Poe Mountain Unknown Location Scully's first thought was to get away from the smell. It was everywhere, as if it had gotten under her skin. It made her feel sick. Her mouth felt cottony and there was a odd, painful heaviness around her left ankle. Her body felt leaden, and distantly, she was aware of her medically trained senses telling her she had been drugged. She tried to move her ankle, testing the heaviness. Dull clanking of metal startled her into wakefulness. Her eyes opened, and she found herself staring at a low, vaulted ceiling of wood. Old timbers criss-crossed overhead. Ancient ceramic crocks, dusty animal skins, and rusted tools littered them, far out of her reach. The storm was still raging. She could hear its eerie almost-human wailing and moaning. The wooden eaves joined the chorus, adding creaking and groaning of their own as the winds outside pushed and pulled at the roof. Scully turned her head slowly to take in the rest of the room she found herself in. It was the large room of a roughly-built wooden structure, possibly a log cabin, but Scully couldn't be sure in the dim light. Curtains of yellowed lace were strung over the windows as if someone had tried to hide their awkward ugliness. A large fireplace of fieldstone dominated one wall. The fieldstone had been inexpertly laid and there were some small cracks and holes evident where some stones had worked themselves free over time. The fire burning in the hearth was large, though, and it flooded the area with heat and a butter-yellow light, even if it did little else to dispel the lifeless feeling the room had about it. Scully felt grateful for the heat. She could feel the chill melt away from her body. She was no longer in her parka, but her clothes were all neatly in tact, she realized with relief. She glimpsed the fur of her jacket's hood just above her head. Twisting to get a better view, she found she was laid out on an odd-looking wooden bedstead with a thin mattress beneath her. Her parka was hung on one of the upper posts. She picked her head up a bit to look down at her ankle, ignoring a slight feeling of wooziness. The heaviness annoyed her. What was wrong with her ankle? Her eyes widened when she realized a length of chain kept her fastened to the bed's lower end. The chain looked long enough for her to get up and walk a distance, but it was obviously meant to keep her from going out the door. Scully carefully propped herself up on her elbows and scanned the room again. A heavy door with a beveled, heavily glazed window in it, was at the far end of the room. Scully could see that there was still some daylight outside, despite the storm, and she thought she could see someone moving outside. But the sheets of snow obliterated any further sightings, so she returned to her investigation of the room. A battered old couch, an easy chair with an ottoman that listed to the side and a rocking chair were scattered in a semi-circle near the fireplace. Behind the couch was a homemade table with an unlit oil lamp sitting on its center. Two mismatched chairs stood at either end. There was little else to distinguish the room. It seemed carefully kept despite its ratty contents. The floor was covered with a few faded, threadbare carpets, but they looked swept and clean. Near her cot-sized bed, Scully could see a narrow door leading to another room, but she could not see into it from where she was. The smell of food poured from the direction of that doorway though, so she surmised that the kitchen, and perhaps other rooms, were that way. There were soft scuffing sounds coming from that room, too, and Scully wondered if she should call out, but decided against it. She had no memory of anything beyond her car door opening as Mulder had prepared to change a blown tire. She remembered thinking that it was Mulder opening her door. She remembered being puzzled about why he would do that. She remembered turning toward him -- and nothing more. she thought angrily. She shook the chain on her leg. It was a sure sign that, wherever she was, it wasn't friendly to strangers. This time her thoughts became anxious. Something was dreadfully wrong. The was a noisy banging and scraping coming from just outside the front door. Scully dropped back to her thin pillow and feigned sleeping when she saw the huge hulking shadow looming in the doorway. The door flew open, letting in wind and cold. The hot fire shuddered under the onslaught of winter invading the room. Scully watched secretly through nearly closed eyelids. She felt weak with horror as she recognized Hodd Arlik, looking like a demon in the flickering firelight. His face was purpled over with exertion as he dragged something long and dark over the threshold, leaving a trail of snow and ice in its wake. He heaved the limp form further into the room and let it fall, turning back to the door. "Edie! Damn ya, woman! Get out here and clean up this l'il bastard's mess. Goddamn blood an' puke all over the place." He shoved at the still form with his foot, rolling it over. Scully's heart leapt into her throat. "Edie, do it NOW!" The bear-like man weaved his way back to the front door. "I'm takin' the truck to the pole barn way back. When I come in, I want my food. I want my whiskey. I want my feet warmed. An' I don' wanna see no sign of mess from Pretty Boy here. Are you lissenin'?" "I heared ya, Hodd. Ya needn'ta shouted." The voice from the other doorway was meek. "Jus' see to it!" Hodd Arlik's words hung in the air as he stalked out the front door. The rafters shuddered when he slammed the heavy door shut. The room fell quiet and the fire struggled furiously to regain its former strength. Scully started to sit up, intent on going to Mulder's side, but she stopped when she saw a wraith-like woman moving toward him. Holding her breath, Scully watched from her bed. The little woman moved slowly. She walked with an evident limp. Her plain face was harshly-lined and made her age hard to guess. She had long, coal-black hair , streaked with dusty gray, pulled back in a tight braid that fell to the middle of her back. She was shabbily dressed in an thin flowered dress, with a thick, long cardigan pulled protectively around her. Scully would have spoken out, but there was something about the look on the woman's face that told her she should keep quiet just then. The woman stopped, just inches away from Scully's unconscious partner. Her mouth dropped open and she drew a shaky, thin hand over it as if stifling a cry. Scully watched the woman drop down to her knees and edge quietly to Mulder's side. Tears were now falling freely from her eyes. She moved her trembling hand to Fox Mulder's face, touching it softly at first and then stroking it. "Sugar? Is it really you, Sugar Boy? Did he bring you back to mamma after all this time?" The words were mixed with gentle sobs. Scully watched, astounded, as the strange little woman reached under Mulder's shoulders and hugged him to her, rocking slightly back and forth, crying quietly. His head lulled back, and in the firelight, Scully could suddenly see that the left side of his face was bloody. She sucked in a breath, involuntarily, catching the attention of the woman. "He's hurt," Scully said weakly as the woman stared at her. There was no reply; the woman kept rocking Mulder's limp body and staring at Scully. The red-headed federal agent sensed she should be gentle with this woman. She was the wife or live-in mate of Hodd Arlik, and Scully didn't know if that meant Edie Arlik was as crazy as her husband seemed to be. She obviously had mistaken Mulder for someone she called "Sugar Boy", and Scully couldn't be sure about the woman's state of mind. If she was deluded, it was possible she didn't even realize Mulder was hurt. "Mulder. That's my partner, Fox Mulder," Scully said as she slowly sat up. "He's hurt." The woman pulled the man in her arms more