Title: Dog Day Afternoon
Author: Fox
Rating: PG-13 for usual language.
Category: S, R, H
Distribution: Anywhere, just keep the headings and if you can, drop me a line so I know where it's going.
Spoilers: Requiem, Existence
Keywords: MSR, Alternate Universe
Summary: Mulder travels to Ireland for a UFO sighting trip... but only returns with a hair more than he bargained for! Is it an X-file, is it all part of a larger plan? Shapeshifting, MSR, Mulder!Jokes, and humor ensues.
A/N: Umm, as always, be patient with me and with my writing. This is my first attempt at a slightly humorous fic. I've got unhealthy ideas, I know... so tell me! I like feedback! Um... let's just pretend that season 8 has happened, but Mulder still has a job in the FBI.
***
Dana Scully sighed as she flicked off the television. There was nothing riveting on the news anyway. Her thoughts shifted to her partner, who had not contacted her for 4 days now.
What was there to do in Ireland, anyway? Scully thought. "Nothing..." she said aloud, staring blankly in front of her. She couldn't wait for him to get back and hear him say, "You were right, Scully, it *was* nothing..."
Mulder had hopped a plane to Ireland; there were some *enthralling* crop circles that had appeared there. That and a couple of unidentified flying object sightings that appeared coinciding with the dates of lunar plutonic...-something-or-other. Scully chided herself that she actually nearly knew what Mulder was talking about.
And now it has been four days since he left, and she had not received a single phone call. That was strange, even for Fox Mulder on vacation.
Perhaps he had pulled the trademark Mulder Ditch on her... and went to England instead... where that Phoebe Green was...
If that was the case, Scully thought, Mulder will never see those tapes that aren't his in his desk drawer again...
***
Lightly kicking the door open, Mulder stepped into his apartment. The two luggage bags he held in his hands were dirty as if they had been dipped in mud. His disheveled hair and dusty clothes made him long for his shower stall like never before.
Still in the doorway, he dropped his bags and closed the door.
"Shower, shower, shower..." he chanted, taking off his muddy jacket and dropping it onto the couch. He stopped halfway, and decided to check his messages.
Pressing the small button on his answering machine he thought, Ten to one the first message is from...
"Hey, Mulder, it's me," said an all-too-familiar voice through the speaker.
...Scully.
"Where the hell were you and call me when you get back." BEEP.
All over Eire...
Mulder grinned at the thought that Scully truly cared, even when he was chasing UFOs and acting like a fool. Even so, he was not going to call her. There was no doubt in his mind that Scully had hoped she was right, that there was nothing to see in Ireland, but she was wrong again. During one of the nights he spent sleeping in a tent, he did indeed see a UFO, hovering in the distance for what seemed like a minute. It was confirmed by all of the other UFO hunters camping there. Even all of their watches stopped, which was quite strange.
But Mulder wanted to make Scully think that she was right, and then *accidentally* slip that photo he took on his desk as she walked in. His cunning mind had it all planned...
The mechanical voice from the answering machine stopped his thoughts and promptly stated he had no new messages... and no life.
"Right. Now, where was I...?" he said, heading for the shower. As he stepped into the bathroom, the phone rang from his living room. He knew who it was, but he picked it up anyway.
"Mulder,"
"Mulder? You're back," Scully said, somewhat surprised.
"Yes, I am," said Mulder, grinning.
Pause.
"Yes, well, I'm almost afraid to ask but, how was your trip?"
"Well, Scully, I'd love to say that you were right, that there was nothing to see, for once in your career-"
"Mulder, you're on a short leash already-"
"-*But* there was indeed something to see. Those crop circles are absolutely beautiful, and there were techno - UFO geeks galore. My kinda freaks, y'know? Hey, Scully, do you know about the phenomena known as the Viagra Effect? Supposedly, some crop circles have some sort of bio-energy field and when a man enters it-"
"Mulder," interrupted Scully, albeit amused.
"Yeah, Scully?" said Mulder, dropping himself onto the couch. She did not answer so Mulder continued. "Well, there was this little teeny, tiny, *puny* sighting... a UFO hovered over a field in front of us..."
"No *way*," emphasized Scully, "How the hell is it that you're always right?"
"I don't know. You explain the logic, I'll enjoy the outcome. Shame the FBI shuns my skills."
"Speaking of which, Mulder, when will you exasperate Kersh for your position back on the X-files? This seems very unlike you to be submissive. Those UFOs stun your masculinity?"
"I just adore doing extensive background checks, Scully, you know me," Mulder said darkly.
