Whoa, this was written all in one sitting. Amazing. I hope the end doesn't suck.
I've been told (by Liza Vincent, she's on this site somewhere) that Mulder likely wouldn't request a Barry White song, so I'm going to take poetic license and say that Bayliss likes Barry White. I can't imagine him liking anything but cartoon theme songs and/or some sort of mystical chanting, but I'm going to take this license anyway;)
---
[Camera pans over a small, brightly lit room. The walls are lined with books, all the way to the ten-foot ceilings; rolling ladders extend to the upper shelves. A desk is in the middle of the room, holding a computer with a thin, yet large monitor with a network of wires running to various peripherals; a CD changer, CD burner, a webcam, a telephone. A girl with long, thick bright blue hair (MISTACAT) sits slumped in front of the desk, idling moving the mouthpiece of her wireless headset up and down. "Cold Cold Ground" by Tom Waits is just ending.]
MISTACAT: [taps at the keyboard] That was Cold Cold Ground, by Tom Waits. Was used to great effect on one of my favourite tv shows. The phone is blinking at me, so we must have a caller. [taps a button on the phone] Hallo, caller?
CALLER#1: [male voice] Uh, yeah, hi.
MISTACAT: Hi.
CALLER#1: I, ah, I listen to you all the time.
MISTACAT: Thanks.
CALLER#1: You help me get through the day, sometimes.
MISTACAT: Wow. Coolness. What's wrong with your day, sometimes?
CALLER#1: Well, what I do, my job, it's gruesome. I see the worst of people. And my, my, my... uh, significant other isn't around a lot lately.
MISTACAT: What do you do? And why isn't your... thingy, 'significant other', around? Are you fighting?
CALLER#1: No, no, he--uhhh... he works out of town.
MISTACAT: Ahhh.
CALLER#1: And, I'm a detective, homicide detective--
MISTACAT: Hey, what's your name?
CALLER#1: Tim B--
MISTACAT: First name only.
CALLER#1: Oh.
MISTACAT: Detective Tim. I like cops. Hi.
CALLER#1: [sounding a bit confused] Ah, hi.
MISTACAT: [giggles, pauses] So, what's your boyfriend do?
CALLER#1: He, ah, I don't know if I'm supposed to say.
MISTACAT: Aww, that's no fun.
CALLER#1: He works for the government.
MISTACAT: Ooo, CIA?
CALLER#1: No.
MISTACAT: [disappointed] Oh. [pause] Have you two been having any trouble?
CALLER#1: I, I don't know. He's been distant, lately. Preoccupied.
MISTACAT: Any idea why?
CALLER#1: I've wondered--I hate--I, ah. I've wondered if he's cheating on me.
MISTACAT: Ee, people shouldn't cheat on murder police, murder police are cool.
CALLER#1: I hate doubting him like that... but, well... he's never around anymore. He's always off traveling with his partner.
MISTACAT: You think he's cheating with his partner?
CALLER#1: I... I don't know... she's a--
MISTACAT: She?
CALLER#1: Yeah, his partner... she's a good person... I don't know. I...
MISTACAT: You don't think *she* would do it? But *he* might?
CALLER#1: [sighs] I don't know.
MISTACAT: Aww. You're prolly just being paranoid. I think you should call him and have a nice long talk.
CALLER#1: Maybe.
MISTACAT: Yeah. You should.
CALLER#1: You really think so?
MISTACAT: Yeah, I do.
CALLER#1: Okay...
MISTACAT: Okay, good luck, Detective Tim. You ever see a chick with blue hair at any of the bars on Thames, I'll buy you, and him if he's there, a drink. 'Kay?
CALLER#1: [pause] Okay.
MISTACAT: Yay. Bye bye.
CALLER#1: Bye...
[MistaCat taps the phone, hanging it up. She smiles, looks at the monitor for a bit, allowing a few seconds of dead air to go out over her Internet radio station. She pulls some papers from a desk drawer.]
