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Subject: Corpse 5/9
Date: 28 Jun 1995

Corpse 17/?

Beware, if violence and profanity bother you this story has most likely
already offended you and will continue to do so. My favorite form of
email is death threats.

Usual disclaimers. Boy, I get tired of writing these things. Blah blah.
Scully and Mulder and the X-Files property of Chris Carter and
Ten-Thirteen. Used, of course, without permission but also without profit
and, hopefully, without offense. Emma, her town, her story and all that
property of the Goo. No using without my permission! I don't get money,
so I hope to get email.

And bit thanks to Rodent, Amp, Sean and Linda. Tremendous help there,
guys. Greg - It's an Alupenth inhaler. And the other one's CPAP. So
there.

Goo
___________________

I'd brushed my teeth until my gums were bleeding when Jerry finally came
and tried to pull me out of there. I rinsed my mouth and face again, and
let him tug me back over to my bed, let him push me back.

"I'd forgotten just how much I hate you sometimes, Jerry." My voice
sounded hollow in my own ears. I looked up to find him watching me with
what was probably real, warm concern in his eyes, sipping what smelled
like mocha espresso from an insulated cup. I swallowed hard, and wondered
what it took to make him stop looking perfect. The stains on his suit and
the sleazy thing he'd just done certainly weren't enough.

He sighed and put his coffee down, came over to sit next to me and try to
wrap an arm around me. I shook him off.

"Careful, you're going to wrinkle your suit."

"Somebody has to help dry-cleaners send their kids to college . . ."

"Very funny. Almost as funny as that stunt you just pulled. What did you
think you were doing in there? Couldn't you leave him alone? At least
until he wasn't drugged out of his mind, or in shock or whatever the hell
that just was?"

"Emma, at the risk of making you feel worse, I'm not the one who just
pushed Spooky's buttons."

"Don't call him that." I couldn't hear his gasping and sobbing anymore,
but I hadn't heard the door slam either. They must have drugged the
living shit out of him. We'd have heard it if it was any worse than
that. At least now he'd sleep for a while. God, I hoped he'd feel better
when he woke up. I'd felt bad enough letting him and Scully walk into
that house. I didn't need to feel guilty over this kind of shit.

Jerry took a deep breath, held it for a moment, let it out and went to get
his coffee. I couldn't read his face, but I'd seen him pull this kind of
thing for years, stalling while he wrote his next bit of script.

"Emma, I want you to listen to me very carefully here, and I don't want
you to interrupt me. You can talk all you want when I'm done. You want
to ream my ass, you can do it then, but I need to explain some things to
you. Now, if you cannot do that, I'll leave and come back later. Can you
shut up and listen to me?" He watched me closely, not judging, letting me
come to my own decision. I finally nodded.

"Okay. First, my job is to find out the truth behind situations, decide
how to phrase it for the best interests of 1) the public," he held up a
finger, "and, 2) the subject. I do not aim to gouge some poor bastard,
but I need to know what is happening. That doesn't mean I'm going to
write a piece tomorrow, telling the world how Fox Mulder fell apart all
over the place, although I wouldn't put that past some of my colleagues.
Believe it or not, what I know of the guy makes me think I'd rather have
him in the FBI, trying to keep 'em honest. If he has problems, though, I
want to know about them. It does matter, Emma. It really, really does.
If this is like Oklahoma or Louisiana, it's going to affect the case
against Kane and may come up in evidence hearings. That's only the tip of
the iceberg."

He sipped his coffee again. "If he's really gone over the edge, then
somebody needs to know that, too. Mulder has. . . repercussions in places
you didn't need to know about. I didn't know about them until you put me
on his trail. But you'd better believe that someone like me better be
keeping an eye on him, and for more than his fashion crimes." He was
fishing for a laugh, trying to crack whatever look he thought he saw in my
eyes. And I just kept hearing Mulder falling apart, hearing Scully trying
to calm him down, get help, and hearing myself asking those damn questions
Kane had used to shove him into a corner in a burning house.

Jerry was talking again. "Emma, I'm not going to write about this." He
leaned forward and put a hand on my foot, trying to reach me. "I'm not a
monster. I'm not going to strip this man in public." I bit my tongue.
Jerry had stripped people before, starting with their wardrobes and ending
with their peccadillos in office. But. . . I'd known him to let people
off the hook, too, if he thought they weren't going to be able to DO
anything anymore, if he thought they were harmless, or useful. Over the
years he'd helped destroy a couple of political candidates, but he'd also
shielded his share of people whose worst crime was to be human and
fallible. So did he see my feds as useful and worthy? Or as a weak spot
to be exploited?

"I like the guy, Emma." Jerry's voice was soft, now. Earnest. I'd known
him for years, seen him fake emotions all over the place, but somehow I
believed him right then. "I haven't met him before, only read about him,
but he's done some amazing things. If he's made the enemies I think he's
made, then he'll need all the friends he can get, and I don't want to see
him trashed."

I couldn't let him go on. "If you like him, Jerry, then why did you stand
there and watch him go to pieces? We did not need to see that. We could
have just left . . ." Why had I let him keep me there? God, I hadn't.
Not really, I'd wanted to know. I'd not understood and I still didn't.
I'd tried to smooth things over and find something out and I couldn't
blame Jerry for all that. It just was not his fault. It was mine. God.
I swallowed and looked away from him. My eyes hurt, and I could feel the
cough in my chest and the pain in my scorched throat. The coughs pulled
me up double, and Jerry was suddenly sitting next to me, arm tight around
me, until the I could finally stop coughing and gasp in enough air to
unwind from my curl.

