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CROSSOVER: The X-Files/Stargate

RATING: G.

FEEDBACK: I'm always eager to hear your views so contact me and let me know at tanyajoy74@hotmail.com

DISCLAIMER: The X-Files gang belongs to Chris Carter, 20^th Century Fox and Ten-Thirteen. The widely traveled members of the SGC belong to MGM-UA Television, Gekko Film Corp and Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions. My characters are my property and no money will ever be made from this.

THANKS: Go to the Warrior Goddess herself, Mairoh, for her betaing help with the fiddly bits.

Frohike was sitting at a computer console, eating ice cream, with Langly and Byers hovering behind him.

"Don't get that over there," Langly said as he tried to move the over-loaded spoon from the vicinity of the keyboard.

Frohike swallowed the ice cream before tapping the back of the spoon on Langly's hand. "I know what I'm doing."

"I wonder where Mulder is?" Byers said.

Frohike suddenly had a horrible thought. "We did save some mango ripple for Scully, right?"

"Geez will you get over that already?" Langly asked.

Just then there was a thumping at the door. All three men just looked at each other.

Langly tapped Byers on the shoulder. "You get it."

"Why me?" Byers asked.

"Because I got it last time."

"You did not. Last time was the Jehovah's Witness and I answered the door."

"No, last time it was the Chinese take-away guy and I answered the door."

Frohike sighed and licked the spoon clean. He tucked it behind his right ear and, bowl still in hand, headed for the door. "How 'bout I get it?"

"Good," Langly said. "We were hoping you'd say that."

Byers turned on a monitor to show a grainy picture of Special Agent Fox Mulder standing outside their office.

"Who's there?" Frohike yelled through the steel reinforced door.

The image of Mulder stared straight into the hidden security camera and rolled his eyes.

"Abe Lincoln," came back the reply.

"Okay, Mr. President, what's the secret password?" Frohike asked.

"They're here," Mulder yelled back.

"Wrong, that was last Thursday."

"Alright. Elvis is alive and well and living in Florida."

Frohike just shook his head. "Mulder, we told you already, you can't use that one."

"Let me in you moron."

Frohike turned and glared at Langly. "That's the last time I let you pick the password."

He unlocked the door and let Mulder in.

Fox Mulder, FBI agent, conspiracy theorist and searcher of the Truth, made his way past Frohike into the room. Frohike peered out at into the hallway. "Where's the delectable Agent Scully?" he asked.

"Washing her hair," Mulder replied.

"You did tell her I'd be here, right?"

"Yes, and after I said that," Mulder said, "she started singing something about 'washing that guy right outta her hair'."

"Oh." A disappointed Frohike closed the door.

Mulder looked across at Byers and Langly, who were both still hovering near the computer. "Guys, what was the emergency? You said over the phone you had something important to tell me."

Byers waited until Frohike had moved over to stand nearby before starting. "Well we-" Langly elbowed him in the ribs. "I mean a certain individual-"

"Who is an exceptionally talented hacker," Frohike interrupted.

"As if," Langly snorted. "Anyone'd think you did it all on your own."

"As I was trying to say." Byers stopped shouting and resumed speaking in his normal voice. "A certain individual accidentally came across a military memo that you might be interested in."

Mulder crossed his arms. "Alright, so far I'm listening."

"It's dated a few years ago but it tells of a project called 'Stargate'."

"Yeah I've heard of that one," Mulder said. "It's got something to do with Remote Viewing in the military."

"No, this is a different 'Stargate'. From what we - I mean our contact - can work out it's some sort of alien transportation device." Byers shrugged. "Well, that's what the memo hinted at."

"Alright, now I'm really interested. Did this memo have any details?"

"Not really, for obvious reasons it was pretty vague," Langly took over the tale. "But it did mention something called an SGC and an archeologist by the name of Daniel Jackson. Seems he was instrumental in deciphering the artifact."

"Still interested," Mulder said.

Langly continued. "Well, we checked this Jackson guy out and it seems he had some pretty weird theories."