tightly to her, as if protecting him from Scully. Wide, gray eyes stared back at the female agent without a word. "I want to help him. He's hurt," Scully offered, slowly extending a hand. "Mulder. His name is Fox Mulder, and he -- *we* --are agents of the..." "This is Sugar Boy!" the woman insisted, holding her own hand out as if warning Scully away. Scully looked at the deathly pale face of her partner. She could see that the blood seemed to have come from his ear. She silently prayed it wasn't a head injury. She had to get the woman to let her examine him. "All right, then. All right, Sugar Boy he is," Scully responded, nodding reassuringly. Whatever it took; she had to get to Mulder. "But, look. He's hurt. I can see blood on this side of his face. Please let me look at him. I'm a doctor. I'd like to help." She inched off the bed to her knees, slowly approaching the pair in front of the fire. The chain on her ankle followed noisily. ********************************** The woman shifted the young man in her arms, looking carefully at his head. She gasped audibly when she saw the blood. "Dear God in Heaven, did he beat you again, Sugar?" she cried. She looked up at Scully who was just inches away, her eyes brimming with tears. "He don' never do nothin' to deserve this. Hodd oughtn't beat him like this. He jus' oughtn't. Sugar'll go away ag'in. I don' want him to go away no more." Scully had her hands on Mulder. She pulled gently, persuading the woman silently to lower him to the floor. A low moan escaped his lips, startling both women. "He needs help," Scully said hopelessly. "I - I got bandages... an' my medics. An' I'll get some water heated." The tiny lady struggled to her feet, looking wildly around the room. "an' I gotta get this cleaned up 'fore Hodd gets back." Scully could hear the genuine fear in the woman's voice. she thought ruefully. What was her name? What had Arlik called her? "Miss Edie?" Scully tried, hopefully adding the term of respect to get her attention. The woman looked down at her, wringing her hands nervously. "We have time, Miss Edie, if you let me help. Go get the bandages and water ready. If you'll let me, I'd like to examine him to see how badly he's hurt. And I'll help you clean the mess on the floor, too, ma'am, if you like." Edie Arlik was transfixed by Scully for a moment. No one had ever treated her so respectfully. She had seen Hodd carry this pretty little woman into her home and had worried about what he was up to. But when Hodd had put that old chain on her leg, she knew that this young lady would be a prisoner, too. Edie had no chains, but in twenty years on the mountain, a day never went by that she did not feel held captive. The sudden kinship between them was apparent. Edie knelt again with difficulty and put a tiny, rough hand to Scully's face, smiling. "Thank you, child. 'Tis a generous offer. I forgot myself, worryin' 'bout Hodd and the Sugar Boy." She drew her hand tenderly over Mulder's wet hair. "If you can see to the boy for me, I'll be able to work on cleanin' up 'fore Hodd gets home. I'll be back presently." Scully helped the little woman stand up and watched her limp toward the kitchen, wondering who the real "Sugar Boy" was to this woman. Mulder moaned softly again, turning Scully's attention back to him. She gingerly lifted him, pulling his bulky parka away from his body. He jerked away from her as she gripped his left shoulder. Her fingers slipped on more sticky wetness. She held her breath, pulling him gently forward so that she could examine his back. His blue pullover sweater looked black in a large damp patch high on his back, near the top of his shoulder. His hands were still cuffed behind his back, making removal of his clothing impossible. "Miss Edie, I need your help," Scully called out as she tried to keep Mulder sitting up. Edie hurried into the room, already carrying a bucket of warm water that reeked of some kind of antiseptic. She had rolls of bandages, towels and a sponge in her other hand. Setting the supplies down quickly, she helped Scully pull the young man's sweater up over his head and slip it back on his arms as far as they could. "That's a bad tear," she commented while Scully sponged off the wounded shoulder. A bloody, raw patch of skin had been neatly torn over the top of his shoulder. "It looks a lot worse than it is," Scully replied, relieved to see that it was only a superficial wound. She frowned. "It looks as if it's a glancing wound from a bullet." She moved Mulder's head gently so that she could look more closely at his injured left ear. "I think Hodd must have hit him on the side of the head with a gun and it went off, just missing him." Just missed him. It could have been worse. At least he was alive. She was happy for that much. She felt a hand squeeze her shoulder sympathetically. Edie's gray eyes were sad. "Hodd is so terrible mean to the boy. Don' worry, honey, I got medics for this tear. It'll heal up fast. Sugar always did heal fast." Scully held Mulder, watching while the strange little woman expertly closed the wound, slathered a pungent dark gel over the injury and wove a secure bandage over his shoulder. "You have a gift, Miss Edie," Scully said sincerely as she watched the other woman work. "Where did you learn your medicine?" Edie Arlik flushed with pleasure at the compliment. "Years ago, child. As a girl, following my Nonny up every mountain and down into every holler between here and North Carolina's big waters. She prided herself on her knowin' of plants and why God put 'em here for us to use. I like workin' with my plants." She dried Mulder off gently. "See here. He's catchin' chill. Let's pull this shirt and sweater back over 'im." He began squirming, struggling against them. "He'll be comin' to, soon," Edie sighed. She looked fearfully toward the front door. "It'd be better if he slept. We gotta keep him quiet. If we can keep him quiet, Hodd won't be bothered to be thinkin' 'bout 'im. If Hodd gets bothered by his cryin' out, he's likely to get mad ag'in." Mulder was twisting in Scully's arms, muttering. Scully slowly lowered him back to the floor and rolled him onto his uninjured side, pillowing his head on a towel. She softly cleaned the blood away from his left ear and his face. He moved restlessly, but his eyes did not open. "I think he's had an eardrum rupture. Maybe from getting hit or, more likely, from the gun going off so close to his ear," Scully said. "There's little to do except keep it clean and dry. I'll put a small bandage over it. But it must be bothering him. He's starting to come around." Edie got up, heading for the kitchen. "I've got some herbs that'll settle him down, hon. Get his hair cleaned up while I fix a potion up for 'im. While yer helpin' him get it down, I'll clean up the rest of this mess." That proved to be easier aid than done. Half-conscious, Mulder fought Scully's efforts to spoon Edie's lukewarm "potion" into his mouth. His partner persisted, with Edie's help, but it was clear Mulder was having trouble swallowing. He gagged and fought taking the medicine. Time and effort won out, and with nearly three-quarters of the drink gone, Mulder finally seemed to be resting more quietly. Edie hurriedly scrubbed the floor as she had been ordered. By the time she had finished, Mulder appeared to be asleep. Scully sighed with relief. "What was it that you gave him, Miss Edie? It smelled suspiciously like something my parents used to call a 'Georgia Babysitter' -- a good dose of whiskey and honey." "Well, it do have some spirits in it, child, but good stuff. Not that rot-gut still-piss Hodd makes. And I do sweeten it some for the boy. But there's willow bark in there for his pain and chamomile flowers for his sleep and a few of my secrets." Edie smiled down at the sleeping man. "As long as he don' need any medicine stronger than what I jus' give 'im, he'll