Taking Care of Business

Date: Wed, 26 Aug 1998

TITLE: "Taking Care of Business"
AUTHORS: Jen and Lauren
EMAILS: JenR13@aol.com (Jen) and JRDG1013@aol.com (Lauren)
SPOILERS: Leonard Betts, Young at Heart
RATING: PG-13 (for some *mild* language <g>)
CLASSIFICATION: X (there is a plot... sort of.)
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully friendship/UST, MulderTorture
ARCHIVE: Yes, with author's permission, please.
SUMMARY: A dead man, a snow storm, and a sick Mulder make for an interesting
case.

DISCLAIMER: Well, we'd like to thank our moms and our make-up artists....
and, but of course, ourselves, and Madonna and Ken Starr and Henry the Eighth
(and all his wives) and you! You over there! Oh wait a minute, this isn't the
thank yous??? Right!... uh, Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter
(::bows:: we are not worrrrthy) and Ten Thirteen Productions(I made this!).
Gotta say, Chris (can I call you Chris?) we had a lot of fun with your
characters but we're ready to give them back, now. Mulder is a bit damaged,
but nothing permanent, we swear.

AUTHORS’ NOTES: Well, out of both of us Lauren had the idea to write a story
together. So we started with one little page and then went on to write 44!
We both had a lot of fun writing this story, inspired by both of our countless
visits to MulderTorture Anonymous (one of our favorite sites <g>). For this
story, we even did research for some of the medical stuff, but there is
probably a 50% chance it is not ALL medically correct. But, please don’t
write us countless letters if it isn’t!! We had fun writing this story,
mistakes and all, so we hope you enjoy reading it, mistakes and all. After
all, no one’s perfect! :-)

"T a k i n g C a r e o f B u s i n e s s"

By Jen and Lauren

Part 1
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)

A highway in the middle of Oregon
11:52 p.m.

Seventeen year-old Lynn Johnson sighed as she tried to ignore the noises
coming from the backseat of her car. She had gone to a party with 3 of her
friends and her 3 friends had taken the opportunity to get drunk. Lynn was
the only sober one and thus drove her 3 friends home in her mom's Lexus.

<Why do I always have to be the responsible one?> she thought as she squinted
at the pitch black road. <These roads sure are quiet at midnight.> Thank god
her parents were away for the weekend. They would kill her if they knew she
spent the night at Josh Allen's party. Josh was notoriously known for his
drinking habits, and had dispensed alcohol freely at the party. But, as Lynn
continued to stare out at the dark road, she was glad she'd declined his
offer.

Lynn turned to the backseat and was glad to see her friends had either fallen
asleep or passed out, she didn't know which. She breathed a sigh of relief.
At least they were quiet. Too quiet. The stillness of the night was getting
to Lynn and she increased her speed.

Suddenly, a noise, almost like a struggle, grabbed Lynn’s attention. Lynn
took a quick glance at her companions, but found them quiet and unfazed by the
noise. <What is that noise?> Lynn went even faster, trying to just get home,
but the noise continued.

Lynn grew puzzled and frightened. She took a deep breath and concentrated on
the road ahead of her when a bright spot of light appeared, blinding her.

"Huh?" Lynn said, aloud and climbed out of the car. Covering her eyes, she
walked toward the spot of light. Her mouth fell open and she took another
step. It was the last step she took.........

Part 1a
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)

Sarah leaned way out the window of the stopped car and blinked her gigantic
eyes several times. "Who-ah." She turned back to try to get her other
friend's attention but they were mumbling incoherently about little green men.
With a bit of an effort, Sarah convinced her blurry hand to grab hold of the
handle and she yanked the door open, falling onto the rough pavement. She
winced and rubbed a hand over her face. "Lynn?" Sarah called with
uncertainty.

A muffled affirmation greeted her.

Sarah blinked, unsure of why she was being answered. According to
her television-spent mind, Lynn should be stretched out dead across the road
at this point. "Where are ya?" She stumbled to her feet and leaned over the
side of the guard rail. The metal was cold through her T-shirt.

"Here." Lynn knew how drunk her friend was and was perfectly aware
that she wouldn't be much help in removing Lynn from her current situation.

It took a minute but Lynn freed herself from the muddy bank and
threw, first one leg, then the other, over the guard rail. She was in no mood
for friendly conversation. "C'mon."

Sarah squinted. "You went swimming."

She started up in utter disgust. "Yeah, that's it."

Lynn and Sarah (the only other lucid one of the group) sat, with steaming,
coffee stained mugs in their hands, on a tacky floral couch in Sarah's house.
The room was uneasily silent.

Sarah laid her empty mug by her feet. "So you, like, saw a guy murder a guy?
And then the bad guy threw the dead guy into the river, and you swam after
him??"

"I didn't want to go in the river."

"So the bad guy threw you in there too?"

"Yeah, guess so." Lynn sighed heavily at her friend's astounding intelligence
level.

"Whoah," Sarah murmured. "I know what you did last summer."

"Huh?"

"Nuttin'. But... one thing."

"Yeah."

"Where'd the bad guy go?"

Lynn stared out the frosted window. "I don't know." She didn't meet her
friend's intent eyes.

Part 2
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)

J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington, DC
11:58 a.m.

Dana Scully sighed as she finished typing her report. She printed it and
picked it up to inspect it. Satisfied she put it back on the desk. <Thank
god for Fridays> she thought. If things went her way she would have a case-
free weekend. But most days things didn’t go her way. This was going to be
one of those days.

She placed the report into a folder for AD Skinner to read, and looked up to
find her partner, Fox Mulder, standing in the doorway waving a folder in his
hand.

"Looks like Christmas came early for us, Scully. Skinner had this little
gift sent down extra special."

Scully dropped her folder. "Extra special?"

"Said it was right up my ally." He walked over to his desk and sat down.

"And what would this case be, Mulder? Spaceships? Aliens? Mothmen?" she
teased as she walked around to the front of his desk.

"Nah, I have to have a variety, now don’t I, Scully?"

Scully leaned forward on his desk. "Spit it out, I was hoping for a case-
free weekend."

"Sorry about that, Scully, but this case will take more than a weekend. We
have a murder to investigate." He leaned back and put his feet on his desk.
He placed the folder in front of Scully. She took it and opened it.

"I see your typical floating dead body, Mulder. Care to explain the X-File
of it?"

"It’s how the dead body got there, Scully."

"My guess is it was thrown, Mulder."

Mulder smiled. "Maybe. But we have a girl that was placed at the scene.
Lynn Johnson."

"By who?" Scully started to skim through the folders contents, while Mulder
continued to give her the lowdown.

"A passing motorist. When questioned, she seemed to grow distant. Police
reports say she was brief and didn’t talk much. The cause of death to our
corpse, according to a preliminary examination is unknown, Scully. Miss
Johnson doesn’t seem to remember much of her ordeal."

"She is probably scared out of her mind, Mulder."

"No question about that. But the one thing she did say is what classifies
this as an X-File."

"What would that be?"

"Lynn Johnson identified the killer as someone who has been dead for 23
years."

"23 years?" This was strange. Scully’s mind flashed back to the Leonard
Betts case. That man died in 3 separate occasions. She forced that thought
out of her head. She didn’t want to remember that case, especially because of
the words Betts said to her in that ambulance. She turned her attention back
to what Mulder was saying.

"Yep, 23 years. They had a composite artist draw a picture for the girl’s
descriptions. When they ran a check through the computer of all criminals
registered, they came up with a John Weston. Problem was, of course, the date
of his death, March 24, 1975. Died in prison, where he was serving time for
murder. A murder, that to this day, police do not know how he committed. If
it wasn’t for the fingerprints they found, he’d probably be a free man. Yet,
Johnson kept insisting this was the guy. Wouldn’t say otherwise."

Scully sighed again. So much for her weekend. "When do we leave?"

"This afternoon, 4 o’clock."

"I’ll go pack."

Part 2a
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)

Airport Lobby
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
11:52 p.m.

The flight had been late. His legs were cramped from sitting on a
plane for six and a half hours, his eyes hurt from reviewing the case the
entire plane ride, and worst of all, his partner was cheerful. She was
excruciatingly cheerful, she was wide awake, and she was giving him no mercy.

"C'mon Mulder, let's get going. We can still stop by the morgue and I
can do my own autopsy notes. Can't wait to get my hands on this guy... I
mean, how the hell a dead man
threw an able 6'1, middle-aged man over the side of a guard rail..... not to
mention kill him is beyond me."

"So that's what it takes to excite a pathologist," he muttered. They
were driving along the Parkway at about 70 miles an hour, and he suddenly
wanted nothing more than to go back to the motel. <I'm being realistic,> he
told himself, <it's almost... tomorrow and my partner wants to go off studying
papers on the victim in our newest crime. For once I'm the realistic one who
is ready to go to bed and be fresh for tomorrow... what's wrong with me?? I
don't _do_ realistic.>

"Mulder?"

He averted his eyes from the road and caught her worried gaze. "Yeah?"

"You awake? 'Cause I'd really like to reach the motel alive, tonight, if you
don't mind."

"No," he said. "That's fine with me."

Minutes later they pulled into the almost vacant parking lot.

"Quite a tourist attraction, this town is." Scully murmured. A sign was set
crookedly in the mud outside the motel. "Town Population: 480," it declared
proudly. "480." She laughed a little. "Check it out, Mulder, Population,
480."

He glanced at her oddly and gave a half smile. "C'mon, let's get
checked in."

Part 3
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)

Riverside Motel
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
1:30 a.m.

Scully had been cheerful the way there and cheerful all the way to the motel.
 Mulder thought. <Where’s the doubting Scully
that gives me that look that says ‘why the hell did you bring on this case’?>
He turned toward her as he pulled their rental car into the motel parking lot.
She was absorbed in her notes.

"I’m going to do the autopsy first thing tomorrow morning. I hoped to do it
tonight, but the building been long closed for the night. Don’t be surprised
if I’m gone when you get up," she added with a smile.

"Well, after that flight, I don’t know if I will get up tomorrow, let alone
get up late," he said parking the car. "Here we are. Riverside Motel." The
motel looked like it should be condemned. "Lovely, isn’t it?" Mulder
commented as he got out of the car.

But even a bad motel didn’t bring Scully’s mood down. "Maybe it’s nicer
inside. Besides we have stayed at worse."

The motel was a better inside, but not by much. The carpets were a brownish
green color, a color that reminded Mulder of puke. "Got the same nice puke
green carpets, Scully?" he shouted through a door that connected his room with
Scully’s. She peered her head in.