"God, Emma. Here." He must have been worried, he gave me the rest of his
coffee. That's like asking a junior partner to give volunteer time. I
finally gave him a tentative smile. Jerry had been helping me all along.
He'd done far too much for me to really think he might not care about more
than the story.

He settled back, watching me closely. I sipped his coffee, running back
through what had happened and finally recognizing that I'd just have to
watch Jerry, make sure he stayed on a leash. Jerry was just not reliable
on his own when something interesting was happening. He was watching me
still, worried. I smiled at him, finished the cup. "Okay Jerry. All
right. Tell me what happened. I know you have it all down. You probably
don't even need your notes. So you tell me."

"I'll make a deal, Emma. I know you didn't tell Scully everything. I
don't think you had time." He glanced at the door and had the good grace
to look regretful. "I'll tell you what I know. You tell me what happened
to you. And," he smiled, "once we have it on paper we'll see if Scully
forgives you if we give her the whole mess." I looked up at him,
startled.

"You can't really have thought I missed that. Come on, how stupid do you
think I am? You are not the soul of subtlety, Emma. And there very well
may be something in there that helps." His voice had fallen at that last,
quiet. And he might be right, I hoped so.

He sat back, gathered himself a moment, then started.

"The house was trapped. It was rigged to burn, slow and steady, and leave
nothing behind. If it burned too fast it would fall in on itself and
snuff the flames, so the stuff up stairs was slow and hot, like thermite.
Only in the basement would there be flashburning, and that not enough to
burn itself out. When you went back in, it had just taken hold for real.
The air that moved up the stairs carried smoke and fumes, and let the fire
race for the ceiling and start to make the partitions burn. "

"Scully said you went back in, and it took about ten more minutes for the
rescue crews to get there. Sound carries a long way out there, over flat
land at night. Frank Carson was . . . bad. Bleeding and in shock. You
don't want to know what Kane did to him." Jerry swallowed, looking a
little green, and I was more than willing to believe him. "When the
rescue crew broke in, they found you in the back of the basement. The
partitions of the rooms were crumbling in the front two rooms. The fire
had begun in the upper floors and the crews didn't really think they'd
find you alive down there. You were unconcious, Kane was awake but
suffering third degree burns on his legs."

"They didn't know what to make of Fox Mulder when they brought him out.
The way he was curled up, they were busy looking for stab wounds or
injuries, and he had enough blood on him for that. They found lots of
slashes, a few burns, but nothing that explained total withdrawal to
them." Jerry had gotten up and was pacing. "I looked back at the other
two times when you called me, and this sounded like the same thing. He
goes totally non-responsive, just curls up and goes away, all the lights
on and he's on sabbatical in the twilight zone. And he was like that
until they tried to get his clothes off to check for injuries, when he
totally freaked, just like the other times. Total screaming, irrational
panic. By the time they'd listen to Scully, believe she wasn't too far in
shock herself to function, he was already gone and they had six guys
trying to hold him down. They sedated the living shit out of him and got
him in here."

Jerry was looking out the window, collecting himself again. Even Jerry
rattled for some things. "They thought about putting him up in the psych
ward, but the respiratory damage from the fire was priority. I talked to
the ward nurses. They tried to keep Scully in her room and quiet." He
smiled. "Hospitals have this thing about patients staying where they're
put. But she's been in his room unless somebody dragged her out by main
force, like the D.A. this morning. Which, I would guess, is how you got
past her."

"Good guess." I'd been holding my breath, listening to Jerry, and had
never heard steps or anything else and Scully's voice nearly put me
through the ceiling. She was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, and
didn't look happy with either one of us.

"I take it Agent Mulder's sedated?" Jerry's voice was soft and neutral,
not appeasing, but definitely trying not to offend any further.

He didn't succeed. "Yes, he's sedated. Quite thoroughly. And shot full
of steroids for that asthma attack, which would probably not have happened
if you two hadn't decided to play games." Her voice gritted with her
anger. "Emma, I do appreciate you going in to help him, but if you come
down there again I will personally put you in traction. And Mr. Riggins
can have the room next door. The two of you damn near fucking killed him
in there. He's already on the Alupenth for it, and they're watching for
permanent damage. Neurological damage, Emma, and permanent respiratory
damage. And you fucking tip him into a damned asthma attack . . ." She
took a deep, long breath, like you take when you're counting to ten and
trying to keep from blowing up. I couldn't blame her. I'd come to the
same conclusion myself. Maybe I looked as bad as I felt, because she
finally shook her head, and let go of that anger when she breathed out.
"Emma, you could have done permanent damage in there. Mulder was in that
smoke a lot longer than you, and if he stays calm he'll probably be all
right. But with that kind of asthma attack, all bets are off. You may
have really just fucked him over once and for all." She looked away from
me. Her jaw was working and she looked ill.

"Scully, I am sorry. I didn't realize what would happen . . ." She
looked back at me, letting the anger fade to worry and exhaustion. I
guess she forgave me after a fashion. She settled in my guest chair,
rubbing her face with her good hand like she was trying to wash away the
exhaustion. When she looked up again, her eyes were focused and she had
herself under tight control. I knew it was tight because she actually
sounded pleasant when she spoke to Jerry again, although her knuckles were
pale where her hand gripped the arm of the chair.

"Mr. Riggins, I think you have enough pain and suffering to make a good
story, and I'm sure Emma will talk with you later. Why don't you go eat
some hospital food."

"I didn't know you hated me *that* much. But I'm a friend of Emma's. I
think I'll wait right here as long as she doesn't mind." I thought for a
second she was going to help his dentist make some quick money, but she
got herself under control and looked over at me.

