Title: Desert Song
Author: Barney O'Borg
Written: May 1995
Standard Disclaimer: The characters Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Frohike, and Assisstant Director Skinner are owned by 1013 Productions / Fox television. No copyright violations and/or infringements are intended. Specific Disclaimer: The Catron County Rebel Alliance (ie the Catron County Militia) does exist, having triumphantly burned the UN flag at the Catron County courthouse to protest the New World Order.
Rating: This story is rated strong PG-13 / mild R for language and adult situations.

Summary: Mulder and Scully spend a surreal Fourth of July weekend in a small town in New Mexico.

"'Let's go to Albuquerque, Scully. There's a seminar on investigative procedures and equipment'," Dana Scully mimicked the conversation that had put them in their present dire straits. "'Then we can take the Fourth of July weekend, go to Carlsbad Caverns, then see White Sands'." She leaned against the side of the car, sweat beading on her forehead in the morning heat and evaporating in the clear azure sky.

"'Maybe we can swing through Roswell on our way there. Take the scenic route'." She cast a glance that would kill Mulder if he had seen it.

However, he had his jacket and tie off, hood of the car up, and was poking and prodding various portions of the engine.

"May I remind you Mulder, this is eastern New Mexico. There are no 'scenic routes'!" She looked around at the flat, nearly featureless scrub that dominated the land in almost every direction she could see. Off in the distance to the south she could see a purple smudge of mountains, but that was it.

Mulder looked at her from under the relative shade of the hood. His hazel eyes had a whipped puppy look about them. He was sweating as bad as she was, but the shade gave him enough protection so that his sweat ran down his forehead and made streaks on his face.

"Things could have been worse."

"How, pray tell?"

"I could have taken a left turn at Albuquerque?"

The temptation was great for Scully to pull out the steel hood support rod and let the hood slam on her partner. Mulder read her expression and backed away from the engine. He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He lifted up the hood and put the rod back into it's holder, then let the hood drop with a loud slam.

"Well?"

Mulder shrugged his shoulders. "Could be the fuel pump. I have no idea. I'm really not mechanically inclined, you know that Scully."

"Then why did you look?"

"It's a male thing to do."

Scully rolled her eyes skyward, looking for answers that were not forthcoming.

"Look, it's real easy. You stay here and I'll walk back to that town we passed, get a tow truck to come out here and get the car. I'll even bring something cold to drink," Mulder said as he opened the driver side door and pulled out his jacket, fishing around for his wallet and ID.

"Mulder, that town has to be at least five miles away. In this heat, you'll be lucky to get halfway there before passing out from sunstroke."

"It's going to get a lot hotter before it gets cooler," Mulder shoved his wallet in his pocket with his ID. He grabbed the shoulder holster of his gun and pulled it on, cinching it tight. "If I take my time, I should be there in a couple of hours. Run the AC on the car. Listen to some music.

I'll be back before you know it." Mulder shut the door and looked across the rooftop at Scully. "It would be foolish for both of us to try walking back.

If I don't return, start out at sunset. There should still be enough light left for you to reach the town."

"And what about you? Should I leave you behind for the raven's like so much roadkill?"

"Nah. They won't like me, Scully. Not enough fat." Mulder flashed a smile as he started walking back towards the town that they had passed about an hour ago. Scully watched him go, walking in a slow, measured pace. Eventually the white shirt and dark pants blended into the wavy horizon. Scully sighed and decided to take Mulder up on his suggestion and she got into the car, hoping that he had left the keys in the ignition and not taken them with him, which would figure. The keys were there, dangling from the steering column. She turned the key so that there was power, and shoved the AC on full blast.

Icy air flowed across her satin blouse, and she sighed with relief.

She knew that she should turn the AC over to vent, for without the engine running, the AC refrigerant would slowly warm up. She closed her eyes, however, and let the cool air run over her. Before long the air was no longer icy cold, and she reached over to the controls, switching to vent. Warm air brushed against her, and she started to sweat again. At least there was some air circulation, she thought.

She looked around outside. Mulder had vanished, swallowed up by the heat waves that shimmered off the blacktop. If he was smart, she thought, he would walk along side the road where it would be a little cooler. She looked ahead, and saw nothing but a straight black line that merged with the pale blue horizon. On either side there was a fence, and brown. Various shades and textures of brown. Ireland might be the emerald isle, she thought, but New Mexico was the land of sienna.

She reached over and turned the key back to the off position and pulled it out. She got out of the car and was struck by, to her, blast furnace heat. Albuquerque had been in the triple digits all week, and she was sure it was close to a hundred, if not over. "'But it's a dry heat'," she muttered, repeating Mulder as she opened the trunk. She pulled out her small duffel bag and slammed the lid of the trunk. Opening the back door, she slid into the car. At least Mulder had gotten cloth seats.

She opened the duffel bag and extracted a t-shirt and shorts. Glancing all around to make sure there was no one looking, she stripped off the satin blouse and her slacks. Off went the heels and pantyhose too. She slipped on the cotton shorts and pulled on the t-shirt, letting it hang loose. She reached up and undid her bra and took it off, depositing it into the duffel bag with the hose. She dug out a pair of sneakers and put them on over her bare feet. She had heard enough horror stories of rattlesnakes, black widow and brown recluse spiders, and scorpions to know that not wearing something on her feet was an open invitation to get bit or stung. Not that the canvas would offer much protection against a determined snake, she realized.

Normally, she would have folded her clothing up and put it away neatly in the bag. She just stuffed the slacks and blouse in and zippered the bag shut. She then got out of the car to return the bag to the trunk.

She stopped and looked for the keys. She scanned the ground, felt her pockets, and opened her bag again to search the pockets of her slacks. No keys. She then looked at the hood of the trunk, realization dawning that she had locked the keys in the trunk. She leaned down and banged her head gently against the hot metal.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid..."

It was several hours later when she heard the truck approaching. In all that time she had seen no other sign of life except some cows in the distance. Cows and humans, she thought, the only two life forms stupid enough to be out in this heat. She placed her hand over her eyes to shade them from the sun. The tow truck was elongated due to the rippling heat waves radiating off the pavement. The truck pulled up, grinding gears as it downshifted. It pulled over to the far side and turned around, coming to a stop behind the car.

Dust and dirt enveloped Scully, and she started coughing and waving her hand in front of her face. There were twin slams of doors shutting, and she blinked at Mulder who stood between her and the sun.

"Scully? What are you doing out here?" He handed her a half-liter plastic container of water, and she twisted the top off savagely and polished off half of the water before answering Mulder.

"Even with all the windows open, that car is a broiler." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "It was cooler outside. I stayed in the shade from the car."

"But why aren't you inside with the AC or the fan going? " Scully dipped her head, feeling her cheeks growing warm. "I locked the keys in the trunk," she said lowly.

"'In the trunk'," Mulder echoed, a ghost of a smile flickering along his lips. He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. "Get in the truck. It's a lot cooler in there, and there's more water." He turned his attention to the driver. Scully made her way to the cab of the truck and was rewarded by a blast of cold air as she climbed in. She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes, resting the water bottle on her forehead. Before long she heard the winch lift up their car, and soon after there was an invasion of hot air and sweaty bodies.

"Scully, this is Dan Morrison, our knight in shining armor," Mulder tipped his head at the driver. Scully looked at the man. He wore a faded shirt and jeans, a baseball cap with a blue and silver star which was also faded. He had a scrubby growth of beard that may have been brown, but the sunlight had bleached it to almost white. A well tanned face, wrinkles around his eyes. He nodded once.

"Ma'm." Dan said then he turned all his attention to driving. He ground through the first several gears, making Scully wince. She glanced at Mulder, who simply shook his head. The rode in silence, Scully polishing off the remaining half-liter of water. Mulder dug into a paper bag and offered her another, but she shook her head.

Dan drove into a small town that was not much wider than the two lane road which cut through it. There was a dusty looking cinder block garage, or at least that was what Scully assumed it was from the gas pumps in front. Dan expertly backed their dead car into the only service bay and the truck came to a stuttering stop. He and Mulder opened their doors and got out.

Scully got out on Mulder's side, her skin sticking to the vinyl seat and making a rude sound. Mulder looked like he was going to make a comment, but she glared at him, and his half open mouth closed shut.

Dan had the hood of the car open, a light hanging from a hook, and he was looking around.

"Do you have a rest room?" Scully asked. He looked up and blinked, then pointed over his shoulder with his thumb at a dark doorway.

"Thanks," Scully said and she walked into the small room, turning on the light. A dim bulb came on, and she shut and locked the door behind her. She grabbed a handful of paper towels and poured cold water on them.

She wiped off her face, pulling away a layer of dirt. She tossed those into the wastebasket, grabbed a second handful and wiped off her arms and legs.

A third handful went through her hair, and under her t-shirt, wiping down her underarms and between her breasts. She felt far more refreshed, but a bath would have been far better.

"What do you mean, 'You can't fix it'?" She heard Mulder say as she came out of the rest room.

"Well, it's like this," Dan was wiping his hands on a soiled rag, and Scully wondered how he ever got his hands clean. "This here car has one of those new fangled computer micro-potato chip thingies. I don't have a computer micro-potato chip looker-atter."

"Analyzer," Mulder said. "A diagnostic analyzer."

"Eeyahup, one-a those. I think it's the fuel pump, but I'm not sure.

And even if I had a fuel pump for this car, which I don't, I don't have a die-egg-whatsis to make sure it really is the fuel pump. Besides," he pointed to the prominent GSA fleet sticker in the rear window. "This heres' a GSA car.

They have their own mechanics. If I muck up one of their precious cars, I'll probably be audited every year 'til Kingdom Come." He shoved the rag into the pocket of his jeans. "Nope. Sorry to say, Mister Mulder, but you an' the little lady are plum outta luck."

"You're joking." Scully looked aghast. "Aren't you?"

"Nope." Dan leaned against the trunk. "I don't have a spare fuel pump that would fit, and to jury-rig something that may leave y'all stranded further away than you were, well, that just ain't me." He shook his head.

"The nearest town that would have a spare pump is Socorro, 'bout an hour to the west."

"And you're not going to go get it? Or get it shipped here?"

"Ma'm, you haven't been in New Mexico long, have you?"

"Far too long," Scully muttered under her breath.

