Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

A/N: Hey, you twenty people who have been following along? REVIEW! Please? Because as you can see, my numbers ain't high, and that ain't inspiring me to post faster. So be a pal, help me out, drop me a line. Thanks!

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"So you grew up here?" Danny asked as they strolled back toward the office in the sunset. It was a quiet evening, the air around them turning purple in the dusk. Henri-Mae licked at her home-made ice cream, relishing the freezing of her tongue.

"Yeah," she said. "I left when I was eighteen, for the big city. Came back when my father died." It was the short, short version of things, but all she was willing to share at the moment.

"And decided to stay?"

She shrugged. "There are worse places to be."

"I can imagine. I've lived in the big city my entire life, and this is like a dream to me." He looked around, and the slight dreaminess that came across his expression made him look even younger.

"What, you long for the nice, quiet country?" she teased, biting into her cone. "It's not that quiet, truth be told."

"Well, it's a long way from where I live," he said. "Nobody looking at you all the time, people give you space—" She chuckled. It had a distinctly sour edge to it. "What?" he asked.

"You haven't been around here long enough," she said, wiping her hands of the rest of the crumbs. They climbed the steps up to the Sheriff's office, and he grabbed the door for her. To her surprise, Luke and Bo came out, stumbling a bit as the abrupt opening of the door before them.

"Oh, hello there," Bo said, "Deputy…Agent Farrell."

"Bo," Danny said, a bit easily. "What brings you two to the Sheriff's office? From what I've heard, this is the last place you two want to hang out."

"Well, we're law abiding citizens like the rest," Luke started, but Henri-Mae snorted. Luke pretended to ignore it. "We came to settle up with Rosco."

"Yeah," Bo said, "but there wasn't anybody around here who was workin', so we just left it on his desk." His eyes were on Henri-Mae, something simmering there that she just couldn't resist.

"You leave money, or another one of those rubber checks?" she cracked.

"Well, we figured Boss had so many of his own, he wouldn't be able to tell the difference," Bo returned.

"You know perfectly well that Boss only takes cash," she said.

"Oh, I forgot, rubber checks are what he pays you with."

She glared at him, but attempted to smother it. "At least some of us make an honest living."

"Well, let me know when you find one," Bo said. Henri-Mae watched him go, as he strode away with Luke, not looking back. Bo had never been like that to her…at least, not so openly. Sure, he enjoyed taunting her a bit more than normal, but now he was starting to act like…

"Henri-Mae," Danny urged, "close your mouth before a fly goes in."

She snapped her jaw shut and then stormed into the office.

"So what's between you two, anyway?" he asked as he shut the door behind them. "You two look at each other like…" he searched for a proper expression, "like Ross and Rachel after one of their breakups."

She stomped over to her desk and pushed several stacks of paper aside. "Oh, he just wants to get into my pants and I won't let him," she said, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder.

Danny arched an eyebrow. "That's not what I heard," he said.

Her eyes snapped up to him. "What did you hear?"

"That you two used to go out." He rolled his eyes thoughtfully. "That it ended very badly, and when you came back to town you didn't waste any time getting even."

She glowered. "Who told you that?"

"Oh, a little bird."

"Or a little Boss?"

Danny chuckled. "You and I both know that Boss is many things, and little is not one of them."

Begrudgingly, she cracked a smile. "Yeah, I suppose. But for future reference, I was right and Bo was wrong."

Danny shrugged. "Maybe, but a man's pride can only take so much punishment before he refuses to roll over and take it anymore. I'd say your ex-beau Bo has officially made his declaration of independence."

"So be it," Henri-Mae muttered.

"So what did you ever see in that little hayseed, anyway?" Danny asked, strolling over to her desk.

Henri-Mae leaned her chin on her hand. She knew better than to answer, but still, the question did get her thinking. And that was never a good state to be in.

"I was young," she said aloud, to appease him, knowing he would press until he got something. "I was stupid."

