"Erlona's Heart" (1/17) By MD1016 Gossamer: TRA (Action/Adventure, Romance M/S, Angst M/S) Summary: Mulder takes Scully on her dream vacation. Rated: NC-17 Category: M/S romance Spoilers: 4th season Keywords: M/S romance Acknowledgments and comments at the end. "... take me to Avalon, where you can heal this wound -- take me home ..." - Marion Zimmer Bradley, The Mists of Avalon The case was starting to take its toll. Twenty-eight murders over a 12-month time frame; all with different murder weapons, in different locations throughout the US. The victims belonged to various races and religions, had no common social class, and after a lengthy trail of paperwork and interview sessions, didn't seem to have anything in common except for one thing: they were all recipients of the Make a Wish Foundation. They were all dying. And for a variety of reasons: cancer, genetic syndromes, AIDS. Scully'd had enough. Mulder watched her as she sat at the long evidence table they'd commandeered at the start of their involvement in the case a month and a half before. The files were opened and spread out before his partner lit by the loud overhead light that funneled its glare directly over her. Her right hand held a half-chewed pen poised against the note pad, ready to capture anything that might pop into her head. But her eyes were glassy and distant. She'd zoned out again. It was too much. That was all there was to it. Between the autopsies and grieving parents - not to mention the frustrating lack of leads - and her own private battle with the tumor that was growing inside her head, it was little wonder to Mulder that she was having difficulties. Not that she'd ever voiced a single disheartened complaint. Oh, no. That would be un-Scully. Her weakness was in refusing to allow herself a moment of weakness. And so he'd watched her bottle and stuff her own torturous emotions until she simply began to shut down. He sipped his coffee. Pulling rank and taking her off the case was out of the question. She'd never forgive him, and he couldn't live with that. Asking her to step back and take a breather for a couple of days would be shot down before he'd even get the request out of his mouth. Hoping against hope she'd accept that the case was cutting too close to home and that she'd ask for own removal would be like Perot becoming President: it could happen, but it wasn't damn likely. So, what to do? In the darkened corner of the room, a small TV flashed silent images of fires and floods. Mulder watched the pictures blink by with little interest. War and pestilence and violent acts of God - nothing new. His attention slipped back to his partner, who continued to stare, oblivious. He ground his teeth. Did she have any idea how worried he was? Of course not. Why should he be worried when she was fine. She was always fine. Even when her life was falling apart around her, Scully-the-Indestructible was eternally fine. Mulder felt like hitting something. //Damn it!// Why did she always have to be the stoic? Why couldn't she look him square in the eye for once and say, "You know, I'm not so great right now." Was it really so hard for her to open up to him? After HOW many years that they'd been working together? "Earth to Scully." He dropped into the chair. The table was heavy between them. She blinked and looked back down at the papers in front of her. "Sorry." She bit her lip. "I was just thinking." Mulder sat back in the chair and eyed her drawn face. "Well, I don't know how. There haven't been any new leads in nearly 12 days, and we've done all of the leg work that I can think to do. We've been in this cell for 10 hours today, Scully. My brain is fried." All of which was true, Mulder congratulated himself. "I've got to get some food before I go into sugar shock." Scully sighed. Okay, he'd laid the bait. Now he would have to wait for her to take it. "Why don't you go ahead. I'm not that hungry." She ran an absent-minded hand over one of the more gruesome photos on the table. "I'll just find a cot somewhere down in holding and catch a few hours of sleep later." If Mulder didn't know better, he'd say she was over-compensating. The old Scully motto: if the work frightens you, work harder. "Uh . . . I'm feeling a little light-headed, Scully. You think you could drive me?" He knew the excuse was feeble by the way she glared at him. She was trying to tell him to back off. //Fat chance.// "Come on. I'll treat you to ice cream." Just the way her eyes narrowed on him sent his blood pressure soaring. He had her attention; he just needed the clincher. "Chocolate fudge brownie with extra chocolate sauce." She sighed again. "I hate that you know this about me, Mulder." "All I know is that for some yet-unexplained reason, ice cream and chocolate combined, hold power over you like nothing else." "Exactly." "A power, which, when used for the forces of good, can be a indispensable tool." "The forces of good?" "That would be me." At that, she gave a short, curt laugh before slipping back into Agent Scully, Consummate Professional. "Mulder, maybe we're going about this all wrong." She collected the photographs into a neat pile. "Maybe these cases aren't connected." "Are you talking about a huge coincidence? That 25 children randomly met violent deaths and the Foundation just happened to play a role in their lives?" He studied her reaction as it slowly swept across her face. "Not all of the victims met with violent ends..." "Any death that isn't natural is a violent end." Scully sighed. "Well, in this case, I'm going to have to disagree, Mulder." She pulled out a small color snapshot of a little boy in green and blue pajamas holding out a picture book to the camera with an expectant smile. "Peter Goldman had Monterey Syndrome. It's a slow liquidation of the spinal column starting at the base and working its way up. This picture was taken just after diagnosis. Over the next two years he lost control of his legs and arms and eventually would have lost complete movement. That includes face and speech. That includes breathing and normal bodily functions. That includes -" "I get the point." "No, Mulder, the point is that his mind would have stayed intact. He would have continued to grow and mature mentally even though he would've been trapped inside a useless body." She slid the photo back into the stack and slipped the stack into a file folder. "That is, until he reached puberty and his brain would begin its own liquidation process." //God.// Mulder winced and folded his arms, trying to read her mask-like facial expression. "So, I guess drowning in the neighborhood swimming pool would be almost preferable." She blinked. "Anything would be preferable." And then she looked away and busied herself with sorting the files, organizing them for the next day. But her glassy stare returned. Is this what she was thinking about every time she zoned out? About how one way to die is better than another? Was she projecting her own fears? "What was his wish?" She seemed startled by his question. "What?" "His wish. With the Foundation." The thin file was mixed in with a stack of fifty or so that looked identical, but she knew exactly where it was. She pulled it. "Peter made his wish on February 12, 1996. He asked for a trip to Disney World." A gentle smile curved her lips. "On March 20th, he got his wish. He was accompanied by his father and mother and two older sisters. They had a week-long all-expense-paid stay in the Magic Kingdom." Scully heaved another sigh and replaced the file. "We have to catch this killer, Mulder. The Foundation provides a wonderful service to people who really need something wonderful in their lives." "You know," Mulder said light-heartedly, "I think that would be my wish, too." She feigned shock. "What? No extensive pornographic fantasy come true?" "Who needs porn when you're at the Happiest Place On Earth?" She concealed a smirk and reached below the table for her briefcase. "Says the man with the subscription to Celebrity Skin." Mulder smiled. She was playing with him again. It had been days since he'd been able to get her caught up in any kind of repartee. He clasped his fingers behind his neck in mock outrage. "Are you saying you wouldn't choose Disney World?" There was a second when she slid her eyes up to gauge his response before she selected a handful of papers and shoved them into the leather case. "No, I'm saying *you* wouldn't." Mulder leaned forward. "Then what would you chose?" "For you?" Scully straightened. "No, Scully. For you. What would be your wish?" She paused and then rose from the chair. "It doesn't matter, Mulder. The Make A Wish Foundation is only for children who aren't expected to live past their 18th birthday." Her coat was on the hook behind the door, and she tossed it heavily over her left arm. Mulder couldn't help himself. "So? What would be your wish?" "If I were a child?" Her tone was light and her face dipped down as she studied the scuffed cement floor. She was deliberately avoiding him. Scully never played dumb. It pissed Mulder off. She was tense again. Her eyes were focused on an imaginary point below the ground. "No! Scully, why are you being so difficult? I'm not asking you a hard question. There's no wrong answer." "You're asking me what my dying wish is, Mulder." The words stung like a slap across the face. The sting may have been unintentional, but it hurt nonetheless. He watched her slowly straighten her shoulders again. She didn't meet his gaze. For a moment she stood there, waiting . . . expecting something more from him. But nothing came. His mind had shut down when his heart stopped. When had he become such an asshole? How could he not have been aware of what they were talking about? About how it would affect her? Scully turned and opened the door. "I'll bring the car around." Then she was gone, and Mulder was left sitting at the table with his tie hanging between his legs. //Shit.// Fuck up her day, fuck up her life - apparently it was all the same to him. Two weeks later nothing much had changed, except for the darkly shadowed circles that had set up residence beneath her eyes. And the body of the 29th victim lying face down in the mud under a tree in her own backyard. Mulder watched his partner crouch down to inspect the body of the eight-year-old. Her latexed hands were eerily as pale as the dead skin they were touching, thought the little girl was once the rich color of the wet earth that splattered her. "Mulder, can you move the umbrella? You're casting a shadow." He took a few steps back and gave her the air she'd asked for. There wasn't a lot to the crime scene. The child had apparently been playing in the tree and had fallen. The only problem was that she was still wearing the Pooh slippers and matching pajamas that she'd worn to bed the night before. And there was no way that anyone could have climbed the old walnut tree with the kind of oversized slippers she was still wearing. In the rain. Before the sun came up at 5:45 AM, when her father had discovered her body. The falling rain dotted Scully's coat a darker blue. "Can you get a cause of death?" Sighing, his partner stood and turned to him. She peeled off the gloves. "Her neck is broken, along with most of her facial bones. But I'll want to do an autopsy before I pin that as the primary cause." She glanced briefly behind her to the dead child before continuing: "The position is right for a fall head first from that high branch, but I don't believe for a second that she climbed the tree." Mulder frowned. "Me neither. Her slippers aren't torn or scuffed like they would be -" "She suffered from Hanrahan Syndrome, Mulder. It's a fatal genetic disorder that causes lesions in the brain. One of the symptoms is uncontrollable tremors and violent muscle spasms. There's no way she could have held on to the tree, let alone climbed it." The rain picked up, but she made no attempt to step closer to him and share his umbrella. //Her umbrella,// Mulder reminded himself with a grimace. //What's mine is hers and what's hers is hers. Isn't that how it works? My quest, my department, her cancer, her life...// She stepped past him. The edges of her coat fluttered around her body and the wind kicked her hair from her neck. "I'll see you at the morgue when you get finished." She hadn't even bothered to turn her head. "Finished with what?" "Whatever." At the gate she stopped, her profile caught by the light, but didn't look at him. "This is where you go off and do the field work and tell me to let you know anything I find in the postmortem." She sighed and pushed the tall wooden gate wide open. "I know the drill, Mulder." Beside him, one of the local officers wandered up and held out a plastic candy wrapper. "I found this near the fence. You think it could be important?" It was just a square plastic wrap printed with red and green to look like a strawberry, but with next to nothing left to go on, Mulder was ready to take anything. "Maybe," he mumbled and turned back to see the gate swing shut and lock itself. "Hey, pal," the man beside him chimed in. "I'm thinking you just got ditched." His brown eyes were a little more jovial than Mulder felt was necessary. "She's tired. It's been a long day." "Yeah," the man turned back to the tiny body that was just then being covered with a yellow tarp. "It's not even lunch time." Mulder shrugged and followed the path his partner had taken. Three days later, over an egg salad sandwich, Scully lifted her head and whispered, "I want to sail." Mulder nearly missed it, but the haunting silence that followed jerked his attention to what she'd just said. He set down his soda and met her steady gaze. "In the ocean. One more time." And then she picked up the sandwich triangle and took another bite. That was all she was going to say on the subject; and Mulder understood. He picked up his own sandwich and studied the ham peeking out from under the dark crust. //Sailing.// Their lunch continued in silence. The following afternoon, word came from D.C. that the two of them were being temporarily removed from the case. The term Skinner had used was "redirected"; but then, Skinner was not a subtle man. And Scully wasn't an idiot. When she read the fax, her eyes flickered accusingly at her partner, and it was all Mulder could do not to cower from her and beg forgiveness. But the tirade that he'd expected didn't come. Not when they left the police station; not when they arrived back at the motel that had been home for more than two months; not even when they reached the airport and Mulder quietly interrupted her request to the woman behind the ticket counter for a one way back to DC. "She means Ft. Lauderdale," Mulder tried to cover Scully's shock with a small grin. He slid a credit card along the counter top. "Two to Ft. Lauderdale." The woman clicked on the keyboard and made several affirmative noises. The screen flickered in the reflection of her heavy glasses. "Mulder, we're going to Florida?" "Just a minor detour." "Here you are," the woman handed over two plane passes and circled the gate number on both. "Enjoy your flight." Leading Scully by the elbow, he hurried down toward the far end of the terminal. "I hope you brought your bathing suit, Scully." "I didn't." Her dry tone was laced with irritation. "What's in Florida?" "Oh, you know," he tossed out as they headed towards the metal detectors. "Oranges, sun, pirate's gold, 90 percent of the country's population over the age of 65." They both pulled out their weapons and identification and placed them on the small table for inspection. The guard was unimpressed. Scully's brow arched towards her partner. "Some X-File relating to a surplus of retirees?" Mulder caught her challenge and offered her a genuine smile. "Trust me, Scully. You're going to love this." She collected her weapon and ID and tucked them back in their hiding places. "Tell me why I'm going to love this," she demanded under her breath. "Come on, Scully. Everybody likes vacations." She stared at him for a moment more without a sharp rebuttal. Mulder wasn't sure what the look was that she was giving him, but he knew it wasn't gratitude. Or joy either, for that matter. Well, maybe he was going to get that tirade after all. "Look, if at any point you want to go home, we'll go home. Okay? You say the word, and we'll drop the vacation and head straight back to the basement and the normal nine to five." He knew he had her when her head dropped and she let out a sigh. "Just give me a nine to five job and I'll call it a vacation." "Naw, Scully," he lowered his tone to a flirtatious level and tugged at her elbow. "What I've got in mind beats filing hands down." "Mulder, you've got to be kidding." They stood on a wooden dock surrounded by the cackle of gulls, the smell of a salty breeze, and blue sky as far as the eye could see. Scully, in her beige pant suit and heels, held her hanging bag and purse neatly over her right shoulder as she gaped at the sight before her. Even Mulder was amazed. When the woman on the phone had said 65 feet long and 111 feet high, it had seemed much smaller in his mind. "But Mulder, you get seasick." //Oh, yeah.// The schooner that was tied to the end of the pier was not what Mulder had had in mind at all. He'd envisioned a simple little boat with a white sail and a bottle of wine. Like an Eddie Bauer ad. The thing that waited for them at the end of the dock was enormous. Its twin masts jutted rigidly from a wooden deck stained a rustic red. Ropes lined them both and . . . were those rope ladders hanging tautly at an angle from the crow's nests? Not even the naked Amazon carved into the tip of the boat offered him comfort; in her outstretched arm she raised a thick and daunting sword. //Oh, yeah.// He was gonna suffer. One way or another. "Mulder, is this a joke?" He turned and saw the confused look on his partner's face. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the heat and the sun, and her hair was lying flat against her head from the humidity. "It's not a joke, Scully." He turned back to the sailboat. //Well, hell.// It was what she wanted. "It's a wish." She gasped and glanced at the boat. Her eyes were wide and moist. Her chin wrinkled. She shook her head. And then, she looked back at him through tears that threatened to fall but didn't. //There.// He knew that look. That look he understood. Her full lips opened and closed around a barely audible, "Thank you." Bags and all, she turned back towards the end of the pier and slowly walked towards the hulking ship. Mulder watched her for a moment before he followed, memorizing the weight in her stride, and the flutter of her cropped hair in the breeze. She was beautiful. Majestic. Like the wooden woman with the outstretched sword who screamed, "I will lead the way," without even saying a word. End of 1/16 Mulder made his way down the long pier a little dazed, and set his bags alongside Scully's. His earlier decision that the boat was enormous wasn't accurate enough, he decided. Mammoth was a better word. The hull was a smooth reddish wood that shined golden in the late afternoon sun; dotting the side at regular intervals were small square port holes that reminded Mulder of cannon turrets. As he walked towards the back of the ship, he noted that the railings and ropes even the white balloons that floated between the boat and the dock were in great shape. The boat was in excellent condition. The end of the sailboat swelled up and out and finished in a mostly flat bay window, like something out of "Hook", and that image didn't sit well with Mulder. He shifted restlessly. Below the elegantly carved window he saw "Lady Of The Lake" painted in a flowing, medieval script. We've found the right boat, Mulder sighed to himself. His stomach knotted. That's when he noticed the dog barking. On the deck immediately above Scully, a large rust-colored dog wagged its tail playfully and barked an affirmative to Scully's "Are you a good dog?" and "Aren't you sweet?" Without giving any warning, the excited Golden Retriever leapt from the lip of the deck directly onto his partner. She yelped in surprise as they both tumbled backwards. "Scully!" Mulder set off immediately, knowing he wasn't going to make it to her side before she hit the dock. The dog landed hard against her mid-section. The grunt she released must have contained all of the air in her lungs, because she didn't make a move to either sit up or push the animal off of her. They hadn't landed in the water, but it was close; and as she lay there crumpled on the grey wooden pier, the dog licked at her face with an excited vigor. Mulder pushed the hyper dog away. "Scully, are you okay?" She nodded, trying to regain her breath after the wind had been so abruptly knocked out of her. A deep male voice exclaimed, "Holy Flaming Cow! Is she all right?" Behind them, a large man jumping down to the dock stole Mulder's attention for a moment. In the next moment, Scully's lungs finally responded and she gasped swallow after swallow of air. Her hands clutched Mulder's arms, trying to pull herself up. "Take it easy, Scully. Just breathe for a minute." That, in fact, was all she was able to manage. The hovering man behind Mulder spoke in his rugged bass voice. "I'm really sorry. Morg is usually good about things like that. She's very friendly." "I can see that." "I'm fine, Mulder." Dismissing his hovering hands, Scully pulled herself together and stood up. She brushed the new creases in her trousers and offered a faint smile to the man she was facing. "I'm Kyle," he said, holding out his broad hand to her. With a critical eye, Mulder sized up the man in front of him. He wasn't quite what he'd expected. A little too preppie, maybe. Or a little too "together". When the woman on the phone had explained that she and her husband actually lived on the boat, he'd pictured a haggard, sea-wary couple. Kyle looked...well...like a nice guy. She took the man's hand and introduced herself and Mulder as if nothing unusual had happened at all. Poised and professional to the last, she'd completely recovered in record time. //How does she do that,// he marveled. "And now that you've met Morg, let me show you around the boat. Megan, my wife, should be back in half an hour." He turned to Mulder. "She picking up the package you sent." Kyle beamed good-naturedly at Mulder, managing to ease his anxiety a little. The man seemed able to combine excitement and an easy-going calm in his dark features in such a way that Mulder liked him on sight. His thick-lipped smile reminded Mulder of fellow agent James Brophy; another of the few people with whom he'd felt an immediate rapport. Mulder nodded and purposely avoided Scully's curious stare. He wanted to prolong the surprise just a little while longer. Things weren't going as smoothly as he'd hoped. But at least now that they'd met Kyle, things were looking up. "You're going to have to take off your shoes and hose." Their host nodded down to Scully's impractical beige heels, which Morg was sniffing at. "Hard-soled shoes are bad for the deck and hose are slippery. You'll need sneakers or something with rubber soles." //Damn. Another snag. A minor snag,// he amended. The box would be there soon. "Can't she go barefoot?" "Uh . . ." Scully glanced critically at Mulder's feet and then her own. "These are all I have, I'm afraid." Kyle nodded thoughtfully. "For now. We're docked, so it's probably safe enough. Let me get the step ladder for you." He headed for the far end of the boat and disappeared, leaving Mulder alone with his partner's scrutinizing glare. He knew without a doubt that she was demanding an answer for what he'd planned; her eyes spoke volumes. He played dumb and kicked off his own shoes, bent over and rummaged through his carry-on for a pair of Nikes. "So," Scully exhaled, unable to wait him out as she watched Mulder tie up one of the laces. "We're spending the rest of the day sailing?" "Maybe." "Mulder, is this a game or something? Why won't you tell me what's going on?" He started on the other shoe and tried to keep his face neutral. "We're on vacation, Scully. Relax. Everything is under control." "Does Skinner know where we are?" Skinner? He'd brought her halfway across the country to the ocean and all she could think about was work? Mulder's brow furrowed. She really was picking up his worst habits. The trip, Mulder decided, was going to be good for both of them as long as he could get her to forget about the Bureau and governmental conspiracies and running for their lives for a while. He was already trying to forget, himself. "He knows we're taking some time off, if that's what you mean." "How much is 'some time'?" "Oh, you know. More than a moment and less than forever." "What are you hiding from me?" "Nothing. I'm only saving the surprise until all of the pieces are here." "You're waiting for his wife? What's in the package?" "Enough questions, Agent Scully. Step out of interrogation mode. The vacation has begun." He winced at the thought. //This is good for me...this is good for me...this is good for me...