Title: Guest Appearance

Author: MTS
Summary: Nothing like abusing the alternate reality device for some melodramatic crossover goodness

Fandoms: X-Files/Stargate SG-1 Crossover
Huh?: Tragedy/Humor
Spoilers: All of X-Files. Most of SG-1. Stargate Atlantis premiere.

Ps. Funny how almost EVERYONE on sgwun was on X-Files. Omfg.

SGWUNvsXF!OMFG!

"Carter, who are they?"

The two couples sat in the corner – man, woman, man, woman. They didn't say anything, didn't move much. Jack knew what he saw. It was strength irrevocably broken.

The three year old stared at Sam, his eyes like the Nox child. She shivered.

"They're from an alternate reality. SG-12 picked them up on PX1013."

"An alternate reality?" Jack hid his smirk.

"Apparently a VERY alternate reality."

"Is that why Colonel Sumner doesn't recognize me? Or anyone, for crying out loud..."

"And why she can't look me in the eyes." Sam looked disturbed.

"She looks familiar for some reason."

Jack stared openly, the woman who called herself Scully looked at him with empty eyes. The child climbed onto her lap and gurgled at her. A diversion. Jack looked away.

"What happened to them."

Daniel coughed. "Hostile alien takeover."

"Goa'uld?" Teal'c voice made one of the male's flinch.

"Asgard."

Jack about choked on his coffee. "Evil Asgard?"

Daniel laughed. "Why not?"

"Stargate?"

Sam shook her head. "The mirror device was on a ship. They don't know anything about the Stargate."

Silence.

"Who were they?"

"F.B.I agents. X-Files division."

"Well, some things don't change. Call Agent Krycek. He'll be fascinated."

The one called Mulder stood up abruptly. "You have an X-Files division in your reality?"

Daniel looked at him. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell us." Monica Reyes' voice was hoarse. She was the only one to admit that the four of them had been tortured before their rescue.

"And why didn't you tell us it was Krycek?"

Sam looked evenly at the dark haired man. "There's a Krycek in your reality?"

Silence.

"There was."

Jack coughed. "What else."

"The child speaks ancient."

The three year old looked at them, his grin uncanny. William blinked his eyes and Jack's pen flew out of his hand and landed gently in Mulder's lap.

Jack looked expectantly at Sam. She looked guilty.

"And he can move things with his mind."

"Call Hammond."

MSMSMSMSMS

He made love to her for the first time three months that night. Scientific to the end, Scully knew the exact count of how many times they had made love, how many times they had sex, how many times they blissfully fucked each other. The first time...she can't remember how long ago it was. But she remembers that it counted as one. This was eight-two.

William was holding court with the air force people. Scully, Mulder, Doggett and Reyes were sent to their quarters to rest.

"You've had a hard day." The blonde had said.

The blonde who died in 1996. Her head twisted round, her eyes blank. A slight glow in her nose and mouth. A prostitute. Skinner told Scully much later that Carina was the best sex he had ever had. Something about the turn of her mouth, the ferocity in her hips. Scully had looked away and realized how Mulder's absence had driven her to hear the confessions of her drunken boss late at night. And that she must not kiss Walter... Skinner. No.

"We've had a hard decade." Mulder's quips were sullen, muted.

But now he was beneath her, his mouth open, his eyes closed as he came. She watched him, ignoring her own shockwave rushing within her. He was different. He had nothing to cling on to, he had given up putting his self in her, trusting in her implicitly. As if she was another organ in his body. But now, she was just the princess he tried to save. One of the many. All he cared about was stopping the deadline of invasion.

Instead, they had moved it up eight years.

And earth was dead.

And they were here. Wherever here is.

She no longer needed him to survive. But it was nice to be held. Nice to hold him. Nice to close her eyes and pretend she was in a dinky little hotel room in 1995, holding her prince closer to her heart.

She missed him sometimes. Especially when his mouth met hers, his tongue following the same path as the last 42 kisses. He had lost his imagination, his drive. He was a dead man walking.

And she was astonished that it didn't make her cry. It didn't break her. She had learned to live without him as her emotional center. Perhaps it was what the alien had said to her. Perhaps it was what Clyde Bruckman said to her.

You will never die.

She rolled over to the side of the bed and sat up.

She missed the smell of Morley smoke at odd times. Like now.