"Well, they call New Mexico the land of manana," the Spanish word rolled fluently off Dan's tongue. "It means 'tomorrow' or 'later'. The auto part store in Socorro would be closed by the time I'd get there.

Especially over Fourth of July weekend." Dan shook his head. "Nope. Tuesday is the soonest that I could get a replacement."

"OK," Mulder rubbed the area between his eyes. He was rapidly getting a migraine. "Fine. I'll call GSA and they'll come down with a tow truck and pick up the car."

Dan laughed until his eyes were watering. "Whoooo, Mister Mulder!

You have a great sense of humor. Call GSA on a Saturday! Of a three day weekend!"

"It was a thought," Mulder looked sheepishly at Scully. Her gaze was far beyond the 'if-looks-could-kill' stage. Mulder felt himself shrinking before those eyes.

"Maybe someone has a car that we can rent to get us back to Albuquerque?" she asked in a measured and even tone. Mulder knew that he was in trouble.

"Beggin' your pardon, ma'm; but just where do you think you are?" Dan waved at the small accumulation of buildings. There was a single cross road, a dirt path that led to nowhere. "There are no cars to be had."

"A bus?"

"Well, Trailways used to run through here once a day, but they quit that a couple'a years back. No profit." Dan shoved his hand into a rear pocket and pulled out a can of chewing tobacco. He offered some to both of them, and they declined.

"Fine. A taxi. I'll get a taxi from Albuquerque," Scully said.

Dan spit out a brown line on the ground. "Could do that, I suppose.

Cost you an' arm and a leg, though."

"How much is 'an arm and a leg'," Mulder asked. Dan thought for a minute.

"Last I heard was near a hundred bucks one way to Socorro, so figger 'nother hundred here, then the same amount back to 'Turkey town. Four hundred, all told."

Mulder and Scully exchanged glances. There was no way that they could afford that much, and Skinner would go through the roof if they tried to get the FBI to foot that bill. He had balked at the trip to Albuquerque, but finally relented.

"OK. No bus, can't get ahold of GSA until Tuesday, taxi's out of the question." Mulder frowned. "Is there anyone locally who would be willing to take us to Albuquerque for, oh, say a hundred bucks?"

Dan rubbed his chin. "Maybe Ricardo Sanchez, down at the diner. He's one of the fry cooks. Always looking for some spare cash."

Scully closed her eyes at the images of fried fatty food, and she could feel her arteries hardening.

"You have more than one fry cook?" Mulder sounded amazed at the prospect.

"Eeeyahh. Git some trucks stoppin' in the middle of the night.

Loggers, mostly."

"Loggers?" Scully looked skeptical.

"Runnin' logs from the western part of the state, out in Catron County, to Roswell. Big lumberyard there."

"I've heard of Catron County." Mulder's mouth lifted in a wry grin.

"Good thing you took a left turn in Socorro and not a right. The Rebel Alliance don't cotton to havin' any Federalies running around. Shoot, one guy in Socorro bought himself a Humvee. Had it colored a robin-egg blue, then went to Quemado Lake over Memorial Day weekend. Militia thought that the Russians had arrived. Damn thing was shot at more times than I could count."

Dan shook his head. "Wild bunch in Catron."

"Mulder, let's go see if we can get that ride;" Scully said. The last thing she wanted was Mulder to get into a discussion with a garage mechanic over local folklore, especially when she felt like she was beginning to melt.

Mulder nodded and they started off, then Scully turned abruptly.

"Could you see if you can get the trunk open?" she asked Dan. He glanced at the lock and scratched his head, the action lifting his cap a little.

"Think so. I'll get 'Betsy' and see what I can do."

"Great. Thanks." Scully gave him a lopsided smile. He waved and they walked down the street. They were halfway to the diner when they heard a gun shot from the garage. Mulder spun, gun in hand, looking around. Scully had dropped to the ground, letting Mulder cover her. There came no other shots, and Mulder brought his gun up. Scully stood up, rubbing her legs free of small pebbles that had stuck to her. She glanced at Mulder, who gave her a questioning look.

"'Betsy'?"

"Oh, Lord. I hope not." Scully covered her face with her hands and rubbed her forehead and temples. "Com'on, Mulder. I want to get out of here." She led the way to the diner.

The diner door opened with a tinkling sound, and she glanced up to see a small bell positioned above the door jam. Cold air flowed down her body, and she scurried inside, making room for Mulder.

There was a long counter with stools that had vinyl tops. To their right there was a line of booths, chipped Formica tops. The whole place had a feel of being dropped out of a time warp. There was a radio playing Spanish music, and sounds of something frying from in back.

They walked down the aisle that separated the stools from the booths, and a woman in a white cowboy cut shirt and jeans came out from behind a swinging door. Her long black hair was done up in a braid. She flashed a smile at Mulder and Scully, then glanced at Mulder's gun.

"Federal agent," Mulder said quickly. He pulled out his ID. "I'm not here to rob you."

"Oh, I'm not worried about that;" She laughed and walked over to the register. She pulled out what looked like a cross between a shotgun and a 1920's Tommy gun. "See?"

"Jesus Christ!" Scully's eyes went wide. "An Armsel Striker Street Sweeper?"

"Yup. With rifled slugs. Scared the hell outta some bikers last year when they came in struttin' their stuff like some roosters." She put away the semi-automatic shotgun. "So you see, I wasn't worried about your pop-gun."

She waved a delicate finger in front of Mulder. "And don't you go sayin'

anything about 'penis envy' either."

"Wouldn't think of it," Mulder replied.

"So, what can I help you folks with?" She put down two menus on the counter. "You the ones that Dan dragged in several minutes ago?"

"Yes. We were told that a Mister Sanchez might be willing to drive us to Albuquerque?" Scully answered.

"Maybe. Hold on, I'll be right back." She walked through the swinging door, and there was an exchange in rapid-fire Spanish.

"Gee, Scully, just think. Guts, guns, and looks." Mulder raised an eyebrow. "We could see if she has a brother."

"Thanks, but I don't think so." Scully took a napkin from the dispenser and wiped her forehead. Seeing the woman wield the Street Sweeper so nonchalantly had nearly sent her over the edge.

An older man came through the door. He had on a greasy apron. He had a thick wave of black hair which was covered with a hairnet. He smiled at Mulder and Scully and broke into a string of Spanish. Mulder and Scully looked at each other.

"Don't look at me, all I know is 'Nojo on the rojo';" Mulder said.

"Poppy! Speak English!" The woman yelled from the kitchen. He waved his arm and fired off another tirade in Spanish. He then turned and smiled.

"Good afternoon! My daughter, Teresa, she says you need a ride to Albuquerque?"

"Yes. Dan at the garage said you might be interested? We'd pay for it, of course." Mulder added.

"Si, si." He lifted his hands and hunched his shoulders. "Yesterday, I could have helped you. Today, no. My other daughter, Rita, she's getting married to a pendajo of a man." There came a yell of Spanish from the kitchen, and he replied in kind. "Please, beg my daughter's pardon. She thinks because she can scare a couple of bikers that she wears the cojones in the family, no?" He waited for a rebuttal, and when there was none he continued.

"Rita, her wedding is this weekend. I have to get all the food ready for the reception." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, really I am. Please, at least let me give you some lunch -- my treat, please."

Mulder looked at Scully. "I am kinda hungry."

Scully nodded in agreement. The last thing she had had was a biscuit breakfast from the McDonald's in Socorro, and that was well over six hours ago.

"Excellent!" The man swept the menus aside. "Please, sit, relax."

He opened his arms wide, indicating the booths. "I'll be right back." He walked back into the kitchen. Mulder looked at Scully and picked a booth.

They sat across from each other.

"I'm sorry, Scully." Mulder pulled off the shoulder holster and put it on the seat beside him. "This isn't what I had in mind."

"It's okay, Mulder." She looked out the window at the town. She saw his reflection in the window. It was obvious that he hadn't taken the time to freshen up when he reached the garage. There were big circles of moisture under his arms and a damp spot on his chest. Sweat had made clean lines in the dust on his forehead. He looked sapped of all energy. "Why don't you go clean up. What do you want to drink?"

"Anything wet," he replied as he slid along the seat and headed into the restroom.

Teresa came out of the kitchen, brushing flour covered hands on a small apron. "What can I get y'all to drink?"

"As long as it's cold, wet, and tall, we don't care." Scully answered.

Teresa smiled and nodded, heading behind the counter. Scully could see why Mulder would be interested in Teresa. The cowboy shirt couldn't hide an ample bosom, and she did fill the jeans out quite well. She walked over with two frosted mugs full of crushed ice, and two tall curved bottles.

"I don't believe it. Coke in a glass bottle?" Scully looked at the distinctive curved glass.

"There's a bottler in Albuquerque. It costs more to get it in glass, but it just doesn't taste the same in plastic or cans." She smiled as she put the drinks on the table. "Poppy is getting your lunch ready." She watched Scully pour out a mug of Coke. "May I ask you a question?"

"Sure." Scully took a sip of the ice cold soda.

"What does your husband do for the FBI?"

The soda went down the wrong way, causing Scully to cough painfully.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she tried to catch her breath. Teresa was pounding enthusiastically on Scully's back.

"Oh, Madre de Dios! It's classified! I'm sorry!" Teresa wailed.

"No," Scully's voice was rough. She cleared her throat and took a breath. "Mulder is my partner, not my husband. I'm with the FBI also." She held out her hand. "Dana Scully."

"Oh. Oh. Ohh." Teresa's features went from amazement to half-lidded doe soft brown eyes that extruded sexual interest as she shook Scully's hand absently.

"He. Isn't married?"

"No. No girlfriend either." Scully smiled as Mulder came out of the restroom. Teresa unbuttoned the top several buttons on her shirt, showing more than just a hint of cleavage and skin the color of leather. Mulder looked at them and squeezed past Teresa, who had positioned herself so that he had to brush against her.

"Excuse me," Mulder looked better, Scully noted. He had taken the time to even run some water through his hair.

"Enjoy your drink." Teresa said as she literally wiggled off back to the kitchen. Mulder sat down across from Scully and poured his Coke into the mug.

"What was that all about?"

"Girl talk. That's all."

Teresa returned within a couple minutes with two heaping plates of food, and Scully noticed that the shirt had became unbuttoned even lower.

She put Scully's plate on the table, and leaned over to hand Mulder's his.

