Date sent: Mon, 25 Aug 1997

Title: Southern Hospitality (1/3)
Author: Frances Hayman (FrankieH@aol.com)
Rating: PG
Classification: XA
Spoilers: Two minor references to "The Pilot" and "Roland", and a brief mention
of an incident in "Colony".
Summary: Mulder goes to the Deep South alone to profile a serial
killer. Scully comes later to help with the case and arrives to find
Mulder very sick. Scully and local agent, Jim Hopkins, continue
to investigate the case while Mulder comes up with a paranormal theory.
Disclaimer: The X-Files and its characters are the property of Chris Carter,
1013, and Fox, used without their permission. No copyright infringement
intended. The other characters and ideas belong to me.
Distribution: OK to post as long as my name stays with it.
Author's Blabberings: Special thanks to my sister Erin and my Mom for
encouraging me to write. Also a big thank you to all my friends who
critiqued this little piece. Thank you Mary, Tad, Tina, Gaye, & Robin.

Southern Hospitality Part 1/3 by Frances Hayman

Fox Mulder felt like crap. The headache that had plagued him since
he had stepped off the plane was getting worse, and what had started
as a tickle had progressed to a fiery sore throat.

"Agent Mulder, are you okay?"

Mulder's attention snapped back to the job at hand. "Yeah, just a
headache," he sighed. "Got any aspirin handy?"

"Sure," said Agent Jim Hopkins, rummaging through his desk. He
ran a hand through his close cropped blond hair and shifted his
muscular bulk in the chair. "Here you are."

"Thanks," said Mulder as he gulped a mouthful of soda and swallowed
the tablets.

Mulder had been summoned to Gulfport, Mississippi, to put together
a profile on an apparent serial killer that was striking along the
coast of the Gulf of Mexico. It had begun six weeks ago in Florida
and the most recent death had occurred just forty-eight hours ago
in Gulfport. He had initially resisted the assignment, but since the
most recent X-file was wrapped up, he had no real excuse. And
Scully could handle the paperwork -- she usually did anyway.

Mulder had assembled what he considered to be a pretty complete
profile within hours of his arrival the day before. Ever since then,
he and Hopkins had been going through mounds of information, trying
to narrow down the list of possible suspects. Mulder had found
two likely candidates, but wasn't quite satisfied with the fit. Suddenly,
he stopped and turned his computer monitor to face Hopkins.

"What about this guy?" asked Mulder with an intuitive gleam in his eye.

Hopkins leaned over to look at the screen. He read through the
material for a moment, then a wide grin split his ruddy face. "You
may have something there, Mulder." He turned back to his keyboard
to punch up more complete information on the man.

Mulder leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. When Hopkins
had transferred the file on one William Robert Hardy, Jr., Mulder
read it with interest. He had been released from prison seven months
previously where he had completed his sentence for aggravated
assault on a police officer. He was now working as an independent
trucker, traveling all over the southeast. The photo showed a
smallish, wiry young man with long stringy brown hair, deep set dark eyes,
and a decidedly haunted look. Mulder felt a shudder pass through him
as he looked at those eyes. Behind those eyes worked a mind that
very likely was planning another brutal murder at this moment. He fit.
Rarely did you get this lucky, but Mulder had a feeling that this was
their man.

Hopkins passed along the information and turned off his computer.
"Our guys will do some checking on Mr. Billy Bob Hardy. Should have
something on him within the next few hours, morning at the latest."
He paused and looked closely at Mulder again. "You sure you're
all right?"

"Yeah," said Mulder halfheartedly.

"How about some lunch?" asked Hopkins. "We've got some great
seafood places down here."

"Think I'll pass for now," said Mulder. "Thanks anyway. I could
use a break, though."

"I'll get somebody to run you back to your hotel."

"That'd be great."

* * * *

The bedside phone rang, waking Mulder. He hadn't even realized he
had fallen asleep. Another ring and he remembered where he was.

"Mulder," he rasped.

"Hi, Mulder, it's me," said Scully. "How goes the violent crime
profiling business?"

Mulder attempted to clear his throat and answered, "Okay. We've
got a few possibles, one likely. They're checking it out now."

"Need any help?"

"You know I always welcome your help, Scully, but we may
actually wrap this one up quickly." A knock at the door interrupted
him. "Hold on a minute, Scully." He answered the door and
Hopkins walked in.

"Agent Mulder, we've got another body. I think you'd better
come take a look."

Mulder nodded and went back to the phone. "We've got another
body."

"I heard."

"That offer of help still open?"

"I'm on the next flight out."

* * * *

Scully hung up the phone. She had been concerned about Mulder
before he left for Gulfport. He had been reluctant to take on
this assignment, and she had been reluctant to let him go alone.
He had looked so tired, and now she was even more concerned.
When he had not answered his cell phone, she had called him at
the Gulfport FBI office and was surprised when they told her that
he was at his hotel -- in the middle of the afternoon. When he had
answered the phone, she knew he had been sleeping, and he
sounded hoarse. At least now she had a good reason to go check
up on -- er -- help him.

* * * *

Mulder looked the scene over slowly. This looked like the others.
Multiple stab wounds in the same pattern, body posed in the
same manner. The victim was a retired police officer who had
been working as a security guard at an electronics warehouse.
He had probably been killed last night, but the body had been
discovered a short time ago. The other victims had all been
security guards as well.

Hopkins approached Mulder. "More bad news. The local medical
examiner just checked into the hospital with some major gall
bladder problems. It'll take a while to find someone to do the
autopsy, maybe someone out of New Orleans --"

"Don't bother," said Mulder. "My partner, Dr. Dana Scully, is a
forensic pathologist. She's on her way down as soon as she can
get a flight out of DC." Mulder's cell phone rang. "Mulder."

"Mulder, it's me. Just wanted to let you know that I should
arrive at the Gulfport airport about 9:30 tonight, your time."

"Great, Scully. Looks like we're going to put you right to
work. The local ME is in the hospital." He paused and sneezed
several time. "Sorry."

"Bless you."

"Thanks," he said, wiping his nose.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be at the airport to pick you up."

Mulder stood by and watched as photos were taken, and
evidence gathered. He was very glad Scully was coming.

"Well, Mulder, what do you think?" asked Hopkins.

"Appears to be consistent with the other murders. We'll have
to wait and see what the evidence bears out."

"Right. Anything else you want done here?"

"Ahh, I guess that's about it until Scully can do the autopsy."
Mulder looked at his watch. "Her plane should be getting in
soon. I think I need to get a car for us so you won't have to
cart us around."

"Sure. We'll go back to the office. I think we've got a spare
you can use."

* * * *

Mulder drove the gray sedan toward the airport. He wondered
if there was ever a chance that a government car could be just a
little more sporty. Oh well, at least there was a decent stereo and
a very efficient air conditioner.

He waited in the small lobby, trying not to fall asleep in the hard
chair. He was not successful.

"Mulder," said Scully as she gently shook his shoulder.

Mulder woke with a start, and began to cough. Scully sat down
beside him as the coughing subsided and laid a hand on his
forehead.

"Mulder, you have a fever," she said sternly. "And, don't take this
the wrong way, but you look awful."

"Gee, thanks, Scully. Nice to see you, too."

"Mulder, I'm serious. You're sick."

"People have been telling me that for years."

"Mulder --" Scully paused. "Come on. Let's get you back to the
hotel before you pass out here."

After a brief argument, Scully drove to the hotel, where she checked
into the adjoining room.

"Come on, Mulder. Get in here and let me take a look at you." He
stumbled into the room and sat down heavily on the bed as Scully
unpacked her medical supplies on the side table.