rest quiet now. He won' be no bother to Hodd. Hodd always hates hearin' the boy cry at night -- puts 'im in a frightful mood all the nex' day." Edie's face was suddenly set with bitterness. She stooped over Mulder and brushed her fingers through his hair like a mother fussing over a child. "I'll set some o' his old blankets up for 'im against that wall by yer bed. It's dark in that corner. If yer both quiet, maybe Hodd'll forgit 'bout y'all tonight and stick to his damned drinkin'." Her face hardened again suddenly as she mentioned her husband. "Jus' let him keep drinkin'. His drinkin' will be my freedom." With that cryptic remark, she turned to get blankets for the makeshift bed. She paused at the door and looked back at Scully. "What's yer name, girl?" "Dana, Miss Edie." "Dana," Edie repeated wistfully. "Pretty name. I'da liked to name my daughter that. Dana. But Hodd, he says ya don' name a corpse goin' from the womb to the tomb. Said it jus' like that. A dead baby is a dead baby. It ain't no daughter an' it ain't no livin' person an' so, it ain't got a name." Edie looked away and added so softly that Scully almost didn't hear her, "But Dana woulda been a real pretty name for her." Scully watched the doorway long after Edie disappeared from it. There was something dreadful about this place. Sadness and death hung heavily in the air here. It was a perfect breeding ground for cruelty and evil. Scully watched her partner's handsome face in the firelight. Free of pain, sleeping a dreamless sleep, he looked much younger than she knew he was. Childlike. The Sugar Boy. ********************************** Darkness had already settled outside, making the fury of the winter storm seem fiercer. Scully turned toward the wall where Mulder lay sleeping. She wanted to keep watch over him and to avoid facing Arlik when he came back. The dancing light from the fire allowed her to see her partner. Edie had seen to it that he was comfortable. An old feather ticking, folded twice, made a soft mattress for him and she had brought a pillow covered with handmade lace for his head. It was "his", Edie had said. The Sugar Boy's. She had made it herself and had kept it for him. For the phantom she thought Mulder was. Scully sighed as she listened to his deep breathing. She replayed the odd conversation she had had with Edie Arlik just before the woman rushed out of the room. The older woman had settled Mulder's head onto the pillow. She was silent for several minutes, kneeling by Scully's partner, stroking his hair, lost in thought. She had seemed to rouse out of her reflection long enough to reach over to the handcuffs that still pinned Mulder's arms behind his back. She clucked angrily as she touched them. "Why does that man have to be so damn mean to this boy?" Scully had heard her mutter. "I'll bring you the keys to these handchains," Edie had promised Scully. "An' I 'spect yer hungry, too, ain't ya, girl?" She had draped a blanket over the other woman's shoulders and smiled. "Soon as the ol' man is asleep with his poison in his belly, I'll bring ya some stew." Scully had felt emboldened by the woman's kindness. She lay her hand over Edie's as the older woman began to get up from her bedside. "A gun, Miss Edie. Can you get me a gun?" The look of shock on Edie Arlik's face had surprised Scully. The little woman had spoken bitterly about her husband. Surely she understood what he was doing was wrong? Certainly she would help the two federal agents escape? "A - a gun? Dana! Whatever for?" Scully had had a sinking feeling in her stomach. This woman, for all her help and kindness, was still in a world of her own, half- filled with fantasy. "Miss Edie, Hodd has committed a crime by bringing us here. He has committed a crime by hurting Mulder. And it's clear he may have committed other crimes -- like the murders of five young men. He has to be brought in to the authorities." "Oh child, you jus' don' know. You cain't possibly know the truth of it all," Edie whispered, shaking her head as if Scully were the deluded one. "Besides, there ain't ' no 'authorities' on this mountain, 'cept Hodd hisself. It don' even seem like the good Lord hisself is watchin' over this patch of earth. Don' ya see that? I cain't git you no gun. I cain't do that. He's my man an' there'd be no eternal rest for me if I do that. I cain't. I'm already as near to hell as I can be. I jus' cain't. Don't ask." Edie Arlik had looked nearly hysterical by the time she shoved herself away from Scully and fled from the room. Scully was left wondering about what she had just witnessed. ************************ It seemed like hours had passed. The thunderous bang of the old door and the icy wind that seized the room signaled Hodd Arlik's return. Scully, startled from a doze, forced herself to keep her eyes shut as she heard the door creak shut and heavy, staggering steps approach her bed. The steps stopped, and she could hear the snorting, labored breathing of the big man nearby. Too close. He seemed to be standing between her and the place where Mulder lay. She could hear the rustle of fabric, but dared not open her eyes. She bit down an angry scream as she felt a meaty, heavy hand on her leg, squeezing through the layers of blankets for a feel of the woman beneath them. Her thoughts turned murderous as she felt Arlik's hand travel upward to rest low on her bottom, and she debated furiously with herself about the wisdom of striking out at the bastard while chained to a bed. Hodd Arlik's breathing had a sickly, wet rasp to it. She could smell his dirty, oily clothes and stale liquor as he leaned against her. She could feel the icy drip of melting snow on the back of her neck and the hot, moist touch of his stinking breath moving her hair. He was moving his hand again, groping, and Scully could feel her heart twisting in a new-found fear. She was biting her lip, tasting her own blood in her mouth, not breathing, trying not to scream. "Move away from her." Cobwebs of fear and anger dissolved as Scully listened to the low, warning growl of Fox Mulder's voice. Like a knife sheathed in velvet. Scully felt a shock of surprise run through the man leaning over her. She opened her eyes as Arlik straightened up. Mulder was sitting, braced against the wall, eyes dark and seething with rage, glaring at their captor. Arlik's surprise was short-lived. He began to laugh, deep and throaty, and he rose up, away from Scully. "Fancy Pants! Yer awake," he chortled. "Whassa matter, boy? You want at her first?" "Move away from her." Mulder simply repeated his order. The volume and tone of his voice had not changed. But Scully recognized the subtle tang of danger in it. She slowly moved to a sitting position, readying herself. Four years as Mulder's partner had honed her skills. She began running the mental calculation of the odds, the chances for success against this brute if this scene escalated. She ran the checklist of her strengths against Arlik's weaknesses and prayed. Mulder had drawn Arlik's attention off of Scully, but he was hardly in a position to defend himself from the bigger man's aggression. Scully felt Arlik's weight move off the bed and saw him squat before Mulder. He snapped his hand outward at the handcuffed agent in a mock punch. Mulder flinched instinctively but kept his eyes locked on the man in front of him. The man's face clouded over with rage. He moved in closer to his prisoner and slid his hand up under the man's jaw. "It's yer arrogance, ya l'il bastard," he hissed in Mulder's face. "Yer goddamn arrogance makes me wanna break you, Fancy. Yer gonna learn. Yer gonna treat me with respect. Yer gonna keep them goddamn eyes of yers down when you talk to me. Yer gonna jump when I say so. An' when I want yer woman, yer gonna..." "Hodd!" Hodd Arlik turned toward the shrill sound of his wife's voice. Edie Arlik stood in the doorway of the