From starbuck@csrlink.net Mon Mar 03 18:57:23 1997 Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: **NEW**: Everything But the Kitchen Sink (1/2) From: Amy Schatz Date: Mon, 03 Mar 1997 16:57:23 -0800 -------- Wow, long time no story, mis amigos. Sorry, but John Shiban and his Spanish have gotten to me ("Maria, Maria!"). :D Anyway, I wrote this before the Xmas break, and just didn't get around to posting it. I got the idea when Portia on ATXC posted all the different types of stories and the cliches that we all use. It made me laugh, cause lots of my stories, and some of my favorite stories by other authors used the cliches that Portia mentioned. This is the outcome. :D CATEGORY: H, R, MSR SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully are being made to act a certain way, and they know why, but are too afraid to rebel. Serious warnings of humor, and MSR (yipee!:). STORY NOTE: I mean no offense to any other author, that I may allude to in this story. It's all done in fun. Please don't hate me. :-) I think that anyone who's a XF fanfic junky (like we all are:) will enjoy this. Also, I'm no fan of Pendrell or Skinner, so keep that in mind. THANKS: Let's see, who helped me this time? I wrote this so long ago, it's hard to remember. I believe I need to thank Melissa, Anik, Molly, Char (you read this, yes?), and Michelle, I think. :) Also, thanks to everyone on the M&S list. You guys are the best! DISCLAIMER: I don't own them...blah blah blah... Just come and get me, Chris Carter! I ain't afraid of you! Songs mentioned herein are not owned by me. MAIL: If you'd like to write to me about this (please, write!:), you can reach me at: If anybody has any problems receiving the two parts, let me know and I'll send it to you. :D On to the fun...I hope. :-) ===================================== EVERYTHING BUT THE KITCHEN SINK - 1/2 by Amy Schatz It was early when Mulder walked into his basement office, his clothes appropriately rumpled and wrinkled because he had slept in them. He didn't really know why he had done that - it wasn't like it was *that* far to his closet. But he had just walked in the door, inexplicably ordered and ate what he knew to be bad Chinese take-out, then collapsed down on his couch. After finding the channel that was somehow always having a marathon of B-grade sci-fi movies, he fell into his usual state of fitful sleep. Of course, he had awakened at least ten times during the night from a bad nightmare. He had wanted to call Scully, but hadn't, feeling he wasn't allowed. He didn't want to risk a certain someone's wrath. So, that was how he came to be at the office at six o'clock in the morning. a strange voice inside him ordered. he thought, as he slipped his glasses on, and then appropriately buried his nose in a case file. * * * At around eight, Mulder heard the distinctive sound of Scully's heels click-clacking down the hall. How he could pick out the sound of her steps from others, he did not know...it was just a gift he had been given. Soon, Scully entered, carrying a paper bag. Her clothes, hair, and make-up were all impossibly perfect - even though there was practically a monsoon outside. She didn't have one drop of water on her...not one hair was out of place. How she could look so pristine all the time baffled Mulder. It wasn't very realistic. "Morning, Mulder," she said happily. Mulder didn't look at her as he nodded, and said, "Good morning." Scully walked over to him and set a plastic cup and something wrapped in wax paper in front of him. He looked up, and the scent of strawberries assaulted his nose mercilessly. "Wow...went a little heavy on the shampoo this morning, huh, Scully?" he whispered. "My nose works fine, you know." "Shut up," she whispered back harshly. "She *made* me wash it ten times, okay? *She* thinks it drives you crazy." Mulder decided to forget about it, had a few, quick thoughts about how the smell of her strawberry shampoo drove him crazy, and then looked back down at the items before him. "What's all this?" Scully had been properly enraptured with imagining what Mulder looked like naked, so she didn't answer him right away. her inner voice ordered, snapping her back to reality. "Breakfast," she finally answered. Mulder popped the top off the cup and sniffed it carefully, barely able to strain out the scent of the strawberries. Finally, after he was certain of what he was smelling, he frowned and then moved on to the wrapped object. When he unwrapped *it*, he frowned again. "Scully," he whined, looking up at her. "I don't like Hazlenut/Irish Cream/Ginger/Mocha/French Vanilla/Chocolate Mint coffee! And I really don't like Peach/Pear/Apple Turnovers!" Scully shrugged. "So? You didn't want to come to my mother's house