"Poppy's special green chile burrito, smothered with melted cheeses and covered with green chile," she said in a husky tone, looking at Mulder. "Red chile enchiladas, topped with an egg. Beans and Spanish rice, a flour tortilla. There are sopipillas and honey for dessert. You like honey?"

"Wha-?" Mulder looked at Teresa. "Uh, yeah. I like honey."

"So do I. It runs so smooth over something...hot..." Teresa ran her tongue over her lips and wiggled away, Mulder watching her go.

"If you dare say anything about hot buns, Mulder, I swear I'll shove that burrito down your pants to give her a thrill - if only for a minute."

Scully picked up her fork and looked at the heaping plate of food, wondering where to begin. She chose the burrito and cut into the flour tortilla that contained diced onion, ground beef, cheeses, and chile. She took a mouthful, and was surprised at the mild bite of the chile. Before long she had polished off the burrito, the enchilada, the rice and beans. She leaned back and sighed. Mulder copied her movement.

"Oh, God. Mulder, I'm stuffed."

"Please, don't say that. It reminds me of stuffed peppers, and the last thing I want to think about is food." Mulder patted his stomach and issued a small burp. Teresa came out with a small wicker basket lined with colored linen and a squeeze container of a thick golden liquid. She put the basket between them, and they saw four steaming puffed up squares. Mulder and Scully looked at the basket, then at each other, and groaned in unison.

Teresa smiled and picked up their plates and silverware. She leaned down and whispered in Mulder's ear. "These aren't the only thing that's hot and honey tastes good on waiting for you to eat." She flickered her tongue across his ear. He jumped, banging his knees on the bottom of the table.

He rubbed his knees as Teresa walked back to the kitchen.

Mulder looked at Scully, who had a sly smile on her face, and was suppressing a laugh.

"It's not funny, Scully," Mulder said. "These old families have a thing about outsiders intruding. She might get me shot."

"Or a shotgun marriage."

Mulder shuddered at the thought.

They walked back to the garage, the heat sapping whatever energy they had gathered while eating lunch. Dan was waiting for them, their bags on the concrete floor and the trunk open. Scully looked for a bullet hole near the lock, and didn't see anything.

"We heard a shot earlier," Mulder said, grabbing a black duffel bag and pulling the web strap over his head and far shoulder.

"Eeeyah. That woulda been Harold. He owns the gunshop next door.

He does the fireworks for the town on the Fourth. Homemade, not any of your store bought wimpy shit." Dan smiled. "I remember going fishing at the Butt.

Me 'n Harold tooka bunch of his surplus. Damn if that water didn't fountain a good dozen feet in the air. Fish flopping all around us. Woulda had a good haul, if it hadn't been for the Game Warden. What has this world come to when a Warden won't take a bribe." Dan shook his head sadly.

"I take it you'll call GSA first thing Tuesday morning?" Mulder asked.

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of everything. GSA'll be here that afternoon, and you'll be back on your way." Dan nodded. "I take it you couldn't get a ride with Ricardo?"

"His daughter Rita's getting married this weekend."

"Oh, yeah. Forgot about that." Dan scratched his head. "Nice girl.

None too swift, mind you. But nice."

"What do you know about Teresa?" Scully asked, giving Mulder a quick glance.

"A little Hellion who looks like an angel. Gets what she wants, that one does." Dan shook his head. "Real handy with a gun, that one. She scared a couple a bikers last year. They came in, waving their knives and chains around, thinkin' they could intimidate her. Calm as you please, she pulls out 'Wee Wullie'..."

"'Wee Wullie'?"

"Her Street Sweeper. Walks outside, points it at one of the Harleys, fired three rounds through the crankcase. By then, Harold come out with his Mag 10 Roadblocker. Biggest sumbitch shotgun I've ever seen. He braced that puppy against his hip and fired a single round, out went another bike -- or p'haps I should say up. Blew that sucker all to hell and gone." Dan chuckled.

"The rest a them bikers hightailed it outta here."

"Great. We're stuck in an armed camp," Scully said as she lifted her smaller duffel bag.

"Here, put your stuff back here." Dan jabbed his thumb at the tow truck. "Hell, there's only one motel in town. No sense of y'all walking down there in this heat. Hop on in."

Mulder & Scully dropped their bags and suitcases into the back of the truck and got into the cab. Dan got in, started the truck, and grinding through the first gear he drove down the street to the small eight unit motel.

Scully looked in horror at the dusty pink stucco and a yucca plant out front.

Each of the rooms, however, had a big air conditioner, so there was some hope.

Dan stopped the truck with a jerk. Mulder and Scully got out and grabbed their bags. Dan waved at them. "See ya Tuesday if not before." He pulled out of the empty parking lot. Scully raised her head and squinted at the sign.

"'Desert Song'," she read aloud. "Probably 'Taps'."

"And here I was thinking 'I'm an old cow hand from the Rio Grande'," Mulder lifted up his luggage and headed towards the door that had 'Office' on it in fading paint. He reached the door and opened it, the ubiquitous bell over the door chiming. Scully walked in with her bags and Mulder shut the door behind her. They basked in the cool air that circulated from the ceiling.

"Howdy." An older woman came out from behind a door. Scully judged her to be in her mid-fifties, and probably tough as nails. "Y'all must be the Feds who broke down just east of here."

"News travels fast." Mulder dropped his bags on the carpeted floor.

"Small town," the woman replied with a smile. "Going to be staying here the whole weekend, I suppose."

"Looks like it," Scully said. "Unless you know of someone who would be willing to drive us to Albuquerque."

"Nope. Big wedding this weekend, everyone's getting ready for that.

Oh, then there's Harolds' fireworks on the Fourth. Can't miss that." She shook her head. "Sorry, 'fraid I can't help you."

"That's what I thought you'd say," Scully sighed. The woman produced a sign in book.

"Single room?"

"Two rooms please." Mulder signed in for both of them. "You do take credit cards, I hope?"

"Never deal with 'em. Cash, check, money order, traveler's checks."

She looked at the pair. "'Course, come Tuesday, y'all can go to the post office, which is also our bank, and use your credit card to get a cash advance."

"Great," Mulder said as he finished signing in. She handed him two keys.

"Rooms Two and Three." Mulder handed Scully the key for room Three.

"Have a pleasant stay."

Mulder and Scully walked out into the bright sun, and scurried to their respective rooms. Scully opened up her door and walked in. The room was dark, no lights and the window shade was drawn and the venetian blinds closed. She turned on the air conditioner, which began to send out warm air.

Within a minute, however, the air was cool. Even with the blinds closed and the shade down, there was enough light to see things. A single bed, a small TV on a built-in dresser, a small table with two straight back chairs. She made her way back to the bathroom and found a nice sized tub. White towels and small wrapped bars of soap waited for her use. Scully turned on the water and started to let the tub fill. She went back into the room and locked the door. No chain, she noted, but a massive deadbolt from the sound of it.

Scully shed her clothing, dropping the articles on the floor by the bed, and after grabbing her bottle of shampoo she padded into the bathroom.

The tub was about half full, and she slipped into the water, sighing with relief as the cool water washed over her form. She reached out with her feet and turned the water off. Some light diffused back here, but she was pretty much in darkness. She leaned back against the ceramic tub, not plastic part of her mind told her, and closed her eyes, letting the tension of the day drain out into the water. She felt herself falling asleep, between the heat of the day which had sapped her of any strength, then the large lunch. She recalled that the Spanish would sleep away the hottest part of the afternoon, a siesta, then get up and resume their activities once the sun had set. Made sense, she thought -- they weren't driven by a Puritan work ethic.

She dozed slightly, the water turning room temperature. Finally she used her toe to flip down the lever and started the water to drain, taking away the surface dirt and sweat. She stood up and turned the water on again, this time setting it for a far warmer temperature. and she turned on the shower.

Warm water cascaded across her body. She washed her hair, lathering it up twice. She then took one of the courtesy bars of soap and covered her body with a layer of soap. This she also did twice, not really feeling clean after the first wash. She let the water continue to run over her for a minute, the heat relaxing her muscles even further. She finally turned off the shower and wrapped the thick bath towel around her.

She walked out into the room, avoiding her clothing, and laid down on the bed. She opened the towel and let the cool air from the conditioner dry her. She felt goose bumps grow across her body as the water evaporated into the dry air. She felt her eyes close on their own accord, and decided that the Spanish had the right idea after all. She pulled the towel over her and curled up, falling asleep within minutes.

A knocking on her door woke Scully up. She looked around, momentarily confused as to her location until she recalled the events of the morning. The knocking stopped for a fraction of a second, then started again.

"Just a minute!" She called out, slipping out of the damp towel. She opened her duffel bag and pulled out a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt.

She threw the clothing on and glanced at the mirror, brushing her hair back quickly with her fingers. She kicked the old clothes on the floor over so that they were hidden, then she cautiously opened up the door.

Teresa stood there, a tray in her hands. "Hi! I'd thought you'd like something to munch on for the evening." Scully let her in and she placed the tray on the small table. Teresa turned on the overhead light, and Scully winced at the brightness.

"I brought you some nachos, another burrito, and some tamales." She unwrapped the plastic wrap that covered the food. "And a couple more Cokes, as well as some water."

"Uh, thanks." Scully glanced at the clock, which showed a time of 11:21, which she knew wasn't the right time. "What time is it?"

"About seven," Teresa replied. Scully went to adjust the clock, and found that it was broken. She suppressed a sigh.

"How much do I owe you for this?"

"Oh, no charge. Poppy felt bad that he couldn't take time off to run the two of you to Albuquerque. It's on the house."

"Please, let me give you something." Scully picked up her purse.

"No. That's quite all right. Can't have you going back to Washington saying bad things about the hospitality of New Mexico." She flashed Scully a friendly smile. "Oh, Poppy wanted to know if you and Fox would be interested in coming to the wedding."

"Oh, no." Scully shook her head. "Thanks, but we'd feel out of place."

"You sure? The whole town is going to be there. We'd love to have you."

"I'm sure. Thanks, anyhow. And thank you again for the food."

"Okay. The diner will be open at seven, but we're closing at noon for the wedding." Teresa waved. "Have a good evening."

"You too."

"Oh, I plan on it." She closed the door with a wicked grin. Scully frowned, wondering what she meant, then she heard a knocking on Mulder's door.

