The Fox and the Hare Or the Bunny Wore a Badge Chapter 6 Dana turned slowly away from her departing company with a deep sigh and made her way across her once tidy living room. Heading toward their bedroom, she felt the crunch of popcorn kernels beneath her feet and fought the urge to drag out the vacuum cleaner and suck up everything not nailed down. Right now, however, there was someone a little more important that needed her undivided attention and *he* waited for her behind the closed door. "Probably in a major funk too," she muttered, preparing herself for the dark mood he'd more than likely worked himself into. Mulder sat on the soft floral comforter covering their bed and fumed. He was angry with himself for once more contributing a dark cloud to an otherwise joyful holiday. Why couldn't he just leave well enough alone? Why did everything have to remind him of his past sorrows, crappy family life, and lingering guilt over something that he intellectually realized was not his fault? Few people were lucky enough to find someone like Dana. He still found it difficult to believe even after all these years that someone so wonderful could actually love *him,* emotional baggage, bad habits, and all. There was no reason in hell for him to be depressed, upset, or melancholy, so why did he feel a touch of all three? He was just about to go round three with himself when the bedroom door opened and Scully walked in. "Hi," Dana whispered softly and smiled. "Hi," he muttered quietly in reply as one corner of his mouth fought the upward tug of a smile. "I'm a jerk," he stated in a deliberately factual tone. "Yeah, but you're mine," she added ruefully while padding across the room. Slowly she eased herself down on the bed beside him, reached over and gently squeezed his thigh. This time the smile broke free. "You didn't have to agree so easily," he chuckled partly to himself. "Mulder?" She reached up and delicately swept away the section of rogue hair that constantly hovered over one eye. "Mulder..." she repeated, making certain that she held his undivided attention. "I want you to know that I have the utmost faith in your abilities as friend, lover, husband, and ...father. I believe in you, Fox. I believe you will face this challenge with the same determination and intensity that you have always had with everything else because you don't know any other way. I will help you. You know that don't you?" "Yes, yes I know that...It's just...I'm so gut-wrenchingly terrified," he finally admitted, "I'm so damn scared of making a mistake. Scully, I don't know what the hell I'm doing. That was really stupid...teaching kids how to gamble. What a lame thing to do. It just seemed fun and I didn't see any harm. What if my judgement is always suspect? I just don't want to screw up," he sighed. Dana patted the thigh under her hand. "You're going to screw up. I'm going to screw up. That's life, Mulder. You make mistakes and you learn. I think our children will survive. Stop giving yourself needless anxiety. There will be enough of the real thing when the time comes." "Oh thanks for the upbeat pep talk, Scully, that makes me feel soooo much better.. My own personal cheerleader. As always...I owe you." "Yes you do. Now how am I going to exact payment?" "I'm all yours. Do with me what you will," he leered. "Is that a promise?" she asked coyly. "Cross my heart," he replied seductively. "Stay right there," she ordered. Quickly, she jumped off of the bed and ran, or rather, bounced out the door. Mulder eyed her suspiciously. Something's up and he wasn't certain he liked the way she'd maneuvered him into a promise. She knew he'd never renege on a promise. It was that damn honor' thing. Aunt Carol had said there was always an inbred Scottish thing about honor' and he'd just have to learn to live with it. Needless to say, his father wasn't Scottish. If he had been, maybe he could have avoided a whole lot of grief. Dana returned through the door with a large box and from that large box, she pulled out something very large white and fluffy. It took a few seconds for the object and her intent to register in his brain and a few more seconds longer than that before he could find his voice. Jumping up suddenly, he bellowed, "No! No way, no how, nah uh, not in a million years. You're kidding...right?" "Fox...please? You promised. The children will be so disappointed," she said sadly, her bottom lip slightly protruding. Shit, he owed her his life many times over and if it took a freaking bunny suit to make her happy, well so be it. He realized suddenly that he'd don the fucking ass end of a donkey suit and bray like a mule in the middle of Grand Central Station if it'd put a smile on her face. Christ, when did he become so pussy whipped? Who cared. Come to think of it, he kinda like those two words in the same sentence...hmm. "Fox," she called his name again since he seemed to be elsewhere and not listening. "Hmm, what?" He looked at her with a startled expression. "The costume, Fox. Please?" she pleaded, then held her breath. "Yeah, right...okay," he replied reluctantly. "But..." he added belligerently, "We leave at five in the morning while it's still dark. If I have to travel in this get up, the fewer people who see it, the better. Deal?" "Deal," she agreed. "Now," he drawled with his smokey heavy-lidded hazel eyes peering from what had become narrowing slits of desire, "what kind of reward do I get for being so magnanimous?" "I'm sure you can think of something imaginative, can't you?" "Oh Scully, imagination is my middle name. How's about giving Ol' Thumper here some inspiration," he growled with a ferocity that reminded her of the big bad wolf. Oh yeah, Scully thought as reached for the lamp and turned out the light, this is good...this is very good. Red riding hood...eat your heart out. Night Moves Motel