by
Steven M. Wagner
wagnersm@mindspring.com

Disclaimers and other information included as in part 1.

----------------------------------------------------------------

7:30AM
Wednesday, 8 March
Second story hall, 'Brick House'

"Missing Items Revealed"
------

"Dammit Mulder. What did you do with my hose?" Goo could hear
the exasperation in Scully's voice from the kitchen stove. She
hurried up the back stairs. She could see the petite agent
standing in front of her partner's door, rapping on it with one
hand.

Dana Scully had searched her luggage for her pantyhose. Twice.
Even that fresh package that she had bought in some no- name town
in Georgia two weeks ago and hid in the back of her suitcase had
disappeared. She could find the rest of her clothing OK. <Where
the fuck are they. What the hell happened to 7 pairs of
pantyhose,> she thought.

Angus could see the tension in his petite friend's body. She was
pacing around the bedroom, peeking into dresser drawers, behind
the bathroom door, through her luggage. He wanted to help, but
didn't quite understand what she was looking for, not quite
having a need for clothing himself. She finally stopped in the
center of the room. Arms folded across her chest, she slowly
turned and looked around the room, going through her memory of
places she had checked. All she had left to do was her hose,
skirt, and shoes.

"Angus, you didn't see anything did you? You are an observant
animal, you would notice . . . Dana Katherine, you are losing it.
Asking a dog if anybody has stolen your clothes." She stood
there, clad in her underwear and crepe de chine blouse. A
growing realization that there was only one person that would
pull something like this. <Dammit, why does Mulder have to pull
one of his sophomoric stunts at this time,> Scully thought. The
woman had to meet with the defence team that morning at nine
o'clock to be grilled. She knew that she needed to look her
best. So she had pulled out her 'Going to court' suit, a silk
blouse, and some sexy underwear. She wouldn't normally wear a
black lace demi-bra and bikini panty set while working, but it
was a bit of psychological game playing. It gave her a edge
wearing the very feminine underwear under that cool professional
exterior. And to look like a professional woman, she needed
hose. And the only one around here that would even think about
making the hose part of a joke was Mulder.

And the joke was that her pantyhose was missing. Instead of her
state-of-the-art nylon and spandex, she found little fancy gift
boxes, exquisitely covered in brocade, tied with ribbons. Boxes
with no names on them. One held a pair of black silk garters,
with little bows the same color as her lipstick. A couple of the
boxes had black hose, one had a pair of blue, and the last had a
pair of sheer green hose. <Jesus H. Christ on a rubber crutch,
the hose even has the fucking seam up the back. At least these
are tasteful. Where did he find these? And how long has he been
planning this? You don't find silk hose at every corner
drugstore. There's only a couple of places in DeeCee that have
silk. Let's go trap the fox.>

She pulled on her robe and stormed to her partner's room. She
knocked once and barged in. Mulder was standing there in front
of a mirror, tying, what was to Scully, a tasteful tie. "What is
the matter, Scully," he asked.

It was the wrong thing to say. She walked up to him, invaded his
space, and started poking him in the chest. She talked in a low
calm voice, the only sign of her agitation was punctuating each
word she said with a jab to his chest. "You ask me what's wrong.
I've got a meeting with the defence team and YOUR GIRLFRIEND this
morning. And you make some stupid joke stealing my pantyhose.
Give them back Mulder!"

He raised his hands in supplication and surrender. "Scully, I
swear to you that I have not done anything to or with your
pantyhose," Mulder said in his defense, backing away from his
partner.

She did not let him out of reach. She followed him, jabbing him
with each word, until he backed into a chair and sat down. And
stared directly at the finely polished and filed index
fingernail. "Then who the hell did take them? Are you, an
Oxford educated genius, suggesting that Angus or Kiss took them?
Goo knows better then to mess with another woman's clothing. So
that leaves you." An especially hard jab. "So give them back!"

"Scully, I did not nor have I ever touched your pantyhose. If I
wanted to pull a joke like this, there have been other times that
I could have pulled it easier."

<Dammit, he's right. He would have had to sneak in the room in
the dark, get around Angus, and grab the hose. And he wouldn't
have known about the backup pair.>

Goo had been standing there watching the two agents argue.
<Damnit. I thought that 'Uncle Harry' would not bother these
two. Well, better come clean.> "It is Uncle Harry. He did it."
Scully and Mulder stopped arguing for a minute to look at Goo.
"Uncle Harry??" they said in unison.

"Yes, Uncle Harry. He had or has a thing for dressing well,
and . . . I think your pantyhose was something that he did not
like. He has . . had definite preferences on how women dressed.
He hates pantyhose. Dana, Mulder did not steal your hose, Harry
did. Do you find a pair of silk hose?" At Scully's nod, she
continued, "That proves it. Mulder did not steal your
pantyhose, Harry did. And the silk hose he left should fit, and
fit well. I'll explain everything at breakfast."

Scully turned to her partner. "I tell you this Mulder. If I
find out that you had anything to do with this, or EVER do
anything like this, you will wish that Skinner was riding your
ass. You will get down on your knees and pray that Skinner
rescues your lousy ass. For when I am done, there will none of
it left."

Mulder saw the anger and frustration flash in his partner's
lovely cerulean eyes. "Yes, ma'am," he meekly responded.

Goo turned and started down the hall. <What sort of hell do
these two go through to react like this. Last night, inside a
quiet house, Dana comes running with her gun drawn when Mulder
yells. This morning, she was ready to nail the partner she
patched up the night before. Shit. Life hadn't been dull since
they came to town."

Half an hour latter, Scully walked into the 'Brick House'
kitchen. <Goo was right, the hose fit perfectly,> the redhead
thought. It had been quite some time since she had worn hose and
garters, but still remembered how to pull them on. And the
feeling of the silk against her legs and thighs was seductive.
"Goo," she said to get Goo's attention. "I apologise for this
morning's outburst. Mulder and I do not air our disagreements
publicly. But this morning, the stress was just too much to hold
inside."

Goo looked over at Dana. She could see the redhead standing a
little straighter, standing a bit taller on highheels. It was a
look of a confident professional. It was a look that Goo was
familiar with, one she had perfected herself for use in court and
French restraints. "Don't think of it. I never thought to
mention 'Uncle Harry' to the two of you. I trust the hose fit
well."

"Quite, thank you." Scully saw Mulder walk into the dining room.
"Well, how are you feeling," Scully asked her partner.

Mulder was feeling, sorta OK. He never articulated it even to
himself, but he wasn't going to give his partner the pleasure of
thinking that her joke was getting his goat. He hadn't been able
to find any of his 'goofier' ties since the first morning staying
with Goo. He looked at his partner warily. "Fine, Scully. Good
morning, Goo."

Goo only listened with half an ear. <How to bring up Uncle Harry
so I don't sound like a kook? These are a pair of FBI agents, a
Medical Doctor, and a Pee Ach Dee from Oxford. They will laugh
at the idea that a ghost dead almost a hundred years would steal
ladies underwear> she thought.

Scully had confided to Goo that she was stressed over the meeting
with the defence counsel that morning so Goo made a light
breakfast of Belgian Waffles and fruit. Scully finished off the
second waffle and turned to Goo. "Thank you for the making the
waffles. I trust they were not too much work," Scully said as
thanks. Mulder added his nod.

"Not at all, just used mixed them up using biscuit flour. And
some fruit I had put up last fall. No problem at all. But, let
me explain about Uncle Harry," Goo said.

Scully could see that the younger woman was uncomfortable. She
reached out a hand and patted Goo's. Goo flashed her a smile.
"I am sorry for the problems this morning. I had not brought up
'Uncle Harry' because I did not think he would bother you, you
being guests and all. But I was wrong. Harry must have felt
like you had become like family.

"Most buildings much over 50 years old have resident ghosts here
in the South. And 'Brick House' is no exception."

Scully shot a warning look at her partner that told him NOT to
jump in. He ignored the warning, this was much too interesting.
He smiled at Goo and leaned in closer to listen.

Goo felt self-conscious about the story that she was telling.
'The best way to handle any problem is head on,' Harry himself
was known to say. So she continued. "And 'Uncle Harry' is ours.
He was one of my great great-grandfather's younger brothers. He
worked as an apple salesman for a Goff county apple co-op about
the turn of the century. He travelled a lot, picked up a taste
for chicory coffee that the family has kept to this day. He was
also a fine dresser, and liked those around him to dress well
also. Particularly women. He had a devout interest in the
fairer sex, as they were known to say." Goo smiled, "What we
would call today a womanizer." She stole a quick look and was
pleased to see both paying attention. If Mulder leaned any more
forward, he would fall off the seat. Scully may be sitting back
listening politely, but her eyes sparkled with amusement.

"When he died, it was a big deal. The menfolk of the town
wanted to show their appreciation of what he had done for this
county by giving him the grandest funeral that had ever been seen
in the history of this county. They told the family that they
did not want anything to disturb Uncle Harry's well deserved
rest. One of the men's groups got four adjoining plots in the
cemetery, another had shipped in a solid bronze casket from
Raleigh. According to newspaper accounts, the grave was dug an
extra 10 feet deep, and the first reinforced concrete vault used
in western North Carolina was built there.

The Arch-bishop from New Orleans came up to handle the service.
The other ministers of the faith assisted. They wrapped his
hands with a rosary said to be blest by the Pope himself. The
casket was brazed closed after the ceremony and wrapped in a
ship's anchor chain. The chain was locked, and the lock sealed
with wax by the Arch-bishop. They placed a foot thick slab of
granite over the grave in addition to a magnificent head stone.
Some people have claimed that there is a crucifix carved in the
underside of the slab. I don't know, but I do doubt the claims
that they put a oak stake through his heart."

Scully spoke out at a break in Goo's story. "They took a great
deal of care with your Uncle's grave. Is there any information
as to why?"

Goo leaned back in her chair, "It is well known that Harry had,
as it was said, 'a fine appreciation of the fairer sex.' And it
was known, that they appreciated him too. Ladies came in from
all over. The newspapers report trainloads of women coming in
from Raleigh. They came in from as far away as Chicago, New
York, and New Orleans. Even today, there is a bed and breakfast
in the old 'Storyville' section of New Orleans that has a room
that bears Uncle Harry's name. It's a covenant in the deed that
a room of any building on that property would bear his name.

"And the birthrate in Goff and a couple of the surrounding
counties dropped significantly 9 months after his death.

"In the here and now, people living in this house have discovered
that they need to dress . . . correctly. It is correct to wear
casual clothing when doing something casual, but if it is a dress
situation, you had better dress well, or Uncle Harry will correct
it for you. He doesn't destroy things, he just hides them,
replacing them with items he considers more appropriate.

"Does your Uncle ever do anything with men's clothing, or does
have a thing for only the ladies," Mulder asked.

Goo laughed, "Oh Yes. I remember Christmas's when we gave my
father ties. And the gaudier ones being replaced with proper
school ties."

Scully burst out laughing. Goo and Mulder started looking at
her. "So that's what happened to your ties, Mulder. I noticed
that you were wearing tasteful ties for a change. Drats, I had
hoped that you had gotten some taste." She sounded disappointed.

Mulder gave her one of his puppy dog looks. "And I thought that
you liked my ties, Scully." Scully gave him one of her raised
eyebrow looks of utter incredulousness. Her fair face soon broke
into a smile and they all laughed.

They soon left for town. Mulder driving the Taurus. The windows
were down, bringing in the warm spring breezes and sounds. The
birds tuning up for the spring symphony. The rich smell of just
turned earth drifted through the open windows. It was the sights
and smells of the rural South in Spring.

