Author's Note: Sorry so short, but I wanted to get something up. Definately
more to come.
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And he drove alone. Passing little brick stores that looked like they never got business, as well as superstore giants. Big white four level splits... For all he knew, he was going right out of town.
Mulder picked an empty spot on the side of the street and parked. He obviously wasn't in D.C anymore. So many reasons pointed to that conclusion. For one, a sign ahead read 'Walnut Street'. No walnut streets in D.C.
"Okay, so who am I.." he tapped the bottom part of the wheel and looked around the interior of his vehicle.
He reached across to the glove compartment and popped it open. The first thing that he pulled out was a small red booklet. Insurance.
He leaned back in the seat, looked up a passing car and then flipped open the booklet.
1999 Blazer registered to: Fox Mulder.
Followed by a bunch of other numbers.
Fox Mulder? He was expecting a different name. How was it possible that this vehicle, which he had never driven before, was registered under his name?
It had to still be a dream. Maybe he was in a coma. That was it, a coma. And for some reason he was experiencing what life would have been like before the X-Files. Was he still an FBI agent though? He was supposed to go to work. But where was that?
He leaned over, seatbelt now off, and opened the glove compartment again. He tossed in the insurance and shuffled around car manuals and a tire pressure gauge until his hand stumbled upon a dirty business card. He pulled it out.
In the top left corner was a gigantic beetle picture.
He almost had a heart attack after reading the text on the middle of the card.
Fox Mulder - Exterminator.
"You have *got* to be kidding me.." Mulder said louder than he probably had to to himself. This was not happening. He didn't kill stupid bugs for a living, no way.
Still holding the business card, Mulder turned around and peeked into the backseat. The seat was bare, as the kids had been sitting there, but there was a bunch of junk where their feet would have dangled. Some sort of orange clothes.
Mulder leaned across the seats and reached for it behind the front passenger seat. It was the most hideous color of orange he had ever seen.
He pulled it up and looked at it.. and almost dropped his head with a sigh.
It was a dirty jumpsuit. "Fox" was on the patch in faded black stitching, showing that the jumpsuit had an age. It was his bloody bug-killer uniform. Smears of guts and blood along with dirt were smeared over the entire thing. It smelled quite foul and he tossed it back into the backseat. He had probably put it back there to be washed.
As if waking up in a strange house with a strange family wasn't bad enough, now he was expected to stomp on bugs and scrape them off the floor to feed them.
He went to his inside jacket pocket on impulse for his cell phone. To his surprise, it was there, the exact same one. He typed in Scully's cell number and put the phone up to his ear and waited.
"The person you are calling is not in service. To be forwarded to voice mail, press 1 now," a recording went.
Scully didn't have voice mail and her phone was on 24/7... Maybe she activated it recently. He pressed 1.
"Begin talking at the tone," the voice continued and a beep sounded.
"Hey Scully it's me. Something weird is going on. I woke up this morning and I was in.. a house with a yelling wife and three kids. I have no idea what happened or why I'm here. Call me back as soon as you get this." Mulder finished up and snapped his phone shut.
Now what was he to do. 'Go to work.'
"I'm not a damn exterminator!" He hit the steering wheel angrily and rested his left arm on the open window, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. What a stupid mess.
'So drive back to D.C.' his mind told him. He considered it and probably thought it was the best plan, but thought maybe he should track down his wallet and gun first. Maybe he could find some more information in the house as well.
But for the time being.. work it was. He didn't want to go back to that woman who always seemed to be mad at him for some reason, until he absolutly had to. And a call from 'his work' whining about how he didn't show up that day wouldn't make things any better with her.
Mulder looked at the business card again and mentally took a picture of the address to memory.
Time to go kill some bugs, he supposed.
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And he drove alone. Passing little brick stores that looked like they never got business, as well as superstore giants. Big white four level splits... For all he knew, he was going right out of town.
Mulder picked an empty spot on the side of the street and parked. He obviously wasn't in D.C anymore. So many reasons pointed to that conclusion. For one, a sign ahead read 'Walnut Street'. No walnut streets in D.C.
"Okay, so who am I.." he tapped the bottom part of the wheel and looked around the interior of his vehicle.
He reached across to the glove compartment and popped it open. The first thing that he pulled out was a small red booklet. Insurance.
He leaned back in the seat, looked up a passing car and then flipped open the booklet.
1999 Blazer registered to: Fox Mulder.
Followed by a bunch of other numbers.
Fox Mulder? He was expecting a different name. How was it possible that this vehicle, which he had never driven before, was registered under his name?
It had to still be a dream. Maybe he was in a coma. That was it, a coma. And for some reason he was experiencing what life would have been like before the X-Files. Was he still an FBI agent though? He was supposed to go to work. But where was that?
He leaned over, seatbelt now off, and opened the glove compartment again. He tossed in the insurance and shuffled around car manuals and a tire pressure gauge until his hand stumbled upon a dirty business card. He pulled it out.
In the top left corner was a gigantic beetle picture.
He almost had a heart attack after reading the text on the middle of the card.
Fox Mulder - Exterminator.
"You have *got* to be kidding me.." Mulder said louder than he probably had to to himself. This was not happening. He didn't kill stupid bugs for a living, no way.
Still holding the business card, Mulder turned around and peeked into the backseat. The seat was bare, as the kids had been sitting there, but there was a bunch of junk where their feet would have dangled. Some sort of orange clothes.
Mulder leaned across the seats and reached for it behind the front passenger seat. It was the most hideous color of orange he had ever seen.
He pulled it up and looked at it.. and almost dropped his head with a sigh.
It was a dirty jumpsuit. "Fox" was on the patch in faded black stitching, showing that the jumpsuit had an age. It was his bloody bug-killer uniform. Smears of guts and blood along with dirt were smeared over the entire thing. It smelled quite foul and he tossed it back into the backseat. He had probably put it back there to be washed.
As if waking up in a strange house with a strange family wasn't bad enough, now he was expected to stomp on bugs and scrape them off the floor to feed them.
He went to his inside jacket pocket on impulse for his cell phone. To his surprise, it was there, the exact same one. He typed in Scully's cell number and put the phone up to his ear and waited.
"The person you are calling is not in service. To be forwarded to voice mail, press 1 now," a recording went.
Scully didn't have voice mail and her phone was on 24/7... Maybe she activated it recently. He pressed 1.
"Begin talking at the tone," the voice continued and a beep sounded.
"Hey Scully it's me. Something weird is going on. I woke up this morning and I was in.. a house with a yelling wife and three kids. I have no idea what happened or why I'm here. Call me back as soon as you get this." Mulder finished up and snapped his phone shut.
Now what was he to do. 'Go to work.'
"I'm not a damn exterminator!" He hit the steering wheel angrily and rested his left arm on the open window, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. What a stupid mess.
'So drive back to D.C.' his mind told him. He considered it and probably thought it was the best plan, but thought maybe he should track down his wallet and gun first. Maybe he could find some more information in the house as well.
But for the time being.. work it was. He didn't want to go back to that woman who always seemed to be mad at him for some reason, until he absolutly had to. And a call from 'his work' whining about how he didn't show up that day wouldn't make things any better with her.
Mulder looked at the business card again and mentally took a picture of the address to memory.
Time to go kill some bugs, he supposed.
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