"Right up your alley sort of thing," Frohike jumped in with his opinion.

"Yeah," said Langly, glaring at the shorter Gunman. "It seems he believed that the pyramids were built by aliens."

"Sure, I've heard that theory before," Mulder said.

"Of course," Byers said, "the guy was considered a lunatic and wasn't taken very seriously."

"Know that feeling," Mulder said.

"Then a few years ago he just disappeared. We tried searching for him but it's like he just stepped off the planet."

"Well, if that memo is to be believed, maybe he did," Mulder said. "So, guys, what was so important you had to drag me all the way down here?"

"We think we've found the current location of this 'Stargate'," Byers said. "An addendum to the memo talked about shipping it from an Army base in New Mexico. We don't know where it's being moved to but if you're quick you might be able to catch a glimpse before it disappears again. We thought you might be interested."

Mulder straightened up and nodded. "You thought right, guys. This might be the proof I've been looking for."

"It won't be easy to gain access, Mulder," Langly said. "These guys are serious about security."

"Just get me in and I'll do the rest," Mulder said.

"Then we'd better get to work," Byers said and all four men huddled around the computer.

Several hours later a mildly jubilant Mulder left.

"Do you think he can do it?" Langly asked.

"Well if anyone can, its Mulder," Byers replied.

"Why didn't we just tell him about that cop in Colorado?" Frohike asked. "She's a great connection to the archeologist."

Byers shook his head. "When have you ever known Mulder to take the easy road?"

"Yeah, you're right," Frohike agreed. "If he's not getting beat up he's not happy."

"Closet masochist if I've ever seen one," Langly pronounced solemnly. "I just bet he's really into leather and chains, too."

"As long as it's not with Scully I don't care," Frohike said.

"We'll see how Mulder goes penetrating the base. If he fails we can always let him know about Detective McKinley later."

Frohike looked into the depths of his bowl at the melted ice cream. "Anyone for a milkshake?"

Nic scowled at the computer screen. Paperwork, paperwork, she thought sourly as she rubbed tired eyes. Why don't you ever see Denis Franz spending half an episode doing paperwork? Oh no! TV cops have no time for paperwork. They can solve a crime in 42 minutes. Two if they are really good.

Nic wrote out a few more lines and glared at the screen again.

"In TV-land your pain in the arse partner gets killed off in the first 15 minutes too. Leaving you free to do your own thing."

"Hey, I heard that," Mike, her partner, protested good-naturedly from the opposite desk.

"Did I say that out loud?" asked Nic sweetly.

"Why is it always the brother that gets killed anyway?" Mike wondered.

"Cause then the other cop can go off the deep end, do something stupid, get suspended, turn vigilante and kill the bad guy," Nic explained in her best 'I-thought-that-was-obvious' voice.

"You know if this was a Spike Lee movie, snowflake, you'd be the one getting whacked and I'd get to save the day," Mike pointed out.

Nic thought about it for a moment. "Good point," she conceded.

Their friendly squabble was interrupted by a commotion down the hall. Two uniformed officers were trying to drag a suspect into an interview room.

"I need to talk to a Detective Nic McKinley," the disheveled man yelled. "It's a matter of life and death!" He was still yelling as he was dragged out of sight.

Mike turned back to look at Nic. "Friend of yours?"

"Never seen him before in my life," Nic said.

"He's not one of your sources?" Mike seemed surprised.

"No," Nic replied vehemently. "Maybe he's after another Detective McKinley."

"Oh right. The other Nic McKinley who happens to be working at this precinct," Mike said sarcastically.

"Hey, don't get narky with me pal," Nic growled. "Just for that you can finish your own damn paperwork."

Mike scrunched up his face and gave his best wounded puppy dog look. "Do I have to?" he pleaded.

Nic grabbed her coffee mug and stood up. "Yes you do. Now if you'll excuse me I have a loony to check out."

