Title: Southern Hospitality (1/3) Author: Frances Hayman (FrankieH@aol.com) Rating: PG Classification: XA Spoilers: Two minor references to "The Pilot" and "Roland", and a brief mention of an incident in "Colony". Summary: Mulder goes to the Deep South alone to profile a serial killer. Scully comes later to help with the case and arrives to find Mulder very sick. Scully and local agent, Jim Hopkins, continue to investigate the case while Mulder comes up with a paranormal theory. Disclaimer: The X-Files and its characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox, used without their permission. No copyright infringement intended. The other characters and ideas belong to me. Distribution: OK to post as long as my name stays with it. Author's Blabberings: Special thanks to my sister Erin and my Mom for encouraging me to write. Also a big thank you to all my friends who critiqued this little piece. Thank you Mary, Tad, Tina, Gaye, & Robin. Southern Hospitality Part 1/3 by Frances Hayman Fox Mulder felt like crap. The headache that had plagued him since he had stepped off the plane was getting worse, and what had started as a tickle had progressed to a fiery sore throat. "Agent Mulder, are you okay?" Mulder's attention snapped back to the job at hand. "Yeah, just a headache," he sighed. "Got any aspirin handy?" "Sure," said Agent Jim Hopkins, rummaging through his desk. He ran a hand through his close cropped blond hair and shifted his muscular bulk in the chair. "Here you are." "Thanks," said Mulder as he gulped a mouthful of soda and swallowed the tablets. Mulder had been summoned to Gulfport, Mississippi, to put together a profile on an apparent serial killer that was striking along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. It had begun six weeks ago in Florida and the most recent death had occurred just forty-eight hours ago in Gulfport. He had initially resisted the assignment, but since the most recent X-file was wrapped up, he had no real excuse. And Scully could handle the paperwork -- she usually did anyway. Mulder had assembled what he considered to be a pretty complete profile within hours of his arrival the day before. Ever since then, he and Hopkins had been going through mounds of information, trying to narrow down the list of possible suspects. Mulder had found two likely candidates, but wasn't quite satisfied with the fit. Suddenly, he stopped and turned his computer monitor to face Hopkins. "What about this guy?" asked Mulder with an intuitive gleam in his eye. Hopkins leaned over to look at the screen. He read through the material for a moment, then a wide grin split his ruddy face. "You may have something there, Mulder." He turned back to his keyboard to punch up more complete information on the man. Mulder leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. When Hopkins had transferred the file on one William Robert Hardy, Jr., Mulder read it with interest. He had been released from prison seven months previously where he had completed his sentence for aggravated assault on a police officer. He was now working as an independent trucker, traveling all over the southeast. The photo showed a smallish, wiry young man with long stringy brown hair, deep set dark eyes, and a decidedly haunted look. Mulder felt a shudder pass through him as he looked at those eyes. Behind those eyes worked a mind that very likely was planning another brutal murder at this moment. He fit. Rarely did you get this lucky, but Mulder had a feeling that this was their man. Hopkins passed along the information and turned off his computer. "Our guys will do some checking on Mr. Billy Bob Hardy. Should have something on him within the next few hours, morning at the latest." He paused and looked closely at Mulder again. "You sure you're all right?" "Yeah," said Mulder halfheartedly. "How about some lunch?" asked Hopkins. "We've got some great seafood places down here." "Think I'll pass for now," said Mulder. "Thanks anyway. I could use a break, though." "I'll get somebody to run you back to your hotel." "That'd be great." * * * * The bedside phone rang, waking Mulder. He hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep. Another ring and he remembered where he was. "Mulder," he rasped. "Hi, Mulder, it's me," said Scully. "How goes the violent crime profiling business?" Mulder attempted to clear his throat and answered, "Okay. We've got a few possibles, one likely. They're checking it out now." "Need any help?" "You know I always welcome your help, Scully, but we may actually wrap this one up quickly." A knock at the door interrupted him. "Hold on a minute, Scully." He answered the door and Hopkins walked in. "Agent Mulder, we've got another body. I think you'd better come take a look." Mulder nodded and went back to the phone. "We've got another body." "I heard." "That offer of help still open?" "I'm on the next flight out." * * * * Scully hung up the phone. She had been concerned about Mulder before he left for Gulfport. He had been reluctant to take on this assignment, and she had been reluctant to let him go alone. He had looked so tired, and now she was even more concerned. When he had not answered his cell phone, she had called him at the Gulfport FBI office and was surprised when they told her that he was at his hotel -- in the middle of the afternoon. When he had answered the phone, she knew he had been sleeping, and he sounded hoarse. At least now she had a good reason to go check up on -- er -- help him. * * * * Mulder looked the scene over slowly. This looked like the others. Multiple stab wounds in the same pattern, body posed in the same manner. The victim was a retired police officer who had been working as a security guard at an electronics warehouse. He had probably been killed last night, but the body had been discovered a short time ago. The other victims had all been security guards as well. Hopkins approached Mulder. "More bad news. The local medical examiner just checked into the hospital with some major gall bladder problems. It'll take a while to find someone to do the autopsy, maybe someone out of New Orleans --" "Don't bother," said Mulder. "My partner, Dr. Dana Scully, is a forensic pathologist. She's on her way down as soon as she can get a flight out of DC." Mulder's cell phone rang. "Mulder." "Mulder, it's me. Just wanted to let you know that I should arrive at the Gulfport airport about 9:30 tonight, your time." "Great, Scully. Looks like we're going to put you right to work. The local ME is in the hospital." He paused and sneezed several time. "Sorry." "Bless you." "Thanks," he said, wiping his nose. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, yeah. I'll be at the airport to pick you up." Mulder stood by and watched as photos were taken, and evidence gathered. He was very glad Scully was coming. "Well, Mulder, what do you think?" asked Hopkins. "Appears to be consistent with the other murders. We'll have to wait and see what the evidence bears out." "Right. Anything else you want done here?" "Ahh, I guess that's about it until Scully can do the autopsy." Mulder looked at his watch. "Her plane should be getting in soon. I think I need to get a car for us so you won't have to cart us around." "Sure. We'll go back to the office. I think we've got a spare you can use." * * * * Mulder drove the gray sedan toward the airport. He wondered if there was ever a chance that a government car could be just a little more sporty. Oh well, at least there was a decent stereo and a very efficient air conditioner. He waited in the small lobby, trying not to fall asleep in the hard chair. He was not successful. "Mulder," said Scully as she gently shook his shoulder. Mulder woke with a start, and began to cough. Scully sat down beside him as the coughing subsided and laid a hand on his forehead. "Mulder, you have a fever," she said sternly. "And, don't take this the wrong way, but you look awful." "Gee, thanks, Scully. Nice to see you, too." "Mulder, I'm serious. You're sick." "People have been telling me that for years." "Mulder --" Scully paused. "Come on. Let's get you back to the hotel before you pass out here." After a brief argument, Scully drove to the hotel, where she checked into the adjoining room. "Come on, Mulder. Get in here and let me take a look at you." He stumbled