From: drsbean@aol.com (DrSBean) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW:(Short) Extermination Date: 12 Nov 1995 23:37:33 -0500 Okay. This is my first attempt fanfic so let me get the disclaimer out of the way before I forget and someone decides to sue. The characters in this little ditty are the property of Chris Carter, 10-13 Productions and Fox Broadcasting (and anyone else I may have inadvertently forgotten). I didn't ask permission to use the aforementioned characters, but I don't think the owners will mind. At least I hope not. A huge thanks you to Summer for her editing, comments and reassurance. Thanks also to Macspooky for her expert "this is how to post" advice. This is a short, sweet and simple vignette. No sex, violence, or anything along those lines. Just fun. (Oh, there is one word, nothing serious.) Comments, critiques and warnings about giving up my day job can be sent to me DrSBean@aol.com. EXTERMINATION By DrSBean Fox Mulder slightly shifted position on his well-worn sofa. Something wasn't quite right. He squinted as he tried to read the digital display of the clock on his desk. No good. The sun was too bright. Sun? His groggy mind began to process the information. Suddenly he sat upright. The answer was coming to him. If the sun is glaring in through the window, it must be morning. Late morning. "Oh shit!" Mulder cursed. He had actually overslept. In a desperate attempt to disprove his own theory, he tried to extract himself from the blanket that covered him. Coordination not being his best friend, he tripped as his feet tangled, and he fell to the floor with a thump. It was not going to be a good day. He finally managed to make his way to the clock for a closer inspection of the time. Yep. 8:45. He was late for work. He was showered and dressed in fifteen minutes. World record time by anyone's standards. Grabbing a slice of cold pizza from the fridge for breakfast, he pulled on his coat, snatched his briefcase, and headed out the door. The morning addition of the POST went sailing halfway down the hall as he hurriedly shuffled out the apartment. Groaning with exasperation, he put down his briefcase and went to retrieve his newspaper. A plain white envelope lay on top of the heap. Cautiously Mulder picked it up and turned it over several times in his hands. He automatically scanned the hallway for the delivery person. No one else was in sight. Suddenly remembering the time, he stuffed the envelope into his coat pocket. Gathering up the newspaper in one hand, his briefcase in the other, he resumed his journey to work. ************************************************************ Dana Scully dropped the phone receiver back into its cradle, a worried frown crossing her face. The answering machine again. She had arrived at the basement office this morning to discover that the door was still locked. Highly unusual, since her partner, a self-confessed insomniac, always managed to arrive first and greet her with a cup of coffee. She quietly slid her key into the lock and inched opened the door. One could never be too careful these days. She flipped on the light. A cursory inspection of the office said that nothing had been disturbed. The "I want to believe" poster hung in its place of honor on the wall. Mulder's desk was still piled high with papers and assorted junk. The only thing that was missing was Mulder. Scully checked her watch again. Nine-thirty. Where was he? As if on cue, Mulder burst through the office door like a mini tornado. Relief and slight irritation washed over her as she took in the sight of her slightly rumpled, very tardy partner. "Mulder, where the hell have you been?" "I overslept," he mumbled as he tried to pour coffee into his cup. "You? Oversleeping? Well, that's an extreme possibility if I ever heard one." He made a face at her as he made his way to the coat rack. As he put his coat on the hook, he remembered the envelope in his pocket. Gingerly grasping it between his fingers, he plopped down into his chair and stared at his early morning delivery. "What's that?" Scully inquired around a bite of doughnut. "I don't know. I found it with the newspaper this morning," he said with some hesitation. "A new contact?" Scully supplied helpfully, sensing Mulder's aversion. "Or a love letter from a secret admirer," he shot back with a wry smile. Scully rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right." Mulder continued to stare at the envelope as if it were his nemesis. It was addressed to: Occupant, Apt. 42. The suspense was getting to be too much for Scully. Sometimes he could be so infuriating. He would rush headlong into incredible danger without a second thought, but sit there pondering over a seemingly harmless envelope. "Mulder, just open it!" Cautiously he opened the flap and pulled out the letter inside. His eyes widened as he read. A low moan escaped from his throat. Scully jumped to her feet and rushed to his desk. "What is it? What's wrong?", she asked in a slightly trembling voice. From