Title: My Dream of Scully with the Dark Red Hair

Author: Vickie Moseley

Summary: Dr. JD Dorian of Sacred Heart Hospital comes face to

face with his latest fantasy girl — Special Agent Dana Scully. Too

bad she had to bring her partner with her.

Category: Crossover, MT, SA H

Rating: Tuesday night NBC prime time

Disclaimer: Zach Braff and Bill Lawrence are responsible for

everything Sacred Heart related. Chris Carter and his many

minions are responsible for all things X Files. I just shook ’em all

up in a big zip-lock bag.

Archive: 2 weeks exclusive with Virtual Season 13, then

anywhere

Written for the Virtual Season 13 Crossover Special

Dedicated to my buds on the VS — sorry it wasn’t exactly what you

were looking for Donna, but they just wouldn’t cooperate!

comments to vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

My Dream of Scully with the Dark Red Hair

by Vickie Moseley

Sometimes, it’s nice to look at the other side, to see what your life

might have been like if you turned left or turned right or maybe

just never got out of bed. There’s always a little bit of longing for

the life not lived. And sometimes, that other life just falls right

into your lap.

It’s a beautiful sunny day, but then it always seems to be sunny

when the air is fresh, the birds are singing and I manage to snag the

last chocolate glazed donut with colored sprinkles from the

convenience store near the hospital. I take my prize to the cash

register with great anticipation. I don’t even mind that I’m third in

line.

It’s a secret game of mine to listen in on people standing in line

with me. I don’t mean eavesdrop, exactly, but I don’t stand there

and hum to myself or try to recite the multiplication tables in my

head. If I just happen to hear a juicy conversation, where’s the

harm? Like the couple right ahead of me.

“Mulder, would it hurt you to humor me this once?”

My my my, she is a hot little number. Red hair, perfect body,

heels that make her head about even with her boyfriend’s shoulder

— she looks almost as good as my donut.

“Humor you. Scully, I told you already, I just want to go home.

I’ve had the week from hell — ”

I’m bored already. Mr. Personality is one big whine-fest. I feel

sorry for the little red head. I wonder if I can get her phone

number. Have to check out their license plate as I leave the store.

I lanced a boil of an employee of the DMV just last month, I could

call in that favor.

” — your head! And you didn’t sleep at all!”

Whoa, I missed something good. Have to stop getting distracted.

Listening in is serious work. Now what was that about sleep?

” — case, Scully, this case from hell we’ve been on! Look, I don’t

want to argue. I don’t want to go to the hospital. I just want to get

on that plane and go home! Is that too much to ask?”

Hospital? Did he just say hospital? Wow, this could be my

chance. I could get them over to the hospital, put Mr. Whiney

Pants on a gurney and lose him in X ray while I work the old JD

magic on Drop Dead Gorgeous here.

“Pump number 6 and . . . and . . . Sccccc-ulllllllll-y?” Thump!

Just like that, Mr. Whimper-Imper is flat on his back passed out on

the floor. My angel in red is kneeling down beside him, loosening

his tie. Any minute now I expect her to look up terrified and

scream ‘is there a doctor in the house?’

“Call 911, tell them Officer Down. Get me ice, I need ice and get

his feet up. You, there, find a roll of paper towels in the aisle

behind you. Hurry people, he’s bleeding all over the floor!”

I realize I’m the guy who’s supposed to get the towels. OK, not

what I expected but I turn and grab the first roll I see and rip off

the plastic wrap. As I kneel down next to her, I put my hand on

her shoulder. “Miss, I’m a doctor. Let me take a look.”

I anticipate adoring eyes, undying gratitude. I get “What’s your

specialty? He needs a neurologist.”

Crap! Why didn’t I go into Neurology? Oh, yeah, I hate all the

extra paperwork. So, how do I answer and still find my way to her

glowing adoration? “I’m a second year resident, but our hospital is

just three blocks up the street.”