into the room and sat down heavily on the bed as Scully unpacked her medical supplies on the side table. "Do you ever go anywhere without that stuff, Scully?" "Not when you're along for the ride, Mulder. Open your mouth and let me take your temperature -- and don't even think about arguing with me." "Yes, ma'am," he squeaked. Mulder sat patiently while Scully examined him and asked him if his throat hurt, when had he started coughing . . . His cooperation worried her more than anything else. "Well, Mulder, you are definitely sick." She waited for a snide comment, and when none was forthcoming, she continued. "Your temperature is 102 and it sounds like you at least have bronchitis. I'm going to give you some medicine so you can get some sleep. If you're not feeling better in the morning, you are going to the hospital for some blood work and chest x-rays." "What about the autopsy?" "I don't think he's going anywhere, but if it'll make you happy, I'll do it first, IF you promise me that you'll stay here, in bed, until I get back." Mulder looked at Scully and sighed. "All right, deal." After Mulder was settled, Scully went back to her room to look through the case files. She left the adjoining door open, in case Mulder needed her. She checked on him throughout the night, thankful that he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. About 4:00am she awoke to hear him coughing again. She sat on his bed and roused him enough to take his temperature. It was only down half a degree. "Scully, now I know what to get you for your birthday." "What's that?" "One of those ear thermometers." She laughed and gave him some cough medicine, then sat with him until his breathing evened out in sleep. Scully brushed dark hair off his damp forehead. He looked like a vulnerable little boy. At 7:00 am he woke up again as Scully sat on the edge of the bed. "How do you feel?" "Like I was hit by a truck -- a big truck." "You should know, Mulder," said Scully, thinking of a time when he really had been hit by a car. "I talked to Agent Hopkins a few minutes ago. I'm going to do that autopsy shortly. Remember your promise to stay here, in bed, until I get back?" "Yes, Scully, I do." He was asleep before she was out of the door. He awoke again about two hours later. A deep breath brought on more coughing. He looked around for a moment and remembered the daytime cold medicine he had picked up the day before. He took the capsules and stepped into the shower. He stood under the warm water for a long time and was feeling better as he toweled off and dressed. Mulder sat down on the bed and opened the newspaper that had been lying on the side table, today's paper. Scully must have gotten it before she left. On the second page was a story about the previous day's murder. The accompanying photo had been taken at the scene, and showed several police officers, Agent Hopkins, and Mulder. The story stated that the FBI was assisting local police in the investigation. "Special Agent Fox Mulder has been assigned to aid Gulfport FBI agents in tracking down this brutal serial murderer." "Great," said Mulder to himself. The phone rang. "Mulder." "Mulder, this is Jim Hopkins. Agent Scully is working on the autopsy. She wanted me to call you and make sure you were still in your room." Mulder chuckled. "You can tell Scully I'm right where I'm supposed to be. How's it going?" "So far no surprises. Seems to be just like the others. She should be done in an hour or so." "Have you seen the paper today?" "Yes, sir, I have. I don't think that photographer caught my good side." Mulder laughed. "Me either. And it doesn't do a lot for our investigation. Have you found out anything about Mr. Hardy?" "Last known address in Grand Bay, Alabama -- that's about 45 minutes to an hour from here. No one there right now, of course. His last job was a delivery to Ft. Lauderdale. He was supposed to pick up another load in Pensacola day before yesterday, but he never showed up. We're looking hard, but there's no sign of him yet." "Hopkins, watch your back. This guy has a history of problems with authority, especially law enforcement types." "Yeah, you too, Mulder." Mulder hung up the phone and went back to the paper. He needed some caffeine. He gathered up the paper and went to the hotel restaurant. He sat in a booth at the back, sipping iced tea and watching the people around him. After several glasses of tea and forty-five minutes, he decided to head back to his room. He felt a little guilty about not exactly keeping his promise to Scully, but he really was feeling better. As he turned a corner, he nearly collided with Scully. "Mulder, what are you doing out of bed?" she demanded. "Well, I was feeling better when I woke up and I wanted something to drink." "Did you eat anything?" "Does ice count?" "No," Scully sighed. "When did you eat last?" "Ahhh, sometime yesterday." "Okay, then, since you're feeling so much better, we are going to get something to eat. Just let me put this stuff in my room." Mulder slowed as they approached the rooms -- his door was open. "You didn't leave that open, did you?" whispered Scully. Mulder shook his head and they drew their guns. He nudged the door further open and entered cautiously. No one was there. Scully quickly checked the bathroom and opened the door to her room. Empty. However, Mulder's room had been tossed. "The maid service in this hotel really stinks," said Mulder as he surveyed the damage. Scully shook her head. "I'll call it in." Hopkins was the first to arrive. "What happened?" "I was gone for about 45 minutes right after I talked to you. Scully and I were coming back and the door was open. The room was empty, but somebody made a big mess." "I have an idea it was our murderer," said Hopkins quietly. "Any particular reason you think that?" asked Scully. "Yes, ma'am," said Hopkins. "An officer whose name was in that newspaper article had his apartment broken into this morning. He happened to be on duty at the time, but a neighbor said she saw a man answering our man Hardy's description leaving the building in a hurry." "Wasn't your name in that article, Hopkins?" asked Mulder. "Sure was. Already been home to get my dog. We've got surveillance on the homes of everyone in that article, plus the police chief and our director." "Think he'll do this again?" asked Scully. "Maybe," said Mulder. "It depends on if he found what he was looking for." The three agents stood back and watched the forensics team catalogue, tag, dust, comb, and photograph Mulder's room. Scully walked in to question one of the team members as Hopkins leaned on the door frame. Mulder sat in a chair in the hallway rubbing his temples and trying to suppress a cough. It only made him cough more. Scully looked up, but continued with her work. As soon as the team finished, Hopkins stepped in. "Is he all right?" he asked quietly, nodding his head in Mulder's direction. "No. No he's not," said Scully. "He said he was feeling better, but he looks worse now. I'd really like to get him checked out. Which hospital would you suggest I take him to?" "My cousin is a doctor in the ER at Memorial. I'll give him a call." "Thanks," said Scully. "Now I just have to get him there." "Not a very willing patient?" "Only when he's unconscious." After a brief 'discussion', Hopkins drove Mulder and Scully to the hospital. * * * * Scully sat in the cubicle with Mulder while they waited for test results. He had finally stopped complaining and fallen asleep. Hopkins stuck his head in, and seeing Mulder asleep, motioned for Scully to come out. "How is he?" "We're still waiting for all the results, but it looks like he has pneumonia. Probably not bad enough to hospitalize him, but enough to put him out of commission for a while." "I've arranged for more secure accommodations for both of you." "Thanks," said Scully, looking back into the room at Mulder. "I'll stick around and take you there when you're all done here. Oh, and I picked up your stuff from the hotel." The conversation was interrupted when Dr. Jansen walked toward them. "Hi, Jim," said the doctor. "Hello there, Sam," said Hopkins as he extended his hand to Jansen. "How's Agent Mulder?" "Well, Dr. Scully was right. He does have pneumonia." He paused and put two radiographs on a nearby viewscreen. "Right middle and left lower lung lobes