Scully and Goo hurried up to Goo's office to get ready for the
defence team and their questions. Mulder, feeling a certain
responsibly for the prisoner in the jail, walked over to the
jail, received an earful of Anders, and then stopped in the
sheriff's office.

Section 8 follows.
-----------------------------------

Appalachian Idyll - Part 8 of 19

by
Steven M. Wagner
wagnersm@mindspring.com

Disclaimers and other information included as in part 1.

----------------------------------------------------------------
10:00AM
Wednesday, 8 March
Sheriff's Office, Goff County

"A call on the locals"
-------

The room was reminiscent of the "Andy Griffith" show, or maybe
"In the Heat of the Night". Locked cabinet of rifles on one
wall, dispatcher in front of his console speaking into a mike.
The faint smell of gunoil and leather, coffee and Danish that
seems to follow policemen around.

The wave of a Stetson in the back of the room caught his
attention. He walked back, dodging desks and chairs until he got
to the chunky Southerner. "Good Morning, Sheriff Grimes," Mulder
said.

"Good Morning, Agent Mulder. How is the G-Man business, this
morning?"

Mulder laughed along with Grimes at the friendly joke. "Fairly
quiet," he replied. "Have any bank robberies that need solved?"

It was Grime's turn to smile. "Last one was, 'bout 20 years ago.
Trail'd be a bit cold by now," he paused for a moment. He
brightened up, "Got anything planned for this morning" he asked
with a smile.

"No. My partner is fielding questions from the defence team this
morning. I am going to join her and Goo for some field work this
afternoon." Mulder knew that something was up, the smile had
just too much fun in it.

"Good, I would like your help with something. Deputy
Fitzpatrick, John Fitzpatrick, will be checking out some reports
of vagrants at a unused cabin this morning. And with your
comments that Anders may have had accomplices . . ."

Grimes could see the interest in Mulder's hazel eyes. "Fine,
when does Fitzpatrick plan to leave?"

"Right after your next cup of joe," Grimes responded with a
smile. Mulder smiled his appreciation and a moment latter,
Grimes pored coffee into a cup with Mulder's name on it. "When
you are done, rinse it out and hang it on the rack here." Seeing
Mulder's confusion, he elaborated, "It's a something one of the
deputies picked up at a Boy Scout campout. Assign everybody a
permanent cup and a space to put it. No more disposable cups."

Mulder nodded. He looked over the setup while sipping his
coffee. <Yes, there's Scully and my places on the board. And a
place for Goo. Makes sense, she'd be here a lot." Mulder
finished the joe and went out to search for Fitzpatrick.

When Mulder found him, Fitzpatrick was sitting at his desk
working on some paperwork, Fitzpatrick looked up when Mulder
walked up and introduced himself. Standing up, Fitzpatrick
looked the man over, and liked what he saw. He stuck out his
hand and shook Mulder's. "John, John Fitzpatrick," he told the
FBI agent to introduce himself. Motioning Mulder over to a seat,
he sat back down. "The bane of a police officer's existence,
paper work," he told Mulder reaching for one more form to sign
before they left.

"Same problems in Washington. Won't get killed by a crook, I'll
probably die from an infected papercut," Mulder told the local.
He liked what he saw in the deputy sheriff. Lanky, blond, good
shape, even a sense of humour, <'What more do you want,' Scully
would ask,> he thought to himself. <Maybe I ought to introduce
the two of them.> The thought made him chuckle. When
Fitzpatrick looked up, Mulder just smiled and shook his head no.

Done with his paperwork, John led Mulder out to his International
Scout. Opening the back gate, "Go ahead and get in, I need to
get Fifi and Pierre," John told the Fed.

Mulder got in the passenger seat of the Scout and latched the
seatbelt. <'Fifi'? 'Pierre'?? What sort of police dog names are
they? What does John have, a couple of teacup poodles,> Mulder
thought, chuckling. The image of two balls of fluff gnawing
around a perp's ankle added a twinkle to his eyes.

Mulder turned around as he felt the Scout bounce as first one,
then a second heavy weight landed on the open tailgate. <What
the . . .,> coursed through his mind. And came nose to nose with
a monster in black and mahogany. It was a Rottweiler, watching
him, his mouth open just enough so that the agent got a good view
of the flesh-rendering teeth. And so that the tongue could
comically slip out the right side. And there was a second one,
maybe a little smaller, sitting beside it.

"That's Pierre in front of you, Fifi is sitting behind me,"
John's voice interrupting Mulder's testicles retraction into his
abdomen.

"Pierre, Fifi," Mulder croaked out, eyes not leaving the dogs.
<God, they're huge,> he thought. <Can they get through that
metal grating behind these seats.>

"Yes," John responded, starting the Scout. "They're good dogs.
Pierre's about 150 pounds, . . ."

<Shit, that's almost as much as I weigh.>

<And that's more than Scully. Heh heh heh. Wait until I tell
Scully about these two.> "Interesting names," commented Mulder,
relaxing.

"Yea. Just seemed to fit, though. Rotties being such big gentle
critters and all. Goo's Angus is one of their pups. Runt of the
litter"

<Runt?! I don't think I want to see the rest of that litter.>
"What do you know about the house we're checking out," Mulder
asked, looking out at the passing spring countryside.

"It's the old Roger's place. Family been renting it out to
skiers and vacationers for the past several years. I called them
in Ohio this morning and they haven't had any body staying they
for the past month. They seemed happy that I was going to check
it out."

The dogs watched the humans for a few minutes, and when it seemed
that they were not going to get a snack or attention, they like
all good carnivores, slept.

"What is it like, working for the FBI," Fitzpatrick asked,
interrupting Mulder's reverie.

<What do I tell this kid,> Mulder asked himself. <Do I tell him
about the shadow government, mind-wipes, Roswell? Do I mention
the nightmares about the dead bodies. John lives in Mayberry.
He doesn't need me to decision him.> "Not as much fun as Efram
Zimbilst, Jr had. There's a lot of surveillance work. A lot of
travel to little backwater towns that make Aurora look like a
busy metropolis. Scully and I have stayed in fleabag hotels in
little places like Yeehaw Junction, Florida, Mantoon, Illinois,
Atomic City, Idaho. Our boss is an ex-Marine who would ride my
ass all the time except for OSHA regulations. But he is also
there when we need him. There are some positive sides of this
job, you get generally interesting cases. And if you need
technical help, it's only a phone call away. Half the time I
spend in a dark basement office profiling serial killers, the
rest of the time, Scully and I take on cases that the FBI have
labelled unsolvable."

"Mulder, it sounds to me like this job sucks the big one. If it
is as bad as you describe it, then why do you stay with it," John
asked Mulder.

"Because in my ten years of doing this, I have put away more than
my fair share of killers and rapists. That is what makes this
job bearable."

Fitzpatrick hazarded a quick look at the 'Fed'. <This is one
weird SOB,> he thought. "We're here. I'm going to park here on
the road as not to disturb any evidence," John said.

Mulder approved of Fitzpatrick pulling off the paved road and
checking out the dirt driveway of the house. The two found a
faint pair of tire tracks. "Nice sized tires," Mulder remarked.

"Yes, they look like maybe truck tires," John commented, writing
down notes and measurements in his notebook. "Mind if we walk
back there. It's only a couple of hundred yards, and less chance
of disturbing evidence."

"OK," Mulder said, getting out his trench coat, John, his parka
and a camera bag. The wisdom of Fitzpatrick's suggestion was
proved walking. They found several more places where there were
tire tracks and several bent branches. Branches bent at just the
right height for a normal sized van.

Mulder enjoyed the walk. The air was crisp, the sun was shining,
and the buds were starting to open. The two dogs walked to
either side of the men, Pierre to Fitzpatrick's left, Fifi, to
Mulder's right. Mulder admired the way the sun glistened on the
dog's shiny coats. The dogs walked, no pranced, down the
driveway. It was obvious to the Agent that they were enjoying
their walk in the sun. A slight sound made him look over at John
and Pierre. Pierre was looking up into his master's face, with a
look of pleading that even Mulder could read. "Go ahead, you
two," John softly said to the two dogs. The dogs broke ranks and
ran off together into the woods. "Little chance of finding any
decent evidence here on the driveway," he told Mulder almost
apologetically.

The dogs had rejoined the primates by the time they had gotten to
the house. They walked around it together surveying the place.
Fitzpatrick had a small video camera out videotaping the
exterior. "Just making a record," he told the G-man. It was a
nice little house, Mulder decided. It was single story, about 30
feet square. The roof was shingled and the walls were aluminium
siding. There was a small lawn around the place and a ill-
maintained grove behind it. They found a place that might have
been a parking place for a truck or van.

The house itself proved to be a bit of a disappointment. A
broken window in the front door had allowed someone to bypass the
doorlocks.

The two men checked out the house together, John doing most of
the checking, Mulder letting him run the show. He liked what he
saw in the Deputy Sheriff. He knew how to investigate a scene
without destroying evidence. After checking the living room,
they moved to the kitchen. "You know, there is something about
this place that doesn't add up," John told Mulder looking through
some cupboards. "This place is too clean. Vagrants don't have
much invested in a place and tend to be messy, if not outright
destructive. But here, . . . they didn't do much. Except for a
little ash in the fireplace and the broken window, there's
nothing."

Mulder hadn't done much in the way of 'vagrant' investigations,
but had to agree that something was off. Something was making
the hairs on the back of his head raise. He had been in the
field too long, not to know that sometimes his instincts picked
up on things that his mind did not. "I agree," Mulder turned
around surveying the room. "Something is not right here."

"Mulder, come over here please," asked Fitzpatrick. "Got any
idea, what these might be," he asked the Fed, pointing out some
little red balls. Mulder leaned down to take a better look.
They were several little red balls lodged between the kitchen
counter and the wall.

"Damifino," answered the Fed. "But I do have an evidence bag to
stick them in," he continued, pulling out one of the official FBI
(even had the FBI seal on it) plastic bags. John lent him a pair
of tweezers, that Mulder used to collect as men of the items as
he could.

They did not find anything else of note in the house. They
checked each of the rooms a second time, still finding nothing,
still with a feeling of missing something.

They got into the Scout, and headed back towards town. They had
been driving for a few minutes when the deputy cleared his
throat. "Agent Mulder," he said.

Mulder knew that he was in trouble when a local starts using the
'Agent' honorific after they have been talking for a while with
out it.

"Agent Mulder," he repeated. "What do you mean by 'profiles'".

Mulder grimaced. "Profiles are perhaps better described with the
term, psychological profiles. A profiler takes the information
from the crimes, analyses it, and writes a determination of what
the perp is like. Part of what you do is to get inside the heads
of both the perp, as well as the victim. At one point I was
dealing with so many cases, and so much travelling, I had trained
my dreams to go through parts of the case. I finally just got to
a point where I could not take it anymore. I was able to get a
transfer to a less stressful department. Although I still get
called in for the cases that the normal profilers cannot make any
headway in. Doesn't happen all that often."

They drove quietly until they got back to the outskirts of town.
"Want some proper North Carolina barbecue, Mulder," John asked.

Mulder looked over at the Deputy, "That sounds good, where?"

"Buffy's," John said licking his lips. As they pulled it, it
looked interesting to the Agent. 'Buffy's' was a smallish place
that looked like it had gotten it's last facelift sometimes in
the '60s. The exterior was covered in white enamelled panels and
there was a 57 Chevy sitting on the roof with a mannequin
dressed as a waitress standing beside it. The dining room was
shared with a burger joint named 'Biff-Burger'.

