Date: Wed, 26 Aug 1998
TITLE: "Taking Care of Business"
AUTHORS: Jen and Lauren
EMAILS: JenR13@aol.com (Jen)
and JRDG1013@aol.com
(Lauren)
SPOILERS: Leonard Betts, Young at Heart
RATING: PG-13 (for some *mild* language <g>)
CLASSIFICATION: X (there is a plot... sort of.)
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully friendship/UST, MulderTorture
ARCHIVE: Yes, with author's permission, please.
SUMMARY: A dead man, a snow storm, and a sick Mulder make for an
interesting
case.
DISCLAIMER: Well, we'd like to thank our moms and our make-up
artists....
and, but of course, ourselves, and Madonna and Ken Starr and
Henry the Eighth
(and all his wives) and you! You over there! Oh wait a minute,
this isn't the
thank yous??? Right!... uh, Mulder and Scully belong to Chris
Carter
(::bows:: we are not worrrrthy) and Ten Thirteen Productions(I
made this!).
Gotta say, Chris (can I call you Chris?) we had a lot of fun with
your
characters but we're ready to give them back, now. Mulder is a
bit damaged,
but nothing permanent, we swear.
AUTHORS NOTES: Well, out of both of us Lauren had the
idea to write a story
together. So we started with one little page and then went on to
write 44!
We both had a lot of fun writing this story, inspired by both of
our countless
visits to MulderTorture Anonymous (one of our favorite sites
<g>). For this
story, we even did research for some of the medical stuff, but
there is
probably a 50% chance it is not ALL medically correct. But,
please dont
write us countless letters if it isnt!! We had fun writing
this story,
mistakes and all, so we hope you enjoy reading it, mistakes and
all. After
all, no ones perfect! :-)
"T a k i n g C a r e o f B u s i n e s s"
By Jen and Lauren
Part 1
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)
A highway in the middle of Oregon
11:52 p.m.
Seventeen year-old Lynn Johnson sighed as she tried to ignore
the noises
coming from the backseat of her car. She had gone to a party with
3 of her
friends and her 3 friends had taken the opportunity to get drunk.
Lynn was
the only sober one and thus drove her 3 friends home in her mom's
Lexus.
<Why do I always have to be the responsible one?> she
thought as she squinted
at the pitch black road. <These roads sure are quiet at
midnight.> Thank god
her parents were away for the weekend. They would kill her if
they knew she
spent the night at Josh Allen's party. Josh was notoriously known
for his
drinking habits, and had dispensed alcohol freely at the party.
But, as Lynn
continued to stare out at the dark road, she was glad she'd
declined his
offer.
Lynn turned to the backseat and was glad to see her friends
had either fallen
asleep or passed out, she didn't know which. She breathed a sigh
of relief.
At least they were quiet. Too quiet. The stillness of the night
was getting
to Lynn and she increased her speed. <I just want to get
home.>
Suddenly, a noise, almost like a struggle, grabbed Lynns
attention. Lynn
took a quick glance at her companions, but found them quiet and
unfazed by the
noise. <What is that noise?> Lynn went even faster, trying
to just get home,
but the noise continued.
Lynn grew puzzled and frightened. She took a deep breath and
concentrated on
the road ahead of her when a bright spot of light appeared,
blinding her.
"Huh?" Lynn said, aloud and climbed out of the car.
Covering her eyes, she
walked toward the spot of light. Her mouth fell open and she took
another
step. It was the last step she took.........
Part 1a
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)
Sarah leaned way out the window of the stopped car and blinked
her gigantic
eyes several times. "Who-ah." She turned back to try to
get her other
friend's attention but they were mumbling incoherently about
little green men.
With a bit of an effort, Sarah convinced her blurry hand to grab
hold of the
handle and she yanked the door open, falling onto the rough
pavement. She
winced and rubbed a hand over her face. "Lynn?" Sarah
called with
uncertainty.
A muffled affirmation greeted her.
Sarah blinked, unsure of why she was being answered. According
to
her television-spent mind, Lynn should be stretched out dead
across the road
at this point. "Where are ya?" She stumbled to her feet
and leaned over the
side of the guard rail. The metal was cold through her T-shirt.
"Here." Lynn knew how drunk her friend was and was
perfectly aware
that she wouldn't be much help in removing Lynn from her current
situation.
It took a minute but Lynn freed herself from the muddy bank
and
threw, first one leg, then the other, over the guard rail. She
was in no mood
for friendly conversation. "C'mon."
Sarah squinted. "You went swimming."
She started up in utter disgust. "Yeah, that's it."
Lynn and Sarah (the only other lucid one of the group) sat,
with steaming,
coffee stained mugs in their hands, on a tacky floral couch in
Sarah's house.
The room was uneasily silent.
Sarah laid her empty mug by her feet. "So you, like, saw
a guy murder a guy?
And then the bad guy threw the dead guy into the river, and you
swam after
him??"
"I didn't want to go in the river."
"So the bad guy threw you in there too?"
"Yeah, guess so." Lynn sighed heavily at her
friend's astounding intelligence
level.
"Whoah," Sarah murmured. "I know what you did last summer."
"Huh?"
"Nuttin'. But... one thing."
"Yeah."
"Where'd the bad guy go?"
Lynn stared out the frosted window. "I don't know."
She didn't meet her
friend's intent eyes.
Part 2
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington, DC
11:58 a.m.
Dana Scully sighed as she finished typing her report. She
printed it and
picked it up to inspect it. Satisfied she put it back on the
desk. <Thank
god for Fridays> she thought. If things went her way she would
have a case-
free weekend. But most days things didnt go her way. This
was going to be
one of those days.
She placed the report into a folder for AD Skinner to read,
and looked up to
find her partner, Fox Mulder, standing in the doorway waving a
folder in his
hand.
"Looks like Christmas came early for us, Scully. Skinner
had this little
gift sent down extra special."
Scully dropped her folder. "Extra special?"
"Said it was right up my ally." He walked over to his desk and sat down.
"And what would this case be, Mulder? Spaceships? Aliens?
Mothmen?" she
teased as she walked around to the front of his desk.
"Nah, I have to have a variety, now dont I, Scully?"
Scully leaned forward on his desk. "Spit it out, I was
hoping for a case-
free weekend."
"Sorry about that, Scully, but this case will take more
than a weekend. We
have a murder to investigate." He leaned back and put his
feet on his desk.
He placed the folder in front of Scully. She took it and opened
it.
"I see your typical floating dead body, Mulder. Care to
explain the X-File
of it?"
"Its how the dead body got there, Scully."
"My guess is it was thrown, Mulder."
Mulder smiled. "Maybe. But we have a girl that was placed
at the scene.
Lynn Johnson."
"By who?" Scully started to skim through the folders
contents, while Mulder
continued to give her the lowdown.
"A passing motorist. When questioned, she seemed to grow
distant. Police
reports say she was brief and didnt talk much. The cause of
death to our
corpse, according to a preliminary examination is unknown,
Scully. Miss
Johnson doesnt seem to remember much of her ordeal."
"She is probably scared out of her mind, Mulder."
"No question about that. But the one thing she did say is
what classifies
this as an X-File."
"What would that be?"
"Lynn Johnson identified the killer as someone who has
been dead for 23
years."
"23 years?" This was strange. Scullys mind
flashed back to the Leonard
Betts case. That man died in 3 separate occasions. She forced
that thought
out of her head. She didnt want to remember that case,
especially because of
the words Betts said to her in that ambulance. She turned her
attention back
to what Mulder was saying.
"Yep, 23 years. They had a composite artist draw a
picture for the girls
descriptions. When they ran a check through the computer of all
criminals
registered, they came up with a John Weston. Problem was, of
course, the date
of his death, March 24, 1975. Died in prison, where he was
serving time for
murder. A murder, that to this day, police do not know how he
committed. If
it wasnt for the fingerprints they found, hed
probably be a free man. Yet,
Johnson kept insisting this was the guy. Wouldnt say
otherwise."
Scully sighed again. So much for her weekend. "When do we leave?"
"This afternoon, 4 oclock."
"Ill go pack."
Part 2a
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)
Airport Lobby
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
11:52 p.m.
The flight had been late. His legs were cramped from sitting
on a
plane for six and a half hours, his eyes hurt from reviewing the
case the
entire plane ride, and worst of all, his partner was cheerful.
She was
excruciatingly cheerful, she was wide awake, and she was giving
him no mercy.
"C'mon Mulder, let's get going. We can still stop by the
morgue and I
can do my own autopsy notes. Can't wait to get my hands on this
guy... I
mean, how the hell a dead man
threw an able 6'1, middle-aged man over the side of a guard
rail..... not to
mention kill him is beyond me."
"So that's what it takes to excite a pathologist,"
he muttered. They
were driving along the Parkway at about 70 miles an hour, and he
suddenly
wanted nothing more than to go back to the motel. <I'm being
realistic,> he
told himself, <it's almost... tomorrow and my partner wants to
go off studying
papers on the victim in our newest crime. For once I'm the
realistic one who
is ready to go to bed and be fresh for tomorrow... what's wrong
with me?? I
don't _do_ realistic.>
"Mulder?"
He averted his eyes from the road and caught her worried gaze. "Yeah?"
"You awake? 'Cause I'd really like to reach the motel
alive, tonight, if you
don't mind."
"No," he said. "That's fine with me."
Minutes later they pulled into the almost vacant parking lot.
"Quite a tourist attraction, this town is." Scully
murmured. A sign was set
crookedly in the mud outside the motel. "Town Population:
480," it declared
proudly. "480." She laughed a little. "Check it
out, Mulder, Population,
480."
He glanced at her oddly and gave a half smile. "C'mon,
let's get
checked in."
Part 3
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)
Riverside Motel
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
1:30 a.m.
Scully had been cheerful the way there and cheerful all the
way to the motel.
<I cant take this must longer> Mulder thought.
<Wheres the doubting Scully
that gives me that look that says why the hell did you
bring on this case?>
He turned toward her as he pulled their rental car into the motel
parking lot.
She was absorbed in her notes.
"Im going to do the autopsy first thing tomorrow
morning. I hoped to do it
tonight, but the building been long closed for the night.
Dont be surprised
if Im gone when you get up," she added with a smile.
"Well, after that flight, I dont know if I will get
up tomorrow, let alone
get up late," he said parking the car. "Here we are.
Riverside Motel." The
motel looked like it should be condemned. "Lovely,
isnt it?" Mulder
commented as he got out of the car.
But even a bad motel didnt bring Scullys mood
down. "Maybe its nicer
inside. Besides we have stayed at worse."
The motel was a better inside, but not by much. The carpets
were a brownish
green color, a color that reminded Mulder of puke. "Got the
same nice puke
green carpets, Scully?" he shouted through a door that
connected his room with
Scullys. She peered her head in.
