TITLE = Order in the Court
SPOILERS = None
CLASSIFICATION = MT Humor; Pure fiction! (Everyone eventually understand why I
put this here. <g>)
RATING = PG-13
DISCLAIMER = Characters belong to CC and 1013.
SUMMARY = A few of the more famous MT writers of Mulder's Refuge go on trial
for "virtual aggravated assault."
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"Court is now in session. The Honorable Samuel Law presiding." The courtroom
erupted into a flurry of activity as everyone hastily rose to their feet. The
judge entered from his chambers and adjusted his robe before sitting behind the
enormous bench.
"Everyone, please be seated," the bailiff stated in a loud voice.
Taking a few minutes to look over the court dockets, the judge finally spoke.
"Are all the defendants present and accounted for?"
"Yes, your Honor." The bailiff handed him a paper that had been signed by the
defendants.
"Good. Then we will begin with opening arguments. Counsel for the prosecution
may proceed."
"Thank you, your Honor. Ladies and gentleman of the jury, we are here today to
prove that the defendants, certain members of the Mulder's Refuge Forum,
willfully participated in a campaign to harass, threaten and commit physical and
psychological harm to my client, Special Agent Fox William Mulder, by writing
stories called MulderTorture Fanfiction or abbreviated as MT fanfic. In these
stories, they have given my client many various life-threatening diseases, had
him shot in the head, and stabbed and tortured by various criminals. A few of
these stories, ladies and gentleman of the jury, even went so far as to cause
him bodily harm to his genital area! Furthermore, we have written proof of
these allegations on several Internet Websites that can attest to these violent
writing impulses on the part of the defendants before you here today. Ladies
and gentlemen of the jury, the evidence will clearly show that there can only be
one verdict in this case. Guilty. Thank you." Returning to his seat, he
fiddled with the papers scattered in front of him, giving them an order of
semblance.
Peering over his glasses, the judge said, "The defense will now give its opening
arguments. Counselor?"
"Yes, your Honor, thank you. Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the jury.
What you have just heard isn't the *entire* story. Let me fill in the blanks
that Counselor Meade seems to have omitted during his opening statement. There
are many stories posted on the Internet for the enjoyment of readers much like
yourselves. The defendants simply write what they know and like. Does that
make them bad people? Of course not! They're just giving the mainstream
readers what they want to see. The prosecution also failed to mention that many
of these stories about which they speak, for the most part, end where the
plaintiff returns to excellent health and goes on to the next case. They love
keeping their readers on the edge of their seats, and what is wrong with that?
There is a document called the Constitution which has given us the Freedom of
Speech according to Amendment I. Isn't that really what this is all about?
Ladies and gentleman, I am confident that after review of all evidence you can
only come back with a verdict of "Not Guilty. Thank you." The defense
attorney, ambled in a slow gait back to his chair, sitting down with a slight
plop.
"Court will recess for one hour for lunch. When we return, the plaintiff's
counselor will call his first witness. Court is adjourned." The sound of the
gavel reverberates throughout the courtroom.
Those who chose to stay milled about outside the courthouse for the next 45
minutes, anxiously awaiting the afternoon's arguments. Soon it was time for the
proceedings to begin again, and they entered the courtroom with silent glee
about the upcoming debates.
The jury was led through the door to the jury box and they filed into the narrow
rows at a fast pace.
"Counselor, are you ready to call your first witness for the prosecution?" The
clicking noise of the court recorder could be heard in the background.
"Yes, your Honor. The prosecution would like to call Walter Skinner to the
stand." The young man rises from his chair as Mr. Skinner quickly makes his way
to the witness box.
As he passes the prosecution's table, he gave a thumbs up in Mulder's direction
and smiled, then took his place on the stand.
"Please raise your right hand and repeat after me." Skinner wondered with some
alarm if the chili he had for lunch would come back to haunt him while giving
his testimony.
"Are you prepared to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth
so help you God?" the bailiff queried him.
"I am." Skinner's stomach made a gurgling sound and he thought to himself...God
help him indeed, as he clenched his buttocks together.
"You may be seated." Thank God for small favors he thought. Maybe he could
make it through this ordeal without embarrassing himself or Mulder in the
process.
"For the record, please state your full name and occupation."
"Walter Skinner. I'm an Assistant Director at the FBI."
"How long have you known Agent Mulder?" (Too fricking long, he thought as he
grinned towards his subordinate. Damn him for looking so vulnerable amidst all
this MT!)
"For the past nine years now. He has been under my direct supervision most of
that time."
"Great. What kind of man would you say he is, Mr. Skinner? Describe his
characteristics to the jury."
"Well, at times, Mulder can be an annoyance to his superiors, but he has great
skills for the job he does."
"Objection! What does the characteristics of the plaintiff have to do with any
of this?"
"Sustained."
"Mr. Skinner, have you ever seen any of these stories that the defendants have
written?"
A few of them, but I rarely surf the Internet for other than work purposes.