"Do you ever go anywhere without that stuff, Scully?"

"Not when you're along for the ride, Mulder. Open your mouth
and let me take your temperature -- and don't even think about
arguing with me."

"Yes, ma'am," he squeaked. Mulder sat patiently while Scully
examined him and asked him if his throat hurt, when had he
started coughing . . . His cooperation worried her more than
anything else.

"Well, Mulder, you are definitely sick." She waited for a snide
comment, and when none was forthcoming, she continued.
"Your temperature is 102 and it sounds like you at least have
bronchitis. I'm going to give you some medicine so you can
get some sleep. If you're not feeling better in the morning, you
are going to the hospital for some blood work and chest x-rays."

"What about the autopsy?"

"I don't think he's going anywhere, but if it'll make you happy,
I'll do it first, IF you promise me that you'll stay here, in bed,
until I get back."

Mulder looked at Scully and sighed. "All right, deal."

After Mulder was settled, Scully went back to her room to
look through the case files. She left the adjoining door open,
in case Mulder needed her. She checked on him throughout the
night, thankful that he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. About
4:00am she awoke to hear him coughing again. She sat on his
bed and roused him enough to take his temperature. It was only
down half a degree.

"Scully, now I know what to get you for your birthday."

"What's that?"

"One of those ear thermometers."

She laughed and gave him some cough medicine, then sat with
him until his breathing evened out in sleep. Scully brushed
dark hair off his damp forehead. He looked like a vulnerable
little boy.

At 7:00 am he woke up again as Scully sat on the edge of the bed.
"How do you feel?"

"Like I was hit by a truck -- a big truck."

"You should know, Mulder," said Scully, thinking of a time when he
really had been hit by a car. "I talked to Agent Hopkins a few
minutes ago. I'm going to do that autopsy shortly. Remember your
promise to stay here, in bed, until I get back?"

"Yes, Scully, I do." He was asleep before she was out of the door.

He awoke again about two hours later. A deep breath brought on more
coughing. He looked around for a moment and remembered the
daytime cold medicine he had picked up the day before. He took the
capsules and stepped into the shower. He stood under the warm
water for a long time and was feeling better as he toweled off and
dressed. Mulder sat down on the bed and opened the newspaper that
had been lying on the side table, today's paper. Scully must have gotten
it before she left. On the second page was a story about the previous
day's murder. The accompanying photo had been taken at the scene,
and showed several police officers, Agent Hopkins, and Mulder.
The story stated that the FBI was assisting local police in the investigation.
"Special Agent Fox Mulder has been assigned to aid Gulfport FBI
agents in tracking down this brutal serial murderer."

"Great," said Mulder to himself. The phone rang. "Mulder."

"Mulder, this is Jim Hopkins. Agent Scully is working on the autopsy.
She wanted me to call you and make sure you were still in your
room."

Mulder chuckled. "You can tell Scully I'm right where I'm supposed
to be. How's it going?"

"So far no surprises. Seems to be just like the others. She should be
done in an hour or so."

"Have you seen the paper today?"

"Yes, sir, I have. I don't think that photographer caught my good side."

Mulder laughed. "Me either. And it doesn't do a lot for our investigation.
Have you found out anything about Mr. Hardy?"

"Last known address in Grand Bay, Alabama -- that's about 45 minutes
to an hour from here. No one there right now, of course. His last job
was a delivery to Ft. Lauderdale. He was supposed to pick up
another load in Pensacola day before yesterday, but he never showed
up. We're looking hard, but there's no sign of him yet."

"Hopkins, watch your back. This guy has a history of problems
with authority, especially law enforcement types."

"Yeah, you too, Mulder."

Mulder hung up the phone and went back to the paper. He needed
some caffeine. He gathered up the paper and went to the hotel
restaurant. He sat in a booth at the back, sipping iced tea and
watching the people around him. After several glasses of tea and
forty-five minutes, he decided to head back to his room. He felt
a little guilty about not exactly keeping his promise to Scully, but
he really was feeling better. As he turned a corner, he nearly
collided with Scully.

"Mulder, what are you doing out of bed?" she demanded.

"Well, I was feeling better when I woke up and I wanted something
to drink."

"Did you eat anything?"

"Does ice count?"

"No," Scully sighed. "When did you eat last?"

"Ahhh, sometime yesterday."

"Okay, then, since you're feeling so much better, we are going
to get something to eat. Just let me put this stuff in my room."

Mulder slowed as they approached the rooms -- his door was open.

"You didn't leave that open, did you?" whispered Scully.

Mulder shook his head and they drew their guns. He nudged the door
further open and entered cautiously. No one was there. Scully
quickly checked the bathroom and opened the door to her room.
Empty. However, Mulder's room had been tossed.

"The maid service in this hotel really stinks," said Mulder as he surveyed
the damage.

Scully shook her head. "I'll call it in."

Hopkins was the first to arrive. "What happened?"

"I was gone for about 45 minutes right after I talked to you. Scully
and I were coming back and the door was open. The room was
empty, but somebody made a big mess."

"I have an idea it was our murderer," said Hopkins quietly.

"Any particular reason you think that?" asked Scully.

"Yes, ma'am," said Hopkins. "An officer whose name was in that
newspaper article had his apartment broken into this morning. He
happened to be on duty at the time, but a neighbor said she saw
a man answering our man Hardy's description leaving the building
in a hurry."

"Wasn't your name in that article, Hopkins?" asked Mulder.

"Sure was. Already been home to get my dog. We've got
surveillance on the homes of everyone in that article, plus the
police chief and our director."

"Think he'll do this again?" asked Scully.

"Maybe," said Mulder. "It depends on if he found what he was looking for."

The three agents stood back and watched the forensics team
catalogue, tag, dust, comb, and photograph Mulder's room. Scully
walked in to question one of the team members as Hopkins leaned
on the door frame. Mulder sat in a chair in the hallway rubbing his
temples and trying to suppress a cough. It only made him cough
more. Scully looked up, but continued with her work. As soon
as the team finished, Hopkins stepped in.

"Is he all right?" he asked quietly, nodding his head in Mulder's direction.

"No. No he's not," said Scully. "He said he was feeling better, but
he looks worse now. I'd really like to get him checked out. Which
hospital would you suggest I take him to?"

"My cousin is a doctor in the ER at Memorial. I'll give him a call."

"Thanks," said Scully. "Now I just have to get him there."

"Not a very willing patient?"

"Only when he's unconscious."

After a brief 'discussion', Hopkins drove Mulder and Scully to
the hospital.

* * * *

Scully sat in the cubicle with Mulder while they waited for
test results. He had finally stopped complaining and fallen
asleep. Hopkins stuck his head in, and seeing Mulder asleep,
motioned for Scully to come out.

"How is he?"

"We're still waiting for all the results, but it looks like he has
pneumonia. Probably not bad enough to hospitalize him, but
enough to put him out of commission for a while."

"I've arranged for more secure accommodations for both of you."

"Thanks," said Scully, looking back into the room at Mulder.

"I'll stick around and take you there when you're all done here.
Oh, and I picked up your stuff from the hotel."

The conversation was interrupted when Dr. Jansen walked toward
them. "Hi, Jim," said the doctor.

"Hello there, Sam," said Hopkins as he extended his hand to Jansen.
"How's Agent Mulder?"

"Well, Dr. Scully was right. He does have pneumonia." He paused
and put two radiographs on a nearby viewscreen. "Right middle and
left lower lung lobes are consolidated. And his white cell count is
elevated. We'll start him on meds here, but I don't see any reason
to admit him since he'll be in your care, Dr. Scully."

"Thank you, Dr. Jansen."