One of the most fun things you can do in the medical field is get to

ride in the back of an ambulance. It’s a bit crowded back here,

with Agent Mulder — as I found out when his partner introduced

me to the unconscious guy on the floor, the two EMTs, Agent

Dana Scully — my goddess with the titian tresses, and me, but we

manage the three blocks in just a wink of an eye.

“You really didn’t have to ride with us, Dr. Dorian. I feel bad

leaving your car back at the convenience store.”

“Agent Scully, didn’t I tell you to call me JD? And I can run back

and get my — um — vehicle later.” There is no way I’m telling a

vivacious and beautiful FBI agent that I ride a scooter to work!

It takes no time at all to go three blocks at top speed. Before I can

even get a good grip on the safety strap, we’re at the hospital. I

have to hop out so they can remove the gurney, and I help Agent

Scully hop out after me. She fails to notice this chivalrous

movement and focuses on the gurney. Oh, yeah, and the guy on

the gurney.

“Mulder. Mulder, can you hear me? Mulder, if you can hear me,

squeeze my hand. Mulder, feel my hand? Just squeeze it.”

I’m ready to squeeze her hand just to get her to leave the poor guy

alone! Oh, no. She has a look in her eyes. She reaches up to his

face and — oh Man! That had to hurt! Pinches his earlobe hard

enough to leave an imprint of her nail! If he slept through that —

“Darlene! What have you brought me now?”

Crap! Just once, could Dr. Cox call me by my given name? Heck,

by a guy’s name! Is that too much to ask?

“My name is Dana Scully, I’m a medical doctor and a Special

Agent with the FBI. This man is my partner Fox Mulder, 44 years

of age, no history of chronic medical conditions. He received a

blow to the head — blunt trauma — approximately 4 hours ago, but

refused to be examined by paramedics at the scene. His eyes were

not dilated at the time, and, aside from tenderness at the point of

impact, he was not complaining of any pain. We were at the

convenience store down the street just a few minutes ago when

suddenly he lost consciousness. I want a complete CT scan of his

head and a neurosurgeon and OR on standby. He has no allergies

to medications, is not currently taking any prescriptions, he hasn’t

eaten in the last 14 or more hours and his blood type is O neg.”

Dr. Cox looks at me. I shrug. “They were standing in front of me

in the line at the Gas-N-Go and he passed out.”

Cox is good at times like these. “Well, Doctor Agent Sister Sally,

why don’t you go with Dr. uh, um, ah, Dorian to admitting and fill

out all the nice papers so we can legally examine and treat your —

ah, partner, Agent Mulder here. And when we know something,

I’ll go find you. How does that sound?”

My chance at last!

“I’m not leaving.”

Man, I never saw that shade of flame come out of someone’s eyes

before.

“You’re not staying.”

Oh, oh. He’s using that voice. That voice he perfected long ago on

a bunch of interns probably still roaming the basement and attic of

this very hospital — souls lost for eternity . . .

” — and a gun and I have no intention of leaving my partner. Now,

I suggest you examine him and start ordering some tests or I will

do it myself!”

Darn it! Missed more good stuff! Whatever the first part was, Cox

has just turned three shades of apoplectic, but Doctor-slash-Agent

Scully is not leaving the room.

“Doris — go get an admitting clerk down here.”

I send an admitting clerk to the ER — they weren’t too happy about

it — and wander to the nurses’ desk. Carla is busy scribbling on a

chart, Eliot is trying to pick a piece of something out of her teeth in

the glass on the drug cabinet, and my best buddy Turk is staring off

into space. Looks like a normal day to me.

“Guess who I just brought into the ER?” I love it when I can do

that. They all look up in happy anticipation. Gawd, this place just

eats up gossip with a spoon.

“Jude Law?” Poor Eliot — she is so starstruck.

“No.”

“Beyonce?” Ow, from the look on Carla’s face, Turk should have

kept his mouth shut!

“No.”

“Michael Chiklis.” I look at Carla and shake my head. That was

obviously payback for the Beyonce guess from Turk.

