From: "A. R." <conspiracy13@hotmail.com>
Date: Thu, 17 Jan 2002 05:41:41 
Subject: The Corners of Mystification (badfic)
Source: direct

Title: The Corners of Mystification (I don't know what it means either, but 
doesn't it sound cool?)
Author: conspiracy <conspiracy13@hotmail.com>
Classification: ABCDEFGHIGK... etc. -- it has everything! It's an epic!
Key Words: I'm offended by the term 'badfic.' This is a work of art.
Rated: R -- contains adult themes, sex, language, all that stuff. But I want 
it to succeed in the theaters, so it's *not* NC-17! (okay, and it's not 
actually graphic either, but I figured if I implied that it *should* be 
NC-17 I could get you perverts out there to read it too.)
Archive: There is no ownership in art. Art belongs to everyone. This story, 
however, belongs to me, so I would appreciate it if you at least let me know 
where you wish to put it.
Disclaimer: Would Chris Carter, Twentieth Century FOX, 1013 Productions, 
David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, Robert Patrick, Frank Spotnitz, Vince 
Gilligan, Doug Hutchinson, Seth Green, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Julia Roberts, 
my mom, Eddie from Frasier, the entire cast and crew of American Beauty, 
Bruce Willis, or even the Disney Corporation actually want to claim 
ownership to this? Answer that question and *then* think about contacting my 
lawyer.
Spoilers: This story has no feasible timeline, so don't bother. Mulder was 
not abducted. Neither Mulder nor Scully has a child. Doggett exists, but we 
don't really know in what context. If something in this story confuses you, 
it may or may not be a result of the author referencing an episode you 
haven't seen. It also may or may not be a result of you being extremely, 
incredibly dense. Just stating the possibilities. Oh - and to fully enjoy a 
large portion of the story, you may want to have seen "American Beauty".
Author's Notes: This story is dedicated to the Jedi Shipper, who I am 
currently attempting to finish a serious/seriously long fic with. This 
entire badfic is an homage to that story (look for it on your computer 
screen sometime in the next year -- Ocean in a Paper Cup!), or rather the 
result of all the crazy, funny ideas we came up with while brainstorming it. 
I hope you think they're as hilarious as we did. If you don't, you sadly 
have no taste.
Summary: What happens when Mulder does something stupid? I mean, like, 
really, *really* stupid. Okay, shut up, I know he has, but this is my damn 
premise, I can state it however the hell I want! Yeah, that's right, I did 
swear in the summary. You got a problem with that? Oh, you wanna fight me? 
You really think you want to fight *me*? Oh, you just don't have any idea 
what you're in for, bitch! ... Um, yeah, expect a lot of that, some 
elaborate conspiracy-type stuff, and a whole lotta lovin'.


The Corners of Mystification
by conspiracy (conspiracy13@hotmail.com)


-----


"Lucky" - Brittney Spears
She's so lucky
She's a star
But she cries cries cries
In her lonely heart


"Detailed Explanation of Every Aspect of the Worldwide Conspiracy Involving 
Aliens, Men in Black, Tobacco Companies, and 1980's Pop Music," Mulder read 
aloud. "Subtitled: THE TRUTH." He stared in awe at the folder in his hands. 
It held, quite simply, the answers to everything he had ever wanted to know. 
He had been in the underground Pentagon storage space, rummaging around for 
any interesting little tidbits, when one lone file cabinet in the corner had 
revealed the mother-load. He couldn't contain himself. He had to read it 
now.

"I knew it!" he whispered in exclamation, flipping to the first page of the 
thick document. "George Michael *is* an android! I knew it was impossible 
for a human male to wear shorts that tight and still move!" Just then, he 
heard a noise - a loud commotion at the other end of the large room, its 
source hidden by the dozens of rows of shelves in the center. Startled, he 
dropped the folder. "Shit!"

The lights went out.

"Earl, you all ready to close up shop?" a deep male voice boomed from across 
the room.

"Sure thing, Bob," a squeaky, almost prepubescent voice answered back. 
Mulder hit the floor and began rummaging around for the folder. He hadn't 
exactly been tidy when going through the cabinet. Files were scattered all 
around him. Where was his flashlight when he needed it? He finally grabbed a 
stack of papers that felt sufficiently heavy and headed out his secret 
passageway -- the same one he'd used to get in.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Alcohol" - BNL
I love you more
Than I did the week before
I discovered alcohol


"I'm in deep shit, Scully."

"Mulder?"

He had called her the minute he arrived home. "Yeah, Scully, it's me. I'm in 
deep shit."

"So you said. What kind of shit?"

"The stinky kind." He stared down at the papers in his hand. "I think I may 
have stolen something I really shouldn't have."

"Mulder?" Her voice was full of warning.

"Nuclear secrets."

"What?!"

"Nuclear secrets, Scully," he repeated. "I accidentally stole U.S. nuclear 
secrets."

"Accidentally?!" Her tone was of disbelief.

"Yeah, um, I was in that underground storage area beneath the Pentagon, and 
I found THE TRUTH, but the lights went out, so I grabbed a random folder and 
left. I thought it was the right one but... obviously it wasn't."

There was a brief silence. "The underground storage area beneath the 
Pentagon?"

"Yes, the same place I found the cure for your cancer." He was becoming 
frustrated. This really wasn't the point.

Another moment of silence. "And you got into this underground storage 
area... how?"

He sighed. "My secret passageway."

"Your *secret passageway*?"

"Yes." This issue was getting really tired. "I have a secret passageway that 
leads me to the secret underground storage space beneath the Pentagon. Is 
this really so hard to cope with?"

More silence. "You..." She paused once more. "...have a secret passageway 
into the most secure building in the country, perhaps the world?"

"Yes. Does it really matter?"

"Well it's a little far-fetched, Mulder."

Again, he sighed. "Take it up with the author. Can we talk about these 
nuclear secrets now?"

"Whatever."

His voice became frantic now that he finally had permission. "What am I 
gonna do, Scully? What if they arrest me for espionage?"

"I don't know, Mulder. I'm not especially experienced at breaking into top 
secret Pentagon storage areas."

"How many times do I have to tell you, I didn't..."

She cut him off. "I know, I know -- secret passageway."

"Should I give them back?" He sounded like a 6-year-old who felt guilty over 
forgetting to pay for a cup of hot chocolate.

"Mulder, you can't just give nuclear secrets back. They'll know you had 
them. Who's to say you didn't make copies?" She thought for a moment. "Maybe 
if you put them back the same way you got them... snuck in through the 
'secret passageway?'"

He didn't talk for a few moments. "Um... I think they've probably noticed 
they're gone by now. I didn't exactly clean up after myself."

"Mulder, you dumbass."

Okay, Scully didn't really say that. But I would have.

She said: "..."

No wait -- she did call him a dumbass. Scully needs to be a little more 
assertive.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"My Girl" - don't remember
Talkin' 'bout my girl
Myyyy giiiiirrrrl
Do do
OoooOHHOH
Myyy giiiirl


Meanwhile, back at... wherever the syndicate meets...

The Cigarette-Smoking Man lit a cigarette darkly. Don't ask me how you do 
that, it's just what he does.

"What is our plan regarding Mulder?" Anonymous Syndicate Member #37 asked.

The Cigarette-Smoking Man smoked the cigarette darkly. "We have received 
information that Mulder has, for whatever reason, stolen some..." Scary 
music played spontaneously. "Nuclear secrets!"

Anonymous Syndicate Member #37 gasped. Then he realized he didn't care. 
"So?" he asked.

Dark smoke circled the Cigarette-Smoking Man's head. "We also have 
information that someone somewhere in the world is planning on dropping a 
nuclear bomb on Nigeria."

"Why Nigeria?" asked Anonymous Syndicate Member #37.

The Cigarette-Smoking Man shrugged darkly. It was a... *foreboding* shrug, 
if you will. "We don't know. Nevertheless, we are going to blame it on 
Mulder."

Anonymous Syndicate Member #37 smiled evilly. Then furrowed his brow. 
"But..." He lifted a hand to his head. So this must be what thinking was 
like. "Why?"

"Why what?"

#37 thought for a moment more. He discovered the pain dulled slightly the 
more he used his brain. "Why blame it on Mulder?"

The Cigarette-Smoking Man glared at his associate darkly. "Thinking, are we, 
#37?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, but why don't we just examine this for a minute: Wouldn't 
it be easier to just kill Mulder?"

The Cigarette-Smoking Man sighed darkly. "I've told you time and time again, 
#37. If we kill Mulder, we turn one..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, 'one man's quest into a crusade.'" #37 looked confused. 
This thinking thing was hard. It required that you *remember* the point you 
were about to make. He felt someone flip the light switch on in his head. 
"Oh yeah, I remember! Who's crusade?"

Darkly, the Cigarette-Smoking Man asked: "Huh?"

#37 was on a role now. "Who's crusade? Who the hell is gonna care if Mulder 
dies?"

"There are those that follow Mulder's work. He has friends in Congress."