"Actually, I think it’s more of a mold green," she said, standing in the
doorway.

"Well, it looks like puke at 1:30 in the morning. Could look like mold at
8."

Scully smiled. "Good night, Mulder. I want to get an early start on that
autopsy tomorrow."

"You mean today." Mulder put his duffel bag on the bed.

"Whatever," Scully called over her shoulder as she closed the door. <She’s
still too damn perky> Mulder thought. He sighed as he sat on the bed. He had
a headache coming on. It was probably from that plane ride.

Riverside Motel
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
6:30 a.m.

Scully was still in a good mood as she wrote a note out to Mulder, telling
him she would be leaving to go to her autopsy. She had thought she would hate
giving up this weekend, but it wasn’t too bad so far. Even the bad flight,
motel, and cool air hadn’t dampened her spirits. And now the sun shining
through the windows had even encouraged her to walk into town, since it was
only a few blocks away.

"Now to get to the bottom of this case," she muttered to herself. Autopsies
usually found scientific explanations. But in all of her cases with Mulder
she knew that wasn’t the case. she
wondered as she quietly opened the con-joining door and taped the note to
Mulder’s side. <Hopefully something normal for a change....> she hoped as she
left her motel room.

Riverside Motel
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
8:30 a.m.

Mulder awakened to find the sunlight streaming in his eyes. It was the sign
of good weather, but it just made Mulder’s headache from last night return.
He rolled over, not wanting to get out of bed. He opened his eyes and glanced
at the clock. 8:30.

"8:30??" He shoot up in bed. He never slept that late. <Guess that flight
really got to me.> He got and reached for his head. Turning away from the
sun he dug through his bag. He quickly gave
up on his search and decided to see if Scully had left yet. He knocked on the
con-joining door and then noticed the note.

Mulder-

Got a head start on the autopsy and didn’t want to wake you. I decided to
walk into town and left you the car. Check in with me later.

-Scully

<Left me the car? We sound like a married couple> he thought, smiling to
himself. He was glad she left him the car. He decided he was going to check
out Lynn Johnson’s story, and she lived near the outskirts of town. <If you
can call this a town.> He had a feeling that there was more that she wasn’t
telling anyone. He was determined to find out what. <Now if only this damn
headache would go away> he thought and went back to searching for his Tylenol.

Medical Examiner’s Office
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
8:15 a.m.

Scully had been happy to have been able to have the office opened this early.
The town’s medical examiner had even showed her around when he let her in this
morning. He had asked her if she needed any help, and she had said no, and he
had left her on her merry little way.

Now, an hour into the autopsy, she hadn’t discovered much. In fact she was
stunned. Like the preliminary report, she too could not find any cause of
death. She thought the victim may have drowned, but death had appeared to
occur before the victim was thrown into the water. She looked at the name.
Gary Reed. A 6’ 1" man about 49, with no known medical problems. He was in
excellent shape. <How did someone manage to kill this able-bodied man?> she
wondered.

She stopped her tape recorder and checked the crime scene photos. Reed was
found on the shore of the river, by a couple of kids that had gone fishing.
Then the motorist had come forward and placed Lynn Johnson at the scene. Lynn
Johnson. No doubt she probably held a key piece to the puzzle. She would bet
a million dollars that that was where Mulder was heading.

She sighed and went back to her autopsy. <There has to be something
here....>

Part 3a
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)

The House of Lynn Johnson
9:00 a.m.

Mulder almost missed the driveway. He swerved the car abruptly and pulled
into a gravel drive that curved up to a ram-shackle house.

"Oh man," he muttered and jumped out of the car. He slammed the car door and
winced as the abrupt clash exploded in his head.

He rapped on the door three times. Footsteps echoed in the hall and a moment
later and middle-aged woman pulled open the door.

"Yes?" She wasn't especially friendly.

"Uh, yeah." Mulder realized he was sounded pretty out of it. "I'm Special
Agent Fox Mulder, with the FBI. I need to talk to Lynn Johnson."

The lady made no move to let him in the house. "She's not home. What do you
need?"

"We have to, uh, ask her some questions. We're investigating the death of
Gary Reed, of which your daughter was a witness to. Do you know a time when
she'll be home?"

The woman shrugged and looked peeved. "She doesn't tell me. I'm sure you'll
find her in town somewhere. Goodbye." There was nothing good in her goodbye
as she shut the door in his face. He winced at the pain in his head.

"Some hospitable folks, huh?" Mulder walked back to the car and pulled his
cell phone out of his pocket.

"Scully, it's me." Mulder unlocked the car and dropped into the seat. It
was frigid in the car, he wished he had left the heater on.

"Isn't that my line?" He could picture the smile crease her face. "What's
up?"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Not much, I'm in Lynn Johnson's driveway.
I was kicked out of any further investigating by her oh-so-belligerent
mother."

"What happened, Mulder?"

He sighed and stuck the key in the ignition. "Nothing, really. She said
Lynn was somewhere in town and she didn't know when she was coming back."

"Wouldn't she be at school?"

He frowned. "No, I think the kids are on their winter vacation this week."

"Hm." She was stumped. "Well think of it this way. The town's so damn
small, ‘somewhere in town’ covers an area of about 15 square feet."

A small laugh rumbled in his throat. "I guess so. I'm going to meet you at
your precious den, stay there, okay?"

"You've got the car," she said nonchalantly.

"Good point, see you in a bit."

Cruising along a country road
10:35 a.m.

"Scully, do you mind if we stop?"

She eyed him for a minute. "No, that's okay. What's the matter?"

At her okay, he had pulled over at the next gas station and was now
hunched forward over the steering wheel, rubbing the area under his eyes.

Part 4
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)

"Mulder are you all right?" Scully asked, a look of concern in her eyes.

Mulder stopped rubbing his eyes. "Guess that flight we had last night was
bumpier than I thought." He turned back to the steering wheel.

<Another one of Mulder's excuses> Scully thought, but decided not to press
any further. They had a case to solve. She just hoped that Mulder wasn't
getting sick. Though he always tended to get sick on cases. Especially the
really long ones.

Mulder started the car again and drove on, still rubbing his forehead. They
were nearing the motel when Mulder spotted two girls by the river. Even in
his present state, he recognized one of the girls immediately. It was Lynn
Johnson. He stopped the car abruptly, sending Scully forward in her seat.

"Mulder, what the hell are you doing?" she said, gripping her seat.

"Lynn Johnson is over there," he said, getting out of the car. Scully
glanced toward his direction and spotted her.

"Let's do what we are paid for, Scully." He fumbled for his badge, hoping he
won't drop it. With his headache and the all together crapy feeling he had,
he knew that was very possible.

Scully reached the girls first.

"Is one of you Lynn Johnson?' she asked and they turned around. Mulder
reached them then.

"Who wants to know?" Lynn answered back, in a very unfriendly tone.

"Guess she takes after her mother," Mulder muttered, more to himself than to
anyone else.

Scully ignored that remark and made a mental note to give Mulder a "look"
later, and continued with her questioning.

"I'm Agent Dana Scully and this is my partner, Agent Fox Mulder. We're with
the FBI. We're investigating the death of Gary Reed. We'd like to ask you
some questions."

Lynn appeared annoyed. "I already told the police anything I know." Her
friend remained silent but gave Mulder and Scully a vacant stare.

"You sure you told them everything?" Mulder asked a hint of disbelief in his
voice.

"Yeah, I did." Lynn walked toward him. She was only about 5'1", but like
Scully, she sure possessed a lot of authority. They weren't getting anywhere.
<Damn!> Mulder thought.

Scully took charge then. "A witness to murder usually has more to say.
Especially when she IDs a dead guy."

Lynn's eyes narrowed at that statement, Scully seemed to have gotten though.

"He may be dead, but that's what I saw." Lynn said, softly at first, but her
words grew with confidence with each syllable. "And I know what I saw."

"But, how was Mr. Reed killed? If you were present, you should know."

"I don't know," Lynn said, but her voice seemed like she knew more. "I just
saw him get thrown into the water. That's it." Her friend nudged her.

"I have to get going," Lynn started and ran down toward the river. Mulder
started to run after her but he stopped after a couple hundred feet. He
seemed to bend down, as if he was going to collapse. Scully rushed toward
him.

When she reached him, he looked pale and was completely out of breath. He
wobbled a bit, but stayed standing. Scully steadied him.

"Mulder?" She grabbed his wrist and took his pulse; it was racing. She
reached to feel his forehead, but he batted her hand away.

"I'm fine," Mulder mumbled, as he tried to stand up straight.

"Like hell you are. Mulder, you look you are going to pass out. You should
be checked out." Scully helped him stand up better and he could now stand up
on his own again.

"I'm fine, Scully," Mulder said again, this time more strongly. "Come on we
have a case to solve." Mulder started off slowly to the car.

Scully sighed. He could be such a pain in the ass sometimes. Scully caught
up with Mulder.

"Well, if you aren't going to listen to me, at least let me drive." Mulder
reluctantly gave her the car keys. They reached the car and got in.

On the Road
11:02 a.m.

Scully tried to kept her eyes on the road as she drove on. The nice day they
were having was disappearing before her very eyes. It had actually been sunny
in winter, but now it looked overcast like it would rain. And with these
dropping temperatures that rain would more likely be snow. Scully glanced
over at her partner. He was still rubbing his forehead. She was very
concerned. Maybe he would let her take a look at him. She had a small army
of medical supplies with her. You never knew when it came to Mulder. She kept
glancing at him.

"Scully, I'm fine. Stop it," Mulder said, getting a bit annoyed. Truth was
his headache had been joined by an all-over achy feeling and he felt like
coughing. No way he would do that in front of Scully though.

"So, what did you discover from the autopsy?" Mulder asked, changing the
subject.

"Not much," Scully answered, her eyes on the road. The motel was coming into
view. "I was unable to determine the cause of death."

"Unable?" Scully pulled the car into the parking lot.

Scully parked and pulled the keys out of the ignition. "Yes," she admitted
again. "He was dead before he hit the water, though. That I could
determine."

"We're getting somewhere then."

"Where, Mulder? We have an uncooperative girl, we seems like she's knows
more than she's telling, a dead guy with no cause of death, and a possible
murder suspect that's been dead for 23 years. That's not much." Scully got
out of the car.

"It's better then nothing," Mulder said over the car.

"Yeah whatever." Scully's good mood was fading fast.

