"Ma'am! Ma'am, are ya a'right?" The small, gray haired gentleman shook her again, trying to rouse her. Scully opened her eyes and sat up with a gasp.
"Mulder!" She cried, looking around frantically.
"E's not in da buildin'." The elderly janitor said kindly, kneeling next to her. "Ya're da on'y un 'ere, 'sides me, a course. What 'appened?" Scully looked confused for a second, her memory hazy.
"Mulder heard something, it was dark, and there was a man, and he attacked me, and, and... Oh, God! He took Mulder!" Scully cried, struggling to her feet.
"Naw, slow down, Ma'am! Ya're 'urt, and ya been unconscious fux a while naw; et's a'most se'en. Let's get ya to a docta, huh?" He asked gently, holding her arm.
"No! You don't understand!" Scully jerked her arm away from him and took off down the hall. "I've got to find Mulder! I've got to..." She got about twenty feet before collapsing to the floor.
"Ma'am! Oh, I tol' ya we needed ta see a docta." The older man muttered, picking her up gently in his scarred and work-worn hands. "Don't ya worry none; I'll see ya fin' yer Mulda."
Later…
"Ma'am, there's a Mr. Smithe to see you." The nurse announced, the old janitor peeking around her ample side. "Ten minutes only." She said as she shut the door behind her.
"Et's Smeyethe, not Smithy." The old man muttered at the door. "Well, 'ello dere, Miss Scully. I must say ya look a mite betta den da last time I saw ya!"
"Thanks to you." Scully answered quietly, tear tracks still evident on her freshly washed face.
"Aw, twern't nothin'. I just saw ya was a little pasty an' I dot a couple a da pints a blood dey got here 'll fiz ya up fine. 'Sides, I seen udders a lot worse off 'an you." For some reason, his words managed to loose a rain of tears that seemed never ending.
"Naw, naw! What's dis? Ya warsh doze tears off yer purty face and tale me what's da matta. Zit dis Mulda ya be worryin' about?" Scully looked up and nodded, wiping futilely at her tears. Smithe pulled out an old yellowed handkerchief and offered it to her.
"'E yer husban'?" Smithe asked quietly. Scully shook her head and took the napkin. "Boyfrien'?"
"He's, he's my partner. We work together." She said, sniffling.
"I'd like to wark wit' a purty girl like you. Me, I gots myself an ol' hag of a woman a wark wit', as tough as cowhide an' twice as hairy." Scully chuckled over her tears, finally cracking a smile.
"Dat's what I like ta see! Naw, why don't ya tale me what 'appened to Mr. Mulda, and I'll betcha I'll fine 'im afore da cock crows! Nobody knows dis ar'a like ol' Smithe."
"We were staking out the blood bank, there have been three robberies and Mulder said your building would be next, so we waited there all night. It was about four in the morning and as pitch black as it can get. Mulder heard a noise and went to investigate. It was this guy, about 26, six foot three and 180 pounds. He looked like a kid, all soft-faced and dirty blond hair falling into his eyes. His eyes..." She shuddered, remembering those eyes.
"Eyes likes a cat. 'Wit' a glow dat rivals da moon and a depth a which no man can escape.'" Smithe quoted, whispering the words with a reverence that seemed out of character.
"Yes." Scully said, surprised. "How did you know?"
"Aye, tis Brandin ah right. 'E's new, but 'e's a nasty one. Picky, ta, 'bout whose blood 'e takes. Ya fit 'is list mighty well, but dis partna of yourns, 'e's a small man?"
"No. He's tall and lanky, almost as tall as Brandon."
"Dat don't fit! I've n'er seen Brandin take anyone bigger din 5' 9", and certainly not a man in da prime of hi' life! How'd 'e capture 'im?" Scully looked away, fresh tears creeping down her cheeks.
"Brandon had me. Mulder... Mulder traded himself for me." She choked out the last of the sentence through sobs. Smithe patted her back gently.
"I see naw why ye was so all fire worried about 'im. Brandin didn't... Ya didn't see it 'appen, did ya?" He asked compassionately.
"No." She whispered. "He took him."
"Ah! Dere might be somethin' dere. If 'e went ta all da trouble a takin' 'im away, den dere's still hope left. Don't ya give up, ya 'ear me? Ol' Smithe 'll come through for ya yet." The nurse opened the door and frowned. "I best be goin' den, Miss Scully. Ya don't worry, I'll fine 'im." He patted her hand and shuffled out the door, throwing a dirty look at the nurse and a little wave.