for Christmas, New Year's, Easter, President's Day, Columbus Day, St. Patrick's Day, my birthday, my cousin's shower, or Spring Cleaning Day, but you were glad you did afterwards, right? So give the coffee and pastry a try." She hoped that he would buy that and just leave well enough alone. Scully was not up to a fight with *Her* today. Mulder shook his head, suddenly feeling rebellious, and thinking that this insanity had gone on too long and too far. "But, Scully-" "Mulder!" she hissed, "stick to the script!" "But-" "No buts! Do you think *I* like the stuff?" she asked, gesturing to her own bag. "It's disgusting, I know, but *She* thinks it's what we'd eat and drink. So, I *had* to buy it, and now you *have* to eat it." Mulder suddenly remembered his greatest weapon, and he unleashed it, favoring Scully with his Puppy-dog face. The face that melted a million hearts. The one over which millions swooned. The one that could launch a thousand posts to a newsgroup. Scully crossed her arms, her face impassive. "That's not going to work on me today, Mulder. *She* made sure of it." Mulder frowned again. "But, Scully, why did you have to buy it? It's not like *She* held a gun to your head." Scully smirked at him. "Oh no? Don't you think that making me think about asking Pendrell out on a date is a gun to my head? Cause when I tried to drive past the coffee shop, I suddenly thought about how `cute' Pendrell is, and that he'd look even cuter in the hazy glow of candlelight." Mulder looked horrified. "Now, normally, *I* never even think about Pendrell, and I certainly don't think he's cute. So, like I said, I had to buy the stuff." Mulder was so repulsed he couldn't even speak. "So," said Scully, sitting down at her own desk, and pulling out her own bizarre coffee and pastry, "unless you want to start having fantasies about Krycek, I'd start in on your breakfast." Mulder shook his head. "*She* wouldn't..." Scully looked up at him. "Oh, really? You don't think so? I wouldn't want to find out, Mulder. Just do what *She* wants. It's easier that way." "But can't *She* hear us now?" he asked, cringing as he swallowed a mouthful of the awful coffee. Scully shook her head, picking over her banana- nut/blueberry/macadamia-nut muffin. "She's at class. I guess she actually decided to go today. We're safe for a while." "Why? How do you know that *She* didn't get someone to watch us?" Scully sighed. "Mulder, that statement was even too paranoid for you." "I don't think so. I don't trust *Her* at all. Not after all *She's* put us through," he said, forcing himself to eat a piece of the terrible turnover. Scully just looked at him. Mulder wondered what was wrong with Scully. She knew how this was supposed to go, didn't she? "I said, not after all *She's* put us through," he said, stressing each word. All of a sudden, Scully's eyes went wide as she understood, and she gasped quite melodramatically, dropped the coffee she had been holding, and rushed out of the room. Mulder watched her go, wondering what *She* had planned for Scully *this* time. * * * Scully knelt before the toilet, breathing deeply, waiting for the final aftershocks of the vomiting to cease. She had no idea why she was sick. After all, she only ate healthy food, was hardly ever sick - unless she counted her coma, the few near-fatal accidents she had had, that one illness that had almost killed her, and that nasty hangnail she had had the day before. So, *what* could this be? Why was she sick? Scully just didn't know. Scully rose to her feet and turned around in the stall. She wanted to leave, but she couldn't. After all, there was a schedule in place here. A minute went by, and all was quiet in the bathroom. Scully tapped her foot on the floor, becoming restless. She looked at her watch, wondering what was going on. "Where are they?" she asked herself. "They should have been here minutes ago." Just then, she heard the door whisk open and two women walked inside. "It's about time," Scully muttered. "Oh, please," one of them said as they walked up to the mirror. "You *know* they're doing it." The other one sighed. "I don't think so. Besides, if they are, then *I* don't have a chance with him." Scully had climbed up onto the toilet so they couldn't see her feet, as per what was expected of her. So, as Scully precariously balanced herself in the stupid five-inch heels that *She* had made her wear, (because *She* said that Mulder loved what they did to Scully's legs), she tried to overhear the women's conversation. "Like you ever had a chance," said the first woman. "He's in love with her. It's so obvious. They're probably doing it right now...down there in that dark basement office. And if they're not, then they're both dead." Upon