Spread the Joy By Anna Otto annaotto1@aol.com Disclaimer: OK, all these characters might have the names of the ones you see on this TV show created by Chris Carter, but actually we have decimated them so completely in our "Shield and Sword" that they might be unrecognizable by now. Thus, I am not sure who to attribute the inspiration to. And in lieu of other contenders, I dedicate this piece of insanity to my fish. OK, to the ghosts of the fish I used to have when I was seven. Spoilers: Well, Shield and Sword, but I seriously advise you to read this much much later after the actual story. The effects of this tiny little innocent piece could be deadly. Archive: if anyone wants it, they can have it. Does anyone? Summary: Hmm, a tough one. Let's just say that I have invented a new way to get rid of the dark anti-human conspiracies and shady organizations like Consortium. And the prescription is available from your local psychiatrist. Rating: Oh, don't ask me that. OK, probably PG? Classification: SH (S stands for stupid :-) This is Badfic/Parody, so beware! You will NOT understand this if you didn't read "Shield & Sword" (shameless plug here for myself and Maraschino - it's archived at MTA, Annex, and our own webpages). You might still laugh at it though :-) I wrote this in the middle of writing S&S, just to get over the writer's block - but it came out weirder than even I expected. So, without further ado... "Ninety-nine bottles of Prozac on the wall, Ninety-nine bottles of Prozac. You take one down, You pass it around, Ninety-eight bottles of Prozac on the wall. Ninety-eight bottles of Prozac..." Mulder studied his detestable reflection in the mirror. God, but he hated himself. With a passion that grew ever stronger and ate at his black heart. The double life he led now caused him to have a clinical depression and there were black, unhealthy circles around his usually beautiful and charming hazel eyes from the lack of appetite and constant nightmares. Oh, and constipation. Yes, the visions of Scully haunted him every night, and he woke up to find his pillows soaked in tears and sweat and occasional droplets of blood from his nose from the times he hit himself on it out of usual self-hatred and, of course, loss of sanity. Tortured and in terrible, inhuman pain, Mulder opened the refrigerator door and felt the tears sting his eyes. Well, of course, he was crying over the fact that Scully didn't talk to him anymore! And Andrew was dead! And he just really, really hated himself! But these tears could have easily been shed for the rotten strawberries and a really expensive but spoiled Brie. The problem was that he hated cheese and preferred the sunflower seeds and pizza to just about anything else in the world. And the complete and utter sadness of it lay in the fact that there was no one to share his pizza with. Still crying, Mulder put a hand over his heart, wondering if he could stand the harshness of his fate, and decided that he had to be strong. Really strong. He would have to endure. Silently and with deadly calmness, he picked up the yellow pages, found a phone number of a psychiatrist, and made an emergency appointment. Because even though he had a Ph.D. in Psychology, he really shouldn't have treated himself, and besides, the numerous victims of his terrible and magical skill of erasing memories already marred his degree! Well, actually, the root of the problem lay in the fact that he was not a psychiatrist which was what he really needed right now, and he could not prescribe any medications, because that would get him arrested, and then... And then he would probably land in jail right next to Skinner's cell, and his ex-boss would stare at him with a burning gaze and the light would shine off his bald head and blind his beautiful hazel eyes... Mulder made a gigantic effort to stop this disturbing train of thought. He really should have been thinking about how sad his life was and about how terrible he felt and about how much he wanted to shatter that detestable reflection in the mirror but the glass was too thick and he was too weak from not eating enough and... Oh, the horror of it all could bring him down on his knees, no, actually, on all fours, and make him howl like a wolf at the moon. * * * The psychiatrist was a kindly old man who reminded Mulder of Miller and of Milton and of his father even though none of them looked like the psychiatrist, but they were all old and at this point Mulder just didn't care. Because when you have a depression, you stop caring, even about the fact that you make no sense anymore. And no one understands you or gives a damn anyway. "What is your problem, Mr. Mulder?" the doctor asked and Mulder suddenly winced because he had this gnawing, incredible, worst headache ever. With noble resignation, he reached into his pocket and took out a bottle of Morphine, shaking out two pills. The doctor eyed it with ever-growing worry. "You shouldn't be drinking this! It's a very dangerous and addictive medication, and besides, you will be unconscious for most of our session!" Mulder waved his hand weakly. "Oh, don't worry about it. It's nothing. You see, I started with Tylenol and then someone told me that Excedrin, in the green bottle, was better, but soon it wasn't enough so I had to smuggle in some Codeine from Canada, and considering the terrible, addictive and destructive effects of this medication, I had to switch to Morphine. But of course, I have already built a level of tolerance to it and I assure you this is only to aid me in my migraines which are related to the stress that I have been under lately." The doctor coughed, trying to hide from the cold light of the beautiful but deadly hazel eyes. "Of course. So what caused this stress?" Mulder thought about it a little, trying to decide if the doctor would sell him to the Consortium if he explained the truth and decided that they were everywhere, the whole damn planet was bugged and there were ears in every innocent little place and that this doctor could actually be an alien, maybe the bounty-hunter, and that he could take no chances at all. "I am working