Title:  Strange Days 3: Alice (Through the Looking Glass...)
Author:  Fox's Gal
Rating: Um...I guess PG
Summary:  That would spoil the surprise now, wouldn't it?
Disclaimer:  We all use him, we all abuse him, none of us is
authorized to do so.  Does that stop us? Absolutely not!  Fox Mulder
is the creation and possession of Chris Carter, Fox and 1013
Productions.  Alice is her own person, of course.  If you want to use
her and abuse her, that's between you and her.  Fox's Gal...well,
that's me and, no, you can't use me without my permission either.
Archive:  Sure? Why not?  Just tell me first so I can visit every now
and then. 
Feedback:  Do I want to hear if you think I'm twisted?  Of
course I do!  Email me at foxs_gal@hotmail.com and tell me what you
think.

"Strange Days 3:  Alice (Through the Looking Glass)
By Fox's Gal

The train smelled worse than usual.  She wrinkled her nose up in
disgust, trying to figure out where the stench was coming from.  She
wagered a guess that the ripe aroma was probably emanating from the
gentleman to her right.  If she turned her head away from him, the
smell lessened.  It looked like she'd be riding the rest of the way to
her stop with her head turned to the left...

Almost there.  Almost home.  A tired smile crossed her lips.  It had
been an excruciating day.  She'd been up with Fox's Gal (whom she more
often than not referred to as "Dino") until nearly 2:00 in the
morning.  Of course, the girl wasn't twisting her arm in an effort to
get her to stay on the Yahoo! Pager longer.  Damned five hour time
zone difference was all.  While it had only been 9:00 in the evening
in Florida, it had been very much past her bedtime in London.  Well,
she'd get home and ship of the latest bit of Nawlins II.  Then, she'd
eat and turn in early.  Yes, she'd be responsible tonight.  

The next stop was her station.  Alice got up from the bench and neared
the sliding doors.  She stuck a hand in her coat pocket and froze, her
heart stuck in her throat.

Her keys weren't there.

In an almost taunting flashback, she remembered dropping them in her
desk drawer at work.  They were still there, of course, since she had
failed to remember to retrieve them from that drawer.

"Damn it all to hell," she muttered angrily.  She had no choice, she
had to go back to work and get the keys.  There was a chance that one
of her housemates was home, but why risk it?  With her luck, she'd get
home and no one would be there.  She sighed resignedly and pushed her
way off of the train.  She stopped on the landing for a moment to get
her bearings straight and then headed off to another part of the
terminal.

It was late by the time she did get home and, of course, someone was
there.  Some one could have let her in.  Dammit.  Well, at least she
had her keys.  Someone might could have stolen them, had she left them
in her desk.  She smiled evilly.  Yes, someone could have stolen my
keys and come here and murdered my housemates.  A pity, really.  At
that point, however, she was hungrier than irritated...and her
irritation was probably brought on by the fact that she was starving. 
She slunk up to her room and changed out of the Execu-Bitch outfit she
wore to work.  She felt much more comfortable once damned heels were
off and she was in a roomy T-shirt and sweat-pants.  

She padded into the kitchen and fixed herself some left over
fettuccine Alfredo.  Then, she poured herself a glass of cabernet and
headed back to the computer.  The last email she'd got at work was
from Dino and it was strange to say the least.  Go easy on Mulder? 
What was she thinking?  Didn't that defeat the entire purpose of
"Nawlins?" 

Shaking her head, she set her plate and glass down at the table. 
While the computer was warming up, she took a long drink of wine and
twirled the pasta around her fork.  It wasn't too bad, actually...for
having been warmed up.

First order of business was to check for any developments on Nawlins
2.  Damn, still had to come up with a better title than that.  Her
mind wandered in the direction of titles as she waited for her email
to open up.  Wicked Witchcraft, Cycles, Witchy Women...hmmm...

Her inbox was overflowing.  She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and
smiled.  Dino had been busy today.  Lots of ideas about the story. 
She took a long drink of wine, savouring the dryness of it.  Some good
points...the sequel dealt a bit with past lives, but neither wanted
Mul or Scul's incarnations to scream "Heeeeeeeeere's Mulder!" or "Look
at me!!! I'm Scully!!!"  That would be...tacky, to say the least. 
No...had to be subtler.  Also another strange mention of being nice to
Mulder.  She snorted softly.  She had no mind to do such a thing. 
Torturing Mulder was part of the game.  She thought it strange that
Dino was having such a change of heart.  After some of the things that
had gone on in the first one...she laughed quietly.  Go easy on him
indeed.  What's he going to do? Come and get me?  Oh, and some
developments on that scene in the church...Alice smiled secretly. 
Yes...yes, this one's coming together nicely.