hearing this, Scully purposely almost slipped, making a face as she went through this ridiculous act. How many more times would she have to go through this? How many more times would she have to overhear the same conversation? It was getting boring, and it always went the same way: she would be in the bathroom stall, and would go to get out, when two other women would walk in, and start talking about the rumors floating around the bureau about Mulder and her, say that either she or Mulder were dead, and then take bets on how much longer they would be able to resist each other. Finally, the women left, and Scully was able to get down from the toilet and exit the bathroom. As she walked back to their office, she once again began wondering why she had gotten sick. Couldn't be bad food, couldn't be an illness, couldn't be poison...what could it be? And then it hit her. Hit her so hard, she sank against the wall, making sure that others saw her. Oh. My. God. She had forgotten that last month she and Mulder had had wild, animal sex for hours! That was it! She had to be pregnant! she thought to herself. But, those thoughts were banished from Scully's head as *She* put different ones into Scully's mind. Proper thoughts. Thoughts that *She* thought Scully would have. So, fearing more daydreams about Pendrell, Scully played along. She remembered how afterwards, neither of them had been able to handle the implications, so they had decided to stay `just friends'. Scully still made a face when she thought about *that* line of crap. Like that was possible. I mean, how did *She* expect them to go back to how it was before? But then Scully realized something: *She* was only doing this so that *She* could get them together later on - so *She* could have an angst-fest, a cornucopia of melodrama... "How ridiculous," said Scully sarcastically, sighing. Unbidden, an image of Pendrell sitting on her bed, wearing nothing but a smoking jacket popped into her mind. Scully gasped, and covered her eyes with her hands. "No!" she shouted, not caring if anyone heard her. "Please, no...I'll go along with it," she pleaded. "I'll do whatever you want," she said, her voice full of anguish. Thankfully, the image left her mind. Scully sagged against the wall, waiting for a few moments - trying to get herself together again. she thought to herself, She nodded to herself and pushed away from the wall, straightening out her clothes. After taking a deep breath, she began walking down the hall again, trying to stay focused. But it was hard. she thought to herself, knowing that this rebellion could earn her The Horror. The Horror was what she and Mulder called it, and neither of them wanted to partake of it again. It had only happened to them once - when they had tried to make a run for it. *She* had been particularly angry that day, and had subjected them to The Horror. Scully thought. But her mind kept returning to the fact that she was pregnant - with Mulder's baby. Could she tell him? Would he be happy? Of course, Scully knew that nothing would make Mulder happier. However, *She* would undoubtedly think otherwise, and Scully knew *Her* well enough to guess what *She* would do. Scully sighed. * * * Mulder looked up as Scully re-entered the office, but being the extremely dense man *She* thought him to be, he had to pretend not to notice his partner's distress. "So, Scully, about this case-" "Mulder, I have to tell you something," said Scully, determined to at least *try* the logical way first. "What?" he asked, his whole face a question. She took a deep breath, prepared to fight to get this out. "I'm p-" Scully abruptly cut off when an image of Pendrell in a red speedo assaulted her mind. Her eyes swam shut, and she braced her hands on her desk. "What is it, Scully?" asked Mulder, on alert now. After all, according to *Her* rules, Scully had made the appropriate scene, and now he was allowed to notice her distress. Apparently the science of body language and facial expressions wasn't taught at Oxford. "...Pendrell..." she was only able to mutter. Mulder was immediately before her, kneeling at her feet. He put his hands in hers and said, "Do your breathing exercises." Scully cracked one eye open and looked down at him, while trying to stay in-character. "Which breathing exercises?" she whispered. "You know. The ones that Melissa taught you?" "When did she teach them to me?" Mulder sighed. "When you were in medical school and she was off in California dating a surfer to rebel against your father. You know, when she was estranged from the family for five years...until you all were reunited when you were in the coma." "Why would she know breathing exercises?" Scully was truly curious. She had always wondered why *She* thought that Melissa was some Yoga expert. Mulder shrugged. "Well, she did wear that crystal..." Scully made a face. "So? Mulder, just because a person wears a crystal, it does not mean that they're this New Age nut-case." Mulder was at a loss. It had been put in his head that Melissa was this creature of the New Age. He had never really stopped to think about how illogical it was because he also had a deep-seeded dislike of Melissa. Of course, he had no idea why. "But-" Scully cut him off. "No buts, Mulder. Think about it. There have been many-" Her diatribe was stopped by the likeness of Pendrell in skin-tight black leather pants and a black silk t-shirt. She cried out, and brought her hands up to massage her temples. "Oh, God, please make it stop..." she moaned. Mulder just couldn't stand to see Scully in such distress. "Scully, breathe with me...come on...one, two, three, exhale...one, two, three..." Scully did as he asked, and soon, the horrible mental picture faded away. She breathed a sigh of relief, and sagged back in her chair. "Thank goodness that's over..." Mulder smiled softly, and reached up to brush a lock of her hair away from her face. he thought, as per the script, "Feeling better?" he asked after a few moments. Scully nodded. "Yes. *She's* being particularly vicious today." Mulder nodded as well. "Must be time for mid-terms." Scully agreed with a smile. "So, what did you want to tell me?" he asked. Scully took another deep breath, knowing she would have to say the drivel that *She* had conjured, or risk The Horror. "Mulder..." "Yes?" he asked, suitably clueless. Scully wanted to tell him the truth, she really did, but there was just no way that she would risk another jaunt into the Many Sides of Pendrell. "Mulder, I'm...I'm...leaving..." End of part 1/2...concluded in part 2/2 From starbuck@csrlink.net Mon Mar 03 18:59:03 1997 Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: **NEW**: Everything But the Kitchen Sink (2/2) From: Amy Schatz Date: Mon, 03 Mar 1997 16:59:03 -0800 -------- Please see disclaimers and notes in part one. :D Please write to me! :) ================================ EVERYTHING BUT THE KITCHEN SINK - 2/2 by Amy Schatz "So, what did you want to tell me?" he asked. Scully took another deep breath, knowing she would have to say the drivel that *She* had conjured, or risk The Horror. "Mulder..." "Yes?" he asked, suitably clueless. Scully wanted to tell him the truth, she really did, but there was just no way that she would risk another jaunt into the Many Sides of Pendrell. "Mulder, I'm...I'm...leaving..." Mulder's face took on a look of utter horror. "What?!" Scully thought, noting how Mulder's acting had improved. "I have to, Mulder. I just can't take this anymore." Mulder knew what he was *supposed* to say, but he was tired of saying it. "Why, Scully? You've already left once because I had a girlfriend." "You mean Cassandra? The short one with the red hair and blue eyes?" He nodded. "Yes, and then you left again when you had a boyfriend, and he asked you to marry him." Scully's eyes hardened. "Yeah...Derek - the emergency room doctor from Washington General - the one I met when you got shot...what a dolt he was. He just walked away when he came upon you and I hugging. I mean, of course we hugged. I had been in Arizona for a year after leaving the Bureau *that* time, and we hadn't seen each other. But Derek said he knew that I didn't love him - that I loved someone else. But who?" Mulder gave her a knowing look. "Do you have to ask?" She shook her head tiredly. "No." "And then you left when you got that near-fatal disease." She nodded. "Yes, when I thought I had that rare strain of Dinoflagellitus-noirium. But you found me a cure in time," she said, smiling at him. Mulder squeezed her hand. "It was nothing. Cancerman had one vial of the antidote left in an abandoned warehouse in Prague." He sat down on the floor, as if they were telling old, familiar stories. "Then there was the time that you found out that Melissa and I had had a one-night- stand while you were in the coma. You didn't even pack your bags that time." Scully patted his cheek. "But then you told me you did it because you didn't think you could have me, so I came back." Mulder grinned. "And then the next time you left because I ditched you for the *billionth* time, because some shadowy figure told me he knew where Samantha was. I later found out it was all a ruse. I thought *She'd* keep you away for good that time." Scully shook her head. "How could *She* keep me away when *She* had the retro-virus reactivate in you? That was *Her* big masterpiece after all. Five-hundred pages, where all that happened was you got sick and subsequently healed, while I sat at your bedside