textfiles/sf/fantasy

David Fantasy #1
by Julianne Lee 
Author does not have access to .creative

Something to while away the weeks until the new season...

    Kira's hands shook as she buttoned the vest of her 
camel-colored suit. Any minute now she would be meeting 
him. Today was the day. Any minute. Her palms were slick.
 A paper towel. She needed a paper towel to wipe her 
hands. No sweat stains on the suit, please. There were no 
paper towels; she had to settle for the upholstery on the 
dinette in her motor home dressing room.
    Why hadn't they let her read with him at the casting 
call? Who the hell did he think he was, anyway?
    He was in Vancouver, that's who he thought he was. In
 Vancouver while she was auditioning in LA. She'd read 
with Chris Carter. Carter had been in town, but that 
Duchovny guy had been stuck in Vancouver. So she'd read 
with Chris. Not David. A deep, shakey sigh escaped her. 
Not David. She wondered if she could live through this.
    Chris was a nice guy. Would David be so nice? Huh. 
Anybody's guess, she figured.
    A knock echoed in the trailer. "They're ready for you, 
Miss Julian."
    Oh, God. Here goes nothing.
    Kira opened the trailer door and nearly toppled when 
it opened too fast. One hand snatched at the door post and 
one foot found the rickety aluminum ladder below. The heel 
of her shoe stuck in the step and wouldn't come out. After 
a minute or so of trying to wrench it loose, she gave up, 
took her foot from the shoe and reached down for a good 
yank.
    Oh, God.
    The shoe back on her foot, she hurried to the set. Her 
lines tumbled in her brain: "Come on, Mulder, take a 
reality break. Come on, Mulder, take a reality break. Come 
on, Mulder, take a reality break." There was more, but 
that one line kept repeating. "Come on, Mulder, take a 
reality break."
     Why had she ever read for this part? Why had she 
begged her agent to put her up for this?
    She answered her own question: Because I have the 
great, screaming hornies for that Duchovny guy, that's 
why!
    She bemoaned her foolishness. It should have been let 
alone. Why did she ever want to meet this guy? Cute guys 
were a dime a dozen in LA; why did she have to come all 
the way to Vancouver to meet this one?
    The front hallway of the house which was today's 
location was lined with heavy, black cables tied together 
with duct tape. They snaked from the trailers outside to 
the lights and other equipment inside and she picked her 
way to the living room, her ankles threatening to break if 
she tripped.
    Crew stood around, waiting for the first team--herself 
and David--to take their places. The camera, looking like 
the creature from "Alien," all black and covered with 
incomprehensible appendages, stood in the corner of the 
living room, pointed at t-

