Author's Note: Thanks as usual for all the reviews. The only song in this
chapter that isn't "titled" is from the famous musical, "West Side Story."
***
Chapter Six: "Deh Man Ah Love."
The men had returned successfully from their excursion. Doggett said he was so excited for Lucky that he had to pee. Mulder laughed. Lucky was grinning from ear to ear. They all forgot about the print-outs, and instead the three of them formed a pack and hit the ladies room.
They pushed in through the door to find a throng of annoyed men waiting for stalls. The reason for their annoyance was perfectly clear --- the radio station had been changed. Formerly on the Classical station, apparently someone thought it would be hilarious to put this bathroom's speakers on WHIP, too.
A song by the band Sha'Daisy was pumping in through the speakers at a deafening volume:
"I won't be your Friday paycheck,
I won't be a prize you'll flaunt,
And I won't be your Martha Stewart, baby,
Or your all-night restaurant!
But I will, I will, I will be your e-ve-ry-thi-ing,
If you make me feel like a woman.
I will, I will, I will be the who-ole sheba-ang,
You kno-ow I wi-ill!"
The guys were moaning. Doggett looked up at the speakers, suspended way above the sinks, and decided to try something. He took off his shoes.
"Hey, Mulder. Lucky. Give me a boost, would you?"
So Mulder and Lucky laced their fingers and he stepped into their palms. They hefted him up to where he could reach the speaker. He adjusted a knob next to it, and the music stopped for a moment. The whole bathroom held its breath. And then . . .
"Dude, dude, duuuude, dude looks like a lady,
Dude, dude, duuuude, dude looks like a lady,
Dude, dude, duuuude, dude looks like a lady. . ."
Aerosmith. At a billion decibels.
"Why, God, why?!" Mulder yelled.
Everyone was groaning. Those with free hands were holding their ears in pain. Doggett was right in front of the speaker, and quickly going deaf. So, wincing, he did the only thing that made sense to him at the time. He picked up one of his own shoes and smashed the heel right through the speaker.
"Dude, dude, duuuude, duuuuuuuude . . . Woorrrrp."
The speaker died. The torture stopped. And the men cheered as Doggett was lowered down. He made a stiff bow, hopped around trying to get his shoes on, and then everybody got on with their business.
Finally, the "mall rats" were the only three guys left in the bathroom. Mulder and Doggett were at the sinks washing up. Lucky was still in a stall.
"You know what I always wondered?" Doggett said, hunting for the paper towels. "What do women do in the bathroom for so long? It seems like they take forever, even when there's no line. I don't get it."
"I think they sing," Mulder said, drying his hands.
Doggett stared at him, drying his own.
"You know what *I* think? I think your high heels are cutting off the circulation to your brain."
"Oh. Low blow, Doggett. For this, you will writhe in agony."
And he began to "sing," much to Doggett's amusement. Mulder, while a crack investigator and brilliant psychologist, was utterly tone deaf. Of course, tone deaf people rarely *recognize* that they're tone deaf, so he started in, clapping his hands between phrases.
"I feel pretty, *clap CLAP*
Oh so pretty, *clap CLAP*
I feel pretty, and witty, and bright! *clap CLAP*
And I pity, *clap CLAP*
Any guy who isn't me, tonight!"
"Take it, Doggett."
The other man groaned. "I don't believe this." But he took it.
"I feel charming, *clap CLAP*
Oh so charming, *clap CLAP*
It's alarming, how charming, I feel! *clap CLAP*
And so pretty, *clap CLAP*
That I hardly can believe I'm real!"
Lucky was just starting to wash his hands as Doggett finished. Mulder dragged him over to the mirror.
"Aw c'mon, you guys!" Lucky protested, dripping on the floor.
"See that pretty girl in that mirror, there?" Mulder sang.
"Dork."
"Who can that attractive girl be?" Doggett put in.
Lucky sighed, rolled his eyes, and sang, "Which why where who?"
Mulder and Doggett alternated the next part.
"Such a pretty face,"
"Such a pretty dress,"
"Such a pretty smile,"
"Such a pretty me!" Lucky sang.
"Such a pretty me," echoed Doggett.
"Such a pretty me," echoed Mulder.
Lucky hit the base of his range. "Such a pretty me!"
"All together!" Mulder yelled, and they started to sway, chorus line fashion, and sing.
"I feel stunning, *clap CLAP*
And entrancing, *clap CLAP*
Feel like running, and dancing, for joy! *clap CLAP*
For I'm loved, *clap CLAP*
By a pretty, wonderful . . ."
They all stopped short.
Doggett bellowed, "Womaaaaaaan!"
Mulder hollered, "Yeah! Whooo!" and they all started dancing around, waltzing with each other, humming and singing to create music. Skinner walked in on the chaos.
"Excuse me, ladies."
They all stopped dancing and stared at him, embarrassed.
"I gotta take a crap, and I'd prefer not to have musical accompaniment."