"All right. You are going to need to talk to the D.A. And I want you to
talk to me, now. I need to know everything that went on in that
basement." She glared past me at Jerry in a final attempt to get him to
leave. I wasn't about to get caught in the middle, so I went to get a
glass of water from the bathroom, feeling my skin creep like I was dodging
a bullet. When I had my glass and had settled on my bed, both of them
seemed willing to settle in opposite corners of the room, although Scully
still shot toxic glares, which Jerry let bounce off his teflon. Just as
well, I couldn't see being able to really budge either one of them.

"What did Kane say, Emma?" Scully sat back, letting her head fall back
against the wall behind the chair, but I could see the gleam of her eyes
beneath her lashes.

I took a deep breath and started, letting the scene play in my mind again,
trying to stay calm and far away from it as though it were a movie. "They
were yelling at each other before I ever got there, Scully. I have no
idea what Kane was saying then, it wasn't really all that clear.
Mulder, well, when I got there he didn't have his gun, and his hand was
hurt. Again. And Kane was between him and the door. Whatever they'd
been talking about, whatever had happened, Mulder was already starting to
panic I think. Kane had him back in that corner, and he couldn't get out
past the fire. He tried to talk with him at first, tried to talk him into
leaving the house before it was too late. But he kept repeating himself,
and when Kane started telling him he'd burn, he really started to, well,
kind of fall apart. Kane told him he'd burn for what he'd done.

"Kane . . .This is hard, Scully. He didn't make a lot of sense to me, and
I was so scared." I took a couple hard breaths, pulled my robe tight
around me. Scully was leaning forward in her chair, elbow grounded on her
knee and hand, thumb under her chin. Her hurt arm was held tight to her
side, where the bandages wouldn't bind. It probably hurt her burned
shoulder to move that much, but she had other things on her mind now.

"Kane talked about his sister. He accused Mulder of having murdered her
and dumping her body in the bay, or hiding it somewhere, except he kept
saying she wasn't Mulder's sister, too. He talked about her and about his
own father and brother and everyone like they weren't who they were, like
they weren't even human. He kept saying they were bad ones, and not real,
and that he had to find the real ones and so did Mulder. But that Mulder
had stopped looking." I got up and got another glass of water out of the
bathroom, relieved to be able to step away from her. I was trying to
remember words and nothing else, and trying to make sense of words that
only a madman could understand. When I settled back on my bed she hadn't
moved.

"Scully, he kept saying that Mulder had lied about Samantha being
kidnapped. It sounded like he was saying Fox had been kidnapped by
someone who told him what to do but that he forgot, or lied, or wouldn't
do it. I guess, maybe, maybe he was saying that aliens took Mulder.
Because he said it was the same ones who took Kane, himself, and it didn't
sound like he was talking about people. It sounds pretty crazy, I know .
. ." Hell, I'd seen what I was sure were aliens and Kane's words sounded
crazy to me. I looked up at Scully, expecting total skepticism.

But she was watching me, working through it, and shook her head very
slowly. "No, I mean, it sounds strange. But it makes a kind of sense.
What else did he say?" Her voice had a hoarse, painful note to it, like
her throat had gone tight on her. She had wrapped her good arm over her
belly now, hand gripping the cloth of her shirt, and was watching me with
a fixed, intent look. The hand of her burned arm was balled into a tiny,
strained fist. I think her hands had been shaking before.

Jerry rustled behind me, but she didn't have any attention to spare for
him now. She watched me and waited. "I don't know what else to tell you,
Scully. Kane kept telling him he'd murdered his sister, but he'd killed
the wrong one. And Mulder was trying to tell him . . . I don't know,
that he'd help him find his father and brother, that was at first. Then
it was like he couldn't even think beyond where he was and what Kane was
saying. When Kane started screaming that Mulder'd murdered Samantha. . .
" I was sure Scully flinched. Her face had gone pale, and she'd shut her
eyes. I thought the lashes looked darker, like they were wet. "Kane was
screaming that Mulder was lying, that he'd killed Samantha, and that he'd
betrayed whoever 'they' were, and that he'd burn for it.

And Mulder really fell apart then. I mean, Kane had him back in the
corner, and it was burning and the ceiling was on fire, and it was coming
back towards them and Kane kept driving Mulder into the fire. Every time
he tried to get past him out of that corner, Kane'd slash at him and cut
him, and force him back further. And Mulder just came apart at the
seams. He started screaming back at Kane, begging to get out of there,
but neither of them were making any sense by then. And the whole wall was
burning. That corner was full of fire, and Mulder couldn't get out of
it." Scully had dropped her head, let her hair hide her face, body curled
around some nameless feeling. I don't think she was crying, but she
didn't want us to see her face. Jerry held very, very still. I think he
was finally feeling ill. I had thought I was going to fall apart again,
but I just felt numb and exhausted now.

"The fire finally started to drop from the ceiling, Scully. And Kane was
screaming that Mulder was a liar, and I don't really recall what Mulder
was saying, only that he was screaming back and it didn't make a lot of
sense. He just, I don't know, rushed Kane. I don't think he got
stabbed. I think he took Kane a little by surprise. But the bastard got
hold of him and tried to shove him into the fire, where it was really bad,
and, well . . ." Oh god. Take big, deep breaths, get a sip of your
water. "And I really didn't think about it then. I just ran and got a
can from the room bahind me, a paint can. It was heavy and I remember how
it sloshed." I sniffled. "Isn't that stupid? I remember how it sloshed,
and the wire was hurting my hand, but I swung it and hit Kane with it a
couple of times, and he dropped Fox, and that's when he cut me." I let my
hand trace the bandages over the gash across my ribs. He'd cut against
the ribs. The knife had bounced. I remembered feeling it bounce. Knew
if he'd cut with the ribs, likely he would have sliced open my lung.