Washington, D.C. Earl March paced back and forth across the littered floor of the dirty, little room like a cat in a cage. Things were not looking up for him and his less than brilliant brother, Harley. D.C. seemed like such an uppity town. Stupid place required a diploma just to pick up the damn garbage or sweep a floor and Earl quickly discovered that the nation's capitol had little to offer two country boys with a tenth grade education. Harley couldn't take it any more. Earl's constant movement was making him dizzy. "Hey, Earl, plant it somewhere, will ya? All this draggin' your ass up one side an down tuther is makin' me wanna puke. We still got five bucks ya know. I mean it hain't like we're broke or nuthin'" "Five bucks? Five fuckin' lousy bucks?" Earl snarled, "Five bucks wouldn't buy horseshit at the rodeo." "Uh, Earl...Why'd ya wanna buy horseshit?" Harley asked with a puzzled expression. "Jesus H. Christ, Harley, sometimes I'ma wonderin' ifin' one of them Caleb County morons hadn't done snuck into the hospital an switched ya at birth cause there hain't no way in hell I could have a brother dumber than sheep shit." Earl shrugged his shoulders and hung his head with a sigh. "It's a figur of speech, Harley," Earl explained patiently like he was talking to a child. "It jus means that five bucks don't buy nuthin' Okay?" "Shit, Earl," Harley complained, "hain't no need to get nasty. Guess we're jus gonna have to borry some dough from that Stop and Shop' up the street. You got daddy's gun?" Earl pulled at his hair in exasperation. "No, Harley, I'ma gonna stick up the place with a fuckin' sling shot. Yeah, I got the gun. It's even got a couple a bullets in it too so I'm doin' the holdin' up. You'd probably shoot yer fool foot off." Harley picked his nose and wiped the offending booger off on his ratty jeans. "Damn it, Harley," Earl grumbled while swatting his brother's hand away from his clothes, We hain't never gonna be respectable type people if ya keep doin' gross stuf like that. Quit boogerin' up yer clothes. For god's sake...use yer arm." "When we gonna make the withdrawl?" Apparently lost in thought, Earl mumbled, "Oh, early mornin' I guess --maybe 5 or 6 o'clock. Not many descriminatin' shoppers wanderin' the aisles on Easter mornin' so everythin' should come off quick and easy. I wanna go home, Harley. I've had my fill of D.C. and it sucks Big Time. Go to sleep, son, cause I'm gettin' yer lazy ass outta bed at 4 am. Mulder Residence 4:30 A.M. One dainty hand reached out from beneath the covers and abruptly silenced the blaring sounds of the Red Hot Chili Peppers' that had awakened her from blissful sleep. Rolling over, she silently considered the unnatural beauty of the man who was snuggled beside her, clutching his pillow possessively to his bare chest. She smiled contentedly. Mulder had once again proven the limitless boundaries of his fertile imagination. He was wrong, though, she thought with amusement. "Imagination" should undeniably be his *first* name not his middle one. Each time she thought she knew everything about him, he would surprise her. He'd stirred responses in nerve endings she'd not even known existed. Fox was a drug and she was a hopeless addict who prayed that a *cure* would never be found. At first she had been concerned that her increasing girth would hamper the more sensuous aspects of their relationship but now she realized that her fears were unfounded. Last night had been proof enough of that. Snaking her hand toward him, Dana lightly slid one fingertip down his arm causing it to twitch in response. When that failed to awaken him, she wet her lips and suckled on the male nubbin of a nipple closest to her and chuckled at the resulting jerk of his body. Letting her eyes travel up his lean form, her gaze finally came to rest on two lazy eyes still heavy with sleep. "Rise and shine, Mulder," she greeted him happily. Mulder grunted sleepily, rolled away from her, and relocated the pillow from his chest to over his head. "Fox, come on. Get up! You're the one who wanted to get this over with early," she reminded the lump that was curled up under the sheet. All she got for her effort was a muffled, "sure, fine...whatever." "Okay, you asked for it," she muttered softly as she reached over, grabbed the sheet, and yanked it down toward his ankles and off the bed. "I SAID... get up, G-Man!" Mulder rolled over onto his back with a weary sigh, "You're a mean and heartless woman, Scully," he moaned with resignation, "and in case you haven't noticed...I *am* up." Oh, she noticed all right. An early morning hard-on that impressive would be nearly impossible to overlook and although making good use of such an opportunity was incredibly tempting, going down that road right now would definitely cost them precious time. If he wanted to get to her mother's before daylight, they'd have to leave in half an hour. Experience had taught her that the term "quickie" just didn't exist in Fox Mulder's vocabulary so she reluctantly shoved his ass out of bed. "Go to the bathroom, Fox. We don't have time to remedy the problem creatively." The sleepy, rumpled man slowly fumbled his way toward the bathroom and blindly bumped into the door frame on the way in. "Do I really have to do this?" he asked pathetically over the sound of running water. "Yes," she yelled back, then chuckled quietly to herself. "I was afraid you were going to say that," he mumbled while emerging from the cloud of steam that he'd created like a ship escaping the shroud of a fog bank. Ambling over to the vanity chair, he hauled up the furry white suit and inspected the costume with complete and utter disdain. "What am I supposed to wear under this...this...