MISTACAT: Here we have a story written by my favouritest author and best friend. I'm not sure which of her psuedonyms she wants used for this story, so I'll not say one for now... here we go. [pause, shift position, take a sip of coffee] We may say "all things considered," but of course we can never consider everything. I never considered the possibility that the young man with old legs who wheeled his way into the elevator with me could be armed, and even if I had anticipated the silver pocketknife, I would not have considered the possibility of what he would do with it. [she stops, looks looks up at the light on the telephone] The phone's flashing me again. [taps a button on the phone] Heya, caller. You interupted my sister's story.
CALLER#2: [male voice, growlish monotone] Sorry.
MISTACAT: What's your name?
CALLER#2: I'm not saying.
MISTACAT: Awww.
CALLER#2: I was listening to your other caller--
MISTACAT: I liked him.
CALLER#2: Yeah... he was talking about me.
MISTACAT: Ooo, are you the boyfriend?
CALLER#2: Yes.
MISTACAT: What do you do, with the government?
CALLER#2: That's classified.
MISTACAT: That's a lie, isn't it?
CALLER#2: Maybe.
MISTACAT: Are you cheating on wonderful Detective Tim?
CALLER#2: No.
MISTACAT: Why are you letting him think you are?
CALLER#2: I'm not.
MISTACAT: Then why are you talking to me and not to him? I told him to call you, if he's calling you, he won't be able to talk to you because you're talking to me.
CALLER#2: I wanted you to play a song for us.
MISTACAT: Ooo, okay. What song?
CALLER#2: Umm... something by... Barry White.
MISTACAT: Ooo, got the perfect song, okay. But only if you promise to call him soon as you're done talking to me.
CALLER#2: Okay. Can I say something to Tim?
MISTACAT: Go ahead.
CALLER#2: Tim, I can't believe you thought I'd cheat on you with Scully.
MISTACAT: Okay, I'll play the song now. And you go call him!
CALLER#2: Yeah, okay.
MISTACAT: 'Bye. [taps the phone, hanging it up; it starts blinking again] Damn you, phone, stop blinking at me. I've got to play this song. [the phone doesn't stop blinking, so she taps it] Caller?
CALLER#1: [male voice] Yeah, hi... this is Tim again.
MISTACAT: Uh, hi. You're supposed to be talking to the man who didn't give me his name.
CALLER#1: I should give you his name, just to annoy him.
MISTACAT: Don't you think him knowing you're listening and you called me again instead of waiting for him to call you is annoying enough?
CALLER#1: Uh... probably.
MISTACAT: Yeah.
CALLER#1: I didn't know he listened to you.
MISTACAT: Tim, you're supposed to be talking to your boyfriend.
CALLER#1: He hasn't called me in three days. I've decided that I'm angry with him.
MISTACAT: He's probably still listening, you know.
CALLER#1: I, I know.
MISTACAT: My other line is blinking at me. Can you hold on a minute?
CALLER#1: Um, okay.
[MistaCat makes an odd face, taps the phone twice.]
MISTACAT: Caller?
CALLER#2: Tim, hang up and let me call you. [hangs up]
MISTACAT: [blinks, taps phone] Tim? I'm assuming you heard that?
CALLER#1: Yeah, I did.
MISTACAT: I think you *should* hang up and let him call you.
CALLER#1: No. I don't want to talk on the phone. He should come to Baltimore.
MISTACAT: [looks at the blinking phone] Hold on, will you, Tim? [taps phone] Mr. No-Name?
CALLER#2: I can't go to Baltimore right now, I'm working a case in Boring, Oregon. [hangs up]
MISTACAT: [taps the hold button on the phone] Oregon isn't b-- ohhh, right. *Boring*, Oregon. Okay. [taps phone] Tim?
CALLER#1: I don't care. I want him here.
MISTACAT: Tim, you should be reasonable. Talk on the phone now, and I'm sure he'll come to see you as soon as he can.
CALLER#1: He can come *now.* He's always--
MISTACAT: Damn you both... my phone's blinking again. Listen, I'm going to put you through to eachother and you can talk to *eachother* and all my listeners can hear your saga and I can just sit back and read or something. Okay? [doesn't wait for an answer, taps the keyboard and the phone] There, you're both on the line.
CALLER#2: Tim?
CALLER#1: [pouting] I'm not speaking to you.
CALLER#2: Have you been drinking, Tim?
[Dead air for a few seconds.]
