"Strange Days 6: Susan Proto"
By Fox's Gal
Rating: PG 
Summary:  Hey, this is a series! If you've gotten this far without
getting the gist yet...that ain't my problemo. Sorry. Disclaimer: Fox
Mulder, Dana Scully and CSM are the creations and property of Chris
Carter, 20th Century Fox and 1013 Productions.  Shirley the MTA
Webmistress is the sole property of herself. So is Susan Proto...I got
Shirley's permission to use Susan, but I gave her back promptly. She
didn't even know she was gone...just a few hours of missing time...
Archive: Sure! Just tell me so I can visit.
Feedback: I love feedback.  I need feedback.  Like air, like water,
like...chocolate. If ya liked it, tell me.  If ya hated it, tell me
(but please be gentle!)  foxs_gal@hotmail.com


And now, without further ado...

Strange Days 6: Susan Proto
By Fox's Gal

December 15
1:49 AM

It was late.  Nearly two AM, but Susan couldn't sleep.  Perhaps it was
the excitement of Hanukkah, perhaps it was the blessed promise of two
weeks off; away from students and work in general.  Whatever it was,
Susan Proto could not relax enough to sleep.

She padded around the house, listening to her feet clad in wool ragg
socks thud dully on the floor.  She had sent all she had to Shirley
already and, for once, didn't have any side projects to work on.  She
was in a writing mood though; and that was the best time to start new
projects when there were none to continue.  A smile slid across her
lips as she decided how she was going to expel this late night
energy.

On her way back to the den where the computer was situated, she
stopped at a large bay window and looked at the snow, falling in huge
drifts on the lawn.  She shook her head at the irony.  Didn't it just
figure that the most impressive snowfall of the year would happen when
the kids were already off for vacation?  No chance for snow days at
all...

She stopped at the kitchen and made a steaming mug of tisane.  The
lemon grass and peppermint steamed up and began to soothe her sinuses,
stuffed with the first cold of the season.  Susan continued on her way
to the den where she settled in the soft leather of the desk chair and
switched on the PC.  She sat there listening to the heavy silence of a
sleeping house while the computer whirled and beeped to life.  She
sipped thoughtfully and decided to check her email before starting on
any new writing.  

Her modem dialed and connected to the server.  After the multitude of
bleeps and the several seconds of static, her email program began the
send and receive process.  

She had mail.

Susan smiled as she saw the author of the email.  Shirley had dropped
her a line.  Well, it was always great to hear from Shirley.  Susan
clicked on the mail message.  

As she read, she felt her brow contort quizzically with a life of its
own.  

Susan,

Had a very strange encounter the other day and I'm not exactly sure
what to make of it. I'm almost hesitant to tell you, lest you think
I'm nuts.  

I saw him. 

Yes, I really think I saw him.  

HIM! Yes, *that* HIM!

And, Susan, he wants us to stop the MTA and maybe go with an STA
themed site.  

Shirl

Susan sat back and read the message over and over.  Him.  She said she
saw him.  Him?  Who?  

The only possible answer came to mind and she sighed audibly.  "Girl,
you've been working way too hard."  There's no way.  No way at all.  

Shaking her head, she glanced through the other emails.  A few bits of
feedback from people who had read some fiction.  She read through
them, excited as always that people who enjoyed her stories and series
took the time to jot down a few pleasant words about them.  Being a
writer, she knew the importance of feedback and criticism.  She always
made an effort to send off emails to writers whose work she
particularly enjoyed.  

Hmm...maybe instead of writing tonight, I might do some reading
instead?  The thought appealed to her and she typed in the MTA address
in the address box of her browser.  There were some new stories that
had been added to the site and she was curious as to what Shirley had
been up to.  Well, other than beginning to lose her mind, she thought
as her netpal's message came to mind.  

Then it hit her.  

This was a marvelous joke.  Shirley must have been up late and was
feeling punchy and thought it would be funny to drop her a note like
that.  That had to have been it.  At this revelation, she began to
chuckle softly.  She nodded to herself as the explanation came to
mind.  It was the only explanation, really.  

