Marfa County Investigator's Office
2:03 P.M.
"I'll bring him in as soon as he's
released. Thanks for all your help."
Mulder stood up from the plush leather
chair opposite Detective Harris' desk
and departed from his office. After
closing the door behind him, Mulder
plucked the cell phone from his pocket
and dialed Scully's number. After two
rings, she picked up.
"Scully," he heard the familiar voice
on the other line.
"Scully, it's me," he said, "I'm done
over here. How 'bout you?"
"I'm finished, too, Mulder," she said,
placing a hand to her hip, "but I have
to say that I'm at a loss to explain what
I've found here." She hesitated before
she said, "I think you may have been right."
A broad grin erupted on Mulder's face.
"I'm sorry, Scully," he said, "you're
breaking up. Could you repeat that last
sentence?"
Scully curled her lips disapprovingly and
ignored the comment.
"Mulder, Henry Phoenix suffers from a
hereditary condition known as Wilson's
Disease. It is a form of sickness which
results in the body retaining excessive
amounts of copper in the body."
Mulder raised his eyebrows.
"And that's bad?"
"The results could be lethal if untreated,"
Scully responded, "Phoenix has all of the
symptoms - mild tremors, vomiting, muscle
and abdominal pain, brown circles about the
eyes, acute liver damage - and yet he has
been able to survive for more than twenty
years with no treatment. It's unprecedented."
Mulder's tone grew excited as he began to
make the connections in his head.
"Scully, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Scully rolled her eyes.
"Probably not."
"Didn't you say that that phenomena you were
talking about…what was it…ball lightning…that
it was created when lightning stripped the
electrons off of copper?"
Scully raised an eyebrow as a look of
disbelief appeared on her face.
"Mulder," she sighed, "you don't seriously
think that that rare phenomenon is at anyway
at all related to the equally rare condition
that is found in the body of Henry Phoenix?"
"Scully, don't you remember what the weather
has been like around here for the past couple
days? Don't the storms at every crime scene
suggest to you the possibility of some
electrical disturbance? What if, as a result
of the large amount of copper in his body,
Henry Phoenix can somehow harbor that
electrical energy and effectively turn himself
into one big source of ball lightning?"
Scully humored him.
"The result being?"
"That if one of the properties of ball
lightning is extreme heat, like you yourself
said, Scully, Phoenix can manifest enough
heat to set up his own rotisserie."
"Mulder," Scully started, "I don't even know
how to begin responding to this."
"Scully, just do me a favor," Mulder
interrupted her, "Don't let Henry Phoenix
out of your sight."
"That's not going to be much of a problem,
Mulder," she replied, "He hasn't woken up
since he arrived at the hospital…"
Her response was preempted by the sound
of an alarm wailing down the hall.
"Scully," she heard Mulder say, "what's
going on there? What's happening?"
Scully didn't respond. She pulled the
phone from her ear as she stopped and
asked an orderly what was happening.
"Fire in room 326, ma'am," he responded,
"You need to get out of here as soon as
possible."
"Oh my God," Scully moaned as she ran down
the hall to the former residence of Mr.
Henry Phoenix. She could feel the heat on
her face as she approached the room. It
slapped her across the face like an angry
demon from Hell.
Shielding her eyes with the arm that still
carried her cell phone, she braved the heat
and looked into the room. She backed away
and placed the phone back to her ear as a
fireman directed her to the nearest
staircase.
"He's gone, Mulder," she stated simply,
"Henry Phoenix is gone."
Davey Crockett Motor Court
6:18 P.M.
Mulder glanced up through his thin
wire-framed glasses as the sound of three
sharp raps emanated from the wooden door.
"It's open, Scully," he called, folding the
glasses on top of the reports he had just
finished scanning.
Scully entered the room and closed the door
behind her, placing her umbrella neatly
beside the doorframe.
"How did you know it was me, Mulder?" she
asked, loosening the tie on her trench-coat
and smoothing back her wind-rumpled hair.
"Well, it was either you or the girl I hired
from 1-900-CHICK," he replied, supporting his
chin with a fist, "but you just missed her so,
unless you're moonlighting as an escort…"
Scully folded her arms in front of her.
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth,
Mulder?"
Mulder looked amused.
"Why, you wanna play house, Scully?"
His voice grew soft and playful. He rubbed
the space on the bed beside him.
"C'mon, Scully, who's your daddy?"
Scully put on her best feigned look of
flirtatious savvy.
"Mulder," she said sweetly.
"Yes, Scully?" he answered.
"Most daddies have something resembling at
least a third-grade maturity level. Until
you obtain that, I'm afraid this mama is
going to be daddy-less."
Mulder frowned with a mock look of fanciful
whimsy.
"Oh," he said simply, and then smiling with
a twinkle in his eye, "You wanna play doctor?"
"No," she answered, pulling a chair up beside
the bed and seating herself next to him, "I've
already played that game, and I've discovered
some interesting details regarding Henry
Phoenix's condition."
The playful grin left his face.
"What did you find?" he asked.
"Before he pulled his grand disappearing act,
I was able to obtain some samples of blood.
I sent them to the lab and had them examined,
but I have to tell you, Mulder, what I found
is unlike anything that has ever been
recorded in modern science."
Mulder rested his elbows on his knees and
folded his hands in front of his lips,
nodding thoughtfully as Scully continued.
"You see, Mulder," she began, lapsing
easily into doctoral oratory, "copper is
one of the elements necessary for the
synthesis of hemoglobin, the protein found
in red blood cells which controls the
distribution of oxygen throughout the body.