<Sounds like I've ran into one of the local hangouts,> Mulder
thought as he got out of the Scout. Mulder wasn't quite certain
how good the food was going to be. He knew that in the South,
much of the best barbecue will be found in places the Health
Inspector would close down, if it wasn't for the fact the owner
was his brother-in-law. But here, the food was good, the iced
tea sweet, and the waitress brought out a plate for each of the
dogs. Theirs lasted even less time than the humans.

"I bet you have a fancy office in Washington," Fitzpatrick
stated.

Mulder laughed. "Sometimes it seems that you end up with the
lousiest working environments possible. Right now, Scully and I
work in the basement of the J. Edgar Hoover Building in
Washington. It's often dark and hot, but it's not the worse
office, I've had. The first was the absolute worst. I was right
out of the FBI Academy, and they assigned me to the Behavioural
Sciences Unit. While we never could get a straight answer, I
still believe that the offices were in some old law enforcement
fallout shelter that had built sometime in the 1960's. We were
60 feet down in a windowless sub-basement. It was cool and damp,
just the place to put a bunch of psychologists. We used to joke
that we buried 10 times deeper than a corpse. There was nothing
but florescent light, and the air was sucked down from the
surface for us. Well, I had just came back from my first trip
out of town, and there was a drill scheduled for that day. A
drill that my fellow agents had not bothered to tell me about.
Well, the warning sirens sounded, and the ventilation system
stopped running. I didn't know what was going on so I started to
run for the elevator. I was in the last dash for the elevator
when the blast door closed in front of me. I'm starting to sweat
when the florescents die and all we have is the emergency
lighting. Now I am sweating big time. And they let me stew for
about an hour. Then they let me know what was going on. We all
had a good laugh about it."

Section 9 follows.
-----------------------------------

Appalachian Idyll - Part 9 of 19

by
Steven M. Wagner
wagnersm@mindspring.com

Disclaimers and other information included as in part 1.

----------------------------------------------------------------

11:45AM
Wenesday, March 8
Goo's Office

"Pass the lowly pasternoster pea."
-----------

Goo and Scully looked up from some papers as Mulder walked in the
office. "Hello, Mulder," Goo said as greeting. How was the
investigation."

"Fine, just fine," he replied as he set in one of the empty
sidechairs. "We didn't find that much out there, the place was
too clean. It didn't feel right either. Fitzpatrick noted that
the place was way too clean for someplace that vagrants were
staying at."

Scully looked up from her report. Mulder was too right with his
hunches and guesses too much of the time for them to be
disregarded out of hand. "Did either of you have any idea who
may have been staying there," she asked.

"No. We did find one thing though, these red beads," he replied.
Mulder pulled out the evidence bag containing the red balls and
passed it to her. "Got any idea of what these are, Scully?"

She squinted at the little objects through the thin polythene.
"Not a clue. Doesn't look like . . ." Scully started to say
something, then started to drift off, as if something came to
mind. She passed the bag to Goo for her perusal. "Mulder, there
was something from the lab results of what the victims had in
their stomach and intestines. Something about a red powder of
some sort."

"Yes, there was. They were never quite sure what it was, And by
the time the lab got the sample, it was too digested for any good
chemistry testing."

Goo took a good look at the contents of the bag and something
clicked. "Gang," she said quietly. When that did not get their
attention, "Dana, Mulder, I think I know what these beads are."
Both agents turned their eyes and complete attention to the
svelte blond. "At my confirmation, my mother gave me a rosary
that had been in the family since 'The War'." The way Goo had
said 'The War', both Scully and Mulder were certain it was The
War of Northern Aggression, aka, the American Civil War, she was
referring to. "The beads in it are just like these. My mother
called them 'Paternoster Peas,' and said that they were
poisonous." Her eyebrows went up, and the corners of her mouth
went up in a smile, "Does this make me a suspect?"

"Do we Marandaize her here, or at the Sheriff's Office, Scully,"
Mulder said in a joking tone. "No, not unless you've been gone
alone on business for most of the past 4 months, and we find a
large supply of these peas in your house. But," he quickly
turned to his partner. "According to your book on poisonous
plants, paternoster peas do contain abrin."

Scully gave one of these rare smiles that lights up one's entire
face and laughed. "We know that the victims died from ingesting
abrin. But we never could figure out how the perp got the
poison." Taking a good hard look at the bag. "If your
identification is correct, we have a link."

"And those things are easy to find in Florida and Central
America," Mulder commented, remembering the article in the book
on poisons. "Goo, we need to get an evidence team out to that
house pronto. Neither Fitzpatrick nor I were looking for much in
the way of evidence for anything. We probably over looked
something."

"No problem. I'll call Grimes. He'll want to send somebody out
there to keep an eye on the scene. We don't have anybody here in
Goff County with this expertise, Grimes will contact the SBI and
have them send out a team. I can have a courier take a sample of
these peas to the state lab in Asheville for tests. We should
know by morning," said the blond DA.

A few phone calls, and everything was moving. "Shall we head out
on our field trip," Goo asked her FBI companions. As they were
leaving the building, they stopped in and filled in George and
Harold.

They were equally excited with the development and wished Goo and
the Agents 'Good Luck' on their hunting.

1:00PM
Wednesday, March 8
Foyer, 'Brick House'

"Mulder earns himself a kick."
------

Scully was quite pleased with herself. All of her jeans and
other 'outdoorsy' clothing was still in the closet in DeeCee, she
had packed nothing but suits and dresses when they had left the
day after Christmas. But she had found a nice plain blue cotton
blouse in her suitcase, and paired it with a charcoal gaberdine
pair of slacks. A pair of canvas Keds on her feet. Not the best
selections she knew, but the best she could come up with.

A noise from Mulder quickly brought her back to the present. Goo
was starting to come down the stairs and Scully suddenly felt
frumpy, the pleasure of her cleverness fading. She knew that the
willowy blond had done nothing special, but she still looked like
she had just stepped out of a Vogue layout on camping. The
combination of hiking boots, hiphugger jeans, tank top, and a
flannel shirt was a natural. Scully remembered wearing the same
outfit shopping before Christmas. But on Goo they just worked
perfectly. The feminine curves were chastely hinted at. The
clothes had that slightly worn look that told you that these were
real clothes being worn by a real person, not props worn by a
model. And Scully would be willing to bet her spare clip that
the braid Goo had put her hair in was perfectly hanging from the
hole in the back of her baseball cap. Not a hair would be out of
place. Scully didn't know whether to shoot her hostess or kneel
down and cry.

Another noise reminded her that her partner was standing beside
her. Her anger flared, she couldn't blame Goo for looking so
leggy and perfect, while she looked short and 'cute'. She
clipped Mulder in the shin with the side of her foot. "That's for
staring," she told him under her breath.

"I wasn't . . .", he started to say, But the look on the
redhead's face told him to shut his yap.

A brief sparkle caught Scully's eye and she looked back to her
host. <She isn't wearing earrings,> the forensic pathologist
thought, <No chains or necklace. No gaudy rings. What could
it . . .. Oh shit.> The realization came to Scully where the
sparkle had came from, Goo had a belly button ring.

Goo felt a little self conscious. Both Scully and Mulder were
looking at her and should could not figure out why, She wasn't
wearing anything special. After she got to the bottom of the
stairs, she gave herself a quick inventory. Everything seemed to
be in place. Except that the tanktop had ridden up a bit and
exposed her belly button. And the 18 caret loop in it. "Like
it," she asked her guests. "I had my belly button pierced while I
was still back at State. A youthful indiscretion." All three
laughed as they turned and left for the field.

Mulder had given Goo a profile of places that would be likely to
have remains left by Anders. Small, unused homes, both with good
access to roads, but far enough from them to allow privacy. And
a well or tunnel that could be used to hide bodies. She had
located 4 farmsteads that matched the profile easily. And today
they would be visiting them.

The first three met the profile exactly. But there were no
bodies found. The worst thing the three houses had brought them
was ruined clothing. The brambles and North Carolina clay had
done their worst on the two Federal agents. Mulder had fallen in
a puddle and ripped a foot long hole in his sweatpants. Scully
had not fared any better. The button collar, Oxford cloth blouse
still looked as school-girl neat as when she had put it on. Her
fitted wool gaberdine slacks did not. The trail back to the well
at the second house went by brambles. They did not draw blood,
but the right leg of the trousers were shredded like cole slaw.
And it did not help Scully's and Mulder's feelings when she
called back at them to hurry up. They looked up at their hostess
with death in their eyes. She still looked as neat as she had
then they left the house. The crease on her clean jeans was
still sharp, and the tank top and flannel shirt was still clean.

The fourth house was different. The home was much like the other
three that they had seen. Siding that had last been painted
about V-J Day, a galvanised roof that had gone red with rust.
Several outbuildings that just about fallen in. "This way," Goo
called out, leading the FBI agents down the trail. "According to
Mom and Dad's notes, this house had a rather large spring house
down this trail." They got the first whiff of death then they
first saw the spring house. It was the sickly sweet smell of
corruption. A faint humming was an undercurrent of sound. A
quick look at each other, and Mulder and Scully scouted on either
side of the half buried building. Goo had to smile when she
realized that it reminded her of when Angus and Kiss found a
turtle in the yard and investigated it. No communication, just
quick, efficient work.

Goo held back the few minutes it took for them to check things
out. When Mulder waved her forward, she was relieved. But It
was relieve that was short lived. Mulder went down the short
flight of steps and opened the door to the out building. As the
door opened, the source of the hum was seen, thousands upon
thousands of flies boiled out of the doorway. A few steps and
the three heroes found their body. Or what was left of it. The
flies had been industrious, laying their eggs in the dead flesh.
What had been the mortal shell of a man, was now a mass of
seething maggots. Goo took a tentative step towards the body and
swallowed. Turning to the agents, "I think I need to check
something on the Jeepster," she said, swallowing again. She
didn't wait for acknowledgment when she quickly climbed out of
the building. The sound of retching was heard within seconds.

Scully and Mulder gave each other a quick look, seeing the dead
is never easy, and this was a particularly messy one. <He's as a
white as a sheet,> Scully thought. "Mulder, why don't you radio
this in," she said with a faint smile. Mulder smiled his thanks
as he quickly exited the building. Scully half listened for
Mulder's distress as she slipped on her latex gloves(Size Extra
Small, Surgeon's Extra Thick). Hearing nothing, she knelt down.
<Death is never pretty,> Scully thought to herself. The maggots
and decay had ruined enough of the face to make identification
hard, if not impossible. But ID's are typically heat sealed in
plastic, and Anders left her victim's on them. A few minutes of
poking and she had in hand a plastic wafer, with a faded
thumbnail photograph of a smiling 40-something man. "Gary
Fritz," she read under her breath. A name on the list, a name on
a list she remembered as well as Mulder. A family could stop
worrying and start grieving.

Mulder walked up to the Jeepster. He hadn't lost his lunch, but
it had been close. He understood Goo's stomach distress, he
didn't quite understand how his partner could keep examining dead
bodies, but then, she had mentioned that she did not understand
his ability to get inside killer's heads. "How are you feeling,
Goo," he gently asked the quiet blond sitting in the driver's
seat.

"I'm so sorry, Mulder," she said turning to the agent. "I didn't
mean to act like a kid there and lose it, but it was just too
much."

"I've seen seasoned agents that have lost their lunch at less.
Don't worry about it." Picking up the police band walkie-talkie,
he radioed in the find. The dispatcher acknowledged and told the
agent that the SBI would be requested to send out a crime scene
team.

"Hello," they heard Scully's dulcet tones coming from the trail.
"You two okay?"

"Yes," Mulder yelled back, as they saw the petite redhead walk
up, small evidence bag in hand.