“No. Look, you’ll never guess, really.”

“Orlando Bloom!”

“Eliot, be quiet,” Carla hushed her. “Go on, JD. Who’s in the

ER?”

“Two FBI agents!”

Incredible. I can actually hear the birds chirping outside!

Everyone is turning away, so I have to get their attention again.

“The guy agent passed out right in front of me at the Gas-N-Go.”

“Guy agent? Is he cute?”

Turk gives Carla the evil eye. Eliot is nodding her head

enthusiastically.

“I didn’t really notice, but his partner is fantastic!”

Turk rears back and Carla and Eliot giggle. Oh, yeah, they weren’t

there. “No, it’s not like that. His partner is a woman!”

Turk’s respect for me glows anew. Carla and Eliot go back to

scribbling and picking teeth.

“So, she’s an FBI agent, huh?”

“Yeah and she’s a babe! Red hair, blue eyes, little short pixie build

— ”

“I always thought you liked ’em long and leggy?”

“Nah, man, I tell ya, you see her and you’ll know what I mean.”

“So — let’s go!”

“What? Where?”

“Let’s go down to the ER and check her out!”

Hmm, did I remember to tell him the part about her carrying a gun

and how she flayed Cox’s butt? Probably not. Oh well . . .

“Sure.”

“Turk!”

Oops. I thought Carla was occupied scribbling. She’d been

listening. Turk is gonna get —

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

Turk is my best bud, but there is no way I’m standing too close to

him right now. When the bombs fall, it’s best to get out of the

way.

“Um, this guy passed out, Carla, baby. It could be a whole bunch

of stuff. Head trauma, maybe. I might be able to assist on the

surgery.”

That set off bells in my head. “Oh, yeah, she said something about

having an OR and a neurologist on stand by. He had a head

trauma.”

“*She* said?”

“Did I mention she’s a doctor?”

“You said she was an FBI agent.”

“She is. And a doctor.” I’m positive she said that.

“OK, this I gotta see.” Oh no, not Eliot! This should be a guy

thing!

“Me too. An FBI agent who’s a Doctor AND a woman! I want to

see this Sheena, Queen of the Jungle.”

Now Carla too?? Darn it all!

“If we all go, we’ll scare her.”

“OK. Then just me and Eliot will go.” Carla puts down the chart

and heads to the elevators.

“On second thought, what could scare an FBI agent right?” Turk

and I have to hurry to catch the girls.

When we get to the ER, Agent Scully is nowhere in sight. Dr. Cox

is standing near the nurses’ station, writing on a chart. Carla stops

short, making Eliot, Turk and finally me plow into her. Cox looks

over at us coolly.

“I sent him to have a CT scan.”

I try to appear nonchalant. “And his . . . partner?”

“The redhead went with him. Something about she couldn’t leave

his side in case he woke up and started spouting national secrets or

some stupid excuse. At least she’s out of my hair for a while.”

“If there’s a subdural hematoma, can I . . .” That’s my Turk, always

looking for a chance to showing his aptitude with sharp objects.

“It’s up to Bob, Goldilocks,” Cox sneers at Turk. “But if it means

staying in a room for more than 15 seconds with that she-demon,

you might reconsider. Now, unless you’ve all decided to seek

other employment, I suggest you four get back to whatever you’re

supposed to do here.”

Because I do have other patients, I decide to go check on some of

them. By the time I get back around to X ray, it appears that a

crisis is in full swing.

“I don’t care what you have to do, I want all doors locked,

everyone who was anywhere near the X ray Department must be

interrogated, I want someone to find my damned partner!!”

Owww, maybe I’ll just go back to my patients —

“Dr. Dorian, thank God!”

Then again . . . She looks at me with all the adoration I first

envisioned. Or maybe she’s just looking at me because I’m a

friendly face. Anyway, what the heck do I care, she’s looking at

me.

“Agent Scully, what happened?”

She closes her eyes and puffs a stand of titian silk hair back in

place. “I turned my back for a minute, not more than sixty

seconds, and he’s gone!”

