Title: Too Far for an X-file

Author: Theresa J

Summary: Crossover between Farscape and the X-files.

Mulder meets John Crichton in a secret military

prison.

Rating: PG-13

Author’s notes: This was written for the VS11 Cross

Over Special. Two weeks exclusivity on the VS11 site.

After that, archive anywhere. I always wanted to have

these two meet! Just some fun for me.

Time Period: This takes place before “Terra Firma”,

Season 4 of Farscape. For the X-files, time period

fits with the VS11 timeline.

Spoilers: For the VS11 MS relationship status. For

Farscape, almost everything up to “Terra Firma”.

Disclaimer: The X-files, Mulder and Scully belong to

Chris Carter and Tenthirteen Productions. Farscape,

John Crichton, Moya, Aeryn Sun and other characters

belong to Henson Studios and the SciFi Network. I’m

just borrowing these guys for a while, I don’t own

them, and no copyright infringement is intended.

One line belongs to “Foxy Lady” by Jimi Hendrix.

Feedback: Please and thank you!

theresacarol1013@yahoo.com

——

Secret Military Prison

Undisclosed location

1:07 a.m.

A square room. Funny how something so common looked so

strange to him now. John Crichton sat in an

uncomfortable metal chair, trying to find a good

position in which to settle himself. He’d gotten used

to the amorphous curved lines of Moya, the living

alien ship he’d been aboard for the last several years

of his life. Sometimes he’d imagined that the chairs

and beds he slept in while living on her would adjust

themselves to his body, molding themselves to him as

if Moya were able to communicate by touch as he sat or

slept.

Sleep. He remembered sleep. His red-rimmed eyes stung

as he looked up at the harsh overhead light above him.

He could see deep shadows hug the underside of his

cheekbones and the hollows of his eyes in the

reflection of the two-way mirror. He never thought jet

lag would insinuate itself so strongly after

travelling through a wormhole in outer space. It

didn’t help that he hadn’t slept since he’d been back

on Earth, either.

The door to the small interrogation room swung open,

snapping him back to alertness. Crichton automatically

stood and reached to his side for a holster that

wasn’t there. They’d taken Wynona, his alien version

of a pistol, away from him. His hip felt light and

empty without it, and he made an awkward gesture with

his hand, scrubbing at his close-cropped hair to hide

the motions he’d taken in defense. His leather pants

squeaked as he shifted his weight, then stilled

himself to size up the man that had just entered the

room.

He was most definitely a government employee. The

style of the dark, double-breasted suit he wore just

reeked of it. He was a few inches taller than

Crichton, with a thin, though muscular build. Not as

stocky with the muscles as Crichton himself, but

athletic at least. He had a too-clean-cut way about

him, yet the facade was spoiled slightly as he spat

the remains of a sunflower seed shell into his fingers

and dropped them into the wastebasket in the corner of

the room.

Crichton remained standing as the other sat on the

opposite side of the table. ‘Who the frell was this

guy?’ Crichton had thought for sure he’d be seeing

some ornery official from NASA come to beat his head

into the ground.

“John Crichton?” the suit said.

“Yeah. And you must be Joe Friday,” he replied dryly.

The suit paused, a twinkle in his eye that appreciated

the quip, but also recognized Crichton’s sarcasm as a

defense mechanism even more so than the weapon absent

from his hip.

“Sorry, wrong division. I’m Agent Fox Mulder with the

FBI.”

“Ooooh… Foxy! I’m comin’ to get ya!” Crichton

replied, twanging an air guitar and then smirking at

the FBI agent.

“It’s just Mulder, if you don’t mind. Sunflower seed?”

Mulder held out the red and white plastic bag he had

gotten out of the vending machine two floors up and

popped one into his mouth while he waited for the

other to consider.

Crichton sat down slowly, watching Mulder for signs of

dishonesty. Mulder held his gaze just as intently, not

even blinking as he dipped his hand gently into the

snack bag again and cracked two more seeds open with

his teeth.

“All right, Mulder. Why aren’t you NASA?”

Crichton decided this guy wasn’t going to do him any

harm… yet. He rifled his fingers into the offered

bag and snatched up a handful of seeds. He’d promised

himself that he wouldn’t eat too much while he was

stuck on Earth, but along with lack of sleep, lack of

food was another thing that was wearing him thin.

The outer shells tasted good — salty, nutty, earthy.