"Gary Fritz," Scully said simply, handing the bag to her partner.

"Federal employee out of Danville, Virginia. Works . . .worked
for the EPA," Mulder finished, recalling the case from memory.

"Now what," Scully asked.

"I think you two need some new duds if we're going to keep doing
this," Goo said, looking at the agent's ruined clothing.

Mulder and Scully looked at each other and laughed. Scully's
neat pressed blouse and trousers now bedraggled and torn.
Mulder's sweats now caked with North Carolina clay. Scully
looked at Goo and asked the question that had troubled her since
the brambles, "Goo, how did you keep from ruining your clothes
like Mulder and I?"

Goo let out a alto laugh and smiled at the two agents. "Its
simple, Dana. I know enough not to brush up against brambles.
And I learned long ago not to step in wet clay. Now look at you.
I'm not quite sure what to do with the two of you. Dana, we can
hem your pants and make a cute pair of shorts. But, Mulder, I'm
afraid that those sweats are going to be red the rest of your
life." She sat there for a second looking at the agents, idly
resting her chin in the palm of one hand. "Devil Dogs," she
finally exclaimed.

"Devil Dogs," Scully responded, the question in her voice. <What
does a chocolate snack cake have to do with my clothes,> she
asked herself.

"Yes, Devil Dogs. Devil Dog Dungarees, to be exact. They are a
North Carolina manufacturer of work clothing. They have several
plants in Zebulon, as I remember. If we are going to be doing
much tramping around in the woods, you two will need the
appropriate clothing. And a pair of Devil Dogs and some boots
will be just the ticket. And there is a store in town that will
be open late."

When they left DeeCee, Scully had not expected to have to go
tramping around in the woods. It was winter so out came the
wools and the sweaters. And in her closet, there were several
pairs of blue jeans, dungarees if you please, ranging from a
ratty pair she had bought while she was still in college, to a
pair of Chanels, she had bought for a date. And a couple of
pairs of hiking boots, just made for tramping around in the
woods. A quick glance at Mulder for comment, and she nodded.

They stopped by Goo's for a quick change of clothes (and a shower
for Mulder) before heading downtown. The store was sort of a
general store, with a little bit of everything for the grower or
tourist. Scully came out looking like she was ready for the
Appalachian Trail, silk tee tucked into belted Devil Dogs, a
matching Devil Dog jacket, and a pair of leather hiking boots.
Mulder was not quite so dapper, keeping the (clean) sweatshirt,
but donning a pair of Devil Dogs to cover his legs. Supper was
jointly agreed that the Chinese from "The 'New' Red Lantern" was
just the ticket.

They had just set down to hot tea and their menus when Goo spoke
up, "Let me make a quick call to 'Heckle & Jeckle' to see if they
might want some take out." The agents nodded their agreement.
Both Mulder and Scully agreed that for state bureaucrats, they
weren't bad to work with.

Goo came back with a long face. "Gang, our 'Lords and Masters'
have some plans for us," the blond told the agents after the
waitress took their orders. Scully's raised eyebrow was the
redhead's primary response. Mulder's boyish looks hardened with
a certain wariness. "Heckle and Jeckle told me that the State's
Attorney want to talk with use Friday, all day. Sorry."

"Not a big deal, we'll take a early morning flight to Raleigh,
then take a evening flight back," Scully said look from partner
to Goo.

Goo smiled one of those sad smiles you use with little kids that
do not understand the world. "Scully, there are no local flights
that fly into Raleigh." She sat back in her chair. "Actually,
there are no local airports at all. And by the time you drive to
the airport, you might as well, just have driven to Raleigh.
You're in the boonies guys."

The agents looked at each other for a second. "If we must, we'll
drive. It isn't like we haven't driven in North Carolina
before," Mulder finished.

"OK," Goo replied with a smile. "What are you two doing Sunday?"

Mulder laughed. "Nothing. We haven't been anywhere long enough
to make any sort of plans for a couple of months now."

"How about coming with me to Mass, brunch, and the Spring Social
and Ball?"

Scully looked to Mulder, Mulder looked to Scully. This was a
more complex subject than the serial killers and alien blood
suckers they normally handled. So he shrugged, she gave a quick,
almost unnoticeable nod and consensus was reached.

"Sounds good," Scully answered. <She has been awfully nice to
us, time to reciprocate.> "Is there anything we can do to help
with any of this," the petite agent asked.

Goo smiled her thanks, "Actually there is, Dana. Part of the
'Spring Social' is a baked goods raffle and I'm afraid that I
don't bake that well."

Mulder's snort of disagreement brought the maitre d' coming to
the table. Mulder waved the man off. Goo flashed Mulder a quick
smile of thanks and continued, "Not against people like Tammy and
some of the other people of Aurora. But I do help out, manning
one of the booths. Would you be willing to help out, I don't
know which booth it will be this year, but it shouldn't be that
taxing."

"No problem, we'll be glad to help, won't we, Mulder," Scully
answered. The last phrase said pointedly at her partner.

"Yes, Scully, anything we can do, Goo. Anything at all." Mulder
smiled.

Section 10 follows.
-----------------------------------

Appalachian Idyll - Part 10 of 19

by
Steven M. Wagner
wagnersm@mindspring.com

Disclaimers and other information included as in part 1.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Thursday, 9 March
>From Smalltown, USA
A series by Jerry Riggens

Things have quieted down here in Smalltown, USA. Cindy
Anders, the accused, has been arraigned on one count of
first-degree murder. The arresting officers, FBI Special
Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder, have started searching
the countryside for additional evidence.

And things have quieted down in town. My press colleagues
have returned to their newsrooms and studios, taking their
satellite dish equipped trucks and laptop computers with
them. The warmth of spring continues to soak into the
populace. The swings are back up in the playground. You
can hear the joyous shouts while they play. People are
taking down their storm windows and putting up screens.
Shopkeepers are putting out bright tubs of flowers for all
to enjoy.

A church bazaar is planned for Sunday, the ladies of the
town are raising money to buy land for a history museum.
Booths are going up in the football field, ladies are
holding hushed conversations as to what they will be
entering in the baking contest.

And Sunday evening. The One Hundred and Fiftieth Goff
County Cotillion and Birthday Celebration is planned for
that night. All of the senior girls from the high school
are anchious awaiting their introduction to society. The
dance will be held in the ballroom of one of the local
Antebellum mansions.

But have things really gone back to normal? There are now
brown-uniformed State Police pulling guard duty at the
normally empty jail. A FBI sedan is often seen in the
parking lot of the local courthouse. I've seen the lock-
smith's van parked in front of several people's homes this
week.

Like Pandora's box, once the box that holds urban fears
within has been opened, the small town cannot really go back
to it's norms of little fear and trust. And is there hope
at the bottom of this box? Maybe. I've talked with Sheriff
Steve Grimes and several of his deputies. These are men and
women whose training matches that of any major metropolitan
police force that I have had the pleasure to deal with.
These people have a stake in the town that they were born
and have grown up in. And these are people that are
devoted to the protection of their town.

These people, the Sheriff and Deputies of Goff County, are
the hope of their small town, now that the Pandora's box of
serial killers has has been opened. Our hats are off, and
our thanks go to, these members of the small town police
departments that stand there, a thin line between their

fellow citizens and the criminals that now have moved in to
prey on them.

This is Jerry Riggins, signing off from another one of
America's Smalltowns. Aurora, North Carolina.

12:20PM
Thursday, 9 March
U.S. Highway 321, North Carolina

"Scully enjoys a Twinkie"
-------

Mulder watched the world pass by in the perpetual twilight of
Polaroid sunglasses. Gone was the bare branches that had greeted
him and his partner when they had started on this quest. The
world was now clothed in the green of new growth. It was a
welcome change. The case was winding down too. They had caught
the perp, and the two, maybe three left shouldn't be that much
threat. He had been sleeping, <And as those stupid ads say,
'Life is good'.>

The clicking of the turn signal caught Scully's attention. She
closed her medical journal and tucked it between the front seats.
A stop would be welcome, a chance to stretch. "Goo, gas stop,"
she called out to the blond in the back seat.

Looking up from her copy of "Martha Stewart's Living" magazine,
"Thanks, I could use a break." The lithesome counselor rolled
her shoulders to loosen them. "I found some interesting desert
recipes in this issue."

Mulder pulled the Taurus off the highway and into a gas station.
He looked over at his partner, a bit of amusement on his boyish
face. Scully just shrugged, as if to tell him not to look to her
for reason.

Goo, seeing Mulder's face reflected in the rear view mirror
continued, "I think of much of the stuff in 'Living' to be on par
with 'Popular Science' or 'Popular Mechanics'. Projects with the
feminine touch." She had a bit of a frown as she continued,
"Haven't had that much time lately. Cannot keep up with them
they way I used to. You know, between Mom and I we have almost
the complete collection of the magazine and Stewart's books."

<Sweet girl, bit of a dingbat,> Scully thought to herself.
Seeing her partner head towards the store, she thought to give
him a warning. "Mulder," he turned and looked at her for a
second. "Remember, no sunflower seeds in the hull, get the
hulled variety." Seeing the start of his protest, "I know they
taste better when you hull them, but I don't want any more
complaints from the Motor Pool about having to vacuum the carpet
three to four times to get all the hulls out. They still
remember the squawk from Newt Guinrich when sunflower hulls came
out of the air conditioning ducts."

"All right, all right," Goo heard Mulder say as he continued
towards the store. Goo could only shake her head, <Acting like a
couple of kids here. Or a married couple.> She continued to
shake her head as she followed Mulder into the confines of the
store. A quick look at her watch reminded her that it was
midday. She started to suggest a snack when she saw his hands
full of munchies and fresh fruit. She headed for the rack and
picked up a 'Moon Pie' and a RC cola.

The shoppers found Scully sitting at a picnic table waiting for
them. Her smile told Mulder that he had been right to pick up a
couple of apples and a Twinkie for his partner.

<These two have acting like a married couple. The fighting, the
running to each other's aid, that's more married couple than
police partners,> the DA thought to herself. Seeing Scully
paying close attention to some butterflies flitting in the soft
breeze, she decided to offer to the agents, a perhaps, more
convenient situation. "Mulder," her voice low, "Would you and
Scully like to share a bathroom?" She had not heard anything,
but if these two were a couple, she would rather they be
comfortable then sneaking around at night.

The question seemed to take Mulder by surprise. His quick smile
told Goo that he wasn't hurt by the offer. "Goo, thank you, but
while Scully and I are the closest of friends, we are FBI agents
and romance is the farthest thing from our minds. Anyway, we
know each other too well." He stopped for a second, it almost
looking like his ears perking up as he heard Scully take the
cellophane off the snack cake. "She's bit off one end of the
Twinkie", he paused for a second. "She's bit off the other," and
pause, "now she's sucked out the filling. Scully?"

The two conspirators looked over at the Titian haired agent. Her
tongue was making quick cat-like licks cleaning her lips of creme
filling. Her eyebrows raised. "Yes?"

"Goo suggested that it might make things easier if we shared a
bathroom, Scully."

"No, oh no. Goo, I rather like things the way they are. Don't
have to worry about He-Man here leaving the toilet seat up."
Scully paused for a second. "You're not the first to think that
Mulder and I might be having an affair. But, it is really the
farthest thing from our minds. However fun and convenient it
might be, sooner or latter things would go sour. And then there
would be hell to pay."

"Yea. Either we get mad with each other and then split up both
our working partnership as well as our private lives, or. . .
Skinner finds out and we are separated at the FBI and that might
split us up personally too. Too much at risk."

