TITLE: In the Flesh 
AUTHOR: bellefleur
EMAIL ADDRESS: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: sure
RATING: R
CLASSIFICATION: S, H
KEYWORDS: UST
SPOILERS: nothing too specific
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; they belong to CC, FOX, etc.
SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully aren't really feeling like themselves 
today, and for a good reason.

Note: Thanks again to my beta X-PhileChick#35 (a.k.a. 
UnderMySkinner) for catching embarrassing (but funny) typos 
before the rest of you saw it.  Any remaining problems are 
entirely my own fault.


* * * * *

The mid-October day dawned bright and clear, and the birds were 
chirping outside as they enjoyed the fruits of the fall before 
starting their migration for the winter.  But the birds and the 
alarm clock were anything but welcome sounds for Mulder on this 
beautiful morning as he woke up with a pounding headache. 

Although he knew he'd had quite a few beers the night before, he 
didn't realize he'd drank enough to give him a hangover.  
Thankfully, his stomach seemed to be cooperating for the time 
being, but he decided to lie in bed and let his eyes adjust to 
the light filtering through his lids before he tried to open 
them and face the day. 

In spite of the headache, however, he had pleasant memories of 
the previous evening.  The Gunmen had called him over 
unexpectedly, promising a juicy lead; but to his surprise, he 
showed up to find that they had planned a birthday party for 
him.  He knew his partner was behind this, although she wouldn't 
admit it.  The party only consisted of the five of them, but it 
was enough, and more than he had expected.  It had been a long 
time since anyone had thrown him a birthday party. 

Now that the headache was subsiding a little, Mulder recognized 
another sensation: nature was calling.  But the hammers in his 
head had not silenced entirely, so he decided to just feel his 
way to the bathroom without opening his eyes to the flood of 
morning light. 

The trip out of bed was made without incident, but on his first 
attempt to find the bathroom door, he ran into the wall.  With 
hands extended, he started groping around, expecting to find the 
doorway at any moment.  It wasn't there. 

Now his eyes sprang open, and he was confused at what he saw.  
This wasn't the right wall.  In fact, this didn't look like his 
bedroom.  He spun around quickly, and as he waited for his head 
to stop spinning well after his body had halted, recognition hit 
him.  This wasn't his bedroom; it was Scully's. 

How did he end up in Scully's bed? 

But the bed was currently empty, and for the moment she was 
nowhere to be seen.  Between the ache in his head and the 
insistence of his bladder, he couldn't think clearly right now.  
After he relieved himself and found some aspirin, then he would 
try to figure out what was going on. 

Turning in the right direction for the now familiar 
surroundings, Mulder stepped into the bathroom and positioned 
himself in front of the toilet.  Before it was too late, he 
remembered he was in a woman's apartment and bent down to lift 
the seat.  With the other hand, he reached into his pajama 
bottoms to pull out his equipment--only to come up empty. 

Something was definitely very wrong here. 

As he looked down into his pants, the most pressing question was 
superseded by another: Why was his chest bulging out, underneath 
Scully's pajama top? 

Dread seized him as a logical answer snapped into place.  This 
could not be happening.  There was no way that this could be 
happening. 

Screwing his eyes shut, Mulder turned around to face the mirror.  
After a deep breath, he finally got up the courage to look.  He 
couldn't believe what he saw there, and yet, it explained 
everything. 

Staring back at him in the mirror was the face of Dana Scully. 

After the initial shock wore off, he realized that he needed to 
think this through.  Sitting on the toilet seemed as good a 
place to think as any, so he resigned himself to the necessity 
of the moment and took a seat.  Rarely had he actually sat down 
to use Scully's toilet, but it seemed decidedly more 
uncomfortable than he remembered.  Was it simply because he 
wasn't used to sitting down to piss? 

Then he looked down and realized the problem: he had forgotten 
to put the seat down. 

Once this small problem was rectified, his duration on the john 
brought no further epiphany than the assumption that this must 
be a dream or hallucination.  After all, it wasn't like it was 
physically possible for two people to swap bodies, was it? 

He pinched himself--well, that definitely felt real.  There was 
only one thing to do now.  He had to track down Scully and try 
to figure this out together. 

Mulder picked up the phone and dialed his own number.  On the 
fourth ring, a groggy male voice answered.  "Hello?" 

"Scully?"  Okay, this was weird.  He knew her voice better than 
his own, but he wasn't used to hearing it come out of his own 
mouth. 

"Yeah?"  There was a coughing sound on the other end, like 
someone was trying to clear their throat.  "Who is this?" 

How was he supposed to explain this to her?  This was Scully--he 
had to start with the empirical evidence. 

"Scully, it's me, Mulder.  Now, I know this is going to sound 
crazy, but I need you to listen to me.  I need you to look at 
your body." 

"What?"  More coughing. 

*Sorry, Scully,* he thought.  *All the coughing in the world 
isn't going to turn my voice into yours.*  "Just trust me.  Look 
at your body." 

There was a pause, then: "What the hell?!?" 

"Scully, I don't know how this happened, but I woke up this 
morning in your body, and I'm guessing that you woke up in mine.  
Is that true?" 

"Mulder, is that really you?"  The voice didn't quite sound like 
his, partly because of the tremble, and partly because she was 
trying to speak a couple of octaves higher, as if that would 
make her sound normal again. 

"Yeah, this is me.  And so are you, I take it." 

"This can't be happening.  Please tell me this isn't happening." 

"God, I wish I could.  Scully, we need to go over everything 
that happened last night and see if we can remember anything 
that could have caused this." 

He heard his own voice chuckling on the other end.  "Right.  
Like that will provide a plausible explanation for how two 
people could wake up in each other's bodies.  That's physically 
impossible.  This is just a dream, or a hallucination, or a 
drug-induced stupor, or--."

"Scully, would you listen to yourself?  I mean really, listen to 
yourself.  Is that your voice coming out of your mouth?" 

"No, it's yours.  But I'm just imagining this.  This isn't 
really happening."  She paused.  "Is it?" 

"Let's start from the top.  What do you remember about last 
night?" 

Twenty minutes later, they were no closer to finding an 
explanation.  Their memories of the party had been parallel and 
mundane.  It had simply been a birthday party.  There were no 
unexpected guests or unexplained phenomena, no missing time.  
They had both gone home to their own apartments, gotten ready 
for bed as usual, and woken up in the other's body.  All 
perfectly normal. 

"Mulder, this is just too weird."

"Well, on the bright side, we finally get to see each other 
naked.  I just didn't imagine it would happen like this." 

As the words escaped his mouth, a horrible thought occurred to 
him.  The wish. 

He had made a wish over his birthday cake last night as he blew 
out the single, large candle that had been placed in the center.  
And his wish had been for a chance to finally...get to 
experience his partner in a more intimate way.  Well, that 
wasn't exactly how he put it.  The actual wording was that he 
wanted to get in--

He couldn't even finish the thought.  Perhaps he should have 
been a little more careful about his use of prepositions.  In 
that moment, he no longer doubted that there was a higher power 
in the universe--one with a very sick sense of humor. 