for some really bad, bad people, and I am doing some terrible things at my job, and every day when I get up I am trying not to kill myself." "OK..." the psychiatrist sounded concerned. "Why don't you quit then?" Mulder's full lower lip quivered and he tried hard not to cry. "Oh, doctor, you shouldn't ask me these questions! They will kill you and me if they find out." "All right," the doctor sighed and Mulder knew that he was thinking about paranoia and all these other nasty mental diseases that he actually wasn't suffering from, and he suddenly felt very stupid and delusional for having come here. "Doctor, no one can help me," he whispered brokenly, detachedly, painfully, and his hopeless words scraped the perfectly conditioned air of the little office. "I just need a prescription for Prozac so that I don't kill myself because if I do they will take the children of my sister who doesn't love me, who doesn't want to see me, and I don't understand why I should care but I have always felt guilt for her abduction and if I let something bad happen to her now I don't know if I could live with myself. Then I will definitely have to kill myself." "Mr. Mulder, you are giving me no chances at all to help you!" the doctor reached out a hand to him in supplication, knowing that this patient was ready for a complete mental break-down and remembering an epithet he read in a book of someone named Jose Chung about a "ticking time-bomb of insanity." Because this man certainly personified that definition. "Just give me a prescription, please," now there was steel in the perfectly modulated voice, and anger in the chiseled face, and the long thin fingers twisted so that the knuckles were painfully white, and the bones were ready to break and only the perfectly manicured nails were still beautiful and polished. The doctor wrote a prescription because now he was really, really afraid, and because it was true that he just didn't give a damn and there was another patient waiting for him already. Mulder strode proudly out of the office, breaking down several times on the way to the elevator. Finally having made it inside the cabin, he suddenly felt claustrophobic, and he was glad because he didn't feel anything but sadness in a really long time, and it meant that he was still human, so he lied down on the floor and stared at the bright lights overhead and cried from joy. And then he went to the pharmacy to fill a prescription. * * * The beautiful red-headed woman came in to the psychiatrist's office and stared bleakly at him, and her amazing, deep like the ocean and large like the UFO true-blue eyes filled with fresh, salty, transparent tears. The doctor offered her a handkerchief and she accepted it with trembling hands, wiping the dirty tracks on her face that the make-up left behind. Oh, but life was just so unfair and cruel and all of the people and animals that she loved died and if she thought about it long enough, she knew that there just wasn't enough money to buy flowers for all of their graves. "What happened, Ms. Scully? You seem very upset," the doctor asked her sympathetically. "Oh, I am fine, doctor, really," she managed to squeeze a shaky smile but her words sounded brave and stoic. "Pay no attention to me." The psychiatrist took a deep breath. This was going to be a long one. "You wouldn't have come here if you were fine." "Well, I do think that I am suffering from a mental disease but I am not sure how to classify it, and I need your professional opinion," Scully admitted honestly, because she was a professional as well, in fact, she was a medical doctor but her specialty was very different, and she didn't know a lot about mental illnesses. Except, of course, she could probably recite all of the diseases she attributed to Mulder, because he was the only thing that she knew in depth and could give lectures on the subject. The doctor frowned. This was curious. "I am always glad to help. What are the symptoms?" "Well, there is this man that I used to work with, and in the past few months he did a lot of bad things. Like, he lied to me and many other honest people, he backstabbed his boss who cared about him, he participated in the unspeakable experiments on human subjects, he covered up many terrible crimes, and he was an accomplice to murder," Scully recited emotionlessly, coldly, trying hard not to break down and wail because this was a very inappropriate place for such inappropriate behavior and she was always a very proper person. "And I still worry about his safety and I still cannot make myself hate him, and sometimes I think that the only way I will ever hate him is if he takes off his pants and swims in acid," Scully moaned a bit just imagining the picture. "Actually, then, I will probably have to take care of him, because he has no one else in the world, his parents are dead, and his sister hates him and he always felt guilty because of her abduction..." The doctor took off his glasses thoughtfully, and contemplated the situation. "You are, of course, a very disturbed woman, I will be honest with you on that," he uttered finally. "But while there is no definition for it in the medical dictionary, I think that your mind is clouded by a lot of issues which probably go far back to your childhood and which I am prepared to examine with you fully. Would you like to make an appointment for next Monday?" Scully shook her head negatively. "You know, doctor, I would honestly love to," she flashed him a perfect, wide, blinding, amazing smile, and the doctor put on his glasses immediately back on his nose because he wanted to memorize every part of her marble face before she left his office for even though she was insane, he still rarely received visits from such beautiful women. Meanwhile, Scully continued. "But I can't because I might be dead by that time. Or my friend might be dead. Well, he is not my friend anymore, of course, but considering that I obviously have issues... You see, it's very difficult to plan ahead." Doctor was sad that he wouldn't see her again. "I can give you a prescription for Prozac?" he offered enticingly. "Oh, I can