TITLE: Breathin' Room AUTHOR: mountainphile RATING: R for language and adult themes EMAIL: mountainphile@yahoo.com URL: http://www.geocities.com/mountainphile DESCRIPTION: A conclusion to Trespassin' http://www.geocities.com/mountainphile/trespassin.txt with a bigger dose of MSR than the previous story. The reader will benefit by taking them in sequence. Written for Haven's October "Our House" challenge. Click on the following link to view the house picture integral to this little tale: http://xf-extensions.com/hhouse3.jpg DISTRIBUTION: It's always an honor to be archived. Please tell me where, so I can visit. DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, and the X-Files remain the property of Carter, 1013, and other entities. I borrowed them for a little Halloween jaunt. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: Many thanks to fellow Museans Diana Battis and Mish for ever-enthusiastic beta. Kudos to Diana for rocking my boat at the eleventh hour and for suggesting this title. ****** We ain't trespassin'. Like I told Sis, we're squatters here because it ain't permanent. Just settin' for a spell 'til things quiet down, leastways that was the plan when we first moved into the old Claussen place. It's a far piece from town and broke down enough for folks to forget about it bein' here. I need some breathin' room, so here we stay. Now it looks like my sister's set on messin' that up for us. Not that she can help it any. She's ready to pop that youngun out, but it sure is aggravatin' the situation. It started when me and Sis got evicted last week and somebody else moved right into that rat-trap trailer. Weren't nothin' I could do about it, since rent was owed and pert near all we have in the world is the clothes on our backs. Everything else we sold to get by since Pa and Ma passed on. Like folks say around these parts, we don't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. Two things happened then. One, I recollected the old broke-down Claussen place. It made perfect sense. Rent free and with my sister in her condition, so to speak, we needed a good hidey-hole closer to town and food. Don't matter to me who it belonged to first. I ain't particular. Second, the Law was afoot. I seen officers all over town and weren't too concerned 'til the blame FBI showed up sudden-like. Two of 'em, a lady and a man, nosin' around and stirrin' up trouble. Like I said before, a feller like me needs breathin' room. So here we stay, holed up at Claussen's. Sis was scared of this old cellar at first. She believes all them damn stories about Missus Claussen bein' stuffed somewhere down here after she up and died. Ain't none of it the truth. Just the flu and folks spreadin' lies after drinkin' too much hooch, I tell her. Still, she ain't convinced. The bugs and stink don't help neither. Sis weren't able to get outside much, even for a breather of fresh air. Now, not at all. Just stays down here in this piss-pot from hell, peekin' out the cellar window and holdin' her belly. She's bein' a real good sport about it, yet I'm sorry for it all the same. Either way, we're just bidin' our time and doin' what's needful, on account of what I done. I think Sis knows. She ain't sayin' much, except to ask if I'm plannin' on killin' every dang person we run into. Zack, don't hurt 'em too much, she keeps beggin'. That ain't the plan by a long shot. No, it warn't supposed to happen this way, all half- assed and backwards. If that baby'd taken its sweet old time we wouldn't need help so fast. But then, there'd be no reason to be here if it weren't for that bastard Lyle Claussen. Pa taught me since I was a youngun that family's got to stick together. Nothin' goes over the Devil's back that don't come out from underneath his belly, he said. An eye for an eye. Well, I ain't told Sis exactly the truth what happened that night last winter, but nobody's doin' her that way and gettin' off scot free. Nobody. Ma always swore that dreams about death meant somebody in the family'd have a baby. Said she'd seen it time and again. I can't lay claim to any death-dreamin', though I reckon I done my part in sharin' the guilt by not bein' around the night Lyle showed up. And for doin' what came after. Truth is, I took Pa's rifle, tracked that polecat Lyle to the swamp, and waited for my chance. Then I plugged him in the head right through his toboggan and pushed his carcass down under the ice. What's left of him has been feedin' fish, snappers, snakes, and bugs all spring and summer long. The Law's on my tail now, I reckon. Guilty before God and my fellow man, as Ma would say. These here outsiders pokin' around the house