"Mulder, did you hear what I said?" 

Oh, yeah.  Scully had still been speaking while he had his 
moment of revelation.  "What?" 

"I said, we obviously can't go in to work like this.  We'll have 
to call in sick or something." 

"Okay, you do that.  I need to check something out.  I'll call 
you later." 

"Mul--"

But he hung up before she could say any more.  There was no way 
he could share with her what he had figured out.  He'd have to 
go over to the Gunmen's place and get a hold of that candle.  It 
obviously hadn't been a normal birthday candle, and it was the 
only thing he could think of right now that could have caused 
his wish to come true (albeit in a very twisted, literal sort of 
way). 

* * *

Scully sighed and fell back on the bed.  She'd had some strange 
mornings on this job, but this was by far the strangest.  
Looking over at the clock, she saw that it was already after 
8:00.  Skinner would surely be in his office by now, and she 
needed to come up with a good excuse for their joint absence 
before they actually qualified as late. 

Lying there in bed and staring at the ceiling, Scully let her 
thoughts wander away from work and back to their predicament.  
*So,* she thought, *this is what it feels like to be a man.*  At 
the moment, it didn't feel so entirely different, except.... 

Scully lifted her head and looked down her body, still mostly 
covered by the sheet.  Just beyond her mid-section, a 
substantial bulge protruded above the plane of her abdomen and 
tented the fabric.  Well, this was interesting.  Did Mulder wake 
up with one of these every morning?  Or was this his body's 
autonomic response to hearing her voi-- 

She didn't want to go there.  Dropping her head back down to the 
pillow, she considered her options.  No way was she going to 
talk to Skinner like this.  There was just something terribly 
wrong about that.  Either she'd have to let it subside on its 
own--although she had no idea how long that would take--or.... 

Well, it wasn't like she'd never given a guy a hand job before.  
And, as interesting as this sensation was, she didn't want to 
find out what it felt like to have a case of blue balls. 

It was time to hit the shower.

* * *

After that only-slightly-traumatic experience, Scully felt much 
more relaxed.  By now, it was almost 9:00 and she couldn't delay 
calling Skinner any longer. 

"Assistant Director Skinner's office." 

"Good morning, Kim.  This is Agent Sc--Mulder.  Is the A.D. 
available?" 

"Just a moment please." 

The phone went dead while she was put on hold.

"Agent Mulder?  What can I do for you?" 

"Uh, good morning, sir.  I just wanted to inform you that Agent 
Scully and I will be taking the day off.  There's a personal 
matter that has come up, and I don't think we'll be able to come 
in today." 

"Is everything all right, Mulder?  You two never miss a beat 
unless one of you is injured." 

*Mulder always told me I was a rotten liar,* she thought. 

"Uh, I really can't go into the details right now.  Not over the 
phone." 

When in doubt, blame it on the conspiracy. 

"Understood.  Contact me if I can be of assistance." 

"Yes, sir." 

She sighed internally.  That had gone better than she expected. 

"And, Mulder?" 

"Yes?" she replied hesitantly. 

"Try to stay out of trouble?" 

"Don't I always?" 

*Click*

She may be a terrible liar, she mused, but she had Mulder down 
to a T. 

* * *

Mulder decided to forgo the shower for now, considering what had 
gotten him into this trouble to begin with, but getting dressed 
slowed him down nonetheless.  He wasn't completely inexperienced 
at undressing a woman, even though he was a bit out of practice, 
but *dressing* a woman...well, that was something new.  He knew 
that opening Scully's lingerie drawer would be like opening 
Pandora's Box, so he took a deep breath, opened it, drew out the 
first bra and panties that he could find, and then closed it 
before anything more serious happened.  Maybe later he'd enjoy 
going through it piece by piece--and possibly try a few of them 
on--but right now he had business to attend to. 

Eventually, he was modestly covered in a respectable ensemble 
and ready to head out the door.  After trying on a pair of 
Scully's heels, he had opted for a pair of tennis shoes lest he 
kill himself, or damage her pretty face, by tripping over his 
(or her) own feet.  Driving her car was a bit of an experience, 
too.  He felt like he had to hug the steering wheel just to 
reach the pedals. 

Arriving at the Lone Gunmen's lair in record time, he pounded on 
the door until he finally got a response.  When the door opened, 
Frohike was leaning against the frame leering at him. 

"If it isn't the lovely Agent Scully.  To what do we owe the 
pleasure?" 

Frohike's voice sent a chill down Mulder's spine--and not in a 
good way. 

"Can it, Frohike.  I need your help." 

Mulder shoved his way past the smaller man, who was nearly the 
same height from this perspective, and a lot more difficult to 
push around.  He waited for Frohike to finish relocking the door 
and then launched into him. 

"I need to see the candle.  The one that was on the cake last 
night." 

"Uh, okay.  It's probably in the kitchen.  Let me see if I can 
find it." 

Mulder impatiently shuffled around the room until his host 
finally returned. 

"Here it is.  I didn't realize you wanted it, or I would've sent 
it home with you last night." 

Mulder closely inspected the piece of decorated wax.  It was 
larger than a normal birthday candle, but there were no 
significant markings on it, and no indication of the source or 
maker. 

"Where did you get this?" 

Frohike was obviously confused about Agent Scully's sudden 
fascination with a birthday candle. 

"I think Byers picked it up at the supermarket where we got the 
cake." 

"Are you sure?  He couldn't have stopped by some specialty shop 
or something?" 

"No, I'm pretty sure he only went to that one store.  In fact, 
we may still have the receipt.  You want me to get it for you?" 

Mulder just gave him an impatient look in response.  Frohike 
took the hint and disappeared into the kitchen again, reemerging 
with a small piece of paper in his hand. 

"Here it is.  The candle's listed there, just like I thought." 

Mulder perused the paper and sighed.  This didn't make sense.  
There had to be something distinctive about the candle.  That 
was the only explanation. 

"Um, Agent Scully, I don't mean to pry, but is there something 
going on here?  Maybe I can help." 

Mulder eyed him for a moment and then decided to give it a try.  
There was no telling what reaction he would get, but of all the 
people he could tell this story to, Frohike was the most likely 
to actually believe him.  He launched into his tale (although he 
refrained from sharing the tidbit about his wish). 

When he had finished, Frohike just stared at him for a moment 
and then broke into a laugh.  "You're putting me on." 

But Mulder remained deadly serious, and Frohike sobered 
immediately.  "No way, man.  Is that really you, Mulder?" 

He gave him a wry smile and replied, "In the flesh." 

They were silent for a minute as Frohike contemplated the 
situation.  "I don't know what to tell you.  Nothing unusual 
happened last night.  The candle, the cake, the gifts--all of 
them seemed perfectly normal--which, in and of itself is 
unusual, considering it was *your* birthday." 

