From: Miatsbrown@aol.com Date: Sun, 8 Nov 1998 16:43:55 EST Subject: Hope for Mulder Jones S R H A Alternate universe Rated PG TITLE: Hope for Mulder Jones DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em, don't sue me. Written by the Red Camel with some help from the Blue Platypus - please excuse any mistakes, don't go into New York City that much. Thanks to Marie and Johanna for help on plot. KRYCEK IS MINE (not in the literal fincancial regard, Chris Carter)! SUMMARY: Mulder wakes up to a new life even more harrowing, even more bone- chilling, even more horrible than the last: subway token collector. Avenue D Lower Manhattan, New York City 2:55 A.M. Mulder Jones awoke in a cold sweat. He sat bolt upright in bed, unsettling his wife, who had been slumbering peacefully beside him. "What's wrong with you?" moaned Scully from beneath a pillow. "I just had such a weird dream! You were there, and Kurt, and our landlord, and the plumber, and the mailman, and Kurt's teacher, and Samantha was there, and the guy from Dateline, too," he said, still perplexed. "It was probably the enchiladas. I think they were expired. Go back to sleep." "I can't go back to sleep," he said, "It's 3 A.M. I have to go to work." "Have a nice day, dear," said Scully groggily as Mulder got up and headed for the bathroom. He took a shower, donned his public transportation service uniform, and went into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat. "Scully," he called, "The plumber's coming at nine thirty today to fix the sink. And the landlord might come around today, I think we're a little behind on the rent." "Ugh," replied Scully noncommittally. Mulder finished his leftover Chinese food, and crept into his sleeping son's room. 8-year-old Kurt Crawford Jones lay quietly asleep, looking like an angel with his red-blonde hair and innocent features. Mulder sighed and left quietly. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door. "Bye, Scully," he said. But there was no answer, as usual. He sighed unhappily, and left. Once out of the front door, he encountered Leon, a beatnik perpetually stationed on the stoop of the building. Leon, dressed in black and wearing a beret, sat on the step, took out his harmonica, and put a can out in front of him. Mulder glanced at Leon and did a double take. The tall, extremely muscular man bore more than a passing resemblance to a man in his dream, a man who he remembered as popping up occasionally and chasing people with icepicks. Leon noticed Mulder's strange look. "What, man?" Mulder shook himself briskly. "Nothing, nothing. It's probably nothing." Several moments later, he encountered Tony, the garbage man. "Hey, Tony," he said. "Ah, good morning Mr. Jones, " said the garbage man whose fingernails were in astonishingly good condition. Mulder stopped and looked at him as he passed. He shook his head and looked back, then decided to head on. Avenue D 7:00 A.M. "I don't wanna go to school, mommy," pleaded young Kurt. "Get in the car," said Scully crossly. "But, mommy, Eve and Eve are chasing me. They tried to kiss me again yesterday! " "Get in the car now. We have to pick them up." Kurt grudgingly complied. "Who the hell would name two of their kids Eve?" Scully wondered inanely. After a longish interval, Scully arrived at the Eve sisters' apartment building. Two nondescript identical twins walked sedately down the steps and opened the car door forcefully. "Hello, Kurt," said Eve. "Hello Kurt," said Eve. Kurt said nothing, but whimpered quietly and edged closer to the door. He tried to open it, but was dismayed to find the child-proof lock employed. Scully smiled and glanced back at the children. "So, girls," she said, "How are my son's two beautiful girlfriends?" "Fine," said Eve. "Fine," said Eve. Pause. "So, how did you girls figure out that my son was the one for you?" "We just knew," the girls said in unison. Kurt whimpered and hid under his jacket. They arrived at the school some moments later. Eve and Eve exited the car quickly. "Goodbye Mrs. Jones," said Eve. "Goodbye Mrs. Jones," said Eve. Kurt remained resolutely buckled in his seat. "Go ahead, dear," she said. "Have a nice day." "Mommy," he whined, clinging to her leg, "I don't wanna go. . " "Kurt Crawford Jones, get out of this car immediately or I will. . . " "Mrs. Jones?" inquired a twangy voice. "Yes?" she said, craning her neck to see the speaker from the passenger side window. "I'm Duane Barry, Kurt's teacher. I was wondering if I might have a word with you?" "Sure," said Scully, exiting the car. She looked at the