Escapism by Harrison Coin

STORIES ON THIS SITE ARE INTENDED FOR ADULTS ONLY

DISCLAIMER: Apparently the idiot I talked to in my last story (Setup) didn't get the hint. The X-Files and all related characters, objects, etc. are the property of Chris Carter, Fox, 1013, and some guy on the Xf set they call Vinnie. I'm using them illegally.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my parody of, well, us. This takes Mulder and Scully where I don't think anyone's ever taken them before; you'll find out what I mean. See the Postscript for more info.

Oh, yes, Investigations is real, it's at http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Lair/9707/index.html [unavailable on wayack :(] and furthermore, it's copyright D Seitz, a good friend of mine (see Postscript). Oh, whoops, that's right, I'm a newbie on Gossamer. All of my previous stuff (and this story) will be at Auto Erotic Asphyxiation, when Bobbi puts that site up. Archivist's note: or when it's revived 27 years later

Escapism by Harrison Coin

Mulder settled down on the couch. It was Sunday at 9, and he wasn't at the office, he wasn't chasing aliens, he was here, at home, in front of the idiot box. As much as he hated to admit it, the tube, and one program in particular, kept him from throwing the damn thing out.

As the familiar white lettering on a black background faded in, Mulder relaxed, wondering what story was in store tonight. He left behind the nightmarish, conspiracy-ridden world of Fox Mulder for a little while and entered the nightmarish conspiracy-ridden world of Jonathan Monohan.

She was becoming too much like Mulder. That was the only logical conclusion she could come to. She never watched these TV shows before the X-Files, and now here she was, watching this...this...parody of the world she lived in every day. Monohan's motel and rental car woes were too much like her own for comfort. Maybe the writers knew about them, followed them around...

She sighed. She was DEFINITELY becoming too much like Mulder. Vaguely, she wondered what he did about this time. Probably watching one of his silly videos.

Why should she even care? He isn't your boyfriend, Dana, he's your partner!

Okay, so I'm sexually repressed, she admitted to herself, and horny. She had slept with Jerse, but that had only intensified the problem. She needed a release valve, some way she could write out her thoughts, and put them out there with no problem.

Good luck, Dana! What could possibly be out there that would provide THAT?

She settled down, and started laughing at the medical inconsistencies blaring out at her from the small screen.

Mulder had decided to check out from this particular case about an hour ago. It was another "missing-thanks-to-aliens" case, one where the only alien was at the end of a roach clip or a bottle. He was just browsing the Internet on the government's dime, the way it should be.

Deciding to feed his ever-growing obsession, he brought up Yahoo! and typed in "Investigations"

He was greeted with about seven hundred detective agencies.

Okaaaaay, I can handle this. He looked at the topics. Ah, relief! There it was, "Arts &Entertainment: TV shows: Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror: Investigations." He clicked on the link and his brow furrowed at the various choices. There were fan sites, a few offical sites, Jesus, the show had only been on a year! One of the topics was "Fan fiction." He clicked on it, and immediately fifty links sprang into his face.

He chose one at random, and found himself staring at a cast photo, with the actors in a big group, smiling and giving each other bunny ears. He couldn't help but grin, and looked at the various stories. True to his nature, the NC-17s sprang out at him. He chose "Yin and Yang" and started reading.

AN EXCERPT FROM YIN AND YANG BY JOE MALIK

"Uh, boss?"

"Silence, Monohan." Her ebony fingers pressed against his lips.

Monohan shut up. God, she was beautiful. And then she took off her blouse, and was even more beautiful.

"God in heaven." He said as he fell to his knees.

"I thought you were an atheist." Davidson murmurred as she pressed his face to her chest.

"After seeing these? Not anymore!" He unhooked her bra and took in a nipple lightly with his mouth.

Mulder exploded with laughter. Monohan and Davidson??? Not in a million years, no way, no how! What had these people been smoking, didn't they read the news?

The head writer of Investigations had denied he was planning any sort of interracial romance. The guy was willing to hit some buttons with a sledgehammer, but some he seemed to want to avoid. He had said, "That's what fanfic is for." And now Mulder understood that seemingly cryptic quote.

But some of this was pretty interesting. He decided to fire off a little email to the webmaster.

