Date: 24 Mar 1999 15:21:48 GMT
Subject: "For Whom the Bell Tolls", 1/1,Badfic/Satire, slash

"For Whom the Bell Tolls"
By A. Non-Mouse 

Disclaimer: They do not belong to me, I cannot make money off them, and if
Chris Carter sees this, I'm dead.
Category:  Badfic, satire
Summary:  Interesting Happenings in Slashland.

NOTE:  This is being posted for a lurker friend.  Please put "A. Non-Mouse" in
the subject line of all feedback and flames.  JiM wishes she were this talented
but it ain't a happenin' thing, so she'll just forward all feedback. Thanks!
* * * 

For Whom the Bell Tolls.....

Pendrell was whistling as he went through the door, carrying his bag of
groceries.  Even though he was only a tertiary character, he was still looking
mighty pretty, so he was surprised when the Slash Police stopped him in the
hallway.  "Drop those groceries right now," barked one. 

He stopped, nearly cowering back against the door.  "Who are you people?"

"We're the Slash Police," answered the other.  

They looked anonymous, almost insectile with their riot gear on and he dropped
the bag hurriedly, wincing as the carton of milk burst open on the polished
wood of the hallway floor.  "Wh-where's Mulder?"

"I'm right here, Bri," Mulder's voice was thin with terror.  "They say I'm too
schmoopy, I'm not dark enough, so they arrested me."

Pendrell's jaw dropped.  "Not dark enough? What about all that angst when your
mother showed up, Fox?"

"That's another thing," barked one of the officers.  "You and Mulder do NOT
belong together."

Pendrell felt his eyes sting.  "Why not?"

"Because you aren't a primary character and," snarled the other, "You aren't
PRETTY enough." 

His stomach knotted.  But he drew himself up bravely.  "Excuse me, and Skinner
IS?"

"Skinner is a big bad Leather Daddy," the first officer told him and tapped the
shockstick meaningfully against a leather gloved palm.  

What the hell, he was still a Special Agent in the FBI and he was armed. 
Whipping out his Sig Sauer, he shot, aiming for the throat of the first
officer.  The second squeaked and backed away hurriedly, but Mulder brought his
linked wrists over that one's head and used the handcuffs to 
garrote him.  Her.  Whatever. 

"Come on, Fox, we've got to get out of here," Pendrell snarled and frisked the
two bodies for the key to the cuffs.  In a trice, he had his lover freed and
they were out the door and heading for the car. 

"Brian, where the hell are we going to go?" Mulder slid behind the wheel, his
expression harried.  

"We'll try your buddies, the Lone Gunmen," he told Mulder, checking the street
for more patrol cars.  It was clear, he nodded at Mulder and Mulder backed out
of their driveway at top speed.
 
The office of the Lone Gunmen was empty and in disarray.  File cabinets had
been tipped over and papers were strewn everywhere, disquietingly flecked with
blood.  Only one clue could be found as to the whereabouts of Mulder's three
friends--the banner scrolling across one of the computers that said RESIST
CONFORMITY !!! 

"The Slash Police have been here," Mulder breathed, hardly daring to make a
sound.

"Damn them."  Pendrell looked around helplessly.  "God knows what's happened to
them."

Mulder swallowed hard.  "Jesus, they could be dead."

"Worse, they could be back in genfic."  Pendrell put his arm around his lover's
waist.  "Come on, I know who can help us.  Just try and keep your temper." 
They headed toward the door.

"If we're going to see your old boyfriend," Mulder grumbled, "What makes you
think that the Slash  Police haven't already gotten there?"

Pendrell eyed him, took the keys and got behind the wheel this time, letting
Mulder take the passenger seat.  "They think of him as a Pretty Boy."

"With one arm?"  Mulder sounded incredulous.  "I mean, disabilities don't
bother them?"

"The only disability those freaks know are shortness and lack of glamour boy
looks," Pendrell snapped and turned the key, pressing the pedal to the metal.

Mulder nodded thoughtfully.  "I just don't get it," he finally said, perplexed.
 "I never thought of myself as a glamour boy."

Pendrell spared one fond look for him.  "That's because you think of yourself
as a geek.  The Slash Police think of you as a God.  Well, except for the ones
who loathe you."

Taken aback, Mulder stared at him.  "They loathe me?"

Pendrell waved a hand airily.  "Don't let it bother you.  They're tainted by
the MSRfic contingent, they think you're an asshole."