Mulder shook his head as he watched Scully walk into her room. <Mental Note:
I need to get some Tylenol without asking Scully for it> he thought as he
walked into his room.

Riverside Motel
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
11:31 a.m.

After another review of the notes, Scully felt ready to get back to
investigating. She picked up her autopsy notes and knocked on the con-joining
door. There was no answer. <That's strange.> She knew he wasn't feeling
well and grew concerned. Finally she just opened the door. Mulder was lying
on the bed, asleep in the middle of the day. That was not like him. She took
this opportunity to feel his forehead. He was burning up!

"Damn," Scully cursed under her breath. Mulder stirred then.

"Scully?"

Scully looked at him and he opened his eyes.

"Mulder, don't tell me you are fine because that's bullshit. You need to get
to a doctor."

"No, Scully," he muttered, but knew she meant business because she didn't
curse that often.

Scully ignored his protest and left the room. "Stay put," she called out as
she left.

<That's not a problem> Mulder thought.

Scully reached the motel's check-in area.

"Excuse me, could you tell me where the nearest hospital is?" The clerk
turned around.

"Well, it's about 2 towns over. In Westford."

"How far is that?"

"It's about 45 miles. But I wouldn't get on the road now if I were you.
Some of those roads can be quite difficult and a storm is coming. Supposed to
get a foot of snow at least. You won't want to get stranded."

<Damn> Scully thought again. She looked out the window and saw a gray sky.
She could feel the temperatures drop, even though she was inside. <Damn,
damn, damn.> The snow looked like it was definitely coming.

Part 4a
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)

Riverside Motel Lobby
11:47 a.m.

Scully's gaze floated out the window. The sky was an angry shade of
gray, one which she would not normally connect with 11:45 in the morning.

She turned back to the manager. "Thank you," she muttered curtly and
walked briskly out. The sidewalk was icy under her feet and when she walked
back to the light of her motel room, she could see her shoes were close to
ruined in a woolly coat of slush.

The adjoining door between her and Mulder's room was still wide open.
Knocking briefly on the doorframe, she stepped into his room.

"Mulder?" The bed was empty, blankets twisted and strewn on the
floor. "Mulder?" She looked into the bathroom. It was empty. She threw the
shower curtain back, just to make sure (as a child, she had found her brothers
hiding behind the shower curtain in Hide and Seek more times than she wanted
to remember). Completely empty.

Fear surged through her. <Had Mulder been kidnapped??> He certainly
wouldn't put up much fight in his current condition. <Damn, I didn't even get
to take his temperature.> Scully sat on the bed, still feeling his warmth on
the cheap sheets, and stared at the empty room. Her eyes caught glance of a
small yellow paper on the door.

She hurriedly stepped across the room and pulled it off the door. A
Post-it.

Scully-
I know where Lynn Johnson is. Am gonna corner her. I brought
my gun in case her mother shows. Be back soon.
M

Scully dropped back onto the bed. <He must be shitting me,> she
seethed. She stared out at the parking lot, noted the sleet falling slickly
in the street light's glow. <Storm must be pretty bad if they've got a street
light on at noon.> Then she noticed Mulder had had the decency to leave her
the car. <Then how did he...... he must've taken a cab. Stupid, he won't be
able to find a ride home once this storm builds up.>

12:16
Basement in the former Y

Mulder stepped into a large hallway. When Scully had stormed out of his
bedroom in search for a hospital and hadn't come back after 15 minutes, he had
been worried. Pulling his winter jacket over jeans and a T-shirt, he had
stepped outside and immediately noticed the flyer.

Meet- the abandoned Y building. Basement. Discussions on DOGR and
even meet JW. Free refreshments to be served after. Call Lynn Johnson at
555-5389 if you have any questions.

Now Mulder was starting to wish he had never found the flyer. Or at least
had never followed it as a lead. Between the 20 minute ride in an unheated
taxi (the town wasn't actually big enough to drive from one place to another
in 20 minutes, it was a matter of the driver had a non-existent sense of
direction and didn't speak much English on top of it), trying to find the
abandoned YMCA in the dim light of the storm, and making his way down 6
flights of stairs to reach the basement and then finding it completely empty,
Mulder was one miserable camper. And now he was waiting in a grimy basement
for a discussion group led by Lynn Johnson.

With nothing better to do than whine, and (fortunately) no one to hear him,
Mulder leaned against the slick gym wall and slid down until he was sitting on
the dusty floor. He reviewed his current situation.

<I'm in the bowels of a building that is probably illegal to be in since it's
been empty since 1984. It's cold down here since, evidently, someone stopped
paying the oil bill after they abandoned the building. My hair is wet from
walking in the snow since the damn taxi driver couldn't find the damn Y in a
town 2 miles wide and I'm wearing nothing but jeans and a T-shirt under this
jacket. Boy, that was a smart move, Mulder. And now my partner is most likely
pissed 'cause I ran off without her.... ran off when she was about to doctor
me, too. Well, guess she missed her chance at that.>

The whole time, he had been attempting to brush the ice out of his hair.
Freezing water poured down his face and he wiped it off with his T-shirt.

"My life is a living hell," he announced to no one in particular. "I wanna
go home," his voice caught. He hunched forward, forehead resting on his knees
and a cough escaped him. Several other followed.

"Oww.." he moaned, not caring how pitiful he sounded. There was no one to
hear him anyway. This was pointless. They were never going to show.... the
meeting was probably tomorrow with his luck, anyway. Clawing the wall for
support, Mulder stood stiffly. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and
hesitated. Calling Scully would mean giving in. And he definitely didn't
want to do that.

Part 5
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)

Riverside Motel
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
12:17 p.m.

"Shit, shit," Scully mumbled as she searched Mulder's room yet again for any
sign of where he had gone. He had said he'd found Lynn. <But where did you
find her, Mulder? Where??>

"Damnit," she swore again, getting fed up. Mulder was in no condition to go
out searching a hunch. She hadn't even gotten a chance to check him over. He
could have pneumonia for all she knew. <You are such an idiot, Mulder.>

Scully sighed. She was getting nowhere. She'd have to track Mulder down
herself. <Hopefully that will be easy in this town> she hoped, but her hopes
diminished as she saw the big fat snow flakes falling. The snow was falling
fast. <Better get started> she thought, and at the last moment, grabbed her
medical bag on her way out.

Basement in the former Y
1:30 p.m.

Mulder had been sitting on the cold tile floor for the last hour. He had
picked up his cell phone may times and had considered calling Scully,
considered giving in. <Maybe I should have at least told her where I went.
No! Then she would have come out and dragged me to the nearest hospital.> He
shook his head. <Maybe Lynn is going to show. But I have this feeling....>

As if on cue, Mulder heard footsteps at that point. And voices. Two of
them, feminine.

"Thanks for getting me out of there before I said to much, Sarah," A voice
said. Mulder recognized it as Lynn Johnson's.

"No problem. I don't think you would have leaked about JW anyway. Not after
all he has done for you," another girl answered. Mulder assumed her to be
Sarah.

"What time is he coming anyway?"

"Any minute. The meeting is in the green room. This is going to be the most
important meeting yet, Sarah."

"Why's that?"

"JW has the plan set."

Mulder was intrigued. <Who is JW?> Suddenly he heard the girls footsteps
round the corner and come closer toward him. <I've got to hid but where?>
Mulder's eyes scanned the hallway and fell on a janitor's closet. He summed
all of his strength and got into it, just before Lynn and Sarah turned the
bend.

<Whew!> he thought. His thoughts turned back to the girls. He opened the door a crack and saw the girls go toward a
room at the end of the hall. Just before they entered it, Sarah turned
around.

"Lynn, did you hear something?"

Oh shit ran through Mulder's head.

Lynn shook her head. "No. Come on Sarah we have to set up the
refreshments."

"Is everyone coming?"

"I sent a flier around to everyone in the group. They should all be here."
Lynn walked into the room.

"Good," Sarah said and followed her.

<What are they up to?> Mulder wondered. Then he felt the urge to cough.
<No, not now, Goddamnit!> He muffled his cough with his coat. Mulder waited a few minutes. Nothing. They hadn't
heard. Good. Mulder creaked the door open again. He saw a line of people
walking down the hallway. He quickly closed the door. <Guess the guest are
arriving> he thought. He heard more voices.

"Down the hall, in the green room," Lynn directed. "JW has arrived."

<Arrived?> Mulder wondered. He hadn't heard any footsteps come down the hall
before the arrival of the guests.

"No, Lynn," a deep voice said. "We'll have the refreshments in the green
room. We'll have the meeting in the hallway. I need the echo." It was a
man's voice. <Could this be JW?>

"As you all know, I'm John Weston, better know as JW. Welcome to our little
meeting. I all know you have been wronged. It doesn't matter by who, it just
matters that you were hurt. Well this group is here to help you feel better.
About yourself. We can make those troubles of yours go away. Just like that.
I made my first trouble go away at 26. Of course sometimes, a fake death is
all you need to start a new life. You can all start new lives."

<Fake death? That would account for his death 23 years ago> Mulder thought,
<That explains part of it.>

"Gary Reed was a peer of mine in high school. Captain of the football team.
His favorite hobby was making my life a living hell. Of course I got my
payback." JW smiled happily.

<Everything is falling into place> Mulder thought. <Too easily though,
where's the catch?> Mulder's vision started to blur. <This is not the best
time for this. . .>

"You killed him??" someone in the crowd said uneasily.

"Yep, had to if I wanted to move on. If you don't get rid of them they will
stay with you the rest of your life. A burden you can never dump. A constant
reminder of your pain. Getting rid of them is just taking care of business.
And, of course, dead men don't do time."

Mulder tried to grasp this. He shook his head. His head was really starting
to hurt and his vision kept getting worse and worse. He blinked and saw two
door knobs in front of him. <That is not a good sign. . .> he thought.

"Why did Lynn finger you?" Another voice shouted and all of them looked at
Lynn.

"Relax, I told her to. I can't be caught. I'm dead, remember? I'll always
be dead and alive at the same time," he added, smiling wickedly.

Mulder felt like he was going to pass out any minute. He needed to steady
himself. He leaned against what he thought was a wall. It wasn't. It was a
door. And it pushed open. Mulder felt himself fall, but was powerless to
stop it. He stopped falling and opened his eyes and found himself looking up
into the face of John Weston. <Oh shit> was the last thing Mulder thought
before he succumbed to the darkness.

A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
On the Road
2:00 p.m.