"Actually, I think its more of a mold green,"
she said, standing in the
doorway.
"Well, it looks like puke at 1:30 in the morning. Could
look like mold at
8."
Scully smiled. "Good night, Mulder. I want to get an
early start on that
autopsy tomorrow."
"You mean today." Mulder put his duffel bag on the bed.
"Whatever," Scully called over her shoulder as she
closed the door. <Shes
still too damn perky> Mulder thought. He sighed as he sat on
the bed. He had
a headache coming on. It was probably from that plane ride.
Riverside Motel
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
6:30 a.m.
Scully was still in a good mood as she wrote a note out to
Mulder, telling
him she would be leaving to go to her autopsy. She had thought
she would hate
giving up this weekend, but it wasnt too bad so far. Even
the bad flight,
motel, and cool air hadnt dampened her spirits. And now the
sun shining
through the windows had even encouraged her to walk into town,
since it was
only a few blocks away.
"Now to get to the bottom of this case," she
muttered to herself. Autopsies
usually found scientific explanations. But in all of her cases
with Mulder
she knew that wasnt the case. <I wonder what this
autopsy will reveal> she
wondered as she quietly opened the con-joining door and taped the
note to
Mulders side. <Hopefully something normal for a
change....> she hoped as she
left her motel room.
Riverside Motel
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
8:30 a.m.
Mulder awakened to find the sunlight streaming in his eyes. It
was the sign
of good weather, but it just made Mulders headache from
last night return.
He rolled over, not wanting to get out of bed. He opened his eyes
and glanced
at the clock. 8:30.
"8:30??" He shoot up in bed. He never slept that
late. <Guess that flight
really got to me.> He got and reached for his head. Turning
away from the
sun he dug through his bag. <I know I brought
Tylenol......> He quickly gave
up on his search and decided to see if Scully had left yet. He
knocked on the
con-joining door and then noticed the note.
Mulder-
Got a head start on the autopsy and didnt want to wake
you. I decided to
walk into town and left you the car. Check in with me later.
-Scully
<Left me the car? We sound like a married couple> he
thought, smiling to
himself. He was glad she left him the car. He decided he was
going to check
out Lynn Johnsons story, and she lived near the outskirts
of town. <If you
can call this a town.> He had a feeling that there was more
that she wasnt
telling anyone. He was determined to find out what. <Now if
only this damn
headache would go away> he thought and went back to searching
for his Tylenol.
Medical Examiners Office
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
8:15 a.m.
Scully had been happy to have been able to have the office
opened this early.
The towns medical examiner had even showed her around when
he let her in this
morning. He had asked her if she needed any help, and she had
said no, and he
had left her on her merry little way.
Now, an hour into the autopsy, she hadnt discovered
much. In fact she was
stunned. Like the preliminary report, she too could not find any
cause of
death. She thought the victim may have drowned, but death had
appeared to
occur before the victim was thrown into the water. She looked at
the name.
Gary Reed. A 6 1" man about 49, with no known medical
problems. He was in
excellent shape. <How did someone manage to kill this
able-bodied man?> she
wondered.
She stopped her tape recorder and checked the crime scene
photos. Reed was
found on the shore of the river, by a couple of kids that had
gone fishing.
Then the motorist had come forward and placed Lynn Johnson at the
scene. Lynn
Johnson. No doubt she probably held a key piece to the puzzle.
She would bet
a million dollars that that was where Mulder was heading.
She sighed and went back to her autopsy. <There has to be
something
here....>
Part 3a
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)
The House of Lynn Johnson
9:00 a.m.
Mulder almost missed the driveway. He swerved the car abruptly
and pulled
into a gravel drive that curved up to a ram-shackle house.
"Oh man," he muttered and jumped out of the car. He
slammed the car door and
winced as the abrupt clash exploded in his head.
He rapped on the door three times. Footsteps echoed in the
hall and a moment
later and middle-aged woman pulled open the door.
"Yes?" She wasn't especially friendly.
"Uh, yeah." Mulder realized he was sounded pretty
out of it. "I'm Special
Agent Fox Mulder, with the FBI. I need to talk to Lynn
Johnson."
The lady made no move to let him in the house. "She's not
home. What do you
need?"
"We have to, uh, ask her some questions. We're
investigating the death of
Gary Reed, of which your daughter was a witness to. Do you know a
time when
she'll be home?"
The woman shrugged and looked peeved. "She doesn't tell
me. I'm sure you'll
find her in town somewhere. Goodbye." There was nothing good
in her goodbye
as she shut the door in his face. He winced at the pain in his
head.
"Some hospitable folks, huh?" Mulder walked back to
the car and pulled his
cell phone out of his pocket.
"Scully, it's me." Mulder unlocked the car and
dropped into the seat. It
was frigid in the car, he wished he had left the heater on.
"Isn't that my line?" He could picture the smile
crease her face. "What's
up?"
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Not much, I'm in Lynn
Johnson's driveway.
I was kicked out of any further investigating by her
oh-so-belligerent
mother."
"What happened, Mulder?"
He sighed and stuck the key in the ignition. "Nothing,
really. She said
Lynn was somewhere in town and she didn't know when she was
coming back."
"Wouldn't she be at school?"
He frowned. "No, I think the kids are on their winter vacation this week."
"Hm." She was stumped. "Well think of it this
way. The town's so damn
small, somewhere in town covers an area of about 15
square feet."
A small laugh rumbled in his throat. "I guess so. I'm
going to meet you at
your precious den, stay there, okay?"
"You've got the car," she said nonchalantly.
"Good point, see you in a bit."
Cruising along a country road
10:35 a.m.
"Scully, do you mind if we stop?"
She eyed him for a minute. "No, that's okay. What's the matter?"
At her okay, he had pulled over at the next gas station and
was now
hunched forward over the steering wheel, rubbing the area under
his eyes.
Part 4
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)
"Mulder are you all right?" Scully asked, a look of concern in her eyes.
Mulder stopped rubbing his eyes. "Guess that flight we
had last night was
bumpier than I thought." He turned back to the steering
wheel.
<Another one of Mulder's excuses> Scully thought, but
decided not to press
any further. They had a case to solve. She just hoped that Mulder
wasn't
getting sick. Though he always tended to get sick on cases.
Especially the
really long ones.
Mulder started the car again and drove on, still rubbing his
forehead. They
were nearing the motel when Mulder spotted two girls by the
river. Even in
his present state, he recognized one of the girls immediately. It
was Lynn
Johnson. He stopped the car abruptly, sending Scully forward in
her seat.
"Mulder, what the hell are you doing?" she said, gripping her seat.
"Lynn Johnson is over there," he said, getting out
of the car. Scully
glanced toward his direction and spotted her.
"Let's do what we are paid for, Scully." He fumbled
for his badge, hoping he
won't drop it. With his headache and the all together crapy
feeling he had,
he knew that was very possible.
Scully reached the girls first.
"Is one of you Lynn Johnson?' she asked and they turned
around. Mulder
reached them then.
"Who wants to know?" Lynn answered back, in a very unfriendly tone.
"Guess she takes after her mother," Mulder muttered,
more to himself than to
anyone else.
Scully ignored that remark and made a mental note to give
Mulder a "look"
later, and continued with her questioning.
"I'm Agent Dana Scully and this is my partner, Agent Fox
Mulder. We're with
the FBI. We're investigating the death of Gary Reed. We'd like to
ask you
some questions."
Lynn appeared annoyed. "I already told the police
anything I know." Her
friend remained silent but gave Mulder and Scully a vacant stare.
"You sure you told them everything?" Mulder asked a
hint of disbelief in his
voice.
"Yeah, I did." Lynn walked toward him. She was only
about 5'1", but like
Scully, she sure possessed a lot of authority. They weren't
getting anywhere.
<Damn!> Mulder thought.
Scully took charge then. "A witness to murder usually has
more to say.
Especially when she IDs a dead guy."
Lynn's eyes narrowed at that statement, Scully seemed to have gotten though.
"He may be dead, but that's what I saw." Lynn said,
softly at first, but her
words grew with confidence with each syllable. "And I know
what I saw."
"But, how was Mr. Reed killed? If you were present, you should know."
"I don't know," Lynn said, but her voice seemed like
she knew more. "I just
saw him get thrown into the water. That's it." Her friend
nudged her.
"I have to get going," Lynn started and ran down
toward the river. Mulder
started to run after her but he stopped after a couple hundred
feet. He
seemed to bend down, as if he was going to collapse. Scully
rushed toward
him.
When she reached him, he looked pale and was completely out of
breath. He
wobbled a bit, but stayed standing. Scully steadied him.
"Mulder?" She grabbed his wrist and took his pulse;
it was racing. She
reached to feel his forehead, but he batted her hand away.
"I'm fine," Mulder mumbled, as he tried to stand up straight.
"Like hell you are. Mulder, you look you are going to
pass out. You should
be checked out." Scully helped him stand up better and he
could now stand up
on his own again.
"I'm fine, Scully," Mulder said again, this time
more strongly. "Come on we
have a case to solve." Mulder started off slowly to the car.
Scully sighed. He could be such a pain in the ass sometimes.
Scully caught
up with Mulder.
"Well, if you aren't going to listen to me, at least let
me drive." Mulder
reluctantly gave her the car keys. They reached the car and got
in.
On the Road
11:02 a.m.
Scully tried to kept her eyes on the road as she drove on. The
nice day they
were having was disappearing before her very eyes. It had
actually been sunny
in winter, but now it looked overcast like it would rain. And
with these
dropping temperatures that rain would more likely be snow. Scully
glanced
over at her partner. He was still rubbing his forehead. She was
very
concerned. Maybe he would let her take a look at him. She had a
small army
of medical supplies with her. You never knew when it came to
Mulder. She kept
glancing at him.
"Scully, I'm fine. Stop it," Mulder said, getting a
bit annoyed. Truth was
his headache had been joined by an all-over achy feeling and he
felt like
coughing. No way he would do that in front of Scully though.
"So, what did you discover from the autopsy?" Mulder
asked, changing the
subject.
"Not much," Scully answered, her eyes on the road.
The motel was coming into
view. "I was unable to determine the cause of death."
"Unable?" Scully pulled the car into the parking lot.
Scully parked and pulled the keys out of the ignition.
"Yes," she admitted
again. "He was dead before he hit the water, though. That I
could
determine."
"We're getting somewhere then."
"Where, Mulder? We have an uncooperative girl, we seems
like she's knows
more than she's telling, a dead guy with no cause of death, and a
possible
murder suspect that's been dead for 23 years. That's not
much." Scully got
out of the car.
"It's better then nothing," Mulder said over the car.
"Yeah whatever." Scully's good mood was fading fast.
Mulder shook his head as he watched Scully walk into her room.
<Mental Note:
I need to get some Tylenol without asking Scully for it> he
thought as he
walked into his room.