"But we were just ---" Lucky started to protest, laughing.
"Shut up. Quit playing Ally McBeal, get the hell out of here, and go back to work. NOW."
They complied and left, even though technically they could have balled Skinner out for "overstepping his position." Lucky was sniggering like an idiot, and Doggett and Mulder weren't feeling the least bit ashamed. Today was turning out to be quite liberating.
***
Unfortunately, the pressure of being guys for a day was starting to get to Scully and Reyes. Scully, now feeling better from lunch, was typing up a report on her computer, and thinking about the events that had led up to her eating that cheeseburger. It all came down to that morning's incident with the vicious Agent Adams. After using the restroom, Reyes had gone back to the office, and she'd gone all over the building, delivering forms and what not.
Adams, not being so industrious as the petite redhead, made a real pest of herself. She followed Scully around and kept staring at Mulder's tie around her neck. After twenty minutes of this, Scully had finally stopped, licked her lips in irritation, turned, and faced her. Adams puffed herself up, a great heap of flesh in her husband's gray suit. She smirked, her lifeless, colorless eyes boring into Scully's icy blue ones.
"What's so damn funny?" Scully barked.
"Nice tie," Adams responded. "Whadja do for Mulder that he letcha have it?" she asked, and waggled her eyebrows.
"Nothing," Scully responded, her face curling up at the insinuation. "You keep your fat mouth shut about his tie. And while you're at it," she added, getting her pert, intelligent face right in Adams' chubby one, "Stick your eyes back in your fat head."
Scully knew she was running a risk of getting popped, but this insult didn't faze Adams.
"I bet Mulder gives you *his* head all the time," she said.
That broke through Scully's icy veneer. The fight was on.
"Too bad your husband doesn't do the same," she spat. "Something tells me you haven't seen any action in a long time, sister."
"I have so!" Adams said, riled.
"Yeah, and my aunt's the queen of England! Whatsamatter, hubby can't get it to stand up anymore?" Scully shot back, her temper rising.
"We're both working!" Adams yelled. "There's no time!"
"Bullshit! If he wasn't such a raging drunk, you might get it on once in a while!" Scully roared.
"My husband is not a drunk!" Adams screeched.
By this point they were attracting all sorts of attention. Reyes came over.
"Well, I'm not sleeping with Mulder! How does that feel, people spreading lies about you? Hm? 'Ya like it?!" she raged, her face fierce.
Dana Scully, usually prim and proper, couldn't believe that half those words had come out of her mouth. But the simple fact was, she'd say anything to protect the secret. Even if it meant balling out a co-worker who was four times her size. Fortunately, Adams bought the lie.
"Fine," she muttered, backing off. "Don't get your skinny little guts in a twist. We have to eat lunch."
*Oh, yeah,* she thought, as Adams left. *I'm cool. Dana One, FBI Zero. Three cheers for ME!*
But snapping back into the present, Scully sighed gloomily. Lunch? Ha. She knew how *that* had turned out. In the end she'd eaten nothing, and the Ding-Dongs hadn't satisfied her fellow agent for very long.
And as for Reyes, she'd been getting funny looks and snickers as the story of her men's room hijinks spread through Headquarters. She'd run errands too, and got tired of it really fast. She kept turning around and giving fierce looks to anyone she caught giggling about her.
At about two, the two women were sitting in the office, bored out of their minds. Scully was munching listlessly on some Cool Ranch Doritos that Reyes had brought her from the vending machine. Both of them had had it with their paperwork. They were making headway, but it wasn't going nearly fast enough, and they didn't know where their partners were.
"Didn't we send Mulder and Doggett up for those print-outs a while ago?" Scully asked, clicking away on her keyboard.
"Yeah," Reyes said. "Where the heck are they?"
"I don't know," Scully sighed. "It's possible that Mulder got sidetracked, or got suckered into doing something stupid, and Doggett most likely went along with it."
"John's not a sheep, Dana. He can think for himself. Whatever they're doing, I'm sure they're fine."
Scully stopped typing and looked at Reyes. "How do you know?"
"I just have a feeling."
"You get feelings a lot, don't you?"
"Well, not really. Just sometimes. But right now my instincts are telling me everything's okay."
Scully leaned back in her chair. She wasn't sure what to make of Reyes' 'feelings' as they were, but knew enough to just let her have her say and not argue with her. She changed the subject. Reyes still hadn't told her the whole story after their adventure in the men's room.
"So. Monica. Garth Brooks?"
Reyes flushed scarlet. Scully saw that and raised an eyebrow.
"You don't . . . have a crush on Garth Brooks or something, do you?"
"No! Of course not! God, what do you think I am, a teenager? I just like his music. And *mumble mumble* . . ."
"What?" Scully asked, getting up. This was way more interesting than Mulder's paperwork. She perched on the edge of Reyes's desk and smiled at her. "You said 'and' something else. What did you say?"