kitchen, wringing her hands nervously. She was shaking her head, eyes large and desperate. "Hodd, let him go. You promised. Hodd. You promised me. You said you wouldn' hurt Sugar anymore." Her voice was rising with hysteria. Arlik's face screwed up quizzically. "What you talkin' 'bout, woman?" he snapped. Edie's hand-wringing became frantic. She inched toward her husband, cowering but clearly intending to interfere with Arlik's aggression upon his prisoner. "Leave him be, Hodd. Don't hurt him, Hodd. Leave him. Don't. Just stop hurting him." She knelt, her frightened beggar's litany spilling from her mouth, repeating herself as she pried Hodd's fingers away from Mulder's throat. "What in the *hell* are you talkin' 'bout?" Arlik roared, shoving his wife away from him. Scully, who had been watching the whole scene in helpless horror bolted forward to prevent the woman from being tossed face first into the wall. Edie braced herself on the young woman, but Scully could see the terror in her eyes; she moved as if she was acting out a nightmare, struggling in Scully's hold with the single-minded intent of putting herself between her husband and someone she knew as "Sugar Boy". "Edie. Edie, no," Scully whispered into her ear. "He'll hurt both of you. Calm down. Please. Stop." Edie Arlik didn't even seem aware of Scully. She wriggled and clawed, jaw set and wet eyes burning with hatred for her course husband. Hodd Arlik was standing now, gripping Mulder by one arm. Scully saw the bewilderment on her partner's face. He seemed to be having a problem comprehending what was happening or the sudden appearance of the tiny woman who was fighting so hard on his behalf. "Addle-brained fool!" Hodd was shouting at her. He thrust Mulder forward as if showing his wife a rag doll, pulling Mulder's head back so Edie could see the young man's face clearly. "This ain't yer boy! He's the smart ass city cop who wants to put me behin' bars, Edie! Goddamn it, Edie! He an' his little girlfriend are here to try to take the bread from yer mouth, the roof o'er yer head." He shook Mulder savagely. "He's a cop, un'erstan'? But this time, I got the cop 'fore he got me. An' this time, I'm gonna make it count, y'hear? This time I'm gonna have some fun." "No, Hodd. You said... You said..." Edie was sobbing and still struggling in Scully's arms. "He ain' yer Sugar!" Hodd shrieked. "Christ! What the hell is wrong with yer head, old woman?" He was so enraged now that Scully shrunk back, pulling Edie with her. Arlik kept shouting, "He's dead. Y'hear that, Edie? Your l'il Sugar's dead. Dead all these years. An' this here boy is full- growed. He ain't no ten year old kid, an' I'll damn well do with him as I please." Disgusted, he shoved Mulder toward the two women. The federal agent fell, hitting the floor at their feet with a groan. Arlik leaned forward and wrenched Edie from Scully's grasp. "Get me my food, woman! An' don' you *ever* presume to tell me my business, 'specially in my own house!" He pushed his wife toward the kitchen. Edie hobbled to the doorway, pausing to look back at Mulder. Bowing her head, she disappeared from the room. Arlik was huffing and breathing with difficulty from the exertion of the struggle. It did little to improve his mood. His face was dusky colored and the dark circles under his eyes seemed to deepen. He clenched one large fist and shook it at Mulder. "If you want to live, Fancy, you'll learn my rules. Yer the prisoner now an' I'm gonna have special rules for you. Yer gonna forget yer cocky city- bred ways. An' as fer yer girlfriend..." He raised his yellowing eyes to Scully's face, scowled and turned to leave the room, his threat unspoken. Scully shuddered. Hodd Arlik's meanness had a sick, evil quality to it. She wondered again if those five murdered young men had suffered Arlik's torments before they met their deaths. ********************************** She knelt to help her partner sit up. He looked ill and leaned heavily into her. "I'm so dizzy. The room won't stop spinning," he gasped. The realization that something was very wrong settled slowly on Scully. Mulder was acting oddly. "It's your ear, Mulder. I think your eardrum was broken. It's probably affecting your balance. I'm sure it didn't help to have that son of a bitch shaking you." She tried to keep her voice low, out of Hood Arlik's hearing range. "Scull, what's going on? What's happening to me?" He spoke before she had finished, looking up at her anxiously, questions in his eyes, as if he hadn't heard a word she had said. "Mulder, hush!," Scully whispered as loudly as she dared. "I said: your ear is injured." She jumped when Arlik's shouting started up again from another room, somewhere in the cabin. The sharp report of a hand against flesh made her cringe inwardly. Miss Edie was going to pay for her interference. When Scully looked back at Mulder, his eyes were searching her face, curiously. "What is it? Did you hear something?" he asked, turning in the direction Scully had been looking. He looked back at her again but groaned when the simple act of moving his head sent his world tilting and his stomach rolling again. "Scully, what's going on?" he asked again, a bit more desperately this time. Scully laid her hands on either side of his face, turning his head to make sure he was looking directly at her. "Mulder? Didn't you hear me?" He seemed to stare at her lips for a long moment. She saw the horrible realization settle on him "Mulder?" Another long moment passed. He drew his eyes slowly up to hers. "Scully. I - I couldn't hear you. I can only hear -- noise -- like wind. High-pitched. It hurts, it really hurts. Am I going to lose my hearing?" His voice began to rise in panic, but Scully gripped his arm and shook her head at him, signaling "quiet" by touching a finger to his lips, and nodding her head toward the other room where she could still hear Hodd Arlik bellowing at his wife. Mulder glanced over his shoulder again, and slowly settling his eyes back on Scully, he gave an answering nod of his head that he understood the need to be quiet. He had no wish to have another encounter with their captor tonight. Scully gently pushed him back toward the soft mattress Edie had arranged for him by the wall and helped him lay down. He groaned again, rocking himself when the change in orientation sent waves of dizziness and nausea through him again. "Deep breaths. Deep breaths, Mulder," Scully muttered uselessly as she rubbed her partner's back and neck. She could see beads of perspiration on his face, and wondered if Arlik's manhandling had aggravated his injury. He gagged, losing the battle with the vertigo. The shouting and noise in the other room suddenly stopped, and Scully shot a hopeful glance toward the doorway, praying that Miss Edie was all right. And praying that Miss Edie would come through that doorway with more of her mysterious concoctions, something that would relieve her partner's misery. She felt Mulder slowly maneuvering his head into her lap. His eyes were closed, but he was still panting, open-mouthed and noisy. Slipping her hip closer to him, she settled into a comfortable position, sitting up against the wall, cradling his head on her thigh and smoothing damp locks of his dark hair away from his forehead. Small, useless gestures. Scully felt so helpless. Escape from this mountain may be impossible for days after the fury of the storm outside was spent. But it was imperative that they escape Hodd Arlik's sadistic prison. Mulder's ear injury could easily get worse if unattended, or if Arlik stepped up his campaign of violence against the federal agents. Scully morbidly cataloged the potential problems of a ruptured eardrum : loss of balance, permanent loss of hearing, infection, possibly spreading to surrounding bone -- maybe even to the brain if it were severe enough. She blinked back tears of frustration. They might as well have been abducted by the imaginary "aliens" of Poe Mountain. Their isolation here made the chance of rescue seem remote. And Hodd Arlik's penchant for outrage, coupled with his sick fascination with Mulder, added to her feelings of fear and hopelessness. Visions of the scarred and tortured body of Roy Earl Destin rose up before her. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing away the haunting image of her partner, his body pale and cold, resting on the autopsy table, waiting for her last touch. X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X+X Dana Scully shifted uncomfortably. Her neck hurt. Her ankle hurt. She woke slowly to the smell of food, somewhere close by, and almost simultaneously, her stomach growled, aching from emptiness. Edie Arlik was kneeling in front of her, shaking Scully's shoulder gently. "I must have fallen asleep," Scully said unhappily. She quickly looked around for her partner. His head was still cradled in her lap, but if he was sleeping, it was a restless, pain- filled sleep. He was still panting heavily, occasionally rocking himself against the onslaught of spells of vertigo. "Eat, child," Edie commanded, pressing a warm bowl, filled with stew, into Scully's hands. Scully needed no further encouragement. She ate wolfishly, one eye on the little woman in front of her. The right side of Edie's face looked odd. Scully realized she was looking at the purpling imprint of Hodd Arlik's palm on his wife's face. Her lower lip was grotesquely swollen. The little woman avoided the red-headed agent's eyes. Edie was not looking for sympathy. She busied herself, tending to Mulder. Scully watched, wondering, as Edie pulled her partner forward a bit and reached behind him. Scully's eyes widened as she heard the whisper of metal cuffs uncoupling. The key! Edie had gotten the key from her husband. Scully was sure it wasn't given up voluntarily by Hodd. Gulping the last bit of stew, Scully set aside the bowl hastily to help Edie roll Mulder onto his back, gently easing his sore arms out from under him. His eyelids fluttered, but he did not open them. He was conscious, Scully realized, but opening his eyes would probably send his visual world into a wild tilt again. Edie slowly worked his jacket and sweater off and pulled a soft flannel blanket over him. She looked up at Scully for the first time, revealing a blackened, puffy eye. "Can you reach the woodpile by the fireplace, child? Put more wood on that fire. We need to keep this room warm for him." She quickly turned back to her charge, and Scully mutely did as she was asked, knowing that Edie didn't want to talk about her injuries. Returning to Edie's side when the fire had been renewed, Scully silently helped the woman prepare to change bandages and attempt to get some food and medicine into her partner. Mulder held remarkably still as his simple shoulder wound was re- bandaged. However, when Edie softly, tugged at the makeshift bandage over his injured ear, he sent up a keening wail and shoved her hands away. "Hush him!" Edie whispered desperately, quickly glancing back at the kitchen doorway. Scully pressed a hand quickly over Mulder's mouth, muffling his cries. He struggled against her, gripping her wrist. His eyes were open, glaring at her, wild with pain. Scully's heart sank. She didn't want to hurt him, but Hodd Arlik was a bigger threat to Mulder should he come into this room right now. She quickly signaled to her partner that he must be quiet and pointed significantly toward the doorway. Mulder's hazel eyes wandered between Scully's face and Edie's face, wordlessly begging to be left alone. It was clear his pain and discomfort were worsening. Edie lifted a finger to her lips, shushing him, and then quickly brushed his cheek, letting him know she sympathized with him. "I'll work quick," she advised Scully. "Keep yer hand over Sugar's mouth. Hodd's asleep, and I aim to see he stays that way t'night." She pulled the rest of the bandage from Mulder's ear. He arched his back, a scream of pain smothered against Scully's hand. Scully lay her other hand over his sweat-drenched chest, trying to calm him. He was panting heavily again, each breath a halting grunt of pain. "This ain't right," Edie said worriedly. She showed Scully the bandage, mottled with bloody drainage. "Smells of infection settin' in." She felt gently around Mulder's jaw and neck, sending him into renewed paroxysms of agony. He twisted away from both of them, his arms pushing weakly and ineffectually at them. Scully was filled with dread as she fought to keep her partner's cries muted. An infection. Out here in a part of the earth that God and modern medicine had never paid attention to. How was she going to protect him from this? "He's outta of his head with the pain and probably fever," the little woman was saying worriedly. "We'll never get his medicine down him when he's like this." Edie was getting to her feet, her face grim and determined. "I'll be back, Dana. Keep Sugar warm. He's got to be made to sleep, or we'll never be able to pull that infection outta him." When the tiny woman left the room, Scully drew closer to her partner. "Oh dear God, Mulder. I am so sorry. So sorry." He kept struggling against her. Scully was relieved to see Edie return moments later. The old woman held a leathery bag with what looked like a long nipple on it. "This'll be the only way to get this medicine in him the way he's fightin' us, Dana. It's my nanny goat bag. I use it for nursin' some of my baby goats -- runts that been kicked away by their mammas," she explained as she took Mulder's jaw firmly in her hand. She forced the soft nipple into his mouth before he had a chance to react and gently squeezed the top of the artificial teat. "Hold him tight, girl," Edie commanded. "Swallowin' is gonna cause him a lot more frettin'." ********************************** Mulder could feel the panic explode in him as soon as he felt the firm grip on his lower jaw and the soft leather being forced hurriedly into his mouth. Already half-mad with pain, he felt like someone was trying to suffocate him. The sweet, milky fluid dripping into his throat was forcing him to swallow reflexively, sending knife-like pains through his head, as the internal pressure touched his torn eardrum. Through blurred eyes, he was aware of the familiar face of his partner bending over him. He was aware that she was holding him down, trapping him. How could she do this to him? He could see her lips moving but could only hear the whine, whistle and roar of the agony in his head. Didn't she know how much she was hurting him? He had to tell her she was hurting him! Was he screaming her name? Couldn't she hear him screaming her name? He felt himself strangling, unable to breathe. His head was pounding, and he was struggling for oxygen. Suddenly, a delicious breath of air and then the ugly intrusion of that soft leather inside his mouth again. Sweet milk again. The struggle against the searing pain of swallowing again. Sweet milk. Distantly, he could feel the pain loosening its grip on him. His head was swimming. He saw Scully's face waver before him through the fluttering fringe of his eyelashes. Her lips were moving. She looked concerned, her blue eyes full of tears? More sweet milk. And blue eyes. He could feel Scully's cool hand against his face. So cool when his skin felt so hot. He could feel his surrender. He could feel the struggle leave him. If the pain had left, too, he could not tell. He knew he didn't care about it any more. More sweet milk. Blue eyes with tears. And cool hands. He was vaguely aware of the soft cloth against his lips again. A gentle nudge. A subtle invitation, not force. This time he suckled, pulling in sweet warm milk, and swallowed, mindless of any pain. He watched sleepily as a smile spread over Scully's lips. He marveled at its warmth. More