CALLER#2: I'll *be* there as soon as I can, but I'm *across the country* right now.
CALLER#1: [pause] Don't accuse me of drinking.
CALLER#2: Don't accuse me of cheating.
CALLER#1: I wasn't *accusing* you, I was *worried.* You're always gone and there are so many people...
CALLER#2: I'm *working,* Tim. I don't meet many people who are interested in one night stands with FBI agents when they've just been buzzed by a UFO or something.
MISTACAT: [interupting] Oh! FBI! Kickass!
CALLER#1: [sounding a bit hateful] You're *not* going to find her, you know. She's been gone for a very long time and she was probably hacked up or something and--
CALLER#2: Tim...
CALLER#1: And it *wasn't* aliens--
CALLER#2: *Tim,* if you haven't been drinking--
CALLER#1: [getting louder] It was probably--
CALLER#2: [coldly] Someone like Risley Tucker?
CALLER#1: [falls silent]
CALLER#2: You have your own case, Tim. I have mine. We both have a chance at solving them. I wouldn't call a radio station and complain about it if you were gone for days looking for substantial evidence against Tucker.
MISTACAT: This is fun, isn't it, my dear listeners?
CALLER#1: [sadly, sincerely] I'm sorry.
CALLER#2: [pause] God, you're doing those fawn eyes, aren't you?
[Few seconds of dead air.]
CALLER#2: You *are.* I can see them. I'll be in Baltimore as soon as I can, okay?
CALLER#1: [sniffles] Okay.
MISTACAT: Is this resolved? Tim, are you still mad?
CALLER#1: [sadly] No. I'm not mad.
MISTACAT: Okay, good. I'm cutting you guys off now. Mister FBI-guy-who-won't-tell-me-his-name, call Tim and say sweet things, 'kay?
CALLER#2: Alright.
MISTACAT: Good. [hangs up on both of them] I feel like Montel Williams. I am NOT Montel Williams. No one call me for a few songs. This song is for Detective Tim and his Fed. I love this song. I just said 'song' too many times. [taps at the keyboard, then leans back in the chair; Barry White's "Can't Get Enough of Your Love Baby" plays as the scene fades out.]
---
end
---
I've been told (by Liza Vincent, she's on this site somewhere) that Mulder likely wouldn't request a Barry White song, so I'm going to take poetic license and say that Bayliss likes Barry White. I can't imagine him liking anything but cartoon theme songs and/or some sort of mystical chanting, but I'm going to take this license anyway;)
---
[Camera pans over a small, brightly lit room. The walls are lined with books, all the way to the ten-foot ceilings; rolling ladders extend to the upper shelves. A desk is in the middle of the room, holding a computer with a thin, yet large monitor with a network of wires running to various peripherals; a CD changer, CD burner, a webcam, a telephone. A girl with long, thick bright blue hair (MISTACAT) sits slumped in front of the desk, idling moving the mouthpiece of her wireless headset up and down. "Cold Cold Ground" by Tom Waits is just ending.]
MISTACAT: [taps at the keyboard] That was Cold Cold Ground, by Tom Waits. Was used to great effect on one of my favourite tv shows. The phone is blinking at me, so we must have a caller. [taps a button on the phone] Hallo, caller?
CALLER#1: [male voice] Uh, yeah, hi.
MISTACAT: Hi.
CALLER#1: I, ah, I listen to you all the time.
MISTACAT: Thanks.
CALLER#1: You help me get through the day, sometimes.
MISTACAT: Wow. Coolness. What's wrong with your day, sometimes?
CALLER#1: Well, what I do, my job, it's gruesome. I see the worst of people. And my, my, my... uh, significant other isn't around a lot lately.
MISTACAT: What do you do? And why isn't your... thingy, 'significant other', around? Are you fighting?
CALLER#1: No, no, he--uhhh... he works out of town.
MISTACAT: Ahhh.
CALLER#1: And, I'm a detective, homicide detective--
MISTACAT: Hey, what's your name?
CALLER#1: Tim B--
MISTACAT: First name only.
CALLER#1: Oh.
MISTACAT: Detective Tim. I like cops. Hi.
CALLER#1: [sounding a bit confused] Ah, hi.
MISTACAT: [giggles, pauses] So, what's your boyfriend do?