"My pleasure, Dr. Scully, and please call me Sam."

"Thank you, Sam," said Scully, "and it's Dana."

"Well, now that everyone knows each other," said Hopkins,
"when can we get out of here?"

"So anxious to leave, Jim?"

"Yes, sir, I am. And I need to let Momma know what time to
expect us."

Scully looked quizzically at Hopkins. "I thought you said you
made arrangements for us."

"I did," he said, smiling. "Safest and most hospitable place I
know -- Momma's house."

Sam smiled widely. "Great idea, Jim. There's nothing like a
good dose of TLC from Aunt Patsy. And some good cooking
too. Is she fixin' that famous gumbo of hers, Jim?"

"You know it, Sam. And yes, you are invited for supper."

"Mm-mm. Wish I could, but I'm pulling a double tonight. Save
me some?"

"Sure thing, cousin."

Scully watched this exchange in surprised silence. "We're staying
at your mother's house?"

"Yeah. She has a big house down the beach a bit. My daddy had
a great security system installed. It's been updated constantly. And
our guy will have to do a lot of digging to connect that house with me.
See, the whole estate has been in my Momma's family for generations.
Most people know it as Culver House. Culver was my great-grandma's
maiden name."

"And she doesn't mind you bringing two strangers into her house?"

"Dana," said Sam, "there's something you have to understand about
southern hospitality in general and Aunt Patsy in particular. When
someone you know is in need, you help. When that someone has
a connection to your family, you help more. When that someone is
also far from home and very sick, well, that just brings out the maternal
instincts in Aunt Patsy." He paused and looked at Scully closely.
"And Jim's not kidding about the security. It's as tight as any place
on the coast. Uncle Randy was fanatical about keeping his family safe."

Scully looked at the two men and shook her head. "It's your call. Let's
get Mulder treated and get going."

* * * *

Dr. Sam wheeled a grumbling Mulder out to Jim's car. The trio
piled in and headed for Culver House. Scully explained to Mulder
where they were going and why. After some complaints and
questions, he reluctantly echoed Scully's reply -- "Okay, Hopkins,
it's your area and your mother. I'm too tired to argue anymore."

They arrived at Culver House a few minutes later. A long curving
driveway led to a large antebellum style house with white columns
and broad porches. It reminded Scully of every plantation house
she had ever seen in the movies. She half expected Mrs. Hopkins
to greet them in a brightly colored, frilly, hooped dress; but she
stood on the porch clad in jeans and a plaid shirt. She approached
the car as soon as it stopped. Hopkins got out and walked around
to embrace his mother in a bear hug.

"Hello, Momma," said Hopkins, releasing the petite gray haired woman.

"Hello, son," she said, returning the embrace. "Introduce me to your
friends."

"Momma, this is Special Agent Dana Scully, and that tall fella back
there is Special Agent Fox Mulder." Hopkins paused. "Scully and
Mulder, this is my momma, Patsy Hopkins."

"Dana and Fox, welcome to our home. Please, come on in. I'm sure
you're all tired and hungry. Jimmy said you had to work through
lunch and then spent the rest of the afternoon at the hospital. Fox,
dear, how are you feeling?" Mrs. Hopkins had maneuvered herself
from Jim to Scully to Mulder, and was now holding Mulder by the
arm, guiding him toward the front door.

"Better now, thank you," said Mulder, knowing it would be futile to
ask her to call him Mulder instead of Fox.

"That's wonderful. I have a nice supper fixed for ya'll. Come on in."
She gently pulled Mulder through the door. He looked over his
shoulder toward Scully and shrugged. Smiling, she followed him in.

"Mrs. Hopkins, we really appreciate your hospitality," said Scully.

"Please, Dana, call me Patsy, or Momma. I've been Momma to an
awful lot of Jimmy's friends over the years."

"Patsy," said Scully, "I hope we haven't put you to any trouble."

"Oh, it's no trouble, Dana," said Patsy as she released Mulder's arm
to guide them into the dining room. "This old house gets lonely. If it weren't
for the kids and grandkids, I'd go nuts! Please, sit down. We have
gumbo, chicken and dumplings, vegetables, cornbread, rice, and for
dessert, peach cobbler and ice cream."

Jim beamed. "My, my, Momma. I think you've outdone yourself."

Patsy patted his arm. "Now, son, you know this isn't anything more
than we'd have for Sunday dinner. All of you sit down and let's eat."

Mulder and Scully looked the food laden table over silently, in awe.
They sat, and as bowls of food were passed around, they filled their
plates. Patsy and Jim kept up an amiable chatter throughout dinner.
They learned that Mr. Randall Hopkins, Jim's father, had started a
security company at a time when home security wasn't as hot an item
as it is today. He died four years earlier and Jim's brother, Howard,
now ran the company. Patsy spent her days maintaining her home
and family, which consisted of three sons, one daughter, and seven
grandchildren, working with various civic organizations, and the church.

"They must keep you busy," said Scully.

"They do, and I love it. But enough about me, who's ready for dessert?"

"I am!" said Jim.

Patsy and Jim went into the kitchen to get the peach cobbler. Scully
looked at Mulder. "Get enough to eat?"

"I haven't had food like that in a long time. Just wish I could taste more
of it."

"Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah."

"You look exhausted."

Mulder shrugged and smiled at Scully. Patsy and Jim came back in
with four bowls of steaming peach cobbler topped with vanilla ice
cream. They all dug in, polishing off as much as they could.

"Anyone for coffee?" asked Jim.

"None for me, thank you," said Scully.

"I'll pass, too," said Mulder.

"Fox," said Patsy tenderly, "you look like you could use some sleep."

"I am pretty tired."

"Jimmy, why don't you get all their stuff in and we'll get everyone
set up for the night."

Patsy showed them to bedrooms separated by a bathroom. "I
thought you might want to keep a close eye on Fox, dear. I hope
this is all right."

Scully smiled. "It's great, thank you." She made sure that Mulder
was settling in, then made her way back downstairs to the kitchen.
Patsy was busy cleaning the remnants of supper.

"What do you need, dear?"

"Just a glass of water so Mulder can take his medication."

"Sure, let me get that for you." Patsy filled a glass with cold water
from the refrigerator. "How is he, really, Dana?"

"He has pneumonia, but with rest and antibiotics, he should be fine
in a couple of weeks. The hardest part is enforcing that 'rest' part --
he's not usually a very good patient."

"You leave that to me, dear. I raised a family full of headstrong boys
that took after their father. You and Jimmy go on with your work and
I'll take care of Fox while you're gone. Show me what medication he
needs and when, and tell me anything else I need to know."

Scully outlined what Mulder needed. "And check his temperature
several times. If it goes up, call me or Sam. I'll leave my medical
supplies for you to use."

"My grandchildren gave me one of those ear thermometers because
they were tired of the old glass ones."

"Mulder will be happy to hear that," smiled Scully.

"You look tired, too, Dana. Get some sleep, and don't worry about
Fox. If anyone in this house sniffles, I know it."

Scully returned to Mulder's room, and handed him the glass of water
and a handful of pills. He swallowed the pills and Scully handed him
an inhaler.

"What's this?"

"It's an inhaler. It'll help open your airways so you can breath better."
He took a deep breath of the medicine and was amazed at how much
easier it was to breath.

"Better?"

Mulder took a deep breath. "Yeah, much. Thanks." Scully lingered
at his bedside. "Tucking me in, Scully?"

"Sure, Mulder," she grinned, "and I just wanted to let you know that
you are now off duty. You WILL stay here, preferably in bed, while
Jim and I work this case. Patsy will be here to watch you, and I get
the feeling that she can handle obstinate men. And if I find out that
you've been giving her a hard time, you'll have to answer to me."