Mulder gave him a strained smile in response to the joke. 

"All I can say is it's a good thing it's the weekend.  At least 
that gives you a few days to figure this thing out before you go 
back to work." 

A lightbulb went off in Mulder's (actually, Scully's) head.  
"Today's Friday." 

"Yeah."  Frohike didn't quite see the significance in this. 

"Yesterday wasn't my birthday; today is--Friday the 13th." 

Frohike still looked dubious.  "And you think that has something 
to do with this?" 

"Why not?  Right now I don't see any other explanation." 

"Great.  But how do you reverse it?" 

Mulder's enthusiasm deflated, and he hung his head.  "I have no 
idea." 

"Well, I guess all we can do is make the best of the situation.  
So, you want to get naked for me?" 

Mulder just looked back at him in total disgust.  "That is so 
wrong." 

"Can't blame a man for trying." 

* * *

After calling Skinner, Scully got dressed and then tried to make 
herself comfortable in Mulder's apartment.  There wasn't much to 
choose from in the way of breakfast, and she eventually had to 
settle on dry cereal and toasted stale bread.  Wiping the crumbs 
from her face reminded her that she hadn't shaved yet, so after 
washing up the dishes, she made her way back to the bathroom. 

It took a minute to locate Mulder's electric razor, but after 
she got started, she soon got the hang of it.  When she was 
done, she turned the razor off and inspected her work.  It 
wasn't a completely thorough job, but there were no nicks or 
scrapes.  She was grateful for the electric razor because she 
knew she would have made a mess trying to cover all those 
dimples and curves, not to mention the mole on his cheek, if she 
had used an actual blade. 

It was then that Scully took in her surroundings.  She rarely 
used the bathroom at Mulder's apartment, mostly because until 
recently it had been so difficult to access.  She had honestly 
seen messier bathrooms, but the cleanliness still left something 
to be desired.  She sighed.  She wasn't Mulder's maid service, 
but there was no telling how long she might have to live here.  
And she really couldn't tolerate taking another shower in this 
place without scouring a few things down. 

She was pleased to find a good stash of cleaning supplies in the 
linen closet, although mostly unused.  What had been intended 
merely as a simple wipe down of the bathroom then turned into a 
thorough overhaul as she moved on to the bedroom.  While she 
drew the line at doing his laundry ("That might have to come 
tomorrow"), the dirty clothes and linens were neatly relegated 
to the corner, and the bed was stripped and remade. 

This had taken care of most of the clutter around the bedroom, 
but the bedside table was still an unsightly mess.  It looked 
like Mulder had cleaned out his pockets here every day for the 
last year without ever throwing away a seed shell or candy 
wrapper.  Several miscellaneous items for which she could find 
no place she decided to just dump in the drawer to get them out 
of the way. 

The nightstand drawer was almost as much of a mess as the 
surface had been, but there was something here that caught 
Scully's eye.  Her first reaction, upon identifying it, was to 
slam the drawer shut in embarrassment.  What business was it of 
hers if Mulder kept a box of condoms next to his bed?  After 
all, she wouldn't want him going through her drawers and finding 
her vibrator ("Oh, God, I hope he doesn't!").  But then, 
curiosity seized her, and she reopened the drawer.  They were 
extra large, ribbed, and...unopened. 

Surprised by this realization, Scully forgot her initial 
trepidation and picked up the box.  The seal on the outside was 
still intact.  She flipped it over and looked at the expiration 
date--it was nearly three years ago.  She contemplatively placed 
the box back in the drawer.  Part of her was possessively 
thrilled by this confirmation that Mulder hadn't seen much 
action lately, but another part of her...well, felt sorry for 
him.  Maybe she wouldn't throw out his magazine collection after 
all. 

* * *

Mulder dejectedly returned to Scully's apartment.  He knew he 
should call her, but he really didn't know what to say.  He 
dreaded explaining to her the wish that he thought had caused 
this all, and he knew she wouldn't buy his theory of "Freaky 
Friday."  Even if he was right, which he knew he was, he had no 
idea what they could do to reverse it. 

Maybe Frohike was right--they should just make the best of it. 

When Mulder headed for the shower, it was really with the 
intention of making Scully's body smell fresh and clean again 
since he had forgotten to put on deodorant that morning (he knew 
how she'd react if she found out he wasn't taking good care of 
his loaner).  But, he was swiftly reminded of why he had avoided 
this earlier.  He simply couldn't run his hands all over 
Scully's wet, soapy body without *reeeeally* enjoying himself 
(or, herself).  The downside was that he couldn't jack off like 
he would usually do when imagining her like this.  The upside, 
however, was that he could pleasure both of them at the same 
time--and he got a whole new perspective on the female orgasm. 

Once he finally got out of the shower, Mulder wasn't quite sure 
what to do with Scully's hair, so he just combed it and let it 
air dry.  Wrapped in nothing more than a towel, he made his way 
to the bedroom and decided to finally have a go with the 
lingerie drawer.  After what he had done in the shower, he 
reasoned, how could this be any worse? 

He was slightly disappointed to find so many tame patterns and 
styles (in his fantasies, Scully was always dressed like a 
Victoria's Secret model), but toward the back of the drawer, he 
found a few more colorful and lacy items.  And he just couldn't 
help but try a few of them on in front of the mirror. 

He was in the middle of dreamily removing a black satin bra, 
with a little groping along the way, when he was frozen by a 
knock at the door. 

His initial shock wore off as he realized it must be Scully.  He 
hadn't called her back yet, and she was probably on the warpath 
to find out what was going on.  He quickly dropped the bra back 
in the drawer and slammed it shut, grabbing her bathrobe to 
drape around him as he headed for the door. 

Maybe she would see things his way and they could have a little 
fun while this lasted.  This upped his fantasies to a whole new 
level. 

Mulder put on a seductive smile and opened the door--

"Mrs. Scully!" he squeaked out in surprise. 

"Dana?  Are you alright?" 

"Uh, Mom?  What are you doing here?" 

Maggie stepped inside the apartment as Mulder stood there in 
shock.  He pulled the robe tighter around him in modesty, 
remembering that he was nearly naked underneath.  He realized he 
was blushing from head to toe as he considered what he had just 
been doing to her daughter--or, at least, to her daughter's 
body. 

But Maggie must have mistaken the flush for a fever and 
immediately put her hand to her daughter's forehead.  "Oh, Dana, 
you look like you're burning up.  You should get back to bed.  
I'm sorry for getting you up." 

"No.  I'm fine, really.  I was just...taking a really hot shower 
before you got here."  Mulder cringed as he heard his 
unintentional double entendre.  Thankfully, Mrs. Scully had no 
reason to suspect the other meaning. 

