TITLE: Bad Fox Two - Dark Side of My Mind

NAME: Mik
E-MAIL: ccmcdoc@hotmail.com
CATEGORY: M/Who?
RATING: NC-17. M/Who? This story contains slash i.e. m/m sex. Not suitable for children, Baptists or Republicans.

SUMMARY: First time M/Who? If you ever wondered how Scully came back.

ARCHIVE: Only with my permission.
FEEDBACK: Feedback? Well, yes, if you insist.
TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Okay...uh...if you haven't seen every single ep of X-Files you have no business reading this. G'way. KEYWORDS: story slash angst Mulder Who NC-17
DISCLAIMER: All the X-Files people and all the Whovian people belong to other people and I'm making no money by twisting their bendable little bodies into odd shapes, I'm just having fun. And all your base are belong to me.

Author's notes: I'm new to this specific genre, and if I've appropriated a title already in use, just let me know and I'll fix it. I tried researching to find if it had been used before, but you know how unreliable the internet is.

If you like this, there's more at https://www.squidge.org/3wstop

If you didn't like it, come see me, anyway. Pet the dog.

Bad Fox Two - Dark Side of My Mind

by Mik

The box was back. It was in the alley behind the garbage bins. Mulder approached it cautiously even though there was a piece of him, a much larger piece than he appreciated, which wanted to run in blindly in hopes of answering five years of questions. The Doctor unlocked the door and held it open for him.

"So, I'll step inside and realize I've helped myself into an ambulance?" Mulder suggested, but he stepped inside anyway. If this was all unfolding in some damaged part of his brain, he really needed to be hospitalized this time. The room opened up and up, the walls and supports looking something like the love child of Disney animation and the Russian Navy. "Huh," he said, staring upward.

"I know what you're thinking," the Doctor said, with a puff of pride.

"It's not as big as I expected," Mulder muttered, scraping a nail across one of the supports. It flaked into his fingertips, and clung, warm and almost pulsing against his flesh.

"Whaddyo mean it's not as big," the Doctor protested, affronted. "It's huge, compared to the outside. Everyone always says so."

"Maybe that's it." Mulder wiped the flakes away on his trousers. "I've heard all the hype, and frankly, it's been oversold." He climbed the gantry, and looked at the heart of the TARDIS. "This?" He picked up a mallet. "This is that much vaunted alien technology?"

The Doctor caught the rails and pulled himself upward over the steps, landing next to Mulder with a clatter. "Give me that. Let's see you come up with something that goes backward and forward in time."

"We've had it for years. It's called Government." Mulder squinted at the odd schematic on the battered laptop screen. "They revisit history and project the future all the time."

"That's truth," the Doctor agreed with a chuckle that surprised even himself. He hunched over the keyboard, tapping in a code. His fingers faltered. He sniffed. He tugged the collar of his pullover and sniffed. He leaned toward Mulder and sniffed. "Oof, what a pong. Would you like to...would you like to freshen up? Khazi's down that corridor, up two flights and third down on the right. There's a basin."

For the first time in years Mulder was embarrassed by his disinterest in appearance and hygiene. "Uh...yeah." He backed away, crossing his arms over his chest. "You were going to show me her file?"

"I will. I said I would. I will." The Doctor pointed again, this time with both hands and the mallet. "You do...um...that and I'll put on a kettle. You could probably do with a cuppa."

Mulder didn't want to waste time with social amenities. He wanted the information and he wanted it now, but he had a feeling he wasn't going to get round the Doctor that easy and the Doctor knew it. "The kettle?" he repeated. "You mean, make tea? Now that's something I didn't know you could do."

"Oh, yeah. Think I'd go swanning off through the universe without a good cuppa?"

"Unthinkable," Mulder agreed, hoping that would be sufficient response. Actually, he decided, his stomach lurching a bit at the thought, a cup of tea might be a good idea. "I'll be right back."

He was standing on a landing, trying to remember if he needed to turn right or left to get back to the main deck when that sound assaulted his ears again and the floor beneath him rattled ominously. Covering his ears, he staggered against a rail as the walkway jerked and tottered under him, threatening to tip over. "Hey!" he yelled in protest. Sacrificing his hearing to keep from tumbling into a dark abyss below, he grabbed for a rail that faded in and out of his grasp. "Son of a bitch!"

Everything tilted to ninety degrees for a second then righted, going silent, save for one indignant twang from within the bulkhead. He clambered down the steps and into the bridge. "What the hell? You didn't say anything about going anywhere. What happened to 'cuppa tea' and looking at the file?"