Mulder raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Ooo, Scully, is that a
threat?"

"No, it's a promise. Do you think you can behave yourself?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'll try. But I expect you to keep me informed
about everything that's happening."

"Deal," said Scully. "Now, I just need to take your temperature
again, and you'll be happy to know that Patsy has 'one of those
ear thermometers'."

"Hallelujah," sighed Mulder as he slumped down in bed.

Scully took his temp. "Down to 100. Better." She patted his
hand. "Get some rest. I'll be in the next room, through the
bathroom, if you need anything."

"Thanks, Scully," he mumbled into the pillow.

She turned of the light. "Sweet dreams," she whispered.

Scully returned to her own room, finished her nightly rituals, and
climbed into the large, soft bed. She pulled the covers up and
snuggled into bed, feeling warm, and safe. She was asleep in minutes.

End Part 1 of 3
FrankieH@aol.com

Title: Southern Hospitality (2/3)
Author: Frances Hayman (FrankieH@aol.com)
Rating: PG
Classification: XA
Summary & disclaimers in Part 1

Southern Hospitality Part 2/3

The morning dawned sunny and warm, a wonderful spring day
in south Mississippi. Scully walked out onto the back porch,
coffee in hand. The sweet smell of honeysuckle permeated the
humid air. Patsy joined her.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes, it certainly is," said Scully softly. Her gaze wandered
through the yard where azaleas bloomed all around the edges,
impatiens flowed out of baskets along the eaves of the porch,
and a fountain splashed into a small goldfish pond to the side.
A large magnolia tree stood in the middle of the yard,
displaying grand white blooms against leathery green leaves.
Gardenia bushes held small buds that promised large fragrant
flowers in the weeks to come.

"Is Fox still sleeping?"

"Yes, thank goodness," said Scully, snapping out of her reverie.

Jim opened the back door. "Breakfast is ready. Come and
get it!"

They walked into the kitchen. Jim had the table set with scrambled
eggs, sausage, biscuits, gravy, milk, coffee, and juice. "If I stick
around here very long, I'm going to have to buy some bigger
clothes," said Scully.

Patsy laughed. "I doubt that, dear. Sit down, enjoy."

* * * *

Mulder woke slowly. He felt like someone was sitting on his
chest, his throat still hurt, his head was pounding, but he was
more comfortable than he could remember being in quite a
while. Comfortable, cared for, safe. He rolled over and went
back to sleep.

* * * *

Scully and Hopkins sat in his small office, sifting through reports.
Scully was concentrating on the information about their prime
suspect, Hardy. "Jim, it says here that Hardy has a twin sister.
She was institutionalized after their parents died."

"Yeah, after the mother killed the father, she killed herself. She
found out that he had been sexually abusing the daughter. Hardy
and his sister witnessed the deaths."

"There's also a notation about some psychiatric concerns about
Hardy after he was arrested. He claimed his sister told him to
attack the police officer."

"And she hasn't spoken, or done much of anything else in the
last ten years."

"We need more information about those initial evaluations of
Hardy, and whatever we can find on the sister, Tonya."

"I think we can get Hardy's prison records. The sister, however,
may be a bit more difficult to manage."

"Is she close enough for us to check it out personally?"

"Yeah, it's only about an hour's drive to the hospital where she is."

"Have all the information on Hardy's evaluations and any treatment
sent over to Mulder. We'll bring back whatever we can on the
sister. I think we're going to need his input on this."

* * * *

"Fox." said Patsy quietly. "Fox, honey, wake up. You need to take
your medicine."

"What?" he slurred.

"Fox, it's Patsy Hopkins." She waited for him to open his eyes. "It's
time to take your medicine."

Mulder tried to shake the cobwebs out of his head. "Sorry," he said,
trying to sit up. A wave of dizziness washed over him.

"Easy, son, easy," said Patsy as she eased Mulder back onto the
pillow. "Just lie there for a minute."

Mulder closed his eyes and waited for the dizziness to pass. He
hated being sick. Getting hurt in the line of duty was one thing, but
this was really aggravating.

"Now," said Patsy, "let's try that again, but slower this time." Mulder
sat up, slowly, and this time the room didn't spin, much. He took
the offered glass of juice and washed down a rainbow assortment
of pills. "I was going to ask you if you were feeling better, but I
can see that you're not," said Patsy with a concerned edge in her
voice. "Maybe I should call Dana."

"Where is Scully, anyway?"

"She and Jimmy went to check on your suspect's sister, I believe.
She sent some files over for you to look at, but I --"

"Where are they?" asked Mulder with as much energy as he could
muster.

Patsy looked at him for a moment. "I'll give them to you after
you eat."

"I'm really not very hungry --"

"Then the files will have to wait," she said and turned to leave.

"Wait," said Mulder. "What's for breakfast?"

"That's better."

Mulder managed to eat a biscuit and some sausage before again
asking for the files. When Patsy finally gave them to him, he
devoured the information. He doubted they would learn much
from Hardy's sister, but he was anxious to talk to Scully. A
theory was forming in his foggy mind, a decidedly 'X-files' type
of theory. He picked up his cell phone and called Scully.

"Hey, Scully --"

"Mulder, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay --"

"Liar."

"Really, Scully, I'm okay. Look, I just wanted you to be sure
to ask if Hardy came to visit his sister, especially since he was
released. Find out what he did when he came."

"We've already been to the hospital, Mulder. Hardy did visit his
sister, before and after his incarceration. All he did was sit with
her. He didn't even talk to her. Wouldn't have done him much
good anyway, she's catatonic."

"Maybe they don't need to talk."

"What are you saying, Mulder?"

"Telepathy between twins --"

"Mulder, she's catatonic, as in totally uncommunicative, unresponsive."
The phone began to fade out. "Mulder --"

"Scully, I'm losing you."

"Mulder, we'll be there in a little over an hour. I'll talk to
you then."

Mulder grimaced and set the phone down hard. He got out of
bed, very slowly, and went to the closet for some clothes. All
he could find were jeans and sweats. His suits were gone. Scully,
or more probably Patsy, had taken his suits. Well, jeans would
have to do. He dressed and made his way downstairs, files in hand.
He went into the den and spread the papers all over the desk. Patsy
came in with her hands on her hips.

"I thought I heard you down here. Why are you out of bed?"

"I need to get through these files before Scully gets here. There
are some things about this case that we need to discuss." He
barely looked up at Patsy.

She stood in the doorway, carefully looking at Mulder. He was
too pale, he still looked exhausted, but he also looked very
determined. "You really need to do this, don't you, son?"

Mulder looked up. "Yes, ma'am. Lives depend on apprehending
this guy."

She shook her head and sighed. "Okay, I'll bring you something to
drink. How about some more juice?"

"That'd be great, thanks."

* * * *

When Scully and Jim entered the house, Patsy met them at the
door. "That partner of yours says he needs to talk to you."

"Where is he?"

"In the den, with those files scattered all over the place." Patsy
paused. "He's quite an intense man, Dana."

"He is that," said Scully quietly as she walked into the den. "What
have you got, Mulder?"

"Tell me what you found out about Hardy's sister."

"She hasn't spoken since witnessing the deaths of the parents. She
has been hospitalized since that time, about ten years ago." Scully
handed him a file marked 'Tonya Hardy'.

"Ten years ago, today, Scully." He opened the file and looked at
the photo. It showed a small young woman slumped in a wheelchair.
She had brown hair and deep set, dark eyes. There was absolutely
no expression on her gaunt face, but those eyes -- those were the
same eyes he had seen in Billy's photo.

