Title: Stone Drunk
Author: rlchurch
Written: 1997
Rating: PG for slightly strong words Classification: SHR(sortof)

Summary: FBI Agent uses a mystical spirit in attempts to win Scully's heart.

This isn't my first writing ever to be posted, but it is my pioneering attempt at writing an X-files story. So bear with me, will ya? Any comments, questions, death threats, (er, scratch that last one...), and/or random quotes may be sent to rlchurch@erols.com So read the story, and enjoy! :) Oh, yeah, and there's this thing: Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully don't belong to me, they are copyrighted by Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions. The FBI most certainly doesn't belong to me, that's someone else's mistake. The story is mine however, as are the characters that you don't recognize. I'm making no money off of this story.

Washington DC
Early Morning

It was two am by the time Simon Browning finally stumbled out of Pete's Pit, stone drunk. He'd been sitting in the bar for the last twelve hours, drinking Guinness after Guinness, and Pete had thrown him out.

"You've had enough, Browning. Time to go home."

"Jush un mo', Peeee(hic)ete. Jush un mo'." This argument had worked sufficiently for the last ten drinks, but Simon was finally feeling the effects of the brew, and talking straight was a labor he just didn't feel like tackling. "If ish no trouble to yershelf."

"You're slurring your words, Browning."

"Nuh-uh, I shed 'shelf' an' I mean' shelf. (hic)" He pointed to the row of liquor bottles behind the bar. "Shee, shelf."

"Out, Browning."



"Kay, kay, I goin'." Simon fumbled in his pocket for his car keys. "'Ey!"

Pete held the keys up. When he saw Simon's confusion, he explained: "You gave them to me when you first came. For safe keeping."

"An' tank yer soooooooooo mush fer keepin' 'em shafe. Now, if y' gi'em back, I be on m'way."

"I'll call you a taxi."

Simon turned and left then, grumbling all the way. "Takshi. Pfft. He t'ink I too drunk t' drive. Pfft. I gon' be fine, jush need 'nother beer." He looked either way on the street. "Maybe dersh shome down dat dark, foreboding alleyway." With that, he wandered off, just as Pete finished calling him a taxi.

Washington DC
Later that morning

Simon had been wandering from alley to alley for the last hour. He was hungry, lost, and would have killed for a beer. He was making up a song all about it when he walked headlong into a dumpster, scattering trash everywhere.

"Nobody (hic) likesh me, Ev'rbody 'atesh (hic) me, All I want ish a beer, Itty-bitty-fizshy uns, Big tall... uh... fizshy uns, All I wan-(bonk)OW!!"

Simon glared at the dumpster. "What a rotten place for a fire hydrant." He started weaving off.

"-Ish shome beer. Nobody likesh (hic) me, Ev'rbo-(whump)ouch. Wha' wash dat?"

Simon looked back to see what he tripped over. Large, silver, and impossibly ornate, it looked just like a...

"BEER SHTEIN!" Simon happily grabbed the offending object, yanking the top open. Smoke poured out in his face and coalesced in the air above him, revealing a short red creature in a bad polyester jacket.

"Guten Tag!" The creature intoned to a shocked Simon. "Ich weiss-" The creature stopped short at the complete lack of understanding on Simon's face. "Oh, you're an American. Very well." It cleared it's throat, shifting slightly in the air. "Hello!" He intoned again, this time to a very confused Simon. "I am Abashak, of the Puce Plaid Jacket, the djin of this, the beer stein of Fabian der Grosse. You have released me, my master. I am yours to command."

Simon glanced from the beer stein, to the djin, and back again.

"I can' b'lieve it."

"It is true of great one-"

"NO BEER!" Simon hurled the beer stein behind him in disgust . "Wha' kind o' beer stein don' got no beer? Pfft!" With that, Simon stalked off in search of Pete and his taxi. "I mush be more drunk dan I t'ought. Now'm seein t'ings."

Abashak watched him leave, perplexed. The feeling very slowly escalated into anger. "Thinks he'll get away from me that easily, does he? Well, we'll see about that!"

Abashak reached down and grabbed the beer stein, to which he was still attached by a thin wisp of smoke, and began hopping after the retreating figure.