his reaction, it must be bad. Really bad. Mulder glanced at his partner with the look of disbelief still evident on his face. "Extermination," he said slowly. Scully wrinkled her face in confusion and concern. "Who?" Mulder shook his head. "Not who, Scully. What. And the what is vermin of all descriptions. My building is being exterminated this weekend and I have to move out." ********************************************************* "Oh for heaven's sake Mulder, it's only for one night. You'll live," Scully snapped, her patience with her partner beginning to wear thin. Mulder sighed as he took one last look around the apartment. It had never been this.....tidy. It just didn't seem right, somehow. Scully had arrive early that morning to help Mulder prepare his apartment for the exterminators. There was way more to do than she had anticipated. Food had to be removed from the cabinets, some furniture covered, and most importantly, the fish had to be relocated. It wasn't a huge job, but once Scully got in a clean-up mood, she just couldn't stop. "Mulder, if we clean as much as we can now, it won't be so bad when you come back," she said in her most all-knowing tone. "I just don't see the point, Scully. We clean everything now, then after they spray their unknown toxins, we clean again? Why don't we just wait and do it all at once?" Mulder asked hopefully. It was Saturday. A nice, sunny Saturday. Perfect for goofing off and she wanted to clean. He shivered at the thought. Scully shook her head. "Mulder, trust me on this, okay? Now what do *you* want to tackle first, the kitchen or the bathroom?" "Why don't I just move, or maybe blow the whole place up. It would be easier in the long run." He really wasn't in the mood for this. She sighed in exasperation. "Look, why don't you get the fish ready and I'll start in the kitchen." With the realization that he wasn't going to get out of this, Mulder fetched the supplies for the fish tank. He fiddled with the pump and the light, trying to make this task last as long as possible. Cleaning the bathroom was definitely not on *his* agenda. Just as he was about to plunge his arm into the fishy water, a shriek came from the kitchen. "Oh god, Mulder! What was this?!" Scully was kneeling in front of his refrigerator, disgust and nausea plain on her face as she held a bowl as far away from her as possible. The offensive container was covered in a blue-green, hairy, slimy mold. Mulder meandered toward her, trying to contain the smile that he felt spreading across his face at her reaction. Special Agent Dana Scully, FBI forensic pathologist, was completely grossed out by something in his refrigerator. "Uh... I'm not sure. Chip dip, I think." She waved her hand toward the corner of the room. "Quick. Get the trash can before this... whatever it is... tries to run off. This is really scary." He obeyed her command, but not without a bit of teasing. Sometimes she was so demanding. "Oooh, thank you, brave Scully, for saving me from the clutches of the evil chip dip," he squeaked in a falsetto. It was hard to hide the smile, but she tried. If she reacted to his silliness, he would be on a roll for the rest of the day. "Keep it up, mister, and you'll be sleeping on the street tonight. Just you and your fish." Four grueling hours later, the apartment was clean. The fish and Mulder were lovingly packed into the car and en route to Scully's for the night. ******************************************************* By the time the fish were settled back into the tank at Scully's apartment, it was nearly noon. Half the day already blown, Mulder thought, somewhat dejected. But then, what would he have done if this extermination thing hadn't interfered? Probably read or watched TV until he was bored, then headed to the office. Some life, Mulder. He was sitting at the kitchen counter watching the fish for adverse reactions to the move when Scully came in. "How are they doing?" She asked as she peered over his shoulder at the tank. Mulder was funny about his fish. He would forget to feed them for days at a time, but he seemed to take it very personally when one would die. "Okay. So far." he said noncommittally. Scully patted his shoulder reassuringly. "I'm sure they'll be fine." A growling noise from Mulder's stomach made her check the time. "Hungry?" He turned to look at her still standing behind him, a sheepish grin on his face. "Yeah. Actually I'm starved." "So what else is new?" she smiled back."Grilled cheese okay?" He nodded and returned to his vigil. Scully began the preparations for lunch humming a nameless tune as she worked. Mulder turned around at the sound. She never hummed. He was about to hit her with a snide remark, when a strange thought occurred to him. He had spent the night at Scully's before, but always when he was sick or recovering from an injury. This time it was more.. ..personal. What was expected from him? Should he talk about work or was that taboo? Should he help with lunch? Was he supposed to hang around here