From: lopsided Date: Sun, 12 Sep 1999 06:08:43 -0700 Subject: Mistake #6 [M/K Slash Humor] MISTAKE #6 - Mulder/Krycek version - by the lopsided weevil He knew it was a mistake. He shouldn't pick it up. If he did, things would only get worse. Yeah, it had been one of THOSE days. It started out bad and went downhill from there. He looked at his watch; it was nearly 10:30 p.m. and he was sitting there, staring at it, debating. He picked it up. "Mulder here." "Is this Mr. Fox Mulder?" "Yes." It was going to be bad news, he just knew it. "This is Doctor Jacobs from D.C. General." Very bad news. "We've been asked to contact you by a patient. He was brought in on emergency and has asked that you come down to the hospital." "I see." His heart sank further into his stomach. He gritted his teeth and asked the doctor, "Who is it?" "This is a bit awkward sir, but he's asked us not to tell you. I can say that this man certainly could use a friend or relative at this time and that this is definitely a serious situation that we are dealing with Mr. Mulder. So, I would ask your understanding under these unique circumstances." Mulder lowered his head until it was nearly between his knees. Very bad, very, very bad. "Okay, I'll be there in 15 minutes." Still wearing the jeans and t-shirt he had put on after getting home from work, he rushed through the doors of the emergency room. He was tempted to whip out his gun and scan the room for undercover Consortium agents. It had been that kind of day, one that just didn't let up, and now he needed to let off some steam, maybe shoot somebody. That would have been nice. Shoot some half-human, half-alien hybrid and watch them turn into a puddle of green jelly, before bubbling and evaporating away, conveniently leaving no trace of their existence. But there were no half-human, half-alien hybrids in the emergency ward, at least none that he could see. Worse, he didn't even have his gun with him. His big, powerful FBI gun. Gripped firmly in his hand. Hard steel. Cocked and loaded. Nope. He felt naked without it. Instead, it was just him, and his tight jeans and messed up psyche, responding to a call from some doctor who wouldn't tell him what was wrong. Life. It could really bite sometimes. Regaining his confidence, he walked over to the nearest and best looking nurse and asked to speak with Dr. Jacobs. She had blonde hair, shaped into curls framing her soft, round face. Her tight uniform showed off her shapely figure. Mulder liked what he saw. "Are you Mr. Mulder?" she asked. "Yes." Half-heartedly, he gave her one of his smiles. The kind he used to act coy and sexy, with that little head tilt. He was always amazed at how such a small thing could get you so far in life. A little wink, a little smile and women would do just about anything he wanted. And a few men would too, but that was a different subject. He was here to solve the mystery of the late-night phone call, not play wink-wink, nudge-nudge with some blonde in a nurse's uniform. "You'll need to follow me then, he's back in the private ward." Mulder followed the nurse, or more precisely her shapely ass. Maybe this night would turn out better than he planned. "Dr. Jacobs, this is the gentleman you called for." Unfortunately, Mulder's time with the shapely nurse was all too brief. His day was getting worse. Again. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Mulder." Now when was the last time he heard that? He paused for a second. July? June? February? Yep. Much worse. He give the doctor a quick once-over. The man reminded him a bit of George Clooney, that actor on E.R., only without the stupid-ass Nero haircut. George Clooney, hmmmm, maybe he should start setting his sights higher than just nurses. A uniform fetish was one thing, but a doctor, now they came with little black bags, full of all sorts of interesting things. Hmmmmm... "What can you tell me, doctor?" "Well, sir, this is a very complicated case. It may not be easy to explain." "You can skip the 'sir,' Mulder's fine." Mulder considered doing the head-tilting, smile thing, but then decided against it. The doctor was kinda cute, but not that cute, and besides, he was running out of energy. He knew this was going to be a long night and he'd need what little strength he had to get through it. But somehow, a wink slipped out. Just a little one, but a wink none the less. Habit, he guessed. Sometimes his body just did things. The doctor seemed to not notice the slip. "Well, your friend hasn't told us much, but we have been able to deduce most of the events that lead up to the injury." "What exactly is the nature of the injury, doctor?" "The patient was bitten." Mulder paused, assuming the doctor would continue his explanation of the situation. When the doctor seemed to hesitate, he stepped in. "Bitten?" "By a snake." His heart sank. This was getting wierd. This story was going to be downright ugly. And