Date sent:        Thu, 6 Nov 1997 12:58:10 -0500 (EST)
From:             AGillian21@aol.com
Subject:          Miss FBI Tramp '97 (1/1)

Title: Miss FBI Tramp '97
Author: Noelle Lundgren
Rating: PG
Classification: V
Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST
Spoilers: "Paper Clip," "Gethsemane"
Summary: On the way to a party, Scully and a friend discuss...things.

Disclaimer: The lovely and talented Dana Scully, Walter Skinner,
Agent Pendrell and Fox Mulder belong to Chris Carter (big surprise,
eh?). Joan Hunter is not only mine, but also belongs to all of the
women who inspired her creation.

Note: Thanks to MC, and to The Fantastic Five; they are all part of
Joan Hunter. And, as always, thanks to Gillian Anderson--without her,
Scully would not be the wonderful character that she is. 
[This was not intended as a second part of "Pieces of Brain"; it just
accidentally happened that it sounds that way. :-) Well, whatever!] 
On with the story...

"Miss FBI Tramp '97"
by Noelle Lundgren

((=formerly known as=
"Agent Fox Mulder's Death For Two Red-Heads"))


"So...what do you think?" Joan Hunter emerged from the bathroom,
hoping that the fifteen minutes she'd spent there would magically
transform her into...something.

Dana Scully, who was sitting cross-legged on Hunter's bed, looked up
from her paperwork. She couldn't help but smile. "You don't want to
know how tempted I am to slap a poodle on that skirt," she informed
Hunter, raising her pen for emphasis.

Hunter looked down at the blue fabric that was basically a giant circle,
warped a little by the placement of her hips. "You know what?" she
said, looking up. "You're right."

Scully shrugged, and went back to her paperwork. 

Hunter flopped down in the big, forest green arm-chair next to the bed. 
"You're just wearing that, eh?" she asked, gesturing with her chin
somewhere in the general direction of Scully's waist. 

Scully looked up at her friend again. "Huh?" The question registered
in her brain. "Yeah. Sure. Why not?"

Hunter sighed, rolling her eyes. "Stand up," she ordered. Scully didn't
move; just looked at her, confused. "C'mon." Hunter beckoned using
both hands. "Get up."

Looking puzzled, Scully slid off the bed. She smoothed the fabric of
the long, soft skirt around her hips as Hunter looked her up and down. 

The dress fell to Scully's ankles. It had straps an inch thick, and a high
waist that was marked with a thick strip of black ribbon. The fabric
was the color of fresh green grapes. The delicate black print was tiny
bunches of roses. 

"What?" Scully asked impatiently when Hunter's eyes began to feel
just a little intrusive. 

"Nothing," Hunter said, shaking her head slowly. "It's pretty. That
green is the exact same color as your eyes."

Scully smiled. "My eyes are blue," she said, keeping her next
comment about Hunter being color-blind to herself.

"Well," Hunter said, a little embarrassed. "It's just...the reflection? I
dunno..." She got up. "I'm gonna change outta this," she said, heading
for the bathroom, leaving Scully to plop down on the bed again and go
back to work.

But Scully didn't want to go back to work. 

She didn't want to go to the damned party, either, and she was still
stumped as to why she'd agreed to go with her partner. She answered
herself. For one, besides being a great work partner, Joan Hunter was
her friend--practically her best friend--and the two of them could
*always* have fun together. Another part of it, Scully knew, was that
she needed something to distract her. Take her mind off...

...things.

She suddenly felt odd sitting alone in her best friend's bedroom. 
Hunter had created a perfected "redheaded world" in every room of
her house, but the bedroom was the most intense of them all. 

The carpet was white. The wallpaper was a white background with
giant magenta and red flowers all over it. The comforter and the
pillow cases and the sheets were all the color of wine, as were the
curtains. There was a big, forest green arm-chair in one corner, and a
dresser in the other, absolutely covered with bottles and jars and tubes
of red-hair-friendly make-up; things with names like "Perfect Peach,"
"Primitive Rose," "Razzle-Dazzle Red," and--Hunter's favorite--"Funky
Fuchsia." 

Everything fit into the room perfectly. The lamp hanging from the
ceiling. The oily little picture of the Virgin hanging over the bed. The
"Rocky Horror Picture Show" poster, framed in an ugly, cheep, silver
frame. The shrimp- and shell-colored lingerie lying around like
pieces of discarded chicken skin. 