Now, for some reading.  

It was a welcome relief to know she wouldn't be getting up at some
ungodly hour to head off to the school in the semi darkness of the New
England morning.  She could sleep in, late if she chose to.  It was a
wonderful freedom that the school holidays lent her.  It was time to
take advantage of that freedom.  

It suddenly occurred to her that the MTA site was taking an awfully
long time to download.  She began to chew thoughtfully on the inside
of her cheek.  Funny, since it was so late, it would have made sense
that the connection would have been faster than usual.  She hit "stop"
and "refresh" in hopes that the page would come up more easily on a
second try.

No such luck.  

Damn.

There had been a list of stories that had sounded interesting to her
when she got Shirley's latest update notification.  She had planned on
downloading some of them and perhaps printing them out to take to bed
and read.  

Double damn.

The urge to write surfaced again and she closed down the browser in
frustration.  Damned ISP was on the fritz.  They were probably
updating it, choosing to do so during the wee hours of the morning
when the only people they'd piss off were insomniacs and computer
nerds.

She sighed resignedly as she opened up Word.  At least that wouldn't
go out on her like the ISP...

You have *got* to be kidding me.

Word wasn't working either.

How the hell was that possible?

She began to grind her teeth in frustration.

This is really beginning to...

Just then, a line of text...

Really beginning to...what?  Piss you off?  Annoy you?  Frustrate you?
 Get under your skin?

She was staring at the screen in shock and disbelief.  She felt her
jaw hanging open and couldn't begin to comprehend what was happening
here.  

What's happening here is I have finally found a way to make you people
feel the way I've been feeling for years.

Completely out of control.

How's it feel?

"So, now by you restricting my access to my word processor...I'm out
of control?  So, how are you out of..." She stopped herself.  She was
sitting there talking to her computer.  How had she come to such a
thing?  She was talking to the computer.  

It was time to shut the computer off and go to bed.  It was time to
end this insanity.  It was time to...

You gonna answer me, or what?

"I'm supposed to answer you?"

"Well, yeah.  That's what two people do when they're having a
conversation."

She did not believe the words that were about to come out of her
mouth.  "Yeah, well...it helps when one of the participants is
actually a person rather than a machine."

"How's this for personal?"

The soft voice had come from the couch behind her.  She wouldn't have
heard it otherwise, but the house was so silent...  She didn't turn
around right away.  She knew, logically, that that voice was not
really in the house with her.  She knew logically that that voice
(that familiar voice...) could not, by any stretch of the imagination
be there with her.  She knew that that voice belonged to an actor who
was on the other side of the country.  That voice belonged to...

"Hey, aren't you listening to me?"

"I'd be listening to you if you were really here. But since you
obviously are not here in this room right now...no, I'm not listening
to you.  Because I can't be listening to someone who's not here."

"Oh, that made loads of sense."

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sounds in the room.  There
was the ticking of a clock from somewhere in the house, there was the
soft hum of the heater as it warmed the house.  There was her own
breathing and...something else.  Breathing.  Breathing that didn't
match her own, set, quickening pattern.  

She wanted to look behind her.  She really did.  Susan closed her eyes
and eased around in the swivel chair.

"It'd be easier to see if your eyes weren't closed."

Shit.  She opened one eye.  The image of Fox Mulder filled her vision
and the other eye flew open of its own accord. 

"See?  That wasn't so hard now, was it?"  He was on the sofa, leaning
back into the soft cushions and grinning amusedly at her.  He was
dressed in black jeans and a black woolen pullover.  His hair was wet
and beginning to stick out in all directions. He looked, in her
opinion, pretty damn sexy.

She found that she couldn't speak to answer him.

"Susan?  Susan, that wasn't so hard now...was it?  Turning around, I
mean."

"Um, no?" 

He laughed heartily at this.  "Well, that's the first time someone has
actually refused to turn around.  Though you're not the first to..."
he leaned forward, "not believe in me."

"Okay, okay, okay. Point made." This is not happening...