// Kyle returned with a that fit snugly against the hull of the boat. Scully reluctantly kicked off her shoes and climbed aboard, taking the hand offered her. Mulder watched her scan the ship from her new perspective. Her brooding face lit up. As he passed their bags to Kyle, he saw her run a hand over one of the thick ropes that anchored the boat to the pier. She was excited about being there, even if she didn't want to admit it. This was the wish she'd asked for. It didn't matter that it wasn't the one he'd had in mind. A contented warmth settled through Mulder. He'd done good. The inside of the boat was as impressive as the outside. The sunken cockpit in the center of the ship led down to the cabin from two sets of narrow stairs; one to the front of the ship, and one towards the back. Kyle led them down the back, carrying Scully's bags and explaining on the way. "The aft of the boat is your quarters. There are drawers for your things and there's a small closet through that door," he said, pointing to a narrow folding door on the right. "And there." The small door on the left of that same wall stood slightly open, "That's the lav. The instructions on how the shower and toilet work are on the inside of the medicine cabinet." The tall man grunted as he set the suitcase down on the bed. "I'll give you guys a couple of minutes to get situated and then show you the rest of the boat. Just meet me on the deck when you're ready." Mulder nodded and Kyle smiled. Scully eyed both men with a wary grimace. Gone was the child-like excitement that she'd had on the deck. Thrusting his hands in his pockets, Mulder turned to her once Kyle was gone. "What is it, Scully?" Her arms crossed in front of her as she prepared for a confrontation that Mulder wasn't willing to have. The vacation was supposed to be a good thing - a fun thing - not yet another thing that would come between them. She raised her eyebrows and asked with simple determination, "Mulder, where are we going?" "Bermuda." Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. "We're going to Bermuda in THIS? That'll take weeks!" "Actually, nine days. Then five days visiting the various islands, and then ten days back." Scully's jaw very nearly hit the ground. "That's why I was stalling, Scully. You never would have agreed to that much time off-" "I sure as hell wouldn't have!" "Kyle and Megan are experienced sailors. They've made this run before, and they've assured me it's not very taxing and an incredible sail." Her eyes closed. "That's not the point, Mulder." "This is something that I want to give you, Scully." "Why? Because I'm dying?" She lashed out without flinching. But Mulder did. She was getting too good at hitting him with that line. "No." Why did she think that everything that he did was about her illness? He'd done nice things for her before she got sick. Hadn't he? The trip wasn't about the cancer. Not at all. "I . . . you deserve some happiness, Scully . . ." Or was it? She began to interrupt him, but he bulldozed through her protest. "Not because of anything except that you're a good person and you mean a lot to me, and I'm tired of seeing you unhappy. I just wanted to give you something that you know is from me to you . . . " For a moment Mulder lost what he was saying as he watched his partner's face soften. "Something better than a key chain." "I love that key chain, Mulder." "You're gonna love this trip even better." Her eyes narrowed and she glanced around the room warily. "Look, Scully. If you want to go back to D.C. right now, I'll understand. We can stop this any time you want, and go home." "Just like that?" "Just say the word." Again her eyes narrowed, but this time they stayed locked on Mulder. He felt like a kid who'd been called to the front of the class for not doing his homework. Her lips thinned and then she sighed, but the way she held her shoulders told him she was far from resigned. "So what's in the box?" Oh, she was good. As long as she had him confessing he might as well bare all. "Your clothes. I called your mother and had her ship some warm-weather things and your tennis shoes." "You what? When?" Each revelation seemed to surprise her more than the last. "After I got off the phone with Megan and made the reservations for this trip. Last night." Enough. Mulder wanted some of the control back. He pursed his lips and gave her a subtle leer. "I knew you hadn't packed your bathing suit - you never bring it on assignment." Scully attempted a stern look as her eyes swept over their surroundings. "So, this is where we're going to spend the next couple of weeks?" "Yep." There was no return flight to DC in their immediate future. With a groan, Scully dropped her body at the foot of the bed, and smoothed herself over the richly textured comforter. The red of her hair was a brilliant contrast to the varying tones of grey and blue beneath her. Her groan became a throaty purr. "There's only one bed, Mulder. Is there something else that you're not telling me? Mulder frowned. Scully was flirting with him. That was his job. Now that she'd turned the tables he didn't know how to respond. And it didn't help that she was right: the bed dominated the room. With only a possible foot and a half on either side of its wooden frame, and three feet from its end to the stairwell up to the deck, even if he volunteered to take the floor, he'd have to sleep sitting up. How long had he said the trip was? And why was she still staring at him? She wanted role reversal? //Fine.// He could take her match for match. "Well, Scully, I guess I'm just going to have to trust you not to take advantage of me in my sleep." There was a something about the way she lifted herself from the bed and sauntered past him that scared him silly. But when she started up the ladder-like stairs and looked down at him over her left shoulder, he actually shivered. In her best alto lilt, Scully whispered, "I make no promises." And then, she and her wicked grin disappeared up into the light of day. Mulder looked back at the bed that lay beneath the curtained bay window. Had Scully actually winked at him, or was his imagination running away with him? And since she didn't protest, did that mean that they really were sharing the bed? Mulder clutched his stomach. Was it possible to get seasick while the boat was still tied to the dock? Back on the deck, Scully and their host were talking about navigation. He pointed to several instruments attached to the large wooden panel and well-polished wheel; and with dutiful interest, she nodded each time. Now that was the Scully he knew. The dog sat obediently at their feet, wagging its tail and panting happily. Kyle, Mulder decided, was a reasonably good-looking man . . . as far as tall and brawny went: his deep brown skin was clear of scars and pocks. And pussy boils . . . His face was square and well-defined under the short-cropped hair. Nothing for any woman to complain about, really. His nose was wide, fitting the rugged features of his face. Scully might even find him attractive, he considered idly. She tended to go for men who were older than she was. But then, Kyle wasn't much older than Mulder himself. Comparatively. So, Kyle was handsome. So what? //Hell.// Next to him, Scully looked like a twelve-year-old. Without her shoes, she barely came up to the middle of his chest. Even her suit jacket seemed to dwarf her as it hung from her body and rustled in the breeze. She had lost a lot of weight since her abduction, but always seemed to take good care of herself, so it was never really an issue for Mulder. Except sometimes when he looked at her under a certain light and she appeared terribly thin. But then, sometimes it was just easier to ignore the obvious. And most of the time, it was just easier to avoid the issue. If he didn't mention that her tailored suits didn't really fit any more, then she wouldn't grow cold and distant and look out at him from behind shielded eyes. If he didn't notice how small she was, then he wouldn't have to feel protective of her. But beside Kyle, she was tiny. There was no way he couldn't notice it. More so than she'd ever seemed. And pale. And breathtaking. That gentle smile that brightened her face was back again as she saw him step up from below. A smile just for him. "There you are," Kyle chuckled. "Let's finish our tour." He the way down the stairs to the front of the boat and showed them the common area. "This is where we'll be eating and cooking." To the left, there was a large square table that had padded benches molded into the walls on three sides. Along the wall behind the benches were various cabinets and cubbies. To the right there was a small kitchenette; complete with a range, a sink, and the narrowest refrigerator Mulder had ever seen. The counter beside the sink continued on to the left and poured into a small table that resembled a drafting desk. Above that hung a complicated radio unit. "The stove," Kyle explained, "is propane. It has to be lit with the matches that we keep in the fridge." He shrugged at Scully's puzzled look. "We don't want accidents. And it keeps them dry." He motioned to the sink and continued. "All of the water on the ship for the sinks and the showers and toilets is from one central water tank. So no hot water." Mulder's nose wrinkled at the thought of cold showers for the next couple of weeks, before the image of Scully lying seductively on *their* bed zoomed through his head. On second thought, cold showers might become habit forming. "We don't really need to worry about water rationing," Kyle continued. "But we do need to conserve whenever possible." "This," he turned with a flourish, "is where we keep the ship's log and maps and nautical charts." The paper on the tilted desk was pinned to its wooden top. "But you won't need to worry about that. Meg usually does most of the charting." The door directly opposite the stairs slid open easily, and Kyle led them into a narrow hall. "This first door is storage." He pointed to the far end of the short hall. "That's our quarters down there, and the door in between leads down to the crawlspace below. That's where the water and fuel tanks are. And the engine." "This is a beautiful boat," Scully murmured almost to herself. She ran an appreciate hand over the well-polished, deep cherry-stained wall. Kyle smiled in agreement. "The Lady is a good ship. She's our child." Mulder noticed Scully's head turn back to the tall man beside her, but he couldn't see her face. Kyle broke the moment with another toothy grin. "Anyway," he started, and nodded back towards the way they came, "everything is ready, so we'll be setting sail right after the dinner dishes are done. The weather should be clear for the next two weeks at least, so we're in for some beautiful sunsets." Just then, a strong female voice rang out. "Hey, Dude! Give me a hand with this!" Mulder was the first up the stairs to find a tall, slender woman with fly-away hair standing staunchly with her hands on her hips. Beside her light- mocha legs, sat a large box that could only be the package that Mrs. Scully had sent. When she saw Mulder emerge, she peered over the rim of her small wire glasses, softened her stance and gave him a genuinely bright smile. "You must be Mr. Mulder." "Just Mulder." He liked her on sight, too. No wonder she and Kyle were married. Hey were perfect for each other. "And you must be Megan." "The one and only." She ran a hand over her dark, short and very funky Raggedy Ann cut.. "Let me get the box for you. Thanks for picking it up." He started down the ladder, but the woman stopped him with a gentle smack at his ankle. "No problem. I'll hand it up to you, how about that?" She already had the box in her arms before Mulder could politely protest. "Meg," Kyle grinned, "our guests have arrived." "Oh, really? I hadn't noticed." Her sarcasm was dry, but good-natured, and it blended perfectly with the raspy alto of her voice. She pushed the box up to Mulder and he staggered back a step under the weight of it. He eyed Megan's slim arms suspiciously, wondering where she hid the muscles. "Are you sure you only told her summer clothes, Mulder? My whole closet could fit in that box." Trying to swing the package around without dropping it, Mulder managed to step down into the hollowed cockpit and the aft stairs. "Maybe she decided to come along herself," he grunted through clenched teeth. "There's got to be a body in here." The sky was starting to fade as they pulled the bumpers up from the pier side of the boat and cast off. Megan was at the helm, steering through the brightly colored buoys that marked the depth of the channel, while Kyle ran back and forth across the deck pulling ropes and tying knots and "readying the sails," as Scully explained. There seemed to be a helluva lot going on, but Mulder was content - probably for the first time in his life - to sit back on the padded bench that ran along the right side of the cockpit. Scully leaned against the leg he'd perched casually on the seat. Her back was impossibly warm compared to the cool wind that tossed her hair. Nonetheless, she shivered and Mulder felt her chill. "Did mom pack a jacket?" She turned to him and the glow of the sunset highlighted her face. "Don't know. If not, there's my blue wind breaker in my duffel. I'll get it for you." "I got it." She scurried down the aft stairs and returned with his jacket and her hair pulled back. "No luck?" "I didn't bother with the box." She'd pushed the sleeves up so that her hands peeked out through the wide elastic cuffs and wrapped her arms around her middle. "Aren't you chilly, Mulder?" "Not anymore." He thought he caught a grin on Megan's heart-shaped face, but she turned back towards the darkening horizon when he glanced up at her. She stood tall behind the wheel; straight and powerful. Kyle called out, "Okay. Head into the wind!" "Rockin'!" The boat shifted as their course abruptly changed and Mulder reached out for stability. Not that he'd really needed to, as it turned out. But the sensations were new and uncomfortable to him, even with the double dose of Dramamine in his system. Scully's arm was the first thing his hand grabbed. In front of them, they watched as Kyle inserted a crank into a huge cylindrical wench and began to hoist the sail. Its thick fabric furrowed and bucked against the churning air. The mast was unbelievably tall; red and yellow lights dotted the top of it, over a hundred feet above their heads. When the sail had reached about three quarters of the way up, Kyle started on another rope and wench. A long pole which had been parallel to the mast swung out perpendicular, and another sail began to raise. This one made it all the way up to the top of the mast. With topsails, The Lady definitely looked like a pirate ship. Then, behind them, Megan grunted with the effort of raising the backsail, and Mulder realized with a start that she'd left the wheel unattended. "Shouldn't someone be driving the boat?" Mulder's hand was tight on his partner's arm. "Don't worry. She locked it off. Besides, we're not really moving." "It sure as hell feels like we're moving." Why was the boat pointed towards the shore? Scully scanned his face, "Don't tell me you're going to be sick already. Did you take the Dramamine?" "I took it. I'll be fine." "Isn't that my line?" Kyle called out: "Meggie, you set?" "All set!" And then, as if it was the answer to some inside joke, they screamed in unison: "RELEASE THE BOOM!" Scully tugged at Mulder's arm. "You see that heavy pole at the bottom of the sail?" Kyle had just released a clip on the one in front of them. "Yep." "That's called the boom. You need to be careful around it." "Why?" Both Megan and Kyle climbed down into the cockpit and gave each other a quick energetic kiss. They were having the time of their lives, no doubt about it. Then Megan took the wheel again and turned a small knob on the steering column; Kyle slipped down the fore stairs and disappeared below. "Because," Scully continued and pointed towards the boom, "it's free moving." Megan yanked the wheel and the ship swung back out towards the open water. The boom swept a path across the width of the ship and strained out over the water. The sails filled and bowed, and the whole boat lifted up in the water and took off. It tilted with the increasing speed. The side that Mulder was on sank while the opposite side rose and rose. //Christ!// The whole ship was turning over! He pulled Scully's shoulders forcibly against him, but she only chuckled at his startled yelp. "It's supposed to do this, Mulder. Relax. We're sailing!" She was staring up at him, trying not to smile. Then she turned and leaned against him of her own accord, using his knee to prop up her elbow. Was she teasing him again? Mulder didn't care. She was warm against his chest, and it felt comfortable to have her so close. Her arms wrapped themselves around her middle again, and his followed suit; protecting her against the chill. "You still cold, Scully?" Mulder took a breath and tried to relax into the tilting of his world. "Not any more," she breathed. This time, Mulder did catch the smirk on Megan's face before she turned back and steered them on into the night. End of 2/17 The boat was rocking. Up and down and side to side. Mulder, in the bed, felt every wave that hit the boat as though it were slamming into his side. The contents of the wonderful chicken dinner he'd downed hours before were drifting up towards his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore how the bed and boat seemed to drop out from under him every second and a half. If he could forget it just long enough to get to sleep, then he'd be okay. Then it would be morning and he could go back up on deck again. While he'd been out in the wind and the spray, he'd been able to forget the motion of the boat, and even the boat altogether. Just him, the water, the spray, and Scully pressed firmly against him without all the hellish bobbing and churning. Out there he had a center of gravity and a direction. Below deck, Mulder was a jack-in-the-box on the end of a spring. And the spring kept throwing him up and down and side to side . . . He made it to the toilet. Barely. He emptied the contents of his stomach - and then three other stomachs for good measure - before he came up for air. And Scully was suddenly behind him, wetting a towel at the sink and pulling out his toothbrush and paste from his overnight case. When he felt the sickness begin to ebb, her warm soothing hands were on his back and neck. She placed a cold towel over his forehead. "Better?" "No, just empty." The concern in her question made him feel ridiculously pathetic. Hadn't he brought her on a vacation so she wouldn't have to take care of him? This was supposed to be her downtime. "Go back to bed, Scully. I'm okay." "You look green, Mulder." Mulder nodded to himself. Nothing but honesty from *his* partner. "Can you make the boat stop moving?" "No -" "Then you can't help. Go back to bed." There was a moment when he could feel her staring at him but she didn't say a word. And then she let out an ironic chuckle and gripped his upper arm. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, Mulder, but come back to bed with me." "That's right, Scully. Kick a man while he's down." It was curious that when it had become time to retire for the night, neither of them made mention of the single bed...beside that initial flirtatious bit on Scully's part. They had taken turns in the bathroom, and then climbed into bed and shut off the lights. Mulder was sure that if she was uncomfortable with sharing a bed, she would have said something - something more than an off handed remark. "Come on. I'll give you the seasickness cure my dad gave me." For some reason he found the whole situation strangely erotic. The thought of laying next to her became a sexual want; where as before, when they'd actually been lying side by side in the dark, it had been innocent. Just two people sharing a bed. He let her help him up slowly, trying to avoid upsetting his stomach any further. It was amazing how far the bed was considering it was only a matter of feet. Hell, it was amazing that Scully was leading him back to bed with her, and he was thinking about not throwing up. She lay down on her left hip and patted the bed next to her. "Lay here, and try to breathe through your nose." "I'll bet you say that to all the guys." Was it possible to be physically ill and sexually aroused at the same time? He rested his head on the pillow and watched Scully as she smoothed the hair from his forehead and started to talk. "My father explained to me that the Earth is really alive. Not just the plants and animals and people that live on the surface, but the planet itself is a living organism." "Okay. I'm familiar with that ideology." //Hurry up with the magic seasickness cure, damn it! And stop talking in that sexy voice.// "The continents are her organs. And the seas and oceans are her blood. The tides are really her pulse." Mulder gave her a look of terror. Floating around in an ocean of blood was not a visual he needed at that moment . . . or, come to think of it, ever. "My God, Scully, who was your father? Stephen King?" Scully gave him an annoyed sigh and pulled the blankets up over the both of them. "The point is, Mulder, you're not a cork bobbing alone in the water. You're flowing within it. You're a part of it." She smoothed a hand over his stomach for emphasis. "Everything within us and surrounding us is alive." Her lips parted on a breath. Mulder felt the flesh twitch between his legs, and he surged out of the bed. Then the boat lurched beneath him. //Hell!// They were all against him! "I need air!" He leapt the three feet to the ladder and scrambled to open the planks that closed the doorway. "Jesus, Mulder." Scully followed him up the stairs. "Is it really that bad?" He clung to the back of the cockpit bench and let the cold air sweep across his face. //Don't throw up,// he chanted to himself. //Don't get hard, don't throw up, don't get hard, don't throw up...// He was interrupted by Scully's voice. "Sit back, Mulder." She held a blanket in one hand and a pillow in the other. Mulder closed his eyes grimly. Well, at least that took care of the sleeping arrangements. Not that he was thrilled with the idea of sleeping outside in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean; but then, it beat sleeping with his head down over a toilet you had to pump to flush. Scully placed the pillow behind his back so that he reclined against the wall that slanted over their quarters; and then shocked the hell out of him by climbing into his lap. "Just warn me before you vomit." She shook the blanket over both of them, and leaned back on his chest. Instantly, his center of gravity was back. "Aren't you going to go back to bed?" "Later. Did I ever tell you about the stories my dad told me about the stars and the constellations?" As she settled against him, her weight brought with it a familiar warmth. His arms tightened around her and pulled her a little closer. "Scully, I'm afraid of your father's stories." She shifted against him, trying to find a comfortable spot to rest her head. "This from the man who chases serial killers and mutants for a . . ." Scully went stone still in his arms. And Mulder knew why. He'd stopped chanting, that was why. //Shit. Control, man. Control!// He released his hold on her and mumbled a humiliated, "Uh, I'm sorry." She didn't even hesitate. "There's nothing to be sorry about, Mulder. An erection is a natural biological reaction to . . . stimuli." Mulder closed his eyes. //Please, God, tell me my partner and I are not having a clinical conversation about erections while she's pressing up against mine.