are consolidated. And his white cell count is elevated. We'll start him on meds here, but I don't see any reason to admit him since he'll be in your care, Dr. Scully." "Thank you, Dr. Jansen." "My pleasure, Dr. Scully, and please call me Sam." "Thank you, Sam," said Scully, "and it's Dana." "Well, now that everyone knows each other," said Hopkins, "when can we get out of here?" "So anxious to leave, Jim?" "Yes, sir, I am. And I need to let Momma know what time to expect us." Scully looked quizzically at Hopkins. "I thought you said you made arrangements for us." "I did," he said, smiling. "Safest and most hospitable place I know -- Momma's house." Sam smiled widely. "Great idea, Jim. There's nothing like a good dose of TLC from Aunt Patsy. And some good cooking too. Is she fixin' that famous gumbo of hers, Jim?" "You know it, Sam. And yes, you are invited for supper." "Mm-mm. Wish I could, but I'm pulling a double tonight. Save me some?" "Sure thing, cousin." Scully watched this exchange in surprised silence. "We're staying at your mother's house?" "Yeah. She has a big house down the beach a bit. My daddy had a great security system installed. It's been updated constantly. And our guy will have to do a lot of digging to connect that house with me. See, the whole estate has been in my Momma's family for generations. Most people know it as Culver House. Culver was my great-grandma's maiden name." "And she doesn't mind you bringing two strangers into her house?" "Dana," said Sam, "there's something you have to understand about southern hospitality in general and Aunt Patsy in particular. When someone you know is in need, you help. When that someone has a connection to your family, you help more. When that someone is also far from home and very sick, well, that just brings out the maternal instincts in Aunt Patsy." He paused and looked at Scully closely. "And Jim's not kidding about the security. It's as tight as any place on the coast. Uncle Randy was fanatical about keeping his family safe." Scully looked at the two men and shook her head. "It's your call. Let's get Mulder treated and get going." * * * * Dr. Sam wheeled a grumbling Mulder out to Jim's car. The trio piled in and headed for Culver House. Scully explained to Mulder where they were going and why. After some complaints and questions, he reluctantly echoed Scully's reply -- "Okay, Hopkins, it's your area and your mother. I'm too tired to argue anymore." They arrived at Culver House a few minutes later. A long curving driveway led to a large antebellum style house with white columns and broad porches. It reminded Scully of every plantation house she had ever seen in the movies. She half expected Mrs. Hopkins to greet them in a brightly colored, frilly, hooped dress; but she stood on the porch clad in jeans and a plaid shirt. She approached the car as soon as it stopped. Hopkins got out and walked around to embrace his mother in a bear hug. "Hello, Momma," said Hopkins, releasing the petite gray haired woman. "Hello, son," she said, returning the embrace. "Introduce me to your friends." "Momma, this is Special Agent Dana Scully, and that tall fella back there is Special Agent Fox Mulder." Hopkins paused. "Scully and Mulder, this is my momma, Patsy Hopkins." "Dana and Fox, welcome to our home. Please, come on in. I'm sure you're all tired and hungry. Jimmy said you had to work through lunch and then spent the rest of the afternoon at the hospital. Fox, dear, how are you feeling?" Mrs. Hopkins had maneuvered herself from Jim to Scully to Mulder, and was now holding Mulder by the arm, guiding him toward the front door. "Better now, thank you," said Mulder, knowing it would be futile to ask her to call him Mulder instead of Fox. "That's wonderful. I have a nice supper fixed for ya'll. Come on in." She gently pulled Mulder through the door. He looked over his shoulder toward Scully and shrugged. Smiling, she followed him in. "Mrs. Hopkins, we really appreciate your hospitality," said Scully. "Please, Dana, call me Patsy, or Momma. I've been Momma to an awful lot of Jimmy's friends over the years." "Patsy," said Scully, "I hope we haven't put you to any trouble." "Oh, it's no trouble, Dana," said Patsy as she released Mulder's arm to guide them into the dining room. "This old house gets lonely. If it weren't for the kids and grandkids, I'd go nuts! Please, sit down. We have gumbo, chicken and dumplings, vegetables, cornbread, rice, and for dessert, peach cobbler and ice cream." Jim beamed. "My, my, Momma. I think you've outdone yourself." Patsy patted his arm. "Now, son, you know this isn't anything more than we'd have for Sunday dinner. All of you sit down and let's eat." Mulder and Scully looked the food laden table over silently, in awe. They sat, and as bowls of food were passed around, they filled their plates. Patsy and Jim kept up an amiable chatter throughout dinner. They learned that Mr. Randall Hopkins, Jim's father, had started a security company at a time when home security wasn't as hot an item as it is today. He died four years earlier and Jim's brother, Howard, now ran the company. Patsy spent her days maintaining her home and family, which consisted of three sons, one daughter, and seven grandchildren, working with various civic organizations, and the church. "They must keep you busy," said Scully. "They do, and I love it. But enough about me, who's ready for dessert?" "I am!" said Jim. Patsy and Jim went into the kitchen to get the peach cobbler. Scully looked at Mulder. "Get enough to eat?" "I haven't had food like that in a long time. Just wish I could taste more of it." "Are you doing okay?" "Yeah." "You look exhausted." Mulder shrugged and smiled at Scully. Patsy and Jim came back in with four bowls of steaming peach cobbler topped with vanilla ice cream. They all dug in, polishing off as much as they could. "Anyone for coffee?" asked Jim. "None for me, thank you," said Scully. "I'll pass, too," said Mulder. "Fox," said Patsy tenderly, "you look like you could use some sleep." "I am pretty tired." "Jimmy, why don't you get all their stuff in and we'll get everyone set up for the night." Patsy showed them to bedrooms separated by a bathroom. "I thought you might want to keep a close eye on Fox, dear. I hope this is all right." Scully smiled. "It's great, thank you." She made sure that Mulder was settling in, then made her way back downstairs to the kitchen. Patsy was busy cleaning the remnants of supper. "What do you need, dear?" "Just a glass of water so Mulder can take his medication." "Sure, let me get that for you." Patsy filled a glass with cold water from the refrigerator. "How is he, really, Dana?" "He has pneumonia, but with rest and antibiotics, he should be fine in a couple of weeks. The hardest part is enforcing that 'rest' part -- he's not usually a very good patient." "You leave that to me, dear. I raised a family full of headstrong boys that took after their father. You and Jimmy go on with your work and I'll take care of Fox while you're gone. Show me what medication he needs and when, and tell me anything else I need to know." Scully outlined what Mulder needed. "And check his temperature several times. If it goes up, call me or Sam. I'll leave my medical supplies for you to use." "My grandchildren gave me one of those ear thermometers because they were tired of the old glass ones." "Mulder will be happy to hear that," smiled Scully. "You look tired, too, Dana. Get some sleep, and don't worry about Fox. If anyone in this house sniffles, I know it." Scully returned to Mulder's room, and handed him the glass of water and a handful of pills. He swallowed the pills and Scully handed him an inhaler. "What's this?" "It's an inhaler. It'll help open your airways so you can breath better." He took a deep breath of the medicine and was amazed at how much easier it was to breath. "Better?" Mulder took a deep breath. "Yeah, much. Thanks." Scully lingered at his bedside. "Tucking me in, Scully?" "Sure, Mulder," she grinned, "and I just wanted to let you know that you are now off duty. You WILL stay here, preferably in bed, while Jim and I work this case. Patsy will be here to watch you, and I get the feeling that she can handle obstinate men. And if I find out that you've been giving her a hard time, you'll have to answer to me." Mulder raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Ooo, Scully, is that a threat?" "No, it's a promise. Do you think you can behave yourself?" He rolled his eyes. "I'll try. But I expect you to keep me informed about everything that's happening." "Deal," said Scully. "Now, I just need to take your temperature again, and you'll be happy to know that Patsy has 'one of those ear thermometers'." "Hallelujah," sighed Mulder as he slumped down in bed. Scully took his temp. "Down to 100. Better." She patted his hand. "Get some rest. I'll be in the next room, through the bathroom, if you need anything." "Thanks, Scully," he mumbled into the pillow. She turned of the light. "Sweet dreams," she whispered. Scully returned to her own room, finished her nightly rituals, and climbed into the large, soft bed. She pulled the covers up and snuggled into bed, feeling warm, and safe. She was asleep in minutes. End Part 1 of 3 FrankieH@aol.com Title: Southern Hospitality (2/3) Author: Frances Hayman (FrankieH@aol.com) Rating: PG Classification: XA Summary & disclaimers in Part 1 Southern Hospitality Part 2/3 The morning dawned sunny and warm, a wonderful spring day in south Mississippi. Scully walked out onto the back porch, coffee in hand. The sweet smell of honeysuckle permeated the humid air. Patsy joined her. "Beautiful, isn't it?" "Yes, it certainly is," said Scully softly. Her gaze wandered through the yard where azaleas bloomed all around the edges, impatiens flowed out of baskets along the eaves of the porch, and a fountain splashed into a small goldfish pond to the side. A large magnolia tree stood in the middle of the yard, displaying grand white blooms against leathery green leaves. Gardenia bushes held small buds that promised large fragrant flowers in the weeks to come. "Is Fox still sleeping?" "Yes, thank goodness," said Scully, snapping out of her reverie. Jim opened the back door. "Breakfast is ready. Come and get it!" They walked into the kitchen. Jim had the table set with scrambled eggs, sausage, biscuits, gravy, milk, coffee, and juice. "If I stick around here very long, I'm going to have to buy some bigger clothes," said Scully. Patsy laughed. "I doubt that, dear. Sit down, enjoy." * * * * Mulder woke slowly. He felt like someone was sitting on his chest, his throat still hurt, his head was pounding, but he was more comfortable than he could remember being in quite a while. Comfortable, cared for, safe. He rolled over and went back to sleep. * * * * Scully and Hopkins sat in his small office, sifting through reports. Scully was concentrating on the information about their prime suspect, Hardy. "Jim, it says here that Hardy has a twin sister. She was institutionalized after their parents died." "Yeah, after the mother killed the father, she killed herself. She found out that he had been sexually abusing the daughter. Hardy and his sister witnessed the deaths." "There's also a notation about some psychiatric concerns about Hardy after he was arrested. He claimed his sister told him to attack the police officer." "And she hasn't spoken, or done much of anything else in the last ten years." "We need more information about those initial evaluations of Hardy, and whatever we can find on the sister, Tonya." "I think we can get Hardy's prison records. The sister, however, may be a bit more difficult to manage." "Is she close enough for us to check it out personally?" "Yeah, it's only about an hour's drive to the hospital where she is." "Have all the information on Hardy's evaluations and any treatment sent over to Mulder. We'll bring back whatever we can on the sister. I think we're going to need his input on this." * * * * "Fox." said Patsy quietly. "Fox, honey, wake up. You need to take your medicine." "What?" he slurred. "Fox, it's Patsy Hopkins." She waited for him to open his eyes. "It's time to take your medicine." Mulder tried to shake the cobwebs out of his head. "Sorry," he said, trying to sit up. A wave of dizziness washed over him. "Easy, son, easy," said Patsy as she eased Mulder back onto the pillow. "Just lie there for a minute." Mulder closed his eyes and waited for the dizziness to pass. He hated being sick. Getting hurt in the line of duty was one thing, but this was really aggravating. "Now," said Patsy, "let's try that again, but slower this time." Mulder sat up, slowly, and this time the room didn't spin, much. He took the offered glass of juice and washed down a rainbow assortment of pills. "I was going to ask you if you were feeling better, but I can see that you're not," said Patsy with a concerned edge in her voice. "Maybe I should call Dana." "Where is Scully, anyway?" "She and Jimmy went to check on your suspect's sister, I believe. She sent some files over for you to look at, but I --" "Where are they?" asked Mulder with as much energy as he could muster. Patsy looked at him for a moment. "I'll give them to you after you eat." "I'm really not very hungry --" "Then the files will have to wait," she said and turned to leave. "Wait," said Mulder. "What's for breakfast?" "That's better." Mulder managed to eat a biscuit and some sausage before again asking for the files. When Patsy finally gave them to him, he devoured the information. He doubted they would learn much from Hardy's sister, but he was anxious to talk to Scully. A theory was forming in his foggy mind, a decidedly 'X-files' type of theory. He picked up his cell phone and called Scully. "Hey, Scully --" "Mulder, how are you feeling?" "I'm okay --" "Liar." "Really, Scully, I'm okay. Look, I just wanted you to be sure to ask if Hardy came to visit his sister, especially since he was released. Find out what he did when he came." "We've already been to the hospital, Mulder. Hardy did visit his sister, before and after his incarceration. All he did was sit with her. He didn't even talk to her. Wouldn't have done him much good anyway, she's catatonic." "Maybe they don't need to talk." "What are you saying, Mulder?" "Telepathy between twins --" "Mulder, she's catatonic, as in totally uncommunicative, unresponsive." The phone began to fade out. "Mulder --" "Scully, I'm losing you." "Mulder, we'll be there in a little over an hour. I'll talk to you then." Mulder grimaced and set the phone down hard. He got out of bed, very slowly, and went to the closet for some clothes. All he could find were jeans and sweats. His suits were gone. Scully, or more probably Patsy, had taken his suits. Well, jeans would have to do. He dressed and made his way downstairs, files in hand. He went into the den and spread the papers all over the desk. Patsy came in with her hands on her hips. "I thought I heard you down here. Why are you out of bed?" "I need to get through these files before Scully gets here. There are some things about this case that we need to discuss." He barely looked up at Patsy. She stood in the doorway, carefully looking at Mulder. He was too pale, he still looked exhausted, but he also looked very determined. "You really need to do this, don't you, son?" Mulder looked up. "Yes, ma'am. Lives depend on apprehending this guy." She shook her head and sighed. "Okay, I'll bring you something to drink. How about some more juice?" "That'd be great, thanks." * * * * When Scully and Jim entered the house, Patsy met them at the door. "That partner of yours says he needs to talk to you." "Where is he?" "In the den, with those files scattered all over the place." Patsy paused. "He's quite an intense man, Dana." "He is that," said Scully quietly as she walked into the den. "What have you got, Mulder?" "Tell me what you found out about Hardy's sister." "She hasn't spoken since witnessing the deaths of the parents. She has been hospitalized since that time, about ten years ago." Scully handed him a file marked 'Tonya Hardy'. "Ten years ago, today, Scully." He opened the file and looked at the photo. It showed a small young woman slumped in a wheelchair. She had brown hair and deep set, dark eyes. There was absolutely no expression on her gaunt face, but those eyes -- those were the same eyes he had seen in Billy's photo. "Okay, ten years ago, today. No physiological reason can be found to account for her state. No treatments have been successful in improving her situation." She paused. "Mulder, are you listening?" He looked up from the photo. "You said