Mulder blinked.  "But   I *am* an asshole a lot of the time, Bri.  I'm
obsessed, I'm focused, I'm practically OCD!"

"That's all right, babe," Pendrell told him cheerfully, "That's why you're so
good in bed." 

Clearly more bewildered than ever, Mulder was silent for the rest of the drive.
 When they pulled up in front of the abandoned warehouse, though, he scowled. 
"He'd better be able to help us," he grumbled.

Pendrell patted Mulder's thigh and got out.  "He will.  He's just as much at
risk.  I mean, face it, Fox, he's done me, and he's done Byers and God knows
who else." 

Mulder's eyes widened.  "He's done BYERS?"

"Shhhh."  Drawing his weapon again, Pendrell inched his way up to the door. 
Listened.  Cries of pleasure were all that could be heard from inside and he
rolled his eyes at Mulder.  "He's such a slut," affectionately, and he opened
the door. 

The warehouse was empty inside except for two men, a leather sling holding one
of them men, and a sideboard sitting in the middle of the room with various
BDSM accoutrements strewn over the top. 

For one awful moment Pendrell thought the Slash Police had beaten them there. 
But there was no sign of the jackbooted, riot helmet wearing Nazis.  Thank God.
 The first man, of course, was his ex, moaning like the little pig for hot sex
that he was, and the second was, naturally, the AD, who was rimming Alex Krycek
to a farethewell. 

Carefully entering the shadows, Pendrell frowned.  Neither man was wearing
socks.  And the BDSM accessories were rather......extreme.  Jesus, he wasn't
even sure that Alex COULD take a dildo that size. 

He waved at Mulder to follow him, held a finger to his lips.  Mulder tiptoed
after him, and they skirted the room, listening to moans and whimpers until
Mulder clutched at him.  "There's something unnatural about this," he whispered
in Pendrell's ears.  "I mean, rimming feels good, but it sounds like he's
having multiple orgasms, and let's face it, Brian, he's not that much younger
than me." 

Pendrell nodded grimly.  "I'm afraid they've been here ahead of us." 

"They've been mindwiped," Mulder whispered, clutching him more tightly. 
"Brian, we have to get out of here."

Mulder was right.  But he couldn't just leave Alex there like that, innocent
victim of the Slash Police.  As if someone or something had heard his prayers,
Skinner abruptly stood up and went to the sideboard, picking up a rather nasty
looking riding crop. 

"Omigod," Mulder whispered and put his forehead on Pendrell's shoulder.  "He
might be bad, but he never deserved this." 

"That's very good, Mr. Skinner."  The voice came out of the shadows, faintly
accented, and a tall, thin man walked in.  "Now it's time to teach your colt a
lesson and break him in right.  Get that lovely ripe ass up there."

"OGOD," Mulder was shivering.  "I know that voice.  I know that man.....Brian,
we have to get out of here, we need reinforcements!" 

Pendrell's heart ached uselessly, he flinched when the crop whistled through
the air and Alex shrieked.  "Whip me, beat me, make me write bad checks," he
screamed, "Do it, Skinner!"

Mulder fled silently, leaving Pendrell behind.  With tears in his eyes,
Pendrell followed.  "Who was that, Fox?"

"Someone you don't ever want to know," Mulder whimpered and got into the back
seat, curling into a fetal position.  "I spent my spring vacation with him
once, a long, sad time ago." 

Pendrell stared.  "I don't remember you ever mentioning that, Fox?"

Mulder shuddered and began to suck his thumb.  

Sighing, Pendrell closed the back door of the sedan and got behind the wheel
again.  Damn those Slash Police and their focus on DARKNESS.  He was going to
get them if it was the last thing he did.

And it might well be.......

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

Reinforcements were not to be found.  The Sentinelfic people had no slash
police, and the Profic people were too busy having a good time in their off
hours.  The STfic folks hadn't been born yet, and Pendrell hadn't the slightest
notion of how to build a time machine--if he did, he'd send the Slash Police
far into the past and let a T-Rex nosh on them for elevenses. 

Worst of all, Mulder could not be roused from his cowed stupor and was showing
signs of stigmata, his back and ass were bleeding with whip cuts, as if he were
experiencing whatever Alex were experiencing.

He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life.  He took Mulder to the lab and
tried to reach Scully, but her answering machine said she was trapped in an MSR
and would back as soon as she could escape to pick up Holly. 