#37 laughed. "So you're telling me that one senator, who already works for 
us, and the worldwide membership of MUFON are going to rise up against a 
group that controls almost every world government, has about 50,000 
assassins, and is in cahoots with two alien races? And pose a *threat*?" 
Again, the Cigarette-Smoking Man shrugged darkly. "What'll that be like? A 
bunch of geeks who've never spent more than an hour away from their 
computers wait 3 weeks to receive their 'weaponry.com' orders, then start 
throwing stones at the Pentagon?" This time it was a dusky shrug. "And if 
these people are so *devoted* to Mulder, wouldn't they just assume that it 
was a conspiracy to discredit him anyway?"

The Cigarette-Smoking Man murkily punched Anonymous Syndicate Member #37 in 
the face, thereby ending the argument.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Larger Than Life" - BSB
All you people can't you see, can't you see
How your love's affecting our reality
Every time I'm down, you can make it right
And that makes you larger than life


Simultaneously, off in another part of the kingdom...

"Scully, you called me a dumbass!"

Scully smirked. It felt good to be honest with her emotions for once.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

This land is your land
This land is my land
From California
To the New York Island
From the Red Wood Forest
To the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and me


BUT, in yet another part of the kingdom, a little while later...

It was 3 am in Nigeria. Nkumbisiou (or "Bob," which was the Americanized 
version of his name) was asleep in his hut, when he heard a horrible 
explosion. Then Bob was no longer asleep in his hut. In fact, Bob was simply 
no longer.

Half the world away, a gloomy man lit his 567th cigarette of the day and 
grinned without the least bit of sunshine. "It has begun..." He whispered 
into the empty room for dramatic effect.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Puff, the Magic Dragon" - some dude who was high
Puff, the Magic Dragon
Lived by the Sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist
In a land called Honilee


Mulder sat alone in his apartment sulking. His partner didn't love him. 
She'd called him a dumbass. He was going to go to prison for spying on the 
United States government. It was not a good day.

The situation kind of reminded him of that episode, "Demons", but not 
exactly.

So, he decided to do what he always did when he was having a bad day -- go 
for a run. This was not for any athletic purpose, it was just fun when you 
felt especially low to go dodging around through traffic.

As he stepped into the first street that he crossed on his usual route, he 
noticed something interesting: the large black van heading towards him did 
not appear willing to stop. So he stopped for it. He stared straight ahead 
with a look that the driver may have categorized as a deer in headlights, 
but which was actually the quiet calmness of a wimp with a death wish. But 
it didn't hit him. He let out a sigh.

Instead, it stopped right in front of him and two men with big guns opened 
the sliding door, ran out, pulled him inside, then shut it and motioned for 
the driver to start driving again.

"What's going-" Before Mulder could ask his question, which he felt had been 
quite coherent and worthwhile, one of the big men sat down his big gun long 
enough to stuff a sock in his mouth. Mulder's mouth, that is. There wouldn't 
have really been much point in the man putting the sock in his own mouth, 
now would there? And how would that have stopped Mulder from talking? He was 
just so astounded that he shut his mouth? Jesus Christ, what were you 
thinking?

Anyway, the sock didn't taste bad, but not altogether good either. All in 
all, Mulder felt it was a pretty bland experience so far.

"What do you know about Coronal Sanders?" The large man who was now missing 
one sock asked.

Mulder stared blankly. "He makes good chicken?" Mulder still had a sock in 
his mouth, but for our purposes, he was able to talk *around* it. That's 
just the kind of guy he is.

This was apparently the wrong answer. The one-socked man hit him over the 
head.

The large man then took out an appropriately large knife. "Tell us where he 
is, or one of your little piggies gets it."

The man grabbed Mulder's hand forcefully and held the knife to his thumb.

"Aren't 'piggies' generally toes?" Mulder asked, just trying to be helpful.

"What do you know about the piggies?" The other one of the large men asked.

"Bacon?"

Both men looked at him with wide eyes. Old one-sock stared at his associate. 
"He knows about the bacon." He then turned back to Mulder, still holding 
onto the hand and the knife. "Tell us where they are!"

Mulder searched his mind for any possible answer that might be floating 
around in there. "Arizona?"

The knife began to slice into Mulder's skin. He winced.

"That's not the right answer, Mr. Wilkinson. We've already searched the 
base."

Something began to click in Mulder's head. "I'm not-" The knife kept on 
slicing. He screamed. And fainted.

Ten minutes later, he awoke to find himself still on the floor of the van, 
staring up at two very concerned faces.

"We're very sorry, Mr. Mulder. There's been a terrible mistake." The 
speaking man looked downward and Mulder followed his line of sight. His 
right hand was bandaged. It was missing something.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

"Mr. Mulder, we regret that you were mistaken for a known fugitive. Please 
accept our condolences." They opened the sliding door once more, beginning 
to shove him out.

Mulder continued to stare at his hand in horror. "Sorry doesn't put thumbs 
back on the hand!"

It also didn't fix bruised asses, which was the next injury Mulder sustained 
as he hit the pavement.

Maybe Scully would ice it for him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Teenage Dirt-bag" - Wheetus
I'm just a teenage dirt-bag, baby
I'm just a teenage dirt-bag, baby
Listen to Iron Maiden, baby, with me
oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo


She wouldn't ice his ass, but she did take great pleasure in bandaging his 
hand.

"There... you... go..." Scully grunted out as she pulled the ace bandage 
violently around in one more circle over his missing member.

Mulder screamed like a little girl.

"C'mon Mulder, it's not that bad. What'd you need *two* thumbs for anyway?"

Mulder looked down at his bandaged hand with tears in his eyes. "Well, it 
was my right thumb, Scully..." The tears leapt out of his eyes (which he was 
actually quite grateful for- the tears being rather large and all). "It's 
kinda hard to get a... *grip* on things without it, if you know what I 
mean." He looked downward, toward his lap.

Scully's expression became disgusted. *She* wasn't really offended in the 
least, but her expression was kind of a prude about these sorts of things.

"Well what do you want me to do about it?" She asked, her voice slightly 
disgusted as well.

Mulder's heart started to pound. He'd been dead before, you see. "Do you 
*want* to do something about it?"

"No." She actually did. Most of her body was all hot and bothered by the 
suggestion, in fact. However, that goddamn voice was still disgusted. "I 
have to go now." She wanted to stay, but if she fought with her voice in 
front of Mulder, it might seem odd. So she left.

Mulder, left to his own devices, decided to watch a movie. He walked over to 
his shelf of videos and attempted to grab one by the name of "Nancy's Butt 
Palace", but discovered this was somewhat difficult without a thumb. Feeling 
that he needed to learn to cope with this new disability, he pawed at it for 
roughly 15 minutes before giving up and using his left hand.

He watched the movie. It was a nice movie. Then he unzipped his pants and 
began pawing again with his bandaged hand. The course ace bandage was 
unbelievably pleasurable. (Not on his hand- Scully had wrapped it extremely 
tight and his fingers were throbbing and turning purple at this point- as 
was something else, but that wasn't nearly as painful.)

He began to count in his head. It was just something he did.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11... boy, that was short. Yeah, I know- Mulder, you're 
such a dumbass. And a loser. God, why am I even fucking you?

Feeling rather low, he ejected the video and went to sleep, hoping to dream 
of a time when thumbs were attached, bandages were loose, and he could keep 
it up for longer than 11 seconds.

I never had a problem before those damn Bob Dole ads...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Rockin' the Suburbs" - Ben Folds
Let me tell ya'll what it's like
Bein' male, middleclass and white
It's a bitch, if you don't believe
Listen up to my new CD
(Sha-mon)


However, that night, instead of dreaming of happy times, he was awakened to 
sad ones...

Mere minutes after his head hit the pillow, Mulder found himself sitting at 
a wooden kitchen table, surrounded by a room that could have easily come 
from the pages of a Martha Stewart catalogue. His mother's ghost sat across 
from him at the table, an ornate doily in front of her with the letters 'CW' 
sewn into it with baby blue strands of silk accentuated by gold leaf.

"This is Hell, Fox." His mother's voice was calm, but obviously beaten down. 
Her fingers were callused and bloody from what he instantly knew was the 
eternal punishment of never-ending needlepoint.

"Then it is true..." Mulder whispered with the awed tone of one discovering 
the biggest secret of all. "Martha Stewart is... Satan!"

"Shhhhhh!" his mother leapt to her feet and covered his mouth before another 
word could escape. She looked around frightfully. "You mustn't tell 
*anyone*. We're not supposed to have visitors. If it gets back to Martha 
that you know, I'll be demoted to the 8th level of Hell- landscaping."

Mulder's eyes widened in horror and he nodded slightly, allowing his mother 
to remove her hand and sit back down across the table.

"I've brought you here, Fox, because you deserve to know the truth." Her 
eyes were downcast. She looked troubled. Perhaps because she was doomed to 
eternal damnation in Hell.

"What is it, Mom?" he asked compassionately. He reached across the table to 
touch her hand.

She picked up the ornate doily and handed it to him. He read it aloud. "What 
does 'CW' mean, Mom?"

It took her a moment to respond. This was obviously a difficult subject. 
"Fox, you remember when you were a boy, and your father and I would be gone 
at... *work* all the time?"

He nodded.