*thing*?" he asked in his most annoying, whiny voice. "And don't say boxers' because we both know the remains of mine are all on their way to the local landfill," he added grimly. Dana bit back a giggle, retrieved a set of clothes from their dresser, and placed them in his free hand. Try running shorts and a T-shirt. I'll bring a change of clothes for you in the car. I imagine it will get a little warm in there," she said, pointing to the suit, "so the less clothes, the better. Now will you please get dressed? It's getting late." Mulder dutifully slipped into his shorts and T-shirt then cautiously stepped into his furry prison. "Gee, Scully, What form of humiliation do you have planned for me on Halloween?" "Quit complaining, Mulder, or the Easter Bunny will be a fond memory...How does Marilyn Manson sound?" "Oh, right," he snorted, "put me in a fucking corset, garter belt, fishnet stockings with my ass cheerily greeting an unsuspecting public. Really, Dana, I don't think the world at large is ready for Fox Mulder in drag. "Why not? I for one think you've got a great ass," she said narrowing her eyes and licking her lips. After several minutes of fruitless struggle, he finally managed to get the damn costume on. No thanks to Dana's distractions. There was one minor problem, however... Dana was silent witness to the duel between man and bunny and from her point of view, bunny was winning. She resisted the urge to intervene until he could overcome his ego and stubbornness enough to ask for help...at least that's what she tried to tell herself. In actuality, the whole scenario was just entirely to much fun to watch...to stop. Finally, Mulder hunched his shoulders forward in defeat. You need help with this, he finally admitted to himself. He eyed her confident stance of superiority, arms crossed...foot tapping. Okay, that's not quite fair, he rationalized. She shouldn't have had to maneuver you into this. She *should* have been able to ask you to do this without feeling the need for subterfuge or coercion, he reminded himself guiltily. He was adorable... absolutely, positively adorable. This was an A number one Kodak moment and she'd be damned if she'd miss it. He had been so wrapped up with the Easter Bunny war that he hadn't noticed her trek to the closet to retrieve the camera. The bright flashes of light caught Mulder by surprise and he nearly fell over his extra large bunny feet. Dana snapped off the rest of the pictures, took the roll from the camera and expertly palmed it under a pillow. "Blackmail material, Mulder," she laughed while his rapidly blinking eyes tried to clear away the floating black splotches in front of his eyes. "Those pictures will never see the light of day," he vowed with certainty, "and I promise sweet revenge if by some miracle they do. Now if it's not too much trouble, could you find time out of your paparazzi career to zip this blasted thing up? Why in the hell they put the zipper in the back is beyond me. You'd think I was wearing a f....crummy evening gown or something." Dana walked across the room and stepped behind him. "Mulder, you're going to have to get on your knees," she informed him. One eyebrow crawled upward beneath his unruly hair. "Just what are you proposing now? Need I remind you that as *the* Easter Bunny any and all questionable behavior would be contradictory to the overall innocence of the myth...however, certain exemptions' can be made if such...behavior is with an adult bunny admirer and out of the immediate view of minors?" She grabbed a handful of tush as he lowered himself to the floor. "Don't get melodramatic. You're too tall and I can't climb on a chair to zip you up." Mulder cringed at the sound of the zipper being drawn up and he suddenly felt very claustrophobic. It was the same sound he'd heard at crime scenes when they sealed up the body bags. Think nice thoughts. He stood up awkwardly and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the floor length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Dana nodded her head in approval. "You look wonderful!" she exclaimed. Mulder studied his reflection one more time trying to see if she saw something that he didn't. "I *feel* ridiculous," he complained. "Yes, but the children will love it," she replied cheerfully. "They better," he grumbled. She turned him around slowly, reached up and tried to straighten one floppy ear that persistently drooped down over his forehead and over one eye. "Figures," she said with a grin. "Now all we have to worry about is the make-up." Mulder looked down at her in alarm. "I was just kidding about being in drag...make-up? What make-up?" Dana looked back up to him with surprise written plainly on her face. "Well, you honestly didn't think you could appear to the children in a bunny suit with a Mulder face.' did you?" she asked sternly while dragging him over and planting his puffy little bunny bottom on the bed. Actually, he didn't really have sufficient time to think that far ahead. "Well...uh...no, I guess not," he hedged. "Just sit still, relax, and don't talk," Dana said in a tone that demanded compliance , "this will only take a few minutes." Mulder sighed, "seems like you've done this before." "Yes," she said with a gentle smile, "every Easter for the last twelve years and Bill was every bit as fidgety as you. Hold still, damn it" Washington Ave 5:30A.M. Two lone shadows crouched behind an overflowing dumpster a block away from the 24 hour Stop and Shop. The roads were deserted except for an occasional car. The ever-present wino sat drunkenly on the curb outside the little store and studied the hole patterns on the soles of his dirty shoes. "You sure bout' doin' this, Earl? Hain't this kinda dangerous?" Earl suddenly cleared his throat, turned and spit a hocker into the alley behind them. "The way I see it, we hain't got a hell of a lot of choices here, Harley. We need money and they have it," he explained, pointing to the store. "Ya remember that Robin Hood story