She heard his muffled voice through the thin insulation of the wall. Scully shook her head and picked up a nacho that was covered with melted cheese, ground beef, salsa and jalapeno peppers and popped it into her mouth. She reveled in the various tastes, and of the heat of the salsa which had green chile and the jalapeno pepper. She glanced at the shorts, t-shirt, and underwear on the floor, and thought of the blouse and slacks in the duffel bag. If this kept up, she thought, I'll be running around naked by Monday.

She walked over to the phone and saw that it was a rotary dial phone. Black and heavy, a certifiable antique. She picked up the handset that weighed more than her cell phone and dialed "0".

"Hello," the owner, Dora, picked up the phone on the second ring.

"How can I help you, Miz Scully?"

"Uh. I was wondering, is there a Laundromat around town?"

"Nope. Room One has a washer and drier, and detergent, fabric softener, bleach. There's a key on your ring. It's the key with the number '1'."

"Oh. Great. Thanks. Do I need quarters?"

"Nope. Part of the room rental." The owner said. "Need anything else?"

"I don't think so. Thank you." Scully hung up. She heard low sounds coming from Mulder's room, sounds of conversation. She gathered up her dirty clothing and put it into the duffel bag. She slipped on the sneakers and walked to the first room.

The sun was nearing the horizon, and there was shade from the overhanging roof. Scully could still feel the heat, but now it was more tolerable, almost like a dry sauna. There was an older car in the parking lot that she assumed belonged to Teresa. She opened the door and found the washer and drier. She deposited the clothing into the washer, not really feeling like separating the dark slacks and the cotton shorts from the t-shirt, blouse, and undergarments. She added some detergent and started the washer after glancing at the selections.

She walked back to her room, noticing that Mulder still had his shades drawn and blinds closed. There was a truck in the parking lot next to the car, and she saw a man standing at her door. She slowed and her eyes went wide.

The man at her door would make Frohike look like Adonis. She gave him a quick once over, determined to run into Mulder's room if she had to.

He was as tall as Mulder, and his belly hung over his jeans. The dirty t-shirt failed to cover his stomach, and there was a layer of flesh showing, matted with dark hair. His jeans were far too tight, she thought, and he had a huge shiny belt buckle. Suspenders helped to hold up the jeans. He had on a grimy Dallas Cowboys cap, and he held, of all things, a basset hound in his left arm like a case of beer. The dog looked at Scully and wagged his tail.

"Hey, Fred likes you." The voice was that of gravel. "Hiya, ma'm.

I'm Harold." He held out his hand. Scully took it momentarily then let go.

"Ah. Harold. Oh, yes. The gun shop owner and maker of fireworks."

Scully fumbled with her keys. She got her door open and stepped inside.

"What, uh, can I do for you?"

"Well, gee. I was wondering if I could take a look at your gun, ma'm. Y'see, I've never seen a Sig Sauer before. Was thinkin' about orderin' one, but I'd like to feel one. Kinda like test driving a car, y'know?"

"My. Gun." Scully glanced at her suitcase. It would be safe enough, she thought. After all, Mulder was next door, and it wasn't like she was going to hand him a loaded gun. Besides, she had brought a backup along. She went over to her suitcase and opened it. She pulled out her gun from the holster and ejected both the clip and the round in the chamber, and she grabbed her small .38 Smith & Wesson Bodyguard Airweight. She slipped the gun under her t-shirt and the steel was cold against her stomach.

"Here." She noticed that Harold was still standing outside. Of course, she hadn't invited him in. "Come in. I have no idea about dogs, though."

"Oh, Dora won't mind." Harold put Fred gently on the floor. "Stay."

Fred looked up a Scully, wagged his tail, and proceeded to walk over to her and sniffed at her leg.

"Mighty fine piece of work, ma'm." Harold inspected the gun, which seemed small in his huge paws. He deftly closed and opened the chamber, making sure that there were no rounds at all. He flicked off the safety, and point the gun away from anyone or anything, he squeezed the trigger.

There was a loud click.

"Smooth action. Regulation or hair trigger?"

"Regulation." Scully tried to ignore Fred sniffing at her feet. She hoped that the dog wouldn't get the idea that her leg was a fire hydrant, or something worse.

Harold pointed the gun at the overhead light and looked down the barrel. "Nice 'n clean. You take good care of your weapon, ma'm." He inspected the gun for signs of rust. "Real good care."

"Thank you," Scully said as she shifted her stance. She heard a thump on the wall and glanced over. There came a second thump, then a third, and a fourth. Then she heard a female voice.

"Fu-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-ck me, Fox. Fu-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-ck me, Fox."

The voice, Teresa's Scully recognized, couldn't drown out the rhythmic thumping of the bed against the wall.

"Sounds like Teresa's gettin' some. Damn, if I knew she did animals, I'd a had her service Fred a long time ago." Harold shook his head. Scully felt her face grew hot as they heard the action from the next room.

"Fuck me, Fox, fuck me, Fox, fuck me, Fox." Teresa repeated, each iteration getting higher in pitch until it dissolved in a wordless scream of pleasure. Then they heard Mulder cry out. "Oh, yes....yess...YESSSSSSSS!!!"

"Yup. It's Teresa. She's a screamer, not a moaner like Rita."

Harold put the safety back on and left the action of the gun open. He handed it back to Scully. "Well, I thank you, ma'm, for lettin' me look at your gun.

Nice piece, but kinda small for my needs. Y'all be staying for the Fourth, right?"

"I...think...so," Scully took her gun back.

"Hope so. Got some surplus from White Sands. Don't rightly know what it'll do, but it should do sum'in'. Com'on Fred," Harold called to the basset. Fred walked over to Harold, who lifted him up and held him under his arm. He touched his cap. "Nice meetin' you, ma'm. If you get bored, y'all can come by the gun shop. I'll be there tomorrow mornin' and most a the day Monday. Have a good evenin' now." Harold got in his truck, after putting Fred in on the seat next to him. He waved and drove off, grinding gears as he went down the road. Scully just stood there, the door open, gun in her hand. The thumoing on her wall began again.

"I'm stuck in a town on the other side of the Twilight Zone..."

Scully watched Mulder come dragging slowly across the road to the diner. He was wearing jeans and a white shirt that was unbuttoned halfway. He walked in, the bell ringing, and sat across from Scully. She noticed dark bags under his eyes, and he moved stiffly.

"Did you sleep well?" Scully asked, picking up a tall glass of orange juice.

Mulder opened a bleary eye.

"You know Mulder, I've seen that look before. Not on you, though."

Mulder cleared his throat. "On who?"

"My father. The first morning after arriving home from six months at sea. I believe the term is 'Having one's ashes hauled'."

"Ohgod," Mulder rubbed his eyes. "You know?"

"'Fu-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh'," Scully said with a smile.

"Ohgod," Mulder buried his face in his hands, then he opened them, looking at Scully sheepishly. "Sorry."

"At least you quit early." Scully sipped her juice.

"My idea. I couldn't take anymore." Mulder sighed. Scully arched an eyebrow. "Really," he said. "Teresa's insatiable. Totally dominant. Not that I minded that so much," a lop-sided grin appeared on his face. "I was just afraid that I was going to have to ask you for your handcuffs."

Scully snorted. A man came out from the kitchen, rubbing his hands on his apron. "Good morning!" He walked over to them. He was shorter and thicker set than his brother, but there was no mistaking the family resemblance. "Coffee? Juice? Fruit?"

"Coffee, black," Mulder said. "And some orange juice."

"Si, right away. And you, senorita? Have you decided on a breakfast?"

"Yes, I'll have the ham and eggs. English muffin. No chile."

"Are you sure?" he asked and Scully nodded. "Sir? Breakfast?"

"Cereal and toast?" Mulder looked at the man. "Something light."

He nodded and winked. "Ah. I know just what will do for you. Don't worry. Jose will fix you right up." He smiled and walked off, returning shortly with a steaming mug of coffee and a tall glass of orange juice for Mulder. He put an empty mug and a small steel teapot on the table in front of Scully. She put the teabag into the small pot to seep. Mulder downed half of the tall glass of orange juice before he took his first sip of coffee.

"So, what's on tap for today?" Mulder said.

"Vegetate. Only one station comes in on the television. KIVA Fox.

When I left, they were having infomercials. I had no idea what time it was when I woke up, the digital clock is broken. All it displays is 11:21."

"Yours too?" Mulder shook his head. "Same problem, different pattern. Mine says 10:13. Odd." He rubbed his chin.

"No Mulder. No X-File." Scully retorted. Mulder nodded.

"How 'bout logging in and surfing the 'Net? Maybe we could hook up with Frohike and co.?"

Scully looked at Mulder. "Have you seen your phone? A rotary, Mulder. With the four prong boxy plug-in? I somehow don't think that my modular jack on my modem is going to work."

"Probably not." Mulder sipped his coffee while Scully poured her tea. Jose returned with two plates. He put a plate of eggs sunny side up and a thick slab on ham before Scully. He the put a plate of scrambled eggs and funny looking sausage in front of Mulder.

"I'll be right back with your toast and muffin," he said as he scurried back into the kitchen. He returned with the rest of their breakfast.

Mulder poked at his eggs, then took a bite. Once past the initial mouthful, he shoveled in the food. Scully watched with amazement as Mulder literally inhaled his breakfast.

"Well if that it takes to get you to eat, I'm afraid that I'll have to tell my mother that you're going to stay on the skinny side." Scully commented. Mulder shot her a dirty glance while his mouth was full. She waited until he was finished his mouthful before speaking again. "What is that? Sausage?" She pointed her fork to the oval shaped slices of meat.

"Dunno. Kind of salty. I know that there is a Spanish sausage called chorizo, but I always thought that it looked like, well, sausage." He pointed at the final slice. "Help yourself."

"Thanks," Scully jabbed her fork into the meat. She glanced at the texture. It looked spongy. She took a bite. Mulder was right, it was salty, but there was a unique flavor that she liked. She finished off the slice and leaned back, glad that her shorts had an elastic band. "Mulder, if I continue to eat like this, I'm going to get fat."

"You n' me both, Scully." Mulder finished his juice. "I feel guilty about not paying for any of this."

"I know. Teresa invited us to the wedding today." Scully looked out the window. "It's either that or Fox -- the network." She added. Mulder gave her a wry grin.

"Too pooped to pop, Scully."

