He may have been alone, but he didn't feel lonely. His bowl may
have been small, but he knew the breadth and length of this
kingdom he ruled. It made him feel larger, made him the center of
everything. He understood the world and his place in it. He had
no desire to see what existed beyond the curving glass. How could
he possibly feel any longing for something he didn't even know
existed?
The peace didn't last. Something shook his world, agitating the
water, before picking it up and flinging it. Danny-fish flew out in
a stream of fluid into the vast nothingness beyond the bowl. It
could have been a birth metaphor.
He wanted to go back, but he couldn't.
He came to in his lab, completely a man. It looked as neat and
orderly as usual, but something felt wrong.
Flip. Moo. Flip. Moo. Flip. Moooooooooo....
He turned to face the sickly sounding mooing and saw Michael,
who shouldn't have been in his lab. Michael wasn't part of his FBI
life and must never be seen here. Ever. Michael had to be kept
secret.
Completely unaware of the laws of nature he was breaking just by
standing in the lab, Michael flipped a plush beanie cow, the source
of the mooing. The cow was the same azure as the lenses in his
cheap sunglasses. Otherwise, he was encased from the neck down
in tight, shiny, luscious black. It looked like he had poured a can
of liquid vinyl on himself and let it solidify on his skin.
Danny felt a jolt in his groin, another thing that should have
nothing to do with his LabMouse life. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
The cow flew in lazy, rhythmic arcs. Flip. Moo. Flip. Moo.
Flip. Moooooooooo.... The sound annoyed the hell out of Danny.
He looked down at the Caller ID box sitting next to his
microscope. It said that his mother had called. //But my mother is
dead.// He had to call her back. If only he could stop that damned
mooing.
"Michael, stop that. I have to call Mom."
Flip. Moo. Flip. Moo. Flip. Moooooooooo....
"Michael...."
Flip. Moo. Flip. Moo. Flip. Moooooooooo....
"FOX!"
Michael stopped, and his eyes had widened behind the sky-tinted
glasses.
Danny ground out the words. "Stop playing with the fucking
cow."
Michael actually shrank back from him, and Danny nearly snarled.
God! Couldn't he even raise his voice now and then? He
sometimes got tired of tiptoeing around poor Michael's fragile
mental state. Got tired of having to be so damned careful. He'd
even asked his brother Sean, an occupational therapist, for advice
on how to keep his lover stable. Why was it up to him?
But Mom was expecting him to call back. After he dialed, he
could actually see his parents. They looked so disappointed. In
him.
"What's wrong?" Danny asked.
"How could you, Danny-boy? You were the normal one!" his
father said.
"What?"
"You're... with a man," his mother whispered.
"Why couldn't you just continue pining for that Dana Scully?" his
father asked. "She's a good Catholic girl."
"But... you always supported me in everything I did before."
"You always played by the rules before. That makes it easy." His
mother shook her head. "And not only a man, but a child! My
son's a pedophile!"
Danny looked back to see that Michael had become an adolescent.
A gorgeous boy in skintight vinyl who had none of the gawkiness
you'd expect of a teen, but he still couldn't be more than 14 years
old. He clutched the plush cow, and Mulder clutched Michael.
They both stared at Danny with imploring eyes.
"Two men! I'm glad I died before I had to see this!" she wailed.
Danny shook his head. "You're not my mother. And you're not
my father. I love him. I love them. And I'm... I'm not ashamed of
it."
"It's a good thing then that it's not your decision to keep them," his
father said.
"What are you—?" Danny turned to see a faceless smoking man
aim a gun at Mulder and Michael. Mulder told Michael to flee,
save himself, but he couldn't leave. They were bound together.
Danny wanted to move, to save them, but he couldn't. It wasn't
paralysis; he just couldn't move. Horrified, he could only watch.
Michael and Mulder fell in a haze of bullets. Dead, they left a
tangle of three bodies. //The oldest looking one is William?//
The killer turned. Smoke streamed from a cigarette that seemed to
be part of his head. He threw a small pack at Danny, who numbly
caught it and read the label. Morley Ultra Lights.
"I'm trying to cut back," the faceless man said. "Smoking can kill
you."
Danny was in darkness, partly pinned by an unknown weight that
groaned as he moved. Something odd feeling dragged against his
skin. He reached in a panic until he found a lamp switch.
The light showed Michael's head resting against his chest. The
dragging had been by the colorful, clear rubber bracelets that
encircled his lover's wrists in lemon yellow, lime green, and cherry
red. Michael had found a stash of jewelry from the 80s in his
apartment and had gleefully demonstrated how the bracelets were
flexible enough to be twisted and linked together. More erotic
applications had followed later.
Danny stroked down Michael's bare back, relieved to see him alive
and right-sized. They would go out tomorrow, maybe to lunch in
the park, and the winter sun would touch his hair in blond and red.
He didn't seem to mind the chill, but he was New England bred
after all. Anything he wanted to do, they would do.
When Michael looked up, he seemed to be slightly ill. "I love you
dearly, Danny, but the next time we order pizza that late, there
will be no anchovies on it."
A wondrous "Little Fish" cow haiku from Te:
Flip. Moo. Flip, moo-cow,
Little Fish
by Viridian5
Danny was a red goldfish. Sure, he knew he was also Daniel
James Pendrell, federal agent and lab tech, but for now he swam
contentedly as a fish. It was all very Zen, he was sure.
Flip! Michael's got you now, babe,
And it's flip moo fine.
The End