in the same outfit day after day, philosphizing about how short life is, how we are all mere specks in the grand scheme of things, and thinking, " Mulder nodded. "Ah, you're right. Yes, *She* had to bring you back - couldn't pass up on an opportunity like that." Suddenly, Scully started to see the hilarity of their situation. "What about that time that you dated that woman Sabrina?" Mulder chuckled. "The one who worked at the topless bar?" "Uh-huh...and I kept telling you that she was really a plant. That she was really working for *Them*, but you wouldn't believe me." "Nope...but I sure learned my lesson that time." "I should think so. After all, before you would believe me I had to burst into your apartment and shoot her just as she was about to stick you with a poison dart that would have made your death look like a heart attack." They were silent for a few seconds, and then they both burst out laughing. Mulder fell back onto the floor laughing, clutching at his sides. Meanwhile, Scully leaned back in her chair, howling. They laughed for at least two minutes. Finally, Scully managed to pull herself together, and she looked down at Mulder, and saw that he, too, had quieted. She wiped the tears from her eyes. "Doesn't *She* see how ridiculous it all is?" she asked him. His eyes were closed. "I guess not, since we're still here." Scully was silent, pondering his statement. Mulder suddenly sat up. "So, do you still have to leave?" Scully looked up at the ceiling. "Hey, you're right. Why hasn't *She* made me run out of here already?" Mulder, too, looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know. Maybe *She's* sleeping...at class...at lunch...studying?" Scully shook her head slowly. "I don't like the feel of this, Mulder. *She's* planning something - I know it." Suddenly, Mulder and Scully both looked at each other, equal expressions of pure fear on their faces. "You don't think...?" Mulder trailed off, unable to finish the thought. Scully slid off her chair and sat down next to him, taking his hand in hers. "If *She* does, we'll go through it together." Mulder's face looked like that of a turkey on Thanksgiving Day. "No, no, Scully...I can't go through that again." Scully made him look at her, and stared at him hard. "Mulder, we can go through anything together. You've got to believe that. Look at what *She's* done to us so far. We can do this." Mulder shook his head. "Scully, if this were sewer monsters, vampires, killer kitties, lake monsters, liver- eating mutants, or small-town blonde detectives we were talking about, I'd be right there with you. But we're not. This is The Horror we're talking about, and I can't handle it again. I say we make a run for it." Scully thought about what he said, and realized he was right. She might talk a tough game, but she knew that there was no way she could go through The Horror a second time. She looked at the door, beckoning to them like a siren song. Nodding, she said, "You're right. Let's go!" And like a flash, they were both on their feet and running towards the door. Once there, Mulder flung open the door, and they were about to run through, when they cried out, sinking to the floor like Captain Kirk and his crew had so many times. "NO!" Mulder shouted, letting Scully's hand slip from his. His hands flew to his face, covering it. "Make it stop!" he pleaded. Beside him, Scully was in the same predicament and position. She, too, was moaning in pain, begging for *Her* to stop this unnecessary and cruel punishment. This Horror... For in both their minds was one picture, one thought, one image: Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner dancing seductively...wearing nothing but a pair of skin-tight jeans, his chest bare and slicked with oils, while he sang the Johnny Mathis classic, "Chances Are". The moaning went on for a full five minutes, with Skinner doing a medley of Michael Jackson's "Black or White", Madonna's "Crazy for You", Amy Grant's "Baby, Baby", Sarah McLachlan's "Possession", and ending with Ricky Nelson's "Travelin' Man". By this time, both Mulder and Scully's spirits were completely broken and they had succumbed. They would do anything *She* wanted, as long as they didn't have to endure The Horror any longer. "Please, please, end this!" Scully called out. "We'll cooperate with you. We'll go along with anything you like." And just like that, the repulsive image of Skinner was gone from their minds. Scully and Mulder immediately reached for the other, and they held each other close. After a while, Scully muttered, "Guess she wasn't sleeping..." A passing thought about how Pendrell would look in Dockers flashed through Scully's mind, and she knew enough to be quiet. They sat like that, on the floor, for