The snow was getting worse. Scully couldn't see a foot past her windshield.

"Damn Mulder," she muttered. She was getting more worried by the second. He
was probably stuck in some ditch somewhere. . . <Don't think that Dana. He's
fine. He better be.>

Scully couldn't take the road anymore. She had to stop. She parked in front
of a small diner. Maybe they would know something about Lynn Johnson. No one
else sure the hell knew. She calmed herself and got out of the car and
walked toward the diner.

Part 5a
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)

2:01 p.m.
On the sidewalk outside the former Y

Rough ice grated his cheek. <This keeps getting better and better.> With a
great amount of difficulty, Mulder pushed himself off the sidewalk, the ice
scraping his palms.

He briefly assessed his position. He had been lying on a sidewalk, and was
now leaning against what felt like steps. Steps to the Y. He tried to
remember how he had ended up lying on the street outside the Y but nothing
came to him. His guess was John Weston had something to do with it.

<It could be worse,> he figured, and crammed his hands in his pockets to
attempt to keep them warm. <John Weston could've kidnapped me and I could be
stuck in a dank basement somewhere tied to a chair and gagged and no one would
ever find me and Scully would forget about me and go back to DC>

He smiled a little despite himself. <Okay, so that's going a little far.
Well, the Scully forgetting about me part isn't so unrealistic.... she was
pretty pissed when I last had the pleasure of her company. When was that?>
It felt like hours and hours ago. He didn't have the tolerance to the cold to
pull his hand out of his pocket and glance at his wrist watch.

But he was beginning to feel a little warmer, now that he wasn't lying on the
wet sidewalk, but he was also becoming more aware. His brain informed him
that he had to get back to the hotel or Scully was gonna be seriously
perturbed. She probably was already... well, a warm hotel didn't seem like
such a horrible thing to Mulder, anyway.

Problem was, there wasn't a cab in sight. Or a car or a bicycle or even
another living being. Raising his head to stare at the churning sky, he saw
snow falling freely now, and when he gazed at the bank across the street, he
could see a foot, respectively, of white piled on the slanted roof. He
lowered his head again, snowflakes stinging his eyes, he licked the area
around his mouth in an attempt to warm up a bit.

<Okay.... guess I'm walking.> He reached a hand up to steady himself on the
slick railing and, with no little trouble, stood. <C'mon, one foot in front
of the other. This can't be too hard, I remembered how to do it earlier
today.> His sneakers sank into the slush and cold seeped through his socks in
a matter of seconds. Moving ahead, he spotted a sign; he squinted to see
through the snow.

"Riverside Motel, 2 miles --->" the sign announced proudly.

<Okay.... that way.> His eyes followed the arrow and a spinning blizzard of
snow greeted him. <And I get to go through this. Today must be my lucky
day.> He took a deep breath, rubbing his chest against the pain and started
off into the snow.

2:17 p.m.
On the road in town

<How is it that I can't find my six-foot tall partner in a town this
damn small??> Scully tried to keep her thoughts on the perilously icy road.
She wasn't successful, she was too peeved at Mulder. <He's probably off
chasing aliens... again. What a moron.> She suddenly remembered the sight of
him lying on the bed, fast asleep and her mood softened a bit. <If he's been
out in this weather this whole time, he's bound to be sick... if he wasn't
already before he left.>

She drove down main street again and saw nothing. She had been throughout
the whole town now, and not a trace of Mulder. She'd been driving for what
seemed like forever.

<He's probably back at the motel smirking his head off, she thought as she
swerved the car around. You know what? That's somewhere I haven't checked in
a while. He could be right back at the motel.>

"Okaaay Mulder," she muttered to the still car. "If you beat me to the motel
I'm gonna be really really mad, got that?" She shook her head and smiled as
she headed back to the motel.

Part 6
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)

Walking on the Road
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
2:34 p.m.

Mulder blinked again as he stared at the snow piling up in front of him.
<This snow is not making my life easy.> Mulder swallowed. Damn. Guess he'd
have to add a sore throat to his list of ailments. <Scully is not going to be
happy with me, if I can end up back at the hotel. . .> He turned back toward
the snow. A sign came into his view.

"Riverside Motel 3/4 mile -----> 'Best motel in town,'" the sign read.

"If that's the best motel in town, I want to go to a new town," Mulder
mumbled as he walked in the direction of the sign. <At least I'm halfway
there> he reasoned and continued on his journey.

Riverside Motel
A non-descript town in the middle of Oregon
2:43 p.m.

Scully had finally been able to get through the snow and arrive at the hotel.
She immediately flew up toward Mulder's room and checked it again. And again.
Nothing. <Damnit Mulder. I would have even forgave you for ditching me again
if you had just been okay and in your room.> She sat on the edge of his bed.
The only thing she could do was hope he would be back. She couldn't go back
out in the snow. The storm was getting worse, having already deposited two
feet of snow on the ground. Scully tapped her fingers against the nightstand
at Mulder's bedside. She glanced down at her wet ankles. <Might as well as
change my socks.>

She walked into her room and caught site of the case folder. She picked it
up. This case just didn't make any sense to her. With the exception of being
dead, this John Weston seemed to have no "special powers." She closed the
folder. <You better have at least discovered something, Mulder. Something
worth endangering your health.>

She sat down on her bed, just trying to put her thoughts together. A half
hour went by and there was still no sign of Mulder. She got that urge to
start tapping her fingernails again when she heard the door to Mulder's room
open. She rushed in there in a flash.

Mulder stood shakily at the door. He looked worse then when Scully had seen
him last and was soaked.

"Hi Scully. Fancy meeting you here," he said with a small smile. But the
smile soon turned into a cough. Then that cough turned into several.

Scully quickly went into her "doctor mode." Before Mulder knew it, she was
pushing him toward the bed. He landed on it with a soft thud.

"I'm sorry for that Mulder, but I'm still kinda of pissed at you," she said
and then her tone softened. "Take off that wet jacket. And STAY put." She
disappeared out of the con-joining door. Mulder watched her walk out and took
that opportunity to continue coughing. <At least I reached the motel. But
Scully's lecture is still to come.> He had taken his jacket off when Scully
returned, medical supplies in tow. She put her bag on the nightstand and
rummaged through it until she produced a thermometer. She moved toward Mulder
with it.

Mulder began shaking his head. "Scully . .," he started, but she cut him
off.

"Don't get me any more pissed at you then I already am," she said, but then
her lips turned up in a smile. "Or I'll stick this somewhere else."

"Don't you have one of those ear thermometers?"

"I did, until my nephew stepped on it last week. So you'll just have to
suffer." The smile remained on her face. Mulder sighed, but opened up and let
her sick the thermometer in his mouth.

Scully brushed some hair out of his eyes as she waited for the thermometer.
She noticed Mulder's clothes were wet as well.

"Mulder, you're soaked! Where the hell did you go?"

Mulder pointed to the thermometer in his mouth, as if saying he couldn't
answer. His eyes glistened. Scully looked straight into them. They were
also a bit glazed over. She stared for a good minute, then said, "You can
take the thermometer out now."

Mulder didn't waste a second taking it out of his mouth. Scully took it from
his hand. <Damn> she thought when she looked at the reading. 101.9. She
shook her head and frowned.

Mulder knew that frown and it wasn't good. <Guess you went ahead and made
yourself pretty sick, Mulder.> Mulder sighed, his sigh quickly turning into
another cough. He sunk down into the bed. His chest hurt more with every
cough. He put his hand on his chest.

That movement did not escape the eyes of Dr. Scully. She put the thermometer
away and went rummaging through her medical bag again until she produced her
stethoscope. She rubbed the end of it, put the ends in her ears, and lifted
up Mulder's shirt and placed it on his chest.

"Damn, Scully. Why do those things always have to be so cold?" She ignored
his comment and paid attention to what she was hearing. She frowned again.

"Mulder--," she started, but was interrupted by the door.

"Better get the door, Scully," Mulder said, glad for the momentary
interruption. Scully sighed and put the stethoscope on the nightstand and
opened the door. A brown-haired girl, looking about 17, stood outside, amid
the two feet of snow.

"Are you the agent that was looking for Lynn Johnson this morning?" the girl
asked timidly.

<Who is this?> "Yes, I am. Special Agent Dana Scully of the FBI." She
turned toward Mulder. "That is Agent Mulder."

"My name is Anna Weston. I may be able to answer some of your questions."
She looked down at her feet.

<Weston? As in John Weston?> Mulder thought, hearing the conversation from
the bed. He sat straight up.

Scully opened the door more. "Come in, please." Anna walked in timidly and
saw Mulder sitting up in the bed.

"Am I interrupting something?" Anna asked.

Mulder sat up straighter in bed. "Of course not," he answered quickly, and
Scully took that opportunity to shoot him a "look."

"What can you tell us?" Mulder asked, ignoring Scully. Scully was searching
through her bag again. Mulder didn't want to think about what she was looking
for.

"Well, a lot," Anna started, "Agent Mulder, John Weston is my father."

"Your father?" Scully repeated, looking up from her bag. She sat on the edge
of Mulder's bed.

Anna nodded. "Well, not legally. But he is my father. Expect we can't
write it on the birth certificate because his 'death' was before I was born."
She paced around the room suddenly but kept talking.

"He would kill me if he knew I was going to tell you about him." She paused,
and looked up. "He's a vengeful man. One who gets back at his tormentors by
killing them, disposing of his bad memories. 'I'm just taking care of
business' he says. And now he started a 'club', as he calls it, where he
helps other kids 'dispose' of their problems, too. He says he doesn't want
them to suffer as he did." She shook her head. "He's full of bullshit."

Her last comment caught both agents by surprise. "He was sloppy his first
time, that 23 years ago, before I was born. That was why he was in prison.
But, my father is special, has a gift, so to speak. He can't die."

Scully sighed, her skepticism starting to show, but Mulder urged the girl to
continue.

"Some people have gifts. My father's is everlasting life. He discovered
when he was 17, like me, when he tried to kill himself and he couldn't
succeed. That's how he got out of prison. He strangled himself and passed
out and they thought he was dead. They wheeled him out in one of those body
bags and put it into the ambulance and left it alone for a few minutes. What
a mistake," she said sadly. "He escaped. The missing body never made the news
because the police were afraid of a scandal. And now he uses a gift like this
to get away with murder. I can't let him do that."

"And we are supposed to believe your father's immortal?" Scully said in
disbelief. Mulder shot her a "look" of his own. She turned toward Mulder.
"Sorry, Mulder, but this does not seem plausible."