"And I was so mad. He'd cut me and I was so furious to even be there,
that he'd done all this . . . I hit him again, and he fell over Mulder,
and the wall fell on him, on his legs, and he was burning. I could smell
him burning. It was with all the smoke and the other smells." I
swallowed, my voice choked in my throat, trying to get it under control
before I gagged. Jerry had moved up and was touching my shoulder again,
my friend, Jerry, not the reporter Jerry. At least, I wanted to think so.

Scully was still bent over her arms, hair around her face, rocking just
the slightest little bit. I'd seen what her partner meant to her, how
hard it was to let anyone else go after him, even when she knew she
couldn't do the job. This had to be torture, wondering what she could
have done that I didn't. I finally got my stomach to settle, got the
memory to go back to the place in my brain where the nightmares live. Let
my voice go flat and just read out the facts of the rest of it.

"Kane had got hold of Mulder's ankle and he tried to pull himself out of
the fire. Mulder was kicking him and he was using Fox's leg like a rope,
hand over hand, until he could grab the lapels of Fox's coat. I had
grabbed Fox and was trying to pull him away, but with Kane hanging on to
his legs he was too heavy and I couldn't. Kane pulled himself out by
grabbing Mulder, and then me. He nearly pulled Mulder back into the fire
right then, but Fox finally just curled up into a ball. That's when Kane
really got hold of me, and then there was cool air, and then the fire fell
in on us. It all went black then. I don't remember what happened after
that." I stopped, just stopped. What else could I say? Jerry had told
me what we were like when they carried us out, but I didn't remember it.

I glanced back at him now. His face was pale and greenish under his olive
color, and his eyes looked bright. I wanted to ask him if he understood
now, or wanted to hit him because he hadn't understood before. He looked
away, and I heard Scully get up out of the chair.

"Thank you, Emma. You've told me what I needed to know. I . . . I'll
come by later and tell you how he's doing." Her voice was tight and flat,
and I think she needed to keep it that way. If she was anything like me,
she wanted to burst into tears and cry herself out. That's how I sounded
when I couldn't let myself go. I moved from under Jerry's hand, caught
her at the door.

"Scully, I'm really, really sorry. I wouldn't have hurt him. I wish I'd
known. I didn't know." Her eyes looked too bright, and her pale face
made the circles stand out. Even her lips were pale, now.

"I know. I just, I think you should stay away until he's feeling better.
I'll tell you how he's doing." She tightened her mouth, got a harder hold
of herself. "You're going to have to talk to the D.A. It may help to
write all this down." Another sharp, painful glare at Jerry. "And the
press have been trying to get up here for interviews, for ratings, before
the story gets *old*." You could hear the venom in it. "The hospital
won't let them near here, for insurance or security or whatever other
reasons they might have. If they did *I'd* call and get guards to keep
off them ward. None of us needs those vultures now. You maybe should
know about them. If you get coffee downstairs they'll probably try to mob
you." She didn't even need to glare at Jerry. That was about as subtle
as the Nagasaki bomb. I let her leave and settled on my bed, and felt
sick.

Jerry stood at the window. For once he didn't take any notes.

_________________

cont

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======

From: livengoo@tiac.net
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Corpse 18/?
Date: 29 Jun 1995 03:34:37 GMT

Corpse 18/?

And now, back to our previously scheduled program -

Okay. Obligatory disclaimer time, bow down and thanks to Chris Carter and
Ten-Thirteen for such nifty characters as Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and
stuff like the X-Files. Used without permission, but also without profit
and I had a whole lotta fun writing this! I love email, especially those
threats. Current hot threats are the guy who's explained spinal tap
techniques, and the couple threatening to let their rottweilers drool me
to death. Heh!

Special thanks to Rodent for editing, Amperage for psych advice, LindaJ
and Mo for medical advice and cool machines, and Sean for all around
reviews on the hoof.
Goo
______________________________
I wasn't sure which was worse, having my own nightmares, or listening to
Mulder's. Oh, his door was closed, had been since lights out, but those
doors aren't sound proof and when you're lying in the dark, all alone in
the quiet, you hear things. You hear sobs, and voices, distress and
comfort. You hear fear.

Had he killed his sister? Jerry said they'd never found a trace of her.
She'd vanished into thin air. Could a twelve year old boy murder an eight
year old, hide her body, come back and lapse into catatonia with never a
sign of what had happened?

After Scully left, Jerry had stayed a long, long time. He'd made me go
over it again and again and again, but never took a note. Never loaded a
tape. It was like when the cops made me go over Kane's attack on me, but
it still hurt even hours later. Just not as bad, not as terrible.
Something I could tell without puking, without rocking. And finally I
asked him more about Mulder, asked for some of what he knew. He was
keeping secrets, he always had. But he told me about Sam, and the way
she'd disappeared. The police did look into Fox, but his feet had been
clean, no prints around his house, no construction nearby, no marks on the
packed sand or witnesses or anything that could have pointed to the boy.
Jerry didn't think he'd ever realized. By the time Fox was up and
functioning the police had decided he could not have done it unless he'd
planned it long in advance, and no one thought twelve year old Fox Mulder
capable of cold-blooded, premeditated murder.

No one but Kane. Jerry said Mulder didn't know what had happened to his
sister, that he'd remembered her abduction only under hypnotic regression
therapy. No one had ever been abducted by the lights outside our town,
and all our missing time was pretty well accounted for by Jim Beam or Jose
Cuervo, so I found it all hard to swallow. Jerry finally just fell back
on Mulder's own investigations, on the strange things he'd run across and
his contention that no other explanation fit the facts. I could tell
Jerry was willing to give Mulder the benefit of the doubt on this one.
The first time Jer had seen our lights he'd been visiting us and had
driven out and there they'd been. I gathered he'd spent the night in his
car, too stunned to drive back, and I saw the same kind of amazed
acceptance now, while he talked about the X-Files. Whatever he'd learned,
it was enough to convince him that Mulder wasn't crazy, no matter what
else he was. At least, I hoped he still wasn't crazy.