Every little detail about the place seemed to tell anyone who entered
that this was the sleeping place of a red-head. Blue pens instead of
black. Black clothes rather than brown. Brown shoes instead of blue. 

The bedroom itself gave a visitor the feeling that the whole structure--
the bed especially--was teetering dangerously on the edge of some
cliff. Over a waterfall, perhaps. One false move and everything
would come tumbling down into the imaginary depths below; Hunter's
apartment was on the first floor.

Scully thought about that for a moment. Maybe it wasn't the
apartment, or the bed, or anything else that was going to fall over the
cliff. Maybe it's me, Scully thought...

"Hey, Scully... Pssst. Dana Scully? Anyone in there...? Mrs.
Spooky?" 

Scully's head whipped around, her eyes meeting those of her friend's. 
Hunter was smiling, but that smile quickly faded when she saw
Scully's look. 

Hunter was apparently expecting an angry reply, but Scully said, very
softly, "Please don't call me that."

"Sorry, I didn't mean--"

"Please," Scully repeated. "Don't call me that."

"Okay."

"Thanks."

"Sure thing."

There was a long pause as Scully looked her friend up and down a
couple times. Hunter looked stunning. She'd changed into a white
dress--if one could call it a dress--covered with big, pink, printed
flowers. It had black spaghetti straps, and the hem just barely came
below the creases in her thighs. She'd put on a pair of black patent-
leather platform boots that laced up past her knees, and a pair of black
gloves that reached to her elbows. 

"Wow," was all Scully could get out.

"What?"

"That's...quite a bit..." Scully searched for a word that wouldn't sound
too critical, "...different."

"You like? I thought it was a bit much," Hunter admitted.

"Actually," Scully said, unable to keep her eyes away from the low-cut
neckline of her friend's dress, "I was thinking it wasn't *enough*." 
Low-cut? Fuck, Scully thought, you can see to her belly-button! 

Hunter frowned. "Should I--?"

"No," Scully jumped in. "Don't change. I'm just a little...shocked."

Hunter smiled. "Good," she said. "I like that effect."

Scully couldn't help but smile. "Careful with those FBI boys," she
warned. "They're fragile."

Hunter tilted her head back and laughed, showing all of her perfectly
straight, pearly-white teeth. "Careful yourself, babe," Hunter said. 
"You're going to stop traffic tonight."

Scully felt her cheeks flush. "I wish..."

"I'm fuckin' serious!" Hunter said with much enthusiasm. She took
Scully by the shoulders, and bent her knees enough so that the two
could look into one another's eyes. "Look at me," she said, shaking
Scully a little. "You are going to shimmy your little ass in there,
looking so fucking gorgeous, and you are going to have *fun*,
damnit!" Hunter ordered. When Scully finally nodded and smiled
weakly, Hunter added, "Got a condom on you?"

"Joan--"

"I'm not kidding!"

"Hunter, this is not some..." Scully started over. "We're going to a
high-school party." She thought how stupid she must sound. "We're
*adults* for Christsake!"

"Adults my ass," Hunter said, letting Scully go. "Remember last year? 
Me and Colton on the grand piano?"

"How could I *not* remember? You almost lost your jobs for that!"

"And you were *soo-ooo* mad. Remember?" Hunter smiled
devilishly.

"Yes," Scully admitted, a little embarrassed. She felt the need to
defend herself. "...But he had *no* business dancing with me the way
he did, if--"

"So you *were* jealous!" Hunter accused, delighted. Scully didn't
respond. Hunter's expression turned serious, "But seriously... Have
you got one? On you, I mean? *Just* in case...?"

Scully fluttered her heavily-mascaraed eyelashes, and folded her arms
over her chest. "Pill."

"Good girl," Hunter said, sounding a little relieved. She glanced at the
clock. "We ready to go?"

Scully looked over at her work things, still semi-spread out on Hunter's
bed. "Yeah," she said a little reluctantly. "All set."

As they exited Joan Hunter's apartment, the two women looked like
exact opposites. Scully was small; Hunter was at least six-feet in her
platforms. Scully was thin, while Hunter was a little more Greek-
statute-esque. Hunter's pale skin was dotted with orange freckles, as
though someone had spilled sequins on her. Scully's hair was naturally
the color Hunter's was on purpose, not to mention that while Scully
wore hers short, Hunter's fell almost to her waist. Even their clothes--
one dress long, one short, one with small print, one with large print--
were close to being opposite to one another. The two women walking
side-by-side out to Hunter's car looked almost comical.