"I said I like Phil Vassar too, all right?!" Reyes exploded, and looked miserably at her desk. "And the Dixie Chicks. . . . Kenny Chesney," she added glumly. "Jo Dee Macina. Toby Keith. Brad Paisley. Tim McGraw. Faith Hill. God, Dana, I'm a Country and Western junkie!"
She slumped over her desk with a moan. Scully was laughing. She patted Reyes shoulder.
"Monica. Monica, come on. Sit up." As Reyes did, Scully smiled into her friend's sad brown eyes. "It's nice that you like that music. You shouldn't be ashamed of it. I mean, it's the last thing I would have expected *you* to listen to, but . . . well, you learn something new every day, right?"
Reyes laughed a little. "Right. Living X-file, right here."
"Indeed," Scully teased. "I'll have to write up a report."
"Ha ha."
"So, what happened? Who introduced you to the 'ma girl done left me' medium?"
Reyes blushed and smiled, but wouldn't say anything. Scully leaned in with a gentle grin.
"Can I ask three questions?"
"Okay," Reyes said, playing her game.
"All right. Question number one. Was it a guy?"
"Yes," Reyes said, comfortable.
"All right, question number two. Does his last name start with something that barks?"
Reyes started laughing, but said "Yes" anyway.
Unbeknownst to both of them, Mulder and Doggett were coming down the hall to the office. They stopped outside the door, curious, and had a listen.
"And last one. Does he 'tahk canna like dis?' Like he was born in Georgia but got lost in New York for a decade?" Scully said.
Reyes couldn't speak. She was laughing too hard. She just nodded, and when she could talk again, she said, "Dana, that was perfect! I never knew you could imitate John's accent so well!"
"Well, I heard it almost exclusively when we were looking for Mulder. It was easy to learn."
"C'mon, do him again!" Reyes said, clapping her hands like it was a magic show.
"Okay." Scully cleared her throat, pleased to have an audience. She made her voice as low and raspy as she could and said: "Dunchoo wuhrry, Agenscully, weh gonna fine deem."
Mulder was biting his tongue. Doggett was looking irritated.
Reyes was laughing fit to burst. "Oh my God! You're so right! He doesn't say 'im,' like 'him' without the 'h,' he says 'eem!'"
"And he kind of does that 'deh' thing," Scully said. "Especially when he's annoyed. He doesn't say 'thuh' ball, or 'thuh' park, he says 'deh.'"
"Yeah! Like when he says 'what deh hell izziss?'"
"Exactly! You've got it!"
Reyes took some deep breaths, and succeeded in calming down a little bit. "Yeah, he does talk a little strangely. But it's okay --- it goes with his voice really well. He has a lot of interesting qualities." She thought for a little while. "Actually, he's kind of like a coconut."
Scully raised an eyebrow at this bizarre description. "A coconut. How so?"
"Well, he's tough and crusty and hard on the outside . . . but refreshing and sweet on the inside."
Doggett perked up considerably at this.
"Awww, Monica, that's so nice! So. Has he, uh, introduced you to anything else besides Country?" she asked, playfully. "Some nice restaurants, perhaps? The upstairs of his house?"
"Dana Katherine Scully, get your mind out of the gutter!"
They both exploded into laughter and giggled for a while, and then there was a long pause inside. Doggett held his breath.
Finally Reyes took the vague route out. "He's such a good man, Dana, you have no idea."
"I think I do," Scully said, smiling.
"Well, good. That saves me lots of explanation. But just between us . . ." Reyes licked her lips, unsure if this was the right thing to say. "His accent is nice, but his voice drives me wild. It's really sexy."
"Oh, ho!" Scully said, and laughed.
Doggett could practically hear Reyes blush and try to hide her face in her hands. He found himself beaming like an idiot. Mulder mouthed "All right!" and held up a hand for a high five. Doggett gave him a bit of a grin and they slapped palms.
"And then there's Mulder," Reyes said.
All celebration outside the door ceased. Mulder blanched. Doggett raised his eyebrows.
"What about Mulder?" Scully asked, a note of defense in her voice.
"Well, we're talking about speaking and everything, . . . I mean, he's a great person too, but his voice is kind of . . . well, he's kind of got this nasal, monotone thing going on. Sorry, Dana."
"Oh, don't be sorry," Scully said, laughing. "I'm used to that. You know, they have those automated long-distance collect call voices, now. Sometimes when he calls me he sounds like one of those with a cold. And if he thinks *I* can't sing, he should hear himself in the shower."
Doggett snickered quietly. Mulder glared at him.
"But when he gets excited . . . Mm. His voice can rumble like the sea. The room shakes. And when he's right, and he knows it, I don't know. There's just such power in his words. I get swept away."
"You like his voice, huh?" Reyes asked, smiling.
"It's one of the myriad things I find attractive about him," Scully responded, with a smile. She sounded as sure of this as she was that the sun rose and set each day. "Heck, he even looks hot in drag," she finished. "That has to be worth something."