ma used to tell us?" Harley smiled in remembrance. "Yeah, sure I do. What's that gotta do with us?" Earl pulled out the gun and rechecked the bullets for the hundredth time. "Well, they's the rich and we's the poor...but not fer much longer," he snickered. "Hey Earl?" "What is it now?" Earl responded, annoyed beyond reason. He was losing patience at an alarming rate and if Harley kept up with these stupid questions, he'd might be forced to reduce his bullet supply by one. "Ya sure you know how ta use that there gun?" "I wouldn'ta brung the damn thing ifin' I didn't, stupid. Cain't be that hard a thing to do. Ya jus point it and pull the trigger. Besides, I hain't gonna hafta really shoot it anyways." Earl gazed at the store impatiently. "How long can that damn bum look at his fuckin' shoes? As soon as he leaves we can get this over with." "Why we gotta wait fer the wino?" "Jesus, Harley, hain't ya ever heard of witnesses?" "Well, sure, but hain't the cashier a witness too?" "Idiot! We'll be wearin' masks." "We got masks?" "Yeah, Harley," Earl replied patiently..."We got masks. Here..." He hissed, taking something from beneath his shirt and handing it to his brother. Harley fumbled with the object and looked up with confusion. "This here looks like a tater sack." "That's cause it *is* a dang tater sack. Good grief. Just cut eye holes in the thing with yer knife and stick it over your head. Drunk's gone. You ready?" "Yeah, guess so." "Okay, let's go," he growled, the words muffed behind the cloth bag. "What'd ya say Earl?" Earl moaned in frustration and lifted the bottom of the sack up to speak. "I *said,* Come on, Pinhead." "Oh." Mulder residence 5:00 A.M. Mulder stood paralyzed in the front doorway of the house like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Finally finding his voice, he hissed crankily, "Turn off your goddamn brights, Scully. I'm not doing a song and dance here so douse the spotlight, Okay? Oh yeah, ha! ha! Very funny. In this get up all I need are mean dogs and moving vehicles. Give a guy a break, will you?" Nice touch, Dana. Just wake up the whole neighborhood while your at it...just place a huge neon sign over the porch saying Harvey lives here.'" Dana gave a snort as she slid out of the driver's seat of the car and walked up through the shadow to the front steps. "Where's your sense of humor, G-man?" "I left it with the cute' lil' ol' cottontail that you so adeptly closed in the bathroom door," he whispered in a low menacing voice. "Come on Fox, it was an accident," she said withholding a guffaw that was just begging to be set free. "Stop complaining, it's better than a stina henda luk.'" "A what?" "A stone behind the ear," she winked. "You've been hanging around Aunt Carol again, haven't you? Better watch yourself or innocuous Scottish phrases will be the least of your problems. You'll start keeping goats in the kitchen, booze in the fish tank, and sticking your nose into everybody's business. I'm lucky the only thing that got stuck in door was a piece of fuzz or we'd definitely have a limited family base." Just quit stalling and get in the damn car, Mulder. It's no big deal. The safety pin will hold your tail on until we get to mom's so just chill out." "Easier said than done," he grunted as he carefully lowered himself into the passenger seat, slowly pulling his long legs and enormous feet into the car after him. He just heard the car door click shut when Dana shouted, "Mulder wait!" He couldn't hear her voice through the closed window so he clumsily rolled it down. "What?" he asked, his voice cracking like a nervous teenager on his first date. "Did my tail come off again?" Dana smiled. "No, but your right ear is closed in the door." Mulder fumbled with the door handle and finally managed to free the captive ear. "Does Bill have this much trouble?" he asked tiredly. "No, but then he's had twelve years to practice. You're just an...apprentice bunny," she pointed out. "Oh gee thanks, Scully. I feel much better now." "Don't mention it," she replied over her shoulder as she walked around the front of the car and got into the drivers' seat. Stop and Shop Washington, DC 5:20 A.M. "All right Mr...." Earl squinted at the man's name tag. "Roberson, jus do what I tells ya an everythin will be jus fine and dandy." Earl waved the gun toward the cash register and ordered the man to open the drawer. "All I need is a couple hundred bucks. Ya can keep the rest. I hain't a greedy man. I jus need what I need. Anybody comin?" he asked the other man who was looking over his shoulder. "Don't see nobody yet, Earl," Harley answered. Earl elbowed him in the ribs and whispered under his breath, "Christ almighty, you moron, why don'tcha jus give the man our fuckin' address while yer at it." "I'm sorry. It jus slipped out," Harley cried out in apology. "Well, jus slip it back in, damn it." "As I was sayin'" Earl continued, returning his attention to the clerk, Open the damn drawer and gimme the money." The frightened man stood motionless, watching as Earl carelessly waved the gun around as he spoke. "What'sa matter," Earl asked. "Ya don't speak English or somethin?" He pointed at the register with the gun and repeated, "I said, Open the damn drawer!" "I...I...can't," stuttered Mr. Roberson, "not unless I make a sale," he added. Earl looked annoyed. "Listen. Ifin' I had the goddamn money ta buy somethin,' I wouldn'ta be needin' to do this...now would I?" Mr. Roberson nodded nervously. "No sir, I guess not but you see the machine won't open unless I make a sale. I don't have a key." Earl looked over at Harley. "Go find somethin' ya wanna buy and make it quick, son," he instructed. Harley nodded and roamed down one of the dusty aisle. "Hey, the beef jerky looks real tasty. No...maybe some of them moonpies...or a couple YooHoos," Harley yelled across the store. Earl