is proof of that. But maybe the Good Lord's got a mite extra slack for a trespasser like me. I believe deep down it's providential that the woman doctor came around to this particular old house right when we need her to help Sis. Sis keeps on asking me not to hurt 'em or kill that FBI feller, so I reckon she figgers what I done to Lyle weren't just fun and games. She got that one right. I was dead serious then and Lyle's serious dead now. Don't know how I get in these pickles, but there's Claussen writ all over it everywhere. So the Law's outside the house sniffin' for me. Then Sis lets go with a gullywasher under her skirt, soakin' everything good. With this dad-burn baby bustin' out, too many things are happenin' all at once, too fast for me to handle. I feel busy as a one-armed barber with the hives and that's no joke. As for those two FBI folks, it weren't more than a ping on each of their heads. First her, then him after. Expected her to wake up and take care of my little sister right away. Him, I don't give shit about except for keepin' him shut up in a corner and pinchin' his gun. I got it right in my pockets with his little-bitty phone, same as hers, and my rifle aimed directly at the both of 'em. But, dang it to hell -- here he is, all waked up and pressin' at his head and the lady doctor's still out cold. I let him crawl over on his elbow and crouch over that red-haired Scully woman, but no further. Meanwhile, my sister keeps moanin' and cryin' like a stuck pig, beggin' for help. I'm all in a sweat. You a doctor, too? I ask him. Might as well, with things gettin' plumb desperate around here. He's busy checkin' over the woman, touchin' her cheek first real gentle-like, whisperin' to her. I see him give Sis a long careful look, then he's back at the woman again. After he feels her hair and finds a smear of blood on his fingers, he twists himself towards me, quilled like a copperhead waitin' to strike. Easy does it, I order, lookin' from them to my sis and back again. Way to go, wise-guy, he says, all disgusted. We're Federal Agents. Try thinkin' with your brain next time, instead of with your ass. He talks a heap more, except he uses biggity words that go way beyond my schoolin'. I put on my mad-dog face and remind him of the question. No, he answers, lookin' mean right back. Also tells me if I had any smarts in that punkin I call a head that I'd get Sis to a hospital right away. He moves too fast for my thinkin', like he's set on grabbin' at my gun, so I take aim again. Right then the Scully woman awakes. She's tryin' to sit up with one hand and holdin' her head with the other. Callin' his name distracts him. It's different now that I'm hearin' it close and clear. Mulder, she says again, lookin' like she's about to cry, which reminds me of my own ailin' little sister. Just meant to ding this pretty lady, not hurt her too much. It shames me. She the wife? I ask him. Which would explain all their shoulder-touchin' on the front lawn before and why he's so protective and pullin' her into a snuggle now. Well, they both quit what they're doin' and stare at me. Hell, even if she ain't the wife, reckon I can see what's between this FBI feller and the Scully woman. Right then Sis lets loose a blood-curdlin' yell that makes us all jump like farts on a griddle. My voice shakes. Ma'am, I say, I'm powerful sorry for whackin' you before, but I didn't know what else to do. My sister needs help this exact minute if you're truly a doctor. There's towels and plastic jugs of water over yonder for the birthin'. She tells the Mulder feller it'll be all right and she's fine, so he backs down. Then she nods her head at me and scoots over next to Sis. She checks out the linens and I can see she ain't too cheerful 'bout how clean they look. She begs me to use their cell phone to call a hospital. With a lump like coal in my throat I gotta say no. Then Sis commences to thrashin' like the dickens. Well, the Scully woman don't have time to argue with me after that. Just turns to Sis and 'tends to work, whisperin' to her nonstop and callin' her sweetie and such. Real comfortin'. She sounds so much like Ma used to when we was little and took sick, that my eyes start to water. Where's the father? The Mulder feller asks, sudden- like. It ain't none of his business. Truth is, it don't matter no more, but I don't say so. This is Sis's baby, her flesh and blood. It's one of ours now, or will be when it's borned. I tell him nevermind and to plug his piehole. Damned if he won't take a hint. Explains to me in a low voice that I'm doin' Sis more harm than good. Endangerin' her life. All kinds of shit like that. That I'm also in big trouble now for strikin' federal agents of the government and holdin' 'em at gunpoint. I take out both their guns and phones from my pockets and lay 'em nearby, where I can get to 'em easy. He's got me feelin' powerful uncomfortable, though, with Sis wailin' and thrashin' over there in the shadows. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, I say. So, he asks, sneerin', where's the man? That'd be me, I hiss back, since Pa and Ma died and there's just my little sis and me left. The feller that used to live here caught her out alone and give her this baby by force. He butts in, What's his name? Where's he now? It don't matter, I answer, takin' a spit near his fancy-dancy shoe. I took care of it like a man should, doin' what had to be done afterward. Well, if I could kick my own ass I would. Tryin' to talk myself up big, I end up tippin' too much of my hand, but it's water under the bridge now. The Mulder feller rubs his chin and narrows his eyes at me before askin', you're tellin' me Lyle Claussen raped this girl? Your sister? Well, Sis's constant moanin' and this feller's questions are both gettin' me in a bad way. I'm blabberin' like a dang fool and cookin' my own goose. Something wrong with your ears? I shoot back. Mister, you ever had a little sister to watch after, you'd understand where I'm comin' from. Well, that gives him somethin' to chew on for a spell, 'cause his face gets plumb serious. We eye each other until the Scully woman starts up sudden- like. My God, I hear her blurt out, Mulder! So he asks what's wrong. She's completely dilated, she says in wonderment, and the baby's startin' to crown already. Which makes me proud as punch of Sis for gettin' this far into the birthin' on her own. First baby and all, and without any old doctor's help. Atta girl, Sis, I call over to encourage. That earns me a dirty look from the woman and a snort from the Mulder feller. Yeah, that'll help, Big Man, he tells me. Whyn't you let me call the hospital and end this foolishness? I shake my head no, nervous as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rockin' chairs. Then he wants to know again where they can find Lyle. FBI's been lookin' hard for him and come to his old house to check it out for foul play. You'll be lookin' 'til kingdom come, I reckon, I answer. There she goes again, mouth runnin' off before my brain's in gear, like always. Obstructin' justice and puttin' your own sister at risk are considered crimes, even in these parts, he zings back. I can tell he's workin' me, gettin' me all het up on purpose. Tryin' to pull my guard down with big-ass words and actin' like he's my Pa or somebody official I oughta be skeered of. Listen, Mister, I say, swallerin' a lump. That dog don't hunt around here. You don't know nothin' about us or how the folks in these parts live. We got our own brand of justice for punishin' the guilty and them that deserve it. Right proud of it, too. Put that in your fuckin' FBI pipe and smoke it. Easy now, take it slow, whispers the Scully woman. We both look over. I figure she's coolin' us menfolk down some, but it's just Sis she's tendin'. Without meanin' to, I see my sister's skinny white legs and a bloody towel all bunched up between 'em. She's breathin' awful hard, big gulps, like she did the night she ran out cryin' to tell me what Lyle done to her. Comin' full circle, from then to now. Well, it don't seem fair. Nothin's fair in this world right now, for her or me. I turn away when Sis starts up that holy screamin' again, and the Scully woman kneels over her and blocks my view. The Mulder feller shakes his head. Likely pities me for bein' nothin' more than a poor, mixed-up grit on the run. Or maybe he thinks I'm just dumber than dirt and can't handle nuthin'. Son, this isn't the answer, he says. And I'm like to blow up at him. I'm so flustered I'm like Sis, breathin' hard and fast. So who asked you anyways? I holler, steppin' closer. Suppose some polecat sonuvabitch came sniffin' around *your* little sister and she was too weak and skeered to fight 'em off and he got her when you weren't there? What would *you* do after? I know I sound like a crazy man foamin' at the mouth and spittin' out my words. Like Pa made me do when he used to wear me out for somethin' I done wrong. I feel like a no-account little kid again, ready to cry buckets. Explainin' and blubberin' before God and these FBI folks so I can't hardly see worth a plug nickel. Just that quick it happens: a kick at my foot, whack upside my head, and I'm flipped over on the floorboards like a turtle on its back. Fallin' ass over tin cup. Lookin' up at that Mulder