From: shirlock Date: Fri, 12 Nov 1999 02:02:52 GMT Subject: Playing by Heart X-File (1/1) Title: Playing by Heart X-File (1/1) Author: shirlock Rating: PG-Ha-Ha Category: Humour Spoilers: Playing by heart, the movie Summary: Trent and Meredith RST; Barley and Scully Friendship; Scully and Mulder UST. Disclaimer: Scully and Mulder belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox. Trent, Meredith, Mark and Barley belong to Willard Carroll, Morpheus Production. Author's notes: Meredith is very Scully and Jon Stewart is her likely suitor. Go watch the movie if you have not seen it yet. You will never brush your teeth the same way again. I miss Scully's home the entire 6th season. Feedback: shirlock@pacific.net.sg +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Mulder could hear a dog barking. A bassoony that could only come out of an incredibly large hound. Like one of Doyle's Hounds of Baskerville. Somebody in Scully's neighbourhood got a mastiff and by the sounds of it, an impatient one at that. He sprinted up the steps to her apartment two at a time. He wanted to share the latest findings with her. This case of paranormal schizophrenia was very unusual. The first of its kind. As he neared her apartment door, his ears started playing tricks on him. There was someone in her apartment with her, panting strenuously. There was a trumpeteer blowing a jazzy tune. And Scully was giggling. And her giggles were getting louder. And whining. Someone was whining. <> Her words made no sense to him. She was laughing hard now. <> <> He knocked on the hard wood of her door. Knock on wood-- please do not let be what I think it is. She opened the door, a dishevelled Scully, hair beautifully mussed, spit (was that spit?!) slathered on one side of her smooth cheek and her grey robe was twisted around her upper body. Her foot caught the edge of the door and something was tugging her from behind the door. <> Barley? Vegetable, mineral or mammal? He scooted into her living room and met the largest mastiff he had ever seen straining his collar to greet him. <> Barley had his front paws on Mulder's shoulders, towering over him and panting hot oreo-scented breaths on his face. <> She pulled at his collar and dragged the overly affectionate dog towards the kitchen. <> Mulder snapped his head toward the kitchen and felt oddly relieved she wasn't talking to him. <<*When* did you get a dog, Scully?>> She busied with cleaning up her face with a kitchen towel and started opening the overhead cupboards. <> She returned. She found a glass from the cupboard and opening the fridge door ventured to pour out the iced tea. Mulder shrugged, his palms an open plea. Suddenly he realised, then felt he might have misinterpreted. Diana? Ouch! Do not open that door. Instead he looked round her apartment, hands on his waist, surveying. It had been a while since he had stepped into her home. It was surrounded with Scully memorabilia. A half - eaten plate of seafood pasta, an opened bag of oreos, a glass of milk, family pictures and lots of flowers. Flowers??? <> He began, a mild revelation. <> <> She said pointedly. She waved him onto the sofa, passing him the glass of iced tea in her hand then flopped bonelessly onto the opposite end. He did not know how to respond. This was getting surreal. << Who brought you flowers?>> He liked the sound of forced indig- nance in his voice. It actually *did* sound like he did not care. <> <> Funny how jealousy can ooze out of that one-syllabled name. <> The jealousy odometer hiccupped. Trent sounded like an immediately offensive moniker. Upper crust. Snooty. No sense of humour. Utterly disdainful. Haughty. He sounded like the New York version of some Merchant/Ivory character named Percival. << Well, it has been a while, Mulder. You must know that even lonely G-women of the FBI needs a little loving. I mean, after Mark died in Chicago-->> <> Mulder had to interrupt. Barley, flowers, Trent, Mark?! What the hell was going on? <> No more forced indignance this time. Mulder knew he was definitely NOT going to like who Mark was and what he had meant to her. <> Her features were impeccably schooled. She reached for an oreo and dunked it in her milk, sploshing some of the liquid white onto the area where the slope of her breasts began. <> Scully was married. To a gay. And she never thought to tell me this before? She gets flowers from an architect named Trent. She reads Theatre Weekly, he mused as he caught sight of the dog-eared maga- zine on her coffee table. Is this Dana Scully? Mulder had profound difficulties processing the above information. <> Scully glances back at Barley and the pooch cranes his neck to whine his adoration. < You were married to a gay named Mark? In Chicago? You are dating an architect?! When were you planning on telling me any of this?!