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An Object of Obsession

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Title: An Object of Obsession

Author: Sara B.



Rating: Good for All   

Category: MSR, Angst, Humor

Spoilers: COPS

Summary: What if a man takes an interest in Agent Dana Scully after seeing her appearance on COPS?

Feedback: You want to do it, I know you do.  Come on it is so easy!

Archive: I would be honored, just let me know.

Disclaimer:  The recognized characters are used Without Prejudice and are the property of C. Carter, Fox and the wonderful actors who breathed life into written words, most notably G. Anderson and D. Duchovny who were able to make us believe in the improbable.  No Infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.  The story and before unknown characters belongs to me.

Gratitude: To Kim Knight, you are the best, thank you.  To my Dennis, enough said.  To CC and Company, who created the X-Files.  Lastly, but my no means least, to the readers, you make this hobby of mine have meaning.

Author’s Notes:  Total fluff.


An Object of Obsession

Sara B. 09/06


The man sat down and turned on the TV.  He roamed through the stations and nothing caught his fancy so he stopped and picked up a book.  A few moments later the TV blared the theme song to COPS.  Geez, has it come down to this?  How long has this show been on the air anyway?  Just how many drunken brawls and domestic disputes can they film?  He picked up the remote and a second before he turned off the TV, her face flashed in front of him. 

She was small and dressed all in black. Her short red hair shimmered brightly in the din of the darkened screen.  Her facial features were not perfect; she looked delicate and unique and she had those incredible blue eyes.  She had the look of the screen Goddesses of old Hollywood.  And he loved her obvious disdain for the camera and crew of COPS.  Hell, he shared those feelings.  This woman was nothing like the over processed, under fed, silicon pumped up women so prevalent in tinsel town. 

The screen flashed her name and he heard himself say, “Special Agent Dana Scully of the FBI, you will do.  You will definitely do.”

The vision on the screen started speaking and he heard her honeyed alto voice.  “God, I think I’m in love,” he cried.  “You’re mine, Dana Scully; you just don’t know it yet.”


Mulder and Scully returned from lunch and stopped by to get their mail and messages.  Casually they sorted through the minutia during the elevator ride to the basement.  Mulder heard Scully say, “Huh,” and watched her put a phone message in her pocket.  The elevator reached the basement and, as usual, they tossed the items they didn’t want in the recyclable bin just before they got to the office. 

They deposited the remaining mail on Mulder’s desk and shed their coats.  Scully pulled the phone message from the pocket then took a seat. 

“Mulder, would you take a look at this and see if you remember who this person is?” 

She handed the message to him.  Paul Gunderson, please return call at 212-555-6891.  “Sorry, Scully, it doesn’t ring a bell.”  He handed back the paper. “You going to call him?”

“I suppose so, but something is bothering me about this message.  Well, to be truthful, this is the fifth message from this guy.  The others were on my home phone, on the answering machine.  What really bothers me is how did he get my home number?  Now he calls here.  How did he know to call the FBI?”

“Scully, I think we need to check him out.  If he comes out clean, we just say you’ve been inducted into the Fox Mulder Paranoia Society.  I also think we should tell Skinner.”

Scully looked at him and he could tell she was ready to argue, but then she looked at the slip of paper again and nodded. 


Skinner looked at the paper and then at his agents.  “So, this man has called you several times at home?”

“Four to be exact, Sir.”  Scully answered in that too professional way that she adopted when something bothered her.  It was just a notch above her normal disposition but enough to put both Mulder and Skinner on alert.  It took a lot to unnerve Dana Scully.

“You have no idea how he got your number or how he knows you work for the FBI?”

“No, Sir, I don’t make a habit out of identifying my employers and I never give my home phone number out, only my cell.”

“These messages on your answering machine, you wouldn’t still have them?”  Scully shook her head.  “He never mentioned why he’s trying to contact you?”

“The first came from a woman and all it said was to call Paul Gunderson and the number.  The rest were a man’s voice and carried the same message but on the last one he added that I’d be sorry if I didn’t call him.  I have to add that none of the messages came across as threatening but just the fact that this person, whom I don’t know, called my home…”

“I understand completely, Agent Scully.  I’ll send this down and have it looked into.”  The two agents started to rise and Skinner added, “I’m glad you decided not to look into this yourselves.”  He smiled, “following protocol for once, you made my week.”

“Anything for you, Sir,” Mulder dead panned.


Scully was surveying the contents of her fridge when she heard Mulder’s distinctive knock.  She checked the spy hole and then opened the door for him.  He was carrying a large bag filled with, what smelled like, Chinese from Woo’s Palace in one hand and his overnight case in the other.

Scully looked at his bag and asked, “What’s that, Mulder?” 