In normal red blood cells, copper is bound
to ceruloplosmin and, for the most part,
does not exist as a free ion."
"But in Phoenix's body, it does," Mulder
finished for her.
Scully nodded her head in affirmation.
"The copper found in Phoenix's blood is
bound not only to the blood proteins, but
also exists in ionic form. In addition,
the red blood cells, themselves, appear
to be present in a greater amount than
that of ordinary blood. This, I suspect,
is due to the fact that copper is also
used in the synthesis of other proteins
as well."
Mulder arched his eyebrows.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that if there is excess copper
present in Phoenix's body, it is possible
that it contributes to the production of
greater amounts of proteins found in the
blood, and that increased production
triggers the production of a greater
amount of cells."
Mulder rubbed his eyes.
"And how would that affect Phoenix's
condition?"
Scully crossed her legs, folded her hands
across her lap, and drew a deep breath
into her lungs.
"Well, theoretically, an increased
production of red blood cells and blood
proteins could cause an increased
production of oxygen in Phoenix's body."
Mulder shifted positions anxiously in
his seat.
"And since oxygen is not only required
for fire to exist," he interrupted as
his eyes began to shine, "but actually
increases its ferocity, then the
increased oxygen in Phoenix's blood
could explain why the fires that he
causes are able to generate such an
intense heat."
Scully arched her eyebrows slightly on
her otherwise expressionless face.
"Um…rriiggghhhttt."
"No, Scully," he continued, "it
makes perfect sense. The copper
functions not only as a catalyst
for protein and cell production,
but also enables Phoenix to
generate your so-called ball
lightning, which is then
converted into fire by the
increased production of oxygen."
"Mulder, that is simply
physiologically impossible. In
addition to assisting in protein
production, copper serves a variety
of other functions, including assisting
in the production of melanin for skin
pigmentation, repairing connective
tissues, and forming cross-links in
collagen and elastin present in the
dermal layer and elsewhere. If Henry
Phoenix was capable of doing what you
claim, don't you think that other
abnormalities in any of these functions
would arise?"
"Scully," he replied, leaning forward
and placing a hand over hers, gently
squeezing it for emphasis, "other
abnormalities have arisen. You, yourself,
said that copper aids in repairing
connective tissue. Henry Phoenix must be
capable of that very act. How else do you
explain a man escaping with only mild smoke
inhalation when the building and everything
within its vicinity was burned to the ground?"
"Good genes?"
The beginnings of a smile appeared around
the corners of her mouth.
Mulder released his grip from her, put his
hands behind his head, and leaned back
against the headboard.
"Scully," he asked, "does everything have
to be a joke with you?"
The stoic expression returned once more to
her face.
"Well, Mulder," she responded, "what have
you been doing all day while I've been
running around doing your dirty work for you?"
Mulder smiled.
"I'm glad you asked, Scully."
He very loudly and deliberately cleared his
throat as a familiar look of all-knowing
intellect manifested itself upon his face.
"Well, Scully," he began, "while you were
uncovering the hidden mysteries of the
'Great Copper Caper,' I was doing some
digging of my own."
"Digging into what, Mulder?"
The expression remained unchanged as he
asked her, "You going to let me finish?"
Scully extended her hand in a widespread
gesture of permission.
"Please don't let me stop you," she responded
dryly, "I can hardly contain my excitement."
Mulder shifted back into teacher mode.
"As I was saying before I was so rudely
interrupted," he continued, rolling his
ocean-green eyes in her direction, "while you
were at the hospital, I took a little trip
down to the Marfa precinct."
"I know," Scully said, "You were calling me
from the office when the fire alarm went off."
Mulder shot her an ominous look of warning.
"In-ter-rup-ting," he said, drawing out each
syllable with a staccato-like ferocity.
"Sorry," she replied.
"Anyway," he began again, "I was at the precinct
looking into Phoenix's priors. Turns out he has
been arrested on four previous occasions - two
counts of arson, one for disorderly conduct, and
one count of public urination."
Mulder smirked as the latter words departed from
his lips.
"Guess he was trying to put a fire out."
"Mulder," Scully asked, "is that what you found
to be so terribly interesting?"
She swiveled her neck to one side and rested it
on her shoulder.
"If it is, I'm afraid I'm just not seeing the
connection."
"No, Scully," he responded, sitting up a little
straighter as his back arched with excitement,
"Although I always find public urination interesting,
that is not what has me intrigued in this case."
"Well, what did you find, then?" she asked.
"After studying Henry's casefile, it occurred to me
that the choice of his victims didn't add up. I
found it curious that Phoenix should choose to
target two seemingly unrelated persons for his late
night fireworks display, one elderly, well-to-do
woman and one middle-aged, poor man found at his
home. It just didn't seem to fit. So, I did a
little digging into the pasts of one former Mrs.
Blanca Cortes and the latest victim, Mr. Joaquin
Still-River. It turns out that Mr. Still-River was,
in his living years, the fraternal uncle of our own
little Henry. After the tragic and unexplained death
of his parents, Still-River took Henry into his home
and raised him as his own. Still-River didn't have
much with which to provide the child, but he loved
him dearly, and gave him everything that his heart
desired. Yet, Henry's painful past seemed to stay
with him. He began to do poorly in school, his
grades suffered, he frequently initiated fights,
and he was diagnosed with clinical depression.
When Henry was six, Still-River pulled him from
school and took a second job as a caretaker to a
wealthy area resident. He tended the gardens,
fixed broken pipes, and even babysat the woman's
grandchild when the need arose."
"Let me guess," Scully interjected, "Blanca Cortes."
"Ding, that's right. Five-hundred points to the
lovely red-headed doctor from Georgetown."