"I know how hard it is for you to admit when you're sick, dear, 
but I'm your mother, and I know it takes more than a little head 
cold to keep you away from work.  We were supposed to meet for 
lunch, today, remember?  When I stopped by your office, I was 
told that you had called in sick, and I knew something must be 
wrong.  So I came right over." 

Mulder was truly at a loss about how to deal with this scenario.  
Scully had said nothing about lunch with her mother, and he knew 
if anyone would pick up on the fact that something weird was 
going on, it would be Scully's mother.  His one advantage was 
that she thought her daughter was sick.  He would have to play 
that up so that anything unusual he said would be attributed to 
the fever. 

With his game plan in place, it was time to play Scully. 

"Mom, I'm really sorry about standing you up.  You know how much 
I love going out to lunch with you.  I just haven't been feeling 
myself today." 

Maggie smiled sympathetically and pulled her daughter into a 
warm hug.  Mulder found the experience particularly odd.  He had 
been hugged by this woman before, but he always had to stoop 
over to reach her.  Now, they were the same height. 

"It's okay, From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 29 Apr 2005 05:01:29 -0000
Subject: Jalousie (1/1) by bellefleur
Source: direct

Reply To: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com



TITLE: JALOUSIE
AUTHOR: bellefleur
EMAIL ADDRESS: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: sure
RATING: some language, but nothing too bad
CLASSIFICATION: S
KEYWORDS: Mulder POV, UST/MSR
SPOILER WARNING: diverges from canon after Milagro
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; they belong to CC, FOX, etc. 
SUMMARY: Mulder gets an attack of the green-eyed monster, 
but is it justified?

* * * * *
* * * * *

"O, beware, my lord, of jealousy!  It is the green-eyed 
monster, which doth mock the meat it feeds on.  That 
cuckold lives in bliss who, certain of his fate, loves not 
his wronger; but O, what damned minutes tells he o'er who 
dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves!"
- Iago, Othello Act III, Scene III

* * * * *

"Agent Scully is already in love."

As much as I hated that little prick, Padgett, for his 
fantasies about my partner, and especially for his apparent 
influence over her, I depended on him for that seed of hope 
he planted in my heart.

From the way he said it, it seemed to eliminate the 
possibility that he was speaking about himself.  I know my 
partner, and I have a pretty good idea of her schedule--and 
I certainly had no indication of any other players in her 
life that might have garnered that kind of attention from 
her.  I also had a pretty good idea that she might return 
my own feelings for her, although we had never discussed 
it.  So, the seed of hope was planted in me thaDana."  She pulled back and looked her daughter in 
the face.  "Since we can't go out to lunch, why don't I make you 
some soup?  It's not often that I get to baby you anymore." 

Mulder nodded mutely and then settled into a dining room chair 
as he watched Mrs. Scully make herself at home in the kitchen.  
She made idle talk as she flitted between cupboards and manned 
the stove, and he simply nodded or added brief responses where 
necessary.  This woman's mere presence made this foreign 
territory feel like a home, and he found himself drawn into the 
domestic atmosphere as though a regular participant rather than 
an intruder. 

Before long, the soup was heated, and Maggie set two steaming 
bowls down on the table.  Mulder waited for her to be seated 
before he picked up his spoon, but he got a motherly glare and 
set it down again while she said grace. 

The conversation had gone so smoothly thus far that he was 
caught completely off guard when it suddenly turned more 
personal. 

"So, Dana, what did your doctor say?" 

Mulder had a momentary reprieve from answering as he choked on 
his soup.  Mrs. Scully reached over and patted him on the back 
until he recovered, but her pointed look (one that was oh, so 
familiar) indicated that she still expected a response. 

"Uh, about what exactly?" 

He honestly had no idea what this was about.  In fact, he wasn't 
even sure when Scully had last been to a doctor.  But part of 
him was panicking as he could only think this had to do with her 
cancer.  Had it gone out of remission and she hadn't told him 
yet? 

"About the birth control pills," her mother replied in a patient 
voice. 

Now Mulder was really confused.  Why would Scully be taking 
birth control if she couldn't get pregnant?  His confusion was 
clearly written on his face, and he decided to reach for his 
forehead to play the fever card again. 

Seeing her daughter's fevered confusion, Maggie elaborated.  
"You told me you were going to ask the doctor whether continuing 
to take the pills would have any long term effects, or if you 
should replace them with natural supplements and let your body 
slip into early menopause." 

Now Mulder just felt like a shit and stared into his bowl.  
Scully was only in her 30s, and she was talking about going into 
menopause?  His knowledge of female biology was limited, but he 
knew enough to understand that this related back to the loss of 
her ova.  No ova meant no ovulation, and that normally happened 
to older women.  Not only had Scully's maternity been stolen, so 
had her youth--and all because of her loyalty to him. 

Mrs. Scully was still waiting for an answer, and he had to find 
a way to deflect.  "Uh, I'm not sure I really feel up to talking 
about this right now.  Maybe when I'm feeling better.  In fact, 
I think I should go lie down." 

Maggie was brushing the hair back from her daughter's face in 
concern when there was a knock at the door. 

"You just sit here, dear, and I'll go see who it is." 

Mulder was just grateful for the interruption and sat slumped in 
the chair with his head in his hands as his lunch guest opened 
the door. 

"Fox.  How nice to see you." 

"Mom!" 

Mulder shot out of his chair as he realized who was at the door.  
It suddenly occurred to him that this was the first time he and 
his partner had seen each other all day, and as strange as it 
was to see Scully's reflection in the mirror, it was even 
stranger to view himself from across the room. 

Maggie was obviously a bit taken aback by Mulder's familiarity, 
as he had always addressed her so formally.  But she was 
secretly pleased by it and smiled warmly as she stepped aside to 
let the tall man enter. 

As Scully moved into the apartment, the duo got their first good 
look at each other.  Her eyes scanning her own body, standing 
there next to the table, suddenly reminded Mulder of his current 
state of dress--or, undress, rather.  He quickly tried to excuse 
himself. 

"Um, Mulder, hi.  Why don't you and my mom have a chat while I 
slip into something more...comfortable." 

There was an unfamiliar look in Mrst day, and I 
continued to water it, that maybe, just maybe, my partner 
was in love with *me.*

Well, that is, until what happened today.

Now, I'm used to the way other men look appreciatively at 
my partner, and I'm used to her acting oblivious to their 
stares and advances.  There is even the occasional request 
for a date, and I'm used to her turning them down.  What I 
wasn't used to is what I heard today.

We've been in Hicksville, USA for the past three days 
working on this missing persons case (Scully resolutely 
refuses to use the term "abduction," despite the abundant 
reports of colored lights in the sky), and the dapper 
Deputy Dan has made no attempt to hide his obviou. Scully's eye as she looked 
over at him and then back at their recent arrival. 

"Actually, Dana, I'm afraid I have to get going.  I'm running 
late for an appointment.  But it was so nice to see you, dear.  
I hope you're able to find a cure for that fever." 