// "Oh, well. Now that we've rationalized it, I feel much better." Scully tucked the blanket up under her chin. "Good." Was that a smile he detected in her voice? "Now, where was I? Oh, yes. The stars . . ." Her head sank back in the crook of his neck. Mulder looked up to the heavens. "Jesus, Mulder," she breathed in amazement. "Look at all of the stars." The morning was fog. A white haze hung over and around everything. The blanket that covered both him and Scully was damp from the vapors that hung in the air. She pushed herself up from his chest and blinked the sleep away. THUMP. The sound was identical to the one that woke him a moment before. He glanced past his feet and saw Kyle pulling the last of the planks from the door. It made sense that their host would be a morning person. "I see you two have been up for a while," he said smiling broadly. Scully moaned softly as she sat up holding her head between her hands. Kyle eyes her damp pajamas. "Or maybe not. You two didn't sleep out here, did you?" Mulder didn't process what he had said; he couldn't take his eyes off his partner. She moved away from him, wincing in pain. "Scully?" Her lips trembled. "Medication." In a flash, Mulder was down the stairs. He yanked her bag from the closet and dumped its contents on the bed. The small brown pill bottle rolled out from under a shoe. He was back up the stairs and kneeling in front of her as she whimpered again. Her nose began to bleed. She took the large blue pill that Mulder shoved in her hand. "Water." Mulder cursed himself. Luckily, Kyle was already on it, and Mulder caught a glimpse of Megan handing a glass of water up to her husband. Swallowing the pill down, Scully thanked the people around her with a self-conscious whisper and headed for the back stairs. "Easy does it, Scully." He helped her down the stairs and quickly swept the bed free of the contents of her bag before he helped her to lie down. He knew she was in real pain if she was accepting assistance of any kind. Kyle stood in the doorway with a fresh blanket. "Is she going to be okay?" Mulder nodded and shrugged at the same time. There had never been pain with the nose bleeds before. At least, not that he knew of. But then, he didn't know what the pills were for either. Just something to do with the occasionally alluded to, but never discussed cancer. Mulder was at a loss, but he tried to be constructive. "I'm going to get her into something dry and let her rest some more." Kyle nodded and left them alone. Amongst the debris on the floor, he found a large tee-shirt and another pair of panties. "Okay, Scully. Come on. Before you take your nap, let's get you changed." He helped her sit up, and more blood trickled from her nostril. "Scully, you're still bleeding." //Damn it!// He didn't know what to do. "Just give me the night shirt," she grumbled and pulled the bloodied shirt over her head. Instinctively, Mulder turned around, giving her some privacy. Apparently, she didn't even care if he saw her naked at that point. All of his internal alarms were blaring. He shifted from foot to foot, unable to channel his frustration. He could still see his toothbrush on the side of the sink in the bathroom. The bathroom reminded him that toilet paper might be good for cleaning her nose and stanching the flow. His brain was starting to work again. He returned with a wad of paper just as she was hiking the fresh panties up over her hips, and held out his offering. "Scully, I need to know what's going on here. Have you had pain before? Should we turn around now and get you to a doctor?" "No." She took the toilet paper and wiped at her face. "No. I'm fine. Sometimes there are headaches. The pills help that." She laid back and put an arm over her eyes. "When I'm in pain, my blood pressure goes up and then sometimes blood vessels rupture, and I bleed. As soon as the pain eases, I'll be fine." "We're going to turn around, Scully. I don't know what I was thinking, bringing you so far away from a hospital -" "Mulder, listen to me." "I am listening." "Mulder! Listen!" She took a deep breath. "There's nothing that a doctor or a hospital can do for me right now other than what I'm doing. And I'd much rather do it here." "But Scully, I think-" "Mulder, please. Just let me lie here for a while. We'll argue about this later. Okay?" //Damn it,// he scolded himself. //Just leave her alone, you idiot. She needs rest, not nagging.// "Okay, Scully." He pulled the blanket over her, and reluctantly left her to sleep. Both Megan and Kyle sat at the table in the common room when Mulder walked in on them in mid-conversation. "What else do you know?" Megan demanded, her right thumb absently flicking the ash from her cigarette. "That's it. Just her laying on a cot covered in a ton of blood." Kyle shrugged. "Honestly. I probably wouldn't even've remembered that, except this nose bleed reminded -" He broke off when he sensed Mulder in the room. The couple sprang apart and the conversation died. "Am I interrupting?" Mulder knew that he was, regardless of their negative answers. "Were you talking about Scully just now?" Kyle nodded slowly and poured Mulder some coffee and slid it over. "Is she okay?" "Yeah." Mulder slid in next to Megan, and leaned his crossed arms against the table top. //Oh, hell.// Who was he kidding? "No. She's not. But I'm not sure what to do." "What's wrong with her?" How much to reveal? It was Scully's story to tell, and she'd made it clear that she didn't want anyone to know. And he didn't really know these two anyway. That familiar phrase, trust no one, was blaring loudly inside his head. "She gets these nose bleeds every once in a while. The headaches are news to me, though." Megan took a deep drag. "Has she been checked out?" "Yeah, by the best. No one seems to offer any helpful solutions." She was on him in a second. "It's that serious?" Mulder swallowed. He wasn't volunteering anything else, but Megan read into his silence and winced. "These aren't just nose bleeds, are they?" Mulder sat back. "I want to take her to a hospital. We need to get back to land." Kyle scratched at the side of his neck. "Yeah, that's the thing. We're not exactly sure where we are." Mulder's internal Catastrophe Siren began to wail. "The fog . . . well, there's no visibility. And the radio is dead- " Megan interrupted. "Not dead, but there's nothing on it. We're not even getting static on the off channels." "What about the other equipment?" Kyle shrugged. "The depthometer says we're in three feet of water, which is impossible-" "The Lady needs nine feet to float." "And the compass says we're facing due north, no matter what direction we point it at." Turning to her husband, Megan reasoned: "We must be in some sort of magnetic pocket or something." Mulder noticed her hand was slightly shaking. A bit of ash dropped on to the table top. It was at this point that Mulder wished he knew more about boats. None of it made much sense to him. "Can't we sail out?" Megan shook her head and shrugged. "There isn't enough breeze for even the spinnaker." "Then what about motoring out?" "That would work if we could get the motor to work." What were the odds of everything going wrong at once? "What's wrong with the motor?" Both Kyle and Megan exchanged unsettled glances. "You tell him," Kyle urged. "It's frozen." "Frozen?" "Solid. There's ice and frost all over it. The gas in the tank is crystallized." Mulder shook his head. That wasn't possible. "Do you have any idea what temperature gas freezes at?" Megan picked up her coffee and took another sip. "I'm guessing at a lower temperature than sea water. But I don't know what to tell you. The thing is ice." For a moment, Mulder looked them both over. Kyle in his red pocket tee glaring down at the mug that he rolled between his thick hands; and Megan, who watched Mulder over her oval glasses as he digested the information. Neither of them knew what to do. They seemed to be just as much at a loss as he was. And he believed them. He didn't know why, and it went against his better judgement, but Mulder didn't think they were lying. Megan crushed out the end of her cigarette in a huge ashtray and started another one. It looked like she was trying desperately to fill it with butts. "Look, we know it sounds crazy, but-" "No." Mulder held up a hand to ward off her defense. "Believe me. When I take vacations, I expect nothing less than something like this." "Murphy's Law follow you around?" "Something like that. Look, I'm going to go check on Scully." They nodded gloomily. Outside, nothing had changed. The fog hung heavy in the air. Megan had been right; there wasn't even the smallest breeze to whip the haze around. The air, itself, was heavy and immovable. The water rocked against the boat, but there was no energy in it at all. The world had gone to sleep around them. From the hatch-way door, Mulder looked down at his sleeping partner; Morg panted happily beside her, offering more comfort than Mulder had been able to. He stepped down into the room and the mess he'd created earlier; and unable to leave things the way they were, Mulder began to put things back together. He folded her white tee-shirt, collected a pair of neatly rolled socks and replaced them on top of the wadded-up hose. Were you supposed to fold hose? Mulder didn't see how. And, anyway, without legs in them, hose were . . . creepy. He shoved them back into the bag. Megan poked her head down into the room. "Oh, there you are," she scolded Morg in a whisper. The dog's tail thumped against the bed. "Morg, are you bothering these people?" "Morg? Why did you name her Morg?" Megan head cocked, and she grinned. "Morgan le Fey." That made sense to him. "Camelot." //And The Lady of the Lake. I guess there's a theme in everyone's life.// "I've always been into Arthurian Legend. Knights and true love and honor and all that. It's appealing." She considered the dog. "Is Morg going to bother her?" "It doesn't look like it." "Then I'll leave her alone. If she gets in the way, just kick her out." Then Megan turned and faded into the fog. With a resounding sigh, Mulder stuffed the bag in the bottom of the closet, and turned back to Scully on the bed. He shouldn't have let her sleep on the deck with him. Hell, he shouldn't have even taken her off land. She was too ill to be out of touch with civilization. Period. If Mulder could have kicked himself in the head, he would have. Instead, he stretched out next to her on the bed with the dog between them. When Scully woke, Mulder's watch read 10:23. So it seemed only right to him that Megan's watch should read 3:45 and the clock that hung in the common room proclaimed 7:01. "What the hell is going on here?" Scully drank the coffee that was placed in front of her, but barely touched the toast and grapefruit. Mulder tried not to think about it, while Kyle filled her in on their situation. "Meg and I have been up to the Crow's Nests, and believe it or not, the higher you are, the worse the fog gets. In the 20 years I've been sailing these waters, I've never seen anything like this." He ran a finger over his straight eyebrow. "Just my luck. Stranded in the Bermuda Triangle, and I can't even get a tan." Her joke was feeble at best. Mulder watched how she played with the spoon and the juice from the fruit, rather than eating it. "How are you feeling, Scully." She nodded, but didn't look at him. "I'm fine." Of course she was. Mulder didn't know why he even bothered to ask. Megan stood at the nautical table. She pulled on the tied waist of her button-down shirt and turned to the group. "Well, I don't know what else can be done. Until the wind picks up or the engine thaws, anyway. We've been all over The Lady and can't find anything else wrong with her. Visibility is zero. And the radio doesn't work. So, I guess, in essence, we're adrift. And we might as well enjoy it. It's pleasantly warm outside, even if it's a little damp, and we've got provisions enough for two weeks." Scully blinked. "We're just going to drift until the food runs out?" Megan offered her an apologetic shrug. "We're taking suggestions." Kyle cut in. "The real question is Scully's health. If we need to get her to a hospital -" She didn't even let him finish. "No. I'm fine. These things just happen from time to time. In fact, it probably won't again on this trip, so it's good that it did happened now, while we have the time." Mulder leaned into her. "There's nothing that says the fog won't clear up just as suddenly as it came on. We may be able to sail out of here later tonight or tomorrow-" "Mulder, look at me." She clamped her hands on his head and forced his face down just inches from hers. "I'm only going to say this one more time." Her eyes were clear, and her brows lifted as she spoke. "I'm fine, Mulder. Fine. I'm a doctor, and I know how to treat myself." "But -" "You said that I could decide to abort this vacation whenever I wanted. And I will - without hesitation - should the need arise." "Yes, but -" "And until that time, I expect you to believe," she emphasized that last word for his benefit, and a shiver ran up his spine "that I know what I'm doing. Trust me." //Damn it.// Another shiver. "Scully." Her name seemed foreign in his mouth. "You scared the hell out of me." A soft smile slipped out from under her determined mask and she sat back in the booth. Her gaze, however, remained locked with his. "Thank you for your concern, Mulder, but it's not necessary in this case." Mulder dropped his eyes and nodded. //Fine.// He would let Scully call the shots. To a point. "So. Who's in the mood for pinochle?" "Mulder, why do you call her Scully?" Kyle was carving a Granny Smith and throwing chunks to Mulder baseball-style in between popping the odd piece in his own mouth. For a man stranded on a boat in the middle of nowhere, he seemed to be enjoying himself tremendously. The two of them sat sprawled out at the fore of the boat, where The Lady herself remained perfectly poised. The mist that continued to surround them seemed to be receding up and out, but its progress was painfully slow. Mulder looked down at the bite of apple in his hand. "'Cause it's her name." "If I called Meggie 'Murphy', I think she'd deck me." He looked thoughtful as he chewed. "But then, that's her maiden name. I think things would get confusing with us both answering to Duvall." "We're partners. FBI. It kinda goes with the territory." Mulder popped the apple into his mouth and caught the next piece Kyle flung at him. //This must be some kind of male bonding they don't tell you about in Psych 101,// Mulder thought fleetingly. "So you work together then?" Mulder nodded and bit into the new slice. Juice dripped down along his thick lower lip. "Closely?" "Very. Scully's become my best friend." Kyle found that fact fascinating. "But doesn't that make it hard? Do you ever bring work home?" "Oh. No. Scully and I . . . we're not together. We're partners." The minute it took Kyle to process Mulder's statement was filled with an endless stream of entertaining facial expressions as the realization gradually filtered through. "Oh," he said at last. "So this is the 'get together' trip. I get it." Mulder swallowed. "No. This was something Scully wanted to do. Kinda like an Ultimate Dream Trip." Kyle's blank expression prompted Mulder to continue explaining. "We're not together as a couple. We're just friends. Best friends." "Are you gay?" "No!" Mulder's wounded look brought a shrug from the man opposite him. "Hey, it was just a question." He cut another hunk of apple and tossed it to Mulder. "Is she gay?" "No, neither of us is gay. Not that it's any of your business." "Nope. None of my business." He peeled the skin from the slice in his hand and ate it, looking thoughtfully at Mulder. "Is she married?" Mulder scowled. "She's not married - and before you ask, neither am I." Kyle threw him another piece, apparently unfazed by the minor blow up. He sat back against the rope railing and studied the apple core. Mulder could almost see the wheels spinning as Kyle's eyes fixed in concentration. If Kyle had been a cartoon, there would have been smoke coming out of his ears. Then, without warning, he dismissed the apple core and tossed it over his shoulder. There was a soft plop as it hit the water. "Mulder, I just don't get it." He was sincere in his confusion. "She's a beautiful woman. Isn't she your type?" "Kyle, she's my *partner*." It was obvious to Mulder that his last sentence didn't register in Kyle's view of the world. The man may know his way around a boat, but he didn't have the slightest clue about the interoffice politics of the Bureau. Or of Scully's always pervasive professional demeanor. There would be no way Scully would ever consider getting involved romantically with any one who was her partner. She would consider that . . . unprofessional. Another, larger splash came from the vicinity of the back of the boat. Followed by another. Both followed by peels of female laughter. Mulder was on his feet, running along the railing as he called out, "Scully!" In response, he heard a rolling laugh that could have been hers, except that it was lighter and more bubbly than anything he'd ever heard from her before. In the cockpit, however, he found the remains of the clothes she'd put on that day. Complete with undergarments. "Scully?" "Come on in, Mulder. The water's cold, but it's calm." Over the far side of the boat, he found her grinning from ear to ear. She was treading water and having the time of her life. Mulder couldn't help the smile that swept over him. She was happy, for once. And very naked. //What a great combination.// Megan popped up next to her and shook the water from her hair. "You almost never see the Atlantic this calm. You should come in, Mulder. You may never get this chance again." Kyle stood beside Mulder. He seemed more critical of the water than the women did. "Meg, are you sure it's safe? This is the same water that froze the motor. The ocean's too still." "Hey, Dude! Stop being a spoil sport. It's just weird weather." "Maybe we're in the eye of some kind of system," Scully offered. Mulder was taking his cues from Kyle's prudence. "Sharks?" Megan gave him an exasperated slap of water. "The current's too still. A shark would drown here." Then she turned to Scully and gave her a playful slap as well. Scully, true to form, returned it . . . with interest. Instantly, a water war broke out. Their laughter and splashing filled the air around them, and it wasn't until that point that Mulder noticed how quiet things had been. No birds or signs of civilization. No wind. No crashing waves. Just the sound of the ropes and wenches knocking on the boat and the gentle rolling over of the water as it met the hull. "Come on, Mulder. Join us!" She waved for him with a wet, bare arm. Her slicked-back head dropped seductively, and she purred, "I promise I won't bite." Kyle leaned into him. "Are you positive you two aren't together?" Mulder clenched his jaw. He didn't know what else to do. Now she was flirting with him in public. Not that Megan and Kyle constituted public in the normal sense of the word. But still . . . she wasn't playing fair. His shoulders tensed. How did she expect him to respond? Did she *want* him to strip naked and jump in with her? He should, goddamn it, just to shock her ass into line. But then, what would that prove? That he was stronger than she was? That he could meet her challenges and beat her at her own game? He didn't want to beat her. But did that mean he had to let her win? He shook his head and ducked down into their room. Their room. The irony made him want to scream. He heard more squeals of laughter and another splash. From the sound of it, the dog had decided to join in the merriment as well. There were several playful barks; but above it, he could hear Scully's concerned, "Mulder?" She stood in the stairwell dripping wet, with an oversized towel around her torso. "Mulder, what's wrong?" She shivered a little on the ladder. "Are you okay?" "Of course." He was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying not to notice the water dripping down the slope of her shoulders. //You're mad at her,// he tried to remind himself. "Why wouldn't I be okay?" "Are you feeling sick again?" She walked around so that he sat facing her. "No. Not since last night." How could her toes be so little? "Is it what I . . . I was only joking, Mulder." //Joking. Right. Joking, teasing, flirting, seducing: call it what you will.// Did he really want to fight with her about it? //Hell, no.// He didn't want to fight with her at all. //Change the subject,// he prodded himself. //Go back to the agent roles. We're both good at playing Special Agents.// Those roles were clearly defined. And it wasn't like they weren't sitting in the middle of an X-File. "Scully, what do you think is going on here?" Scully looked up, startled. Sheepishly, she took a step backward and met the wall. "I . . . I don't know. What *is* going on, Mulder?" Mulder shrugged. "I don't know either. The electromagnetic energy pocket seems reasonable, but it wouldn't explain either the engine or the bizarre weather." "You meant what's going on with the boat?" "Yeah." He hesitated. "What did you think I meant?" "Uh . . ." She turned and went to the closet and pulled her thick terry cloth robe from one of the hangers. "They might all be unrelated events." Her hands were trembling. "Scully, are *you* okay?" She headed for the bathroom. "I'm fine. I'm going to shower and get rid of the salt grime." The door shut behind her and he heard the small latch slide into place. It wasn't really a lock, Mulder's mind reasoned. If someone wanted to break down the door to the bathroom, or really any of the doors on the boat, it wouldn't be difficult. But the sound managed to bring a lump to his throat, anyway. End of 3/16 It felt like late afternoon when Megan finally joined the rest of them sitting around a Yahtzee box up on deck. Mulder, with his back to The Lady, offered her a cup of dice as she approached. She peered down at him through her wire spectacles and declined. Scully rolled and methodically counted out the dice results on her sheet. She had been a little tense ever since she had gotten out of the shower, but wasn't throwing wise cracks or dry remarks, so Mulder figured she was just concerned about their stalled situation. He sure was. Kyle looked up at the sky. "It's bluer, I think. Maybe the fog will be gone by sunset." He held up a hand to Megan and pulled her down to him. She smiled against his warm kiss. "Hey, Dude." She rubbed his arm affectionately. "Are they letting you win?" "Hardly." He flipped his score sheet over and wrapped his arms around his slender wife. "Did you check the keel while you were out there?" With a nod, Megan gave a quick smile to Scully, who lowered her head before Mulder could catch her reaction. "I didn't go far down, though. The water was too cold and dark." "It's like night down there." Scully picked up a few of the dice and prepared to roll again. "Totally." Mulder bit the inside of his cheek. "How far down did you go, Scully?" He tried to make his tone conversational, but the glare he got back told him that he didn't quite succeed. "Woah! Did you catch that?" All eyes turned to Kyle. He motioned towards both Scully and Mulder. "The temperature just dropped twenty degrees!" Megan turned in his embrace. "Is this how they fight?" He shrugged. "Maybe. I'm having trouble figuring them out." Scrutinizing both Mulder and Scully like statues in a museum, Megan ran a hand through her hair. "What do you think they're fighting about?" Scully shook the cup and released the dice, and as she recorded her score on the score pad, she casually asked Mulder, "Do you think they know we can hear them?" It made him smile to see Scully playing their game. "I don't know." He saw the delight on their hosts faces as he played along, too. "Do you think they have any idea how hungry I am?" She picked up one of the die and rerolled. "I hope so. I'm famished." Then she looked down at her sheet and her face lit up. She smiled broadly at Mulder. "Yahtzee." "Finally!" Megan threw herself on her feet again and announced that she was feeling a little peckish and going to fix dinner. "But while I'm doing that, someone should check the cables in the main crow's nest. When the fog lifts, I'm hoping that the wind will pick up some. We're going to want to put the spinnaker up later." "I volunteer Scully and Mulder to do that," Kyle stated matter of factly. "I second that nomination, " Megan supported with a mischievous grin. "Nominees elected." Their hosts quickly scrambled down to the common room, leaving Scully standing with her arms crossed defiantly. "What just happened, Mulder?" "I think we got suckered into climbing a hundred feet in the air." He leaned back and stared up at the basket-like perch hovering far above them. "You aren't afraid of heights, are you Scully?" She was seeing the same thing that he was. That crow's nest was *way* the hell up there. "Not that I'm aware of. You?" He shook his head. "But now seems like a great time to develop a new phobia." The climb itself was nerve racking. Mulder could feel his heart in his hands as he forced himself to release one level of rope only to pull himself up to the next. But once he reached the perch, he found the sensation all together different. The boat below them was reduced to a scale model, surrounded as far as the eye could see by a wispy grey that faded into nothing. Visibility was getting better, but with everything the same color, it was difficult to tell just how far it went. He turned to see his partner staring above his head. "Those must be the cables they were talking about." Attached to the mast were six metal eyes, to which wire cables were clipped. Mulder pulled on them, testing their strength. They were solid as stone. "Is that all we're supposed to do? These guys aren't going anywhere." He yanked hard on the clips. "I guess. There doesn't seem to be much of anything else up here." She leaned against the railing. "You know Mulder, I think I can see something over there." She was in the perfect position to give a little of what he'd been getting lately. "Where?" "Over there. Can you see it?" Mulder squinted and tried to make out what she was seeing. There might have been a small area in the mist that was darker. But it was too