"So his guardian babysat for the Cortes'," Scully
thoughtfully verbalized, "What would be the
motivation for Phoenix to run around killing the
only two people who provided him with a stable
home life?"
"After Henry left his school, Still-River
frequently brought the young boy over to play
with Cortes' grandchild, Esperanza, who was
approximately of the same age. The two children
bonded instantly and it was as if Henry's problems
disappeared overnight. They remained friends through
the years until Esperanza's mother found out about
Henry's past problems and forbade her to have any
contact with him. Soon after, Henry, now sixteen,
began to find trouble. He was well-known as a
drunkard and a public spectacle. He was first
arrested at age seventeen and three additional
arrests occurred subsequently."
"So he can't hold his liquor," Scully responded,
"I'm still not seeing the connection to the deaths
of Cortes and Still-River, or the reason that he
started those fires."
"According to the wife of our illustrious Detective
Harris, it has recently been rumored that Henry's
father was not a man without indiscretions, himself."
Scully arched her eyebrow.
"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?"
"Apparently not. It seems that while Mrs. Phoenix
was in her second trimester with Henry, Mr. Phoenix
was illustrating the finer principles of the birds
and the bees to a beautiful tutee of his, Ms. Elisa
Cortes, mother of Esperanza."
Scully's eyes grew wide and shone brilliantly like
the azure of a cloudless day.
"So you're saying, then, that Esperanza Cortes is
the biological half-sister of Henry Phoenix?"
Mulder nodded his head.
"And you think that he recently acquired this
knowledge? That he would literally kill to be
able to find her again?"
Mulder's face grew solemn and pale, as though
Death himself was staring him in the face. His
whispered response was barely audible.
"What man wouldn't, Scully?"
Scully coughed a little and shifted uncomfortably
in her seat.
"So what's our next course of action, then?" she
asked.
Mulder threw his legs over the side of the bed
and stood up.
"We're going to go find Esperanza Cortes before
Phoenix catches up with her."
Scully's mouth fell agape as she leaned forward
in her seat.
"Mulder, you know the present location of
Esperanza Cortes?"
"I had Danny track her down this afternoon," he
replied as he grabbed his coat off the back of a
chair.
Mulder walked towards the door, turned the knob,
and held it open for his partner.
"Let's go, G-woman."
Scully smiled fondly at the name as she obediently
stood and walked out the door.
Esperanza Cortes Residence
917 West Siren Street
8:49 A.M.
"This is it."
Mulder pulled the car to a stop and shifted it
into park. Directly in front of them, a burgundy
brick pathway led to a double-story Victorian home
with dark, green shutters and lush ivy. A
white-picket fence enclosed a thriving lawn,
surprisingly verdant for the arid climate.
Mulder smirked as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He
glanced over at his partner.
"Ah, wedded bliss. Is that a songbird I hear
cooing in the distance?"
He opened his door and breathed in the fresh, cool
air.
"I wonder where the kids are. Fishing, climbing
trees…playing house?"
Scully slammed the door and placed her hands on
her hip.
"You're sick, Mulder," she told him.
The sunlight bounced off the immaculate front
bay window as they approached the path. Mulder
unlatched the gate of the fence and held it open
as Scully advanced, then closed it politely behind.
By the time he had reached the front door, Scully
had already rung the bell. She looked good,
professional, with her arms crossed and her suit
pressed. He couldn't help but think that she
would do well living there, with her 2.5 children
and 1.5 dogs. Of course, he had always assumed
that she had a wild side, a part of herself that
she seldom allowed anyone to see. There was that
time that she had gotten a tattoo. Of course the
whole almost-getting-killed thing had done away
with that phase rather quickly…
He was stirred from his reverie as the shimmering,
whitewashed door pulled wide, revealing a rather
striking young woman with long, silken, wavy,
black hair.
"Uhh…hi."
The woman shot him a quizzical look.
"Can I help you?" she asked, placing a dainty
hand on the frame.
"Esperanza Cortes?" Scully asked.
"Yes?" the woman answered.
Scully pulled her identification from her coat
pocket and held it up at eyelevel.
"Agent…"
"Mulder," Mulder interrupted, holding out his hand
to shake hers, "with the Federal Bureau of
Investigation. I'd…"
Scully placed her hand to her mouth as she coughed
conspicuously.
"Err…we'd like to ask you a few questions," he
continued, "Would you mind if we came in?"
"Of course not," she answered, her mocha eyes
glistening with curiosity. She stepped back and
allowed the agents to enter. She led them past
a great foyer, with a pair of winding, wooden
staircases, and into a comfortable,
well-furnished room. She motioned for her
unexpected guests to take a seat on a rather
plush-looking crème-colored sofa. It
appeared that she had her grandmother's taste
in homes and furnishings.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asked,
"Some tea, perhaps? I just made a fresh batch."
Scully shook her head.
"But thank you for the offer," Mulder added,
flashing her a smile.
"Well, then," she replied, "would you mind
telling me what brings you out here?"
"We're sorry to have arrived at such an early
hour, ma'am," Scully began gently, "but we got
a little turned around outside of Austin." She
rolled her eyes at Mulder, who shrugged
hopelessly in response.
"Well, I was never wrong when driving before
today, was I?" he whispered, somewhat affronted.
Scully turned her attention back to the woman
seated opposite her.
"I hope we didn't wake you," she continued.
"No, no, of course not," Cortes answered in a
half-southern, half-Spanish accent, which
seemed to Mulder slightly reminiscent of a
brook lapping gently over weathered rocks,
"Most everyone around here wakes up close to
dawn."
