't think he was crazy like everyone else said."

"Mike. You referred to your dad in the present tense, but your feelings in the past tense. Do you now think he's crazy or somethin'?"

"No! No, I think I might be. Let me tell you what happened and, uh, try not to laugh."

"Ok, shoot." Hank leaned back in his chair. Mike didn't often tell stories, and getting him talking was the hardest part of any conversation, after that, he was just like all the other guys. He had his doubts, insecurities, and quirks. Especially quirks, Hank thought.

Mike stood and walked to the window as he began, seeming to be going back in his mind to what had happened over the weekend.

"My dad called me at the station on Friday. I took it in the dorm..."

"Hello?"

"Michael, this is Michael, right?"

"Yeah, dad, how are you doin'? I was going to call you tomorrow. Did you have a change of plans?"

"Plans? Uh, no. Um, I just wanted to call."

"Oh, ok." Mike frowned, his dad had called him Mike or Mikey for his whole life. With the occasional use of his middle name, Carson. He could never remember his dad calling him Michael before.

"Wait? You let your dad call you Mikey?" Hank interrupted. "You growl at anyone who calls you that."

"Yeah, well, he's my dad. So he gets special liberties." Mike said.

"And Carson? I had no idea." Hank smirked.

"Do you wanna talk about my silly middle name or do you want me to tell you this story?" Mike growled coming around to face Hank with his sternest glare.

Hank put his hands up. "Sorry, proceed."

Mike rolled his eyes, but continued.

"Well, um," His dad continued, pulling him from his reverie. "What have you been doing with yourself lately? Got any girls in your sights?"

"Um, dad? I haven't done anything new since last night when you called." Girls? His dad and he had made a pact years ago that they wouldn't talk about girls unless he found one that he was serious about.

"I called you last night? I must be losing it, I don't remember."

"Ok, what!? Dad, are you ok? I mean you called last night because you had something really interesting you wanted to show me when I get off work tomorrow. And you already forgot?" Alarm bells were definitely going off in his head now.

"Um, yeah, I mean I remember, sure. You're coming over tomorrow?"

"Yeah." It didn't sound like he was asking for confirmation. More like he hadn't known it beforehand. There was definitely no way he wasn't coming now. He was seriously worried about what his dad had done that would make him act this strangely.

"Ok, dad, listen, just hang loose. I'll be by tomorrow around noon probably. I'll bring your favorite pizza, so just, uh, take it easy I guess."

"Pizza? Hey, I like you. How did I get so lucky? You're a good kid."

"Yeah, I'm 28, so not really a kid anymore. See you tomorrow."

Mike hung the phone up. Talk about spacey. That was strange. He spent the rest of the evening trying to decide if something was actually wrong or if he was just overthinking it. After all, his dad had always been a little different. Maybe he was so into something he was researching that he was just over tired.

The rest of the shift went by smoothly and Mike headed home at about 8:30 a.m.

He pulled into his driveway and jumped out to grab a few books he had found that he wanted to give to his dad, and on the way back to the truck he grabbed the mail from his mailbox. Mostly junk, with a letter from his dad. Postmarked five days previous.

At this point, Mike pulled the folded paper from his pocket and passed it to Hank.

"It might be easier if you just read it." He said. He knew what the letter said. He had read it enough times.

Mike,

I'm sure you aren't interested in getting mail from your old man. And you're probably wondering why I didn't just call. The truth is, I am not ready to call until I have all the facts, but strange things have been happening. Right here at home if you'll believe it. I have searched all over the place. Traveling to almost all of the fifty states, but it's here in my own backyard that it gets truly strange. By the time you get this letter, I will probably have all the details. I have been trying to recreate this specific event for almost a month now and I almost have it. I have found a glitch in time. And it seems to be recurring, so I should be able to undo anything that it does, but before I play with the proverbial fire, I am going to find out what to do to reverse the effects. It'll be a wonderful experiment. You might even enjoy it if it all works according to plan.

I'll call you soon,

Dad

"So what does all this mean?" Hank asked, folding the paper and handing it back over.

