Submission: "Wishful Thinking" (2/3)
Date: Sun, 4 Oct 1998
Disclaimers in Part 1.
Part 05 of 11.
Hospital
10:00 p.m.
Somewhere around ten o'clock, Doctor Andrews convinced Scully
to go
back to
the hotel. Mulder wouldn't be waking up for quite a while-- after
he passed
out they had given him a sedative to insure his rest, and give
the medical
staff a break-- and Scully should get some sleep to be fresh for
tomorrow.
At ten-thirty, Doctor Andrews had finished his rounds and was
preparing to go
home when he heard gut wrenching screams coming from down the
hall. He
placed his briefcase back on the desk and followed the sounds to
Mulder's
room. But he could never have prepared himself for the scene he
was about
to
witness.
Mulder's legs were wrapped and twisted in the sheets. His IV
was
once again
dislodged and blood dripped from his left arm, onto his hand and
down his
fingers. His head was thrown back, features twisted in a grimace,
his hair
damp from fear and fever.
"Scully," he mumbled. His head lolled around on the
pillow like it
wasn't
attached properly to his neck. "Scully. Gotta find....
Joanna. Joanna and
Katie." He groaned loudly and took a deep rasping breath.
"Joanna is....
the
key. She..." In his sleep, he whimpered then stopped. His
neck relaxed
and
his head dropped on a quite uncomfortable angle to the side.
With a deep sigh, Doctor Andrews glanced at his patient one
last
time, then
left.
Hospital
8:13 a.m.
Mulder was surprised to see sunlight streaming through his
window
when he
opened his eyes. He thought it was night. He narrowed his eyes
trying to
remember what happened last night, but came up empty. He
remembered that
Scully was talking about Katie, but then what? He was still
trying to come
up
with an answer when the morning nurse walked in.
"Morning, Agent Mulder," she said cheerfully and
went over to check
his IV.
Mulder looked at her confused.
"Morning?" he rasped, confused and surprised at the
sound of his
voice. His
throat was raw and felt like a bed of cotton. His head hurt. But
confusion
rose over all of that.
"Yes, Agent Mulder. It's 8 a.m.," she said as she
took his wrist to
check
his pulse.
"8 a.m.? What happened last night?" Mulder sat up,
his head
protesting the
move. But he needed to get to the bottom of this.
The nurse just smiled. "I'll get the doctor." She
was gone as soon
as she
said that.
Mulder just rubbed his head. He looked down and noticed that
his IV
was in a
different place. So, instead of one nice little bruise, he had
two. <When
did that happen?> He frowned and laid back. He felt like shit.
He was
just
to tired to think.
He was about to close his eyes when Dr. Andrews walked into
his
room. He
looked at Mulder carefully, eyeing him seeming to expect the
worst to
happen.
He took Mulder's chart in his hands.
He opened the chart, glancing over it. He closed it and looked
at
Mulder
with his best professional look.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, even though he knew the answer.
"Like shit. How are you?" Mulder deadpanned, then
broke into a
series of
coughs. Finally he looked up and asked, with a serious look,
"What happened
last night?"
"You really want to know?" Dr. Andrews asked evenly.
Mulder nodded.
"You
stopped breathing. For a couple of minutes. Then you passed out.
It's not
unusual for you not to remember. Trust me, you wouldn't want to
remember."
Mulder squinted and tried to recall that. "Why?"
The doctor didn't meet his eyes. "I don't know."
Motel
8:25 a.m.
Scully finished brushing her hair, setting the brush on the
dresser
and
glanced toward the open door between hers and Mulder's rooms.
Mulder's room
was in the same condition he left it in--tangled sheets, clothes
on the
floor,
and his suitcase sitting open in a corner. Scully thought and
bundled some
of the clothes on the floor into her arms. She heard her cell
phone ringing
from the other room, so she dumped the clothes on Mulder's bed
and went to
answer it.
"Scully." Scully took the phone into Mulder's room.
"He's awake, Doctor Scully." Scully smiled at that.
She had asked
Dr.
Andrews
to call her when Mulder awoke.
"Thanks, I'll be there soon," she said and pushed
the end button.
She got
Mulder's toothbrush from the bathroom, along with his shaving
cream. This
was
something she did for him every time he was in the hospital.
<Maybe one
day>
she thought <I'll do it for the another reason.>
Hospital
9:07 a.m.
Mulder looked up at the ceiling and counted the ceiling cracks
for
the
hundredth time. Scully had taken away his case files, he had
noticed.
Mulder
still shuddered when he thought of what Andrews told him about
last night.
He
probably scared the hell out of Scully, as well. he thought. He
looked
down
at his hand, itching to take his IV out. The tube under nose was
bothering
him, and if not for the people were coming in and out of his
room, he would
have taken it off a long time ago.
He glanced around the room. <Oh screw it> he thought and
he reached
his hand
up to his nose.
"Don't even think about it, Mulder."
Mulder looked at the door and saw his red-headed partner with
her
eyebrows
raised in a look that said 'do it and die.' Mulder dropped his
hand.
"I wasn't going to-"
"Yeah and I believe in little green men."
"_Gray_ men, Scully. How many times do I have to tell
you?" Mulder
gave a
mock sigh of frustration. He noticed a Dunkin' Donuts bag in her
hand.
"Ah, Scully. What did you bring me?" he said, staring at the bag.
"Nice to see you're feeling better."
"Slightly," he answered and Scully's hand reached for his forehead.
"You still have a fever," she said, frowning.
"Yeah, but it's not stopping me from eating what's in that bag."
Scully sighed. "It's a bagel, Mulder. Just a bagel."
"Still better than the stuff they call food here."
Scully smiled, remembering the taste of hospital food.
"Are you
sure you can
keep it down?"
Mulder dropped his eyes down. "I'd better," he muttered.
Scully plopped down in the chair by the bed. "Seriously,
Mulder?"
Mulder
looked up at that word. "How do you feel?"
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"Well, my head hurts, my throat hurts, and my chest
hurts. It feels
like
someone had a boxing match with my lungs." Mulder brought
into a fit of
coughing. "And won," he choked out when he finished.
"Well, they almost did, Mulder." Scully still felt
shaky about last
night.
Mulder had stopped breathing, for no reason at all. It was
something you
didn't take lightly. "I'm assuming Dr. Andrews told you
about last night,"
she said quietly.
"Yeah."
Silence filled the room. Neither wanted to think of that
moment.
Losing
each other was just too much to even think about.
"So, how about that bagel?" Mulder asked, smiled.
Scully tossed the bag at him, laughing.
The Martin's
Rutherford, NJ
9:26 a.m.
<We're not getting anywhere>
WHAT D'YA MEAN
I COULD TAKE CARE OF HER TOO IF YOU WANT
<No! Don't "take care" of anyone... and don't
deprive Mulder from
oxygen
ever again, that was horrible>
YOU WANTED IT
YOU SAID INCAPACITATE HIM
Katie took a deep breath and held it, trying to hold her
patience
along with
it.
<Fine. But, still, we're not GETTING anywhere. I mean, how
long
are the
agents going to keep investigating my sister's death before they
give up and
go home? Or, before they FIGURE OUT that it was me. Or you.
Whatever. And
what if they never give up and they never figure it out, and I
have to go
the
rest of my life hiding and taking answers from you?>
Joanna sounded hurt. WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH TAKING ANSWERS
FROM ME
Hospital
9:28 a.m.
The bagel didn't stay down. After a change of clothes and a
round
of
frustrated sobbing from Mulder, he now lay back in bed, eyes
staring lazily
down at his chest, his brain fogged with anti-nausea medication.
Scully
held
his hand, softly stroking the web between his thumb and
forefinger with her
own small thumb.
"Agent Scully, may I have a word with you?"
"Mm?" She turned to see Andrews leaning in the
doorway. "Oh,
sure."
Doctor Andrews held out Mulder's chart for her inspection.
When she
finished
reading it she looked up. "He's dehydrated."
"Not only is he dehydrated, despite an IV line we finally
managed to
keep
established, his temperature is remaining at a steady 102.5. He
seems to be
responding well to Valium or anything else that temporarily puts
him out of
discomfort, but once we try to control the virus, it rages back,
making his
fever spike. So, I think we're going to have to let him ride this
one out,
making him as comfortable as possible, and see what
happens."
Scully continued to stare down at the chart. "...see what
happens..." she
repeated slowly, and swallowed hard.
Hospital
1:34 p.m.
"Smntha," he mumbled. Scully looked up. Mulder was
rolling around
in bed,
sheets tangled around his legs, shuddering. She put a hand on his
arm and
felt the fever rising from him.
"Smntha.... Scully! Don't..." He rolled over again
so his face
was in the
pillow, and rested there, still shaking.
<Me?? Well, at least he's not thinking about Joanna
anymore, that's
a good
thing. I have no idea what to do about that...> She sighed but
looked up
when Mulder groaned loudly in his sleep. <Nightmare.> she
thought.
<<I'm twelve. Why am I twelve? I just am, right. Right.
Oh, no.
Tonight
is when... tonight is when they're gonna take Sam. Oh, no, why do
I have to
do this again? Again-- when did I do it the first time? First
time, second
time, third time.... Aaaaah! Sam!>> He began sobbing.
<<Don't take her,
take
me. I missed it.. I could've saved her but... noooo. They're
gonna get
Scully next. Gotta go get Scully. How do I skip to 1994 though?
Oh, man,
this is harder than I thought... Duane Barry! There he is.... I
gotta get
that bastard. I'm running... running... my feet are glued to the
ground.
Damnit why are my feet always glued. What if I flew instead of
walking?
Okay, I'm going to slip out of my shoes, there, that worked, my
shoes are
still glued down but... oh, I'm flying! There's Scully, I gotta
get here...
here I go, swoop down, there's Duane Barry... who is he carrying?
Why
is....
Scully? That's not Scully. That's... the Smoking Man. Where is
Scully?
Where is...............>>
Mulder wouldn't stop shaking and it was starting to scare her.
"Mulder,
c'mon, just a dream, c'mon, wake up, now. Can you wake up for me,
now?
C'mon." Scully grasped his shoulders and shook. "Wake
up, Mulder."
The Martin's
Rutherford, NJ
1:40 p.m.
<What are you doing to him?>
"Katie, c'mon down. You've been in your room all day....
c'mon
down, we'll
go do something."
"No, later, mom," she said. <What are you DOING
to him? Are you
hurting
him?>
NO... Joanna said, and Katie thought she sounded scared. HE'S
JUST...
DREAMING. HE'LL BE OKAY
<Bad dreams, Joanna?>
YES
<Can't you make them go away?>
NO.... I DIDN'T MAKE THEM. AND EVEN IF I DID MAKE THEM I
WOULDN'T
BE ABLE TO
TAKE THEM BACK... THESE ARE HIS OWN DREAMS. I THINK HE'S BEEN
HAVING THEM
FOR A LONG TIME
<Oh.> Frustrated that she couldn't do anything, Katie
called down,
"Mom, I'm
coming."
WAIT.... WHERE ARE YOU...
Jen's pick-up
Katie ignored the walls and ran downstairs. She had to stop
this.
"Mom?" Christina looked up and smiled.
"You're finally getting out of that room," she said
with a bit of
relief.
She picked up her purse. "So where should we go?"
Katie took a deep breath. "I want to go to the hospital,
Mom. I
need to
talk with Agent Scully."
Hospital
2:03 p.m.
Scully sighed as she repositioned herself in the uncomfortable
chair. Mulder
had finally settled down and stopped thrashing about. She knew it
was only
temporary, though. Mulder's nightmares always returned, and were
especially
magnified when he was sick. She glanced at his sleeping form. She
wished
there was something she could do. Scully, herself, had had a few
nightmares
(more than she would like) since her abduction. She never told
Mulder about
them, so she couldn't scold him for not talking to her. Scully
closed her
eyes in frustration. She just wanted this case solved, but most
of all, she
wanted her partner well.
She knew he had stood by her own hospital bed many times. She
could
pick out
his voice. She knew the words that her brother, Bill Jr., had
said to him,
blaming him for her illness. For her pain. But the saddest thing
was
Mulder
believed that. She knew, still to this day, he believed that. She
sighed
again. Nothing she could ever say could stop him from blaming
himself.
<Maybe
someday, Dana, you will get the strength to say three words that
will.>
"Agent Scully?" A voice shook Scully out of her
thoughts. She
looked toward
the doorway and saw Christina Martin standing with Katie.
Christina had her
arms on Katie's shoulders, as if she were protecting her from
something.
"We're sorry to disturb you, but the doctor said you were
here."
Christina
looked to the bed. "How is he?"
"He's stable," Scully answered. She rubbed her weary eyes.
"I can see you're tired, Agent Scully. We can come back
later."
Christina
steered Katie to the door.
"No, I'm fine," Scully said, and Christina stopped.
"Why are you
here?"
Mrs. Martin looked at Katie, urging her. Finally Katie spoke
in a
shaky
voice, "I wanted to talk to you."
"Ok," Scully said, interested in what Katie had to
say. "I'm going
to get a
cup of what they call 'coffee' in the cafeteria. We can talk
there."
Scully
grabbed her cell phone, and casting one long worry-filled glance
at Mulder,
she walked out the door.
Hospital Cafeteria
2:18 p.m.
Scully placed her coffee on the table and faced Katie. Katie
glanced at her
mom, giving her a look that said she wanted to talk to Agent
Scully alone.
Mrs. Martin left saying she would be back after she did her
grocery
shopping.
Scully watched Katie look at the walls worriedly, then smiled.
"You know, they do say the walls have ears," Katie
said, trying to
joke,
though Scully had a feeling she was serious. Dead serious.