She swiftly moved over to her daughter and leaned in to whisper 
in her ear, "Well, it's about time.  I thought you two would 
never come to your senses."  She then gave her a quick kiss on 
the cheek, swept out the door, and was gone. 

Scully stood there with her hands on her hips and stared at 
Mulder, who was frozen in place.  "What was that all about?" 

It took a moment, but Mulder's deductive genius finally put the 
pieces into place.  "Uh, Scully, I think your mom thinks there's 
something going on between us." 

"What?  What did you say to her?" 

He threw up his hands in defense.  "Nothing, I swear.  It's just 
that...well, she came over to find me wearing nothing but a 
robe, and then you showed up at the door, which made it obvious 
we had both called in sick, and I think she just...."  He didn't 
finish but made a hand motion as if the rest spoke for itself. 

As for Scully, she collapsed into a chair.  "Oh, my God.  Could 
this day get any worse?" 

Mulder didn't answer.  He thought now might not be the best time 
to explain to her his theory about the cause of their 
predicament, or his suggestions for what they could do in the 
meantime. 

"By the way, Mulder, what *are* you doing wearing nothing but a 
robe?" 

He winced.  This was one of the few times in his life when he 
was not interested in exposing the truth.

"I had just gotten out of the shower, and I didn't get a chance 
to finish dressing when your mother showed up.  I'll just go 
take care of that now."  And he escaped into the bedroom and 
shut the door before she could respond. 

* * *

Scully was in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes when she heard 
a strained voice call from the bathroom, "Scully?  I think I 
need your help in here." 

*For goodness' sake,* she thought, *doesn't he know how to go to 
the bathroom sitting down?* 

But it turned out that wasn't exactly the problem. 

He was sitting on the toilet looking down at a pair of 
bloodstained panties around his ankles.  "I think I started your 
period." 

Well, that wasn't a statement you heard every day. 

At first, Scully looked confused.  "I wasn't supposed to start 
for another week."  And then she realized....  "Of course.  You 
didn't take the pill this morning." 

Now Mulder looked confused.  "What pill?" 

She moved over to the medicine cabinet and pulled out a small, 
circular container.  "My birth control pill.  Without the proper 
dose of hormones, the body thinks it's time to menstruate." 

Replacing the pills, she stooped down to the cabinet underneath 
the sink and extracted a tampon.  Peeling off the wrapping, she 
handed it to Mulder.  "Here."  He just looked back at her in 
bewilderment.  "Please don't tell me I have to do this myself." 

Mulder gave her a sarcastic look.  "I think I know where it 
goes.  I just need some pointers on how to insert it." 

Scully gave him a quick demonstration and then left the room 
while he completed the process himself.  A moment later she 
returned with a clean pair of panties in hand, and he watched in 
fascination while she guarded them with a pantiliner before 
handing them over to him.  He took the cue and handed her the 
stained pair, which she placed under the faucet to rinse out. 

Mulder stood and pulled on the clean panties.  He flushed the 
toilet but didn't move to leave the room yet.

"Scully?" 

"Hmm?" she answered but didn't turn away from her task. 

"If it's not too personal--"  He paused as he mentally stumbled 
over this word.  After all this, what exactly qualified as 
"personal" anymore?  "Uh, I was wondering why...why the birth 
control pills?" 

Scully looked over a him briefly before returning her eyes to 
what she was doing.  "They're to regulate my cycle.  My body 
can't ovulate normally, so the hormones essentially trick it 
into thinking that it can."  She chuffed out a mirthless laugh 
while scrubbing a little more vigorously under the water.  "It's 
kind of ironic when you think about it--a barren woman taking 
birth control pills." 

He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that.  He felt like he 
should tell her about what her mother had asked, but he didn't 
know how to say it.  Today was complicated enough without 
getting into that kind of a conversation.  His hesitation saved 
him, as she spoke first. 

"I'm going to throw these in the wash.  Why don't you finish 
getting dressed.  Despite what you may think, Mulder, it's not 
my habit to go running around my apartment without any pants 
on." 

It was somewhat eerie to hear a Mulder-like joke in Mulder's 
voice, but coming from someone else.  But one look at the smirk 
on her (actually, his) face told him that she would be okay and 
didn't take any offense at their conversation. 

Mulder couldn't help himself--as he disappeared into the 
bedroom, he retorted: "I usually picture you without the shirt 
on, too." 

* * *

When Mulder emerged from the bedroom, Scully was seated at the 
kitchen table eating the remainder of the soup.  He seated 
himself across from her; he knew it was time for them to talk. 

"So, are you ready to tell me what's going on?"  That was his 
Scully--not one to beat around the bush. 

Mulder sighed.  "I think this is somehow the result of a wish I 
made over my birthday cake, affected by the synchronization of 
my birthday with a Friday." 

Scully set down her spoon and processed this.  "You wished to 
trade bodies with me and you think it somehow came true because 
today happens to be Friday the 13th?" 

"Well, yes to the latter part, but I didn't exactly wish to 
trade bodies.  However, I suppose that a literal interpretation 
of my wish could yield such a result." 

Scully just glared at him.  "I don't really want to know what 
you wished for, do I?" 

"Probably not." 

Looking to heaven as though begging for patience, she gathered 
up her dishes and set them in the sink.  She then turned and 
leaned against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest. 

"So, what do we do about it?" 

Mulder looked chagrined.  "That, I'm afraid I don't know." 

"Well, somebody must.  This can't be the first time this has 
happened outside of the movies." 

"What are you suggesting?" 

"I'm suggesting, Mulder, that if you can't explain the *science* 
behind this transformation, you find someone who can.  Now, I'll 
be in my bedroom.  Call me when you have a lead."  With that, 
she swept past him and closed the door decisively behind her. 

* * *

And so, after Mulder had made a few phone calls, they divided up 
his list and spent the rest of the afternoon visiting mediums, 
priestesses, witchdoctors--even a Catholic priest--basically 
anyone of any religious or supernatural expertise who might give 
them some insight into what happened and how to reverse it.  
They pursued so many avenues, Scully was surprised that Mulder 
never once suggested aliens.  In the end, however, they were no 
closer to a solution.  The only practical advice given to each 
of them was that if this was a result of Friday the 13th, the 
best recourse they had was to wait for the 14th. 

And with nothing better to do, they decided to do just that.  
Scully headed "home" to pack an overnight bag and was planning 
to meet Mulder back in Georgetown so they could wait out the 
evening together.  They didn't know if a reversal would happen 
at sunset, midnight, or dawn (they had received several opinions 
on what exactly qualified as "tomorrow"), so they decided to 
bunker down for the night and tackle the next day as it came. 

Scully was in the bedroom stuffing a few items into a duffel bag 
when a knock sounded at the front door.  She didn't expect it to 
be Mulder and really had no idea who might be visiting.  
Probably not a neighbor looking to borrow a cup of sugar. 