"It could be, Scully. Like Barnett or Betts," Mulder argued. "We have had
cases like thi--" His sentence was cut off by his coughing. Scully's
skepticism turned into concern. She put her hand on Mulder's shoulder. He
stopped coughing and pushed it away.

"I have proof," Anna said quietly.

Scully and Mulder both looked up at her.

"Me. I have it too." She picked up a letter opener. "Want a
demonstration?"

Scully took the letter opener out of her hand. "No, that's okay."

"You have to stop him," Anna said. "Please."

"She's right, Scully. Let's go." He got out of bed. Scully pushed him back
down.

"Not you, Mulder. You're sick."

"I'm fine. We have a case to solve, Scully. Skinner is not going to like it
if we hand in an empty report." He met her concerned eyes. "Only for an
hour, Scully. We'll look for an hour. If we come up empty, we can come back
and you can doctor me all you want." His lips turned up in a smile. "And
I'll even listen."

"But, Mulder, the snow--" He cut her off.

"Will get worse soon. That's why we have to go now. I didn't get to tell
you, Scully, but when I was in the basement of the Y, I heard some things that
confirm Anna's story."

"The basement of the Y?" Scully repeated.

"Yeah, I'll tell you how I got there later. Let's go." Before Scully could
stay another word, he had weakly pulled her toward the door. <No use in
fighting Mulder. Besides, I want to hear more about this basement of the Y
thing.>

"One hour, Mulder. One hour. And I want to know what happened at the Y,"
she said.

"Don't worry, Scully," he said with a smile, "I'll tell you. Later." And
with that he stormed out toward the car.

Part 6a
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)

3:17 p.m.
In the car

Scully had been staring out the window trying to figure out where
Anna was taking them, but the fluttering snow had become more dense and all
hopes of actually seeing a road sign had disappeared. She shot a look to
Mulder in the back seat and noticed he wasn't looking so good.

She leaned back and put a hand on his knee to get his attention.
"Hey, Mulder." He didn't look up but stared straight at the seat ahead of
him. "Mulder." She said a little louder. He glanced up. "How are you
doing?" she asked, concern dripping from her gaze.

He shrugged; he didn't trust his voice.

Scully smiled. "I need a little more than that, partner."

Mulder took a minute to clear his throat. "Okay," he said hoarsely.

She wasn't going to push it. She squeezed his knee and turned back
to the road. "Are we almost there?"

Anna glanced at her briefly then returned her eyes to the road. She
hesitated and Scully could tell she was about to lie. "Yeah."

In the backseat, Mulder pulled his jacket tightly around himself,
stuffing his hands in the sleeves, and huddled in the corner of the car. He
tried to get comfortable in the cramped conditions but was having a hard time.
He pressed his cheek against the window, it was wet and freezing cold. It
felt so good against his burning skin..... seconds later he jerked away, the
icy sensation no longer comforting. A shudder wracked him and, not caring how
stupid he looked, he pulled the hood up on his jacket.

He wished desperately he had stayed at the hotel. He was shivering
uncontrollably now, even though he knew the car's heat was blasting full
force. A wave of nausea hit him full force and he squeezed his eyes shut and
prayed the ride would end soon.

4:00
In the car (still)

Scully was becoming seriously suspicious.

"Anna, where the hell are you going? We've been driving for almost an
hour and... in circles." Or at least it seemed like they were going in
circles. She glanced back at Mulder and noticed he him shaking. "Are we near
the hospital?"

She shook her head. "Hospital's the other way, sorry."

"Mm." Scully was still staring at her partner. "Stop the car a minute," she
said suddenly. Anna looked perplexed but complied.

Scully jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind her, went around and
hopped in the back seat next to Mulder. "Okay, you can go now."

Anna closed her door and shook her head, exasperated. The engine rumbled as
the car warmed up, then drove off into the snow.

Scully slid into the middle seat so she was all but sitting on his lap
in the small backseat and laid a gentle hand on his forehead. He didn't seem
to notice her presence.

"Mulder," she whispered. She ran her hand down the side of his face, sweat
meeting her fingertips.

she realized. <Stupid,
stupid, stupid. He hasn't eaten all day either...> Scully remembered the
peanuts she had pocketed on the plane ride. She grabbed her pocketbook from
the front seat and pulled out the package. Using her teeth, she pulled the bag
open. "Mulder," she said. "C'mon, you need to eat this."

His eyes slowly slid open. "What?" Gravel broke his voice.

She held the bag out to him. "Eat. You need to eat this. I hear they're a
cousin of the sunflower seed..."

He laughed a little; that turned into coughing, the phlegm rattling in his
chest. Sharp bits of shrapnel grated his throat.

"Please Mulder." Scully held out one peanut. "Just this, for now. I don't
want you passing out on me, now."

"Doesn't sound too bad," he muttered. He took the peanut from her hand, held it between three fingers and
stared distastefully for a minute.

"In the mouth," Scully reminded him.

He popped it in his mouth and grimaced at its bland taste.

"Good," she cooed softly. "Have another." She held the bag out to
him.

Mulder was still getting over the first. He shut his eyes against the
nausea and pushed Scully's hand away.

Part 7
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)

In the car (still)
4:30 p.m.

Scully glanced at her watch and then at Mulder. He was curled up into a ball
near the window. He breathing seemed a little ragged, and if she hadn't been
sure he had pneumonia after her brief examination, she was definitely sure
now. <Damn> she thought, <He needs a hospital.>

"Anna," she began, "Please tell me where the hell we are going and when we
are going to get there."

Anna looked nervously at her. "The Y, Agent Scully, if I can find it in all
of this snow."

<The Y?> "Is this the same Y Mulder was talking about earlier?" she asked,
suspicion in her voice. She had a feeling Anna was hiding something.
Something BIG.

"The one and only." Anna squinted out the window. "And speaking of it,
there is it." Sure enough, a building come into view.

Mulder lifted his head slowly. "Yeah, the same Y where I found Weston the
first time." Mulder looked at the Y in thought. Even in his weakened state,
he, like Scully, sensed something was out of place. "Anna, why are we here?"

Anna pulled the car in next to the entrance. "My father lives here, Agent
Mulder." <That's strange. Why would she just bring us, this easy to her
father? It makes no sense> Scully thought. Anna pulled the keys out of the
ignition and threw them at Scully. "Let's go," she said.

"I don't know if Mulder is in the condition to go," Scully said. Mulder took
all of his strength and sat up. "No, Scully let's do this. We're so close."
Scully's eyes grew more concerned as she watched him climb carefully out of
the car. Anna held the front door open and Scully and Mulder walked in.

Scully glanced around the hallway. She didn't trust Anna for some reason.
She held on tightly to the gun she had. <Why did I let Mulder talk me into
this?>

<What did I talk myself into this?> Mulder thought. He doubted Anna more
every second. He coughed again, sending the sound echoing down the hallways.
<God I feel like shit.> He felt like coughing phlegm on the floor, but he had
a case to solve. He didn't feel like they were getting any closer as they
descended the same stairs that Mulder, himself, had descended just a few hours
before. Anna stopped at the bottom off the stairs. Mulder got a grip on his
gun, which he had grabbed on the way out. Not a very good grip though.
Mulder knew even if something attacked them, he couldn't even hold the gun
straight enough to fire. <Thank God for Scully.>

"What is it, Anna?" Scully called out when she stopped.

"Nothing," Anna replied and kept walking. She walked down into the basement
and toward the door at the end of the room.

Mulder remembered what happened the last time he was here. He passed out.
<And I'm very close to doing the same thing again.> He shook his head and
kept walking.

Just before Anna reached the room, the door swung open. John Weston stood in
the doorway, with a smile on his face. He looked directly at Scully.

Scully looked at him carefully. She recognized this man, but she was not
sure from where. He was a man, in his late 40's, but was still attractive.
Then it hit her. Jack Larson. Sure, he was older, but it was still him. The
same man she had dated only 7 years ago. Before Mulder and the X-Files. It
was a relationship she would care not to remember.

"Nice to see you again, Dana," JW said, evenly.

"Dana?" Scully heard Mulder repeat.

Anna walked toward her father. "Good job, Anna, my little actress." Anna
looked down at the ground. She did not look proud of what she had done.
"Sorry," she mumbled.

Scully just stared at JW. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend,
Agent Mulder is it? Nice to meet you." JW smiled.

"Yeah, charmed," Mulder muttered and blinked. <Who the hell is this guy?>

"Why don't you tell Mulder here about our history, Dana? Or should I?"
Scully remained silent. "I guess I will."

JW walked around Scully and she got a stronger grip on her gun. "Dana,
shooting me would do nothing." Scully still remained silent, not giving him
the satisfaction. "Dana and I used to date. She dumped me, I was really
hurt. But you know what? I've decided to make amends this month."

Mulder had to lean against a wall. "Yeah, your own amends," Mulder mumbled.

"Got a verbal partner there, Dana." JW sighed. "Finding out you were in
town was just an extra plus this month. Of course, it was easy to get Anna to
help. She's blood after all."

Out of the corner of his eye, Mulder could see Anna inching toward him. Or
maybe he was seeing things. That was quite possible in his condition.

"Nice to see you're not bitter, Jack, or should I say, John," Scully remarked
sarcastically.

Mulder smiled at that remark. It sounded like something he might say.

"Guess you could say that," JW said. He walked over toward Scully. He
pulled out a needle. "A little something some good friend at the lab
developed for me. Can't be detected. It sure comes in handy."

<So that's how . . . I 've got to get out of here.> Scully turned around,
but JW grabbed her from behind. He had a pretty strong grip. He uncapped the
needle with his teeth.

Mulder's vision blurred. He KNEW Scully needed some help, but he could
barely see straight. <Damn it Mulder, even after all the help Scully has
given you, you have to be too damn sick to help her.> He had to do this. He
took his gun out and watched it wobble in his hand. He shook his head and
squinted to help clear his vision. He pointed the gun at the needle JW was
holding. JW still had a strong grip on Scully, but she was not making it
easy for him. Mulder sighed and took a deep breath. <Please let me be a good
shot and not a really bad one!!> Mulder squeezed the trigger. . . .

The basement of the Y
5:01 p.m.

"Bang!!!!"

The sound of Mulder's gun echoed through the hallway. Just as JW was going
to plunge the needle into Scully, Mulder's bullet knocked it right out of his
hands. Mulder looked at the gun in disbelief. He had actually fired his gun
straight!! He smiled. <My one shot of glory on this case.> As soon as the
needle clanked to the ground, Scully kicked JW in the ribs. While he down on
the ground, Scully grabbed Mulder's hand (the one still with the gun in it)
and ran like hell.