"Well, your father never worked for the State Department. And I wasn't a 
house wife."

Something began to click into place in Mulder's mind. "I always wondered why 
you were at work longer than my friends' moms who were house wives." He 
thought for a moment. "But I don't understand. What does 'CW' stand for?"

She closed her eyes in what appeared to be shame. "Crack Whore." She opened 
her eyes and stared at her son resolutely. "I was a crack whore, Fox. And 
your father was my pimp. That's what happened to Samantha. We sold her for 
crack."

Mulder's head was spinning. Like in the Exorcist. This was Hell, after all. 
He didn't know what to say, couldn't comprehend this newfound information.

"Spender was my biggest client," she continued. "He had the best stuff, too. 
Real pure shit from Columbia. He needed a test subject for some sort of 
experiment in California- a new drug." Her face was lined with regret and 
sadness, her eyes clear and lively as ever. Mulder couldn't believe she was 
dead. "You have to understand, Fox," she continued, reaching across the 
table and grabbing his right hand, "We needed that crack." Her brow furrowed 
suddenly and she stared down at his hand. "What the fuck happened to your 
thumb?"

Suddenly there was a loud clanging sound. Mulder looked around for its 
source, but couldn't find it.

"Shit! I have to go!" His mother yelled. "Just do me a favor, Fox- go to 
Nevada. There you will find the answers you seek." She looked around, 
standing up yet still grasping onto his hand, then turned her face back to 
his. "And take that little partner of yours too. She's hot. I mean, fuckable 
hot. Grrooowl." Another clanging sound. "Well, I've gotta go. Catch you 
later."

Mulder awoke with a start, breathing hard and covered in sweat.

It was just a dream.

Feeling somewhat comforted, he laid back down and turned to his side.

Lying next to him on the pillow was the ornate doily. "CW."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Somewhere That's Green" - Little Shop of Horrors
I know Seymore's the greatest
But I'm dating a semi-sadist
So I got a black eye
And my arm's in a cast


"Scully, my mom was a bisexual crack whore!"

Scully gripped the phone tightly, wishing it were her partner's neck. 
"Mulder, it's 3 am," she replied with a groggy, irritated voice. Luckily, at 
this point the rest of her was groggy and irritated as well. So at least she 
felt in sync.

"We need to go to Nevada."

Mulder's voice was eager and extremely awake, which just annoyed Scully even 
more at this point.

"Maybe *you* need to go to Nevada, Mulder. But *I* need to sleep."

"No, she said I had to take you with me."

Scully rubbed her brow, trying to wake up her brain. "Who?"

"My mother."

"Mulder, your mother's dead. She died last season in 'Sein Und Zeit.'" For a 
moment she felt bad for having to remind him of the fact.

"I know that, Scully, but her spirit came to me in a dream... er, I went to 
her. I visited her in Hell and it was horrible. She told me what happened to 
Samantha."

Scully sighed. She was never going back to sleep now. "Mulder, you know what 
happened to Samantha. You found that out in 'Closure.' They were back to 
back episodes."

"I thought I did, but I had no idea. She told me the whole truth. And she 
said I had to go to Nevada. And take you with me."

"Mulder," Scully began, "How many painkillers did you take before you went 
to bed?"

"I have proof, Scully."

This whole situation just kept getting more and more confusing. "Of what 
happened to your sister?"

"Just come over and I'll show you." Before she could object, he added, "And 
bring a suitcase. We leave for Nevada in the morning." She would have 
pointed out that technically, it already was morning, but just then, he hung 
up the phone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Not a Pretty Girl" - Ani Difranco
I am not a pretty girl
That is not what I do
I ain't no damsel in distress
And I don't need to be rescued
So put me down punk
I am not a maiden fair
I am not a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere

Six hours later...

"Sir, a U.S. nuclear warhead was just dropped on Nigeria."

Assistant Director Walter Skinner stared at the young agent standing in his 
office with beady eyes.

"Why?" he asked the young man.

"No one knows, sir." The agent swallowed nervously. "The warhead disappeared 
two days ago, and last night, whoever stole it dropped it on Nigeria."

"And?" Skinner asked. What the hell did anyone care about Nigeria?

"Well..." the agent continued, "the day before that, the Pentagon was broken 
into and some nuclear secrets were stolen."

Skinner squinted even further at the young man. "What kinds of nuclear 
secrets?"

"I-I don't know," he stuttered. "Just a generic packet of nuclear secrets, I 
guess. Whatever the hell you keep secret about nuclear... stuff."

"Anything else?" Skinner asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Well, sir..." The man now looked even more nervous. His feet began to 
shuffle like a deck of cards. One minute the left one was the Queen of 
Hearts, the next a seven of Spades. Skinner could barely keep up. "Agent's 
Mulder's fingerprints were found all over the Pentagon."

"All over?" Skinner asked suspiciously.

"Yes sir, all over - the roof, the floor, the file cabinets... Some were 
even discovered on a toilet in the third floor women's restroom."

Skinner thought for a moment. "Anything else?"

"Well..." Eight of Clubs, Jack of Diamonds, Ace of Hearts... "There's also a 
security tape that shows him inside the Pentagon at the time of the theft. 
The lights went out just before he left, but he was holding a packet of 
stolen papers in his hand."

Skinner narrowed his eyes with a look of disbelief. "Just what exactly are 
you trying to tell me, Agent? That you think Special Agent Mulder was 
somehow... *involved* in this?"

The young man shook his head violently. His feet got a full house. "Oh no, 
it's not me, sir. But there are *people*..."

"Who?" Skinner barked.

"Agent Doggett, sir. John Doggett. He's been selected by AD Kersh to head up 
the investigation."

It didn't seem possible, but Skinner squinted his eyes even more. The other 
man wasn't sure he could still see out of them.

"Eh, whatever," Skinner finally said. "I don't give a fuck."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Killing in the Name" - Rage Against the Machine
Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me
Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me
Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me

Five hours and 15 minutes earlier...

"What the hell is this?" Scully asked, staring at the ornate doily.

"A message from beyond the grave," Mulder explained. "My mother gave it to 
me."

Scully stared at it in horror. Not because she believed a word out of her 
delusional partner's mouth, simply because it was one of the ugliest things 
she'd ever laid eyes on. "What do the letters stand for?"

Mulder leaned forward and looked her square in the eyes as though he were 
preparing to reveal to her the most important news of her life. She held her 
breath unconsciously in anticipation.

"Crack whore."

Not a single muscle in Scully's face so much as twitched. She thought she 
must have been half-expecting it. She just stared at him blankly, waiting 
for the insanity to continue.

And it did.

"When I visited her in Hell, my mother explained to me that my father never 
worked for the State Department. He was her pimp and she was his... whore." 
He stopped, tears working their way into the corners of his eyes. He lunged 
forward into his partner's arms, forcing her to comfort him. Sobs wracked 
his body against hers. Her shoulder felt wet.

"They sold Samantha for crack, Scully! My sister for... crack!" His sobs 
increased. "I mean, not even pure cocaine, just cheap, dirty crack!"

She patted his back softly. "There, there..."

His sobs began to subside, but he held on tighter, speaking softly against 
her ear. "My mom also said you were hot."

Scully decided to pretend she didn't hear that, but, fearing that her 
partner was on the verge of *real* insanity, she did agree to accompany him 
to Nevada.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"The Barney Song" - some kid on the playground in first grade
I love you, you love me
Let's tie Barney to a tree
With a .45 millimeter
Shoot him in the head
Uh-oh, I think Barney's dead

A Little While Later...

Special Agent John Doggett sat at home on his couch, cleaning his gun for 
the 64th time in the last three hours. It was what he did when he was 
stressed... or angry... or excited... basically whenever he wasn't at work.

In fact, in the past few years, there had been more than a couple occasions 
on which he had neglected a social offer just to go home and clean his gun.

It was very relaxing, very... cleansing. Doggett hated to be dirty. Which, 
aside from being a motivation to obsessively clean his firearm, was also why 
he hated scum. When he was chasing a criminal, he found it extremely useful 
to imagine that the perp was a grimy shower stall.

When he called violent offenders the "scum of the earth," it wasn't just a 
figure of speech.

This Mulduh character was especially dirty. Nuclear weapons were a big deal. 
Doggett imagined him as the disgusting black mold that builds up, unseen for 
years, in the tiny crack of your windowsill and has to be cleaned out with a 
soapy toothbrush.

His gun was his toothbrush.

And he was still cleaning it. Now with shoe polish. That made it shiny.

His ex-wife, the psychologist, had once told him that this obsession with 
his gun meant either he had penis envy or he was gay. And he was a well-hung 
man, so...

They divorced shortly thereafter and she was still waiting patiently for him 
to come out of the closet.

Anyway, that wasn't really the point. The point was that he was cleaning his 
gun and he was determined to clean the windowsill. But for the life of him, 
he couldn't figure out where to find Mulduh. Agent Scully was missing as 
well, probably with him.

He started singing to himself alone in his house. It was kind of maniacal - 
singing quietly alone while cleaning his gun in the middle of the night. Did 
I mention it was the middle of the night? Well, it was, which made it even 
more maniacal.