stocky man who stood before her. "Kurt," he said, "why don't you go on inside?" Kurt left without saying good bye to his mother. "Mrs. Jones," Mr. Barry said, "I'm a little concerned about Kurt. His behavior has been quite rude and he is disrupting the other students. Is there anything going on at home I should. . . " Scully cut him off. "I don't have time for this, gotta go, bye!" she said, hopped in the car, and sped away, which was difficult considering she was driving a dying '86 Ford Tempo. Subway Terminal A 10:30 P.M. Mulder ran his fingers through his hair nervously and looked over his shoulder for the millionth time that morning. He turned his attention back to the TV screen. He changed the channel, as he was about to go into catatonic shock from the morning soaps. A public service announcement was airing. That in and of itself was not unusual, but, as Mulder squinted at the tiny ten-inch screen, something began to register. A man in a dark suit, an man of indeterminate age with a face like a basset hound was speaking about the evil of teen smoking. "Who is that guy?" he asked one of his co-workers frantically. "That's the guy from Dateline," said Jose Chung. "What kind of hole did you crawl out of? He's everywhere." Mulder stared up into Chung's face in terror. "Oh my God. . . not you too!" Mulder sprang out of his seat and broke for the door. Chung looked after him. "Hey, you worthless punk! You still have to empty the machines!" 42nd Street 11:00 A.M. Mulder banged on the door of his favorite haunt. "Xavier! Xavier! You gotta let me in! Xavier!" screamed Mulder, his face turning purple and the veins on his neck standing out. The door creaked open slowly to reveal a hungover black man with a raggedy goatee. "What, man?" he groaned. "Mulder?" he said, straightening up. "What are you doing here at this time of night? Don't you, like,. . . work or something?" The unfortunate Xavier was greeted by a loud, anguished scream from Mulder. "What the hell is wrong with me?!" "Get in here before the cops pick you up!" said Xavier, more practical. He pulled Mulder quickly through the door and slammed it behind him. A blonde woman came down gaudily carpeted staircase. "What the hell was that?" she asked, closing her robe. Her face changed as she saw Mulder. "Well, hello," she said coyly. "Hi, Marita," said Mulder, blushing. Then he caught himself and stared at her intently for a few moments. "Oh God," he groaned, beating his fists against the wall. "A double for Mulder, please," said Xavier. Marita silently retreated behind the bar and came back with the bottle. Mulder took it gratefully. Xavier quickly confiscated it, however, as Mulder showed no sign of putting it down. "What the hell happened to you?" Mulder wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "I had this dream," he gasped, "and everyone was in it, but. . . it was different. I was like a secret agent type guy, and there were aliens and. ." Mulder trailed off incoherently as Xavier handed the bottle back to him. "More trouble with Scully?" inquired Marita delicately. "No. . . I don't think so. I don't know. I don't know what to do anymore. What do you think, Xavier?" "I'm not here to do your thinking for you, Mulder. Why don't you get cleaned up and go back to work? Come back in, say, six hours. When we open." "OK," said Mulder tipsily. " 'Bye, guys." Avenue D 3:30 P.M. Scully looked up as someone knocked on the door. She glanced at Kurt, who was running suicides around the apartment, trying desperately to avoid the equally fleet Eve and Eve. "Who is it?" she called. "Captain Plumbing." She opened the door. "Hi Alex," she said. "Hey, Mrs. Jones," said the one-armed, dark-haired man. "You need your sink fixed, huh?" "Yeah," she said, "Come on in." He opened his toolbox and got under the sink. "So," he said, his voice muffled, "How's cosmetology school going?" "Okay, I guess," she said. "How's your acting career?" "Not too good," he said. "Pliers, please." She handed them to him silently. "I can't seem to land a job. Even if I do, it's never for long, and afterwards, the same people won't ever hire me again. I have an audition on Broadway today, though." "Oh really?" she asked, interested. "What're you going to sing?" " 'Greased Lightening'." "Really? I love Grease!" she said. "Yeah, it's making a big comeback." He straightened up and put the pliers back in the toolbox. He stared at the pipes, perplexed. "I don't understand why this isn't. . . " he disappeared under the sink again. Eve and Eve stopped running and stopped to observe Alex. "You