undefined to tell for sure. "I don't know. Maybe Meg has some binoculars or something." He began the decent, taking less time in climbing down than it took to get up there in the first place. That's how everything in his life seemed to work. The four of them stood in a line along the starboard stern, staring at the darkening mass that Mulder had decided was most definitely there. The haze left it fuzzy and distorted, but there was something solid out there. And it looked like it was heading their way. Kyle peered through the binoculars. "It doesn't seem like we're moving at all, but that may just be an illusion. We could be drifting towards it." "You think it's land?" Megan snatched the binoculars from her husband. "A boulder or something?" "I can't tell." He leaned over the rail and squinted as if that would cut through the fog. "Is there a life boat?" Scully stood with her arms crossed and her feet firmly planted on the deck. "Maybe we could paddle over and take a look." "That sounds like a good idea." Megan tossed the viewers to her husband and started for the back of the boat. She was a woman on a mission. "Hey," Kyle called after her. He trotted to catch up. "It could be anything. I don't want you going out there alone." She didn't seem to notice he'd said anything at all and he smacked his hand against the steering column in frustration. "Damn it, Meggie! You're always running off alone! We're in the OCEAN!" There was no stopping her as she pulled the cushioning from one of the cockpit benches and lifted the lid on the hollow seat. "Fine, I'll take Mulder with me." "What?" Scully's face was fixed in concern. "No, it makes sense," Mulder admitted. "Someone needs to stay behind who can take care of the ship. And I'll be able to paddle harder than you." "But I don't see why you have to go out there at all!" Mulder could see the resentment on his partner's face at the thought of being left behind again. He recognized the set jaw and practiced tone free plea from countless conversations. "Do you have a two-way radio? Walkie-talkies or something?" If Mulder was going to be out roaming the ocean on a life boat, he wanted some form of bread crumbs to make his way back. "Yeah." Megan nearly leapt down the fore stairs. "I think we've even got batteries for them." Scully sighed. "Well at least we'll be able to communicate." Her frustration was adorable. The little wrinkle her brows created above her nose deepened as she noticed Mulder looking at her. "Don't worry, Scully. We'll save some of the adventure for you." "No batteries," came from below. Her shoulders sagged. Megan re-emerged with a length of heavy plastic and addressed Mulder. "Dude," she grinned with excitement. "Let's get this baby floating!" Kyle placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Meggie, please. I don't want you to go out there." For a moment she hesitated, studying his deep brown eyes. "Why?" She pushed her glasses farther up on her nose. "Is there something you want to tell me?" Her leading question brought a scowl to his face. "Of course not! You know I always tell you everything I know." "Everything? Always?" Mulder had the distinct feeling they were talking about something important, something with more levels than Kyle simply not wanting his wife to leave the ship, and his natural investigator's instincts wanted to know what that something was. "Damn it, Meg!" He ran his hand over the back of his head in frustration. "I just don't want you to go." Megan cocked her head, trying to read more from his honest expression. What was she looking for? "Neither do I." Scully spoke up, defiantly. That seemed to tip the scales. Megan deflated as she looked from her husband to Scully. "Oh, hell." That decided, Mulder turned back to the shadow in the fog. "Do you think it's a ship? Don't those spires look like masts to you?" They all turned back to focus on the shadow that loomed ahead of them. "They could be masts," Kyle offered. He wasn't convinced, though. "You think another ship is caught out here?" "It would make sense," Megan thought aloud. "Were only half a day from land. And these waters are far from deserted. Maybe they need help. Supplies or . . ." Her voice trailed off into the silence that surrounded them as the object sailed through a thick bank of fog and came into focus. It was a ship - no doubt about it. Two thick masts hanging with shredded sails and loose ropes. The hull was pitted and damaged with jagged holes, and the once vibrant paint was dulled down to grey where it still bothered to cling at all. There wasn't a sound as it pushed its way through the vapors, except for a faint break in the water that lapped against its sides. The ship was an old, wooden schooner much like The Lady; but it was decayed and weathered - a lifeless shell floating steadily towards them. Mulder shivered with a serious case of the creeps. "The wind . . ." Megan's voice broke with a rumble. "Do you feel it, too?" The second she spoke, Mulder felt it gently brush against his cheek. It was a weak breeze that wove through the heavy humidity. "Kyle!" Megan screamed, "Throw up the sails! It's heading right for us!" //Jesus Christ!// She was right! The old boat was set on a collision course! "Raise the spinnaker!" Kyle ran to the front of the ship and knelt over a small open panel, yelling back instructions. "Scully, take the wheel. Mulder, help me here!" With all of his weight, he pulled a rope that hoisted the colorful spinnaker sail. Mulder was at his side in a second, jerking the rope down with grunts of effort. They quickly set up a working rhythm. Sweat ran down both of their faces, as the sail billowed in the slight breeze. The stiff material began to puff out as it raised. "Dana!" Megan's voice ordered from somewhere behind him, "Starboard! Now!" The whole boat lurched to the right. The sail was only half way up when Mulder stole a peek at the progress of the other ship. It wasn't there. Mulder spun around trying to find where the old sailboat had been. Had Scully turned The Lady that much? The other ship simply wasn't there anymore. "Help me!" Kyle gritted through his teeth. Mulder took up the rope again, but stood breathing heavily and scanning around them. "The boat's gone." Kyle, too, tried to orient himself. "Holy flaming cow!" Megan noticed, too. "Kyle! Where's the boat?" She was at the base of the aft mast, with the crank hanging limply in her hand. None of them could say. At last, Kyle got Mulder's attention. "The wind is back. Let's just get this sail up." Mulder nodded and glanced at his partner at the wheel. He could just make out the top of her face, but her eyes were wide and focused out to her left. Then slowly, she closed her eyes. In the light breeze, the fog lifted quickly and in no time Scully was steering them out into the open ocean again. Mulder helped Kyle hoist the main sail and the top sail before the two of them collapsed in the cockpit. Megan had retired almost immediately down to the common room to check the equipment and their position. She returned with beers in hand. "We're really off course," she said, handing a bottle to Scully and readjusting some of the knobs under the wheel. "I spoke with the coast guard and reported our situation." She took a swig and placed her bottle in the holder by the wheel. "Prepare to come about." Scully took a seat next to Mulder. "Remember the boom?" He nodded and looked up to the heavy pole that secured the main sail. Megan swung the wheel hard to the right and the boom swept from the left side of the ship to the right, not stopping until it hung over the water. Once again the boat seemed to lift and the side that Mulder was on rose a good five feet. It was hard to fight the sensation that the boat was going to tip over completely, but this time, he only grabbed the back of the bench. He considered it a personal victory. Kyle gulped at his beer. "So how far off course are we?" "About 30 miles north and east of where we should have been." "What?" he choked out. "How did we drift that far in one day?" Megan shrugged. "The good news is, that we're not really going to have to make up the time. Where we are now is still about seven days from the Bermuda coast." Kyle looked thoughtfully over the ocean to his right and pulled at his sweat stained shirt that was quickly drying. "Did you report the old schooner?" Locking off the wheel, Megan grabbed her beer and settled against her husband. "Yes." She put an emphatic hand on her hip. "And that man had the nerve to suggest it was just a trick of the light!" Disgusted, Mulder slammed his hand against the bench below him. Not only did work follow him everywhere, but the lies and deception did as well. "That's bullshit. All four of us saw it." His head turned to Scully. She'd been quiet ever since he and Megan had gotten back from the raft. "The ship was coming right for us." "Maybe they're right, Mulder," she stated reasonably. "I mean, ships don't just disappear. A trick of the light does." "It wasn't just a shadow," he pushed. "Scully, it had mass and a defined shape." "Mulder, it looked like a ghost ship right out of a B movie from the 40's." "Who's to say that isn't accurate? Someone had to get that image from somewhere. Don't dismiss this simply because it's convenient." Her eyebrows raised incredulously. "It's not convenient, it's cliche." "Scully. You don't have to believe the rest of us, but don't deny what your own eyes told you." "Mulder, my intellect tells me that a ship - even a cliched, deserted ghost ship - can't vanish into thin air." "But your intellect has no problem with the solid form that all four of us saw being nothing more than reflected light against the fog? And it doesn't question that the reflected light became a clearer image as it got closer; behaving, in fact, contrary to the laws of light refraction?" Her back stiffened and she threw her shoulders back. "You can't tell me that was a phantom ship, Mulder, because there isn't any such thing!" "Just because you choose not to believe it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist!" "It means it doesn't exist for me," she countered. "And that's your whole argument? Proof through denial?" Mulder hadn't realized that he'd raised his voice until the quiet that followed began to ring in his ear. Megan popped up in an obvious attempt to break the tension. "I think I need another beer." Scully turned sharply from Mulder and followed her. "You got anything stronger?" They disappeared below deck. Kyle propped a knee up on the bench and took another swig of his beer. "I don't know, Mulder." He shook his head. "You two fight like a couple." Two hours later, by Mulder's watch, the sunset had slipped into the watery horizon, leaving only a thin ribbon of orange to highlight the inky blue sky. Kyle sat opposite him towards the back of the cockpit, enjoying the evening and the soft piano music that filtered through hidden speakers. Every once in a while, the quiet man would rise and check the helm or reset the CD. But then, Kyle would return to his seat and relax again; allowing his eyes to glide over the stars and the mood and the beauty of the full sails and the ocean. And Megan. She slouched low on the bench on the other side of Kyle's bench, talking quietly with Scully, who was on her fifth glass of scotch. Make that her sixth. Megan refilled her glass as she leaned against Mulder's partner; listening intently. Scully didn't seem to notice. Whatever they were talking about had her smiling, and she laughed quietly as Megan took over the conversation again. The two of them looked as if they'd been friends for years; shoulder to shoulder, talking for hours, comfortable in their own little bubble. Kyle didn't seem to mind being left out at all. He watched his wife with a fond smile, content to be a witness rather than a participant. Mulder was bored. Scully downed the contents of her glass, and Mulder frowned when Megan simply handed her the bottle. Apparently, the constant refills were becoming too taxing. To Mulder's surprise (and secret delight), however, Scully pushed the bottle away. She gave a lopsided shake of her head and made a move like she was going to stand up. Nothing happened. She poked curiously at her legs, and Megan gave a wild laugh. Once they decided that Scully was, indeed, going to need help standing, the two women linked arms and counted out loud, "One . . . two . . . three!" They rocked forward like sloppy toddlers and made it - barely - to a teetering stand. It took another minute for them to work up the forward velocity to actually walk. They made it as far as the aft stairs, and had every intent, Mulder was sure, to navigate the steep steps side by side. The fact that the doorway was only wide enough for one wasn't even a consideration. "Scully . . ." Mulder grabbed her arm to keep her from falling down head first. "Let me help you." She yanked her arm away from him, using Megan for balance. "You don't think I can manage by myself." "I think you're drunk, Scully." "I'm happening to be nicely buzzed." "You're happening, all right." He smirked as she faltered on her feet. "You passed buzzed over an hour ago." Megan released her arm and fell happily onto her husband. "Hey there, stranger." "Hey, yourself." He kissed her lightly on the shoulder. "Oh." She kissed his forehead. "Do that again." He started at her shoulder and slowly worked his way up the arch of her neck and to the underside of her chin before she whimpered in frustration. With both hands Megan held her husband's head and firmly planted a hungry kiss over his mouth. //Time to make a strategic exit,// Mulder decided. Scully, on the other hand, had other ideas. She was completely focused on the couple next to her, her mouth open a fraction. "Come on, Scully, time for bed." She turned reluctantly to Mulder, her eyes wide and glassy. He helped her down the stairs and sat her at the foot of the bed, and she let him help her along without a word. She was despondent all of a sudden; a whole 180 from just a moment before. "Mulder," she sighed, after staring at her feet. "I don't think I can take my shoes off." Water was pooling under her eyelids. //Maybe that's why Scully rarely drinks,// Mulder thought. //She's a depressive drunk.// And yet, somehow that explanation didn't sit entirely true with him. He crouched down, wanting nothing more in the world than to make her smile. "Don't worry, Scully." Mulder removed her tennis shoes and placed them neatly on the floor by her feet. When he looked up, her eyes were closed and her head was nodding forward. "Easy does it, Scully." He practically lifted her back on the bed and slipped her under the covers. Her eyes opened and met with his. The sadness was there, but with it was . . . something naked and painful. It was so foreign from the Scully that he knew that it paralyzed him. But then she closed her eyes and whatever it was went with them. Kyle popped his head in the doorway. "Hey, Mulder. You think you could give me a hand with putting the ship to bed? Meg's out of it for the night." "Sure, I'll be right there." As soon as Kyle was gone, Mulder looked down at his sleeping partner. What was going on in that complicated head of hers? How many other un-Scully things were hidden in there? So strong and powerful and intelligent and compassionate. //And sad.// He kissed her forehead to ward off the demons. The blue light from the moon was streaming through the wide bay window, spotlighting Scully where she lay sleeping. Mulder had long since given up trying to sleep through the nausea that rolled in and over him as the ship moved. Because his shoulders and upper back were achy, the thought of another night propped up in the open air of the cockpit - where, for some inexplicable reason the motion of the boat didn't seem to bother him - left no appeal whatsoever. Especially when Scully was sleeping so peacefully beside him on the bed. The gentle rise and fall of her stomach and the slender hand that rested over it acted like a metronome, dividing up his night into inhales and exhales. At some point later, Mulder awoke to the feel of a hand running low along his hip. He peered into the darkness, but it was absolute. Either his eyes were failing him or there was a sudden cloud cover blocking out the full moon that had lit the room earlier that evening, because there was nothing that he could see. What he could feel, though, was another story. A second hand came out of the darkness, and together they gently but firmly pushed him back down to the pillow. A soft disembodied, "Shhh..." hushed any protest he might have made; if protesting wasn't the last thing on his mind. The mattress shifted and the weight of a small body settled above him. A small and very feminine body. Her hands glided up his sides as her legs parted over his hips. His groin reacted immediately, heating and firming under her weight. She rocked against him, pressing against his waking erection. Spirals of desire shot from his belly downward, and his hips bucked. He gripped her waist, locking her against him. The pressure was delicious. She moaned. He knew that moan - it was a Scully moan. Her name jumped to his lips, but her fingers found his mouth in the dark and stopped the word. His heart was pounding in every part of his body. Her silky fingers fell away, and in their place she pressed her lips to his and her tongue lanced roughly into his mouth. //Oh, God. Scully. Tell me this isn't a dream.// Her fingers wove their way through his hair. It was all he could do to simply lay there and kiss her. It was becoming as hard to move as it was to think in the thickness of the dark. But he didn't want to think. He didn't want to move. His body was on a sensation high that he didn't want to end. She rocked against him again. And again. The friction from the cloth was threatening to be Mulder's undoing. He whimpered against her kisses in an effort to hold back the climax that was already building. Then she reached between them, slipping a hand beneath the loose sweat shorts he'd worn to bed, and the briefs underneath. She pushed them both down and found his erection. Mulder gasped as a new jolt of desire erupted through him. She held him firmly and freed him from the clothes. The feel of her clutching him, pulling him into position against her was unbelievable. But the wet flesh that parted over the head of his erection was beyond description. She was hot and slick, and as she mounted him he couldn't stop himself from murmuring her name over and over. She guided him inside her body, that rippled as it swallowed him; milking his length and tugging him deeper. The small pinch as he penetrated her inner barrier brought a grunt from them both. And then she dropped herself on top of him and kissed him with a replenished hunger. He returned her passion, and while they continued the kiss, Mulder flipped them both over and managed to thrust himself a little deeper into her body. "Yes!" She cried out in delight. And, as if the sensation of being erect and buried deep within her wasn't enough - as if the knowledge that she'd initiated their joining didn't fill him with enough elation - as if the sound of her panted breath and desire wasn't completely satisfying - Mulder could think of nothing in that moment of truth but the words that slipped out through his lips. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you..." In that second, the bluish moon filled the room once more, and Mulder blinked at the face beside him. //Scully.// So beautiful with her hair gently askew and her eyes closed. //Asleep.// Mulder's stomach lurched in panic. Yes, he was painfully erect, but not inside her or even below her. There were layers of clothing, a blanket, and an inch or two between them. Her arms weren't twined around him, but limp out to her sides as she slept deeply. He leapt from the bed, and she didn't stir as it gave an extra bounce. She just lay there, in the light that pooled around her, oblivious to the dream that had taken Mulder over. //It had to have been a dream,// Mulder told himself. //No matter how real it felt...she felt...// The nausea returned with a vengeance. The toilet stood open and ready for him as he pushed his way into the bathroom and emptied his stomach. What had he been thinking? That Scully would really come on to him in a way that was neither teasing nor playful? He coughed and sputtered. Only in his dreams. Admittedly he'd had plenty of those type of dreams. But never when she was asleep at his side, passed out. He'd said that he loved her. In the dream. Mulder glanced back through the room to his sleeping partner. When the dream fades and the tangle of reality returns, what's left? And is it real? Their lovemaking hadn't been. Her desire for him hadn't been. The Dramamine pills sat in their bottle next to the sink. He rinsed his mouth out and swallowed two. Not that he really expected them to help. They weren't going to do anything about the problem in his shorts. Mulder closed the door and placed a hand on the wall behind the toilet and pulled his stiff member out, briefly thanking the heavens that the disturbing dream hadn't become a wet dream. He wasn't sure he could've dealt with that. //Stop thinking about her.// Mulder closed his eyes and yanked himself hard, trying to keep his mind neutral. And when that didn't work, he let himself think of the countless scenarios that he'd witnessed courtesy of VHS. And jerked even harder. He tried a variety of rhythms to accompany the images. They only helped in making him harder and more desperate, not in bringing the release he was ready to beg for. He looked down at the first drop of milky liquid that was dripping slowly down the underside of his shaft. He was red and swollen and ready to burst. Why wouldn't he come? It had never taken so long before. //This is excruciating! Come on! Do it! Just get this over with.// He gave himself permission to think of her, and the image of her in her mulberry pant suit fluttered into his mind. She stood with her arms crossed and one brow cocked. Her lips opened to dispute some theory of his . . . and that was all that he needed. He leaned forward against his arm and groaned as his other hand tugged hard and fast and brought a rapid climax. He groaned in relief as he emptied himself, feeling the release even up through his belly. For a minute, Mulder drew in breath after breath, standing and holding himself over the toilet. And then he stepped back and reached for a towel. //The mulberry suit? God. What a pervert.// It took only a minute or so to clean himself up and get the bathroom looking the way it had before he made his grand entrance. He reluctantly switched off the light and peeked out the door, almost expecting to find her sitting up and staring at him, knowing exactly what had just happened. She hadn't moved a muscle. He pulled his pillow from the bed, grabbed his jacket from the dresser and headed for the protection that the uncomfortable cockpit benches had to offer. And tomorrow, he guessed, he'd have to talk to Kyle about alternate sleeping arrangements. End of 4/17 The Gossamer Project Author - Title - Date - Spoilers - Crossovers - X-Files - Adventures - Stories - Vignettes Other stories by MD1016 Morning came too fast. The diffused light of the sun pushing its way up from the horizon pried incessantly at Mulder's eye lids. No matter which way he turned his head, the blinding light found him. He whipped the jacket up from his bare legs to tent over his face, and mumbled a curse at the day. And then a new discovery assaulted him. A stiffness had set in across his shoulders and back that brought an unbelievably sharp pain when he tried to move. The first shock hit him hard and he cried out. "Mulder?" Her groggy voice slipped through the door like a croak. "Mulder? Where are you?" He could hear her stumbling off the bed and heading towards the bathroom. "I'm out here, Scully." She slowly came up the stairs. "Mulder?" There was something about the way she dropped herself on the bench opposite him with her hands pressing against her head that reminded him of the morning before. It terrified him into forgetting his own pain and focused him on relieving hers. Did she need the medication? Was there going to be another nose bleed? "Scully? Are you sick?" She nodded. "Hangover." Mulder relaxed, and the pain reasserted itself, this time pushing up into his stiff neck. "Take an aspirin and get some more sleep, Scully. It's too early to be conscious." "Mulder, did you sleep out here?" she asked quietly. She wore a muddled expression on her face as she glanced up at him. "No, not really. Only a couple of hours." "Why?" He knew she didn't really want to know the answer to that question. "I threw up." Half truths and misinformation. "Oh." There was a sigh in her tone. "The Dramamine really isn't working, is it?" "Don't worry about it, Scully." //Please drop it, Scully, and go back to bed. Please leave me alone and stop filling my head with erotic pictures. Please touch my hip and shush me into silence and make love with me until we explode.