Title:  Strange Days II: Fox's Gal
Author: Fox's Gal
Rating:  Um, R...I use the "F" word. Sorry.
Summary: Hmm...well, it's much like the first one.
Spoilers: None from the season. Mentions of other stories I've
written. Read them if you feel like it. 
Disclaimer: Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are the creation of Chris Carter. 
They belong to him. They also belong to 20th Century Fox and 1013 Productions.  
I'm only borrowing them for now.  I appear in this story as well.  I belong to
myself and you may not use me without my permission.  XScout is also
mentioned, since the first S.D. was about her.  Alice in W belongs to
herself and I am using her with permission.   
Feedback:  Yes, I'm strange. I make no bones about it. If you feel like reinforcing the
fact, please email me at foxs_gal@hotmail.com 
Archive:  Sure, just ask so that I can visit it every once in a while.


Strange Days II: Fox's Gal
By Fox's Gal


Usually, the hour and a half ride was unbearably long.  Usually, she
was ready to fall asleep by the time she made it to I95 from school. 
Usually, she had to stop for something to drink; something with
caffeine to jump start her system.

Today just wasn't one of them usual days.

Shakespeare Studies had gone by with a creeping slowness she'd never
experienced before.  The class was an enjoyable one and one of her
favorites...usually.  What wasn't usual was the brainstorm that had
hit her while driving into school that morning.  It would figure,
she'd get this smashing idea for a plot twist for Alice when she was
nowhere near a computer.  Hell, she couldn't even pull over and jot
her ideas down.  She wasn't about to pull over on the deserted state
road...you just didn't do things like that.  The "bloodiest road in
Florida" and the only way she could get to school without paying an
arm and a leg in tolls...  No, she'd hold on to the idea until she was
able to get to a computer.  

Fan fiction kept her creative muscles exercised.  It was an excellent
escape from the demands of real life and, quite frankly, Fox's Gal was
needing to escape more and more often.  A good thing she had so much
to keep her imagination occupied.  There was that sequel to "Nawlins"
she was working on with Alice...she couldn't keep her mind anywhere
near off of it.  Then, there was another sequel to "I'll Be Seeing
You" she was working on with XScout.  Her brow furrowed at the thought
of her collaborator.  That last email she'd received was strange at
best.  The girl wasn't usually so...cryptic.  However, a few days
afterwards she got the next installment and her mind was once again
occupied.  She figured the message... "You might be getting more than
you bargained for when I send you this next installment of 'Not
Without My Permission,'" just meant that there were some plot twists
in store for her.  There were some things in the story she'd take care
of.  There was a time line that she was having a hard time
heeding...so far though, Mulder wasn't having a good time of it.  

That iodine mention...  Fox's Gal shuddered.  That's a bad day right
there.  

Her mind wandered to the events surrounding "Nawlins II."  She and
Alice had many of the details worked out...well, save for a name
anyway.  She bit her lip in anticipation.  Maybe a new installment
would be sitting in her inbox...

Regardless, she'd have something to work on once she got home. 
Distantly, she thought of having to read "Othello" for next Thursday's
class and of the paper assignment for Postmodernism in Literature.

She sighed.  A long night in front of the PC, that's for sure.  But
first...what comes after the iodine?  I'm going to have to read "I
Know Someone"again  if I'm going to keep this time line straight.  

She pulled the black Mustang up into the driveway and hefted her
backpack out of the passenger seat.  One of the straps caught on the
emergency brake and she swore out loud as she tried to pull against
the ungiving tether that pulled her back into the driver's seat. 
After disentangling the bag from the offending brake, she exited the
car successfully, feeling more than slightly foolish.

Quickly, she washed the remnants of makeup from her face and changed
into a light gray tank top and soft cotton pants.  She slid into the
battered desk chair and switched on the PC.  As she waited for the
computer to boot up, she went into the kitchen, filled a large bottle
with water and brought it back to the desk in her bedroom.  She
connected to the internet and went immediately to her mailbox to see
if Alice had sent her anything.  No such luck.  

That left "Permission."  Well, it was either that or start working on
a paper...or read Shakespeare.  She smiled wryly.  Ah, the glamorous
life of an English major...  She pretended to think about it for a
moment.  No contest.  "Permission," it was.

She hadn't saved XScout's latest bit in Word yet, so she clicked on
the "Inbox" link and waited.

Nothing happened.

She clicked again.

Again, nothing happened.

What the hell?  The icon in the upper right hand corner was revolving,
just like it should.  The little modem icon in the lower right hand
corner was blinking furiously.  

But the damn mail wasn't opening.