Riverside Motel
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
11:31 a.m.
After another review of the notes, Scully felt ready to get
back to
investigating. She picked up her autopsy notes and knocked on the
con-joining
door. There was no answer. <That's strange.> She knew he
wasn't feeling
well and grew concerned. Finally she just opened the door. Mulder
was lying
on the bed, asleep in the middle of the day. That was not like
him. She took
this opportunity to feel his forehead. He was burning up!
"Damn," Scully cursed under her breath. Mulder stirred then.
"Scully?"
Scully looked at him and he opened his eyes.
"Mulder, don't tell me you are fine because that's
bullshit. You need to get
to a doctor."
"No, Scully," he muttered, but knew she meant
business because she didn't
curse that often.
Scully ignored his protest and left the room. "Stay
put," she called out as
she left.
<That's not a problem> Mulder thought.
Scully reached the motel's check-in area.
"Excuse me, could you tell me where the nearest hospital
is?" The clerk
turned around.
"Well, it's about 2 towns over. In Westford."
"How far is that?"
"It's about 45 miles. But I wouldn't get on the road now
if I were you.
Some of those roads can be quite difficult and a storm is coming.
Supposed to
get a foot of snow at least. You won't want to get
stranded."
<Damn> Scully thought again. She looked out the window
and saw a gray sky.
She could feel the temperatures drop, even though she was inside.
<Damn,
damn, damn.> The snow looked like it was definitely coming.
Part 4a
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)
Riverside Motel Lobby
11:47 a.m.
Scully's gaze floated out the window. The sky was an angry
shade of
gray, one which she would not normally connect with 11:45 in the
morning.
She turned back to the manager. "Thank you," she
muttered curtly and
walked briskly out. The sidewalk was icy under her feet and when
she walked
back to the light of her motel room, she could see her shoes were
close to
ruined in a woolly coat of slush.
The adjoining door between her and Mulder's room was still
wide open.
Knocking briefly on the doorframe, she stepped into his room.
"Mulder?" The bed was empty, blankets twisted and
strewn on the
floor. "Mulder?" She looked into the bathroom. It was
empty. She threw the
shower curtain back, just to make sure (as a child, she had found
her brothers
hiding behind the shower curtain in Hide and Seek more times than
she wanted
to remember). Completely empty.
Fear surged through her. <Had Mulder been kidnapped??>
He certainly
wouldn't put up much fight in his current condition. <Damn, I
didn't even get
to take his temperature.> Scully sat on the bed, still feeling
his warmth on
the cheap sheets, and stared at the empty room. Her eyes caught
glance of a
small yellow paper on the door.
She hurriedly stepped across the room and pulled it off the
door. A
Post-it.
Scully-
I know where Lynn Johnson is. Am gonna corner her. I brought
my gun in case her mother shows. Be back soon.
M
Scully dropped back onto the bed. <He must be shitting
me,> she
seethed. She stared out at the parking lot, noted the sleet
falling slickly
in the street light's glow. <Storm must be pretty bad if
they've got a street
light on at noon.> Then she noticed Mulder had had the decency
to leave her
the car. <Then how did he...... he must've taken a cab.
Stupid, he won't be
able to find a ride home once this storm builds up.>
12:16
Basement in the former Y
Mulder stepped into a large hallway. When Scully had stormed
out of his
bedroom in search for a hospital and hadn't come back after 15
minutes, he had
been worried. Pulling his winter jacket over jeans and a T-shirt,
he had
stepped outside and immediately noticed the flyer.
Meet- the abandoned Y building. Basement. Discussions on DOGR
and
even meet JW. Free refreshments to be served after. Call Lynn
Johnson at
555-5389 if you have any questions.
Now Mulder was starting to wish he had never found the flyer.
Or at least
had never followed it as a lead. Between the 20 minute ride in an
unheated
taxi (the town wasn't actually big enough to drive from one place
to another
in 20 minutes, it was a matter of the driver had a non-existent
sense of
direction and didn't speak much English on top of it), trying to
find the
abandoned YMCA in the dim light of the storm, and making his way
down 6
flights of stairs to reach the basement and then finding it
completely empty,
Mulder was one miserable camper. And now he was waiting in a
grimy basement
for a discussion group led by Lynn Johnson.
With nothing better to do than whine, and (fortunately) no one
to hear him,
Mulder leaned against the slick gym wall and slid down until he
was sitting on
the dusty floor. He reviewed his current situation.
<I'm in the bowels of a building that is probably illegal
to be in since it's
been empty since 1984. It's cold down here since, evidently,
someone stopped
paying the oil bill after they abandoned the building. My hair is
wet from
walking in the snow since the damn taxi driver couldn't find the
damn Y in a
town 2 miles wide and I'm wearing nothing but jeans and a T-shirt
under this
jacket. Boy, that was a smart move, Mulder. And now my partner is
most likely
pissed 'cause I ran off without her.... ran off when she was
about to doctor
me, too. Well, guess she missed her chance at that.>
The whole time, he had been attempting to brush the ice out of
his hair.
Freezing water poured down his face and he wiped it off with his
T-shirt.
<And now my only bit of clothing besides this soaked jacket
is wet.
Wonderful.>
"My life is a living hell," he announced to no one
in particular. "I wanna
go home," his voice caught. He hunched forward, forehead
resting on his knees
and a cough escaped him. Several other followed.
"Oww.." he moaned, not caring how pitiful he
sounded. There was no one to
hear him anyway. This was pointless. They were never going to
show.... the
meeting was probably tomorrow with his luck, anyway. Clawing the
wall for
support, Mulder stood stiffly. He dug his cell phone out of his
pocket and
hesitated. Calling Scully would mean giving in. And he definitely
didn't
want to do that.
Part 5
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)
Riverside Motel
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
12:17 p.m.
"Shit, shit," Scully mumbled as she searched
Mulder's room yet again for any
sign of where he had gone. He had said he'd found Lynn. <But
where did you
find her, Mulder? Where??>
"Damnit," she swore again, getting fed up. Mulder
was in no condition to go
out searching a hunch. She hadn't even gotten a chance to check
him over. He
could have pneumonia for all she knew. <You are such an idiot,
Mulder.>
Scully sighed. She was getting nowhere. She'd have to track
Mulder down
herself. <Hopefully that will be easy in this town> she
hoped, but her hopes
diminished as she saw the big fat snow flakes falling. The snow
was falling
fast. <Better get started> she thought, and at the last
moment, grabbed her
medical bag on her way out. <I have a feeling I'll need
it.>
Basement in the former Y
1:30 p.m.
Mulder had been sitting on the cold tile floor for the last
hour. He had
picked up his cell phone may times and had considered calling
Scully,
considered giving in. <Maybe I should have at least told her
where I went.
No! Then she would have come out and dragged me to the nearest
hospital.> He
shook his head. <Maybe Lynn is going to show. But I have this
feeling....>
As if on cue, Mulder heard footsteps at that point. And
voices. Two of
them, feminine.
"Thanks for getting me out of there before I said to
much, Sarah," A voice
said. Mulder recognized it as Lynn Johnson's.
"No problem. I don't think you would have leaked about JW
anyway. Not after
all he has done for you," another girl answered. Mulder
assumed her to be
Sarah.
"What time is he coming anyway?"
"Any minute. The meeting is in the green room. This is
going to be the most
important meeting yet, Sarah."
"Why's that?"
"JW has the plan set."
Mulder was intrigued. <Who is JW?> Suddenly he heard the
girls footsteps
round the corner and come closer toward him. <I've got to hid
but where?>
Mulder's eyes scanned the hallway and fell on a janitor's closet.
He summed
all of his strength and got into it, just before Lynn and Sarah
turned the
bend.
<Whew!> he thought. His thoughts turned back to the
girls. <I knew she was
hiding something!> He opened the door a crack and saw the
girls go toward a
room at the end of the hall. Just before they entered it, Sarah
turned
around.
"Lynn, did you hear something?"
Oh shit ran through Mulder's head.
Lynn shook her head. "No. Come on Sarah we have to set up
the
refreshments."
"Is everyone coming?"
"I sent a flier around to everyone in the group. They
should all be here."
Lynn walked into the room.
"Good," Sarah said and followed her.
<What are they up to?> Mulder wondered. Then he felt the
urge to cough.
<No, not now, Goddamnit!> He muffled his cough with his
coat. <I really hope
they didn't hear that.> Mulder waited a few minutes. Nothing.
They hadn't
heard. Good. Mulder creaked the door open again. He saw a line of
people
walking down the hallway. He quickly closed the door. <Guess
the guest are
arriving> he thought. He heard more voices.
"Down the hall, in the green room," Lynn directed. "JW has arrived."
<Arrived?> Mulder wondered. He hadn't heard any
footsteps come down the hall
before the arrival of the guests.
"No, Lynn," a deep voice said. "We'll have the
refreshments in the green
room. We'll have the meeting in the hallway. I need the
echo." It was a
man's voice. <Could this be JW?>
"As you all know, I'm John Weston, better know as JW.
Welcome to our little
meeting. I all know you have been wronged. It doesn't matter by
who, it just
matters that you were hurt. Well this group is here to help you
feel better.
About yourself. We can make those troubles of yours go away. Just
like that.
I made my first trouble go away at 26. Of course sometimes, a
fake death is
all you need to start a new life. You can all start new
lives."
<Fake death? That would account for his death 23 years
ago> Mulder thought,
<That explains part of it.>
"Gary Reed was a peer of mine in high school. Captain of
the football team.
His favorite hobby was making my life a living hell. Of course I
got my
payback." JW smiled happily.
<Everything is falling into place> Mulder thought.
<Too easily though,
where's the catch?> Mulder's vision started to blur. <This
is not the best
time for this. . .>
"You killed him??" someone in the crowd said uneasily.
"Yep, had to if I wanted to move on. If you don't get rid
of them they will
stay with you the rest of your life. A burden you can never dump.
A constant
reminder of your pain. Getting rid of them is just taking care of
business.
And, of course, dead men don't do time."
Mulder tried to grasp this. He shook his head. His head was
really starting
to hurt and his vision kept getting worse and worse. He blinked
and saw two
door knobs in front of him. <That is not a good sign. . .>
he thought.
"Why did Lynn finger you?" Another voice shouted and
all of them looked at
Lynn.
"Relax, I told her to. I can't be caught. I'm dead,
remember? I'll always
be dead and alive at the same time," he added, smiling
wickedly.
Mulder felt like he was going to pass out any minute. He
needed to steady
himself. He leaned against what he thought was a wall. It wasn't.
It was a
door. And it pushed open. Mulder felt himself fall, but was
powerless to
stop it. He stopped falling and opened his eyes and found himself
looking up
into the face of John Weston. <Oh shit> was the last thing
Mulder thought
before he succumbed to the darkness.
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
On the Road
2:00 p.m.