dropped his elbow to the counter and rested his forehead briefly on hammer of the gun. "Hit don't matter, you pea brain, jus pick somethin'...anythin' and come on," Earl spit out sharply, his voice betraying his irritation. Harley came to the front of the store with an armful of potato chips, beef jerky, a box of moonpies, two YooHoos, and a couple chocolate Easter Bunnies. "This Okay?" he asked. "It jus fine," Earl growled, "put it on the counter an let's get this over with...plu....eeese." Mr. Roberson shakily began ringing up the merchandise. Mulder's Car Washington, D.C. 5:20 A.M. Mulder gasped in pain. "Ow....shit." Dana jerked a sideways glance in his direction. "What? What's wrong?" "You want to know what's wrong? Do you?" he asked through a grimace. "Yes, Mulder. Yes, I want to know. I have an inquiring mind. Do tell me," she replied in exasperation. "Okay, I'll tell you. I think your temporary patch job on the bunny tail was just that...temporary. Something painfully sharp is jabbing me in the ass and I guarantee... it's Not pleasant. I've always wanted to try acupuncture but this isn't exactly what I had in mind, thank you very much." Dana sighed. This was almost more trouble than it was worth. "We're going to have to stop for soda anyway since Someone decided it would be great fun to drink *everything* we bought for the party. What were you thinking...giving all that soda to a bunch of kids?" "Oh now it's all my fault," his words grated belligerently. "If the shoe fits....Oh...maybe not," she snickered looking down at his furry feet. Mulder took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. Let's just pull over to that Stop and Go and pick up some soda, okay?" As they pulled into the parking lot, Mulder caught a flash of metal from what appeared to be two customers at the check out. "Oh fucking shit! Why does this crap always happen to me...Huh? Just one goddamn day ...just one day. Dana, 211 in progress. Call for back up," he snarled, grabbing his gun clumsily from the glove compartment, while trying to extricate his bulk from the confines of the car. "Mulder, you're a bunny," she reminded him as he made his way toward the store entrance. "Yeah, and I'm one really pissed off mother fucker of a rodent too...Bugs Bunny with an attitude. I don't need this," he complained quietly. Scully grabbed the cell phone and contacted 911. Why in the hell did they want her damn badge number? She didn't have time for their bureaucratic bullshit protocols. Her partner was going into a possibly explosive situation and she belonged by his side not wasting time on the fucking phone. Stop and Go Washington, D.C. 5:22 A.M. Mr. Roberson finished ringing up the merchandise. "That'll be 10.48." Earl shoved his free hand in his pocket and brought out a five dollar bill. "This is all I got." He slammed the bill on the counter. "Now open the fuckin' drawer." "But it won't open if the amount tendered isn't more than the sale," Mr. Roberson explained. Earl was totally out of patience. "I don't give a fuck. Type in somethin' and get it open or I'mma gonna open it the hard way with yer head. Got it, jack?" Earl shouted, waving the gun at the man's head. "Whatever you say mister," Mr. Roberson said with a shaking voice. The drawer came open about the same time as a big white blur busted through the front door. "Federal Agent! Drop your weapon," the big white thing yelled. Harley spun around and froze but Earl kept his focus on the terrified clerk in front of him, the gun visibly shaking in his hands.. "Hey Earl?" "What?" Earl screamed. "It's the goddamn Easter Bunny and he's got a gun and says he's a Fed. "Earl?' Harley paused, "this hain't fair. How come we cain't get a job cause we got no diploma but the goddamn government hire's the fuckin Easter Bunny?" "Is this a trick question, Harley or you been into the rot gut again. Hain't I told ya about drinking that shit? Any brains ya got musta leaked out yer ear." "I'd listen to him if I were you, *Earl,* a low sarcastic voice replied. This bunny's got a badge, he's had a real crappy weekend, and he'd sure hate to finish it off by wacking two escapees from Green *Fucking* Acres. Turn around slowly and drop the fucking, goddamn gun you stupid shithead." Earl slowly turned around and stared in disbelief before dropping the gun on the floor. Unfortunately, it was an old gun that fired off a round when it hit the ground. Four men dove for the floor as the bullet ricocheted off the drink machine, went through a Bud barrel and whizzed over Mulder and into an Easter display, breaking a large bottle of vinegar that dribbled the foul smelling stuff all over the fur on top of Mulder's head. The building was suddenly alive with blue uniforms and one very worried red head. "Mulder, are you okay?" she yelled worriedly as she ran to his side. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... fu..." he stopped with his mouth partially open and emitted a sound that fell somewhere between a sqeak and a moan. "Fine. Did the D.C. cops apprehend the Ziffel Twins'? I'll bet one of them is named Arnold but right now...I couldn't say which." Dana wrinkled her nose as she stooped beside him on the floor. "God Mulder, you smell like a tub full of Massengil Mulder let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Just take a deep cleansing breath, he told himself, and everything will be a okay. Dana studied the love of her life as he sat, sprawled on the convenience store linoleum, adrift in a small lake of Mussleman's vinegar. He was rumpled, wet, and reeked to high heaven but he was safe. The only apparent injury that she could detect was possibly... wounded pride which was a hell of a lot easier to repair than the usual array of physical maladies that ordinarily followed a stupid Mulder stunt.' Silently, she said a prayer of thanksgiving and leaned