"I have a feeling that they have something in store for you."
"Yeah..." agreed Mulder, serious again. Instantly, something clicked in his mind. "Oh, I almost forgot, how's Will doing?" he smiled.
"He's doing okay," Scully said happily. Mulder could almost hear her beaming.
***
Across town, in a nondescript, abandoned apartment building, a man stood waiting. The building was dark except for the light of the full moon outside, shining through a broken window beside him. He stood by the corner, careful to notice all of his surroundings. In his inside coat pocket he carried a customized .375 Smith & Wesson, its registration number neatly filed off.
In another corner of the building, another man entered, his trenchcoat tightly wrapped around him. He walked quickly and softly, but nonetheless, the other man heard him approach. Instinct drew his hand quickly to the side of the gun.
"You're late," said the first man, neatly. He kept his hands inside his pockets by his weapon, should he need it.
"Terribly sorry," said the other, his accent tipping off his nationality.
"This was your slip-up, cousin, so you must deal with it yourself," stated the man, no emotion carrying through his voice.
"And I have flown overseas to deal with it."
"It was your ship over your neighbor's land. That is your unfortunate mistake, and will be righted."
"Yes, it will." He paused. "And if I am unsuccessful?"
"We will make sure you are not. After all, we were once the great Allies, right?"
The foreign man nodded darkly. "We were. But let us not have pride become between what is more important than either of us. Cooperation is a necessity."
"I trust you have means to eradicate the problems? As you know, we were exposed once, but now we must remain entirely secretive and unassailable. We would like to keep the cover-up as neatly as possible, as I am sure you would, too."
"England will do its part to keep the Project active... and America will theirs." The Englishman pulled out a small scrap of paper out of his inside coat pocket with his gloved hands. "The first is right here in Washington, DC. A Mr. Fox Mulder."
"Yes, his actions are all too predictable. How unfortunate,"
The Englishman looked into his face and frowned. "He already has the Ability. He will be easy to deal with. Is this the wish of the Syndicate?"
The American pulled out a cigarette and a small lighter and lit it, momentarily illuminating the face of the very much alive Cigarette-Smoking Man.
"Terminate him."
***
When he looked up, all he saw was green...
Green?
He sat up, finding himself back in his tent he used in Ireland. He pulled himself out of the sleeping bag and tore open the zippered door. Outside in the dark, dozens of the other UFO hunters were standing by the edge of the mountain cliff, video cameras up, cameras clicking away. In the distance, a small, silvery craft hovered in the air, completely silent. He stepped forward, the others not noticing. As he walked next to another spectator, the craft started to fade slightly, and then began fume billowing grey smoke, as if on fire. Without warning, the craft zipped off to the north and out of sight...
***
Fox Mulder sat up quickly, jolting himself out of his entrancing reverie. He stared before him, trying to quickly gather his thoughts. He knew some dreams usually turned out to mean something, but wasn't sure if this one applied. He'd remember it, anyway. He rubbed his eyes, and felt his slightly sweaty forehead. When Mulder wiped it with his arm, he felt a sharp pain sear up his arm.
"Ow! Shit..." Mulder rubbed his arm and instantly felt another pain, this time like a pinprick. He moved his arm up and down again, but the stinging returned, each time less painful. He was not bleeding, and was not stung by an insect. Perplexed, Mulder shook off the thoughts and lay back down, trying once in his life to sleep a full night before work the next day. Damned dreams *always* ruined his chances.
Mulder turned over onto his other side and closed his eyes. But it was not after five minutes that the stinging faded into numbness. It shot up quickly through his arm like he had cut off the circulation. He sat up once more, this time worried. Rubbing his arm, the numbness spread from his arm to chest, then through his entire body. He had no time to think before the numbness has hardened into sharp pinpricking pain.
He covered his face with his hands as the pinpricks multiplied. Through the darkness he could see that his arms were now carpeted in a layer of thick hair, growing quickly. His jaw and teeth lengthened, his arms, legs and fingers shortened. Bones crunched and elongated. Altogether, it was excruciating pain. He tried to cry out, but his jaws were clenched together in an effort to bear the pain. His ears moved to the top of his head and enlarged. In a matter of seconds, he had passed out.
***
When he awoke, it did not take him long to remember what happened before he passed out. Normal people do *not* just sprout hair all over their bodies. When he opened his eyes, he could see through the dark easily. He looked at his body. What was once a human torso was now a four-legged body and long tail, covered in dark brown fur.
Fur?!
