Title: REPOST: NEW Biggest Fan (1/1) Author: ryansmith Date: Tue, 12 Aug 1997 14:25:18 -0500~ You know that you're getting bad when things like this are looking good....feel free to pound my face into the dirt for this one. I know I kinda deserve it. This is an X-Files/(surprise!)crossover. For that reason, the disclaimer is at the end. Oh yes, and Chris? I'm sorry in advance for the mean things I say about you. Just don't send someone to kill me in the middle of the night, okay? Archive: Where ever you desire (wow, you -liked- it?). Just let me know where and when, so I can get all proud and make my friends read it. Again. Biggest Fan By Ryan M. Smith "And, cut!" shouted Chris. The crew applauded and the cut the stage lights. Gillian ran a hand through her hair, ruining the Scully-do. David loosened the horrendous tie. "All done." Gillian solemnly commented. "Yeah." David answered. They looked at each other hesitantly. "Can I drive you home?" "Yeah, I'd like that." "Change?" "No, I'll bring it back after the party. They owe me something, even if it's this horrible business suit." "I know the feeling." They skirted their way through the weeping cast, some crying out of emotion, others for losing their bread ticket. He reflexively opened the door for her, resting his hand on the small of her back. She spun around and met his eyes. He dropped his hand. he thought, "Wow, the roads got -really- bad, Gill. Are you sure?" "I trust you." "Well, I know that you need to get home to Piper." She dumbly nodded. "I just, the snow...." The car slid off the road and into a snowbank, their airbags knocking the duo unconscious. It was quickly covered in a mini avalanche, hiding them until the Vancouver thaw. David woke first, trying to shake the fog from his brain. "Gill?" He cracked, his voice brittle. "No, she's still out, Mulder. Scully will be all right, though." He opened his eyes and stared up into the lens covered hazels in front of him. "Who...who are you? Where are we?" "I'm Cassie, and I'm the X-Files' number one fan. Right now, you are sleeping on the couch in my guest room, while she's in the bed up there." The small lady gestured to somewhere near the door. "What happened?" "The acid and explosion from the airbags burned you two pretty bad. I didn't want to move you until I was sure that you were going to make it." "Well, call the police, or something." Cassie's laugh tinkled across the room. "You -are- the FBI. I'm a registered hairdresser. I think we can handle this." He blinked his eyes in confusion. "No, wait, my name is David Duchovny. Her name is Gillian Anderson. We only play Mulder and Scully on TV, Cassie." " I know, I know. She was born on August 9, 1968. Her favorite food is salmon sushini. She's a registered Democrat. Her favorite movie is 'The Wrong Trousers.' You were born on August 7, 1960. Your parents divorced when you were eleven, sending your life into an abyss....should I go on? I can all night if you want me to." He gulped back his astonishment. "How...how do you know all that stuff?" He finally glanced around the room, his breath taken away. The walls were plastered with pictures of he and Gill, some together and looking romantic and other just business. "As I said, I'm your number one fan, Mulder. Even if you -do- love Scully." As if on cue, Gill moaned softly from her bed as she awoke. "Piper? Oh no. David? Are you all right?" She nervously licked her lips. "Where are we?" Cassie crossed to somewhere David couldn't see, but he listened intently. "Hi there Scully. Mulder's over on the couch, resting. You two were burned pretty badly in the explosion from the airbags. The acid also ate away a little of your hands, but I'll think you'll be all right." "Scully?" The name registered finally in Gillian's mind. "My name is Gillian, not Dana Scully." "I know, but it seems so right to call you that. My name is Cassie, and you're at my house. I saved you two, you know. I should think the two of you would be a little bit more appreciative of that fact than you are." She walked out and slammed the door shut. "David?" Gill croaked. "Yeah, Gill?" "I get to drive next time, okay?" "Yeah, and I get the bed next time some psychotic fan kidnaps us." They both fell into a painful bout of laughter. She woke to eyes upon her. The crazy woman's eyes. "The show....is over?" Her fury and hatred were boiling. "Where...where did you hear that?" "I was surfing the web and found out the two of two finished taping the last episode before you crashed. Is that true?" "Well, yeah. We were all pretty tired...." "And you