a long while. They needed to recuperate, to realize that The Horror was really over. Finally, they carefully rose to their feet, and after a final, quick hug, and a muttered "Be strong" from Mulder, retired to their respective desks. They were both silent, almost as if they were receiving telepathic orders, until Scully broke the silence ten minutes later. "Mulder, I have to tell you something," Scully said, hoping that her voice held the right amount of breathiness, huskiness, and nervousness that was expected. Before saying anything, Mulder decided he better have the proper thoughts. So, he wondered how Scully's voice could be so breathy, husky, and nervous, all at the same time. "I thought you already did. You're leaving. You already told me, Scully. Don't worry. *She'll* have me seek you out in a few months. Where do you think it'll be this time? Personally, I think she's ready for an overseas excursion. She's tried to make you go to Russia before..." "No, it's not that. I'm not leaving anymore." "Huh?" Mulder looked up at her, confused. "*She* changed it. Now I have to tell you something." He sighed. "Oh, all right." "Mulder, I'm...I'm..." thought Scully. "I'm pregnant - with your baby." Mulder's mouth dropped down to his knees. thought Scully. Mulder was elated, but knew he didn't dare show it right away. "But...it was only that one time," he protested, his execution an exercise in perfection. "Well, I guess *She* thinks you're extremely virile." "What are we going to do?" he asked. Scully shrugged. "I'm not sure what she has planned yet. But I'm sure it will involve angst, mushy romantic moments, and an NC-17 chapter." Mulder's eyes widened, and Scully wasn't sure if it was from fear, or anticipation. "But, *She* doesn't write NC- 17..." "*She* could always get someone else to write that part for her...oh god!" Mulder was on his feet. "What?" "What if this other person asks to help her? Then we'd have to deal with two of them!" Mulder's face went ashen, and he sank back into his chair. "May God have mercy on us," he muttered, his eyes closed. "Look, let's just do this one day at a time, okay?" Scully suggested, her rational nature kicking in. "If that happens, then we'll deal with it. Right now let's just do as *She* asks, so we don't have to go through you-know-what again." Mulder nodded in agreement, as he massaged his temples. "What's next on the roster?" "Names." His eyes snapped open. "Names? We haven't even discussed what we're going to do yet!" Scully sighed and rolled her eyes. "What's to discuss? It's obvious she'll marry us off to each other, send us to live in some big, wonderful house, probably throw in a pet or two, and have your mother and mine become best friends. So, next up is picking a name." "Okay," he said tiredly. "What are you thinking of?" Scully gave him a look. "You mean, what is *She* thinking of. Personally, if it's a girl, I like Jill." Scully's act of creativity was rewarded by having her ponder at what temperature Pendrell liked his bathwater. "OKAY!" she hissed. "Nevermind Jill, Mulder. What about Samantha Melissa?" Mulder shuddered inwardly, but pressed onward, no longer as brave as Scully. "Or it could be Margaret Katherine." "Or Katherine Samantha," Scully said, through clenched teeth. "And if it's a boy, we could go with William Fox." "Fox William?" Scully offered belligerently. "William William?" asked Mulder, unable to resist. Mulder's little `joke' was not appreciated, and his mind was instantly filled with the image of Krycek doing the Lambada. "Ouch! All right, Miss Grouch," Mulder muttered up towards the ceiling. "Okay," Scully said, knowing they had better keep the act up or risk punishment. "Now, where should we live? Annapolis?" "Georgetown?" "Alexandria..." * * * *She* felt that it was safe enough to leave them for the time being, so *She* got up from her notebook computer and walked over to her phone. As she dialed the now familiar number, she looked around her small, pathetically cramped dorm room. On her side of the room, X-Files posters and pictures adorned every wall surface and bulletin board available. Her bookshelves contained books on UFO's, Anne Rice, Star Trek, strange science fiction novels, and of course, every X-Files book in print. However, on her roommate's side, there were posters of roses, puppy calendars, and a pink comforter. "Ugh..." she said, shuddering. She wondered how someone could live with such...cuteness...all the time. Her desk was so full of a computer, a printer, print- outs of her stories, a mouse pad, and soda cans that there was barely enough room for her schoolbooks. Her father would have said it was symbolic. Finally, someone answered her call. "I'd like to speak to The