FBI Headquarters
9:32 am

Simon sat down behind his new desk with a moan. It wasn't even lunch time, and he already felt like banging his head against the wall, repeatedly, and with all of his strength. Waking up in the morning with a tremendous headache, he had discovered that his girl friend, with whom he'd broken up only two days ago, had come back, only to take the cat, television, and the coffee maker with her when she left again. Simon had been forced to wait till he got to work to drink the day old coffee left for him by his partner. To make matters worse, he'd just been transferred to one of the tiny basement offices of the J Edgar Hoover building. And there was a large silver beer stein of unknown origin sitting on the edge of his desk.

"I wonder..." He muttered to himself, thinking of the strange dream he'd had two nights ago, after Molly had left. He wasn't sure, but this looked a hell of a lot like that beer stein had.

Cautiously peering into the lid, Simon waited for a red djin to appear. Nothing happened, and he sat back in his chair with a nervous laugh.

"What's so funny?"

Simon gasped and spun around at the sound of the sinister, slightly accented voice from behind him. Sure enough, there stood--er, I mean floated--the djin, his plaid polyester suit even more obnoxious than before.

"What is so funny, your Greatness?" The djin had a feral grin on his face, and his voice practically dripped with sarcasm. Simon swallowed.

"Nothing!" *Shut up, stupid, you sound like a chipmunk!* Simon berated himself. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "What do you want?"

"Why, to serve you, master!" Abashak wore a look of mock-offense, then grinned once more. "I do hope you know how we djin serve our masters..."

"Yeah..." Simon was hesitant at first, but a slow smile crossed his face as he considered it. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a bad day after all. "Yeah. You owe me three wishes!"

"Yes, and you have thirty seconds to use them, or you will forfeit everything."


"Twenty-nine seconds..."

"Damn. I wish I had more time..."

Abashak grinned. The mortals always fell for that one. "Granted!" He announced, clapping his hands together. "You now have all the time you need to consider your two wishes."

"Two wishes, but--"

"You have already used the first."


"Just now, when you wished for more time."

Simon thought for a moment. "Damn. I'll have to be careful from now on." He sat back in his chair. Three wishes would have been easy. He just wanted Molly back, a promotion, and for this damn headache to go away. But now... He'd have to think about it for a while.

There was dead silence, as Abashak stared at his master expectantly.

Simon looked up at him. "Oh, you may go take a break. You'll know when I wanna wish--"

"But of course, Master."

"Good. Go away, your jacket is burning out my pupils."

With a puff of smoke, the djin was gone, leaving Simon to consider the possibilities.

"Now let's see, is Molly REALLY worth it?"

"Well, now, that was a waste of time."

"That's exactly what I've been telling you for the last two weeks Mulder. You're the one who wanted to go down to Mississippi to check it out,"

Mulder glared at his partner for a second, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "How was _I_ supposed to know the swamp-monster was just an overgrown alligator?"

"As I recall, that's another thing I've been telling you for the last two weeks." Scully absently scratched at the bug bites on her arm. She really hated swamps, and was still holding a grudge against Mulder for dragging her into one. Again. But at least he wasn't in the hospital, like he was at the end of most of their assignments. "Let's just file the reports and get it over with."

"Sure. Fine. Whatever."

Scully laughed at Mulder's attempt to use her line against her. "You want some coffee?"

Mulder brightened. "How 'bout an iced tea?"

Scully just smiled and left their office, headed for the elevator. She didn't even notice the man stepping out of the room next to her until she'd run headlong into him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Scully reached over and picked up the object the man had dropped. "Here's your... beer stein?"

"Uh, yeah," the man responded, hurriedly grabbing the vessel from her hand. "Here's your pen."

"Thank you." Scully paused, surveying the man's short blond hair and medium build. "I don't believe I've seen you down here before. I'm Special Agent Dana Scully."

The man smiled, shaking her hand. "Simon Browning. I was just switched down here this morning. Still trying to figure out what I ever did to the AD."

"Well, it's hard for awhile, but you get used to it eventually."

"Eventually? How long have you been down here?"

"Actually, I've lost track. Luckily, or at times, unluckily, I'm in the field so much that I don't have to be here that often."

"Sounds exciting. What division are you assigned to?"

Scully blushed. "Let's just say it's not the one that everyone is fighting to get into."

"Hey Scully, I thought you were going for some coffee." Scully turned to see Mulder standing in the door way to their office.

"Simon, this is my partner--"

"'Spooky' Mulder?! You're partners with 'Spooky' Mulder?"

Mulder frowned at the use of his nickname. "Hello Simon, what are you doing here?"

"You two know each other?"