$
-Yre she and David would 
be doing their first scene together.
    There was Chris, looking all blonde and fresh. His 
jeans were new and his hair was tres Late Boomer. Same age 
as she.
    "Hi, Kira. How are you?"
    "Fine." She shook his hand and hoped the sweat hadn't 
returned.
    Carter looked up, past her, and said, "David..."
    Kira turned. It felt like slow motion, and when she 
saw him the world seemed to freeze. David Duchovny. All 6 
feet 1 of him, mild eyes and tentative smile. Too gorgeous 
for words. "Hello."
    Her heart was in her throat. She swallowed hard. Chris 
was saying, "David, this is Kira Julian. Kira, David 
Duchovny."
    "Julian, not Gillian? Pleased to meet you." He held 
out his hand and she took it. Warm and dry, not like hers 
which had to be cold and clammy. His smile widened some, 
but then his attention turned to Carter, hands on hips, 
his jacket gathered behind him. "Chris, we need to talk."
    "After this setup. Shoot this one, then come to the 
production trailer."
    Carter walked away and Duchovny stared after, his lips 
thin and his eyes narrowed. Kira knew that look. It was 
Mulder's "dammit" face. Something was wrong.
    Duchovny turned and went to his mark. Kira followed 
and found hers, a T of masking tape stuck to the carpet. 
She set her feet on either side of the T stem and looked 
up at Duchovny. His eyes were squeezed shut. Then he shook 
himself out all over and made a grimace to stretch out his 
mouth muscles.
    Kira followed suit, trying to loosen up a little. It 
wasn't easy in these damned heels. She was four inches 
taller than Gillian Anderson, who played Mulder's regular 
partner, but they still made her wear four inch heels. 
Huh. They should wheel her around on a dolly to keep her 
from breaking her ankles.
    The heels brought her to 5'10, within some range of 
Duchovny's height. A pain in the neck, but it was either 
this or stand on a box for the two-shots that included 
just their faces.
    "Ready for rehearsal!," the director said.
    Duchovny glanced over at him, then looked at her. Kira 
could see he wasn't seeing her any more, but Shelly 
Mardarosian, Mulder's new partner.
    "Action."
    "Mardarosian, look at this."
    "Come on, Mulder, take a..." As soon as the words left 
her lips she wanted to cry. David looked at her like she 
was the stupidest bimbo he'd ever seen. She moaned, "I'm 
sorry."
    Okay, she blew it on rehearsal. Now she could go the 
rest of the day without blowing a huge number of takes. 
They started over.
    "Mardarosian, look at this."
    "What?"
    Somehow they made it through the scene, got it on 
celluloid, and David disappeared like he'd been abducted 
by aliens.
    Kira picked her way through the cables in her heels 
and made it back to her motor home. As she stepped into 
the dressing room she heard a muffled shout from the 
production trailer. Hard to hear, but it sounded like 
Duchovny saying, "Bimbo!" The rest of it she couldn't hear 
at all.
    Her face flushed hot and she hurried to lock herself 
into her dressing room.
    On the dinette she sank into a pain-wracked huddle. He 
hated her. She wished she could cry, but then she'd have 
to get her makeup repaired. More humiliation. Instead she 
swallowed the pain and opened her script to the scene 
they'd just done. Her lines would be down cold for the 
closeup angles, at least.
    Later, David wouldn't look at her when he fed her his 
lines during her closeup. His delivery was professional, 
but he wouldn't look at her. It rattled her so much that 
she had to repeat the same line six times. "Keep rolling," 
said the director in a tone dripping with disgust. By the 
time the scene was finished she was sweating like a horse 
and she knew David really did hate her.
    It went like that all week. She hid in her dressing 
room. Though she could hear David outside, playing 
basketball with some of the crew, she never went out. 
Lunch was always a hurried thing: get the food and get 
back to the motor home and hope to God David wasn't 
around.
    Then she sat at the dinette, peeking out the window at 
David's lithe, shirtless body jumping for the hoop as she 
chewed her fried chicken or spaghetti more than necessary. 
Sometimes she would forget to swallow for minutes at a 
time as she watched the muscles ripple and the long arms 
stretch to control and avoid. David was a wonder to 
behold.
    Eight working days. That's how long it was. The 
weekend was unbearable. Kira sat in her hotel room and 
watched TV for two days. Nobody called and she called 
nobody.
    Wednesday was the last day of shooting on that 
episode, and there had been nary a word passed between 
herself and David that hadn't been in the script. Kira was 
going to go home to LA a failure. She'd alienated the most 
attractive straight single man in the entire film 
industry, and would probably come off on the show as a 
bimbo to boot. She might as well crawl under a rock and 
die.
    And to make matters worse, she was to spend most of 
this day covered in mud. Still with the heels. How very 
attractive she would be. If only she could just go home 
now and skip this humiliation.
    As she and David stood together in spotless wool 
suits, waiting for their cue to flee into a mud hole from 
what would later be an optical effect, Kira glanced at 
him.
    He was staring at her, and looked away.
    She looked away and could feel her face warm.
    "Action!"
    They ran. And fell into the mud according to the 
script. It took maybe four seconds, then the director 
yelled "Cut. Print. Thank you."
    David struggled to his feet, a steady stream of foul 
language burbling from his mouth. Kira agreed with all her 
heart; it was, indeed, extremely cold mud. He helped her 
to her feet, mud dripping from his hair and nose onto her.
    "Waidaminit, my shoe is still in there."
    He plunged a hand into the muck and yanked the mud-
filled shoe from the bottom. "Here." She took it and he 
steadied her as they climbed out. His long fingers were 
firm on her arm. Strong. Blankets awaited them, and Kira 
huddled against a nearby generator for warmth.
    David sidled up next to her. "Why don't you go back to 
your dressing room?" The words were a shock after a week 
and a half of silence.
    "I'm too middle class to track mud into it."
    "Ah." A slight smile and raised eyebrows told her he 
appreciated the humor. "I knew there had to be a reason."
    She looked up at him. "Why?"
    His eyes narrowed and he stuck his jaw out. He was 
about to say something, but though his mouth was open he 
wasn't quite ready to say it. The eyes were hooded and he 
almost looked tough. Only then did he say what was on his 
mind. "You don't like me much, do you?"
    Kira laughed. David looked away and chewed on the 
corner of his mouth. In a rush, she said, "No, I do like 
you. I think. I haven't been able to talk to you much."
    "Ah." Again with the raised eyebrows. "Something kept 
you in your dressing room all week. I thought you were 
avoiding me."
    Now she was turning red to her toes. "I was. I can't 
believe how bad I've done on this gig. You were 
complaining about me to Chris the first day."
    David's eyes went blank for a second, then fired with 
memory. "Oh. Oh, no, that wasn't you. There was some 
dingbat girl following me around. Calls herself Spooky, I 
think. Or Mooky...Puky, or something. Chris needed to get 
someone to put more security on the set. Stop giving out 
locations and stuff."
    "Seriously? It wasn't me?"
    "I never lie." A wide grin burst onto his face. "Just 
the occasional campaign of misinformation. Now how about 
letting me next to that generator? I'm freezing! Man, 
you'd think they could afford a heater out here, huh?"
    With a chuckle, she moved over to let him close. As he 
stepped in, he opened his blanket to put it around her and 
share the warmth. With a deep, silent sigh she opened her 
blanket to put an arm around his waist. There they 
shivered in the Vancouver air until the AD called them for 
the next setup where they would have to stand hip-deep in 
ice-cold mud together.
    Kira was in heaven.