Scully waited as Katie hesitantly continued. "When Sarah
was
playing the
piano, all everyone would say was how good she was, and how
pretty she
looked
up there. My sister, Sarah Martin, perfect in every way."
Katie sighed.
DON'T TELL HER.
YOU'LL REGRET IT. DON'T TELL HER.
SHE WON'T BELIEVE YOU.
<So what? At least I can tell someone.>
THIS ISN'T GOING TO WORK. KEEP QUIET.
Scully watched Katie look at the walls, as if she were
communicating
with
them.
"When Sarah was up there playing her piece," Katie
started, her
voice shaking
as she did. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. "I
was jealous. I
wished she was dead." The tears started falling down her
cheeks, sobs
getting
louder and louder. "I didn't mean for it to come true."
Scully's heart went out for the girl. She dug into her pocket
and
handed her
a tissue. "It's not your fault," she said, lifting
Katie's chin up.
Katie shook her head. "No, you don't understand. It _is_
my
fault." She
sobbed and then her head shot straight up.
NOW YOU DID IT. I CAN'T HELP YOU NOW.
Suddenly all the lights around Katie and Scully grew dark.
Hospital Cafeteria
Rutherford, NJ
2:20 p.m.
"What the--?" Scully turned sharply around as the
lights flickered
and
dimmed to black. Katie's words still rang in her ears: "No,
you don't
understand. It _is_ my fault." How could it.... one thing at
a time.
Scully
had just stood up, prepared to find some technicians and get them
to start
up
the electricity (losing electricity in a hospital was an
extremely dangerous
thing, most of the patients were hooked up to various machines
that needed
to
be running to keep them stable), when the lights came back on.
She breathed
a
sigh of relief and sat down again. "Katie, I'm sorry, what
were you
saying?"
"I was... I..." she was torn. "I said it IS my
fault that Sarah is
dead. I
wished she was dead and..."
"Katie," Scully said softly. "We know you
didn't do it, you were
sitting
down, far away from your sister as was everyone else." Katie
had begun to
cry. Scully placed a hand on her arm, awkwardly trying to comfort
her.
"It's
okay. Shh, it's okay, we know you didn't do it."
"But I DID!" Half of the occupants of the cafeteria
turned towards
Katie. A
wide-spread glare from Scully caused them to turn back to their
own
conversations.
SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP. WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?
<Taking charge.>
YOU? TAKE CHARGE? HA, THAT'S A GOOD ONE. KATIE, YOU CAN'T DO
ANYTHING BY
YOURSELF! YOU WERE ALWAYS IN SARAH'S SHADOW TILL I CAME ALONG.
FACE IT-
YOU'RE NOTHING WITHOUT ME
Katie was outraged. She pounded her fist on the table.
"Just go
away! I
don't need you and I never did! And it wasn't me who killed
Sarah, it
wasn't
me."
Scully, who had been speaking softly the whole time, trying to
get
Katie's
attention, was alarmed by her outburst and silenced abruptly.
"Katie, are
you
okay? Katie-- we know you didn't kill her."
Katie ignored her. <Joanna? Hear that, SHE believes me.>
There
was no
answer. <Joanna? Hello?> No answer.
"Katie, are you okay?" Scully asked again.
She looked up and smiled. "Yeah."
Hospital
2:55 p.m.
After speaking to Katie and her mother for another few
minutes,
Scully left
them to go check on Mulder. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully,
so she
decided to go back to the hotel for a shower and a lunch/dinner
type meal at
the Village Gourmet. It was almost four forty-five when she
decided to go
back to the hospital to check on Mulder.
On her way down the sterile hallway to Mulder's room, Doctor
Andrews
caught
up with her.
"Doctor Scully," he said. "Have you been to see Mulder?"
Noting the concern in his voice, she frowned. "Not for a
couple
hours, why?"
Andrews took a deep breath. "He's taken a turn for the
worse. Come
with
me."
When she entered Mulder's room, Scully immediately noticed
that the
oxygen
cannula had been replaced with a respirator tube down his throat.
She shook
her head. "Mulder's gonna have a hissy fit when he wakes up
and feels
that."
"It couldn't be helped, he stopped breathing for a minute
and a
half. We
still can't figure out what's causing it, but this should make it
so it
won't
happen again. I do recommend that you're near by when he wakes up
though,
just to keep him calm."
Scully nodded. "Did you give him anything to put him out?"
Andrews shook his head and fingered Mulder's chart.
"Nope, he
passed out
again, like the last time. It wasn't as bad this time... he
stopped
breathing
for a minute and a half, then he seemed fine and he was getting
enough
oxygen.... then about a minute after he recovered, he stopped
breathing
again,
just for 10 seconds, and passed out immediately after."
Scully had pulled up a chair to the side of his bed and seated
herself.
"There's one more thing," Doctor Andrews continued.
"His fever's spiked.
A
little above 103, but it was sudden enough to cause quite an
uproar. The
nurses gave him a sponge bath which he slept through-- too bad,
it probably
would've been quite an enjoyable experience for him-- and that
brought the
temp down to 102.9, but not nearly enough as it should've. I've
got him on
Saline to keep him hydrated, which should help a little, but
we're going to
have to ride this out. I'll get you a washcloth you can bath his
face and
arms and chest in, that might help, but..... I'm just scared to
try any
other
medication. If the fever goes much higher, he'll be on the point
of
convulsions, and we DON'T want to go there."
Scully nodded silently. "All right," she said
finally. "Can you get
me the
washcloth please?" She stroked Mulder's damp hair.
"Sure, I'll be right back."
Hospital
10:30 p.m.
Scully rubbed her tired eyes for what seemed the hundred time.
As
she
shifted positions in the still very uncomfortable chair next to
Mulder's
bed,
she sighed. She glanced again at Mulder's still form, the sound
of the
respirator echoing throughout her mind. Scully glanced at her
cell phone on
her lap. She should call Skinner and let him know what was up.
She even
considering calling Mulder's mom. But she knew that woman won't
exactly
care. In fact, she seemed to remind Scully a bit of Mrs.
Wasserman. Scully
suddenly got a pang of sympathy for Joanna.
Scully grabbed her cell phone and stood up, and paced. She
paced
Mulder's
room, back and forth thinking. Her thoughts wandered to the case,
how Katie
had reacted in the cafeteria, crying then suddenly stopping. She
wished
that
would be the last she would hear about this case, but knew it
probably
wasn't.
Glancing back over at Mulder, she frowned. How many times was he
going to
scare her? She sat back down in her chair, her eyes watching the
monitors
that had been added to the clutter of Mulder's room. Soon, she
knew, they
would probably move him down to ICU. He probably would have been
there
already, if not for the huge load the ICU already had, due to an
auto
accident
a few days ago.
Scully pulled her chair closer to Mulder and took his hand. As
she
sat there
she wondered if this was the way Mulder felt when he was at her
bedside.
She
knew he had held back from her about his feelings, how he blamed
himself for
her being in that hospital bed. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't
hers. Bad
things just happen. They just do.
Scully looked at her cell phone again, thinking of how many
times
she had
been called on that phone, how many times the voice on the other
end told
her
to come down to the hospital, Mulder's been hurt again. She often
teased
Mulder on how times he had been to the hospital, though sadly,
deep inside,
she was frightened. She was scared that one of the times he
wouldn't come
home. <Please, God, not this time> she thought, looking out
the window.
She understood. She was not afraid of dying. Not since her
abduction. As
she had told Mulder she was sure of one thing in this life: there
was
nothing
to fear when it's over. But she hoped it would be years from
then, it fact,
more than 3 years had passed from that night, and in that time,
they had
faced
other dangers. Mulder faced his demons; she had faced her cancer.
But she
had overcome her cancer (at least for now), but she knew Mulder
was far from
overcoming his demons.
But those thoughts aside, Scully knew what she was most afraid
of.
That he
faced death before she had a chance to tell him she really cared.
To tell
him
she loved him. She felt a tear roll down her check. <Face it
Dana, you
do.>
Scully's cell phone rang and brought her back to earth. She
rubbed
her eyes
and flipped open her phone.
"Scully."
Only silence followed.
"Damn hangups."
Scully listened to the dial tone that followed, suddenly
getting a
huge urge
to call her mother. She finally hit the end button, not wanting
to burden
her
mother with her rambling. Though she was supposed to have dinner
at her
house
in two days, her mother knew that may change because of the case
she was
assigned. Scully sighed again. Her blue eyes strayed again to the
bed, but
the sight brought a small smile to her lips.
She saw Mulder's fingers move and leaned closer to him,
entwining
her fingers
in his. She saw his eyelids flutter.
"Mulder," she said softly.
Mulder opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the blob of
red
above his
face. He felt Scully's fingers around his. But he also felt the
tube down
his throat, and hated it. He instinctively gagged.
"Whoah, Mulder. I know you don't like it, but don't fight
it."
Scully's
voice was gentle, caring. Mulder understood what she was saying,
but he
still
didn't like it. He gagged again.
"Mulder, let it do the work. Just relax, and then I'll
get the
doctor." She
had a worried look on her face, but it seemed to be combined with
a small
smile. Seeing her smile made him relax a little. He stopped
gagging.
Just
as long as he could see Scully he'd be fine.
Scully knew that too. She leaned over the bed and pressed the
nurses call
button A minute later, a petite brown-haired nurse walked into
Mulder's
room..
Scully looked at her name tag. Peggy.
"Peggy, could you tell Doctor Andrews that Agent Mulder's awake?"
"Sure, Dr. Scully," Peggy replied, then left the
room with the
message.
Scully turned away from Mulder and toward the door. As soon as
she
looked
away, Mulder started gagging again. Scully immediately turned
back and
calmed
him. She stroked his cheek and whispered, "it's okay, just
relax."
And that's how Dr. Andrews found her. Sitting on the edge of
Mulder's bed,
stroking his cheek and whispering.
"Ahem."
Scully looked and saw Dr. Andrews looking at them. He held
Mulder's
chart in
his hand. Scully blushed and got off of the bed. Mulder's eyes
followed
hers
and as soon as she stood away from him, he started gagging again.
"Mulder, don't fight it," she said softly again,
then turned to the
doctor.
"How much longer does he stay on the respirator?"
Mulder looked up at her,
pleading when she asked that question.
Dr. Andrews looked down at his chart, and tapped his pen.
"I think
we can
remove it now, but another episode and he's," He paused and
looked directly
at
Mulder on the bed, "Back on it for awhile longer."
Fifteen minutes later, Scully was back at her place at the
edge of
Mulder's
bed. Mulder had put up a fight when doctor insisted he stayed on
oxygen,
but
other than that, Mulder seemed to be on good behavior. His
temperature was
down to 101.9.
"I really hate this thing," Mulder said, his voice
horse and low,
and pointed
to the oxygen cannula under his nose.
"Well, we could just go back to the respirator," Scully teased.
"Well, it's not that bad," Mulder said quickly. He
looked up her.
He still
felt like crap. His head hurt, his throat hurt, and for once he
didn't want
to even think about food, but he noticed the circles under
Scully's eyes.
"You need some sleep," he said, his eyes concerned.
Scully smiled. "I'm fine," she started, but seeing
his eyes she
continued,
"But I'm going to go back to the motel soon, I
promise."
"Good." For a minute they just stared at each other,
not speaking.
Their
eyes seemed to read each other's, though neither spoke outloud.
Finally
Mulder looked down at his IV.
"So how's the case?" he said.
"Still there. Still unsolved." Scully got up and
went the window
sill and
got the folder off of it. "This is going with me."
"Anything happen?"
"Katie came to talk to me," Scully said suddenly.
"She did?" Mulder lifted his head off the pillow,
interested.
Scully just
walked over and pushed his head back down.
"Yes. But nothing big happened. I took her down to the
cafeteria
and she
broke down, saying she was responsible for Sarah's death."
"She did?" Mulder's voice perked up, causing him to twinge.
"You should rest your vocal cords, Mulder. Yes, but it
was just
hysterics.
She was just guiltstricken. She said she wished her sister
dead." Mulder
eyes peaked up again at that one. Scully sighed.
"Mulder, I've thought the same thing about any of my
siblings many
times
during my childhood. It's natural. It just happened at a bad
time."
"But, Scully-"
Scully cut him off. "You need your rest, Mulder. I'm
going to get
mine.
We'll talk tomorrow." She pulled the covers around him
tighter. Only then
did
Mulder realize how tired he was. He felt his eyes start to close.
"'Night Mulder," she said softly.
"'Night Scully," he whispered back.
End Part 05 of 11.
==========================================
Part 06 of 11.
Hospital
11:21 a.m.
"Allografts may be rejected through either a
cell-mediated or a
humoral
immune reaction of the recipient against transplantation
(histocompatibility)
antigens present on the donor's cell membranes. The stronger
antigens--"
"Scully." Mulder's voice from the bed sounded
horrible, rusty and
cracked.
"Mm?" She looked up from the book. "Oh sorry, I
thought you were
asleep."
"If you thought I was asleep why were you reading that
crap to me?"
He
coughed weakly.
"Actually, it's quite interesting. I picked it up from
the doctor's
lounge.
Besides, you didn't seem to mind."
"I was asleep," Mulder said flatly.
"Then go back to sleep! ....They are the chief
transplantation
antigents
presently detectable in man. Because transplantations..."
Mulder groaned loudly and rolled over, not really caring
whether he
dislodged
the IV or other contraptions he was hooked up to.
Scully stopped dictating. "Mulder, can I talk to you
about
something
serious?"
Without turning to face her, he grunted in response. "All
right,
but I'm not
promising to return the interesting conversation."
She rubbed his arm. "That's okay. Roll over and look at
me,
though, so I
can make sure you're awake and listening," Scully joked.
