From: msbrooklyn@aol.com (MsBrooklyn) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Suspension&Disbelief:Sunday, Bloody Sunday Date: 1 Jul 1995 14:11:09 -0400 Standard boring disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Alex Krycek and Cancerman are all the exclusive intellectual and copyrighted property of Chris Carter and Ten-Thirteen productions, under 17 USC Sec 101, et seq. Used without permission, blah blah blah.... Ellen Feldman is mine, Winky the cat is definitely mine (he wrote his own dialogue) as are Nicky, Carmine, and Anthony. (Thanks for your positive responses to this bizarre tale. I've decided to give our heroes a day of rest and maybe take one myself. Enjoy.) Supension and Disbelief: Sunday, Bloody Sunday By Ms. Brooklyn Saturday 9:21 p.m. Ellen Feldman was in a state of shock. This Krycek guy had appeared out of nowhere, taped her hands and threw her into his car. Okay, she wasn't in the trunk, and he had thoughtfully not attempted to put her cast behind her back. Of course, he was the reason behind her broken arm anyway. Shock slowly gave way to anger. Krycek glanced at her. "Your boyfriend is hamburger." "You're a possessive sonofabitch, aren't ya?" Ellen frowned at him. "If Mulder were really dead, what would be the point of kidnapping me?" She had a point. "Okay, so he's not dead. But I'll bet he's hurt. Bad." Ellen snorted derisively. "And aren't you a little short to be a Stormtrooper?" "If you don't shut up, I'm going to tape your mouth," Krycek warned. "Can't you just put a bag over your head so I don't have to look at you?" Krycek backhanded her across the face. "Mind your manners. I'm in control here, not you." Control? He was acting like a man without a clue. Ellen sighed, wondering if he had any inkling of what to do with her, now that he had her. Hopefully, Krycek remembered to pack clean underwear. Then again, he didn't even have the presence of mind to turn on the radio. Oh, well, she could sing. Another Saturday night And I ain't got nobody I got some money 'cause I just got paid How I wish I had someone---- "Shut up," Krycek barked. "Hey, that's my theme song," Ellen protested. "Mulder IS nobody, I guess," Krycek conceded. "Compared to a sexy Slovak god like you?" Lying would send her straight to hell. At least the company would be interesting. "What are you twenty-seven?" "Twenty-nine." "Mulder's past his twenties and it shows. He doesn't satisfy me the way a young stud like you would." Ellen licked her lips, making sure he saw. "Besides, I know what they say about Slovaks is true." "And what's that?" He couldn't believe he was playing along with this. "That they've got it where it counts. Plus that hot, European blood." Ellen was getting nauseous. "I love dark, handsome Slovaks." "What kind of idiot do you take me for, Feldman?" A big one, she thought. "Really, Alex, I was kinda drunk that night. I didn't realize how sexy you are. You've got a fantastic butt. How often do you work out?" "Twice a week." "If you were my man, I'd be working you out a lot more than that. Mulder can't handle my needs, but I bet you could. I think it's time to trade up." She was gonna puke Chinese all over him. "Kiss me." "No." "Oh, come on. You know you want to." Easy, stomach. "I'm driving." He recalled something he overheard. "How about doing for me what you did for Mulder earlier?" "What's that?" "I planted a bug in the car. I heard the whole thing. Don't worry, I've already set the cruise control for sixty-five." Gross!!! She wanted to spit in his face. No. Calm down. Play it cool. "Alex, honey, I can't." "Why?" "Because I'm tied up and I can't balance." She licked her lips again. "And I need to balance to do that properly. I've only got one hand and if I slip, it's gonna hurt both of us." Come on, moron, she urged silently, while he thought it over. "I'm not exactly a threat with a broken wing, am I," Ellen purred. "You're so big and strong, and you've got a gun." Krycek slid a hand down her shirt. Small, but firm. "That's right. I've got the gun and I'm in charge." "Oooooohhhhhhh, baby, I love a forceful man in charge." Yuck! Gruesome. He was touching her. God, give her strength. "Please, Alex? I want you so bad I can taste you already." Why not? What harm could it do? "Alright." "You have to get your pants for me. I can't do it with one hand." He complied and reached for the tape on her hands, pausing to look at her. Come on, damn you. "Wow, Alex, it IS true." Krycek threw caution to the wind and ripped the tape off. "Owwwww!!!" Deep breath. The pain was going to subside. He only jostled her broken arm. Easy. Ready? Steady? Go. With her free hand, she caressed his face, his lips. "Can I kiss you, Alex? Please? You have lips just like Val Kilmer." "Sure." Ellen leaned across, cast making her unsteady, and kissed him lightly. Actually, he was a pretty decent kisser. He was so intent on kissing her he never saw her cast come crashing down on his head. "Fuck!!!!" Man did that hurt. Her cast was in three easy pieces. The car began to swerve and she fought to get it under control. That accomplished, she hit the brakes and managed to put it in park. Bye-bye, Alex, she grinned, dumping his unconscious body from the car. I'm keeping your gun. For a second, she thought about shooting him. Nah. She got the car back into drive and floored it, swerving all over the road. Mulder. She had to find---wait a minute. Krycek planted a bug in the car. She switched on the radio and heard Mulder's voice. "I can't believe I lost her." "Hey, you said it, not me." Carmine rolled down the window and spit. "Sorry about the house. My cousin, Rocco, can fix the damage for ya at a reasonable rate." "I'm sure." Where could they be? "Dammit, Ellen..." Ellen looked around the car and found a cellular phone in the glove compartment. She had pulled over after nearly crashing into a tree. What was his number again? 1-800-C-O-N-V-I-C-T? The ringing of his cellular phone interrupted Mulder's foray into self-pity. Who knew he was here? "Mulder." "Hi." "Ellen? Where are you?" "I have no idea. Londonderry Road. Wherever that is. There a big house and some big trees. A couple of big horses." "The Rutland place." "I guess. Is it big?" "Compared to you, everything is big. What does Krycek want?" "An icepack." "What?!?" "I brained him with my cast and I think my arm has to be reset. Can you come get me?" Mulder shook his head in disbelief. Ellen's cast was cracked in three pieces and she was sitting with a nine millimeter gun in her lap, shaking from the pain and fear. "I'm here now," he said, softly, trying not to frighten her further. "Where's Carmine?" She felt calmer already. "Looking for Krycek." He leaned in the door and winced at the awkward position of her arm, which had also begun bleeding from reopening the gunshot wound. Mulder pulled off his shirt and wrapped her arm as best he could. "Come on, let's get you to a hospital." Ellen wrapped her good arm around his neck and let him lift her from the car. She continued to clutch her new gun. "Krycek's a real psycho." Mulder eased her into the back of his car and took the gun from her, sliding the safety back into place. Did Ellen know she could have accidentally shot him just now? "How did you escape?" Ellen grinned at the memory of it. "I told him I was hot for him and he asked me to go down on him in the car." "He WHAT?!?" "So I told him he had to untie me and then I kissed him and bashed him over the head." "You KISSED Krycek?" "He wasn't bad. In any respect. Nice equipment on that boy." "You saw his----" "Yeah." Mulder's expression made her laugh harder. "I told him I coudn't get his jeans with my bad hand so he took it upon himself." "Maybe I should let him have you," Mulder pouted. "Oh, come on. Kissing him made me nauseous. I was only having some fun." "With him or me?" "I was hoping we could do a threesome." "Feldman!" Saturday 10:40 p.m. The doctor at the hospital was not amused by Ellen's refracture. He glared at Mulder, fully expecting a tale of domestic abuse, especially in light of the huge bruise on the small woman's face. "Did someone hit you, Miss Feldman? We have laws against such things here." "I told you," Ellen sighed. "I fell down the stairs in Mulder's house. He tried to catch me and whacked me across the face because he's spastic. It's the painkillers I'm on." Her mother always warned her to wear clean underwear, just in case something like this happened. Thanks to Mulder's failure to pack any for her, her mother was proven right once again. 11:21 p.m. Ellen glanced around the motel room in distaste. Mr. and Mrs. Marty Shapiro from Kew Gardens, Queens, indeed. "Hey, Mr. Shapiro!" "Yes, Mrs. Shapiro?" "Your taste in bang motels sucks." Mulder carried her into the bathroom, where a tub of hot water awaited her. "I have to bathe you, Feldman. You've got Krycek germs all over you." "How old are you supposed to be, again, that you believe in cooties?" Krycek's head was pounding. She was going to pay for this. Running a hand though his hair, he felt something warm and wet. Blood. That's what he got for listening to her lies about Mulder's inadequacies, although she was dead-on when she called him a Slovak god. She was definitely going to pay for this. Carmine gave up. It was too dark and there were some pretty mean skunks and raccoons out here. Skunks, yet. Subway rats, he could handle, but this forest crap was too much. Saturday 11:58 p.m. She needed a good cry. No doubt about it. This entire week had been hell, thanks to Mulder. Maybe her mother was right about not dating Gentiles. "You're awfully quiet. I was only kidding about the cooties." Mulder held her close. "Ellen?" Burying her face against his bare chest, she began to sob. "I hate you, Mulder. You've screwed up my life!" "I'm sorry." "You porno-reading, jackass! I should never have gone out with you! Ever since I started seeing you, I've been abducted TWICE and shot and had my arm set more times than I remember! My apartment got trashed! And now I'm your fraudulent wife! I hate you!" "Look," he said, changing the subject. "Twelve-oh-one. It's Sunday. The day of rest. Brand new week. Things have to improve." "Not for me. The Jewish Sabbath was yesterday." "Sorry, I, Mr. Marty Shapiro of Kew Gardens, should have known better." "That's not funny, you jerk!" "So how come you're laughing?" "Am not." Mulder pulled her from his chest. "I see a smile." "No, you don't." "Come on, Mrs. Shapiro, you've got your marital duties to perform." "Mulder, you are not getting out of this with sex." "Can't I at least try?" He laid her back on the bed. "Ever have a boyfriend as interesting as me?" "Stop it, Mulder. I don't want to." He