Much better than many of the alien foods for which

he’d been forced to acquire tastes. He closed his eyes

and could almost pretend that he wanted to come back

here for good. He was human after all. Did he really

want to continue playing the fish-out-of-water game on

a living ship, with a half-crazed Luxan, a two-foot

green eating-machine Dominar, a gray haired, gray

skinned teenaged thief, and a… Peacekeeper?

Crichton’s face softened at the thought of Aeryn Soon,

a Peacekeeper defector that was one of the other

passengers on Moya. That was the reason, the biggest

one anyway, that he had to go back. Thousands of

universes and a thousand chances to convince her that

it was okay to love him — he’d finally done it,

but… He promised he’d always go back to her, but

that wormhole had just come out of nowhere. He still

didn’t have full control over his abilities to predict

wormhole locations and their times of appearance.

Sometimes he got lucky. This time he had found Earth,

but this time he wasn’t looking for it.

Mulder crumpled up the half-empty bag of sunflower

seeds, and pushed them across the table to him.

Crichton was able to focus on Mulder, but it took him

a moment to remember what he’d asked the agent before

thinking about Aeryn. She had a tendency to overpower

his thoughts sometimes, especially when he thought he

might never see her again.

“I’m not NASA because I’m the one who got you out of

their stewing pot. I want to know why you’re so bent

on getting that module back. What’s your hurry in

getting back out into space? And getting out there

trying to bypass security. Did you think nobody would

notice you taking off with a trillion-dollar project

they thought was lost forever?”

“Point taken Beanpole,” Crichton said, chewing on the

last of his seeds.

Mulder bit on the inside of his bottom lip and nodded

subtly, visibly keeping a temper under wraps. “It’s

just Mul–”

“Mulder,” Crichton grinned, “Yeah, I know. So you’re

helping me, is that it? What’s in it for you?”

Mulder had the decency to look mildly surprised at

this question. Then he said in all seriousness,

leaning over the table, “I want to know what’s out

there.”

“Oh, lordy, lordy! You do *not* want to know.”

Mulder remained hovering over the tabletop, but now

rested his elbows on top of it. He’d be in for the

long and tiresome story, if that’s what it took.

Crichton could see, though, that Mulder knew exactly

that it was not a tiresome story at all.

“All right, Beanpole.”

Mulder glared, but moved nothing.

“Sorry. Mulder.”

Crichton inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to

decide the best way to spill it all. Hell, this weirdo

might actually believe him. But where to begin? Maybe

he ought to start off with the ship, or how he first

got out there, or the project with NASA, or Aeryn.

No. He knew what to ask first. “How are you going to

get me back out there, anyway? I mean, I can spill my

guts to you like slicing open a Ton-Ton with a Light

Saber and I’d still be left out in the cold.”

Mulder sat back in his chair. “I have friends that can

get us where they moved the test-module. I believe

it’s now in Area 51.”

“Wow. I guess I’m involved in a bonafied alien

conspiracy now.”

“You have no idea. Point is, my friends have ways. My name

is known in those circles, too, so we’ll have to be

extremely careful. I’ll only be able to go with you so

far,” he had a hunger in his eyes as he said this,

“though I wish I could go the whole way.”

Crichton could see that Mulder was truthful in his

speech. Stupid with ideals, yes. But truthful. He

really did want to know.

“Have you seen Them? Are they the Grays?” Mulder asked

in so soft a tone, Crichton thought it might have been

a timid request. But Mulder’s face was full of awe.

“Far from it, Mulder.”

Crichton proceeded to tell the short version of how

he’d been testing out the module; how he’d gotten

sucked through a wormhole and ended up in a different

universe, in the middle of a confrontation between

Peacekeepers and a ship that had been apprehended by

escaped prisoners — all of whom were different

aliens.

He told him about the translation device implanted

into his foot when Mulder asked how he communicated

with them. He told him about Kar D’Argo, Rygel,

Chiana, Zahn, Scorpius, and Aeryn.

Then he told Mulder about his return to earth the

first time. How his father had greeted him and told

him about wormholes, and that it really wasn’t his

father but an alien that looked like him. It was the

only way the alien could think of to tell Crichton

that he held in his mind, the key to wormhole

technology, and that it would be revealed to him when

he was ready to understand it.

He told him about the plague Scorpius had become to

him, and the obsession Aeryn had become to him. Saving

Earth from the clutches of Scorpius and the

Peacekeepers was one of his quests. Aeryn was the

other. Right now, Aeryn was the most important thing

in his mind, because he saw what Earth thought of him

when he had come back. He felt like Earth was lost to

him. It wasn’t his life anymore.