Now it was Mulder's turn to smile.
"You know, I envy you," Reyes said. "You and Mulder have it all figured out. John and I . . . well it's stupid, but quite frankly, I don't know what we are. I like him, and I'm pretty sure he likes me, and we've spent a bit of time together, but . . . honestly, for such a blunt guy, he's really hard to read sometimes."
Scully came around the desk and looked her friend square in the eye. "You're joking, right?"
"What?"
"I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks I don't." She imitated his accent one last time and said, "'ee loveshoo, Mahnika.' Very much."
"I want to believe that," she said quietly.
Doggett almost felt his heart stop in his chest, but pulled it together. Mulder nodded at the door. They began to talk loudly about sports, opened it, and walked in. Both women looked a bit surprised, but covered all their previous emotions very quickly. In the blink of an eye they'd transformed, from best friends Monica and Dana, to Agents Reyes and Scully.
"Hi, ladies," Doggett said. "What's up?"
"Nothing much," Reyes said, surprised. "Where were you two?"
"Oh, just the usual. Doing good deeds. Saving lives. No biggie," Mulder said. He walked over to the coffee pot and started to pour himself a cup.
Scully was instantly suspicious. "Mulder, turn around."
He did, slowly.
"You never picked up the print-outs, did you?"
Busted. He knew he had "negligent" written all over his face.
"No. We didn't," he said, coming clean. "We did however humiliate Kersh this morning . . ."
"I know. Making that videotape. You told us before lunch. What about it?"
"Would you let me finish?"
She backed off and crossed her arms. "Go ahead."
"Agent Doggett and I made the tape for 'A.D. Baker' and were handsomely rewarded for it."
Both Scully and Reyes's interests were piqued.
"Really," Scully said. "And how were you rewarded for this, exactly?"
"Doggett?" Mulder said. "Show them."
Doggett smiled, and turned his back to the women for "modesty." He fished around in his blouse for a bit, and finding his prize, took out a gleaming silver rectangle. He turned towards them, and then held it out so both of them could see it. Reyes's jaw dropped.
"The --- The Bureau credit card," she stammered. "You guys got the Bureau credit card?"
"WE got the Bureau credit card," Mulder said. "All four of us. For one night. And as it's Friday, I say we all go party after work."
There was a resounding "yeah!" and explosions of glee from everybody, and they also decided to invite Skinner along, so he wouldn't feel left out.
Scully got Mulder's attention. "Mulder, we're both grateful, and I hate to cut the celebration short, but can you and Agent Doggett actually DO what we asked you to do and go pick up the print-outs?"
The merriment faded.
"We are pathetic," Doggett grumbled. "This is, what, the third time we're going back for these things? All right, Mulder, come on. Let's go."
So they trudged out of the office, Doggett hiding the credit card in his top again. Arriving at the elevator, Mulder pushed the button, Doggett adjusted his pantyhose, and Scully's yell rang out behind them.
"Don't forget to invite Skinner!"
"We won't!" they both shouted back in her direction, and turned to the elevator as the doors opened.
The attack took them both by surprise. There was a sudden flash of gray before their eyes. One metal pipe caught Doggett right across the brow and knocked him to the floor. He hit his head and passed out. Another whacked Mulder across the side of the head and knocked him down, too. He was out in a second.
"So, who do we take?" came a question, delivered in a high-pitched wheeze.
"The Easter Bunny. Who do you THINK we take? Grab Spooky's ankles and get him in here. This is gonna be sweet!"
The first wheezy guy strained to pick Mulder up. "It's no good. I can't lift him . . . my asthma . . ."
"Oh for Chrissake!"
Finally Mulder was dragged, ankles first, into the elevator. The doors closed. Doggett still lay there on the cement floor, sprawled like starfish, unconscious and forgotten.
***
A few minutes later, Scully put down the phone in the basement and looked at Reyes.
"We've been called into service as gentlemen," she said. "Rule 51 on the poster says we have to lift something because Agent Menotti is a woman today and quote unquote 'can't do it.'"
"Why do we have to help Menotti?" Reyes whined. "He's such an ass."
"I know. But rules are rules. And he said it's only an empty locker. We should be able to handle it."
"Oh. Well that's no so bad, I guess. I mean, he could've asked us to lift a full filing cabinet, or something."
"True. He's waiting on the ground floor. I think I'll take the stairs," Scully said.
"Okay. I'm going to be lazy and take the elevator," said Reyes.
They both left the office. Scully was halfway to the stairs when she heard a frightened scream echoing off the basement walls. She drew Mulder's gun and went running in the direction of the noise.
"Monica?" she yelled.
"Dana, come over here! Quick! By the elevator!"
Scully scurried along. Finally, she reached the elevator and found Reyes, distraught and mumbling, kneeling on the floor in front of the doors. She was cradling John Doggett in her arms.
***
Dun dun duuuun! Will Doggett be okay? And what's become of Mulder? Hang on for Chapter 7: "How Holly Got Her Groove Back."
