From: Brandon Ray Date: Tue, 04 May 1999 14:39:35 -0600 Subject: NEW: Playback (1/1) TITLE: Playback AUTHOR: Brandon D. Ray EMAIL ADDRESS: publius@avalon.net DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere and everywhere, so long as my name stays on it and no money changes hands. FEEDBACK: Go ahead; knock yourself out. Ephemeral: *FEEDBACK*publius@avalon.net SPOILER STATEMENT: Three of a Kind RATING: PG-13 CONTENT STATEMENT: M/S UST. Scully/other UST? CLASSIFICATION: VH SUMMARY: Fill-in-the-blank for "Three of a Kind". Anybody but me wonder what Scully was doing between the time she left Langly at the morgue and Frohike found her in the hotel bar? Based on a challenge posted to the MSR-SMUT list (although this story actually fails to meet the challenge, since it isn't NC-17). THANKS: To Robbie and Brynna for the quick beta read. DISCLAIMER: In my dreams... Playback by Brandon D. Ray With a sigh of frustration Mulder unlocked the door and let himself into his apartment. It had been a long day; a really, *really* long day. It had started at 2:38 that morning, with a phone call from an anonymous informant, advising him of mysterious lights in the sky just outside of Richmond, Virginia. Mulder had hastily dressed and been in his car and on the road in less than fifteen minutes, and an hour and a half later he'd been there -- To find nothing. Nada, nit, nil. No lights; no witnesses; no informant. A complete washout. And of course, that had only been the beginning of his troubles. Mulder sighed and sank down on his sofa, kicking off his shoes in the process and leaning back and closing his eyes. Naturally enough, by the time he'd finally gotten back to his car after tramping around in the woods for over an hour, it wouldn't start. The battery had been stone, cold dead. He'd tried calling Scully, but for some reason she wasn't answering either her cell phone or her home phone. And of course Mulder had never invested in a AAA membership. Why buy a cow when milk was cheap? He hadn't been able to get hold of the boys, either, and that *really* had him puzzled. Scully very occasionally disappeared for a day or two to visit her mother or some such. But so far as Mulder knew, the Lone Gunmen had no lives. With a snort of disgust, Mulder mentally pushed the memories away. It was bad enough that he had just had the day from hell; he was *not* going to relive it now, in all its excruciating detail. Later he'd have to go over it, if only long enough to cobble together some sort of report and thereby justify the reimbursement of his travel expenses. But not now. Not at nine o'clock at night, when he'd already been up for over 18 hours. Right now all he wanted was a quick shower, something to eat and then a long sleep. He opened his eyes and started to rise from the sofa .... .... and his attention was drawn by the flashing red light on his answering machine. Mulder hesitated, torn between the desire to avoid contact with Skinner, Kersh, or any of the other Bureau higher ups who might possibly have been wondering where he was all day, and the hope that one of the messages might possibly be from Scully. And he really was curious as to where *she'd* been all day. He reached out and tapped the playback button on his answering machine, then waited while the tape rewound itself, seeming to take an unusually long time. And sure enough, the first message was from Scully. "Mulder, it's me. The battery in my cell phone just died, so I'm calling from a payphone at BWI. You're not answering your cell, so I'm leaving a message on your machine in hopes you'll call in to pick it up. Just wanted to let you know I managed to get a reservation, and I'll be arriving at 1 p.m. your time on Southwest 315. Don't worry about meeting me at the airport; I've already arranged for a rental. See you at the hotel this afternoon. This better be good, Mulder; I had to cancel plans for dinner and a movie with Mom." By the time her voice had ceased Mulder was sitting bolt upright, staring at the machine. What the hell was she talking about? She seemed to think he was out of town, and expecting her to follow. But they hadn't spoken since the previous afternoon .... But before he could process the thought further, the machine had started playing back another message. And again it was Scully's voice, sounding even more irritated than on the first message. "It's me again. Mulder, where the hell are you? I'm at the hotel, and the front desk has no record of a room in your name -- and yes, I did check under M.F. Luder, George Hale, Rob Petrie *and* Fox Mantle. They don't have a reservation for *me* either -- you could at least have had the courtesy to take care of that. Anyway, I'm checked in; I've got Room 1121 -- and it's a good thing for you they had a room available. I don't know what you've got up your sleeve this time, but it better be pretty damned good or I'm gonna kick your ass." By the time the second message had finished Mulder was overcome with dread. Someone was obviously playing games with his partner, luring her off to -- somewhere -- on the pretext that it was Mulder calling her. But who? And why? And most importantly, *where*? And then the third message started playing, and Mulder was even *more* confused. "Oh, Mulll-derrr. It's me. Scully." Mulder's felt his eyes widen at her tone -- and then they widened further as he heard her giggle. "I just wanted t'call an' tell you ... that I'm havin' a really good time." She stopped and giggled again, and in a slightly muffled voice said, "Stop that!" Then she went on, "But I still haven't been able to *find* you, Mulder. I've looked everywhere. Where are you hiding?" There was still more giggling, and the rumble of a man's voice in the background. Then Scully's voice again: "But I did meet this really nice guy, Mulder. I think you'd hate him." Giggle. "His name is Morris. You know; like the cat." Giggle. "But thas not the best part," she went on in a conspiratorial whisper. "The best part is his *last* name: Felcher. Can you believe it? Morris Felcher!" And she broke down in peals of laughter. "Have you ever felched, Mulder?" she asked, after she got her laughter back under control. "You say you believe in extreme possibilities, and that one's pretty extreme." She started laughing again, and it was a minute or two before she was able to continue speaking. "I've never felched, Mulder," she confided. "But I bet Morris has. He looks like a felcher." Mulder shook his head; what the hell was going on? That was definitely Scully's voice; he knew her voice so well. But the things she was saying .... "Mulder, why aren't you here?" Now she sounded like a pouty child. "You call me on the phone at 2:34 in the morning and tell me it's an emergency, and I get here and all I have to entertain me are the three stooges." Mulder felt his eyes widen again. The Gunmen? Could *they* be mixed up in this? "I miss you, Mulder," she continued. "I know I said I was gonna kick your ass, but I wouldn't ever really do that. Your ass is much too nice for me to wanna kick it." She paused and giggled yet again. "Do other things to it, maybe. But never kick it." Again Mulder heard what sounded like a man's voice in the background. Then: "Mulder, I gotta go. Morris wants his cream." And then there was a click as the line had apparently gone dead. Mulder waited a moment, but there seemed to be no more messages. He sat on the sofa for a pair of minutes, trying to digest it all. Scully had apparently been called by someone -- someone she had mistaken for him. On the basis of that phone call, she'd gone off -- somewhere. And she'd mentioned a flight number, so it should be a simple matter to track her down by calling the airline. He was just reaching for the phone when it rang. "Mulder," he said, scooping up the receiver. "Hello?" It was Scully's voice, thankfully sounding normal, if slightly pissed. "Mulder? Can you hear me? I'm at the hotel. Where are you?" Fini -- "Can I tell you a story?" "Has it got a wild finish?" "I don't know the finish yet." "Then go on and tell it; maybe one will come to you as you go along." ========================== You don't need letters of transit to visit my fanfic: http://www.avalon.net/~publius/MyStories.html