Scully coughed uncomfortably and folded her
hands between her knees. She leaned slightly
forward in her seat, unconsciously positioning
her body to stress the importance of the news
she prepared to deliver.
"Ms. Cortes…it is Ms. Cortes, isn't it?"
Scully began.
Cortes shook her head in affirmation.
"Yes," she replied, "Ms. Cortes is fine."
Mulder smiled sheepishly.
Scully arched her eyebrow ever-so-slightly.
"Anyway," she continued, "my partner and I
are here concerning a case we are currently
investigating."
"What sort of case?" Cortes asked, her eyes
wide with a mixture of fear and intrigue.
"We are attempting to locate a former
associate of yours, Ms. Cortes," Mulder
interrupted, "a man who I am quite certain
you have not been in contact with for some
time, a Mr. Henry Phoenix."
"Henry Phoenix?" she repeated softly. Her
dark eyebrows furrowed slightly as she placed
a caramel-tanned hand to her cheek. Her lip
curled as she thought out loud. "Well, it
must have been at least twelve years since
I've seen him. Why are you looking for him?
What has he done?"
"He is wanted in connection with several fires
that were set over the past few days," Scully
interjected, "fires that resulted in death of
two people you know."
"What are you talking about?" Esperanza asked,
a strange tone coming over her voice. The
worry was apparent on her face.
Mulder shifted, his body echoing the
positioning of Scully's.
"I am very sorry to inform you of this, Ms.
Cortes," Mulder said, his voice strong and
unquavering, yet filled completely with the
utmost sympathy, "but two days ago, we found
Blanca Cortes dead in her home."
After a sharp intake of breath, Esperanza
managed to eek out the question, "Abuelita?
How?" Her chin began to quiver as the water
filled behind her eyes.
"It's not yet entirely clear," Scully answered,
"but it seems that Henry Phoenix might be
connected."
"That's impossible," Esperanza stammered, "Henry
loved Abuelita, she was like a mother to him.
He would never hurt her, ever. I refuse to
believe it."
"There may be a reason why he would feel forced
to act," Mulder told her gently.
"And what would that be?" she asked sharply.
"Were you ever aware of any rumors concerning
your and Henry's relationship?"
"No," she said impatiently, "why don't you
educate me, since you seem to know more about
me than I do of you."
Mulder sighed deeply.
"Ms. Cortes," he told her, "we have reason to
believe that Henry Phoenix is your brother."
"What?" she cried, "That is simply not possible."
"How do you know?" he retorted, "What exactly did
your mother tell you about your father? What
kind of man was he?"
Esperanza stood up from the sofa and slapped him
so quickly across the face that even she was
surprised. Her face was filled with rage as
sputtered, "I never knew him, Agent Mulder, but
I'm sure he was a better man than you. Now, I
would appreciate it if you would get the
hell out of my house right now."
Mulder glanced up from his shoes, appearing
incredibly dejected.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Cortes," he apologized, "but I'm
afraid you need to come with us for your own
safety."
"No, Mr. Mulder," she answered, "I'm afraid that
if you don't get out of my house right now, I
will have to show you out." She nodded her
head in the direction of a very impressive rifle
that was situated over the mantle of the cozy
fireplace. "Now, what is your decision?"
9:02 A.M.
"No lo creo…que una cosa terrible decir…"
Scully heard the barely intelligible mutterings
of Esperanza Cortes, followed shortly thereafter
by what she considered to be an overtly dramatic
slamming of the front door behind them. She
sucked in her cheeks as they proceeded from the
house, and folded her arms in front of her. Her
eyebrow was raised as she listened to the sound
of wind blowing through the plentiful trees.
They had only reached the third step when Scully
hazarded a glance in Mulder's direction.
"Don't even say it," he instructed her before her
eyes even took him in.
Mulder had a hand to his face, nursing his
newly-reddened cheek. His gaze was fixated on
the ground.
"Hey," she said simply, holding her hands in
front of her as if coming in contact with some
invisible barrier. She listened in silence to
the sound of their syncopated footsteps on the
brick path, until she could no longer hold it in.
"I'm really glad that you took control of things
in there, Mulder. I don't know what I could have
done without you."
"Okay, okay," he replied sulkily, "let's have out
with it. C'mon, I wanna hear the rest."
"That's some way with women you've got there."
Mulder nodded his head.
"Uh huh."
"You really have a knack with race relations."
He was still shaking his head. He stopped walking
and his full lips seemed to have sunk into his
mouth, showing only a thin sliver of their former
selves.
"Yeah. Uh huh. Are you finished?"
She turned to him, arms crossed, a large smile
plastered on her face.
"Yeah," she replied, "I think that pretty much
sums it up."
"Good," he answered, pulling a pair of sunglasses
from his pocket and slipping them gracefully over
his eyes. Scully placed a hand above hers to
shield them from the sun.
"So what now?" she asked.
"Scully, when's the last time we had a good
old-fashioned stakeout?"
"Together?" she asked.
He nodded.
Scully bit her lip and pulled a slip of hair behind
her ear. She scrunched up her nose and gazed
towards the heavens.
"Let's see," she said, "last Christmas, old
deserted mansion, you shot me, I shot you."
Mulder smiled as the memory flashed through
his mind.
"Ah," he said, his beautiful green eyes
sparkling, "it was magic for me, but was it
good for you?"
Scully just shook her head in response.
"Well how 'bout we have a second go at it?"
"Shooting each other?" Scully asked.
Mulder chuckled to himself.
"The stakeout," he replied.
"Okay, Mulder," she answered, "but I was really
looking forward to busting a cap in your ass."