She opened the door to a blond man in sweats, standing sideways 
and looking distractedly down the hall.  She had never seen him 
before. 

"Mulder, there you are.  I was afraid you were going to stand us 
up again.  You ready to go?" 

Scully looked the man over again.  She really had no idea what 
he was talking about.  "Go where, exactly?" 

"The game.  Don't tell me you forgot." 

As his body turned to face her squarely, she saw the basketball 
under his arm.  "Oh, right.  The game."  *Mulder has a 
basketball game?*  "Uh, I'm not quite ready yet.  Why don't you 
come in for a minute." 

The man sighed impatiently but stepped inside.  "Just make it 
quick.  We're already running late, and I'm double parked." 

Scully just nodded and then rushed back to the bedroom, shutting 
the door behind her.  She quickly punched in her home phone 
number and listened to it ring. 

"This is Dana Scully.  I'm not home right now, but if you leave 
a message, I'll get back to you as soon as I can."  *Beeeep.* 

Scully tried to keep her voice down, but the desperation 
remained loud and clear.  "Mulder, where are you?  There's some 
guy here who wants me to go to a basketball game, and I think he 
expects me to play in it.  I'll try to get out of it, but if I 
can't, a little help would be appreciated." 

She slammed down the phone.  She had to think her way through 
this.  She didn't even know this guy's name.  Would he notice? 

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and faced the stranger 
impatiently dribbling a basketball on the living room floor. 

"Um, listen, I didn't even make it in to work today because I 
haven't been feeling well.  I don't think I would do you guys 
much good if I showed up tonight." 

Apparently, that's not what this guy wanted to hear. 

"Dammit, Mulder, do you want to be a part of this team or not?  
Do you know how many times we've had to find substitutes because 
you canceled at the last minute?  If you don't play tonight, 
there won't be any game.  We've already had two other guys call 
in sick, so if you don't show, we won't have enough players.  
Frankly, I don't care if you're on your deathbed.  I'm tired of 
covering for you.  If you don't come tonight, consider yourself 
off the team." 

Well.  Somebody else who knew what it was like to be ditched by 
Mulder.  She could have a little fun with this. 

"You're right.  You're absolutely right.  I haven't been 
carrying my weight on this team, and I'm sorry for that.  I 
won't let you down tonight.  Just let me grab my bag, and then 
we can go." 

Mr. What's-his-face obviously didn't expect to hear that.  He 
just stared in shock while Scully backed away into the bedroom.  
Well, she had never heard Mulder say anything like that, either, 
but she had always wanted to.  There was at least minor 
satisfaction at hearing it in his own voice.  She quickly pulled 
Mulder's workout bag from the closet where she had stashed it 
earlier.  He would just have to come find her at the game 
(wherever that was); she had an obligation to fulfill. 

* * *

Although he didn't share the information with Scully, Mulder had 
been in extreme discomfort for the majority of the afternoon, 
and in a region much further south than the aching he had woken 
up to that morning.  He might even call it pain, but she never 
referred to having pain at this time of the month, and if she 
could handle it, then so could he.  Sort of. 

He was sitting at a light a few blocks away from Scully's 
apartment when a wave of pain in his gut almost doubled him 
over.  He had never felt anything like this before, even in his 
worst bouts of indigestion, and he knew from the location that 
it had to be cramps.  Did women actually go through this every 
month?  No wonder they were so cranky. 

The drug store on the corner beckoned him, and he pulled into 
the parking lot.  He vaguely remembered from his experience in 
past relationships that aspirin alone was not the cure for this 
ailment; there was some special medication that women bought.  
But hell if he could remember what it was called. 

So much for his usual method of "I'll know it when I find it."  
After several uncomfortable minutes of aimless wandering around 
the store, he finally decided he had to live up to his current 
gender and ask for directions. 

Unfortunately, the only store employees he saw were male, and 
most of them younger than him.  He wasn't sure that they would 
know the answer to this question any better than he did.  After 
he noticed one of them staring at him strangely, he realized he 
must look like a shoplifter and decided to head back to the 
pharmacist.  At s interest 
in my partner.  I thought maybe he had already been shot 
down by her, until this morning, when he approached me 
after she left for the morgue and surreptitiously asked if 
she had a boyfriend or husband back at home.  Apparently I 
haven't been exuding strong enough alpha male vibes--I need 
to work on that.

Always happy to watch Scully turn down another unworthy 
suitor, I told the deputy that she was single, and for a 
moment I pitied him as he went about his business with a 
hopeful expression.  Little did he know....

Actually, little did *I* know.  It wasn't that she didn't 
turn him down--she did.  But, what I didn't expect was her 
reason why.

I had missed the event itself, which apparently took place 
sometime after lunch while I was busy interviewing a 
witness, but Dan later felt the need to share it with me.  
I was busy refilling my mug with the swill from the 
coffeemaker when he walked up beside me and divulged in a 
confidential tone, "I guess your partner's seeing somebody 
after all."

"What??"  I think I gave a little bit too much away with my 
response, but if Dan noticed, he was too kind--or too 
sympathetic--to react to it.

"I asked her out for dinner tonight, but she told me that 
she's not available right now.  I asked her if that was 
just a line to get rid of me--I was just joking with her, 
of course, trying to keep the mood light--and she said that 
she's kind of already committed to somebody.  Just thought 
you should know."

In retrospect, I'm not sure exactly *why* he thought I 
should know, but at the time, that wasn't what I was 
concerned about.  Scully's already *committed* to somebody?  
When did this happen?  Who the hell is it?  And why hasn't 
she told me?

* * *

I've been rather proud of myself the last few days.  As 
much as I'm dying to invade Scully's privacy or just flat 
out demand that she tell me who she's been seeing, I've 
managed to control myself.  After all, I guess she has to 
want to tell me, and it's important that I trust her enough 
to tell me in her own time.

Or maybe I'm just too chicken to learn the truth.

We've been home for nearly a week now (and just because the 
farmer had been drinking excessively the night he 
disappeared and returned without a scratch doesn't mean he 
*wasn't* abducted by aliens), and everything seems normal 
so far.  In fact, I've even started to wonder a bit if 
maybe Deputy Dan wasn't mistaken in his interpretation of 
Scully's words, or if she really said what he told me she 
said.  Maybe he was just too depressed that she turned him 
down for no reason, so he had to make one up to protect his 
ego.  Or, maybe she told him that she couldn't go out with 
him because she was in love with me, so he was just trying 
to get back at me....

Okay, I know the latter option is highly unlikely, but I 
can dream, can't I?

It's currently late afternoon, and Scully seems to be 
studiously working on her field report or something, but to 
be honest, I'm just sitting here killing time.  Well, 
killing time and strategizing on how to win back my 
partner.  Who's to say that I'm not a better catch than 
this other guy?  Isn't it only fair for me to have a shot 
at making her a better offer?  