However, I have definitely seen the Foley catheters and the...uh...painful
genital stories that were mentioned, though I am not certain if they were
written by any of the defendants." Skinner's voice stammered as he was afraid
that they would ask him this question. However, he thought they would
definitely make for humorous beach reading for his upcoming holiday in Cancun.
"And do you recall the names of any of those stories, Mr. Skinner?"
"Yes, if I'm not mistaken, I believe they were "A Cruel Twist of Fate" and "A
Gurgle of Fish."
"And what did you think about the content of these stories? As a personal
friend and supervisor to the plaintiff, of course."
"I personally thought the stories were a bit scary in their content, but
entertaining nonetheless. I thoroughly enjoyed them." Skinner cringed as he
looked over at Mulder and watched for his reaction. Mulder sat shell-shocked,
appearing unable to believe what he had just heard.
"Thank you, Mr. Skinner. That will be all. Your witness."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Skinner. So let me get this straight. You are saying that
you condone the writing of these "MT stories" about Agent Mulder, and that you
have no problems with these being posted at various websites."
"That's exactly what I'm saying. I figure he should be happy since it isn't
happening in real life. Besides, the stories always seem to make him better at
the end. Plus he always seems to get a little nookie with Agent Scully whenever
he decides to be a fool and ditch her. Who wouldn't want to read about
themselves on the Internet?" Besides, it keeps his ass in check. He grins over
at the judge, who nods his head slightly in consent, who almost reads his own
thoughts.
"No further questions, your Honor."
"Thank you, Mr. Skinner. You may step down now. Counselor, you may call your
next witness."
"The prosecution rests now, your Honor. We have provided written evidence of
the stories." Mulder couldn't believe they hadn't called Scully. Who the hell
did Skinner think he was kidding? This lawyer couldn't win. He should have
listened to Byers and found his own. At least then he might have seen these
crazy women put away for what they had done to him physically and emotionally.
"Fine. Defense, you may call your first witness."
"Thank you, your Honor. The defense would like to call Dana Scully to the
stand." His eyes bugged from his head as he watched her sashay up to the stand
and repeat the oath Skinner had taken just minutes before.
"For the record, please state your full name and occupation."
"Dana Katherine Scully. I'm a Special Agent the FBI and partner to the
plaintiff."
"Miss Scully, have you had the opportunity to experience any of these MT stories
of which we speak today?
"No, but if any of them have nookie with Agent Mulder at the end, I'd be
delighted to try anything once." She smiled in his direction. A lump had
formed in his throat and he felt the difficulty in swallowing. Of course this
was not even mentioning the lump in his trousers that formed when he spied her
hot black pant suit that always made his eyes roll back in his head.
"Do you feel there is any harm in the subject of fictional physical or emotional
torture, Miss Scully?"
"Not personally, but if the stories being written with such topics are ending
with Agent Mulder in perfect health, why should we question the writers motives?
They obviously care enough about Agent Mulder to not allow him to suffer any
more than absolutely necessary or send him to a gruesome death." Of course, we
do not want to forget to mention the free speech thing."
"No further questions. Your witness, counselor." The prosecution's case was
quickly falling apart, Mulder realized.
"No questions, your Honor."
"You may step down, Miss Scully. Defense, please call your next witness."
"The defense would like to call Vickie Moseley to the stand."
"Please state your name and your occupation."
"Vickie Moseley, I work for the government and in my spare time I am an MT fic
writer."
"Now, Mrs. Moseley, isn't it true that you gave Agent Mulder the mumps in one of
your stories?"
"Yes, that's correct, but..."
"Can you tell the jury what happened to him in the course of that story?" He
leaned against the defense table, arms crossed and awaiting an answer.
"The mumps dropped," she murmured.
"Excuse me? What do you mean the mumps dropped?" The lawyer patiently stood in
front of her now.
"His testicles...the mumps dropped down there." She quietly stated.
The hushed snickers of the collective crowd could be heard throughout the
courtroom. Mulder wiped his hands over his face, trying to forget how painful
that had been. Some of the diseases this woman gave him were bad enough. He
also had to endure endless leg injuries given to him by leg-injury fetishist,
Sally Bahnsen. If it wasn't his leg, it was his ankle. Damn casts and
crutches, he thought. How can they think I can ever solve cases this way?!
Listening to the current line of questioning caused him to pause in his
thoughts. Oh God, they were now asking about the psychological torture given to
him by most of the other defendants, which was much worse. His gaze moved
across each defendant's face as he recalled every terrible act forced upon his
body and mind.
Susan Proto and Xphylia had made him a product of child abuse by his own father.
Those stories, "Abah" and "In a Darkened Room" had made him scared to never ever
venture onto the Internet again. Of course then there was always Dawn's story,
"Blood Ties." How many times could a man get injured only to come back from the
near brink of death? Granted, he liked the fact that this Dawn person had given
him a bit of respite through a brother named Grey. He seemed very cool and he
liked the idea of having someone to share the pain and angst with. Of course,
Mary Kleinsmith had to bring Grey back in her story, "Family Matters," which
wasn't a bad thing per se, but did she have to give me kidney failure? Were
these women never satisfied?