Hardy did visit his sister. When, and what happened?" "He's visited her regularly over the last ten years, with the exception of the time he spent in prison. Before he went to prison, he would come and take her outside, spend hours talking and reading to her. About six months before he assaulted the police officer, he stopped doing those things. He still visited, but he would just sit and look at her. Sometimes he would leave in a very agitated state, as if he had been in an argument, but he had spoken to no one. After his release, the visits continued in this manner." "When was his last visit?" "Five days ago." "The day before the murder that brought me here." Mulder took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Have you seen the report of the parents' murder-suicide?" "No. Is it relevant?" "Oh, yeah. The father was stabbed by the mother in exactly the same manner as all of our victims. And I'll bet you didn't know that the father was a sheriff's deputy. He had been a security guard before that." Mulder paused to catch his breath. "All of our victims have been some type of security guard, so far." "Do you think his next victim will be a police officer?" "I think there's a good chance it'll be law enforcement of some type." "In some kind of revenge for what his father did to his sister?" asked Scully. "I don't think the murders are his idea, they are his sister's. And I think he's looking for something to prove that the men he's targeting are, or are not, his father." "Mulder, I think I need to check your temperature again." "Scully, we've seen this before. Remember Roland Fuller and his brother, Dr. Arthur Grable?" "Mulder, Dr. Grable was only a head preserved in liquid nitrogen!" "And at least Tonya Hardy is still alive. And what about Billy Miles in our first case. They said he was in a 'waking coma', yet he walked out of the hospital on several occasions. And twin telepathy has -- " "Has never been scientifically documented." "But has none the less been reported by many psychic researchers. What if, Scully, what if, Tonya is controlling her brother, or at least convincing him of the need for his actions?" "That's a big if, Mulder. Isn't it more likely he's just trying to take action against his father that he couldn't ten years ago?" "I don't think so, Scully. Why would he toss my room, unless he was looking for something?" "What was he looking for?" "I haven't quite figured that out yet." He sighed, leaned back in the chair, and began coughing. Scully walked up behind him and gently laid a hand on his cheek. "Mulder, your fever's going back up. You really need to rest." "We're running out of time, Scully." "And you're running out of energy, Mulder." Jim interrupted. "How about we adjourn to the porch while Momma finishes up lunch. I think we could all use a break." Jim lead the pair out the front door to the broad front porch and over to a large padded swing and chairs. "Love that ocean breeze," said Jim, leaning back in his chair. Mulder sat in the swing and let his head fall back. Scully stood looking out over the estate walls, through the large, low-limbed live oak trees, to the small stretch of beach. The gray-green water stretched to a graying horizon. "Looks like we're gonna get some bad weather later today," said Jim. "Look at those clouds. And the weatherman says a big front is on its way in. Expecting severe thunderstorms, heavy rains -- pretty typical spring time weather." "Lovely," said Mulder without opening his eyes. Patsy appeared in the doorway. "There you are. Lunch is ready." * * * * They sat around the table, quietly eating lunch. Mulder could not be enticed to eat much, and kept insisting that they get back to work. The phone interrupted dessert. It was Agent Hopkins' office. "A couple of sheriff's deputies think they spotted Hardy at a little motel on Highway 49 several miles north of I-10. Take us about half an hour to get there." "What are we waiting for?" exclaimed Mulder, rising from the table. "Hold on, Mulder," said Scully, pushing him back down into his chair. "You aren't going anywhere." "Scully, there's no time to argue. Let's go!" Mulder got to his feet and wavered, catching hold of the back of the chair. Jim stepped to his side. "I'm okay, I'm okay," said Mulder weakly. Scully stood on Mulder's other side. "Bull, Mulder! You are most definitely NOT okay!" Scully paused and lowered her voice. "Mulder, your lungs are barely processing enough oxygen to keep you conscious, much less pursue a suspect." Mulder's knuckles turned white as he gripped the back of the chair. The dizziness wasn't passing and he couldn't focus. His legs buckled and Jim and Scully caught him as everything went dark. "Help me get him to the couch, Jim," said Scully worriedly. Mulder came around as they laid him down. "Happy now, Mulder?" "Wwhaat?" Mulder slurred. "Patsy, could you get my stethoscope and the thermometer?" "Of course, dear." Mulder struggled to sit up. "Easy, easy, Mulder," soothed Scully, brushing dark hair away from his eyes. He lay back down quietly. "Guess you're right, Scully. I wouldn't be much use to you right now. Don't worry about me, just go get Hardy." "In a minute, Mulder." Patsy brought the stethoscope and thermometer, and Scully examined him quickly. "Your temp is going back up, and your lungs don't sound any better. You're going to work your way right into a hospital bed at this rate." "Scully, I promise to take my medicine, just go, before Hardy gets away." Scully looked over the back of the couch at Patsy. "Make sure he stays put for at least an hour, and if his temp goes any higher, call me." "I'll take care of him, Dana. You and Jimmy go catch this fellow." * * * * Scully and Hopkins arrived at the motel in record time. Deputies had been instructed to wait for them before approaching the suspect. They stormed into the room to find a flapping curtain in the bathroom, and a trail of dust leading down a back road. They attempted to pursue, but lost him in a maze of country roads. "At least now we have a make on his car," said Scully. "Until he changes again," said Jim hotly, hitting the steering wheel. "Dammit, we almost had him!" Scully sighed. "Let's get back to the motel and regroup." * * * * Billy Hardy sat in a booth at the diner next to the motel, watching the show. He had seen the cop cars pull up to the motel, and had slipped out the bathroom window to take his present station next to the window in the diner. It had been Tonya's idea to pay that kid to take off and lead the cops on a merry little chase. He had grown so accustomed to her company that he would be incomplete without her presence. They had always been close, but since Mom and Pop had died, they were always together. They waited as all the cop cars and the FBI car had taken off after the kid. It sure was nice of the FBI to identify themselves with those big letters on the backs of their jackets. They smiled and enjoyed the moment -- cops were so predictable, especially when you had studied them as much as Tonya and Billy had. *We need to get out of here, to find Pop,* whispered Tonya. *Pop is gone, Sis.* *He's back again, you know that! He keeps coming back and we can't let him hurt us again!* *HE'S GONE!* *Billy, you know you found him yesterday -- YOU were the one that insisted on looking for the knife. YOU were the one that found it in his room.* *Sis, I know, but how do we know that it's the right knife, I mean, there must be lots of pocket knives that look like Pop's.* *You know he always said it was handed down, generation to generation, from his great-grandpa.* *Maybe he lied.* *Billy, we've been through this again and again.* *I just have to be sure, Sis.* *I understand, Billy, but we have a job to do. We CAN'T let him hurt us again. We have to find him, stop him, now.* *How? You know they took him away.* *Oh, Billy, do I have to do all the thinking? Those two FBI agents are his friends, just follow them!* *I thought we were trying to avoid them.* *Billy!* He winced, then looked around to make sure no one noticed. *Tonya, they'll find us, and put us back in jail. I can't go through that again!* *Billy,* she soothed, *just do what I tell you, and everything will be fine.* *Okay, Sis, if you're sure.