he was going to have to live through every single painful moment of it. Great. "A snake?" "Well, a rattlesnake to be specific." The doctor's brow furrowed, as if he were in great pain, just attempting to explain the case. Mulder hoped the story would end here, but he seriously doubted that it would be this simple. Snake bites man. End of story. Nope. It was going to get worse. Mulder braced himself and asked the next logical question. "He's okay, isn't he? Is he in any danger?" "I'm not going to lie to you, um, Mulder, the injury is serious. Luckily, he came in quickly enough for us to administer the appropriate treatment. However, he's still in a great deal of pain and anguish." Mulder quietly nodded his head, acknowledging the doctor's words. "The man was very fortunate that his neighbors were complaining about the noise." "The noise?" Mulder looked puzzled. "Yes, from the stereo." The doctor answered his inquiry with the minimum amount of information. Mulder suspected that the doctor was teasing him, giving him just enough of the story to drive him crazy. He wished that he could toss this guy into an interrogation room and beat the story out of him. "The stereo?" "Yes, the older gentleman living next door called the police complaining about the loud music. K.C. and the Sunshine Band, I believe." "Shake Your Booty?" Mulder attempted to clarify the point. "Don't forget 'Play That Funky Music White Boy,'" the doctor added. Mulder listened quietly while the doctor continued his explaination. As the story unfolded, he let out a deep sigh. This was getting ugly again, and he didn't even know who it was, who was bitten by a rattlesnake. What would a rattlesnake be doing in Washington, D.C. anyway? "But luckily the police did find the man's pet." "Pet?" "Um, yes. His pet. The rattlesnake." "His pet?" Mulder wanted to bang his head against the wall. God was playing some cruel joke on him again. "Well, yes. 'Dana' I think is what he called it. He was reluctant to tell us at first. but eventually most of the story came out. The pain was overwhelming." Pain. Mulder knew pain. He was experiencing it at this very moment. Lots of it. "Dana?" "Dana." "Dana the Rattlesnake bit him?" "Yes." "Where?" "In his apartment." This was turning into a bad Three Stooges movie, but so far there were only two stooges, Mulder and the doctor. Unless you counted the mystery patient. Four, if you count the snake. "Where?" "The emergency crew found him in his apartment, collapsed on the floor." "Is there anything else?" Mulder hoped not, he couldn't take much more of this. "Well..." The doctor hesitated, for what seemed like the twelfth time in the past fifteen minutes. "Well?" "There is the matter of his, um, attire at the time." "His attire?" The doctor was doing it again, spooning out information one, tiny detail at a time. What Mulder would have given to be in that interogation room. "Can you be more specific, doctor?" "He was naked." "Naked?" Mulder closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "Yes, that was his condition when the crew found him in his apartment." "Is there anything else?" "Well...." Another hesitation by the doctor. Mulder balled his hands into fists. If he'd only brought that gun. "It's just a matter of where he was bitten." "Where he was bitten?" "Yes." Mulder felt the vein in his forehead pulsing. In another few seconds it would explode. "He was bitten in an area that one would normally assume would be covered. Especially in the presence of snakes." He was starting to go sick in the stomach. "May I see the patient, doctor?" "He's right through here, Mulder." The doctor pointed him through the doorway to his right. He was now a jumble of nerves. Walking stridently, he passed by the doctor and pushed open the door. The room was dark, but he could see the man laying meekly in the bed, all sorts of tubes and monitoring cables coming out of his body. There seemed to be a large number of them concentrated on the area between the man's legs. Mulder focused on the man's face. Even through the pain that wracked his body, he could still see the eyes. Those green eyes. They were something Mulder could never forget. "Hello, Alex, it's been a long time." Suddenly, his day was looking up. "I guess you don't meed me to ssssssuck the poison out, do you Alex?" Mulder gleefully emphasized that one word, that one, luscious word. Alex just layed there and groaned. Yep. Mulder's day was definitely looking up. ---------- Inspired by page 113 in the November 98 issue of Men's Health magazine. this story is even better with pictures... http://members.tripod.com/~Lopsided * Sent from RemarQ http://www.remarq.com The Internet's Discussion Network * The fastest and easiest way to search and participate in Usenet - Free! From lopsidedNOtcSPAM@usa.net Wed Sep 15 16:29:05 1999 Date: Sun, 12 Sep 1999 06:23:00 -0700 From: lopsided Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Mistake #6B [M/Sk Slash Humor] MISTAKE #6 - Mulder/Skinner version - the lopsided weevil Some might object, but I think this version is better than the M/K one. He knew it was a mistake. He shouldn't pick it up. There were some things you just knew from experience, and experience was telling him not to do it. He looked at his watch; it read 10:13 p.m. It was a thing, an object, it deserved none of his attention, none of his time. And yet here he was, sitting there, staring at it, debating. Admitting defeat, he picked it up. "Skinner here." "Is this Mr. Walter Skinner?" "Yes." He could already tell from the unfamiliar voice at the other end of the phone that this was going to be bad news. "This is Doctor Jacobs from D.C. General." Very bad news. Mulder had disappeared less than 48 hours earlier, saying something about disemboweled bovines in Bismark, South Dakota. With Mulder gone he had hoped for a little peace and quiet, a little calm before the returning storm that would be Fox Mulder: Alien Hunter. But now with this phone call, he feared his little vacation to normalcy would be ruined. "We've been asked to contact you by a patient. He was brought in on emergency and has asked that you come down to the hospital." "I see." His heart sank further into his stomach. Could Mulder have somehow come back to D.C. and gotten himself into trouble in little more than a day? He didn't doubt it. He gritted his teeth and asked the doctor, "Who is it?" "This is a bit awkward sir, but he's asked us not to tell you. The man has indicated that he works for you and that he trusts your judgement in this matter." Skinner closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He was getting a headache, a bad one. Mulder. This had 'Mulder' written all over it. "I can tell you that this man certainly could use a friend at this time and that this is definitely a serious situation. So, I would ask your understanding in this unique circumstance, sir." Skinner pressed his thumbs into his temple, trying to somehow *force* the headache back into the dark corners of his brain. "Okay, I'll be there in 15 minutes." Still wearing the finely tailored suit and tie that he had put on some fifteen hours earlier, he walked confidently through the doors of the emergency room. It was his nature to take up space, and those around the entrance cleared way for the striding, muscular form of the FBI Assistant Director. It was now second nature to him, people just tended to get out of his way and to show him a certain level of respect. This air of authority wasn't something that he put on consciously, he presumed that it was just the way he carried himself that caused people to react this way. Still, this was the last place he wanted to be at 10:30 in the evening, cleaning up after someone else's mess. Mulder's mess, no doubt. He was always cleaning up after Mulder. Maybe next time he should just slap a pair of diapers on the delinquent agent and be done with it. Scanning the lobby of the emergency room, he noted the usual collection of damaged and otherwise useless people that congregated in places like this. They were the nameless, faceless masses that seemed to be choking the planet, slowly cutting off his air supply. Pausing, he considered what Mulder would have made of this situation. He would surely have decided that at least three of the beings occupying this space were from another planet. He could just imagine it, Mulder, whipping out his big gun and pointing it randomly at the crowd, demanding that the aliens show themselves, just like out of Buck Rogers. Skinner needed a vacation. Someplace far away, away from Mulder. And Mulder's messes. And his complications. Why did everything always have to be so complicated with Mulder? And why had he answered that damned phone? He spotted the nurse that seemed to be in charge and walked directly over to her. She was an attractive woman, mid-30's, shoulder-length blonde hair framing her oval face. Eyes, blue-green. Height, um, 5' 7", maybe 5' 8". Weight, say 115 pounds. Uniform, tight. Bra size, 36D. Just the type Mulder would go for. He'd probably walk up to her and give her one of those looks, where he cocked his head, smiled coyly and gave her a little wink. The bastard. The next time Mulder tried that on him he had a mind to punch the smart-ass. "Are you Mr. Skinner?" she asked. "That's correct." He was always surprised at how much Mulder could get away with when it came to women. It wasn't that they swooned over him or anything, it's just that they responded to him differently. Mulder had the ability to connect with people in a different way, in a way unlike anything Skinner had noted before. "You'll need to follow me then, he's back in the private ward." Follow. That was one thing he had trouble doing with Mulder, he just had a tough time understanding what really drove the man. He knew Mulder's background, his