He had to put Mulder to bed on the cot he kept in his office for those late
night cases, and nearly dozed over his desk--at the stroke of midnight, three
shadows crept across the main lab and he jolted awake, his weapon leveled, to
see Frohike , Byers and Langley standing in the doorway, wearing their best
camoflauge. 

"Guys," he hissed, "We thought you were goners."

"Almost," Frohike said coolly, "But Langley's kung fu is the best.  We managed
to outsmart them.  They really haven't got a lot of imagination, you know." 

Byers nodded grimly.  "But never fear. Right now our manifesto is going out
over the air."

"What's wrong with Mulder?" asked Langley, bending over the cot.  "Oh, shit,
it's Spring Vacation recall, isn't it?"

"I think so," Pendrell told him and swallowed past the lump in his throat.  "He
said something about his spring vacation before he curled up into that ball."

"Don't worry."  Frohike patted Pendrell's shoulder.  "He's just trapped in the
longest running hurt nurture story of all time.  The most well  revised, I
might add, but it just keeps getting angstier and more ludicrous.  Tell me, has
he seen any Aubusson carpets lately?"

Pendrell blinked.  "Well, there was one at the warehouse--we need help, guys,
they've gotten to Alex and Skinner.  Right about now, Alex should be requiring
skin grafts to his ass." 

"Not to mention major reconstructive surgery on his colon," Frohike told him,
"AFter they stick that Louis the fourteenth chair leg up his ass.  Don't worry,
we can fix this with major rewrites later, Pendy.  Right now, we have to get
Mulder out of this fugue." 

Pendrell felt the first, faint stirrings of hope.  "How are you going to do
that?" 

"Easy.  Just watch."  Langley leaned down further, closer to Mulder's ear. 
"Mulder, Mulder, Horowitz is here, she wants your journal pages."

A slow blink.  Mulder withdrew his thumb from his mouth and came up swinging,
so quickly that Langley was hardpressed to dodge the flailing fists.

Pendrell's jaw dropped.  "Wow.  What the hell--"

"Never mind, it's a secret weapon."  Frohike patted Pendrell's shoulder again.

Mulder blinked at them all.  His expression slowly shifted from confusion to
relief.  "Oh, man, guys, we thought you were done for."

"Hey, we're more paranoid than you are," Langley told him.

"No he's not," Byers disagreed.

"But our kung fu is better," Frohike added.

Pendrell blinked.  "So now what do we do?"

"Easy," Langley sat down in Pendrell's chair and cracked his knuckles.  "I just
need to use your computer, Pendrell."

He blinked again.  "To do what?"

"To send out a subliminal broadcast of our Manifesto," Frohike told him grimly.
 "See, we've had it with the fascists in fanfic.  We think it's time to take
back the power, Pendy."

"You just want to get lucky with Agent Scully in genfic," Byers told him drily,
standing behind Langley and watching Langley's fingers fly over the keyboard.

"So what if I do?  So what if I'm not pretty.  So what if I'm a secondary
character?  So what if I'm not fucking DARK enough!"  Frohike's voice rose.  "I
still have a right to life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and my own
chance to star in a fic, don't I?  Just because the majority focuses on the
primary characters...."

"That's not even the point here," Byers interrupted.  "I, for one, have a right
to some schmoop if I want it without having it implied that I'm some sort of
intellectually feeble, gum chewing, low IQ moron."

"Depends on the schmoop," Langley muttered, but his fingers kept on moving,
almost too rapidly to track."

"We still have to save Alex," Pendrell reminded them, "And Skinner, I can't
believe that this is is choice."

"It's not," Frohike agreed.  "Why, the big guy is a teddy bear.  He keeps
getting shoehorned into black leather."

"Forced to rape and pillage," Langley agreed absently.

"And he likes classical music," Byers added approvingly.  "Besides, Alex and
Langley and I have a date later."

Mulder rolled his eyes.  Pendrell couldn't keep from grinning.  "He's such a
slut."

Byers actually looked offended for a moment before his expression became more
thoughtful.  "You have a point."

"We love him that way."  Mulder yawned and got up from the cot.  "So what's
going to happen, how are you going to broadcast this manifesto?"

"The Civil Defense siren," Langley gave them a maniacal look.  "Believe me, it
won't be pretty.  The masses are going to rise up."

"I can only hope," Pendrell muttered.

"Really," Frohike agreed.  "Can you imagine, they told us we weren't allowed to
use food in our frolics?"