in close to him. "Gonna get up, G-Man or sit there and pickle'?" "Well," he began then shut his mouth and shifted position. "I would be more than happen to oblige except for one teeny tiny little problem," he stated in a frustrated grumble. "And what might that be?" she asked with a grin. In response to her question, he struggled in vain to get big bunny feet under his body for leverage but the size of the feet and the liquid condition of the floor made him slip and he dropped back down to the hard surface with a resounding thud. "I'm like an overturned beatle and I can't get off this *fucking* floor!" he blurted out with embarrassment. Five minutes later with the help of Dana and two of D.C.'s finest, Mulder was once again standing awkwardly upright. "Thanks guys," Fox muttered, his face still a lovely shade of red. "Hey, I'm an animal lover," Officer MacDowell chuckled, "anything for our furry friends' over at the Hoover Building," he added with a smile. "Oh," Officer Bryson stated as he turned to leave, "Don't forget to follow us down to the station to fill out the paperwork and file your report," he snickered with delight. "What??!!" Mulder sputtered. "Can't it wait until later? I've got a half dozen kids waiting at her mother's house," he said, pointing to Dana. "No, I'm sorry, Agent Mulder. We need the report. I'm sure it won't take long and you can be hippity hopping on your way in no time." "Great, just Great." "Okay, fine," Mulder replied, "but if I have to write the damn report and fill out the forms, I at least want the pleasure of arresting the son of a bitch responsible for the harassment and corny rabbit jokes that I *know* are going to follow me around for the next several years when this gets out...and it will," he groused. "Hey Earl," Harley jabbed at his brother with one cuffed hand, "That there bunny rabbit is headin this way." Mulder tapped Earl on the shoulder with one paw. "Mr. Earl March," a gravelly, menacing voice floated over the prisoner's shoulder. Earl turned around slowly and frowned. God help him...Harley was right. The rabbit *was* a Fed. "You have the fucking right to keep your trap shut. Anything you say can and will come back and kick you in the ass if this disaster should by some small miracle make it to a goddamn court of law. You have the right to have a fancy ass high priced lawyer present while I try and find out what in the hell is going on here but by the look of things I don't think there's a chance in hell that's going to happen so I guess my tax money is going to be squandered trying to find a low-life son of a bitch to get you out on a goddamn mother-fucking technicality. Do you by chance have enough gray matter left in that vacuum tube brain of yours to understand what I just said?" Dana winced. That was the oddest interpretation of the Miranda rights she'd heard yet. Earl grinned from ear to ear. "He's the first damn person who's made any sense in this whole god forsakin town since I had the misfortune to end up here. Yep. I gottcha Mr. Fed Rabbit." MacDowell stared at Mulder, his mouth held tightly in a thin line as he tried unsuccessfully to swallow his laughter then just gave up and belly-laughed until his aching lungs threatened to give up the ghost. Turning to Bryson, he commented with a gasp, "Eloquent ain't he?" "Yeah...for a fucking Bunny," Bryson replied with barely controlled mirth. His wife would never believe this one. 23rd Precinct Washington, D. C. The noise level in booking was reaching a decibel that even the hardened veteran D.C. detectives found unbearable. Arrested gang members struggled against their captors and shouted obscenities to each other in graphic detail. Prostitutes dissed each other and propositioned the desk sergeant and anyone else who would listen while a parade of humanity clashed in a melting pot of technicolor hair, tatoos, and body piercings that strained the imagination. Captain Charles Morgan looked out over the melee and rubbed his temples for the zillionth time. Holidays were the pits. Every freak, toady, and psycho seemed to be out and it appeared that every single one of them had found there way to his station. He had a headache. A BIG headache that nothing short of a coma would relieve. Lucky for him and his command ... he had only an hour left to go of this shit and he'd be home snuggled in bed with his new wife of 5 months. "Just get me through another hour," he prayed out loud, "without incident," he added as a precaution. Over the din he heard a familiar voice, "Just shut the fuck up, will you? Please?" the voice pleaded. Captain Morgan looked up with dread toward the sound of the voice. It wasn't that he didn't like Mulder. He did. It was just that Mulder always required extra effort and at this time of the morning with an hour to go, Fox Mulder just wouldn't be a welcomed sight. To his dismay, what he did see made him blink his eyes and look again. A large white rabbit lumbered through the bullpen...a clearly irritated rabbit, followed by a short little red head with a suspiciously round belly. "Will you shut up?" the rabbit squeaked to one of the ratty individuals he was leading to the booking section. "Alls I asked was ifin you got a diploma or somethin. Me and Earl tried to get jobs but nobody would hire us cause we got no schoolin. What kinda schoolin does a bunny git to be workin fer the US government?" Harley asked in awe. Mulder threw up his hands. "I've got a fucking doctorate in psychology...Okay?!! I'm a doctor. That's D...O...C...T...O...R. Is that good enough for you? Now will you please put a sock in it?" he yelled. Suddenly the room was so quiet you could hear a debutante fart. Those individuals on drugs were more than certain that they'd finally gone over the edge and those who weren't were just as certain that they needed to be as the big white Easter Bunny