EMAIL FROM FOX MULDER TO ONE "NATHICANA"

Hi,

I really liked the fanfic, and I was just curious, is there a site completely devoted to the NC-17 stuff? Some of it's pretty good, although those Monohan and Davidson stories, man, come on, no way, the writers came right out and said it'd never happen! Thanks a lot,

F.M. Luder

RESPONSE:

Hey, F.M.

Yes, there are several archives. The best one, in my opinion, is Offbeat Services, devoted to fanfic of all shapes and kinds. Believe me, some of the stuff they have the characters doing in there is bizarre. Straight, gay, bi, latex, S&M, B&D, everything you can think of. Check it out, http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Lair/9707/index.html.

Nathi

Mulder looked it over. Gay? Latex? You have to be kidding me, he thought. He typed in the address, and sure enough, there it was, in big bold white italics, looking a lot like the show logo: Offbeat Services. The fact that it was a joke clanged dimly in his brain as he clicked on the first story marked Monohan/Ophelia.

Half an hour later, he was hooked. Some of it was straight porno, others were explorations of the various characters' feelings, some of it, well, he wasn't quite sure who the Hoot Island Writing Collective was, but whatever they had been doing, it was pretty strong. He flashed back to the stoners he had met while chasing after those alien Orkin-man nightmares, and grinned despite himself.

"And just what's so funny, Mulder?"

"What?! Oh, I, nothing." Mulder quickly got out of there. Scully, for her part, couldn't help but feel her lips quirk. She had seen the large title across the screen, and unlike Mulder, she remembered that in Investigations, Davidson had picked up a magazine and mentioned that the ads circled "offer rather....offbeat services." She wondered vaguely if Mulder knew she was a fellow vesty, as the fans had taken to calling themselves.

Oh well, not like he needed to know. He'd probably tease her relentlessly about it, ask her if she thought the lead actor, whatsisname, was cute. To be honest she was surprised Mulder even watched TV.

Well, Investigations has a lot of women on it, and I'm sure he likes that, she thought jokingly. She knew her partner well enough to know he didn't leer at women all that often. He was a nice, politically correct guy, and was paying the price.

She sighed and got back to the paperwork.

Why was she doing this?

That question echoed in her head as she saw the title for "Offbeat Services" download. She really wanted to know what this was. At first glance, the marks and titles were gibberish. What did "Davidson/Monohan" mean, outside of the fact that they were the characters in the story? Then she read the simple explanation.

Geez, who had too much time on their hands, huh?

Scully began browsing. Three hours later, she was still browsing. Finally, she saved a few more stories onto her hard drive and signed off for the night, thinking that maybe, just maybe, her prayers had been answered.

After about three weeks of reading the stories, Mulder had gotten what he thought was a silly idea in his head. He knew the show well enough, maybe he should write a story for the archive.

He hadn't taken up pen and paper since college, at least when it came to fiction, and that story was required by his English professor. Apparently he was talented, although the story was "a bit too Lovecraftian" for the professor's taste. Ah well, this was sex, an area he was very experienced in, even if most of the experience was second-hand. What the hell.

Now he just had to choose characters. He wanted Monohan as the man in the story, he knew that much. Finally, he chose Ophelia.

The fact that he looked a bit like Monohan and Ophelia looked a bit like Scully was conveniently avoided by his psychologist's mind.

AN EXCERPT FROM "PHEROMONE"

Ophelia's eyes rolled like a trapped animal.

"What are you saying, Monohan?"

"This chemical...well, I'm a chemist, not a doctor, but it looks to me like an aphrodisiac."

"An...an...aphrodisiac?" Ophelia squeaked.

"Uh-huh." A part of Monohan silently prayed she wouldn't ask him to get up, because his erection was hitting the bottom of the desk he was sitting at, and another part was secretly hoping she would.

"So...what do you recommend?"

"Well. We're adults."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"We can keep control of ourselves."

It sank down to her shoes. She wasn't looking at Monohan, chemist. She was glaring at Monohan, hopelessly clueless idiot.

"But wouldn't that result in...frustrations?" She asked as she began walking over to the desk.