The snow was getting worse. Scully couldn't see a foot past her windshield.
"Damn Mulder," she muttered. She was getting more
worried by the second. He
was probably stuck in some ditch somewhere. . . <Don't think
that Dana. He's
fine. He better be.>
Scully couldn't take the road anymore. She had to stop. She
parked in front
of a small diner. Maybe they would know something about Lynn
Johnson. No one
else sure the hell knew. She calmed herself and got out of the
car and
walked toward the diner.
Part 5a
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)
2:01 p.m.
On the sidewalk outside the former Y
Rough ice grated his cheek. <This keeps getting better and
better.> With a
great amount of difficulty, Mulder pushed himself off the
sidewalk, the ice
scraping his palms.
He briefly assessed his position. He had been lying on a
sidewalk, and was
now leaning against what felt like steps. Steps to the Y. He
tried to
remember how he had ended up lying on the street outside the Y
but nothing
came to him. His guess was John Weston had something to do with
it.
<It could be worse,> he figured, and crammed his hands
in his pockets to
attempt to keep them warm. <John Weston could've kidnapped me
and I could be
stuck in a dank basement somewhere tied to a chair and gagged and
no one would
ever find me and Scully would forget about me and go back to
DC>
He smiled a little despite himself. <Okay, so that's going
a little far.
Well, the Scully forgetting about me part isn't so
unrealistic.... she was
pretty pissed when I last had the pleasure of her company. When
was that?>
It felt like hours and hours ago. He didn't have the tolerance to
the cold to
pull his hand out of his pocket and glance at his wrist watch.
But he was beginning to feel a little warmer, now that he
wasn't lying on the
wet sidewalk, but he was also becoming more aware. His brain
informed him
that he had to get back to the hotel or Scully was gonna be
seriously
perturbed. She probably was already... well, a warm hotel didn't
seem like
such a horrible thing to Mulder, anyway.
Problem was, there wasn't a cab in sight. Or a car or a
bicycle or even
another living being. Raising his head to stare at the churning
sky, he saw
snow falling freely now, and when he gazed at the bank across the
street, he
could see a foot, respectively, of white piled on the slanted
roof. He
lowered his head again, snowflakes stinging his eyes, he licked
the area
around his mouth in an attempt to warm up a bit.
<Okay.... guess I'm walking.> He reached a hand up to
steady himself on the
slick railing and, with no little trouble, stood. <C'mon, one
foot in front
of the other. This can't be too hard, I remembered how to do it
earlier
today.> His sneakers sank into the slush and cold seeped
through his socks in
a matter of seconds. Moving ahead, he spotted a sign; he squinted
to see
through the snow.
"Riverside Motel, 2 miles --->" the sign announced proudly.
<Okay.... that way.> His eyes followed the arrow and a
spinning blizzard of
snow greeted him. <And I get to go through this. Today must be
my lucky
day.> He took a deep breath, rubbing his chest against the
pain and started
off into the snow.
2:17 p.m.
On the road in town
<How is it that I can't find my six-foot tall partner in a
town this
damn small??> Scully tried to keep her thoughts on the
perilously icy road.
She wasn't successful, she was too peeved at Mulder. <He's
probably off
chasing aliens... again. What a moron.> She suddenly
remembered the sight of
him lying on the bed, fast asleep and her mood softened a bit.
<If he's been
out in this weather this whole time, he's bound to be sick... if
he wasn't
already before he left.>
She drove down main street again and saw nothing. She had been
throughout
the whole town now, and not a trace of Mulder. She'd been driving
for what
seemed like forever.
<He's probably back at the motel smirking his head off, she
thought as she
swerved the car around. You know what? That's somewhere I haven't
checked in
a while. He could be right back at the motel.>
"Okaaay Mulder," she muttered to the still car.
"If you beat me to the motel
I'm gonna be really really mad, got that?" She shook her
head and smiled as
she headed back to the motel.
Part 6
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)
Walking on the Road
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
2:34 p.m.
Mulder blinked again as he stared at the snow piling up in
front of him.
<This snow is not making my life easy.> Mulder swallowed.
Damn. Guess he'd
have to add a sore throat to his list of ailments. <Scully is
not going to be
happy with me, if I can end up back at the hotel. . .> He
turned back toward
the snow. A sign came into his view.
"Riverside Motel 3/4 mile -----> 'Best motel in town,'" the sign read.
"If that's the best motel in town, I want to go to a new
town," Mulder
mumbled as he walked in the direction of the sign. <At least
I'm halfway
there> he reasoned and continued on his journey.
Riverside Motel
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
2:43 p.m.
Scully had finally been able to get through the snow and
arrive at the hotel.
She immediately flew up toward Mulder's room and checked it
again. And again.
Nothing. <Damnit Mulder. I would have even forgave you for
ditching me again
if you had just been okay and in your room.> She sat on the
edge of his bed.
The only thing she could do was hope he would be back. She
couldn't go back
out in the snow. The storm was getting worse, having already
deposited two
feet of snow on the ground. Scully tapped her fingers against the
nightstand
at Mulder's bedside. She glanced down at her wet ankles.
<Might as well as
change my socks.>
She walked into her room and caught site of the case folder.
She picked it
up. This case just didn't make any sense to her. With the
exception of being
dead, this John Weston seemed to have no "special
powers." She closed the
folder. <You better have at least discovered something,
Mulder. Something
worth endangering your health.>
She sat down on her bed, just trying to put her thoughts
together. A half
hour went by and there was still no sign of Mulder. She got that
urge to
start tapping her fingernails again when she heard the door to
Mulder's room
open. She rushed in there in a flash.
Mulder stood shakily at the door. He looked worse then when
Scully had seen
him last and was soaked.
"Hi Scully. Fancy meeting you here," he said with a
small smile. But the
smile soon turned into a cough. Then that cough turned into
several.
Scully quickly went into her "doctor mode." Before
Mulder knew it, she was
pushing him toward the bed. He landed on it with a soft thud.
"I'm sorry for that Mulder, but I'm still kinda of pissed
at you," she said
and then her tone softened. "Take off that wet jacket. And
STAY put." She
disappeared out of the con-joining door. Mulder watched her walk
out and took
that opportunity to continue coughing. <At least I reached the
motel. But
Scully's lecture is still to come.> He had taken his jacket
off when Scully
returned, medical supplies in tow. She put her bag on the
nightstand and
rummaged through it until she produced a thermometer. She moved
toward Mulder
with it.
Mulder began shaking his head. "Scully . .," he
started, but she cut him
off.
"Don't get me any more pissed at you then I already
am," she said, but then
her lips turned up in a smile. "Or I'll stick this somewhere
else."
"Don't you have one of those ear thermometers?"
"I did, until my nephew stepped on it last week. So
you'll just have to
suffer." The smile remained on her face. Mulder sighed, but
opened up and let
her sick the thermometer in his mouth.
Scully brushed some hair out of his eyes as she waited for the
thermometer.
She noticed Mulder's clothes were wet as well.
"Mulder, you're soaked! Where the hell did you go?"
Mulder pointed to the thermometer in his mouth, as if saying
he couldn't
answer. His eyes glistened. Scully looked straight into them.
They were
also a bit glazed over. She stared for a good minute, then said,
"You can
take the thermometer out now."
Mulder didn't waste a second taking it out of his mouth.
Scully took it from
his hand. <Damn> she thought when she looked at the
reading. 101.9. She
shook her head and frowned.
Mulder knew that frown and it wasn't good. <Guess you went
ahead and made
yourself pretty sick, Mulder.> Mulder sighed, his sigh quickly
turning into
another cough. He sunk down into the bed. His chest hurt more
with every
cough. He put his hand on his chest.
That movement did not escape the eyes of Dr. Scully. She put
the thermometer
away and went rummaging through her medical bag again until she
produced her
stethoscope. She rubbed the end of it, put the ends in her ears,
and lifted
up Mulder's shirt and placed it on his chest.
"Damn, Scully. Why do those things always have to be so
cold?" She ignored
his comment and paid attention to what she was hearing. She
frowned again.
"Mulder--," she started, but was interrupted by the door.
"Better get the door, Scully," Mulder said, glad for
the momentary
interruption. Scully sighed and put the stethoscope on the
nightstand and
opened the door. A brown-haired girl, looking about 17, stood
outside, amid
the two feet of snow.
"Are you the agent that was looking for Lynn Johnson this
morning?" the girl
asked timidly.
<Who is this?> "Yes, I am. Special Agent Dana
Scully of the FBI." She
turned toward Mulder. "That is Agent Mulder."
"My name is Anna Weston. I may be able to answer some of
your questions."
She looked down at her feet.
<Weston? As in John Weston?> Mulder thought, hearing the
conversation from
the bed. He sat straight up.
Scully opened the door more. "Come in, please." Anna
walked in timidly and
saw Mulder sitting up in the bed.
"Am I interrupting something?" Anna asked.
Mulder sat up straighter in bed. "Of course not," he
answered quickly, and
Scully took that opportunity to shoot him a "look."
"What can you tell us?" Mulder asked, ignoring
Scully. Scully was searching
through her bag again. Mulder didn't want to think about what she
was looking
for.
"Well, a lot," Anna started, "Agent Mulder, John Weston is my father."
"Your father?" Scully repeated, looking up from her
bag. She sat on the edge
of Mulder's bed.
Anna nodded. "Well, not legally. But he is my father.
Expect we can't
write it on the birth certificate because his 'death' was before
I was born."
She paced around the room suddenly but kept talking.
"He would kill me if he knew I was going to tell you
about him." She paused,
and looked up. "He's a vengeful man. One who gets back at
his tormentors by
killing them, disposing of his bad memories. 'I'm just taking
care of
business' he says. And now he started a 'club', as he calls it,
where he
helps other kids 'dispose' of their problems, too. He says he
doesn't want
them to suffer as he did." She shook her head. "He's
full of bullshit."
Her last comment caught both agents by surprise. "He was
sloppy his first
time, that 23 years ago, before I was born. That was why he was
in prison.
But, my father is special, has a gift, so to speak. He can't
die."
Scully sighed, her skepticism starting to show, but Mulder
urged the girl to
continue.
"Some people have gifts. My father's is everlasting life.
He discovered
when he was 17, like me, when he tried to kill himself and he
couldn't
succeed. That's how he got out of prison. He strangled himself
and passed
out and they thought he was dead. They wheeled him out in one of
those body
bags and put it into the ambulance and left it alone for a few
minutes. What
a mistake," she said sadly. "He escaped. The missing
body never made the news
because the police were afraid of a scandal. And now he uses a
gift like this
to get away with murder. I can't let him do that."
"And we are supposed to believe your father's
immortal?" Scully said in
disbelief. Mulder shot her a "look" of his own. She
turned toward Mulder.
"Sorry, Mulder, but this does not seem plausible."