2:03 P.M.
"I'll bring him in as soon as he's
released. Thanks for all your help."
Mulder stood up from the plush leather
chair opposite Detective Harris' desk
and departed from his office. After
closing the door behind him, Mulder
plucked the cell phone from his pocket
and dialed Scully's number. After two
rings, she picked up.
"Scully," he heard the familiar voice
on the other line.
"Scully, it's me," he said, "I'm done
over here. How 'bout you?"
"I'm finished, too, Mulder," she said,
placing a hand to her hip, "but I have
to say that I'm at a loss to explain what
I've found here." She hesitated before
she said, "I think you may have been right."
A broad grin erupted on Mulder's face.
"I'm sorry, Scully," he said, "you're
breaking up. Could you repeat that last
sentence?"
Scully curled her lips disapprovingly and
ignored the comment.
"Mulder, Henry Phoenix suffers from a
hereditary condition known as Wilson's
Disease. It is a form of sickness which
results in the body retaining excessive
amounts of copper in the body."
Mulder raised his eyebrows.
"And that's bad?"
"The results could be lethal if untreated,"
Scully responded, "Phoenix has all of the
symptoms - mild tremors, vomiting, muscle
and abdominal pain, brown circles about the
eyes, acute liver damage - and yet he has
been able to survive for more than twenty
years with no treatment. It's unprecedented."
Mulder's tone grew excited as he began to
make the connections in his head.
"Scully, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Scully rolled her eyes.
"Probably not."
"Didn't you say that that phenomena you were
talking about…what was it…ball lightning…that
it was created when lightning stripped the
electrons off of copper?"
Scully raised an eyebrow as a look of
disbelief appeared on her face.
"Mulder," she sighed, "you don't seriously
think that that rare phenomenon is at anyway
at all related to the equally rare condition
that is found in the body of Henry Phoenix?"
"Scully, don't you remember what the weather
has been like around here for the past couple
days? Don't the storms at every crime scene
suggest to you the possibility of some
electrical disturbance? What if, as a result
of the large amount of copper in his body,
Henry Phoenix can somehow harbor that
electrical energy and effectively turn himself
into one big source of ball lightning?"
Scully humored him.
"The result being?"
"That if one of the properties of ball
lightning is extreme heat, like you yourself
said, Scully, Phoenix can manifest enough
heat to set up his own rotisserie."
"Mulder," Scully started, "I don't even know
how to begin responding to this."
"Scully, just do me a favor," Mulder
interrupted her, "Don't let Henry Phoenix
out of your sight."
"That's not going to be much of a problem,
Mulder," she replied, "He hasn't woken up
since he arrived at the hospital…"
Her response was preempted by the sound
of an alarm wailing down the hall.
"Scully," she heard Mulder say, "what's
going on there? What's happening?"
Scully didn't respond. She pulled the
phone from her ear as she stopped and
asked an orderly what was happening.
"Fire in room 326, ma'am," he responded,
"You need to get out of here as soon as
possible."
"Oh my God," Scully moaned as she ran down
the hall to the former residence of Mr.
Henry Phoenix. She could feel the heat on
her face as she approached the room. It
slapped her across the face like an angry
demon from Hell.
Shielding her eyes with the arm that still
carried her cell phone, she braved the heat
and looked into the room. She backed away
and placed the phone back to her ear as a
fireman directed her to the nearest
staircase.
"He's gone, Mulder," she stated simply,
"Henry Phoenix is gone."
Davey Crockett Motor Court
6:18 P.M.
Mulder glanced up through his thin
wire-framed glasses as the sound of three
sharp raps emanated from the wooden door.
"It's open, Scully," he called, folding the
glasses on top of the reports he had just
finished scanning.
Scully entered the room and closed the door
behind her, placing her umbrella neatly
beside the doorframe.
"How did you know it was me, Mulder?" she
asked, loosening the tie on her trench-coat
and smoothing back her wind-rumpled hair.
"Well, it was either you or the girl I hired
from 1-900-CHICK," he replied, supporting his
chin with a fist, "but you just missed her so,
unless you're moonlighting as an escort…"
Scully folded her arms in front of her.
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth,
Mulder?"
Mulder looked amused.
"Why, you wanna play house, Scully?"
His voice grew soft and playful. He rubbed
the space on the bed beside him.
"C'mon, Scully, who's your daddy?"
Scully put on her best feigned look of
flirtatious savvy.
"Mulder," she said sweetly.
"Yes, Scully?" he answered.
"Most daddies have something resembling at
least a third-grade maturity level. Until
you obtain that, I'm afraid this mama is
going to be daddy-less."
Mulder frowned with a mock look of fanciful
whimsy.
"Oh," he said simply, and then smiling with
a twinkle in his eye, "You wanna play doctor?"
"No," she answered, pulling a chair up beside
the bed and seating herself next to him, "I've
already played that game, and I've discovered
some interesting details regarding Henry
Phoenix's condition."
The playful grin left his face.
"What did you find?" he asked.
"Before he pulled his grand disappearing act,
I was able to obtain some samples of blood.
I sent them to the lab and had them examined,
but I have to tell you, Mulder, what I found
is unlike anything that has ever been
recorded in modern science."
Mulder rested his elbows on his knees and
folded his hands in front of his lips,
nodding thoughtfully as Scully continued.
"You see, Mulder," she began, lapsing
easily into doctoral oratory, "copper is
one of the elements necessary for the
synthesis of hemoglobin, the protein found
in red blood cells which controls the
distribution of oxygen throughout the body.
In normal red blood cells, copper is bound
to ceruloplosmin and, for the most part,
does not exist as a free ion."