Monohan shifted uncomfortably under her arousing gaze. "Well, um, I, ah...what?"

"Frustrations. Tensions. You know. Constantly thinking, what if? What if we had done it? Would they have been good in bed?" She came around the desk, and Monohan scooted in, trying to hide himself.

"Well, I...I'm no psychologist! I wouldn't know."

Ophelia twirled the chair around, and looked down. My, my, how impressive.

"Well, I do." she said, and her hand seized him.

Okay, not bad. In fact, pretty good. So what did he do with it now that it was finished?

Well, put down a name, he thought, and typed "by F.M. Luder" next to the title. Then he thought about how Max Fenig knew his pseudonym...and the fact that the Lone Gunmen knew it also, and probably browsed the archive.

He never knew he was so fast with a mouse.

Now what? Well, he had two courses. He could simply make one up, or he could steal a name from a book. Why be creative? he thought and picked a book off the shelf next to his desk. He looked at it. Illuminatus, how ironic. Here he was writing fanfic for a show about conspiracies and other similar paranoia, and he was about to take a name from the ultimate parody of such things. He opened a page of the well-thumbed paperback at random.

And smiled as he spotted a good name.

Goody!

Goody, Dana? GOODY??? Jesus! Further proof you need to get laid in real life.

She had to admit she was excited at the prospect of new stories on the archive. Although it updated only once every two weeks, the new stories were always fun. She clicked on the first new one, "Pheromone"

Aside from the medical inaccuracies (which seemed to run rampant throughout the show...shut up, Dana, she chided herself), Harrison Coin was a good writer. And an incredible smart ass, how many awful literary references and jokes could you cram into one story? Quite a lot, as Harry seemed out to prove. She felt a slow heat hit her solar plexus and take residence down below as she read the hot oral sex scene. Her hand slid into her pants as the story continued, and that story alone caused an intense orgasm.

She was hooked now. She had to admit, this was easier than a boyfriend, if not cheaper. Anyway, how many cute single men did she meet in her line of work? Too damn few, her hornier side supplied.

She clicked on the next new story, Black Out, and felt it all start again.

After a while, and after washing her hands, she sat at her computer keyboard, looking at the screen. She wanted to do this. By using empathy, she could get these thoughts out of her head, without too much embarassment if Mulder found them. She automatically chose Monohan and Ophelia. Then she thought about how to set this up. Monohan and Ophelia only ran into each other once in a while, since she was a tabloid reporter and he was an "insurance" investigator. "Pheromone" was actually quite a stretch, since Monohan would never take along Ophelia on anything. If you listened to him, it was for security reasons; he didn't trust her.

Well, neither would Scully, in his position.

So how to get Monohan to trust her?

Her fingers began moving almost of their own volition.

EXCERPT FROM "TRUTH" BY KATHERINE SCOTT

"Why don't you trust me, Monohan?"

"Well, gee, Price, I don't know, why would I not trust you? Because you happen to be a tabloid reporter, who would sell me out for a buck?"

She felt her heart twist. Did he really hate her that much?

"I mean, shit, put yourself in my place. I could get fired if I leak anything, and whenever you report something that should have stayed in the company, I get the blame. You haven't exactly been trustworthy!"

"How can you say that? You've told me things, Monohan, that I've never reported, things that would have gotten me promoted, hell, off this lousy circle-the-country beat, and I've never reported a single one. Not once."

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry, but with each passing day, where I find out someone's working for some dangerous group, or they're a serial killer, or they're out to kill me, I get paranoid. It's hard for me to trust anyone. No one tells me the truth anymore!"

"I can tell you the truth."

Monohan snorted. Yeah, right, Ophelia, you twist facts for a living.

"I love you."

"What?"

"I love you."

Monohan felt something give. "What?" he said quietly.

"I've repeated myself twice, Monohan, I think you get the general idea..."

Monohan felt tears stream down his cheeks. No one had told him that, no one had bothered, not since...Rachel.

Mulder came home and stared at the Media Play bag. What the hell was he doing? He had just thrown twelve bucks down the drain!

Well, okay, maybe not thrown away, but still, he was wasting his money. There's obsession and there's danger, my friend, and danger is when you buy a CD without even looking at it because the name of a TV show you like is on it.