"Where oh where can that window mold be? Oh where oh where can it be?"

Experiencing a brief moment of clarity, he realized this was more than 
slightly psychotic and decided to turn on the radio.

"DAVID DUCHOVNY, WHY WON'T YOU LOVE ME?"

It was his favorite song. He began to belt out the lyrics along with the 
gravel-voiced pop singer.

"Why won't you love me? Why won't you love me?! David Duchovny, I want you 
to love me, to kiss and to hug me, debrief and debug me!"

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him: David Duchovny was the actor who played 
Mulduh! Maybe this song held a clue...

"DAVID DUCHOVNY, I KNOW YOU COULD LOVE ME! I'M CUTE AND I'M CUDDLY! I'M 
GONNA KILL SCULLY!"

Oh my God, he thought. Scully didn't go with him willingly - he kidnapped 
her! And he's going to kill her!

"I'LL BE WAITING..."

This is it...

"IN NEVADA..."

He called up his travel agent that moment (which annoyed the travel agent 
greatly seeing as it was still the middle of the night) and scheduled a 
flight to Reno for the next morning.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Beautiful Day" - U2
It's a beautiful day!
(dow-dow-dow!)

Sometimes, Scully got these... urges. It was their first night in Nevada and 
she and Mulder were sleeping in the rental car out in the middle of the 
desert. It was a hot night and she couldn't sleep. Mulder, on the other 
hand, was out like a light in the reclined driver's seat. She kept staring 
at his profile... and his pants. She couldn't control herself. She reached 
over and grabbed his crotch through his jeans. It was warm...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"One of Us" - Joan Osborne
What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us?
Just a stranger on the bus
Tryin' to make his way home

Mulder awoke to a generally pleasurable, yet surprising sensation. He 
couldn't tell quite what it was until he opened his eyes to see... Scully's 
red hair bouncing up and down in front of his face. "Scully, what the fuck 
are you doing?!" he shrieked in a voice somewhat reminiscent of a very small 
dog.

"Riding your cock, Mulder," she answered pleasantly.

"Well get off!" he screamed.

"No way, bitch!" She ground her hips into him violently and he winced. He 
tried to physically remove her, but her actions had disabled his basic motor 
skills. He reached for his cell phone in the passenger seat.

A calm female voice answered. "9-1-1."

"Help! I'm being raped!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Don't Panic" - Coldplay
We live in a beautiful world
Yeah we do, yeah we do
We live in a beautiful world

The police came, and Scully was taken away. By then it was morning, and 
Mulder was pretty tired, but it was too hot to sleep, so he decided to take 
a walk through the scalding desert to wake himself up and recover from the 
trauma of the night before.

(By the way - in case you were wondering, the local cops didn't arrest 
Mulder because they didn't know he was a fugitive. They didn't watch TV. And 
they were dumbasses. As are all local cops, apparently.)

Anyway, so Mulder was walking along through the desert - which is exactly 
where Doggett found him.

Doggett had flown into Nevada about an hour earlier, decided to go for a 
walk as well, and stumbled upon Mulder somewhere far, far away from the 
road.

What? You don't think coincidences happen in real life? Nevada's not that 
big! (in comparison to say... Africa)

Doggett drew his gun. Mulder admired the picture for a moment, then took the 
marker out of Doggett's hand and drew his own gun.

"Where's Agent Scully?" Doggett asked, knowing full well that he was the 
better artist.

Mulder was confused. What did this guy want with Scully? He'd been the only 
one who actually did anything *wrong*. Well, aside from the whole rape 
thing, but no one knew about that yet... and she was already in custody, so 
what did this guy care?

"In prison."

Doggett squinted his eyes harshly. He hated deserts. Just dirt, dirt, and 
more dirt. "Don't give me that, you *mold*! I know what you did to her! I'm 
up on your dirty tricks!"

Mulder began to cry. "She did it to ME!" Tears fell down his face rapidly 
and his gun dropped to the ground. He just didn't have the energy anymore. 
He was still too traumatized to deal with all this.

Something in Doggett's chest lifted slightly and suddenly he wanted nothing 
more than to comfort Mulder. And take him from behind. But he was *not* 
homosexual, he reminded himself, so he decided to focus on the comfort part. 
Good, clean, manly comfort.

"What a bitch," he offered, in a deep, macho voice. "How about a beer?"

Mulder looked up, the beginnings of a smile painting the corners of his 
mouth. "You got one?"

Doggett thought for a second, then felt like an idiot. "Well... no." He 
looked down, letting the hand with the gun fall to his side. "But I have got 
some iced tea in my trunk if you wanna walk back to my rental car."

If there's an iced tea in that bag, it could be love, Mulder thought. His 
smile widened and he bent down to pick up his gun.

"Guess I'll need to clean this," he said sheepishly as he moved toward his 
new friend.

Doggett's heart soared.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Nowhere Fast" - Incubus
I would.
I would.
I would.
I would.
I would.

They'd been walking for days, and they still couldn't see the road anywhere. 
It was just approaching another hot high noon when they both collapsed.

"Doggett?" Mulder's thirsty, tired, thirsty, raspy, thirsty voice managed to 
crackle out.

"What?" Doggett sounded like a lizard would if it could speak. Or maybe a 
dried out slug.

"What kinds of birds are those?"

Doggett searched the sky until his eyes finally focused on huge black things 
that were circling directly overhead. "Oh shit."

Mulder sighed in resignation. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Buzzards. Huge, black, hungry buzzards.

One landed next to Doggett and began gnawing on his arm.

He couldn't move his arms, but his voice worked (except for that whole funky 
lizard/slug thing that was happening with it). "Fuck you!" he screamed. 
"Fuck you, BIRD! I'm alive! You fucking scavenger!"

After about 15 minutes, both birds apparently got bored/lost their appetites 
and left. Half of Doggett's left arm was missing.

"They even took the fucking bones!" he wailed. "Just ripped apart the elbow 
joint, gnawed off the flesh, and left!"

Mulder felt sorry for John, but was really more grossed out than sympathetic 
right then.

"You see this?!" Doggett screamed, pointing at his stub as he flailed it 
about in the air. "*This* is why I can't have nice things!"

Mulder shrugged. But Doggett's fit was not yet over. As he squinted further 
at the bloody stub he noticed something that he had prayed to God he would 
never have to see again. He began to sob.

"What is it, John?" Mulder asked in the most sensitive voice he could 
muster.

Tears streamed down Doggett's face and into the sand beneath him. "My son!" 
he sobbed. "He was dirty!" His eyes did not leave his blood-soaked stub of 
an arm - the stub that now held not only the crimson liquid that it had 
spilled, but also clumps of dirt and miniscule foliage that he had 
inadvertently rubbed it in.

Mulder did not follow. He motioned with his head for his lover... er (Freudian 
slip) *new friend* to continue.

Doggett's eyes were getting crazy. "Do you know what I *do* to things that 
are dirty, Fox???" Mulder shook his head, getting slightly frightened now. 
"I CLEAN THEM!" Doggett pointed his gun directly at his stub and fired three 
rounds. "How do you like THAT? HUH? You feelin' lucky, PUNK?!"

Seeing this new side of his pal, Mulder was a little less comfortable with 
the whole 'relationship' idea. Actually a little less comfortable with the 
whole, 'we're in the same desert' idea. He quickly began to clean every 
reachable part of his body using only his fingertips (all nine of them) and 
his own saliva.

Hours passed before either one of them spoke again. Mulder had to ask.

"Uh, John..." He swallowed, partially out of fear, partially because he was 
still EXTREMELY thirsty and thought maybe he could recycle his fluids. "Are 
you trying to tell me that you, um... *cleaned* your son?"

Doggett was quiet long enough that Mulder thought he might have finally just 
died. "I repressed the memory for a long time," the agent finally admitted. 
"It- it wasn't on purpose. You've gotta understand, Fox, I loved my son, 
but..." Another long pause. "I was cleanin' my gun one day, and I look up, 
and there's this *spot*. This big brown spot right in the middle of my 
living room. So the cleanin' fluid's in my hand, the shoe polish is on the 
table, but all I can really think to do is use the one cleanin' utensil that 
could wipe out *anything*." He took a deep breath. "So, I put one bullet in, 
I aim the thing, and I shoot the spot. And I go back to cleanin' my gun - 
'cause firing it gets it a little dirty, you understand." He turned his head 
to face Mulder, tears in his eyes as he revealed, obviously for the first 
time, the one thing that defined him - the reason for his endless drive. His 
*Samantha*, so to speak. "It took me about 45 minutes to notice the smell, 
and then another 15 to discover the truth." A silent sob wracked his body 
and Mulder's heart went out to him. "That the little brown spot had been on 
my son's forehead all along..." It took tremendous will power, but Mulder 
found the strength to roll over and wrap his arms around his 'friend'. But 
he felt something inside Doggett tense up. Mulder realized that his almost 
quasi-companion/lover wasn't quite ready for the Mulduh-lovin'.

"Don't worry, John," Mulder said in a small, soothing voice. "I'll wait for 
you."

"How long?" Doggett squeaked timidly.

"Eternity."