"And we couldn't live with each other if we wanted to. Mulder is
not the neatest of persons all the time. I have seen his hotel
rooms at check out look like somebody stired them with a spoon.
Goo looked at the two partners. She couldn't help but think that
maybe they were trying to build walls around their feelings.
But, it was their business, not hers. Looking down and noticing
that her Moon Pie and RC Cola was finished, "Shall we hit the
road?"

Section 11 follows.
-----------------------------------

Appalachian Idyll - Part 11 of 18

by
Steven M. Wagner
wagnersm@mindspring.com

Disclaimers and other information included as in part 1.

----------------------------------------------------------------

5:12PM
Friday, 10 March
CharGrill Drive-In, Raleigh, North Carolina

"Just a little bit of greasy meat"
------

"Mulder, look at those beef patties the man is cooking," Scully
exclaimed to her partner, as she pointed out the flaming
hamburgers on the grill. They were standing looking at the
posted menu at 'CharGrill,' a place that Goo said that no trip to
Raleigh would be complete without a visit.

"What's the problem, Scully," Mulder replied.

<Yeh, what is the problem,> Goo thought to herself. <Same old
CharGrill steakburgers. Just a little bit of greasy meat on a
bun with onions and cheese. And some mayo, some fries, and a
milkshake so thick you can't suck it with a straw. Ya!> She
could feel herself salivating just thinking about eating one of
them.

"Mulder, there is so much grease in those things that they catch
fire on the grill, doesn't that tell you something?"

"Yes, good eating. Scully, I quietly ate what you ordered for me
at lunch without any complaint."

She looked at him, one of those looks that a mother gives her 5
year old that tells him that she knows that he is exaggerating
the truth, just a little bit.

"Ok, without much complaint. Not it is you turn to enjoy a bit
of good food. And if you're worried about grease, they do have
chicken sandwiches."

Scully remembered lunch. At the State Attorney's suggestion they
had visited 'The Irregardless Cafe.' Scully liked what she saw
on the menu, mostly vegetarian with a few fish and chicken items.
Everything nice and healthy. Mulder made the mistake of washing
his hands when the waiter stopped by to take their order. She
ordered a veggie burger in a pita for Mulder and the grilled fish
with a glass of chardonnay for herself. She would not have said
that Mulder was happy with the meal, but he was a good sport
about it. And now, as they say, paybacks can be a bitch. "Ok,
get me the GRILLED chicken sandwich and an unsweetened iced tea."

"Ok. Any lettuce and tomato," he asked, filling in the ticket.

"Yes. Goo, have you ordered", Scully asked, turning her head
slightly.

"Yes."

"Lets sit down and let the gracious male wait for our food.
Mulder watched his partner and Goo walk over and sit at the
aluminum picnic table. He shrugged, he didn't care, why should
he. The next time, Scully would wait for the food. Anyway, it
gave him a chance to watch them grilling the food, one could even
say, admiring the cooks at the grill.

The ladies looked up as Mulder walked up with the food. Mulder
looked at the rectangular hamburger buns with a bit of confusion.
But one bite told him that he was in Buffet's 'Cheeseburger in
Paradise' heaven. Nobody's food lasted that long. And soon
enough, it was time to discuss the evening's entertainments. The
three were supposed to join a couple of Goo's sorority sisters
for drinks at a local country and western bar. But a last minute
message at the hotel told Mulder to go to Chapel Hill and watch
ACC championship basketball.

"You are one lucky stiff," Goo told Mulder. "Uncle Freddy has
been going to the ACC games ever since he graduated Law School
back in the late '40's. He took me there one time while I was
going to Chapel Hill. They have a nice box with a great view.
Even have a waiter bringing them drinks and food. Nice going,
Mulder."

10:13PM
Friday, 10 March
Dean Smith Dome, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

"Just reach out and touch someone"
------

The shrill ring of Mulder's cel phone got him dirty looks from
the rest of the box. This was the second time that the cel phone
had gone off and bothered everybody. And it was Scully again.

"Hey, Mulder, Come on back to the . . . bar. Come out and play,"
he heard her voice, tinny from the tiny speaker in the phone.
Mulder looked around. It was the beginning of the 4th quarter of
the game, and Duke was ahead of Chapel Hill by 2 points. It had
been a hotly contested game, one that everybody around him said
would go down in the basketball annals. And the 'everybody' were
a powerful group of people. One was the president of the biggest
bank in North Carolina, another was a college president, and the
third was Speaker of the NC General Assembly. <Freddy moves in
some high altitudes,> Mulder thought. And they were a great
bunch of men, no stuffed shirts, no 'I'm a big wig and you're a
peon.' They had made him feel right at home. But the cel phone
was distracting them from the game. And that was taboo.

"I'm having fun and you're not here. All you do is work . . .
work . . . work," continued the tinny voice. He looked around
himself. <I am in an arena designed for b-ball, who is working,>
he thought.

"You need to get a life, Mulder" <A life!!!. I'm sipping on a
single-malt Scotch, eating hors d'oeuvre that would grace the
White House, rubbing elbows with men that makes Skinner look like
a pissant. And I need to get a life, bullshit, this is the
afterlife.>

"I'm with 3 attractive girls here." The voice got quiet, as if
Scully was trying to be devious and sly. And effect that was
ruined by feminine laughter and a muffled Scully trying to get
them to quite down. <She may have me there, but there is always
hope that one of these guys will introduce me to the
cheerleaders.>

"And you can be halfway presentable when you try." He took the
phone away from his ear and looked at it. Scully's generally
frumpy suits made her claim to be of the clothing patrol rather
nebulous. He considered just turning the damned thing off. It
was the beginning of the 4th quarter and it promised to be just
as exciting as the prior three. And the gentry mentioned going
to 'The Mansion' for drinks after they stop by the locker room to
talk to the coach. <Yah, you gotta guess which Mansion they are
talking about. . . And which coach?> He almost turned the thing
off, Scully was in no danger here. They weren't chasing anything
that would go after them. They hadn't pissed off anybody in
Washington for at least 2 months. It would be just so easy.

"Ok, Scully, where are you," he asked into the phone. He would
make his excuses, they knew that he was an FBI agent. He would
be heading out to meet his partner.

11:21PM
Friday, March 10
Ramada Inn, Apex, North Carolina
"A Rodent and a Sick Scully"
------

They had been a great bunch of guys. Mulder had in his wallet,
social cards with not only their direct office phone numbers as
well as their home phone numbers. They had understood that he
had to leave to met his partner. They understood that business
must at times come before pleasure. <Ya, right, going to meet my
'drunk off her minuscule ass' partner>.

"The next time you're in Raleigh, give me a call, maybe we can
get together for a pig-picking or something. And bring your
partner, we would like to met her too," one of them had told him.

The foyer of the Ramada was generic motel. <Now where is . . .
there's the sign for the 'Double Deuce'. That's the place.>
Mulder pushed through the faux 'saloon' doors into the
establishment. He had been in enough honky-tonks and roadhouses
while on cases to know that this place was a poor copy. But the
songs about a man's wife running off with his truck and dawg were
played low and there weren't too many peanut shells on the floor.

"Excuse me," Mulder asked the man behind the counter. Mulder
didn't mind waiting the few seconds it took for the man to finish
what he was doing. Watching him was poetry in motion. In one
hand, he had a cocktail shaker, gently moving it, the other was
pouring a glass of wine. The wine went on a server's tray, the
strained contents of the shaker followed, a few seconds latter.
The shaker was dismantled and rinsed, a clean rag came out of the
man's back pocket and he gave the already gleaming mahogany a
quick rub.

"What can I get you," the man asked. He was a little shorter
than Mulder, built like a weight lifter. Wide deep set eyes
behind small wirerims, a smile below a thick, light brown
moustache. Mulder instantly liked the man.

"I am looking for join a group of three to four women. One of
the ladies is a redhead with blue eyes, about 5 feet 4 inches.
Another is blond, maybe five six or five eight, looks like a
model."

"Oh, you mean Goo. They're in the back," the man said, pointing
to a booth at the back wall.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good. You must be Fox Mulder, G-Man then. I'm Sean Smith. Goo
and Dana told me that you would be coming to pick them up. That
partner of yours has one hell of an imagination. She had Goo,
Rodent, and Pat in stitches with some of the weird tales she was
telling them. Things like killer cockroaches, planetary
alignments, and flukemen." The bartender sighed. "They were
pretty well lit by that time."

Mulder couldn't get over the odd nickname, "Rodent," he asked,
eyebrows raised.

"Yes, 'Rodent.' It's a sorority nickname. I met Goo while we
were all students at Chapel Hill. Oh, did you see any part of
the basketball game."

"Yes, a bit." <Better not mention that I was in a box there.>

"Great game, went into over time. The fourth quarter was
awesome. They are just now getting to the post-game show,"
Smith said, pointing to the television up in a corner.

Mulder's eyes naturally looked up, and saw the party going on in
the winning lockerroom. And a certain bank president, a known
university president, and a North Carolina politician that Mulder
had just met socially, were in the locker room. Without him.
He sighed. "Nice to have met you, I'll be heading back."

"Want anything. Mr Mulder."

"Coffee, please. I'm the designated driver."

As he poured the coffee, he waved away the money Mulder was
pulling from his pocket, "Free Coffee or softdrinks for
designated drivers. Cream or sugar? Enjoy." Handing Mulder the
cup and saucer, nodded and returned to his cleaning.

<Good coffee,> Mulder thought to himself. As he walked back he
started to wonder how his partner was feeling. Soon he knew.

"What do you do with a drunken Skinner,
What do you do with a drunken Skinner,
What do you do with a drunken Skinner early in the
morning?"

"Polish his head until it glistens,
Polish his head until it glistens,
Polish his head until it glistens early in the morning."

"Hey! Yay! We're in the FBI,"
Hey! Yay! We're in the FBI'
Hey! Yay! We're in the FBI early in the morning."

Mulder remembered the basic song as one the cadets in the FBI
Academy sang about their teachers. <Nice change, I wonder what
Skinner would think of it?>

"Hey, Mulder. Glad you could make it," Scully slurred the words
slightly. Mulder could tell that she had perhaps a bit too much
to drink. Not falling down yet, but glad that he had her gun, not
her. A bit of fire glistened on her nose.

<What's that?> "Scully, what is . . .," he said as his partner
turned around. And the light hit the diamond stud that had
started the evening as an ornament in her right earlobe, and now
graced her right nostril. <Skinner's going to shit big gold
bricks. Shit. Leave her alone for a moment and see what
happens.> "Scully, where did you go and get your nose pierced?"
<Her mother is going to shoot me herself, letting her little girl
do something this stupid.>

"Jack's," was her reply, her body slowing moving to music only
she heard.

"Jack's," he made the response into a question.

"Yes, Jack's. You know Goo," turning to the blond, "Men can so
dense." Turning back to her partner. "Jack's. He is a piercer
and tattooer in Roser Park Mews. In London."

"Dad was military attache to the US embassy in London one year.
I was into punk. I visited Jack's." Her crealian eyes tried to
focus on the stud. "Hey Mulder, you have a pierced ear. Say,
lets go into the office with jewelry."

<How did she find out about the pierced ear.> He had it done
back when he was at Oxford. "No, Scully, I think we should skip
the jewelry. And, since you brought it up, how did you know that
I have a pierced ear?"

The petite agent took a look at her partner, <For a Oxford
certified genius, he can be awfully stupid at times.> "Mulder,
I've taken care of you enough times to know every inch of your
epi. . . epidermis. <That was hard to say.> Turning back to Goo
and her friends. "Do you know that Mulder has the cutest . . ."