Doesn't it just fig?  Sighing, she closed the browser.  Obviously, the
ISP was on the fritz.  The server was probably down...again.  She'd
try again in an hour or so.  Until then, she had other things she
could work on.  There was that "Fever" sequel she could work on.  That
had been on the back burner for a while...

She opened the path to her archive folder and waited patiently for
"F2" to open.  Patience quickly turned to impatience as she tapped the
keyboard lightly with her fingertips.

"Come on, you damn thing.  What the hell is the matter with you?" 
Afraid for a moment that her boyfriend would have to do yet another
reinstall, she held her breath...

How odd...

At the top of the screen were the words: "Fever II."  Nothing more. 

Fox's Gal was quickly growing tired of the machine's antics.  She
pursed her lips in thought as to what she could do to remedy the
situation when she saw the blinking cursor move across the screen,
leaving letters forming words in its wake:

I have a bone to pick with you.

She felt her left eyebrow creep up her forehead as she quickly pushed
away from the desk and looked around the room.  This defied
explanation.  Distantly, her mind wandered to the subject in XScout's
email: "Weird Shit."  Well, this certainly constituted "weird."  Had
XScout inadvertently sent her a virus?  

A virus?  You wish.

Excuse me?  This wasn't funny anymore.  Grinding her teeth, she
scowled at the monitor.  Her fingers rested lightly on the keyboard
and she typed rapidly...

Is this some sort of joke?  She waited, holding her breath.

The cursor blinked a few times, almost as though it were thinking
about what it would type next.  Then, just as rapidly...

If it *is* a joke I'm certainly not laughing.

Her eyebrow contorted again.  I would certainly hope not, you're a
damn machine.  A question appeared in her mind then.  An absurdly
simple, yet loaded, question.

And who, exactly, are you?  And what bone do you have to pick with
me?

"I think you know who I am, and I think you're only too well aware of
the nature of this bone."

She was so intent on the screen in front of her, the spoken words
nearly scared her out of her skin.  Fox's Gal whipped around to see
him standing behind her, his hands resting casually in his pockets. 
First she felt her eyes widen, then they narrowed, scrutinizing him. 
He rose an eyebrow at her and laughed.

"I assure you, I'm me."  He pulled out that shiny black wallet from
inside the impeccable navy blue suit jacket.  

Armani...nice...very nice... She was nonplussed.  It certainly
was...him.  Was it?  It had to be.  She thought for a second about
which possibility was more fantastic.  Either a fictional creation was
standing in her bedroom, or David Duchovny was very much lost and far
from home...and suffering from a pretty serious head injury from the
looks of it.  She hadn't realized she was staring until the figure in
front of her spoke again.

"Do you mind if I sit?"

She blinked a few times, trying to produce the appropriate response
for the request.  "Um...be my...be my guest."

He sat on the bed to her right and leaned forward slightly.

"You, um...you had a...I believe it was a bone to pick with me?"

He nodded seriously.  "Yes. You and I have some issues that we need to
discuss."

"Really."

"Yes, really."

"Uh-huh.  And those might be?"

"I thought you'd never ask."  He got up from his seat and began
walking around the room, inspecting her video collection as well as
the many books on her bookshelf.  The silence was heavy as he thought
about what he had to say.  

She sat there in disbelief.  This wasn't happening.  She'd been under
some stress lately.  That had to be it.  Stress.  That's all.  If she
thought hard enough, he'd go away.

He wasn't going away.  She couldn't say that she was surprised at
this.  Her brain was mush and was incapable of thinking...much less,
thinking hard enough to make this...thing go away.  She sat in stunned
silence, watching him contemplate.  She wanted to laugh...hard.  There
was a guffaw bubbling up from deep within her that didn't dare show
itself.  If it did, well, she might wake herself up and if this were
indeed a dream, waking up might not be a good thing.  If he didn't say
something soon, she'd lose it in a big way.

"Okay, I understand you're new at this.  I understand that.  I'm very
aware of these things, you know.  I have to be."

"Of what things?"

"The fiction."  As if this simple statement provided all the answer
she needed.

"I see.  And...you're...aware of it."

"More than aware, actually.  I mean, did it ever occur to you that
what you wrote might actually have an effect on me?"

"Well, um...considering you're..."

"What?  I'm, what?  Fictional?  Do I look fictional to you?  Do I look
made up to you?"  He strode up to her and leaned over the chair,
glaring at her.

She swallowed...hard.  "No.  No, you don't look fictional to me.  Of
course, I might be having a breakdown..."

He wasn't listening anymore.  "You really didn't start off on too bad
a foot, really.  I mean, the first thing you did...what was it? 
Fever?  Now, that wasn't too bad.  I got sick, threw up a few
times..."

"Got a little bit of action in the process..." she was trying to be
helpful.