"Come on!!" she yelled dragging Mulder behind her. Mulder wheezed. "I can't
keep up!" he said. Scully just dragged him as fast as she could. They
reached the doors and Scully spotted the car, half buried in the snow. She
searched for her keys, found them and opened Mulder's door and quickly helped
him in. She put the keys in the ignition and started the car.

She tried to back it out of the snow. It wasn't budging. "Come on, come
on," She urged and finally the car went shooting out sending Scully out onto
the snow covered road. She put her foot on the gas and got both Mulder and
herself the hell out of there.

Part 8
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)

5:06 p.m.
In the car

Once Scully had driven two blocks and was certain they hadn't been followed,
she glanced over at Mulder. He was hunched forward, deathly pale in the
limited light, gasping desperately for breath.

"Mulder, Mulder." She took his arm and pulled him back so he wasn't bent
over any more. She briefly considered moving the car to the side of the road
but figured it didn't matter. Everyone else in the town was smart: safe at
home. She returned her attention to her partner who was on the verge of
passing out. "Deep breaths," she murmured. "Goooood."

His breathing began to even out. "That was--" a coughing fit wracked him.
"That was too close," he finished meekly.

She frowned and took his hand, holding it close to her eyes so she
could see in the dim light.

"Lousy time for a proposal," he muttered.

Scully dropped his hand and started up the car again. "Your fingernails are
blue, Mulder. That's a sign you're not getting enough oxygen."

His eyes were closed tightly and she could tell he was concentrating hard on
his breathing. She turned her gaze to the road.

They pulled up to the motel after minutes.

"What???" Scully stood outside the car in rapidly dropping temperatures and
screamed bloody murder to the still evening air. "What the hell???? It took
Anna a freakin' hour and a half to get us to the Y and I make it home in 5
fucking minutes?"

"She was delaying." Mulder's voice traveled easily through the thin air. He
was standing right next to her but she hadn't noticed in her rage. He
shivered in the cold air and continued hoarsely, "JW most likely had to set
up..... get the needle and all and she had to...."

Scully realized he was rambling and probably not completely lucid. His run-
on sentence ended in an abrupt fit of coughing and she grabbed his arm and
pulled him across the parking lot and, after unlocking the door, into the
motel room. She sat him on the bed and flipped on the light

"You're soaking," she scolded, attempting to pull down the frozen zipper on
his jacket.

"You're a hypocrite," he rasped.

"Huh?" She glanced down then and noticed her own wet clothes. "Okay, I'm
going into my room to change and I want you to get out of those. Stay in your
boxers but don't get dressed, I want to check you out."

"Uh uh," Mulder said. He had laid down on his bed while she was talking and
was not about to get up again.

"Mulder!" She pulled him back up. "You've been in this soaking wet clothes
for hours!" She pulled his T-shirt over his head as she spoke. Putting a
hand on his shoulder, she could feel the heat radiating off of him. "Take
your jeans off. I'm going to get my stuff."

She stepped into her room and shrugged out of her jacket. Scully was
relieved to find the rest of her clothes were reasonably dry, so she grabbed
her medical bag and returned to Mulder's room.

Mulder was barely sitting up straight on the bed, wearing nothing but his
boxers and staring blankly at the closed door.

"Mulder," she said softly as not to alarm him. He was oblivious to
her presence. She sat down next to him and wrapped a blanket from the foot of
the bed around his shoulders. "Open up." She stuck the thermometer in his
mouth. He didn't seem to notice when she pulled it out.

"One oh three," she said aloud. <Shit, Mulder, what have you gotten
yourself into?? C'mon, Dana, it's time to be the rational one. Don't panic,
just take care of it. First thing's first; get that fever down.>

"Mulder," She squeezed his hand and unfocused eyes came to rest on her. "I
need you to lie down for me, can you do that?"

<Oh boy, can I.> Exhausted, he dropped back. He tried to get under
the covers but she stopped him.

"Uh uh, you're too hot, you need to let off that heat. Stay on top
of the covers, I'm gonna get you a cool washcloth." She went into the
bathroom and returned a minute later with a dripping washcloth. "There," she
soothed and placed it on his forehead. He was shivering unceasingly and it
was beginning to scare her. <Effects of the fever,> she told herself.
<You've got the MD after your name, you ought to know that>. "I'll be right
back, Mulder." She walked briskly across the room and dug a bottle of Motrin
out of her bag. Taking a glass from the bathroom, she filled it with water
and moved back to Mulder. "Can you drink some of this for me?" He made a
vague motion which resembled a negative shake of the head. "Oh, I know you
can." She smiled encouragingly and propped several pillows under his shoulders
so he was half sitting up. She handed him the pills and he put them in his
mouth. She was about to give him the water to wash them down but he had
already attempted to swallow them dry, on an extremely parched throat, and was
now choking. She handed him the glass and he somehow managed to get a bit of
it in his mouth, and the coughing came to a slow stop.

"Scully," he rasped. "Don't feel good."

<No shit, Sherlock.> "I know. Stay still a minute."

<Okay, fever taken care of. Well, it should go down soon, anyhow. Next
thing, what to do about the pneumonia.> She reached into her bag.

Part 8a
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)

After five minutes, Scully sighed and calmed down. She was the rational one.
She had things in control. She didn't really have much to treat Mulder with,
but she did have a small drug store with her. <With Mulder you never know>
she thought and tried to locate the penicillin she knew she had. She found it
and looked back at Mulder. He was watching her through half closed eyes.
Scully looked at him for a second, then remembered that she was looking for
something. She went back to searching until she located a pre-packaged
syringe.

Mulder saw it and eyed it. "No needles, Scully," he muttered, and looked up
at her, his eyes pleading with her.

"Sorry, Mulder. Didn't really bring any capsules with me," she said, taking
his arm. In a second, she was through.

"See it's not that bad, Mulder. You should be used to it by now." She
pushed some stray pieces of hair out of his face and readjusted the washcloth
on his head. <He's ok for now> she reasoned, <But he needs a hospital.>

Scully sat on the bed, near Mulder's hand. Something on it caught her eye.
She picked up his hand and looked at his fingernails, like she had done in the
car, and found them, while not as bad as they were in the car, still tinged a
very light blue at the tips. <Shit.> When she was in the car, she had
concentrated on getting him back to the motel; now that she was here, she
wasn't sure what she _could_ do. <Think, Dana, think.>

Scully looked at Mulder, who was now eyeing her, and she realized she still
has his hand in hers. She dropped it down. She sighed, and got her
stethoscope out of her bag again.

"You never told me why these things are so cold, Scully," Mulder rasped, when
Scully placed it on his chest.

"Just for you, Mulder. I keep it cold just for you," Scully answered and
gave a small smile. The smile turned into frown. His breathing was ragged.
<Damn, what I thought was happening is.>

"Mulder, I need you to cough up some of that phlegm. You need to clear your
lungs," Scully said simply, throwing the stethoscope back into her bag.

"That's gross, Scully," Mulder said, with a smile.

Scully went to go get the garbage can. "I'm serious, Mulder." She brought
it over toward Mulder and sat down on the bed. She picked up his hand.

"See this?" She pointed to Mulder's fingertips. He pulled himself up and
wheezed. <God, my chest hurts.> He saw the light blue on the tip of his
nails.

"That's not good, is it?"

Scully propped some pillows under him, so he could sit up. "No it's not."
She sat down again. "The phlegm, the stuff you have been coughing up,
probably has clogged your lungs a little. Add that to a high fever and they
don't make a good combination. And we don't have a hospital, so this is the
next best thing." She put her hand on his knee.

<Good ole Scully. There for me> Mulder thought as he nodded. He spent the
next five minutes coughing, his chest hurting with each cough, while Scully
sat next to him and held his hand. Scully looked at him. Sweat poured down
his forehead, and she grew more worried with each minute. She took the
garbage can away. She already heard a big difference in Mulder's breathing
and she checked his nails. The bluish tint had almost faded away. His fever,
however, was a different story. <One thing at a time, Dana.> She let out a
breath she had been holding.

She smiled at Mulder, then went into the bathroom and came back out with a
glass of water.

"Drink this. I don't want you to get dehydrated." <It might also help your
fever, too> she thought, not saying it out loud. Mulder did as he was told.
Scully walked over to Mulder's duffel bag and pulled out some sweats.

"Put these on," she instructed. Once again Mulder followed her orders.

"I'm sorry, Scully," he mumbled after he had gotten dressed. His vision was
blurred a little, and he wasn't sure it was because he had been coughing for
five minutes straight or if it was something else. "I'm sorry I worried you."

Scully smiled. "Mulder, you always worry me, sick or not." She pushed him
gently back. Mulder sighed and shook his head. "What's wrong?" Scully asked
with a concerned look. Her hands immediately went to his forehead.

"Nothing, I just saw two of you for a second," Mulder said softly. He saw
Scully sigh and frown.

"Rest, Mulder. It's probably the only thing that can help you, for the time
being.." <He really needs a hospital> Scully thought as she helped Mulder ease
down. He looked up at Scully.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"Welcome," she whispered back. "Close your eyes."

"Ok, after all I promised I'd listen." Mulder closed his eyes.

"Yes, you did," Scully whispered, more to herself then to Mulder. She
watched Mulder for a few minutes. <Why do you always have to scare me?> she
thought. But that was Mulder. Her eyes traveled to the window. She didn't
see any new flurries. She walked closer. True, there were no more flurries,
but there was still about 3 feet of snow there. They might still be here for
awhile. <That's okay, if Mulder's fever goes down, and his breathing keeps
improving. IF the fever goes down.> Scully would feel a hundred times better
if she was in Mulder's hospital room instead of his motel room, especially
after he admitted his blurry vision.

She walked over to the TV and turned it on softly. The news was on.

"Police found the body of 17-year-old Lynn Johnson this afternoon. She was
discovered when police were called to help locate two boys who were lost in
the snow. The cause of death to the teenager is still unknown. On a brighter
note though, the two lost boys were recovered and returned to their parents
unharmed. In other news. . ."