***
Chapter Six: "Deh Man Ah Love."
The men had returned successfully from their excursion. Doggett said he was so excited for Lucky that he had to pee. Mulder laughed. Lucky was grinning from ear to ear. They all forgot about the print-outs, and instead the three of them formed a pack and hit the ladies room.
They pushed in through the door to find a throng of annoyed men waiting for stalls. The reason for their annoyance was perfectly clear --- the radio station had been changed. Formerly on the Classical station, apparently someone thought it would be hilarious to put this bathroom's speakers on WHIP, too.
A song by the band Sha'Daisy was pumping in through the speakers at a deafening volume:
"I won't be your Friday paycheck,
I won't be a prize you'll flaunt,
And I won't be your Martha Stewart, baby,
Or your all-night restaurant!
But I will, I will, I will be your e-ve-ry-thi-ing,
If you make me feel like a woman.
I will, I will, I will be the who-ole sheba-ang,
You kno-ow I wi-ill!"
The guys were moaning. Doggett looked up at the speakers, suspended way above the sinks, and decided to try something. He took off his shoes.
"Hey, Mulder. Lucky. Give me a boost, would you?"
So Mulder and Lucky laced their fingers and he stepped into their palms. They hefted him up to where he could reach the speaker. He adjusted a knob next to it, and the music stopped for a moment. The whole bathroom held its breath. And then . . .
"Dude, dude, duuuude, dude looks like a lady,
Dude, dude, duuuude, dude looks like a lady,
Dude, dude, duuuude, dude looks like a lady. . ."
Aerosmith. At a billion decibels.
"Why, God, why?!" Mulder yelled.
Everyone was groaning. Those with free hands were holding their ears in pain. Doggett was right in front of the speaker, and quickly going deaf. So, wincing, he did the only thing that made sense to him at the time. He picked up one of his own shoes and smashed the heel right through the speaker.
"Dude, dude, duuuude, duuuuuuuude . . . Woorrrrp."
The speaker died. The torture stopped. And the men cheered as Doggett was lowered down. He made a stiff bow, hopped around trying to get his shoes on, and then everybody got on with their business.
Finally, the "mall rats" were the only three guys left in the bathroom. Mulder and Doggett were at the sinks washing up. Lucky was still in a stall.
"You know what I always wondered?" Doggett said, hunting for the paper towels. "What do women do in the bathroom for so long? It seems like they take forever, even when there's no line. I don't get it."
"I think they sing," Mulder said, drying his hands.
Doggett stared at him, drying his own.
"You know what *I* think? I think your high heels are cutting off the circulation to your brain."
"Oh. Low blow, Doggett. For this, you will writhe in agony."
And he began to "sing," much to Doggett's amusement. Mulder, while a crack investigator and brilliant psychologist, was utterly tone deaf. Of course, tone deaf people rarely *recognize* that they're tone deaf, so he started in, clapping his hands between phrases.
"I feel pretty, *clap CLAP*
Oh so pretty, *clap CLAP*
I feel pretty, and witty, and bright! *clap CLAP*
And I pity, *clap CLAP*
Any guy who isn't me, tonight!"
"Take it, Doggett."
The other man groaned. "I don't believe this." But he took it.
"I feel charming, *clap CLAP*
Oh so charming, *clap CLAP*
It's alarming, how charming, I feel! *clap CLAP*
And so pretty, *clap CLAP*
That I hardly can believe I'm real!"
Lucky was just starting to wash his hands as Doggett finished. Mulder dragged him over to the mirror.
"Aw c'mon, you guys!" Lucky protested, dripping on the floor.
"See that pretty girl in that mirror, there?" Mulder sang.
"Dork."
"Who can that attractive girl be?" Doggett put in.
Lucky sighed, rolled his eyes, and sang, "Which why where who?"
Mulder and Doggett alternated the next part.
"Such a pretty face,"
"Such a pretty dress,"
"Such a pretty smile,"
"Such a pretty me!" Lucky sang.
"Such a pretty me," echoed Doggett.
"Such a pretty me," echoed Mulder.
Lucky hit the base of his range. "Such a pretty me!"
"All together!" Mulder yelled, and they started to sway, chorus line fashion, and sing.
"I feel stunning, *clap CLAP*
And entrancing, *clap CLAP*
Feel like running, and dancing, for joy! *clap CLAP*
For I'm loved, *clap CLAP*
By a pretty, wonderful . . ."
They all stopped short.
Doggett bellowed, "Womaaaaaaan!"
Mulder hollered, "Yeah! Whooo!" and they all started dancing around, waltzing with each other, humming and singing to create music. Skinner walked in on the chaos.
"Excuse me, ladies."
They all stopped dancing and stared at him, embarrassed.
"I gotta take a crap, and I'd prefer not to have musical accompaniment."
"But we were just ---" Lucky started to protest, laughing.