CALLER#1: He, ah, I don't know if I'm supposed to say.
MISTACAT: Aww, that's no fun.
CALLER#1: He works for the government.
MISTACAT: Ooo, CIA?
CALLER#1: No.
MISTACAT: [disappointed] Oh. [pause] Have you two been having any trouble?
CALLER#1: I, I don't know. He's been distant, lately. Preoccupied.
MISTACAT: Any idea why?
CALLER#1: I've wondered--I hate--I, ah. I've wondered if he's cheating on me.
MISTACAT: Ee, people shouldn't cheat on murder police, murder police are cool.
CALLER#1: I hate doubting him like that... but, well... he's never around anymore. He's always off traveling with his partner.
MISTACAT: You think he's cheating with his partner?
CALLER#1: I... I don't know... she's a--
MISTACAT: She?
CALLER#1: Yeah, his partner... she's a good person... I don't know. I...
MISTACAT: You don't think *she* would do it? But *he* might?
CALLER#1: [sighs] I don't know.
MISTACAT: Aww. You're prolly just being paranoid. I think you should call him and have a nice long talk.
CALLER#1: Maybe.
MISTACAT: Yeah. You should.
CALLER#1: You really think so?
MISTACAT: Yeah, I do.
CALLER#1: Okay...
MISTACAT: Okay, good luck, Detective Tim. You ever see a chick with blue hair at any of the bars on Thames, I'll buy you, and him if he's there, a drink. 'Kay?
CALLER#1: [pause] Okay.
MISTACAT: Yay. Bye bye.
CALLER#1: Bye...
[MistaCat taps the phone, hanging it up. She smiles, looks at the monitor for a bit, allowing a few seconds of dead air to go out over her Internet radio station. She pulls some papers from a desk drawer.]
MISTACAT: Here we have a story written by my favouritest author and best friend. I'm not sure which of her psuedonyms she wants used for this story, so I'll not say one for now... here we go. [pause, shift position, take a sip of coffee] We may say "all things considered," but of course we can never consider everything. I never considered the possibility that the young man with old legs who wheeled his way into the elevator with me could be armed, and even if I had anticipated the silver pocketknife, I would not have considered the possibility of what he would do with it. [she stops, looks looks up at the light on the telephone] The phone's flashing me again. [taps a button on the phone] Heya, caller. You interupted my sister's story.
CALLER#2: [male voice, growlish monotone] Sorry.
MISTACAT: What's your name?
CALLER#2: I'm not saying.
MISTACAT: Awww.
CALLER#2: I was listening to your other caller--
MISTACAT: I liked him.
CALLER#2: Yeah... he was talking about me.
MISTACAT: Ooo, are you the boyfriend?
CALLER#2: Yes.
MISTACAT: What do you do, with the government?
CALLER#2: That's classified.
MISTACAT: That's a lie, isn't it?
CALLER#2: Maybe.
MISTACAT: Are you cheating on wonderful Detective Tim?
CALLER#2: No.
MISTACAT: Why are you letting him think you are?
CALLER#2: I'm not.
MISTACAT: Then why are you talking to me and not to him? I told him to call you, if he's calling you, he won't be able to talk to you because you're talking to me.
CALLER#2: I wanted you to play a song for us.
MISTACAT: Ooo, okay. What song?
CALLER#2: Umm... something by... Barry White.
MISTACAT: Ooo, got the perfect song, okay. But only if you promise to call him soon as you're done talking to me.
CALLER#2: Okay. Can I say something to Tim?
MISTACAT: Go ahead.
CALLER#2: Tim, I can't believe you thought I'd cheat on you with Scully.
MISTACAT: Okay, I'll play the song now. And you go call him!
CALLER#2: Yeah, okay.
MISTACAT: 'Bye. [taps the phone, hanging it up; it starts blinking again] Damn you, phone, stop blinking at me. I've got to play this song. [the phone doesn't stop blinking, so she taps it] Caller?
CALLER#1: [male voice] Yeah, hi... this is Tim again.
MISTACAT: Uh, hi. You're supposed to be talking to the man who didn't give me his name.
CALLER#1: I should give you his name, just to annoy him.
