Title: Urgepurge (1/1) Author: aka "Jake" Rating: PG-13 (A blaspheme or two) Classification: V Spoilers: Post-ep for "Genderbender" Summary: "I know what I saw, Scully, and I saw *you* about to do the wild thing with some stranger." -- Fox Mulder in "Genderbender" Disclaimer: Do these characters really belong to Chris Carter, FOX and 1013 Productions? If so, no copyright infringement intended. Fun, yes. Profit, no. This story is dedicated to dlynn. Urgepurge By aka "Jake" EN ROUTE FROM STEVESTON, MASSACHUSETTS TO WASHINGTON DC 11:21 AM Our car hits a pothole and my stomach somersaults. The words "Pull over, Mulder, I'm going to throw up again" hang on the tip of my tongue. This X-File has been nothing but one big embarrassment. Mulder drives us home -- away from the crop circle, away from the Kindred, away from Brother Andrew, away from the most humiliating two days of my life. We hit another bump and bile bounces to my throat. "Are you doing that on purpose?" Mulder glances my way, eyebrows climbing. "No." His focus returns to the road. Mister Innocent. Cool as ice tea, totally relaxed. He sits behind the wheel, at ease in his own skin while I want to crawl out of mine. Damn it, I itch where Brother Andrew... What the hell did he do to me anyway? **I know what I saw, Scully, and I saw *you* about to do the wild thing with some stranger.** The "wild thing"? He assaulted me, Mulder. I-I-I was powerless to stop him. He drugged me...somehow. **Radar love, Scully. Only about a hundred times stronger than found anywhere in nature, strong enough to produce anaphylactic shock or a coronary.** A heart attack caused by pheromones? Not possible. Can't be. Can it? **This guy is a walking aphrodisiac. He's the ultimate sex magnet.** Sorry, Mulder, but I'm not buying your scented serial killer theory. Mulder watches the road. For once he isn't fidgeting. No tapping, no jiggling, no seed-cracking "Scully, I'm thinking this is a case of yada, yada." He drives one-handed; the other rests casually on his thigh. He slouches in his seat, alert but comfortable. With his tie hanging loose, suit coat tossed into the back seat, Mulder looks unperturbed by a night of fighting crime and rescuing me. To be honest, he looks damn tranquil for a guy who just got his ass kicked by a transvestite. Mulder's tussle with "Marty" left him rumpled, dusty and smelling kinda...nice. Eau de Mul-- Jesus, what am I thinking? I peek at Mulder out of the corner of my eye, take a teensy-weensy sniff. Research suggests that the subliminal scent of pheromones might accelerate puberty, control women's menstrual cycles, and allow mothers and infants to bond. Female Bombyx butterflies release a chemical called bombycol. As little as 100 molecules is sufficient to evoke a sexual response from a Bombyx male. **Why didn't you get out of there before he...** Is it possible I was rendered helpless by a mere odor? Oh God, if Mulder hadn't... **Get *off* her!** I am going to be sick. I roll down my window a crack, let in some fresh air. "You okay, Scully? You're looking a little green around the gills." I'm fine, Mulder. Quit looking at me. Another wave of nausea rolls through my gut. I swallow my mortification, and lower my window a bit more. "If you could change genders, Scully, would you do it?" Oh, brother. "Mulder, it *is* possible to change genders." His eyes brighten. He's either thinking I believe his cockamamie theory about the Kindred, or else he's contemplating a sex-change operation. Fine. You wanna talk SRS, Mulder? "Gender dysphoria is treatable by orchiectomy, penectomy, vaginoplasty--" "Scully..." His brow buckles and his hand moves to his lap. "I'm not talking about surgery." "Oh." "What if...what if you could, you know, do it anytime you wanted, just by...um..." "Wishful thinking? Magic? The answer would be no, Mulder. I'm perfectly happy the way I am." He chews on this for a minute. "Well, I'd try it," he finally says. "Just to see how the other half..." He hitches a bit in his seat. "You wouldn't be curious?" Now it's my turn to stare out the windshield; I scour the road ahead for some sign of wherever the hell we are. Are we even going in the right direction? Why does everything look so goddamn unfamiliar this morning? "Mulder...?" "Hmm?" Is he smiling? If he's smiling, I'm gonna punch his-- "What do you plan...uh...to write in your report?" "We saw a crop circle, Scully. An honest-to-God crop circle. Has this been a great trip, or what?" He flashes me an extremely attractive grin. Lordy, he's handsome. I have a sudden urge to... Pheromones? "Mulder, pull over -- I'm going to throw up again." THE END Author's notes: When I heard from a cyberpal that she had won an opportunity to meet David Duchovny at the "Evolution" premiere in Sydney, Australia, I asked her to pleeeease take an inconspicuous whiff of him for me while she shook his hand (hey, I'm not too proud to live vicariously through others, and she was more than willing). Well, we were both a tad disappointed to discover he had no detectable scent whatsoever. I suppose it's nice that he practices good hygiene, but still, there's nothing quite like a little androstenone to make a girl go weak in the knees.