Ah, what the hell. He took the CD out and looked at it. On the front, it simply said "Investigations" and on the back was "Music from the TV series" and the track list.

He had to admit, there were some really odd choices on here. The Mars section of Holst's "The Planets" was right next to Tiny Tim's version of "Stairway to Heaven", Ravel's "Bolero" next to Everclear's "El Distorto de Melodica", and a whole bunch of bands he had barely or never heard of.

He peeled the cellophane and other blocking implements out of the way and started reading the liner notes.

This started with me sitting in front of my computer late at night, listening to the Man or Astroman? cut on this album, "Television Man". I had used another song "Anoxia" in the first episode, and I was using the title of the song for the title of the episode I was writing. It's MOA? doing the Talking Heads, with great results, I think.

Some of the tracks I chose because I feel they describe character's feelings, like the Nixons' song "Leave", which I think pretty much embodies in music Monohan's devotion to Rachel, and his dreams of her death had "Gloomy Sunday" written all over them the first time I heard it, before I started writing the show. And some were just choices of whimsy; I plan on having a shootout to "Bolero" next season.

Already, I'm arguing with the suits about the prospects of another album.

---D Seitz

Okay, so it was sort of weird. Big deal. He popped the CD in the stereo and hit play, firing up his modem to check his email. After denying himself several opportunities to make $7000 a week via spam mail, he found nothing else and decided to go to Offbeat Services. Hey, new stories! The detached part of his mind worried that he was coming to rely on this damn show for sexual fulfillment when he ran across an interestingly titled one out of the fifteen stories in the archive. "Truth" by Katherine Scott. Hmmmmm. It sounded like one of those "angst-then-screw" stories, where the two main characters in the story worrry about whether they should fuck, decide not to and then do it anyway and find there wasn't any problem. They were interesting sometimes, if a little repetitive if you read too many of them. What the hell...

The typical angst...but my, oh, my, what a randy mind Katherine had. This had to be the first story he read where the characters made deep, touching love...and then woke up the next day and starting going at it like animals. He was scrolling with one hand half-way through.

"...his hands entwined in her silky red hair..."

"...his throbbing manhood slid deep into her, to the very core of her..."

He exploded.

After cleaning up, he read the story again. It sounded like this person had some serious frustrations built up. He pitied the poor bastard they were centered on, one day it was going to be too much and POP! Mulder clicked out of the website and headed for the Investigations chat.

Katherine Scott and Harrison Coin's writing careers continued, growing both more tender and more raunchier, thus making for two extremely popular, if not skilled, fanfic writers. Coin seemed content to stay in Offbeat Services, but Scott distributed far and wide.

Meanwhile, in the personal lives of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, Mulder found out Scully was a vesty to his surprise.

"I didn't think you'd like that show considering..."

"What? That's it's about aliens and serial killers? Mulder, I'm surprised!"

"How so?"

"You think I don't need a good laugh every now and then?"

Mulder, despite himself, smiled at this. "So, you think the show's funny?"

"Well, it's fun too. Anyway, I want to know what the Lone Gunmen are talking about when they aren't arguing about conspiracies, so I have to stay current."

"What do you think of Monohan?"

"He's tall, brown-haired, and a recluse. Like some other people I know."

"Skinner's hair was brown?"

Scully smiled "Missing the obvious, aren't we?"

"Ah. So you notice me as a man?" he said with a leer.

"Only if I'm desperate."

"Ouch! You're going for blood!"

They traded banter a few more minutes, thinking how rare it was that they saw the other smile, laugh, just being human instead of some calculating machine, feeling their hidden love (and rampant lust) welling up and ramming it behind a wall.

That night they both started and finished new stories.

This was sort of mean.

Okay, it was borderline sexual harassment, but Scully had pulled one on him, so he had to return the favor.

This was the night of April First. Scully and Skinner hadn't shown up at work tht day, and everyone in the department had told Mulder they had run off to get married, and watched in amusement as he ran all over Washington trying to find either her or Skinner, to yell at one and clock to the other. She had called him at six to tell him it was all a joke, payback for all those times HE ran off without HER. He had grumbled good-naturedly and laughed at himself, but secretly he was forming a little plan.