"Yes, yes...that was good too."  He jammed his hands in his pockets
again.  "Then, you kinda wandered into weird territory on that next
one...I can't remember the name..."

"'Light a Candle for Me.'"

"Yes, thank you.  That one was kind of nice because it gave me a
reprieve of sorts.  The humorous stuff, that was pretty easy to
endure.  Even though in 'Waitlisted' you put me right in Dante's
Seventh Circle of Airline Hell and in 'Lost' you basically made me
look like a moron..."

"Now, wait just a second.  'Lost' was based on actual events.  If you
looked like a moron it was only because I looked like a moron.  Leave
that one alone, all right?"

"Fine.  May I continue?"

"Please do."

"Thank you.  Where was I?"

"'Lost.'"  She smirked at him.

He only shot her another glare before continuing.  "As I was saying,
those humor pieces weren't too bad because they went easy on me.  Then
you had to do it."

"Do...what?"

"'I'll Be Seeing You.'  Sound familiar?"

She nodded.

"It should.  You know, you very nearly killed me."

"Never even came close.  In fact, you should be thanking me."

"Thanking you???  What the hell for?"

"Well, in case you weren't paying attention, 'I'll Be Seeing You' was
a sequel to 'I Know Someone.'  May I safely assume that you remember
that piece?"  He nodded, and she went on.  "Well, if you remember
correctly, you died in that one.  Remember?"  The absurdity of the
question nearly made her giggle, but she thought better of it.

He nodded, and she continued.

"I wrote that one as a sequel so you wouldn't die.  Okay, you got the
shit beat out of you and underwent some pretty intense psychological
torture.  That must have sucked..."

"And you put a pin in my leg."

"Yes, and I put a pin in your leg. But it sure as hell beats dying in
my book.  That's why I think you should thank me.  I saved your damn
life!"

"Fine, fine, whatever.  So, what's your excuse for 'Nawlins?'  What
the hell did I do to deserve that?"

"Deserve...what?"

He leaned against her desk and started listing.  "Okay, where do I
start?  Oh hell, why not start at the beginning?  First of all, you
lead me into this false sense of security by letting me think I
actually GOT a vacation.  Then you up the ante by making me think I
got a vacation and I got Scully to go with me.  Then everything went
entirely to hell."

"Well if it didn't then there wouldn't be a story.  Don't you see
that?"

"But for cripes sake, there are limits to what a man can endure!  Dead
bodies, psychotic voodoo priestesses, decomposing clowns and amorous
men in 'black leather fetish gear' handing me drugged absinthe...don't
you think that's a bit much?"

"Well, it wasn't like Scully didn't have a few bad patches in that
one.  There was that bit in the bathroom, you know."

"Yeah, well she still insists that what attacked her wasn't a
supernatural entity."  He was scowling now.

"Tell her the author said it was.  And besides, there were some good
parts in there.  There were opportunities for you to enjoy yourself. 
For God's sake, you got to kiss her!"

"What good was that?!  She just got pissed at me anyway!!!"  He was
yelling now.

"And you recovered!!  What the hell are you bitching about?!?"  She
wasn't about to let a creation of Chris Carter's yell at her in her
own house.

"For God's sake, why do you people INSIST on giving me the shaft!?! 
I'm a nice guy.  Really, I am.  I know I've acted like a jackass this
last season, but it was beyond my control!"

"Well, at least I don't make you act like the prick you've BEEN acting
like!"

"I've been under some STRESS, OKAY???"

"You want to talk about some stress?  The biggest thing you have to
worry about is how Carter's going to write you out of whatever mess he
got you into.  I actually have REAL LIFE to worry about, for Christ's
sake!"  She spun around in the desk chair to pull up the website for
her Postmodernism class.  "This fucking class is going to be the damn
death of me, okay?  If I decide to pin you to a wall with a long
knife, make you the target of a psychotic voodoo priestess, or give
you a pin in your damn leg, then you are going to fucking deal with
it!  YOU ARE KEEPING ME SANE!!!"

Her words seemed louder than they should have.  Perhaps because the
bellowing male counterpoint was conspicuously absent.  She was alone
in her room, yelling at the walls.  Shocked, she looked at the screen.
 XScout's message was very much open and very much on the screen in
front of her.  She was shaking slightly now.

"Sane indeed..."

Taking a deep breath, she hit the "Compose Message" link in her email.
 

To:  	XScout
From:  	Fox's Gal
Subject:  Re: Weird Shit

What the hell is going on here?

She clicked "Send" and leaned back in her chair and chewed on her
bottom lip thoughtfully.  Again, she clicked on the "Compose Message"
link.  

To:		alice_in_w
From: 	Fox's Gal
Subject:	Strange Days

Alice,

Might want to consider being a little nicer to Mulder in N2...

FG