* They waited, and after a while the FBI agents came back. Billy had moved to a small red truck. He sat behind a newspaper, watching as they got out and went into his room. Other officers arrived as the red haired woman and the stocky blond man left. Billy waited a moment, then pulled out on to the highway, just barely keeping them in sight. They went to downtown Gulfport, to the FBI office. Billy parked down the street and put the newspaper up again. He found a dirty black and gold New Orleans Saints cap, pulled it down on his head, and settled in to wait. End of Part 2 of 3 FrankieH@aol.com Title: Southern Hospitality ( 3/3) Author: Frances Hayman (FrankieH@aol.com) Rating: PG Classification: XA Summary & disclaimers in Part 1 Southern Hospitality (3/3) Scully and Hopkins stomped into the FBI office. Hardy had tricked them. They had sadly underestimated him. Sheriff's deputies had finally apprehended the car, and found a 17 year old boy driving. After some intense questioning, he had finally told them that 'some guy' had paid him fifty dollars to lead the chase away from the motel. He identified a photo of Billy Hardy as that guy. Scully sat across the desk from Hopkins, tapping her finger. "Where do we go from here?" "Well, we have an APB out on Hardy. He'll turn up." "Before or after he kills again? Has he already picked out his next target? How do we protect that person when we don't know who it will be? Trying to protect everyone in that photo is spreading manpower a bit too thin, and what if it's someone else?" "Scully --" "I'm sorry, Jim. It's just that with Mulder sick, I feel like I'm working with my hands tied behind my back." "I understand, Scully." He smiled. "How long have you two been partners?" "Sometimes it seems like an eternity." Jim laughed. "Nothing like a partner to know just how to push all your buttons." Scully smiled. "You are right about that." "What about this telepathy theory of his?" "Oh, Mulder always looks for off the wall explanations like that." "Isn't that why you guys investigate 'X-Files'?" "Yes, Jim, I guess it is," sighed Scully. "I bet you two have seen some, ahh, interesting things." Scully raised her eyebrows and looked at Hopkins. "You have no idea, Jim." "So, what about Mulder's theory?" Scully rolled her eyes. "Not you too, Jim?" "Well, I've seen some stuff, too, over the years. I've learned to keep an open mind." "I guess we better go back and talk to Mulder, then, if he's up to it." A loud clap of thunder shook the window in Hopkins' office. "Maybe we should go now, before the weather gets too bad." "I'll just grab these old files from Hardy's parents' deaths. Maybe we can find something in here to tell us where to go next." * * * * *Wake up, Billy!* shouted Tonya into her brother's mind. *Sis, you don't have to shout.* *Don't mess this up! Here they come. Just follow them like you did before.* * * * * Mulder lay on the couch, cursing himself. Why did he have to get sick right now? He was just a liability to Scully. He slipped into a fitful sleep. He awoke sometime later and managed to sit up without making everything spin. He noticed that the room was darkened and gloomy. Patsy walked in to see him sitting on the couch, head in his hands. "Feeling better, Fox?" she asked as she handed him a glass of water. "Thank you," he said, gratefully accepting the offered glass. "Some better. Have you heard from Scully and Jim?" "No, I haven't dear, but I'm sure everything is just fine." "What time is it? It looks like I slept for a long time." "You actually only slept about two hours. It looks so dark because of the storm." Just then a low rumble rattled the windows. * * * * The rain began as Jim drove away from the office. It started gentle enough, but soon became a deluge, causing him to slow down and turn the windshield wipers to high. He carefully maneuvered the gray car through the blinding rain. He and Scully did not notice the red truck following them. * * * * *Don't lose them, Billy! They are our only link to Pop!* *I'm doing the best I can, Sis. I don't want to get too close.* *The rain will hide us, at least for now. Just stay with them.* * * * * The sudden onslaught of rain startled Mulder a little. "Some storm," he said, moving to look out the side window. The rain beat against the glass, smearing everything into a wash of grays and greens. "Are you sure this isn't a hurricane?" he asked, grinning. Patsy laughed. "Pretty sure, Fox. Although, I should probably check the generator, just in case we lose power." Mulder's expression turned serious. "I wonder if they got him." "I don't know, son, but I know they'll do their best," she said, patting him on the back. "I should be with them," he sighed. "If anything happens to Scully --" The front door burst open, letting in a gust of wind and rain. Mulder's hand went to his right side, where his gun was usually holstered, and closed on empty air. He sighed in relief when he recognized a dripping Scully. "Scully, did you get him?" "No. No, we didn't," said Scully as she shook out of her dripping coat. "What happened? Was he gone when you got there? I knew I delayed you too long." "Slow down, Mulder. He tricked us. We chased a 17 year old kid while he calmly drove away." "What?" "We underestimated him," said Jim quietly. "We won't do that again." He hung up the coats, then reached into his briefcase for the old files. "I brought everything I could find on the Hardy parents and their deaths. Maybe we'll find a clue in this stuff." After Scully and Jim had changed into dry clothes, they gathered in the den while Patsy made a fresh pot of coffee. Mulder took a folder labeled 'William Robert Hardy, Sr.'. Thunder shook the house again, followed closely by a bright flash and a resounding crack. The electricity went out, leaving them in the stormy twilight gloom. Jim was the first to break the relative quiet after the boom. "I was afraid that might happen. I'll go find some flashlights and lanterns." He moved toward the kitchen. "Momma, you all right?" "Fine, son. Just lighting a lamp," she shouted from the kitchen. Mulder and Scully were left in the dark of the den. Mulder sank deep into the cushions of the couch. "This is just great." "Mulder, Jim will bring some lamps in so we can get through all this material." "I know, Scully, it's just, well, oh, I don't know. I feel like there's something I'm missing here." "We'll find it, Mulder." "But will we find it before someone else dies?" * * * * Billy sat in the red truck, staring out at the rain, trying to see the house. The lightning flash and accompanying blast almost blinded and deafened him. When he could see again, he noticed that the street light was out. Lightning must have taken out a power pole or a tree near the lines. He smiled. *Hey, Sis, I think we just got a break. The electricity's out.* *Good, Billy, good. Get through the gate before it comes back on. Use the rain as a cover.* Billy got out of the truck, making sure his special knife was in its proper place in the scabbard on his belt. It had served him well years ago, when he had learned to hunt deer, and now it was serving him well again in his hunt for a different prey -- his father. He was soaked to the skin in minutes as he pushed through the gate and made his way along the brick wall that outlined the estate. *Sis, where should we go in?* *Let's look around first.* *I'm getting kinda wet, here, Sis.* *Just be patient, Billy, we have to do this right. We'll probably only get one chance at Pop. His friends may get in the way. We need to be careful.