“My father still works in the space program. He

doesn’t understand why I cannot bring him, or any

other explorers with me when I return. And if I can’t

bring them, then I don’t go,” Crichton concluded.

Mulder sat silently for long moments, absorbing the

whole crazy story. Crichton shifted around in his

strange buckled vest and leather pants, stretched out

his back from sitting so long. Mulder watched him,

studied his eyes, bright with exhaustion and with

determination. Crichton lowered his head, tired from

the telling of his tale, and unsure if it would buy

him a chance to get back out into space.

“I believe you.”

Crichton snapped his head up. “Damn, monkey! Why

didn’t I meet you before?” He grabbed Mulder’s hand

and shook it furiously.

“I’ve been stuck in a basement office for a long

time.”

*****

24 Hrs later

Outside of Area 51

Mulder lay back on the hood of his car, staring up at

the sky full of stars. Out in the desert, one could

see more stars than any other place on Earth. He

wondered which one of them Crichton was going back to?

He remembered his conversation with the space traveler

on their way out here, before he turned Crichton over

to direct communication with the Gunmen to get him

inside.

“So,” Mulder asked casually, “how does it work between

a human and a… Peacekeeper?”

Crichton smiled brightly, showing off his gleaming

white teeth. “Surprisingly well. Though I had to wear

her down to it.”

Mulder cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed about

asking personal questions about someone’s love life.

“I meant…”

“Don’t sweat it, Mulder. I know what you meant.” He

adjusted his earpiece as Mulder sped the car along the

open desert road. “Peacekeepers and humans are very

much alike. She has the physiology of a woman, but

she’s just built a little differently.”

“How so?”

“Well, here’s a good example. I found out recently

that she was pregnant.”

“Wow. You’re a regular Captain Kirk, aren’t you?

Fraternizing with the aliens that way.”

“Nice, Mulder. But here’s the catch. It might not be

mine, or it could be mine, but I didn’t exactly do the

deed — particularly.”

“Okay, I understand the first part, but if it is

yours, how could you not have–”

“Let’s just say, I wasn’t quite myself,” Crichton

winked at him, but didn’t explain any further. Trying

to describe that he’d been split into two versions of

himself by an alien ray-gun, in which both were

completely himself at the same time, body and soul,

was a little much to go into when they were less than

a half an hour away from his ticket home.

“I — probably got her pregnant, but she chose the time

to have the baby. It doesn’t just happen for her.” Then

Crichton said under his breath, “God, I wish I had

been there.”

Mulder was furiously confused and bursting at the

seams to ask him more. But instead, he asked, “She’s

worth the world to you?”

“My man, she’s worth a thousand worlds to me.”

“I know the feeling.”

He did know. If he had met Scully anywhere on this

Earth or another, he would have felt the same way for

her. Finding out that there was really something out

there was Mulder’s primary reason for diverting John

Crichton away from being trapped in a government

prison by NASA. He didn’t want Crichton to become

another legend lost to the alien conspiracy, something

that wasn’t supposed to exist.

For the brief time he got to know Crichton, Mulder

began to realize that he was one of the most human

people he knew. Against all odds, dealing with strange

worlds and beings, he adapted his own knowledge of

himself, and used it to overcome diversity in an alien

world.

Mulder glanced at his watch. It would be any minute

now.

A rumble in the distance made him sit up and look to

the West. He saw a glow toward the horizon that became

a thin streak of white vapor shooting straight up into

the sky. As it got higher, it faded completely from

sight.

A crackle came through his earpiece, and he heard

three voices whooping and shouting through the

static.

“Did you see that, Mulder? He made it the sonofabitch!

Whooo!”

Mulder added to the celebration assaulting his eardrum

with his own shout toward the sky. “Yeeeaaaahhh!”

He hopped off the car, and leaned his head back as far

as it would go, just before he could become dizzy from

his body’s imbalance. He hoped one day he’d be able to

travel as Crichton had. But would he really want to

leave what he had behind him?

“Mulder?” Frohicke’s voice came in clearly through his

earpiece. The other two had hushed for the moment.

“You’d better start getting out of there before they

start sweeping the area for witnesses.”

“All right Frohicke. Hey, thanks for this, guys.”

“No problem, Mulder. What a scene! Thanks for the

excitement, man.”

“All right. See you when I get back. I’m headin’ home

to Scully.”

“Lone Gunmen out.”

“Mulder out.”

*****

The End