tried his pout, which never failed. "Ellen..." "We're finished, Mulder. I mean it." Her words hung in the air and he let go of her. "What do you want me to do?" "I'd tell you to get the hell out, but this isn't my apartment." "Fine. I'll get a separate room." He grabbed his shirt and gun. "In the morning, I'll call Skinner and have them take you into protective custody." No response. Ellen was torn. This relationship would be the death of her but breaking up with him was killing her, too. Wasn't there a happy medium or was this God's way of telling her not to date goyim? Mulder paused at the doorway, seeing the tears well up anew in her eyes. This was the best thing for her, but still... "Marty, wait." "Yes, Golda?" "Wanna stick around and see if my other arm gets broken, too?" "Nu? Honey, I'm home!" 8:18 a.m. Mulder grunted in his sleep, reaching for Ellen and clutching her the way a child clutches a favorite stuffed animal. Ellen rolled her eyes. Not that she didn't like being held by Mulder, but she REALLY had to take a wicked piss. Her broken arm throbbed and her face ached where that prick, Krycek, had smacked her. She hoped he had a blaster of a headache this morning, provided Carmine hadn't found him yet. "Phoebe..." Phoebe? Who the hell was Phoebe? His sister, she could deal with. Ellen's good arm shot out, connecting with Mulder's ribcage. "What?" He blinked in surprise. Ellen rolled over. "Who the frig is Phoebe!?!" Oh, no. He didn't. No, he did. "Ohhh, old girlfriend." Ellen slid out of the bed and slammed the bathroom door shut behind her. Mulder rubbed his eyes and wondered how to extricate himself from this situation. His relationship with Ellen was precarious at best, and this could be the thing to push it over the edge. She was in there an awfully long time. He pressed his ear to the door. Silence. "Ellen?" No answer. He kicked the door open, found her lying on the floor. "El, what's the matter?" "Just a little dizzy," she croaked. "And nauseous." He held her, rubbing her back. "I'm sorry." "Huh?" "Phoebe." Ellen made a disgusted sound. "If I really gave a damn, you'd have gotten severely cursed out. My guess is that one's been over for a long time." "You guess correctly." He touched the bruise on her face. "Hurts?" "Yeah." "Wanna go back to bed?" "Mulder, can we get the hell out of Massachusetts? I hate it here." He carried her back to bed, tucking her in. "You've hardly seen it." "I've almost gotten killed here," she pointed out. "Why don't we go to New York? Krycek would never be able to navigate his way around. Who knows, a man-eating New York cockroach might get him." Mulder felt Ellen's forehead. She was burning up. "You're not going anywhere." "I have nothing to wear anyway," Ellen agreed, glumly. Carmine was pissed. All he wanted was two eggs over easy, some bacon and a goddam bagel. Did these New England assholes know what a bagel was? No, so he had to make to with an English muffin, which was nowhere near a bagel. He spent the better part of the night looking for that Polack scumbag, Krycek, but all he found were skunks, raccoons and opossums. And a dog that chased him for a mile. When he found Krycek, he was gonna feed him to the subway rats in Times Square. The sunlight made his head throb. Bad enough he spent the night in somebody's barn, but his head was pounding from getting whacked by Feldman's cast. That's what he got for thinking with crotch instead of his brain. Lying bitch. Why did he believe that line of crap she fed him? Lips like Val Kilmer. Slovak god. Look where it got him. Lying in a ditch with his pants around his ankles, his car and gun gone. She would pay for this entire disaster. He would make her beg for the opportunity she blew--or rather did not blow--earlier. Oh, dear God. He had the hots for Mulder's girlfriend. She wasn't that much to look at., was she? Skinny, with small breasts (but they were perky---he'd groped them), thick dark curly hair, nice legs. Okay, she was hot. Or he was hot for her. What a situation. Sunday 12:41 p.m. This had been a long morning. He had gone on a recon mission for breakfast, but Ellen had thrown it up minutes after eating it. She was running a slight fever and had the chills. What he really wanted was to get her back to what was left of his mother's house. Actually, the damage wasn't that bad. According to Carmine, the foundation was still good, just needed a little bit of repair. God, he was quoting Carmine. He sat on the bed and reached into the bag of goodies he picked up during his trip. "Look, Ellen, Cosmopolitan. Ten ways to keep your man. Hot summer fashions for less." "I don't read those, Mulder. I read Car and Driver, the true way to communicate with men. Cosmo doesn't teach women that they must learn to speak the language of men, namely cars and sports." Mulder reached into the bag again, grabbing the magazine he selected for himself. "Will Motor Trend suffice?" "Yes! The new Vette. Three hundred and fifty horses! I want one." Ellen flipped through the pages with glee. "Wonder what the redline is on that baby?" Just his luck, to have a woman who read car magazines. Idly, he began flipping through Cosmo. She glanced over his shoulder. "I can't believe women read this crap. Ten ways to keep your man. Let me guess, fulfill his fantasies, slather yourself with Jello, let him chain you to the bed. Please." "Want me to do all that?" "Not tonight. I've got a headache." He shrugged and pulled out his stash of sunflower seeds, cracking one loudly in his teeth. Ellen looked up at the sound. He grinned, shyly. "Seeds?" "Salted or un?" "Un." "Gimme." She popped one into her mouth, cracked it and spit the shell across the room into the garbage can. Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Now that's talent." "Thanks, babe. I never figured you for the sunflower seed type." "My father used to eat them. Genetic, I guess." "You think a love of food is genetic?" "It's possible. It was a theory we discussed at Oxford." Ellen blew a strand of hair from her eyes. "Did they teach you anything useful in shrink school?" "I learned all the important stuff outside the classroom. Want me to show you?" "Does it involve Jello or chains?" "Maybe." Sunday 3:13 p.m. Ellen moaned softly in her sleep and Mulder wondered what her dreams were like. Every woman he ever cared about had nightmares after knowing him, an effect he'd designated the Mulder Curse. "Ellen?" "Mmmmmm?" She struggled to sit up and balance her cast. He slid a hand beneath her to help her. "You were having a bad dream." "Yeah, I dreamed I was sleeping next to a gigantic Gentile named Mulder--oh, my God, it's real." Mulder slapped her lightly on the back of the head. "There are worse things you could do with your life." "Name one." "You could wake up next to Alex Krycek." "Ewwwwwwwwww." 3:32 p.m. He found his car, but not his gun. That bitch had his gun. Alex Krycek was not pleased and he knew his superiors wouldn't be either. Lord, how he botched this mission all to hell. Worse than that, he had it bad for Feldman. Wouldn't Mulder gloat over that, the smug sonofabitch? Carmine knew he shouldn't have called Nicky, but he felt bad about Mulder's house and wanted to do the guy a favor. Thank God he remembered to bring his Alka Seltzer. Relief was a glass of water and two plop-plop-fizzes away. Nicky's furious voice barked in his ear. "Whaddaya mean he kidnapped her?" "It's okay, Nicky, we got her back. The thing is, that Polack blew up part of Mulder's house and I wondered if we could maybe get some of the boys up here to fix it. It'd make Ellen real happy." "For Ellen, nothing is too good," Nicky agreed. "This Mulder guy, what's he like?" "A typical Fed, went to some fancy school, thinks he's better than me. He treats Ellen right, though." "He'd better." Carmine decided not to describe the 'whore' grafitti Krycek had painted in Ellen's bedroom. "I'll make sure, Nicky." "As far as Krycek goes," Nicky said, ominously, "I want that bastard in a body bag." "You got it." Carmine hung up and reached for his water and Alka Seltzer. It was Sunday and he felt like going to confession today. A few Hail Marys coudn't hurt. 4:14 p.m. Mulder felt like an idiot. Ellen needed clothes and that was his fault, but because she was sick, the task of getting her clothes fell on him. He had a list of her sizes and even preferred brands, which he supposed would make it easier. First stop, lingerie. It had been years since he'd been in a Victoria's Secret. Now this was nice, this black lace silk thing. No extra small. Just his luck. "Can I help you?" The attractive blond sales girl eyed him carefully. "Wife's birthday?" "Actually, the airline lost my girlfriend's luggage and I haven't told her yet." Good lie, he congratulated himself, handing the salesgirl the paper with Ellen's sizes on it. "Do you have any idea what she likes?" Of course not, he was a man, but she had to ask. Store policy. "Ummm, she wears black a lot. Lace." A blush crept up his cheeks. This was not easy. If he had to do this, he was going to pick out a few fun things that he wanted his Jewish Barbie doll to wear for his viewing pleasure. The saleswoman sighed at the sight of the tall man making his way through the petite women's department. Tall men, it seemed, were fascinated by petite women. "Can I help you, sir?" Mulder repeated the airline story and handed the woman the paper with Ellen's sizes. She read the sheet and smiled. "A size 2? My, you must make quite the couple." "Yeah." God, he hated this. 6:21 p.m. "Honey, I'm home." Ellen was sound asleep, covers over her head, snoring lightly. A shock of dark, curly hair was the only part of her head that was visible. Poor kid, she was exhausted. He watched her sleep for a few seconds. "Noooo," she shrieked, tossing the covers back. "What--?" "Easy," Mulder said, sitting beside her. She was covered with sweat. "Want to tell me about your bad dream?" "It was just a stupid nightmare." Ellen rubbed her eyes and reached for her glasses. "All these painkillers, y'know?" Mulder nodded sympathetically and handed her the Victoria's Secret bag. "Brought you some stuff." "Should I be afraid to look?" "Probably." Bracing herself, Ellen reached into the bag. Black Miracle Bras. That was good. Matching high cut bikinis. Also good. No thongs. Excellent. He only bought black. Fast learner. There was something else in here, too. Ellen frowned as she pulled out a silk and lace concoction that screamed bondage. "No leather?" "No," he replied, sadly. "How did I do?" "Excellent. What prompted the push-up bras?" "I've seen you wear them and I like them. And since I was paying..." "Jewish Barbie lives." "You catch on fast." He dangled