Danny nodded, but he didn't buy it. He leaned on her desk, forward so that he was partly bent over her, looking down. His tie dangled a few inches from her face. "You were young…and like all the young girls, you liked a bad boy?"

She sniggered. "Bo was a lot of things, but I don't know if bad really qualifies."

"Oh, sure it does," Danny said. "Arrogant, cocky, a mean little cuss when he wants to be…and he was cruel enough to hurt you, wasn't he?"

She dragged herself away from the thoughts of Bo on the football field, eyes proud, that superciliousness oozing from him, contrasting with the rather bashful boy she'd wound up chasing. He knew what he was and he didn't shy away from it. But he'd told her that she was the only person to ever really scare him.

"Amazing how some things never change, isn't it?" Danny said, pulling away. "You going to be on duty in the morning?"

"Afternoon," she said absently. "Afternoon evening shift until the end of the week."

"Fine," he said, going to his desk and picking up some papers. "I'll see you then…first thing, I'm going to need your assistance on a patrol."

"Why not now?" she asked. "It's still light out."

He glanced out the window. He shook his head. "Nah, it can wait until tomorrow." With a wink, he was out the door.

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Balladeer: It did occur to her to be curious about what exactly these Feds were doing in Hazzard. Henri-Mae was many things, but stupid was not one of them. So part of the reason she came across as so eager to assist Agent Farrell the next day was so that she might get a clue as to what exactly was going on.

"We're headed out to an old abandoned barn on Route 55," Danny said as they exited the office. Henri-Mae turned toward the car sitting in the designated spot, but Danny moved on toward where her bike was parked. "How about we take this?"

"My bike?" Henri-Mae asked. "It's kind of old, beaten up…you sure you want to take it?"

"Well, you just got it fixed up by old Cooter Davenport, didn't you?" Danny said, reaching for her helmet, which hung securely from the handlebars. "Isn't he supposed to be the best mechanic in seven counties?"

"Eight, actually," Henri-Mae muttered. "Well, if you're sure." She took the helmet. "As sure as I am that your head is hard enough not to need a helmet, then fine." She winked at him and slipped the helmet over her head, then climbed on. He smoothly mounted behind her, his hands going securely around her waist. "You sure you wanna muss up that pretty suit?" she asked over her shoulder after gunning the engine.

"I'll stay close enough to keep the dirt off me," he said in her ear, and she felt a strange tingle down her spine.

Now, there were many ways for a spine to tingle. Sometimes it was excitement, anticipation, lust…and then there were the tingles that went into the stomach and made it feel like a garden full of worms had just taken up residence and were currently doing their morning aerobics. This kind of reaction puzzled her. It wasn't like she hadn't ever been creeped out before, but Danny seemed hardly the type to worry her.

With a miniscule shrug, Henri-Mae took off down the street, Federal agent securely fastened behind her.

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"You're having second thoughts?" Bo asked as they bumped over the rougher parts of the road. Normally, Bo would be driving, but he seemed terribly preoccupied, so Luke took the wheel for a change.

"No, just…this whole thing just ain't sitting right with me."

"So you've said," Bo sighed. "Multiple times over."

"Now, Bo," Uncle Jesse chided from the back seat, "A man's got a right to think things through as many times as he needs to before making the right choice."

Daisy, from beside him, snorted. "The right choice," she said. "Listen, I tell you Bo, your head is never right when it comes to Henri-Mae. You love her, you hate her, you pant over that pretty Fed and then you have a jealous fit in front of that other Fed charmer—"

"I don't hate her," Bo muttered.

"It's just not like you to be this crazy over a girl," Daisy declared, folding her arms.

"Well, that isn't exactly fair," Uncle Jesse said. "Bo was gonna marry her, although God knew why he wanted to throw away his freedom so young. Those first loves never really leave you. Stands to reason there's some trouble getting things resolved."