"Did you use?" Scully let the question hang, and Mulder gave her that patented sheepish look. "Well, don't blame me if in five months you get a phone call and it's Teresa calling to say 'Hi Poppy'."

"Jesus, Scully. I didn't have time. She brought in the dinner, we were talking, then next thing I know..."

Scully raised her hand. "I don't want to hear it...again."

Jose walked out, a smile on his face. "Need anything else?"

"No, we're fit to burst. And please don't tell us that this is free."

Scully pleaded. Jose shook his head.

"Ricardo, he's so happy that Rita is getting married, even if it is to a pendajo, he said that all your meals are on the house. He knows that you're strangers here, and he's trying to make you comfortable. We all are."

"Uh, thanks," Mulder said, surprised.

"Are you sure you won't come to the wedding? Everyone will be there.

It'll be no fun stuck here in town."

"Well," Scully's resistance was crumbling.

"Ok, the reception. That's much more fun than a wedding anyhow. I'll have Teresa come in and pick you up. And as uncle and god-father of the bride.

I'll not take no for an answer." Jose puffed out his chest. Mulder and Scully exchanged looks.

"Fine, Mr. Sanchez. We'll come to the reception," Mulder said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Ah! Excellent!" Jose slapped Mulder on the shoulder, and Mulder winced. He stood up, groaning as his muscles protested. Scully slipped out of the booth with ease and straightened out her belt pack.

"Oh, by the way. What was that sausage on Mulder's plate. Was that chorizo?" Scully asked. Jose broke into laughter, and laughed so hard that his eyes began to water. He caught his breath.

"Oh, no. Chorizo looks like sausage, but red from the red chile.

No, that was cojones." He smiled. "Just the thing to help out a man after a night of amor. No?"

"'Cojones'," Scully repeated. "Teresa used that word yesterday.

What does it mean?"

Jose smiled and cupped his hand, making a lifting motion. "Turn your head and cough." He laughed. "Cojones, testicles."

Scully saw Mulder's face go almost as white as his shirt. "You mean..."

"Si. Rocky Mountain Oysters. Bulls balls." He slapped Mulder in the arm. "Give you energy for Teresa, hey? Rich in iron. Make you heavy down there." Jose made the lifting motion again with a laugh.

Mulder swallowed hard, looking a little green. "Uh, yeah. Thanks.

Well, we'll see you later." He turned and walked out the door, a fine sheen of sweat covering his features. Scully nodded her head and walked out.

Mulder was already half way back to the motel, half walking, half running.

She followed, knowing that it was all psychological.

She walked into his room. The air conditioner was running, and the bed had been made. She heard a sound from the bathroom. She closed the door and sat in one of the chairs. Eventually the toilet flushed and she heard running water. She walked into the bathroom.

Mulder was cupping his hands and wiping his face. He glanced up in the mirror and saw Scully's reflection. "Well, so much for breakfast." He wiped his face again, running his hands through his hair.

"Mulder, I don't believe you. It's only meat."

"I'll remind you of that next time we have chicken breasts or eggs," Mulder shuddered. "It's just the thought, Scully."

"Mul-der," she dragged out his name. A frown came across her face.

"What's this?" She saw a faint red spot on the back of his shirt that looked like blood.

"Wha-? Oh, nothing, Scully. Really. I think I'll take a nap."

Mulder turned off the light and brushed past Scully. She turned, hands on hips.

"Mulder. Take off your shirt."

"Scully..."

"Now."

Mulder sighed and pulled off the shirt. Scully frowned at the deep scratch marks that ran up his back. There were eight of them, going from the small of his back up to his shoulders, getting deeper as they progressed.

"You didn't tell me she had claws, Mulder."

"I didn't know either until after." He hissed as Scully poked around the scratches, none too gently. "What happened to your bedside manner?"

"This isn't my bedside, it's yours. Looks like you'll be okay. Let me get some peroxide and swab out the top here where it's bleeding. Lay down on your stomach, I'll be right back." She got a small medical kit from her room and returned.

"I don't believe this," Mulder looked over his shoulder to the TV.

"We missed 'Eek, the Cat'."

"Sorry," Scully said.

"For what? Missing 'Eek'?"

"No...For this." She poured the hydrogen peroxide into a cut, which foamed away. Mulder jerked, and she applied pressure to his back to hold him down as she poured a little peroxide into the other cuts on his back.

"OW! dammit! Scully, that hurts!" Mulder wriggled under her.

"Don't want the cuts to get infected, Mulder. Remember, New Mexico is the land of the flea, home of the plague. Also the hantavirus."

"Both of which are carried by mice, Scully. I don't see any mice here." Mulder complained as he watched The Tick while Scully expertly wiped the cuts with some cotton. She reached into the small kit and pulled out a tube of topical antibiotic. She put a small dab on each cut, then rubbed it in and around with her fingers.

"Now, this is the kind of treatment I expected," Mulder sighed.

Scully just shook her head as Mulder's tense muscles began to relax.

"You didn't get much sleep last night, did you?"

"Hmmm? No." Mulder's voice was drowsy. "And there was nothing good on the tube to watch."

"What did you do, after Teresa left?"

"Counted the holes in the ceiling tiles. Did you know that there are 250 holes per tile, give or take 25?" Mulder's eyes closed and within minutes he was asleep. Scully finished up her administration by putting on adhesive bandages across the cuts. Mulder snored gently as she stood up, the small kit in hand. She walked to the door and turned. Mulder hadn't moved.

"You're welcome, Fox," Scully said as she walked out, locking the door behind her.

Teresa pulled into the parking lot around 4, honking her horn. Scully looked up from the solitaire game she was playing on her laptop and glanced at the clock, which still read 11:21. She glanced at the menu clock which gave her the real time, or so she hoped. She shut down the laptop and unplugged it, and by the time she put it away, there was a knocking on her door.

"Come in, it's open," Scully said. Teresa walked in, a brilliant smile on her face. She was wearing jeans and cowboy boots. A shirt was knotted in front, exposing a trim, flat stomach the color of leather.

"Hi!" Teresa bounded over and hugged Scully, who was caught totally unawares. Scully returned the hug, a puzzled expression on her features.

"Oh, I am so glad that you and Fox are coming to the reception. It wouldn't be the same without you." Teresa squeezed Scully tight and let her go. She looked at Scully's clothing, a slight frown crossing her features.

"You're not wearing that?"

"Why?" Scully replied. She had changed from the shorts and t-shirt back to her slacks and blouse. Teresa just shook her head.

"We're almost the same size. When we get back, you'll borrow some of my clothes. You'll fit right in," she said with an air of finality. "Come, let's go get Fox." Teresa walked out. Scully looked in the mirror, wondering what was wrong with the way she looked? She pocketed the room key and walked out.

Teresa and Fox emerged from his room, Teresa holding his hand and chatting excitedly about the wedding. Scully suppressed a smile as he shot her a plaintive glance. He had put the white shirt, or another like it, on and had left the top couple of buttons undone, He had his jacket folded, and was trying to co-ordernate holding Teresa's hand, locking the door, and not dropping the jacket at the same time. Scully finally came to his rescue, grabbing the keys from his hand and locking the door for him.

"Thanks, Scu..." Mulder stopped speaking. Scully turned to find Teresa doing an impersonation of the face hugger from 'Alien' with Mulder as the victim. She had her legs wrapped around his waist, hands on either side of his head, and their lips were locked. Mulder was holding Teresa up, his arms encircling her just above the top of her jeans which rode her hips.

Scully shook her head and put his room key in her other pocket.

After a minute they broke their embrace, Mulder panting for breath while Teresa kissed his face and neck.

"Teresa, don't you thin -- ow!" Mulder squirmed and put his hands on her hips, forcing her off of him. She untangled her legs and leaned against him, kissing his chest.

"Oh, Fox. I could take you right now," she moaned as she ran her tongue across his chest.

"With witnesses?" Mulder said. Teresa looked over her shoulder at Scully, giving her a sly smile and a wink.

"Who knows? Perhaps she likes to watch."

"No, Mulder is the voyeur, not me." Scully laughed.

Teresa smiled and patted Mulder on the butt. "We'd better get going if we want to get any food." She walked around the car and opened the door.

"It's open." She called out. Scully handed Mulder his room key.

"Here, stud." Scully got into the back seat. Mulder sighed and sat in front, as far away from Teresa as he could and still be in the car. Scully was enjoying this, he knew on an instinctive level. Just like he enjoyed her discomfort whenever Frohike was mentioned.

The interior of the car was cool, the seats wide and cloth covered, the windows heavily tinted. Both Mulder and Scully glanced around for seatbelts, but failed to find any. Teresa started up the car and Spanish music blared out from twin speakers behind Scully's head. She turned down the volume and gave Scully a sheepish smile of apology. "Sorry." She put the car in reverse and made a tight turn. She then put the car in gear and left twin rooster tails of dirt.

"My father, he taught me how to drive." Teresa said, left hand on the steering wheel, right hand running up and down Mulder's thigh. "He used to race with Bobby Unser Senior in Albuquerque back in the old days, running up and down the West Side on the dirt roads. Drunk as skunks they were."

She peeled around the diner and onto the dirt road that went south into the desert. She patted Mulder's thigh and gave him a brilliant smile. "Not to worry, muy amor, I'll see you get there in one piece."

Scully closed her eyes and tried not to worry that they would hit anything big.

It was only a couple of minutes before the car stopped. Scully estimated that they were no more than a couple of miles, if that, from the town. She looked out the back window, and saw nothing but dust and dirt.

Teresa opened her door, and music filtered from the house. Mulder and Scully got out of the death car, a little pale after the high speed run.

The house was patterned after the pueblos of Taos, not getting any taller than two stories, and spread out. Adobe construction, Scully noted, with thick logs protruding from just below the roof to act as support for any possible second floor. She was impressed by the design of the house.

Teresa held an iron gate open for them. The wall was also fashioned from adobe, nearly a yard thick and close to seven feet high. The wall made an arch where the gate was, going up nearly nine feet.

"Mi casa su casa," Teresa said as they entered. "My house is your house." They walked along a gravel path among yucca, pinon, and various cacti.

There was something very Zen about the way the plants were positioned. Just looking at them caused Scully to relax a little. The music was louder, definitely Spanish, with guitars, mariachis, and trumpets. Teresa opened the door to the house and the level of the music went up an order of magnitude.