Truthfully, she
wanted to keep an eye on his condition. The doctors had been
exuberant when
his fever had broke last night, but now it hung at a steady
101.9, not bad,
but the rest of his symptoms persisted, making him miserable. If
he could
only...
"Scully?"
"Hm?" She broke out of her reverie.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing. Kay, I want to talk to you about this case. I
think you
were
right when you said Joanna is the _key_. She... I don't know how
to explain
it. I just... well, when Katie was talking, I started thinking
about Joanna
for some reason. I'm going to go back to the crime lab and talk
to the guy
that works there. When I was last there, he said that he had
taken a
certain
interest in Joanna's death and I think he might be able to tell
us more
about
it. He seemed very eager to help."
"Makin' friends everywhere we go, huh Scully? Okay, then,
you can
go."
"Oh, how kind of you to release me from your strong hold,
Sir
Mulder.
Actually, the crime lab's closed on Sundays so I'll have to wait
till
tomorrow."
"Okay." Mulder coughed a few times and she could
tell he still felt
really
bad. He stared off in the direction of the window, not really
admiring the
scenery, just gazing blankly.
"Hey," Scully put her hand over his and squeezed it
to get his
attention.
His eyes slowly focused and floated over to her face. "You
doing okay? I
can
leave and let you rest--"
"No!" Mulder said too quickly. "Uh, no, please
stay. I don't need
to
rest."
She smiled. "I wouldn't be so sure about that, you were
about to
drift off a
minute ago. How about I go in search of some... more appropriate
reading
material and then we'll have a reading date."
He nodded slowly and she smiled, squeezed his hand one more
time and
left the
room.
When she returned, five minutes later, with a dog-eared copy
of
Alice in
Wonderland in her hand, Mulder was fast asleep.
In the car
Rutherford, NJ
2:45 p.m.
"He wants to _what_??" Scully demanded? She leaned
the cell phone
against
her shoulder and, using both hands, pushed down on the horn.
"Hurry it up,
buddy," she yelled to the snail driver in front of her,
knowing very well he
couldn't hear her.
"He wants to leave, Doctor Scully. And frankly, I'm
thinking that
wouldn't
be such a bad idea."
Scully frowned and, lacking nothing better to do, honked the
car
horn again.
"Does that mean he's doing better?"
"Well, no, not really," Doctor Andrews admitted.
"He woke up soon
after you
left, complaining of a splitting headache. All the nurses were on
lunch
break
except one, a nurse in training, Beverly Conners, a scared little
thing
whose
not allowed to give out medication, yet. Mulder wasn't in the
best of moods
and when she denied him his drugs he had a fit and ripped out the
IVs.
Beverly tried her best to calm him down but she finally gave up
and ran to
the
lunch room, trying to find a doctor to help out. By the time she
found me
and
we made our way upstairs, Mulder was passed out in the visitors
chair... the
same one we found him in last time, by the way. When we tried to
move him,
he
came to and began thrashing around. Now nobody'll go near him....
look,
Doctor Scully, I'll be frank with you."
Scully, nervous about Mulder and frustrated with the slow
traffic
said, "Hi,
Frank, I'm Dana."
"Uh, right." Andrews cleared his throat.
"Scully, there was an
airplane
crash nearby."
"I know, I heard about that, isn't it terrible? First
that big car
crash,
then the airplane..."
"We're almost out of beds. This is a small town hospital,
NOT meant
for big
accidents like this... and, Scully, I don't know what to do about
your
partner. He's not getting any better and, truthfully, he's more
trouble
than
he's worth."
"Don't say that," she said slowly. "All right.
All right, look, as
soon as
I get out of this traffic jam I'll stop by the hospital and pick
him up.
Can
you have him ready and dressed?"
"I'm not sure if we can get him to..."
"Believe me, tell him he's going home and he'll do _anything_."
Andrews smiled. "Okay, uh, one more thing. Mulder is
still
dehydrated and
yanking out his IV did nothing to help that. I don't think an IV
will be
good
to handle but you should be able to get some fluids into him,
well, I know
you'll be able to get them into him, it's whether or not he'll
keep them
down
is the question. I'll give you plenty of Compazine, though and
you can
shoot
him full of that... you know what? I'll go now and get you a
large
assortment
of drugs and you can have fun with those. And just come back if
you need
more. Think it'll be okay?"
Scully didn't realize why she hadn't thought of it sooner. The
hospital
really wasn't doing much to help Mulder get better, any medicines
they tried
to stop the virus just made it worse, and she could take just as
good care
of
him... oh, she remembered. When he was at the hospital, he was
out of her
hair. Thinking back, he'd actually given the hospital staff
minimum amount
of
trouble... well, until now that was.
"Yes, Doctor Andrews, that'll be fine. Looks like the
traffic is
getting
better, I should be there in about ten-- fifteen minutes, at the
most."
"Great," Andrews sounded relieved. "And, Doctor Scully?"
"Mm?"
"Please bring him back if it starts getting serious. I
wouldn't
want to be
responsible for anything..."
"I know. I'll see you in a few minutes." She pressed
the off
button.
Hospital
Rutherford, NJ
3:15 p.m.
When Scully entered the room, Mulder was sitting in the
visitor's
chair,
facing the full-length windows on the other side of the room. His
knees
were
pulled up to his chest and his sneakered feet rested on the ledge
of the
chair, almost falling off. As she stepped closer, she could see
he was
indeed
dressed, wearing jeans and an Oxford sweatshirt, and his bag was
packed
(probably by Doctor Andrews) and squatting next to him.
"Mulder," she said softly. He didn't move. Scully
put a hand on
his
shoulder. "Hey, whatcha doing?"
Ever so slowly, he twisted around in the chair so he faced his
partner.
Scully frowned at the sight of his face; his forehead was
scrunched in
obvious
pain, and the fever splotches on his pale features were back from
when he
had
been going through the worst of the fever. She raised a hand to
his
forehead
and he swatted it away before she could make contact. Even so,
she could
feel
the heat emanating, even from a few inches away.
Pushing aside her worry, she straightened, picked up his bag
and
stood.
"Ready?" She reached out a hand to pull him up and,
surprisingly, he took
it,
using her full help to get him vertical.
"I already signed him out for you," Doctor Andrews
said from the
door.
Scully turned.
"Oh, thank you." To Mulder, she said, "C'mon,
let's get you home."
He was
starting to sway on his feet and she quickly wrapped an arm
around his
waist,
and escorted him briskly down the stairs and out to the car. She
let go of
him for a minute to open the back door. "In here. You can
stretch your
legs
out and get some rest since it looks as if you've been deprived
of it for
the
last few hours."
He shook his head very slightly, even so, grimacing at the pain.
"Why not, Mulder. You _need_ rest--"
"No," he said. He coughed a little, wincing again.
In explanation
his
rubbed his stomach. "Nauseous."
"Ohh, okay, sit in the front, it'll be better. When we
get to the
motel,
I've got some Compazine for you."
He nodded his thanks and slipped into the front seat. Scully
got
into the
driver's seat, stuck the key in the ignition and drove off.
Luckily, the
traffic had all disappeared by this time and she got to the motel
in
relatively no time. She pulled into a parking space close to
their rooms
and
looked over at Mulder. He had his eyes scrunched tightly closed
but when he
caught her staring they flew open.
"What?" Mulder demanded hoarsely.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"They seemed to think so." He opened the door and
got out. Scully
was right
on his heels, opening the motel door for him, leading him to sit
on the bed,
pushing him down so he was lying on the bed in the middle of the
day, fully
dressed including shoes and his jacket.
She perched on the corner of his bed next to him. "I
thought you
_wanted_ to
get out. You wouldn't cooperate with anyone, you got yourself
expelled,"
she
joked.
He sighed, and the deep breath made him cough. "Yeah, I
guess
you're right.
I just feel so..."
Scully moved closer and stroked his hair. "Feel what?
What can I
do?"
"I don't know. Just bad. I'm gonna go to sleep now,"
he said and
closed his
eyes.
Scully watched in amazement as his breathing evened out in
less than
half a
minute. "Mulder?" she whispered. He didn't respond.
Scully sighed and
worked
to gingerly pull off his shoes and jacket, trying not to wake
him. She
didn't
have to try very hard, he was dead to the world. She sat for a
few minutes,
studying his pain streaked face, then ran a hand through his
hair, feeling
how
soft it was even soaked in sweat. She frowned, remembering she
hadn't
gotten
to take his temperature. Going over to her medical bag, she found
her ear
thermometer and carefully took his temperature.
"Oh, shit," she said simply and dropped into the arm
chair across
the room.
<Nobody in their right mind takes their partner _out_ of the
hospital with a
hundred four fever. They put them _in_.> She sighed loudly
again, then put
the thermometer away and went into the bathroom. She splashed
water as cold
as she could get it on her face and stared in the mirror.
<You're not
_thinking_, Dana. You've only got your mind on the case, and you
need to be
thinking about immediate problems. Like Mulder. Well, he _is_
sleeping, so
that doesn't exactly qualify as _immediate_.> Scully looked
back at Mulder
one last time then went to her room, dropped on the bed and
turned on HBO.
Motel
10:34 p.m.
Scully was still lying on her bed, vegging out on the HBO when
a gut
wrenching scream caused her to nearly jump through the cheap
motel ceiling.
<Mulder> She ran out of her room. The light was still on
in his
room so she
saw right away her partner, lying on the floor, tangled in
blankets and
sheets, screaming his head off.
"Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, shhhhh...." She had
gathered her partner
up in her
arms and was rocking him back and forth. He was sitting up and
crying and
rocking with her but he didn't seem to be aware or even awake. He
seemed
even
hotter than he had been before, and Scully was becoming seriously
alarmed.
He
eased her mind somewhat when he sat up on his own and groaned
loudly.
Two fists came up and sluggishly rubbed at his tear streaked
face.
Then he
sat, slouched over in exhaustion, and stared, blinking owlishly
at Scully
until she half helped, half lifted him up and dropped him on the
bed. When
he
was more or less resting comfortably, she went into the bathroom
and came
back
with a cup of water for him. He managed to get half of it in him,
half of
it
on him (the usual percentage) but after half a glass he pushed it
away
violently.
"Mulder, you need to--"
"Remember Mrs. Paddock?" As an afterthought he
mumbled, "I'm gonna
be sick."
She took a deep breath, then realized he'd probably be okay if
he
sat still
for a minute, he had just had too much water too fast.
"Here," she said and
gently pushed his head between his knees. He stayed in that
position for
several minutes, Scully with her hand on the back of his neck,
ready to help
if he needed it. After a while, he fell back on the bed and
closed his
eyes.
"I'm okay," he said. He was shivering now.
"Cold," he muttered and
tried to
slip under the blankets.
"No, you need to let off body heat. Mulder... Mulder,
c'mon listen
to me.
You need to..." It was too late. He had coocooned himself in
the thin
motel
room blankets and was breathing evenly again.
<Mrs. Paddock?> Scully thought, confused.
Mulder stirred a bit as Scully turned the lights out. <Mrs.
Paddock?> she
thought again. <Why would Mulder remember that case?> She
sighed, and
brushed the thought off as a fever dream. She glanced over at her
thermometer, which sat on the small table next to Mulder's bed.
She was
tempted to take his temperature again, but didn't want to disturb
him.
<Besides,> she thought, rubbing her eyes <It's been a
long day.> She yawned
and headed back to her room and turned the TV off.
She glanced over at the door the connected both of their
rooms. It
was open,
just as she had left it, and she could hear Mulder's slightly
uneven
breathing
from the next room. She sighed, knowing she couldn't do anything
else,
flipped off her light and went to sleep.
Motel
8:33 a.m.
Scully smiled as she looked in the reflection in the mirror.
She
still
looked tired, but she managed a decent night's sleep last night.
She could
only hope that Mulder had too. She peered in the door for the
first time
that
morning and sighed loudly at what she saw.
Mulder was asleep, in a half sitting position, his head
slumped back
on the
headboard. His glasses lay next his pillow, discarded without
care.
Joanna's
files were sprawled in his lap, scattered in a million different
directions.
Taking him out of the hospital was beginning to sound like a very
bad idea.
<Of course,> she reminded herself, <It really wasn't an
_idea_, it was more
of
an _order_.> Scully sighed again and walked toward Mulder.
He did look a little better, she had to admit. His cheeks were
a
little less
red. She shoved some folders off the bed, not caring if they
landed on the
floor. She'd pick them up later.
"Mulder." She shook him lightly and he groaned. She
reached for the
thermometer and placed it in his ear. He groaned again, but
didn't open his
eyes. The thermometer beeped.
102.5. Down from last night's 104. That was something to be
happy
about.
But she was going to give Mulder one hell of a lecture about
getting up for
'late night studying.'
Mulder chose that moment to grace her with his hazel eyes.
They
searched the
room and landed on her.
"Morning," she said softly and reached for a folder.
She held in up
in front
of him, not saying a word.
Mulder swallowed and looked at her sheepishly. "I had an
idea,
and...." His
voice was soft, hardly above a whisper. He swallowed again and
grimaced.
"I'm sorry, Scully." He looked up at her, his eyes
shining from the fever.
Scully sighed. <How does he do that?> she thought.
She brushed some hair off his forehead. "It's okay."
She got up
from the
bed.
"I want you to take these." She handed him two aspirin
and then got him
some
water.
She stood there and walked him swallow.
"What's the matter, Scully? Don't trust me?" he
croaked, with a
small smile.
"Not when it comes to taking medication," she
replied lightly and
sat back
down on the bed. "Mulder, I want you to get some rest. I'm
going to the
crime lab to talk with someone. I'll be back in a bit." She
scooped up the
remaining papers on the bed and bent down to pick up the ones on
the floor.
She got up and smiled. "These," she said, pointing to
the files, "are
coming
with me."