Mulder jumped up and was surprised to hear a high-pitched yelp come from his own mouth. Instantly, his mind went into wild panic.
Omigod, what the fuck... happened?! How the hell...
His eyes nervously darted around the room. As he took deep breaths, he was bombarded with an array of scents. He stood for a moment before convincing himself that panicking would get him no where. But how many times do you get a chance to panic after you turn into an animal? He calmed himself slowly, and started to notice his new senses. Lifting his head in the air, he could smell dust as if it were lodged in his nostrils. He also noticed his hearing improved a great deal. From his room he could hear another person walking in their apartment doors away. But now was not the time to find those missing socks with his powerful nose. He shook his head and paced around. But suddenly, he stopped in his tracks. Lifting his head to the air, he nervously sniffed around.
Some*thing* was out of place.
He walked back into his room and did the same, then sniffed the couch. All at once, a strong smoky smell entered his sensitive nose. But it wasn't ordinary smoke. With this new nose he could tell it was a trace of...
Cigarette smoke.
He drew back his head as his mind reached a conclusion. Was the Smoking-Man *here*? No, he was dead. There was no way... and besides, he would never risk entering his apartment himself. He snapped back to the fact that he was now an animal... in every sense of the word.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
But that thought was quickly disbanded as the most obvious answer jolted into his mind.
Scully.
Clambering to the door, he jumped up, hitting the doorknob several times until he has successfully turned the now scratched-up knob. He pushed open the door and had more trouble than necessary closing it again. Clumsily running down the hall, he tripped over his own four legs as he reached the *door* to the stairway.
Damned extra legs... I need a doggie door...
***
A sudden scratching sound jolted Scully out of her sleep. She instinctively reached over for her weapon on her nightstand, still stored in its holster. Her eyes darted around her room until her senses told her the sound came from the front door. Taking the gun out of the holster, she quietly stepped out of her room nearer to the door and paused. This was either a really annoying Mulder joke or something else. The scratching continued lightly behind the door. From the timing and force of the noise, it appeared to be made from something inhuman. She stepped by the door and peeked outside. Through the peephole, there was absolutely nothing.
Curious, she opened the door and held the gun ready by her side, only to discover...
"...Huh...?"
A large brown dog.
***
Please tell me what you thought, what I should change, etc, it helps me as a writer. Part 2 coming soon! :)
Author: Fox
Rating: PG-13 for usual language.
Category: S, R, H
Distribution: Anywhere, just keep the headings and if you can, drop me a line so I know where it's going.
Spoilers: Requiem, Existence
Keywords: MSR, Alternate Universe
Summary: Mulder travels to Ireland for a UFO sighting trip... but only returns with a hair more than he bargained for! Is it an X-file, is it all part of a larger plan? Shapeshifting, MSR, Mulder!Jokes, and humor ensues.
A/N: Umm, as always, be patient with me and with my writing. This is my first attempt at a slightly humorous fic. I've got unhealthy ideas, I know... so tell me! I like feedback! Um... let's just pretend that season 8 has happened, but Mulder still has a job in the FBI.
***
Dana Scully sighed as she flicked off the television. There was nothing riveting on the news anyway. Her thoughts shifted to her partner, who had not contacted her for 4 days now.
What was there to do in Ireland, anyway? Scully thought. "Nothing..." she said aloud, staring blankly in front of her. She couldn't wait for him to get back and hear him say, "You were right, Scully, it *was* nothing..."
Mulder had hopped a plane to Ireland; there were some *enthralling* crop circles that had appeared there. That and a couple of unidentified flying object sightings that appeared coinciding with the dates of lunar plutonic...-something-or-other. Scully chided herself that she actually nearly knew what Mulder was talking about.
And now it has been four days since he left, and she had not received a single phone call. That was strange, even for Fox Mulder on vacation.
Perhaps he had pulled the trademark Mulder Ditch on her... and went to England instead... where that Phoebe Green was...
If that was the case, Scully thought, Mulder will never see those tapes that aren't his in his desk drawer again...
***
Lightly kicking the door open, Mulder stepped into his apartment. The two luggage bags he held in his hands were dirty as if they had been dipped in mud. His disheveled hair and dusty clothes made him long for his shower stall like never before.
Still in the doorway, he dropped his bags and closed the door.
"Shower, shower, shower..." he chanted, taking off his muddy jacket and dropping it onto the couch. He stopped halfway, and decided to check his messages.
Pressing the small button on his answering machine he thought, Ten to one the first message is from...
"Hey, Mulder, it's me," said an all-too-familiar voice through the speaker.