He was hurt. He knew it was unfair to expect her to know how he felt about her, but that little ploy had hurt him deeply. And as stupid and as pointless as it was, he was out to hurt back.

Well, not hurt. Piss off, maybe, but not hurt.

He knew Scully was a vesty, maybe it was time to put that knowledge to good use. A little misdirected email, that ought to do it.

He brought up his anonymous email program, and copied his favorite fanfic story into it. And just for the hell of it, he wrote a cryptic message across the top.

"I know."

Hee hee hee, he was going to get her good!

She had really hurt Mulder, she realized that now.

He thought he could hide everything with his deadpan expression, but she had seen that uneasy flicker before he had faked a laugh and left the office as quickly as he could.

And dammit, she was feeling guilty and couldn't get to sleep!

So she got up, figuring maybe she'd stare at her computer screen for a few hours and that would help. She opened AOL and typed in her password.

"You've got mail!!!"

She looked at AOL's ugly new mail icon, she had liked the pictures so much better, and clicked on it. Some spam and....one Anonymous message. Her mind went into autodrive, opening the Lone Gunmen's various mail programs. Not a virus, had no secret files, and it wasn't from a government source. A quick click of the tracer program, and she found that it was from...

Mulder. She sighed in relief. Probably a little gag on her, paying her back for today's stunt. Well, time to take my medicine, she thought, and clicked on the mail.

I know.

Know what?

And then she choked when she scrolled down and saw her very first fanfic story, the very first one.

Good God, he had known all along! He...he...how could he?! Did he have any clue as to how she felt, as to who the hell those stories were REALLY about???

She had to know. She had to. She began tossing on clothes, willing Mulder to be at home when she showed up.

Mulder paused the video. Just as well, he was feeling sort of bad about sending Scully that email, even if it was basically harmless, and the video wasn't doing anything. A knock on his door was welcome, unless, of course, it was danger.

"Mulder, it's me."

Oh, shit. He had scared her. He got up, and opened the door, and was confronted with something he had hoped he'd never see.

Scully was standing there, eyes brimming, in hastily thrown on clothes, looking for all the world like a puppy he had just kicked.

"Scully, I-"

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long, Mulder?"

His mind came up with a few wisecracks that went unused. "What?"

"How long have you known?"

"How long have I know what?"

"Don't play stupid with me, Mulder!"

"Okay, okay, I, uh, I'm a little groggy, not quite up to speed..."

"How long have you know I'm Katherine Scott."

He was just about to ask who Katherine Scott was when it clicked into place. Ohhhhh, SHIT!!!

"Scully, jesus, Scully, I didn't. I was just joking with you, Scully, I had no idea you were Katherine Scott."

"You mean to tell me...you had no idea?"

"None. I was just trying to pay you back for today."

"Well, you certainly succeeded, you bastard!"

He flinched away. Fear and shock were giving way to anger, and Scully gleefully let go.

"How dare you do something like that? How dare you try to play with my emotions???"

Waitaminute. "Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black, Scully?"

"What do you mean, Mulder?"

"You mean you had absolutely NO idea I was going to freak out when you ran off? Yeah right! Who was playing with who then, huh?"

Oh, no, it hurt him more than she thought. "Mulder, I had no idea..."

"Oh, sure you didn't, no clue. You had no idea that I was in love with you! Yeah right!"

"L-l-love?"

"Yes, love! What, I didn't make it obvious?"

"As a matter of fact, no. You're very good at keeping secrets, Mulder."

That knocked some air out of his balloon. "Oh. I well, um...."

Her manner was infinitely softer. He loved her. He LOVED her! She felt like dancing. "Mulder?"

"I, um, maybe I shouldn't have..."

She put her fingers over his lips. "Who do you think those stories were really about, the ones I wrote?"

"Uhhhh, fictional characters."

"Come now, Agent Mulder, you're a psychologist. Surely you're familiar with the concept of empathy. You know, using surrogates to act out fantasies."

Mulder waved the power of speech a fond farewell. Fantasies?

"A tall, brown-haired man and a short, red-haired woman? Think about it."