"Scully-"
"Sleep, Mulder. You need it. And I'm sure you don't want
to listen
to
another lecture." She started to push him back down.
"And I don't want to
have to bring you back to the hospital." Her voice was low
on that last
line.
He knew what she meant. She didn't want any more scares. He
nodded and
laid
down. She started to walk to the door.
"Scully?"
She turned and looked at him. "What?"
"What if Joanna's death wasn't an accident? Just like
Shannon
Ausbury. Her
death was no accident."
<Back to that case, again.> "We don't know that, Mulder."
"Mrs. Paddock was responsible. You know that."
"Mulder," Scully began. Mulder just rolled over and
closed his
eyes.
"Fine, Scully. Go talk to that guy at the crime lab."
Scully frowned and cast one last glance at Mulder before
walking
out.
Crime Lab
9:46 a.m.
"Joanna's death was a shock to the community. In
Rutherford you
don't get
too many hit-and-runs. People were appalled that someone would
run down a
child and flee the scene, no matter how much trouble the child
caused.
We're
a small community, Agent Scully. Very close to each other.
Everyone knows
everyone else here," said Sean Matthews, shaking his head.
"Even though
Joanna wasn't an angel, I, myself, and I know quite a few others
were very
suspicious of her death. Her parents didn't shed one tear. Even
when the
police called them. Of course, feelings aren't part of an
investigation, so
the parents weren't suspects."
Scully nodded, remembering her short conversation with Mrs.
Wasserman. "I
talked to Mrs. Wasserman. She was less than friendly,"
Scully said,
carefully, hoping to get some more insight into Joanna's death
without
taking
a side. At least not yet. Matthews nodded and Scully continued.
"The
parent
were checked though?"
Matthews nodded. "Yep. To rule out the possible angle of,
well,
parents
paying someone to do it."
"Paying someone to do it?" Suddenly this case was
going beyond the
death of
Sarah Martin. There seemed to be no logical connection between
Joanna and
Katie. Scully was getting more confused by the minute. <Talk
about an X-
File.>
"Yeah. People around town were saying that the Wassermans
knocked
her off.
Got rid of her. I don't know if that's true, people around here
can go
overboard, believe me, but those parents were strange. A full
autopsy was
done, as you read in those files, we even did some bloodwork, at
the request
of the parents. Looked at that myself. Normal."
"The request of the parents?" Now Scully was getting
a little
suspicious
herself.
"Yeah, they were real nervous about it. When I told them
it was
clear, they
looked relieved, almost as if they thought something was going to
be there."
Motel
11:13 a.m.
Scully clutched the files, along with a bag full of juice she
hoped
she could
get Mulder to drink. <Hoping and getting are two different
things> Scully
thought as she opened her motel door. She entered her room, glad
to see the
maid had respected the "no maid service" sign she had
left on the door
before
leaving that morning. Scully placed the files on the dresser.
"Mulder," she said softly as she opened the door to
Mulder's room,
juice in
hand. She sighed loudly (God, she seemed to be doing that a lot)
when she
saw
Mulder sitting up in bed, glasses on, and struggling to keep his
eyes open.
Scully's laptop sat on his lap, and she could see he was logged
into the
Bureau. <Damn you Mulder> Scully thought as she walked in
and set the juice
on the dresser.
"Ahem."
Mulder blinked his eyes and grimaced, then looked up at
Scully. She
stood
there, her eyebrows raised in the look she had done to a science.
Mulder
raised a hand to his head, and rubbed his temples.
"I was bored and-" he started, but Scully caught him off.
"I don't want to hear it, Mulder." Scully walked
over to the wall
and pulled
both the computer's plug and phone cord out. She then put them on
Mulder's
lap.
"Sorry," he muttered, letting his hands fall to his
sides. Scully
took the
laptop off of his lap and put it down on the floor. She then sat
at the
edge
of his bed, took his glasses off, and placed them on the
nightstand.
"Do you understand the word rest, or do I have to define
it for
you?" Scully
asked, her eyebrow still raised.
"Rest isn't my favorite word, Scully," he muttered,
and brought into
a
coughing fit. Scully walked into the bathroom and returned with a
glass of
water. Mulder's coughing fit subsided and she handed him the
glass of
water.
He drank the whole thing without comment, but ending up coughing
again and
spilling half of it.
"Don't drink it so fast," Scully warned. She reached
for her
thermometer
again and before Mulder could protest, stuck in his ear. Mulder
was too
busy
getting over his coughing to notice, anyway.
"102," she said aloud. "Down half a
degree." Mulder regained his
composure
and smiled.
"See? I did rest a little while." But his smile soon
faded as the
coughing
started up again.
Scully pushed him down gently, until his head rested on the
pillow.
"Not
enough, evidently."
"How was the crime lab?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Oh no, Mulder. I don't talk until you get some more
rest." Scully
looked
dead serious. Mulder knew not to press. He had her mad enough
already.
And
he knew that having Scully pissed off wasn't a good thing. So he
closed his
eyes, surprised at how tired he was. He didn't realize how he had
been
fighting to stay awake until now.
"Good," he heard Scully say and felt her hands on
his forehead.
Inwardly he
smiled and fell asleep with Scully sitting next to him.
Motel
Rutherford, NJ
12:35 p.m.
With nothing better to do and wanting to keep a close eye on
Mulder,
Scully
spent the rest of the day in the motel. Mulder slept for a large
portion of
the day-- he woke up around four and she managed to get some
water in him
before he started begging her for the files. When she refused, he
had given
one last weak protest, then shrugged and gone back to sleep.
Scully had
gotten into pajamas at around ten and read a little, then turned
off the
light
and lay, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, trying to fall
asleep. But
she
just wasn't tired; she hadn't really _done_ anything all day, and
she had
too
much energy to fall asleep.
Scully had counted only sixty-five sheep when the conjoining
door
between her
and Mulder's room bust open. Her disheveled partner moved quickly
into the
room, tripping a few times over his own feet.
"Mulder--"
"Scully, we're going to Texas."
"Excuse me??" Scully had flipped on the light switch
and was
studying her
partner. Deciding him to be hallucinogenic, she reached a hand up
to his
forehead. He swatted it away and stared at her, his eyes intense,
but the
fever glaze was still painfully present.
"Texas, Scully. Texas. Wassermans...... you need
to...." He was
having
trouble putting together a complete sentence.
Scully put a gentle hand on his arm. "Mulder, did you
have a bad
dream?"
"No! No, I... well, yeah, but that's not what told me
to.... well,
sorta,
but..."
"Why don't you go back to sleep, and we'll talk about it
in the
morning?"
"No! I'm not... " He made a noise close to
whimpering, frustrated.
"I slept
all _day_, Scully. I wanna work now, you said I could."
"I didn't say you could start working at midnight!"
He studied her, suddenly realizing something. "Why are
_you_ up?
It's
late."
She sighed. "I couldn't sleep." She studied him, his
face flushed,
eyes
glazed. "I somehow think _you_ could though. Go back to your
room."
"No... I wanna work now." Mulder crossed his arms in
front of his
chest and
sat down on the corner of her bed, apparently not planning to
move willingly
for the next few hours or until Scully gave in.
"No," Scully said. "No way, no how. We are not
going to Texas
until we
seriously discuss this, AND discuss this with _Skinner_.
Remember? Our
_boss_? And, frankly, Mulder, you're not proving to me at all
that you're
fit
to start working. And I definitely don't want to take you on a
plane to
Texas
and have you collapse on me. You need to rest up--"
That's where Mulder broke. "I _did_! I've been listening
to you...
I slept
all day for crying out loud!"
"You needed it," Scully said, trying to keep her calm.
"I didn't... I...." Mulder was breathing heavily, on
the verge of
hyperventilating in his frustration. "Fine. I don't have to
listen to you.
There's no reason I _should_ listen to you. I--" He was
gasping for
breath.
"I'm going now. I'm gonna go now. I'm.... yeah." He
stood up, sweat
streaming down his face, swayed a little before stumbling out the
door and
into the parking lot.
"Mulder!!" Scully jumped up and began running
towards him but a
blast of
cold air from the door stopped her in her tracks. She was only
wearing
pajamas and chasing after Mulder-- especially when he had the car
and she
was
on foot-- was not a smart idea. She stood in the doorway,
watching
helplessly
as the rental car pulled out of the motel parking lot, two sharp
headlights
in
the still winter air, moving jerkily as its fever-impulsed driver
struggled
to
concentrate enough in his exhaustion to keep the car straight and
moving.
Scully shivered and pulled the door closed. She stared down at
her
bare
toes, digging, infuriated, into the thin motel carpet.
"Shit," she
whispered.
"Great Dana, what're you gonna do now??" <Call
Skinner> her reasonable mind
was telling her. <And wake him at this hour and tell him that
his agent is
on
a careless, mad... _journey_ to Texas with a--> jeez she
didn't even know
his
temperature. But, it was her responsibility to take care of
Mulder and
allowing him to go on such a mad hunt was her problem now.
"Skinner."
"Uh, sir, I'm sorry to wake you..."
He sighed. "No, I wasn't sleeping."
<Looks like I wasn't the only one having a problem with
that.> "Oh,
well, uh,
I don't know how to say this..."
"What'd Mulder do, Scully?"
Scully smiled a little then turned serious. "Well, he was
very
cooperative
today, he slept all day, in fact."
"Scully, is there something you're not telling me?"
"Um, no, sir, why?"
There was a long pause. "What's wrong, Scully?"
<Oh, damn, we haven't been keeping him updated... at
all!> She
briefly
wondered why they hadn't been reprimanded before.
"Well, it's a long story, sir and it ends up with Mulder
driving off
into the
sunset with our _only_ car and a 103 fever."
"One oh three?"
"... an estimate. It was 102 earlier today but it
definitely looks
like it's
gone up."
"Not that I don't trust your doctor's judgment, but one
oh three is
a bit
high. And I thought he was in the hospital?"
"Oh, it was higher and he's out. Before. Uh... let's not
get into
that.
Anyway, he stole the car and he's going to Texas. Well, I think
he's going
to
Texas."
"Texas? Jesus, Scully it's one in the morning, what's the
matter
with him??"
"Like I said, sir, he's got a hundred three temperature.
Oh... and
he's
royally pissed at his partner."
"You," Skinner said. "Okay, Scully, this is
against all my best
judgment,
but I'm giving you permission to _follow_ your reckless partner
on his wild
goose hunt."
"NOW, sir?" Scully had been hoping to leave in the
morning. Even
though she
knew she'd have trouble falling asleep, she was in no mood to go
chase
Mulder.
"Well, I'd recommend it. Pack up your stuff and go as
soon as you
can. By
the way, did Mulder bring _anything_ with him?"
"Uh, to the best of my knowledge, no."
Skinner mumbled something that sounded like, "This keeps
getting
better and
better." and swore under his breath. "All right, go
ahead Scully. Keep me
informed please.... I don't think I'll be sleeping tonight
anyway."
"Okay, thank you sir, I'll call you later." She hung
up and hurried
to pack
up her bag and Mulder's.
Airport
New Jersey
1:26 a.m.
"A plane to Texas... one oh five in the morning. Are you crazy?"
The young lady behind the counter frowned at the crazed FBI
agent
before her.
"Uh, no ma'am. Just convenient."
"Convenient my ass," Scully muttered. "All
right, uh...." She took
a deep
breath and regained her composure. "Tell me this. That one
oh five plane,
was there a man on it, about thirty seven years old, six feet,
brown hair,
hazel eyes, not quite sane?"
"Yes!" The lady smiled. "He bought a ticket
_right_ before
take-off and had
to run to catch the plane."
Scully took a deep breath and let it out in three slow
intervals.
"When's
the next plane to Dallas?"
"Um, not till the morning."
"Shit. Fine, I want a ticket for that."
"Uh, it's sold out."
"Jesus, I'm an FBI agent, you can't find a single seat?
In the
BACK?"
"Oh, you're an FBI agent. Why didn't you say anything??
Sure, we
can find
you a seat in the back!" She said too cheerfully.
"I did say something," Scully said through clenched
teeth. "I want
that
flight. What time is it?"
"One thirty."
"Not now, what time is it. What time does the flight leave?!"
"Oh, uh, nine thirty."
Scully bit back the urge to start having a hissy fit on the
filthy
airport
floor. "All right, I want one of those."
"'K, you got it, miss. Here ya go." She printed out
one ticket and
handed
it to Scully.
"Thank you," Scully said, not sounding very thankful
at all. She
walked
brusquely away.
"Sheesh," the lady behind the counter said.
End Part 06 of 11.
====================================
Part 07 of 11.
Texas Airport
3:30 p.m.
The flight had been late and then they'd hit turbulence.
Scully was
pissed
off at the plane, but at least she'd managed to get enough sleep
last night
after all the commotion and all. She'd only gotten a few hours,
but when
she
woke up, she'd found herself fresh and prepared to kick her
partner's ass
back
to New Jersey once she found him.
Unfortunately, her high disappeared as soon as she discovered
just
how many
hotels there were in Dallas that Mulder could be staying with.
_If_ he'd
had
the sense to find a hotel. It was possible he'd just gone
straight to the
Wasserman's. After a moment of thinking, Scully decided he'd
probably gone
straight to the Wasserman's.
"Mrs. Wasserman, it's me again, Agent Scully."
"Oh. Yes?" She was decidedly more pleasant than the
last time
Scully had
spoken with her.
"Yes, uh, I was wondering, has my partner, Mulder.. uh,
Agent
Mulder, come to
you?"
"Yes, why?"
Scully felt like spilling her story about Mulder abandoning
her but
decided
against it. Mrs. Wasserman might be nicer than the last time they
had
talked,
but she still wasn't Scully's favorite person on the planet.
"Do you happen
to know where he's staying?"