“Dinner,” he held up the bag.  “Can’t you smell it?”  He moved into the apartment and set his case down.

“I mean the OTHER bag.  Planning on staying the night?”

“Or the week, month or the rest of our lives if that’s what it takes.  Scully, I don’t like that someone knows where you live.”  He placed their dinner on her table.  “No one gets close to you.”  His hand cupped her cheek, “you’re mine, and I plan to keep it that way.”  Mulder waited for the standard, ‘I can take care of myself’ argument but it never came.

“Actually, I’m pretty pleased you’re here.  I wanted to invite you but I didn’t want to seem needy.”

“Scully,” he began.

“I know, but after all these years you’ve got to understand it’s hard to just let someone help me.”  She moved closer to him, “even if he is the man I love and a trained FBI agent.”  They kissed gently and held each other.  “Thanks, Mulder.”

“Anytime, besides I was having a little hankering for some serious hanky panky.  What say, Red?  Does one of those fortune cookies say, ‘Mulder gets lucky’?”

“Not sure, but one should say, ‘Scully is lucky’.”

“Before or after dinner?”  Mulder leered at her.

“Tough choice, both?”  She tugged on his tie and led him to the bedroom. 


They were heating up dinner when the phone rang.  Scully moved to answer it but Mulder stopped her.  The machine played her message then a man spoke.  His voice filled with irritation, “this is Paul Gunderson, my phone number is 212-555-6891.  This is the sixth call to you, Agent Scully, and I’m warning you, don’t keep ignoring me.  I will take any measures I need.  You better understand and act accordingly.”

Mulder and Scully just looked at the machine for a moment then Scully moved to a drawer and located a new battery and put it into the answering machine so it wouldn’t lose the message while they took it to the Hoover.  


Skinner, Mulder and Scully were in the observation room watching Paul Gunderson.  He was a man in his early thirties, tall, sandy blonde hair with round, owlish glasses and a complete stranger to Scully.

The New York police paid a visit to Mr. Gunderson’s upper west side loft two hours earlier and had him brought in for questioning.  They also, with the man’s permission, brought in several boxes of ‘evidence’ and his laptop.  All of which were with him in the interrogation room. 

Skinner arranged to interrogate the man and to have Mulder and Scully accompany him to New York.

Skinner walked into the interrogation room and Gunderson jumped, letting everyone know just how nervous he was.

“Not exactly what you expected is he?”  The detective asked, not really expecting an answer from the two solemn agents staring intently through the glass.

Skinner began, “Mr. Gunderson, do you know why you’re here?”

“No, just something about phone calls.”  Gunderson took a sip of his coffee and nearly missed his mouth.

“The FBI doesn’t take harassment of our agents lightly.”

“Harassment!  Hey, wait.  Does this have something to do with Dana Scully?”  The man shook his head and reached into his jacket.  Skinner saw the move and grabbed the man’s hand.  “No, Sir, I’m just reaching for my card.  It will explain this mess.”

Skinner retrieved the cards and read it out loud.  “Paul Gunderson, Tribold, Gunderson and Tate Advertising.”  He threw the card down.  “What the hell is this?”

Gunderson started coughing as he tried to answer Skinner.  “I saw COPS when she was on.”  The man spoke as if that explained everything.

Mulder turned to Scully as she hung her head and covered her face with her hand.  “Oh, God!”  She exclaimed while Mulder began to chuckle. 

“She dominated the screen, I, I only wanted to hire her.  She’s classic, I did some preliminary work and I have several clients who want to use her.  Look, look in the boxes.  There are pictures from the show and drawings, I even have some storyboards.  The woman is gorgeous.”  Skinner turned and was looking at the two-way mirror trying to hide his smirk. 

Mulder couldn’t stop himself and started to laugh and he pulled Scully into a hug.  “Well, he got that last part right, you are gorgeous.”

Gunderson said, “I can get some work for that geeky guy too if that will help.”

“Hey!”  Mulder roared, “I am not a geeky guy, I know geeks and…”  Scully stopped him.

She whispered, “I have a thing for geeky guys, you know, Mulder?”

“Where’s my pocket protector?”  Mulder started patting himself down.

“Let’s get out of here and I’ll help you find it,” Scully whispered.  They walked out and the detective’s eyes followed them.

Back in the interrogation room, Skinner tossed down the story board he was looking at.  “You’re free to go, Mr. Gunderson.  Don’t try contacting Agent Scully again.”

“You’re not charging him?” Detective Marlins asked through the intercom.

“I know it should be, but stupidity is not a crime.”  Skinner replied as he left the room.

In the hallway one of the policemen heard Mulder say as they passed, “Scully, I don’t think I ever carried my pocket protector in my pants, but feel free to look.”