So, I'm just screwing up the courage to ask her out to 
dinner when her cell phone rings.

"Scully.  ...Oh, hi!"

I'm trying not to eavesdrop--or, at least, trying not to be 
obvious about it--but she seems *very* happy to be talking 
to whomever is on the other end of the line.

Now she's looking at her watch.

"No, that's no problem.  Will 6:00 work?  ...Then it's a 
date!  ...Okay, talk to you later."

I quickly glance away as Scully closes her phone, but then 
as I venture to look back toward her, I see that she is 
busy packing up her stuff.

"Mulder, I'm gonna get going.  It's after 4:30, and I have 
to stop by the lab before I head home, so I won't be back 
here before five.  I'll see you tomorrow."

Before I have a chance to respond, she's out the door.  I 
don't think she even looked over at me once during that 
little speech.  I could've been slumped over from a heart 
attack, and she wouldn't even have noticed.  So much for 
watching my back.

*It's a date*?  What's that supposed to mean?  She doesn't 
actually mean it's a *date,* does she?  Is Scully going out 
on a date tonight?  Who with? 

I will not sit outside of Scully's apartment.  I will not 
sit outside of Scully's apartment.  I will not sit outside 
of Scully's apartment....

* * *

I guess she went straight to her "date" that night, because 
Scully didn't go home before 6:00, and when she came home 
over an hour later, she was alone--not that I was sitting 
outside of her apartment building waiting for her....

That was Wednesday.  Thursday passed without event, and 
there haven't been any calls today--at least not yet.  I've 
already tried twice to come up with a valid case to take us 
out of town for the weekend, but Scully shot both of them 
down (granted, they were both taken from the tabloids, but 
just because a story makes the front page of the National 
Inquirer doesn't mean it isn't true).

The problem is that I'm no closer to finding out the truth, 
and I'm driving myself crazy by dwelling on it.  I look at 
my watch.  It's almost 4:00, and we'll soon be going our 
separate ways for the next two days.  I'm not sure I'll be 
able to handle sitting at home wondering about who she's 
with and what she's doing.  I think I'm going to have to 
confront her about this.

Uh, oh.  Her cell phone isleast that man dispensed drugs for a living--he 
had to know something. 

Mulder waited for the two female customers in line ahead of him 
to be served, and he briefly considered pulling one of them 
aside to ask his question, but eventually just settled in to 
wait his turn. 

"Name?" 

"Uh, I'm not here for a prescription." 

"Oh.  How may I help you?" 

Mulder shuffled his feet a bit and then leaned in to say 
quietly, "You see, my, uh, girlfriend is having these cramps, 
and I need to get her some pain medication." 

For a moment, the pharmacist just blinked at him, and Mulder 
turned red as he realized how this sounded coming from the mouth 
of a woman.  He had to think fast.  "We're from Canada.  And our 
drugs all have different names than yours, so I wanted to know 
what it was called here." 

That explained everything--right? 

"Why don't you try the Midol, on aisle 5." 

"Thanks," he said quietly and made a hasty retreat. 

It would've been less humiliating if he had just called Scully 
to begin with. 

* * *

Scully actually found the locker room experience more enjoyable 
than she expected.  Well, maybe not the off-color jokes, but she 
wasn't nearly as embarrassed as she thought she might be since 
she wasn't in her own body.  She didn't mind showing off Mulder 
in all his glory for anyone who might walk by.  The real problem 
was trying to keep her eyes to herself as all the posturing 
males displayed their wares as well. 

It turned out that the team was part of a local league sponsored 
by the YMCA.  Their jerseys were nothing more than 
t-shirts, but to Scully's relief they all had the players' last 
names emblazoned on the back.  The blond turned out to be 
Jeffries.  That was at least one problem solved.  Now, Scully 
just had to remember how to play basketball.  She hadn't been on 
a team since junior high, before all the other girls had 
surpassed her height and she had abandoned sports for the 
science club.  The basic principles were easy enough, but 
playing as a part of a team, and acting like you knew what you 
were doing out there--that was a different matter. 

The warm-up time proved to be helpful, and Scully even made a 
few baskets.  The crowd on the bleachers was small, and she 
scanned it in vain for signs of her partner before the game 
started.  Maybe it was better if he didn't see this.  Besides, 
it was too late to get out of it--unless she faked an injury.... 

After a couple of spills on the court due to being knocked over 
by other players, she mused that maybe she wouldn't have to fake 
one.  She wasn't entirely sure what position she was supposed to 
be playing, but she imitated the other players as best as she 
could with the arm waving on defense and by playing the 
middleman in a game of keep-away on offense.  In other words, 
she avoided taking shots at all costs.  She knew this wasn't how 
Mulder played, but he wasn't the one on the court. 

On one of the defensive plays, she was surprised when the ball 
bounced off the rim right in her direction, and she easily 
reached out to grab it over the hands of several other players.  
She wasn't used to being taller than other people.  Suddenly, 
she realized that she had the ball, and the court behind her was 
clear.  She made a break for it. 

Half-way down the court, however, she panicked.  She thought, 
*I'm not the point guard, and I can't dunk this thing.  What am 
I doing with the ball?*  She ground to a halt before she hit the 
three-point line and looked back to pass the ball to one of her 
teammates.  Then the whistle blew. 

"Traveling!" 

Well, now she didn't have to worry about shooting it.  In her 
haste to stop, she had taken too many steps after stilling the 
ball, and she was called on it. 

She tossed the ball to the ref and tried to avoid the looks of 
her teammates.  Suddenly, from the side of the court she heard, 
"It's okay, Mulder.  You'll get it next time!" 

A petite redhead was standing up and clapping for him as she 
yelled. 

Scully was going to kill him.  Mulder, however, was not dismayed 
by her death rays and kept up a steady stream of cheerleading 
whenever she had the ball.

Thankfully, halftime wasn't far off, and as soon as the whistle 
blew, she made a beeline for him. 

"What the hell are you doing?" 

"I figured as long as you were at it, I might as well humiliate 
both of us." 

"You're not helping, Mulder.  I'm having enough trouble out 
there as it is." 

"That's obvious.  Why are you even playing?" 

"Because they were going to kick you off the team if I didn't!" 

"At the rate you're going, Scully, I don't really think you're 
preventing that." 

She just fumed at him.  "Well, unless you can convince them to 
let a five-foot-two woman play for the second half, I don't see 
that we have a choice.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go 
join my team in the locker room so I can be dressed down for my 
incompetence." 

She started to move away, but he grabbed her arm.  "Scully, 
wait.  At least let me give you some pointers.  Frankly, you're 
playing like a girl.  You have to remember that you're in my 
body.  You're bigger than half the guys out there, and you're 
shooting from a different angle than you're used to.  I'm 
actually pretty good at this game, and while some of that is 
psychological, I believe that some of it is instinctual, too.  
This body is good at basketball.  Don't over-analyze it too 
much, and let your instincts carry you." 