The Doctor was righting himself, a tin of tea in one hand. "I had to move us. Some of the local constabulary was taking an interest in the TARDIS." He shook his head. "It isn't the disguise it once was."

"Yeah, well, a big blue British callbox would stand out in a Virginia alley," Mulder allowed, rubbing his elbow. "Where did we go?"

"Safest place I could think of." He pointed to the door. "Have a look."

Mulder glowered at him suspiciously. He looked at the double doors. He looked at the Doctor again, who was grinning and making urging motions with the hand holding the tea tin. "Go on then."

Mulder jumped to the floor and took the three steps to the door. He pulled it open a crack and peered out. He shut the door. "The moon?" he drawled.

"Safest place I could think of. We'll have a cuppa, you can have a peek at her files and we'll be off again. You'll be home in your own squalor by bedtime."

Mulder opened the door again, and looked out at the blackness beyond that silver white horizon. "I didn't expect it to be so dark."

"Ah, well. We're on the dark side of the moon, aren't we? No chance of being spotted here. No one comes round here anymore." He held up a mug with Snoopy dancing on the side. "Cuppa?"

He shut the door, almost sad. He knew it wasn't really the dark side of the moon. Couldn't possibly be, but for a hallucination, it was really beautiful and one of the problems with hallucinations is you could never really count on them to be the same each time they appeared. He turned away from the door and caught a whiff of his personal bouquet. "Uhhh, just set it there." He felt himself blushing. "I washed, but..." he tugged at his soiled dress shirt.

"Easy fixed," the Doctor said with that maddening, unfailing cheer. "First left, second right, third on the left, go straight ahead, under the stairs, past the bins, fifth door on your left. Howd'ye take it?"

Mulder had taken the prescribed first left before the words caught up to him. He backed up enough to look around the corner. The Doctor was still holding up that cup. "Everything."

By following the instructions, he found what must have been stolen from an entire movie studio wardrobe department. Uniforms of all manner and all eras, outrageous fashions that were best forgotten, dresses, shoes, shirts, ties, hats, spats, jeans and gym clothes, each carefully pressed, preserved and catalogued. For a moment, he was tempted by the smartly detailed costume of a British Admiral, circa nineteenth century. He liked the Hugo Boss suit at the end of one row, reminding him of one of his own, but it was the wrong color. There was even a sort of Star Treky looking jumpsuit. Finally, he settled on a pair of well broken jeans and a Diesel shirt that looked simple and white until he had it on, and only then did he notice the faint striped effect. He found socks and shorts that suited him, the only pair of black shoes in a row of white, and even lifted a jacket, in case they decided to take a walk on the moon.

Taking his keys and wallet from the grubby trousers he'd been wearing, he bundled up everything, and tossed it all into one of the bins he'd passed on his way to change.

"Well, there he is," the Doctor said as he rounded the final turn. "Much better. You look like a new man."

"Actually," he smoothed down the front of the shirt nervously. He'd forgotten how good a clean, crisp cotton shirt could feel. "I'm more like the old man."

"Well, c'mere, old man. Take a look." The Doctor gestured at the screen of the laptop.

Mulder needed to take a deep breath and steady himself. He could feel his pulse racing with anticipation, hope and fear. He leaned over the keyboard, and allowed his eyes to flick toward the screen for a moment.

There she was. Her face, her wry, thoughtful, doubtful, impatient, fascinating face. It wasn't the picture on her badge. It looked like one taken at some photo op. He recognized the clothes, though. Her severe, playing like the big boys navy blue suit. Funny how he could tell that, looking at this screen. It was as if the computer corrected the image for his colorblindness. He was seeing the true shade of her hair for the first time. It was warm, like autumn, like embers, like...like blood.

Shaken, he groped for the cup of tea and took a sip. He gagged, coughed, spit. "What the hell...?"

The Doctor slapped him soundly on the back.

"You call this a cup of tea?" he spluttered. "What kind of tea is it? Alien tea?"

The Doctor took the cup away from him with one hand and held up the box with the other. "Typhoo Tea. Burstin' with OO."

Mulder wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing." The Doctor looked at the box. "Although, I did wonder at the way you drink it."

"What the hell did you put in it?"

"Everything." He gestured toward a tray on the far side of the bridge. "As requested."

Mulder followed his gesture in horror. "It tasted like salt...and catsup!"

"You did say everything. Mind you, I would have stopped with milk and sugar."

"And so would I. Isn't that what everything means? Milk and sugar?"