"It could be, Scully. Like Barnett or Betts," Mulder
argued. "We have had
cases like thi--" His sentence was cut off by his coughing.
Scully's
skepticism turned into concern. She put her hand on Mulder's
shoulder. He
stopped coughing and pushed it away.
"I have proof," Anna said quietly.
Scully and Mulder both looked up at her.
"Me. I have it too." She picked up a letter opener.
"Want a
demonstration?"
Scully took the letter opener out of her hand. "No, that's okay."
"You have to stop him," Anna said. "Please."
"She's right, Scully. Let's go." He got out of bed.
Scully pushed him back
down.
"Not you, Mulder. You're sick."
"I'm fine. We have a case to solve, Scully. Skinner is
not going to like it
if we hand in an empty report." He met her concerned eyes.
"Only for an
hour, Scully. We'll look for an hour. If we come up empty, we can
come back
and you can doctor me all you want." His lips turned up in a
smile. "And
I'll even listen."
"But, Mulder, the snow--" He cut her off.
"Will get worse soon. That's why we have to go now. I
didn't get to tell
you, Scully, but when I was in the basement of the Y, I heard
some things that
confirm Anna's story."
"The basement of the Y?" Scully repeated.
"Yeah, I'll tell you how I got there later. Let's
go." Before Scully could
stay another word, he had weakly pulled her toward the door.
<No use in
fighting Mulder. Besides, I want to hear more about this basement
of the Y
thing.>
"One hour, Mulder. One hour. And I want to know what
happened at the Y,"
she said.
"Don't worry, Scully," he said with a smile,
"I'll tell you. Later." And
with that he stormed out toward the car.
Part 6a
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)
3:17 p.m.
In the car
Scully had been staring out the window trying to figure out
where
Anna was taking them, but the fluttering snow had become more
dense and all
hopes of actually seeing a road sign had disappeared. She shot a
look to
Mulder in the back seat and noticed he wasn't looking so good.
She leaned back and put a hand on his knee to get his
attention.
"Hey, Mulder." He didn't look up but stared straight at
the seat ahead of
him. "Mulder." She said a little louder. He glanced up.
"How are you
doing?" she asked, concern dripping from her gaze.
He shrugged; he didn't trust his voice.
Scully smiled. "I need a little more than that, partner."
Mulder took a minute to clear his throat. "Okay," he said hoarsely.
She wasn't going to push it. She squeezed his knee and turned
back
to the road. "Are we almost there?"
Anna glanced at her briefly then returned her eyes to the
road. She
hesitated and Scully could tell she was about to lie.
"Yeah."
In the backseat, Mulder pulled his jacket tightly around
himself,
stuffing his hands in the sleeves, and huddled in the corner of
the car. He
tried to get comfortable in the cramped conditions but was having
a hard time.
He pressed his cheek against the window, it was wet and freezing
cold. It
felt so good against his burning skin..... seconds later he
jerked away, the
icy sensation no longer comforting. A shudder wracked him and,
not caring how
stupid he looked, he pulled the hood up on his jacket.
He wished desperately he had stayed at the hotel. He was
shivering
uncontrollably now, even though he knew the car's heat was
blasting full
force. A wave of nausea hit him full force and he squeezed his
eyes shut and
prayed the ride would end soon.
4:00
In the car (still)
Scully was becoming seriously suspicious.
"Anna, where the hell are you going? We've been driving
for almost an
hour and... in circles." Or at least it seemed like they
were going in
circles. She glanced back at Mulder and noticed he him shaking.
"Are we near
the hospital?"
She shook her head. "Hospital's the other way, sorry."
"Mm." Scully was still staring at her partner.
"Stop the car a minute," she
said suddenly. Anna looked perplexed but complied.
Scully jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind her,
went around and
hopped in the back seat next to Mulder. "Okay, you can go
now."
Anna closed her door and shook her head, exasperated. The
engine rumbled as
the car warmed up, then drove off into the snow.
Scully slid into the middle seat so she was all but sitting on
his lap
in the small backseat and laid a gentle hand on his forehead. He
didn't seem
to notice her presence.
"Mulder," she whispered. She ran her hand down the
side of his face, sweat
meeting her fingertips.
<I didn't even get him to take any medicine,> she
realized. <Stupid,
stupid, stupid. He hasn't eaten all day either...> Scully
remembered the
peanuts she had pocketed on the plane ride. She grabbed her
pocketbook from
the front seat and pulled out the package. Using her teeth, she
pulled the bag
open. "Mulder," she said. "C'mon, you need to eat
this."
His eyes slowly slid open. "What?" Gravel broke his voice.
She held the bag out to him. "Eat. You need to eat this.
I hear they're a
cousin of the sunflower seed..."
He laughed a little; that turned into coughing, the phlegm
rattling in his
chest. Sharp bits of shrapnel grated his throat.
"Please Mulder." Scully held out one peanut.
"Just this, for now. I don't
want you passing out on me, now."
"Doesn't sound too bad," he muttered. <I
should've told her about being
thrown out on the sidewalk... nah, the timing's lousy. I'll
mention it
later.> He took the peanut from her hand, held it between
three fingers and
stared distastefully for a minute.
"In the mouth," Scully reminded him.
He popped it in his mouth and grimaced at its bland taste.
"Good," she cooed softly. "Have another."
She held the bag out to
him.
Mulder was still getting over the first. He shut his eyes
against the
nausea and pushed Scully's hand away.
Part 7
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)
In the car (still)
4:30 p.m.
Scully glanced at her watch and then at Mulder. He was curled
up into a ball
near the window. He breathing seemed a little ragged, and if she
hadn't been
sure he had pneumonia after her brief examination, she was
definitely sure
now. <Damn> she thought, <He needs a hospital.>
"Anna," she began, "Please tell me where the
hell we are going and when we
are going to get there."
Anna looked nervously at her. "The Y, Agent Scully, if I
can find it in all
of this snow."
<The Y?> "Is this the same Y Mulder was talking
about earlier?" she asked,
suspicion in her voice. She had a feeling Anna was hiding
something.
Something BIG.
"The one and only." Anna squinted out the window.
"And speaking of it,
there is it." Sure enough, a building come into view.
Mulder lifted his head slowly. "Yeah, the same Y where I
found Weston the
first time." Mulder looked at the Y in thought. Even in his
weakened state,
he, like Scully, sensed something was out of place. "Anna,
why are we here?"
Anna pulled the car in next to the entrance. "My father
lives here, Agent
Mulder." <That's strange. Why would she just bring us,
this easy to her
father? It makes no sense> Scully thought. Anna pulled the
keys out of the
ignition and threw them at Scully. "Let's go," she
said.
"I don't know if Mulder is in the condition to go,"
Scully said. Mulder took
all of his strength and sat up. "No, Scully let's do this.
We're so close."
Scully's eyes grew more concerned as she watched him climb
carefully out of
the car. Anna held the front door open and Scully and Mulder
walked in.
Scully glanced around the hallway. She didn't trust Anna for
some reason.
She held on tightly to the gun she had. <Why did I let Mulder
talk me into
this?>
<What did I talk myself into this?> Mulder thought. He
doubted Anna more
every second. He coughed again, sending the sound echoing down
the hallways.
<God I feel like shit.> He felt like coughing phlegm on the
floor, but he had
a case to solve. He didn't feel like they were getting any closer
as they
descended the same stairs that Mulder, himself, had descended
just a few hours
before. Anna stopped at the bottom off the stairs. Mulder got a
grip on his
gun, which he had grabbed on the way out. Not a very good grip
though.
Mulder knew even if something attacked them, he couldn't even
hold the gun
straight enough to fire. <Thank God for Scully.>
"What is it, Anna?" Scully called out when she stopped.
"Nothing," Anna replied and kept walking. She walked
down into the basement
and toward the door at the end of the room.
Mulder remembered what happened the last time he was here. He
passed out.
<And I'm very close to doing the same thing again.> He
shook his head and
kept walking.
Just before Anna reached the room, the door swung open. John
Weston stood in
the doorway, with a smile on his face. He looked directly at
Scully.
Scully looked at him carefully. She recognized this man, but
she was not
sure from where. He was a man, in his late 40's, but was still
attractive.
Then it hit her. Jack Larson. Sure, he was older, but it was
still him. The
same man she had dated only 7 years ago. Before Mulder and the
X-Files. It
was a relationship she would care not to remember.
"Nice to see you again, Dana," JW said, evenly.
"Dana?" Scully heard Mulder repeat.
Anna walked toward her father. "Good job, Anna, my little
actress." Anna
looked down at the ground. She did not look proud of what she had
done.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
Scully just stared at JW. "Aren't you going to introduce
me to your friend,
Agent Mulder is it? Nice to meet you." JW smiled.
"Yeah, charmed," Mulder muttered and blinked. <Who the hell is this guy?>
"Why don't you tell Mulder here about our history, Dana?
Or should I?"
Scully remained silent. "I guess I will."
JW walked around Scully and she got a stronger grip on her
gun. "Dana,
shooting me would do nothing." Scully still remained silent,
not giving him
the satisfaction. "Dana and I used to date. She dumped me, I
was really
hurt. But you know what? I've decided to make amends this
month."
Mulder had to lean against a wall. "Yeah, your own amends," Mulder mumbled.
"Got a verbal partner there, Dana." JW sighed.
"Finding out you were in
town was just an extra plus this month. Of course, it was easy to
get Anna to
help. She's blood after all."
Out of the corner of his eye, Mulder could see Anna inching
toward him. Or
maybe he was seeing things. That was quite possible in his
condition.
"Nice to see you're not bitter, Jack, or should I say,
John," Scully remarked
sarcastically.
Mulder smiled at that remark. It sounded like something he might say.
"Guess you could say that," JW said. He walked over
toward Scully. He
pulled out a needle. "A little something some good friend at
the lab
developed for me. Can't be detected. It sure comes in
handy."
<So that's how . . . I 've got to get out of here.>
Scully turned around,
but JW grabbed her from behind. He had a pretty strong grip. He
uncapped the
needle with his teeth.
Mulder's vision blurred. He KNEW Scully needed some help, but
he could
barely see straight. <Damn it Mulder, even after all the help
Scully has
given you, you have to be too damn sick to help her.> He had
to do this. He
took his gun out and watched it wobble in his hand. He shook his
head and
squinted to help clear his vision. He pointed the gun at the
needle JW was
holding. JW still had a strong grip on Scully, but she was not
making it
easy for him. Mulder sighed and took a deep breath. <Please
let me be a good
shot and not a really bad one!!> Mulder squeezed the trigger.
. . .
The basement of the Y
5:01 p.m.
"Bang!!!!"