// She stood and leaned over him, her eyes peering into his own; searching. Her delicate hand brushed across his forehead and cupped his cheek. Mulder's heart raced. Could she see what he was thinking? He closed his eyes. //Is this another dream?// "It's just seasickness, right, Mulder? You're not coming down with something are you?" //Nope. Not a dream.// Scully was just in doctor mode. He shook his head to break free from her hand. He was too conscious of her to be touched. "I'm not sick." She stood back and studied him and he had to turn away. He feigned fatigue. Finally, she relented. "Okay, Mulder." Then he heard her footfalls on the stairs and some fumbling around in the room below. She returned less than a minute later with the blanket from the bed. Mulder knew what she had in mind before she nudged his legs to bend and separate. The two of them had established sitting together and sleeping on the padded bench as an accepted practice. And for some reason, in her mind it seemed like the right thing to do once again. She hadn't even slipped into his lap before the creature between his legs woke with a jerk. Was there no end to the humiliation? He didn't usually have that much trouble. "Jesus, Mulder." She cooed as she leaned heavily against his stomach. "Not now, I have a head ache." She reached around and pulled his arms across her shoulders. Her head fit snugly into the crook of his elbow. Then she sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. He closed his own eyes and held her tightly against him. It wasn't like he was going to have an opportunity to cradle her when they got back to DC, right? He should enjoy it while it lasted. And yet, even while he tried to convince himself that he wasn't taking advantage of her comfort with their friendship, a rather large part of him was crying foul. Guilt seeped in to the warmth his body stole from hers. Shame laced the arousal that buzzed through him. And as she lay sleeping in his arms, Mulder was thankful that she remained unaware of it all. Mulder glanced over the top of his borrowed "La Morte d'Arthur". Yep. She'd fallen asleep again. She was lying on a beach towel near the rear mast, enjoying the sun streaming down on her front. When she first emerged from the cabin, Mulder couldn't help but choke on his lunch. He'd never pictured Scully as a baby-blue bikini woman; with a bra-like top and hip-hugging bottoms. Not that he'd complained. Especially not after the do-it-and-die look she'd given him. Coward that he was, Mulder had quickly focused on his food and tried to ignore the way she'd self-consciously adjusted her shoulder straps. The slim line of her body had only been accentuated by the brilliance of the day, and as thin as she was, everything about her was still smooth and round. In the back of his mind, Mulder had imagined she tasted of butterscotch. "She snoozing again?" Megan tossed her charting book and pencil on the floor beside her bench next to the dozing dog, startling Mulder out of his day dream. "You want me to flip her this time?" "I got her." Mulder could already see the red splotched raising on Scully's belly and arms. "She's going to look like a lobster if she keeps baking herself." Megan tossed him a small bottle of lotion. "It's only SPF 8, but it's better than nothing, with her skin." Megan wasn't as dark as many of the black women he'd known, but he suspected that she was dark enough not to worry about burning too badly. Scully on the other hand was just about as pale as they came. Mulder shook the bottle as he stood. Just then, Kyle came up from below. His hands were marred with grease and grime, and his wide face was doused with sweat. "You're not going to believe this," he tossed out conversationally. Megan put down her coffee and gave the dog at her feet a loving scratch. "The motor's still a block of ice?" Her husband shook his head. "Nope. In fact, the motor looks as good as new. There's no sign of damage from water expansion or erosion." He pulled a dirty hand towel from below and dabbed at his brow and eyes. "No, now the electrical system is out." Mulder peeked past him into the cabin. "What do you mean?" He shrugged in disgust. "Lights, radio, fridge all out." Kyle wiped his hands meticulously. "I checked the fuse box but everything looks okay in there." "And the navigation equipment?" Kyle nodded solemnly. "Yeah, that, too. I think we should stop at the nearest port and have The Lady looked at." They pulled down all but the main sail in preparation for their unscheduled stop. Megan quickly went over docking procedures with Mulder, while out of the corner of his eye he watched Scully make the long climb up to the fore crow's nest; Kyle clambering right behind her. Suddenly the taller woman stopped talking and stood staring at him with her hands on her hips. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I zone out for a second there." A smirk accompanied her sarcasm. "Riiight. Sure you did." As the island floated into sight, the four shipmates collected in the cockpit and Megan slipped her glasses farther up on her nose to read from a flimsy book she'd pulled out from below. "'Erlona is the single smallest populated independent island in the world. Total inhabitants number about 950 during the off season. Basically a fishing community, most buildings are without electricity; but in recent years running water has been introduced as a norm for most island inhabitants.'" "That sounds like the place!" Kyle sat back and crossed his ankle over his knee. His wife studied him carefully, but he pretended not to notice. "Why haven't we stopped there before?" Megan shrugged. "It's in the middle of nowhere and a day and a half's sail to the next port. And it doesn't look like Erlona has much to offer." Scully, newly dressed in a relaxed white v-tee and blue shorts, looked through the binoculars at the island. "Do we know anything else about the people? Is it a US territory? We're not sailing into Cuba, are we?" "Uh," Meg scanned the page. "Nope. Erlona is under Bermuda's protection, but no one actually claims it. They practice a religion called Dion-ru. It's polytheistic. And their language is Erlcan, what ever that is. But it says here that fifteen percent of the population speaks either English or French as well." "We've got the English covered," Mulder said dryly. He felt useless in their current state. His instincts were to investigate the occurrences on The Lady as an X-file; but hell. This was his vacation as much as Scully's. For possibly the first time in his life, he was willing to step aside and let the mystery be solved with conventional logic. Mulder sat back and hugged himself. He was definitely getting old. "Let's hope we don't have to get by on Meg's French," Kyle teased good-naturedly. She swatted his knee. Their interplay brought a playful smile to Scully's mouth. She really seemed to enjoy watching the couple interact. Which worked, he figured, since they seemed to enjoy the audience. The island was like something out of time. From the shore, you could see most of it; from the broken mountain sitting just off center that looked as if someone had taken a huge scoop right out of its middle, to the lush jungle-like growth that surrounded it, to the brilliant white beach, and the colorful simple hut-filled town in between. It was a tropical paradise that somehow had had the good fortune of being over-looked by the 20th century. Maybe the 19th and 18th centuries, too. Mulder briefly wondered what his chances were of finding a radio with the Knick's game on it. Before The Lady was even tied down, the port's welcome wagon was standing on the dock. The three men that greeted them were all at least a foot shorter than either Kyle or Mulder, and their skin was dark and weathered. The man on the left wore a pair of faded red pants that hung from his hips and ended just below his knobby knees. His stark white beard denoted his age and placed him as the guy in charge. He stepped forward and patted his own shoulder twice. "English?" He over-enunciated with an accent Mulder had never heard before. Kyle greeted him warmly and mimicked the gesture on his own shoulder. "English, please!" Once they shook hands, he explained about some of the boat troubles and asked the rates on renting a boat slip for a night or two. The older man was only too happy to accommodate. The restaurant was almost elegant in its simplicity. It was open to the air, with the thickly tiled floor extending several yards past the thatched roof. Huge torches blazed around the perimeter; and coupled with the candles on each of the tables, the whole atmosphere held a soft, golden warmth. Mulder sat next to Kyle, trying to enjoy the pleasantly sweet wine the waiter had presented to them. Behind them, near the sectioned off kitchen, a small steel drum band began to play along with a lone clarinet. Mulder checked his watch. //Where the hell is Scully?// The two women had stayed behind in the twin bungalow that they'd rented (much to Mulder's relief - dry land!) saying something about "woman talk" and getting ready, and had shooed both him and Kyle out. Mulder didn't like being dismissed so easily. It was something Scully had never really done to him before. Once again it left him feeling like a fish out of water with no real purpose but to flounder and flip. There was no control over himself or his surroundings and it was driving him nuts. And it annoyed him that he seemed to be alone in that. It occurred to him that he had stopped taking vacations for a reason, and he was experiencing it to the hilt. "So." Kyle sipped his wine and broke into small talk. "How long have you known Scully?" "About five years, I guess." "I think it must be fascinating to work for the FBI," he said with a grin. "Flashing your badge around. Seeing the look of terror on people's faces." Mulder shrugged and looked out onto the dark surf as it rolled onto the shore. "Oh, I know. Meggie's father was a cop in Detroit. A Captain, actually. He scared the begeezes out of me a few times." He chuckled lightly. Mulder glanced at his watch again. 8:44PM. He scanned the pathway that led down from the bungalows; and as if by magic, she stepped into his field of vision in a long white printed dress that he'd never seen before. Her hair was gently curled and wispy around her face and the only jewelry she wore was the fine gold crucifix around her slender neck. She looked like a painting; as lovely as their surroundings. Mulder stood as they approached, unconscious of the formal gesture until Kyle also scrambled to his feet. Megan, Mulder noted, was also well-dressed and receiving more than a little attention from her husband. But his eyes kept coming back to his partner. As she bent to sit, he caught a glimpse of the back of the dress that consisted of nothing but thin straps that interlaced through tiny hoops and tied down near her waist. //God all-mighty.// He sat himself next to her and casually dumped his napkin into his lap. Their dinner of unrecognizable meats and fruits was followed by a walk along the beach, at Megan's request. Both she and Scully removed their thin sandals, and walked ahead of 'the men,' laughing and throwing glances back at them every once in a while. Scully'd had nearly four glasses of wine at dinner, and he could tell she was enjoying her buzz. He wished he could say the same. After about 20 minutes, Kyle called to his wife. "Meggie, come on. Let's head back." She stopped and said something in a hush to Scully before turning back. Scully didn't follow her. What was that all about? "You okay, Scully?" Mulder came up behind her as she watched Megan take her husband's arm and saunter up the path. "I'm fine. I'm just not ready to turn in yet." No, of course not. Mulder didn't have enough sand in his shoes yet. When their hosts had wandered far enough away, Mulder looked out over the water and stated lightly, "Dinner was interesting. I don't know what I was eating, but I hope it won't come back to bite me." "It was good," Scully mumbled distractedly. She was still staring off after Kyle and Megan. "Hey, Scully." She was doing it again. The phasing out that she'd started on their last case. At the time, Mulder had though it was just a defense mechanism related to the stress, but maybe it was more. A symptom? She turned towards the ocean and inhaled a lung-full of the salty air. Her eyes were wide and moist. "They make a great couple, don't they?" Mulder couldn't help but think this was one of those times when Scully was saying one thing but meaning something completely different. It irritated him when she did that, because for the life of him, he could never figure out what the hell was actually going on inside her head. And what she wanted him to say in response. "Sure," he said grimly. Come on Scully, give me something more to go on... But she didn't. She just sighed and crossed her arms and let the warm breeze play through her hair. It was dark out on the beach, but the moon was high in the sky and its glow highlighted Scully's face as if it were a sun blazing just for them. She looked down to consider herself in the dress and then sighed again. "You're not having a very good time." Her eyes lifted to search his for an answer. "Are you?" He couldn't say yes, he was having the time of his life, especially with her staring at him like that. But he wasn't having a bad time, either. There were worse things in the world than taking a sailing trip and ending up on a tropical island with Dana Scully. He'd witnessed many of those things first hand. She nodded before he could formulate an answer and turned back out to survey the ocean. "You said all I had to do was say the word and we'd head for home, right?" That had come out of left field. "Uh . . . I did. Right." "I'm saying the word." Wait. What were they talking about? Mulder shook his head in confusion. "But I thought . . . didn't you say you were having a good . . . aren't you having a good time?" "Mulder, how can I have a good time when you're miserable?" "I'm not miserable, Scully." Her eyes rolled in exasperation. "Come on, Mulder. You've been sick every night." "I haven't been sick tonight," he added hopefully. "Yeah. And guess where we're not." She ran a hand over her cheek and offered him a small smile. "I appreciate what you tried to do. Honestly. I'm touched that you went so far out of your way to do something like this for me - not to mention the cost. But enough already, Mulder. Give us both a break." He was speechless. He hadn't a clue what he should say. Or could say without making the situation worse by taking a jab at her. Her martyrdom pissed him off. He was supposed to be the fucking martyr, damn it! With a small shrug, she turned back towards the path and lifted the dress a little so her legs could maneuver in the sand. She was walking away from him. "I'm calling it a night, Mulder. I'm tired." Tired? //Bullshit.// She was walking away from him in the same way she'd gotten drunk the night before. If they were locked together in a cell with no alcohol, she'd probably bang her head against a wall until she passed out just so that she wouldn't have to deal with him. It wasn't Mulder who was miserable. It was her. And he'd be damned if he was going to let her pin it on him. His blood boiled. "I'm sorry you feel that way." He just said it. She was easier to chide when she wasn't looking at him; and to her back, he just said it. "Because you're wrong. I'm not miserable. But I do think we should cut this vacation short if after all this time that you've known me - after everything that we've survived together - you can't see what I'm really feeling." Mulder didn't know what that was supposed to mean, except that he wasn't feeling miserable. And she should know that - projecting or no. The anger bubbled inside him, and he clenched his fists to channel it. "And what it all comes down to, Scully, is that this whole thing has been a sham." She turned to him, her face awash with surprise. "What thing?" Mulder stumbled. He didn't know what he was saying, he was just saying it. He had to back-track for a moment. "The partnership . . . the friendship. The trust THING." She hung her shaking head and heaved a sigh. "Mulder, please don't do this. You know I trust you -" He couldn't stop; he was on a roll. And at least she wasn't walking away anymore. "Enough to tell me about your fears? Enough to tell me how you really felt all those times you were fine? Do you really trust me, Scully? Or do you pretend?" He knew that had been a cheap shot, but she met the challenge admirably. "I trust you, Mulder." "Enough?" He counted the number of breaths she took in the moment it took her to respond. But when she did, she hadn't backed down from his icy gaze. "Enough for you?" Her chin jutted forward. "How much is enough?" //Okay. Time for a different tactic.// The trouble was, Mulder wasn't sure what he was trying to accomplish. His arms flew up from his sides. "Jesus, Scully! I feel like I'm losing you! Ever since you got sick, it's like you've been walking away from me and you have this need to protect yourself from me. I'm not the enemy, Scully." She was quiet in the wake of his outburst. "I know that." "Then I don't understand. Why are you doing it? Backing away from me? Putting this distance between us? Don't you feel it, too? Do you even care?" "Of course, Mulder." "It scares the hell out of me, Scully. Does it scare you?" Her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "Does what scare me?" "Does losing me scare you?" he demanded with a pinched throat to keep from yelling. Scully stood with her feet planted firmly on the ground and her face completely blank. She breathed. "No." And that was when the earth fell out from underneath him. "Mulder," she sighed and looked away. "I've never really had you." His head shook. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was inconceivable. Did she really know him so poorly? How could she not know his devotion to her? Was this really Scully? "You are committed heart and soul to your causes, Mulder. Completely." "I have always been there for you-" "No, Mulder. I'm sorry but you haven't. I've been the afterthought." "Never!" She sprang to life. "Always! When my father died, you knew I was at the hospital filling out forms and taking care of my mother all night. Skinner called you before midnight. But it wasn't until the next day at work that you said anything." "What?" She couldn't be serious. What had she expected? "And before Missy died, you put that damn tape before her. Before me. I had to beg you to give it up, Mulder, just so that I could see her. And by then, it was too late." "You blame me for Melissa's death?" "No. No, I blame you for nothing, Mulder." "Oh, this is rich!" "I can't tell you how many times you've run off by yourself and left me kicking my heels -" Oh, no! She wasn't going to use that against him again. "That was for YOU! To keep you safe!" "Oh, really? Are you sure it's not because having another body around would impede your movements? Are you sure it wasn't because if I was actually with you as a partner, my presence might force you to think of my life before your damn quest?" Mulder shook his head violently. "You don't know what you're talking about." "I know that when you abandoned me to jump on that boat with Jeremiah Smith, you left me behind with that bounty hunter to deal with. And when you flew to God-knows-where on the Schnauzer case and left me to investigate the construction sites WITHOUT BACKUP-" "You DO blame me!" "No!" She let out an exhausted breath. "No. I don't blame you, Mulder. For any of it. I'm just trying to make you see, Mulder. I trust you as far as you trust me. As far as it's convenient." "I trust you with my life!" "Yes, your life is easy. Isn't it? But you would never think to trust me with your quest. With your secrets. Why should I be any different?" "Scully . . . I . . ." He stood open-jawed, trying to tell her she was wrong, but having trouble seeing the flaw in her reasoning. "Mulder, don't say it. I understand. You say it scares you to think that you're losing me, but what you really mean is someone who will test your theories and still go along with you no matter where you might lead - until you decide to go it alone." "No. You're twisting it." "Am I?" The look on her face told him she didn't think so, but to please prove her wrong if he could. "Losing you doesn't scare me, Mulder. But that doesn't mean I don't feel the loss. It kills me every day that you're not mine." She motioned behind her at the pathway. "I look at Kyle and Meg and I know that we could have that - or at least something similar. That we're supposed to have that. And all along, right from the beginning, I was telling myself, 'Well, maybe he'll catch on next year' or the year after that. And suddenly I'm having to plan for the end of my life and I feel like this huge jump has been made but I've nothing to show for it. And I try to pretend that it's not happening, and I work and I live and I tell myself, 'Well, maybe next week' or the week after that. Or the day after that." A deep frown forced her tears back, and she blinked them away like they'd never been there. "And now I've had enough. But don't think for one minute that I don't know what you're feeling, Fox Mulder. I know you're attracted to me. I know you even feel a certain kind of love for me. A fondness. And you feel devoted to me because even though I refuse to blame you, you will always blame yourself. I SEE IT! I see the pensiveness and the frustration and the concerned glances. Better than you, I think. "But it doesn't really matter anymore. Because we're standing on the beach of an island neither of us have ever heard of before, arguing about things that in three years time won't make a bit of difference. And I just want it to stop. I love you for trying to give this to me, and I don't blame you one bit. But I want to go home." Panting and exhausted, Scully stood before him; her shoes dangling from one hand. When he didn't say anything, she turned and walked up the path, defeating anything he might've hoped to achieve. When she finally disappeared through the foliage, Mulder stood alone on the beach and let the tears fall until he couldn't see anymore. End of 5/17 Mulder had no concept of time. But at some point after Scully left him, he wandered down the beach another hundred yards or so, to a horde of huddled rocks. Slowly he pulled himself up on one, snagging his black jeans over its jagged edges. The slicing pain felt good in a way ... and in another made him cry harder. //Home.// She wanted to go home. He wanted to get as far away from home as the stars would carry him. And even then he might hitchhike a bit farther. Because the plain truth of the matter was that she was a large part of what he'd considered home to be, only to find out she didn't trust him. The years that he'd believed in her trust - the *only* trust he took as sacred - were all a waste of time. And life. And his trust. Never believe a woman, isn't that what they say? You can't ever know for sure what they're really thinking under their perfect lips and bottomless eyes. Mulder had always been able to see what Scully had been thinking when he'd been allowed to search her eyes; or at least he thought he had. He believed he had. But then, Scully was a woman - something he'd spent most of their partnership trying to forget. And he couldn't possibly have known what she'd really been thinking and feeling because all along she hadn't trusted him. Not really. Not completely. She'd admitted as much. She'd said it was convenient only up to a point, and that had been where she'd chosen to draw the line. And all through their years of partnership, he'd been looking at her from the other side and never known it. He couldn't bring himself to believe that she was on Their side. But she wasn't on his, and that was all that mattered to him. It was a damn good thing he hadn't allowed himself to fall in love with her. That would've been a disaster. Partners split all the time in the Bureau...but if he'd let her into his heart... And then the image of her small area in his cramped office swept clear of her stuff left him with such a pain in his chest that he actually became a little light-headed. He wrapped his arms around himself and doubled over to relieve the ache. He hoped Scully was suffering at least half as much as he was. Of course, she wouldn't cry. Scully didn't cry. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen actual tears roll down her cheeks. But she claimed to feel the loss - Oh, if only that were true! He wanted her to suffer. At that moment he wanted her to writhe with the agony that tormented him; to languish and burn through to the center of her soul with it. To die from it. //No. //Not to die. //God, please. Never that. //But maybe she could cry a little.