"Looking for my tower, I can see his fortress strong, surrounded by his
army, where do I belong?"
-From "The Boy Feels Strange" by Melissa Etheridge
When the local authorities entered their home, Mulder and Scully were sleeping, spoon style, taking up as little room on their cot as possible. A flashlight shined in their faces.
"Get up, both of you!" The man shouted in a thick Spanish accent. He and another officer had guns pointed in their faces. "Keep your hands where I can see them."
Locked together with a sleeping drunk in the only cell in the local jail, they sat together on the floor. Sister Nora had brought them some food and water because the only way to eat in a jail like this is to have someone you know bring you things. The officer, who told them to call him Don Marcos, was polite but firm. He sat at his desk, writing a letter to the American authorities.
Forcing herself not to cry, Scully rested her head on Mulder's shoulder. The food remained untouched, but Mulder splashed some of the water over his face.
Don Marcos's figure filled the doorway. They looked up at him. "You have ten minutes to convince me not to mail this letter." He pulled a chair up in front of the door and sat expectantly.
***The sun's early rays tickled Reyes's face. Opening her eyes and blinking slowly, she struggled to remember where she was. The sharp, throbbing pain in her head jolted her memory. Obeying a sudden urge, she opened the car door and vomited in the grass.
Her sudden movements waking Doggett, he groaned and stretched, rolling over and hitting his knee on the steering wheel. He uttered a choice cuss word and rubbed his knee. Then, seeing Reyes coughing up stomach acid to his right, he reached over and touched her shoulder. "You okay?"
"Never better." She returned to a laying down position and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. Doggett noticed that the bandage on her head was completely soaked through with blood, and more blood was starting to drip down and dry on her cheek. And their first aid kit was not very well stocked. Reyes didn't seem to notice "So, what now?" she asked.
"How about some breakfast?"
"We don't have any food."
"No, but I bet they do at the farm I passed last night."
"What are you suggesting?" Reyes gave him her skeptical look...one she didn't use very often.
"Just follow my lead. Oh, and you'll have to take that bandage off."
When the local authorities entered their home, Mulder and Scully were sleeping, spoon style, taking up as little room on their cot as possible. A flashlight shined in their faces.
"Get up, both of you!" The man shouted in a thick Spanish accent. He and another officer had guns pointed in their faces. "Keep your hands where I can see them."
Locked together with a sleeping drunk in the only cell in the local jail, they sat together on the floor. Sister Nora had brought them some food and water because the only way to eat in a jail like this is to have someone you know bring you things. The officer, who told them to call him Don Marcos, was polite but firm. He sat at his desk, writing a letter to the American authorities.
Forcing herself not to cry, Scully rested her head on Mulder's shoulder. The food remained untouched, but Mulder splashed some of the water over his face.
Don Marcos's figure filled the doorway. They looked up at him. "You have ten minutes to convince me not to mail this letter." He pulled a chair up in front of the door and sat expectantly.
***The sun's early rays tickled Reyes's face. Opening her eyes and blinking slowly, she struggled to remember where she was. The sharp, throbbing pain in her head jolted her memory. Obeying a sudden urge, she opened the car door and vomited in the grass.
Her sudden movements waking Doggett, he groaned and stretched, rolling over and hitting his knee on the steering wheel. He uttered a choice cuss word and rubbed his knee. Then, seeing Reyes coughing up stomach acid to his right, he reached over and touched her shoulder. "You okay?"
"Never better." She returned to a laying down position and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. Doggett noticed that the bandage on her head was completely soaked through with blood, and more blood was starting to drip down and dry on her cheek. And their first aid kit was not very well stocked. Reyes didn't seem to notice "So, what now?" she asked.
"How about some breakfast?"
"We don't have any food."
"No, but I bet they do at the farm I passed last night."
"What are you suggesting?" Reyes gave him her skeptical look...one she didn't use very often.
"Just follow my lead. Oh, and you'll have to take that bandage off."