Mulder and Scully walked into the large living room that made up the largest of the boxes. There was a circular pit in the floor, and several people sat and talked, raising beer bottles at Scully and Mulder. Scully saw Dan and Harold there, with Fred sleeping between Harold's feet. Harold had changed, he was wearing a peach colored shirt that actually fit him, Scully saw. New suspenders and jeans. He looked almost normal, she thought, or as normal as anyone in this town got.

She was spun around and trapped by a bear hug from Ricardo, who yelled in Spanish above the music. He was smiling and crying at the same time, and he planted two sloppy kisses on her cheeks. Scully couldn't help but notice the odor of beer and tequila. He moved on, hugging Mulder and yelling up at him. Mulder gave him a sheepish smile and patted Ricardo on the shoulder.

"Com'on," Teresa grabbed Scully by the hand. "This way." She led Scully down a hallway and up a short flight of stairs. She opened a thick wooden door and pulled Scully in. Teresa shut the door and breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm glad you're here. I have a chance to catch my breath!" Teresa smiled. "Do you have a sister?"

"Yes, I do." Scully replied.

"Good. If you want to make her life a living hell, get married before she does. Trust me on this." Teresa ran a hand through her black tresses.

"Okay, now to get you dressed."

"Really, I'm fine..." Scully started to protest, and Teresa held up her hand.

"Did you see what everyone else, excepting the bride and groom were wearing?"

Scully thought back. "Casual shirts, jeans," she answered, a smile on her face. "Guess I stick out, huh?"

"Si." Teresa opened a closet. "Get undressed. Shoes too." She reached down and tossed out a pair of cowboy boots while Scully removed her clothing. Teresa grabbed a pair of jeans and a turquoise blue cotton shirt.

Scully laid her clothing on the large bed, which was covered with a wool blanket that had a Navajo design. She ran her hand along the rough wool.

"What a beautiful blanket."

"Thanks. Don't buy one from the tourist traps in Albuquerque, Taos, or Santa Fe. Head to the Alamo Navajo reservation north west of Magdalena, which is west of Socorro on route 60. Authentic and not as expensive." She handed the jeans and shirt to Scully. "Lose the bra."

"What?"

Teresa turned Scully around and unhooked her bra. "There. Show off what God gave you, Dana. You'll turn more heads that way, and make men think." Teresa smiled and winked her eye.

Scully pulled on the cotton shirt, buttoning it up nearly to her neck.

She then pulled the jeans on, which were tight but not uncomfortably so. She then pulled on the boots. Teresa watched in silence, not commenting until Scully was finished.

"Wrong. You look like a yahoo trying to fit in." Teresa pulled out the shirt that Scully had tucked in. She undid most of the buttons and pulled the shirt tight, tying the ends off in a knot that rode under Scully's breasts. She then undid the top buttons, exposing a generous amount of cleavage. "Better. Now, the jeans go tucked inside of the boot, like so."

She showed Scully how her jeans were tucked in, and Scully copied her example.

The jeans flowed over her legs like a second skin. Teresa tapped a finger against her chin. "Something's lacking. I know, pierced ears?"

"Yes," Scully replied. Teresa dug in a haphazard pile of earrings until she pulled out a matching pair of small carved turquoise bears. She handed them to Scully to put on, then led her to a full length mirror.

Teresa stood behind Scully, a frown on her face. She then grabbed the belt loops of the jeans near Scully's hips and jerked down. The jeans now rode just over her hips, leaving her middle bare. Teresa nodded once. Scully turned a shade of pink.

"I can't go out looking like this," she said. Deep down inside, though, a part of her liked it. It was a different side of her, one more sensual and daring. "All the men will be looking at me."

"Good! Better you than me," Teresa smiled and rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, you need to cut loose once in a while. What better place than here? Eat, drink, flirt -- who's going to know but you? No one here is going to tell your boss. Go as far as you want, say 'no' and everything will be cool."

"What about Mulder?"

Teresa rested her head on Scully's shoulder, a sly grin forming on her reflection in the mirror. "I have plans for Foxy-woxy."

"Just leave him with enough energy to drive back to Albuquerque, that's all I ask," Scully said. She pitied Mulder, yet part of her wondered what he would be like as a lover. She wanted to ask Teresa, but hesitated.

If she had wanted her to know, then she would have told her.

"Done. Shall we go and face the horde?"

"I guess," Scully wanted to button up the shirt, and her fingers ran along the buttons. With an effort, she pulled her hands away and gave Teresa a tremulous smile. "I'm ready."

Teresa opened the door and music filled the room. She nodded once as Scully passed her, a reassuring smile on her face. Scully led the way downstairs and instantly ran into Mulder, who had two bottles of beer in his hands. He blinked and a grin plastered itself on his face.

"Have you seen my partner? She's about your height, same hair color."

Mulder said as he handed Scully a beer. "Her build isn't the same, and she's kind of mousy."

"Mulder," Scully warned as she took a swig of beer.

"Oh, Scully! It's you." He gave her a once over, and Scully found her eyebrow raising in question.

"Damn, if I only had a camera. Frohike would shell out good bucks for a photo of you looking this...this..." He shrugged.

"'Hot'? 'Tasty'?"

"Yeah, that'll do." Mulder smiled and dodged her half hearted swing.

The party lasted all through the evening. Scully met people and promptly forgot their names. Most were related to the bride or the groom, except for the local townfolk. She had helped out in the kitchen, and more than once saw Teresa and Mulder in a contest to see who could would get lip lock first. She shook her head and wandered outside to get some cooler air.

The Milky Way was a brilliant splash that cut the heavens in half.

Stars blazed in the clear night sky. She walked around the back patio, thumbs hooked in the pockets, a bottle of beer dangling from her hand. The live music had given way to country and western from the stereo, and she listened to steel guitars as she somehow straddled a bench from a picnic table.

A gentle voice intruded on her thoughts. She looked around to see a boy standing a little distance away from her, his hands behind his back. He looked at the ground and shuffled his feet, then looked up. There was no mistaken that thick mane of curly black hair, Scully saw. He was Ricardo's youngest son. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"No habala espanol," Scully said, smiling. Funny that she should speak Spanish to say she didn't speak Spanish, the circular logic escaped her, and she found it amusing. Scully, you are drunk, part of her said.

The boy walked over, and he shyly handed Scully a single red rose.

Scully smiled and smelled it. She looked at the boy and gave him a smile that melted his heart.

"Thank you. Gracias." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. He reached up and put his hand over his cheek, eyes wide, and he bolted into the house -- barely missing Mulder who walked out none to steadily. He weaved his was over to where Scully sat and plopped down, leaning into her back.

"Kinda young, isn't he Scully?" Mulder hiccuped.

"Get 'em young and train 'em right, Mulder. Ingrain into their minds that women are to be worshipped, put on a pedestal." Scully finished her beer and leaned back, giving Mulder some support.

"Pedestal. Right." Mulder blinked. "Scully. I'm bombed."

"You should be. What was that, two six packs you put away?"

"A pack and a half." Mulder looked up at the stars. "Wow. I can feel the world moving."

"That's it. You've reached your limit." Scully giggled, then grew silent, eyes wide.

"Wha is it, Scul?" Mulder slurred. She waved him quiet.

"Can you hear it, Fox? The desert. It's singing."

Mulder strained with his senses. "Yup. I can hear it too. Louie loo eye, louie loo eee." Mulder sang off key and weaved. He pitched forward and thudded into the ground.

Scully ignored Mulder. She closed her eyes and concentrated. She could have sworn that the music was there, but it was gone now. She blinked her eyes and was surprised to find tears.

"You've reached your limit, Dana," she said to herself. Mulder snored in agreement from the ground.

Scully slept in warm comfort, cushioned by clouds. She dreamily blinked her eyes and glanced at the clock, which read 10:13. Judging from the amount of light in the room, she gathered that it was morning, and she rolled over and closed her eyes again.

When she woke up the second time, the clock read 11:21. She stretched out her arms and yawned, then realized that there were several things wrong.

One was that she wasn't in her motel room, but a pleasantly furnished room with a north facing window. The second thing was that she felt naked, and she verified her state of undress by lifting the bed covers and peering down the length of her body. She looked around the room, the size and furnishing similar to Teresa's.

There came a knock at the oaken door, and Scully pulled the bedcovers around her. "Come in." She made a face, for her tongue and teeth felt fuzzy.

Teresa opened the door a crack, then when she saw that Scully was awake, she opened it wide enough to slip in. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

She was holding Scully's clothing from yesterday in her hands. "Your hose has been washed and is hanging out to dry, here are the rest of your things."

"Thanks," Scully replied as she brushed an errant strand of hair out of her face. "Uh, did you put me to bed?"

"Poppy did, but I made sure that he was gone before I undressed you."

Teresa smiled. "You are a big hit with Antonio."

"Antonio." Scully closed her eyes. "Your...brother?"

"Si. Eleven. He gave you a rose this morning, remember?"

"Y...yes," it was coming back to her. "He said something in Spanish."

"He said that the beauty of the rose paled before you. You said that you didn't speak Spanish, he handed you the rose, and you gave him a kiss."

"I remember," Scully smiled. "And I remember...the desert...singing to me."

"You too?" Teresa sat on the edge of the bed after putting Scully's clothes on a chair.

"You've heard it?"

"Once in a while. Poppy, he says that it is coyotl, playing tricks with people and the song is his laughter."

"Coyotl -- coyote?"

"Yes. To the Native Americans, coyotl is the trickster. Kind of like a good natured Loki. Coyotl loves to play practical jokes and tricks, and if a good one is played on him, he'll enjoy it and use it on someone else."

Teresa shook her head. "You probably dipped into the special beer by accident.

I hope that you don't have random drug testing, at least for a while."

"Why?" Scully got concerned.

"The special beer has an added extract. Peyote."

"Peyote!" Scully nearly jumped out of the bed. "That's a hallucinogen. It should never be mixed with alcohol!"

"The special beer has no alcohol," Teresa shrugged. "Strong root beer to mask the taste of the peyote juice. You probably had one last night.

Only one who has drank the peyote juice can hear the desert sing." Teresa stood up and looked at Scully. "You have been very fortunate to have heard the singing of the desert. Good fortune will follow you now."

"Well, it's too late to worry about drug tests now -- what's done is done." Scully rubbed her hair. "Is there a shower?"

"Yes. It's the door across the hall. Rita has several robes in her closet, help yourself. If you hurry, you can beat Fox down for lunch."