all day or did she want him to give her some space? They spent almost all of their waking hours together during the work week, maybe she needed a break from him. Maybe she took him in out of pity? Maybe she had a plans? "White or wheat?" "Huh?" He answered out of reflex. "Bread. White or whea..." She stopped mid-sentence when she turned to look at him. He was sitting with his mouth slightly hung open, his eyes glazed over as if deep in thought. "Mulder?" The mention of his name snapped him out of his reverie. "Sorry. What did you say?" "I asked if you wanted white or wheat bread... are you all right?" "White and yes." Scully continued to observe him for a second longer, then returned to the task of lunch. Sometimes he *was* spooky. Lunch was uneventful. They chatted about comfortable things, the weather, the TV programs they both liked or disliked, current events. After lunch Scully gathered up the dishes from the table. She playfully punched Mulder in the arm as she picked up his plate. "So, are you impressed? I can make grilled cheese." "Yes. Yes I am. All those cooking shows you watch on PBS are paying off," he said with a smirk. "Oh yeah, smart guy, can you make grilled cheese?" He nodded. "I saw the movie _Benny and Joon_. Johnny Depp's character made grilled cheese sandwiches on the ironing board. With an iron." Scully laughed. "Mulder, you don't even *own* that appliance. Let alone know how to use it." She finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher and headed for her bedroom. "I've got some laundry to do," she said over her shoulder as she went. Mulder continued to sit at the table. Now what was he supposed to do? He had decided he would take his cues from Scully. Obviously she had things she wanted to do, maybe he should just get out of her hair. Or would that be rude? He got up and started pacing the living room. Sometimes he could think better on his feet. Scully returned with an armload of clothes. She frowned when she saw Mulder pacing; he only did that when he was upset or nervous. "Mulder, what's the matter? You're pacing like a caged animal." He started when she spoke. "Nothing. I... I..." The sentence trailed unfinished. "You don't have to stay here all day, you know. If you want to go out, just go." Scully said the words, but she felt disappointed. She spent most of her weekends alone, especially now that Melissa was gone. She had actually been looking forward to today, curious what Mulder was like away from the office. There was no ulterior motive, they were just friends; close friends, she had thought. But they hadn't really spent any time together outside of work. Judging from his actions, he wanted it to stay that way. He didn't say anything, just stood looking at the floor. Scully shrugged and headed for the laundry room. Mulder interpreted her statement as a polite way of saying "get out", so he grabbed his coat and strode for the door. He paused with his hand on the knob. He didn't want to go. Most of his weekends were spent alone at the office. He didn't want to spend this one alone as well. He threw his coat over the back of a nearby chair, and went in search of Scully. She was busy sorting clothes, not humming as she worked this time. Mulder stood behind her and just watched for a moment. Was this what domestic life was like? "Need any help?" It was Scully's turn to jump. With the water running in the washer, she hadn't heard him behind her. "I thought you were going out." "Nah. I owe you big time for this morning." He set to work helping her sort clothes, stopping suddenly, a mischievous grin crossing his features when he picked up her bra. He held it up for her to see. "I think I've seen this one before," he said referring to their first case, when Scully had burst into his motel room clad only in a robe, underwear and bra. She smiled in return, slightly embarrassed. "Give me that. You're incorrigible." ************************************************************* The remainder of the afternoon was spent running errands and with housework, but neither seemed to mind. "Where do you want me to put these?", Mulder asked burdened under the weight of six grocery bags. "In the kitchen, I'll put everything away in a second. I want to hang up the dry-cleaning before it wrinkles." Mulder staggered into the kitchen and heaved the bags onto the counter. He hadn't carried this many groceries since he was a kid. Scully had bought enough to feed a small army, at least in his opinion. Of course, he rarely purchased *real* food, so what did he know. "Are you expecting someone?", Mulder questioned, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. He was beginning to enjoy this free time-- just him and Scully. She looked at him in confusion. "No. Why?" He stared down at the floor and shuffled his feet. "Well, you bought so much stuff. I thought maybe you had plans or something." "Nope, no plans. I don't get the chance to go to the store as often as I need to, so I decided to stock up. Besides, today I have my own personal