a red silk see-through number in front of her. "I like women in red, too, Feldman." "Mulder!" "Hey, Cosmo says you have to wear sexy stuff for your man." "But are you strong enough to be my man," she joked, thinking of the Sheryl Crow song. "I'm strong enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, women like me." "You putz!" "But I'm your putz. C'mere." "Mulder!" (Whew! I'm exhausted from writing this. In case you've missed any parts, they are as follows: Neighbors (which was supposed to be a one-shot deal) Suspension & Disbelief (another one-shot deal) S&D 2-4 S&D 4-5 S&D 5 and Saturday S&D Sunday, Bloody Sunday I will e-mail missing chapters upon request (no self-addressed stamped envelopes necessary). Suggestions, flames, and barf-bags for Ratboy scenes are welcome. =========================================================================== From: msbrooklyn@aol.com (MsBrooklyn) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Suspension&Disbelief:Day 6 Date: 2 Jul 1995 16:32:41 -0400 Standard boring disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Alex Krycek and Cancerman are all the exclusive intellectual and copyrighted property of Chris Carter and Ten-Thirteen productions, under 17 USC Sec 101, et seq. Used without permission, blah blah blah.... Ellen Feldman is mine, Winky the cat is definitely mine (he wrote his own dialogue) as are Nicky, Carmine, and Anthony. Supension and Disbelief: Day 6 By Ms. Brooklyn 6:15 a.m. Mulder watched Ellen sleep and he was positive she wasn't very comfortable. Her heavy cast was propped up on a pillow, and her slender body was bent in an awkward position to keep comfortable. She shifted and the pillow fell off of the bed, her broken arm dangling over the side. Now, that, he thought to himself, had to hurt. "Uuuuhhhhhhrrrrrrr." Ellen lifted her arm up slowly, attempting to flex her fingers. She could hardly move them, although the doctors promised motion would return eventually. Feeling was a different story. The bullet had caused some nerve damage. Mulder began to rub her fingers in an attempt to ease her pain. "Owwwww. What the hell are you doing?" "Sorry." He propped her into a sitting position. "How do you feel today?' "I've only been up for thirty seconds." Ellen rested her head against his shoulder. "Mulder?" Uh-oh. What did she want now? "Yeah?" "Can we go to New York? Please? Pretty please?" Massachusetts was getting a little crowded, what with Krycek and Carmine and probably the Rockettes following them here. Would Ellen really be safer in New York, surrounded by muggers, rapists and thieves? Of course, she had Fox 'Spooky' Mulder to protect her, FBI Agent extraordinaire. "Do I have to meet your parents?" "Are you crazy? I'm a disaster. There's no way I'm going home." "Well if we aren't visiting your parents, where are we going to stay?" Ellen grinned. "The Vista is very nice. Besides, Skinner is paying." "With your tax dollars." "Quit complaining and start packing." 7:41 a.m. As they were about to get into the car, Ellen recalled that Krycek had placed a bug in the airbag. Better safe than sorry., she decided. "Mulder, gimme a screwdriver." "Excuse me?" "I have to remove the airbag. Krycek hid a bug in it." Ellen tapped her foot impatiently. "Where did you learn how to remove airbags?" Ellen growled in frustration. "You wanna do it, Ace?" "I can't." He fumbled in the trunk until he found a screwdriver. Amazing how she had all of these hidden talents, most of which were illegal. She grabbed the tool and got into the driver's seat, wedging the head of the screwdriver into the airbag, popping it out expertly. There, as promised, was the bug. A grin crossed her face and she gestured for Mulder to play along. "Mulder, I don't wanna go back to DC." "I don't care what you want. I've had it with your whining and complaining. Krycek can have you, because I sure as hell don't want you." He bit his lip to stop from laughing. "Listen, Gomez, you're no prize, either. Just shut up and start driving." She tossed the bug into the road where a truck ran it over. "Gomez? Does that make you Morticia?" "Do you really need to ask?" Dammit. What happened to the signal? Krycek smacked the receiver in an attempt to hear the rest of the argument. So, they had a lover's spat and were going back to DC, eh? Good. He'd had enough of Massachusetts. Carmine had had enough of this place. When he called Tony to find out how his research was coming along, Tony admitted being stonewalled. Whoever this Cancerman was, he was well-protected. At least he would be able to take his frustrations out on Krycek when he found him. And he WAS going to find him. 8:31 a.m. Scully was fed up. Not only was the cat not eating, but he kicked the plates of food all over her kitchen, hissing at her. "Come on, Winky," Scully attempted. "Open the hangar and here comes the airplane." Yeah, right, Winky thought. This redheaded lady was okay, but he wanted his mommy. Red was some kind of doctor, he could smell it on her, and he hated doctors. On the other paw, he liked the way she jumped every time he hissed. And she didn't notice that he ate when she wasn't looking. "Winky," Scully tried again, "your mommy is going to be very upset if you're dead when she comes home." Hiss! "I'm a doctor, you rotten fleabag. Don't make me give you an IV." Now THAT was a threat. He'd eat, but later he was going to use that azalea for a litter box. 1:52 p.m. Mulder glanced sideways at Ellen, who was picking at her cast. "Stop that," he chided. "I hate this thing. It weighs a ton and I have to wear it for six weeks. That totally ruins tanning season for me," Ellen sulked. "I like you pale and morbid-looking." Of course, he knew exactly how she felt. More often than not, he was the one who got bashed over the head, shot, infected with strange viruses...Maybe this was yet another Mulder Curse. Not only did the women he care about get kidnapped and nearly killed, but injured and sick, as well. Ellen saw Mulder take another trip down Self-Pity Lane and frowned. This whole suspension thing and forced vacation was beginning to take its toll on both of them. She had to lighten the mood. "Start spreading the news," she sang, "we're leavin' today. We're gonna get shot in the heart of it, Noo Yawk, Noo Yawk.." Mulder laughed derisively. "That's awful." "So howcum yer laughin' ?" "Your Brooklyn accent is even worse." "Hey, it's real!" Ellen rested her head on his leg and looked up at him. "Can you believe I've only known you two weeks? Think I'll survive to see three?" He slid a hand down her torso, rubbing gently. "More, if I can help it." Ellen sighed, contentedly. This was not going to last. Once his suspension was over, he would throw himself into his work, probably promise himself that he would make time for her, but never get around to it. Danger, heartbreak dead ahead. "Did you say something?" "No." "I could swear I heard the word head." "Head?" "Well, as long as you're there...." "Mulder, you pig! I blame those porno magazines you read for this." He snorted at this. "Typical feminist argument. A love of fellatio has nothing whatsoever to do with magazines. I like it because, like Keds, it feels good." "Ughh. How can you compare Keds to oral sex?" "I just borrowed their advertising slogan." "I'm sure they'd love that. Fellatio and Keds: Perfect Together." "Now you're comparing Keds, oral sex, and New Jersey. Sound like something that would involve Joey Buttafuoco." Mulder's hand slid lower along her body in an attempt to encourage her. "Oh, now that's appetizing," Ellen grinned. "Hey! Where's that hand going?" "South." "Mulder! You have a one track mind!" She slapped his hand away. "I'm starting to think you're using me for sex." "Using you? If I were using you, it wouldn't be just for sex. You'd be doing my laundry and cleaning my apartment, too." "With a broken arm?" Mulder sighed. Maybe she was right. The Mulder Curse. Oh, no! He had that whipped puppy look again. How could she be so stupid, blaming him like that? As if he didn't blame himself enough for both of them. Mulder kept his eyes on the road, pondering how he managed to screw up every relationship, platonic or otherwise, when the sound of his jeans being undone got his attention. This had to be true love. All he needed now was an iced tea. 2:36 p.m. This was the biggest crock of shit Carmine had ever heard. Krycek was going back to DC. He now had to go back to DC. First, he had to go from Brooklyn to Virginia, then to Massachusetts and now back to DC. Finding Krycek had been a complete accident. He was looking for Mulder, checking every bang motel in the area, but there was no listing for either of them. Instead, he found Krycek's maroon Caprice. Krycek looked like hell. Ellen must've busted him up but good. That was his girl. 4:15 p.m. Mulder was in heaven. This powder blue Taurus was heaven on earth. Had to be. He'd never look at it the same way again. Ellen's head rested on his thigh, his hand was in her shirt, there was a Snapple Iced Tea in the drink-holder and they were barreling down the New York State Thruway like there was no tomorrow. Nothing could stop them now. Nothing except the red and blue lights of that State Trooper's car. Dammit. He pulled over and tried to shake Ellen awake. She was dead to the world. He fumbled for his wallet while the Trooper glanced in the window of the car. The man had a girl in his lap, bruised face. Broken arm. She looked unconscious. Sergeant Dave Armstrong braced himself for a potential problem, resting a hand on his service revolver. Mulder rolled down the window. "Hi." "License and registration, sir." Mulder handed him the documents and flashed his badge. The trooper was not impressed. "Is your...companion all right, sir?" "She's a little tired. Ellen, honey, wake up. Don't you want to say hello to the nice State Trooper?" "What Stormtrooper?" Ellen blinked sleepily. Her eyes focused on the State Trooper peering in anxiously at her and she started laughing. "How fast was he going, Officer?" "Seventy-five in a fifty-five mile and hour zone, miss." The Trooper gave Mulder a dirty look. "Are you all right, ma'am?" "I'm as good as I'm gonna get for the next eight weeks," Ellen declared sitting up. "This wonderful FBI Agent saved my life. I don't suppose you could let him off with a warning, fellow law enforcers and all?" Armstrong glared at Mulder, softening his gaze when he looked at Ellen again. She batted her big, brown eyes at him. "Did Agent, uh, Mulder really save your life?" "Absolutely. He's getting a commendation from the President next week." Armstrong thought it over, decided the woman wasn't any danger. "Okay, hero, I'm letting you go. The