"But in Phoenix's body, it does," Mulder
finished for her.
Scully nodded her head in affirmation.
"The copper found in Phoenix's blood is
bound not only to the blood proteins, but
also exists in ionic form. In addition,
the red blood cells, themselves, appear
to be present in a greater amount than
that of ordinary blood. This, I suspect,
is due to the fact that copper is also
used in the synthesis of other proteins
as well."
Mulder arched his eyebrows.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that if there is excess copper
present in Phoenix's body, it is possible
that it contributes to the production of
greater amounts of proteins found in the
blood, and that increased production
triggers the production of a greater
amount of cells."
Mulder rubbed his eyes.
"And how would that affect Phoenix's
condition?"
Scully crossed her legs, folded her hands
across her lap, and drew a deep breath
into her lungs.
"Well, theoretically, an increased
production of red blood cells and blood
proteins could cause an increased
production of oxygen in Phoenix's body."
Mulder shifted positions anxiously in
his seat.
"And since oxygen is not only required
for fire to exist," he interrupted as
his eyes began to shine, "but actually
increases its ferocity, then the
increased oxygen in Phoenix's blood
could explain why the fires that he
causes are able to generate such an
intense heat."
Scully arched her eyebrows slightly on
her otherwise expressionless face.
"Um…rriiggghhhttt."
"No, Scully," he continued, "it
makes perfect sense. The copper
functions not only as a catalyst
for protein and cell production,
but also enables Phoenix to
generate your so-called ball
lightning, which is then
converted into fire by the
increased production of oxygen."
"Mulder, that is simply
physiologically impossible. In
addition to assisting in protein
production, copper serves a variety
of other functions, including assisting
in the production of melanin for skin
pigmentation, repairing connective
tissues, and forming cross-links in
collagen and elastin present in the
dermal layer and elsewhere. If Henry
Phoenix was capable of doing what you
claim, don't you think that other
abnormalities in any of these functions
would arise?"
"Scully," he replied, leaning forward
and placing a hand over hers, gently
squeezing it for emphasis, "other
abnormalities have arisen. You, yourself,
said that copper aids in repairing
connective tissue. Henry Phoenix must be
capable of that very act. How else do you
explain a man escaping with only mild smoke
inhalation when the building and everything
within its vicinity was burned to the ground?"
"Good genes?"
The beginnings of a smile appeared around
the corners of her mouth.
Mulder released his grip from her, put his
hands behind his head, and leaned back
against the headboard.
"Scully," he asked, "does everything have
to be a joke with you?"
The stoic expression returned once more to
her face.
"Well, Mulder," she responded, "what have
you been doing all day while I've been
running around doing your dirty work for you?"
Mulder smiled.
"I'm glad you asked, Scully."
He very loudly and deliberately cleared his
throat as a familiar look of all-knowing
intellect manifested itself upon his face.
"Well, Scully," he began, "while you were
uncovering the hidden mysteries of the
'Great Copper Caper,' I was doing some
digging of my own."
"Digging into what, Mulder?"
The expression remained unchanged as he
asked her, "You going to let me finish?"
Scully extended her hand in a widespread
gesture of permission.
"Please don't let me stop you," she responded
dryly, "I can hardly contain my excitement."
Mulder shifted back into teacher mode.
"As I was saying before I was so rudely
interrupted," he continued, rolling his
ocean-green eyes in her direction, "while you
were at the hospital, I took a little trip
down to the Marfa precinct."
"I know," Scully said, "You were calling me
from the office when the fire alarm went off."
Mulder shot her an ominous look of warning.
"In-ter-rup-ting," he said, drawing out each
syllable with a staccato-like ferocity.
"Sorry," she replied.
"Anyway," he began again, "I was at the precinct
looking into Phoenix's priors. Turns out he has
been arrested on four previous occasions - two
counts of arson, one for disorderly conduct, and
one count of public urination."
Mulder smirked as the latter words departed from
his lips.
"Guess he was trying to put a fire out."
"Mulder," Scully asked, "is that what you found
to be so terribly interesting?"
She swiveled her neck to one side and rested it
on her shoulder.
"If it is, I'm afraid I'm just not seeing the
connection."
"No, Scully," he responded, sitting up a little
straighter as his back arched with excitement,
"Although I always find public urination interesting,
that is not what has me intrigued in this case."
"Well, what did you find, then?" she asked.
"After studying Henry's casefile, it occurred to me
that the choice of his victims didn't add up. I
found it curious that Phoenix should choose to
target two seemingly unrelated persons for his late
night fireworks display, one elderly, well-to-do
woman and one middle-aged, poor man found at his
home. It just didn't seem to fit. So, I did a
little digging into the pasts of one former Mrs.
Blanca Cortes and the latest victim, Mr. Joaquin
Still-River. It turns out that Mr. Still-River was,
in his living years, the fraternal uncle of our own
little Henry. After the tragic and unexplained death
of his parents, Still-River took Henry into his home
and raised him as his own. Still-River didn't have
much with which to provide the child, but he loved
him dearly, and gave him everything that his heart
desired. Yet, Henry's painful past seemed to stay
with him. He began to do poorly in school, his
grades suffered, he frequently initiated fights,
and he was diagnosed with clinical depression.
When Henry was six, Still-River pulled him from
school and took a second job as a caretaker to a
wealthy area resident. He tended the gardens,
fixed broken pipes, and even babysat the woman's
grandchild when the need arose."
"Let me guess," Scully interjected, "Blanca Cortes."
"Ding, that's right. Five-hundred points to the
lovely red-headed doctor from Georgetown."
