From: Laura Herold <76021.3043@CompuServe.COM> Subject: Dana Meets Jake (X-Files/Red Shoes) Date: 11 Aug 1995 02:51:38 GMT The author acknowledges the copyrights of Chris Carter, et al., in association with "The X-Files," Zalman King, et al., in association with "Zalman King's Red Shoe Diaries," and Daphna Kastner, et al., in association with "Julia Has Two Lovers." No copyright infringement is intended. This is an X-Files/Red Shoe Diaries crossover. Comments are welcome. Dana Meets Jake by Laura Herold Dana Scully walked into the diner, took a seat at the counter, and sighed. Tomorrow she was going back to DC, and she wasn't ready for her vacation to end. "What'll it be?" the waitress asked. "Just coffee," she said. A man walked into the diner and headed over to the mailboxes on the far wall. She watched as he opened one of the boxes and pulled out a wad of mail. Then he took a seat away from everyone. She knew she should probably mind her own business, but something about him interested her, attracted her in a way. He was good-looking, but there was an aura about him that was even more compelling. She had been playing little cat-and-mouse mind games with Mulder and the rest of the DC crew for years, and she really needed to talk to someone who wasn't part of the government or a member of her family. She picked up the cup the waitress had brought, walked over to a stool near him, and sat down. He didn't look at her. What could she say as an icebreaker? she wondered. "Nice weather," she said, wondering if she could have possibly come up with anything more inane. He looked past her out the windows. "Yeah," he said. "I'm Dana," she said, feeling like she was in high school. He started shuffling his mail together. "I've really got to go," he said, and she noticed a sad look in his eyes. "No, I'm the intruder here," she said, figuring this was just a big mistake. She stood up. "I'll go. I didn't mean anything by this." She turned to walk away. "I'm Jake," he said. She turned back, and he held out his hand to her. She shook it and sat down on the stool. "I'm sorry about how I acted," he said somewhat sheepishly. "I met a woman here, and it turned out..." he trailed off, looking down at his letters. "It turned out badly." "I'm sorry to hear that," she said. Their eyes met, and for a moment he reminded her of Mulder. There was pain in him, deep emotional pain like there was in Mulder. She also sensed kindness and gentleness, and that he would share with Mulder as well. He looked away. "I wasn't trying to pick you up," she said, trying to smooth things over. "It's OK," he said. "I just have a hard time meeting people. I seem to have a stab-me-in-the-back sign pointing at me." "I don't see it," she said. He smiled. "You're not from around here, are you?" he asked. "No, I'm on vacation from DC." She sipped her coffee and wondered about the back-stabbing remark. "I suppose you're a government spy," he said with a trace of sarcasm. "Close. FBI." He seemed surprised. "Really?" "Really. You want to see my ID?" "No, I believe you." She looked at the letters in his hand, all of which were addressed to "Red Shoes" at the post office box. He noticed her looking at them, and he turned them over. "I'm not a shoe salesman," he said. "Why would I think that?" "Red Shoes. People think that." "The people who write you?" "No," he said, looking away. OK, there's something weird with the letters, she thought, but she let it drop. "What *do* you do?" she asked. "I'm an architect." "I've never met an architect before." "I've never met an FBI agent before." "You're lucky. They're not much fun." He was silent for a moment, and she wondered if he was wondering if asking her something would be an invasion of privacy. "I'm an open book," she said. "Ask anything you want." "It just sounds like you've got a story to tell. If you do, I'd like to hear it." "Let's get out of here." ********************** They just walked, her talking and him listening. He was a good listener: He didn't interrupt or ask stupid questions. She found herself talking about things as if she had known him for years. She told him about being a woman in the male-dominated FBI; about the X-Files cases; about Skinner, Cancer Man, and Krychek; and about Mulder. In the end she even touched on Duane Barry, something she never talked about. Finally she was talked out, and they just stood on a pier looking at the water in silence. "You call your partner by his last name?" he said out of nowhere. It seemed strange to her that he would single that out. "He prefers that," she said. "He calls me by mine." "That doesn't bother you?" She shook her head. "It was a little strange at first, but now it just seems... natural." They lapsed into silence again, watching the