posted speed limit is fifty-five miles an hour. Seat belts are required, too, ma'am." "Thank you, Sergeant," Ellen cooed, as Armstrong handed Mulder his papers. Mulder sighed as Ellen tried to buckle the seat belt over her cast. "Problem?" "Yeah, it hurts when I put the seat belt over my cast." "Here." He leaned over her, threading the seat belt around her cast. "Were you flirting with that cop?" "Of course. You didn't want a ticket, did you?" Ellen kissed the tip of his nose. "Cheer up. There's the Red Apple Restaurant coming up in three exits." Armstrong ran Mulder's information through his computer, making sure that the man hadn't gone rogue and abducted the girl. She could have been brainwashed or something. Those FBI Agents ocassionally went crazy, becoming murderers themselves. Back in Washington, DC, the inquiry crossed the ash-laden desk of Cancerman. "New York, eh?" He dialed Krycek's cellular phone number. "Krycek." "I thought you said they were coming back here." "They are." "Then why did the New York State Police just inquire about Mulder's status?" "I'm on my way." What the hell was that moron Krycek up to, Carmine wondered, as Krycek did a one-eighty. No. He wasn't going back to Massachusetts. Not again. That greasy-haired pipsqueak was going to suffer for this. 6:37 p.m. "Now this is how to live on the lam," Ellen declared, dropping onto the giant bed in their room at the Vista. "We are not," Mulder corrected primly, "on the lam." "Potayto-potahto." "Schlemiel. Schlimazel." He yawned, exhausted from the long drive and dropped down beside her. "How about we do a normal date tonight? Y'know, dinner and a movie?" "A normal date? Us?" Ellen rested her head on his chest. "I kind of like our Remington Steele-Laura Holt relationship the way it is." "And they canceled Remington Steele, didn't they?" Ellen chuckled softly. "Okay, okay. Normal date. Pick a movie." "Anything except The Bridges of Madison County." He braced himself, waiting for her to declare that Bridges was the only movie she wanted to see. "I wanna see Die Hard With A Vengeance," Ellen announced. Mulder pushed her off of him. "Haven't you had enough of explosions and people in peril?" "Don't tell me you wanted to see Pocahontas," Ellen snorted. "No. Batman." Ellen grinned as a wicked gleam appeared in her eyes. "Hey, Mulder, ever sneak into a second show at the Multiplex?" New York City. Krycek HATED this town. How anyone could survive in this roach and rat infested, garbage strewn cesspool was beyond him. It figured that Feldman could thrive in a place like this. Twelve million people in New York City. Twelve million places to hide. He recalled that god-awful movie with Jeff Bridges, filmed before the most recent census, called Eight Million Ways to Die. Eight million stories in the naked city and eight million ways to die. Too bad Feldman could only die once. And he was supposed to leave her alive. Orders were orders. He could beat her to a bloody pulp and have his way with her, but he couldn't kill her. Have his way with her? Sounded like something from the Lifetime Channel. Women loved phrases like that. Feldman probably never used it. She would probably say he was going to smack the crap out of her and screw her brains out. Why was he so worried about what she was going to say? All he had to do was tape her mouth shut. Except then he couldn't kiss her and even though she brained him, he liked that little kiss in the car. Maybe if he held her hostage long enough.... There were articles about how women fell in love with their kidnappers. Fall in love? Idiot. No, just beat her, do her, dump her and forget her. Let Mulder clean up the mess. Mulder. That stupid sonofabitch didn't deserve a woman like that. She was smart and even a little dangerous. His superiors should have tried to recruit her. Wouldn't that have been nice? Partnered with Feldman, the two of them going up against Mulder and Scully? KAOS versus CONTROL? Idiot! Idiot! Get a grip and get on with the job. Carmine gave a Bronx cheer as he drove up the West Side Highway. Civilization! At last! Who cared about homeless, traffic, crack heads and other problems after dealing with skunks and forests in a place where nobody knew how to make decent sauce? Besides, Krycek was now on HIS turf. On Ellen's turf. That rat-bastard didn't stand a chance. Rat-bastard? Nah, Ratboy was more like it. He wasn't man enough to be called anything else. Carmine's stomach rumbled at the thought of real rigatoni ala vodka. "Open the hangar, here comes the airplane," Mulder joked. Slicing Ellen's food for her embarrassed her, but she had no choice, having only one hand. She had insisted on Little Italy, on Il Fornaio in particular, declaring it to make the best veal cutlet parmigiana in the world. She was right. Ellen's blush matched the red sauce. "Shut up." "Mind your manners or no napoleons for you." He held the fork to her lips. "Come on, take a bite for Daddy." Ellen obeyed, savoring the rich flavor of the tender veal and the spicy red sauce. "Oh god, oh god...." "Excuse me, but I've never rated an oh god from you." Mulder took her plate away. "Let me cover you with mozzarella cheese and sauce later." "Remind me to start an X-File about food fetishes when I get back to work." He fed her another forkful, watching her eyes close in ecstasy. She sighed with contentment. "Civilization, at last." He raised his glass of iced to. "To civilization." "No, to suspensions." "To the last of Krycek." "I'll drink to that." "L'chaim, Feldman." Four days of Suspension to go. Will our heroes survive? Will I survive? I'm starving after writing this. =========================================================================== From: msbrooklyn@aol.com (MsBrooklyn) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Suspension&Disbelief: 7 Date: 3 Jul 1995 16:18:46 -0400 Standard boring disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, Alex Krycek and Cancerman are all the exclusive intellectual and copyrighted property of Chris Carter and Ten-Thirteen productions, under 17 USC Sec 101, et seq. Used without permission, blah blah blah.... Ellen Feldman is mine, Winky the cat is definitely mine (he wrote his own dialogue) as are Nicky, Carmine, and Anthony. Supension and Disbelief: Day 7 By Ms. Brooklyn 8:31 a.m. Through the haze of pain she was experiencing, Ellen Feldman wondered how she ended up in this predicament. Two words: Fox Mulder. Two more: The jerk. If she'd never gone out to dinner with him that night, this would never have happened. If Woody had gone straight to the police, this would never have happened. Despite her situation, Ellen snickered. Krycek pressed the knife to her throat. "What's so funny?" "Nothing?" Ellen batted her eyes at him, hey, it worked on the state trooper yesterday. It didn't work on Krycek. He backhanded her sharply, watching her wince with pain, that smartass expression slowly replaced by fear. Krycek leaned over her, running the cool metal of the knife along her throat, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough for her to feel it. He removed her glasses and put them on the stand next to the bed. Ellen squinted up at him, lips parted slightly. He bent down and forcefully kissed those full lips. Ignoring her muffled protests, he began to explore with his tongue. No response. Krycek stopped and backhanded her again. "Do you want to live?" "Uhhh." Smack. "Y-yes?" "Then kiss me back." Oh, God, Mulder, where are you!?! It was a stroke of genius, Krycek's finding them. Okay, so it was more like blind luck. He was cruising the streets of New York looking for a clean hotel when he saw them come out of the Vista and head for the subway. Booking his own room at the Vista was simple. Breaking into their room was even easier. He went through Ellen's meager belongings, taking the sexy lingerie and bringing it back to his own room, right upstairs. Mulder would be frantic and he'd never figure it out. Not in a million years. He'd scour the entire city and he'd never think to look in the hotel where he was staying. After waiting nearly three hours, they came back, laughing like a couple of teenagers. Mulder didn't even know what hit him when the tranquilizer dart lodged in his neck. Feldman started to scream but never got the chance as he tranqued her, too. 10:23 a.m. Mulder's head was pounding. Checking his watch, he realized he'd been unconscious nearly nine hours. Ellen could be anywhere. Damn her for talking him into coming to New York. He didn't know the city the way she did. Then again, neither did Krycek. He was going to have to use that to his advantage. The tranquilizer dart was nothing special, but maybe Scully could tell him more about it. New York's branch of the FBI was just up the street.... Skinner's hand gripped the phone so tightly he nearly snapped it in two. "What do you mean, you lost her?" Mulder's sigh was long-suffering, clearly broadcast from the FBI's New York office where the lab was checking out the dart. "Krycek was waiting for us in the hotel room." "Why in God's name did you go to New York?" "She felt safer here. More places to hide." "The Vista Hotel is not an inconspicuous place to hide, Agent Mulder," Skinner barked, rubbing his temples. It was time for damage control. "I'll send Agent Scully and you two had better find Feldman alive. No wait, I'm coming myself to personally supervise this fiasco." "Yes, sir." Mulder hung up the phone, wishing he had one ally in this miserable city. Inspiration, his fickle mistress, visited him once again and he went upstairs to the Organized Crime Division with her on his arm. 2:55 p.m. Unicorn Transmissions on Ditmas Avenue was not located in a nice Brooklyn neighborhood. Not that he had cause to be afraid, he was Special Agent Fox Mulder. He carried a really big gun. Pulling into the driveway, he braced himself and walked into the front office. "Yeah, what can I do for ya?" The man behind the desk eyed Mulder, warily. "I'm looking for Nicky Scavelli or Carmine Cantone." "And you are?" "Special Agent Fox Mulder." The man shrugged casually, as if federal agents dropped by every day. Then again, judging by the decade-long investigation of this place, they probably did. "Just a minute. I'll see if he wants ta tawk to ya." Carmine stormed out of the back office, followed by an older Italian man with a slight gut, and short gray hair. Carmine grinned at him. "Hey, Mulder. How's it hangin'? Where's my girl?" Nicky frowned up at Mulder, noting the combination of expensive suit and ugly tie with distaste. "This? She's dating this? Carmine, remind me to make a novena to St. Jude later." Mulder remained impassive. "Krycek's got Ellen." "What?!" Nicky