His eyes fluttered open and he found himself staring into the depths of Laura's
eyes. He had been so alone and isolated in her story, "Verlassen." Sure,
George and Martin had been there to keep him company and guard him, but he had
nearly lost his mind, being kept as a prisoner against his will. The lawyer
said they'd be sure to get her for being an accomplice. After all, she did
start that archive. What the hell was that thing called? He shook his head
trying to clear the cobwebs. Finally, it clicked in his brain. Mulder-in-
Jeopardy? Who in the hell comes up with names like that, he wondered? Some of
the stories archived at that place gave him the willies. Chy An Dor...he
quickly found that birds and convertibles don't mix for sure after skimming that
story. No more convertibles for him...either at work *or* on holiday, indeed!
"Agent Mulder?!"
The pounding of the gavel once more brought him from his dazed stupor.
"Ah, excuse me."
"Would you mind telling me why you were mumbling the words 'Please, no more bird
shit' over and over, Agent Mulder?" The judge shook his head at Mulder's
embarrassed and oblivious red-cheek stare.
"I...uh...well, that is...well, your Honor, I'm not sure," he stuttered his
words.
"Well, if you can find the time, we'd like to get this trial over with some time
today."
"Yes, your Honor."
"Court is recessed to allow the jury to deliberate over the evidence. We will
reconvene once the verdict has been reached." The judge pounded his gavel for
the last time of the day. People scattered throughout the courthouse discussing
the days events, and were surprised when less than two hours later, the jury was
ready to reconvene. From past experiences of many, it didn't bode well for the
defense.
Once everyone was settled back in the courtroom, the judge entered again.
Seating himself behind the bench, his glasses slipped down his nose as he spoke.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I understand you have reached a verdict?"
"Yes, your Honor, we have reached a verdict."
"Would the defendants please rise?" Slowly, the whole line of women rose, their
fates resting in the hands of these 12 strangers. They clasped hands and
wondered what would become of them. "Mr. Foreman, you may now read the verdict."
"We, the jury, find the defendants, Mulder's Refuge Members, not guilty of
virtual aggravated assault." The murmurs suddenly began and quickly turned into
a loud boisterous roar throughout the courtroom.
Mulder jumped from his chair and stared at the jurors in incredulity. "Not
guilty! What the hell? What do you mean not guilty?"
The gavel slammed against the wooden surface, as the judge tried to gain control
once more. "Order in the court! I *said* order in the court! Counselor, I
suggest you get your client under control or I will hold him in contempt of my
court." Hushed whispers finally reigned among the members of the press covering
the story. Mulder, feeling defeated, crumples in his chair.
"Thank you for your time and patience, ladies and gentlemen. The jury is
dismissed."
He sank lower in his seat as each juror passed by him slowly. Carefully
listening to their conversation, he groaned as he heard the words come from the
mouth of one of the jurors obviously sympathetic to the defense.
"You know, Vickie, this MT fic is a great thing. I don't know what the heck he
is complaining about. Let's go write a collaboration where Agent Mulder's
appendix bursts."
"Sounds like a plan. We can give him all sorts of complications along with it.
We can make him hurt his leg, and then get kidnapped by a madman who he had to
profile in the past..."
*********
The alarm blared into his ear. He awoke with a start and groped his way around
the night-stand, knocking off his copy of the latest "Celebrity Skin." Sitting
up in the bed, he wiped the heavy sleep from his eyes. "Damn, what a nightmare!"
All those women getting away with...well, not really murder, but close enough,
he thought. Swinging his feet around the edge of the bed, he moved to stand,
but found himself connected to...
"What the hell?" Wires and tubes.
Suddenly, the door swung open and a shapely, cheerful blond nurse meandered into
the room carrying, of all things, a catheter.
"Good morning, Mr. Mulder. You really need to be lying down after the scare you
gave us last night. Since you had trouble relieving yourself earlier, Dr.
Wannabeg has instructed that we insert a Foley catheter. Oh and you have some
company. Doctor, you can come in now."
"What happened to me?" He groggily answered.
"You had a ruptured appendix, Mr. Mulder."
Oh God. It wasn't a nightmare. It was all true and...he stopped, unable to
believe his eyes. The doctor and her medical students, who came to research his
case, looked like none other than those women from that scary place called
Mulder's Refuge.
"Hello, Mr. Mulder. My name is..."
"Wait! Please tell me it isn't Vickie. Please, I'm begging you."
"No, Mr. Mulder. My name isn't Vickie. It's Lisa. I heard you were brought in
last night in a feverish state, mumbling something about bird shit and the words
Chy An Dor?"
"Yeah, so...what's your point, miss?" He felt like he had been run over by a
truck and didn't feel like listening to mumbo-jumbo at the time.
"Oh, no point really, Mr. Mulder. It's just that I wrote and posted a story on
the Internet not too long ago by that name."
-The End-