"No, but he did leave us a number."
<Then he DID check into a hotel!> "Would you mind
telling me that
number?"
After a slight hesitation she added, "Please."
"No, not at all." The words were music to Scully's
ears. "Five
five five
five three eight nine."
"Thank you very much Mrs. Wasserman," she said. She
then added,
"Maybe we'll
talk later today." And hung up before Mrs. Wasserman could
protest.
Scully stared at the phone in her hand. She was going to
_kill_
Mulder at this moment. She punched in the number that Mrs.
Wasserman had
given her.
"Hello. Holiday Inn. How may I help you?" a cheerful
voice chimed
after one ring.
<Holiday Inn? Well, at least you picked a decent hotel
Mulder. I'd
like to see you write that on the expense report> Scully
thought.
"I'm looking for a Fox Mulder. I believe he checked here,
but I
don't
know which room number." Scully tapped her fingers on the
side of the phone
while she waited..
"One moment, please." Scully conjured up what she
was going to say
to
Mulder; she started forming the _perfect_ lecture.
"He's in room 212. Would you like me to connect you?"
<You bet I do.> "Yes, please." Scully listened
to a distant
ringing
and waited for Mulder to pick up. Two rings. Three rings. Four
rings.
Finally the cheerful voice came back on the line.
"It appears that Mr. Mulder is not in his room. Would you
like to
leave a message?"
<A message, huh?> "Just tell him Scully called. And
that he has
ditched her for the last time," Scully said, calmly and
sweetly, then asked
for directions to the hotel, and hung up. She was prepared to
camp out in
front of Mulder's room and wait for him. And then she would kick
his sorry
ass all the way back to Washington.
Holiday Inn
4:55 p.m.
Scully had to rent another car to get to the hotel, and knew
that
Mulder had rented another one as well. She had described Mulder
and asked
at
the rental counter if they had seen him. Of course, they had seen
him,
'looking rather pale' as the clerk had described. This made
Scully even
more
determined to find him.
So here she was, walking down the hallway to Mulder's room,
ready
to
pounce on him as soon as she saw him. She had her suitcase and
Mulder's
duffel bag in one hand, her medical bag in the other, and her
room key in
her
fist. She had managed to get the room next to Mulder's and after
a quick
drop
off of bags in her room, she was prepared to really sit in front
of his
door.
She sighed as she realized that Skinner was going to kill them
when he saw
this expense report.
But as soon as she reached her door, she noticed that the
Mulder's
room door was slightly ajar. She quickly dropped her bags in her
room and
walked over to the door, trying to think that housekeeping was
there and
Mulder hadn't really left the door slightly ajar. Because Mulder
would
_never_ do that. She rapped on the door lightly, but got no
response. She
frowned and opened the door quietly.
A queen sized bed was in the middle of the room. And Mulder
was on
top of it, fast asleep, still in the clothes he had on when he
stormed out
last night. His face was hidden by a pillow, but Scully could
hear a slight
rasp in his breathing. The same rasp that had kept her up last
night, only
slightly worse.
Scully sighed and walked back into her room to get her medical
bag.
At least with her thermometer she could get a reading without
waking Mulder.
Because as soon as he woke, he was going to get it.
6:15 p.m.
An hour had past and Mulder was still out cold. Scully had
taken his
temperature and the 103 she had suspected last night was
confirmed. She
clutched some aspirin in her hand and was waiting for him to
wake, so she
could get him to take them and get him to drink something. She
ordered some
juice from room service and it sat on a table by the window, next
to the
chair
Scully now resided in.
She had been practicing her little "speech" to
Mulder over and over
in
her head as she waited. <As if he'll really listen, anyway>
she realized,
but
knew she would say it anyway. She glanced at her cell phone and
decided to
fill Skinner in, before Mulder awoke and ran out on her again.
"Skinner."
"It's Scully, sir. I found him."
"Where?" Skinner sounded both relieved and annoyed
at the same time.
Scully herself had that reaction when she had discovered Mulder.
"Holiday Inn in Dallas," she answered.
"Don't let him out of your sight, Scully."
"I won't, sir." And after she promised to keep him
informed, she
hung
up. She glanced over at Mulder and saw him stir. She pushed her
chair to
the
edge of the bed and sat there and watched him open his eyes.
The first thing Mulder was aware of was his splitting
headache. He
groaned, opened his eyes, and was greeted by one very pissed off
redhead.
"I am getting sick of you ditching me, Mulder,"
Scully started and
sighed, preparing to go into her lecture, but Mulder interrupted
her.
"I'm sorry, Scully. But you weren't listening to
me." He brought
his
hand up to his temples and rubbed them. Then he proceeded to get
up.
Scully hands were pushing him down in an instant. "No,
Mulder.
Let's
not start this again. You are _sick_. Normal people stay in bed
when they
are sick."
"Scully you know by now that I'm not normal," Mulder
remarked, and
closed his eyes against his still throbbing head.
"Of you aren't. That would be too easy, wouldn't
it?" Scully was
pissed. She got off of her chair and started pacing.
"Mulder, one these
days, you are going to run off and I'm not going to find you. I
don't want
that to happen! You are-"
"I said I was sor-" Mulder interjected, but was
racked by a bought
of
coughing. Scully sighed and her anger turned into concern. He
_was_ sick
after all. She got the aspirin she had had out and handed then
along with a
glass of water to him.
Mulder swallowed the aspirin and drank the water without a
word.
Scully just looked at him, and then walked to the bed and sat on
the edge.
She put her hand on his forehead, and Mulder had to admit he
loved Scully's
touch, even if it was while she was doctoring him. She frowned
and reached
for her thermometer again.
"Turn your head for me." It was an order and not a
request.
Mulder
knew that and let Scully stick the thermometer into his ear for a
reading.
"103.6," Scully said outloud to no one in
particular. "It's up
half
a degree." She sighed and shook her head. She looked at the
floor for a
minute and then brought her eyes back to Mulder.
"So what do you find out? What was so important you had
to ditch
me?" The words weren't angry, they were annoyed, but not
angry, even though
God knows she was angry.
"Mrs. Wasserman can be a real bitch," Mulder said, simply.
Scully laughed. "I could have told you that," she
said, through her
laughter. Mulder looked at her strangely. "Never mind.
Anything else?"
Mulder sighed and tried to remember. His eyelids were getting
heavy
and he couldn't really think that clearly. Scully saw him falling
asleep.
She put her hand on his arm.
"You can tell me later, Mulder. Go to sleep. I'll get
something
for
dinner." Mulder's eyes perked up at the idea of her leaving
the room, but
Scully quickly added: "From room service."
Mulder sighed and coughed, then drifted off to sleep.
Holiday Inn
7:30 p.m.
Scully stared at the file folder as she ate. She wondered why
Mulder had
come here in the first place. She knew he wanted to talk to Mrs.
Wasserman,
but she doubted he got very far in his condition. But she still
didn't know
_why_ talking to Linda Wasserman was so important.
She pushed her plate aside and looked at Mulder. He was still
asleep, but
stirred from time to time, so Scully didn't even want to leave
the room,
afraid he'd slip out again. <But the last time he ran off, you
_were_ in
the
room> she reminded herself. She closed the folder and sighed.
She would
talk
to Mrs. Wasserman herself in the morning. She just needed to know
what
Mulder
had asked her. What Mulder was looking for.
This case was getting tiring. It had started at as a murder
case,
and now
they were in Texas investigating a hit-and-run that took place 5
years ago!
Scully seemed to be no closer to solving this case, but Mulder
seemed to
have
same sort of hunch. But Mulder was sick. An illness that had
struck him
when
he tried to investigate the connection between Katie and Joanna.
<That's
weird.....no, it's just a coincidence, not an X-File! Then again,
Mulder is
an X-File all on his own> she thought, smiling a little. Right
now, she
would
wait for Mulder to wake up, try to get him to eat, and to keep it
down. Her
mind wandered back to the hospital and all the scares.
Holiday Inn
Dallas, Texas
9:47 p.m.
It was after nine-thirty when Scully finally caved in and woke
up
Mulder.
She knew he'd kill her for letting him sleep so long, but that
wasn't her
only
motivation. Truth was, she was bored out of her mind and dying to
hear what
Mulder's "hunch" on the Wassermans was.
Even before she shook him, she could tell the aspirin she'd
given
him hadn't
done a thing. He was laying on his side, curled with his knees
half way up,
both arms wrapped around his rib cage as if protecting himself
from some
unknown predator. Listening to his harsh, rasping breathing made
her
realize
he was probably in a great deal of pain. As Scully sat on the
edge of
Mulder's bed, stroking his damp bangs, feeling the heat coming
off him, he
began coughing; loud hacking that sounded as though it was trying
to wake
him
up, but the exhaustion kept him from emerging from his slumber.
Scully sat
there for nearly ten minutes watching him before she decided
she'd have to
wake him up and do something about... about _everything_ that was
making him
sick; she wished desperately she could make it go away, but the
doctor in
her
was clucking. <You _can_ make it go away, but not by sheer
will.>
"Mulder, wake up. Mulder... Mulder, wake up now."
Scully had
grasped his
shoulders and was, gently but firmly, shaking him.
"Mm," Mulder said elaborately and groaned. Quickly
realizing she
wouldn't
have a chance to do this once he was fully lucid, Scully grabbed
her
thermometer off the bedside table and stuck it in his ear.
<103.9.> Scully closed her eyes and concentrated on
thinking of
something
she could possibly do to bring the fever down. At this point,
nothing less
than serious, IV applied, drugs would do anything. But... well,
she wasn't
ready to leave him in the hospital, yet. First, Scully wanted to
hear his
theory.
"What's the matter?" Mulder croaked. "Scully,
I'm sorry, what'd I
do?
Please, Scully, what's the matter? I'm sorry!!" He had
pushed himself off
the pillow as much as his weakened body could manage and was
tugging at her
sleeve.
"Nothing. Shh, nothing." The look of terror in his
eyes pained
her. "I was
just thinking."
"Thinking about what?"
"I'll tell you later." She paused, then regained her
doctor mode.
"Let's
see if we can get you a bit more comfortable. Can you sit up for
me?" She
took his elbow and helped to get him upright. "All right..
let's get you
out
of these."
Mulder looked down and noticed for the first time that his
clothes
were
completely soaked in sweat. "I can do it."
Scully frowned but decided he deserved at least a _little_ bit
of
privacy.
"Okay, I'll go into my room, call the minute you need
something." She
stepped
back towards the door, still staring dubiously at her feverish
partner.
"Uh, right," Mulder said, struggling to stand up.
Scully went into
her room
and stood right by the door, leaning against the wall and
twiddling her
thumbs, waiting to spring the second her partner showed any sign
of
distress.
After an infinite amount of time, Scully heard Mulder moan and
she popped
into
his room.
"Whatsamatter?" She ran to his side.
Mulder winced as she yelled in his ear and couldn't help the
flinch
when she
laid her palm on his forehead when he was still recovering from
the
throbbing
pain in his head.
"Can I have some aspirin please?" he said, voice
hardly above a
whisper.
"Sorry, Mulder, I'd love to give you some, I really
would, but you
swallow
that on an empty stomach and I bet you anything it'll come back
up to visit
you in ten minutes."
He flopped back down onto the bed, only he was sitting
backwards, so
now his
head was on the foot of his bed and his feet on the pillow.
Scully turned
around quickly to make sure he was okay after the fall (she was
feeling just
a
_bit_ overprotective) and found him with his eyes scrunched
closed and his
forehead creased in pain.
"Okay, well, how 'bout this? I have some left over room
service
from earlier
tonight. Think you can eat a little of that and then the aspirin
is all
yours. C'mon, sit up and we'll go into my room and eat a little
something.
And, _maybe_, if you're feeling okay, we can discuss the case a
bit."
Mulder groaned and scrubbed at his face with both fists.
"That's
okay, I
think I'll just stay here and die... if that's okay with
you."
<Mulder?? Not wanting to work on the case? He must really
be
feeling bad.>
"Gee, Mulder, I've never known you to be so dramatic."
"I minored in drama," he muttered from under the
pillow he had
pushed over
his face.
"Really?"
"No. Can I have that aspirin?"
"You need to eat something or you're gonna be puking your guts up."
Very, very slowly, Mulder pushed himself up and, slower still,
swung
his legs
over the side of the bed and stood up. Scully followed him into
her room,
pushing gently on the small of his back to keep him moving,
keeping one hand
protectively on his lower arm to keep him upright. Once in
Scully's room
(that was identical to his own and he didn't understand her need
to make him
move to a room that looked just like his), Mulder collapsed again
on her
bed,
but managed to stay sitting up.
"Okay, let's see here..." Scully rubbed her hands
together eagerly
and picked
up the tray with a couple of unappetizing plates of left over
food from her
meal earlier. She placed the food before her partner who held on
his face a
look of utter disgust.
"Scully, I can't eat that."
"Why not?"
He swallowed, turning positively green. "Cause it looks
like a
hamster
Samantha had when she was six. The hamster's name was..." He
gulped again.
"Fluffers." Mulder shut his eyes, forehead still
scrunched against the
headache that Scully knew must be killing him.
Scully put a hand on his arm. "Okay, it's okay," she
said gently.
"How
about something lighter? Some toast? Tea?"
Mulder shook his head. "No, that's okay. I'm just gonna
go to bed
if that's
okay with you."
<This is so unlike Mulder, he must be feeling unbelievably
shitty.
I've
_never_ known him to sleep this much, or to _want_ to sleep,
especially when
I
invited him to discuss the case!>
"Stay here a minute, I need to talk to you," Scully
said softly.
"Hold on,
I'm gonna get you a wet washcloth; that'll bring down your fever
a little.
I
bet you're pretty hot, huh?"
He nodded, eyes still closed.