"Can we not talk about it, please?" Bo moaned, eyes going out the window. He felt Luke give him a look, but decided to ignore it.

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"What's here?" Henri-Mae asked as she slipped off her helmet. Danny was already on his feet and walking toward the bar, small flashlight pulled from his pocket and ready to go.

"Let's have a look inside and see, shall we?" Danny asked over his shoulder. There was something about his smile…Henri-Mae reached for her own flashlight and followed. It was police business, after all.

Inside, there was nothing. Just an empty barn with old leftover hay scattered across the floor. It didn't even have the usual junk inside it that most abandoned barns were prone to accumulate. High walls, a big loft, and a ceiling that still looked to be mostly in good shape. Danny walked around it, flashing his light randomly here and there, making muttering noises under his breath, occasionally saying an off word, when he came back around and stopped beside her.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"About what?" Henri-Mae replied, not having moved much. Her eyes told her plainly it was open and empty, without any aid from her feet. "It's a barn. What were you expecting?"

He leaned just a little closer to her. She felt his breath against her neck when he spoke.

"Exactly what I'm getting."

She looked up at him, hiding the fact that her heartbeat had suddenly decided to accelerate. She curled her lips down into her mouth and licked them, then said, "And what are you getting?"

"Some alone time with the prettiest deputy in seven counties."

"Eight," she said, turning away. Cool and calm always worked. Getting rattled, acting all nervous, those were dead giveaways. They just seemed to excite the guys, but the cold attitude would buy her time as well as keep him at a distance. "Well, now that we're here, what did you expect us to do?" As she said it, she stepped away, casually, calculatedly, knowing exactly how much distance she was putting between them and how much more she would need to get comfortable.

Danny, however, would have none of it. He slid in front of her, the stray sticks of hay scratching between the soles of his shoes and the old floor as he moved. "Why, Deputy Locke, you wouldn't be afraid of little old me, now would you?"

She wanted to step back. Very much so. She didn't. She smiled up at him, careful to keep the panic from her eyes. "Why, are you trying to be scary?" she asked.

He shrugged one shoulder, his chin dipping down in such a way that made her think, maybe for a moment, that she had misread him, that this was a misunderstanding, that he was just getting a little carried away with his flirting and that she had nothing to worry about. "Depends on if you like scary," he said.

She cocked her head to one side. There was a hardness now in her face, a set in her jaw and a gleam in her eyes that told him plainly that she was taking control, whether he liked it or not. "Not particularly," she said with a measured amount of disdain. "I did almost marry Bo Duke, resident cream-puff of Hazzard Country. The sweet, innocent, angelic type still seems to work for me. Maybe you should try it."

He chuckled, eyes sparking with unpleasant mirth. "Now that's not what I've heard," he said. "I've heard that Bo Duke is something of a big bad wolf."

She shrugged. "Nobody's perfect." She made to turn away again, and again he put himself in her path, this time invading her personal space much more obviously.

"No, that they aren't." His hand settled on her hip, and she brought the temperature of her expression farther down.

"Well," she sighed, letting the chill fill her voice, an artic blast of sound, "if you know so much about people, why don't you tell me what you claim to have heard." She dropped her eyes to his hand, as if it were some vile thing she wanted removed, and then glared at him, mentally giving herself a good three feet on him, even if she was a half-head shorter.

"I heard," he said, his hand sliding along her hip and settling on her waist in a most familiar fashion, "that for all of Bo Duke's huffing and puffing, he just couldn't bring down your little house of stone."

"Brick," she said, the word a crack of sound from her throat, like a slap.

"That if a man wants to knock the boots with you, they'd better be on their game," he went on, oblivious.

She arched an eyebrow. Every part of her showed derision, but she didn't take the step back. It was about calling the bluff. If she gave a single inch, he would be all over her. "And did they happen to mention that I have a nasty habit of seriously hurting people who piss me off?" she said.