"So," Scully broke the silence inside the vehicle, once they'd gotten
onto the freeway. "You still have a story to tell me."

"I do, eh?"

"Yeah. Whatever happened with...what's his name? Ricardo...the old
guy...?"

Hunter laughed. Her laugh could sound so evil sometimes. "He's
dead."

"No," Scully gasped, giggling a little.

"Yeah. I swear."

"Whoa..." Scully turned the ring on her middle finger. "What
happened?"

"You mean in the room? Nothin'. Two glasses of wine a piece... He
performed like a seventeen-year-old...had a heart attack and died three
minutes later."

"You are a shitty liar! Stop trying, Hunter," Scully suggested.

"Okay, okay," Hunter confessed. "Three *days* actually."

"Do I want to know *how*?" Scully asked, raising a suspicious
eyebrow.

"Age, actually. He *was* a very old man..."

Scully sighed. "Jesus Christ, Hunter..."

"Why, thank you!" 

Scully didn't respond to that. Hunter continued, who was always so
thrilled with her little stories of sexual escapade. "But didn't you ever
just wish that you could kill a guy like that? With the way you looked
I mean?"

"I don't think so," Scully answered, truthfully, glancing out the window
at the other cars, and their tail-lights.

"Oh come *on*!" Hunter moaned. "I mean, like...construction
workers. Like the ones who stop to yell out something like--"

"'Hey, Red! I could die for you, baby'," Scully finished, deepening her
voice to sound like one of the men.

"*Exactly*!" Hunter agreed. "Don't you just want to open up that
overcoat and give 'em the good, long look that'll shut 'em up forever?"

Scully laughed, but replied, "No, not especially."

"You're hopeless," Hunter sighed. "Get the fuck outta the road!" she
yelled at some other car. Hunter blasted the horn.

"Aah!" Scully exclaimed, putting her fingers in her ears. "Tell people
when you're going to do that!"

Hunter looked over at her, then, and smiled. They drove in silence for
a few minutes. Finally, Hunter had to ask. "When was the last time
you--?"

"You don't want to hear that story," Scully said, not waiting for Hunter
to finish her sentence.

"Oh yes I do!" Hunter said, enthusiastically, looking back over at
Scully in the passenger seat next to her.

"Watch the road," Scully suggested. "I'll tell you when you're not
driving. I wouldn't want to cause a forty-car pile-up with the elevator
story."

"Elevator?" Hunter seemed to like it already.

Scully moaned. "Oh shit...now I *have* to tell you, don't I?"

"Yep," Hunter said. "You're stuck, babe."

Scully took a deep breath. "It was...let's see...a year ago--"

"A year? Shit!"

"Shut *up*! Do you want to hear this or not?" A long pause indicated
that Hunter was willing to listen. Scully spoke again. "I was in
Mulder's apartment with Skinner--" she began.

"Whoa, fuck!" Hunter burst out. "You and *Skinner*! Mary-Mother-
of-Christ-on-a-vibrator! And in *Mulder's* apartment? What'd *he*
do? Take pictures or something?" she gushed, all in one breath.

"No, no, no," Scully said, trying to control her laughter. "I hate to
burst your bubble, but remember when...Agent Mulder was stuck in
that boxcar?"

"Mmm-hmm..."

"It was right around then. Anyhow, Skinner and I had guns pointed at
each other--"

"Oh! I think I've heard that part of the story," Hunter informed her. 
"Mulder comes in and breaks it up, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"So where does this 'elevator' thing come in?"

"I was getting to that." Scully paused. And then she smiled. "Agent
Mulder and I had to get downstairs somehow, didn't we?"

"Oh, shit... You didn't!"

"Yep."

"In the *elevator*?" Hunter laughed, searching the freeway signs for
something resembling their exit. "Ha! I didn't know Dana Scully had
it in her!"

Scully laughed, then. "Oh, I had it in me all right! I had it *way* in
me..."

"Tisk, tisk, tisk," Hunter pretended to scold. "So you two *did* 'get
horizontal'..."

"Vertical," Scully corrected, solemnly. "We were in the elevator."

Hunter giggled. "But you really *did*! Man, Agent Pendrell would
owe me *a lot* of money...if he was still alive," Hunter said,
discouraged.

