A Thin Slice of Heaven
by Slippin' Mickeys
red_phile@yahoo.com

CLASSIFICATION: H, S, XF/ER crossover.

RATING: PG-13

SUMMARY: A thoroughly absurd little ditty that is the sole result of too
much caffeine, too many reruns, and too many unfinished WIPs beckoning me
from my hard drive and various inboxes.

KEYWORDS: X-Files/ER crossover

SPOILERS: Leonard Betts; Arcadia; you get the pictureÉ

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. His. Whatever.

ARCHIVE: Go to town. Just let me know where it's going.

FEEDBACK: Did you get a chuckle or did I waste my time? Don't answer that.
Well, you can answer the first half of the questionÉ red_phile@yahoo.com

NOTES: The characterization? Most likely off. It wasn't really my goal.
Hopefully, you find this humorous anyway. This is basically just a little
self-distraction and entertainment while I try to finish "Manifest Destiny"
and "Winner Take Nothing." Bear with me. :)

XxXxXxXxXxX
A Thin Slice of Heaven
By Slippin' Mickeys
XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully answered her cellphone with an irritated sigh.

"Scully."

"Uh, hi," said a gruff voice on the other end of the line, "You're Scully?
I think I've got the right number then."

"Is there something I can help you with, sir?" Scully asked in a hushed
voice as she slowly made her way out of the large conference room, trying
not to make too big of a commotion.

"Yeah," said the voice, "you can get down to The Deep Six bar just off
Michigan Ave, and pick up a friend of yours who has been a little more than
a patron."

For a split second she thought she heard a loud, drawn out,
"Scuh-leeeeeeee!" in the background, but the clanking of glasses and
general clutter of the background noise on the other end of the line
drowned it out, and she couldn't be sure.

"Sir? I think you have the wrong number."

"No, I don't think I do. Do you have red hair? A, uhÉ" The man paused to
clear his throat uncomfortably, "Um, an asshole for a brother?"

Scully didn't answer.

"Somebody here's been talking about you," said the man, taking advantage of
her silence, "and to tell you the truth, he's a little tanked, and needs a
ride home."

Scully made her way to the next room down, the smaller conference room that
Mulder was supposed to be in, attending *his* annually required FBI
seminar. Sure enough, the back of his head was nowhere to be seen. Scully
heaved out another irritated sigh and brought her other hand to the bridge
of her nose. She could *feel* the headache coming.

"Where is this bar again?"

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder hadn't been this drunk in a long time. A very, very long time. Not
since he was with a group of raucous, boisterous young men in a pub in
London.

But it felt good. At this point, he didn't really recall why or how he
ditched the seminar and got to the bar. He didn't recall how many he'd had,
or why he'd chosen to drink so much. At this point, he could only process
the fact that it felt good, he was really drunk, and funny how the jukebox
kept sliding to right.

"MmÉ Matty!" Mulder slurred a little, "Matty, come 'ere for a second."

The bartender made his way under the counter and over to Mulder's table. He
set down a cup of coffee in front of him, and said, "drink this, buddy.
Your ride's coming and she's not going to be too thrilled to see you in
this condition, I can tell you right now."

Mulder moved his left arm and knocked the coffee mug, sliding it toward the
end of the table where Matty saved it from falling off the edge. He wiped
up the little that had sloshed out with his apron and set it back in front
of Mulder, a safer distance away this time.

"Scully is coming here?" Mulder asked, his voice breaking in a squeak at
the end.

"'Fraid so."

"Scully is beeeeautiful,  Matty." Mulder went on, then motioned at the top
of Matty's head, "she's got red hair. Just. Like. Yours." He punctuated the
last sentence by poking Matty in the ribs after each word.

Matty grabbed Mulder's hand and placed it back on the table.

"We've established that, captain. In fact, I know more about this Scully
than probably some of her closest friends, and she might not appreciate
that fact. So," he took the coffee cup and pressed it into Mulder's hands,
"I suggest you drink some of this and try to sober up a little before she
gets here."

"Don't want to," Mulder said defiantly, punctuating his point by slamming
his fist on the table two seconds too late, "what I want to do, is stop the
damn jukebox from moving. Will you stop the damn jukebox from moving,
Matty?"

Matty sighed and put his fists on his hips, "If I do, will you drink that
coffee?"

Mulder got a slightly fuzzy grin on his face and said, "Nnnnope! I feel
reeeeally good right now."