Doggett's voice became suddenly deep and macho. "Good, 'cause that may be 
how long it'll take."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"One Week" - BNL
Chickity China the Chinese chicken
You have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin
Watchin X-Files with no lights on,
Were dans la maison
I hope the Smoking Man's in this one

Around the same time, but at night, and somewhere else in Nevada... At a 
prison...

Scully laid down on her rock hard prison mattress to try and get some rest 
for the third night in a row. All she could think about was Mulder. That big 
nose, that big...

She sighed and went to sleep, but even her dreams were of him.

She felt something touch her face softly - the satiny kiss of a rose petal 
as it fell from above, caressing her before falling further and 
disappearing. More petals. Hundreds of them. As she opened her eyes, she 
found herself encompassed by their deep, passionate redness. Her eyes were 
suddenly drawn to the source of this flowery shower. Looking upward, toward 
the bunk bed above her, she found Mulder, floating against the top mattress 
with an ease and grace that was incredibly sexy. The corners of his mouth 
were curved upward in a sultry smile, his arms bent lazily over his head. 
Rose petals covered his breasts and what lie between his legs, but other 
than this, he was naked. As the petals continued to fall, Mulder's legs 
shifted, feet running up and down as though this new position made him shy. 
Or restless.

Scully smiled up at him with a sense of awe. All the youth and beauty she 
had ever sought now manifested itself beneath that blood and urine stained 
mattress, pieces of it falling to touch her, but the whole of it beyond her 
grasp. For the moment she reveled in what little she could hold onto, 
feeling the rose petals beneath her fingertips, watching Mulder's image 
flail about in the air with unabashed adoration.

The morning bell rang and the vision was banished. Ah well, time to go grab 
her mush.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"What I Got" - Sublime
But I got a dalmatian and I can still get high
I can play the guitar like a mother fuckin riot

Meanwhile back in the desert...

Someone rescued Mulder and Doggett. I don't know who, but that's not the 
point.

Or how about this - Morris rescued them! I don't really know why, but hey, 
he hasn't been in the story yet.

Speaking of which, we haven't seen the Cigarette-Smoking Man in a while 
either. Maybe he rescued them. Darkly. Yeah. He rescued them because he 
didn't want Mulder to die because that would have defeated the whole purpose 
of the nuclear bombing thing - which I forget at the moment, but I know it 
was a better plan than killing Mulder for some reason, so what would be the 
point if Mulder just died anyway? Yeah, so the Cigarette Smoking Man rescued 
Mulder and Doggett. Don't ask me how, that would involve a lot more work 
than I'm willing to do right now.

So somehow, with the Cigarette Smoking Man's dark, sinister help, Doggett 
and Mulder found themselves safe in a motel room. However, they hadn't ever 
found Doggett's car so they still had nothing to drink but they weren't too 
thirsty anymore because the Cigarette Smoking Man had somehow taken care of 
that as well. Yeah. Good.

Mulder was sitting on the bed. Doggett was sitting in a chair.

"Mulduh," Doggett began, "I wanna tell you something that I've never told 
another man before."

Mulder's heart began to race. Sadly, it didn't have a chance. This was the 
Olympics, and it hadn't been training nearly as strenuously as the heart 
from Australia. "What is it, John?"

Doggett looked downward, examining his shoes. Could a man as perfect as 
Mulder (except for the whole missing thumb thing) ever love someone with one 
and a half arms? Less if you counted the bullet wounds?

"I'm not gonna turn you in, Fox."

Mulder had to think for a long time to remember back when this story had had 
a plot. "Ooooh! For the whole nuclear bombing thing! Wow, thanks man." To be 
honest, that wasn't what Mulder had been hoping to hear.

"Just hear me out," Doggett continued, his voice all gravelly with nerves. 
"I haven't told you my reasons yet."

Mulder waited patiently. This whole nervous thing was damn sexy on Doggett.

"I..." He took a deep breath to calm himself down. He wished he had a gun to 
clean, but the Cigarette Smoking Man had taken it away. This would be so 
much easier if he could just say it with a gun and some cleaning fluid in 
his hand. "I love you, Fox."

Inside, Mulder leapt for joy. Outside, he blinked. Twice.

"I... I think I love you, too, John." But Mulder couldn't stop there. He was 
too damned narcissistic. "Uh, John... How *much* do you love me?"

Doggett was silent for a moment. This was extremely hard for him. "With all 
the depth of my heart."

Mulder made a little face. "Well, John, you know you're heart's only roughly 
the size of your fist."

Doggett looked at his newfound lover incredulously. "Mulduh, come on - what 
do you want from me? I'm bearin' my soul, here!"

Mulder shrugged, then suggested hopefully: "Well couldn't you just try out 
another organ? How about a lung? Lungs are big."

"Okay," Doggett sighed audibly and complied with little emotion, "I love you 
with all the depth of my lung."

"Only one?"

Doggett decided he wasn't quite ready for this stage of their relationship 
yet and went to sleep in the closet.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Two Little Girls" - Ani Difranco
Here comes little naked me

Scully dreamt that she was in a large house with wood floors. She arose from 
her huge, comfortable bed, and walked down the hallway to the beautiful 
spacious bathroom. Only the bathroom door was shut. As she opened it just a 
crack, steam began to pour out. Excited by the tingly, warm sensation, she 
entered.

Once inside, she could make out, through the steamy haze and the bright 
light that shined in through the blinds (in the middle of the night?), a 
male figure lounging in the tub seductively. As she continued to approach, 
the man's head rose and turned to face her.

He spoke to her in a low, inviting voice. "I've been waiting for you."

Recognizing the voice as Mulder's, she let her feet carry her to the side of 
the tub and kneeled down, leaning forward with a sense of awe. All but his 
head, arms, and one sensuous knee was covered by the water, and the water 
covered by a film of soft rose petals that didn't allow her vision to go 
beyond them.

"You've been working out, haven't you?" he asked in the same, sexy voice. 
She had. In fact, she had spent the entire day previous lifting weights in 
the yard. There was a slight movement beneath the water causing the petals 
to stir and something inside Scully to warm and moisten.

"I can tell." He smiled slowly and quirked an eyebrow at her. She continued 
to simply stare at him in awe.

"I was hoping you'd give me a bath. I'm very..." His voice was raspy and 
deep. "...*very* dirty."

Slowly, almost unbelieving that she would be able to touch him, Scully let 
her hand slide down into the water, just beyond the outside of Mulder's 
right thigh. She watched as his head fell back in pleasure.

"What are you *doing*?" A disgusted voice woke Scully from her dream. She 
looked up to see her cellmate, Linda, a rather large, pillowy woman staring 
at her from over the side of the top bunk.

"Nothing," Scully lied, pulling her blanket more tightly over her and 
closing her legs.

"You were masturbating!" Linda accused.

"I was not."

"Yes you were."

Scully wished the woman would just leave her the fuck alone. "Oh all right, 
so shoot me! I was getting off." Linda's eyes bulged. "That's right, I was 
tending the flower bed, petting the carpet..." She patted herself through 
the blanket for emphasis. "Saying high to my mountain."

Linda looked as though she would have a nervous breakdown if one more word 
was uttered. "That's disgusting."

Scully was really getting fed up with this. "Well excuse me, but some of us 
still have blood pumping through our veins."

Now Linda appeared hurt. "So do I."

"Really? Well I'm the only one who seems to be doing anything about it."

Linda climbed off of the bed and turned on the dangling light bulb that hung 
from the ceiling in the middle of the cell. "Dana, I refuse to live like 
this. You're supposed to be my bitch."

Scully was just plain frustrated now. "I haven't been your bitch for days, 
but you were happy as long as I kept my mouth shut. Well you know what? I've 
changed. And the new me gets off when she feels horny, because you're 
obviously not gonna help me out in that department."

Linda looked hurt, but she hid it with anger. "Oh, I see, you think you're 
the only one who's sexually frustrated?"

Scully was incredulous. "I'm not? Well then come on, baby, I'm ready!"

An evil glint took over Linda's eyes. "Don't you mess with me, missy. I will 
get your ass kicked so fast, it'll make your head spin."

Scully didn't tremble in the slightest. When she'd first arrived in jail, 
she'd needed Linda to protect her. She'd become the woman's bitch out of a 
need for survival, so that she could form some kind of allegiance that would 
help her stay out of trouble, keep her from dying in here. Now, she had made 
several friendships throughout the system. She didn't need Linda anymore.

"On what grounds?" She fired back without a moment's hesitation. "I'm not a 
gossip, I don't fuck other women, I've never mistreated you... I've never 
even tried to touch you since you made it perfectly clear just how 
unnecessary you consider me to be." She stopped, savoring the look of fear 
on Linda's face. "But, I did help you and Rachel plan that break-out 
attempt, and some people might think that gives me the power to make you 
*my* bitch."

Linda let out a little gasp.

"So, turn out the light when you go back to bed, okay?" With that, Scully 
turned over on her side to face the wall and let out the biggest smile that 
had crossed her face in years. Damn, that felt good.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"You Complete Me" - Stabbing Westward
Only you
Can make me whole
Just one touch
And you complete me

The Cigarette Smoking Man was bored. The author hadn't had him do anything 
for about 20 pages and the dullness was finally getting to him to the point 
that he had personally gone out to the desert and saved Mulder and Doggett. 
Of course, the author hadn't actually *described* that in the story. 
Noooooo. Old Smokey's not *that* important. Just worth a mention here and 
there. It's not like he could have the author *killed* or anything.