“Dr. Cox?” I ask. But I can’t honestly say anyone, save his wife

Jordan when she’s looking to tear off his balls, has ever been upset

at not seeing Perry Cox.

“No, of course not! That man is a complete and total asshole! No,

my partner, Mulder. He was on a gurney right here,” she points to

a spot on the wall where there could have been a gurney at one

time, “and when I came back, he was gone.”

“Maybe they took him in for his X ray,” I suggest helpfully.

Wow. The flaming eyes again. How does she do that and not

catch her eyebrows on fire?

“Don’t you think I thought of that? I checked with the X ray tech.

They still had two people ahead of Mulder. I can’t believe you

people only have one CT scan in this hell hole!”

“We’re having a fundraiser at the end of the month, hopefully — ”

“I don’t care!” she yells, and I’m embarrassed to say I’m terrified

and extremely turned on all at once.

“I’ll help you look for him.” It’s the least I can do. Especially if I

get to wander the halls with her, and especially if she’s not

threatening me with her gun. Just as we’re about to start off on our

search of the premises, my name is broadcast on the PA system.

“Dr. Dorian. Paging Dr. Dorian. You 10 o’clock boil is waiting

for you. Paging Dr. Dorian.”

Damn, forgot all about that boil. If the man didn’t sit on his ass all

day long — “Look, Agent Scully, I have to run. But I promise, I’ll

help you look as soon as I get this one little patient out of the way.”

I return to find that Eliot is now guiding the beautiful Agent Scully

through the nooks and crannies of Sacred Heart. It’s a wonder to

behold. I envision Eliot and Agent Scully, in bikinis — with

shoulder holsters and. . .

“Dorian! What the hell is going on around here and what have you

got to do with it?!” I wish Dr. Kelso didn’t always have to yell

right in my ear.

Agent Scully heard him and spun on her heel. “You must be Dr.

Kelso,” she says, eyes flaring again. “I paged you half an hour

ago.”

“I was in a very important consultation,” Kelso replies. It probably

had to do with his golf swing. “How can I help you, young lady?”

“I’m Special Agent Dana Scully with the FBI. My partner, Special

Agent Fox Mulder was brought into this — establishment — some

three hours ago with a head trauma. Now, he has been — taken. I

want every available personnel helping in the search effort. He

could have an intracranial bleed. If I find him and he’s — I want

him found and I want him found NOW!”

Eliot is chewing on her lip, but I can see that look in her eyes.

She’s already filing out an application to the FBI in her head.

Kelso just looks suitable mortified.

“My dear woman, I can assure you — ”

“Assure me after he’s found,” Agent of my dreams says and turns

away from Bob to continue searching in every room down the

hallway.

“Dorian!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go find her damned partner and get the two of them out of here.

They’re disrupting the whole hospital.”

“Yes sir.”

Hey, at least I got orders to help her now.

We’ve been searching the hospital now for almost two hours. I

was pretty sure we wouldn’t find him in labor and delivery, but

Agent Scully insisted. Good thing that woman was having her

sixth child and didn’t seem to mind us traipsing through the

delivery room. Come to think of it, maybe she wasn’t joking when

she offered to help us with the search —

But we are now in the cafeteria, and as I suspected, not a gurney or

unconscious Federal Agent in sight. Agent Scully is alternating

between close to tears and going completely postal. Eliot looks

bored to tears. My feet are starting to hurt. And just when it looks

like things can’t possibly get any worse —

“Hey, you still lookin’ for that FBI agent?”

Oh, no. Not him. Not the Janitor. If he waltzes in here and tells

Agent Scully right where she can find her partner, I’ll kill myself.

“Doug down in the morgue — have you checked with him?”

All blood drains from Agent Scully’s face and for a minute, I think

she might faint. But just as I reach out to stop catch her if she falls,

she grabs a handful of my shirt and pulls me down to within an

inch of her face. “Take me to the morgue — RIGHT NOW!”