Sitting down, he stopped her. "Ok, Scully, I think that its time
to go home. You've had enough to drink."

Goo was a little more able to make the introductions. Sitting
with them was "Rodent", and Pat, both sorority sisters of Goo.
Conversation had gotten around to the point of discussion the
differences in living in Washington, Raleigh, and Aurora, when
the bartender joined the party.

"Hey, Monkeyboy, how about an other round," Goo asked.

Seeing Mulder's confusion over the nickname, Sean's shrug telling
him, "Me too". "Now, ladies, I think that it is time to head for
home. Mulder, here is Dana's tab, you might want to hold on to
it for her. You might want to remind her of her evening out."

Mulder looked at the tab and let out a whistle before folding it
and slipping it into his wallet. Scully would have one hell of
a hangover.

"Mulder, you are driving Goo and Dana back to their motel rooms."
At Mulder's nod, he continued, "Good, I'll take Rodent and Pat
back to their apartments."

Everybody made their, and for the women, intoxingly tearful,
goodbyes and headed off in their cars. Mulder had gotten to US 1
when he heard a pitiful plea, "Mulder, please stop." He turned
and saw a very pale Scully. And against her auburn hair and
green blouse, it was a horrible sight. The second the car pulled
to a stop the door was open and Dana Katherine Scully, MD, FBI
Special Agent, was being noisily sick.

He quickly turned on the emergency blinkers and got out of the
car. He had grounds to be angry with his partner, pulling him
away from the game the way she did. And getting drunk and sick
just made it worse. But she was his partner, and partners took
care of each other. He held her head as the remains of her
supper and way too many drinks came up. She smiled her thanks
when he helped her sit up in the car seat again. Mulder did a
quick check in the back seat where Goo was sitting. She deathly
white but was otherwise was OK.

The remainder of the drive back to the motel was uneventful. The
stay in the room wasn't. "Mulder, let's sing," both Goo and
Scully told the agent.

"What did you have to drink, you too?"

Goo and Scully looked at each other, and started to go through
their drinking binge. They had started with dark beer, switched
to New York State champaign. They ended up with Irish Mist.

<They are going to be sick a long, long time,> Mulder thought.
And he was right.

Section 12 follows.
-----------------------------------

Appalachian Idyll - Part 12 of 19

by
Steven M. Wagner
wagnersm@mindspring.com

Disclaimers and other information included as in part 1.

----------------------------------------------------------------
9:02AM
Saturday, 11 March
Capital Holiday Inn, Raleigh, North Carolina

"Good Morning Merry Sunshine"
------

Goo hurt. Goo hurt all over. Goo's toe nails hurt. As the
blond slowly woke up, she did not remember ever hurting so much.
Every part of her trim 5 foot 8 inch frame was in pain. She
might not be totally sure where her pancreas was, but she was
certain it hurt too.

And the nausea. There was the faint smell of food in the air and
her stomach started to do flipflops against her backbone. Her
eyes opened.

"Good Morning Goo." A cheerful, quiet male voice intruded into
her pain. She looked down at the source of the voice. It was
Mulder, a shaved, showered, and impeccably dressed Mulder. It
was disgusting.

"Must you be so cheerful this morning, Mulder," she replied.

"There are reasons why they call it being polluted. I'll go wake
up Scully."

She heard the connecting door open and close. <Oh God,
Hyacinthmae, you did it this time.>

<Dana Katherine, you did it this time. God, I don't ever
remember being that drunk. I hope that Mulder doesn't find out.>
The redhead hurt. But unlike Goo, she knew the names of each of
her bodyparts. She could place a name for each and every ache
and pain.

"Scully, it's time to get up, Scully. I even brought you
breakfast." The low male voice intruded into her pain.

"Go away," the faint words were heard. "Can't you breathe any
quieter," she croaked.

"Come on Scully, you've been hurt worse. Anyways. I ordered
breakfast. We have pancakes, poached eggs, grits, and lots of
orange juice. Time to rise and shine, Merry Sunshine," her
partner ordered.

The faint smell of what Mulder had ordered for himself intruded.
Scully normally had no problems with bacon as a breakfast food.
She would occasionally swipe one of Mulder's bacon strips during
breakfast. But the smell of maple cured, fried bacon was just
too much this morning. She ran for the bathroom.

Her stomach had settled down when she heard a knock on the
bathroom door. "Go away," she ordered.

"No, Scully," came the muffled reply.

"I'll shoot."

"I've got your gun. So unless you've got your 'Agent 99' pumps
in there with you, you will have to come out."

Scully opened the door. She knew that she did not look her best
in the morning, but this was ten times worse. "Here, drink
this," Mulder told her, dropping a couple of tablets into a glass
of water. "I'll go get up Goo." He left.

When Scully came out of the bathroom, it was after the Alka-
Seltzer and washing her face. The smell of the food was still a
pain, but she could take it.

"Here, sit down," Mulder said while pushing her into a seat. A
glass of orange juice, a mug of hot coffee from a carafe, and a
plate of toast was placed in front of her. She pushed the toast
away. "You need something down there. It's dry toast, so it
will be gentle on your stomach. Now eat.

She looked over at Goo and her partner. Goo looked about as bad
as Scully felt. Mulder looked disgustingly in good shape. She
nibbled on the toast.

By the ten o'clock check out, everybody was feeling better, and
the Taurus was on the road. Goo was in the back, Leaning back
against the seat, Ray-Bans over her eyes, and a loose hat low on
her forehead. And asleep, dead to the world.

Scully was not quite that lucky. She knew what she had done.
Mulder was at a major basketball game, and shortly before the end
of the game, she called him and pulled him out of the game. And
for no good reason. She had hurt her partner unnecessarily. She
looked over at him, He looked back, gave her a half smile and
reached for the radio. She cringed inside. Often the radio was
a source of good-natured arguing while they drove from one crime
scene to another.

The quiet sounds of classical music filled the sedan's cabin.
Scully was surprised, Mulder generally chose hard, sometimes acid
rock for driving music. Scully was the one that liked the
classical stuff. "No problem, Scully, no problem," she heard him
whisper. At that, she relaxed and closed her eyes against the
sun.

Mulder looked over at his partner. <Can't stay angry at her,
after all she is my partner.> He knew how to drive not to wake
her up. And he drove that way, all the way back to Aurora.

4:55PM
Saturday, 11 March
Our Lady of the Celestial Lights RC Church
Aurora, North Carolina

"Confession is good for the soul"
-------

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned." Scully heard the grilled
window slide open. She hated this. Christmas Mass was the last
time she had gone into a church, and she had a lot to confess.

"Tell me your sins," a dry bass responded. "God has the mercy to
forgive all."

"I have not attended Mass since Christmas," was the first
confession. The list continued, missing Holy Days of Obligation,
cursing, having unclean thoughts. <I don't have to mention
that's my partner, ain't my fault that he wears Speedo's to the
FBI pool, and has the body to match.> She worked her way
chronologically to that prior evening. <There is always one last
thing,> she thought. "I was drunk last night, Father."

"The sin of gluttony. Pray to Saint Augustine to give you
guidance not to drink to excess. You did not drive after your
drinking did you," the Priest asked.
"No, Father. I called a friend who was not drinking to come and
drive me and a companion back to our hotel rooms."

"Hmmm."

Scully almost grinned thinking what the Priest would be thinking.
"Father, the three of us had gone to Raleigh to discuss a case
with some state officials. The companion is a local that needed
to be there with us. The friend is my police partner that left a
basketball game to come pick us up. We all have separate hotel
rooms."

There was a momentary silence from the other part of the
confessional. Perhaps a silence that lasted for much more than a
moment or two. "This would not be the ACC Semifinals that were
being played last night," was a quiet question.

"Yes, Father. My partner was given a ticket to a box seat for
last night's game. He came and picked us up when I called him on
his cel-phone." <Can't hide things from the priest, Mom always
said,>

"You pulled your friend away from a major event like that," she
heard his voice rise, word by word. "You should be on you knees
praying to God that your friend forgives you. Pulling him away
from an event like that is a grievous thing, my child. Just
grievous."

"Father, . . .," she started to no avail.

"To atone for what you have done, pray the Rosary. That should
be a fitting penance. Now let's pray the 'Our Father' together
before you go."

"Our father who are in heaven . . " the duet of old priest and
young woman finished the ancient prayer. "Now, once you have
finished you penance, you will be reconciled with God and your
sins will be forgiven. Now go with God and sin no more."

"Thank you, Father," the words came automatically was Scully rose
from the kneeler. <Pray the Rosary,> she thought opening the
door to the confessional, <It wasn't that big a deal, just a
stupid basketball game.>

Mulder saw his friend and partner leave the small mahogany booth.
The look she gave him should have made him melt into the marble
floor of the church. Instead, she brushed past him and walked up
to the front of the church. <What the . . .> A cough
interrupted this thought.

"Attending Mass tomorrow," the gentle older man asked.

"Yes, Father," he answered.

"Have need of the confessional?"

Mulder gave a quiet chuckle. "No. I'm not Catholic. I'll be
coming with a couple of people that are."

Noting which 'couple of people' the young man was looking at, the
priest did not have to make a leap of faith to determine just who
was the basketball fans. "Catch the ACC game yestereve," he
asked.

Slightly taken aback about discussing basketball in a church,
Mulder remembered people telling him that the state virtually
shutdown during ACC basketball week. So it probably was not far
out of line. "Most of it," he admitted.

"We have it on video tape. Come by some evening after Vespers,
and we'll see about finishing the game." The quick ring of the
church bell interrupted the conversation. "End of the time for
hearing confessions. Must be off. God be with you."

Scully brushed back her hair as she knelt at the front of the
church. 'What did you get," a faint whisper intruded from her
left.

"'Pray the Rosary,'" Scully whispered back.

"Same here." Goo admitted. "Did you bring one?"

"Yes."

"See you in an hour," Goo responded.

The two woman's voices rose in prayer as Mulder quietly waited.

7:15PM
Saturday, 11 March
Scully's Bedroom, Brick House

"How something so ugly can be missed"
-------

"Hold still for another moment," Goo asked the blue eyed agent.
A quick knot on a piece of buttonhole silk, and she was done.
"OK, I've finished hemming the skirt. Why don't you look in the
mirror?"

Scully nodded to the blond and walked over to the mirror. She
had been shocked to find out that the gown she was wearing had
first been worn in the cotillion of 1859, but assured by the lady
at the historical society that occasional wearing actually helped
air out the gowns. She liked what she saw in the mirror. The
gown, was a confection in white moire silk. The full skirt had
flowers in raised terry velvet. The bodice was pointed front and
back with short puffed off the shoulder sleeves. <Got a bit more
showing than I like, but it looks great,> she thought to herself.

Goo smiled watching the copper haired agent turn in front of the
mirror. <How much we have lost with our pant suits and office
dress,> she mused. "Comfortable," she asked.

Scully flashed her a quick smile. "Yes, quite. It feels almost
like it something made to be danced and partied in."

"Good."

<Something isn't quite right,> thought the petite agent. The
gown, made a century before she was born, fit exquisitely. The
crinoline that held the full skirt out was not heavy. The bodice
was more comfortable that many of her modern suitcoats. Seeing
the silver butt of her gun told her what was the matter. <No
place for the sidearm,> she thought. A gun had been a part of
her ever since the first one had been issued to her at Quanticao.
It had been either at her waist or in her purse, even being with
her when she went to confession earlier that day. She knew she
would feel uncomfortable without it tomorrow night. Her FBI ID
and a few bills she could tuck somewhere, but her Smith and
Wesson was just too big. She had an idea. "Mulder," she called
out going to the bedroom door, "Bring your ankle gun and that
knee support you use." A quick smile to Goo quieted her
questions.