"Absolutely sordid, my dear.  In the true spirit of Nawlins..." The
emails had sparked something in her.  She wasn't going to work on the
story at first.  She was annoyed and tired...but the wine was doing a
brilliant job of mellowing her out, so she decided to open up the
document and see where the creative juices took her.

Alice twirled a long piece of pasta around the fork as she accessed
the document.  She brought the fork to her lips, deep in thought.  N2
was taking longer than usual to open up.  It was a ridiculously large
file, but still...it shouldn't be taking this long.  The laptop
whirred busily, but produced nothing.  She ground her teeth
impatiently.

"Come on, come on..."

A small grey box appeared on the screen just then:

File is missing or corrupt.  Retry?  Cancel?

"You're kidding me."  Her shoulders slumped in annoyance.  She took
another drink of wine and rinsed the Parmesan cheese from her palate. 
She clicked "Retry."  

File is missing or corrupt.  Retry?  Cancel?

"You know damned well that it's neither missing, nor corrupt.  Just
pull up the bloody file!"

A blank page came up next.  Alice only arched one well-shaped eyebrow
in response.

"I didn't tell you to do that."  She was nonplussed.

You know as well as I that it might not be missing, but it sure as
hell is corrupt.

"Excuse me?"

Corrupt: To change from good to bad in morals, manners or actions.  To
degrade with unsound principles or moral values.  To subject (a
person) to corruption of blood.  To alter from the original or correct
form or version.  To become tainted or rotten.  To become morally
debased.  To cause disintegration or ruin.

She licked her lips, her fingers hovering above the keyboard.  And
which definition, pray tell, do you think applies to this file?

She waited.  It appeared to consider this for a moment.

Second to the last one, about being morally debased.

She planted her tongue firmly against her cheek for a moment, then
smiled archly.  You haven't seen anything yet.  She waited for a
response.

Neither have you.

What the...?

"Why is it everyone is having such a damned hard time with this?" 

The unfamiliar (well, quite familiar actually, but her television
wasn't on, so there was no reason for him to be speaking in that room
at that moment) voice startled her.  It had come from behind her and
she twisted around in the seat to find out where it came from.

This has got to be a dream.  A wonderfully twisted dream.  Yes, that
must be it. I've fallen asleep in my pasta and this is a result of it.
 A bad day and good wine have this sort of result.  Of course, if this
were a dream, he'd be naked.

"Naked, huh?"

She coloured.  "Um...what?"

"Well I guess it's a good thing for me that this is no dream."

He sat there, big as life, grinning smugly at her.  The black pullover
fit him snugly.  A nice contrast to the relaxed chinos he was wearing.
 (He looked like he'd stepped right out of "Pine Bluff Variant." One
of her favourite episodes...)  He was seated on the sofa that was
against the wall, one ankle resting casually on his knee.

She swallowed hard.  Of course this was a dream.  Stuff like this just
didn't happen.  It defied all laws of...well, everything!  First of
all, this was a fictional character.  That automatically excluded him
from the possibility of showing up in flesh and blood.  

Unaware that he knew exactly what was running through her mind, he got
up and started pacing agitatedly.  

"Why the hell is everyone having such a hard time with this?"  He
didn't seem aware that he had already asked that same question at the
beginning of their interview.  She leaned back in her chair and
crossed her legs.  This was going to be interesting.  Alice was still
quite convinced that this was a dream.  Why not let it play out? 
Might have some interesting...developments.

"Fox...may I call you that?"  Before he could answer, she smiled a
superior smile. "It makes no difference, I shall call you it anyway. 
What's in a name, right?"

He stared at her, as if seeing her for the first time.  His brows
furrowed together and he seemed to be concentrating on something. 
"Something tells me it's more than I can imagine."

She smiled wider.  "You would be correct in that observation,
actually.  Now, where was I?"

"I believe you were calling me 'Fox.'"

"Yes.  Yes, I was. Thank you.  So tell me, Fox, what brings you
here?"

He stared at her.  This certainly was an interesting change.  Of
course, the woman obviously thought she was dreaming.  He had to make
her see that she wasn't.  "Actually, I came to discuss a few things
with you."

"And to what do I owe that honour?"

"Some choice...predicaments you've put me in.  I think it can be
summed up in one word, really:  'Nawlins.'"

"What issues do you have with it?  I fail to understand."

"Well, call me crazy, but I have a few problems with some things that
went on in the text."

"Such as?"

"Well, first of all, the drunk scene.  I mean, come on...Scully and I
get drunk and there's only UNRESOLVED sexual tension? And you had me
pass out, for heaven's sake!  What...do you think I can't hold my
liquor?"

"Fox, that scene was purely humorous.  Would you rather I had you two
shag, then have to face each other in the morning having to deal with
both a hangover and the ensuing embarrassment a tryst would have
caused?  Trust me, it worked out for the better."

He appeared to think about this for a moment.  "All right then, what
exactly was the deal with Jake?  I was almost afraid I'd been trapped
in another slash bit."