"Okay, I'll be right back." Scully squeezed his knee
and left. She
returned
a minute later with a washcloth. She pushed Mulder down a little
so he was
half-sitting up, but mostly slouched down by the pillow, and put
the
washcloth
on his forehead. A deep shiver wracked him.
"Scully," he moaned. "I'm cold." His voice
cracked on "cold". He
began
shivering hard as if to prove it. "Scully, take it
off," he said, his voice
shaking.
Scully pushed away his hand that was trying to remove the
washcloth.
"Stop--
believe me, you're going to want it when you start boiling up in
a minute."
"I won't," he protested hoarsely, his teeth
chattering, distorting
his words.
"Yes, you will. That's what happens when you have a
fever, you'll
have the
shakes one minute and think you're on fire the next."
"No, I won't! I'm co-ho-ho-hold."
"Mulder! A minute ago you were so hot...." She
realized she was
arguing for
nothing. "Shh, its okay, just rest." She studied his
face. "Mulder,"
she
said softly. "You still with me? I'm gonna give you some
aspirin, okay?"
He nodded weakly, still shivering, and when she left and
returned
with 3
aspirin and a cup of water, he managed to pull himself up to
swallow the
pills. By now he was hot again, and kept flipping the pillows
over in
search
of a cool spot. Finding none, he pushed the pillows aside, rolled
over on
the
bare mattress which felt wonderfully cool against his burning
skin and fell
into a fitful sleep.
When Scully came back from returning the cup to the bathroom,
he was
sound
asleep. <Great> Scully thought and sighed deeply.
She placed the cup on the nightstand, and considered waking
Mulder
again. He
was in pain before, and would be again when he woke up. And maybe
the
aspirin
would put a dent into his fever. She watched as, even when he
slept, he had
a
pronounced grimace on his face. She decided that sleep was
probably best
for
him and collapsed back into the chair beside Mulder's bed. She
was ready to
scream! At this rate she was ready to go back to Washington, dump
Mulder in
the hospital, give Skinner her report unfinished, and collapse
into her
_own_
bed. In her _own_ apartment. Only the threads of one very old
case were
keeping her here. And, frankly, she was ready to tear those
threads out
with
her bear hands.
<And I don't even have one of Mulder's theories to argue
with> she
realized
and then again thought about how each time he wanted to tell her
a theory,
his
illness seemed to worsen, or he just fell asleep. Katie seemed to
be back
to
normal, and it was Joanna's death they seemed to be
investigating, when they
hadn't even solved Sarah Martin's!
<If Katie is back to normal, perhaps we can dump this
case> Scully
thought
and toyed with the idea of picking her cell phone up and calling
Skinner for
permission. But as her hand reached for the phone, she realized
how lame
that
would sound to Skinner. Especially when he hadn't heard all the
details
about
their case, and Scully wasn't in mood for sharing.
So in the end, she fell asleep in the chair beside Mulder, her
cell
phone
laying just within her reach.
Back in Rutherford, NJ
Katie Martin's room
12:13 a.m.
Katie stared at the walls, listening for any source of sound.
Joanna hadn't
spoken for a few days, but Katie was still wary. She hoped her
last
sentence
had driven her away for good, and so far it had. Plus, she hadn't
heard
from
the FBI agents either. <Maybe they went back to where ever it
was they came
from> she thought. She listened to her room once more and all
she heard
was
the faint noise coming for the TV downstairs. She smiled and shut
her
light,
prepared to go to bed, and put Sarah's death and Joanna behind
her.
KATIE.
Katie opened her eyes, and sat up in shock. She listened again
and
heard
nothing but the TV. <I'm just imaging things> she told
herself and laid
back
down. But she didn't close her eyes.
KATIE, I KNOW YOU ARE THERE. WE HAVE TO TALK.
<Joanna?> Katie thought and swallowed hard.
THE ONE AND ONLY. I BET YOU THOUGHT I WAS GONE.
Katie thought angrily.
NO YOU DON'T, KATIE. I HELPED YOU. YOU'RE NO LONGER IN SARAH'S
SHADOW. YOU
LOVE THAT. I KNOW YOU DO. TO BAD SHE HAD TO DIE, I'M REALLY SORRY
ABOUT
THAT. BUT IT WAS THE ONLY WAY.
Katie just stared at the walls, not admitting anything.
I DID SOMETHING FOR YOU, SO YOU DO SOMETHING FOR ME. I NEED
YOU TO
THROW
SOME FBI AGENTS OFF THE TRACK.
KATIE YOU HAVE TO HELP ME. IF YOU DON'T, I'LL JUST HAVE TO
THROW
THEM OFF
THE TRACK MY WAY. AND THAT MIGHT NOT BE GOOD FOR YOU.
Katie looked at the walls, Joanna's words echoing back to her.
<What do you
mean by "that might not be good for you"?>
KATIE, YOU ARE SMART ENOUGH TO FIGURE THAT OUT. LISTEN, I'M
NOT A
BAD
PERSON, JUST A TWELVE YEAR OLD THAT CAN SYMPATHIZE WITH YOU. I
DIDN'T HAVE
A
SISTER. MY PARENTS HAD NO EXCUSE TO IGNORE ME. SO I TRIED TO GET
THEM TO
PAY
ATTENTION, BUT IT DIDN'T WORK. IN FACT, IT BACKFIRED. I JUST
DON'T WANT
THOSE AGENTS TO FIND OUT ABOUT ME, IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?
Katie thought over. <Well, I guess it's not.>
Katie knew if she could see Joanna, she would be smiling.
GREAT.
NOW I NEED
YOU TO GET THEM AWAY FROM TEXAS.
<Texas? They are in Texas!>
YES. NEAR MY HOME. AGENT MULDER TALKED TO MY MOTHER, BUT I
CAN'T
KEEP HIM
FROM SHARING HIS THOUGHTS WITH HIS PARTNER FOR MUCH LONGER.
<Keeping him? Is he still sick?>
YES, Joanna said simply, but didn't elaborate.
<How did he get to Texas?>
I LET MY GUARD DOWN FOR AWHILE, I GUESS. I NEED YOU TO SAY YOU
FOUND
SOMETHING AND CONTACT AGENT SCULLY WITH IT.
<Found what? And call Agent Scully?>
YES, CALL HER. WELL, I WANT YOU TO SAY YOU FOUND A LEAD.
<A lead?>
YES, SOME ROPE.
<Rope?>
YES, ROPE. GET IN CONTACT WITH AGENT SCULLY AND TELL HER YOU
FOUND
SOME ROPE
INSIDE THE PIANO AT SCHOOL. YOU STOPPED BY THE PIANO STUDIO TO
PICK UP SOME
OF SARAH'S THINGS AND ONE OF THE STUDENTS WAS PLAYING THE PIANO.
IT SOUNDED
OUT OF TUNE, SO THEY OPENED THE PIANO TOP AND YOU HAPPENED TO
PEER IN. AND
THAT'S WHEN YOU SAW IT. THE ROPE.
RELAX I'LL PUT IT THERE. DON'T WORRY.
Dallas, Texas
Holiday Inn
10:57 a.m.
Scully surveyed the room and was glad to see it was the same
it had
been 20
minutes ago, including Mulder, who was still asleep on the bed in
the same
place he had been since 9 p.m. last night. Scully had awoken at
8:30 and
waited to see if Mulder would awaken and while he stirred, he
never woke.
So
Scully ducked into her bathroom and took a shower. So here she
was, back in
with Mulder brushing her wet hair, still not knowing what was
going to
happen
today, and no where near finding a theory for the case.
She placed her brush on the dresser, walked to the bed, and
perched
on the
side.
"Mulder." He didn't stir so she said it louder. "Mulder."
Mulder groaned and stirred, but didn't awaken. She reached up
to
his
forehead, frowning when she found it to be a warm as it was last
night. She
reached for her thermometer when she heard her cell phone ring
from it's
place
on the dresser.
She placed the thermometer down, momentarily and grabbed her
cell
phone.
"Scully."
"Agent Scully, I'm sorry to call you so early, but
something
happened this
morning, so I found the number you left for my mom."
"Who is this?" Scully asked, even though she
recognized the voice as
Katie
Martin's.
"Katie Martin."
"What happened, Katie?"
"Well, I was--" Katie started sobbing and Scully
couldn't make out
the
words.
"Katie, stop. I can't hear you." Scully strained her
ears and the
girl
tried to calm down, succeeding after a few minutes.
"I was at the piano studio picking up some of Sarah's
things she
left there,
and," Katie paused, took a deep breath and continued.
"and a student was
there, taking an early lesson, and the piano was out of tune, and
they
opened
it up to check it and there was-" Another pause. "a
rope. Because of
Sarah's death, the lady in charge called the police and they said
they would
call you, but I wanted to first." Katie finished on a sob.
"Of course," Scully said, wishing she could comfort
the girl.
"We'll try to
be back as soon as possible."
"Thank you."
Scully said goodbye, hung up, and looked Mulder and sighed for
the
millionth
time.
Rutherford, NJ
1:07 p.m.
Katie hung up the phone and sighed.
GOOD JOB, KATIE, Joanna's voice said, but all Katie could do
was
stare at the
walls.
Holiday Inn
Dallas, Texas
11:16 a.m.
Scully plopped back into the chair she had spent the night in
and
rolled her
muscles; they ached terribly from sleeping in that same chair.
Hearing
Mulder
groan, she forgot her own pains and moved to the bed to sit
beside her
stirring partner.
"Mulder," she said softly, afraid he would wake and
not know where
he was.
Placing a hand on his upper arm, she squeezed gently and said
again,
"Mulder.
Wake up, I wanna talk to you about the case. Wake up."
His eyelashes fluttered and slowly, the eyes dragged
themselves open
and,
after a minute, managed to focus on Scully's face.
"Where...?"
Scully helped him sit up and handed him the glass of water she
had
left on
the bedside table. "It's okay, you're in my room." She
studied his face as
he held the cup in both his hands, like a small child, and
brought it up to
his mouth, slowly sipping at it. After a couple of swallows he
handed it
back
to her. "How do you feel about going back to New
Jersey?" Scully had
expected him to light up, but instead he turned a frightening
shade of green
and shuddered. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Scully tried to
get him to
meet her eyes. Finally, she held his chin and turned his face.
"What's the
matter?" He didn't answer. "Do you want to go back to
DC, and we can get
you
in a hospital?"
He shook his head. "I wanna stay with you," he said hoarsely.
Scully sighed. "Okay, that means you're going to New
Jersey. I
promised
Katie Martin we'd come, police there found a new piece of
evidence."
Mulder cocked his head. "What?"
"A rope. She didn't give details. I'm thinking we should
go to New
Jersey
and visit the local police and see what they found in the rope.
How's that
sound?"
He seemed to have zoned out, his eyes, unfocused, not really
looking, but
directed towards the door. "We need to go to the
Wasserman's."
"No, _we_ don't. You already did, after you ditched me, remember?"
Mulder bit his lip and seemed to seriously consider this.
"I
ditched you?"
"Yeah, when you ran out of that cheap motel and caught a
one a.m.
flight to
Dallas."
The look on his face was one of poor confusion.
"Dallas..... we're
in
Dallas?"
Scully's frown deepened. "Yeah, Dallas. You okay?"
Still gazing towards the door, he coughed a little, and a hand
came
up to rub
the area where his throat met his chest. "Yeah," he
said slowly. "Uh huh."
A pause. "New Jersey?"
<He shouldn't be _this_ out of it> "Hold still a
minute, Mulder, I
wanna take
your temperature." He didn't respond at all, just kept
staring. Scully
stuck
the thermometer in his ear. <104.1> "Mulder, lie down.
I'm going to the
store for some medicine, don't go anywhere." He didn't do
anything. Very
gently, Scully pushed him down to the pillow, and pulled the
blankets over
him
since he had begun to shiver uncontrollably. "I'll be right
back," she
promised, smoothing his bangs.
Joanna's room
Rutherford, NJ
1:21 p.m.
<Joanna?>
MM?
<What's with the rope? What'd you do to it.... I mean, what
are we
trying to
prove?>
NOTHING MUCH.... JUST TRYING TO THROW THE FBI AGENTS OFF
COURSE. I
PUT SOME
FINGERPRINTS ON THE ROPE AND.... SOME OTHER STUFF. YOU KNOW HOW
THEY SAY
YOUR
SISTER WAS STRANGLED?
<...Yeah?>
YEAH, WELL. WELL, YOU'LL SEE. BUT, I PUT MICHAEL AUSTIN'S
FINGERPRINTS ON
IT
<Who's Michael Austin?>
A KILLER
<WHICH killer?>
JUST A KILLER. HE'S ON THE TEN MOST WANTED LIST. A REAL NASTY
GUY,
HE
STRANGLES ALL HIS VICTIMS, FROM BEHIND, SO QUICKLY, THEY NEVER
SEE HIM.
BUT,
HE NEVER DOES IT WHEN ANYONE ELSE IS AROUND, I MEAN, THAT WOULD
BE A LITTLE
OBVIOUS. HE'S MY INSPIRATION, ACTUALLY
<So..... it's gonna look like Michael whats-his-face did
it? But
does that
make any sense? I mean, is he from anywhere around here?>
CONNECTICUT. CLOSE ENOUGH
<Yeah, I guess so. Hey,> she admitted, <That's
actually a pretty
good
idea.> She scowled. <The first you've had in a long
time.>
THANKS.... I THINK.... WAS THAT A COMPLIMENT?
<I'm not sure. So are the FBI agents coming down now? Can
you,
like, see
into the future? Are they coming?>
WELL, I'M NOT SURE. THE LADY IS DEFINITELY COMING, SHE'S
TRYING TO
GET RID
OF THIS CASE AND SHE THINKS THE ROPE THING MIGHT HELP HER SOLVE
IT AND
_FINISH
IT_. BUT SHE MIGHT LEAVE HER PARTNER OFF IN DC, I'M NOT SURE.
