The Assignment 2/?
By Dawson E. Rambo


Disclaimer : Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and any
other tangentially mentioned characters created by Chris Carter
remain his copyrighted property, the property of 1013 Productions,
and the property of Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox,
Inc. No infringement of any copyright is intended. Characters
created by the author remain his property.

Original Post  :  August 20, 1997
Archive Entry  :  "Assignment, The" Chapter 2 of 5
Classification :  MSR, Humor.
Rating	       :  PG-13 (Language)
Missing Parts  :  http://www.sonic.net/~drambo
Feedback       :  All feedback (good or bad) to: drambo@sonic.net
Casting	       :  None, yet.
Timeline       :  Fourth season, after "Momento Mori," but before the
		  ender.

Enjoy!
------

        Fox Mulder, Special Agent, Federal Bureau of Investigation,
trudged from the elevator to the front door of his apartment. Funny
word, he thought: Trudged. Sounds like I'm dragging my feet, every
step an effort, my head down, my arms hanging by my sides, and my
bottom lip stuck out like a third-grader that's just been denied one
last trip down the slide before recess ends.
        And that, he decided, pretty much sums it the hell up.
        He glanced at his watch as he dug in his front pocket for his
keys. 1:30am. The Opera had been...what was it that X had said a while
ago? "Wonderful. I haven't slept that well in ages." Something like
that, anyway.
        Boring is the word you're searching for, old man, his mind
helpfully chirped. Ever since Oxford, Mulder's conscience cum-mind
narrator had possessed a veddy proper British accent. What, he
wondered, is up with <that>?
        I wonder if Scully is still up, still waiting for me to call
in. Well, he reminded himself, she kissed you only two short days ago,
so I would suppose that yes, she's waiting up. Eagerly. To torment him
in some evil fashion for the assignment that he now found himself in.
As horrible as it had been, as utterly mind-numbing as it could end up
being, as much of his soul that could get sucked down the vortex that
was this assignment...Mulder knew that he'd do it a thousand times
over again if meant a cure to Scully's cancer.
        That didn't, however, mean he had to like it.
        He closed the door behind him, dropping his keys on the little
table he usually piled his mail on. Too tired to turn on a light, he
moved, zombie-like, towards the couch. Towards the blessed leather
relief of the couch. Which, oddly enough, was right next to the coffee
table, and on which (by random chance, of course,) was sitting his
cordless phone.
        He picked it up, and hit Mem, and then 0.
        Pretty high up on the 'ol food chain, Scully, he thought. Not
even number one on my speed dial. You're number zero. Beat that.
        "Hi," her voice answered. Well, who else would call at this
time of the night? he wondered.
        "Hey."
        "How'd it go?"
        "Want the official version that's going to appear in my
report, or the truth?"
        She laughed, knowing she'd get both.
        "Well, my target is one Miss-"
        "Should you tell me her name?" Scully wondered out loud.
        Confused, Mulder asked, "Why not?"
        "Well, if she hurts you, I might be forced to shoot her in the
head or something." The light teasing tone in Scully's voice hid
something else, something deeper, something that Mulder was just
barely able to detect. Possessiveness.
        He smiled, knowing that she would hear it.
        "Ok, no names."
        "What does she look like?"
        "Well, she's obviously been in the body and fender shop. She
has more silicon than a Pentium workstation. Her lips look like Kim
Bassingers...squared. Her eyes are violet, which is of course due to
contact lenses, only they're cheap, so when she moves, the light
causes the brown underneath to show through."
        "Your eyes change color," Scully said softly.
        Just the way she said it made Mulder catch is breath. Her tone
told him that she liked the fact that his eyes changed colors, that
they burned bright green with hunger when he looked at her, and that
she'd noticed it.
        "Not the same," he managed.
        "True. What else?"
        "She has a body by Fisher, and a mind by Mattel, to turn a
quaint phrase."
        "Dumb, huh?"
        "She thinks that Ren and Stimpy is high theater, Scully. That
Pinky and The Brain is...Donne."
        "What do ya want to do today?" Scully asked, doing a passable
imitation of Pinky.
        "Same thing as we do every day, Pinky. CONQUER THE WORLD!"
        They laughed.
        "So...back to her body..."
        Mulder grinned. "Do you really want all the gory details,
Scully?"
        "Sure. I've got nothing to worry about, right?" She paused,
and then added, "RIGHT?"
        "Right," Mulder hastily agreed. "Well, if you like that kind
of body, then you'll love her body, I guess. Long legs, tiny waist,
large, firm breasts-"
        "Ok, Mulder. I get the picture."
        "Blonde hair, although not naturally blonde."
        "How do you know?"
        "Several ways. First, the roots are dark. Reminds me of
something Phoebe said once-"
        "Mulder!"
        "No, you'll like this, I swear. Back when we were together, we
were at this corner pub once, tipping back a few pints. That was when