smacked Carmine upside the head. "Carmine, you stupid goombah! I thought you told me she was safe." "She was with him," Carmine argued, pointing to Mulder. "Him? I wouldn't trust HIM to find my lost dog." This time, Mulder lost his temper. "Listen to me, you two-bit lowlife, I need you and your goons to turn this city upside down, otherwise I am personally going to lead the crusade to shut your operations down permanently. The drugs. The hookers. The gambling. Everything. Capisce?" "Now I see what Ellen likes about him," Nicky commented. "He's got an Italian heart." Ellen came to slowly. She didn't remember blacking out. Not a good sign. No Krycek in sight. That was a good sign. Come on, girl, let's try to move. No good. Her left wrist had a handcuff around it and the handcuff was attached to the bed. Right arm, being in a cast, was useless. Maybe she could sit up. A wave of dizziness put that idea on hold. Where was she anyway? A motel? An apartment? She could hear bells from elevators and snatches of conversation as people walked by. C'mon, girl, let's sit up. She tried again, succeeding but pausing to catch her breath. Before she could recover, the door opened and Krycek came in bearing a large shopping bag. "Honey, I'm home." "Alex?" That's right, use his first name. Humanize the bastard. He sat beside her, caressing the bruises he'd inflicted. "Hello, darling. Did you have a nice nap?" "Uh-huh." Yuck. Gross. "Alex, sweetheart?" "What is it, baby-doll?" "Can I have a drink of water, please?" Please. She said please. "What'll you do if I give it to you?" Shitshitshit! Did she have to bargain for a crummy drink of water? Didn't the Geneva Convention apply to these situations? Calm down. Steady, El. You can survive this. "I can't do anything, Alex. Not without your permission." Very good. She was using FBI techniques, telling him he was in control. She would have made an excellent field agent. Far better than Mulder ever was. "You can do a lot of things, Ellen. Try." Ellen sagged back against the headboard, feigning defeat. "I can't," she wailed. "It hurts so bad...and I'm so tired...so tired." Krycek got her the water and pressed the glass to her lips. "Drink." Yes, she could still play him like a harp. Sipping the water, Ellen sighed contentedly. "Alex?" "What now?" "Can I have a painkiller?" Water. Painkillers. Did she think she was Elizabeth-freaking-Taylor, to be waited on and catered to? He was going to have to explain things to her about who was in control. When he was finished with her, the only words she'd be able to say would be yes, Alex or no, Alex. Well, maybe she'd also be able to say harder, Alex and faster, Alex. "Alex," Ellen whined. "Please hurry. It HURTS." He shook out two aspirin and held them in front over her. "Open your mouth." "Can't you take this nasty handcuff off?" Krycek slapped her. "Open your goddamned mouth and don't say a word." Ellen complied, waiting for the aspirin. Krycek leaned forward and kissed her, taking advantage of the situation. Holding the aspirin in one hand, he slid his other hand between her legs, rubbing her thighs. Damn! Ellen tried to struggle, but he was pressed too closely to her for her cast to be of use this time. She still had use of her legs and she attempted to gain leverage to shake him off. Krycek released her, a sneer on his face. "You like it rough, don't you?" "Alex, please..." "You want me that badly right now?" "The painkillers...I'll pass out if I can't have one. Just one lousy painkiller, Alex. I'm begging you." Christ, she was going to be lucky if she didn't puke the aspirin all over him. "I'll do anything you want for that painkiller, Alex. I'll do things for you that I've never done for Mulder." Begging. That was more like it. He held the aspirin up and placed it in her mouth, feeling her lips close over his fingers, tongue teasing his fingertips. Gross. This was so nauseating. If she weren't cuffed to the damn bed she would have bitten those damned fingers clean off and spit them in his face. Krycek placed the glass of water to her lips and watched her swallow. Even that simple act was sensuous when she did it. He ran his index finger over her lips. "I bought some toys for us, Feldman." Oh dear god. "Alex, no. Don't you want me to make love to you without those?" "Yeah, but you won't, so I'm going to have some fun. Don't worry, Feldman, I'm going to let you live. Mulder probably won't want what's left though. Sorry, can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs." Mulder, she cursed silently. Where the hell are you? 4:47 p.m. "Mulder, you friggin' moron, you really screwed this one up," Carmine complained, weaving his white Monte Carlo through dense traffic on the Brooklyn-Queens-Expressway. "You had Ellen, you were safe. All you hadda do was let me take care of Krycek." "Considering you couldn't find him either, I suggest you rethink who the moron is." Mulder held on for dear life as Carmine cut off a semi, two taxicabs and station wagon full of Hasidic Jews. "Mebbe so, but I ain't the one who gets paid to serve and protect." "Really? That's not what your rap sheet says." Carmine's dark eyes were filled with fury. "Lissen ta me and lissen good, my friend, you are not better than me because you got a badge. Maybe I wasn't born in some faggot place like Martha's friggin' Vineyard going to faggot schools learning which goddam fork to use. I got me an education and I use it the best way I can. Sometimes the law don't reach the right people, y'know what I mean? That's where I come in. I do what you can't do. Maybe it's wrong and maybe it's not. I'll find out when I'm dead and the man upstairs passes judgment. Til then, I can look myself in the mirror. How about you?" Mulder sighed. Carmine did have a point. "Sorry, Carmine." "You're okay, Mulder. It takes a man to apologize." Carmine's thick fingers drummed on the streering wheel. "And I didn't mean that faggot crack. After all, if you were, Ellen wouldn't be wastin' her time with you." Mulder smiled despite himself. "She's something, isn't she?" "Damn straight." "Where is Agent Mulder," Skinner demanded of the Mark Cross, the New York Bureau Chief. Cross shrugged helplessly. The Assistant Director rarely left DC, but when he did, the Bureau that he visited was never the same afterwards. Scully enjoyed watching the effect Skinner's fury had, particularly when it was directed at somebody else. "I-I'm not sure, sir," Cross stuttered. Rick DeSimone, a field agent, stepped forward straight into the path of Skinner's foul mood. "Sir? I think he went to find Nicky Scavelli. Agent Mulder was doing some research up in Organized Crime about Scavelli." "Is that a fact? Where can I find this Scavelli?" He was getting on her nerves. Fast. Ellen sighed softly watching Krycek attempt to remove her T-shirt and shorts. She had an idea... "Alex?" "What the hell do you want now?" "I have to go to the bathroom. Bad." Just like in grade school. Shit! He hadn't thought about that. "In a minute." "I'm going to have an accident in a minute, Alex." Heh heh. Look at him. Not a clue in the world. "Hurry." "All right." Bitch. He dug the key to the handcuffs out of his pocket and unlocked her wrist, leaving the cuffs dangling from the headboard. If only she had two functioning hands. She would've locked him in that damned handcuff herself. As it was, she was so numb from being handcuffed could hardly move her left hand. Krycek helped her up, grabbing her left hand firmly and holding it behind her back. "Owwww." He grinned, enjoying her pain. "Slowly, now, Ellen, baby. Wouldn't want you to fall down and go boom, would we?" "Alex, you're HURTING me." "That's the idea, you vicious little bitch." He shoved her into the bathroom, watching her from the doorway. "Go ahead." "I can't go with an audience." Krycek rolled his eyes. "You think I'm stupid enough to turn my back on you after all the crap you've pulled?" She hoped he was. Well, there were other tricks up her sleeve. Ellen tugged at the button of her shorts, pretending she was having trouble. He had no idea she was left-handed. "Alex, can you help me?" "Sure. Turn around and face the wall." "For god's sake!" "Face the wall or make a mess of yourself." Dammit. She had to do it, now. Facing the wall, she waited for him. "Put your left hand against the wall." Krycek grinned. Very good. If she kept this up, he'd have her begging and fetching in another couple of hours. He reached around her and undid the buttons of her shorts. As he reached for those sexy black panties, Ellen made a small sound in her throat. "I can manage now, Alex." "Allow me. My mommy raised me to be a gentleman." Ellen pushed away from the wall, landing on top of him with a thud. Yes! She'd knocked the wind out of him. Scrambling to her feet, minus her shorts, she bolted for the door, fumbling with locks designed for people who were right-handed. "Oh no, you don't!" Krycek grabbed her by the hair and threw her onto the bed. The breath whistled out of her. He pinned her down, his body inches from hers. "Bad girl! Bad Ellen! Stupid, vicious bitch!" Each word came with a smack across her face. Damn him. Damn Mulder. Where the hell was he? Oh Christ, she was such a cliche, waiting for some MAN to save her. Well, some stupid MAN got her into this mess. He'd better damn well get her out. Coming soon, Day 8 and the Big Rescue. =========================================================================== From: msbrooklyn@aol.com (MsBrooklyn) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Suspension&Disbelief: 8-10 Date: 4 Jul 1995 23:16:15 -0400 Standard boring disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Alex Krycek and Cancerman are all the exclusive intellectual and copyrighted property of Chris Carter and Ten-Thirteen productions, under 17 USC Sec 101, et seq. Used without permission, blah blah blah.... Ellen Feldman is mine, Winky the cat is definitely mine (he wrote his own dialogue) as are Nicky, Carmine, and Anthony. Suspension and Disbelief by Ms. Brooklyn Suspension: Day Eight "Mmmmm." It was only just a bad dream, Ellen Feldman thought, opening her eyes just a crack. She was in her bed in the Vista hotel, lying beside Mulder, his arm around her, fingers splayed across her stomach. Felt so good, she sighed and snuggled closer to his warm body. She could feel his lips resting on the nape of her neck. Why was her left arm in such an awkward position? Handcuffed in place? Dammit. It was not a dream. That was Krycek holding her. Oh, no! Krycek felt her stir and move closer to him. Apparently, last night's little obedience lesson was paying off. He began to rub her stomach, moving in tight little circles, hand