The sound of Mulder's gun echoed through the hallway. Just as
JW was going
to plunge the needle into Scully, Mulder's bullet knocked it
right out of his
hands. Mulder looked at the gun in disbelief. He had actually
fired his gun
straight!! He smiled. <My one shot of glory on this case.>
As soon as the
needle clanked to the ground, Scully kicked JW in the ribs. While
he down on
the ground, Scully grabbed Mulder's hand (the one still with the
gun in it)
and ran like hell.
"Come on!!" she yelled dragging Mulder behind her.
Mulder wheezed. "I can't
keep up!" he said. Scully just dragged him as fast as she
could. They
reached the doors and Scully spotted the car, half buried in the
snow. She
searched for her keys, found them and opened Mulder's door and
quickly helped
him in. She put the keys in the ignition and started the car.
She tried to back it out of the snow. It wasn't budging.
"Come on, come
on," She urged and finally the car went shooting out sending
Scully out onto
the snow covered road. She put her foot on the gas and got both
Mulder and
herself the hell out of there.
Part 8
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)
5:06 p.m.
In the car
Once Scully had driven two blocks and was certain they hadn't
been followed,
she glanced over at Mulder. He was hunched forward, deathly pale
in the
limited light, gasping desperately for breath.
"Mulder, Mulder." She took his arm and pulled him
back so he wasn't bent
over any more. She briefly considered moving the car to the side
of the road
but figured it didn't matter. Everyone else in the town was
smart: safe at
home. She returned her attention to her partner who was on the
verge of
passing out. "Deep breaths," she murmured.
"Goooood."
His breathing began to even out. "That was--" a
coughing fit wracked him.
"That was too close," he finished meekly.
She frowned and took his hand, holding it close to her eyes so
she
could see in the dim light.
"Lousy time for a proposal," he muttered.
Scully dropped his hand and started up the car again.
"Your fingernails are
blue, Mulder. That's a sign you're not getting enough
oxygen."
His eyes were closed tightly and she could tell he was
concentrating hard on
his breathing. She turned her gaze to the road.
They pulled up to the motel after minutes.
"What???" Scully stood outside the car in rapidly
dropping temperatures and
screamed bloody murder to the still evening air. "What the
hell???? It took
Anna a freakin' hour and a half to get us to the Y and I make it
home in 5
fucking minutes?"
"She was delaying." Mulder's voice traveled easily
through the thin air. He
was standing right next to her but she hadn't noticed in her
rage. He
shivered in the cold air and continued hoarsely, "JW most
likely had to set
up..... get the needle and all and she had to...."
Scully realized he was rambling and probably not completely
lucid. His run-
on sentence ended in an abrupt fit of coughing and she grabbed
his arm and
pulled him across the parking lot and, after unlocking the door,
into the
motel room. She sat him on the bed and flipped on the light
"You're soaking," she scolded, attempting to pull
down the frozen zipper on
his jacket.
"You're a hypocrite," he rasped.
"Huh?" She glanced down then and noticed her own wet
clothes. "Okay, I'm
going into my room to change and I want you to get out of those.
Stay in your
boxers but don't get dressed, I want to check you out."
"Uh uh," Mulder said. He had laid down on his bed
while she was talking and
was not about to get up again.
"Mulder!" She pulled him back up. "You've been
in this soaking wet clothes
for hours!" She pulled his T-shirt over his head as she
spoke. Putting a
hand on his shoulder, she could feel the heat radiating off of
him. "Take
your jeans off. I'm going to get my stuff."
She stepped into her room and shrugged out of her jacket.
Scully was
relieved to find the rest of her clothes were reasonably dry, so
she grabbed
her medical bag and returned to Mulder's room.
Mulder was barely sitting up straight on the bed, wearing
nothing but his
boxers and staring blankly at the closed door.
"Mulder," she said softly as not to alarm him. He
was oblivious to
her presence. She sat down next to him and wrapped a blanket from
the foot of
the bed around his shoulders. "Open up." She stuck the
thermometer in his
mouth. He didn't seem to notice when she pulled it out.
"One oh three," she said aloud. <Shit, Mulder,
what have you gotten
yourself into?? C'mon, Dana, it's time to be the rational one.
Don't panic,
just take care of it. First thing's first; get that fever
down.>
"Mulder," She squeezed his hand and unfocused eyes
came to rest on her. "I
need you to lie down for me, can you do that?"
<Oh boy, can I.> Exhausted, he dropped back. He tried to
get under
the covers but she stopped him.
"Uh uh, you're too hot, you need to let off that heat.
Stay on top
of the covers, I'm gonna get you a cool washcloth." She went
into the
bathroom and returned a minute later with a dripping washcloth.
"There," she
soothed and placed it on his forehead. He was shivering
unceasingly and it
was beginning to scare her. <Effects of the fever,> she
told herself.
<You've got the MD after your name, you ought to know
that>. "I'll be right
back, Mulder." She walked briskly across the room and dug a
bottle of Motrin
out of her bag. Taking a glass from the bathroom, she filled it
with water
and moved back to Mulder. "Can you drink some of this for
me?" He made a
vague motion which resembled a negative shake of the head.
"Oh, I know you
can." She smiled encouragingly and propped several pillows
under his shoulders
so he was half sitting up. She handed him the pills and he put
them in his
mouth. She was about to give him the water to wash them down but
he had
already attempted to swallow them dry, on an extremely parched
throat, and was
now choking. She handed him the glass and he somehow managed to
get a bit of
it in his mouth, and the coughing came to a slow stop.
"Scully," he rasped. "Don't feel good."
<No shit, Sherlock.> "I know. Stay still a minute."
<Okay, fever taken care of. Well, it should go down soon,
anyhow. Next
thing, what to do about the pneumonia.> She reached into her
bag.
Part 8a
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)
After five minutes, Scully sighed and calmed down. She was the
rational one.
She had things in control. She didn't really have much to treat
Mulder with,
but she did have a small drug store with her. <With Mulder you
never know>
she thought and tried to locate the penicillin she knew she had.
She found it
and looked back at Mulder. He was watching her through half
closed eyes.
Scully looked at him for a second, then remembered that she was
looking for
something. She went back to searching until she located a
pre-packaged
syringe.
Mulder saw it and eyed it. "No needles, Scully," he
muttered, and looked up
at her, his eyes pleading with her.
"Sorry, Mulder. Didn't really bring any capsules with
me," she said, taking
his arm. In a second, she was through.
"See it's not that bad, Mulder. You should be used to it
by now." She
pushed some stray pieces of hair out of his face and readjusted
the washcloth
on his head. <He's ok for now> she reasoned, <But he
needs a hospital.>
Scully sat on the bed, near Mulder's hand. Something on it
caught her eye.
She picked up his hand and looked at his fingernails, like she
had done in the
car, and found them, while not as bad as they were in the car,
still tinged a
very light blue at the tips. <Shit.> When she was in the
car, she had
concentrated on getting him back to the motel; now that she was
here, she
wasn't sure what she _could_ do. <Think, Dana, think.>
Scully looked at Mulder, who was now eyeing her, and she
realized she still
has his hand in hers. She dropped it down. She sighed, and got
her
stethoscope out of her bag again.
"You never told me why these things are so cold,
Scully," Mulder rasped, when
Scully placed it on his chest.
"Just for you, Mulder. I keep it cold just for you,"
Scully answered and
gave a small smile. The smile turned into frown. His breathing
was ragged.
<Damn, what I thought was happening is.>
"Mulder, I need you to cough up some of that phlegm. You
need to clear your
lungs," Scully said simply, throwing the stethoscope back
into her bag.
"That's gross, Scully," Mulder said, with a smile.
Scully went to go get the garbage can. "I'm serious,
Mulder." She brought
it over toward Mulder and sat down on the bed. She picked up his
hand.
"See this?" She pointed to Mulder's fingertips. He
pulled himself up and
wheezed. <God, my chest hurts.> He saw the light blue on
the tip of his
nails.
"That's not good, is it?"
Scully propped some pillows under him, so he could sit up.
"No it's not."
She sat down again. "The phlegm, the stuff you have been
coughing up,
probably has clogged your lungs a little. Add that to a high
fever and they
don't make a good combination. And we don't have a hospital, so
this is the
next best thing." She put her hand on his knee.
<Good ole Scully. There for me> Mulder thought as he
nodded. He spent the
next five minutes coughing, his chest hurting with each cough,
while Scully
sat next to him and held his hand. Scully looked at him. Sweat
poured down
his forehead, and she grew more worried with each minute. She
took the
garbage can away. She already heard a big difference in Mulder's
breathing
and she checked his nails. The bluish tint had almost faded away.
His fever,
however, was a different story. <One thing at a time,
Dana.> She let out a
breath she had been holding.
She smiled at Mulder, then went into the bathroom and came
back out with a
glass of water.
"Drink this. I don't want you to get dehydrated."
<It might also help your
fever, too> she thought, not saying it out loud. Mulder did as
he was told.
Scully walked over to Mulder's duffel bag and pulled out some
sweats.
"Put these on," she instructed. Once again Mulder followed her orders.
"I'm sorry, Scully," he mumbled after he had gotten
dressed. His vision was
blurred a little, and he wasn't sure it was because he had been
coughing for
five minutes straight or if it was something else. "I'm
sorry I worried you."
Scully smiled. "Mulder, you always worry me, sick or
not." She pushed him
gently back. Mulder sighed and shook his head. "What's
wrong?" Scully asked
with a concerned look. Her hands immediately went to his
forehead.
"Nothing, I just saw two of you for a second,"
Mulder said softly. He saw
Scully sigh and frown.
"Rest, Mulder. It's probably the only thing that can help
you, for the time
being.." <He really needs a hospital> Scully thought
as she helped Mulder ease
down. He looked up at Scully.
"Thanks," he whispered.
"Welcome," she whispered back. "Close your eyes."
"Ok, after all I promised I'd listen." Mulder closed his eyes.
"Yes, you did," Scully whispered, more to herself
then to Mulder. She
watched Mulder for a few minutes. <Why do you always have to
scare me?> she
thought. But that was Mulder. Her eyes traveled to the window.
She didn't
see any new flurries. She walked closer. True, there were no more
flurries,
but there was still about 3 feet of snow there. They might still
be here for
awhile. <That's okay, if Mulder's fever goes down, and his
breathing keeps
improving. IF the fever goes down.> Scully would feel a
hundred times better
if she was in Mulder's hospital room instead of his motel room,
especially
after he admitted his blurry vision.
She walked over to the TV and turned it on softly. The news was on.
"Police found the body of 17-year-old Lynn Johnson this
afternoon. She was
discovered when police were called to help locate two boys who
were lost in
the snow. The cause of death to the teenager is still unknown. On
a brighter
note though, the two lost boys were recovered and returned to
their parents
unharmed. In other news. . ."