"Yeah. You remember when we were reassigned? He's one of the goons I wound up working with."

"Goon? At least I did my job! You were so busy trying to second guess our superiors that you never actually did anything! That's why your stuck in the basement!"

Mulder's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I suggest you take a look at your own situation." With that, he pushed past Simon and headed for the elevator. "On second thought, Scully, I think I'll go for the coffee. It's getting kinda cramped down here."

Simon and Scully watched Mulder leave. As soon as he was out of sight, Simon turned back towards his office. Suddenly he stopped and turned around again. Scully was still staring at the elevator, a concerned look on her face. "Hey, tell your partner I'm sorry for what I said, I was annoyed at being stuck down here. That's all."

Scully turned to look at him, surprised. Then she smiled. "Sure. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yeah." Simon smiled back. "Later."

"Yes!" Simon was almost leaping for joy as soon as he had his office door shut. "Forget Molly, I just found the love of my life." He spun around, almost slamming into the file cabinet. "I am SMOOTH! That last comment about the apology was PERFECT! I've got it made!" He did a quick victory dance around the room. "I'm gonna get a girlfriend, I'm gonna get a girlfriend,"

Suddenly, he sat down, sobered. "But how do I know she's not seeing that freak, Mulder?" He thought for a moment. His eyes landed on the beer stein. Grabbing it, he stared at the picture of men marching into battle that circled the cup. Engraved on the top was the simple slogan, "Your wish is my command." His mind racing, he considered the possibilities.

"I could just wish him gone, and then she'll be mine." He was about to lift the top, but a second thought hit him. "But then she might just get upset about it, and never speak to me again. I know, I'll wish him gone, and then wish that she would fall in love with me! But I'd rather if she just loved me anyway, not because of a stupid wish. Maybe I should just wish for her to completely forget about him, and then she'll fall in love with me anyway! But then Mulder might figure it out, and come after me. For all his weirdness, he is pretty smart. I don't even know if she LIKES me!"

Slamming his fist onto the desk, he growled in frustration. "I just wish I knew what to wish!" His eyes suddenly went wide as he realized what he'd just said. "No, wait--"

"Granted!" Came the mocking call of the djin, as he appeared in front of him. "One more wish!"

Simon looked distressed for a moment, but then he realized that it didn't matter. He now knew exactly what to wish for that would get him everything he wanted.

"Mulder! You won't believe what I just found out!"

"Evil Aliens are actually behind the creation of Barney the Dinosaur and it's up to us to sneak into their hidden lair and destroy their mind control device?"

"Nothing so mundane."

"Well, one can dream can't we?"

Scully smiled briefly, then turned back to the file folders she held in her hand. "I found these while sorting through the old autopsy files."

Mulder glanced over the files one at a time. "Scully, these are all on the same person."

"Look at the dates and causes of death, Mulder."

He did. The first, done on the thirteenth of March, 1982, reported that the victim was involved in a car accident and bled to death. The second, on the thirty-first of August, 1993, was for a victim of accidental drowning. And finally, there was a victim of a hit-and-run, the autopsy done just last week. All were for a Mr. Victor Blume. "Scully, do you know what this means?"

"I can only guess, Mulder."

"Victor Blume reported being abducted by aliens on July 3, 1979. And was reported dead of a heart attack two weeks later. But according to these, he died in a car accident, and a bath tub. That can only mean one thing. Aliens are using human beings in cloning experiments. There might be thousands of other Victor Blumes roaming the earth!" Mulder looked up at Scully in shock. "You might have been cloned too!"

Washington DC
8:00 PM

"Honey, I'm home!" Simon called as he unlocked the four room apartment he shared with his new girlfriend. He walked into the kitchen to find her leaning over a hot stove. The smell of fresh coffee struck his nose.

"Hi Simon," she turned around, her auburn hair falling across her face. "I thought that tonight we could eat in front of the TV. What do you think?"

"Sounds perfect, honey." He leaned over and kissed her. "I'll just take this into the living room." Lifting the pot of pasta from the stove, he walked into the other room, and switched on the thirty- two inch TV he'd purchased with his bonus. As soon as he sat down, his cat leaped into his lap and curled up there, purring deep in its throat. Changing channels so he could watch the evening news, he turned to see his girlfriend walking slowly out of the kitchen, carrying a large pot of spaghetti sauce. Setting it down, she leaned over and kissed him on the nose.

"I love you Simon,"

"I love you too, Dana."

The End

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