descending ever so slightly with each circle. No! Nononono! Steady. Easy. Okay, her hands were useless. What did she have left? Her feet. With all her might, Ellen kicked like a mule, sending Krycek flying from the bed. "Owwwww." Krycek sat up, wondering what the hell had just hit him. Feldman. He climbed back into bed, leaning over her. Eyes still closed. Even breaths. How the hell anybody could kick like that in their sleep was beyond him. Atta girl. Pretend to be asleep. He was too stupid to know the difference. Krycek shook her. "Wake up." "Daddy?" Daddy? What the hell was that? "No, it's me." "Mulder." Warm smile. "No, you stupid slut, it's Alex Krycek." "Who?" "The man who's holding you hostage." He rolled her over and shook her again. Ellen blinked sleepily. "Morning. Was it good for you?" "We didn't do anything yet, you brainless bitch." That was deliberate. He was going to savor every minute of this. First, he was going teach her about making smartass comments to him. Then, he was going to teach her who was boss. And then, he would think of other things to teach her. Maybe he could find a book at Barnes and Nobles.... "Oh. Sorry. I've lost track." Ellen closed her eyes again. "Wake up, god damn you!" "What do you want at this ungodly hour, Alex?" Krycek growled in frustration. "You don't ask the questions, Feldman. You obey. Is that clear?" "Yeah, yeah, whatever. G'nite." Smacking her wasn't working. Maybe a right cross would work. He punched her in the stomach, not too hard, but hard enough to show her who was in control. Ellen responded instantly to his attempt at dominance. She gasped for air and threw up all over him. Mulder ran a hand through his hair and munched another sunflower seed. Carmine continued to pace the hotel room, muttering curses in Italian. Finally, he paused and swiped one of Mulder's seeds. "Gimme one'a those." Mulder looked up, having nearly forgotten that Carmine was in the room. He needed to get inside Krycek's head. There was plenty of room in there for him and the entire cast of Gilligan's Island. No, stop that, he scolded himself. Krycek was unseasoned, but he was a killer and he'd become obsessed with Ellen. The problem was, where had Krycek taken her and what was he going to do with her? For all he knew, Ellen was already dead. As if he could read Mulder's thoughts, Carmine cleared his throat. "She ain't dead. That bastard could've killed her twice already." "You're right," Mulder agreed. "But, where are they and what is he doing to her?" "First off," Carmine ordered, " you don't worry about what he could or couldn't do to her, otherwise you're gonna go crazy. Fact is, he can pretty much do whatever the hell he wants. Your priority is to figure out where they are." Carmine was right again and Mulder mentally scolded himself for letting his emotions cloud his FBI training. He needed to think like the Federal Agent he was. "I want to know how he found us." Skinner pulled into the driveway for Unicorn Transmissions and flashed his badge at Joey. "Tell Scavelli that the Assistant Director of the FBI wants to talk to him. Now." Scully raised an eyebrow. Did Skinner realize that even though he was a big man in the office, his badge was meaningless to these people? Nicky came out, bearing two cups of coffee, handing one to Skinner. "How can I help you?" "Where's Mulder?" Skinner looked through the window to the work area and saw Mulder's Taurus on a lift. Two mechanics were working on it, making adjustments to the transmission. "He reports to you, not me." "His car is here," Skinner pointed out. "What are your thugs doing to it?" "A tune-up." Nicky dropped a box full of homing devices and bugs onto the counter. "A couple of these came offa Mulder's car. The rest are from my car, my house and this office." Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean nobody isn't following you, Scully recalled. Wait until Mulder found out about this. She did not look forward to him gloating about the fact that his paranoia was justified. "Where is Mulder," Skinner repeated, tone becoming more ominous. Nicky leaned across the counter. "He's doing your job, you pompous asshole, looking for Ellen. And if anything happens to her, I'm holding you personally responsible." "Me? If anyone's responsible, you cheap gangster, it's you and your men," Skinner barked. "That...Carmine exacerbated this entire---" "Carmine? How about your boy, Mulder? He's the one that got Ellen involved in this mess. If it weren't for him, she'd still have two arms that worked." "If it weren't for your thugs overturning bars in DC, maybe Krycek would have been called off by now." "Called off by who, Skinhead? This mysterious Cancerman that nobody knows anything about? What do you know about him, huh?" Skinner gestured to Scully. "C'mon. We've wasted enough time." Nicky snorted in disgust as he watched them leave. Stupid Feds. He was positive Skinner knew something about that Cancerjerk and he was going to have Tony do a little more digging back in DC. Krycek finished showering and washing his clothes in the bathtub. Damn that little bitch. Puking all over him like that. Maybe he shouldn't have hit her so hard. But she deserved it! He should have pounded her harder. Ellen lay back on the bed, attempting to reach the phone with either her foot or her cast. No go. Damn it all. Like she could really dial it with her foot anyway. Maybe if she were Daniel-Freaking-Day-Lewis, she could. With a groan, she lay back and wondered what to do next. Wait a minute....When she mistook this room for the one she was sharing with Mulder, maybe she wasn't that far off base. Could she still be in the Vista? Those ugly curtains certainly suggested so. Krycek came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing except a towel, staring coldly at her. He'd wasted enough time on her. Time to get his kicks and get rid of her. Uh-oh, she didn't like that expression on Ratboy's face. Time to play out his fantasy. "Alex...." "Shut up." Ellen sniffled (god, she was going to deserve an Oscar for this). "P-please, Alex, don't hit me anymore. I'll do *anything*...just don't h-hurt m-me..." "Don't you think you should be punished for puking all over me?" What?! That was his fault!! "Please, Alex, no more. I'll be a good girl, honest, I will..." "I think you need to learn who's boss, Ellen." "But, Alex," she whined. Nobody whined like a JAP, she thought proudly. "No, buts. Time to pay the piper, bitch." Her chin quivered and tears began to roll down her cheeks, move over Meryl Streep. "Alex....please....." Awww. Dammit. She looked so scared and helpless. "Stop crying." "I can't. You're *scaring* me." He sat beside her on the bed and wiped her tears. Look at her, she was terrified of him. God, he loved it. "All right, all right, I'm not going to beat you again." "Promise?" Ellen batted her eyes and offered her most trusting Bambi look. "Yeah." Sucker. Now, watch what she was going to do to him. "I love you, Alex. You're so brave and strong and I've been so bitchy and mean (sniff). I'm sorry." "You what?" "I think I'm in love with you." If Patty Hearst could do it, so could she. Ellen averted her eyes and whispered, "I had a dream about you last night..." "Tell me." "I dreamed that you were handcuffed instead of me and I covered you with chocolate and I licked it all off of you, drop by drop." Her voice became dreamy, breathless. Please, God, don't let her puke again. "You begged me to uncuff you so you could take me and I did and we had the most unbelievable sex." Just like he hoped. Just like those articles he read. Show them who's boss and they're yours for life. "Tell me more about the sex." Asshole. "I'd rather show you." "Show me." "I can't," Ellen whined. "Oh, Alex...." "Why the hell not," he demanded. He was ready for her, right now, so horny he thought he was going to explode. "I hurt so badly, Alex. My back, my neck, my arms....I can't feel the fingers on my left hand anymore." She sniffled sadly. Look at him! He believed every word of this garbage she was throwing at him. Maybe she *should* have been an actress. "Won't you make me feel better?" "Of course, I will, baby," he cooed, leaning over her, running his hand up the length of her left arm. "I'm gonna make you feel like a woman." Mulder, you son of a bitch! The crap I have to put up with because you made enemies, she thought bitterly. "Are you touching my arm, Alex? I can't feel it." Should he take the cuff off of her? "Are you going to be a good girl?" "I'll do anything to make you happy, master." Nice touch. Feed that monster ego. "Master." Krycek got the keys and pressed them against her lips. "Are you my slave, Ellen?" "Yes, Alex. Tell me what to do." This was soooo nauseating. Hurry up and unlock me, asshole. He unlocked the handcuffs and massaged her hand. Ellen sighed, feeling the blood flowing again. Gross, he was kissing her fingers. "Ellen-slave, I want you. Now." "Right now?" "Right now. Are you ready for me?" "I'm all sweaty and smelly. Don't you want me to smell clean and fresh for you, Alex?" Mountain fresh? Don't start laughing, stupid, she warned herself. "Ellen," he warned. "A hot, steamy bath, Alex," she intoned. "Pleeeeaaaaase?" She was kind of grungy. Plus, he didn't know if Mulder had touched her recently. Now there was a disgusting thought. Going where Mulder had gone before. "Okay. Get up." Ellen struggled to sit up and he reached over to help her. She snatched the towel from his waist and grabbed his butt, playfully. (If she didn't need therapy when this was all over, it was going to be a miracle.) "Not yet," he chided. "I want my Ellen to be clean." One without Mulder spit all over her, he added silently. He lifted her from the bed and her legs gave out. Rather than risk a repeat of previous mistakes, he let her fall. Ellen moaned in pain, big brown eyes begging him to help her. He kneeled down to help her, mindful of her cast. Ellen leaped up, kissing him and knocking him onto his back. She was going to be very ill. Krycek pushed her off of him. "Stop that." "I want you," Ellen moaned, pushing him down with her good hand, straddling his chest. Her fingers caressed his face, his lips his eyes. Close those eyes, you damn fool. Yes! Keep them closed. She kissed his eyelids, first the right, then the left, then the right and BAM!!! She smashed her cast on his head. Some people never learned from their mistakes. Thank god Krycek was one of them. Ellen got up unsteadily and grabbed the keys to the handcuffs, unlocking them from the bedpost. She slipped one end around Krycek's left wrist and locked the other around the bed frame. "Uhhhh," he groaned, senses coming back one at a time and realizing