Jerry had finally left, and I'd eaten my dinner and watched shows I
couldn't remember. I fell asleep at lights out, but didn't stay that
way. The flames were waiting for me in the night, and Kane's voice
hissing poison, and Scully running into the fire after her partner. And I
was trying to stop it all. When I saw the two of them go up in flames I
woke, sweating and shaking. And now I was lying here. I didn't notice it
at first, but gradually started hearing noises past the faint clatter of
the nurse's station and beeps from monitors in some of the rooms. I heard
other screams, other nightmares. Most of them died away quickly. One
voice went on, sinking to sobs, finally going quiet. And it took a long,
long time to go back to sleep.

_______________________

They kept me busy the next day. The head of psychiatry dropped by after
breakfast. He'd already been to see the feds and was touching all the
bases. I was surprised that such a busy doctor would come to see me,
until it occurred to me that in a place that could only charitably be
called a city, this was the most exciting thing in ages. This even beat
interviews with trailer trash after Buck's Trailer Heaven got hit by a
tornado.

It was really refreshingly pleasant to talk with him. He didn't go asking
if I was trying to 'resolve frustrated maternal urges,' aroused by Fox
Mulder or Dana Scully or any other stupid Cosmo pop psych. After having
my mom calling every day and dropping by and using her women's mags
masters in psych this guy was a relief. We talked about what had
happened, about Kane breaking into my house, and what I thought of Scully,
of Mulder. And we talked about the fire. He told me I had done the right
things, done the very best I could. He said he couldn't have done so
well, was really amazed by what I'd done. We'd be talking again, at least
that's what he said.

I was glad I'd spoken with him, because I really needed every bit of peace
of mind I could get when the federal prosecutor came to interview me, and
had the FBI local office person, whatever they call him, along. I got
dressed, thankful Mom had brought me clothes, because these people made me
feel very nervous. We spent hours going over the same stuff, over and
over. Thank god I'd done this with Jerry and Scully the day before. Not
that these people were ever mean or hostile or rude. They were just
clinical and they asked for details I hadn't realized I'd seen. I'd never
been on the other side of this table. Even though I had a good idea what
to expect, it was exhausting and stressful.

By the time they cut me loose I just went back to my room and crashed.
Slept clear to dinner. After the last couple days that was just as well.
My back itched and stung and hurt, but it was healing cleanly. The
doctors were pleased. They said I'd have only a few faint scars, and that
I was truly lucky. And after dinner Scully came down and visited.

"Hi, I heard you got grilled today."

"Yeah, I hope Jerry didn't come by and play pit bull of the public good
while I wasn't here to muzzle him."

Scully stared at me, then laughed. It started as a little whicker that
whistled in her nose, but rapidly grew into wracking hilarity that
actually had me worried for her. I ran and got my old standby, the water
glass, and wondered if I needed a nurse, but it sounded like just a really
deep, relieved, belly laugh. She finally slowed down and took the water,
wiping tears off her face and panting for air.

"Oh god, oh Emma. Thanks, but I can deal with Jerry. It's you with your
big mouth that's the problem." She snurfled and gulped her water down,
and looked up at me. I could see my expression almost set her off again,
but she got hold of it this time. "I'm sorry Emma, but it's true. You
have this gift for saying exactly the wrong thing. Jerry knows what he's
doing, and I can see it coming, but you . . . You mean well and you're
smart enough, and you get started and all of a sudden, !BOOM!, you drop
this bomb that I couldn't see coming and all hell breaks loose." She
leaned over and grabbed a tissue from the box by my bed, blew her nose.

"Ahhh, I don't know quite, er . . ." I did know. I wanted to yell at her
or go cry or whatever, but she wasn't done yet.

"Listen Emma, you really have a gift. Not just the other day . . .you
were tired and I could see you didn't mean to hurt Mulder, that you were
horrified. But do you remember at the breakfast table, and the computer
and, well, just about once a day minimum. You drop a buzz bomb. I bet
it's great in discovery hearings. If that instinct for hot spots is
always in gear you must really be hell on wheels at finding things your
opponent wants to hide, but Mulder and I aren't used to that. He'd
probably make you an X-File. Paranormal ability to totally say whatever
will get to somebody." She finished the water, and grinned at me to take
the sting out of it. I didn't see quite so much hilarity in it, but she
may have had a point.

"Thank you, Agent Scully. So nice to know you trust me to put my foot in
my mouth."

"I'm sorry Emma. It's just when you said that about Jerry, and he's not a
risk. I don't like having him around. I'd be lying if I said I did. But
he comes with you, and you've helped out so much, and, well, Mulder likes
you. Hell, I like you, but I'm afraid to let you in a room with him right
now. I'd have to write a list of forbidden topics, and somehow I'm sure
you could find a new one."

Okay, I was a big girl. So Scully was going to sit there and insult me.
Lawyers are used to that sort of thing. "How is Mulder? I heard him last
night again."

She sobered fast, but she didn't have that terrible, locked up tension
about her anymore and that was good. Maybe if it did her that much good,
I could afford to take a few nasty shots.

"Well, he's back out of the sedatives again. And he's responding to us,
to me definitely, and he's pretty much lucid, just really, really tired."
She gave me a suspicious look, "and I don't want this direct on the
pipeline to Rigg and whatever rag he's going to string this debacle to."

I could have tried to defend Jerry's honor, she might, might, have
believed me, but I didn't necessarily have a lot more faith in it than she
did. I settled for the girl scout's oath and a promise on my passing bar
exam.