MISTACAT: Don't you think him knowing you're listening and you called me again instead of waiting for him to call you is annoying enough?
CALLER#1: Uh... probably.
MISTACAT: Yeah.
CALLER#1: I didn't know he listened to you.
MISTACAT: Tim, you're supposed to be talking to your boyfriend.
CALLER#1: He hasn't called me in three days. I've decided that I'm angry with him.
MISTACAT: He's probably still listening, you know.
CALLER#1: I, I know.
MISTACAT: My other line is blinking at me. Can you hold on a minute?
CALLER#1: Um, okay.
[MistaCat makes an odd face, taps the phone twice.]
MISTACAT: Caller?
CALLER#2: Tim, hang up and let me call you. [hangs up]
MISTACAT: [blinks, taps phone] Tim? I'm assuming you heard that?
CALLER#1: Yeah, I did.
MISTACAT: I think you *should* hang up and let him call you.
CALLER#1: No. I don't want to talk on the phone. He should come to Baltimore.
MISTACAT: [looks at the blinking phone] Hold on, will you, Tim? [taps phone] Mr. No-Name?
CALLER#2: I can't go to Baltimore right now, I'm working a case in Boring, Oregon. [hangs up]
MISTACAT: [taps the hold button on the phone] Oregon isn't b-- ohhh, right. *Boring*, Oregon. Okay. [taps phone] Tim?
CALLER#1: I don't care. I want him here.
MISTACAT: Tim, you should be reasonable. Talk on the phone now, and I'm sure he'll come to see you as soon as he can.
CALLER#1: He can come *now.* He's always--
MISTACAT: Damn you both... my phone's blinking again. Listen, I'm going to put you through to eachother and you can talk to *eachother* and all my listeners can hear your saga and I can just sit back and read or something. Okay? [doesn't wait for an answer, taps the keyboard and the phone] There, you're both on the line.
CALLER#2: Tim?
CALLER#1: [pouting] I'm not speaking to you.
CALLER#2: Have you been drinking, Tim?
[Dead air for a few seconds.]
CALLER#2: I'll *be* there as soon as I can, but I'm *across the country* right now.
CALLER#1: [pause] Don't accuse me of drinking.
CALLER#2: Don't accuse me of cheating.
CALLER#1: I wasn't *accusing* you, I was *worried.* You're always gone and there are so many people...
CALLER#2: I'm *working,* Tim. I don't meet many people who are interested in one night stands with FBI agents when they've just been buzzed by a UFO or something.
MISTACAT: [interupting] Oh! FBI! Kickass!
CALLER#1: [sounding a bit hateful] You're *not* going to find her, you know. She's been gone for a very long time and she was probably hacked up or something and--
CALLER#2: Tim...
CALLER#1: And it *wasn't* aliens--
CALLER#2: *Tim,* if you haven't been drinking--
CALLER#1: [getting louder] It was probably--
CALLER#2: [coldly] Someone like Risley Tucker?
CALLER#1: [falls silent]
CALLER#2: You have your own case, Tim. I have mine. We both have a chance at solving them. I wouldn't call a radio station and complain about it if you were gone for days looking for substantial evidence against Tucker.
MISTACAT: This is fun, isn't it, my dear listeners?
CALLER#1: [sadly, sincerely] I'm sorry.
CALLER#2: [pause] God, you're doing those fawn eyes, aren't you?
[Few seconds of dead air.]
CALLER#2: You *are.* I can see them. I'll be in Baltimore as soon as I can, okay?
CALLER#1: [sniffles] Okay.
MISTACAT: Is this resolved? Tim, are you still mad?
CALLER#1: [sadly] No. I'm not mad.
MISTACAT: Okay, good. I'm cutting you guys off now. Mister FBI-guy-who-won't-tell-me-his-name, call Tim and say sweet things, 'kay?
CALLER#2: Alright.
MISTACAT: Good. [hangs up on both of them] I feel like Montel Williams. I am NOT Montel Williams. No one call me for a few songs. This song is for Detective Tim and his Fed. I love this song. I just said 'song' too many times. [taps at the keyboard, then leans back in the chair; Barry White's "Can't Get Enough of Your Love Baby" plays as the scene fades out.]
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end
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