"Okay, ten years ago, today. No physiological reason can be found
to account for her state. No treatments have been successful in
improving her situation." She paused. "Mulder, are you listening?"

He looked up from the photo. "You said Hardy did visit his sister.
When, and what happened?"

"He's visited her regularly over the last ten years, with the exception
of the time he spent in prison. Before he went to prison, he would
come and take her outside, spend hours talking and reading to her.
About six months before he assaulted the police officer, he stopped
doing those things. He still visited, but he would just sit and look
at her. Sometimes he would leave in a very agitated state, as if he
had been in an argument, but he had spoken to no one. After his
release, the visits continued in this manner."

"When was his last visit?"

"Five days ago."

"The day before the murder that brought me here." Mulder took
off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Have you seen
the report of the parents' murder-suicide?"

"No. Is it relevant?"

"Oh, yeah. The father was stabbed by the mother in exactly the
same manner as all of our victims. And I'll bet you didn't know
that the father was a sheriff's deputy. He had been a security
guard before that." Mulder paused to catch his breath. "All
of our victims have been some type of security guard, so far."

"Do you think his next victim will be a police officer?"

"I think there's a good chance it'll be law enforcement of
some type."

"In some kind of revenge for what his father did to his
sister?" asked Scully.

"I don't think the murders are his idea, they are his sister's.
And I think he's looking for something to prove that the
men he's targeting are, or are not, his father."

"Mulder, I think I need to check your temperature again."

"Scully, we've seen this before. Remember Roland Fuller and
his brother, Dr. Arthur Grable?"

"Mulder, Dr. Grable was only a head preserved in liquid
nitrogen!"

"And at least Tonya Hardy is still alive. And what about Billy
Miles in our first case. They said he was in a 'waking coma', yet
he walked out of the hospital on several occasions. And
twin telepathy has -- "

"Has never been scientifically documented."

"But has none the less been reported by many psychic researchers.
What if, Scully, what if, Tonya is controlling her brother, or at
least convincing him of the need for his actions?"

"That's a big if, Mulder. Isn't it more likely he's just trying to
take action against his father that he couldn't ten years ago?"

"I don't think so, Scully. Why would he toss my room, unless
he was looking for something?"

"What was he looking for?"

"I haven't quite figured that out yet." He sighed, leaned back
in the chair, and began coughing.

Scully walked up behind him and gently laid a hand on his cheek.
"Mulder, your fever's going back up. You really need to rest."

"We're running out of time, Scully."

"And you're running out of energy, Mulder."

Jim interrupted. "How about we adjourn to the porch while
Momma finishes up lunch. I think we could all use a break."
Jim lead the pair out the front door to the broad front porch
and over to a large padded swing and chairs. "Love that ocean
breeze," said Jim, leaning back in his chair.

Mulder sat in the swing and let his head fall back. Scully stood
looking out over the estate walls, through the large, low-limbed
live oak trees, to the small stretch of beach. The gray-green
water stretched to a graying horizon.

"Looks like we're gonna get some bad weather later today,"
said Jim. "Look at those clouds. And the weatherman says
a big front is on its way in. Expecting severe thunderstorms,
heavy rains -- pretty typical spring time weather."

"Lovely," said Mulder without opening his eyes.

Patsy appeared in the doorway. "There you are. Lunch is ready."

* * * *

They sat around the table, quietly eating lunch. Mulder could not
be enticed to eat much, and kept insisting that they get back to
work. The phone interrupted dessert. It was Agent Hopkins'
office. "A couple of sheriff's deputies think they spotted Hardy
at a little motel on Highway 49 several miles north of I-10. Take
us about half an hour to get there."

"What are we waiting for?" exclaimed Mulder, rising from the table.

"Hold on, Mulder," said Scully, pushing him back down into his
chair. "You aren't going anywhere."

"Scully, there's no time to argue. Let's go!" Mulder got to his
feet and wavered, catching hold of the back of the chair. Jim
stepped to his side. "I'm okay, I'm okay," said Mulder weakly.

Scully stood on Mulder's other side. "Bull, Mulder! You are
most definitely NOT okay!" Scully paused and lowered her
voice. "Mulder, your lungs are barely processing enough oxygen
to keep you conscious, much less pursue a suspect."

Mulder's knuckles turned white as he gripped the back of the
chair. The dizziness wasn't passing and he couldn't focus. His
legs buckled and Jim and Scully caught him as everything went dark.

"Help me get him to the couch, Jim," said Scully worriedly. Mulder
came around as they laid him down. "Happy now, Mulder?"

"Wwhaat?" Mulder slurred.

"Patsy, could you get my stethoscope and the thermometer?"

"Of course, dear."

Mulder struggled to sit up. "Easy, easy, Mulder," soothed Scully,
brushing dark hair away from his eyes. He lay back down quietly.

"Guess you're right, Scully. I wouldn't be much use to you right
now. Don't worry about me, just go get Hardy."

"In a minute, Mulder." Patsy brought the stethoscope and thermometer,
and Scully examined him quickly. "Your temp is going back up, and
your lungs don't sound any better. You're going to work your way
right into a hospital bed at this rate."

"Scully, I promise to take my medicine, just go, before Hardy gets away."

Scully looked over the back of the couch at Patsy. "Make sure he stays
put for at least an hour, and if his temp goes any higher, call me."

"I'll take care of him, Dana. You and Jimmy go catch this fellow."

* * * *

Scully and Hopkins arrived at the motel in record time. Deputies
had been instructed to wait for them before approaching the
suspect. They stormed into the room to find a flapping curtain
in the bathroom, and a trail of dust leading down a back road.
They attempted to pursue, but lost him in a maze of country roads.

"At least now we have a make on his car," said Scully.

"Until he changes again," said Jim hotly, hitting the steering wheel.
"Dammit, we almost had him!"

Scully sighed. "Let's get back to the motel and regroup."

* * * *

Billy Hardy sat in a booth at the diner next to the motel,
watching the show. He had seen the cop cars pull up to the
motel, and had slipped out the bathroom window to take
his present station next to the window in the diner. It had been
Tonya's idea to pay that kid to take off and lead the cops on
a merry little chase. He had grown so accustomed to her
company that he would be incomplete without her presence.
They had always been close, but since Mom and Pop had died,
they were always together. They waited as all the cop cars and
the FBI car had taken off after the kid. It sure was nice of the
FBI to identify themselves with those big letters on the backs
of their jackets. They smiled and enjoyed the moment -- cops
were so predictable, especially when you had studied them as
much as Tonya and Billy had.

*We need to get out of here, to find Pop,* whispered Tonya.

*Pop is gone, Sis.*

*He's back again, you know that! He keeps coming back and
we can't let him hurt us again!*

*HE'S GONE!*

*Billy, you know you found him yesterday -- YOU were the one
that insisted on looking for the knife. YOU were the one that found
it in his room.*

*Sis, I know, but how do we know that it's the right knife, I mean,
there must be lots of pocket knives that look like Pop's.*

*You know he always said it was handed down, generation to
generation, from his great-grandpa.*

*Maybe he lied.*

*Billy, we've been through this again and again.*

*I just have to be sure, Sis.*

*I understand, Billy, but we have a job to do. We CAN'T
let him hurt us again. We have to find him, stop him, now.*

*How? You know they took him away.*

*Oh, Billy, do I have to do all the thinking? Those two FBI
agents are his friends, just follow them!*

*I thought we were trying to avoid them.*

*Billy!* He winced, then looked around to make sure no one
noticed.