Teresa smiled coyly. It was obvious to Scully that Mulder had been detained yet again. She felt sorry for him, and wondered how much raw oysters would cost in Albuquerque. Probably an arm and a leg.

Scully was afraid that she wouldn't be hungry, but her stomach rumbled.

She flashed a sheepish smile as Teresa giggled and walked out the door, shutting it soundly behind her. Scully slipped out of the warm bed and padded across the floor to the closet, opening it and grabbing the first available robe. Rita was smaller that Scully, and the robe was tight across her hips and breasts. She opened the door and looked both ways before she scooted across the hall and went into the bathroom. She closed the door with a sigh and turned around.

Mulder stood at the sink, towel wrapped around his waist like a kilt.

He was leaning over, razor in one hand. Half of his face was shaved, the other was still covered with shaving cream. He looked at Scully and blinked.

Scully blinked as well. She saw that Mulder's chest was covered with circular red welts, approximating the size and shape of a mouth. Her breathing was coming fast, which didn't help matters with the too tight robe that threatened to explode. "Mulder."

"Scully."

"I was...uh...just..."

"Going to use the shower."

"Right. Yes. Shower." Scully felt her face get hot. Mulder blinked again and turned on the water, not taking his eyes off Scully as he rinsed off the razor.

"I'll be done in a couple of minutes. Then it's all yours," he said calmly as he brought the razor up to his face. "I'll knock on your door when I'm done."

"Ok. Thanks. Sorry."

"S'ok. You must be used to going into a bathroom that's occupied, having several siblings and all." Scully saw that Mulder's hand shook a little as he shaved his neck. Scully opened the door and eased out, shutting it soundly behind her. She opened the door of her room and closed it, catching her breath as she leaned against it, willing her heart to stop racing. She had just about managed that when Mulder's knock on her door startled her, sending her heart to pound again.

"Scully. It's open."

"Thanks." She waited for a few seconds for Mulder to leave and she opened her door again. This time the bathroom door was ajar. Scully scooted across the hallway again and shut the door behind her. She glanced for a lock, and found a deadbolt. She slammed it home.

She drew the water for a shower and found some clean towels. She shed the robe and ducked under the hot water. She washed, scrubbing herself until her skin was pink. She alternated the hot water with cold, shivering under the icy blast. She finally turned the water off and grabbed a thick bath towel and rubbed herself dry. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her pupils were a little dilated, but that could be due to the fact that the only light was coming from a glazed window, leaving the bathroom in a twilight.

Scully pulled on the robe and opened the door after pulling the deadbolt back.

Scully walked swiftly back across the hall and into what had been Rita's room. She draped the robe across the back of a chair and pulled her clothes on. Her teeth still felt fuzzy, and she ran a finger across them, while she ran her other hand through her hair, straightening out her hair as best as she could. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, figuring that she looked about as good as she was going to.

Mulder had beaten her downstairs and was standing outside in the shelter of the rear patio, a wedge of fruit in his hands. He seemed to be looking at something in the distance. Scully opened the sliding glass door.

Mulder turned and gave her a smile. "There's fruit, toast, and hot tea." He pointed with the wedge of fruit to the picnic table. "Help yourself."

Scully walked over and poured a cup of strong, hot tea. There weer no sugar substitutes, and she had to settle for a packet of real sugar. She stirred the sugar into the tea, and picked up a piece of toast.

"We've been invited with la familia to the fireworks display. There's going to be a picnic," Mulder finished the fruit and picked up an apple from the bowl. A gust of wind stirred his hair and he looked over his shoulder.

"What is it?" Scully asked him between bites of the buttered toast.

"Oh, I was just wondering what someone would think if your pantyhose went blowing across the desert, and they came upon it."

Scully moved around Mulder to see her pantyhose handing on a clothesline, being held there none too securely by a couple of clothespins.

"Say, Scully. Aren't those the new type that give extra stomach and butt..."

"No." Scully glared at Mulder.

"Oh. Ok." Mulder bit into the apple, giving her an appraising look.

Scully turned from him and drank down her tea. She turned and went to go inside.

"Scully?"

"What now, Mulder."

"Thanks for not saying anything about the...marks..."

Scully looked at Mulder. "I'll make you a deal. You don't tell Frohike about the too tight robe, and I won't tell him about the hickeys."

Mulder winced, and Scully knew that she had him. "Deal." He finally said and bit into the apple with a loud crunch.

The field where the fireworks were going to be was to the north of the town, an old abandoned ballpark. The bleachers had patches of peeling paint, and the chain link fence was leaning in an easterly direction, following the general wind direction.

Scully sipped her glass of fresh lemonade, watching the pick up baseball game. A gust of wind whipped her hair and she brushed errant strands from her face as Mulder nailed the softball, a line drive out towards right field. Scully and Teresa whooped as Mulder rounded first and slid into second base. He stood up and brushed off his jeans, giving them a theatrical bow. Another hit and he was able to reach home plate. He loped over to the bleachers and grabbed a squirt bottle of lemonade and sucked on the straw.

"Way to go, Mulder. Maybe you should consider an alternate career as a baseball player."

"Not a chance, Scully. Not enough money." Mulder flashed her his characteristic wry grin. He looked over her head. "Wow. The clouds are really building."

Scully turned and her eyes went wide. What had been mere puffs of white in the azure sky had turned into towering clouds of rolling white with dark gray bases. Teresa looked and smiled.

"Monsoon season. Every year around this time it starts up. Moist air is driven in from the Gulf, and as it tries to rise over the mountains, you get clouds. Add in solar heating, and poof! Thunderheads. Usually we get a storm every other day. Looks like we'll get hit tonight."

"How bad to they get?"

"I've seen it rain four inches in an hour, baseball sized hail, even a tornado or two." Teresa shrugged. "Never know until it hits."

"Fox! Stop flirting!" Jose called out. "You're in right field."

Mulder grabbed a glove and trotted off into the sandy area that was defined as right field. He caught several balls that were hit in his direction, and the batters got smart and selected the center and left fields.

"Where did all the people come from?" Scully asked. She would have sworn that the town couldn't have had more than a dozen people.

"Local ranchers, mostly. Big families. It takes a lot of people to run the ranches." Teresa replied. "Rita's husband's family." She shrugged.

"You don't sound overly thrilled with..." Scully stopped and tried to recall the man's name. Teresa laughed.

"You see? He made such a striking impression on you, that you're speechless." She shook her head. "I just think that Rita could have done better."

"I guess every sister thinks that," Scully said. "Lord knows Melissa, my sister, has dated some...eccentric...people in her time."

"She still unmarried?"

Scully nodded.

"Remember, get married first to make her life a living hell."

Scully gave Teresa a sad smile. "More likely she'll get married first the rate I'm going."

Teresa looked at Scully. "You mean to tell me that you have no one back in Washington for you?" She shook her head. "I don't believe it."

"My work..."

"Can wait. Before you know it, there will be fewer years ahead of you than lay behind, and you'll wonder what ever happened to the future."

Teresa finished her lemonade. "Bah. Talking to you is making me sad. I don't want to feel sad. There's always Antonio." Teresa pointed her chin to her brother who was the pitcher. "He likes you."

"He has a crush on me." Scully smiled. "Something totally different."

"Don't be surprised if in ten years or so he shows up at the FBI building asking for you." Teresa winked knowingly. "There's something to be said about hot blooded Latin lovers."

"You. Are. Incorrigible," Scully responded.

"Yup. Fox taught me well." Teresa stood up and sashayed her way to get more lemonade.

The sun had set, and the western horizon was dominated by purple clouds. The wind had died down, and the air felt oppressive. Scully saw hidden flickers of lightning in the clouds, causing the rolling bottom to wink like a Christmas light. There was a big generator out in the middle of center field that Harold had deposited after the ball game. He had fired it up, and it belched a cloud of black smoke before settling into a smooth rhythm. He then deposited several truck loads of equipment. Mulder had walked over, and returned far faster.

"Scully, you have to see this." Mulder half pulled Scully out to where the equipment was resting. Fred lifted his head and barked in greeting, his tail swishing back and forth in the sand.

"What now, Mulder? Flying saucer parts?"

"Not quite." He pointed to a rectangular item which had thick cables running from it. Scully noticed the universal laser warning icon and glanced up at Mulder. Fred sniffed around her ankles.

"A laser?"

"Several," Mulder pointed to other rectangular shapes of various sizes. These were attached to a telescope equatorial mount. "And I'll swear I saw a mortar over there, and either the biggest model rocket I've ever saw or it's an honest to god Stinger."

"Howdy. Lookin' at my toys areya?" Harold got out of his truck, holding onto a slim black case. "Pretty neat, huh?"

"Where did you get all this?"

"Oh, surplus from White Sands, the Weapons Lab from Kirtland, Sandia, Los Alamos. You'd be surprised at what people toss away." He grabbed a handful off cables and blew out the sand that had collected there. He looked at the connectors and shoved them into a switchbox, then pulled out a colorful ribbon and plugged it into the switchbox and the slim black case. Mulder bent to take a closer look.

"A Sinclair computer?"

"Yup. I use this puppy to control the lasers." Harold connected a flat screen liquid crystal matrix display to the Sinclair.

"You're joking, right?" Scully asked. Harold looked up.

"Nope. You'd be surprised at what some of the boys at Tech in Socorro think up. They replaced the original chip with an Intel 686 an' did a little muckin' about."

"But the 686 isn't released yet." Mulder protested.

"Oh? Well, hell, I didn't ask 'em where they got it. Figgered t'warnt any of my business." Harold scratched his head. "Or maybe it was a goosed up Pentium. Hell if I know. All I know is that this puppy is slicker'n hog snot on ice."

"How...never mind," Scully waved her hand. "Com'on Mulder."

Mulder looked back at the collection of equipment as Harold was unloading a huge speaker from the back of his truck. "You know, Scully, I haven't seen such a mixture of stuff since 'Back To The Future'." Mulder shook his head.

"I hate to disappoint you, Mulder, but our broken down Saturn is the closest thing I've seen to a DeLorean in this town."

"But just think. Nearly fifty years ago, also on a Fourth of July weekend, in a thunderstorm -- " Mulder waved an arm at the billowing clouds that had taken on a distinctive anvil shape. "Only some thirty odd miles from here..."