feller and smack dab into the barrel end of Pa's rifle. Maybe I'd do the same, he says, starin' down at me hard enough to bore a hole without the bullet. I barely realize I'm hearin' Sis carry on like a banshee, with the Scully woman babblin' away to her a mile a minute. I'm that stunned. How we doin' over there, Scully? he asks. He don't move his eye from me, but he's talkin' at her just the same. We hear a shuffle, a quick smack, and a youngun squallin' over and over in the shadows. It's a girl, she says, soundin' happy and tired, like she's the one who just done all the pushin' and work. Mother and child doin' fine under the circumstances, but we need to get 'em to a hospital. And she tells him to make the phone call quick, 'cause Sis needs stitches and the afterbirth's gonna deliver. Then the Scully woman sighs and stares up at him. The light from the window hits her. Eyes blue-glassy with tears and a red halo around her head. Kneelin' like that on the floor and restin' with her hands folded, she looks just like an angel. The Mulder feller must think the same thing as me. He gives her a wisp of a smile, picks up his tiny phone, and makes the call. Sniffin', I see Sis layin' there with an armful of bloody baby in a bunched-up towel. It's twitchin' and cryin' up a storm, and my sister's blubberin' along with it. Happy or sad, I can't tell which thing any of us is truly feelin'. And that's right when the Mulder feller begins actin' strange-like. Stay put and keep your mouth shut, he tells me when the Scully woman goes back to carin' for my sister and the baby. He crosses the cellar in the almost- dark with the rifle, peerin' this way and that. Shifty, like a fox in a henhouse. I swear he's prowlin' around for somethin'. I don't say a word when he stops in the corner where we do our piss and business. Serve him right to find out the hard way, I tell myself. He kicks at old boxes of cannin' jars and other Claussen trash, breathin' through his mouth from the stink. Gives me a squint for a warnin' to stay back. Then usin' his fancy shoe, he pries up some rotten old boards from out the floor, smack dab where Sis's been waterin' them down. I hear him whistle low, triumphant-like, so it must mean some kind of pay dirt. Before I know what's what, he's poked down the barrel end of Pa's rifle under a soft piece of wood and up comes a long bony turkey claw. Well, it don't take me but a second to see that it weren't no bird at all, but old dried-up Missus Claussen herself. Switched if she ain't been keepin' me and Sis company in this cellar for pert near two weeks. I gasp, please, Mister, don't let my sister see this here. She'll just faint dead away or vomit all over that new baby, for sure. The Mulder feller nods. He explains that it's evidence they've been huntin' for. Son, he says to me, Lyle Claussen's been wanted by the police and FBI since last winter. His mother and other family members disappeared under unexplained circumstances. There might be other victims, besides the assault he made on your sister. Didn't you know that? I shake my head, not sure if I'm gonna laugh, puke, or cry. He crouches down beside me now, touchin' my shoulder, lookin' real plain-spoken and serious. Tells me I flap my mouth too quick for my own good and that takin' the Law into my own hands is risky and plain wrong. That I got a lot of growin' up to do. Well, that ain't news, I agree, wipin' my nose. After takin' a quick peek over at the Scully woman, he says that he's caught my drift, but to keep it under our hats for the time bein'. Looks me straight in the eye and says it sounds like justice has been served here and the taxpayers by rights should thank me for savin' them a heap of money this time around. Still, there's no tellin' where it'll all end up yet. As for me, I'll prob'ly be settin' in jail awhile for dingin' the two FBI agents in the head. Maybe we'll be charged for trespassin' at the Claussen's and me for stealin' all over town. More like, I'm lookin' at a long spell in prison for takin' the Law into my own hands and riddin' the world of Lyle's wicked ass. Maybe worse. Except it looks like our red-haired angel of charity is set on findin' a safe, clean place for Sis and the new youngun. So I reckon there's hope for me, too, if this Mulder feller has any say at all in it. Calls himself a profiler, whatever that is. I asked him on a hunch if he has a little sister, but he won't say nothin' back. Seems like the memory must smart too much, so I don't push it. Everybody needs breathin' room now and again. And you know what? It don't surprise me a lick to find out that Fox is his given name. ****** The End