*Tonya, they'll find us, and put us back in jail. I can't go
through that again!*

*Billy,* she soothed, *just do what I tell you, and everything
will be fine.*

*Okay, Sis, if you're sure.*

They waited, and after a while the FBI agents came back. Billy
had moved to a small red truck. He sat behind a newspaper,
watching as they got out and went into his room. Other officers
arrived as the red haired woman and the stocky blond man left.
Billy waited a moment, then pulled out on to the highway, just barely
keeping them in sight. They went to downtown Gulfport, to the
FBI office. Billy parked down the street and put the newspaper
up again. He found a dirty black and gold New Orleans Saints
cap, pulled it down on his head, and settled in to wait.

End of Part 2 of 3
FrankieH@aol.com

Title: Southern Hospitality ( 3/3)
Author: Frances Hayman (FrankieH@aol.com)
Rating: PG
Classification: XA
Summary & disclaimers in Part 1

Southern Hospitality (3/3)

Scully and Hopkins stomped into the FBI office. Hardy had
tricked them. They had sadly underestimated him. Sheriff's
deputies had finally apprehended the car, and found a 17 year
old boy driving. After some intense questioning, he had finally
told them that 'some guy' had paid him fifty dollars to lead the
chase away from the motel. He identified a photo of Billy Hardy
as that guy.

Scully sat across the desk from Hopkins, tapping her finger.
"Where do we go from here?"

"Well, we have an APB out on Hardy. He'll turn up."

"Before or after he kills again? Has he already picked out his
next target? How do we protect that person when we don't
know who it will be? Trying to protect everyone in that photo
is spreading manpower a bit too thin, and what if it's someone
else?"

"Scully --"

"I'm sorry, Jim. It's just that with Mulder sick, I feel like I'm
working with my hands tied behind my back."

"I understand, Scully." He smiled. "How long have you two
been partners?"

"Sometimes it seems like an eternity."

Jim laughed. "Nothing like a partner to know just how to push
all your buttons."

Scully smiled. "You are right about that."

"What about this telepathy theory of his?"

"Oh, Mulder always looks for off the wall explanations like that."

"Isn't that why you guys investigate 'X-Files'?"

"Yes, Jim, I guess it is," sighed Scully.

"I bet you two have seen some, ahh, interesting things."

Scully raised her eyebrows and looked at Hopkins. "You have
no idea, Jim."

"So, what about Mulder's theory?"

Scully rolled her eyes. "Not you too, Jim?"

"Well, I've seen some stuff, too, over the years. I've learned
to keep an open mind."

"I guess we better go back and talk to Mulder, then, if he's
up to it." A loud clap of thunder shook the window in Hopkins'
office. "Maybe we should go now, before the weather gets too
bad."

"I'll just grab these old files from Hardy's parents' deaths.
Maybe we can find something in here to tell us where to
go next."

* * * *

*Wake up, Billy!* shouted Tonya into her brother's mind.

*Sis, you don't have to shout.*

*Don't mess this up! Here they come. Just follow them like you
did before.*

* * * *

Mulder lay on the couch, cursing himself. Why did he have to
get sick right now? He was just a liability to Scully. He slipped
into a fitful sleep.

He awoke sometime later and managed to sit up without making
everything spin. He noticed that the room was darkened and
gloomy. Patsy walked in to see him sitting on the couch, head
in his hands.

"Feeling better, Fox?" she asked as she handed him a glass of water.

"Thank you," he said, gratefully accepting the offered glass. "Some
better. Have you heard from Scully and Jim?"

"No, I haven't dear, but I'm sure everything is just fine."

"What time is it? It looks like I slept for a long time."

"You actually only slept about two hours. It looks so dark because
of the storm." Just then a low rumble rattled the windows.

* * * *

The rain began as Jim drove away from the office. It started
gentle enough, but soon became a deluge, causing him to slow
down and turn the windshield wipers to high. He carefully
maneuvered the gray car through the blinding rain. He and
Scully did not notice the red truck following them.

* * * *

*Don't lose them, Billy! They are our only link to Pop!*

*I'm doing the best I can, Sis. I don't want to get too close.*

*The rain will hide us, at least for now. Just stay with them.*

* * * *

The sudden onslaught of rain startled Mulder a little. "Some
storm," he said, moving to look out the side window. The rain
beat against the glass, smearing everything into a wash of grays
and greens. "Are you sure this isn't a hurricane?" he asked, grinning.

Patsy laughed. "Pretty sure, Fox. Although, I should probably
check the generator, just in case we lose power."

Mulder's expression turned serious. "I wonder if they got him."

"I don't know, son, but I know they'll do their best," she said,
patting him on the back.

"I should be with them," he sighed. "If anything happens to
Scully --"

The front door burst open, letting in a gust of wind and rain.
Mulder's hand went to his right side, where his gun was usually
holstered, and closed on empty air. He sighed in relief when
he recognized a dripping Scully.

"Scully, did you get him?"

"No. No, we didn't," said Scully as she shook out of her
dripping coat.

"What happened? Was he gone when you got there? I
knew I delayed you too long."

"Slow down, Mulder. He tricked us. We chased a 17 year old
kid while he calmly drove away."

"What?"

"We underestimated him," said Jim quietly. "We won't do that
again." He hung up the coats, then reached into his briefcase for
the old files. "I brought everything I could find on the Hardy parents
and their deaths. Maybe we'll find a clue in this stuff."

After Scully and Jim had changed into dry clothes, they gathered
in the den while Patsy made a fresh pot of coffee. Mulder took
a folder labeled 'William Robert Hardy, Sr.'. Thunder shook the
house again, followed closely by a bright flash and a resounding
crack. The electricity went out, leaving them in the stormy
twilight gloom.

Jim was the first to break the relative quiet after the boom. "I was
afraid that might happen. I'll go find some flashlights and lanterns."
He moved toward the kitchen. "Momma, you all right?"

"Fine, son. Just lighting a lamp," she shouted from the kitchen.

Mulder and Scully were left in the dark of the den. Mulder sank
deep into the cushions of the couch. "This is just great."

"Mulder, Jim will bring some lamps in so we can get through all
this material."

"I know, Scully, it's just, well, oh, I don't know. I feel like
there's something I'm missing here."

"We'll find it, Mulder."

"But will we find it before someone else dies?"

* * * *

Billy sat in the red truck, staring out at the rain, trying to
see the house. The lightning flash and accompanying blast
almost blinded and deafened him. When he could see again,
he noticed that the street light was out. Lightning must have
taken out a power pole or a tree near the lines. He smiled.

*Hey, Sis, I think we just got a break. The electricity's out.*

*Good, Billy, good. Get through the gate before it comes back
on. Use the rain as a cover.*

Billy got out of the truck, making sure his special knife was in
its proper place in the scabbard on his belt. It had served him
well years ago, when he had learned to hunt deer, and now it
was serving him well again in his hunt for a different prey -- his
father. He was soaked to the skin in minutes as he pushed
through the gate and made his way along the brick wall that
outlined the estate.

*Sis, where should we go in?*

*Let's look around first.*

*I'm getting kinda wet, here, Sis.*

*Just be patient, Billy, we have to do this right. We'll
probably only get one chance at Pop. His friends may get
in the way. We need to be careful.*

* * * *

Jim brought several kerosene lanterns and candles to light the
den and they settled in to work through the years old material,
hoping to glean relevant information. Patsy brought in a tray
of coffee and sandwiches. The shrill ringing of the telephone
broke the quiet. Patsy answered it to find a frantic next door
neighbor babbling on the other end. After calming the hysterical
woman, she told Patsy that a tree had come through her living
room window. Her husband had sustained a minor injury in the
incident, and she wanted Patsy and Jim to come help them.
Scully offered to lend her medical expertise, but Patsy insisted
that she stay with Mulder.