She took a deep breath and said, "Thank you," before turning to 
head to the locker room. 

Once inside, she saw several team members gearing up to lay into 
her, so she made a preemptive strike.  Throwing her hands up in 
the air, she said: "Hey guys, I told Jeffries when he picked me 
up tonight that I was sick as a dog.  He said there wouldn't be 
a game unless I showed, so I'm here.  I can't promise you any 
more than that.  I'm just not feeling like myself tonight."  The 
complaints then deflated into grumbles, and they mostly kept 
their comments to themselves. 

The second half went much smoother, partly because they kept the 
ball out of her hands as much as possible, but she redeemed 
herself for her earlier folly by using her height advantage to 
grab a few rebounds, and she even made a few baskets.  Her total 
contribution to the game wasn't much, but the sum performance 
wasn't a complete humiliation.  And Mulder stopped playing the 
obnoxious cheerleader when her game improved. 

After the game, Scully was making her way back to the stands 
when Jeffries intercepted her.  "Hey, Mulder, the next time you 
tell me you're too sick to play, I'll believe you.  But thanks 
for making the effort.  I won't question you again on how 
devoted you are to the team."  Then he slapped her on the ass, 
which she normally would've found entirely inappropriate, but 
she had to remind herself that guys played by different rules. 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Jeffries," she replied 
sarcastically.  "Next game, I'll whoop your ass."  She 
punctuated her statement with an ass slap of her own (and she 
would never admit to Mulder how much she enjoyed that). 

"You still need a ride home?"  With a nod of his chin, he 
gestured toward the redhead in the stands who was watching them 
expectantly. 

Scully grinned.  "No, I think I've already got one."  She didn't 
elaborate on the nature of their relationship because she was 
too embarrassed by "her" actions in the stands to ever meet any 
of Mulder's basketball buddies again. 

* * *

After Scully grabbed a quick shower in the locker room and 
Mulder ran inside their favorite Chinese place to pick up a late 
dinner, they finally made it back to Scully's apartment.  The 
overnight bag that she had been packing was still sitting in 
Mulder's bedroom.  She figured that if he had his own body back 
in the morning, he would just have to deal with it, and right 
now she was too tired to care.  Even for as good of shape as 
Mulder's body was in, the game was quite a workout, and she 
definitely felt it. 

Once in the door, she collapsed on the sofa, and Mulder brought 
the food over to the coffee table along with a wine bottle and 
two glasses.  At her request, he brought her water as well, 
which she gratefully guzzled down. 

It was after 10:00 by the time they finished eating, and the 
plan was to stay awake until midnight to see if anything 
happened.  (Scully, of course, reminded Mulder that there was no 
reason to believe that midnight was the magical hour since it 
was already the 14th throughout Europe and Asia--to which he 
pointedly reminded her that they were not in Europe or Asia but 
North America and the heavenly bodies were not yet in proper 
alignment with their current location.) 

After dinner, Mulder built a fire in the grate, and they lounged 
in front of it on the floor, sipping their wine and talking 
about everything and anything.  Their lowered inhibitions 
brought confessions, and they both shared bit by bit the truth 
about the things they had done that day, their thoughts and 
experiences about being in the other's shoes, and what they 
would do if they couldn't go back.  The atmosphere was warm and 
cozy, and they were both drained from the events of the day. 

By the time the clock on the mantle softly chimed 12:00, they 
were both fast asleep. 

* * *

As Mulder drifted to consciousness, he quickly remembered the 
circumstances of the day before and was afraid to open his eyes.  
By the light in the room and the sounds outside, he knew it was 
already morning.  If the change hadn't happened by now, chances 
were it wouldn't happen at all. 

The sound of gentle breathing to his left told him that Scully 
was still here with him and that she hadn't woken yet.  Whatever 
the truth was, they would have to face it together. 

Mulder slowly opened one eye, and as he glanced down at his 
chest, the first thing he saw was Scully's hand.  He quickly 
shut his eye again.  He didn't want to see any more.  It hadn't 
worked.  He was still in her body.  Now what were they going to 
do? 

Just then, he heard a sleepy moan to his left.  God, he hated it 
when she did that.  It was unintentional, he knew, but whenever 
she made that sound, like when they were on a stakeout and she 
fell asleep in the car, it always went straight to his groin--

Revelation broke through his rambling thoughts.  That moan had 
definitely been Scully's, and it hadn't come from him.  And if 
it was affecting his groin, that meant he had groin for it to 
affect, and--

Mulder opened both eyes and looked down.  Sure enough, there it 
was, and attached to the rest of him.  He looked over and saw 
Scully curled up against him, her hand resting on his chest.  
She looked so peaceful like that, but he had to wake her up and 
tell her the good news. 

"Scully."  He was so glad to hear his own voice coming out of 
his mouth again.

"Mmmm?" 

"Scully, wake up.  We're back.  We're us." 

It took a moment for the words to register, but when they did, 
she opened her eyes and sat up to look both of them over.  The 
smile that lit up her face was priceless. 

She leaned back and stretched.  "Thank God.  I'm a woman again."  

"And what a woman!"  

"Shut up, Mulder.  Your body isn't exactly a mystery to me 
anymore, either." 

Scully laid back down and closed her eyes, basking in the relief 
that this morning brought. 

"Uh, Scully?" 

"What, Mulder?" 

"I think you're leaking." 

She opened one eye to look up at him propped up on his elbow 
next to her, and then she followed his line of sight down to her 
crotch.  There was a large, red stain on her shorts. 

"Mulder, when was the last time you changed the tampon?" 

He grimaced.  "I was supposed to change it?" 

Unfortunately, that wasn't a joke. 

Scully sighed.  "I'm going to go take a shower, and when I'm 
done, you can have it so you can take care of *that*."  With her 
eyes she indicated his own crotch and the obvious protrusion 
there. 

He was smug rather than embarrassed that she had noticed, 
especially considering what he remembered of her confession 
about the previous morning.  She just rolled her eyes at his 
grin and padded toward the bathroom.  To her retreating derriere 
he called out: "Why not share and conserve water?  It's not like 
I haven't seen you naked before." 

Her only response was the not-so-gentle click of the bathroom 
door swinging shut behind her. 


THE END 

* * * * *

Author's Notes: In case you are wondering when this takes place, 
the year would have to be either 1995 (season 3) or 2000 (season 
8) in order for Mulder's birthday to be on a Friday.  I chose 
the latter (which would mean no Requiem and they're not really 
involved yet) but intentionally left the year ambiguous. 


I've also added some new stories to my webpage (on 12/2), if 
you're interested (www.geocities.com/bellefleur1013). 


send feedback to: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com


Author's notes:  Don't ask me why the title is in French.  
It just sounded cool.

I also posted some new vignettes on my webpage, if you're 
interested: www.geocities.com/bellefleur1013.


Send feedback to: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com