water ripple. "You should tell him how you feel, Dana," he said. "Life is short. It's too damn short to hide things from the people we care about." She looked at him. "Are you OK, Jake?" He sighed. "I lost the woman I loved," he said. "She decided to commit suicide rather than tell me about an affair." He shook his head. She put her hand over his. "I'm so sorry, Jake," she said. "I wish there was something I could do." He looked at her earnestly. "There is. Talk to Mulder. Talk *to* him, not at him, Dana," he said. "And call him Fox. He probably needs it." There was another brief silence. Finally she said, "Are you alone, Jake?" He didn't look at her. "I have Stella," he said. "Who's Stella?" "My dog." She sighed. "What is Red Shoes?" He put his hand over the pocket where he had stuffed the letters. "Nothing," he said. She was afraid he meant it. "Could I read one?" she asked gently, not really understanding, but knowing this was important. He took the letters out and looked at them as if something about them bothered him. "I don't know," he said finally. "Just one," she said. He handed her the top letter, and she opened it. As she read it, she tried to piece it together, make sense of it. There was something about a personal ad, which was probably where the writers got the post office box from. The author of this letter rambled on about how she felt betrayed by some guy who had randomly called her. She had spent a day telling this guy all sorts of personal things about herself, and the next day she slept with him. Later she found out that he had used this scheme before. The letter was silly but disturbing. "They're all women's stories," he said. "Stories about betrayal." "What do you want this stuff for?" she asked, handing the letter back to him. He put it and the rest of the letters back in his pocket. "I want to understand, and I don't want to be alone." She thought about this business, and she didn't see how it could do him any good. "Jake, that's just nuts," she said. He looked at her, surprised. "You don't need these letters, Jake. You need to let go of this pain, to get past this. You need to let some real people into your life." He sighed. "I find it hard to trust anyone," he said. "They always have ulterior motives and secret agendas." "You sound like Mulder," she said. "But I finally got him to let me in. There's someone out there for you, Jake. This woman that your lost, that's a horrible thing. But you can't stop your life because of that. Someone is out there looking for you, but if you aren't looking too you might not find each other." He looked at her, and he smiled. "Too bad she isn't you, Dana," he said. "You'll find her, Jake. You will." She held her arms open to him, and when he came over to her she hugged him tight. Finally he pulled away. "Will you write to me, tell me how it goes with Mulder?" She cocked an eyebrow. "Why? Do you think there'll be betrayal involved?" He smiled and shook his head. He fished a business card out of a pocket and handed it to her. "Not to Red Shoes, to me." "OK," she said with a smile. She took the card and put it in her pocket. She held out her right hand to him. "Good-bye Jake, thank you for listening. Good luck." He grasped her hand firmly. "Good luck to you, Dana." Then they dropped hands, and she walked away. ---- From: Laura Herold <76021.3043@CompuServe.COM> Subject: Dana's Letter Date: 3 Oct 1995 03:20:06 GMT The author acknowledges the copyrights of Chris Carter, et al., in association with "The X-Files" and Zalman King, et al., in association with "Zalman King's Red Shoe Diaries." No copyright infringement is intended. This is a sequel to my previous X-Files/Red Shoe Diaries crossover story, "Dana Meets Jake." However, this story should stand on its own without reading the previous story. Comments are welcome (76021.3043@compuserve.com). Dana's Letter by Laura Herold Jake walked out of the diner with Stella trailing behind. It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny, and he was eager to get over to the water and take in the reflection of the sun on the waves. But that wasn't all he was thinking about. More than a month ago an attractive, endearing, redheaded FBI agent who was there on vacation had confided in him about her life. When they parted, she had agreed to write to him about how things turned out when she returned to Washington DC. He had thought about Dana Scully on and off over the ensuing weeks. She had seemed like an intelligent and emotionally complex woman, both vulnerable and strong. He had wanted to get to know her better, and, for a while, he had looked for her letter every day. But pretty soon he began to get discouraged, and eventually he gave up. He had thought he had learned a long time ago that