troubled childhood and the haunting events that shaded his thinking, but did he really know Mulder? There was so much more to this man and yet it all seemed so unreachable, so hidden. Not unlike the secrets he kept buried deep within himself, within his own heart. "Dr. Jacobs, this is the gentleman you called for." Skinner approached the doctor standing in the hallway, holding a chart. This night was starting to wear on him as a feeling of exhaustion swept over his body. He was letting things get to him, he was letting Mulder get to him. Mulder. When would he ever get that man out of his mind? "Thank you for coming, sir." He paused for a second. Now when was the last time he'd heard that? How long had Mulder been gone? How many days, hours had it been? Too many. Not enough. He give the doctor a quick once-over. The man reminded him a bit of Mulder, only without the stupid-ass haircut. Jacobs was wearing glasses, the ones with thin wire frames. Mulder in glasses, now there was a thought. He looked so much more vulnerable when he wore glasses. So much more... kissable. 'Thank you for coming, sir,' the words echoed in his mind. Vulnerable Mulder, the image was irresistible. "What can you tell me, doctor?" "Well, Mr. Skinner, this is a very complicated case. It may not be easy to explain." Easy to explain. Nothing was ever easy to explain. Try explaining Fox Mulder, that's what he wanted to ask the doctor to do. Explain how someone like himself, a respected, responsible man like Walter Skinner, Assistant Director of the FBI, would allow himself to become involved with someone as unstable as Fox Mulder. Unstable, vulnerable, kissable, Fox Mulder. This was all too complicated. Why had he answered that phone? He could be back home, in bed and asleep, blistfully unaware of the world around him. And yet here he was. He'd answered the phone. He'd reached out and taken on the responsibility. "The patient hasn't told us much, but we have been able to deduce most of the events that lead up to the injury." "What exactly is the nature of the injury, doctor?" "The patient was bitten." Skinner paused, assuming the doctor would continue his explanation of the situation; after all, it's what people normally did. They would walk into his office, brief him thoroughly and completely and then leave. It was a nice, neat system. Except when Mulder came in; things were always more complicated when Mulder was in the equation. When the doctor seemed to hesitate, he stepped in. "Bitten?" "By a snake." His heart sank. This was getting wierd, like one of Mulder's infernal cases, complicated and ugly, with nary a resolution in sight. And he was going to have to live through every single painful moment of it. Great. "A snake?" "Well, a rattlesnake to be specific." The doctor's brow furrowed, as if he were in great pain, just attempting to explain the case. He hoped the story would end here, but he seriously doubted that it would be this simple. Snake bites man. Mulder seduces Skinner. End of story. Case closed. Nope. It was going to get worse. Skinner braced himself and asked the next logical question. "Is the patient in any danger?" "I'm not going to lie to you, sir, the injury is serious. Luckily, he came in quickly enough for us to administer the appropriate treatment. However, he's still in a great deal of pain and anguish." He quietly nodded his head, acknowledging the doctor's words and hating himself for picking up the phone. Why had he answered it? Why had he let Mulder do this to him? It would have been so much easier to have rebuffed Mulder. "The man was very fortunate that his neighbors were complaining about the noise." "The noise?" Skinner looked puzzled. "Yes, from the television." The doctor answered his inquiry with the minimum amount of information. Skinner suspected that the doctor was holding out on him, giving him just enough of the story to drive him crazy. He wished that he could toss this guy into an interrogation room and beat the story out of him. Use some of those muscles he worked so diligently on for some productive purpose. Three nights a week and Saturday's at the FBI gym, and for what? To push papers around? "The television?" "Yes, the older gentleman living next door called the police complaining about the loud noises. Baywatch, I believe." Baywatch. He hated that show. Worse, it was Mulder's favorite. He'd come over after work and turn it on. There was some damned cable channel that ran it 7 days a week, 2 or 3 times a day. Baywatch. Who wrote that garbage? All those shots of tanned, toned bodies romping in the surf, filmed in slow motion. And what was worse was what it did to Mulder. By the time the show was over he was so, so... horny. It could really get ugly. There was the time that Mulder had made him dress up like David Hasselhoff and "rescue" the silly boy in the bathtub. God, he hated that show. 