sweet milk. Blue eyes with tears. Cool hands on his hot skin. And her warm smile. ************************ "There. I think he's asleep now," Scully whispered. She pulled the nipple away from his lips. They were wet with the milky narcotic Edie had fixed for him. His breathing had slowed, and he looked peaceful. Dana Scully wiped her eyes. Holding her partner while he fought against the pain had filled her again with a sense of impotence. She had to reject her own training in the medicines of her modern world and submit her helpless partner to the mysterious ministrations and potions of their captor's wife. She looked over at the tiny woman who was now intent on laving Mulder's ear. She was being slow and careful. Scully watched in silent awe as the woman expertly rinsed away thick drainage from the injury, applied another of her folk medicines and tenderly bandaged the ear again. Edie paused, watching the young man sleep. She turned her ruined face to Scully and attempted to smile. "I think he'll be okay. He'll be fightin' this infection, but don' you worry none. I always pull him through." Scully struggled against the nagging feeling of despair: the only person she could count on to help her and Mulder was very probably delusional. As long as Edie Arlik kept Mulder in her tiny dream world as a perpetual ten year old boy, there was little chance of Scully getting her to understand the reality of their situation. She forced herself to smile at the tiny woman. "Yes, Miss Edie. You always pull him through." She watched in depressed silence as Edie Arlik happily bathed her Sugar Boy, dressed him and laid him back down on his makeshift bed. The odd little woman gently kissed his forehead, attempted another smile for Scully and got up from the floor. "He's feverish, but he'll be okay, you'll see," she said again, noticing the worried look on Scully's face. "There's plenty in my plant medicines to help him fight this off." She carefully gathered her bandages and water pails. Looking about, she patted the pockets of her thin cardigan. Her left pocket jingled with the handcuffs, and she looked relieved. "I'll sneak these back into Hodd's pockets tonight," she said. "Don' you say nothin' 'bout what you saw or what we did, Dana." Scully was speechless for a moment. If the woman could smuggle handcuff keys off her drunken husband's body, she could surely get them a gun or help them escape. No use. She knew the argument would be lost on Miss Edie. "No, Ma'am, I sure won't tell him anything," Scully answered sincerely. She watched Edie leave, then rolled back onto her little bed, watching Mulder sleep and running possibilities for escape through her head once again. Despair pulled her into a restless sleep. * * * * * * * * * * Skin on fire. Skin so sensitive that he dreaded the weight of cloth against it. Must be sick. Must have a fever. Did he hear her answer? Did he feel the touch of her lips on his forehead? His head hurt. His throat felt raw. And, ohgodohgod, did his ear ever hurt this badly before? Something must be wrong. No answer. Alone in his bed. Alone in the house. Alone in his life. Alone. No answer. He became aware of the sound of his heart, the sound of his breathing. Shouting. Somewhere, an angry voice raised. He felt like he was being held underwater. Rushing water sounds roaring in his ears. Faraway, muffled shouting. He began to feel dread. Why was he shouting? What was he saying? Mom said it would be okay. Just wanted to stay home -- just for today. So tired. Skin on fire. Why was he shouting so much? Why is he always so angry? What's wrong? ************* "I SAID GET UP, BOY!" Mulder became aware that he was being pulled to his feet, pinned against the wall. He was wrenched from a world of half-dreams back into the nightmare Arlik had imprisoned him in. The room tilted and whirled, and the federal agent had to clamp his eyes shut again to try to settle his reeling brain. He felt Arlik let go of him, so he struggled to brace himself against the wall in order to remain standing. He could hear more muffled shouting, but the roar and pain in his injured ear had started again, and he was unable to concentrate. He brought his hands to his face, as if the gesture could stop the spinning. He felt a rough hand encircle one of his sore wrists, and he was pulled forward brutally. His knees buckled, and he felt himself falling. The soft edge of the dusty old footrest caught him in the ribs. It was solid and unmoving under him. Mulder clung to it like a drowning man clinging to a lifesaver. He dared to lift his head and to open his eyes again. Nausea rolled through him, making him feel weak and shaky, but the room had seemed to stop spinning. He saw Scully standing, her face red with anger. She seemed to be shouting at Hodd Arlik. And he was shouting back at her, waving a pair of handcuffs in the air. Was Arlik threatening Scully?! Mulder struggled to straighten himself. He couldn't make sense of the muffled noises he was hearing. He willed himself to get up, and stood unsteadily next to the fireplace, gripping the old mantelpiece for balance. The tiny, bird-like woman was staring at him from across the room; who was she? He remembered her from last night. Hodd Arlik's wife? It was then he became aware of the bruises and swollen lip disfiguring her little face. Yeah, Mulder thought ruefully, she's Hodd Arlik's wife, all right. Why was she staring at him like that? Suddenly Hodd Arlik's bloated, ugly visage was in front of him. Mulder reared back, startled. Arlik was still shouting at him. Mulder forced himself to concentrate, to try to figure out what the man was saying to him. Arlik was pushing the agent's own parka at him. Okay. So, he wanted him to put it on? Arlik was gesturing wildly at the woodpile near the fireplace and toward the front door. Did he want him to go out into that storm for wood? Whatever he had said certainly served to animate Scully. Mulder saw her come at Arlik again, her face furious, her mouth moving as if she were shouting at the top of her lungs. He was horrified to see Arlik grab his red-headed partner by her arm and shake her roughly. Mulder moved to wedge himself in between the big man and his petite partner. He gently pushed Scully away from their captor and, careful to keep his eyes down and away from Arlik, slid into his parka, a silent gesture of submission to whatever it was that the man had ordered him to do. Hodd Arlik curled his lip in a sneering smile. He gripped Mulder by the arm and pulled him toward the door. The young man stole a glance back at his partner before being propelled through the doorway, out into the cold. ********************************** Dana Scully stood, fists clenched, still shaking in anger and frustration, staring after her partner. She could hear Edie Arlik move near her. She saw the little woman bend down and a moment later, she felt the ankle chain fall away. Scully could not look at her, could not bring herself to be thankful to her. The woman's passivity in the face of her husband's madness was dumbfounding! "C'mon. child," Edie said in a too-soft voice. "There's a bathroom to the back o' the house. You can get ..." "How could you let him do that?! How can you keep letting Hodd hurt your - your -- 'Sugar Boy'?!" Scully spat the words at Edie Arlik in a furious rush, feeling some satisfaction when she saw the little woman cringe and turn away. "I'll get yer breakfas'," Edie was nearly whispering now. She was limping toward the kitchen. "How do you think he's going to be able to do what Hodd is making him do out there, Edie?" Scully challenged. "How is your 'Sugar' going to be able to chop wood? Haul wood? How's he going to keep Hodd happy, Edie? Hodd's looking for another excuse to hurt him, Edie! That's how Hodd gets his kicks, isn't it, Edie?" The tiny woman was visibly cringing. Scully kept up her verbal attack, needing