Nic walked over to the coffee machine and plucked up a Styrofoam cup. She placed both her mug and the cup in front of her and proceeded to pour the thick mud that passed for coffee in this precinct. When she was finished she picked up both objects and sauntered over to the interview room.

"They're here," she could hear the suspect yelling.

"Little green men from Mars?" one of the uniforms asked in a derisive tone of voice.

"Actually, they are grey beings about 4 feet tall," Nic corrected from the doorway. "I do assume you are talking about the Reticulans and not one of the other twenty odd races out there." Nic's eyes twinkled as she observed the looks of disbelief on the men's faces.

"You know I have it from a reliable source that an aluminium foil hat will block out any messages that the aliens try to send," she pointed out helpfully. Nic nodded to one of the uniforms. "Hey Paul."

"I'll keep that in mind," the suspect said.

The other police officer perked up with a thought. "Hey if you had aluminium pants would that stop 'em from probing you up the -"

Paul elbowed his younger partner and interrupted him. "Quiet you," he growled.

Nic walked into the room, closing the door quietly. "What do we have?" she asked Paul.

Paul handed over the charge sheet. "Just your average nutter."

The suspect snorted at that statement, making Nic looked closely at him for the first time. He was definitely not someone she had met before but underneath all that grime, blood and bruises was a good looking man. Probably in his late thirties, normally clean cut and he didn't seem to be some dumb loony who just sauntered in off the street to grab a kip in the drunken tank.

"You know, Paul, I could take over here, I know how busy you uniforms are," she said.

Paul had the decency to look surprised. "You would? What's the catch?"

"No catch, I'm just curious about this one. And besides this will give Mike enough time to do his share of the paperwork," Nic grinned.

"Well," Paul grabbed his cap and hauled his partner off out of his chair. "Far be it for me to look a gift horse in the mouth. He's all yours."

And with that the two men bolted from the room.

Nic sat down and pushed the Styrofoam cup across the table.

"I didn't ask for this," the man said.

Nic smirked. "Yeah well, I'm betting you didn't ask to be arrested either, but here you are."

The suspect conceded the point as he took a sip from the cup. He pulled a face and sat the coffee back down.

"Yup, I felt that way when I first drank this sludge," Nic spoke with a grin, trying to find the right sort of angle that she could take to question the suspect.

"Nice cup," he replied, indicating Nic's mug.

She glanced at it. The mug had been a Christmas present from Mike's girls last year. It depicted your stereotypical grey alien, with the big black eyes. It was wearing a baseball cap on backwards and was holding a half-burnt joint between its long spindly fingers. Underneath were the words 'Take me to your dealer'.

Nic glanced up just in time to catch the suspect's grin. Okay, she thought. At least he has a sense of humour.

She glanced at the charge sheet. "I see you're in here for a 'drunken and disorderly' and having a firearm without a permit."

"I'm not drunk," he protested.

"Well I'm glad you didn't deny the disorderly part," she indicated his appearance.

"And I have a permit - "

"It's just in your other suit?" Nic finished for him.

The suspect leant back against his chair. "I really need to talk to Detective McKinley. It's a matter of life and death. Do you know where he is?"

Nic bit back a laugh and studied the charge sheet. "Let's get some details shall we? Your surname is?"

The suspect sighed. "Mulder."

Nic started to spell it out as she wrote it down. "M.o.l.."

"No M.u.l.d.e.r." he corrected.

"Well excuse me," Nic grumbled. "How about a first name?"

Mulder sighed. "Fox."

Nic spocked an eyebrow at him. "Really? Now how about your real first name?"

"That is my real first name."

She dropped the clipboard onto the table and stared at him in disbelief. "What, did your parents hate you as a kid of something?"

"Not as far as I know," Mulder protested.

Nic picked up the clipboard and stared at it again. "What about aliases?"

Mulder grinned. "I guess you would count 'spooky' as one. Now can I speak to Detective McKinley?"

"You already are," Nic mumbled behind the clipboard.

"Wait, you're Detective McKinley?"