DIDN'T EVEN KISS AT THE END?!" Cassie's veins were popping out of her neck. Her screams woke David, who quietly crossed to Gillian's bed. "Well, no. Chris didn't think it was appropriate...." "THAT DIRTY BIRDIE CHRIS CARTER CAN ROT IN HELL!" David gently touched Cassie's shoulder, both in comfort and to support himself. "Cassie, there are some things that we can't control...." Cassie grinned an evil grin, an idea bolted her out of the clear blue. "Oh, yes, I can. I'm going to write the script and you two are gong to finish the show the way you -should-. The way -every- 'shipper knows it's meant to be." She left them to ponder what exactly a 'shipper was while she pored over her grand collection of fanfic, looking for the perfect plot line. "I think we're in trouble." Gillian rested her head on David's shoulder. "Big trouble." He agreed. "Okay, so I have a cute little blue suit for you, Mss Anderson, and a charming charcoal gray one for you, Mr. Duchovny. I trust that you two 'professionals' have had enough time to learn your lines." Cassie raised an eyebrow as they huddled into two different corners of the room to change. "Yes, even though...." "You have a suggestion to make, Gillian? I'm not like that dirty birdie Chris. I can take a suggestion or two." "Well, the talking after the kiss is kinda unnecessary, isn't it?" "Yes, I suppose you're right." Cassie lifted her face from Gillian's copy of the script and smiled. "You know, someday, you'll make a great director, Gillian. But now, it's time to get the show on the road." Cassie set their hair and applied their makeup, the resemblance uncanny to the styles used by their own makeup artists and hairdressers. "Wow, Cassie, you really -are- good at this." "No, I just get a lot of practice. You have no idea the amount to loonies that want to look just like you, Miss Anderson." Gill nervously laughed. "Okay, then. Let's begin. Lights, camera, action." "Oh, but Scully, losing you, and the X Files and everything around it is going only to push me farther and farther to that edge. Without you I'll never be able to stand it. Please, for your god's sake, please don't leave me." "What are you trying to say, Mulder?" Cassie's eyes were rolling with tears, anticipating the last lines. "That I love you, Scully. Damnit, can't you see that? With every gesture, with every glance, with every thought, I am thinking of only you." "What about those other women?" Gillian herself was in tears as David approached her. "Them? They were only attempts to stop my brain from thinking of only you. They mean nothing to me." He tilted her head up to him and gently kissed her mouth. "Cut!" Cassie sobbed, tears falling form her eyes. "That was so beautiful, so touching." She reached over to hug her Scully and Mulder. "How about this?" David grabbed his copy of the script and lit in on fire. "Or this?" Gillian did the same. "NO! Not my precious script! It was so -right-!" "Yeah, maybe for a loony like you." Gill retorted. Cassie looked up, pure rage boiling through Gillian's skin. "This isn't over, bitch. You get out of there and bring back my Scully." She leapt upon Gill knocking her down. David grabbed Cassie by the nape of her neck, and pulled her off of her. "I bet your Mulder wouldn't do this either, would he?" He sprayed hair spray directly into Cassie's eyes, and then lit the gas on fire with his script. They calmly left the scene to call 911 as Cassie howled in agony. "But you two are all right?" "Just barely. I can't believe how -fanatical- some fans can be about people." Chris, David and Gillian faded into an uncomfortable silence. "Besides, I'm not -really- that bad of a director, am I?" Chris nervously asked. "No, just most 'shippers hate you for your ending, that's all." "Maybe there -is- time to rewrite a last kiss in. Yeesh. I want to spare myself the pain of being locked up by someone who thinking I'm a dirty birdie." They all enjoyed a cheerful chuckle together. So, what did you think? You can reach me at ryansmith@cedar-rapids.net or cassieryan@hotmail.com. DISCLAIMER: All apologies owed to Ten Thirteen and Fox, most of all, to Chris Carter. Sorry if this form of flattery bothers you. The fact is, hon, that we love your characters -so- much that we can't get them out of our heads, you see, so we end up writing things about what we'd wish would happen. Then other people read them and also get addicted....we are creating legions of fans for your stuff. Apologies also to Stephen King, and whosoever published Misery, without which, this story wouldn't be here. Don't crossovers rock?