"That's what I wondered. My dad used to talk to me about a ton of different things, like how the world worked. How there are some specific places where there are actually glitches in the universe."

"Glitches? What's that mean." Hank asked.

"Well, you know about the Bermuda Triangle?" Mike asked. "How people have disappeared without a trace and when people go in to search for them, they go missing too."

"I've heard of it. I never really gave it any credibility though." Hank said. He honestly couldn't believe he was having this conversation with his rational, logical, even headed engineer.

"Well, that would be a glitch. That's the most famous, but my dad has found cases of other strange things in other places. And from what I understand, he thinks he found one right near where I grew up. I guess he was so busy looking in other places, that he didn't even think about our hometown."

"They say the strangest things happen right at home." Hank smirked. "So what does this glitch do?"

"That's what I don't know. He didn't say, and uh, well, I never could follow all his explanations anyway. It could be anything, it could have a specific time that it will happen. It could be just the right things happening at just the right time or in the right order to bring about an unexpected event. I don't really know."

"But, you don't believe this stuff do you?" Hank asked incredulously.

"No, I have never believed it. But I do believe that something strange happened. Because no sooner had I pulled into the driveway at home..."

Rock music was playing loudly from the garage when Mike pulled up. Mike glanced over the two story house that he had spent the first nineteen years of his life in, and taking the key out of the ignition, he got out of his truck.

He headed up towards the open garage door and looked in. No one was there, so he went through the garage and opened the side door, stepping into the familiar mud room that he had spent to many Saturday afternoons cleaning when he would have preferred to be out playing football with the guys.

"Dad!" He called. A moment later there was an audible crash followed by a curse word that he knew his dad would never say.

"Uh, Hey! Dad? Everything ok?" He had to raise his voice over the loud music behind him.

Heading through the kitchen and into the living room, he found his dad with a wrench in one hand and an old toaster in front of him. The crash had obviously been the toolbox falling off the couch, as he could see the tools scattered from the couch to the front door.

"I don't think you're gonna fix that thing with a wrench." He said stepping forward, trying to ignore the grease and rusty marks that were now on the couch where the toolbox had been.

"Wha!?" His dad jumped to his feet, wrench lifted like a weapon. Mike jumped back a step.

"Whoah, dad. It's just me. I called, I guess you didn't hear me?"

His dad lowered the wrench and sat down. "Oh, Michael, right?"

Not again! Mike groaned. "Yes, Dad. What's wrong with the toaster?"

"Well, nothing, actually. I found all these tools in the garage, along with a sweet stereo. So I decided to mess around for a while."

Mike was trying very hard not to say something he would regret, but his dad was acting like he wasn't even familiar with his own house. And since when did he take toasters apart just to kill time? His favorite thing to do when he wasn't researching, was to build devices that helped him in his search, like reading heat signals, finding high areas of supernatural activity, or recording sounds that were unable to be heard by the human ear. Toasters had never been on the list.

"Dad," He said, pulling his dad to sit on the couch. He sat in the armchair across from him and looked into his dad's eyes. "What's going on? If you need help, I'll help you. But you gotta talk to me. Why are you acting so, so, strange?"

His dad sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Finally he looked up and said solemnly.

"Michael, I'll be honest with you. I don't know what happened. I only knew this was my house because the address was on my drivers license and the keys were in my pocket."

Mike leaned forward studying his dad's face for a moment. When he didn't say anything, his dad continued.

"I, don't know what to say. I feel like an impostor. Here I am, living in your dad's house. Using his debit card to buy food. Watching his tv, and driving his car. And instead of a snappy, ungrateful wife, and an uninterested teenage daughter, I have a son. A grown son who cares about me. Asks me if I need anything. Notices when I'm not myself. How could this happen to me? It's the luckiest thing that could happen to me, but I know I'm going to wake up, and it'll all be a dream."

"What are you talking about? You're acting like you're not you. You're acting like, you don't even know me."

"I don't." His dad sighed. "I've never seen you before."

Ok, thanks so much for reading this far. If you enjoyed it, please leave a review and feel free to follow me so you'll get updates when I publish other stories or add to this one. I love cc as long as you're nice about it.

Eko47