his predicament. "You whore! You bitch!" Ellen tried to back away, but he grabbed her ankle, pulling her down. "Shit!" "Give me those keys, you slut!" "No!" Ellen threw them across the room. "Let go of me!" Dammit. If he let go, she would run. If he didn't let go, he'd be stuck holding her. "Damn you!" "You fucking moron," Ellen shrieked. "Did you really think I'd ever want to touch you!?! You're disgusting!" "You lying, little demon!" He grabbed her and they started wrestling. Krycek started pummeling her with his free hand. Ellen bashed him with her cast repeatedly. This was going to be a fight to the finish. Mulder had gone through every security video for the previous night, watching for footage of Krycek forcing Ellen out of the hotel. There wasn't any. Nor was he able to figure out how Krycek found them in the first place. "This city is too big for him to have managed to call every hotel looking for us," Mulder thought out loud. "Maybe he saw you in the lobby," Carmine suggested. "Yeah, right." Carmine picked up the phone and dialed the front desk. "Yeah, hi, can you tell me what room Alex Krycek is in, please?" Mulder rolled his eyes skyward. Like that would work. "1705? Thank you. He's here, Mulder. The sonofabitch has been here all along." Carmine cracked his knuckles. "Wait here." "Like hell." Scully drummed her fingers impatiently, waiting for the snobby desk clerk to tell her which room Mulder was in. Skinner snorted impatiently and was about to flash his badge when he heard the clerk say four word that made his pulse speed up. Alex Krycek room 1705. "C'mon, Scully!" Krycek had managed to pin Ellen and was punching her as hard as he could. He was going to knock her out, drag the bed across the room and get the keys. When he finally got free, he was going to beat her some more. Ellen writhed under him trying to ward off blows and hit back. This was not going as well as she had hoped. He tore off her black panties and tossed them across the room, right where the keys had landed. "Now, bitch, say your prayers." "Y-Yisgadal v'yiskodosh...." Kaddish, the mourner's prayer, was definitely appropriate. Ellen felt him part her legs. Dear god, no! No! Mulder clicked the safety off of his gun and gestured to Carmine. "Stay back." Carmine held up his Beretta. "No freakin' way." "Let me go in first," Mulder insisted. They were wasting precious time. "Awright. Go. But lemme kick the door open. I'll get it on the first shot." "Deal." Carmine didn't even have to take a step back. He simply kicked the door open. Crash! "Freeze! Federal Agent!" Mulder trained the gun on Krycek, who was kneeling between Ellen's legs. Dammit. He was too late. Krycek froze. Shit! So close. So goddamned close. "You rotten whore! You vicious little bitch! I should've killed you days ago!" Ellen heaved a sigh of relief. Saved by the federal government from a fate worse than death. "Get this jerk off of me." "Gladly." Carmine yanked Krycek by the throat. "Did he--?" "No." She lay back on the carpet, adrenaline fading fast, replaced by waves of pain and nausea. Mulder picked her up and she leaned her head against his chest. He wondered if she realized how bad she looked. Her cast was in pieces, gunshot wound reopened (again!), face bloody and bruised. Split lip and a cut under her eye that definitely needed stitches. Bruises all over her. "Ellen?" Mulder. This was all his fault! Ellen curled the fingers of her left hand into a fist and punched him in the jaw. "You rotten bastard! I blame you for this!" Carmine let go of Krycek for a second. "Don't be too hard on him, El. He didn't rest for a second til he found you." "But--!" "Mulder, she needs a doctor. Whyn't ya take her to Beekman Hospital and leave the Polack to me?" Mulder considered it. Krycek wouldn't go to jail for this. In all likelihood, he'd be free to bother Ellen again. Soon. "Have fun, Carmine." "Carmine?" Ellen gestured weakly. "Yeah, El?" "Break his fuckin' kneecaps. I want him to think of me every time it rains." "You got it." Broken kneecaps were going to be the least of Krycek's worries. Carmine waited for Mulder to carry Ellen out of the room and shut the door behind him. "Where do I find your boss, you Polack scumbag?" Skinner was tensed and ready. Scully had never seen him like this. Usually, he was behind his desk, giving orders. It was strange seeing him working in the field. The doors of the elevator opened and Mulder was standing there, holding Ellen in his arms, wrapped in the jacket from his suit. "What the--!" Skinner's eyes narrowed. "How?" "I used all my FBI skills." "But where's Krycek?" Mulder decided to deny everything. "Ellen was alone when I got there." "He's the best agent in the world," Ellen sighed, making Bambi eyes at Mulder. It was a trick she learned in high school and hadn't failed her yet. Her compliment would distract Skinner from formulating further questions. Scully hid a smile as she watched Mulder blush. "You need a doctor, Feldman." "Hey! If you're here, who's watching Winky," Ellen demanded, as the elevator doors closed. Uh-oh. "I, uh, boarded him with your vet." "Scully?" "Yes?" "I'm not the only one in this elevator who's going to need a doctor." Nicky Scavelli's House Ozone Park Queens "Mulder! Cut my lasagna!" Ellen smacked Mulder's arm to get his attention and he put down his fork for the first time in nine minutes. Uncle Nicky, whatever else he might be, was a hell of a cook. "Yeah, Mulder, cut her damn lasagna," Nicky barked, bringing a fresh helping of garlic bread to the table. Scully immediately grabbed a piece, intercepting Skinner. Mulder's lips curled in a smirk as he cut Ellen's food into bite-sized pieces. Her arm had been re-set for the third time and now her cast would not be removed until perhaps October. The break had worsened and had to be re-set with pins, inciting further whining from Ellen. She needed six stitches under her right eye and two to her lip. Luckily, nothing else had been broken. He was grateful that Krycek hadn't had the opportunity to act out his sick fantasies. He dangled the fork in front of her face. "Open." "I can feed myself, Mulder," she protested reaching for the fork. "Gimme---" He shoved the food into her open mouth, prompting laughter from Nicky and a grin from Scully. "You know," Scully teased, "usually Mulder's the one who ends up with the broken bones and the bruises." "It's the Fox Mulder Effect," Ellen joked. "I have an X-File on it." Scully snickered while Mulder rolled his eyes skyward. "No respect," he muttered. Skinner helped himself to more garlic bread. "Ellen, I spoke to the Bar Examiners and explained your situation. They're willing to let you take a make-up exam in September." "Thank you, sir." "You oughtta give her a badge," Nicky put in. "She'd probably be the best damn agent you ever saw." "But she'd have to investigate you," Skinner grinned. "And Carmine," Mulder added. "Speaking of whom...where is he?" Nicky's smile was as mysterious as the Mona Lisa's. "He had to deliver a message." The man with no name was exhausted. Another day of dealing in secrets and tampering with human lives had come to a close and he was happy to be home. Not that home was such a happy place. No wife or kids. Just a TV, a couple of cold beers and a pack of cigarettes. At least NYPD Blue was on tonight. Cancerman opened the door to his house and the cigarette fell out of his mouth to the floor. The entire place had been trashed. His beloved television was smashed to bits. A groan from his bedroom got Cancerman's attention. He drew his gun and moved cautiously, as if expecting to find the people responsible hiding in the hall closet. He entered the bedroom, wondering what he would find. There, handcuffed to the bed, beaten to a bloody pulp, but still breathing, was Alex Krycek, with a note stapled to his bare chest. AN EYE FOR AN EYE. WE, TOO, ARE PLAYERS. Outside, Cancerman's car exploded. Carmine sang along with the radio as he drove up Route 83. This was one trip he didn't mind making. Hopefully, it would be the last he would ever have to make to that god-awful town. "Hey, Carmine." "Yeah, Tony?" Tony had been responsible for making sure Cancerjerk was out of the house when they destroyed it. He had also gleefully pounded Krycek a couple of times for good measure before they left. "You think Nicky saved us some lasagna?" "Of course he did! After all we did today?" Carmine's chest swelled proudly. It wasn't often he scored one for the good guys. "What's that Mulder guy like?" Tony cracked his chewing gum to accentuate the question. "He's good people." "Yeah, but what kinda name is Mulder? What is that Irish? English?" "What difference does it make? Nicky likes him. That's good enough for me." And it was. "Alone at last," Mulder sighed. They'd checked out of the Vista and into the Plaza hotel, with Skinner's blessing. It was a little more expensive, but Ellen deserved it, after the week she had. Room service had brought up candles, champagne and strawberries and he couldn't wait for her to finish her hot soak in the tub. She couldn't shower with that damned cast and tonight she refused his help, wanting some space for herself. He lay on the bed, waiting for her, a single red rose clenched between his teeth. Finally, the bathroom door opened and Ellen came out, wrapped in a fluffy white robe, yawning. She saw Mulder and started to grin but ended up wincing with pain from the bruises on her face. "What's all this?" "I thought we'd celebrate." He handed her the rose. "Celebrate? What are we celebrating? Ten weeks in a cast? Pins in my wrist? A scar on my face? Almost being raped by a psychopath?" Ellen tossed the rose on the bed. "No thanks." Mulder rolled his eyes. "Feldman, you are a born romantic." She glanced at the champagne and strawberries. "Nice idea, though." He picked up a strawberry and put it to her lips. "Have some fruit." "I'm allergic to strawberries." Mulder dropped the strawberry back on the cart and reached for the champagne when she stopped him. "I can't mix that with my painkillers and anti-biotics." Mulder popped it open anyway. "I need a drink. Desperately." "YOU? Nothing happened to you! Okay, maybe your house got damaged but Rocco fixed it for you. I"M the one with all the bruises." Ellen snorted in disgust. "Hey!! I turned this city upside down looking for you." "Well, maybe you should've started with the hotel, Sherlock. They have security cameras on every door. You might have realized that I never left the building." "If you're the next V.I. Warshowski, why don't you tell Skinner to stick his lawyer job and get you into field training?" "And show you up?" "You couldn't handle my job." "YOU can't even handle