HE'S REALLY
SICK RIGHT NOW. IF YOU WANT, I CAN MAKE HIM GET BETTER SO HE
COMES ALONG
FOR
THE RIDE TOO
<NO! Don't! The lady's the only one whose liable to buy the
Michael Austin
story, her partner's on to us. You can't let him come along; if
he does,
he'll convince her that Michael Austin didn't do it, YOU did.
He's the one
who believes in weird stuff, phenomenons and stuff.>
WELL.... WE COULD KILL HIM OFF..... Joanna said, and Katie
could
almost see
her rubbing her hands together eagerly.
<Joanna,> Katie reprimanded. <What did I tell you? No
killing the
nice FBI
agents!> She laughed out loud and so did Joanna. <Nah...
but we _should_
make him worse so the lady has to leave him back home. What do
you have his
temperature at now?>
104.1. YOU WANT IT HIGHER?
<Uh... will he start convulsing or anything?>
PROBABLY. I DUNNO, THIS GUY'S GOT SOME WEIRD MEDICAL PROBLEMS,
I'M
NOT SURE
I WANT TO MESS WITH IT. I'D SAY, WE CAN GET TO 104.7. AND IF I
BRING IT UP
REALLY QUICK, SAY WHILE HIS PARTNER IS AT THE DRUG STORE RIGHT
NOW, THAT
SHOULD GIVE THEM A SCARE.
<Okay, sounds like fun> Katie said. She grinned and
laughed out
loud, proud
of herself.
End Part 07 of 11.
======================================
Part 08 of 11.
Holiday Inn
Dallas, Texas
11:49 a.m.
"Mulder?" Scully called his name as she walked in
the room.
Looking over at
the bed, she was relived to see his eyes were open and, though
glazed over
with fever and unfocused, he seemed to be conscious. "Sorry
that took so
long, it's raining pretty hard and the traffic here is
horrible," Scully
stopped, realizing he wasn't listening. Moving quickly, she sat
down at the
edge of his bed and he looked up, noticing her for the first
time.
"Hi," he said weakly.
"Hey, how are you feeling?"
Mulder didn't respond to that, just closed his eyes and bowed
his
head.
"Yeah, I bet," Scully said. "Look, though, I
got you a nice
assortment of
drugs. Cause guess what yours truly left at the motel in
Rutherford?"
"What?" Mulder asked.
"Your medicine!!! Some doctor I am, I left all those good
drugs
Doctor
Andrews gave you back in some cheap New Jersey motel. Bet some
addict's
having a good time with those, huh?"
Mulder shrugged, indifferent. Frankly, his number one priority
at
this
moment was slipping down under the covers and melting (he
certainly felt hot
enough to) but he thought he should wait till Scully left the
room, seeing
as
he wouldn't want to leave her with the responsibility of cleaning
up the
mess.
Scully studied him, noticed his eyelids were beginning to
droop and
decided
she might as well get some medicine in him before he fell asleep
again.
Standing up, she went into the bathroom for a fresh cup of water
for him to
swallow all the pills with.
"Scully, come back, I'm sorry, I promise I won't
melt," Mulder was
calling
after her desperately.
She rushed back to his side. "It's okay... don't worry
you didn't
do
anything." <Melt????? Oh boy! I wonder what his
temperature is, he seems
even worse than before.>
"Scully." Mulder was struggling to get her
attention. He managed
to pull
himself up. "Scully," he said as loud as he could.
"Yeah?"
Mulder bit his lip and stared down at his lap. "I don't
feel good,"
he said,
and he sounded sheepish, as though he was admitting something.
Scully squeezed his hand. "I know, but now you're going
to take
some
medicine and get some sleep and you'll feel better soon."
"No, I _really_ don't feel good," he said, his voiced stressed.
<Does he think I haven't noticed??> Scully thought,
remembering all
the
scares he'd given her on this case. When he'd ditched her for
Texas... when
he'd stopped breathing in the hospital that time...
"Scully," he moaned. "I think something's
wrong. I really don't
feel good.
I... I think I might have a fever. I'm really hot." A
strange noise came
from his throat, almost a wrenched sob. Tear tracks ran down his
face.
"Shhh, don't cry." Scully wrapped her arms around
him. "I know,
Mulder.
You're really sick and as soon as we can move you, you're going
home, okay?
Shhh, it's okay. It's okay."
Mulder continued to cry in Scully's arms. He knew she was
saying
something
important that he should be listening to but the effort to
concentrate was
just too much and the pounding in his head was too loud to hear
above
anyway.
The sobbing brought unbelievable pain to his raw throat and he
tried to stop
but it just made him cry harder. Then the feeling that he was on
fire
disappeared as quickly as it had come and he began shivering,
deep and hard,
so bad he thought he'd never stop. And Scully held him through
it, hugging
him close to her own body. And when he finally slipped off, away
from all
the
pain that had control of his body, she was still holding him.
Very, very gingerly, Scully eased Mulder's sleeping form down
on the
bed.
<He's burning up, _much_ hotter than he was before! Where'd I
put that
thermometer...?> Scully found it, under all the junk on the
bedside table
and
stuck it in his ear. One of four point seven. That couldn't be
right,
there
was no way it could be that high. Scully cleared the thermometer
and tried
it
again. Still one oh four seven. What was she going to do?
Scully stared at the thermometer again. It didn't change.
104.7.
<That is
_way_ too high!> That fever _had_ to come down. Scully went to
the dresser
and fingered her cell phone, and thought about dialing 911. She
looked at
the buttons as her mind seemed to be having a tug of war. <You
_should_
call
911!! He has a 104.7 temperature, for God's sake! But....> She
knew Mulder
would not like waking up in another hospital. But he was so out
of it as it
was........
As if he was reading her thoughts, Mulder stirred and opened
his
eyes half-
way. The glazed-over hazel orbs searched the room not really
focusing, just
searching. Finally they landed on Scully, and seemed, if just for
a second,
to focus.
"Scully," he mumbled. Or Scully hoped it was Scully,
she couldn't
be sure.
So, she just stroked his hair, hoping he would go back to sleep.
"You won't bring me back to the hospital yet?
Right?" He sounded
like a
five year, trying to prolong his bedtime. His eyes opened all the
way and
just stared at her pleading. "You can bring me later, but,
please not yet."
The words sounded surprisingly lucid for someone with such a high
fever.
Scully just looked at him, and kept stroking his hair.
"Not yet,"
she
promised, crossing her fingers on her other hand as she said it.
Mulder
didn't seem to notice. Satisfied at her answer, he drifted back
to sleep.
Scully carefully eased up the bed, sat back in her chair, and
grabbed her
cell
phone to make some calls.
Rutherford, NJ
Martins' residence
5:45 p.m.
Katie sat in front of the big bay window and gazed out. The
streets
were
deserted because of the darkening skies. It was going to rain
soon. Katie
thought as she gazed at the wind blowing the leaves back and
forth.
IF THEY GET ONE.
<Joanna?>
NEWARK AIRPORT IS BEING HIT BY A HUGE STORM. IT'S SUPPOSED TO
HIT
HERE IN
FIFTEEN MINUTES. HURRICANE WINDS. NO AIRPLANE IS FLYING INTO
NEWARK, AND
NO
PLANE IS LEAVING NEWARK. DAMN!!
<My mom said there was going to be a storm. Guess she was
right.
So? Maybe
Dallas could get hit with a storm. I mean you did make Agent
Mulder
sick.....>
I CAN'T DO THAT! I _REALLY_ WISH I COULD, BUT I CAN'T. I DO
HAVE
SOME
LIMIT TO MY RESOURCES. MOTHER NATURE CONTROLS THE WEATHER, NOT
ME.
<Well, Agent Mulder _is_ sick, so you should be okay for
awhile,
right?>
I THINK SO. I JUST HOPE AGENT SCULLY DOESN'T GO LOOKING FOR
HER
PARTNER'S
THEORIES.
<Oh, come on. _She's_ the skeptic. Not to mention the sane
one.
She'll
just call the police, find out about the fingerprints on the
rope, and they
will solve the case. Then she can drag her sick partner back to
DC. Maybe
they won't even have to come back here.>
Joanna was silent for a minute. Then Katie heard a sigh of
content.
MAYBE
YOU ARE RIGHT. I _DO_ ALWAYS TEND TO OVERREACT. THIS WILL WORK. A
KILLER
ON
THE TEN MOST WANTED LIST WILL BE BLAMED. YOU AND I ARE IN THE
CLEAR.
<Yep.> Katie finally pulled herself away from the
window. <Too bad
you're
not alive. We could have had _a lot_ of fun.>
Joanna laughed. WE WOULD HAVE. BUT WHO SAYS I HAVE TO GO? WE
STILL CAN
HAVE FUN.
Katie smiled as she thought that over.
Dallas, Texas
Holiday Inn
4:30 p.m.
Scully was _frustrated_. She had tried to get a flight out to
New
Jersey,
but because of a storm, they were no flights in Newark Airport.
She had
checked Mulder's temperature and was happy to see it had gone
down a half.
It
was still 104.1, but at least it had gone down _some_. So, when
she was
sure
Mulder was sound asleep and definitely not going anywhere, she
had stepped
out
for awhile.
She returned with the large pharmacy bag full of most of the
drugs
she had
left behind in New Jersey. He had made other long-distance phone
call and
called him in New Jersey and had him phone the pharmacy and call
in the
meds.
<Gee, Mulder's insurance company is going to _love_ this>
she thought as she
opened the door to her room. If she could get his fever down, she
could
keep
the promise Mulder wanted her too.
But as soon as she walked into the room she realized that
promise
was going
to harder to keep. She was greeted by the sound of retching from
the
bathroom
and glanced at the bed. It was empty, the blankets thrown
carelessly to the
floor. She ran to the bathroom and found his head over the
toilet. Nothing
was coming up; he hadn't eaten in days. He was probably still
dehydrated,
too. She bend down next to him and rubbed his back. He hardly
noticed her
until he turned his head.
"Scully. Sorry you saw the show," he said hoarsely,
trying to smile
but
instead grimacing. Scully immediately felt his forehead, and for
once
Mulder
didn't bat her hand away. She frowned and helped him up.
"Come on, we have to get you to bed," she said and
lead him to the
bed.
"I'm still..." Mulder trailed off, but Scully got the idea.
"Nauseous?" Scully finished. Mulder nodded as Scully
gently pushed
him back
down to the bed. "Well, I got you something for that."
She gestured to
the
bag on the dresser and took something out of it and then rummaged
through
her
medical bag as well.
Mulder blinked, and tried to concentrate on Scully, but his
mind
couldn't
stay focused. The world was spinning and all he wanted to do was
throw it
up.
Even more so when Scully turned around with a needle it her hand.
"What?.." Mulder said at the highest decibel he could manage.
"Sorry, Mulder, but I can't give it to you in pill form.
You'd
probably
throw it up in two minutes and then it wouldn't do anything it
was supposed
to
do." She lifted his shirt and went for his hip. Mulder
grimaced when the
needle went in, but after a few minutes the nausea wasn't so bad
and he was
tired again. He felt Scully push him into a more comfortable
position just
before he feel asleep.
Katie's Room
Rutherford, NJ
4:35 a.m.
Katie couldn't sleep. The rain pounded unceasingly on the
roof,
unbearably
noisy in the silence. She had already been up to the bathroom
twice and
once
checked in on her parents but they were sleeping peacefully so
she left them
alone.
<Joanna?> She tried. She had attempted to reach Joanna
several
times before
during the night but it appeared even the mighty Joanna Wasserman
could
sleep
through a thunderstorm.
UHN?? Joanna's voice was groggy.
<Sorry. You awake?>
I AM NOW. WHAT?
<Sorry,> Katie said again. <I'm bored.>
BORED?? HOW CAN YOU BE BORED? IT'S 3 IN THE MORNING
<4:37, actually. Soooo... what's up?>
NOTHING. I WAS SLEEPING. SHEESH
<Oh. Well, I had an idea.>
RELATING TO THE FBI AGENTS?
<Yeah, well, sorta. Well, not directly, but definitely
relating to
their
case.>
Katie thought she heard Joanna sigh, then the voice said,
OKAY, I'M
ALL EARS,
WHAT IS IT?
<Well, it's about Michael Austin. Is there anyway you
could....
talk to
him?>
TALK TO HIM?
<Yeah! Like you talk to me. Then... well.... I'm not sure
exactly
where to
go from there...>
YOU CALL THAT AN IDEA?? HEY..... CAN YOU TRY TO BE JUST A
LITTLE
LESS
CHEERFUL? IT'S ONLY 4:37 IN THE MORNING!
<4:38 now. Sure, I'll try.> Katie lay there in the dark
for a
minute, then
kicked off the blankets. <Well, I don't know about you, but
I'm bored out
of
my mind. Let's go for a jog.>
YOU JOG?
<Well..... no. Sarah was the real athlete. Sarah was good
in
_everything_.
But, well, let's see if it's any fun.> Katie sat up, flipped
on the light
and
started to pull on her running shoes and a sweatshirt over her
pajamas.
<You
coming?>
Joanna sighed. I GUESS SO. WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO DO AT THIS
GOD
FORSAKEN
HOUR? AND WE CAN DISCUSS THIS WHOLE MICHAEL AUSTIN IDEA WHILE
WE'RE GOING.
WILL YOUR PARENTS MIND?
Katie laughed. <Yeah they might mind..... but, that's never
stopped
us
before, has it?>
Holiday Inn
Dallas, Texas
4:39 a.m.