Scully shut the TV off. <Lynn Johnson is dead? But Mulder
and I talked to
her a few hours ago. And damn, we still didn't get the bottom of
this case.>
Or what was left of it. JW hadn't followed them, though Scully
knew they knew
where they were, especially if Anna could find it. That was
strange in
itself. This case was going toward a dead end. <I mean, what
have we gained
on this case? Nothing, expect Mulder's illness.> And now Lynn
Johnson's
death. As Scully sat down, she couldn't help thinking <What
else is going to
happen on this trip?>
Part 9
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)
8:56 p.m.
Scully's room in the Riverside Motel
Scully let out a long sigh and glanced at her watch for the
sixth time in
five minutes. She tried to concentrate on the softly blaring TV.
but was
unsuccessful. The news had brought her nothing but troublesome
worry for the
past few hours she had been watching.
The blunt anchor had announced more snow was to come in.
Glancing out the
window, Scully saw the anchor was right. She had also mentioned
Sarah Marks
had been found dead at approximately 6:45 p.m. in a snow bank by
the Y. <He's
leaving them close to the homefront now...> Scully thought.
<Who's next?? We
could be preventing this.> She closed her eyes. She had
already tried to
call the police but the phone lines were down in the angry storm.
"Scully." She glanced up at the hoarse whisper.
"Mulder," she said. "You need to be lying down."
He stood in the doorway now, holding tightly to the doorjamb
to steady
himself. His cheeks were flushed an unhealthy shade of crimson,
his dark hair
plastered to his forehead. "Couldn't breathe--" He took
a deep breath and
she could hear the rasp in his lungs. "Couldn't breathe
lying down."
"Shh." She took his arm and tried to lead him back
to bed. He doubled over
coughing. She wrapped an arm around his waist in attempt to keep
him upright.
"C'mon, back to your room." She sat him down on the
bed, and put a hand
behind his neck, trying to ease him to lie down.
Mulder had other ideas. He put up a weak resistance, trying to
push her
hands away. "No," he pleaded hoarsely. "I can't
breathe like that."
She studied his face worriedly, ran a hand through his
sweatsoaked hair.
"You want the garbage can?"
He shook his head wildly, ignoring the pain shooting to his
temples. A hand
came up and rubbed his neck, he didn't have the strength to
explain, but just
figured she'd get it.
"Okay." She sighed and laid a hand on his forehead.
"I'll make you a deal.
You let me take your temperature. Then you drink two cups of
water, full
cups, and down as many Motrin as I can find. Then I'll find you a
heating pad
and you can watch some TV till you fall asleep."
Mulder frowned. "There's more in there for you than for me."
"Oh, suck it up." She grabbed her thermometer from
where it had found
a permanent home on the bedside table. "Open up while you're
at it." She
stuck the thermometer under his tongue and, in slow motion, he
closed his
mouth on it. She pushed him over a little and perched on the edge
of the bed,
watching his eyes slip closed. Three minutes had definitely
passed, but she
was reluctant to wake him. Finally, she pulled on the end of the
glass stick
and squinted to read it in the dim light.
"104.3," She said softly. Mulder's eyes were at
half-mast, staring
down at his feet. "Mulder," she shook his shoulder.
"You need to keep up
your end of the deal. Two glasses of water and medicine."
<I don't have
enough medication to put a dent in this fever>, she thought
miserably. She
stepped across the room and grabbed a cup filled with water from
earlier that
day. Dipping a finger in, she found the water warm and suspected
it was stale
so she dumped it in the sink and refilled the cup with freezing
water. Taking
two Motrin from underneath the cotton in the bottle, she returned
to the room
to find Mulder squirming under the covers.
"No," She placed the water and pills on the bedside
table and
untangled him from the blankets. "No blankets, you're too
hot."
He curled up into himself, arms wrapped around his rib cage
and shook
his head looking like a little boy about to argue with his tough
grandma.
"Free-eezing." An involuntary shudder wracked him and
he tucked his head into
his chest and whimpered hoarsely.
"Shh, c'mon." With a bit of difficulty, she pulled
him to a sitting
position. She held the water up to his lips. "Drink."
He swallowed a little, then realized his thirst and greedily
gulped the rest
of it too quickly. He hunched forward, hacking deeply, sputtering
water.
"More," he demanded, his throat raw.
She held her palm out with the pills on it. "Think you
can swallow these for
me?"
Mulder eyed them dubiously then popped them in his mouth and
downed the
second cup of water. He handed the empty cup to Scully and leaned
back
against the headboard. "TV," he reminded her.
"Yeah." She grabbed the remote and flipped it on.
The first thing that came
on was the news. Remembering Captain Good News from before, she
hastily
changed the channel. A glance at Mulder confirmed he wasn't
actually paying
attention so she left it on Judge Judy and went back to her room
to use the
phone.
Part 9a
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)
She had already picked up the phone when she remembered it
wasn't working.
She walked outside of her motel room and saw a maid coming out of
another
room.
"Excuse me?" Scully asked. "Do you have a heating pad?"
The maid reached inside of her cart. "Here," she
said, smiling as she handed
it to Scully.
"Thank you." Scully walked back to Mulder's room.
As she walked in she saw Mulder wiggling himself out from
underneath the
covers.
"Mulder," she scolded, in a tone that indicated that
she expected him to
disobey her, "We had a deal."
"I'm so coold, Scully," Mulder pleaded, his eyes staring straight at her.
"Well, I did get a heating pad . . ." She held it up
as evidence. "But if
you're not going to listen to me. . . ."
Mulder saw the determined glare in Scully's eyes. He really
wanted that
heating pad.
"Okay, okay," he wheezed, "You win." He
got himself out from under the
covers. Scully smiled. "That's better."
She found a plug and plugged it in. She placed it on top of
Mulder's chest
and turned it onto a low setting "This should help."
She settled into a chair
beside Mulder's bedside.
Mulder turned his head slowly so he was facing Scully.
"What?" Scully asked, when she noticed him staring at her.
"You look distracted," Mulder said softly. "Did
something happen on the
case?" he blurted out.
<Damn Mulder. Why does he have to read me so well?>
"Mulder, the case is
going nowhere. Our witness, Lynn Johnson, and her friend, Sarah
Marks, are
dead." Scully regretted telling him this. She didn't need
him get all riled
up in the case. He needed rest. And sure enough, Mulder, taking
all of his
strength, sat up.
<Why did I do that?> Mulder thought as pain radiated
through his chest and he
had another coughing spell. After that passed, and with Scully
watching him
under very concerned eyes, he continued to press on with the
case.
"They're dead," he rasped, "JW got to them. We have to find him."
"_You_ are not going anywhere," Scully said, gently
pushing him back down on
the bed.
"But Scully, what about JW?"
Scully eyed the window. "Mulder, the phones are out.
There is 3 feet of
snow on the ground and at least another foot expected to arrive
soon. We
couldn't go anywhere if we tried. We're lucky the power hasn't
gone out." As
soon as Scully said that, as if on cue, the lights and TV went
dead.
"Shit," Scully muttered under her breath.
"Power's out," Mulder said softly.
"Great observation," Scully said, with a bit of
sarcasm. She got out of her
chair. "Mulder, I have this feeling that JW left town. He
may have killed
those two girls to silence them, but I doubt he'll stick around.
I should
know. I dated the guy." Scully paced the room in the dark.
"So, he left town. We should track him down, Scully."
"No, Mulder. We don't even know what we are looking for.
A needle in a
haystack perhaps? Skinner is not going to approve a country wide
search. We
haven't learned much, Mulder. No more than we began with. And in
the end, it
looks like that's what I may have to write in my report."
Mulder opened his mouth to continue, but another cough
interrupted him.
Scully looked at him with a worried expression.
"Right now, you need some rest," Scully said, taking
her seat beside him
again. "Hopefully when you wake up, the snow will be gone
and we can get the
hell out of here and get you to a hospital."
Mulder nodded. He hated to admit it, but Scully was right. He
was in no
condition to search for JW. The information he had learned from
him was
sketchy and not entirely clear. Unless they got a lead, this case
was going
to be another one of those closed unsolved X-Files. And Mulder
had plenty of
those in the filing cabinets in the basement.
Part 10
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)
9:49 p.m.
Mulder's motel room
Mulder must've done a pretty good job of feigning sleep
because Scully had
finally left him alone and gone back to her own room. He cracked
open an eye
and surveyed the room. The lights had been turned off (thank God,
his head
was pounding) but the adjoining door was left open and a sliver
of light fell
into the room.
The next thing he noticed was his burning skin. He groped
around and
switched off the heating pad then let it slide to the ground. The
blankets he
had wanted so desperately minutes ago were now kicked violently
away. He was
so hot.
10:01 p.m.
Riverside Motel
Scully opened the adjoining door a bit wider to squeeze
through. She
sat gingerly on the side of Mulder's bed and listened to his
breathing. He
was definitely asleep now, not faking like he had been when she'd
left. She
knew he was faking but decided to let it pass; she knew he hated
to be babied
but she'd done nothing but that for the entire day. <Poor guy
needs some
privacy.>
Cautiously, as to not wake him up, Scully laid a hand on his
forehead.
Damn, hot. She pulled her hand away. <In two hours he can have
some more
Motrin. Not that it's doing anything, anyway.> She noticed he
had thrown off
the heating pad, and probably for the best. It had put the burn
in his chest
at bay for a while but was just a nuisance to the fever at this
point.
She found the pad of paper and pen the motel leaves for it's
guests on
the dresser.
Mulder, she wrote, I'm going to try to find a working phone. I
promise I won't leave the motel's premises. You follow me, I'll
personally
slaughter you on the spot. I'll be back by 10:30. Scully.
Outside was absolutely frigid. Knives of cold stabbed her
exposed
cheeks and nose. The power had come back on, and she could only
hope that the
phones would be next. Through the flurry of snow she found the
sign. LOBBY
THIS WAY ---->
10:56 p.m.
Riverside Motel, Mulder's room
He awoke with a start.
<Fever dream,> something told him. <What told me??
Little green..
gray... green....>
"Scully," the word barely emitted from his parched
throat. He cleared
his throat, phlegm rumbled somewhere near the hollow of his neck,
in his
trachea. He choked on it, each cough burning deeply in his chest;
he felt so
bad he was ready to drop back on the pillow and die... but he had
to find
Scully first. Pushing off of the bed he stood shakily and made
his to the
con-joining doors. Stuck to the door with Scotch tape was a note.
Mulder,
I'm going to try to find a working phone. I promise I won't leave
the
motel's premises. You follow me, I'll personally slaughter you on
the spot.
I'll be back by 10:30. Scully.
He squinted down at his watch. 11:16. He leaned on one elbow
on the
dresser, suddenly not able to support himself. Common sense
managed to push
through his fever induced fog. CALL THE LOBBY. His hand fumbled
on the
phone.
"Hello," a cheerful voice greeted him.
"Riverside Motel, how may I help
you?"
<C'mon, Mulder, get that voice to work.> He cleared his
throat. "Have
you.. my... my partner.. where is she?"
