Here goes . . . I think I put in all the legal stuff. Mulder and Scully, etc., etc., Chris Carter and ten-thirteen, etc., etc., . . . "Coast Starlight" is probably a trademark of Amtrak but what I don't know can't hurt me, right? . . . just because Willamette has a law school doesn't mean I attend it! Besides, I have no money anyway . . . . kind of explains how I can sit in Kaneko (my dorm) on Friday nights and watch the X-Files . . . don't tell me to tape it, because VCR maintenance is down there with replacing leveler slats on the repair list. Anyway, this is what happens to my brain after I write hours of papers on the Middle East and subsequent cramming of Russian verbs in the locative case . . . I write fanfic with no plot . . . this is actually two stories, "Coast Starlight" and "The Shoe Tree." The have no connection to each other, so they can be read in any order. BTW, there is actually a "Shoe Tree" at the U of W. It's by . . . cripes, it's near McMahon Hall, but I can't remember what one it's actually next to. The exact geographical locations may, therefore, be slightly off. Basic premise (Coast Starlight): Mulder and Scully are on a train and Mulder is bored . . . COAST STARLIGHT by Sneakers <jhadden@willamette.edu> "Scully, ever wonder why they give trains such strange names?" Dana Scully pushed her copper hair out of her face and looked up from her book. "No, Mulder, I have never given much thought to that. Sorry." Fox Mulder, having lacked the foresight to bring reading material, was forced to continue his pointless questioning. "I mean, the Coast Starlight. Who the hell thought to name a train that, and why the hell did it occur to them?" "Probably because it was always the middle of the night when he got wherever he was going. Which is probable, considering all the delays we've been getting. Mulder, do you want to borrow a magazine?" "Anything interesting?" "Medical journals and --" Scully looked through her bag, though she knew exactly what was in there, "-- some computer magazine that Skinner gave me. Said it had a couple interesting articles in it." "No thanks." Scully tapped her fingers on her book, irritated with her, as usual, unprepared partner. "Why don't you get some sleep, for a change? It's almost midnight." "It is not. It's closer to eleven. See? 11:21." He held out his watch arm. Scully ignored him and went back to her book. "Scully, whose idea do you think it was to make these train seats so idiotically small?" Scully stuck her finger in her book as a bookmark and looked up again. "They seem fine to me." "Oh, like you're the one to judge," said Mulder, trying to rearrange his legs in the meager space. "In that case, why did you ask me?" "Who else am I supposed to ask?" "Mulder, are you sure you don't want a magazine?" "Certain." Scully was getting annoyed again. "Mulder, I mean it. Why don't you go to sleep?" She opened the book again and settled down in her seat. Mulder looked out the window. "Scully, ever wonder what the meaning of life is?" "Finding personal happiness? Achieving salvation? Letting Dana Scully read her book?" "No, I mean life in general. As in everybody and everything that ever lived." "Mulder?" "Yes?" "Just go to sleep, okay?" THE END