delivery boy." Mulder gazed at her wide-eyed. He wanted to say something, but decided to let it go. ********************************************************* Dinner was simple, spaghetti and garlic bread. The wine had been his idea. Mulder scooted his chair back from the table, stretching out his long legs, patting his stomach in contentment, "Now I am impressed. You really can cook. Keep feeding me like this and it could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship." Scully froze. She wasn't sure what to say. They had been "playing house" all day, acting more like a married couple than FBI partners. His statement caught her off guard. "I'll take that as a compliment," was all that came out of her mouth. She picked up the plates and made a beeline for the sink. Something in his statement made her slightly depressed. This day had been interesting, giving both of them a glimpse into the world of domesticity. Was that what she wanted? Mulder knew he had said something wrong. He could tell by the way she had tensed. He picked up the remaining dishes and slowly wandered into the kitchen. "Scully? Did I say something I shouldn't? I meant it as a joke. I mean... not that I..." She waved him off with her hand. "It's okay, I know what you meant. It's just that sometimes..." Scully put down the sponge and turned around toward him. "Do you ever think about having a normal life? Answer honestly, no joking around." Mulder bit his lip as he considered her question. "To be honest, Scully, I'm not sure what a `normal' life is like. We were not exactly your typical nuclear family. But, yeah, I've thought about what it would be like to have a wife and two-point-five kids. I'm not certain I could handle it, so I try not to dwell on it too much." She smiled at his surprising confession. "You know, I've had the same thoughts." "Oh no! Now you're starting to think like me. Pretty soon they'll be calling you Spooky, too," he said light-heartedly, hoping to change the mood. She understood and slapped him playfully with the dish towel. "Go find something on TV for us to watch. No football." ********************************************************* It was a bum night for television, even if she did have cable. Mulder found a movie that they both agreed on, but it didn't start until eleven. He left the TV on with the sound down, but it was just background noise. Digging into his overnight bag, he produced a book that he had started to read the week before. He kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the sofa. Scully, likewise, pulled off her shoes and settled into a chair across the room. She bought a book of crossword puzzles at the store, something she hadn't done in a long time. It seemed that she was always busy with work anymore. Was she becoming a workaholic? That thought made her glance up at Mulder, supine on her sofa. He was squinting at the text on the page. "Mulder, where are your glasses? You're going to strain your eyes." "Yeah, I know. I just wanted to finish this page before I had to get up. This is very interesting, you know," he said showing her the front cover of the book. "_Druids and the UFO Connection_," she read aloud. Nope. Mulder was still top work addict of the partnership. Scully got up and found his glasses in the overnight bag. She handed them to him and patted his head. He didn't look up, already engrossed in what he was reading. After a while, Mulder flipped on the sofa toward Scully. She was busy working a puzzle. "I didn't know you liked those things." "Crosswords. I used to do them all the time. Keeps the mind sharp." "I used to do them at Oxford, for a diversion. I was pretty good," he challenged. "Oh, really?" she said, responding to the subtle dare. "Yep. Give it your best shot." "Okay, Webster. Seven letters, starts with a G, crude turpentine." "Too easy. Galipot." He licked his finger and drew an invisible 1 in the air. "Okay, my turn.", he said as he swung off the sofa and snatched the book from her hands. "Let's see. Ah. Here's one you should know. Eight letters, third letter is an F, rail around the stern of ship." "Mulder, my father was in the navy, Taffrail." She mimicked his score-keeping method. The battle continued until almost eleven, the score long forgotten. ********************************************************* The movie wasn't that good and Scully soon found herself fighting to keep her eyes open. Surprisingly, Mulder had lost the fight about half an hour previous. He was still sitting on the sofa, but his head was tipped forward almost to his chest. She got up and grabbed the blanket from a nearby chair. Gently tugging on Mulder's arm, she tried to get him to lie down without waking him. "Movie over?", he mumbled still half asleep. "Yeah, lie down before you break your neck." He complied and she covered him with the blanket. "Goodnight, Mulder." "'Night," was the only reply. As she headed for her bedroom, he called to her. "Scully?" "Yes?" "Thanks." She smiled. "Any time, Mulder. Any time." End