"Excuse me?"
Mulder realized his inquiry had been terribly jumbled and felt
bad for
the perplexed operator. "Agent Scully." Leaning the
phone against his
shoulder, he dropped onto the bed.
"Sir?"
"Have you seen my partner Scully??" he demanded,
suddenly outraged.
"She was s'posed to..." He coughed violently.
"S'posed to be back at...
at..." His wonderfully eidetic memory couldn't remember the
time. "A long
time ago."
A rude dial tone rang in his head. He dropped the phone and
rubbed
his temples. <Find Scully,> his tired mind told him.
"Shut up," he mumbled.
He fell back, his torso lying flat on the bed, the other half of
him slowly
slipping off. <Hot, I'm so hot. Go away. Scully.....>
11:35 p.m.
In a car
<To put it bluntly, this sucks> Scully thought. She had
been
thinking up interesting ways to describe her current situation
for the past
half hour.
After a short trek through the snow, Scully had been pleased
to find
the lobby phones working. <Which probably means all the phones
work now and I
could've stayed in the warm room and called for help. And I
wouldn't have had
to leave Mulder then, either.> Her brow had furrowed. <No,
I don't have to
worry about Mulder. He was out cold when I left, he won't be
waking up
anytime soon.>
She had dropped a coin into the phone and had raised her hand
to press
the first number when she felt a hand on her arm. She spun on her
heel to see
John Weston staring ferociously at her.
"You ruined my fun," he growled.
<Oh, I bet I did.>
And now she was locked in the back of John Weston's car while
he drove
in circles around the small town, the snow stopping him from
going anywhere
far.
<And my partner can't save me,> she realized, <'cause
he's passed out
in the warm hotel room.> She shivered. <Can't this guy even
turn on the
heat??> She remembered how cold the Y's basement had been.
<Heat.. maybe he
thrives on cold. That could be it! But WHY? Cold,> she
repeated in her
mind. Maybe then she'd figure out a way to escape and get rid of
this guy for
good. <Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold.>
11:36
Riverside Motel
<COLD!!!> Mulder was shivering uncontrollably. He had
somehow managed
to slip onto the floor during the few minutes he's been asleep
and was now
incredibly sore from the impossible position he was heaped in.
Scully, he
remembered, disappeared. <Where the hell IS she?? Damnit,
we're all alone...
if I don't save her no one will. No one, no one.... save her.>
His mind said
defiantly. <But getting up is another story.> He pushed
hard on the bed and
found himself slowly moving upward. Levitation? He contemplated.
<Nah.
Jacket, gloves, where are they?> He spotted them on the
radiator across the
room and painstakingly made his way over. <Damn, soaking wet.
I'll be better
without them.> Somewhere in the un-deliriously part of his
mind, he knew
sweatpants and a sweatshirt were going to do him nothing in the
blizzard
outside but unfortunately the hallucinating portion of his mind
had maximum
control at this point. He slipped one bare foot into his boot,
ice stinging
his skin. <Bare feet in boots?? Yeah, why not?> He glanced
out the window
and saw Samantha. <Sam?> He hastily stuck his other foot in
the remaining
boot and hurried outside. Samantha was gone. The little bit of
common sense
left in him shut the door (leaving the key inside) and walked off
into
oblivion.
"Scully??" he rasped to the parking lot. "Scully? Sam...."
Part 10a
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)
Mulder walked out into the dark still air, snow whirling
around him as he
walked.
"Sam? Scully?" he said weakly into the still air.
Then she appeared. Not
Scully, but Samantha. She stood simply in front of Mulder,
looking the same
way did the night she disappeared when she was eight. Mulder
blinked,
thinking he was seeing things, which in his state, was very
possible, but the
image did not disappear. Samantha smiled at him, and turned
around waving at
him to follow her.
"Sam?" Mulder repeated, but got no answer. Instead Samantha started running.
"Sam!" Mulder called, and forgetting his illness for
a minute, he ran after
her. He was out of breath, his head was spinning, his chest was
hurting, and
his feet were freezing, but he kept running. He didn't know how
long he ran
for. He didn't care. It was Sam. Even if it was all in his head,
he didn't
care; he didn't want to let go.
"Samantha!!" Mulder called again. He had to stop
running to catch his
breath. His head started spinning. He put his hand to head,
trying to stop
the spinning. He blinked and looked around. Samantha was gone.
Out of
sight. In place of her he saw a building. He looked up. It was
the Y. <The
Y?>
"Scully??!!" Mulder yelled as loud as he could, and
it was not very loud at
all. <Scully, I know you have to be here> he thought; his
gut feeling told
him. <But Samantha?> Mulder just looked at the building.
"Thanks," he whispered toward the sky as he walked
unsteadily toward the
building.
11:46 p.m.
The Y
Scully knew at once where JW had taken her. The Y. She
recognized the
stairs he carried her down as she tried to struggle but to no
avail. <It's so
cold down here> she thought, bringing her thoughts back to
cold. <Anna had
said her dad could live forever, is cold the key? Wait a minute,
I sound like
Mulder.> But suddenly something that sounded like one of her
partner's way out
there theories didn't sound so bad. Scully searched for a heat
source, but
at that moment JW put her down.
"Home sweet home," he said with an evil smile. He
put her down in a chair,
tying her down to it so tightly, Scully could barely move an
inch.
"Dana, running away was not a bad idea, I *had* intended
to leave town soon,
but I couldn't leave without saying goodbye first," JW said
in a sickly sweet
way.
"Yeah, I'll bet," Scully said evenly, not giving in
to the fear he expected
her to have. She searched the room for a possible escape. She
found none.
<Damn, damn, damn> she thought.
JW had turned away for her and was doing something at the only
table in the
room. <If my theory is right, then all I need in something
warm, something
like. . . > Scully's eyes scanned the room again. Her eyes
came to rest upon
something near the door. Something that someone had most likely
accidentally
dropped. <Something like. . matches!> They were far from
her. <If only I
could get near them. . . .>
JW took that opportunity to turn around, with a syringe in hand.
"This time there is no partner to shot it away," he
said, bring the needle
closer to her arm. Scully eyes narrowed and the needle came
closer and closer
until it was only an inch away.. . . .
"Clank!" The sound caused JW to turn around. Scully
took that opportunity
to kick the needle out of JW's hand. It fell to the floor. Scully
turned
around and spotted a very unsteady Mulder at the door. His eyes
were glazed
with fever and the clank they had just heard was the sound of
Mulder dropping
his gun to the floor.
He now bent now, slowly, coughing on the way, and retrieved
it. He pointed
it with both hands toward JW. His hands shook and he looked as if
he was
going to drop the gun again.
"Agent Mulder, nice to see you again," JW said, smiling sweetly at Mulder.
"As always, charmed," Mulder said sarcastically, his
gun still pointing at
JW.
"Agent Mulder, shooting me isn't going to do
anything," JW said matter-of-
factly.
"It will for me," Mulder replied, his voice cracking.
"Mulder, the cold. He lives in the cold. No heat. Maybe
that's it. Look
down at your feet," Scully called out and JW turned around
as if to silence
her.
Mulder looked down at his feet. Matches. <What the hell? .
. > Mulder was
in such a sickened state he had trouble putting together what
Scully had said.
He scooped up the matches and with a little difficulty, he lit
one. He lifted
it up, but accidentally dropped it by JW's feet. JW seemed to
move back. <He
moved back> Mulder thought. He lit another match and threw it
(well, kinda
dropped it) closer to JW this time. The man moved closer toward
Scully and
away from Mulder. <That's it! The heat! He's like so many of
the cases we
have had before! Betts needed cancer, JW needs cold!> He lit
another match
and grabbed a piece of paper (lucky for him it was there) and lit
it on fire.
JW moved back more, not saying anything. Mulder walked toward
Scully, paper
in hand.
"Good partner, now how about untying me?" Scully asked.
"I guess I really have no choice," he teased, and coughed.
"How sweet," JW said, annoyed. Mulder struggled with
the rope, but he
managed (and he wasn't sure how) to untie Scully still keeping
paper in hand!
Scully took the paper from him as soon as he untied her. She
smiled and
walked closer to JW, waving paper in hand.
"Maybe someday you'll know why I dumped you," she
said evenly. She removed
her cell phone from her coat pocket and dialed the police. No
sooner had she
finished when Mulder asked, "Is it over?"
Scully nodded, fire still near JW. "Yep, Mulder, I think it's wrapped up."
"Good," Mulder whispered right before he passed out
cold on the concrete
floor.
Part 10b
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)
6:22 p.m.
Two nights later at the Hospital
His vision was beginning to clear but he wasn't so sure he
liked what he was
seeing. Scully's concerned face came into view, her hand reached
up to its
usual place on his forehead. <She might be mad.> He vaguely
remembered
chasing Samantha 2 miles through a blizzard. <Mad? She's gonna
be purely
pissed. She thinks I'm crazy....>
"Hey there," she whispered, stroking his hair. He
blinked trying to focus
his eyes. "Here." She held out a tall glass of water.
"Water." The rasping voice stated. He reached out
but found he didn't have
the strength to take it. Scully put the rim up to his lips and he
drank
slowly, remembering what had happened the last time he had drank
too quickly.
When he was done she placed the cup back on the table by the bed.
Hazel orbs
flicked, studying her face. "What day?" Mulder asked, a
hand unconsciously
rubbing his throat.
"Tuesday. You've been out for a while. The paramedics had
to go down 6
flights of stairs to get you in the Y's basement. The medical
staff in this
town is going to be slightly perturbed at you for the next few
months at
least. You'd better hope they forgive and forget around
here."
"Mm." He stared blankly out the window. "When
do--" He coughed
hoarsely and she could still hear the rasp in chest painfully
obvious. "Go
home?"
She laughed. "Not this soon, Mister. Do you have any idea
what you
did??" He shook his head. "Well, I'll start from the
beginning. Your first
bright move was to go outside in a sweatsuit with no socks under
your boots, I
might add. The boots were on the wrong feet too, if you're
interested in
details. You then proceeded to run through one of the worst
blizzards this
area has ever seen two miles to the YMCA with a hundred and four
fever and a
nasty case of pneumonia."
He bit his lip, swallowed sluggishly. "One oh four..." he repeated.
"Mm hm. Then you saved my ass, oh yeah, thank you for
that, by striking a
match. The police came soon after and arrested John Weston and
they were
followed by the paramedics. I must say you scared the living shit
out of some
poor young nurse. I think it was her first day on the job. You
insisted that
she was an alien and could she give please give you directions to
Burger King
because you lost your little sister."
His eyebrows raised past his hairline. "I..."
She nodded, lips pressed into a small smile. "You."
"The End"
Thanks for reading till the end and remember all feedback goes
to Jen and
Lauren at JenR13@aol.com and JRDG1013@aol.com. :-)