"Or wear socks," Pendrell agreed grimly.

"God help us, then there was the issue of rimming.  I mean, hey, it's nice, but
if that were ALL...." Frohike adjusted his glasses.

"And then there's the noncon issue," Byers intoned.  "And while I think a good
noncon fantasy is good for the heart, let's face it, out and out rape is just a
little too...."  He grimaced.  "I mean, whatever works for you, but do we ALL
have to do it?"

"It's that darkness fetish," Mulder sighed.  "If it's not dark and edgy, God
help you.  If you just want to settle down with the man you love and two cats,
you're in some really deep shit."

Frohike nodded.  "Well, look at it this way, it's just as bad on the genfic
side of the fence.  God help you if you don't write JUST the right thing."

Pendrell crossed himself piously.  "I know exactly what you mean. I've been run
out of town on a rail, tarred and feathered, why do you think I came over to
this universe?"

Mulder grinned.  "What about me? That's why I got so used to being called an
asshole.  Among other things.  Being reduced to incontinence was a bit much,
frankly.  And the head injuries, my God...."

Sliding an arm around his waist, Pendrell leaned against him.  "I know, Fox, I
know."  

Suddenly, with an eldritch shriek, all the Civil Defense sirens in the
metropolitan area appeared to go off, driving all five of them to their knees,
hands over their ears.  The distant crash of breaking glass was nearly as loud
as every window in the Hoover exploded inward.

It was worse, Pendrell thought, than ending demonic possession.  Well, maybe
not, as far as he knew, no one's head was spinning and no one was vomiting pea
soup.

It lasted only a few moments, but it was enough to leave heads aching and ears
ringing.

"I suggest we wait it out here," Langley told them loudly.  "The carnage isn't
going to be pretty."

"In fact, it's going to be pretty damned lumpen," Frohike agreed and popped his
ears.  "Jesus, Ringo, did you have to set off ALL of them?"

Langley shrugged.  "I didn't want to take any chances."

"I don't think you did," Pendrell told him, rubbing his forehead.   Stumbling
to his desk, he turned on the radio, not that he could hear very well through
the echo left in his ears.  "We need to keep track of the situation."

Langley's grin was feral.  "It isn't--"

"Going to be pretty," Mulder finished for Langley.  "Enough already.  I'd
almost rather deal with dark than cliches."

Langley flipped him off, was stared to good behavior by Frohike, and they all
sat down to wait.  To listen.  And to hope.

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

"Thank God,"  Alex Krycek lowered himself on Walter Skinner's couch very
carefully.  "I didn't think I could stand one more session with that Violet
Wand."

"Or the chair leg," Skinner put in and handed Krycek a drink.  "Here, this will
help."

"I'm not sure general anesthesia would help," Krycek grumbled.  "Here's to you
guys."  He lifted his glass in the general direction of the Lone Gunmen. "You
literally saved my ass.  Mulder, I don't know how you survived that epic."

Mulder was lying on his back on the floor, having partaken liberally of liquid
refreshment before Krycek had arrived.  "Tell me about it.  And it's still
going on and on and on and on...."

Everyone shuddered in unison.

Sitting crosslegged beside his lover, Pendrell patted Mulder's belly
consolingly.  "Well, look at it this way, at least Kass and Kate are in favor
of Freedom of Expression."

"And schmoop," Mulder told him happily.

"And hot sex," Pendrell agreed.  

"You two are revoltingly schmoopy," Skinner growled.  "Settle down."

"That's the point of freedom," Frohike said philosophically. "So that they can
settle down with each other, do each other in a wide variety of schmoopy ways,
and have two cats."

"Revolting," Krycek agreed, staring hotly at Byers and Langly."

Byers blushed and Langly licked his lips.

Skinner offered Krycek an affectionate look and ruffled the short hair. 
"You're such a slut," he said fondly.

There was a knock at the door just then and Skinner went to answer, returning
with a slender dark haired man.  "You all know Jeffrey,"  Skinner said.  "You
don't know it, Frohike, but you guys saved Jeffrey from a badfic in which he
was not only cored by Kersh, but offed by his father."

Spender leaned forward, shook each hand in turn, offered Krycek a shy smile. 
"So, are you busy tonight, Alex?"

Frohike burst out laughing.  "Krycek, you're such a slut."

Krycek grinned.  "Come and sit down by me, Jeffy.  I've got a long story to
tell you."

finis  - or is it?