write one for myself, thank you very much," Scully answered proudly and stood up to leave. The world kind of tilted around her and she realized that she didn't eat in a really long time because she was also depressed and she would forget about food and it made her nauseous and actually at times it was very convenient because she lost a lot of weight and she looked completely amazing in the mirror, that is when she actually dared to look at herself because in fact she was afraid of her reflection. "But it was kind of you to offer." She left the office and she stopped in the hallway and had a really good cry because she really, really missed Mulder, and Andrew, and Queequack, and Melissa, and she hadn't seen Skinner in a really long time, and she missed him as well. And then she put on her usual cold mask and went to fill out a prescription. * * * "James! It's so wonderful to see you!" Mulder screamed at Milton and threw himself into the embrace that was actually not forthcoming. "I haven't seen you in a long time. Why don't we have these meetings every day? Every week is just not enough. And besides, I can get so many frequent flyer miles!" Milton was concerned. Maybe they put too much pressure on him. Really, the guy already had to deal with a job of Assistant Director, and that was enough for anyone. But they just had to make him go and work with all these women and Miller... No wonder. "Fox," he tried to sound tender, "are you feeling all right? Maybe you would like to take a vacation?" "Are you kidding?" Mulder gawked at him. "I never felt better. I am full of energy. Ready to destroy the world and rebuild it all in the same day!" he plopped down in an armchair. "When do we start?" Milton sighed, deciding to attribute this strange behavior to the hot weather outside and possible sunstroke. It would probably pass soon, the atmosphere in this room was depressing and dark enough. "Would you like some tea?" The tea was being served at the moment, and Mulder beamed, eyeing it hungrily. "Oh yes, I would love some! Isn't everyone having some? And I want some biscuits, please." The conspirator shrugged, deciding that he might as well share tea with the poor young man that seemed finally at piece with himself and with their organization. Mulder obviously needed some company, and even though Milton was heartless, he still kind of cared about him. "I would love a cup." Everyone drank tea, and then someone shuffled over to the windows and opened the draperies. The bright sun lit the stuffy room, and Milton shaded his eyes, then opened them wide. "Look at this sun! It's so... yellow and festive. I never noticed before. And are there trees blooming outside?" "I believe so," Northam replied in awe. "And I can hear the little birds singing everywhere, twit! Twit! Twit!" Yet another man got up and came to embrace him. "The sky is so blue... and look at the people below! They just look so tiny and precious..." Milton cried. "Oh, people! I love them. Did you know how much I love people?" Mulder smiled, reveling in the joy he spread by emptying his bottle of Prozac into the teakettle. He could share because he was still due for ninety-nine refills! "I've always known, James! Always! Because I want to believe in the goodness of all people, even such bastards as yourself!" "You're right, my friend," Milton offered him a shaky hand, then pulled him into the tight embrace. "There is good in all of us." Cancerman opened the door and surveyed the joyous company presented to him. He dreamed about this meeting for a really long time, imagining the looks on all their faces, and now he wondered if he'd stepped into the wrong room. These people were not behaving correctly. They were the awesome, mysterious, and dark Consortium, and they were not supposed to kiss or laugh or embrace. "Henry! My God, we missed you!" Milton ran up to him and actually picked him up, but couldn't completely whirl him around the room. "Where have you been?" Cancerman was stunned by such nerve. "You've had me killed!" "I am so sorry," Milton whispered in his ear. "I decided to go to a confession tomorrow and I promise you that I will confess this terrible, terrible sin." Mulder stood up and his legs were unstable from the sheer happiness that he felt. "My favorite Black-Lunged Son-of-a-Bitch!" he offered him a hand, then reached over to kiss him on the cheek. "It has been tough without you," he confided. "Before I had to deal just with you, and now I have the entire damn organization to please. Can we just go back to the way things were before? I honestly miss seeing you at Skinner's office." Cancerman took a step back. Oh God, this was horrible. This scene of destruction was unimaginable. Maybe the date has already come and gone and clones replaced everyone he knew. "I'm too late," he whispered horrified and ran out the door, pulling out his cellular phone with shaking hands and dialing 911. The operator came on the line, and he dictated the address and his name to her. "These people are all insane! It must be a new virus. I only hope that I didn't pick it up myself. I must find out from the aliens how it is being transmitted." The operator sounded sympathetic. "Well, sir, I wouldn't worry too much about it. Just stay where you are and someone will be along to help you shortly." "Thank you," he nodded, slightly reassured. "Thank you so much." * * * In the brightly-lit hallway of the Georgetown Medical Center's Psychiatric Wing, Scully saw Mulder and at first she almost had a heart attack, but then she remembered that she was not reacting properly. Now that she has come to terms with her issues, she could go and face her demons head-on. "Mulder, I missed you so much!" she sang in his ear happily. "I never dreamed I would meet you here." "Scully!" he sounded completely happy though just a little unlike himself. "I missed you too! It's wonderful to see you." "Isn't it, though?" she pulled him into a hug and they stared out the window together, in perfect harmony and silence. It was a beautiful day and the sun was shining brightly... End. P.S. Hey, look! I got Mulder and Scully back together!