"They did mention that," he said, his voice slow and thick like molasses, and he leaned in. "Seemed like the perfect challenge, really." Realizing he'd given her no other choice, Henri-Mae brought up her knee, but to her utter shock, he twisted to the side and her joint hit nothing but air.

Then, the world spun, and she was suddenly slammed on her back against the barn wall, his hands gripping the front of her blue shirt and tearing it open.

The sudden shock of open air against her skin was enough to make her open her eyes. She managed to catch a glimpse of his face as it zoomed in toward her, becoming a blur of unshaven black hairs and the smell of his aftershave. She jerked her head to one side, dodging his mouth, and was unpleasantly rewarded by a very rough squeeze of her right breast.

"Handle with care, buddy," she said, forcing herself to relax. There was one more trick that would work…it had to work. Go limp. Pretend you've given up. She let her head go back and rest against the wall, and just as his own head went down, his mouth going toward her chest, she arched it forward and slammed her forehead right into his nose.

The impact was almost enough to knock herself out. She heard the cracking, felt the pain, the warm ooze of blood against her skin. Instead of lifting her knee, she moved forward with a left punch down, hitting him right in the groin. He groaned, slumped and backed off, giving her a straight shot toward the door.

Her bike stood waiting. She didn't bother with the helmet. She threw one leg over and hit the starting lever—

And got nothing.

"Shit!" she screamed, and looked up in time to see him coming out of the bar, blood soaking his white shirt, holding his nose with one hand.

"Bitch!" he managed, although it sounded like he was talking through a mound of dirt. "You broke my nose!"

"I'll break a lot more than that if you touch me again," she said.

He let his hand drop. The blood on his cheeks and lips gave him a diabolical look. Henri-Mae swallowed, feeling the fear rising up, wondering what in the hell she was going to do, if she could outrun him---he was on her again, yanking her off her bike, dragging her back toward the barn, his anger giving him an inhuman strength.

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"What the hell is that?"

Luke was startled to hear Bo speak. His cousin had fallen into a rather sullen silence, convincing him that Bo was in a very sulky state. But as soon as he looked up, he saw the old abandoned Miller's barn along Route 55, Henri-Mae's bike parked beside it, and Henri-Mae having a rather ugly tussle with a man who had a bloodied face.

Henri-Mae brought up her foot and kicked forward like a mule. Her heel caught his knee and pushed it the wrong way, causing him to yelp and collapse like a house of cards. She spun on her heel and headed toward the road.

Only to have her eyes collide with Bo's.

"Oh great," she said as she screeched to a halt in front of the General Lee, which Luke had immediately stopped, upon seeing a lady, even Deputy Locke, in such apparent distress.

"Get in!" Bo said, as the man with the bloodied face groaned and started to rise. The obscenities coming from him were almost enough to make Uncle Jesse blush.

Henri-Mae seemed to consider it for a moment, looking over her shoulder at the rising lump of man on the grass. Then she threw herself head-first through the General's window. As Luke took off, she righted herself with the slickness of a snake, and wound up between Bo and Luke, looking very peeved.

"I'm using your radio," she said, reaching for the CB. Her tone booked no argument, even though it was completely unnecessary. "Sheriff Rosco, this is Deputy Locke, can you read me, over?"

The cackling of static was followed by Rosco's annoyed voice. "Yes, what is it, Henrietta? I'm about to get off shift, over—"

"Stuff your shift, Sheriff," she snapped. "I need you to get the medics over to the old abandoned barn on Route 55. I've got an officer down."

"Officer down?" Rosco sounded puzzled. "What happened, Henrietta, you hurt?"

"Not me," she said, pulling her shirt closed. "Agent Farrell. His nose is broken, possibly a few other extremities."

"Well, how did that happen?" Rosco went on, oblivious to the urgency of the situation.

"I broke 'em," Henri-Mae replied. "When he attacked me. Come along and place him under arrest. I'm charging him with assaulting an officer."