"I was really worried, Scully. I *am* really worried. The fire was so
awful, and yesterday . . ." Scully must have seen I meant it. She sighed
and nodded.

"Yeah, it's pretty scary. We've been through some really bad stuff
together," a jaundiced eye, "which I'm certain you know a little about.
But he's tough. He gets over these things."

I hesitated, then plunged in. "Jerry told me about Louisiana and Oklahoma
you know." A nod. "Were they this bad?"

"Worse in a lot of ways. Don't worry Emma. He'll be fine. I may even
let you go visit without gagging you in a day or two, he's that good."
She grinned at me, handed back my glass and got up to go.

"Scully." She paused at the door. "Thanks. I mean, for coming down
tonight, and, well . . ." She nodded to me.

"Good night, Emma."

_____________________

Special Agent Fox Mulder might well have had nightmares that night, but I
was a little too busy to pay attention. I'd been feeling lousy all day,
but that seemed natural after nearly being murdered by a deranged killer.
The nurses took my usual whining with good humor, and brought me chocolate
pudding instead of the dreaded pineapple upside down mystery stuff they
were serving that night. I was scheduled to be released in the morning,
and they were feeling pretty benevolent.

I sat back and tried to enjoy my last evening inside, bathed in the
faintly violet light of the fluorescents over my bed. I knew they used
fluorescents because they were cheap, but it was beginning to seem that
they were just intended to put the sick, dead and healthy on an equal
footing, since everyone looked ghastly under them. Tomorrow I'd be going
back to sunlight, and table lamps, and normal life that didn't have FBI
agents or killers or bodies strewn around. Back to home, and work, and
leases for strip malls. The idea of returning to normality should have
thrilled me, but instead I felt abandoned, and ill.

Abandoned I don't know about, but somewhere in the middle of the night I
awoke, curled around coughs that rattled my lungs in my chest, and a fever
that had soaked the rough, hospital sheets under my cheek. Chills shook
me, even with blankets pulled up around my shoulders, and the burns on my
back pulsed in time to the pain in my head. If Mulder was screaming down
the hall, it was just one more misery to add to the catalogue. I didn't
want to move, moving would let colder air under my blankets, so I just lay
there and wished I was unconscious. I guess a nurse heard me coughing,
because after forever the lights went on and someone was reaching over my
back to feel my forehead.

And all kinds of hell broke loose after that, from my point of view. Her
feet took off and then someone was rolling me onto my back. Needle sticks
in my arms, swabs down my throat, and I was listening to my teacher asking
what I did on my summer vacation. Okay, teach, listen to this . . .

People were talking over my head, and it clashed oddly with my teacher's
voice, but I couldn't see my teacher there. And suddenly my teacher was
gone, but Kane was there and I started screaming at them to take him away,
but my voice was hoarse again because I'd been crying, and I started to
cough and my lungs had burned up and it was so hot, so hot. I kicked off
the covers before they could start to burn and begged them to find Mulder
or Scully before the building burned, and was Frank Carson still down
there? And did they get Tommy Dalbert out? I was afraid Tommy was dead,
and sometimes I knew he was dead, and sometimes somebody else was dead.

When daylight came it hurt my eyes, and I had made them close the
curtains. They'd given me something that made the coughs calmer, made me
sleepy, like Mulder. I giggled and sweated and they gave me things with
names I couldn't pronounce. They kept talking to me, tried to tell me
about staf-il-o-kokkus o-ree-us or something or other, and make me take
the drugs they had. I took the pills and they gave me the shots, but I
had to explain I'd been to law school, not medical school, and I couldn't
remember about staff-cocked-up oreos or whatever. And then they let me
sleep for a while.

Sometimes Jerry was there, and once Mom was there. And then Scully was
there, and I think Mulder was with her. He sounded sleepy and tired, but
he was using whole sentences so he must have been better. I kept trying
to tell him how sorry I was and how bad I felt, but I really wanted to
tell him this was all his fault, and I certainly hoped he felt guilty
about me being sick. And maybe I did tell him and maybe I didn't, but he
didn't talk to me after that. I shouldn't have said those things, because
Kane did talk to me, and if Mulder wasn't talking to me anymore Kane
wouldn't have a reason not to kill me. I told Scully that but she said I
shouldn't worry, that I was safe and needed to get well. And she and
Jerry were talking now, so I guess Jerry had flirted his way out of
trouble again, but he was asking her about the staff-cocked-up stuff and I
wanted to follow it, but couldn't. It must have made good copy, because
he listened without interrupting.

And I tried to tell them about things, about how my house wasn't mine
anymore. The strangers didn't listen, but Jerry did. I didn't tell Mom.
She'd never understand. But when Scully was there once I told her . . .
It was her fault, after all, hers and Mulder's. I told them about the
night they'd come to my house, and how it wasn't mine after that. I
wanted to know what she'd done with it, but she said she didn't know. And
Mulder came back, and I asked him, but he didn't know. And sometimes I
slept and sometimes I didn't, and sometimes I knew that not everything I'd
seen was real, though I couldn't have told you which was which.

Pneumonia. Two days later, and I was puking and shitting like mad from
whatever deeply nasty antibiotic they were mainlining into me. It took
that long for me to be able to follow what the doctors said past the pain
in my head, and my lungs, and my back. They talked about resistant
bacteria and stuff like Legionnaire's disease. Something about muppets
and Jim Henson, but I was so tired, I didn't want to keep track of it. It
all sounded like an X-File to me, and I wanted to go ask Mulder if the
government was experimenting on us, or aliens had invented this stuff.
Scully dropped by that afternoon, and this time I knew it really was her.
She said we'd invented this one ourselves, and aliens had nothing to do
with it. I wasn't really comforted by that thought, though I was happier
when she said her partner was feeling better, and had asked about me. She
didn't say whether he had nightmares though, and she still looked tired.