And with that a really hot nurse walked into the Cigarette Smoking Man's 
room carrying a bucket of Viagra and 200 packs of Morleys to keep him 
occupied.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Enemy" - Eve 6
Can't get this shit off my mind
I just want to be alright

In Nigeria, things were very quiet.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Leave" - Matchbox 20
It's amazing
how you make your face just like a wall
how you take your heart and turn it off
how I turn my head and lose it all

Somewhere in Arizona, in a secret underground military base, Morris Fletcher 
screamed at a small mild-mannered man with white hair, a mustache, and 
black-rimmed glasses, demanding the location of the extra-crispy 12 piece 
chicken meal, but this was only tangentially relevant to our story.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Call And Answer" - BNL
I think

Anyway, while all this was going on, Mulder and Doggett stayed locked up in 
their motel room and... watched TV... among other things.

Until, in the middle of one passionate night... er, on TV... Mulder went to 
sleep, and found himself in... HELL.

Okay, so it really wasn't too scary a place to visit. It was actually kind 
of nice for a few hours. This time he was relocated from the large, airy 
kitchen to a gorgeous patio that overlooked acres of perfectly cut, green, 
healthy grass and enormous gardens of vibrant, colorful flowers.

His mother's ghost sat in a lawn chair next to his. She looked tired.

"I know what you're thinking, Fox," she said, staring out at the gorgeous 
view with weariness. "Hell doesn't seem too bad. But trust me, aesthetic 
appearances mean nothing." She turned her face to him for a moment to make 
sure he was listening. "What you don't see is the pain and suffering that 
goes into all of this." She motioned with her hands to indicate... 
everything. "Yes, it's pretty, but the eternal damnation of making it stay 
forever pretty is no light consideration."

Mulder nodded silently even though his mother knew there was no possible way 
for him to understand without experiencing it.

"Anywhoo," she went on, "That's not why I've brought you here. I've brought 
you here because I want to know what the hell's the matter with you."

Mulder stared at his mother and blinked several times. "What do you mean, 
Mom?"

She looked frustrated. "I *mean*," she began, as though explaining something 
to a two year old, "I do all this work to set you up with that fine ass 
partner of yours and you go and screw it up!"

"But..." Mulder looked confused. And hurt. And lost. Like a little puppy. 
Awwwww. "But Mom, she... *raped* me."

His mother rolled her eyes and sighed. "So-flipping-what? I know you've 
wanted her for years, what do you care how you get some?"

Tears filled Mulder's eyes. "I didn't want her that way. She... violated 
me."

The older woman's spirit leaned over toward her son and nudged him a little. 
"C'mon Fox, you're telling me you didn't *want* to be violated? Just a 
little?"

His head tilted to the side slightly. "Well..." His mom grinned at him and 
he smiled bashfully. "I guess maybe a little." He stared off for a moment. 
"But not in my sleep!"

Mrs. Mulder finally leaned back in her chair with a sense of understanding. 
"Oh, I see." She patted her son on the back to comfort him as tears began to 
pour down his face. "You're mad because you didn't get to be conscious when 
you finally got some."

He nodded sadly.

"Well, Fox," she smiled. "That sounds to me like something you need to talk 
to your partner about - not something she deserves to be in jail for."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Bluesy Revolution" - Hootie and the Blowfish
We traveled long
We traveled hard
Too long to bear
Hard just to come through

He awoke panting. He could feel Doggett's naked body behind him, his one arm 
slung forward across Mulder's midsection. Because that's just how they liked 
to watch the Walton's - you got a problem with that?

"John, wake up!" Mulder yelled, patting the other man's hand rapidly.

"What is it?" Doggett woke slightly and pulled Mulder closer to him.

"We need to go break Scully out of prison!"

Doggett shrugged and went back to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Break Stuff" - Limp Bizkit
I'm like a chain saw
I'll skin your ass raw

When Doggett finally did wake up, they hijacked a helicopter and broke 
Scully out of prison. Because their brilliant plan required a helicopter. I 
am not as brilliant as them, so I'm not really sure what that plan was. It 
worked though.

But anyway, backing up a bit - when Mulder and Doggett were flying to the 
prison, before they had picked up Scully, Doggett asked:

"Mulder, why don't you just drop the charges against her?"

This question was never answered. After all, they already had the 
helicopter, why mess with a good plan?

So they got Scully out of prison, and then they got into a big safe house in 
some suburb that the Gunmen set them up with. Scully immediately recognized 
it as the house from her dream. Red roses bloomed in the garden. Scully was 
very turned on.

Immediately, the three FBI agents settled themselves in. Scully was in the 
master bedroom by herself (she sort of missed Linda now) and Doggett and 
Mulder shared a smaller room that was also on the second floor.

Things were tense. Mulder had made it no secret to Doggett that he still 
felt something for Scully. Doggett had also been partners with Scully at one 
point, he couldn't remember exactly when, perhaps because that was in an 
alternate universe, but there was tension between them too because they had 
once trusted each other and now they found themselves both attracted to the 
same man.

So anyway, that night, when Mulder and Doggett entered the kitchen to find 
something to eat and instead found Scully sitting on the counter top 
drinking juice, the tension was high.

"Where's your mom?" Doggett asked Scully out of the blue.

She picked up the paper and began reading it. "Don't know." Scully hadn't 
actually spoken to her mother in four months. She wasn't exactly sure why 
Doggett was so suddenly concerned with Margaret.

Mulder took this opportunity to lean against the counter near the entryway 
seductively. "Hi, Agent Scully."

She couldn't believe how attracted she was to him, but she decided to play 
it uninterested. "Hi," she said nonchalantly, continuing to stare at the 
paper.

"Wow, look at you. Have you been working out?"

She purposely did not look at him. "Some."

Doggett became intensely disgusted at this point and left, rolling his eyes 
at the mindless banter.

Mulder didn't pay his lover any attention. He approached Scully and began to 
feel her bicep. "You can really tell. Look at those arms."

Scully couldn't help herself. She smiled and turned to him, setting down the 
paper and leering almost perversely. "You like... muscles?"

This suddenly very forward side of Scully scared Mulder slightly and 
reminded him of the rape. He backed away, letting out a little nervous 
laugh. "I should probably go see what Doggett's up to."

Scully felt like a perverted old man staring at 16-year-old girl. She wasn't 
exactly sure why, but that's how she felt.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Sometimes It Hurts" - Stabbing Westward
I don't remember where I went
or what I was drinking
but I know it made me sick

A few hours later...

When Mulder had returned up to the bedroom he shared with Doggett, he found 
his boyfriend extremely bitter and upset. This wasn't the Doggett Mulder had 
fallen in love with. Not the free-spirited, happy-go-lucky guy Mulder had 
always perceived him to be. (Just for the record, Doggett never really was a 
free-spirited, happy-go-lucky guy, it's just how Mulder saw him. But then, 
Mulder also sees cockroaches as advanced attempts at communication and 
surveillance from an alien race, so go figure.)

"I don't think we can be lovers anymore!" Doggett yelled with a ferocity 
Mulder had never heard before from the man.

Mulder sighed and laid back on the bed. "You're way too uptight about sex."

Doggett stared at him with pain in his eyes. "Just don't fuck your partner, 
alright? Please?" There was desperation in his voice.

"Why not?" Mulder asked. He thought that his lack of options seemed clear. 
For God's sake, his mother had taken him to Hell twice just to lead him to 
this conclusion.

There was a knock at the door. Doggett looked ready to have a heart attack. 
"Scully, leave us alone!"

Someone opened the door and Mulder sat up. It was a tall man that Mulder 
recognized as Knowle Rohrer, Doggett's informant/friend who was really a bad 
guy and occasionally an alien. Mulder had never seen the man before, but it 
was one of those things he just knew.

Knowle walked straight to Doggett with an incredible intensity.

"If I had to leave tonight, would you go with me?"

Doggett stared at him, confused. "What?"

"If I had to go to Zaire, to live, tonight, would you go with me?"

A little smile broke out across Doggett's face. "Yes."

Mulder, still on the bed, had to protest. "You guys can't be serious!" He 
turned his attention to Doggett. "You're an investigator. And he's, like, a 
government conspirator! You'll end up living under alien control!"

Doggett glared at him. "You're more an investigator than I am." He turned 
back to Knowle. "We can use my plastic surgery money." Doggett had been 
saving up for a boob job for years. Mind you, until recently, he could never 
admit to himself that that's what he was saving for, but it really was.

"We won't have to," Knowle assured him. "I have over one million dollars. 
And I know people on the continent who can help us get set up."

Mulder was disgusted. "Other *syndicate members*?"

"Yes," Knowle answered with a slightly irritated tone.

This forced Mulder to stand. He had to knock some sense into his lover. 
"Jane, you'd be outta your mind to go with him!"