I drank. Anyway, this blonde starts hitting on me when Phoebe was in
the ladies room. Obviously a bottle blonde. Anyway, Phoebe comes back
from the bathroom, sees what's going on, and...remember Phoebe's
attitude, ok?"
        "I do."
        "Anyway, she looks at the girl and says, "My dear, you have
such lovely blonde hair. Why would you die the roots black?"
        Scully laughed, appreciating it. "That was good," she
admitted.
        "Yeah, so, dark roots, plus the mustache-"
        "Ew! She has a mustache?"
        "Yeah. Thicker than mine, actually."
        "Oh that's just gross, Mulder."
        "Tell me about it."
        They fell silent for a moment, and then Scully asked what was
really on her mind. "So...what happened? What's the status?"
        "As planned, I was there to see and be seen. She saw me, came
up to me, started a conversation. I made my usual witty comments-"
        "Mulder, you're supposed to impress her," Scully interrupted.
        "Yes, well, be that as it may, Scully, I managed to do so just
by my natural charm and charisma."
        "Right. What really happened?" Mulder heard her giggling into
her hand and smiled.
        "Very funny. Anyway, she gave me her phone number, and I
promised to call."
        "Did she let on she that she knew you...that she wanted you?"
Scully said, teasing.
        Mulder hesitated. "Uh, yeah."
        "What does that mean, Mulder? 'Uh, yeah.'"
        "She...er, kissed me."
        Long pause. Not good, Mulder thought.
        "Tell me all the gory details, Mulder."
        "Well, we were at the bar, having a drink-"
        "Bar?"
        "Yeah, they have this little bar where you can get wine
spritzers and champagne in plastic cups. Very classy. Anyway, she had
given me her phone number, and told me to call her as soon as I could.
Then she kissed me." There.
        "And?"
        "And what?"
        "How was it, Mulder?"
        "Like kissing a carp, Scully. About as romantic as kissing the
back of my hand."
        She was silent, and Mulder knew what she wanted to hear. "It
was nothing like kissing you will be," he said softly.
        "Oh? And how do you know what kissing me will be like?" Scully
prompted.
        "Because I've thought of nothing else for almost five years,
Scully."
        Silence, but a good silence this time.
        "Me, too."
        "So, why haven't we kissed?"
        "We have, Mulder. I kissed you in my apartment not two days
ago."
        "Three days, four hours, six minutes ago, Scully."
        "Whatever." Pause. "Six minutes?"
        "You know what I mean, Scully. I mean really, really kissed."
        "You mean...like a soft, long, wet, gentle kiss that melts
your shoes and sets your eyebrows on fire?"
        Exactly, Mulder thought. "Uh, yeah."
        "You know why, Mulder."
        Yeah, he thought. Yeah, I do.
        "Well, I hope to remedy that situation soon."
        "Finish your assignment, Mulder, and we can talk."
        "TALK?!"
        "Yes, talk."
        "You said you had plans for me!"
        "I do, Mulder, but you have noooo idea what those plans are. I
could be planning to torture you for the rest of your life."
        What a way to go, he thought.
        "I see."
        "But I'm not," she laughed.
        "Glad to hear it."
        She paused again. "Do you want to hear...one of the plans that
I have for you?"
        Mulder's mouth closed, his lips pursed. Oh my.
        "Uh..."
        "Well?"
        "Er..."
        "Don't think you can take it, do you?"
        "Gimme your best shot, Scully."
        In her apartment, Scully was in bed, sitting cross-legged
against the headboard, the pillows propped up behind her. "Hold on,"
she said, "let me get comfortable." She shifted, wanting to be
relaxed, wanting the sound and tone of her voice to convey just as
much as the words she was about to speak would.
        "We're in the elevator at work," she started. "Coming down
from the eighth floor after a meeting with Skinner. It's late, so
we're almost sure that no one else is in the building. You're wearing
the Armani I like so much, with that tie that I gave you for Christmas
last year. You've got your glasses on. I reach over and take them off,
folding them in my hand so they won't break. I lean in, and you know
what's coming but you can't move; you're pinned, a bug under a
microscope. My microscope.
        "I lean up towards your face, but I don't kiss you. Not right
away. I use my nose to softly rub your cheek, feeling the scrape of
your stubble against my skin. My mouth turns towards your skin, and I
kiss you softly underneath your jaw, on your neck. Another kiss,
softer this time, a little higher. I trail a series of soft, gentle
kisses up your face until I find your mouth. You still can't move,
you're so surprised. I slowly take your lips with mine, my mouth
opening just slightly, my tongue coming out to stroke you softly,
wetly."
        She stopped, and then finished it. "Your hands come around my
waist, pulling me towards you. The kiss deepens, and just as you're
about to take over and kiss me hard, the bell dings, and we pull
apart. I hand you your glasses and leave you standing in the elevator
with your mouth hanging open."
        Scully paused, and then giggled. "Goodnight, Mulder." And then
Dana Scully, feeling truly evil, hung up the phone.