Scully shut the TV off. <Lynn Johnson is dead? But Mulder and I talked to
her a few hours ago. And damn, we still didn't get the bottom of this case.>
Or what was left of it. JW hadn't followed them, though Scully knew they knew
where they were, especially if Anna could find it. That was strange in
itself. This case was going toward a dead end. And now Lynn Johnson's
death. As Scully sat down, she couldn't help thinking <What else is going to
happen on this trip?>

Part 9
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)

8:56 p.m.
Scully's room in the Riverside Motel

Scully let out a long sigh and glanced at her watch for the sixth time in
five minutes. She tried to concentrate on the softly blaring TV. but was
unsuccessful. The news had brought her nothing but troublesome worry for the
past few hours she had been watching.

The blunt anchor had announced more snow was to come in. Glancing out the
window, Scully saw the anchor was right. She had also mentioned Sarah Marks
had been found dead at approximately 6:45 p.m. in a snow bank by the Y. <He's
leaving them close to the homefront now...> Scully thought. <Who's next?? We
could be preventing this.> She closed her eyes. She had already tried to
call the police but the phone lines were down in the angry storm.

"Scully." She glanced up at the hoarse whisper.

"Mulder," she said. "You need to be lying down."

He stood in the doorway now, holding tightly to the doorjamb to steady
himself. His cheeks were flushed an unhealthy shade of crimson, his dark hair
plastered to his forehead. "Couldn't breathe--" He took a deep breath and
she could hear the rasp in his lungs. "Couldn't breathe lying down."

"Shh." She took his arm and tried to lead him back to bed. He doubled over
coughing. She wrapped an arm around his waist in attempt to keep him upright.
"C'mon, back to your room." She sat him down on the bed, and put a hand
behind his neck, trying to ease him to lie down.

Mulder had other ideas. He put up a weak resistance, trying to push her
hands away. "No," he pleaded hoarsely. "I can't breathe like that."

She studied his face worriedly, ran a hand through his sweatsoaked hair.
"You want the garbage can?"

He shook his head wildly, ignoring the pain shooting to his temples. A hand
came up and rubbed his neck, he didn't have the strength to explain, but just
figured she'd get it.

"Okay." She sighed and laid a hand on his forehead. "I'll make you a deal.
You let me take your temperature. Then you drink two cups of water, full
cups, and down as many Motrin as I can find. Then I'll find you a heating pad
and you can watch some TV till you fall asleep."

Mulder frowned. "There's more in there for you than for me."

"Oh, suck it up." She grabbed her thermometer from where it had found
a permanent home on the bedside table. "Open up while you're at it." She
stuck the thermometer under his tongue and, in slow motion, he closed his
mouth on it. She pushed him over a little and perched on the edge of the bed,
watching his eyes slip closed. Three minutes had definitely passed, but she
was reluctant to wake him. Finally, she pulled on the end of the glass stick
and squinted to read it in the dim light.

"104.3," She said softly. Mulder's eyes were at half-mast, staring
down at his feet. "Mulder," she shook his shoulder. "You need to keep up
your end of the deal. Two glasses of water and medicine." , she thought miserably. She
stepped across the room and grabbed a cup filled with water from earlier that
day. Dipping a finger in, she found the water warm and suspected it was stale
so she dumped it in the sink and refilled the cup with freezing water. Taking
two Motrin from underneath the cotton in the bottle, she returned to the room
to find Mulder squirming under the covers.

"No," She placed the water and pills on the bedside table and
untangled him from the blankets. "No blankets, you're too hot."

He curled up into himself, arms wrapped around his rib cage and shook
his head looking like a little boy about to argue with his tough grandma.
"Free-eezing." An involuntary shudder wracked him and he tucked his head into
his chest and whimpered hoarsely.

"Shh, c'mon." With a bit of difficulty, she pulled him to a sitting
position. She held the water up to his lips. "Drink."

He swallowed a little, then realized his thirst and greedily gulped the rest
of it too quickly. He hunched forward, hacking deeply, sputtering water.
"More," he demanded, his throat raw.

She held her palm out with the pills on it. "Think you can swallow these for
me?"

Mulder eyed them dubiously then popped them in his mouth and downed the
second cup of water. He handed the empty cup to Scully and leaned back
against the headboard. "TV," he reminded her.

"Yeah." She grabbed the remote and flipped it on. The first thing that came
on was the news. Remembering Captain Good News from before, she hastily
changed the channel. A glance at Mulder confirmed he wasn't actually paying
attention so she left it on Judge Judy and went back to her room to use the
phone.

Part 9a
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)

She had already picked up the phone when she remembered it wasn't working.
She walked outside of her motel room and saw a maid coming out of another
room.

"Excuse me?" Scully asked. "Do you have a heating pad?"

The maid reached inside of her cart. "Here," she said, smiling as she handed
it to Scully.

"Thank you." Scully walked back to Mulder's room.

As she walked in she saw Mulder wiggling himself out from underneath the
covers.

"Mulder," she scolded, in a tone that indicated that she expected him to
disobey her, "We had a deal."

"I'm so coold, Scully," Mulder pleaded, his eyes staring straight at her.

"Well, I did get a heating pad . . ." She held it up as evidence. "But if
you're not going to listen to me. . . ."

Mulder saw the determined glare in Scully's eyes. He really wanted that
heating pad.

"Okay, okay," he wheezed, "You win." He got himself out from under the
covers. Scully smiled. "That's better."

She found a plug and plugged it in. She placed it on top of Mulder's chest
and turned it onto a low setting "This should help." She settled into a chair
beside Mulder's bedside.

Mulder turned his head slowly so he was facing Scully.

"What?" Scully asked, when she noticed him staring at her.

"You look distracted," Mulder said softly. "Did something happen on the
case?" he blurted out.

<Damn Mulder. Why does he have to read me so well?> "Mulder, the case is
going nowhere. Our witness, Lynn Johnson, and her friend, Sarah Marks, are
dead." Scully regretted telling him this. She didn't need him get all riled
up in the case. He needed rest. And sure enough, Mulder, taking all of his
strength, sat up.

<Why did I do that?> Mulder thought as pain radiated through his chest and he
had another coughing spell. After that passed, and with Scully watching him
under very concerned eyes, he continued to press on with the case.

"They're dead," he rasped, "JW got to them. We have to find him."

"_You_ are not going anywhere," Scully said, gently pushing him back down on
the bed.

"But Scully, what about JW?"

Scully eyed the window. "Mulder, the phones are out. There is 3 feet of
snow on the ground and at least another foot expected to arrive soon. We
couldn't go anywhere if we tried. We're lucky the power hasn't gone out." As
soon as Scully said that, as if on cue, the lights and TV went dead.

"Shit," Scully muttered under her breath.

"Power's out," Mulder said softly.

"Great observation," Scully said, with a bit of sarcasm. She got out of her
chair. "Mulder, I have this feeling that JW left town. He may have killed
those two girls to silence them, but I doubt he'll stick around. I should
know. I dated the guy." Scully paced the room in the dark.

"So, he left town. We should track him down, Scully."

"No, Mulder. We don't even know what we are looking for. A needle in a
haystack perhaps? Skinner is not going to approve a country wide search. We
haven't learned much, Mulder. No more than we began with. And in the end, it
looks like that's what I may have to write in my report."

Mulder opened his mouth to continue, but another cough interrupted him.
Scully looked at him with a worried expression.

"Right now, you need some rest," Scully said, taking her seat beside him
again. "Hopefully when you wake up, the snow will be gone and we can get the
hell out of here and get you to a hospital."

Mulder nodded. He hated to admit it, but Scully was right. He was in no
condition to search for JW. The information he had learned from him was
sketchy and not entirely clear. Unless they got a lead, this case was going
to be another one of those closed unsolved X-Files. And Mulder had plenty of
those in the filing cabinets in the basement.

Part 10
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)

9:49 p.m.
Mulder's motel room

Mulder must've done a pretty good job of feigning sleep because Scully had
finally left him alone and gone back to her own room. He cracked open an eye
and surveyed the room. The lights had been turned off (thank God, his head
was pounding) but the adjoining door was left open and a sliver of light fell
into the room.

The next thing he noticed was his burning skin. He groped around and
switched off the heating pad then let it slide to the ground. The blankets he
had wanted so desperately minutes ago were now kicked violently away. He was
so hot.

10:01 p.m.
Riverside Motel

Scully opened the adjoining door a bit wider to squeeze through. She
sat gingerly on the side of Mulder's bed and listened to his breathing. He
was definitely asleep now, not faking like he had been when she'd left. She
knew he was faking but decided to let it pass; she knew he hated to be babied
but she'd done nothing but that for the entire day. <Poor guy needs some
privacy.>

Cautiously, as to not wake him up, Scully laid a hand on his forehead.
Damn, hot. She pulled her hand away. <In two hours he can have some more
Motrin. Not that it's doing anything, anyway.> She noticed he had thrown off
the heating pad, and probably for the best. It had put the burn in his chest
at bay for a while but was just a nuisance to the fever at this point.

She found the pad of paper and pen the motel leaves for it's guests on
the dresser.

Mulder, she wrote, I'm going to try to find a working phone. I
promise I won't leave the motel's premises. You follow me, I'll personally
slaughter you on the spot. I'll be back by 10:30. Scully.

Outside was absolutely frigid. Knives of cold stabbed her exposed
cheeks and nose. The power had come back on, and she could only hope that the
phones would be next. Through the flurry of snow she found the sign. LOBBY
THIS WAY ---->

10:56 p.m.
Riverside Motel, Mulder's room

He awoke with a start.

<Fever dream,> something told him. <What told me?? Little green..
gray... green....>

"Scully," the word barely emitted from his parched throat. He cleared
his throat, phlegm rumbled somewhere near the hollow of his neck, in his
trachea. He choked on it, each cough burning deeply in his chest; he felt so
bad he was ready to drop back on the pillow and die... but he had to find
Scully first. Pushing off of the bed he stood shakily and made his to the
con-joining doors. Stuck to the door with Scotch tape was a note.

Mulder,
I'm going to try to find a working phone. I promise I won't leave the
motel's premises. You follow me, I'll personally slaughter you on the spot.
I'll be back by 10:30. Scully.

He squinted down at his watch. 11:16. He leaned on one elbow on the
dresser, suddenly not able to support himself. Common sense managed to push
through his fever induced fog. CALL THE LOBBY. His hand fumbled on the
phone.

"Hello," a cheerful voice greeted him. "Riverside Motel, how may I help
you?"

<C'mon, Mulder, get that voice to work.> He cleared his throat. "Have
you.. my... my partner.. where is she?"

"Excuse me?"