Doggett flinched at the use of his drag name, but decided to ignore it. He 
turned on Mulder and screamed back, "Why do you even care?"

"Because you're my boyfriend!"

Knowle just had to butt in. "He's not you're boyfriend. He's someone you use 
to get a piece of ass."

That hit home. Mulder became defensive, screaming and pointing at the 
consortium member. "Go fuck yourself, MIB!"

Now Doggett became defensive of the man he loved. "Shut up, bitch!"

Mulder was desperate. "Doggett, he's a... spook!"

"Well then so am I!" Mulder stopped dead in his tracks. "And we'll always be 
spooks and we'll never be like other agents! And you'll never be a spook 
'cause you're just... too *righteous*." Doggett spoke the last word with a 
little pout and a helpless movement of his one arm.

Mulder crossed his arms and attempted to think of a good come back. "Yeah? 
Well, at least I'm not missing an arm." With that he sat on the bed, turned 
away from them, his arms still crossed in front of his chest defensively.

"Yes you are," Knowle informed him in a monotone voice that could easily 
have been taken from a science film reel shown in 7th grade classrooms. "Or 
part of one. And you're a hypocrite. And you know it."

Mulder began to tear up. He had to get out of there. He left the room, 
covering his face from them the whole way out. "You two deserve each other." 
He went to go cry on the stairs.

Inside the room, Knowle touched Doggett's stub tenderly, then his face, and 
the two embraced lovingly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Absence of Fear" - Jewel
This vessel is haunted
It creaks and moans

Scully was just minding her own business, getting a beer out of the 
refrigerator, when she heard music. It was coming from the living room. She 
walked slowly to the entryway, only to find a vulnerable-looking Mulder, 
curled up in a little ball next to the CD player, listening to music in the 
dark.

He spoke timidly. "I hope you don't mind if I play the stereo."

She continued to stand in the entryway, just staring at him. "Not at all." 
She leaned against the wall in a way that was almost cowboy-ish. "Bad 
night?"

Mulder thought for a moment. "Not bad, just... strange."

Scully smiled slightly. "Believe me, it couldn't possibly be any stranger 
than mine." Actually, Scully had had a rather boring night - lounging around 
the house, reading the paper, that sort of thing - but prison had taught her 
to lie.

Suddenly, Mulder stood, placing his arms directly down at his sides as 
though he were confessing. For some reason, he reminded Scully of a young 
blonde girl - perhaps because he was still wearing the long blonde wig that 
he and Doggett had been playing with earlier.

"Doggett and I had a fight," he began. "It was about you. He's mad at me 
because..." He took a deep breath. "I said I think you're sexy."

Scully pretended to have expected this. She lifted her beer just a little 
higher than her hip and asked rather suavely, "Do you want a sip?"

Mulder was overcome by Scully's suaveness. "Sure."

They both walked toward each other slowly until they met in the middle of 
the room, behind the couch.

When they were *very* close, Scully handed him her beer bottle. He took a 
large sip - too large. It began to spill out of his mouth. He handed back 
the bottle and let out a little laugh as Scully wiped the liquid off his 
mouth with her hand and then put one hand on his arm.

"So, you gonna tell me..." She began, nearly whispering. She set the beer 
bottle on the table behind the couch and put the hand that had been holding 
it on Mulder's other arm. "What do you want?"

She rubbed her hands slowly up and down his arms in a gesture that was both 
erotic and a little creepy.

Mulder felt young and naïve. "I don't know."

She stared into his eyes. "You... don't know?"

He had no idea what he was supposed to say. "What do you want?"

Scully smiled the smile of a lecher. "Are you kidding? I want you." She ran 
the back of her right hand along the side of Mulder's face, causing him to 
shut his eyes briefly. "I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you." 
She moved a long blonde hair out of his face and placed her hands on his 
neck. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." She planted a 
soft kiss directly above his right eyebrow- which wasn't an easy task 
considering the fact that he was roughly 8 inches taller than she was. She 
placed another kiss right on his eyelid.

"You don't think I'm a hypocrite?" Mulder asked, sounding like an 
attention-starved teenage girl.

Scully looked him in the eyes. "You couldn't be one if you tried." She 
kissed his cheek, near his mouth.

"Thank you," he said, quietly but sincerely.

She then began to kiss his neck. This made Mulder slightly nervous because 
Scully *did* have red hair and therefore could be considered a vampire by 
some cultures.

"I don't think there's anything worse than being hypocritical."

Scully stepped back from him a moment and their eyes met. Electricity 
crackled between them. They began to kiss passionately, groping each other's 
backs. (Although, of course, Scully was still really the instigator because, 
come on, her aura was a middle-aged man whereas Mulder's was only a 
16-year-old girl.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"The Sky Is Broken" - Moby
The rain pushes
The buildings aside
The sky turns black
The sky

The next thing they knew, Mulder was lying on the big couch, his back flat 
against the cushions, his head against the backrest, and his legs off of the 
couch facing Scully. They made eye contact. Mulder's breathing was the 
loudest thing in the room. This wasn't difficult since there were really no 
other noises (the music had been magically turned off), but if their had 
been a full-power 1960's generator in the room, his breathing still would 
have been louder. He was making a lot of noise.

This did not seem to distract Scully, however. She brought her hands up to 
his torso and began to run her fingers down his tight, white, stretchy 
women's dress shirt that he'd bought at the GAP. Once she reached the end of 
his shirt, she pulled off his pants easily and ran her fingers up his naked 
legs, noticing briefly the skimpy thong underwear he was wearing. She then 
moved forward and adjusted Mulder's wig with one hand. He began breathing 
even harder. Scully was a little concerned now, as a doctor, but she 
continued anyway. She was just way too turned on. Slowly, she unbuttoned 
Mulder's shirt, revealing more and more skin until it was all the way open. 
She couldn't contain herself. She leaned forward to take one of his man 
breasts in her mouth.

His nervous voice stopped her. "This is my first time."

She paused in mid lean, her mouth still open and her eyes now looking upward 
to meet Mulder's awkward face. Er... his awkward expression. His face wasn't 
awkward. I mean, yeah, his nose is a little big, but it *fits* his face. 
Anyway... "You're kidding," she said with a little laugh. What was he trying 
to pull? *She* had fucked him before!

"I'm sorry." He gave a half-hearted smile. "I mean, technically, I guess 
it's not my first time, but I don't count the rape, and well, what I mean to 
say is this is my first *consensual* time. With a woman, that is."

She was still on pause. Mulder didn't know what to say. He tried pushing 
play, but the damn thing was jammed up. He accidentally hit the eject 
button. Scully sprang from the couch onto the floor where she was knocked 
out of her daze. She stood, shook her head, and resumed her position above 
him on the couch.

"I still wanna do it, I just... thought I should tell you. In case you 
wondered why... I wasn't... better."

Scully's face fell and so did her body. She laid on his chest momentarily. 
Mulder stared at her, very confused.

"What's wrong?" Scully got up and sat back on the coffee table, looking sad, 
but also sure of what she was doing. Mulder crinkled his brow. "I thought 
you said I was beautiful."

Scully was in a daze. "You are beautiful."

Mulder sat up on the couch, wrapping his stretchy shirt around his torso, 
feeling suddenly shy.

"You are so beautiful..." Scully found a blanket behind her (out of nowhere) 
and wrapped it around Mulder protectively. "And I would be a very lucky 
woman."

Still confused, Mulder began to cry. "I feel so stupid."

Scully hugged him in a platonic, fatherly way. "Shhh..."

Mulder was sobbing now. "I'm sorry."

She rubbed his back through the blanket. "You have nothing to be sorry 
about. It's okay. Everything's okay."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Satellite" - Smash Mouth
You do it
Do it
You do it for me, yeah
You do it
Do it

A little while later, Mulder and Scully found themselves in the kitchen. 
Mulder was still wrapped in the blanket. Scully had made him a sandwich.

"Wow, I was starving," he said with a little smile, hoping to return to 
normalcy.

"Want me to make you another one?" Scully offered.

"Oh no, I'm fine."

Scully was still playing the protective father. "You sure?"

Mulder smiled. "I'm still a little wierded out, but... I feel better. 
Thanks."

There was a long, not quite awkward silence. Scully's thoughts turned to the 
partner she'd never had but for some reason remembered.

"How's Doggett?"

Mulder's brow creased. What did she care about Doggett? Was she fucking him 
too? "What do you mean?"

She thought for a moment. What the hell did she mean? She wasn't even 
exactly sure how she knew the guy. "I mean... How's his life? Is he happy? 
Is he miserable? I'd really like to know and he'd die before he'd ever tell 
me about it." She figured the last part was true. After all, she'd stolen 
his man.

Mulder thought. "He's uh... He's really happy." He rolled his eyes, 
remembering Knowle. "He thinks he's in love." Mulder wasn't exactly sure why 
he neglected to mention the part about moving to Zaire, but oh well.

Scully smiled. "Good for him."

Mulder didn't know what to say, but he wanted to get the conversation away 
from Doggett. The bastard had just left him, he couldn't really deal with 
this right now. "How are you?" He finally asked.

Scully almost said 'fine,' but stopped herself. "God, it's been a long time 
since anybody asked me that." She thought about the answer for a good long 
while. "I'm pregnant."