"Uh, yes. Yes it is happening."

"Prove it."

He stood up, suddenly frustrated.  "What is it with you women and your
proof?"

"Uh, excuse me?"

"Never mind.  That's not what I'm here for."

She leaned back, amused.  "Oh? And what, exactly, are you here for?"

"I'm here to ask you to stop.  Just stop."

"Huh?  Stop what?"

"Writing.  Stop writing.  Stop the stories! Stop kicking my ass!"

Susan began to get an idea as to what Shirley was talking about. 
"Stop.  You want me to stop?  You have got to be kidding me!"  She was
laughing at him.

"Okay...I'll admit, you're not as cruel as some of them.  I
mean...what am I saying?  You're sadistic!  You don't have any pets,
do you?  I mean, were you one of those kids who would sit in the yard
with a magnifying class and fry ants?"

She laughed out loud at him.  "I'm not going to answer that under the
grounds that it might incriminate me."

"Figures."

"So, what's so bad about my writing?"

"Oh, it's not that it's badly written.  I mean, you write very well. 
It's just that...well..." he stopped and thought for a moment.  "The
'Abah' series.  Okay?  Do you have any idea how rough that was?  Do
you?  I mean, have you ever been deaf?" 

"I-I'm sorry if I hurt you in any way...But I gave you your hearing
back."

"Oh, physically...that series wasn't too bad.  But psychologically..."
he trailed off.  "My God, you put me through the ringer.  First off,
it was the meningitis.  Then the deafness, the process of curing
Scully's cancer.  Jeez, what is it with you people? I can't go into a
hospital without encountering some sort of mishap? Nothing can go
smoothly for me, can it?"

"Well, see, your meningitis complicated--"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand.  "Yeah, complicated things. I
know all about complications. Thanks to you people, of course."  He
was quiet for a moment.  "Did ya really have to have them all call me
'Fox'? I mean, was it really necessary?"

"Fox is a very nice name."

"You never had to live with it then," he snorted.

Okay, reality check.  A fictional creation is admonishing me on my
writing...okay, let's examine the situation, shall we?  I'm asleep.
That's it. I'm asleep and I'm dreaming. Yes. My subconscious is
working overtime and...and...

He was looking at her expectantly.

"I'm sorry?"

He smiled.  "I was saying how weird it was for Skinner to be telling
me he loved me outside of a slash piece."

She laughed at this.  "Well, you've got to admit that he is pretty
paternal with you."

"And it's the first time he's ever crawled into bed with me outside of
a slash piece.  You're not a closet slasher, are you?"

"Oh no. No, not at all."

"Yeah, you're mostly a shipper anyway.  Not that that's an entirely
bad thing...I mean, some of that relationship stuff's good. Some of
it," he winced, "not so good. But I have to say, of everything you've
done, 'Abah' was my favorite to experience."

"Even with the hearing aids and the CSM bit?"

He shrugged. "Yeah...even with it.  Of course, you were assuming a
hell of a lot, giving him emotions and all.  Nearly made him human. 
Now, that's a work of fiction," he laughed softly to himself.  "You
really like to make things work out, don't you?"

She thought about this for a moment.  "Yes.  Yes, I really do."

"Sarah, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Good name.  Very good name."

"Thanks."  She was quiet for a long moment.  She looked at him and
would have sworn that his eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"Well, you know...it would all be perfect if I didn't get my ass
kicked..."

She laughed then and turned to her computer. "You know, you haven't
mentioned anything from any of the other series...I'd like to get your
opinion of some of my other..." she turned back to look at him.

He was not there.

She looked back at the computer and was surprised to find her email
program was now on her screen.  Shirley's message glowed at her,
mockingly.

She was hesitant to respond to her friend now.

What does one say to this?

She chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip as she typed.

Shirl,

I think we really need to talk about something.  Either I'm under more
stress than I thought or...

I don't know.

Something strange is going on though.  I'm not sure what to make of
it.  Any thoughts?  At least it's nice to know that I'm not making the
trip to insanity alone...

Susan