Nic laughed quietly. "You're in here demanding to see me and you don't have a clue who I am?"

Mulder grimaced as he scratched his head. "Not the best way to make an impression." He leaned forward and gave the detective a serious look. "Listen, I need your help. Do you know a Doctor Jackson?"

"Why, is he your shrink?" Nic replied sarcastically trying to hide the surprise she felt at the mention of that name.

"No, he's an archeologist, and it's vital that I contact him."

"Listen pal, why would I know an archeologist? I admit we have some old cases, from time to time, but that's a little ridiculous don't you think?"

"Look according to my sources Detective McKinley knows an archeologist called Daniel Jackson, now is that you or not?"

"What sources? I hope they're better dressed than you."

Mulder flicked some dirt off his tee shirt as he thought of the Gunmen. "Well, one of them is."

"Why do you need to find this Jackson guy, anyway?" Nic's detective instincts kicked to the fore; besides, she was genuinely curious.

"I have reason to believe that Doctor Jackson is working for the military in a top secret project that's directly involved with aliens."

Nic spat coffee across the table in amusement. "You what? Who the hell are you pal?"

Mulder shifted forward in his chair an earnest expression on his face. "I work for the FBI and I believe that Doctor Jackson could help me greatly on a case I'm currently investigating."

Nic looked at his muddy jeans and bloodied tee shirt. "The dress code has slacked off a bit I see."

"It's 'Casual Day', we can wear whatever we like as long as we donate a few bucks towards the 'Save J. Edgar Hoover's Frocks' appeal."

Nic threw her head back and laughed. "Now I know you're not a Fed, they couldn't find a sense of humour if you gave them a map and ten years' head start."

"Yeah well, I'm the exception to the rule that they keep in the basement," Mulder shrugged

good-naturedly.

Nic stopped chuckling and settled back down. "Look, as much as I'd like to help you, I can't. I don't know any Doctor Jackson, alien expert or otherwise. But I do know an Indiana if that's any help."

"Not really but if I'm ever looking for the Lost Ark I'll let you know," Mulder drank some more of his coffee. "Is there any chance I can have my phone call now? My partner must be wondering where I am."

"Give me your badge number so I can check you out, just to make sure you are who you say you are even though you sure as hell don't look like what you claim you are," Nic stopped and frowned. "Did that make sense?"

Mulder scratched the stubble on his chin and nodded. "Scarily, yes it did." He dutifully reeled off his badge number and slumped back in his chair. "Tell Scully to bring over my spare shirt." He pulled up his top and inhaled. "I'm getting a bit on the nose." He waited till she was halfway to the door. "Oh, and can I get something to eat? I'm starved."

Nic turned back to the FBI agent and growled. "Anything else? A shower perhaps or shall we install a throne especially for you?"

Mulder waved a hand at her. "No need," he grinned. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you wanted me to stick around."

"Oh, God forbid," Nic muttered as she slammed the door behind her.

Nic watched from the second story window as an angry petite redhead led her slightly scruffy partner out of the precinct.

"Boy did she look pissed," Michael noted as he stood beside her. "Glad to see I'm not the only one that gets into trouble." He walked away from the window and started making his way back to their desk.

"Yeah, I've yet to drag you out of someone else's precinct," Nic was still looking thoughtfully at the FBI agents' car as it drove away

"What did he want with you anyway?" Mike asked.

"Guy seemed to think I knew an alien hunting archeologist." Nic shook her head and turned back towards her partner.

"Well you do know some weird people, Nic," Mike said.

"Not that weird."

Mike brandished her mug towards her. "If I make you some fresh coffee will you help me with my paperwork?

Nic snorted. "Fat chance, sunshine."

Mike shrugged philosophically and grabbed his mug that proclaimed to the universe that he was 'The World's Greatest Dad' before heading off to the coffee machine.

Nic waited till Mike was over on the other side of the room before picking up one of his files and sitting down at her side of the desk. She opened the folder before pausing; she knew her partner would be a little while so she dropped the work on the desk and picked up the telephone receiver. She looked about the room almost surreptitiously before punching out a number. The phone rang a few times before the answering machine cut in.

