Amorem Animalem

Hemlock

The pair stepped through the door, hand in hand. The pungent odor of alcohol and cigarette smoke inflamed their noses. The club was dimly lit, only fluorescent pinks, blues, and strobe lights lit up the room. Scully instantly began to feel dizzy by the constant of flashing lights and the buzz of loud music. She squeezed Mulder's hand as she tried to regain her balance.

"You okay?" He asked as he looked down at his frightened partner.

"I'm fine," she exhaled,"I'm fine, Mulder. Let's just do what we came to do so we can leave."

The two walked around, odd looking in their conservative suits and trench coats. This captured the attention of the clubbers, scantily clad. All eyes seemed to be on the agents as they made their way to the bar. Upon their arrival, the bartender looked up at them with large green eyes decked out in shimmering blue shadow and winged eyeliner.

"What can I get for you two?" She asked with a mischievous smile as she wiped down the sticky countertop.

"I'm Special Agent Mulder and this is my partner Agent Scully. We're here investigating a strand of related murder cases." Mulder stated as he flashed his badge, Scully mirrored his gesture.

"And how are they related?" She inquired, unimpressed by the agents.

"Well for one," Scully spoke,"they drank at your bar merely hours before they died."

The bartender looked down and rolled her eyes. "I don't think I'm the one you wanna talk to. I'll get my manager." She strutted away, leaving a trail of cheap perfume and the scent of weed in the air. Mulder and Scully looked at each other, unsure why the victims would come to such a disgusting and vile location. The two observed the peculiar nightclub, although the music was loud and lights were flashing, no one was dancing. No one was lively. It seemed as if everyone was lost in a daze. So drunken, so high that they were unable to move. "Mulder, look," Scully said as she picked up a drink menu. Her small index finger pointed to a drink down the list.

"Hemlock?" He read aloud.

"Mulder, that's the type of poison that Romeo and Juliet drank before they died in the play," Scully whispered.

"Odd name for a cocktail, I must say."

"No, Mulder," she sighed,"don't you get it? It's as if... It's as if Shakespeare had written this case himself."

"Star-crossed lovers, forbidden love, family feuds.."

"Mulder, this case is unlike anything I've ever encountered-" Before Scully could even finish her sentence, the manager of the bar appeared before them.

"You're from the FBI?" The large man, with a long red beard, asked from behind the counter.

"Yes. We have a few questions for you." Scully shyly stated, startled by the man.

"We have documentation that these eight people," Mulder began as he reached into his pocket and pulled out pictures of each victim," came to your club and ordered drinks only hours before their deaths. Now, do you have any recollection of what they may have ordered, or how they conducted themselves while they were here?"

The manager, who introduced himself as Robert Thurston, picked up the pictures one by one and analyzed them. "Yeah. I saw them. Each of them came in, some seemed jumpy the others depressed. They asked for the most potent thing we had." He was boring, quite blunt. Unbothered by the faces of those who were slain.

"And what would that be?" Scully asked.

"What we're most famous for her at Rosaline's," he said with a smile, "Hemlock."

Mulder and Scully looked at each other, confirming only what they already knew. They could tell what the other was thinking. They were obviously drugged by the repulsive man that stood before them.

Scully felt another dizzy spell coming on and reached for Mulder's hand as she felt gravity and the strobe lights taking a toll on her. Migraines were not a common occurrence for Scully, but when she had them, she was virtually immobile.

"Scully, are you alright?" Mulder quickly glanced at her, her face pale and her eyes glossy.

"I'm fine Mulder. I just need to sit down."

With that, Mulder pulled a barstool out for Scully to rest on. He helped her take a seat and rubbed her back gently. "Can we get a glass of water?" Mulder asked as he watched his small partner close her eyes in pain. He couldn't help but feel the need to do everything in his power to protect her. He worried about her, now especially.
The two agents watched carefully as Rob filled a shot glass with tap water. He slid it down the counter to Dana, too disoriented to catch it, they all stared as the glass dove off of the surface. "Now who's gonna pay for that?" The manager asked angrily. He filled another glass up and slammed it in front of Scully, she jumped at the noise.

"Mr. Thirston," Mulder exhaled. "What exactly is in this drink, Hemlock?"

He gave both of the agents a wicked grin. He glanced down at the glass he was cleaning and chuckled deeply. "Sorry, Mister," he laughed "Now, what kind of manager would I be if I gave out the secret recipes of my bar?"

"One that's jailed on suspicion of serial murders, that's what." Mulder barked. Scully slowly raised the cup to her lips and downed the ice cold water in one gulp. She tried her best to keep her eyes open, but her head was throbbing.

The man's face didn't even so much as twitch with the mention of jail time. He was stone cold. Unfazed by it all. This disturbed the agents greatly.

Scully began to open her mouth as if to say something, something important, she had a question, she knew that it was there but she couldn't form the words. Nothing came out of her mouth. She sat there, jaw to the floor, unable to speak. All that came out of her open mouth were faint choking noises, almost inaudible.

"Scully?" Mulder shook his partner by the shoulders, she sat there, frozen with her eyes wide open and her mouth gaping. "Scully!!" Mulder's heart beat faster and faster as he felt the life slipping out of his partner. "What did you do to her?" He exclaimed.

"Nothing! I swear I didn't do anything." Rob barked. Mulder stared him in the eyes, fuming with hatred.

"You drugged her, didn't you?"

"No-"

"Didn't you?!"

Just then, Scully began to convulse in his arms. The sight was horrifying, as Mulder's fear of being unable to keep her safe came to a reality. The club was still buzzing, dozens of people watched blankly at the scene. Even Rob, the manager watched as if it was a daily occurrence to see a customer have a seizure. Mulder, at a loss of understanding of what to do, picked her whole body up and ran for the door dodging tables and chairs on his way out. He made a mad dash for the parking lot, his tiny partner still shaking in his grasp. "Scully, don't do this to me." He ran down the steps and placed her on her side, her body laid on the wet asphalt.

"Why couldn't it have been me?" He whispered in a panic. "You're the doctor. You're more than I'll ever be, Scully. You're everything I have." Tears slipped from his eyes as he continued to watch his partner tremble in his hands. He took out his cellular phone and dialed 9-1-1. He hoped to God, or whatever it was that controlled the universe, that she would be alright.