"Well dearest, you have to take into consideration a few things.  The
first being that Jake's advances toward you were also supposed to be
humorous.  However, they were humorous whilst also putting you in
distinct danger, since Her Scullyness was...otherwise detained.  And
you came through the whole affair without a mark on you, did you
not?"

"Hey, that knife that pinned me to the wall left a hell of a scar."

"But it was over an old scar.  So really, you came through all right. 
Physically, anyway.  And it's not even the physical torture I enjoy
writing.  It's that psychological stuff."

He snorted. "I noticed.  What is it with you and dreams?  I mean, come
on, I suffer from horrible nightmares as it is.  Why add to the
trauma?"

"Fox, allow me to explain something to you--"

"I even made my parents--"

"Call you Mulder.  Yes, I know.  I'm not either of your parents, dear.
 You can't well make me call you something I don't wish to call you. 
You, sir, are not the author here.  Now, let me explain something to
you.  You are a Byronic hero.  You're dark, you're mysterious, you
have tremendous guilt and...well, an abundance of issues.  I think,
deep down inside, you enjoy all that we put you through.  Perhaps in
your brilliant, if slightly twisted, mind it's justified.  You're the
Oxford educated psychologist.  Don't tell me you don't see that."

"I enjoy it?"

"Of course you do."

He sat down and pinched the bridge of his nose.  "And tell me again,
why do I like it?"

She smiled patiently.  "You like it because it's...it alleviates your
guilty conscience.  You go through hell and, somehow, it makes you
feel better.  If you weren't an FBI agent, you'd probably be heavily
into self-mutilation."

"What are you? An Oxford educated psychologist too?"

She laughed at this.  "No dear, I went to Cambridge."

He nodded, as if this made all the difference in the world.  "So, how
do you explain those slashy aspects?"

Her eyebrows rose in surprise.  "Slash?  Certainly not.  You were
never in any danger, Fox.  Trust me on that."  She stopped and
regarded him thoughtfully. "Now, if you continue this attitude, I can
certainly alter my stance on that statement."

He appeared worried.  "How so?"

"Well, Dino and I are currently working on a 'Nawlins' sequel
and...well, unless you want a High Lord of Hell fancying you, I
suggest you change your attitude quickly."

"A...H-high Lord of...Hell?"

"Yes Fox, that's what I said.  Unless you want to be a demon's love
slave for the rest of eternity..."

"WHAT?  What the hell are you writing about?"

"Oh Fox, that would spoil the surprise now, wouldn't it?  You'll find
out soon enough.  In fact, I think you'll be one of the first to
know."

He turned a sickly green shade and leaned back into the sofa.  Alice
bit her lip to suppress the wicked smile that was quickly growing. 
And now time for some good old fashioned emotional blackmail...  This
was, after all, only a dream.  She got up from the chair and settled
on the sofa next to her guest.  She considered him for a moment and
licked her lips quickly before she spoke.

"Now Fox, I'm sure we can work out an agreement. Wouldn't you say?"

He eyed her warily. "An agreement?"

"Sure!  I can think of a few ways you can guarantee that nothing bad
will happen to you in this one.  Nothing at all...well, let me
rephrase that.  What's happened has happened and there's no way I'm
going back to change it.  Now, you can secure yourself a free ride
rather easily.  You have the power to make it so you come through this
with only a minimal amount of post traumatic stress syndrome."

"And what about the unresolved sexual tension?"

"Sorry, that's Dino's department.  You'll have to appeal to her."  She
smiled.  "But then again, you pretty much do already..."

"So, what do I have to do?"

She smiled wickedly.  "Just sit there.  I'll take care of everything."
 She leaned over carefully and brought her hand up to his cheek. 
Carpe diem...  She brought her lips hard down on his, half expecting
him to vanish beneath her touch, much like the dream he was.  However,
such was not the case.  Not only did he not disappear...he actually
responded.  Alice was only vaguely aware of hands weaving their way
into her short red hair.

Curiouser and curiouser...

She pulled away reluctantly, unable to keep the grin off of her lips. 
"I think...I think I need something to drink."  She got up from the
couch and retrieved her glass from the table and took a very long
drink of cabernet.  Sighing, she turned around to face her fictional
conquest.

"Damn it!"

He was gone.

"I suppose this means I'm awake now," she muttered.

Grinding her teeth, she flopped back into the chair and was more than
slightly disturbed to see that N2 was very much an active and
non-corrupt document since it was gracing the screen on her laptop at
the moment.  She narrowed her eyes and pulled up her email again.

To:  	Dino
From: 	Frankie
Subject:  ????

Dino,

Strange things going on here...you're not going to believe what I
just...did.  I think.

Frankie

PS:  Are you aware of any hallucinogenic side effects when you mix
Cabernet Sauvignon and Fettuccine Alfredo?