Mulder realized his inquiry had been terribly jumbled and felt bad for
the perplexed operator. "Agent Scully." Leaning the phone against his
shoulder, he dropped onto the bed.

"Sir?"

"Have you seen my partner Scully??" he demanded, suddenly outraged.
"She was s'posed to..." He coughed violently. "S'posed to be back at...
at..." His wonderfully eidetic memory couldn't remember the time. "A long
time ago."

A rude dial tone rang in his head. He dropped the phone and rubbed
his temples. <Find Scully,> his tired mind told him. "Shut up," he mumbled.
He fell back, his torso lying flat on the bed, the other half of him slowly
slipping off. <Hot, I'm so hot. Go away. Scully.....>

11:35 p.m.
In a car

<To put it bluntly, this sucks> Scully thought. She had been
thinking up interesting ways to describe her current situation for the past
half hour.

After a short trek through the snow, Scully had been pleased to find
the lobby phones working. <Which probably means all the phones work now and I
could've stayed in the warm room and called for help. And I wouldn't have had
to leave Mulder then, either.> Her brow had furrowed. <No, I don't have to
worry about Mulder. He was out cold when I left, he won't be waking up
anytime soon.>

She had dropped a coin into the phone and had raised her hand to press
the first number when she felt a hand on her arm. She spun on her heel to see
John Weston staring ferociously at her.

"You ruined my fun," he growled.

<Oh, I bet I did.>

And now she was locked in the back of John Weston's car while he drove
in circles around the small town, the snow stopping him from going anywhere
far.

<And my partner can't save me,> she realized, <'cause he's passed out
in the warm hotel room.> She shivered. <Can't this guy even turn on the
heat??> She remembered how cold the Y's basement had been. <Heat.. maybe he
thrives on cold. That could be it! But WHY? Cold,> she repeated in her
mind. Maybe then she'd figure out a way to escape and get rid of this guy for
good. <Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold.>

11:36
Riverside Motel

<COLD!!!> Mulder was shivering uncontrollably. He had somehow managed
to slip onto the floor during the few minutes he's been asleep and was now
incredibly sore from the impossible position he was heaped in. Scully, he
remembered, disappeared. <Where the hell IS she?? Damnit, we're all alone...
if I don't save her no one will. No one, no one.... save her.> His mind said
defiantly. <But getting up is another story.> He pushed hard on the bed and
found himself slowly moving upward. Levitation? He contemplated. <Nah.
Jacket, gloves, where are they?> He spotted them on the radiator across the
room and painstakingly made his way over. <Damn, soaking wet. I'll be better
without them.> Somewhere in the un-deliriously part of his mind, he knew
sweatpants and a sweatshirt were going to do him nothing in the blizzard
outside but unfortunately the hallucinating portion of his mind had maximum
control at this point. He slipped one bare foot into his boot, ice stinging
his skin. <Bare feet in boots?? Yeah, why not?> He glanced out the window
and saw Samantha. <Sam?> He hastily stuck his other foot in the remaining
boot and hurried outside. Samantha was gone. The little bit of common sense
left in him shut the door (leaving the key inside) and walked off into
oblivion.

"Scully??" he rasped to the parking lot. "Scully? Sam...."

Part 10a
By Jen (JenR13@aol.com)

Mulder walked out into the dark still air, snow whirling around him as he
walked.

"Sam? Scully?" he said weakly into the still air. Then she appeared. Not
Scully, but Samantha. She stood simply in front of Mulder, looking the same
way did the night she disappeared when she was eight. Mulder blinked,
thinking he was seeing things, which in his state, was very possible, but the
image did not disappear. Samantha smiled at him, and turned around waving at
him to follow her.

"Sam?" Mulder repeated, but got no answer. Instead Samantha started running.

"Sam!" Mulder called, and forgetting his illness for a minute, he ran after
her. He was out of breath, his head was spinning, his chest was hurting, and
his feet were freezing, but he kept running. He didn't know how long he ran
for. He didn't care. It was Sam. Even if it was all in his head, he didn't
care; he didn't want to let go.

"Samantha!!" Mulder called again. He had to stop running to catch his
breath. His head started spinning. He put his hand to head, trying to stop
the spinning. He blinked and looked around. Samantha was gone. Out of
sight. In place of her he saw a building. He looked up. It was the Y. <The
Y?>

"Scully??!!" Mulder yelled as loud as he could, and it was not very loud at
all. <Scully, I know you have to be here> he thought; his gut feeling told
him. <But Samantha?> Mulder just looked at the building.

"Thanks," he whispered toward the sky as he walked unsteadily toward the
building.

11:46 p.m.
The Y

Scully knew at once where JW had taken her. The Y. She recognized the
stairs he carried her down as she tried to struggle but to no avail. <It's so
cold down here> she thought, bringing her thoughts back to cold. <Anna had
said her dad could live forever, is cold the key? Wait a minute, I sound like
Mulder.> But suddenly something that sounded like one of her partner's way out
there theories didn't sound so bad. Scully searched for a heat source, but
at that moment JW put her down.

"Home sweet home," he said with an evil smile. He put her down in a chair,
tying her down to it so tightly, Scully could barely move an inch.

"Dana, running away was not a bad idea, I *had* intended to leave town soon,
but I couldn't leave without saying goodbye first," JW said in a sickly sweet
way.

"Yeah, I'll bet," Scully said evenly, not giving in to the fear he expected
her to have. She searched the room for a possible escape. She found none.
<Damn, damn, damn> she thought.

JW had turned away for her and was doing something at the only table in the
room. <If my theory is right, then all I need in something warm, something
like. . . > Scully's eyes scanned the room again. Her eyes came to rest upon
something near the door. Something that someone had most likely accidentally
dropped. <Something like. . matches!> They were far from her. <If only I
could get near them. . . .>

JW took that opportunity to turn around, with a syringe in hand.

"This time there is no partner to shot it away," he said, bring the needle
closer to her arm. Scully eyes narrowed and the needle came closer and closer
until it was only an inch away.. . . .

"Clank!" The sound caused JW to turn around. Scully took that opportunity
to kick the needle out of JW's hand. It fell to the floor. Scully turned
around and spotted a very unsteady Mulder at the door. His eyes were glazed
with fever and the clank they had just heard was the sound of Mulder dropping
his gun to the floor.

He now bent now, slowly, coughing on the way, and retrieved it. He pointed
it with both hands toward JW. His hands shook and he looked as if he was
going to drop the gun again.

"Agent Mulder, nice to see you again," JW said, smiling sweetly at Mulder.

"As always, charmed," Mulder said sarcastically, his gun still pointing at
JW.

"Agent Mulder, shooting me isn't going to do anything," JW said matter-of-
factly.

"It will for me," Mulder replied, his voice cracking.

"Mulder, the cold. He lives in the cold. No heat. Maybe that's it. Look
down at your feet," Scully called out and JW turned around as if to silence
her.

Mulder looked down at his feet. Matches. <What the hell? . . > Mulder was
in such a sickened state he had trouble putting together what Scully had said.
He scooped up the matches and with a little difficulty, he lit one. He lifted
it up, but accidentally dropped it by JW's feet. JW seemed to move back. <He
moved back> Mulder thought. He lit another match and threw it (well, kinda
dropped it) closer to JW this time. The man moved closer toward Scully and
away from Mulder. <That's it! The heat! He's like so many of the cases we
have had before! Betts needed cancer, JW needs cold!> He lit another match
and grabbed a piece of paper (lucky for him it was there) and lit it on fire.
JW moved back more, not saying anything. Mulder walked toward Scully, paper
in hand.

"Good partner, now how about untying me?" Scully asked.

"I guess I really have no choice," he teased, and coughed.

"How sweet," JW said, annoyed. Mulder struggled with the rope, but he
managed (and he wasn't sure how) to untie Scully still keeping paper in hand!
Scully took the paper from him as soon as he untied her. She smiled and
walked closer to JW, waving paper in hand.

"Maybe someday you'll know why I dumped you," she said evenly. She removed
her cell phone from her coat pocket and dialed the police. No sooner had she
finished when Mulder asked, "Is it over?"

Scully nodded, fire still near JW. "Yep, Mulder, I think it's wrapped up."

"Good," Mulder whispered right before he passed out cold on the concrete
floor.

Part 10b
By Lauren (JRDG1013@aol.com)

6:22 p.m.
Two nights later at the Hospital

His vision was beginning to clear but he wasn't so sure he liked what he was
seeing. Scully's concerned face came into view, her hand reached up to its
usual place on his forehead. <She might be mad.> He vaguely remembered
chasing Samantha 2 miles through a blizzard. <Mad? She's gonna be purely
pissed. She thinks I'm crazy....>

"Hey there," she whispered, stroking his hair. He blinked trying to focus
his eyes. "Here." She held out a tall glass of water.

"Water." The rasping voice stated. He reached out but found he didn't have
the strength to take it. Scully put the rim up to his lips and he drank
slowly, remembering what had happened the last time he had drank too quickly.
When he was done she placed the cup back on the table by the bed. Hazel orbs
flicked, studying her face. "What day?" Mulder asked, a hand unconsciously
rubbing his throat.

"Tuesday. You've been out for a while. The paramedics had to go down 6
flights of stairs to get you in the Y's basement. The medical staff in this
town is going to be slightly perturbed at you for the next few months at
least. You'd better hope they forgive and forget around here."

"Mm." He stared blankly out the window. "When do--" He coughed
hoarsely and she could still hear the rasp in chest painfully obvious. "Go
home?"

She laughed. "Not this soon, Mister. Do you have any idea what you
did??" He shook his head. "Well, I'll start from the beginning. Your first
bright move was to go outside in a sweatsuit with no socks under your boots, I
might add. The boots were on the wrong feet too, if you're interested in
details. You then proceeded to run through one of the worst blizzards this
area has ever seen two miles to the YMCA with a hundred and four fever and a
nasty case of pneumonia."

He bit his lip, swallowed sluggishly. "One oh four..." he repeated.

"Mm hm. Then you saved my ass, oh yeah, thank you for that, by striking a
match. The police came soon after and arrested John Weston and they were
followed by the paramedics. I must say you scared the living shit out of some
poor young nurse. I think it was her first day on the job. You insisted that
she was an alien and could she give please give you directions to Burger King
because you lost your little sister."

His eyebrows raised past his hairline. "I..."

She nodded, lips pressed into a small smile. "You."

"The End"

Thanks for reading till the end and remember all feedback goes to Jen and
Lauren at JenR13@aol.com and JRDG1013@aol.com. :-)