"How was I to know? You humans load on salt and catsup on everything else. No wonder you die before your time. Your hearts explode." He leaned forward and murmured in Mulder's ear, "Sodium's bad for you."

"Thank you, Dr...Doctor," Mulder drawled. "Any chance I could get another cup of tea? One with only milk and sugar? Then I'll look at these files and get out of your way."

"Of course." The Doctor gave him that ear to ear grin again. "No rush. Glad of the company."

Mulder turned back to the laptop and covered his face for a moment, shielding himself from her knowing expression. "Oh, Scully," he moaned softly, into his hands, "it's really happened. I've lost my mind."

"No, you haven't." The Doctor was standing next to him again. "This is really happening."

Mulder shook his head and lowered his hands. "People have been telling me I have for years now. I guess I finally believe them."

"Well, they're wrong," he said confidently. "You've got to trust your instincts."

"I do. They're telling me I'm insane." He paced away, around the circular gantry. "I'm insane because I think I'm on the dark side of the moon, looking at forbidden files and drinking tea with salt and catsup. Now tell me-" He found he'd made the complete circle and was standing large nose to large nose with the Doctor. "Tell me that's not insane."

"That's not insane. You are on the dark side of the moon and you are looking at files you haven't yet had access to - at least, you will do as soon as you stop moaning about losing your mind, and as for the tea, well..." he smiled. "There's the kettle. Now, have a look and stop moaning."

Mulder leaned over the computer again. It took him a few minutes to figure out how to navigate the files, but he did learn some things he hadn't known before; eyewitness accounts both on the mountain, and in neighboring areas, reports of a bright light, large hovering object in the sky, the traces of radiation that lingered in that area even five years later, and that the radiation trail led away from the site and had been tracked for almost eleven thousand miles, over the top of the pole.

"They could have followed her," Mulder said angrily. "They could have gotten her back. They let her go. They abandoned her."

"That's what it looks like."

"They don't know if she's alive or dead."

"No, they don't."

Mulder banged a fist on the control panel. "They didn't even try."

"Easy," the Doctor complained. "Do you know how it is to get parts for this?"

Mulder dragged his hands through his hair and tugged, trying to relieve the tension that was tying his brains in knots. "Do you?"

"I certainly do," the Doctor said, around his cup. "No warranties, and delivery times are the worst, not to mention shipping costs."

"No, do you know if she's alive or dead?"

"How would I know that?"

"You're," he made the little quote signs with his hands, "'the Doctor'."

"Doesn't mean I carry a human census in my head."

"You're right. I'm sorry." He pulled at his hair again, let go, and let his hands fall to his sides. "Well, thank you for that. I guess there's nothing more I can do. Take me home."

"You sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure. I've got to get back there and have my nervous breakdown." He pulled the top of the laptop down, so he couldn't see her face anymore. "I'm sure you have planets to get to, aliens to annoy."

"Actually, no. I'm a bit on my own for a while." He grinned. "Fancy a spin around the universe?"

"Sorry, I'm not some comely lass for you to rescue in every galaxy." Mulder waved the notion away, sucking the last of his tea from the mug. "But thank you for asking."

"That's a fallacy, that. That stupid programme always showed me running around with some tart in a tight shirt and the brains of a Mercurian titmoose." The Doctor shook a finger at him. "I've had male companions before. I had a Gthnythin once. Mind you, he nearly talked my ears off."

"A what?" Mulder had begun to drift toward the door for another peek at the moon, just to see how consistent his hallucination was.

"A Gthnythin," the Doctor explained, forming rough cubes with his hands. "Sort of a rhinoceros with a giraffe's head and a prehensile tail. But he left me for a female during his first breeding season."

"You're just making all this up," Mulder said, pulling the door open a crack. "I know you are. And it's titmouse, not titmoose."

"Maybe on earth they're titmouses," he countered. "Or are they titmice? Never mind that. I'm not making this up. I'll prove it." He pushed the top of the laptop up and began tapping frantically on the keyboard.

Mulder stared out at the silver and black horizon wistfully. If he could go to the dark side of the moon to have a cup of tea, why couldn't he find Scully and bring her home?

"Here. Look at this."

Mulder looked over his shoulder. "No, it's okay. If I can believe I'm on the moon, you can believe in long necked rhinoceri. Now, can you take me home or shall I just leave on my own?"

The Doctor sighed and began spinning and twirling levers and knobs. "I'll have you home in two shakes of a Gthnythin's tail."

End Chapter Two
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