Matty waved him off and walked back to the bar and called over his
shoulder, "well you look like shit. If your girlfriend comes in here and
dumps you, I'm not going to be held responsible. And it ain't gonna be my
fault either if you don't get another pickle tickle for a month. If I was
you, I'd be drinking that coffee, and put on my best
the-cops-are-here-so-I'm-going-to-act-sober face, because *you*," he
pointed directly at Mulder before wiping the counter of the bar off, "are
in big trouble no matter how good you feel now."

"She's not my girlfriend, Matty," Mulder said, looking suddenly depressed,
"she's ma partner."

"Right," Matty said, glancing over at the door of the bar, "well whatever
you want to call her, she's here."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully walked through the front door of The Deep Six, and up to the bar.
She motioned for the bartender and leaned on the bar, looking at him with
an unamused expression.

"Where is he?"

The bartender opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Mulder
poking Scully in the back and voicing an overly boisterous "Here!"

She whipped around to face him and came face to face with hisÉ Chest.

He bent his head down to look at her, and smiled dreamily.

"Hey, Scully. Fancy meeting you here."

"Jesus, Mulder. How much have you had to drink?" She asked, turning her
head away from his breath.

"Is the seminar still going on?"

"Yes."

"Then not nearly enough."

He laughed at his own joke and pulled Scully over to his booth. She
resisted him when he tried to pull her down to sit next to him.

"Sit with me, Scully."

"Mulder, no," she protested, "we should go. Where's your coat?"

Mulder grabbed her hand as she made a move toward the coat rack.

"Can't go yet."

She looked at him with a slightly amused expression. Seeing Mulder this
way, however inconvenient, *was* a little entertaining.

"And why, may I ask,  not?"

"Because!" He said, grandly standing up again from the booth and swaying a
little when he got there, Scully's hand already on his shoulder to steady
him, "I have to stop the jukebox first."

Scully turned her head to look questioningly at Matty who merely shook his
head and shrugged.

Making sure he wouldn't fall over, she removed her hand from his shoulder
and slid into the booth across from where he had been sitting.

"Then by all means Mulder, go stop the jukebox."

Mulder nodded happily once and made his way slowly over to the jukebox. He
put both hands on it as though to either steady himself or the jukebox, and
stared at it for a bit.

Scully chuckled softly to herself and put her head down to rest on her
hands. *This* would certainly be an experience to remember.

She took a few deep breaths and looked up when the table jiggled a little.
Mulder sat across from her with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Oh, Lord.

"Alright, Mulder, are you ready?"

He looked at her, maintaining his grin, and shook his head.

"You're not-"

He cut her off with a slightly wet shush and brought his finger to his
lips.

"Listen."

Scully merely stared at him and leaned back in the booth. She lowered her
head to her chest and listened, feigning impatience for Mulder's benefit.

A vaguely familiar tune came on over the speakers, and she listened a
little harder. She knew this songÑ

"Oh, God. Mulder!"

She brought her hand to her forehead and groaned as Mulder began to sing
along.

"I really do, appreciate the fact that you're sittin' here," he crooned,
"your voice sounds so wonderful, but your face don't look too clear."

"Mulder please stop," Scully tried to cut in, "before you embarrass
yourseÑ"

He sang even louder to cut her off.

"So barmaid, bring a pitcher; another round of brew, honey why don't we get
drunk and screw."

Scully leaned back and buried her face in her hands, trying not to laugh as
Mulder crooned on.

"Why don't we get drunk and screwwwwÉ I just bought a waterbed, it's filled
up for me and you. They say you are an Icequeen," he laughed at himself as
he changed the last lyric, and sang on, thoroughly enjoying himself, "honey
I don't think that's true, so why don't we get drunk and screw."

"Mulder!" She couldn't keep the chuckle out of her voice this time,
"Mulder, please stop."

He didn't. But soon, the song was over and he leaned over the table and
waggled his eyebrows at her.

"What do you say, Scully? Want to get a pitcher?"

She looked at him again and leaned over the table, bringing her face right
up to his.

"No, Mulder. What I want you to get is your coat. We're leaving."

At that point, she got out of the booth and went to stand by the door, arms
crossed,  barring no argument.

He looked down at the table and sighed morosely.

"It's a shame."

He moseyed over to the coat rack and slid his jacket on after a few
unsuccessful attempts to get his arm in the sleeve.

He made his way to the door where Scully was waiting, and turned to the
bar.

"Thanks for everything, Matty."

Matty stopped wiping off the already clean countertop and looked at him
pointedly.