Inside, Mulder was shocked and frightened and joyous and all those emotions 
that people feel when someone close to them tells them something like that. 
Outside, however, he was still playing the role of a young blonde girl, and 
so he simply smiled, took a deep breath, and said, "I've got to go the 
bathroom." Then he did.

Left to herself, Scully repeated quietly, "I'm pregnant."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"One of God's Better People" - Robbie Williams
but I don't know,
I just don't know no more.
I don't know

About a year later, Mulder and Scully lived in a little apartment in Moscow. 
Neither of them spoke Russian, but there was still that whole nuclear 
bombing thing and they didn't feel like staying in the US. Or going to 
Africa. So they went to Russia. It was nice. They had a baby. It turned out 
this baby was a result of the rape - or at least according to Scully it was. 
Mulder, on the other hand, claimed that because he was taken against his 
will, conception hadn't been... possible, if you know what I mean. He 
thought the baby was a result of Scully being abducted by aliens in the 
night and them impregnating her. As a result, he didn't exactly trust little 
Fox, Jr.

"The kid's a fraud, Scully!" he would scream at her on a nearly daily basis 
whenever she would try to breast feed it. "It'll suck you dry!"

In response, she would hold it up to Mulder and say, in a monotone voice, 
"Boo."

In response to which, Mulder would do his best to hide under the sofa.

One night, Scully awoke to find Mulder cradling the infant and poking him, 
whispering, "C'mon, shape-shift you little son of a bitch."

Then finally, one day when Scully was breast feeding, Mulder screamed from 
the other room, "hut, hut, HIKE!" then came running into the living room. 
Before Scully knew it, the child was out of her arms and in Mulder's, being 
used as a football in a one-man game. Mulder left the apartment in this 
fashion, and when he returned, five hours later, he proclaimed, "It is 
gone."

Scully shrugged. She didn't really think a baby fit into this story line 
very well anyway.

Just then, the telephone rang.

"Mulder," Mulder answered. Because it was his name.

"Agent Mulder?" He immediately recognized the voice as Skinner's.

Mulder's heart began to pound. "Uh... No." This was all he could think of to 
say. They had finally tracked him down. His world was slowly falling apart.

"It's okay, Mulder," Skinner assured him. "You can come back. We don't care 
anymore. Actually, I never really gave a fuck. Who cares about Nigeria?"

Mulder thought that perhaps this was a trap. "Who cares about Nigeria 
*what*?" he asked cautiously.

"Huh?" Skinner asked.

"What?" Mulder wondered.

"Oh, whatever, Mulder. Go ahead and stay in Russia for all I care. I just 
wanted you to know that it's been over a year now and we've all decided that 
we really don't mind the whole nuclear bomb thing. So... I was assigned to 
call and tell you. Bye." With that, there was a little click and Mulder too 
hung up the phone.

"Scully," Mulder said calmly after he set down the telephone. He turned to 
face her.

"Huh?" she asked, rather eloquently.

"We can go home."

The reality sunk into him just then. And then it sunk into her. Like 
sponges. Not the reality -- them. They were sponges. Which is not to say that 
they held dirt and grime or were altogether disease-full, simply that they 
absorbed things. Such as reality. Which was the substitute for all this 
grime and disease. The reality was harsh. Well, not really- actually it was 
quite nice, but... oh never mind. Fuck off.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Jeanie in a Bottle" - Christina Aguilera
Come
Come
Come on in
Yeah

One day, Anonymous Syndicate Member #37 grew some balls and killed the 
Cigarette-Smoking Man. Everyone rejoiced. All the evil in the world ended, 
there was peace for all mankind, and most importantly, Mulder and Scully 
lived happily ever after.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Bitch" - Meredith Brooks
I'm a bitch
I'm a lover
I'm a child
I'm a mother
I'm a sinner
I'm a saint

Until, that is, one fateful day about 15 years later. Mulder and Scully were 
sitting around the apartment (the one they shared because they were all in 
love and shit - even though they never did get married 'cause that would be 
corny), when they heard a loud thumping at the front door.

Mulder opened it and a strange-looking quasi-humanoid rolled in, ramming 
right into Mulder's left ankle.

"I've found you at last!" it screamed in a squeaky yet menacing little 
voice.

The thing would have looked like a healthy teenage boy if not for the 
missing arms, legs, nose, and caved in stomach. Mulder and Scully stared at 
it as it continued to flail about.

"You did this to me!" it screamed, attempting to bite at Mulder's ankles. 
Mulder sidestepped the thing.

"Oh my God," he whispered. "Fox, Jr.?"

"YES!" it shrieked. "It is I! Your child! Whom you discarded like a piece of 
trash and who has returned to claim his vengeance against those who have 
done him harm!"

Scully crossed her arms from the other side of the room and gave Mulder an 
"I told you so" look. "I said he was yours, Mulder."

Mulder smiled, a little embarrassed. "Resourceful little fucker, isn't he?"

Frustrated, Jr. began to roll around the room with amazing speed, knocking 
into whatever he could find, attempting to do damage. After a while, 
Scully'd had enough, so she walked over, picked him up, and took him down to 
the furnace room in the basement.

No, she didn't put him in the furnace, you sicko! Scully's not that inhuman! 
What the fuck is wrong with you? You think she'd do that to her own *child*?

Nah, she just left him down there to live a miserable existence as the freak 
in the basement that would frighten small children. She figured if she and 
Mulder ever had other kids, she could tell them stories about the monster 
downstairs to keep them away from the furnace.

Months passed before the 'boy' was ever mentioned again. One day, Mulder and 
Scully were just sitting around reading the paper, when Scully asked, rather 
calmly, "Mulder, what exactly did you *do* to Fox, Jr.?"

Mulder looked at the ground timidly. "I just left him in a basket outside 
the Spam factory."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Gettin' Jiggy Wit It" - Will Smith
Get jiggy wit it
Na na na na na na na
Na na na na na na

Yes, the U.S. government had forgotten about the nuclear bombing incident, 
but if there was one thing they didn't forget about, it was rape.

Just one short year after Fox Jr.'s joyous return to his parents' household, 
the police caught up with Dana Scully, the sex offender.

Yes, this was 16 or 17 years after her crime - and after she'd broken out of 
prison. And she hadn't really been trying to evade the police. It simply 
took them that long to find her.

She was put in prison for another 20 years. When she got out, she was almost 
70 years old. Her 'life partner' (like I said, they never got married) was 
dead - killed by a heard of wombats (but that's another story for another 
time). Her son was still living in the furnace room of her old apartment 
building (but she was a little frightened to see him again). All that was 
left for her was to move to a nice little suburban neighbor. However, with 
recent laws, that required that she tell her neighbors of her sordid crimes.

"Ding-dong." The doorbell rang and Paul Jennings went to answer it. His 
wife, Laura, smiled thankfully as he passed her, her large, pregnant belly 
accentuated by the lovely yellow turtleneck sweater she wore. At her feet, 
their 3-year-old, Michael, played with his Tonka truck.

"Coming!" Paul yelled in a welcoming voice. He opened the door to reveal a 
small, warm-looking old woman with a kind smile holding a plate full of 
cookies.

"Hello young man, I'm your new neighbor."

Paul smiled his big dental-insured smile and called to his wife and son. 
"Laura, Michael, come meet our new neighbor!"

It took some time, Laura being as huge as she was these days, but she got 
her son and herself out to the doorway and shook the woman's hand kindly. 
"Hello, I'm Laura Jennings. This is our son, Michael." She ruffled the young 
boy's hair lovingly.

"And I'm Paul," Paul said, still smiling and shaking his new neighbor's 
hand.

"Hello," the woman said, looking a little *distant* in her old age. "My name 
is Dana Scully and I'm a sex offender." She smiled brightly and lifted the 
plate she held in her hands. "Have a cookie?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"The Song That Never Ends" - some fuckhead
This is the song that never ends
Yes it goes on and on my friend
Some people started singing
Not knowing what it was
They'll never stop singing and singing just because
This is the song that never ends...

Scully got kicked out of her nice suburban neighborhood and was forced to 
live out the rest of her days on the streets, cold and wet, trying, not very 
successfully, to whore herself to any living person that crossed her path.

Okay, so she wasn't really *forced* to do this. She could always have moved 
in with Fox, Jr. in that old furnace room - but to be honest, the kid just 
creeped the hell out of her.

When she finally did die, no one noticed, but a few weeks later, someone 
realized that the old woman on the street wasn't moving anymore and found 
this note on her body (I won't tell where):

"I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me, but it's 
hard to stay mad when there's so much ass in the world. Sometimes I feel 
like I'm seeing it all at once and it's too much. My... uh... *heart* fills 
up like a balloon that's about to burst. And then I remember to relax and 
stop trying to get it all, and then it just comes to me, one person at a 
time, and I can't feel anything above my waist and I wonder why I wasn't 
doing this for every single moment of my stupid little life. You have no 
idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry, you will someday."

It is suspected this was a note to her illegitimate daughter, Clover, who 
was whoring for a pimp down the street, but no one can be sure.

THE END

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