your job. Your arrest record sucks since you left Violent Crimes." "How do you know?" "Uncle Nicky." Ellen snickered at his surprised expression. "He likes you." "At least somebody does," Mulder sniffed. "Maybe I still like you, too." "How do I find out?" "If I have to draw you a diagram, you don't deserve to head your own Division in the FBI." "Sounds like a challenge." Grinning he attempted to grab her without getting impaled in the pins in her wrist. "Then again, it could be an X-File." Suspension: Day Nine They didn't leave their room all day but they kept room service busy. Suspension: Day Ten Ellen braced herself for the huge cleanup that awaited her when Mulder opened the door to her apartment. Winky mewed expectantly inside his cat carrier, eager to return to his beloved litter box. "Ta-da!" Mulder flung open the door. "Clean up courtesy of your friendly neighborhood FBI." Ellen hefted Winky's carrier and walked in, amazed. A crisp, new law school diploma hung in an expensive frame on the wall. "It's even cleaner than it was before Krycek redecorated." A fresh bouquet of red roses adorned the kitchen table. Ellen grinned and tried to reach up to kiss Mulder, who bent down to accept the kiss. "You shouldn't have." "I didn't." "What?!?" Ellen yanked the tag from the bouquet and read it aloud. "My love always....Carmine." "For a second there---" "Don't even say it, Mulder." Ellen let Winky out of the carrier and filled his water dish, her broken arm more of a hindrance than anything else. Mulder pushed her aside and finished putting out Winky's food. In appreciation, Winky rubbed his face against Mulder's ankle and purred. Ellen leaned back against the kitchen counter and sighed. "It's been a wild two weeks." "I need a vacation from my suspension," Mulder agreed. "Too bad I have work on Monday." "Mulder?" Ellen's voice went up an octave. "What is it?" He reached for her and took her in his arm, sticking himself on the pins from her cast. "Owwww." "Try to make time for me, okay? Even if we're only friends..." "You're more than a friend," he protested. "I lo----" "No! Don't you dare say that," Ellen interrupted. "It'll only hurt worse when you're too busy to call or see me." "I don't want to hurt you." "Mulder," Ellen said, tears welling up in her eyes. "We both have two other very demanding lovers. Yours is the truth and mine is the law. And they're jealous lovers, Mulder. We knew that when we started." "Let them be jealous. We've got the rest of the weekend." His eyes sparkled wickedly. "And we've got tonight." "Who needs tomorrow." "Let's make it last, babe. Let's find a way." "Aauuggghhh! I hate that song," Ellen declared. "You and your classic rock!" "God, you can kill a mood faster than an EBE," Mulder spat. "A *what*?!" "C'mere and I'll show you." "Mulder..." "Feldman." =========================================================================== From: msbrooklyn@aol.com (MsBrooklyn) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Suspension&Disbelief:Epilogue Date: 4 Jul 1995 23:16:31 -0400 Standard boring disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Alex Krycek and Cancerman are all the exclusive intellectual and copyrighted property of Chris Carter and Ten-Thirteen productions, under 17 USC Sec 101, et seq. Used without permission, blah blah blah.... Ellen Feldman is mine, Winky the cat is definitely mine (he wrote his own dialogue) as are Nicky, Carmine, and Anthony. Suspension and Disbelief by Ms. Brooklyn Epilogue Nearly three weeks had passed since Mulder's two week adventure with Ellen Feldman. Three weeks of chasing genetic mutants, serial killers, and UFOs. This latest trip to Iowa had taken a lot out of him, investigating the murder of nine innocent babies. In all this time, Mulder hadn't even had the time to call Ellen. All right, maybe he could have made the time. But there was so much work to do... God, she must hate him. The morning's newspaper lay in front of his door, waiting nearly eighteen hours for his arrival. As Mulder lifted it up, a cassette tape fell out from between the folded sections. He hadn't seen one of these in a while. Sighing, he entered his apartment, loosened his tie and popped the cassette into a tape player, wondering what new horror awaited him. As if in reply, Sinead O'Connor's mournful voice filled his apartment. It's been seven hours and fifteen days Since U took your love away I go out every night and sleep all day Since U took your love away Since U been gone I can do whatever I want I can see whomever I choose Ellen. His own personal X-File. She didn't deserve to be ignored like this. Was she sitting alone in her apartment, box of Kleenex in hand, throwing darts at his picture? It's been so lonely without you here Like a bird without a song Nothing can stop these lonely tears from falling Tell me baby, where did I go wrong I could put my arms around every boy I see but they'd only remind me of you I went to the doctor. Guess what he told me Guess what he told me He said Girl U better try to have fun No matter what U do But he's a fool 'cos nothing compares nothing compares to U God, this made him feel guilty. How could he do this to her? The song ended and before he could switch the tape off, he heard her voice. "That was two weeks ago, when I still gave a damn. This is my NEW theme song, you heartless, insensitive bastard." The harsh vocals of some alternative singer froze the blood in his veins as she sang about being dumped for another woman. 'Cause the joke that you laid in the bed that was me And I'm not gonna fade As soon as you close your eyes and you know it And every time I scratch my nails down someone else's back I hope you feel it...can you feel it? 'Cause the love that you gave that we made wasn't able to make it enough for you to be open wide And every time you speak her name Does she know how you told me you'd hold me Until you died, 'til you died But you're still alive And I'm here To remind you Of the mess you left when you went away It's not fair to deny me Of the cross I bear that you gave to me You, you oughta know. Ouch! Where did she find songs like this? Was there an album specifically for scorned women? Was she serious about finding someone else? Not that he didn't deserve it, ignoring her like that. But if it was over, would she be sending him this tape? "That was Alanis Morissette and 'You Oughta Know' on WBITCH-FM, dedicated to Fox Mulder from Ellen Feldman. Well, Mulder, *can* you feel it?" Did that mean--? Somebody else? Somebody else in bed with her? Like right now? It was four o'clock in the morning. Did he care what time it was? The pounding on her door woke Ellen from a sound sleep and she nearly tripped over Winky, as she reached for her trusty baseball bat. What kind of a nutcase would pound on her door at four a.m.? Mulder. That explained it. "Go away before I call the cops," she yelled, loud enough to be heard by all the neighbors who hadn't been woken up by the pounding. Mulder's jaw tightened. She wanted to play, did she? "FBI, Feldman. Open up, before I break the door down." "I've got a loaded gun on this side of the door and I'll use it to defend myself." The appropriate legal standard, naturally. Mulder knew that was a lie. She had a baseball bat. Louisville Slugger, if he recalled correctly. He kicked the door open, ready for the bat to be swung from somewhere around his chest. Disarming Ellen was easy, he yanked the bat from her hand and knocked her on her skinny little butt. "Who are you in bed with, Feldman?" He stormed into her bedroom, half-expecting to find Krycek there. Empty, except for a stuffed bear. If she wanted to scratch her nails up and down Fuzzy the Bear, that was her prerogative. Damned if he was going to be jealous of that. Ellen lay on the floor where he knocked her, cradling her arm, now in a short cast. Winky trotted happily up to Mulder and mewed for attention. "At least one pussy in this house is happy to see me." "Get out before I call the cops." "I am the cops." "You've broken and entered my dwelling house at night with the intent to commit a felony herein, namely assault." Ellen's voice was cold. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer after we charge you with breaking and entering." Talk about a woman scorned. He could hear sirens approaching the building. Uh-oh. And then he recalled the catnip she kept in her kitchen drawer... "Mulder! Where do you think you're going!?!" He pulled the ziploc bag from the drawer and handcuffed Ellen, fitting the cuff around her forearm just above her new shorter cast. "You have the right to remain silent," he intoned as the police arrived. "I demand a lawyer. Right now." "But you are a lawyer." He flashed his badge at the patrol officers. "I'll handle it from here, gentlemen." The uniformed patrol cop shrugged. If the FBI was handling this, far be it from him to interfere. "Sure thing. G'night." "Officer," Ellen shrieked. "This man is impersonating a federal agent. He's trying to rape me." If he could make her out to be pot-head of the year, she could have some fun, too. "Drug induced delusion," Mulder informed the cop, dangling the bag of catnip in front of the cop's eyes. The beat cop nodded and left. Thank god he didn't have to deal with a weird chick like that. Mulder kicked the door shut behind the cop and tossed Ellen onto the couch. "Rape you, huh? Do you think I want sex with you that badly, Feldman?" "It's over, Mulder. Take these handcuffs off of me and get out." She glared at him. "And yes, you want sex that badly. You kicked in my door to find out who I've been sleeping with." "I don't think Fuzzy the Bear is up to the job." "And you are?" "Ready, willing, and able." He grinned down at her. "You wanted me here, Feldman, admit it. Otherwise, why send me the Vindictive Bitch top 10?" "Considering you never answer my messages---" "I'm a busy man." "Not too busy to break into my apartment to get laid." "Never too busy for that." "Mulder!" "I've missed you, Feldman." "I've missed you too, you jerk." She made Bambi eyes up at him. "Wanna take these handcuffs off of me and find out how much?" "Let's leave them on while I strip search you." "Mulder!" "Nope. No contraband here. Looks like we need to do another body cavity search." "MULDER!" "Don't worry, I'll read you your rights. I want this to stand up in court." "It already is, cowboy." "FELDMAN!" "Order in the court." "Amen." The End. For now. Nothing Compares 2 U (Prince), performed by Sinead O'Connor, Chrysalis Records (1989). You Oughta Know (Morisette/Ballard), performed by Alanis Morissette, Maverick/Reprise (1995)--if you haven't heard her yet, she is awesome! All songs used without permission.