Nic rubbed at her eyes as she waited for the beep. "Daniel it's Nic, listen some Feeb called Fox Mulder turned up at the precinct today asking for you. For some reason he thought you were some kind of alien hunter," Nic laughed into the receiver. "I don't know what he was thinking; I mean you do have some 'out there' theories on the pyramids, but come on, you don't even like watching the Alien movies. Anyway, I thought you'd like to know, if nothing else it's a bit of a laugh." Nic paused as if expecting some sort of reply. She hated talking to a machine: it lacked the immediate interaction of talking to a real-life person and she never knew exactly how to finish the message. "Well, are we still on for our semi regular video night? I'll bring the popcorn as long as you promise not to make me sit through Ben Hur again. Well, um, I'll see ya later and hey, give me a call when you get this, okay?"

Nic hung up the phone and retrieved Mike's report from the desk. A mischievous thought caused her to smirk. Maybe I'll bring along a sci-fi flick and make Daniel watch it. She chuckled out loud, causing a few fellow officers to turn and stare at her. That will teach him to mock my viewing preferences.

Scully knocked on the door before entering. "Mulder," she began.

Her partner was sitting at his desk reading a magazine. He held up a hand towards Scully to indicate he needed a minute as he flicked a page.

"Wow," he breathed as he turned the pages sideways with an appreciative whistle.

Scully, used to Mulder's antics, just shook her head. "Let me guess, Miss July?"

"Actually for your information I'm looking at this year's batch of crop circles." He held the magazine towards her. "Want a look?"

Scully held up a hand. "No thanks."

Mulder dropped the magazine onto his desk before leaning back in his chair, hands resting behind his head. "What can I do you for, ma'am?"

"Well, it seems you have a visitor," Scully said.

Mulder scooted upright in the chair, his hands folded neatly in front of him. "The pizza guy is here already?"

"What?" Even after their four years together Mulder still managed to occasionally surprise Dana. "Its only," she glanced at her watch, "twenty minutes to eleven, Mulder."

"So I skipped breakfast," Mulder said, shrugging. "Don't worry, I didn't forget you. Half Hawaiian with extra mushroom just the way you like it."

"Mulder, I hate mushroom."

Mulder's face fell. "Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure. Besides, you just can't order a pizza to be delivered to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. If Skinner found out he'd have a fit."

"Fine, to save your career I'll just have to eat the whole thing," Mulder reached towards his wallet before pausing. "Where does Assistant Director Skinner stand on garlic bread?"

Scully closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, sighing. "I don't know, but luckily for you it's not the pizza man."

"Oh." Mulder pouted in disappoint. "Who is it then?"

"An archeologist by the name of Doctor Daniel Jackson."

Mulder shot up out of his chair in excitement. "Holy mummified relics, Batman, why didn't you say so earlier?" He gestured towards the closed door. "Show him in."

"Am I going to regret doing this?" Scully asked, as she turned for the door.

"Oh, probably."

"Nothing new there then," she muttered.

Agent Scully opened the door to reveal a man in his thirties. He had short brown hair, wore glasses and was dressed in a white shirt, tie, jacket and a pair of jeans. His visitors badge was affixed, on a slight angle, to his jacket pocket.

Mulder came out from behind his desk to meet the archeologist. "Doctor Jackson, I presume?"

The two men shook hands and Mulder motioned for Jackson to take one of the two chairs in the office. Mulder took the other as Scully leaned against one of the filing cabinets, content to let her partner take charge of this interview.

Daniel Jackson smiled at the agent. "Yes. I believe you have been looking for me?"

"Ah, so Detective McKinley did know you after all." Mulder fiddled with his tie before settling down.

"Well actually, no she doesn't." Daniel Jackson's eyes roamed the room, looking anywhere but directly at the FBI agent. "It seems she became curious and called some of the universities. Finally she was able to contact a colleague of mine who let me know you were looking for me." He shrugged and finally looked Mulder in the eye. "Although I have no idea why."