should use the monkey wrench," said Eve. "Yes, the monkey wrench," said Eve. Alex looked at them dubiously, but did so. The leak abruptly stopped. "Wow," he said, impressed. "How did you guys know about that?" "We just knew," they said together, looking at him from beneath lowered brows. Alex got up quickly and coughed nervously, regarding the kids with something akin to fear. He, in his haste, tripped over his toolbox and proceeded to stumble out of the kitchen. Eve and Eve turned on their heels and went to look for Kurt, who had taken advantage of the diversion to make himself scarce. "Kurt?" said Eve. "Oh, Kurt?" said Eve. "Poor kid," muttered Alex. At that moment, there was another knock at the door. Scully went to it and opened it to reveal Mailman Pendrell. "Hi," she said coyly. "Hi," said Pendrell, blushing. "I was just leaving," said Alex with a smirk. "Send us a check when you can." "Thanks, Alex," said Scully. However, as the intrepid plumber left, landlord Walter Skinner entered. "Mrs. Jones? I believe some rent money is in order." "Listen, Skinner," said Scully, annoyed, "I gave you this month's rent already." "No, you didn't," he said. "I distinctly remember," she said. "I gave it to Mulder to give to you. . . oh shit." "Yeah," said Skinner. "So pay up." Pendrell bristled and looked up at the menacing man who stood a full head above him. "I'll pay the rent. And don't ever let me hear you talk to her like that again." "Yeah, yeah, give me the money." Pendrell did so, then sneered at Skinner. "If you ever treat her like this again, just know this: I can take you." Skinner laughed. "You try it, shorty." "Yeah, I will, you past-middle-age, crusty old geezer. . " "If I'm a past-middle-age, crusty old geezer, what are you gonna be at my age? When I was your age, I was a Chippendales dancer, and what are you?" "I," said Pendrell," am a federal employee." Skinner left laughing. "Hey, don't turn your back on me, you porno reject! Come back here!" Scully held him back. "It's OK, Pendrell. I can take care of myself." "I know," he said, "but I worry, and with that deadbeat husband of yours. ." "Thank you. I'll pay you back." "You don't have to," he said. "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow." He left, closing the door behind him. "Dweeb," Scully remarked, shaking her head. "Skinner was a Chippendales dancer?" she said in mild stupefaction. The Village 5:06 P.M. "So, Mulder," said Samantha, "why are you here? The last time I saw you was Thanksgiving. Ten years ago." "I don't know, I just. . . I had this weird dream." Samantha looked at her brother quizzically. "What kind of dream?" "I saw everyone that I know, but we were living a whole nother life. A life where I didn't say things like 'whole nother'." "Well, Mulder, I can't talk right now. I have to work the airport. Oh, and here," she said, smiling sweetly. "Would you like a flower?" "No thanks," he said. "Why don't you call Dad? You were always closer to him." "Yeah, I guess," he said. "Bye." "Bye," said Samantha, taking care that her long, coarse brown robe did not get caught in the door. Broadway 7:47 P.M. "Well," said Alex to the man in the back of the theater, "I've done some classical work, but mostly pop." "I see," said the gray-haired man. "I've been in a production of Hair, and I played Bobby in Fried Green Tomatoes." "I see," said the gray-haired man. He motioned to his assistant, who directed Alex out. "So, what do you think, Mr. Carter?" said the intern to the gray-haired man. "He's got moxy. . . but no real talent. Next!" The Village 8:09 P.M. "Hey, Dad," said Mulder. "Who is this?" "Me, Mulder. Your son? Remember?" "Oh. Hi, Mulder." Pause. Mulder glanced back at the TV, which was on, softly, in the background. He turned it up as he recognized something. "Injured? Disabled? Did you slip and fall while on a government job? I so, you should call the Law Firm of Langly, Byers, Frohike and associates. Don't be intimidated by the government. . . " Mulder hurriedly changed the channel. "So, how're things going, Dad?" "Good," said his father. Pause. ". . . Now, once the onions are a nice, medium brown, then, we put the liver into the oil, " said TV chef Eugene Victor Tooms. Mulder covered his mouth, closed his eyes, and changed the channel. "How's mom?" "I haven't seen her in fifteen years." "Oh." Pause. Mulder buried his head under a pillow and turned the TV off. "'Well, Dad. . . I gotta go." "OK. Bye." "Bye." "Bye." Mulder hung up and left his sister's apartment, no less confused than when he had entered. 