trusting in someone, believing in someone, only led to betrayal and heartache. But something about Dana had been different. Something about her had made him want to believe. When the letter finally arrived he was so surprised to see it that for some time he had just walked around with it in his hand, afraid that if he put it down it would disappear. He hadn't opened it then: He had decided to wait until he got to the spot by the water where they had parted. It had been a long time since he had come to this spot with a letter addressed to him, a letter that was really for *him* rather than Red Shoes. For a moment the anticipation was almost scary. He thought maybe he would be better off if he just didn't open it at all. He looked down at Stella who was looking at him with expectant eyes. "What do you think, girl?" he asked. She just continued to stare at him, but he could swear she was telling him something through telepathy: Get on with it. He opened the simple white envelope carefully. There were a couple of sheets that, from the looks of them, had been printed off a computer. He leaned against the railing and looked at the pages without reading the words. Stella protested with one short, sharp bark. "OK, OK," he said. He started to read the letter aloud: Dear Jake, I'm sorry it took so long for me to get back to you. As you can imagine, I have been very busy. I hope you have been well. You must write and tell me what's up with you. Is Red Shoes still in business? Please write and tell me. Well, enough of the small talk. What you really want to know is what happened after I left you on that pier. Well, I went back to my hotel and started to really think about things... Jake continued reading and let the images form in his mind... ------ Dana sat on the bed in her hotel room and sighed. She had taken this trip away from DC, the FBI, and Mulder -- especially Mulder -- as a way to clear her head and make some decisions about her life. But it hadn't worked. She was still as confused as ever. Her feelings for Mulder had changed: There was no use denying that any longer. It was no longer friendship, concern, or "caring" that he stirred in her. It was love. She was in love with him. She closed her eyes. How had this happened? Of course Mulder was attractive, but she had maintained plenty of professional relationships with attractive men. Mulder was intelligent, clever, funny -- he was, in essence, extremely compelling. She had recently found herself unable to spend time with him without thinking about what it would be like to have his arms around her, to have his lips touching hers... That was no way to run a partnership. In the real world Mulder had never given her cause to think that he saw her as anything other than a partner and a friend. There were times when he was gentle and caring, but none of his words or actions revealed a romantic interest in her. There *had* been moments when she had seen a look in his eyes or felt a certain tension between them, and she had thought she should say something, do something. But she always let those moments pass. After all, why ruin a good thing? The answer was simple: Maybe there was something better. ********** On the plane she ordered iced tea, even though she didn't particularly like it very much. At least they didn't have sunflower seeds. She read a magazine she had picked up in the airport. It was one of those fashion magazines, the kind she usually never gave a second glance to. She was ashamed to admit even to herself that the cover line for one of the articles had led to her buying the issue. How To Snare Your Man, it read. She felt sick. She was surprised to see that the article's number one method for snaring your man was: "Tell the truth." Weren't these magazines supposed to advise you to wear low-cut tops and splash on a lot of expensive perfume? It did, just later on. So: Tell the truth. Right. She should just walk into Mulder's office and say: "The vacation was great, and by the way, I love you." Then when he gave her some embarrassed, quizzical look, she could just excuse herself and jump off the nearest bridge. She took a sip of the iced tea and nearly choked. How did Mulder drink this crap? she wondered. ********* In her apartment, she laid on the bed and stared at the TV. Maybe the magazine was right. In a way its advice was the same as Jake's had been: Talk to the guy about how you feel. She took out her cellular phone. She hesitated for a moment, but she was tired of backing down. It was time to take a chance. She dialed the number, and as it rang she experienced a moment of sheer panic when she was sure she was going to hang up. She didn't. "Mulder." "It's me." "Scully? Is something wrong?" "I was wondering if you were staying out