_________________

The sun glowed in the little hairs on Jerry's arms, and struck rusty red
highlights off his hair, where he sat on the window ledge. His head was
bent, fingers flipping through the mail he'd brought, sorting my letters
from his.

"Sorry about this, Emma. They got all mixed up in my briefcase."

"It's not a problem, Jerry. Did Ed McMahon write me yet?" He looked up
and smiled, although I doubted he could really see me. My half of the
room was in soft violet shadows despite reflections from the blinding
light that spilled over him.

"You sound a lot better today." He hopped down, leather soles squeaking
on linoleum. When he stepped out of the light he paused, blinked,
probably couldn't see anything but spots.

I grinned, though I knew he couldn't see it. "You're such a liar,
Riggins. I still sound like a frog." Mail, days and days worth. Jerry
went back to his perch in the sun, reading his own mail, cheerfully
explaining how he'd wrecked my reputation.

"You know your neighbor is really curious."

"Yeah?"

"She wondered what you were possibly doing with two good looking men
hanging around." I could hear the vain grin in his voice. "And why you
didn't introduce her to Agent Mulder or to me. She did thank you for
letting her meet some nice firemen, however."

"Whuh?" I looked up at him, totally baffled. I had to squint to see him.

"Yeah, when your smoke alarm went off. Seems you tried to destroy a loaf
of garlic bread while you and the fibbies went off on hair-raising
adventures. I bet James Bond never left the oven on when he went off to
save England."

"Oh god, that's right." I recalled putting the bread in the oven, years
and years, eons ago. Just before Kane walked out of my basement.

"No, he just ordered carry-out." Christ, I nearly jumped out of my skin,
and I don't think Jerry was much better. We both nearly dislocated our
necks, snapping around to look at the door, where Fox Mulder was checking
both ways just before he stepped in and found the chair hardest to see
from the hall. "You order in pizza. It's got enough preservatives to
keep it edible while you're out of town, but it's low maintenance."

I swallowed. It was about the most I could manage. He fidgeted until he
found a passable position in the chair, then studied both of us back.

"Where's your keeper, Spooky? I thought Scully or one of the nurses was
with you all the time." From the tone of Jerry's voice, I got the feeling
he'd tried to get in to see Mulder in the last few days, and hadn't been
well received. However that might have been, Fox gave him this
kind of sardonic grin.

"I jumped the fence. They're going to want me to spend twenty minutes
puffing their peace pipe, and eat enough pills to choke Timothy Leary. I
figured this would be the last place they'd look for me."

"You may be right." Jerry had come back into the shade, and was watching
him very, very closely. Mulder leaned back and crossed his arms, looking
more at ease than anyone I'd ever seen in a hospital who wasn't a doctor.
Jerry finally grinned, and turned to fish in his briefcase. "After I met
your partner, I picked up a couple things for the two of you. Ah, yes."
He came up with two wrapped packages, took them over to my other visitor.

Mulder looked like he was trying to decide between curiosity and
trepidation, but he took them. Hefted the thicker one and looked at
Jerry.

"_The Hot Zone_. It seemed appropriate for Dr. Scully."

Mulder snorted and started shredding the wrapping off his thin, flat box.
Came up with a conspicuously tasteful tie, and what looked like a
monograph on buying neckwear. For a moment I thought he'd gone into
another asthma attack, but finally decided he was laughing more than he
was choking. "I'm not sure which of these Scully will thank you for
more. I know she wants to get a collar and a bell for Emma."

I pulled myself up against my pillows, and wished my hair was clean.
Jerry settled cross legged on the foot of my bed, while Mulder stretched
his legs out and looked expectantly up at us. "Go on, you're trying to
decide how to ask questions without having me go break your mirror, aren't
you?"

"You have a sick sense of humor. That was not funny at all. You nearly
scared me shitless." Mulder just grinned at me, manic as hell. I figured
being out from under direct supervision after all those days probably felt
like a jail break to him. He had to work to catch his breath every time
he started laughing, and his color was way too pale, but his eyes were
clear and it was good to see him with some kind of expression on his face
again.

"Are you sure you're okay? I mean, you looked pretty bad last time the
two of us saw you . . ." Jerry was leaning forward, and he wore that
concerned expression I knew he'd practiced in the mirror for years until
he got it just, exactly, precisely right. From the look on his face, Fox
wasn't any more convinced by it than I was. "I'd hate for you to have
trouble. I can help you get back to your room."

"That's all right, Mr. Riggins. . . "

"Jerry."

"Mr. Riggins. When I want to go back I'll go back. For now I'll just
stay, unless you have some objection?" He looked at both of us. My main
objection was that I was pretty sure Scully would murder me when she
finally found him, but I had a feeling that would not persuade him.
Jerry, of course, was delighted to have such a scrumptious opportunity.

"So, um. . . " God, talking to him was going to be like walking in a mine
field. "You heard I burned a loaf of bread?" Brilliant, Emma. Mine
field? Well, maybe I could bore him back down to his own room. I really
had no desire to have Fox Mulder go out of his head in my room, and seize
up or whatever it was he'd done. I caught myself watching his hands for
those tremors he'd had when I'd visited him. No sign of them, but now
that I was really looking at him his eyes were a little too bright, and he
still had trouble getting air. I could hear him faintly, just a little
gasp every so often. It made my pulse lurch each time I heard it.

"So, what's this peace pipe thing?" I congratulated myself on finding a
safe topic that wasn't on the level of children's television. Mulder
pulled a face that would have been at home on a kid.