Scully had to think about that. "Wait... You made a bet about me?"

"Mmm-hmm," Hunter said. "Agent Pendrell bet me that he could get
you before Agent Mulder could. I bet he couldn't."

Scully couldn't help but laugh, then. "Actually," she said, "you lost
that one..."

Hunter did a double take. "I--you--what?"

Scully smiled.

"Whoa, Scully...wait...how? Are you saying that...?" Hunter couldn't
believe it.

"Yes, I am," Scully replied, slyly.

"*When?*" 

Scully didn't answer.

"Oh, Christ," Hunter moaned. "Dana Scully, Miss FBI Tramp '97! 
She's got a 'rental car' story; she's got a 'shape-shifter' story; she's got
a
'tattoo' story; she's even got an 'elevator' story! What's the next one?" 
Hunter thought for a moment. "Don't tell me you have a 'Burger King'
story, or a 'kitchen floor' story..."

Scully laughed. "Nope. Joan Hunter is the only one with a 'Burger
King' story."

"Thank God I still have *some* claim-to-fame!" She paused, and
started to laugh, then. "I still can't believe you and Agent Mulder...
You did! That's too funny!"

"Once. That was it." Scully laughed again. "It was the most...bizarre
thing."

"Bizarre. Yeah, that's you two," Hunter decided.

"*Was* us two," Scully corrected softly.

"Oh," Hunter said, realizing her error. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Scully waved it away. "It's okay."

Hunter heard the shake in Scully's voice, however. "No, Scully, I don't
think it's okay. It doesn't *sound* okay."

Scully felt the tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn't say anything. 

"Speaking of killing men with the way you look," Hunter said quietly. 
"You must be one cutie-patootie..."

Scully swallowed her sob. "You're sweet to me," she told Hunter.

"You deserve it."

Scully felt the first tear run down her cheek. "You heard about how
Mulder died, right?"

Hunter nodded. "From everyone. You included."

Scully sighed, remembering. "Oh, that's right...I feel stupid now..."

"Don't. You're not."

"Thanks." Second tear. Third tear... Oh, shit, Scully thought. Here
we go. I'm gonna cry like a moron now. "It's just... I can't help
thinking... I mean, putting a bullet in his head, that's such a terrible..."

"I know, sweety."

Scully took a deep breath. "It wasn't my fault...was it?"

"No."

"Why does it *feel* that way?" Scully demanded of the air more than
of her friend.

"Who knows," Hunter said. "I know what you mean though... I feel
guilty, too. As your new partner, I mean. Everyone's all--"

"I know. It's not fair." Scully paused. "And I keep thinking... I mean,
I'll look up, and think I see..."

"What?"

"Aww, I dunno." Scully wasn't really ready to tell her friend what
she'd seen--or thought she saw--the night before.

Hunter exited the freeway. She turned a couple corners, and found the
huge, mansion-esque house with very little trouble. She had to park
nearly a block away, but that wasn't so bad. When she'd brought the
car to a halt, Hunter turned to Scully and spoke up. 

"Are you going to be okay? Scully? I mean, at the party?" Hunter
asked, concerned. "We don't have to go..."

"No, no. I want to go, it's just..." Scully pulled a tissue from the box
between them. She blew her nose. "I was just thinking about the party
*last* year..."

"It was fun."

"Yeah, it was... Remember Mulder trying to dance?"

Hunter laughed. "You guys looked so cute."

The two women looked at each other, and in unison, sang one line.
"Foxy lady..." They both laughed.

They exited the car. 

She hadn't taken more than fifteen steps when Scully heard, "Hey,
Red! I could die for you, baby!" from behind her.

She turned around. She knew that voice. 

Agent Fox Mulder was dressed in a suit that he probably couldn't
afford, a normal tie, for once, and was leaning against Hunter's car. 
His arms were folded across his chest. Blood ran from a large bullet
hole in his head. 

Scully didn't know what to say.

Mulder spoke again. "You look stunning," he said. He smiled at her
and raised an eyebrow, slyly. "Care to dance?"

"Hey! Scully? Something wrong?" Scully felt Hunter's hand come
down on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" Hunter asked again.

Scully forced herself to look Hunter in the eyes. "Fine," she said. 
Scully glanced back at the car. 

Mulder was gone.

"You sure you're okay, Scully?" Hunter asked once more.

Scully nodded.

==========
The End.
==========
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