***
Next Morning

        Mulder woke after a rare good night of sleep and reached for
the phone. He didn't care what time it was. He dialed Mem 0 and
waited.
        "Good morning," she said sleepily.
        "As you turn to leave," Mulder said, the sleep-rasp in his
voice sending a shiver up Scully's spine, "I grab your arm and pull
you back, hitting the button for the sub-basement parking garage. As
soon as the doors close, I hit the emergency stop switch, which the
gunmen have already wired so that the alarm won't go off.
        "As soon as the elevator stops, I pull you back into my arms
and devour your mouth with my own, my hands trailing up and down your
back, my fingers finally finding the swell of your buttocks through
your blazer. I urge you against me, and you can feel how much I want
you. Your mouth is hot and wet against mine, and we kiss forever,
losing ourselves in five years of unanswered passion. You tell me, beg
me, ask me, plead with me to strip you naked and take you right there,
but I ignore you. I just kiss you, teasing you, driving you up the
wall, until you can't take it anymore. Only then do I release the
emergency stop and let the elevator continue to the bottom floor. Once
there, I leave you, get into my car, and drive home."
        And with that, Mulder hung up.
        The phone rang instantly. He grabbed it with a smile.
        "Mulder."
        "Do you honestly think that if I asked you to make love to me
in the elevator, if I begged you, as you say, that you'd be able to
get off?"
        The phone clicked in his ear.
        He dialed.
        "Scully."
        "I could get off, Scully. I could also go home." Click.

***
That afternoon

        Mulder was on-line, doing his weekly roundup on the web of
alien sightings, abduction reports and general conspiracy research
when the little exclamation point at the bottom right of his Netscape
window told him that he had new mail.
        He clicked it, and waited while it contacted
pop3.dialin.fbi.gov.
        "From," he read. "dkscully@hq.fbi.gov."
        "Re:Message."
        He looked at the message and smiled. Thank God for PGP, he
thought. Booting up his encryption software, Mulder applied Scully's
public key to the message and waited for it to decrypt.
        "Mulder-" it started.
        "My mother and I were going to go shopping today, but she's
feeling a little under the weather, so I went alone. While I was
buying some new shoes, I happened to pass by Victoria's Secret, and I
decided to stop in. I needed some new things, you know...girl stuff.
Anyway, they were having a sale.
        What do you think the best color for me is? They had this teal
teddy that just kind of hugs all my curves in the right places. It was
kind of tight in the seat, but I decided that I could live with that,
if I had to, so I bought it. I wasn't quite sure of the color, so I
also found a really nice emerald green one. That one was really tight
around the bust, but it feels kind of nice, all silky and smooth. Oh,
and I found another piece, also emerald green; it's a slip, kind of...
        Was just curious what you thought.
                        - Dana"

        Mulder's mind was filled with the sudden image of Dana Scully,
Special Agent, FBI, dressed in nothing except the teal teddy.
        And then the emerald green one.
        And then the slip.
        He was still thinking about that when the little yellow
exclamation point appeared again. He clicked it.
        "From: dkscully@hq.fbil.gov"
        "RE:Message 2"
        And beneath that, he saw, "MIME Encapsulated Message. Click
here to save."
        Also encrypted, he saw.
        He saved it, then decrypted it, and then read it.
        "Mulder-
        "Knew you couldn't figure it out without visual aids.
Frohickie lent me his flatbed scanner for some DNA monographs that I
had to scan. Tell me what you think-"
        And beneath that...
        Beneath that...
        Mulder gasped, and then realized he'd been had. At first, it
had looked like Scully had donned the items she'd referred to in the
previous message, and then had her picture taken. It took him a moment
to realize that she'd just scanned a picture of her face and then
pasted it on to the bodies of the models in the Victoria's Secret
catalog.
        He laughed, appreciating the joke, but not the heart attack
that it'd almost given him.
        "Bitch," he whispered, but with a smile.
        He'd fix her.
        Oh yes.
        Closing Netscape, he opened Word and began typing.
        "I come to your apartment one night, late. You answer the
door, wearing nothing but an emerald green silk kimono...."

END CHAPTER 2