He arrived in a moment. "Here they are. They don't quite go
with the outfit, do they", he asked, a touch of sarcasm in his
voice.

"Simple," she told her partner. She started to pull up the
skirt.

"I'm shocked. Showing us your legs, you wanton hussy," Mulder
said, the teasing tone of his voice taking the fire from the
words. His eyes swept the room, a mirror image of his own. And
different in other ways. His room had been Goo's older
brother's. And it still had the empty feeling of an once
occupied room has. Not that it was empty, there was a
comfortable bed, nice chest of drawers, even an overstuffed chair
with a lamp for reading. And the papered walls were not bare,
the brother's high school diploma, now framed, shared space with
old ancestors, several of which ended their days in places like
Bull Run and Gettysburg.

But this room looked lived in, alive. The bed, now slightly
rumpled from being sat upon, had an impossibly pink stuffed bear
guarding it from atop one of the pillows. The pictures of dead
ancestors were joined by ones of Goo and her, Mulder assumed,
parents, Goo and friends in Girl Scouts at Natural Bridge. There
was music playing, Goo was kneeling in front of her own Carolina
Blue gown, checking on a century old piece of lace. There was
life here. More life than there was in his own spartan bachelor
pad or Scully's IKEA apartment.

"You've seen more than this at the FBI pool," Scully's alto
brought him out of his daydream. "And Goo, ask him sometimes
about a pair of red Speedos getting banned at the pool after the
riot." Mulder half choked trying not to laugh.

Scully continued, "I need to have a gun with me tomorrow at the
dance. And this one is nice and small." She removed the strap
that generally held the gun to Mulder's ankle, substituting the
longer strap. "And your knee support should be just the thing to
hold it up," she told him pulling up the side of the skirt. A
quick motion and the gun and holster was secured just above her
shapely knee. She admired her ingenuity for a second, dropped
the skirt, and walked across the room. "That will work," she
said, satisfied with the feel

Leaning back against the door jamb, Mulder watched his partner
work. "Ever consider the trick they show on 'Silk Stockings',"
he asked.

"Yes. But the elastic at the top of the hose isn't strong enough
to hold a pistol any length of time," she answered. Seeing her
partner's raised eyebrows, she continued. "Right after I was
issued my first gun, a couple of the female students at Quantico
tried it. Didn't work worth a damn. Anyways, I'll be wearing
knee-highs tomorrow, the gun would be too low."

"We could test it further," Mulder jokingly suggested.

Scully gave him a quick grin, "In your dreams, partner, in your
dreams."

Section 13 follows.
-----------------------------------

Appalachian Idyll - Part 13 of 19

by
Steven M. Wagner
wagnersm@mindspring.com

Disclaimers and other information included as in part 1.

----------------------------------------------------------------

08:15AM
Sunday, 12 March
'Brick House' kitchen.

"Not yet time for breakfast"
-------

Mulder was confused. The kitchen was cold and empty. He
remembered that they were going to go out for brunch after 9
o'clock Mass, but expected that Goo would have at least have had
a pot of coffee going. After the morning run and shower, even a
bowl of grits would have been welcome.

"Morning, Mulder," Goo's happy voice intruded into his thought.

"Good morning, Goo." Mulder was torn. He would like something
to eat. But Goo was their hostess, not a restaurant manager. He
felt odd bringing up the subject.

"Good Morning, Goo, Mulder," Scully's dulcet tones joined the
conversation.

Noticing Mulder's unease, Goo decided to walk right into it,
"Something wrong, Mulder. You are looking a little out of it."

He sighed. "Breakfast," he asked, the puppydog look on his face.

Goo was confused. <Mulder wasn't sick last night. Maybe the
Carolina Barbecue didn't agree with him.>

"Oh. Yea," Scully's eyes opened a bit. "That's right, you're
not Catholic, are you Mulder," Scully asked.

"No. Raised Methodist."

"That explains it," Goo said to Mulder. "You're not used to the
idea of fasting before Mass. Would you like me to make you
something quick?"

Scully's mouth opened in a big grin, "No, Goo. A short fast will
do him some good. Maybe even clear out some of that cholesterol.
Sorry partner, no food for you until brunch."

<Thank God. I thought something might be wrong with him.>
Grabbing her coat, "Shall we leave then?"

11:15AM
Sunday, 12 March
The Aberdeen Dining Room.

"Now it is time for breakfast"
-------

Mulder followed the ladies through the doors into the dining
room. The sight of the thirty foot food line brought a slightly
irreverent comment from the seasoned agent, "Oh, My God."

Goo looked from Dana to her partner. Dana's eyes were open wide
at the food displayed in front of them. Mulder slowly shook his
head looking at the table in front of them. <Gonna be a big meal
today,> she mused.

Scully was uncertain where to start. Her medical training told
her that a breakfast of fresh fruit and juice would be a good
start to the day, the Epicurean side told her that the fruit and
juice would be a good place to start. <Well, it'll be back to
bran muffins when we're back in DeeCee, let's eat.> When she sat
down at the table, she realized that before her was not the
luncheon plate found at most brunches, but a full sized dinner
plate. <Another dress size today,> she thought smiling.

Mulder's thought of which of the two plates to start with was
interrupted by a waiter leaving three filled champagne flutes on
the table. "Champagne for breakfast," he asked not totally
expecting an answer.

"'Fraid not, Mulder, county's dry until 1 o'clock. Sparkling
apple cider," answered Goo taking a sip from her glass.

Scully watched the people around them enjoy their meal. In one
corner was the priest sitting and talking with several of his
parishioners, in another, a table was filled with older ladies
she recognized as having been at Mass. Before she noticed, 3
empty plates were sitting in front of her. "Enjoy your meal,"
her partner smirked.

"Better than your cooking, Mulder," she said dryly.

Goo smiled enjoying the byplay between the two FBI agents, but a
quick glance at her wristwatch told her it was time to go.
"Shall we leave for the bazaar," she asked.

1:00PM
12 March
Our Lady of the Celestial Light's HS Football Field

"A New Life Experience"
-------

Scully looked over the football field with a bit of excitement.
The field was filled with colorful booths and people visiting
them. She could smell the elephant ears and cotton candy. She
liked 'homey' things like church bazaars. And this was looking
like it was going to be a doozie. "Hello, Tammy," she called
out to the Brooklyn transplant as she walked past them. Feeling
Mulder's eyes on her, she turned and shrugged her shoulders, as
if it say, "Hey, everybody else is doing it." And everybody was.
The entire town had turned out for the church bazaar, and
everybody was happily greeting each other.

"Hello yourself, Dana. Good Morning, Goo, Mulder," the brunette
baker greeted each of them. She turned to her lawyer friend,
"Goo, Billy Bob just dropped out of judging the desserts. Got
any last minute suggestions?"

A quick smile alerted the world the Dana Scully had an idea on
whom could help out. And a quick jab in Mulder's ribs told the
world her idea.

"Hey," Mulder cried out, "What the . . .."

"Well, thank you Mulder. Tammy, I'm certain that Mulder will be
more than happy to help out judging the deserts," Scully said,
speaking up for her partner.

Mulder turned and glared at his partner. <I'll get you for
this,> the gaze communicated on their private wavelength. A
Bronx cheer on the same wavelength was her replay. He turned to
the brunette baker and said, "I will be glad to help out with the
judging. When does it start?"

"Right away if you're able," Tammy replied. Everybody followed
her to the competition area and looked over the competitors. It
was a wide variety that greeted them. Mulder looked over a lemon
meringue pie shaped like the state of North Carolina, a
gingerbread house made to look like the Governor's mansion, a pig
made of salmon pink cottage cheese. Even a model of the State
Capitol made of sugar cubes.

"I don't know if I would want to taste test many of these,"
Scully commented, looking at the cottage cheese pig.

"You don't. These are subtilties," Tammy remarked, halfway down
the row. At everyone's questioning look, she continued. "A
subtilty was an item presented with great fanfare at a medieval
feast. It looked grand and glorious and was carried around so
everybody could see it and then presented before the guest of
honor. The old nursery rhyme of 'Four and Twenty Blackbirds,'
was about such a item. But they were never eaten."

Then came the grandest and the most glorious of all that they had
seen. "Thanks for coming by," a little gray haired lady, told
the two agents. She was standing in front of a dining room sized
table, something about a yard across propped up at a shallow
angle on it. As they got up to it, they could tell what it was.

"Oh, My God, Scully, do you believe it," Mulder whispered
quietly, "It's perfect."

Scully could but nod her agreement to her partner. Turning to
the lady, she found a few words, "Ma'am, I walk past and over
that thing several times a day, and I have never seen it in this
way before."

Against a board covered in tinfoil, was a rendition of the FBI
seal as a three foot Jello mold. The blue of the background was
done in blueberry Jello, the gold in lemon. Surrounding it was
the words "Welcome Agents Scully and Mulder," in red and green
'Jello Jigglers' letters. The lady had copied the design set in
the floor of the Hoover Building perfectly. <The colors are
perfect, she even got the 46 laurel leaves.> Scully thought.

"I will never be able to think of the FBI Seal in the same way
again," Mulder told the woman straight faced. She beamed.

A brief, "Look this way please," and the newspaper photographer
recorded the Kodak Moment.

Mulder stayed to finish the judging before heading for an
awaiting basketball game, while Scully and Goo walked over
towards the registration table. "I don't know what we've
volunteered for," Goo said.

Scully raised an eyebrow at the "we've volunteered for" comment.
In reality, Goo had done the volunteering, but Scully didn't mind
helping out. Goo had been the gracious hostess, so some
reciprocity was in order. Scully's thoughts came to the present
when she noticed Goo staring at the two 'Chap-sticks' on the
table.

"Robin, tell me you're kidding," she asked the older lady behind
the table.

"No, Goo. You know that the High School cheerleaders normally
handle the kissing booth, but when Betsy and Ashley came down
with mono last night, we were stuck. Then your Uncle Freddy
remembered that you had volunteered to help out, he said you
wouldn't mind."

<Kissing Booth! I hadn't played this game since High School.
What will Mulder think,> the agent thought. She looked to Goo to
see how to respond.

"Dana, I'm sorry. I thought we might be helping at a food booth,
or something like that, I didn't imagine that we would be stuck
with this," the blond told her.

Scully thought for a moment. She felt a little old to be manning
a kissing booth. But as long as it didn't get back to DeeCee or
Frohike. "I don't have a big problem with this, Goo. Let's just
do it."

Goo was relieved to see Scully being such a good sport. "Robin,
I'll take this up with Freddy later. Well. Scully, do you prefer
Mint or Cherry," Goo said offering Scully her choice of Chap-
sticks. As Goo led Scully up to the booths, she outlined the
rules. "First, the guy can't lean over too far. He cannot reach
into the booth. The farthest he can reach is a line in the
middle of the counter of the booth. Likewise, you have to keep
your hands on your side of the line too. No open-mouthed
kissing. No leaning."

As Goo ran down, "Sounds like you've done this thing before,"
Scully asked dryly.

"Hasn't everybody," came the immediate reply. "Here we are, our
offices for the next couple of hours." As Scully looked for a
place to put her purse, she looked the place over. Her's was
next to Goo's. It had a stool, a small shelf under the counter,
and enough of a roof that the occupant would not roast in the
Southern summer sun.

Not that Scully had much time to admire her 'office.' The next
quarter hour was filled with customer after customer laying their
money down. During a break, she looked over at her compatriot,
"How's business?"