Creator, please," *She* said. "What is the password?" the person on the other end asked. "One Breath," she answered tiredly. "Which Creator?" "Either one," she said. "Who is calling?" "Agent 676." "Hold please." A few moments later, she heard a click, and then: "Hello, Amy." "Hello, sir," she answered. "I'm reporting in, sir." "Make your report." "I'm almost finished with the latest story you requested. *They* were being quite truculent this time around, but I've got things under control." Amy heard a scuffling on the other end of the line as the person she was talking to wrote something down. "What story is this again?" he asked. "Cold Obsidian. I believe you titled it yourself, sir." "No, not that one. My partner thought of that one. What's the plot again?" "Scully finds out that she's pregnant - with Mulder's baby." "Ah yes! I remember that one now. Interesting tale. How's it coming?" "Well, she's just now told him, sir," Amy answered, trying her best to be the picture of professionalism. "No running away?" "Not this time. *They* didn't take too well to that idea. *They* forced me to use The Horror." "Oooh, they were *that* bad, eh? Must be getting tired." Amy nodded. "I guess so, sir. After all, they are only two people, and there are tons of writers out there." "True," he said. "Well, after this one, my partner and I would like one where Scully's memories of her abduction come to the surface and she runs to Mulder for help. Perhaps it could happen while they're on a case. Make it at night, and she runs to his hotel room. I'm sure you can fill in the appropriate romantic scenes. We trust you with our vision." "Understood," said Amy. "Very well then. Call back later for a title." "Okay. Sir, how are you and your partner doing?" She heard a sigh, and then he said, "It's tolerable, I suppose. We're still not allowed to do what we'd like with the characters, but I think that *He's* bending a little - allowing more than he used to. I think it's because we've just come back, and he thinks he has to be nice to us and coddle us, or we'll leave again. *And* we have found a new ally." Amy nodded. "I think I know who you mean." "You do?" he asked, surprised. "Yes. Mr. Gilligan, correct?" "Yes! He's a godsend, I tell you. A pioneer! He's breaking ground that we had only dreamed of two years ago." "You could break the same ground, sir," Amy suggested. "No. *He* still expects certain things from us, and stepping over *that* line isn't one of them. Thank God we have all of you, our agents, to spread our *real* wishes. Because of all of you, we have an outlet through which our true natures can be shown." "I'm glad we can help both of you, sir," said Amy, happy that she could help this man and his friend. "Thank you, Agent 676. Well, you've probably left *them* alone long enough. You'd best get back to work." "Yes, sir. Ah, one more thing, sir?" "Yes?" Amy hesitated only a few seconds. "I'm not doing so well in Chemistry." "Why not?" "Well, I haven't gone to class in three weeks - working on the story, you know." She laughed, but it was a nervous laugh. "I see. I'll take care of it today. Don't worry about it. What grade would you like?" Amy thought about that for a few moments. "A `B', I think, sir." "Not an A?" "No, no one would believe it. We're safer with a `B'." He sighed. "Very well." "Thank you, sir." "Goodbye, Agent 676. May the CITC and UST go with you." "And with you, sir," she said before hanging up. * * * Glen Morgan hung up the phone, pushed himself away from his personal notebook computer, and walked into an ajoining room. In it, sat his partner, James Wong, their new ally, Vince Gilligan, and their nemesis/boss Chris Carter. "Where have you been, Glen?" asked Chris. "Ummm...on the phone with...my mother." Chris nodded, thankfully buying the lie. "Oh, okay. Well, let's get back to the script, shall we?" Glen sighed. "Fine." "Now," said Chris, pointing to a storyboard card, "this is act four, and Scully's just been saved, by Mulder, from being ice-picked to death by the Bounty Hunter. What happens next is-" "They hug?" offerred James hopefully, cutting Chris off. "No," said Chris, shaking his head curtly. "They hold hands?" suggested Vince. Chris looked to Vince, his eyes cold. "Absolutely not. You've snuck too many of those scenes by me recently. It won't happen again." Vince looked away, obviously deflated. "They talk about what's just happened, and support and console each other?" asked Glen. "No, Mr. Sensitivity," snarled Chris. "Then what happens?" asked James. "Simple. They act like it never happened, and then Mulder tells Scully to follow the Bounty Hunter while he goes off to see Marita. And that, my friends, is how you develop characters," said Chris proudly. thought Glen. THE END