"Jane gets overwrought about just about everything. A hang nail
is a 'minor injury' to her. I promise we'll call if it's anything serious."

Jim lead Scully to the panel in the front hallway that controlled the
security system. "The internal system has a battery back-up. The
perimeter sensors are out, but the house systems are all still up and
running. Punch this panic button and it'll call the police directly."

"Got it. Sure you don't want me to come along?"

"Nahh. Momma's right about Ms. Jane -- she over reacts to
everything. I expect we'll be back before too long."

Scully went back into the den after she armed the security
system. Mulder was deep into Billy, Sr.'s file and didn't even
look up when she entered. She picked up another file and
settled in to work.

* * * *

Billy shrank into the shrubbery when he saw two people exit
the house. He let out a silent breath when he saw Pop wasn't
one of them. The two hurried into the gray car parked out front
and drove away. First, the electricity, now this. Things were
definitely looking up.

* * * *

Scully looked up from her reports and photos to gaze out the
window. The rain seemed to be letting up, at least momentarily.
She hoped that the neighbor wasn't in need of her help because
she didn't savor getting all wet again, and she sure didn't want to
leave Mulder here alone. Of course, he was a grown man, but he
was sick and needed to be taken care of. And Billy Hardy, Jr. made
her nervous. Since he had ransacked Mulder's room, she'd had a
bad feeling about the whole case. She smiled to herself -- 'a bad
feeling'. Mulder really was rubbing off on her.

Mulder looked through the photos again. He knew he was missing
something important here. These snapshots and stiffly posed
family photos appeared to show a normal family, but this was a man
who had abused his own daughter, and a son with a penchant for
murder. He rubbed his eyes, then set several photos side by side.
In the wavering lamplight, he tried to methodically pick through
all the details. Suddenly, it jumped out at him -- in every photo,
Billy, Sr. had an old pocket knife hanging from his belt loop, out of
his pocket, or in his hand. The knife.

"Scully, did the forensics team leave a list of any of my stuff that
they kept for evidence?"

"I think so, Mulder," said Scully, leafing through a stack of papers.
"Here it is." She recognized that tone in his voice. He was on to
something.

Mulder looked down the list, forcing himself to read each line
slowly. "It's not here."

"What's not there?"

"The knife." At her confused look, he continued. "Don't you
remember that antique pocket knife I picked up in a country
store a couple of months ago?"

"The one I said looked like my grandfather's knife?" He nodded.
"What about it?"

"It's not on this list, and it's not in my bag. And look at these
pictures," he said, sliding the file across the table. "Billy, Sr.
has a similar knife in almost every photo."

Scully picked up the file. "Mulder, are you sure you brought it?"

"Pretty damn sure. I never completely unpacked that bag."

"That's what he was looking for?"

"That's my guess."

"Then you may be his next target."

"Looks like it."

* * * *

Billy sat quietly in the bushes near the back porch. *Back
door, Sis? Break a window?*

*The door, I think. Wait just a few more minutes, then let's
try the door. Hey, isn't that where the phone lines come into
the house, right there on the wall in front of you?*

*Yeah, I think it is.*

*Cut the phone line, Billy.*

* * * *

"I'm calling for back-up," said Scully as she quickly came off
the couch and headed toward the nearest phone.

"He still has to find me, Scully."

"We underestimated him once, Mulder. The stakes are too high
to do that again. We need back-up." She picked up the phone
and almost punched in the first number before she noticed that
there was no dial tone. "Phone's out." She started for the stairs.
"I left my cell phone upstairs. I'll be right back."

"Bring my gun, too, Scully," shouted Mulder after her. He added
quietly, "I feel naked without it."

"Naked, Mulder?" shouted Scully over her shoulder.

"You know what I mean," said Mulder, grinning. "Just bring
me the gun."

* * * *

Billy stepped as quietly as he could onto the porch. His shoes
squished and left tracks on the dry areas. He knelt to pass under
the windows and made his way to the door. He turned the
knob, half expecting it to open easily. It didn't. This was his
first major obstacle of the day, and picking a lock was
child's play.

* * * *

Mulder slumped back onto the couch, closing his eyes. He was
so tired. It seemed like eons since his little afternoon nap. Scully
returned to find Mulder dozing. She lay a hand on his cheek --
still too warm. She gently shook his shoulder. "Mulder, wake
up. You need to take your medicine."

"I'm not asleep," he said, "just resting my eyes." He slowly
opened his eyes and looked at Scully sitting next to him. The
lamplight made her red hair glow. "Did you get my gun?"

"Yes," she said, laying it on the table in front of him. "And
I called for some help. It'll be a while before anyone can get
here, though. The weather is wreaking havoc everywhere.
Here, take your medicine."

Mulder swallowed the handful of pills, then took the inhaler
and breathed deeply, savoring the relief it gave. He grabbed
the gun off the table and put his holster on. He patted the gun.
"I feel better already." A small cough escaped, and turned into
a series of deep coughs.

"Yeah, you feel lots better," scowled Scully. "You look wiped
out again. Why don't you stretch out on the couch and get
some sleep?"

"You want me to sleep while this guy may be stalking me as we
speak?" Mulder asked. "How about letting me have some
aspirin, or something, that'll help me function a little better."

Scully sighed. "I'll stand watch while you get some rest. The
back-up will be here soon, and Jim may be back even sooner."
He just glowered at her. She glowered back, then shook her
head. "Okay, Mulder, I'll go get you some aspirin." She went
back upstairs. Mulder leaned back into the couch.

* * * *

Billy deftly picked the lock, and carefully opened the kitchen
door. A loud alarm reverberated through the house immediately.
Billy froze for a second, then ran in to find a place to hide. They
didn't have much time before someone else heard all this noise
and came to see what was going on.

* * * *

Mulder was off the couch in a flash, gun in hand. He went to
the security panel in the front hallway to see that the alarm
had been caused by the kitchen door. He knew Billy, and
his sister, were in the house. He wanted to shout to Scully,
to see if she was all right, but that would give him away. Better
to look for Billy. He edged down the wall of the entry hall
toward the dining room. He entered low, gun extended, but
the room was empty. There were several doors, too many doors,
too many ways to go. He chose the open door into the kitchen.
He approached cautiously along the wall, trying to keep the
other doors in view. Just as he started through the open door,
a closet behind him opened, the resounding screech of the
alarm masking the squeak of the hinges. Billy emerged, a
baseball bat he had found in the closet raised above his head.
Mulder caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and
turned. The blow that landed was a glancing one, stunning Mulder
and knocking him to his knees. A second swipe with the bat took
out his gun and most of the feeling in his right wrist. He grabbed
a chair and slung it into Billy's path, staggering to his feet. He
could feel a thin line of blood trickling down the side of his face,
and he could not focus very well. His gun was somewhere under
the table. He heard Billy begin to talk -- it sounded like he was
far away.

"Pop, oh, Pop, you thought you could get away from me again.
It ain't gonna happen. You keep coming back, but I'm not gonna
let you hurt us again!"

Mulder heard the words through the haze. "Billy, look at me. I'm
NOT your father!"

"That's what you said the last time, too, but we know it's you!"

Mulder's head was throbbing, but his vision was clearing. Keep
him talking. Scully will be here soon. "We? Is Tonya here, too,
Billy?"

"Of course she is, but you can't hurt her!"

"No one wants to hurt either of you."

"LIAR!" he screamed. He took out the knife and balanced
the bat in his left hand. "You're gonna pay for what you did
to us."

"FREEZE, Hardy, federal agent!" shouted Scully from the
front hallway door. Her gun was drawn, pointed at Billy.
"Drop your weapons, NOW!"