Mulder smiled at Doctor Jackson, not fooled for a minute by his transparent lies. "Well, luckily for me she found you," he said. "As to the reason I wanted to contact you, some information has come into my possession recently that seems to indicate that you are involved in a major cover-up involving the military and alien technology."

"What?" Scully said.

"Yes, what?" Jackson echoed.

"You know," Mulder waggled a finger in Doctor Jackson's direction. "I've been doing some research on you and you have the most intriguing theories."

"Well it's no secret about my theories, Mister Mulder," Jackson said.

"What have you been up to lately, Doctor Jackson?" Mulder asked.

"Daniel, please, and not much I have to admit," Daniel took off his glasses and started to polish them on his tie. "I lost any chance for tenure at my university when I insisted on lecturing against the established party-line. So since then I've been travelling about, a lot."

"That's funny," Mulder said. "I haven't found any evidence of your travels. No documentation, hotel bookings, not even your passport."

Daniel ran a finger around the collar of his shirt. "Bureaucracy," he said. "What can I say?"

"Not much it seems."

"Listen, I've spent the last six months backpacking through India," Daniel said. "And before that I was in Egypt working on a dig. I don't see how this relates to your theories."

"He has a point, Mulder," Scully spoke up.

"I only came here to ease your mind. I just couldn't understand why you seemed to think I'd be involved with the military," Daniel laughed. "Mind you, just the thought of finding actual alien artifacts here on Earth, well it would be a dream come true."

Mulder looked thoughtful. He trusted the Gunmen's evidence. Many were the times they had helped him before. But he also remembered other times that the shadow figures of the government had deceived him with false information. Maybe this was one of those moments?

Scully took Mulder's silence to indicate that he was perhaps regretting his impulsive decision to chase this story. "I'm sorry to have brought you out all this way, Doctor Jackson," she said.

"Oh that's alright," Daniel replied. "It's been a while since I've seen our country's capital." He stood up to shake hands with Scully.

"Yes." Mulder shook off his reverie and stood up. "I'm sorry to have caused you to fly all the way out here on such a silly mistake. Please forgive me."

"It was nothing," Daniel shook Mulder's hand. "Sorry I couldn't have been more help."

"I'll show you out," Scully said, indicating the door, and they both left.

When Scully returned to Mulder's office she found him slumped in his swivel chair, head flung back, just turning it gently from side to side as he thought. She was about to talk to him when the phone rang. Mulder pickled it up and listened. He sighed quietly and said goodbye before replacing the receiver.

"Who was that?" Scully asked.

Mulder lurched out of his chair and started dragging on his jacket. "That was Skinner. It seems he wants a word with me about ordering pizza to be delivered at the bureau."

"Uh-oh," Scully said.

Mulder nodded. "Don't wait up for me. I may be a while."

Outside the Federal building a car waited. When Daniel Jackson walked outside, the door of the dark blue sedan opened and Colonel Jack O'Neill stepped out. "Well?" he asked, when Daniel was in earshot. "How did it go?"

Daniel sighed. "He bought it, I think."

"Good." Jack sat back in the car and waited for Daniel to follow him. "He didn't happen to mention how he found out about the project, did he?"

"No." Daniel made himself comfortable before tugging on his seatbelt. "I felt really bad about lying to him, Jack."

Colonel O'Neill started the car and pulled away from the curb before replying. "You know we can't go around telling people about this, Daniel."

"I still think its wrong."

"Don't start," Jack said. "Alright?"

Daniel sighed and stared out the window.

"Alright?" Jack repeated.

"Fine," Daniel finally replied.

"Glad that's sorted out. If it's any consolation, Daniel, I promise that when we can tell people all about it I will personally call this Agent guy and tell him." He glanced across at his friend. "Okay?"

Daniel turned and smiled at Jack. "Okay."

"Good. Now where the hell did we leave Carter and Teal'c?"

THE END.