"No sweat, Mulder. It's been a thin slice of Heaven."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder opened his eyes. Which was a mistake from the word go.

The entire room spun crazily to his right, and he slammed his eyes shut
again. It didn't help. While he could no longer see the shady outlines of
his hotel room, his world, even in blackness, spun wildly out of control.

He groaned and rolled over.

What the hell had he done last night? There *must* have been alcohol
involved. He thought hard and suddenly recalled a bar andÑ

Oh no. Oh damn.

"Oh *shit*."

Everything came back to him. Everything.

"OhÉ PISS!" He pushed out venomously.

"Mulder? Are you okay?" Scully's voice came through from the connecting
room.

Scully. She was going to kill him. She'd rip out his entrails, wrap them
around his neck and strangle him for what he'd done last night.

He had to apologize. He had to apologize right now if she would ever
forgive him. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.

Despite his nauseating dizziness, he swung his legs over the bed, and made
his way quickly over to the connecting door. His was wide open, but hers
was open just a crack. He grabbed the handle and swung it open wide.

And met resistance. In the form of a sickening thump, a muffled "Oof,"
followed by a drawn-out thud.

He closed his eyes a moment, knowing instantly what had happened.

"Scully?" He called out softly, making his way through the blocked doorway
the best he could, "Scully, talk to me. Please. Scully?!"

He made his way to her curled up figure instantaneously and knelt down,
trying to get a good look at her face in the early morning half-light.

She was out cold. And she had a nasty gash on the side of her head that was
starting to bleed profusely.

Mortified, he ran into his room and grabbed a sweatshirt, ran to her
dresser, grabbed the keys to the rental, and picked her up gently, resting
her head on his shoulder.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Carol Hathaway was walking in front of the main emergency entrance doors
when they swung open, admitting a frazzled if not mussed man, who was
carrying a seemingly unconscious woman in his arms.

"Help me! Please!" He called out.

"Jerry!" She poked her head over the front counter and looked down at Jerry
who was bent down, picking up papers that had fallen. "Is exam three open?"

"What?" He looked up questioningly, "oh. Yeah, it's open."

She turned back to the man, and walked quickly toward the examination room.
"Follow me."

The man followed her into the room and gently set the woman down on the
bed. He brushed the hair off of the woman's face and turned to Carol when
she asked him a question.

"What happened?"

"She uh, she got hit in the head.  With a door. Pretty hard."

The man was squinting at her a little and looked unusually pale.

"I'll go get a doctor, but are you all right sir? You don't so good
yourself."

"I'm. I'm okay, I'm just going to stay here with her if that's okay."

Carol nodded and went to go find Dr. Greene.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder looked down worriedly at Scully. She was starting to come to. Her
eyes pulled together in a grimace and she moaned a little.

"Scully?" He bent down and whispered quietly, "Scully? Can you hear me?"

Just then, a tall, thin man with a receding hairline and thin wire-rim
glasses came into the room and right up to Scully. He saw that she was
waking up, and paused, looking up to Mulder.

"Is this your wife?"

Mulder looked at him a second, and then quickly responded.

"Uh, no. No, she's my partner."

"What's her name?"

"Scully. Dana Scully."

The doctor nodded, and leaned over Scully.

"Dana? Dana, can you hear me?"

Scully groaned once and her eyes fluttered open.

"Where- where am I?" Scully asked, looking confusedly around the room and
clearing her throat.

"You're in the Emergency room. My name is Dr. Greene. Do you know what your
name is? Do you know what day it is? Can you tell me what happened?"

Scully sat up a little and winced slightly.

"My name is Dana Scully, and it's theÉ" She looked at her watch, "the
fourth."

Her eyes continued to dart around the room until she saw Mulder.

"Mulder, are you okay?"

Mulder looked from Scully to Dr. Greene and then back to Scully again.

"I'mÉ Fine, Scully. We're a little more worried about you. You were out
cold."

She waved her hand in the air, dismissing his concern, then bringing it to
her cheek, wiping some blood off of her face and looking at it.

"I'm fine Mulder."

Dr. Greene, unconvinced, stared Mulder down and then took his light to
Scully's eyes.

"Well, you don't seem to have a concussion, but I want to be sure, and we
need to get some stitches on that cut." He turned to Mulder. "Mr.É?"

"Mulder." Mulder offered.

"Mr. Mulder. Mulder's your last name. Okay, well Mr. Mulder, I'm going to
ask you to wait out in the waiting room, while we take care of Dana, here."