turned over his charges to the booking officer. "Mulder? Mulder is that you?" Morgan asked. Mulder turned around and would have cringed if the suit would have allowed for the movement. "Yeah..." Fox mumbled under his breath. Captain Morgan slid out from behind his desk, squeezed through the sea of bodies and stood in front of his friend. "Mulder...it *Is* you! Like your new choice in wardrobe. Is this a new Armani or are you buying off the rack now?" "It's Bill Blaas's new spring line," Mulder replied tongue in cheek, "trendy and overstated yet basically traditional. However, I must admit that my chances of becoming the next poster boy for the Animal Rights Movement just went down the toilet." "Hey man, what is this anyway...Fed's night out?" "Huh...what are you talking about?" he asked, momentarily forgetting about the annoying itch building up behind his right ear and the almost painful pressure beginning to exert itself on his bladder. "That brown nosing, kiss ass suit over there has been pissing and moaning all night long that we screwed up his bust. Jerk didn't bother to tell anybody his intentions so when the neighbors called the cops, we bagged the perp. Now he's threatening to bring down the wrath of J. Edgar on our heads if we don't dance to his tune." Scully followed Morgan's gaze to a short wiry form wearing the traditional government issue suit. The man was gesturing wildly with his hands while angrily making demands and issuing orders with an air of self important pompousness that made her embarrassed to be in the F.B.I.'s employ. She nudged Mulder in the ribs and whispered, "Look partner, it's our favorite special agent in charge of inter-agency relations." Mulder turned his attention to the man in question and nearly choked. "Shit, Dana, Just what I need to start off the day...and I only thought things could get better. How optimistic of me." Captain Morgan's eyebrows rose toward his receding hairline as he fought to keep the humor out of his expression. "I take it he's not one of your most favorite people," he stated as an obvious fact. "Oh we're just buddy buddy," Mulder replied sarcastically, "the man's a moron with a badge. He's been throwing his weight around huh?" "Yep, he's threatened us with everything from obstructing a federal investigation to jaywalking. But I've got to tell you, Mulder, the collar *is* ours." Mulder nodded with understanding and Morgan got the distinct impression that the big, noisy, fish in the little pond' was about to become shark bait. He'd worked with Agent Mulder a few times on some pretty nasty cases, cases that no one else had the guts or tenacity to take on. He knew the look.' This man could take a lot of abuse from a lot of people but when he got fed up, intellect, wit, and total fearlessness merged to forge a razor sharp mental scalpel that could so efficiently carve up his opponent's psyche with such precision that nothing short of major surgery could piece it back together again. Agent Fox Mulder could be lethal if he chose to be. Lucky for most of the poor schmucks he worked with, he wasn't usually a vengeful or vindictive person and it took a lot of goading before he'd strike back. Morgan smiled as Mulder lumbered across the room to stand behind the man as he ranted. Scully looked at Captain Morgan then dropped her head, shaking it slightly from side to side while pinching the bridge of her nose to try ease the ache that was starting to build into a headache. "You know what's going to happen don't you?" she asked. "Yeah, I know," he said guiltily, "but sometimes it's such a pleasure just to watch him reduce these self righteous, ladder-climbing mental midgets to a quivering pile of gelatinous slime. It's rewarding, satisfying, and downright entertaining. Our guys can't say diddly squat to this puke so excuse me if I sic your very adept partner on his ass. This'll make their day...and yes, I admit it, mine too." "Excuse me," Mulder said politely as he tapped the agent on the shoulder, "are you always this big of an asshole or do you stay up late at night rehearsing in front of the mirror?" Agent Carter spun around ready to give a tongue lashing to who ever it was who'd had the nerve to touch him and stopped in shock. "Whaa...? he stuttered, as he looked up into the eyes of the big white rabbit. "Oh, it's you, Agent Carter," Mulder sniggered, "I assume that it's a natural talent then...Come on *Rupert,* a man of your obviously self-proclaimed genius should be able to communicate with more than one syllable phonetics. Try it again. Very slowly now, we wouldn't want you to strain any gray matter would we...that is if there's enough there to make a difference." Carter's eyes narrowed in anger then in recognition and he managed a derogatory laugh. "And what kiddie show did you escape from Alien Bunnies From Outer Space?" he sneered. Mulder raised one eyebrow and smiled amiably, "is that the *best* you can do? Originality is not one of your better qualities is it *Rupert*? Do you have any better qualities?" Mulder asked curiously. Carter fumed. "I for one am not Totally Insane unlike some people," he eyed Mulder with disgust. Mulder raised his paw' to his chin in a gesture indicating thought.' "So... I take it you don't believe in the Easter Bunny...hmmm. Guess there won't be any jelly bellies in your basket today will there *Rupert*? Muffled laughter could be heard from the blue uniforms that were crowded into the small room. As for being totally insane, well there's a possibility that's true. There are always...possibilities." Mulder's eyes became dark and clouded like a gathering storm as he edged in closer to the irritating man. "You want to find out?" he whispered confidentially. Carter instinctively backed up. "You're crazy, Mulder...a fucking looney tune." Fox smiled again. It was a sinister smile, one that