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.