* * * * * Jim brought several kerosene lanterns and candles to light the den and they settled in to work through the years old material, hoping to glean relevant information. Patsy brought in a tray of coffee and sandwiches. The shrill ringing of the telephone broke the quiet. Patsy answered it to find a frantic next door neighbor babbling on the other end. After calming the hysterical woman, she told Patsy that a tree had come through her living room window. Her husband had sustained a minor injury in the incident, and she wanted Patsy and Jim to come help them. Scully offered to lend her medical expertise, but Patsy insisted that she stay with Mulder. "Jane gets overwrought about just about everything. A hang nail is a 'minor injury' to her. I promise we'll call if it's anything serious." Jim lead Scully to the panel in the front hallway that controlled the security system. "The internal system has a battery back-up. The perimeter sensors are out, but the house systems are all still up and running. Punch this panic button and it'll call the police directly." "Got it. Sure you don't want me to come along?" "Nahh. Momma's right about Ms. Jane -- she over reacts to everything. I expect we'll be back before too long." Scully went back into the den after she armed the security system. Mulder was deep into Billy, Sr.'s file and didn't even look up when she entered. She picked up another file and settled in to work. * * * * Billy shrank into the shrubbery when he saw two people exit the house. He let out a silent breath when he saw Pop wasn't one of them. The two hurried into the gray car parked out front and drove away. First, the electricity, now this. Things were definitely looking up. * * * * Scully looked up from her reports and photos to gaze out the window. The rain seemed to be letting up, at least momentarily. She hoped that the neighbor wasn't in need of her help because she didn't savor getting all wet again, and she sure didn't want to leave Mulder here alone. Of course, he was a grown man, but he was sick and needed to be taken care of. And Billy Hardy, Jr. made her nervous. Since he had ransacked Mulder's room, she'd had a bad feeling about the whole case. She smiled to herself -- 'a bad feeling'. Mulder really was rubbing off on her. Mulder looked through the photos again. He knew he was missing something important here. These snapshots and stiffly posed family photos appeared to show a normal family, but this was a man who had abused his own daughter, and a son with a penchant for murder. He rubbed his eyes, then set several photos side by side. In the wavering lamplight, he tried to methodically pick through all the details. Suddenly, it jumped out at him -- in every photo, Billy, Sr. had an old pocket knife hanging from his belt loop, out of his pocket, or in his hand. The knife. "Scully, did the forensics team leave a list of any of my stuff that they kept for evidence?" "I think so, Mulder," said Scully, leafing through a stack of papers. "Here it is." She recognized that tone in his voice. He was on to something. Mulder looked down the list, forcing himself to read each line slowly. "It's not here." "What's not there?" "The knife." At her confused look, he continued. "Don't you remember that antique pocket knife I picked up in a country store a couple of months ago?" "The one I said looked like my grandfather's knife?" He nodded. "What about it?" "It's not on this list, and it's not in my bag. And look at these pictures," he said, sliding the file across the table. "Billy, Sr. has a similar knife in almost every photo." Scully picked up the file. "Mulder, are you sure you brought it?" "Pretty damn sure. I never completely unpacked that bag." "That's what he was looking for?" "That's my guess." "Then you may be his next target." "Looks like it." * * * * Billy sat quietly in the bushes near the back porch. *Back door, Sis? Break a window?* *The door, I think. Wait just a few more minutes, then let's try the door. Hey, isn't that where the phone lines come into the house, right there on the wall in front of you?* *Yeah, I think it is.* *Cut the phone line, Billy.* * * * * "I'm calling for back-up," said Scully as she quickly came off the couch and headed toward the nearest phone. "He still has to find me, Scully." "We underestimated him once, Mulder. The stakes are too high to do that again. We need back-up." She picked up the phone and almost punched in the first number before she noticed that there was no dial tone. "Phone's out." She started for the stairs. "I left my cell phone upstairs. I'll be right back." "Bring my gun, too, Scully," shouted Mulder after her. He added quietly, "I feel naked without it." "Naked, Mulder?" shouted Scully over her shoulder. "You know what I mean," said Mulder, grinning. "Just bring me the gun." * * * * Billy stepped as quietly as he could onto the porch. His shoes squished and left tracks on the dry areas. He knelt to pass under the windows and made his way to the door. He turned the knob, half expecting it to open easily. It didn't. This was his first major obstacle of the day, and picking a lock was child's play. * * * * Mulder slumped back onto the couch, closing his eyes. He was so tired. It seemed like eons since his little afternoon nap. Scully returned to find Mulder dozing. She lay a hand on his cheek -- still too warm. She gently shook his shoulder. "Mulder, wake up. You need to take your medicine." "I'm not asleep," he said, "just resting my eyes." He slowly opened his eyes and looked at Scully sitting next to him. The lamplight made her red hair glow. "Did you get my gun?" "Yes," she said, laying it on the table in front of him. "And I called for some help. It'll be a while before anyone can get here, though. The weather is wreaking havoc everywhere. Here, take your medicine." Mulder swallowed the handful of pills, then took the inhaler and breathed deeply, savoring the relief it gave. He grabbed the gun off the table and put his holster on. He patted the gun. "I feel better already." A small cough escaped, and turned into a series of deep coughs. "Yeah, you feel lots better," scowled Scully. "You look wiped out again. Why don't you stretch out on the couch and get some sleep?" "You want me to sleep while this guy may be stalking me as we speak?" Mulder asked. "How about letting me have some aspirin, or something, that'll help me function a little better." Scully sighed. "I'll stand watch while you get some rest. The back-up will be here soon, and Jim may be back even sooner." He just glowered at her. She glowered back, then shook her head. "Okay, Mulder, I'll go get you some aspirin." She went back upstairs. Mulder leaned back into the couch. * * * * Billy deftly picked the lock, and carefully opened the kitchen door. A loud alarm reverberated through the house immediately. Billy froze for a second, then ran in to find a place to hide. They didn't have much time before someone else heard all this noise and came to see what was going on. * * * * Mulder was off the couch in a flash, gun in hand. He went to the security panel in the front hallway to see that the alarm had been caused by the kitchen door. He knew Billy, and his sister, were in the house. He wanted to shout to Scully, to see if she was all right, but that would give him away. Better to look for Billy. He edged down the wall of the entry hall toward the dining room. He entered low, gun extended, but the room was empty. There were several doors, too many doors, too many ways to go. He chose the open door into the kitchen. He approached cautiously along the wall, trying to keep the other doors in view. Just as he started through the open door, a closet behind him opened, the resounding screech of the alarm masking the squeak of the hinges. Billy emerged, a baseball bat he had found in the closet raised above his head. Mulder caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and turned. The blow that landed was a glancing one, stunning Mulder and knocking him to his knees. A second swipe with the bat took out his gun and most of the feeling in his right wrist. He grabbed a chair and slung it into Billy's path, staggering to his feet. He could feel a thin line of blood trickling down the side of his face, and he could not focus very well. His gun was somewhere under the table. He heard Billy begin to talk -- it sounded like he was far away. "Pop, oh, Pop, you thought you could get away from me again. It ain't gonna happen. You keep coming back, but I'm not gonna let you hurt us again!" Mulder heard the words through the haze. "Billy, look at me. I'm NOT your father!" "That's what you said the last time, too, but we know it's you!" Mulder's head was throbbing, but his vision was clearing. Keep him talking. Scully will be here soon. "We? Is Tonya here, too, Billy?" "Of course she is, but you can't hurt her!" "No one wants to hurt either of you." "LIAR!" he screamed. He took out the knife and balanced the bat in his left hand. "You're gonna pay for what you did to us." "FREEZE, Hardy, federal agent!" shouted Scully from the front hallway door. Her gun was drawn, pointed at Billy. "Drop your weapons, NOW!" Billy didn't take his eyes off Mulder, but