"Shut up. Quit playing Ally McBeal, get the hell out of here, and go back to work. NOW."
They complied and left, even though technically they could have balled Skinner out for "overstepping his position." Lucky was sniggering like an idiot, and Doggett and Mulder weren't feeling the least bit ashamed. Today was turning out to be quite liberating.
***
Unfortunately, the pressure of being guys for a day was starting to get to Scully and Reyes. Scully, now feeling better from lunch, was typing up a report on her computer, and thinking about the events that had led up to her eating that cheeseburger. It all came down to that morning's incident with the vicious Agent Adams. After using the restroom, Reyes had gone back to the office, and she'd gone all over the building, delivering forms and what not.
Adams, not being so industrious as the petite redhead, made a real pest of herself. She followed Scully around and kept staring at Mulder's tie around her neck. After twenty minutes of this, Scully had finally stopped, licked her lips in irritation, turned, and faced her. Adams puffed herself up, a great heap of flesh in her husband's gray suit. She smirked, her lifeless, colorless eyes boring into Scully's icy blue ones.
"What's so damn funny?" Scully barked.
"Nice tie," Adams responded. "Whadja do for Mulder that he letcha have it?" she asked, and waggled her eyebrows.
"Nothing," Scully responded, her face curling up at the insinuation. "You keep your fat mouth shut about his tie. And while you're at it," she added, getting her pert, intelligent face right in Adams' chubby one, "Stick your eyes back in your fat head."
Scully knew she was running a risk of getting popped, but this insult didn't faze Adams.
"I bet Mulder gives you *his* head all the time," she said.
That broke through Scully's icy veneer. The fight was on.
"Too bad your husband doesn't do the same," she spat. "Something tells me you haven't seen any action in a long time, sister."
"I have so!" Adams said, riled.
"Yeah, and my aunt's the queen of England! Whatsamatter, hubby can't get it to stand up anymore?" Scully shot back, her temper rising.
"We're both working!" Adams yelled. "There's no time!"
"Bullshit! If he wasn't such a raging drunk, you might get it on once in a while!" Scully roared.
"My husband is not a drunk!" Adams screeched.
By this point they were attracting all sorts of attention. Reyes came over.
"Well, I'm not sleeping with Mulder! How does that feel, people spreading lies about you? Hm? 'Ya like it?!" she raged, her face fierce.
Dana Scully, usually prim and proper, couldn't believe that half those words had come out of her mouth. But the simple fact was, she'd say anything to protect the secret. Even if it meant balling out a co-worker who was four times her size. Fortunately, Adams bought the lie.
"Fine," she muttered, backing off. "Don't get your skinny little guts in a twist. We have to eat lunch."
*Oh, yeah,* she thought, as Adams left. *I'm cool. Dana One, FBI Zero. Three cheers for ME!*
But snapping back into the present, Scully sighed gloomily. Lunch? Ha. She knew how *that* had turned out. In the end she'd eaten nothing, and the Ding-Dongs hadn't satisfied her fellow agent for very long.
And as for Reyes, she'd been getting funny looks and snickers as the story of her men's room hijinks spread through Headquarters. She'd run errands too, and got tired of it really fast. She kept turning around and giving fierce looks to anyone she caught giggling about her.
At about two, the two women were sitting in the office, bored out of their minds. Scully was munching listlessly on some Cool Ranch Doritos that Reyes had brought her from the vending machine. Both of them had had it with their paperwork. They were making headway, but it wasn't going nearly fast enough, and they didn't know where their partners were.
"Didn't we send Mulder and Doggett up for those print-outs a while ago?" Scully asked, clicking away on her keyboard.
"Yeah," Reyes said. "Where the heck are they?"
"I don't know," Scully sighed. "It's possible that Mulder got sidetracked, or got suckered into doing something stupid, and Doggett most likely went along with it."
"John's not a sheep, Dana. He can think for himself. Whatever they're doing, I'm sure they're fine."
Scully stopped typing and looked at Reyes. "How do you know?"
"I just have a feeling."
"You get feelings a lot, don't you?"
"Well, not really. Just sometimes. But right now my instincts are telling me everything's okay."
Scully leaned back in her chair. She wasn't sure what to make of Reyes' 'feelings' as they were, but knew enough to just let her have her say and not argue with her. She changed the subject. Reyes still hadn't told her the whole story after their adventure in the men's room.
"So. Monica. Garth Brooks?"
Reyes flushed scarlet. Scully saw that and raised an eyebrow.
"You don't . . . have a crush on Garth Brooks or something, do you?"
"No! Of course not! God, what do you think I am, a teenager? I just like his music. And *mumble mumble* . . ."
"What?" Scully asked, getting up. This was way more interesting than Mulder's paperwork. She perched on the edge of Reyes's desk and smiled at her. "You said 'and' something else. What did you say?"