I decide the stairs are fastest. I would lead this parade, but Agent

Scully has pushed past me and is dragging me down the steps

behind her. Eliot is next and the Janitor is bringing up the rear.

I’m just trying to keep my feet under me. She might look tiny but

the woman has an arm!

We get to the morgue and we say a quick ‘hi’ to Doug, who looks

rather startled at the sudden onslaught of living, breathing people.

Agent Scully pulls her ID from her suit pocket — god, can there be

a bigger turn on than a tiny little woman pulling out a badge and

flashing the gun at her hip at the same time?

“I want a search made of this morgue. I want to see every body

that has arrived here since 8 a.m. this morning.”

Doug looks at me, and then at the Janitor — why does he look at

the Janitor? Is Doug implying that the Janitor has more authority

in this situation than I do? I’m a doctor, after all. He’s just the —

he’s just a . . . ah screw it. He has more authority than I do.

“All I got was this one,” Doug is saying, walking over to pull the

sheet off a woman in her mid to late 1000s, “and that one over

there.”

Against the wall is a gurney, the body covered with a sheet, only

one foot sticking out. The toe tag is visible from this distance.

‘John Doe’.

If I thought Agent Scully was going to faint earlier, she was

looking tan compared to how she looks now. She bits her lip and

walks very slowly over to the gurney. Eliot looks over at me and

swallows hard. She’s got such a soft heart, Eliot. Even the Janitor

looks dismayed.

Death comes to us here at Sacred Heart every day of the week.

Sometimes it’s a blessing, the only way to end mindless pain.

Other times, it’s too sudden, too inappropriate. But it always hurts

to watch. I can see by the look in her eyes that Agent Scully has

been searching for more than her partner today. She’s been

searching for that someone we all want in our lives. Now, she’s

found him — but too late.

I’m having a hard time swallowing around this rock in my throat.

Eliot has silent tears falling from her eyes. I hear the Janitor trying

to disguise his sniffle with a cough. Even Doug looks like he’s

about to lose it. Just as she reaches out to pull the sheet and see the

body . . .

It groans.

Then, one of the legs move. And the other. And the body shifts

and rolls over onto its side.

Agent Scully grabs the sheet and pulls it down, stopping at the

waist. On the gurney is her partner, the same guy who was Mr.

Whiney Pants, the same guy who passed out right at my feet this

morning. Only now he’s rubbing his eyes and stretching, letting

out a long yawn. Finally, he sees her.

“Scully. Wow. CT scan done? Hey, what time is it? Did we miss

our flight?”

She stands there, stunned for a moment and then launches herself

in his arms. He’s surprised, but grateful and hugs her back. Then,

he looks around and notices where he is.

“Scully . . . what’s this thing on my toe?”

On Dr. Kelso’s orders, Agent Mulder was bumped to the front of

the line in X-ray. The CT scan showed no abnormalities of any

kind, and Dr. Cox released him to the care of his personal

physician, the lovely Agent Doctor Scully. Somehow the Janitor

even got their car from the Gas-N-Go. Just as my shift was

ending, both agents were preparing to leave.

“You two crazy kids take care, now,” I tell them. Agent Mulder

looks confused and Agent Scully looks like she might shoot me on

the spot, but thinks better of it. I’m shocked to pieces when she

latches onto my neck and gives me a big kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, Dr. Dorian, for everything,” she says.

As I head down the street to collect my scooter from the Gas-N-

Go, I notice that the birds are still singing, the sun is still bright in

the sky. Maybe, if I’m really lucky, I’ll get the last slice of

pepperoni pizza from the convenience mart. At the end of the

hospital lot, a non descript Ford Taurus pulls to the curb.

“Can we give you a ride to your car?” Agent Mulder calls out,

sounding a lot more pleasant now that he’s had a good seven-hour

nap.

I look in his window and see Agent Scully, smiling at me. Boy, I’d

give anything —

“Nah. Thanks, anyway. It’s such a nice day — I think I’ll walk.”

the end