"'Odd' is the operative word," Scully muttered, knowing where this was all heading. "Don't tell me, Roswell, right?"

"The government is hiding something." Mulder responded with his wounded puppy-dog look. They reached the bleachers, which were beginning to fill up. They sat down with the Sanchezs', and Scully shook her head.

"Mulder, you are saying that the government has been able to hide and suppress information for nearly fifty years about a crash of a craft and bodies of an extraterrestrial origin. This is the same government that can't get rid of mohair subsidies, and still maintains a helium reserve left over from the first World War." She reached into the cooler and pulled out a dark bottle and handed it to Mulder, then took one for herself.

"Not the whole government, Scully. Just a subset of it. What about Purity Control?"

Scully refused to answer, instead she twisted off the top of the bottle and took a healthy swig of the home made beer.

"Thought so," Mulder replied to his own question under his breath.

The night came faster than it had previously, due to the high clouds to the west that had a weird purple glow to them. Harold lobbed a mortar into the air, which exploded with a single rapport and a small flash of light.

Smoke drifted away to the east. People whooped and hollered, wanting more.

Harold and several people were busy doing a final check on the hodgepodge of equipment, the surplus Air Force generator supplying the power, chugging away in the background.

Mulder had somehow managed to bend his lanky height into a contortionist pose, nearly folded in half, legs over the lower bleacher.

Teresa sat to his right, sipping from a bottle of beer. One of the local ranchers had delivered several sides of beef, and they had all pigged out on fresh ribs with mesquite barbecue sauce, beans, tortillas, chilies, steaks, baked potatoes. Scully leaned back, her stomach near bursting.

A mortar went up again, and this time there were twin rapports.

From the clouds in the distance there came an answering rumble. The lightning flashes still arced in the clouds, sporadically causing the sky to light up.

"Just a couple of more minutes," Teresa said, her voice excited.

She had unbuttoned Mulder's shirt, and her hand was running across his chest.

Scully rolled her eyes, figuring that after all this attention, he was going to be insufferable. She turned to find Antonio sitting near her. She smiled at him and patted the bench next to her. He scooted over, an object in his hands.

He handed it to her, speaking.

"He says that the sky rock does not compare to your eyes, which are like twin sapphires," Teresa translated for Scully. "He would like you to keep the sky rock, as a remembrance that not all things in New Mexico are dull and boring."

"Thank you. Gracias," Scully said to Antonio. She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. His eyes went wide and he clasped his cheek, then bolted, yelling for his father.

"Better watch it, Scully. Age of consent here in New Mexico is only fourteen...OW!" Mulder brought his hand up to his chest, glaring at Teresa as he rubbed his nipple where she had pinched him.

"I think it's sweet," Scully said as she looked at the sky rock. It was a nugget about as big as her thumbnail, pale blue with a pattern of brown.

"Turquoise?"

Teresa nodded. "It's called sky rock. The Native Americans thought that it was a piece of the sky, due to it's blue coloration."

A third mortar was launched, this time a thunderclap and a brilliant white flash that illuminated the ballpark.

"It's time!" Teresa squealed.

Mulder and Scully glanced at each other. They had no illusions that Harold could compete with the large displays performed in Washington.

There came a sound from the speakers, so low that it was more felt than heard. The lasers winked on, chromatic beams of red and green lancing through the air. The sound, a pure note, shifted up by a third. Mulder frowned , trying to place it. More lasers flashed on, a third note.

"'Also Sprach Zarathustra'," Scully leaned over to whisper in Mulder's ear. The pure tones echoed and reverberated across the desert as multiple lasers winked, flashed, and moved in sequence to the music. Harold punctuated with fireworks launched from the mortar, exploding in colorful bursts that left both Mulder and Scully speechless as the lasers flashed through the fireworks, the beams being scattered by fragments of tin foil.

The show continued for a good forty-five minutes, the lasers expertly choreographed to the musical selections, which included snippets from "Star Wars", "Fanfare for the Common Man", "America the Beautiful", and other tunes. Perhaps the funniest was when the theme from "The Addams Family"

was played, and instead of finger-snaps they were rewarded with two, expertly timed fireworks explosions. The display ended off with the final strains of "The Star Spangled Banner" and multiple fireworks of red, white, and blue.

Everyone was on their feet, yelling, cheering, and whooping. Hats were flung into the air, and more than one gun went off.

As if in reply, there was a brilliant flash, more purple than white, and an immediate CRACK! that threatened to deafen everyone. People looked up at the clouds, the undersides of which shimmered with purple auroras. It was, everyone decided, a fine time to head for home, and the bleachers emptied.

Ricardo drove them to the diner, which he opened up. They got inside just in time as what sounded like the roar of a waterfall washed over them.

Both Mulder and Scully looked out the picture windows as hail of all sizes fell from the clouds. Several other cars pulled up and the people rushed into the diner.

"I've never seen it hail this hard!" Scully said. Within a minute the road was covered with hail, looking as if an inch or more of snow had fallen.

An argent flash punctuated the darkness.

"Happens all the time around here," Teresa handed both Mulder and Scully bottles of Coke. "We are on the western edge of Tornado Alley. Get some good thunderstorms every now and then. Seems like every Fourth we get one; Mother Nature has to compete against Harold's fireworks."

Ricardo broke out chips and salsa, and everyone sat around talking about the fireworks. Seems that since Harold had out of town visitors, he tried extra hard to impress them. Mulder and Scully looked at each other, duly impressed by the handling of the laser battery and of the fireworks themselves.

A gray car with Texas plates pulled up out front. The hairs on the nape of Scully's neck rose up, and she reached out and touched Mulder's hand.

When he looked at her, she tipped her head at the car that had pulled up.

Three people got out, cowboy hats pulled down tight, hunched over against the rain that had replaced the hail, and they ran inside.

Being strangers, everyone looked up. Teresa was behind the register, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Whoooo doggies! That's one Helluva storm out there," one of the arrivals said. He pushed back his cowboy hat, a friendly smile on his face.

With his other hand, he reached under the denim jacket and whipped out a revolver, pointing it at Teresa. The other two men also pulled out guns and trained them on the assembled people. Mulder and Scully just looked at each other.

"Poor guys," Scully said.

"Eeeyup," Mulder responded with a drawl and a smile.

"Ok, everyone, hand over your wallets and jewelry. No one is going to get hurt." The one who had his gun trained on Teresa said. "Now, you honey, you just open this here antique and hand over the cash. Real slow like." The other two proceeded down the aisle between the booths and the counter, collecting wallets, watches, and jewelry.

Teresa opened the register and collected the money. As she handed it over with shaking hands, she dropped it on the floor, some behind the counter.

"Real smart, bitch. Pick it up." Teresa ducked behind the counter.

Mulder and Scully looked at each other in amazement. It was obvious that these were not professional robbers.

One of the men was standing in the aisle looking expectantly at Scully. The other man was on Mulder's side when Wee Wullie spoke up.

Teresa shot a hole through the plywood of the register stand, the force of the blast and the splinters knocked the man to the floor. She popped up like a jackrabbit, training the Street Sweeper on him.

The other two men turned in unison. Scully lashed out with her foot, catching her robber in the groin with enough force to break the heel off her shoe. Mulder, in typical macho fashion, tackled his robber and brought him to the floor.

"That is for trying to rob us," Scully said as the robber she kicked clutched his groin and dropped to his knees before her. She brought her fist across his face in a savage right cross. "And that is for breaking the heel of my shoe with your cojones!" He fell to the floor, his moans covered up by the whooping of the residents.

Mulder looked at his man, who he had disarmed and pulled out his ID from his back pocket. "By the way, we're FBI, and you're under arrest."

Mulder pulled his man to his feet.

"Scully, got your handcuffs?"

"They're in my room." She examined the damage to her shoe with a disgusted look. "I ruin more shoes when I'm with you, Mulder."

The morning sky was as blue as the turquoise nugget that Antonio had given her, Scully noted. She sat in the driver's side of the gray Saturn that the would-be robbers had driven into the town in. They sat in the back seat, handcuffed. The had to borrow a pair from Teresa, which made Mulder's eyebrow raise in an unspoken question. She had merely patted his arm and said "You're not ready for that yet."

Dan had called GSA about their broken down car, and verified that GSA would send a wrecker in from Socorro. While Mulder went to the local post office / bank, Scully had placed several calls to the FBI field office in Albuquerque, then to the State Police regional office in Socorro. They would turn over the robbers and, as it turned out car thieves, over to the State Police in Socorro, along with the car. They would then catch a ride to Albuquerque with an agent from the field office who would meet them.

It seemed that the whole town had turned out to see them leave.

Teresa leaned in and gave Mulder a kiss that lasted longer than Scully thought he had air for. Finally they separated.

"Still have your tonsils, Mulder?" Scully asked in an innocent voice.

Teresa laughed and Mulder dipped his head. There was a rapping on Scully's window, and Antonio stood there, a rose in his hand. She lowered the window and smiled at Antonio, taking the rose, she smelled it. "Gracias, Antonio."

She leaned out to give him a kiss on the cheek when he suddenly moved his head and kissed her full on the lips, which shocked her as she sat there blinking in amazement.

"Ay, caramba!" Antonio said and he walked; no, strutted away Scully thought, like a bantam rooster, chest puffed out to the cheers and whistles of the assembled men. Ricardo roughed his son's hair up and smiled at Scully, giving her a thumb's up sign. Scully responded with a wan smile and wave, raising the window halfway. She looked at Mulder, who had a knowing smile on his face.

"Don't you even say it Mulder; I know it's too late to tell you not to think it," Scully said in a low voice that spoke volumes. She started the car and drove out of town, waving at the residents as they headed back west towards Socorro.

Mulder looked at his reflection in the rear view mirror, rubbing his chin. Scully, the radio turned to the classical station that broadcast out of Albuquerque, moved the mirror back so she could keep a watch on their prisoners. "What's wrong, Mulder? Looking for hickeys?"

"Funny. Actually I was wondering what I'd look like with a beard."

He rubbed his cheek. Scully reached over and flipped down his visor, then opened up the little flap that covered a small mirror.

"How'd you know that was there?"

"Don't you know? I do Saturn car commercials, and I love to show guys the vanity mirror."

The end

"...rugged manly men in the full bloom of their manhood..."

"Right, but what am I looking for?"

"Anything strange, unexplainable, unusual...a boyfriend..."