"I said I like Phil Vassar too, all right?!" Reyes exploded, and looked miserably at her desk. "And the Dixie Chicks. . . . Kenny Chesney," she added glumly. "Jo Dee Macina. Toby Keith. Brad Paisley. Tim McGraw. Faith Hill. God, Dana, I'm a Country and Western junkie!"
She slumped over her desk with a moan. Scully was laughing. She patted Reyes shoulder.
"Monica. Monica, come on. Sit up." As Reyes did, Scully smiled into her friend's sad brown eyes. "It's nice that you like that music. You shouldn't be ashamed of it. I mean, it's the last thing I would have expected *you* to listen to, but . . . well, you learn something new every day, right?"
Reyes laughed a little. "Right. Living X-file, right here."
"Indeed," Scully teased. "I'll have to write up a report."
"Ha ha."
"So, what happened? Who introduced you to the 'ma girl done left me' medium?"
Reyes blushed and smiled, but wouldn't say anything. Scully leaned in with a gentle grin.
"Can I ask three questions?"
"Okay," Reyes said, playing her game.
"All right. Question number one. Was it a guy?"
"Yes," Reyes said, comfortable.
"All right, question number two. Does his last name start with something that barks?"
Reyes started laughing, but said "Yes" anyway.
Unbeknownst to both of them, Mulder and Doggett were coming down the hall to the office. They stopped outside the door, curious, and had a listen.
"And last one. Does he 'tahk canna like dis?' Like he was born in Georgia but got lost in New York for a decade?" Scully said.
Reyes couldn't speak. She was laughing too hard. She just nodded, and when she could talk again, she said, "Dana, that was perfect! I never knew you could imitate John's accent so well!"
"Well, I heard it almost exclusively when we were looking for Mulder. It was easy to learn."
"C'mon, do him again!" Reyes said, clapping her hands like it was a magic show.
"Okay." Scully cleared her throat, pleased to have an audience. She made her voice as low and raspy as she could and said: "Dunchoo wuhrry, Agenscully, weh gonna fine deem."
Mulder was biting his tongue. Doggett was looking irritated.
Reyes was laughing fit to burst. "Oh my God! You're so right! He doesn't say 'im,' like 'him' without the 'h,' he says 'eem!'"
"And he kind of does that 'deh' thing," Scully said. "Especially when he's annoyed. He doesn't say 'thuh' ball, or 'thuh' park, he says 'deh.'"
"Yeah! Like when he says 'what deh hell izziss?'"
"Exactly! You've got it!"
Reyes took some deep breaths, and succeeded in calming down a little bit. "Yeah, he does talk a little strangely. But it's okay --- it goes with his voice really well. He has a lot of interesting qualities." She thought for a little while. "Actually, he's kind of like a coconut."
Scully raised an eyebrow at this bizarre description. "A coconut. How so?"
"Well, he's tough and crusty and hard on the outside . . . but refreshing and sweet on the inside."
Doggett perked up considerably at this.
"Awww, Monica, that's so nice! So. Has he, uh, introduced you to anything else besides Country?" she asked, playfully. "Some nice restaurants, perhaps? The upstairs of his house?"
"Dana Katherine Scully, get your mind out of the gutter!"
They both exploded into laughter and giggled for a while, and then there was a long pause inside. Doggett held his breath.
Finally Reyes took the vague route out. "He's such a good man, Dana, you have no idea."
"I think I do," Scully said, smiling.
"Well, good. That saves me lots of explanation. But just between us . . ." Reyes licked her lips, unsure if this was the right thing to say. "His accent is nice, but his voice drives me wild. It's really sexy."
"Oh, ho!" Scully said, and laughed.
Doggett could practically hear Reyes blush and try to hide her face in her hands. He found himself beaming like an idiot. Mulder mouthed "All right!" and held up a hand for a high five. Doggett gave him a bit of a grin and they slapped palms.
"And then there's Mulder," Reyes said.
All celebration outside the door ceased. Mulder blanched. Doggett raised his eyebrows.
"What about Mulder?" Scully asked, a note of defense in her voice.
"Well, we're talking about speaking and everything, . . . I mean, he's a great person too, but his voice is kind of . . . well, he's kind of got this nasal, monotone thing going on. Sorry, Dana."
"Oh, don't be sorry," Scully said, laughing. "I'm used to that. You know, they have those automated long-distance collect call voices, now. Sometimes when he calls me he sounds like one of those with a cold. And if he thinks *I* can't sing, he should hear himself in the shower."
Doggett snickered quietly. Mulder glared at him.
"But when he gets excited . . . Mm. His voice can rumble like the sea. The room shakes. And when he's right, and he knows it, I don't know. There's just such power in his words. I get swept away."
"You like his voice, huh?" Reyes asked, smiling.
"It's one of the myriad things I find attractive about him," Scully responded, with a smile. She sounded as sure of this as she was that the sun rose and set each day. "Heck, he even looks hot in drag," she finished. "That has to be worth something."
Now it was Mulder's turn to smile.