'Help! help! glub! glub,' Mulder would yell. God he hated that show. '...save me, save me!...' It was horrible. 'I need mouth to mouth...' The acting was atrocious. '...please, I need a big strong lifeguard!' Ridiculous. '...help, help!' Coming back to reality, Skinner listened quietly while the doctor continued his explanation. As the story unfolded, he let out a deep sigh. This was getting ugly again, and he didn't even know who it was, who was bitten by a rattlesnake. What would a rattlesnake be doing in Washington, D.C. anyway? "But luckily the police did find the man's pet." "His pet?" Skinner looked shocked by the seeming non-sequitur. "Um, yes. His pet. The rattlesnake." "His pet?" Skinner wanted to bang his head against the wall. God was playing some cruel joke on him again. "Well, yes. 'Dana' I think is what he called it. He was reluctant to tell us at first, but eventually most of the story came out. The pain was overwhelming." Pain. Skinner knew pain. He was experiencing it at this very moment. Lots of it. "Dana?" "Dana." "He was bitten by a rattlesnake named Dana?" "Yes." "Where?" "In his apartment." This was turning into a bad Three Stooges movie, but so far there were only two stooges, himself and the doctor. Unless you counted the mystery patient. The T hree Stoogies, would that make him Curly, he wondered. "Where?" "The emergency crew found him in his apartment, collapsed on the floor next to the television. 'The Best of Baywatch' was in the VCR." "Is there anything else?" Skinner couldn't take much more of this. 'The Best of Baywatch' he hoped Mulder didn't find out about that particular tape, there'd be no end to it. He could just imagine it, every night watching 'The Best of Baywatch.' Followed by 'The Rescue.' He could hear Mulder's words coming from the bathroom... 'help, help, glub, glub.' Oh lord, no! "Well..." The doctor hesitated, for what seemed like the twelfth time in the past fifteen minutes. "Well?" "There is the matter of his, um, state of dress at the time." "His state of dress?" The doctor was doing it again, spooning out information one tiny detail at a time. What Skinner would have given to be in that interrogation room. "Can you be more specific, doctor?" "He was naked," the doctor deadpanned. "Naked?" the FBI director closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "Yes, that was his condition when the crew found him in his apartment." "Is there anything else?" "Well...." Another hesitation by the doctor. Skinner balled his hands into fists. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard himself say, 'woob, woob, woob'. He wondered if the doctor would try and poke him in the eyes or bonk him on the head. "It's just a matter of where he was bitten." "Where he was bitten?" "Yes." Skinner felt the vein in his forehead pulsing. In another few seconds it would explode. "He was bitten in an area that one would normally assume would be covered. Especially in the presence of snakes." He was starting to go sick in the stomach. "May I see the patient, doctor?" "He's right through here, sir." The doctor pointed him through the doorway to his right. He was now a jumble of nerves. Walking stridently, he passed by the doctor and pushed open the door. The room was dark, but he could see the man laying meekly in the bed, all sorts of tubes and monitoring cables coming out of his body. There seemed to be a large number of them concentrated on the area between the man's legs. Skinner focused on the man's face. Even in the dimly lit room he could still see the man's burnished auburn hair. A small light from the headboard seemed to give the hair a strange glow, as if his head was on fire, inflamed from the snake venom that coursed through his veins. "Hello, Agent Pendrell, I see we've had a little accident again." Relieved not to find Mulder laying there, Skinner took up position in the small chair next to the bed occupied by the embarrassed FBI lab technician. Nothing he could say would ease the pain the man was feeling, nor chase away the embarrassment of the situation. Pain. Pendrell wasn't the only one in pain. Skinner was in pain too. Putting it all in perspective, he now realized how much he missed Mulder. After all, he'd spend the whole of the night thinking and worrying about the younger man. So, he would do his duty here, make sure that Pendrell was alright and then head for home. He'd stop by the all-night video store on the way and rent 'The Best of Baywatch' and then go home and wait. For Mulder. And the rescue. Maybe they could try that mouth-to-mouth resuscitation thing again. As they always say, practice makes perfect. That's what he and Mulder needed, just a little practice at rescuing each other. Skinner was glad he'd answered the phone. Glad he'd answered Mulder's call. ---------- Inspired by page 113 in the November 98 issue of Men's Health magazine. This story is even better with pictures! http://members.tripod.com/~Lopsided