"Very little," Goo responded, a smile on her face. "Must be the
new girl on the block."

Scully's eyebrows went up, and then went down as a Goo continued.
"You're attractive, cute, and new to everybody."

"No wonder the 'young men,' want to visit," Scully finished. She
had noticed a large wooden barrel on the side away from Goo.
"What's that," she asked pointing out the barrel with her thumb.

"Dunking booth. Normally the jock boyfriends of the cheerleaders
manning the kissing booths would be over there. But with their
girlfriends coming down with mono, . . . ."

"They don't want to take the chance," the redhead agent finished.
The cogs were moving in the agent's head. She trusted her
partner with her life, her honor, and her virtue. But she knew
that if he got the chance to rag her about the kissing booth, he
would. <Better to have some ammo of my own,> she mused. "Goo,
it's too bad the nice ladies of the 'Altar and Rosary Society'
won't have the income from that booth. I'll get Mulder to come
out and man the booth. He'll be happy to join in."

Goo looked over at the petite agent. <Huh! You think that
Mulder is dumb enough to volunteer to be dunked in ice cold
water. I don't> "We can ask, but I don't know if he'll fall for
it," Goo responded.

"Oh, I think so. I think so." Calling out to one of the young
men that had been at brunch, Scully asked him to go to the
church's rec room and bring back Mulder. Her pleasure at his
helpfulness turned to disappointment as he came back alone.

"I didn't see him in the rec room. I'm sorry, Miz Scully," he
said. And then claimed a kiss with a fresh new dollar bill.

"Let me get somebody," Goo offered. A second young man was sent
off on a quest. One that he sadly failed at, returning without
the FBI agent. And again, Scully's favors were bought with a
bill.

<What's up with the bozo,> the agent thought. <I hope that he
isn't sick,> Calling over another young man. "Johnny,"
remembering his name, "Please go over to the church rec room and
tell Fox Mulder, my partner, that I need to see him. Please be
sure to check the kitchen, the restrooms, and anywhere else he
may have gone to there." Feeling that her instructions were
clear enough, she sent him on his way.

But he, like the others, came back alone, he couldn't find him.
And put down a five dollar bill. And didn't want change. As
Johnny turned to leave, a smile on his face, Scully asked a final
question, "Is the basketball game still on?"

The young man stopped for a second, "Yes, ma'am. When I was over
there, it's was still in the second quarter, and Duke was leading
by 20 points."

She waved him off and sat down on the stool to think. Absently
moistening her lips with the Chap-Stick, she thought for a
moment. <He wouldn't go anywhere without telling me, doesn't
have any reason too. If anything was going on at the rec room,
Goo and I would have heard about it. Man isn't sick, I would
have been told.> As the sharp mind of the agent responded to the
challenge put before her, she soon came to a conclusion. "That
son-of-a-bitch. That lousy, rotten, son-of-a-bitch." Noticing
Goo's less than approving look at the language, she continued,
"He's still there, he's paying them off." At Goo's raised
eyebrows, she sat back on her stool in disgust.

2:45PM
12 March
Our Lady of the Celestial Light's 'Rec Room'

"Decisions, Decisions."
-------

Mulder was torn. The third young man with a 'Get your ass
running,' message was walking back to the kissing booth,
clutching one of Mulder's five dollar bills in his hand. <Enjoy
it, Enjoy it,> Mulder thought, hoping the kid would get the
pleasure he was hoping for. <Do I go back there and have to
acknowledge what Scully is up to? And later have to admit to it
or lie, and Scully keeps telling me that I'm a rotten liar. And
worse, have to endure whatever she's cooked up? She hasn't sent
me the 'I'm in trouble message,' so things can't be that bad.
Decisions, Decisions.>

3:00PM
12 March
Our Lady of the Celestial Light's Kissing Booths
"A plan is born"
-------

Scully was in a funk. She was stuck here in this stupid kissing
booth, and her partner wasn't being stuck in turn. A friendly
voice ended her reverie.

"You ladies have been doing well."

Scully looked up at the voice and smiled at the speaker. It was
Ra from the herb shop. "What brings you to our humble place,"
she asked.

"Well. According to the organizers, you have been bringing in
the most money of any of the booths. You should be proud of
yourselves," Ra said. Scully and Goo mumbled their thanks for
the message. "Its too bad that we haven't been able to get the
men to help out as much as you have."

Scully's mind started working. "But we can't get him up here,"
she remarked.

"If Mohammed won't come to the mountain, the mountain must go to
Mohammed," Goo interjected smiling.

Scully's mind grabbed at the idea. "So the ladies would have to
go and find him. Hmm. Sounds like a plan for me. We would have
to give the girls some sort of token or ticket as proof." Scully
leaned back against the side of the booth for a moment thinking.
"Anybody have an idea for a name." she asked.

"Fox Hunt," a cultured male voice suggested. Everybody twisted
to see who the person offering the suggestion was. And it was
Jer Riggs, standing dapper in a charcoal gray suit, ready for
spring with a rose in his lapel, and a straw boater on his head.

Nodding her agreement, Scully made the introductions. "'Fox
Hunt' sounds good. The use of his first name will vex him,"
Scully said, thinking all the while that this would be great
blackmail to hold over her partner.

Ra ran off to the organizer's table to get some tickets for the
Hunt. Jer asked the question, "How will Mulder take to
discovering he's the hunted fox?"

Goo and Scully looked at each other, their visages telling the
roving reporter that they had not considered that. "Oh shit,"
was Scully's only reply. She knew, best of all there in Goff
County, how private a man, Fox Mulder was. She knew that the man
really did not have any friends other than herself and "The Lone
Gunmen." He was not a social butterfly, maybe, just maybe a
social pupa. He would probably go along with the joke, but it
would not be a good idea for some innocent girl, only wanting a
moment's affection from an older man, to surprise him. "Let me
write a quick note."

Scully pulled a page from her field notebook and quickly wrote a
note:

Mulder 12 Mar

Since you will not come to the mountain, the mountain will
come to you. There has been declared a 'Fox Hunt'. Clever,
heh! Knew you would like it. You have been selected to be
the subject of many young ladies' attention. They will be
coming to you with a ticket good for one kiss. Please
fulfill their wish.

See you after the bazaar ends.

DKS

<That should do it,> she thought. Handing the note to Goo, she
awaited her approval. Once Goo nodded her agreement, Scully
looked for somebody to run the message to Mulder. Calling over
at one of the young men of the parish, she gave him the note and
the Chap-Stick to deliver. As he ran off, she noted Goo's look.

"He may need it," was the redhead's reply, "And anyway, I did
bring some lipgloss."

When Ra brought back the tickets, they sold quite well. Even Jer
bought 20 of them. Scully looked at him with a question on her
face. "Just helping out a good cause," Jer replied.

Scully noticed with approval Jer handing out the tickets to the
girls around him.

He kept one for himself. "Do you think that Mulder would honor
this ticket if I presented it to him, Agent Scully?"

"I think that he might shoot you," Scully replied dryly.

Jer shrugged his shoulders and gave the ticket to one of the
awaiting girls. Pulling a dollar bill out of his wallet, he went
to Goo and bought a kiss. With a brief salute and a smile, he
left.

3:15PM
12 March
Our Lady of the Celestial Light's 'Rec Room'

"Studmuffin Mulder."
-------

Mulder looked up when somebody tapped him on the shoulder and
guided his gaze to a brown haired young lady standing in the
doorway of the rec room. He was aware of the dirty looks he got
as he passed in front of several enrapt fans. When the first
girl had shown up, they smiled at the antics, but now, even the
priest gave him a dirty look. He looked up at the screen, Duke
was doing well, about 12 points ahead. <Couldn't finish the game
in Raleigh because of Scully, can't finish this one because of
Scully,> he thought. He got up to the young lady. He gestured
for her to lead him out into the hallway, enough privacy for a
kiss, but close enough for others to protect against morality
charges.

"Hello, Agent Mulder, I'm Kylie Loxton," she said presenting
Mulder with the chit. A quick glance assured him that it was an
original, he looked at her. <She's even shorter then Scully,>
was his first thought noticing her metre and a half height. He
placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a quick kiss on
the lips.

"Thank you, Agent Mulder," she said afterwards, her blue eyes
bright with excitement, suppressing a giggle.

"You are welcome, Miss Loxton," he answered. "Shall we go," he
suggested, leading her out of the building. "Are you going to be
at the cotillion tonight," he asked, making conversation.

"Of course, Agent Mulder," she said coquettishly. She spun on
one heel, letting the full skirt spread. "I'm wearing the same
white dress my greatgrandmother wore when she was a debutante in
nineteen hundred and eight."

"White dress," Mulder mumbled, thinking of Scully and Goo the
night before. Seeing the young woman's eyes on him, he spoke up.
"Do all of the girls wear a white dress, Miss Loxton?"

Her look of exasperation, an exaggerated sigh, told the seasoned
agent that he had analysed the situation correctly. "Of course,
Agent Mulder. All of us wear white when we're presented. We're
the only ones that do. Are you going to be there?"

He smiled as he nodded.

"Will you save a dance for me," she asked hopefully.

"It will be my pleasure," he replied, giving her a half bow.

He had to smile as she ran back towards the football field and
the bazaar. <Scully's wearing white. Scully's wearing white,> he
chanted to himself. He chuckled quietly. <Bet she doesn't know
what's in store for this evening.>

His good humor did not last long. The next hour was a game of
hide-and-seek. He liked women, even didn't mind when they chased
him, but being the target for osculatory assault by girls in
their teens was not his idea of fun. But, as he reflected hiding
behind a hedge, he got to know several blocks of residential
Aurora quite well.

"Mulder, how are you doing," was a scary question he heard from
the other side of the concealing hedge. "I can assure you that
you are for the moment safe from the huntresses."

Mulder chanced poking his head up. He had collected a dozen of
the 'Fox Hunt' tickets, and was trying to make sure that it
wasn't thirteen. He sighted Jer Riggs standing there. <How the
hell does he stay looking so neat all the time,> the agent fumed,
noting the newsman's unwrinkled shirt and still fresh flower in
his lapel. "Hello, Riggs."

"And hello to my favorite FBI agent," Riggs said, half chuckling.
"Enjoying the hunt?"

"Loads," Mulder said, looking around for girls waving tickets in
their hands. "How did you find me?" Mulder had been pretty good
about not getting caught, and wondered how did Riggs get him.

"Just waited until you walked by, old chap. But, I am afraid
that I must be going," he said as the church bells started
pealing 5 o'clock. Mulder walked back with Riggs, the 'Fox Hunt'
ending with the ending of the church bazaar.

Or so he thought. As he was walking up to the kissing booths, he
felt a tap on the shoulder. "Mr. Mulder," a young woman asked.

He looked down into a round face graced with brown hair and eyes,
and got a gut feeling that he knew what was up. He nodded. And
was presented with a 'Fox Hunt' chit. "I am Char Hall. I know
that the hunt ended when the bazaar, but I couldn't find you
earlier."

<Screw the rules,> he thought. <At least she's as tall as
Scully.> Seeing his partner out of a corner of his eye, he took
the young lady into his arms and kissed her, adding a little
enthusiasm for his partner.

"Thank you, Mr Mulder," she said afterwards, a little dazed.

"No, thank you, Miss Hall," he responded, turning on the charm.

She left, Mulder watching her leave. Scully walked up and stood
beside him, the two watching the emptying bazaar. "Have a
pleasant afternoon," he asked.

"Not all that bad," she responded.

Section 14 follows.
-----------------------------------

Onward to Appalachian Idyll(3/3)