"Alupenth. They get me in there and make me suck Alupenth down for twenty
minutes, and then sit there watching me and waiting for me to get high as
a kite. What do they have you on, Emma?" He levered himself back onto
his feet to grab my charts, glanced through them like someone entirely too
familiar with hospitals for his own good. Jerry watched him fascinated.
I think he was waiting for him to start raving.

"They're not giving you any of the good stuff," Mulder wheezed. He
flipped the chart shut with a annoyed-sounding clatter and dropped it in
the little basket on the foot of my bed. A quick scan out the door to
make sure the nurses weren't on his trail yet, then he settled back into
his chair. "They had me on something called Theophalin until yesterday."

"Yeah? Why not now?" Jerry's intrigued question cut me off. Comparing
meds might have been Mulder's notion of small talk, but I hadn't been in a
hospital since I was eight. The names of drugs and numbers and all were
making me really glad I'd gone to law school instead, and I wished the two
of them would shut up about this stuff.

"Tachycardia. They keep dropping stuff into you hoping it'll help, until
they poison you and then they start eliminating crap one med at a time."

"Look, Mulder. These doctors go to medical school and everything. I'm
sure they know more than we do about all this." Jerry and Mulder both
looked at me like I'd just said Santa Clause existed. "I'm sorry, but I
don't want to hear about what you think of your medicine, or my medicine.
I just want to get well and get out of here." He nodded at that. I could
see he was bored, and hated being stuck in County General.

"Yeah, I tried to check out this morning, but Scully threatened me. They
want me in here a few more days." I groaned in sympathy.

"Me too. They keep telling me 'you really scared us dear, nasty
pneumonia, dear, can't let you go home just yet.'" I sighed. With my
gummy chest I couldn't even do the annoying-nurse voices right. But
Mulder was grinning, while Jer watched us like we'd *both* gone round the
bend.

"Yeah, and then they come in for that five a.m. blood work, 'just sting a
minute, dear.' Sting, my ass, they had to dig around to get the vein, and
telling me it's just like a mosquito bite." He was displaying an arm full
of bandages. He pointed out a patch of skin with a really ugly bruise,
shaking his head in disgust. I showed him my war wounds, and we compared
vicious nurse stories. He claimed they threatened to sit on him to get
him to keep wearing that mask, and take stuff that made the room spin on
him. I told him all about my staff-cocked-up and he laughed and wheezed
and choked until Jerry started looking alarmed again. Finally he settled
back in the chair, and just looked wiped out.

"Yeah. If I never see another hospital it won't be too soon." His eyes
were drifting shut, but he fought himself back awake. Glared at us for no
real reason I could make out and tossed me one of the land mines I'd been
dancing around. "You two have some kind of notes on what happened with.
. . with Kane. I know you do. Don't try to lie about it."

Jerry's 'who, me?' expression was as believable as a campaign speech, and
I must have just looked horrified because that's certainly how I felt.
The blood was chilling in my veins as I imagined him going into
respiratory arrest *right here* and Scully's face.

"C'mon, Emma. I'm bored! They won't let me off the floor for anything
but a few tests. No one will tell me anything. Scully won't let me get
near my notes, and I hate daytime TV. They don't even have ESPN in this
dump. I'm going to be humming the Barney song if I don't get something to
work with, soon." He sounded personally offended.

"I'd go down and talk to Kane, but the ward bosses stopped me before I got
to the elevator and threatened to sedate me. Let me have your notes,
c'mon." He shifted focus to Jerry. "I bet what you've got is pretty
good. I've read some of your columns." Jerry looked nervous. I don't
think the idea of Mulder knowing much about him appealed to him. "All I
want is a copy of your notes, Riggins." He smiled widely. "And I protect
my sources."

"I don't know about that, Agent Mulder. I mean, you are under doctor's
orders, and, um . . ." God, he even had Jerry off balance, now. I hadn't
thought anyone could do that. Mulder was leaning forward, elbows on
knees, trying not to wheeze at all and watching Jerry the way a mongoose
watches a cobra. I got to play Rikki Tikki Tavi, and would have been much
happier right then without either pest in my room.

"You think I'm going to flake if I read your notes, Rigg? Give me more
credit. You aren't THAT good a writer."

"Ah, your partner . . ."

"Already thinks you're scum, so you don't have a lot to lose. Not to
mention I have no intention of sharing this with her at this point."
Jerry fidgeted.

"I just can't do that, Mr. Mulder." Mister? God, Jerry must be flustered
if he had to play title games to get any advantage.

"Agent or Doctor. PhD, Oxford, as I'm sure you know. I'm not going to do
anything awful with those notes, Rigg. I just want to look over the
closest thing they'll let me have to this guy's testimony. Look, I'll
even say 'please.' They need to know how he's wired to put together their
best case, but no one will let me near the guy or anything from interviews
with him. Please, Rigg?" He wasn't begging, but he certainly was being
more polite about asking than I was used to in my brief acquaintance with
him.

And a nurse must have heard him. Because suddenly a shadow darkened my
door, and the biggest floor nurse was standing there, his arms crossed,
glaring at all of us.

"Do you come peacefully, Agent Mulder, or do we have to send in the SWAT
team?" He had the thick neck and shoulders I usually associated with high
school steroid use. He definitely looked like Fox Mulder wouldn't be any
kind of challenge. He got a scowl back from his victim.
"Agent Mulder, you really don't want me calling in Dr. Scully, do you?"

Fox sighed, held his wrists out with exaggerated resignation. "Cuff me
now, Tony. I'll come peacefully," he wheezed. Tony smiled and helped him
out of the chair, escorting him out.

"Whew. I felt the wind from that bullet." Jerry sounded relieved.

_________________
Cont.