of trouble," she said, wondering what the hell she said that for. "As much as I can." There was a moment of silence. She thought: Damn it, now is the time. "Where are you?" she asked. "At home. Why?" "I'm coming over there," she said before she even realized that was what she had decided. "What? Why?" "I'll tell you when I get there." ********* As she drove she kept thinking: Oh my God -- what am I doing? Am I really taking the advice of some trashy magazine and some guy I don't even know? But she had already set this thing in motion, and she didn't really want to stop it. Yet she continued to have second thoughts. I can still turn back, she thought. I can wait until tomorrow... ********* She pounded on his door. "Mulder!" she shouted, still pounding. "Scully?" Mulder said as he opened the door. They just looked at each other in silence for a moment. "Are you going to ask me in?" she asked. Mulder stepped aside, and she walked into the apartment. He closed the door but just stood there. She stopped in the middle of the room and faced him. Mulder looked uncomfortable. "What's going on here, Scully?" he asked. She went over to him, took his hand, and led him over to the couch. He sat down beside her. "Scully, what..." "Dana." "Dana?" "Is it OK if I call you Fox?" "Why?" "Why not?" "It's OK." She looked him square in the eyes. Tell the truth, she thought. "I love you, Fox," she said. She watched as his face broke into a smile. "Oh that," he said, looking relieved. "I've known that for a while," he said as he moved closer to her. "To tell you the truth, I feel the same way about you." ------ The letter had one more paragraph: I have to leave off there, as that's all I have time to write right now. We're on a case, and I've got things to do. Maybe if you send me a letter I'll tell you what happened next. Best wishes, Dana P.S. Say hello to Stella for me. Jake looked back over the letter and then put it in a pocket. He glanced at the water. "What do you suppose he thought she meant, Stella? Romantic love or platonic love?" Stella just looked at him with a poker face. "I hope it works out," he continued. "I really hope so. Come on. Help me come up with something to write back." Jake sifted through various ideas as he strolled down the pier. --- From: Laura Herold <76021.3043@CompuServe.COM> Subject: Dana and Fox (X-Files/Red Shoes) Date: 28 Sep 1995 03:49:21 GMT The author acknowledges the copyrights of Chris Carter, et al., in association with "The X-Files" and Zalman King, et al., in association with "Zalman King's Red Shoe Diaries." No copyright infringement is intended. This story has two X-Files/Red Shoe Diaries crossover prequels, Dana Meets Jake and Dana's Letter. I've tried to provide enough backstory early on to let this story stand on its own. Despite that, here's a very brief summary: On vacation Dana Scully met Jake from Red Shoe Diaries, and they discussed their lives and agreed to write each other (Dana Meets Jake). Jake received a letter from Scully in which she detailed her return trip to DC. The letter ended with her telling Mulder she was in love with him [meaning Mulder] (Dana's Letter). Be advised: This story contains adult innuendo. Comments are welcome (76021.3043@compuserve.com). Dana and Fox By Laura Herold Jake's letter read: Dear Dana, How nasty of you to just leave me hanging like that! Please hurry and finish the story. As for me, nothing much is new. I'm throwing myself into a big job I just acquired -- designing a new skyscraper for a local corporation. It keeps my hands busy and my mind occupied. I am continuing to put out the Red Shoes advertisement. I'm not really sure why, but the stories give me a connection and keep me grounded. They give me something to look forward to. However, I do look at them a little differently since meeting you. They seem less poignant, less real, less personally involving. I want you to know that I greatly value your friendship. I hope you and Fox find happiness. From what you've told me, it's long overdue. Sincerely, Jake ********* Dana Scully set the letter on her table and sighed. She looked at the clock. It was getting late, and she was tired. The day had been packed with activities, including an autopsy and a confrontation with the Bureau brass. If she had her druthers, she would just as soon go to bed right away rather than prolong this day any further. But it had been over a week since she had received Jake's letter, and she knew she should answer it now while she had a little time. She got up and walked over to the computer, stretching as she turned it on. She watched as the monitor came to life. Finally she took a seat in front of the keyboard. ********* Dear Jake, Thank you for your letter. It's nice to hear that everything with