"So his guardian babysat for the Cortes'," Scully
thoughtfully verbalized, "What would be the
motivation for Phoenix to run around killing the
only two people who provided him with a stable
home life?"
"After Henry left his school, Still-River
frequently brought the young boy over to play
with Cortes' grandchild, Esperanza, who was
approximately of the same age. The two children
bonded instantly and it was as if Henry's problems
disappeared overnight. They remained friends through
the years until Esperanza's mother found out about
Henry's past problems and forbade her to have any
contact with him. Soon after, Henry, now sixteen,
began to find trouble. He was well-known as a
drunkard and a public spectacle. He was first
arrested at age seventeen and three additional
arrests occurred subsequently."
"So he can't hold his liquor," Scully responded,
"I'm still not seeing the connection to the deaths
of Cortes and Still-River, or the reason that he
started those fires."
"According to the wife of our illustrious Detective
Harris, it has recently been rumored that Henry's
father was not a man without indiscretions, himself."
Scully arched her eyebrow.
"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?"
"Apparently not. It seems that while Mrs. Phoenix
was in her second trimester with Henry, Mr. Phoenix
was illustrating the finer principles of the birds
and the bees to a beautiful tutee of his, Ms. Elisa
Cortes, mother of Esperanza."
Scully's eyes grew wide and shone brilliantly like
the azure of a cloudless day.
"So you're saying, then, that Esperanza Cortes is
the biological half-sister of Henry Phoenix?"
Mulder nodded his head.
"And you think that he recently acquired this
knowledge? That he would literally kill to be
able to find her again?"
Mulder's face grew solemn and pale, as though
Death himself was staring him in the face. His
whispered response was barely audible.
"What man wouldn't, Scully?"
Scully coughed a little and shifted uncomfortably
in her seat.
"So what's our next course of action, then?" she
asked.
Mulder threw his legs over the side of the bed
and stood up.
"We're going to go find Esperanza Cortes before
Phoenix catches up with her."
Scully's mouth fell agape as she leaned forward
in her seat.
"Mulder, you know the present location of
Esperanza Cortes?"
"I had Danny track her down this afternoon," he
replied as he grabbed his coat off the back of a
chair.
Mulder walked towards the door, turned the knob,
and held it open for his partner.
"Let's go, G-woman."
Scully smiled fondly at the name as she obediently
stood and walked out the door.
Esperanza Cortes Residence
917 West Siren Street
8:49 A.M.
"This is it."
Mulder pulled the car to a stop and shifted it
into park. Directly in front of them, a burgundy
brick pathway led to a double-story Victorian home
with dark, green shutters and lush ivy. A
white-picket fence enclosed a thriving lawn,
surprisingly verdant for the arid climate.
Mulder smirked as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He
glanced over at his partner.
"Ah, wedded bliss. Is that a songbird I hear
cooing in the distance?"
He opened his door and breathed in the fresh, cool
air.
"I wonder where the kids are. Fishing, climbing
trees…playing house?"
Scully slammed the door and placed her hands on
her hip.
"You're sick, Mulder," she told him.
The sunlight bounced off the immaculate front
bay window as they approached the path. Mulder
unlatched the gate of the fence and held it open
as Scully advanced, then closed it politely behind.
By the time he had reached the front door, Scully
had already rung the bell. She looked good,
professional, with her arms crossed and her suit
pressed. He couldn't help but think that she
would do well living there, with her 2.5 children
and 1.5 dogs. Of course, he had always assumed
that she had a wild side, a part of herself that
she seldom allowed anyone to see. There was that
time that she had gotten a tattoo. Of course the
whole almost-getting-killed thing had done away
with that phase rather quickly…
He was stirred from his reverie as the shimmering,
whitewashed door pulled wide, revealing a rather
striking young woman with long, silken, wavy,
black hair.
"Uhh…hi."
The woman shot him a quizzical look.
"Can I help you?" she asked, placing a dainty
hand on the frame.
"Esperanza Cortes?" Scully asked.
"Yes?" the woman answered.
Scully pulled her identification from her coat
pocket and held it up at eyelevel.
"Agent…"
"Mulder," Mulder interrupted, holding out his hand
to shake hers, "with the Federal Bureau of
Investigation. I'd…"
Scully placed her hand to her mouth as she coughed
conspicuously.
"Err…we'd like to ask you a few questions," he
continued, "Would you mind if we came in?"
"Of course not," she answered, her mocha eyes
glistening with curiosity. She stepped back and
allowed the agents to enter. She led them past
a great foyer, with a pair of winding, wooden
staircases, and into a comfortable,
well-furnished room. She motioned for her
unexpected guests to take a seat on a rather
plush-looking crème-colored sofa. It
appeared that she had her grandmother's taste
in homes and furnishings.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asked,
"Some tea, perhaps? I just made a fresh batch."
Scully shook her head.
"But thank you for the offer," Mulder added,
flashing her a smile.
"Well, then," she replied, "would you mind
telling me what brings you out here?"
"We're sorry to have arrived at such an early
hour, ma'am," Scully began gently, "but we got
a little turned around outside of Austin." She
rolled her eyes at Mulder, who shrugged
hopelessly in response.
"Well, I was never wrong when driving before
today, was I?" he whispered, somewhat affronted.
Scully turned her attention back to the woman
seated opposite her.
"I hope we didn't wake you," she continued.
"No, no, of course not," Cortes answered in a
half-southern, half-Spanish accent, which
seemed to Mulder slightly reminiscent of a
brook lapping gently over weathered rocks,
"Most everyone around here wakes up close to
dawn."