grinned hideously. "You think she can help you? You're wrong. Sis will take care of her." He pushed at the chair. "FR --" Scully attempted a second time, but she found herself slammed face first against the door frame, gasping for breath. It felt as if strong hands were closing around her throat. She managed to hold on to her gun as her hands went instinctively to her throat. What was choking her and holding her against the door? She tried to look for Mulder, but could barely turn her head. Billy was pushing the chair away with his feet as the bat and knife were raised. Scully raised her gun toward Billy, but it was suddenly knocked from her grasp. Mulder saw what was happening to Scully and screamed, "Let her go! Tonya, let her go!" Billy continued his approach. "Now she can't do that, Pop. At least not until I'm finished with you!" He lunged and Mulder stepped to the side, grabbing for the knife. Billy slashed blindly, cutting Mulder's forearm. Instead of drawing back, Mulder plunged into Billy's midsection and slammed his knife hand into the wall. He surprised Billy enough to knock the wind out of him, and heard a satisfying clatter as the knife fell to the floor. He continue to push Billy back until he hit the closet door. Billy brought the bat up and began to hit Mulder. "NOOOO!" Billy screamed. "I have to kill you! Help me, Sis!" Scully felt the pressure lift from her throat as she sank to her knees. She coughed and drew in a lung full of air. A quick look around showed her that Mulder desperately needed her help. She also spotted her gun under the table. She crawled, still coughing, under the table and retrieved her gun. She came out, gun aimed at Billy. She paused momentarily because she also saw a woman standing behind Mulder with her hands around his neck. She looked remarkably like the Hardy woman she had seen a few hours before. Where had she come from? The trio struggled with Mulder in the middle. Scully slid around the table to get a clear shot at Billy, then squeezed off a round. The shot took Billy squarely in the shoulder and sent him spinning. She looked back to locate the woman. She was still holding Mulder by the neck, and he was fading fast. She started to shoot a second time, this time at the woman, when she realized that she could see Mulder through the woman's body! She looked back at Billy, who was trying to grab for his bat again. He didn't see Scully come at him from behind where she landed a blow to the back of his head that sent him into unconsciousness. Scully looked up and saw the woman fade, and Mulder drop to the floor. A thin wale cut the air above the alarm. "BILLY, NOOO!" Scully pushed chairs out of her way as she made her way around the table to Mulder. He was bleeding, unconscious, and breathing raggedly. She pushed the memory of the woman aside as she assessed his condition. Jim burst into the room with his gun drawn. Seeing Scully bent over Mulder, he rushed to her side. "What happened?" Scully ignored his question and nodded toward Billy. "Check on him, Jim. I shot him in the shoulder, then hit him on the head. I don't want him regaining consciousness at least until he's immobilized." Jim examined him, then cuffed his hands behind his back. "I'll call an ambulance." "The phones are out," said Scully, tossing him her cell phone. "Use this." She turned her attention back to Mulder. His eyelids were fluttering as he struggled to regain consciousness. "Scuully," he slurred, "did you see her? She was here." "Quiet, Mulder. Lie still." She gently touched his forehead, wiping the blood away. Then she saw the larger amount of blood staining the sleeve of his sweatshirt. She pushed the sleeve back to reveal a long laceration that was, thankfully, not too deep. A quick exam of his ribs found several tender areas, but no apparent fractures. She sighed with relief. Jim hovered between Mulder and Hardy. "How is he?" "I think he'll be okay, but I want to get him to the hospital. How's Hardy?" "Bleeding some, still unconscious. I put a towel and some pressure on the wound. He'll probably be okay." He paused. "Was someone else here?" "Why?" "Mulder asked if you saw 'her'. Who was he talking about?" "I was talking about Tonya Hardy. She was here. She tried to choke Scully, then she tried to choke me," rasped Mulder. Jim looked carefully at Scully and could see red marks on her neck -- they looked like marks left by someone's hands. "Scully, your neck --" "Jim, could you please turn the alarm off?" "Yeah, sure." As soon as the alarm was off, Scully heard the wail of sirens. Jim met the paramedics at the front door. * * * * Three days later -- Scully sat in Mulder's hospital room, putting the finishing touches on her field report. The screen of her laptop gleamed in the relative dimness of the room, casting a blue-green glow on her face. Mulder lay quietly in his bed, watching her. She wasn't aware he was awake, and he was enjoying this moment just to look at her. Scully sat, contemplating the words to include. "Agent Mulder's insistence that Tonya Hardy was present when he was assaulted by Billy Hardy cannot be substantiated. The woman that this agent witnessed in Culver House could not be identified or her whereabouts determined. Inquiries at the hospital where Tonya Hardy has been a patient for the last ten years revealed that, although she was not individually attended during the time in question, she did not leave the premises on that day. Billy Hardy is recuperating from injuries sustained in his apprehension, and will undergo extensive psychiatric evaluation prior to being tried for the murders of the aforementioned victims, as well as attempted murder of a federal agent." Her cell phone interrupted her train of thought. "Scully," she answered quietly. "Agent Scully, this is A.D. Skinner. How's Agent Mulder?" "Hello, sir. He's doing better. The lacerations were fairly super- ficial and the concussion was minor. His ribs were badly bruised, which isn't helping the pneumonia, but he is improving. I expect him to be released from the hospital in the next few days." "That's good to hear. How about Mr. Hardy?" "Physically, he's doing pretty well, but the full psychiatric evaluation will take some time." "When do you expect to return to Washington?" "If Agent Mulder is released tomorrow, he should be able to travel in another day or two. However, he should be out of work for another two weeks or so." "Understood. Keep me informed." Scully terminated the call and looked back to her report. "Unless more information on the woman in question is forthcoming, this case is closed." She sighed and sat back in the chair. She looked over at Mulder, who was still watching her. "You're awake," she smiled. "Sleep well?" "Sure, except that they keep waking me up to take my temperature, my blood pressure, give me medicine -- you know. At least I finally got that awful oxygen thing out of my nose." Scully's smile widened. "Now, that makes me feel better." "What?" "That smile." Scully blushed a little, thankful that the room was dim. "My, my, you are feeling better." Mulder continued to gaze at Scully, but his expression became more serious. "What about Tonya Hardy?" Scully looked away. "She never left the hospital, Mulder." "Not physically, but I saw her. You saw her." "I saw someone. I don't know who she was, or where she went." "How did you get her to stop choking me, Scully?" "I didn't. I shot Billy and then knocked him out. When I looked back, she was gone." "But you know it was her." "Mulder, I don't know who it was." They sat in strained silence for a few moments. "Well," said Mulder, "I'm just glad that by knocking Billy out you cut his link to Tonya. She must have needed him to channel her consciousness into a form that could take physical action." "Mulder, you're never going to be able to prove any of that." "No, but I don't need to prove it to myself. I know what I saw. I saw Tonya Hardy choking you, pushing you against the door, and knocking the gun out of your hand. And you saw her choking me." "Mulder -- " she stopped and shook her head. "I don't know what I saw. I'm just glad she was gone." They sat in silence again, this time a little less strained. "Hey, Scully." "What, Mulder?" "Read me a story?" She threw the nearest magazine at him. THE END Feedback greatly appreciated! FrankieH@aol.com