you is going well. Also, thank you for your kind thoughts about me. I was a little disappointed to read that you are still putting out the Red Shoes ad. I understand that it is familiar, comfortable, and safe, and we all need those types of things in our lives. However, sometimes we also need to shake things up and see how they come back together. It may not always be the way that we expect, but at least it's something new and different. If I've offended you or overstepped the bounds of our friendship, I'm sorry. I only wish the best for you. As I said when we first met, I know there's someone out there for you. You just have to have the courage to make the search. So, where did I leave things off? I had returned from the vacation, called Fox, and gone over to his apartment. He and I were sitting on the sofa, and I finally screwed up the courage to tell him I was in love with him. He had responded quite nonchalantly. It went something like this: Me: I love you, Fox. Him: Oh that. I've known that for a while. To tell you the truth, I feel the same way about you. ********* She leaned back and yawned. Closing her eyes she let her mind drift back to that night... ------- For a few seconds she sat there dumbfounded, not only by what he had said, but also by how he had said it. Finally she managed to say, "Excuse me?" He got up and walked over to the kitchen. She just watched him in disbelief. "Mulder, what..." He turned to face her. "Mulder?" She smiled. She stood up and walked into the kitchen. "Fox. What you said before.... I don't understand." "You called me out of the blue and then rushed over here. I thought something had happened.... I thought it was bad news." "It's not?" A smile spread across his face and lit up his eyes. "What did you think I would say?" he asked. "I thought you might be... surprised." "I'm not a complete fool, Dana." She liked the way he said her first name. It was strange -- but nice. "I never thought you were a fool," she said. She sighed. "You've always been so wrapped up in the cases and the conspiracies. I just thought..." "...I didn't have any feelings." She shook her head. "No. More like you didn't want to have any. They would get in the way." "They do," he said, "but I still have them." He opened one of the kitchen cabinets. She noticed there wasn't much inside: a box of crackers and a couple of cans of vegetables. She looked around at the barrenness of the kitchen and the rest of the apartment. "I was going to give this to you on your birthday," he said holding a small box in his hand. "But I want you to have it now." He held the box out to her. She took the box and looked at it, not knowing what to expect or how to react. This all felt so alien, like she had slipped into an alternate dimension where everything looked the same but nothing really was the same. She knew he was waiting. She opened the box. Inside it was a necklace, a simple gold chain bearing a pendant consisting of the most beautiful stone she had ever seen -- a large dark blue topaz -- in a gold setting. The gears in her brain screeched to a halt, and she just stared at that stone. "If you don't want it..." he began to say. "It's beautiful," she said, "but it's too expensive." "I don't care about that. If you like it, keep it." "Fox, you shouldn't..." "I love the way you say that." She was taken off guard. "What?" she asked. "That name. *My* name. I never thought I'd want to hear it. I never thought I'd want it back." They looked at each other in silence. She held the box out to him. "Will you put it on me?" she asked. He took the box, and she turned around and held up her hair. She felt him step up close to her, swing the necklace over her head, and set about doing the clasp. The feeling of his fingers on her neck sent a not unpleasant tingle through her. His hands moved to her shoulder blades. She closed her eyes. "You feel tense," he said, still standing very close to her. "Are you going to give me a massage?" she asked, a smile curling the corners of her mouth. "Do you want me to?" he asked seriously. She turned to face him, looking him in the eyes. He bent down to her, and their lips met softly and gently. She reached out to him and put her arms around him, pulling him close to her. She parted her lips and let her mind drift. Then he pulled away. "Dana, we..." he began. "It's OK, Fox. You don't have to protect me." "I just think we should take this slow. We have time..." "Maybe." "Maybe?" "Who knows what's going to happen? There might be years, or there might just be now." He walked past her out into the main room of the apartment. She just stood there in the kitchen. She walked over to the refrigerator and pulled the door open. It was about as empty as the rest of the place: cheese, milk, strawberries, an open bottle of wine. She pulled out the wine bottle and shut the door. She looked at the label: It was chardonnay. "Are you saving this?" she asked. "No, go ahead." She rinsed out a glass that had been on the counter and emptied the remaining wine into it. "I think I should make you dinner tomorrow," she said, walking back into the main room. "I don't know if..." He was on the sofa. She sat down next to him. "This doesn't have to be painful, Fox. God knows there are plenty of things that already are." "I care about you, Dana. I just want things to be right." She leaned toward him and kissed him, trying to quiet his fears. "Dana..." "Shhh." She knew he had worries, but right at that moment she didn't want to hear him say what they were. Not because she thought they were too much to overcome: She didn't think that was the case at all. It just wasn't the time for reasoning things out and going through the logical paces of an argument. That wasn't what either of them needed. She took a sip of wine and looked at the sofa. "You should get a real bed," she said. "I haven't had much use for one.... I don't sleep much." She offered him the wine, but he just shook his head. "Not sleeping is unhealthy," she said. "I know," he said, taking her hand and kissing the palm. He looked up with a smile. "How about lasagna?" "What?" "Would you make lasagna?" "Lasagna? You want me to make you lasagna?" She shrugged. "I guess I could handle that." He leaned back against the sofa. "I haven't had that in forever," he said. "They sell it ready-made these days." "That's not the same." She just looked at him and smiled. "What?" he asked. "I've never seen anyone get so excited about lasagna." "That's not the reason," he said, moving close to her, kissing her lips and her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair. He pulled back and looked at her. "You know, that looks great on you. Do you want to see it?" he asked. "Sure," she said. He took her hand and led her into the bathroom. She looked at the necklace. It did look great. "I never said thank you." "Yes, you did." She looked at him in the mirror. "Say it." "What?" She turned away, but he grabbed her arm. "I was kidding, I'm sorry." He lifted her chin and looked in her eyes. "Dana, I love you." He kissed her and pulled her into an embrace. She slid her hand under his shirt, moving it along the bare skin. "Not now," he said. "No?" "Tomorrow." "I don't want to wait." "It's one day. If we die tomorrow, what happens tonight won't matter anyway." "It won't?" "Don't be angry." "Fine," she said. She pulled away from him and headed out of the bathroom. "Are you still going to make me dinner?" he asked. She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. "Cut the crap," she said. He leaned against the bathroom doorway. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's a defense mechanism." "I know what it is," she said. "Maybe this was a mistake after all." Her hands went to the back of her neck, and she undid the clasp on the necklace. "Maybe you should take this back," she said, holding it out to him. "I don't want it back. I got it for you. If you don't want it, throw it away." She turned away from him. "Why is this such a big deal?" "You're unsure," she said, turning back to face him. "No. I know exactly what I want." "Then why wait?" "I just want this to work out. I don't want it to be a one-night stand...." She finally understood. "You're giving me time to change my mind." "No. Time to think about..." "I've spent enough time thinking about this, Fox. I've made my decision. Do you want me to change my mind?" "You're sure?" "Yes." "Then no." "No?" "No. I don't want you to change your mind." She walked back over to him. She handed him the necklace. "Will you put this on me?" He did so. "How do you like your lasagna?" "Hot," he said with a smile. "Will you stay?" "Yes." "You're still in love with me?" "Yes." "Why?" "Because I'm nuts." "Good. I didn't want to be the only one who was." "You're not alone anymore, Fox." He moved close to her and took her in his arms. "Neither are you." ------ So, Jake, I'm sure you're wondering if I ever made that lasagna. Well, I did, and I must say it turned out rather well. Fox said it was all that he had expected and more. That's about all for now. Best wishes, Dana P.S. I hope you won't mind, but I told Fox about Red Shoes. He said he wished he had thought of it. ********* The phone started ringing. She looked at the clock. 11:21. 11:22. "Hello," she said. "Sorry to call so late," Fox Mulder said. "Is everything OK?" "How are you?" "Fine." "Everything's OK." "I'll see you tomorrow." "Good night, Dana." "Good night, Fox." With a smile on her face she hung up, printed her letter, and went to bed.