"You know, I envy you," Reyes said. "You and Mulder have it all figured out. John and I . . . well it's stupid, but quite frankly, I don't know what we are. I like him, and I'm pretty sure he likes me, and we've spent a bit of time together, but . . . honestly, for such a blunt guy, he's really hard to read sometimes."
Scully came around the desk and looked her friend square in the eye. "You're joking, right?"
"What?"
"I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks I don't." She imitated his accent one last time and said, "'ee loveshoo, Mahnika.' Very much."
"I want to believe that," she said quietly.
Doggett almost felt his heart stop in his chest, but pulled it together. Mulder nodded at the door. They began to talk loudly about sports, opened it, and walked in. Both women looked a bit surprised, but covered all their previous emotions very quickly. In the blink of an eye they'd transformed, from best friends Monica and Dana, to Agents Reyes and Scully.
"Hi, ladies," Doggett said. "What's up?"
"Nothing much," Reyes said, surprised. "Where were you two?"
"Oh, just the usual. Doing good deeds. Saving lives. No biggie," Mulder said. He walked over to the coffee pot and started to pour himself a cup.
Scully was instantly suspicious. "Mulder, turn around."
He did, slowly.
"You never picked up the print-outs, did you?"
Busted. He knew he had "negligent" written all over his face.
"No. We didn't," he said, coming clean. "We did however humiliate Kersh this morning . . ."
"I know. Making that videotape. You told us before lunch. What about it?"
"Would you let me finish?"
She backed off and crossed her arms. "Go ahead."
"Agent Doggett and I made the tape for 'A.D. Baker' and were handsomely rewarded for it."
Both Scully and Reyes's interests were piqued.
"Really," Scully said. "And how were you rewarded for this, exactly?"
"Doggett?" Mulder said. "Show them."
Doggett smiled, and turned his back to the women for "modesty." He fished around in his blouse for a bit, and finding his prize, took out a gleaming silver rectangle. He turned towards them, and then held it out so both of them could see it. Reyes's jaw dropped.
"The --- The Bureau credit card," she stammered. "You guys got the Bureau credit card?"
"WE got the Bureau credit card," Mulder said. "All four of us. For one night. And as it's Friday, I say we all go party after work."
There was a resounding "yeah!" and explosions of glee from everybody, and they also decided to invite Skinner along, so he wouldn't feel left out.
Scully got Mulder's attention. "Mulder, we're both grateful, and I hate to cut the celebration short, but can you and Agent Doggett actually DO what we asked you to do and go pick up the print-outs?"
The merriment faded.
"We are pathetic," Doggett grumbled. "This is, what, the third time we're going back for these things? All right, Mulder, come on. Let's go."
So they trudged out of the office, Doggett hiding the credit card in his top again. Arriving at the elevator, Mulder pushed the button, Doggett adjusted his pantyhose, and Scully's yell rang out behind them.
"Don't forget to invite Skinner!"
"We won't!" they both shouted back in her direction, and turned to the elevator as the doors opened.
The attack took them both by surprise. There was a sudden flash of gray before their eyes. One metal pipe caught Doggett right across the brow and knocked him to the floor. He hit his head and passed out. Another whacked Mulder across the side of the head and knocked him down, too. He was out in a second.
"So, who do we take?" came a question, delivered in a high-pitched wheeze.
"The Easter Bunny. Who do you THINK we take? Grab Spooky's ankles and get him in here. This is gonna be sweet!"
The first wheezy guy strained to pick Mulder up. "It's no good. I can't lift him . . . my asthma . . ."
"Oh for Chrissake!"
Finally Mulder was dragged, ankles first, into the elevator. The doors closed. Doggett still lay there on the cement floor, sprawled like starfish, unconscious and forgotten.
***
A few minutes later, Scully put down the phone in the basement and looked at Reyes.
"We've been called into service as gentlemen," she said. "Rule 51 on the poster says we have to lift something because Agent Menotti is a woman today and quote unquote 'can't do it.'"
"Why do we have to help Menotti?" Reyes whined. "He's such an ass."
"I know. But rules are rules. And he said it's only an empty locker. We should be able to handle it."
"Oh. Well that's no so bad, I guess. I mean, he could've asked us to lift a full filing cabinet, or something."
"True. He's waiting on the ground floor. I think I'll take the stairs," Scully said.
"Okay. I'm going to be lazy and take the elevator," said Reyes.
They both left the office. Scully was halfway to the stairs when she heard a frightened scream echoing off the basement walls. She drew Mulder's gun and went running in the direction of the noise.
"Monica?" she yelled.
"Dana, come over here! Quick! By the elevator!"
Scully scurried along. Finally, she reached the elevator and found Reyes, distraught and mumbling, kneeling on the floor in front of the doors. She was cradling John Doggett in her arms.
***
Dun dun duuuun! Will Doggett be okay? And what's become of Mulder? Hang on for Chapter 7: "How Holly Got Her Groove Back."