betrayed hidden danger ... like a crocodile gliding beneath the water, unseen until it was too late. "Exactly," he purred quietly, "and that's what makes me your worst nightmare, you stupid fuck. Come on, use a couple of neurons. It won't hurt...much, I promise. Why wouldn't it be a good idea to piss me off?" Carter was silent, unsure of where the conversation was heading. He was thrown off by Mulder's demeanor and couldn't tell whether the man was serious or playing with his head. He didn't like the feeling of intimidation that was steadily growing in the pit of his stomach. "Oh this is really starting to get boring," Mulder huffed, "You don't piss someone off who can hurt you. That's reason number one... and believe me, I can. Insane bastards don't give a flying fuck. I'm crazy right? You said so yourself. Oh and it's not a good idea to diss the boss especially when he can hear you. It always seems that asswipes like you forget one small thing. Although I don't exercise the perogitive on a minute by minute basis, I *am* a section head with all the duties, rights and responsibilities that go along with that title. You...are not. I CAN write reprimands, issue disciplinary action and make your life a living hell should I desire to do so. Granted, I've been on the receiving end more often than the issuing one, however, not once had it been from the result of acting like a pompous ass. Let me give you some advice. If you want to go on report, at least make it worthwhile, not for stupid shit like this. Don't fuck with me. Because if you do, I will chew you up and spit you out like yesterday's chewing gum," he snarled. "Now, I want you to apologize to all these fine officers of the law for being a pain in their asses. Since you didn't appraise them of the situation, didn't issue an arrest warrant, didn't call for back up, I think I can safely say according to the FBI Handbook, Chapter 22, Sec 4, paragraph 2, you are full of shit and should you decide to pursue this idiotic course of action, A.D. Skinner will more than likely yank you out of his office by your dick...if he can find it. Do I make myself clear or do you need an interpreter?" "I'mm...mm going to call A.D. Skinner about this," Carter whined in protest. "Oh for Christ sakes, he's gonna go tell the principal. Scully have you got a quarter? I don't have any pockets." Dana reached into her pants pocket, pulled out some change and handed it to Agent Carter. "Here's a quarter. Go tell someone who cares. On second thought," she said dumping a handful of quarters into his hand, "you'll probably need a lot more than one." For the first time that morning Mulder was actually enjoying himself and began to laugh. "I couldn't have said it better myself. "She's great!" he said turning to Captain Morgan, "Isn't she great?" Mulder beamed. Morgan nodded in approval. His friend had single-handedly boosted his men's sagging holiday morale to the point that they were actually smiling. He never would completely understand the man and wasn't sure he wanted to. But he'd discovered that Mulder could play well with others and could be quite charming if he was allowed. Tonight he had made more than a few new friends in the D.C. police department and that was no easy task. "Hey Cap," Mulder yelled across the room, "I killed a whole forest filling out all of your bullshit forms...can we go now? It's getting light out and I've still got to conspicuously hide 3 or 4 dozen tye-dyed hard boiled eggs." "Yeah, get the hell out of my precinct, you goddamn troublemaker. Never thought I'd see the day," he added, shaking his head. "What?" Mulder inquired. "A domesticated Fox,'" he cajoled as he nodded his head toward Scully. "Eat shit, Morgan," Mulder said affectionately, moving toward the exit. As he walked out the door, they heard the echoing refrain of Here comes Peter Cottontail' being sung by the men in blue.. "You sure know how to make friends and influence people, Mulder," she chided him. "I live a charmed life," he remarked with a hint of sarcasm. "I'm never going to live this down. You know that." "It's okay. I love you anyway." "I appreciate that." "I knew you would." Mulder's car Back road Arlington, VA 7:30 A.M. "Stop the car, Scully." "What now?" "I just realized something important." "Okay, give me a hint." "The adrenaline's worn off and I um...have to ah...drain the snake...choke the chicken...you know... Come on Dana...I gotta pee okay?" "Why didn't you go before we left?" "I didn't have to go then. Please help me get out of this thing." "Oh for Pete's sake," she muttered as she pulled along side of the road. Bill was NEVER this much trouble. Mrs. Scully's house 8:00 A.M. "Did you hide them all, Mulder?" "No, I ate two." "You're not supposed to eat them. Hold still, you've got egg shells on your whiskers." "I was hungry. I haven't had breakfast." "You have now." "Oh that's sweet, Dana, first you try and sew fur to my back and now you starve me to death." "I told you it was an accident. It was dark and I wouldn't have had to sutcher the damn suit shut if the stupid zipper hadn't broken. I didn't know it was a local necking site and explaining to the cop what we were doing was not my idea of fun. I must admit, though, that moron's remark about never turning your back on a woman with a knife was totally uncalled for." "Oh right...telling the guy you were an M.D. and just checking me out for hernias was real swift, Scully, I'm sure he *really* believed that one." "He would have if you'd have coughed when I told you to." "Thanks for the exam, Scully." "No problem...any time." "Aaaa What's up Doc?" "You are." "In this get up...how could you tell?" "Come on Bugs, we'll discuss this later." Mulder raised and lowered his eyebrows in a bad John Belushi imitation, and muttered "Ain't I a Stinker as they wandered toward a house full of children. Fine