>> His voice rose insistently, chalked up by the adrenaline pumping straight into his vocal cords. His face felt warm but his blood bubbled like a hot spring. She, on the other hand was the mistress of her emotions. She blink- ed several times and said <> <> What the hell was that? <> <> Scully sighed. <> <> Pipsqueak Mulder made a guest appearance. <> She takes a cleansing breath and continues, emotions evened out, <> <> His eyes stared. His open mouth convinced her that his higher brain functions had gone AWOL. He shapeshifted into a parrot. Make that a long plumed cockatoo. <> <> Squawk, squawk! General motors! General motors! Squawk!!! The phone interrupted his Polly impersonation. <> She said. << Oh, Trent.>> She got up from the sofa and relocated to the kitchen table, mumbling. Mulder repeated in his mind <> <> Her voice was a sickly mixture of hope and girlish anxiety. It was mawkish and so-help her-God-- Dana Scully is never mawkish. She mawks not and I squawk not! <> She says. Squawk! Squawk! The knock on the door signalled Mulder's exit, but she briefly brushed his arm as she reached for the door. Her eyes asked him to stay. Mulder's stomach did two somersaults and a jack knife before he acquiesced. He did not turn around. He heard him bring flowers by the sound of crinkly florists' bouquet wrap and heard her say softly, <> Her voice was like baby's breath. <> He said, finally noting the back of a very still figure on the couch. <> Mulder could feel her smile at Trent the way she mouthed the words. <>Mulder mimicked her voice in his head. At which time he turned to see Scully being scooped into Trent's arms and kissing him with an abandon he never would have associated with Dana Scully. His heart turned to water and he gulped back his surprise to see the only woman he loved more than life itself offer herself to another man. No.No. No. God! This cannot be happening!!! They broke their liplock and she pulled him into her living room. He was not bad looking. Something about his nose being too sharp. His hair was dark and curly and his eyes were definitely green. His smile was too wide but who would not be after being kissed (unreservedly, unabashedly) by that gorgeous but slightly tipsy redhead? Can anybody get drunk on oreos and milk? <> She placed a small hand in Trent's. <> What? Was there another Trent the architect she was dating and wanted me to know that it was this particular Trent the architect she is in love with? Mulder shook hands with her new beau and asked in as civil a manner as he thought was civil without being brutal. <> Scully stole a look at Trent and he had a grin that acid could not remove. <> Trent said sheepishly. Scully merely looked smitten by his embarrassment. <> Mulder was indeed surprised. <> <> Scully granted Trent permission, her head nodding a little to reassure the man that Mulder likes to know How, re-enacted as precisely as possible. <> He went over to her bookcase and with one hand brought it neatly crashing on top of him. <> The wood felt hard beneath him.Where the hell was her carpet? Mulder looked about him, typewritten reports wafted about as a familiar jazzy tune invaded his fuzzy consciousness. His eyes widened at the dark surrounding him. He rubbed his head, expecting to find it covered with bumps from the bookcase knocking him over. To his infinite surprise, there was no bookcase, no voluminous tomes of medical journals burying his prone form. Just two case files and an empty plate of oreo crumbs next to him. He whipped his head left and right but found himself sitting on the floor next to his couch in his own apartment, his television displaying the credits to a new video he had rented for the evening. A bluesy tune played as the names scrolled upwards. I must have fallen asleep watching...(he grabbed the video tape box) 'Playing by Heart'. He screwed up his eyes and reached for the lamp on his desk. No doubt about it, Meredith looked exactly like Dana Scully. Had it only been a dream? His watch said 11:53pm. He picked up the phone without further ado. <<'ello?>> Her sleepy voice was very very soft. Like the downy fur on a newborn bunny rabbit. <> Froggy Mulder croaked. <> Her voice was low, cracked, tired and struggling to awaken. He kept quiet for only a moment too long to be called a second, when she asked him in a clearer, stronger Agent Scully voice. He could hear her reaching for her digital clock on her bedside table. <> <