By Rihannsu
Rating - G
Catagory: Humor
Spoilers: General Season 8
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Feedback: please, maximana@yahoo.com
Archive: sure, please ask.
Sunday, April 15, 2001 - 9:05 a.m.
Office of Assistant Director Skinner
“Agent Mulder, do you happen to
know how much it costs to run a nation-wide manhunt for seven months?”
Skinner asked. His voice was deceptively soft and Mulder thought
briefly of edging toward the door, but Doggett was leaning against it.
A marine in front of me, a marine behind me, surely there’s got to be a
dirty limerick that starts out that way, he thought and started to smirk
at that. Until he remembered where he was and the reason for the
tight expression on his boss’s face.
“Uh no,” he said trying to pull off
a contrite yet soulful expression.
It clearly didn’t work.
“Agent Doggett?” Skinner said.
“$4,365,221.67,” Doggett said.
“That’s right. You cost
the United States government $4,365,211.”
“And sixty-seven cents,” Doggett
said.
Skinner frowned at him and turned
his attention back to his errant agent. “Do you have anything to
say for yourself, Agent Mulder?”
“I, but, the aliens sir.
I was abducted . . . and the ship . . . and the tests . . . and Scully
was pregnant.”
“Don’t you dare bring me into
this Mulder,” Scully said giving him the raised eyebrow of derision.
Skinner slammed his hand down
on the desk. “Mulder, I don’t care if God himself picked you up for
a conference. You cost the FBI $4,365,221.”
“And sixty-seven cents,” Scully
said.
Skinner glared at her. “Agent
Mulder, I still haven’t heard anything I want to hear from you.”
“I, uh, I’m sorry?” Mulder said.
“Well, as long as you’re sorry,”
Skinner sneered.
“Am I going to be fired?” Mulder
asked.
“Fired?” Skinner asked.
“Fired? I wanted to have you shot. Scully wanted to strangle
you with her bare hands and whatever Doggett suggested was in Arabic .
. .”
“Intintada, it’s an sacrificial
ritual among Islamic fundamentalist sects, usually performed on goats,”
Doggett supplied with a degree of cheerfulness Mulder felt was entirely
inappropriate when discussing the murder of a fellow agent.
Skinner shot a quelling look at
Doggett and Scully, whose interest had been caught at the word sacrificial.
“Whatever. But the Director has other intentions.”
“The Director?” Mulder squeaked.
“He feels that we should get $4,365,221.67
worth of work out of you. And after he mentioned your next assignment
I’m inclined to agree.”
“Assignment?” Mulder asked.
From behind his desk Skinner produced
a bunny costume complete with an oversized plastic head. “The Director,
as I’m sure you know, is a close personal friend of the First Family.
At the last minute the Secret Service agent who had volunteered to play
the Easter Bunny for the annual White House Easter egg hunt got sick.
The Director was kind enough to find a suitable replacement.”
“Me?” Mulder was squeaking again.
“You,” Skinner said.
“No way, I’m not doing it,” Mulder
said backing toward the door. “I’m an Oxford educated psychologist.
I’m a brilliant criminal profiler for god’s sake.”
Skinner sighed and looked irritated.
“Doggett, put the bunny suit on Mulder and drop him off at the White House
Easter egg hunt.”
While trying to escape, Mulder
had come to a stop right in front of Doggett and didn’t have time to move
out of the way before Doggett pinned his arms behind him and shoved him
back toward the center of the room.
Doggett picked up the bunny head
and shoved it down onto Mulder’s head . . . backwards.
“Hey, I can’t breathe in here.”
Mulder protested.
“Then you’d better not waste your
air on yellin’,” Doggett said reasonably. “Should we put this on
over his suit? It’s kind of warm out there.”
“Good point,” Skinner said.
“Strip him, then put the bunny suit on.”
There was a long pause where Mulder
could only imagine the looks being traded. “I’m not stripping him,”
Doggett said flatly.
“Well, neither am I,” Skinner
shot back.
“Oh for God’s sake,” Scully said.
“I’ll strip him.”
Mulder might have been impressed
with the quick efficiency with which Scully stripped him down to his boxers.
Except her hands were impersonal and more than a little rough. It
certainly wasn’t how he would have preferred her to take off his clothes.
At least not the first time. Once she was finished, he was stuffed
into the furry pink costume.
Doggett released his hands and
turned the bunny head the right way around. “Hey watch the nose,”
Mulder squawked.
Skinner grabbed one of his newly
freed hands, twisted it behind his back and force-marched him down to the
FBI parking garage. He tried to stuff Mulder into one of the government
issue Tauruses, but the bunny head was too tall to fit in the car.
“You have your truck here?” Skinner
asked Doggett.
“Yeah. Two rows over.”
Skinner marched Mulder over to
the big white truck and shoved him into the passenger seat. Mulder
promptly tried to get back out. With a long-suffering sigh, Doggett
cuffed him to the door.
“How you going to make me get
back in?” Mulder smirked.
Doggett made no reply just got
into the driver’s seat, started the truck and backed out a few inches.
“You wouldn’t really.” Mulder
said with what he hoped was confidence.
Doggett shrugged and backed all
the way out of the parking space, forcing Mulder to run with it or be dragged.
He looked levelly at the other
man. “You can ride or you can run down Constitution Avenue in a bunny
suit. I could give a damn.”
Mulder got into the truck.
Doggett pulled up to the back entrance
of the White House. Scully and Skinner pulled up behind him in one
of the Tauruses.
He walked around to the passenger
side, opened the door and unlocked the cuffs. Mulder remained sitting.
“What are you going to do pick
me up and carry me inside?” Mulder snarked.
Doggett looked over his shoulder
at Scully and Skinner who were shaking their heads sadly.
“No,” Doggett said. He grabbed
a hold of the bunny head at the base of the ears and pulled Mulder out
of the truck face first.
“Ow! Hey, that’s my scalp under
there.”
Doggett was singularly unimpressed
and grabbed the fluffy white tail and propelled Mulder off the sidewalk
and onto the White House lawn.
“I’ll take it from here,” Skinner
said and took Mulder over to the waiting Secret Service agents, by the
scruff of his neck.
Doggett joined Scully on the bench
she had claimed while he wrestled with Mulder. She was holding a
large wicker basket filled with candy and was systematically eating her
way through it.
“Should you be eating all that
. . .” he started to say, but then caught her sharp look, “chocolate without
a glass of milk to wash it down?”
She handed him a peanut butter
egg. “Good save,” she said. “Wasn’t it nice of the Gunmen to
give Mulder an Easter Basket as a welcome home present?”
“Very nice,” Doggett said and
reached for another peanut butter egg, but when Scully growled at him,
he took a handful of jellybeans instead. “Too bad we’re going to
eat it all by the time he’s finished with the kids.”
They looked up to see one of the
first grandchildren kicking Mulder in the shins and another leap on to
his back.
She shrugged and turned back to
the basket. “Now, that’s a human tragedy, Agent |