Mulder looked at Scully once and then back at the doctor. He would rather
stay, but the doctor's demeanor parlayed no empathy, and he was really
starting to feel the full effect of a rather nasty hang-over. He nodded and
then started to back out of the room.

"I'll just, be out here." He said to Scully, then turned and walked into
the waiting room.

He sat down with a muffled groan and he bent his head down, rubbing his
eyes. He was still feeling dizzy, and as the adrenaline wore off, more and
more nauseous. He felt like he was going to puke. Or pass out. Or both.

He thought back to the day before and then amended his musings. He wanted
to die. He'd never be able to face Scully again. It was a shame he was in a
hospital, they'd most likely be able to save him.

He felt the bile rise in his throat, and he got up quickly, hoping he'd
find a bathroom in time. He trotted up to the desk and tapped the man who
was behind it, his back to Mulder.

"Excuse me sir, where's the closestÑ"

He cut himself off when the man turned around. It was Mike. Big Mike. The
vet from the Arcadia case. The guy was supposed to be dead.

Mulder took a few steps back and stared.

The big man looked at him oddly and asked, "sir? Can I help you with
something?"

Mulder just stood there for a second and then took a few steps closer and
paused when the nurse who had met him at the door walked in front of him
and talked to Big Mike.

"Jerry? Can you get Dr. Romano down here for a consult?"

Mike, or Jerry, nodded and picked up the phone, still looking at Mulder
with an odd expression.

Mulder looked down at the floor that was still spinning a little and shook
his head as if to clear it.  He looked back up toward the man, half
expecting him to be somebody else.

Just then, a man brushed by Mulder's shoulder and walked up to Jerry.

"Somebody call me for a consult?"

"Yeah, Dr. Romano." Jerry said, "that was quick."

"Well I was already down here."

Jerry nodded and the man that was apparently Dr. Romano turned around and
faced Mulder.

Mulder almost fell over. It was Leonard Betts.

"You!" Mulder finally found his voice. "It's you! What the hell is going on
here?"

Betts looked at Mulder and then to Jerry.

"Is this man a patient?"

Jerry shook his head and shrugged.

The world started spinning even more for Mulder. He took a step back to
regain his balance, but misjudged his steps and fell backwards, hitting his
head hard on the linoleum. His world went black.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder awoke to the all-too-familiar smell of a hospital room. He was only
aware of a pounding headache, and the feeling that someone was watching
him.

He slowly opened his eyes, squinting at the bright overhead lights and
turned his head to the left. There, sitting in a matching hospital bed, in
a matching gown was Scully, looking at him with an empathetic smile on her
face.

"Well Mulder," she said, looking around them for a second, "this is a new
one."

Mulder chuckled despite himself, and nodded.

"I'll give you that one, Scully."

"What happened? What did you do?"

Mulder closed his eyes and tried to remember. He couldn't. He turned to her
again.

"I have no idea. Do you?"

"Well," she started, "not really. I heard them say something about you
having a concussion." She looked at him and winced a little. "Welcome to
the club."

"Great," he groaned, "what else did they say?"

"Well, yours sounded a little worse than mine," she motioned to the door,
"they're releasing me. I think you might get admitted."

"Oh wonderful." He looked down at the IV that was in his left arm. "What's
this for," he asked her.

"Dehydration," she answered quickly, "and Mulder, before you say
anythingÑdon't go beating yourself up over what happened yesterday. Water
under the bridge."

Mulder cringed.

"Scully-"

"Mulder!" She cut him off, "I meant it. Don't worry about it, okay?"

He heaved a relieved sigh and nodded in her general direction.

"Just one thing, MulderÉ"

He looked at her expectantly.

"Next time you feel like popping in Jimmy Buffett," he closed his eyes and
winced, "please don't feel the need to sing along. I don't think I could
turn down an offer like that twice."

Mulder shot his head up to look at her and just caught her coy smile as a
nurse handed her her clothes and pulled the curtain in between them closed.

END
XxXxXxXxXxX

So, what will happen with Leo and Mikey? Moose and Squirrel? Who knows. Who
cares. This was pure fluff that infected Slippin's' head. Its out. BUT, it
may be resurrected if I need another break from MD or WTN. Thanks for
staying with me! Hope I held your interest.

red_phile@yahoo.com

Fic: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Crater/3303/slippin.html
INOD: http://www.geocities.com/~the_inod/
XFFFA: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Keep/2355/