the release. "Is that why you're so glad to have your Sugar Boy back? Is it, Edie? So Hodd has someone else to punch around beside you?" Scully was nearly screaming in the midst of her fury. She wanted to hit something, someone. Edie stood silently at the door, her back to Scully. "He's not going to be able to keep Hodd happy, Edie! He's too sick, and your husband is too goddamn crazy. Then what happens, Edie? Is he going to start cutting him up? Is he going to murder your Sugar Boy -- just like the other boys? How many Sugar Boys have you seen Hodd kill, Edie? How many? Answer me!" Edie slowly turned back to Scully. Under her bruises, her face was ashen white. "It t'weren't Hodd done them killin's, Dana. He only killed..." She paused, fighting tears back. "He only killed our own. He only killed my babies. Tol' me he cain't be feedin' other mouths. An' Sugar Boy weren't even ours." Edie clutched at her thin chest, tears now freely streaming down her face. Scully stood in stunned silence, trying to make sense of what Edie was confessing to her. When the tiny woman suddenly appeared to collapse, the federal agent rushed forward to catch her in her arms, easing her to the floor. Edie Arlik stared up at Scully through her tears. She ran her hand gently over the other woman's face. "Always wanted my children. Hodd buried three of 'em. Tol' me they was all born dead. Tol' me I wasn' capable o' ever bringin' somethin' pretty into this worl' an' carin' for it, but I don' think so. I have dreams every night, hearin' them babies cry when they was took from me. He'd get me drunk on his whiskey when the birthin' pains come upon me." Scully listened in undisguised horror to the story unraveling before her. A simple, terrified woman giving birth in the backwoods. Her children taken from her by the monster who had gotten her pregnant. Forced to lay with that same monster in a marriage bed. Forced to stay by ancient morals and sheer intimidation. "An' my leg...my hip...," Edie was sobbing now. "I walk the way I do 'cause my las' child was too big for my birthin' it. The next mornin', the child was gone, and I couldn' walk. I knew somethin' had broke in me, but Hodd wasn' about to take me to no city doctors who'da asked 'bout me birthin' a baby that weren' around no more. I didn' much care 'bout nothin' after that. I think I'da liked to died 'bout then. Kinda knew I weren' gonna have a baby o' my own no more. Too old, too tired an' things were jus' too messed up. That's why I was so happy to have Sugar Boy with us. The child made my life so full of colors and happiness for all o' that fall an' winter." She stared at the front door and forced herself to stop crying. "He was a runaway, Hodd said. He showed up with the boy one day; said mebbe the boy would get my mind off myself. The child looked so scared, and he couldn' talk. Wouldn' never say a word -- but he didn' hafta 'round me. He always spoke in smiles to me." She paused, lost in a memory, then sighed, "An' then, months later when Sugar went missin' on me, Hodd said that he done run away ag'in one day that spring, but I always thought he'd never woulda lef' me. An' for a long time, I thought mebbe Hodd..." She didn't finish; the accusation was left unsaid. Scully watched the woman's face change suddenly, like a veil had settled over her. "But he come back. My Sugar Boy. He come back." Dropping her head to her chest in resignation, Scully said sadly, "Maybe he did, Edie. Maybe your 'Sugar' is back. Are you going to let Hodd hurt him again? Don't you see? If Hodd is capable of murdering your babies, and if he's capable of torturing and killing five young men, then he'll kill your 'Sugar Boy', too." Edie looked up sharply. "No. I'm tellin' you! Hodd ain' been killin' them boys. It's that other one, the devil-man." She shuddered. "He's truly unnatural. I'm sure he be the devil hisself. Hodd traps them boys and that man pays for 'em, like they was wild game or somethin'... Hodd uses that devil-man's fancy trucks when he goes trappin' for him. An' he lets him keep the cars, an' he buys the boys from Hodd. That's the barg'in they struck. Hodd an' Satan hisself!" "What?" Scully breathed. She was in shock. Hodd's evil was eclipsed by another, more gruesome monster? Or was this another of Edie Arlik's elaborate fantasies? Was she seeing 'devils' as a way of justifying her husband's evil? Or was the real serial killer still out there? Hodd Arlik didn't quite fit Mulder's profile, she realized, and yet the other possibilities seemed so ... <"Open yourself up to extreme possibilities, Scully."> If the actual murderer was still out there, could Hodd Arlik simply be his toady? Mulder had said he thought there was an accomplice; Arlik could fit that bill. The federal agent's thoughts were racing. Could a whole new danger be lurking around them? "Does this 'devil-man' know about us? Does he know that Hodd kidnapped us?" "He's pretty smart. He can usually tell when Hodd is up to somethin'. He watches, " she said cryptically. Scully remained skeptical, but decided to use this possible figment of the little woman's imagination to her advantage. She would appeal to her delusional need to safeguard the child she thought Mulder was. "Edie! Listen to me. What do you think will happen if that man finds out Sugar Boy is here? Do you think your Sugar would be safe from him?" Edie's eyes widened. Her fear of her husband may have kept her imprisoned in her very tiny world, but it was clear that she had never considered that any outside evils might impact on her and her warped fantasy life. In her world, "Sugar Boy" had suddenly come 'home' again and she viewed Hodd's abuse of the boy -- and her-- as a normal part of that tiny world. More danger, more cruelty? It was too much to contemplate. Edie struggled to her feet with Scully's help. She was suddenly very nervous and distracted. "I cain't think 'bout that. I cain't. The devil cain't take Sugar away. He cain't have him. And Hodd had better not not..." She stopped, pushed away from Scully and fled into her kitchen. ********************************** If only he didn't feel so lousy, he could do this. If only the thudding of his own blood in his ears would stop, he could do this. If only the goddamn planet would hold still for him, he could do this. He didn't need his damned hearing to sense that Hodd Arlik, standing on the front porch of the dilapidated cabin, was laughing at his efforts to split the length of cordwood in front of him. He gripped the rough ax handle again. His growing fury and frustration was fueling his determination. The ax handle stung his hands. The grip was wet with snow and it had slipped several times as Mulder tried desperately to swing it effectively at the wood. When his balance shifted again, his swing went wide and the ax head became buried in the snow and hard ground, just inches away from his left foot. Seeing how narrowly he had missed putting the ax through his own leg, Mulder went weak-kneed for a moment. He paused, panting, trying to slow his racing heart. He could see Arlik leaning against the porch, his face red with laughter. Hatred and anger washed through the weary federal agent, giving him a renewed strength. Ignoring the complaints from his body, he wrenched the ax from the ground and hefted it up once more. This time he swung it downward with a vicious resolve. The cordwood splintered cleanly into two pieces under the force of the blow and fell away. Mulder rolled his head back, closing his eyes, reveling in the feeling of triumph. The feel of the wood giving way under his hands was briefly liberating. Suddenly he didn't feel as helpless. But he still felt the bite of self- recrimination, anger he directed at himself for falling so carelessly into this trap, bringing his partner with him. He bent to pick up another piece of wood, consciously fighting the stabbing pain