...Scully.
"Where the hell were you and call me when you get back." BEEP.
All over Eire...
Mulder grinned at the thought that Scully truly cared, even when he was chasing UFOs and acting like a fool. Even so, he was not going to call her. There was no doubt in his mind that Scully had hoped she was right, that there was nothing to see in Ireland, but she was wrong again. During one of the nights he spent sleeping in a tent, he did indeed see a UFO, hovering in the distance for what seemed like a minute. It was confirmed by all of the other UFO hunters camping there. Even all of their watches stopped, which was quite strange.
But Mulder wanted to make Scully think that she was right, and then *accidentally* slip that photo he took on his desk as she walked in. His cunning mind had it all planned...
The mechanical voice from the answering machine stopped his thoughts and promptly stated he had no new messages... and no life.
"Right. Now, where was I...?" he said, heading for the shower. As he stepped into the bathroom, the phone rang from his living room. He knew who it was, but he picked it up anyway.
"Mulder,"
"Mulder? You're back," Scully said, somewhat surprised.
"Yes, I am," said Mulder, grinning.
Pause.
"Yes, well, I'm almost afraid to ask but, how was your trip?"
"Well, Scully, I'd love to say that you were right, that there was nothing to see, for once in your career-"
"Mulder, you're on a short leash already-"
"-*But* there was indeed something to see. Those crop circles are absolutely beautiful, and there were techno - UFO geeks galore. My kinda freaks, y'know? Hey, Scully, do you know about the phenomena known as the Viagra Effect? Supposedly, some crop circles have some sort of bio-energy field and when a man enters it-"
"Mulder," interrupted Scully, albeit amused.
"Yeah, Scully?" said Mulder, dropping himself onto the couch. She did not answer so Mulder continued. "Well, there was this little teeny, tiny, *puny* sighting... a UFO hovered over a field in front of us..."
"No *way*," emphasized Scully, "How the hell is it that you're always right?"
"I don't know. You explain the logic, I'll enjoy the outcome. Shame the FBI shuns my skills."
"Speaking of which, Mulder, when will you exasperate Kersh for your position back on the X-files? This seems very unlike you to be submissive. Those UFOs stun your masculinity?"
"I just adore doing extensive background checks, Scully, you know me," Mulder said darkly.
"I have a feeling that they have something in store for you."
"Yeah..." agreed Mulder, serious again. Instantly, something clicked in his mind. "Oh, I almost forgot, how's Will doing?" he smiled.
"He's doing okay," Scully said happily. Mulder could almost hear her beaming.
***
Across town, in a nondescript, abandoned apartment building, a man stood waiting. The building was dark except for the light of the full moon outside, shining through a broken window beside him. He stood by the corner, careful to notice all of his surroundings. In his inside coat pocket he carried a customized .375 Smith & Wesson, its registration number neatly filed off.
In another corner of the building, another man entered, his trenchcoat tightly wrapped around him. He walked quickly and softly, but nonetheless, the other man heard him approach. Instinct drew his hand quickly to the side of the gun.
"You're late," said the first man, neatly. He kept his hands inside his pockets by his weapon, should he need it.
"Terribly sorry," said the other, his accent tipping off his nationality.
"This was your slip-up, cousin, so you must deal with it yourself," stated the man, no emotion carrying through his voice.
"And I have flown overseas to deal with it."
"It was your ship over your neighbor's land. That is your unfortunate mistake, and will be righted."
"Yes, it will." He paused. "And if I am unsuccessful?"
"We will make sure you are not. After all, we were once the great Allies, right?"
The foreign man nodded darkly. "We were. But let us not have pride become between what is more important than either of us. Cooperation is a necessity."
"I trust you have means to eradicate the problems? As you know, we were exposed once, but now we must remain entirely secretive and unassailable. We would like to keep the cover-up as neatly as possible, as I am sure you would, too."
"England will do its part to keep the Project active... and America will theirs." The Englishman pulled out a small scrap of paper out of his inside coat pocket with his gloved hands. "The first is right here in Washington, DC. A Mr. Fox Mulder."
"Yes, his actions are all too predictable. How unfortunate,"
The Englishman looked into his face and frowned. "He already has the Ability. He will be easy to deal with. Is this the wish of the Syndicate?"
The American pulled out a cigarette and a small lighter and lit it, momentarily illuminating the face of the very much alive Cigarette-Smoking Man.
"Terminate him."
***
When he looked up, all he saw was green...
Green?
