I don't usually do short-shorts, but recent talk on the M/K list about spoilers started to meld in my mind with talk about whether The You-Know-What from "The Red and the Black" will spur or retard fan fiction. (If you're one of the few souls left who doesn't Know What, and doesn't want to know until XF reaches your corner of the globe, read no further.) Mix it all up with Mulder, King of Denial, and I found myself writing the following one night when I should have been asleep. I'm just not the kind of girl who sees declarations of undying love coming from Mulder any time soon, or not without the sort of pressure that formed the Rocky Mountains tectonic plate. When I finished, I realized I was also thinking a bit of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, where the White Witch gets Edmund on her side when she gives him some magical (and very addictive) Turkish Delight candy. Later, when everyone else is having a nice, wholesome adventure and a nice, wholesome meal, Edmund can't quite handle it -- because as C.S. Lewis says, "There's nothing that spoils the taste of good, ordinary food half so much as the memory of bad magic food." Warning: Nobody dies, nobody has sex, nobody does anything. SPOILED by Jane Mortimer He probably kisses everyone he's about to shoot. "Good heavens, Mulder, will you look at this?" "What?" "The footprint. The oblong shape, the uncharacteristic length... who does it remind you of?" "Nah... he's dead, Scully. We squished 'im." "'Squished'?" "Wasn't that what you gave as the official cause of death?" "I doubt I said 'squished,' Mulder. Massive internal trauma, possibly." "Well, it's not Tooms. Besides, I'm not at all convinced that's a human footprint, even an elongated human." "We're not back to the spiritual-transfer-into-animal-form theory again." "I thought you were going to remember to use your glasses for close work." "Meaning?" "Count the toes, Scully." Yeah, but he *didn't* shoot you. A temporary reprieve, I'm sure. "Well?" "Maybe the little toe just didn't make an impact on the surface dirt..." "Ha!" "Come on, these are college students, not mysterious desert shamans practicing the rituals of their indigenous ancestors..." "You been dropping cash at The Body Shop again, Scully? Because I notice whenever you use the word 'indigenous' you also smell of vanilla soap -- " Funny wintergreen smell. I didn't think fugitive triple agents had time for cologne. Maybe it was toothpaste. It was such a cool, personal kind of -- "I'm going to examine the other body." "It's not going to tell you anything we don't already know." "Lieutenant -- over here -- excuse me -- have you finished photographing this one? Thanks. Okay, I'm going to try to unclench his fist." Fists. What had happened to that perfectly reasonable desire to pummel Alex Krycek into some kind of notice, some kind of understanding of the effect he had on people? Pain therapy was the only way of getting that bastard's attention... It seemed perfectly reasonable, given Krycek as the entity he was, that his relationships should either be born from the touch of his lips or from the barrel of a gun. Everything was so fucking elemental, with him. Mulder tried to picture sitting down with the man at the local Starbucks and discussing the last Cameron flick. No. Well -- not entirely no, he'd done shit like that back when Krycek was in FBI mode. But that was all cover; you couldn't imagine talking like that to the real man inside... assuming there was one. (If anyone was ripe for identity problems, it was Alex Krycek.) ...Wow, what a gilt-edged treat that would be, getting one's hands on Alex's hypothetical therapy records. Several hundred pages of bullshit, he had no doubt, but it was bound to be more fascinating than what less attractive serial killers came out with in their interviews -- Mulder pulled up short. Alex was not a serial killer. Nor was he attractive. "Look what I found in his hand. Buttons." "You know my theory, Scully." "Buttons are not an offering to an unholy god, Mulder, they are evidence of a physical struggle with an assailant. Obviously these came off when he grabbed the man's shirt." You know, if you'd grabbed his shirt then and there, you could have overpowered him. It was a perfect opportunity. Letting him walk out? Have they sent a search party for your brain yet? "Hmm. I assume they dusted that ritual... object... for fingerprints." "Yeah, and I'd love to see how the cop on the scene referred to it in his report." "Seeing this, I can definitely believe the cult is all-male.Only men would feel the need to make a statue four feet tall of --" "Historically, it's a widespread item, Scully. These were found all over ancient Rome. They were considered good luck -- " "We're not in Rome, we're in Schenectady. And if a suburban family had this out in their yard, they'd be arrested." "Besides, it doesn't fit the cult profile -- " Soft lips. Breath. Doesn't fit the profile. Doesn't fit the profile... " -- and I'm not sure it's not a natural object. These hills are full of granite, uh, outcroppings..." "You have to be joking. Next you'll tell me Mount Rushmore is a natural formation." "No, just a backdrop for Eva Marie Saint." "I'm sorry this doesn't fit your picture of this cult's activities, but you'll have to adjust your reality settings. Because that statue is more smooth than could be explained by exposure to the elements. It's a man-made creation." "Maybe it's been exposed to a lot of elements. You know, it can rain a whole bunch in ten million years... Why are you taking your glove off?" "This has been polished, Mulder. Put your hand there -- right there, don't hover over it, it won't bite you. Feel how smooth it is? Like a baby's skin." "Uh, yeah." "Is something the matter?" "What can I say, Scully, granite just isn't a turn-on for me. Now if they had something in velcro... What?" "You know, you've been behaving a little strangely lately, Mulder, even for you." I am not. I'm handling this perfectly well. Not that there's anything to handle, exactly, and I would say so, but then she'd give me that look... like the one she's giving me now. "--Oh, thank you, Lieutenant. We're through, but we'd like to keep the tape up..." Voices, male and female, gently falling counterpoint, fading in the background. Visual. Tactile. Replay. Replay. Replay. "Mulder, are you with us here?" "What? --Uh, yeah, I was just... So, Scully, do you have a totemic animal? Because according to lore, exposure to the ritual elements during this phase of the moon can cause involuntary transformation. I'd hate to find, you know, a maroon-colored hamster in your room tomorrow --" He probably kisses everyone he's about to shoot... End.