in his ear. He moved slowly, with determination, concentrating, focusing on small movements, trying to control a slippery hold on his balance. He began doing what he had always done to get through the tests put to him in his life. He set his own challenges. Picking up a piece of wood. Positioning it. Fighting off the pain. Swinging the ax. Pushing away the nausea. Feeling the satisfaction as he watched the wood fly away from his weapon. Picking up another piece of wood. Pushing himself. Testing himself. Again and again. Until he felt himself become an automaton, void of feeling, immune to pain, resistant to the outside world clawing to get at his soul. Fuck Hodd Arlik. Fuck little town sheriffs who had political agendas to fill. Fuck the FBI. Fuck his almighty Oxford degree. Fuck his bastard father. Fuck all those people who patted him on the head when his sister Samantha disappeared and yet stared at him with suspicion. Fuck everyone who wouldn't listen. His demons were free, and they wanted his soul, too. He couldn't quite hear it, but he could feel the murderous bite of the ax slicing into wood. He was smart enough to know why he enjoyed feeling this right now. This task had become important to him. He had turned it into his punishment. Self-imposed. He would rise to his own challenge, ignoring the screaming in his head, the ache in his shoulder, and the cold nipping of snow and wind on his face. It would be his temporary salvation, a fight he could feel effective in. Log after log split evenly and flew from the chopping block. Mulder could tell Arlik was no longer laughing. The man's face had turned morose again. Mulder didn't care. He had lost himself in his personal penalty. He swung the ax with a frightening, mindless rhythm. He didn't even notice Arlik leave. ************************ Scully followed Edie Arlik into another part of the ramshackle cabin. She couldn't give up on trying to get the woman to listen to reason. The agent stopped in momentary awe in the doorway of the kitchen. While the front room had an eerie desolate sense about it, this room was full of life. Potted herbs and plants were everywhere. Hanging, crowding little makeshift shelves, lined up along the old door-less cupboards. A harvest of autumn vegetables, squash, potatoes, and root plants were stored in organized bins near the cooler end of the room, far from the ancient wood-burning stove. A huge, heavy table dominated the middle of the room. Pots and pans were neatly hung by the stove. Scully automatically began scanning the room for weapons; knives, kitchen cleaver, tools. They were curiously absent. Edie Arlik stood quietly at the far end, still looking a bit shaken by Scully's verbal barrage. She nervously avoided looking at the red- headed agent, but she knew what the other woman was looking for. "Won' do no good, lookin' for somethin' to attack him with," she said softly without looking up. "He locks up everythin' 'at might do him harm -- Done it fer years. He hides 'em from me. He 'spects some night, when he's in one of his stupors, I'll kill him. Funny thing is..." The little woman lifted her eyes to Scully. "...he's right to be scared o' me. I woulda killed him. Many a night I lay under his stinkin' flesh an' wished him cold dead. Not so long ago, I woulda killed him for sure." Scully listened, nearly breathless. If Edie Arlik could get in touch with her hatred of her husband, maybe she would help them. Scully couldn't understand why she refused to help. "What's different now, Edie?" Scully asked "Cause I seen I don't have to take a knife to his fat belly!" Edie hissed, immersed suddenly in a fantasy that she'd obviously spent much time on. "I seen he is dyin' by his own damned hand." "What are you saying?" Scully didn't understand the little woman's odd talk. "His still," Edie said simply. "He been poisonin' hisself for a long time now. Got hisself some ol' pipes and the damnable fool don' even know he is killin' hisself making his still-piss in lead pipes." Scully recalled how sickly Arlik had appeared despite his massive size. He was brewing his own liquor in a still with old lead pipes? IS that why he looked so ill? An advanced case of lead poisoning? Edie had known for a long time. She was patiently awaiting the day that her prayers would be answered in a manner that wouldn't have her facing murder charges. "But, Miss Edie, cases of lead poisoning can be very prolonged," Scully started to say. Edie smiled and opened the only cabinet with doors on it. It was large and deep and filled with a multitude of jars and boxes, all carefully labeled, not with words, but a carefully drawn picture of the plant that was contained inside each of them. The actual name and uses of each precious container must be cataloged in the little woman's brain, Scully realized in awe. Edie's Secret Pharmacy. Scully recognized a few common plants -- feverfew, peppermint, dandelion. But the sheer number of containers she saw before her was overwhelming. And yet, Edie Arlik seemed to know each of them well. In one corner, she had mixes and ointments she had prepared and marked with a curious code of her own design Scully recognized one that she had seen Edie use on Mulder's shoulder wound. The agent guessed that the little woman did not read or write and that her drawings and her mysterious little code was her way of keeping her work organized and safe from her husband's interference. "I been 'helpin' Hodd's affliction along," Edie admitted quietly. "May God forgive my damned soul," she added in a whisper. "I ain't got the guts to hand him a killing' dose. I'm fearing' that the law might figure it out." She looked up at Scully. "Hodd said you was one o' them?" Scully nodded, not knowing what to say. Edie was confessing attempted murder to her. Even though Hodd Arlik's demise would be a boon to her and her partner right now, she knew what the rulebook said, and she knew what the 'Good Book' preached. Each woman understood the facts of one and feared the judgment of the other. Breaking the long silence, Scully put her hand over Edie's and said, "That's why I need the gun, Edie. I'm a federal agent. I can put a stop to Hodd's madness; you don't have to bear that responsibility. And there's not much time. I have to get Mulder back to..." Edie paled suddenly and wrenched her hand away from Scully. She turned and strode over to the stove, not facing the other woman. "No. No. No! You can't take him away from me. You can't have Sugar! He can't leave me again!" "Edie!" Scully was frantic. She followed the little old woman to the other side of the room. "He can't stay here. Hodd will kill him, either with his own hands or working him to death like this. Or what if Hodd decides he's had enough and turns him over to that 'devil-man' you keep talking about." Edie pushed away again, wringing her hands in a maddened frenzy of new fear. "No. No. No! He won't. He promised me. I cain't lose that boy ag'in. I promised him I'd never, never let Hodd take him from me ag'in. I think it'd be the end o' me if... I jus' cain't. Never ag'in." "He's a federal agent, Edie. His name is Mulder. Fox Mulder." Scully was shouting now. "He isn't Sugar Boy. And if you don't help him, Edie, he's going to die here. And you'll end up losing your Sugar Boy again just like you did last time because you let Hodd beat him." The slap from Edie's hand caught Scully squarely on her left cheek. For a long time, the two women just glared at each other. The bang of the front door brought both of them out of their standoff. Edie rushed to pull some pots from their hangers and pushed one at Scully. "Make yourself busy, girl. Hodd's back in," she snapped. " I'll need a mess o' potatoes cleaned and scraped for t'night's dinner." Scully took the pot and grudgingly did as she was told, mindful of the sting lingering on her cheek. **********************************