Scully coughed uncomfortably and folded her
hands between her knees. She leaned slightly
forward in her seat, unconsciously positioning
her body to stress the importance of the news
she prepared to deliver.
"Ms. Cortes…it is Ms. Cortes, isn't it?"
Scully began.
Cortes shook her head in affirmation.
"Yes," she replied, "Ms. Cortes is fine."
Mulder smiled sheepishly.
Scully arched her eyebrow ever-so-slightly.
"Anyway," she continued, "my partner and I
are here concerning a case we are currently
investigating."
"What sort of case?" Cortes asked, her eyes
wide with a mixture of fear and intrigue.
"We are attempting to locate a former
associate of yours, Ms. Cortes," Mulder
interrupted, "a man who I am quite certain
you have not been in contact with for some
time, a Mr. Henry Phoenix."
"Henry Phoenix?" she repeated softly. Her
dark eyebrows furrowed slightly as she placed
a caramel-tanned hand to her cheek. Her lip
curled as she thought out loud. "Well, it
must have been at least twelve years since
I've seen him. Why are you looking for him?
What has he done?"
"He is wanted in connection with several fires
that were set over the past few days," Scully
interjected, "fires that resulted in death of
two people you know."
"What are you talking about?" Esperanza asked,
a strange tone coming over her voice. The
worry was apparent on her face.
Mulder shifted, his body echoing the
positioning of Scully's.
"I am very sorry to inform you of this, Ms.
Cortes," Mulder said, his voice strong and
unquavering, yet filled completely with the
utmost sympathy, "but two days ago, we found
Blanca Cortes dead in her home."
After a sharp intake of breath, Esperanza
managed to eek out the question, "Abuelita?
How?" Her chin began to quiver as the water
filled behind her eyes.
"It's not yet entirely clear," Scully answered,
"but it seems that Henry Phoenix might be
connected."
"That's impossible," Esperanza stammered, "Henry
loved Abuelita, she was like a mother to him.
He would never hurt her, ever. I refuse to
believe it."
"There may be a reason why he would feel forced
to act," Mulder told her gently.
"And what would that be?" she asked sharply.
"Were you ever aware of any rumors concerning
your and Henry's relationship?"
"No," she said impatiently, "why don't you
educate me, since you seem to know more about
me than I do of you."
Mulder sighed deeply.
"Ms. Cortes," he told her, "we have reason to
believe that Henry Phoenix is your brother."
"What?" she cried, "That is simply not possible."
"How do you know?" he retorted, "What exactly did
your mother tell you about your father? What
kind of man was he?"
Esperanza stood up from the sofa and slapped him
so quickly across the face that even she was
surprised. Her face was filled with rage as
sputtered, "I never knew him, Agent Mulder, but
I'm sure he was a better man than you. Now, I
would appreciate it if you would get the
hell out of my house right now."
Mulder glanced up from his shoes, appearing
incredibly dejected.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Cortes," he apologized, "but I'm
afraid you need to come with us for your own
safety."
"No, Mr. Mulder," she answered, "I'm afraid that
if you don't get out of my house right now, I
will have to show you out." She nodded her
head in the direction of a very impressive rifle
that was situated over the mantle of the cozy
fireplace. "Now, what is your decision?"
9:02 A.M.
"No lo creo…que una cosa terrible decir…"
Scully heard the barely intelligible mutterings
of Esperanza Cortes, followed shortly thereafter
by what she considered to be an overtly dramatic
slamming of the front door behind them. She
sucked in her cheeks as they proceeded from the
house, and folded her arms in front of her. Her
eyebrow was raised as she listened to the sound
of wind blowing through the plentiful trees.
They had only reached the third step when Scully
hazarded a glance in Mulder's direction.
"Don't even say it," he instructed her before her
eyes even took him in.
Mulder had a hand to his face, nursing his
newly-reddened cheek. His gaze was fixated on
the ground.
"Hey," she said simply, holding her hands in
front of her as if coming in contact with some
invisible barrier. She listened in silence to
the sound of their syncopated footsteps on the
brick path, until she could no longer hold it in.
"I'm really glad that you took control of things
in there, Mulder. I don't know what I could have
done without you."
"Okay, okay," he replied sulkily, "let's have out
with it. C'mon, I wanna hear the rest."
"That's some way with women you've got there."
Mulder nodded his head.
"Uh huh."
"You really have a knack with race relations."
He was still shaking his head. He stopped walking
and his full lips seemed to have sunk into his
mouth, showing only a thin sliver of their former
selves.
"Yeah. Uh huh. Are you finished?"
She turned to him, arms crossed, a large smile
plastered on her face.
"Yeah," she replied, "I think that pretty much
sums it up."
"Good," he answered, pulling a pair of sunglasses
from his pocket and slipping them gracefully over
his eyes. Scully placed a hand above hers to
shield them from the sun.
"So what now?" she asked.
"Scully, when's the last time we had a good
old-fashioned stakeout?"
"Together?" she asked.
He nodded.
Scully bit her lip and pulled a slip of hair behind
her ear. She scrunched up her nose and gazed
towards the heavens.
"Let's see," she said, "last Christmas, old
deserted mansion, you shot me, I shot you."
Mulder smiled as the memory flashed through
his mind.
"Ah," he said, his beautiful green eyes
sparkling, "it was magic for me, but was it
good for you?"
Scully just shook her head in response.
"Well how 'bout we have a second go at it?"
"Shooting each other?" Scully asked.
Mulder chuckled to himself.
"The stakeout," he replied.
"Okay, Mulder," she answered, "but I was really
looking forward to busting a cap in your ass."