He sat up, finding himself back in his tent he used in Ireland. He pulled himself out of the sleeping bag and tore open the zippered door. Outside in the dark, dozens of the other UFO hunters were standing by the edge of the mountain cliff, video cameras up, cameras clicking away. In the distance, a small, silvery craft hovered in the air, completely silent. He stepped forward, the others not noticing. As he walked next to another spectator, the craft started to fade slightly, and then began fume billowing grey smoke, as if on fire. Without warning, the craft zipped off to the north and out of sight...
***
Fox Mulder sat up quickly, jolting himself out of his entrancing reverie. He stared before him, trying to quickly gather his thoughts. He knew some dreams usually turned out to mean something, but wasn't sure if this one applied. He'd remember it, anyway. He rubbed his eyes, and felt his slightly sweaty forehead. When Mulder wiped it with his arm, he felt a sharp pain sear up his arm.
"Ow! Shit..." Mulder rubbed his arm and instantly felt another pain, this time like a pinprick. He moved his arm up and down again, but the stinging returned, each time less painful. He was not bleeding, and was not stung by an insect. Perplexed, Mulder shook off the thoughts and lay back down, trying once in his life to sleep a full night before work the next day. Damned dreams *always* ruined his chances.
Mulder turned over onto his other side and closed his eyes. But it was not after five minutes that the stinging faded into numbness. It shot up quickly through his arm like he had cut off the circulation. He sat up once more, this time worried. Rubbing his arm, the numbness spread from his arm to chest, then through his entire body. He had no time to think before the numbness has hardened into sharp pinpricking pain.
He covered his face with his hands as the pinpricks multiplied. Through the darkness he could see that his arms were now carpeted in a layer of thick hair, growing quickly. His jaw and teeth lengthened, his arms, legs and fingers shortened. Bones crunched and elongated. Altogether, it was excruciating pain. He tried to cry out, but his jaws were clenched together in an effort to bear the pain. His ears moved to the top of his head and enlarged. In a matter of seconds, he had passed out.
***
When he awoke, it did not take him long to remember what happened before he passed out. Normal people do *not* just sprout hair all over their bodies. When he opened his eyes, he could see through the dark easily. He looked at his body. What was once a human torso was now a four-legged body and long tail, covered in dark brown fur.
Fur?!
Mulder jumped up and was surprised to hear a high-pitched yelp come from his own mouth. Instantly, his mind went into wild panic.
Omigod, what the fuck... happened?! How the hell...
His eyes nervously darted around the room. As he took deep breaths, he was bombarded with an array of scents. He stood for a moment before convincing himself that panicking would get him no where. But how many times do you get a chance to panic after you turn into an animal? He calmed himself slowly, and started to notice his new senses. Lifting his head in the air, he could smell dust as if it were lodged in his nostrils. He also noticed his hearing improved a great deal. From his room he could hear another person walking in their apartment doors away. But now was not the time to find those missing socks with his powerful nose. He shook his head and paced around. But suddenly, he stopped in his tracks. Lifting his head to the air, he nervously sniffed around.
Some*thing* was out of place.
He walked back into his room and did the same, then sniffed the couch. All at once, a strong smoky smell entered his sensitive nose. But it wasn't ordinary smoke. With this new nose he could tell it was a trace of...
Cigarette smoke.
He drew back his head as his mind reached a conclusion. Was the Smoking-Man *here*? No, he was dead. There was no way... and besides, he would never risk entering his apartment himself. He snapped back to the fact that he was now an animal... in every sense of the word.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
But that thought was quickly disbanded as the most obvious answer jolted into his mind.
Scully.
Clambering to the door, he jumped up, hitting the doorknob several times until he has successfully turned the now scratched-up knob. He pushed open the door and had more trouble than necessary closing it again. Clumsily running down the hall, he tripped over his own four legs as he reached the *door* to the stairway.
Damned extra legs... I need a doggie door...
***
A sudden scratching sound jolted Scully out of her sleep. She instinctively reached over for her weapon on her nightstand, still stored in its holster. Her eyes darted around her room until her senses told her the sound came from the front door. Taking the gun out of the holster, she quietly stepped out of her room nearer to the door and paused. This was either a really annoying Mulder joke or something else. The scratching continued lightly behind the door. From the timing and force of the noise, it appeared to be made from something inhuman. She stepped by the door and peeked outside. Through the peephole, there was absolutely nothing.
Curious, she opened the door and held the gun ready by her side, only to discover...
"...Huh...?"
A large brown dog.
***
Please tell me what you thought, what I should change, etc, it helps me as a writer. Part 2 coming soon! :)