<It's freezing in here!> Was the first thing that came
to Mulder's
mind as
he slowly emerged from a drug and fever and pure exhaustion
induced sleep.
He
sat up slowly and realized it was partially because he was minus
his shirt.
A
fist came up to scrub his face and he realized how weird he
felt..... a
dizzy,
blurry, half-nauseous feeling that was familiar but he couldn't
pinpoint it.
He tried to think back to the past few hours.
<Let's see..... I remember puking my guts up.... right,
then Scully
shot me.
Or maybe she gave me a shot. Hmm...? Anyway.... what was after
that?> His
head was beginning to pound from thinking so hard and he decided
what he
really needed was a run. He knew the reasonable thing to do was
put on a
shirt so he recovered his old one (a bit sweaty but no worse for
the wear)
and
slipped it over his head.
<Why didn't I have a shirt on?> Mulder's mind drifted
back to a
time when
he'd been sick and had woken up the next morning in Scully's bed
with his
underwear on.... and _only_ his underwear on. Oh, yes, that was
the time
he'd
been drugged.
<Scully... I wonder if she wants to come.....> Mulder
looked over,
squinting
to see in the dark room and saw Scully collapsed in an armchair.
<Why is
she
sleeping there? That looks very uncomfortable! And why is she in
my room?
You know, this doesn't even look like my room. Where _am_ I??
Nevermind,
I'll just go for a run, then I'll know where I am. I wonder what
time it
is... oh well, it's almost light out. Well, getting there. I'd
better go
before I wake Scully up.> And with that, Mulder ran out into
the November
night.
Rutherford, NJ
6:56 a.m.
<So, I was thinking, if you could talk to Michael Austin
and
convince him to
turn himself in....>
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? I CAN'T DO THAT.... THAT WOULD BE
INSULTING
HIM! NO
GREAT ARTIST TURNS HIMSELF IN!
<If he's an "artist" he really wouldn't need to
be turning himself
in, would
he? He's a _criminal_ admit it! And so are you!>
AND SO ARE YOU, MISSY!
<Oh, right. I almost forgot> She laughed. <Well, if
not turn
himself in,
if we could get his fingerprints on some more evidence.... and if
we could
_locate_ him, that would be nice, too. Are you sure he's in
Connecticut?>
THE FINGERPRINT THING IS OKAY. LET'S JOG OVER TO THE PIANO
STUDIO
AND I'LL
PUT SOME OF MICHAEL AUSTIN'S FINGERPRINTS ON THE PIANO AND THE
AREA AROUND
<Okay.>
I _THINK_ HE'S STILL IN CONNECTICUT. I MEAN, HE GREW UP THERE
AND
LIVED
THERE FOR HIS WHOLE LIFE SO THAT'S WHERE HE KNOWS BEST AND THAT'S
WHERE HE
CAN
PERFORM HIS ART WITHOUT GETTING CAUGHT
Katie laughed. <Michael and his art, uh huh.>
WHAT CAN I SAY? THE MAN'S GOT SKILL. C'MON, LET'S GO TO THE
PIANO
STUDIO
<K.> They turned the corner and headed towards the piano studio.
Dallas, Texas
5:46 a.m.
Mulder was beginning to think he'd better stop. He was
currently
hunched
over in an alley, gasping for breath and wishing his head would
stop
pounding.
Besides, he was _freezing_.
<Now would be a good time to go back. Which way's back
though?>
Mulder's
eyes scanned the street but he couldn't remember which way he'd
come from.
<Well, fifty/ fifty chance. I guess I'll go left.> He
started to walk
towards the right, rubbing at the painful stitch in his side when
he spotted
a
car driving his way. He waved his hands and the car pulled over.
The driver was a nice looking guy, around Mulder's age, in a
suit,
looking
for all the world like he wished he was back home with his family
rather
than
driving around. He rolled down the window near Mulder. "Hey,
man, what're
you doing out in a neighborhood like this at this hour?"
<A neighborhood like what?> "Uh, just going for a
jog," Mulder
said and he
was shocked how raw his throat was when he spoke. "Could
tell me which way
the Holiday Inn is?"
"You're a tourist, huh? Figures. Well, the Holiday Inn is
_way_
down that
way, see, straight then take a left, then a right, then go till
the stop
sign
at Green Street where you gotta take another left then.... hey,
I'm going
that
way, you want a ride?"
Mulder was still pissed at being called a tourist.
"Actually, I'm
an FBI
agent doing a case here. Yeah, could you give me a lift
please?"
"Sure, hop in." The man opened the door for Mulder.
"Jeez, you
made it this
far, how long've you been out?"
Mulder slid in and shut the door. "I dunno. I don't have
my watch
on."
The man looked over at Mulder, noticed the tips of his ears
and his
cheeks
modeled a deep crimson color. "Why're you wearing short
sleeves in this
weather? You're nuts! You must be freezing!" The man lay a
hand on his
hitchhiker's arm, expecting to feel it cold but was shocked when
he felt the
heat radiating off Mulder. "Damn, what's the matter? You
sick or
something?"
Mulder stared at the dashboard. "Maybe. I dunno, I might
be." To
tell the
truth, he was beginning to feel like death warmed over and
wondered why he
hadn't noticed it earlier.
The man stared worriedly at him. "Look, you look really
bad, why
don't you
go see a doctor or something. Or go to the hospital... all right,
man, here
we are, Holiday Inn. You take care of yourself, hear? And, you
know what?
My wife's a doctor, if you want, you can come with me and she'll
check you
out."
"No, that's okay, I have Scully." Mulder coughed and
opened the
door.
"Scully? What's that?"
"My partner. No, not _that_ kind of partner, my partner
at the FBI.
She's a
doctor too."
The man was still staring at him dubiously. "Well, all
right, but
take care
of yourself, and no more jogs at 5 in the morning, you got
that?"
Mulder smiled a little and nodded. "Yeah. Bye. Thanks."
The man watched his hitchhiker walk off, slowly, and prayed he
would
be okay.
The man might not be considered gentle, but he was very sensitive
and seeing
a
stranger like that, in trouble, concerned him. He just hoped the
FBI agent
would be okay.
As he pulled off the curb, he heard a click, like a phone
being
picked up,
then a voice, saying, "Thanks, Michael, you did the right
thing. I don't
_like_ the FBI agent, but I wouldn't want him dead either. And,
hey, what
are
you doing in Texas? You're supposed to stay in Connecticut,
that's where
you
do your art best!"
Michael gasped and drove off as fast as he could.
Holiday Inn
Dallas, Texas
6:02 a.m.
It took Mulder forever to get up the 12 flights of stairs (the
elevators
weren't running, apparently, the owners didn't think anyone
needed to use
them
at 6 in the morning), and when he reached the door, Scully was
waiting for
him, and Scully was _mad_.
"What the fuck do you mean you thought you'd go for a run???"
Mulder cowered back in his place on the bed where his partner
had
thrown him
as
soon as he'd stepped through the threshold to hell. "My head
hurt, I wanted
to clear it."
"Oh, yeah, _clear it_" Scully repeated. <That
shade of purple her
face is
turning can't be healthy> Mulder thought. "I bet your
throat hurts too, huh
Mulder? And I bet you had trouble catching your breath and your
chest
hurts...."
"Oh yeah, Scully, I'm supposed to tell you that I think
I'm getting
sick.
Could you check me out please?"
Scully stared at him incredulously for so long Mulder thought
she
might've
stopped breathing.
"Mulder, what are you talking about?? You _know_ you're
sick, you've
been
sick since we started the case, remember?" At his blank
expression she
began
to get worried. "No? Stay there, I'll be right back."
Scully ran back to her room to get her thermometer and stuck
it in
his ear.
104.5, up again.
Mulder lay back on the bed with his eyes closed. He said
softly,
"Do I have
a fever? The man said I might."
<The man?> Scully dismissed it. "Yes, you do."
She lay her cool
hand on
his forehead. "That feel good?"
He nodded slowly.
"Yeah, I bet it does." She stood up to go get her
magic bag of
medicine but
he sprang up and grabbed her arm.
"Don't go!"
Scully eased him back on the bed. "I just need to get
some medicine
to bring
down that fever. You're radio-active. Relax, I'll be right
back." She
walked back to her room and found the medicine. With a bit of
coaxing, she
got half a cup of water and several pills in him. "You'll
have to drink
more
later," she told him. "You're dehydrated. Did you know
that?"
Mulder shook his head. "I thought I might have a cold,
but I wasn't
sure,"
he said. Scully watched as his eyes slipped closed and his
breathing evened
out.
She went back to her room and sat down on the bed. Why wasn't
Mulder
remembering anything??
Outside the piano studio
Rutherford, NJ
8:02 a.m.
Katie and Joanna were outside the piano studio, talking.
Joanna had
already
put Michael Austin's fingerprints on the area around the crime
scene but
they
didn't feel like going back home quite yet.
<You talked to him? Cool! What'd he say?>
WELL, HE DIDN'T EXACTLY SAY ANYTHING. TURNS OUT HE'S IN DALLAS.
<That's where the FBI agents are, right?>
YEAH. ACTUALLY, THAT'S WHERE IT GETS INTERESTING. SEE, HE
PICKED
MULDER OFF
THE STREET; MULDER HAD GONE OUT FOR A _REALLY_ EARLY MORNING JOG
AND HAD
GOTTEN LOST AND MICHAEL FOUND HIM AND BROUGHT HIM BACK TO THE
HOLIDAY INN.
<Wait a minute, I thought we had Mulder with a 104
something
temperature,
why'd he go running???>
WELL, UH.... THAT'S SOMETHING ELSE I HAVE TO TALK TO YOU
ABOUT.
SEE, I HAD
TO PULL OUT.
<Pull out? Could you state that a little clearer please?>
YEAH, OUR FAVORITE FBI AGENT WAS SUFFERING A BIT OF... WELL,
SORTA
BRAIN
DAMAGE SO I HAD TO STOP CONTROLLING HIM. BEFORE I WAS RAISING AND
LOWERING
HIS FEVER, ADDING SYMPTOMS AND STUFF BUT I WAS MESSING WITH HIS
MIND TOO
MUCH,
HE HAD BEGUN TO FORGET THINGS. HE STILL IS, BUT THAT'LL GET
BETTER
<Excuse me??>
LIKE...... HE HAD NO IDEA HE WAS SICK, THAT'S WHY HE WENT OUT FOR
A
JOG. HE
THOUGHT HE WAS PERFECTLY HEALTHY; HE COMPLETELY FORGOT. AND HE'S
PROBABLY
NOT
AWARE THAT HE'S STILL ON OUR CASE; HE THINKS HE'S ON A CASE BUT
YOU SAY
"SARAH
MARTIN" AND HE'LL SAY, "YEAH, WHO'S THAT?" IT'S
SHORT TERM MEMORY STUFF, HE
KNOWS HIS NAME AND EVERYTHING... AND HIS PARTNER. HEY, RELAX,
IT'LL GO AWAY
BY TOMORROW, IT'S JUST THE AFTERMATH OF ME MESSING WITH HIM
Katie knew this was turning serious but she didn't want to
aggravate
Joanna.
<All right. What about Michael Austin, what's he doing in
Dallas?>
I'M NOT EXACTLY SURE BUT IT LOOKS LIKE HE'S GIVEN UP HIS ART
FORM
AND IS A
BUSINESS MAN NOW. HE'S GOT A WIFE AND TWO KIDS....
<How do you _know_ all this if you didn't talk to him??>
Joanna smiled. I HAVE MY WAYS.
Dallas, Texas
Holiday Inn
9:30 a.m.
Three and a half hours had passed since Mulder had decided to
"go
out for
awhile." Scully eyed his sleeping form on the bed. She
grabbed her own
cell
phone, totally ignoring the phone beside the bed. She looked at
the buttons
and decided to set a deadline. If Mulder's temp wasn't down by 5
o'clock
this
afternoon, she was taking him to the hospital. No questions
asked. The
storm
in New Jersey seemed to have passed, and flights were running
again, but
Scully didn't want to leave Mulder here, even if it was in a
hospital. <How
am I going to solve this case then?>
She paced the room, thinking. She looked at her phone again
and
decided to
dial through to the police in Rutherford. Her cell phone bill was
going to
be
_huge_, but she could care less at this moment. She'd write it on
the
expense
report. The expense report that was going up daily. She could
only image
what it would look like when the case was finally closed. _If_ it
was ever
closed.
After calling information and getting some numbers Scully
found
herself on
the phone with an Officer Carlton Brown.
"After sending the rope through ballistics we were able
to find some
fingerprints. Belonging to a Michael Austin. But..." Brown
trailed off.
"But, what?" Scully shifted her weight from on foot to the other.
"But, Mr. Austin lives in Dallas, Texas. And his wife saw
him on
the day of
the murder. About 4 hours before it happened. If gives him a
window, but a
very, very small one. Still it's the only lead we have. We
double-checked
the crime scene once again early this morning to see it we could
be
mistaken,
but we only turned up more of Mr. Austin's fingerprints. Which we
seem to
have missed the first time around."
"Missed?"
"Yes," Brown admitted, and sounded sheepish.
"Though I thought we
were very
through that first time. Now, we have Mr. and Mrs. Martin on our
backs.
The
newspaper is getting hold of the paper. We only called Dr.
Austin, Michael
Austin's wife, last night, while he was out. We haven't talked to
him yet,
and we are yet to charge him. But with the evidence we seem to be
gathering,
we may have to soon."
Scully thought this over. "You sound reluctant," she
said
carefully.
"Well, I am," the officer admitted. "To be
quite frank, Agent
Scully, I'm
getting a very weird feeling about this whole thing."
<You're not the only one> Scully thought as she thanked
the officer
and hung
up. <You're not the only one at all.>
End Part 08 of 11.