42nd Street 9:03 P.M. Mulder entered his usual bar and took his usual seat in his usual corner. "Your usual?" asked Xavier from behind the bar. "Yeah," said Mulder. "Guys, how did we get to be so, well, usual? I mean, nothing ever changes around here." "Ugh," replied his fellow barflies. The man sitting next to him, Joe, covered in a blue jig-saw puzzle-like tattoo, looked at him. "Don't get radical." "Yeah, I mean, what would you want to happen?" said the man on his other side, with chin-length black hair and goatee and sevral nails protruding from his neck. "Oww, paper cut," he said, nursing his hand. "Shut up, blockhead," said Marita. At that moment, Alex stormed in. "I can't believe it. I gave a great audition, and I still didn't get the part. I didn't even get in. I'm gonna kill that guy. Vodka, please," he said to Xavier as he sat down. "He's just prejudiced against amputees." "How did you lose your arm, Alex?" "Tragic plumbing accident," he said. "Got caught in a toilet bowl." "You call that usual?" said Joe. Avenue D 10:17 P.M. Scully unlocked her appointment door and dropped her cosmetics box on the floor. She walked through her apartment, and discovering that Mulder was not there, sat down on the couch in a huff. "Men are such pigs," she said to herself. Central Park 12:15 A.M. Mulder, slightly drunk and wandering aimlessly, took a seat beside a harmless looking old man on a park bench. The man didn't look up, but continued to toss bread crumbs to a flock of pigeons which surrounded him like an aura. "My life," Mulder said, "is a cosmic joke. It's like, I'm almost half-way through the thing, and I haven't actually done anything. My marriage is good as gone, I hardly know my family anymore. . . You know, I had this dream last night, this dream where I wasn't a loser. I mattered. I accomplished so much. I didn't have a life, and I was getting shot at all the time, and people were trying to kill me, but I really really mattered. But then I woke up and here I am, and all I have to go back to is my glamorous job as a subway token collector and my failing marriage. What the hell is wrong with me?" Mulder laid on the bench, silent. The old man turned his weathered face to Mulder. Mulder started as he recognized him. "Deep Throat," he said in awe. "Sorry, you just reminded me of someone I knew. . . " "Well, son, if what you're describing to me is accurate. . . sounds to me like that dream life was no picnic." "Well, no, but. . . " "And here you are living this average, normal life like everybody else." "Yeah, but. . . " "So it seems like a. . . second chance, don't you think," the old man said with a wink. Mulder pulled back. "I don't get it!" Mulder yelled into the night. "Stop scaring the birds. Punk," the old man muttered under his breath as Mulder walked away. Mulder didn't get far, however, when he was shanghaied by an overzealous, red-haired and bearded policeman. "C'mon, let's get you to the drunk tank," said the policeman. "Hello, Max," said Mulder happily. "How do you know my name?" said the policeman. "Don't ask," said Mulder. "C'mon, off to the drunk tank. . . " "Yes, yes," said Mulder in a near euphoric state, "let's go to the drunk tank!" 72nd Precinct 3:15 A.M. "Where is he?" inquired Scully of the red-haired policeman. "I put him in the drunk tank. I think I should warn you. . . he's a little. . .spooky right now." Scully exhaled slowly and followed the policeman to Mulder's cell. The policeman unlocked Mulder, who greeted her with an ear-to- ear grin. "Hi, Scully!" She stood with her hands on her hips and sighed. She, despite herself, couldn't help smiling back. "I love you, Scully." "I love you too, Mulder." 42nd Street 8:35 P.M. "You want another drink?" said Xavier to Scully. "Sure," she replied. She turned back to smile at Mulder, who smiled back at her. They looked around expectantly as the lights dimmed. Alex and Leon stepped into the spotlight, Leon with a saxophone, and Alex with a mike. Marita stepped up and said, "And now for our very own, home grown Broadway hopeful, Alex Krycek!" "I was an incompetent hitman I messed up some hits Which sent my employer Into a series of duodenal fits" Scully looked at Mulder, alarmed, but he just smiled. "Everyone tries to kill me Everyone hates me too But they cannot catch me And neither can you" At that, the bar's dying sound system began to pump out 'I Will Survive'. Everyone from Tony the garbage man to Skinner, former Chippendales dancer, got down and partied. And as for Mulder, he pondered. But not too hard, because that was his mistake in the first place.