Billy didn't take his eyes off Mulder, but grinned hideously.
"You think she can help you? You're wrong. Sis will take
care of her." He pushed at the chair.

"FR --" Scully attempted a second time, but she found herself
slammed face first against the door frame, gasping for breath.
It felt as if strong hands were closing around her throat. She
managed to hold on to her gun as her hands went instinctively
to her throat. What was choking her and holding her against
the door? She tried to look for Mulder, but could barely turn
her head. Billy was pushing the chair away with his feet as the
bat and knife were raised. Scully raised her gun toward Billy,
but it was suddenly knocked from her grasp.

Mulder saw what was happening to Scully and screamed,
"Let her go! Tonya, let her go!"

Billy continued his approach. "Now she can't do that, Pop.
At least not until I'm finished with you!" He lunged and Mulder
stepped to the side, grabbing for the knife. Billy slashed blindly,
cutting Mulder's forearm. Instead of drawing back, Mulder
plunged into Billy's midsection and slammed his knife hand into
the wall. He surprised Billy enough to knock the wind out of
him, and heard a satisfying clatter as the knife fell to the floor.
He continue to push Billy back until he hit the closet door. Billy
brought the bat up and began to hit Mulder.

"NOOOO!" Billy screamed. "I have to kill you! Help me, Sis!"

Scully felt the pressure lift from her throat as she sank to her
knees. She coughed and drew in a lung full of air. A quick
look around showed her that Mulder desperately needed her
help. She also spotted her gun under the table. She crawled,
still coughing, under the table and retrieved her gun. She came
out, gun aimed at Billy. She paused momentarily because she
also saw a woman standing behind Mulder with her hands around
his neck. She looked remarkably like the Hardy woman she had
seen a few hours before. Where had she come from? The trio
struggled with Mulder in the middle. Scully slid around the table
to get a clear shot at Billy, then squeezed off a round. The shot
took Billy squarely in the shoulder and sent him spinning. She
looked back to locate the woman. She was still holding Mulder
by the neck, and he was fading fast. She started to shoot a
second time, this time at the woman, when she realized that she
could see Mulder through the woman's body! She looked back
at Billy, who was trying to grab for his bat again. He didn't
see Scully come at him from behind where she landed a blow
to the back of his head that sent him into unconsciousness.
Scully looked up and saw the woman fade, and Mulder drop
to the floor.

A thin wale cut the air above the alarm. "BILLY, NOOO!"

Scully pushed chairs out of her way as she made her way
around the table to Mulder. He was bleeding, unconscious,
and breathing raggedly. She pushed the memory of the woman
aside as she assessed his condition. Jim burst into the room
with his gun drawn. Seeing Scully bent over Mulder, he rushed
to her side.

"What happened?"

Scully ignored his question and nodded toward Billy. "Check on
him, Jim. I shot him in the shoulder, then hit him on the head.
I don't want him regaining consciousness at least until he's
immobilized."

Jim examined him, then cuffed his hands behind his back. "I'll
call an ambulance."

"The phones are out," said Scully, tossing him her cell phone.
"Use this."

She turned her attention back to Mulder. His eyelids were
fluttering as he struggled to regain consciousness. "Scuully,"
he slurred, "did you see her? She was here."

"Quiet, Mulder. Lie still." She gently touched his forehead,
wiping the blood away. Then she saw the larger amount of
blood staining the sleeve of his sweatshirt. She pushed the
sleeve back to reveal a long laceration that was, thankfully,
not too deep. A quick exam of his ribs found several tender
areas, but no apparent fractures. She sighed with relief.

Jim hovered between Mulder and Hardy. "How is he?"

"I think he'll be okay, but I want to get him to the hospital.
How's Hardy?"

"Bleeding some, still unconscious. I put a towel and some
pressure on the wound. He'll probably be okay." He paused.
"Was someone else here?"

"Why?"

"Mulder asked if you saw 'her'. Who was he talking about?"

"I was talking about Tonya Hardy. She was here. She tried to
choke Scully, then she tried to choke me," rasped Mulder.

Jim looked carefully at Scully and could see red marks on her
neck -- they looked like marks left by someone's hands. "Scully,
your neck --"

"Jim, could you please turn the alarm off?"

"Yeah, sure."

As soon as the alarm was off, Scully heard the wail of sirens. Jim
met the paramedics at the front door.

* * * *

Three days later --

Scully sat in Mulder's hospital room, putting the finishing touches
on her field report. The screen of her laptop gleamed in the
relative dimness of the room, casting a blue-green glow on her
face. Mulder lay quietly in his bed, watching her. She wasn't
aware he was awake, and he was enjoying this moment just to
look at her.

Scully sat, contemplating the words to include. "Agent Mulder's
insistence that Tonya Hardy was present when he was assaulted
by Billy Hardy cannot be substantiated. The woman that this agent
witnessed in Culver House could not be identified or her whereabouts
determined. Inquiries at the hospital where Tonya Hardy has been
a patient for the last ten years revealed that, although she was not
individually attended during the time in question, she did not leave
the premises on that day. Billy Hardy is recuperating from injuries
sustained in his apprehension, and will undergo extensive psychiatric
evaluation prior to being tried for the murders of the aforementioned
victims, as well as attempted murder of a federal agent."

Her cell phone interrupted her train of thought. "Scully," she answered
quietly.

"Agent Scully, this is A.D. Skinner. How's Agent Mulder?"

"Hello, sir. He's doing better. The lacerations were fairly super-
ficial and the concussion was minor. His ribs were badly bruised,
which isn't helping the pneumonia, but he is improving. I expect
him to be released from the hospital in the next few days."

"That's good to hear. How about Mr. Hardy?"

"Physically, he's doing pretty well, but the full psychiatric
evaluation will take some time."

"When do you expect to return to Washington?"

"If Agent Mulder is released tomorrow, he should be able to
travel in another day or two. However, he should be out of
work for another two weeks or so."

"Understood. Keep me informed."

Scully terminated the call and looked back to her report.
"Unless more information on the woman in question is
forthcoming, this case is closed." She sighed and sat back
in the chair. She looked over at Mulder, who was still
watching her.

"You're awake," she smiled. "Sleep well?"

"Sure, except that they keep waking me up to take my
temperature, my blood pressure, give me medicine -- you
know. At least I finally got that awful oxygen thing out of my
nose." Scully's smile widened. "Now, that makes me feel
better."

"What?"

"That smile."

Scully blushed a little, thankful that the room was dim. "My,
my, you are feeling better."

Mulder continued to gaze at Scully, but his expression became
more serious. "What about Tonya Hardy?"

Scully looked away. "She never left the hospital, Mulder."

"Not physically, but I saw her. You saw her."

"I saw someone. I don't know who she was, or where she went."

"How did you get her to stop choking me, Scully?"

"I didn't. I shot Billy and then knocked him out. When I looked
back, she was gone."

"But you know it was her."

"Mulder, I don't know who it was."

They sat in strained silence for a few moments. "Well," said
Mulder, "I'm just glad that by knocking Billy out you cut his
link to Tonya. She must have needed him to channel her
consciousness into a form that could take physical action."

"Mulder, you're never going to be able to prove any of that."

"No, but I don't need to prove it to myself. I know what I
saw. I saw Tonya Hardy choking you, pushing you against
the door, and knocking the gun out of your hand. And you
saw her choking me."

"Mulder -- " she stopped and shook her head. "I don't know
what I saw. I'm just glad she was gone."

They sat in silence again, this time a little less strained.

"Hey, Scully."

"What, Mulder?"

"Read me a story?"

She threw the nearest magazine at him.

THE END

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