Think, hell! He ducked down and kissed her, his upper lip lifting hers, and his tongue sallying forth to make a complete exploration. He ran along her teeth, dueled with her tongue, caressed her gums, and broke away, gasping for air.

Her mouth lay open in surprise. She felt him through his boxers and her sweatpants, throbbing.

This is right out of a piece of fanfic, she thought, and stripped him of the boxers. He lay completely naked befor eher, and she brushed over his body, the tight, powerful muscles. He slipped her T-shirt off and began toying with her nipples absently.

She pushed him back to the couch, and straddled his legs.

"Do you know..." she whispered "How long I've wanted to do this?"

Mulder simply groaned. Her tongue whispered up his shaft, and he bucked.

"Scully, it's, uh...been a while."

"I know, Mulder. For me too." Her tongue circled the head, paying close attention to the underside of the head. She hadn't gone to medical school without picking up a few clues as to how to do this...and that knowledge was serving her well. She took pity on him and swallowed him whole, nearly gagging. He cried her name as her hand slid up his thigh to caress his balls.

She kept it up, putting him on the edge, and just before he erupted, her fingers took hold, clamped on him to deprieve him of his orgasm.

"Not yet." she said, holding him gently. He felt himself retreat a little way from the cliff.

"Of course not, it's your turn."

Before she could react, he shot up and pinned her down on the couch, yanking away her sweatpants. She had read enough to know all too well what was going to happen next...

She tasted good. As his tongue slyly parted her folds, revealing her to him, he enjoyed the smoky taste of her skin. Mmmmm. He lightly touched her clit, just to hear her gasp. He didn't penetrate her, he wanted to save that for last, instead, he tickled her, his tongue probing those delicate flaps of skin, skimming over that hard little nub of nerves. Her hands took hold of his hair, but he ignored that and went slowly. She brought her body even closer than it already was, trying to force him in.

Time for scorched earth. His lips lightly closed on her nub.

She screamed his name.

Then he sucked, and enjoyed her throaty moans and gasps as he brought her closer, closer, closer...

Nope. Uh-uh. He brought his face up, soaked and with a wolfish grin on.

"Not yet."

She moaned her need. And who was he to deny her?

He went in slowly, an inch at a time, hell for both of them, a hell of warmth and tightness, of longness and hardness. Then he began moving, pumping like a piston as Scully writhed beneath him. His hand fell to her clit and almost began playing with it. He barely brushed it when she had a powerful orgasm, all of her muscles clamping down on him at once.

He had had no idea how powerful that sensation could be. He felt like she was milking him for all he was worth, like being stroked with silk made from steel. He emptied into her, and slumped.

At length, he picked up and took her to his bedroom.

"A futon, Mulder?"

"Hey, they're more comfortable than you might think." He lay her down on top of him.

"Mmmm. Very comfortable." she laughed.

"Was I that pathetic?"

"Oh, hardly, I just realized..."

"What?"

"This would make a great piece of fanfic."

AN EXCERPT FROM "ALWAYS" BY HARRISON COIN AND KATHERINE SCOTT

"Will you be with me?" Monohan asked. Please, let her say yes, please, his mind begged.

"In everything, and anything, always, Jon. I love you."

"I love you." Strange he thought.

Sometimes you don't appreciate something until someone makes you see it for what it is.

POSTSCRIPT BY D SEITZ:

When I get my hands on Harry, I'm going to kill him. You see, Harry is my script editor for Investigations, which, like he said, is real. He had made some vague threats along the lines of actually writing a story where Investigations was a key thing, as a TV show or something else. I told him that would come off as egotistical and stupid and not to do it. He never listens to me. I should have known right off what he was planning to do when he started asking me various questions, like how would I interact with fans, what music would I put on, etc. So I told him. He left out some of my better ideas, like the online letter column. I specifically told him to leave my name out of it, and to his credit he did for the most part.

It's not that I don't want any connections to fanfic; it's, well, doesn't this whole thing strike you as a big chunk of ego? I do like the fact that he used our shared email address and the site in the story. I also feel I need to clarify something; Ophelia is not, nor will she ever be, Monohan's partner. She is a tabloid reporter who turns up at some cases Monohan is working on. If you want the whole backstory, go to Investigations at http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Lair/index.html.

END

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