// A low whine startled Mulder out of his personal hell. It quickly became the endless escalating screech of a disaster siren. In the quiet night of the island, it echoed with an eerie foreboding. Mulder jumped to his feet and trotted across the fine sand as fast as he could manage. Down the path and just beyond the small building that served as a beach lookout, he was nearly run over by a frantic woman pulling her three small children in tow. And she wasn't alone. More people than Mulder had given the island credit for poured out of the various huts and structures that emptied on to the dirt roads; all heading for a main brick building that seemed to be a City Hall. The frenzied terror in the faces of the people that were running by him pushed Mulder into a frantic sprint back to the bungalow. Megan was arguing with a small Erlonian man when Mulder burst through the door. "What do you mean She's coming? Who is She?" The man babbled something off quickly in a French dialect as Kyle turned away from his frustrated wife and explained: "He won't give us a straight answer. He just keeps saying we have to go to the hole, whatever that is." He looked around Mulder. "Where's Dana?" Morg barked excitedly at something out the window. Mulder blinked. "I thought she came back here." His stomach turned over. "She's not here?" Kyle rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you two were fighting again - HEY! Where are you going?" "To find Scully!" Mulder was already out the door. Outside, the mass of people filing into the central building was thinning, and the siren's wail was cut short. The air was thick and wet and it smelled ...saltier, maybe? Something was definitely happening. Who ever the 'She' was that the hotel clerk had mentioned, She was able to affect more than just the fears of the natives. A tropical storm? Mulder turned back towards the pier and ran as fast as he could. If Scully wasn't with him, and she wasn't at the bungalow, it only made sense that she would go back to The Lady - the next most familiar thing. Mulder knew from experience that she always seemed to cling to the familiar when she was upset. Which explained her desire to go home. //Damn her.// By the time Mulder reached the long stretch of wooden dock, there wasn't another soul about. Even the ships that were tied to the platform seemed to be holding their breath; afraid to move or else be caught by the dreaded She. The water was still; and in the moonlight, black as death. Crawling aboard The Lady was no easy task without the step ladder, but not impossible - even for someone five foot two. It took him a minute to haul himself up and over the railing. The first thing Mulder saw in the cockpit was the blood. It splashed like paint splatters on the bench, and spilled over to the floor. A small red hand print smeared the wall next to the aft quarters entrance. Neither of the locks on the doors had been touched, though, and there was no sign of Scully's presence. Just the clues that she'd been there at some point. And bled, Mulder added grimly. Then he did an about face. //Don't jump to conclusions,// he told himself. //It may not be her blood. That thought didn't help to make him feel any better. //Damn it. Where the hell would she go?// Mulder racked his brain. The only places they'd been were the bungalow, the restaurant and a minute at the ship yard registrar to sign in through the Erlonian version of customs. Mulder rested on his upper thighs and took a moment to catch his breath. It wasn't until then that he saw it. Hanging just beyond the far side of the boat. The mist. Thick and murky over the sleeping ocean like a blanket sliding up to suffocate its owner. So that was the She: the mist. And She was coming in fast. And Scully was gone. "Come on Scully. Where are you?" He leapt from the ship and sprinted to land just as the fog over took him. One moment he was looking at the small sign that contained a welcome in several different languages, and the next everything was dark. The damp air choked him. Was it the same mist they'd encountered on the boat? That hadn't seemed to be anything more than an inconvenience. But then, Mulder reminded himself, the motor. And the electrical system. Obviously the people of Erlona had seen this She before. They feared Her. Perhaps he had reason to as well. "Scully!" Actively searching for her was no longer a viable option. It would be like trying to match socks in the dark. "Scully!" he screamed. "Scully! Can you hear me?" There were no lights that were able to permeate the fog. Either the village turned them off - or they were cut off, or the mist had grown so dense that it swallowed up the light. "Scully!" There was no sound, either, save his own ragged breath. Not even the birds in the stone-still trees moved. Where the hell was she? //Stop and think this through,// Mulder coached himself. She'd gone back to the boat - and then left. Presumably she'd had another nose bleed... Mulder prayed that's all it was. The amount of blood that he'd seen was ten times any nosebleed she'd ever had, but if that was all that it was, and not a mortal wound from a would-be mugger... Yes, he'd been upset and wished for her to suffer; but in the face of the possibility of a real threat to her life, Mulder pushed aside his anger and hurt, and recanted. After he found her and knew she was all right, then he could be mad at her again. For the moment, he wanted nothing more than her safety. "Scuuuuuully!" "Mulder?" Her voice was distant and strained, and it came from his left. He reached his hands out into the blackness and called her name as if it were a lifeline. His knuckles hit the rough bark of a tree, cracking and jamming in on themselves. "Damn it!" "Mulder!" The pitch in her voice rose with concern. "Scully, I'm over here!" He tried again to feel for her, walking blindly with his outstretched hands, groping through the dark for her. "Scully, are you hurt?" A hand came out of nowhere and grasped his wrist before it slipped to his palm and squeezed. It was sticky. "Mulder?" "It's me, Scully." "Mulder, what's happening?" That seemed to be the question of the hour. "I don't know. Everyone's taken shelter in the red-bricked building. Maybe the fog is some sort of poison gas." "Isn't it the same as the fog we got caught up in yesterday?" "No idea. But let's play conservative and follow the natives. They all knew exactly what the siren was for." He tugged her hand and pulled her beside him. "This way, I think." Her arm was just as sticky as her hand. "Scully, what *is* this?" He played a little with the tackiness at her wrist. "Uh," he could almost hear her face twist as she tried to dodge his question. "I - it's nothing. Where's the building?" "Scully, it's all over you." He placed a hand at the small of her back to help her along a little faster and he felt her cool skin under a cris-crossing of string. She swayed a little off balance. "I'm fine, Mulder." So, that's where they were. Distance and empty lies. She stumbled. "Scully. You're not fine." She tried to yank her arm out of his grasp, but he tightened his grip. "Scully, stop." He had to find a way past the shield she was struggling to put up. Everything in him told him she was far from fine. The stickiness went all the way up her arm. "Scully? Is this blood?" She sighed and tripped over a cement curb. Mulder steadied her. "I just - I had another nosebleed." "You're shivering." "I've lost more blood than usual. I was running." "Damn it, Scully. Why do you try to tell me you're fine when you're obviously not?" "Please, can't we fight about this later... Mulder. I need to sit..." Her voice wavered a second before her weight dropped into his arms. "Scully!" Her head lolled against his chest and her arms went limp in his hands. She was in a dead faint. A sudden rush of adrenaline shot through Mulder's veins and he scooped his partner up and wandered as fast as he could through the thick air towards the city hall. Or, where he remembered seeing it last. The whole time he chanted, "Wake up Scully..." Her legs dangled awkwardly from his left elbow, threatening to topple them. Carrying dead weight in an unfamiliar environment in pitch darkness wasn't as easy as Mulder felt it should've been. "Wake up Scully... Wake up Scully..." A flash of burning cold ripped through Mulder's body, searing through his very bones; and then, it melted away as soon as he stumbled into his next step. He was left with tingles and painful pinpricks. //What the hell was that?// His knees threatened to buckle for half a second, but Mulder righted himself and plotted on; desperate to get to the building before he ran into whatever that was again. "Wake up Scully..." When he finally reached the pebbled steps of the city hall, Mulder felt a wetness soaking through his white buttoned-down shirt. Was she still bleeding? Had she been all that time? He struggled with the door, shifting Scully in his arms. The moist air was catching in his lungs, making breathing difficult. When the door opened at last, Mulder was panting on the verge of hyperventilation. Inside, there were lit sconces lining the walls of the huge entry hall. Several doors were elegantly framed, but none gave him any clue as to where to go next. The building was as empty as the streets had been. But at least in there he could see. He slammed the heavy door shut with his hip and looked down at the unconscious woman in his arms. //Blood.// Blood everywhere: her arms, her chest, her neck and chin; his hands and middle and everywhere she'd touched him. Even her pale face was smeared with the countless attempts at wiping it away. The once white and flowered dress was nothing more than a shimmer of deep red wetness as her belly rose and fell with her shallow breaths. Thin strands of hair stuck to the matted blood on her neck. A sheen of sweat was forming on her forehead. She was going into shock. Mulder was already there. Not even gunshot victims bled the volume of blood she was covered with. He didn't know what to do. And so, he panicked. "Help! Help me!" The tops of her bare feet were splattered with red droplets. "Please! Someone! HELP!" He screamed loud enough for his voice to boom and echo through the empty room. "HEEEEEEEEEELP!" A small unmarked door in the corner of the room cracked open and a familiar face poked out. "Kyle! He's here!" Megan slammed the door open and bolted to Mulder's side. "Holy flaming cow! What the hell happened?" Mulder shook his head, and the rest of him followed suit. "She said it was a nosebleed. Jesus. I'm going to drop her." Megan's thin arms curled around Scully. "Let go, Mulder. I've got her." But Mulder couldn't get his arms to relax away from her. "Mulder, we need to get her downstairs. They have medical supplies. Let go." Kyle was beside him before he even knew the man was in the room. "Mulder," he said, trying to reassure him, "we've got her. Everything's going to be okay." It took a moment for the two of them to pry his partner out of his arms, but when they finally did, it was like the strings holding him up had been cut. His knees buckled and he fell forward. He would've hit the floor hard if Megan hadn't caught him around the chest and helped him to his knees. Panting and shaking, Mulder watched Kyle carry Scully through the little door. "Hey, Dude." Mulder turned his head and focused his eyes on Megan's perfect almond shaped eyes. He'd never responded to 'Dude' before. "I'm okay." He returned his gaze to the door. "You said they have medicine. Do they have blood? She may need a transfusion." She nodded. "It's amazing. They have a whole village under this building. Carved right into the stone." Mulder sat back on his heels and patted his soaked chest absently. "She needs blood." "If she needs it, she'll get it. Kyle's with her -" "I should be with her." He pushed himself up. "I really lost it, huh?" He managed a smile of humiliation. "I don't know why. I've seen worse. Hell, *I've* been worse." As she hooked his arm around her shoulders she gave him the answer. "Because it's her." And that just about summed it all up. One minute he could be praying for her suffering and the next praying for her safety - because it was Scully. In all the world there was only one of her. "Yeah," he mumbled. The stairs that led down to the enormous round chamber were much like the chamber itself: irregularly carved directly into the limestone and bedrock that made up the foundation of the island. The air was still moist in the cavern, but it was chilled by the earth that surrounded it making the walls clammy and damp. A large generator at the base of the stairs connected the sparse industrial lamps with enough energy to light the room. And what a room it was. About 60 or so family groups sat huddled on mats and blankets; most of the adults were holding small children and trying to hush them back to sleep. It must have been close to 1 AM, Mulder guessed. At various points along the stone walls, small alcoves opened up into narrow tunnels; each snaking off into the dark. Meg led Mulder through one of them. "When they first dragged us down here, they weren't sure what to do with us. We were dumped in the infirmary for a while. That's where Kyle will have taken her, I'm sure. Which is right . . . here." They rounded a small corner and the tunnel ended abruptly in another large chamber. Cots and tables sat neatly in rows along the five walls of the room. Only a few of the beds were occupied, to Mulder's surprise. After the stampede he'd witnessed to get into this underground haven, he would've expected the room to be overflowing with casualties. But interestingly, the majority of the commotion was centered around a woman in one of the last beds in the final stages of labor. Scully was lying quietly in the third bed on Mulder's right. Kyle was hovering closely as a round nurse slowly cleaned her face and neck. Her eyes were open a sliver, following him as he entered the room. She didn't protest the wet rag that was wiped over her, and that worried Mulder. If she was her usual fine self, she would be cleaning up on her own. She raised a reaching hand to him. "Mull'r..." Her voice was weak. "I'm right here, Scully." He clamped her hand between his and leaned in close. He wanted her to feel his presence. "I'm cold." The room was chilly, even to Mulder's fully clad body. All Scully had on was the strappy dress. He pushed the attending nurse out of the way with a little nudge, and she faded into the hubbub on the other side of the room. Mulder tucked Scully's bare feet under the thick wool blanket at the end of the bed, and pulled it up over her still-bloodied body. He covered her with the grey blanket from the next bed as well before looking up at Kyle. "Has the doctor seen her, yet?" Kyle ran a hand over the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah. He said he didn't think that she'd lost as much blood as we'd thought. That it looked worse than it really was-" "Bullshit! She passed out! She needs a transfusion! Look how pale - she's in shock." Mulder turned to the old twisted man in the traditional white doctor's coat, ready to give him a piece of his mind. So what if he was delivering a baby? Women had babies all the time; Scully needed him more. Kyle caught his arm. "Now, calm down, Mulder. It's not going to do her any good if you pick a fight with the -" "I'm not going to pick a fight. I'm going to convince him that he's wrong. Get out of my way." A hand gripped Mulder's jeans at the knee, and he looked down to see Scully yanking on his leg. "Muller," she mumbled. "I'm gonna be okay. He gave me a vitam'n shot an' I drank some juice. I just need a li'l time." The determination in her heavily-lidded eyes couldn't be mistaken, even with the tired slur of her speech. "Please. Sit with me." How could he refuse? He pulled the bed next to her closer and perched on its edge. "You're sure, Scully?" "Pos'tive." And then her brow wrinkled. "Muller, where were you? I went back to th' beach... And then th' mist..." "I thought you'd gone to the bungalow. That was the first place I looked." She smiled. "You were lookin' f'r me an' I was looking' f'r you." Her eyes slipped closed. "Jus' like always." Her hand snaked out from under the covers and found his again. "I need t' put a leash on you." Her face relaxed and she slipped into a light doze. Mulder sat and watched her sleep for more than an hour before the baby behind him was born and the room was finally quiet. Then a knobby hand, so dark it was nearly black, pressed gently on his shoulder and got his attention. It was the white-haired doctor, offering a broad white grin. "She needs to rest," his accent was thick and faintly French. "She will be better in the morning. Please. Sleep now." Megan was standing behind him. "Come on, Mulder. I'll take you to the rooms they've set aside for us." But Mulder shook his head. He wasn't going to leave her. He pulled a nearby cot little closer and laid down facing her. Both the old man and the concerned woman behind him understood what he wasn't saying, and they nodded quietly and left him alone. The lights dimmed in the room. Mulder watched Scully's eyes roll languidly beneath their closed lids, while somewhere in the cool rock-chamber the newborn suckled eagerly. //What a place to be born into.// End of 6/17 The sweep of a hand over his shoulder woke Mulder from a bizarre dream. He opened his eyes to the bright face of his partner smiling down at him. She still looked a little pale, but she had a twinkle in her eye that Mulder hadn't seen in a long time. It instantly eased his mind and heart. "Look who's feeling better." "And hungry." She tugged at his arm. "Come on, Mulder. Megan said they saved some food for us. We slept right through breakfast." She glanced down at the stained dress she was still wearing. "And I want to change. She's seeing about some clothes for me." She'd had enough time to clean herself up before she woke him (her bluntly cut hair was still damp against her neck), but there wasn't much anyone could do for the dress. It was stiff where the blood had soaked through the thin material. He ran a hand up her arm. "Scully. Sit down for a minute." He took her elbow and pulled her to his side. "I want to talk to you about something." "This doesn't sound good." Immediately her walls went up. He could actually feel her distancing herself, even though her hip was pressed against the side of his leg. He took a minute to soak up the sight of her; all strength and frailty. "Scully. I need you to be honest with me." She looked up from her clasped hands and studied him. "The nose bleeds - I know you say they're not a gauge-" "They're not, Mulder." "Fine. But..." How did people ask the hard questions without breaking down? He wanted so badly to crawl into her arms at that moment and let her tell him she was fine while she stroked his hair and neck. On the few occasions when she held him, he'd believed every syllable out of her mouth. "But I need to know. The cancer..." Her eyes had narrowed on him, and she looked past him when he tried to meet them. "Is it progressing?" Did he really want to know? It was so much easier to let her protect him. Her face lost its challenge and she shook her head twice. "My last check up showed there had been no change in the growth of the tumor." Her round eyes focused at the other end of the room and widened. Mulder caught an echo of the suckling he'd fallen asleep to last night. Then she blinked and studied her feet. "I need to find some shoes, too. The rock floor is cold." "Changing the subject isn't going to help-" "Help what?" Her pitch rose with a defensive squeak. "Me? Nothing is going to help me, Mulder. Short of a miracle." Christ! Would she ever stop hitting him with it? "No. I'm talking abut us." He didn't want to have to say it, but he would if he had to. They were so dangerously close to a disaster that he was willing to say just about anything. After everything they'd survived together he couldn't lose her because of a stupid boat trip. Or because he was an idiot who didn't know how to keep his mouth shut. Or because he was to proud to beg... A small sigh escaped her lips before she looked back up to the woman at the end of the room. "There is no us, Mulder." Her belly made a hungry gurgle, and she rubbed at it self-consciously. "Look. What I said the other night, it wasn't fair to you. I was just mad and tired ... and I'd forgotten." She stole a peek at him to be sure he was following her thought process. He wasn't. She struggled to continue. "When I'm away from work, it's like I'm a different person. I'm not Special Agent Scully...I'm just me. I guess that's why we don't spend a lot of off time together. Because you only know that part of me. And I only know that part of you. When we were on The Lady, we felt ... different. "Different in what way?" "Mulder," her voice was low and warning. "I don't think you want to go into this. Can't you just accept my apology?" "You're apologizing?" //How'd I miss that?// "Yes, Mulder. Pay attention." She stood and turned. "Anyway, I don't want to fight with you anymore on this trip. Every time we fight - the off duty we - I feel like I lose something important..." Her voice trailed off. "That's why you want to go home?" "It doesn't look like we're going anywhere until the fog lifts, and no one seems to know when that's going to be." She was deliberately avoiding the heart of his question. Mulder couldn't let the subject drop. He had to know what was going on inside of her. "You think we're not good together when we're out of our working environment?" Her stomach rumbled and she held a hand against it to quiet the protests of hunger. "I think... When I'm with you, and we're not playing the familiar roles, I don't know who I am to you...what I'm supposed to do." He tilted his head. //She isn't serious, is she? How can she not know?// "You're my best friend, Scully." "No. At work I'm your best ally." "You're both." Then a thought struck Mulder. He chewed the inside of his cheek and asked, "Are you saying that you want us to be Special Agents Mulder and Scully even when we're not at work?" Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "Not even close." He could tell she was regrouping and getting ready to come at him from a different angle. "The fight we had last night, Mulder. What was it about?" Why was she bringing it up all over again? The last thing in the world he wanted to do was to rip open that scab. "Trust," he said darkly. "Or lack there of." Her eyes closed. Mulder got the distinct feeling that wasn't the answer she was looking for. Her head shook slowly and she sighed defeatedly. "Come on. Kyle promised he'd tell us everything he was able to find out over breakfast." "What do you think the fight was about?" She turned to the door. "I'm hungry, Mulder. Can't we drop this? We're not getting anywhere." She was nearly through the archway when he called to her. "Scully. Please. Don't walk away from this." She stopped but didn't turn to him. "Scully, please. I'm begging." Her distressed face snapped to his. "Please. I thought I was going to lose you last night. When you fainted... God, Scully." "We've already been over this, Mulder." "Scully..." He couldn't think of anything else to say. Just her name as a plea. And she'd stopped listening. After a full minute of them staring at each other, she left. As Mulder followed Scully and Kyle down the rock-carved hall, he caught glimpses on either side of him of small alcoves; some had curtains tacked up in the place of doors that blocked his view, but most didn't. The people sat and laid on the floor. Only a few contained cots with blankets. The outside of each of the closet-like rooms, written in red paint, was a family name: Huostel, Nemenes, Jalico, Ammona, Midial... The tunnel went on and on. At a fork, Kyle turned right and explained, "Because we're at the main hotel, and we paid for separate bungalows, they've assigned us separate family rooms. They're not much, but it's better than finding a corner in the main room and calling it home." He threw a miserable look back to Mulder. "Barely." The room that Kyle led them to was roughly the size of Mulder's couch. Somehow two cots were squeezed into the cramped space, but there wasn't even enough room to stand between them. The room did, however, have a brightly colored curtain hanging limply over the archway. It matched the one Megan and Kyle had ended up with across the hall. Although theirs had a spooked Morg peeking out from behind it. Her leash was tied to the wooden leg of the bed. Once Scully had changed into a black linen blouse that laced up the front, and a matching black and blue skirt that wrapped snugly around her waist and hips, the four of them climbed onto the wooden beds and shared the breakfast that had been dispensed to most of the population: crusty bread, red apples and water. Scully acted like she hadn't eaten in days. "This apple is amazing!" she smacked in between bites. When it looked like she might eat the core, Mulder offered her his. She politely declined. "I can't take your food, Mulder." Her manner told him she was still smarting about their little talk, but she wasn't being cold or hateful. "No, really," he lied, "I'm not very hungry this morning." He could see the dilemma playing in her head, and he was sure that if she hadn't been as ravenous as she was, she would have refused outright. But her stomach gurgled again, and she swallowed her pride and took the offered fruit. "Thanks, Mulder." For a moment, she seemed embarrassed to give in to her hunger, but it passed and she chomped energetically once again. When he looked up, Megan was staring at him with a goofy smirk on her face, and she only shrugged when he demanded a defensive, "What?" Once his meal was finished, Kyle sat back against the rock wall and began to explain what he'd found. "From what I got from the bungalow director, the fog normally shows up every twenty to fifty years. But in the last 18 months, it's made an appearance over 30 times. And that's about the time that the frozen corpses started popping up. No one can predict the mist or where the freezes will happen, and there's no telling how long it will be here. But everyone is scared to death of it." He took a sip of his water, and Megan continued for him. "The doctor, Dr. Juuj, seems to think that their fear is justified. They've found bodies of people who refused to come down into the tunnels - or just didn't make it down here in time - bodies that were frozen solid." Kyle cut in with a fact that he clearly found astounding. "Some took up to a week to thaw completely." And then added with distaste. "They have some weird burial rituals that involve cutting into the corpse just before they put it in into the ground." Mulder marveled at how calm his two hosts were. They recited what they knew about the situation with an almost detached point of view, like they were relating a movie that they'd seen the night before. Beside him, his partner had turned into investigative mode. He could see her interest was piqued. He couldn't say just why, but his own investigative instincts hadn't kicked in. Morg whined for attention and Kyle patted the bed beside him, granting her permission to climb up within petting range. The dog crawled into place and wagged her tail happily at the ministrations. Scully pulled her knees up and rested an elbow across them. "What do they think causes all of this? The fog and the flash freezing?" "Remember what I was reading in that book," Megan asked. "These people are polytheistic." Scully shook her head rejecting the explanation. "So, this is some kind of vengeful wrath of a god? He sends down the fog to freeze out the villagers?" "Not exactly," Kyle said. "She *is* the fog. Which explains why they've always come down here - even before the freezes started." "It brings the 'At one with God' maxim into a whole new light." Kyle cut back in. "We can't get a name for Her out of anyone; just speaking it aloud means certain death." "But She's also a particular God - or Goddess, I guess I should say. There have been more than 100 dead in the last year and a half, but all of these people have come from one of six families. She's nearly wiped them out." "That's pretty petty for a deity." Scully sucked on the apple core, a sight that made Mulder unbelievably warm. "So, if these people have a number of gods, what is She the Goddess of?" Both Kyle and Megan exchanged wary glances, and then Megan breathed, "Death and Revenge." Scully was zipping through the narrow tunnels like a rabbit, choosing this turn over that by some inborn instinct that was denied Mulder. He made sure he wasn't more than four steps behind her, because as it was, he was all turned around. If he had to find his way back to their rooms on his own, even with a map, he'd be lost forever. She opted for the left tunnel at the fork for no discernable reason that he could see. "Scully, you want to explain to me why we're in a rush?" "It's lunch time." Apparently that was all the reason that she needed. They had been searching out someone who could tell them more about the mist and how exactly they determined that it was safe to go outside again. Dr. Juuj had made it quite clear that they weren't to even go near the City Hall's exit until the all-clear was sounded. And there were several men there to remind them in case they should forget. The trouble with finding someone in charge, was that there really wasn't anyone in charge. Since the island didn't have an organized government - or even community leaders - there didn't seem to be any one person or group calling the shots. Each person helped his neighbor, which was great in terms of the civility of the underground village, but didn't help to answer the questions for which Scully wanted answers. Each person only knew a fragment; only the piece of the puzzle that they actively played. And the language barrier didn't help. "I can smell it," she bubbled and turned to face him without losing a step in her stride. "It smells like pizza! Can you smell it? It's heavenly!" She turned back and stepped up her pace to a jog. "God, I'm so hungry!" Mulder couldn't smell anything except the damp air, but he broke into a jog anyway. When she stopped dead in the middle of the tunnel and pushed aside a curtain, it took Mulder a second to realize they'd made it back. Immediately Scully's delighted face slipped into one of overwhelming disappointment. "Where's the pizza?" A laugh came from inside the room. Megan and Kyle sat cross legged on one of the beds, with two large bowls of rice and black beans in front of them. There were several smaller bowls with wooden spoons that Kyle was in the middle of filling. Megan took the offered lunch and smirked at Scully. "Dominoes doesn't deliver this far." "But... But I smelled pizza. I know I did." She stood in the doorway with slumped shoulders. "I'm so hungry..." Behind her, Mulder ran a hand over her lower back and led her into the room. "Beans and rice is filling. This will be a good lunch." Scully didn't sulk or complain about their lunch, and she didn't make another reference to her suddenly gargantuan appetite. It would have been un-Scully of her. But when lunch was finished and the bowls were set out in the narrow hall to be collected, Mulder could tell that she was still hungry. Mulder sat on a crate against an uneven wall in a room with 17 other people - all women. It was explained to him that every able-bodied person must do his or her share to help the community, and since they couldn't find any skills or services that he was able to provide, he was given cooking detail. Then to make matters worse, he didn't have a clue as to what half of the vegetables were that were gathered in the baskets against the far wall; and by default, he was handed a sharp knife and about eighty pounds of potatoes to peel. //With the women.// It wasn't that Mulder didn't like working with women. Hell, he'd worked side by side with Scully for years. She was the best thing that ever happened to him. But then, she didn't sit with a room full of other people and gossip in a strange language that was more like singing than it was like talking. And she didn't stare at him without blinking for hours at a time. It was like they'd never seen a tall white guy peeling potatoes before. Mulder had never felt so male in his life. What the hell was Kyle doing? And how had he gotten off so lucky? Scully, of course, was in the infirmary. She was more than eager to help out the soft spoken Dr. Juuj and ditch Mulder with over a dozen babysitters. He just wished she would have been one of them. Then he could keep an eye on her, as well. How could he not worry? The terrifying sight of her being carried away from him unconscious would probably be with him for the rest of his life. He threw the finished potato onto a pile on his left and grabbed another one. That was it, Mulder decided resolutely, the instant the fog cleared, he was going to call for a helicopter to come and pick them up. He's turn it into official business, if he had to. Anything to get her home safely and as soon as possible. A sharp pain cut through his left hand and he glanced down to see his own blood trickling out from a deep slice in his thumb. //Oh good,// he thought with a smirk. //Time for a little trip to the infirmary.// Scully was not impressed. She wrapped a thin piece of gauze around his thumb and secured it with medical tape. "You know, Mulder, you can't maim yourself every time you want to check up on me." "Who said anything about checking up on you? I was enjoying my time with the ladies." //Please don't send me back there, Scully. Let me stay with you.// His silent plea didn't seem to go unnoticed, even though she chose to ignore it. "Dr. Juuj said that the woman who brought you here was frightened that you'd cut yourself badly. She said you were peeling the potatoes like you wanted them to suffer." Her left brow rose a fraction of an inch. "I certainly hope the potato wasn't representing me." Then she turned and replaced the medical supplies in a polished wooden cabinet. The way her soft red hair swirled when she spun around to him again made his mouth dry. Then it settled back against her neck. Her perfect, smooth neck. "Mulder?" Had he been caught staring? //Just play it cool.// "It wasn't you." "What wasn't me?" "The potato." She hid the small trace of a smile that threatened to cross her lips. "Mulder." The bed settled under them as she took a seat beside him, resting her hand on his thigh. "Mulder, I'm all right. You know that, don't you? I'm fine. What happened last night was just because I panicked. I ran when I should have sat down and waited for the nosebleed to pass. We've been over this and over it again." She sighed self-deprecatingly. "I promise I won't do it again. Does that make you feel better?" "No." How could he lie to her? The only thing that would make him feel better would be her in DC...on his couch...naked. He jumped out from under her hand. It was too difficult to keep things straight in his head when she was touching him. He was worried about her and didn't want to be aroused. No, he always wanted to be aroused, but first things first. His sudden movement made her frown. "I want to get you to a real hospital - a DC hospital." She sighed and shook her head. "You haven't heard a word I've said." "Just because I'm not agreeing with you doesn't mean that I'm not listening." The tired weariness behind her eyes told him that what she'd really meant was why couldn't he leave her alone. She'd made it very clear that she didn't want to talk about any of it. "Don't you want resolution?" Her voice was low, and she didn't meet his gaze. "No. Not if the resolution is...permanent." A young father carried his small, crying child in the room. Scully snapped into doctor mode before Mulder had even recognized that the boy was holding a visibly broken arm. She was amazing. In the blink of an eye all of her thoughts and energy were geared toward helping the little patient. Easing his pain. She cuddled the child and spoke soothingly, explaining what she was going to do even though he couldn't understand a word she was saying. And it worked. Within minutes, he'd stopped crying and was studying the way her lips moved with his wonderful dark brown eyes. She reset the bone and wrapped his little arm with a metal splint and heavy bandages. Before Mulder's eyes, the break was mended. If only he could do that for her. The cramped room was cold and empty, even with Megan and Kyle sitting on the opposite bed. The beef stew sat in four ceramic bowls, cooling between the three of them. After half an hour, it became fairly clear that Scully wasn't simply late. She wasn't going to join them at all. He'd messed up big time. Mulder knew it even before he'd left the infirmary that afternoon. He'd sat on the cot quietly watching her work for more than twenty minutes, and not once in all of that time did she turn to look at him. For her, it was like he wasn't even there. For him, it was like being dead and not mourned. Megan ran a hand over her dark brown hair, making a vain attempt to straighten the yarn-like tendrils. "There must have been an emergency. Dana was ravenous at lunch; I can't imagine her missing dinner." "Maybe they gave her dinner in the infirmary. If she had to stay for an emergency..." Kyle was trying to be helpful, but Mulder wasn't buying it. "She's avoiding me. She wants some time alone." The awkward silence that followed was short, and merciful while it lasted. "Another fight? You two are amazing." Kyle's disgust was easy to read. He rocked back and relaxed against the wall. "I take it back. You two couldn't possibly be a couple or you'd work off some of this tension in bed. Anger is such a waste of good stress." Mulder pretended he didn't hear that. The last thing he needed was images of a passionate Scully rocking wildly above him. He closed his eyes. //Thanks Kyle//. "Right." Megan's crisp voice crackled just above a whisper. "I think I'll go and have a cigarette. And maybe check on Dana." "Please." Mulder didn't look up at her, instead he swirled the bits of potato through the thick stew. "Please don't help. I've messed up badly this time and *I* need to find a way to fix it." //If only I could.// "And at least with the way things are, we'll still be able to work together. I'm afraid I might not even have that if... Right now, that's all I've got left." Megan crossed her arms gruffly. "It looks like I'm going to have to get out my pointy boots." "Pointy boots?" "To kick you in the head with, Loser." Normally, Mulder would have been offended, but the playful ferociousness that glared down at him told him she meant it only as an exasperated sign of affection. //Where the hell did I find these people?// "Aren't you being overly dramatic, Mulder?" The man opposite him looked uncomfortable with his legs folded up on the bed. Kyle shifted, trying to find a better fit for his long body. "I mean, the two of you are good together. It's plain to see that there's a lot going on between you, couple or not. More than just a working relationship." "That's what I thought, too." Mulder set the bowl down on the bed next to him and closed his eyes in self recrimination. "Damn it! This is all my fault." Megan's voice floated through the quiet. "You love her." "If only it was that easy." He shoved the heels of his hands into his aching eye sockets. "There's so much you don't know about us. Our work. Things that complicate our lives-" "Like people trying to kill us." Scully's smooth sound slipped in behind Mulder's and filled the small space. "And people trying to stop our work. And turn us against each other. And control us." She stood in the small doorway, leaning on one shoulder with her arms knotted. Her face was tight and tired at the same time. The glitter that was in her eyes earlier that day was glassed over and dull. "Nothing for us is ever simple." She was talking to Mulder, but looking through the wall behind him. Mulder held out a bowl to her and offered it as an invitation to sit beside him. She took it with an automatic head-nodding acknowledgment. Settling beside him, she stirred its contents but didn't lift the spoon to her mouth. Instead she asked, "Mulder, why do you think that what's happening between you and me is your fault?" She continued to stare at her food. "Isn't it?" He was still acutely aware that they weren't alone in the room. But finally Scully seemed to want to talk, and he wasn't going to lose the opportunity in favor of a little privacy. "Why do you think I apologized?" "Uh...I'm not clear on that yet." She nodded slowly, telling him that she understood. And he had a feeling that she truly did. "The fog is lifting. Dr. Juuj says that it should be gone by sunrise." Scully looked up at Megan and Kyle. "We've checked the attendance logs and there are three people unaccounted for. Two are from one of the families that seemed to have been targeted, and the other is a 14 year-old girl. She's not part of the original six families, but she's related to two of them by marriage." Then she turned to Mulder. "I refuse to believe that this is a naturally occurring phenomenon. Coincidences like this just don't happen." "I agree." "And as for the vengeful god theory, well, I have my doubts about that as well." The way her forehead wrinkled told Mulder that she had some ideas of her own. "So, what does science tell us, Dr. Scully?" Her lips curved just the slightest bit, giving Mulder an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment. He'd made her smile. "Well, not much without autopsies. I'm going with the search party at first light to see if I can find anything useful at the scenes. Hopefully, we'll find them alive, but from what the doctor has been telling me, I'm not going to hold my breath." She looked down at the stew, sighed, and took a bite. Then she set the bowl aside and looked Mulder in the eye. "I'm not avoiding you." How long had she been listening at the door? "But I'm going to go back to the infirmary. They need help with organizing the search parties and preparing for the bodies." Which Mulder translated as, "I'm going to sleep in there tonight. Don't wait up." He was able to keep his voice level. "You're going to do the autopsies? And down here? Surely they have a better equipped hospital." "Yes, but Dr. Juuj moved the lab down here about a year ago. And we'll have less resistance from the islanders if we're out of sight. Their religion is clear about disturbing the bodies of the dead outside of ritual, and even more so because these people are believed to be killed directly by a god." "Scully. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but we don't work here. We're on vacation." She considered what he said without taking offense. Mulder couldn't believe his relief. "But...Mulder, don't you want to know what's going on?" His lips pursed. She always knew how to ask the right questions. "Yeah." He was almost surprised by how much he did want to know. "I do." Her right hand briefly ran from his knee to just below the middle of his thigh. "Then I'll see you in the morning." She slipped back out into the hall and left him alone with Kyle and Megan staring. They had no shame, they stared and gaped like he was the center attraction at a freak show. "Well," Megan sipped at a spoonful of stew. "That didn't go so badly." Mulder nodded. His own dinner had become unappetizing. "Yeah. Now that we're back to playing Special Agents again." Night underground was absolute; no stars, no moon, no light at all. It would have been silent, too, if not for the moaning and panting and bed creaking coming from across the hall. They were less than 10 feet away, Mulder guessed, with only a pinned up sheet for privacy, and still they were going at it like a couple of wild dogs. His previous theory about them liking an audience was conclusively proven. Too bad Scully wasn't lying on the cot beside him to enjoy it. Since she seemed to get a kick watching the two of them interact, maybe she'd get off hearing them hump as well. God knew he was. But the really weird thing was that even though he owned the videos and bought the magazines, Mulder really didn't like playing spectator to intimate moments like this. He felt out of place. They reminded him of what he didn't have. Funny. Mulder'd never pegged his prim and proper partner as a voyeur. Of course, that wasn't really being fair to her. She hadn't heard the hot and frantic sounds of flesh rubbing against flesh as Kyle's deep, "Meeeeeggie..." poured out. No, she'd just witnessed their playful banter and energetic kisses. Fond looks. Loving caresses. Scully was right: they did make a great couple. And for a moment, as Mulder smoothed his left palm over his budding arousal, the image of his beautiful partner standing shoeless on the beach in that skimpy white dress played out before his eyes. The sea breeze was lifting her gentle curls from her neck. She was bright - illuminating - against the pitch nothingness in the cave where he was lying. Her endlessly sad face turned to him, and her lips moved voicelessly. *We could have that...or at least something similar.* He knew the words as if he'd heard them before. Then she faded into the darkness and the couple across the hall climaxed together. End of 7/17 The air was already more warm than was comfortable when Mulder stepped out of the front door to the city hall. But a slow, gentle breeze swept around him and brought with it refreshingly cool air. The sun was brilliantly bright. He visored his eyes and followed the small search and rescue party out to the street. Scully had been pleasant enough that morning - she'd seemed genuinely glad to see him, if a bit subdued by the somber atmosphere of the day to come. A night apart had certainly helped her demeanor towards him. Mulder wasn't sure how he felt about that. He'd barely slept; the room was twice as cold without her. A thin man of about five foot eight (positively lanky by Erlonian standards) took quiet command of the group. His name was Chea, which roughly translated meant 'many scars'. It wasn't clear if that was simply a nickname on account of the jagged crescent that marred his left cheek, or if his mother had simply had the foresight to know that her son would have the scar, and many more like it on his arms and legs, and named him appropriately. Mulder had only met the man a few minute before the watchmen below had given the all clear and allowed the shelter doors to be opened. Chea was intelligent, completely bilingual as far as Mulder could tell, and the only teacher on the island. His collected authority made him a natural leader. He said in both English and Erlonian to the six people surrounding him, "You know who we are looking for. May the gods swiftly deliver them to us." He checked his leather watch and added, "We will return back here in four hours time regardless. The people are anxious to get back to their homes and that is all of the time we are allowed. Does everyone have their bottled sound?" Each of them held up a small metal canister of compressed air. "Then it's time for us to begin." Mulder and Scully set off in the direction that had been indicated on the map they'd been given earlier that morning, with their six foot poles and a heavy wool blanket; instant stretcher, she'd mumbled when he'd asked. Not only were they supposed to locate the bodies, they had to recover them as well. Mulder decided he was never going to take a vacation again. It was too damn much like work. The road that they walked down quickly narrowed between the thatched huts. Mulder pulled the photographs of the three suspected victims from his pocket. Two men in their early twenties, cousins with the last name of Dwiir, and a small grinning girl who looked much younger than fourteen. Fortan, Hanta, and Taam. None of them seemed to have a care in the world. Scully compared the street with the hand-drawn guide map. "Taam's house is supposed to be the last on the right. That's where her parents said they saw her last." "Did they leave her?" She shrugged. The reed hut was smaller than some of the others that they'd passed. It had a wide wooden porch with a couple of overturned chairs and a grass-woven door hanging open. Inside there was one huge bed against the far wall by a stone hearth and a well-worn table and benches, and various other furniture accessories and toys made of finely carved wood. The door in the back led to a smaller room with a bed, a dresser and a trunk. The islanders obviously didn't have a tremendous mount of money, but their humble homes were far from squalor. The floors were swept and the bed clothes were clean and white; Mulder couldn't boast that. They didn't have electricity or running water in the house, but the ceramic pitchers and bowls were highly decorated and polished and the small kerosene lamps were...frozen solid. "Scully, take a look at this." Frost and ice completely coated the elegantly sculpted glass top and the brass base was so cold, it burned Mulder's fingers when he tried to pick it up. He yelped just as Scully came into the room. "It's colder than just ice," he gasped and carefully felt the wooden night table beneath it. Nothing. "Just the lamp. The table..." he felt the wall behind it and the floor below, "everything else is normal." Her face screwed up in baffled confusion, and she stared at the cold fumes radiating off of the object in the heat of the room. "Is your hand okay?" she asked, feeling the table herself. "Uh, yeah. I think. Is this the only lamp that's affected?" She scouted around. "Its the only one I could find. Maybe it's the kerosene that's effected. The same way the diesel motor was on The Lady." "Maybe." He glanced out the window at the next hut. "Let's check and see if the whole block was affected." "Mulder, that's breaking and entering." "Not breaking if this house was any kind of an example. And besides, we don't know that that's some sort of law here. If these people don't have a government - civil or otherwise -" "It's an invasion, Mulder." "It's an investigation. I thought you wanted to know what was going on." That got her attention. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek. "OK. But we'll look in the windows first and see if we can see anything from there. I really don't want to go traipsing through these people's lives." "Agreed." On that street, no other homes had frozen lamps, or anything else for that matter. And no body was found. "It would be dark here, at night," Scully thought aloud. "No street lights or anything. Just lamps in the windows." "And the moon. It was a bright night before the fog rolled in. Remember when we were on the beach." She nodded slowly. "Still, for a child to have to find her way back to Omani alone-" "Where?" "Omani. That's what they call the underground village. It has something to do with a legend. An underground place where the brave and true go to regain their strength - an accepted out of bounds. Nothing's supposed to be able to hurt you in Omani." She casually scratched at her right hip. "That's what Dr. Juuj explained. He's been a great help in telling me about the culture here. I think he's afraid. He needs our help, Mulder." He recognized the tone in her voice. It said, "This is going to happen, Mulder, but I need you to be okay with it." He glanced at her profile and gave her what he thought she wanted. "Good thing we're helping, huh?" They slowly strolled down the dirt road towards the next checkpoint on the map. "Mulder, I know you're thinking of getting us off this island as soon as you can, and given your aversion to sailing, you've probably thought of some alternate travel plans as well." Mulder winced. //I guess my intentions in that area aren't as nebulous as I'd intended,// he groaned to himself. //But does she have to be so perfectly on target?// "But I don't want to go." She continued in a deliberately slow cadence. "I like Dr. Juuj. He's a good man. And I like these people, and the island. There's something happening to them that's wrong, Mulder. And they can't control it." "And you want to help." "I want us to help." A piercing honk echoed through the streets. //One body found.// There was no need to say it aloud. "Well," he said, looking away from where the sound had originated and smiled at his partner. "It's a good thing we're helping, huh?" The smile she returned was worth abandoning his ideas of rescuing her from herself. They approached the barn where Taam had worked after school tending horses. "Her father said that she might have come here to try and help the mares. There are three that are due to give birth soon." //Jesus. Everyone's having babies around here. Must be something in the water.// The latch on the half door was frozen shut, along with the kerosene lamp that hung beside it. Something in Mulder's gut told him that they were going to find something inside. He reluctantly helped his partner with a boost, allowing her to enter the barn first, before he climbed over the door himself. The air was unusually quiet, even with the occasional snort and stamp from the horses in the stalls. "Mulder..." Scully was peering over into one of the stalls when she called to him in her loud whisper. She was staring at a thin girl, Taam if the picture was any indication, who was very much alive. She was sleeping propped up in one corner, tear tracks clearly visible on her dusty face; holding a dead colt in her long arms. Her fingers gripped its scummy black hide as if the contact could bring the newborn back to life. Beside them on the ground was the mother, her eyes and ears rolled back in perfect frozen animation. Scully quietly knelt beside the girl and touched her shoulder. "Taam?" The child jerked awake with a scream. She looked like she was going to bolt before Scully pulled out the map and the 'bottled sound' for her to see. "We were sent to look for you," Scully whispered soothingly. "We're not going to hurt you." Taam's wide eyes were dark with fright. "Chompeen san soo loso?" Scully turned back to Mulder for some help. "Hey," he shrugged, "you know more about their language than I do." "I told you about Omani, so now we're-" "Omani?!" Taam's voice rose. "Chompeen san yuuk Omani?" "Uh...sure." Scully nodded and then pointed behind her. "Mulder." She was careful to pronounce each syllable slowly. And then she placed her hand to her chest. "Scully." The girl nodded and repeated. "Moldar seg Sully." "Yeah, close enough. Let's get back." The frozen mare was giving Mulder the creeps. Her nostrils were caught in a flare as if she was trying to scare off her attacker. "Help me with the baby, Mulder." She spread the blanket out in the hay and placed the two poles parallel across it. "You're talking the colt back?" She folded the sides of the blanket over the wooden supports in a three-fold. "I hope you're not suggesting we take the mother horse back." "Why the baby? It's not frozen." "No, but at this point we're not raking in the clues, and maybe I can find something in the post mortem." She leaned down and tried to lift the newborn by herself. Taam didn't stop Scully, but she wasn't sure she wanted to help, either. She stood above them both, watching with a pained expression. Mulder lifted the hind quarters and together they moved the colt onto the stretcher. Then Scully let out a shrill blast from the sound canister. The echo buzzed in Mulder's ears for a better part of the day. It was great to be back in the bungalow, where he could feel the cool breeze moving through the warm room, and see the sunset and the clouds and enjoy the comforts of pseudo-hotel life again. //Running hot water. What a concept.// The large square room was white-washed and decorated with crude, but well-polished wooden furniture: a large bed, several narrow tables, two straight-backed chairs, a dressing screen, and a large painted wardrobe. The place was nicer than his apartment back in DC. Instead of glass in the wide windows, there was simply a layer of gauze nailed in place with yellow flowered frame; the blinds were rolls of reed-like bamboo sheets. Primitive. But the breeze seemed to be funneled into the bungalow and the temperature out of the sun's glare was at least 10 or 15 degrees cooler than the shade outside on the small terrace. The wicker furniture out there didn't seem nearly as comfortable as the feather mattress he was laying on. Next to his leather couch, Mulder was convinced that the plump bed was the most comfortable place in the world. He stretched like a cat on a lazy afternoon. His shoulders were aching again after spending most of the day in a wooden chair, hunched forward on his elbows, trying to interview the teenager they'd found in the barn. Since Taam was believed to be the only surviving witness to a flash freezing, anything she saw could potentially be incredibly valuable to them if they were going to get to the bottom of the mist. Chea had acted as an interpreter for the quiet girl when her English failed her - but only when she actually asked for help. Apparently Chea had seen the interview as an educational experience that couldn't be wasted. It'd been slow going. Mulder reviewed what he'd learned from Taam, rubbing his hungry belly into submittion. Taam, as it happened, had an amazing memory. She'd described everything she'd seen and heard to the last detail; from hearing the mare crying out as she'd made her way to Omani, to the mystical and yet nauseating birth of the foal. Then, Taam had remembered through tears, the mare had tried to stand, and couldn't, and, afraid that its mother would trample it, she'd pulled the baby horse into the corner. And then, the horse had frozen in mid snort - without warning - the ice had formed over the slick black coat before her eyes in a matter of seconds. Taam had been overwhelmed reliving the story. When she reached the end, explaining how she was unable to get the newborn to eat or drink and how it died in her arms, she'd run to her teacher for comfort and protection. Chea had the questioning stopped with a simple authoritative look. Mulder felt like a cad. Even after an hour of walking and thinking, and trying to distance himself from the incident and the interview to get an unbiased perspective of it. //I'm playing it too close to the cuff these days.// From the center of the bed, he turned his head and gazed out the window towards the orange sunset. He could smell the ocean's scent drifting lazily with the breeze. It was amazing how life seemed to continue on, even in the face of death: the horse, the two young men that were found, the hundred plus family members they were to be buried next to - as soon as their bodies could be thawed enough for an autopsy and ritual burial. A hundred people out of nine hundred. A tenth of the island's population. Scully was understating it when she said that the Erlonians needed help. An evacuation was more like it. Mulder rolled onto his side. //Oh, Scully. What am I going to do with you? You make me crazy. And I'm finding more and more that I like it.// That didn't say much for his state of mind. Not that he liked the fighting and the distance that immediately followed. Or her cryptic hidden meanings that he was supposed to be able to decipher without even a goddamned decoder ring - those he hated with a passion. But the way she'd snuggled up to him on the boat, the smile that told him all was forgiven, the way her laughter bubbled out of her on those rare occasions she was moved to laugh - they all made his head spin like a ride on the Tea Cups at Disney World. //Why didn't I take her to Disney World?// And not to discount the heart-pounding excitement of finding completely new facets to his enigmatic partner even after four years of working by her side. She was more work that a Chinese Puzzle Box; and ten times as beautiful. On an off day. Mulder knew she was climbing the steps to the door of the bungalow even before he caught a glimpse of her through the narrow window by the door. He'd know her tired footfalls anywhere. "Hey," he said as she scuffed through the door, "I got a chance to talk with the girl - Scully, are you okay?" Her eyes were dark and troubled, peering out of her still-pale face. "It's been a long day." She made it over to the bed without actually lifting her feet from the floor and then collapsed heavily on it. She sighed deeply. "You said you talked to Taam? What did she see?" On her stomach, with one arm hanging over the side of the bed, Scully looked like she'd just come in with a hangover. Or a horrible headache. //Please not a headache.// It was getting harder and harder to ignore the cancer when it was so desperate for attention. "Not much." He forced himself to refuse the urge to cover her with his body and shield her from the world. "We can talk about it in the morning." "No," she grumbled and rubbed her neck absently. "I have to be down at the lab at sun up. The test results I did on the foal should be finished by then. Well, some will have to sit for a couple of days, but most should be ready by then." Her lashes lay still against her cheeks. The nagging urge to touch her came from deep within him. Her hand, her arm, her soft sallow cheek. Had she not eaten all day? He didn't like it when she looked as if she might faint at any moment. She needed to take better care of herself. Or he was going to have to do it for her. She would hate that. Mulder rolled off the bed and slipped the sandals she was wearing off of her feet and then folded the busy comforter over her and tucked it under her softly pointed chin. Her breathing was already deep and even. "Sweet dreams, Dana," he whispered. "Or Agent Scully. Or whoever you want to be to me. Sweet dreams." By the time Mulder made it down to the restaurant for dinner, the village was back in full swing. The streets bustled with activity since the heat of the day was waning. People smiled and waved good-naturedly; in particular, two older women Mulder recognized from the underground kitchen. They carried a freshly killed chicken between them. //This place recovers almost as quickly as Scully does.// But then he reminded himself that his partner was asleep in their bungalow. True, she'd worked all day, probably refusing to take any breaks at all until she was finished. That's how she always worked. But by his watch, it was only a little after seven - far too early for her stamina to run down. Had she slept at all the night before? Or was this just another of the symptoms he was supposed to overlook and continue to pretend that she was fine? Mulder frowned. She had been terribly pale. //Not even pale,// he corrected himself. //Ashen.// After all, it had only been a day since that terrible nose bleed. And Mulder wasn't completely convinced that Dr. Juuj had acted in Scully's best interest in denying her a transfusion. There had been so much blood... A wave of movement caught Mulder's eye and he turned to see Kyle beckoning him over to the table. He and Megan were already chomping down on a table full of exotic appetizers. Mulder was impressed with the label on the white wine Kyle was pouring. "What's the celebration?" Cocking her head, Megan asked cautiously, "Where's Dana?" He nodded towards the bungalow. "She's not coming." Kyle glared at him in frustration. "Not again," he grumbled and caught the overflow of the wine two seconds too late. It dribbled down the side of the glass. "No," Mulder grumbled. "Not again. She's asleep. All of the excitement's worn her out." He watched the thick cloth napkin darken as it absorbed the wasted wine; from a pale red to something close to the color of blood. "I was hoping she'd be able to relax on this vacation. Neither of us take much time off from work. And lately..." Mulder stopped himself. Both of his listeners were watching him intently. His stomach seized up, and he drowned whatever thought he was about to express. "She's sleeping." He took a sip. "She needs to sleep." He sighed. "I don't think she's recovered from the other night." Kyle fiddled with the sweet smelling fruit on his plate. "Are you wanting to leave as soon as possible, then? I checked on The Lady, everything looks fine. Except for the electrical equipment. I don't know what's causing all of the trouble, and the guy down at the dock says he won't have a chance to take a look at her until sometime tomorrow afternoon." Did he want to leave? Hell, yes. "Uh...Scully's actually expressed an interest in the island. I know I paid for a sail to Bermuda, but if it's extra to stay here I'll pay it." He wasn't thrilled about the idea, himself, but what he wanted wasn't the point. Not in that particular instance. "The money's not an issue." Megan managed to sound offended and concerned at the same time. "We're thinking about Dana's health. We didn't know she was sick." "I know. I'm sorry. She's protective about who knows...and usually, it's not really an issue -" "How can it not be an issue?" Megan sat forward to pin Mulder with her dark eyes. "It's only her life!" "I know." Mulder leaned back from her and winced. "I don't know. We don't talk about it. Except when we're fighting." Kyle, sitting calmly across from Mulder, asked quietly, "It's cancer, isn't it." His wife's head shot to him with a look of abject horror. "Cancer?" //So, the perfect couple doesn't talk about everything, either.// Mulder didn't know why that should make him feel so good. He studied his wine for a moment. Good wine; dry and smooth. They were staring at him again. "She wants to stay, and this was supposed to be her..." //Dying wish-// "Dream vacation. So, I'm letting her call the shots. I don't know if it's the right choice or not - it's definitely not my first choice - but I believe in Scully. I have to believe she won't push herself too far." "You people are completely insane," Megan shoved a ball of sticky rice into her mouth. "This place has death all over it, and you don't want to leave-" "I'm not suggesting that you two need to stay," Mulder stated carefully. "If you want to go, I completely understand." He set his glass down and watched as the couple exchanged a anxious glance. Kyle cleared his throat. "We had talked about leaving, thinking that Dana may want to stay." He looked for a second to his wife and then back to the plate in front of him. "She's so...attached...to the idea of helping the people here..." Beside him, Megan guffawed. His face became awash of guilt. "Okay!" He burst into confession, glaring hotly at his wife. "I knew she'd want to stay because I saw her in a cave. There! Are you satisfied?" He snatched up a piece of spicy meat and swallowed it whole. Megan nodded once. "What do you mean you saw her in a cave? Where? When?" Kyle looked up with his mouth full like he'd forgotten Mulder was even there. "Oh," he swallowed. "Sorry. I saw her in a dream. In a cave with huge columned statues and a river." Mulder blinked. Wiping his mouth, Kyle continued. "I have these dreams-" "Prophetic dreams-" Megan helped. "- sometimes, and when I had this one last night, I was sure that she was going to want to stay here. At least until she sees the cave." Mulder blinked again. Then he bit the inside of his cheek. "You're dreams come true?" "Not all of them." Kyle shrugged and ripped a piece of the flat bread in the basket beside his plate. "And I don't always remember the dreams, either. They're like *dreams*. Only they happen." Mulder sat forward, feeling the adrenaline beginning to flow through his veins. "You actually see the future?" Kyle nodded. "That's how Meggie and I met. She was a student at UCLA, and I'd been having these bizarre dreams about her for months without ever having laid eyes on her. But the dreams were so vivid." Megan smiled at the familiar story. "And one day, I couldn't take it any more, and I went to the campus - I lived in San Francisco at the time - and it was like I'd been there a hundred times. All the buildings were exactly as I'd seen them, and there she was..." he turned to the beaming woman beside him and kissed her lightly on the cheek, "...on the main lawn with a megaphone pressed to her face screaming 'Rick Ditario is an asshole!' at the top of her lungs." Megan took up her wine glass and swirled the liquid with a smirk. "I make no apologies. He'd dumped me that morning for my size double D roommate." "It was at that moment I said to myself, 'I love her.'" Kyle and Megan gazed affectionately at each other. "I love her. I love her. I love her." They kissed. Mulder rolled his eyes, seriously nauseated. "So, you dreamt about Scully in a cave, that you assume is somewhere on this island, and you guys talked about leaving anyway." He waited until they'd finished with the lovey-dovey shit and refocused on the food in front of them. "I think it would be a good idea for you two to leave. The mist has confined itself to just the six families, so far, but who's to say how long that'll last." "We're not leaving," Megan said matter of factly and bit off the tip of a cylindrical root. "Not without the two of you." "Another dream?" "Nope. But you and Dana need all the help you can get." She made sure he was paying attention. "And I'm not talking about the damned fog, either." "Isn't that Dana?" Kyle interrupted and pointed towards the street. Chea flew by at top speed, his feet barely hitting the ground as he sprinted past, and Scully whizzed by only a few paces behind him. //What the hell?// Mulder shoved himself up and started off after them. It was only when he got out onto the street that he realized they were heading for Omani. End of 8/17 When Mulder finally caught up to her, Scully was already in the underground lab, hands splayed out from her body as if she were trying to still the Earth's rotation. He understood why she'd want to. Everything around her was broken and shattered; test tubes, beakers, canisters of every size and color. The fumes alone were enough to tell him that some expensive and dangerous chemicals were mixing on the floor. The stench made him gag. "Dr. Scully." Chea motioned for her to follow him into a connected room. She carefully stepped over the debris and mentioned to Mulder as if it were the most normal thing in the world, "You see that brilliant yellow liquid?" "The stuff that looks like a milk shake gone bad?" "Right. It'll eat your skin right off the bone. Don't touch it." The chamber that was connected to the lab was smaller. It contained several rolling cots, and Mulder could only assume that it was used as some sort of morgue. Scully was beside herself. "My god...they took the bodies!" Her jaw set and her eyes flared, and she kicked a broken drawer of surgical instruments that lay dumped and discarded at her feet. "Why the hell would someone steal a frozen body?" "They don't want you to perform the autopsy." Chea's thin eyes surveyed the damage. "But we got permission from what's left of the families..." Chea dropped his chin to his chest. "You don't understand. The people who gave you permission did so because they are afraid that they will be next." That made a lot of sense to Mulder. "Well, if the mist's track record is anything to go by, I'd say they have a pretty good reason to be afraid." "But they are the outcasts," Chea explained. "When their families were first touched by the God, it was believed that she was punishing them for specific wrongs that they had committed." Scully finished the thought for him. "And as more people ended up dead, the blame shifted to the whole family." "Precisely. Those connected to the previous victims were marked and cast out." Mulder rubbed at his temple; it was starting to throb. "Marked and cast out. What does that mean?" Chea looked from Mulder to Scully, and then back again. "You don't know about the markings?" His long finger traced the light crescent that scared his face from the center of his cheek all the way back to his ear. "When wrongs are committed, the person is marked and then they're excluded from community decisions, religious gatherings-" "But you..." Scully was hesitant. "You were in charge of the search this morning." "It's possible for a person to overcome their past. No easy, but possible... You're wondering what I did." He smiled lightly. "I can see it in your eyes, Dr. Scully. What must I have done to have them disfigure me?" She didn't reply, but instead, lowered her eyes to the clutter at her feet. "My father raped my mother. That is how I was conceived. When I was born, I was marked an outcast, being my father's son." "But you didn't do anything - you can't help being born!" "In Erlona, we are all responsible for the people around us. Punishments are passed on for wrongs committed by immediate family." Mulder turned to Scully. "Did the bodies of the two men that were found this morning have the facial scar-" "No." Chea answered for her. "They were marked above the heart. Each wrong is considered unique. There are no set rules for punishments." He saw Scully's face darken considerably. "I know this all seems barbaric to you, but it works remarkably well. Crime in Erlona is almost unheard of." Mulder scoffed. "I can imagine. I'd think twice about speeding, too, if I knew it was going to get my family cut up." "But," Scully protested, "that doesn't do much for the innocent people who live their lives by the rules, and still have to pay for what someone else has done." Chea shrugged. "It's an imperfect system for a imperfect society. But we have managed to survive in this world for more than fifty generations. For a people with no government to protect them, that's quite a feat." "Oh!" From the other room the hoarse cry of Dr. Juuj broke their conversation. "Everything...everything..they've destroyed everything!" They found him kneeling over a large jumble of broken glass. Scully stood still as the old man started to pick op the larger shards. He looked up to her. There was a brief moment when Mulder thought the doctor might burst into tears, but instead he threw the bits of glass across the room and closed his eyes against the less than satisfying crash. Scully whispered, "I'm going to get some sleep. Tomorrow we''ll regroup and see what can be salvaged." "Tomorrow," Juuj nodded. And then Scully wandered out of the lab, as if she had the weight of the island on her shoulders. "Hey, Scully! Wait up." She stopped when Mulder called to her, but didn't turn. "Dana? You okay?" She sure as hell didn't look okay. Her face was long and grey, and she had the same forlorn look that she'd worn that night she'd gotten drunk on The Lady. Mulder fought the urge to look away from her. "I'm fine -" she began with a sigh and then caught herself. Her eyes studied Mulder's before turning out towards the dull roar of the surf. "I'm tired. And angry. And frustrated as hell." She started down the path again. "Is that what you wanted to know?" "Yes." Wasn't it? //So now what do I do?// Mulder eyed the woman beside him. What did she want from him? She'd chosen not to evade him for a reason. What did she need? "Scully," he placed a palm under her elbow lightly and pulled her with him. "Let's go down to the beach." Her eyes closed in a wince, but she let him guide her. "Mulder, I'm too tired for a night time stroll." "Then not a stroll. We'll sit in the sand." "I'd rather lay in a bed." The image of her spreading herself seductively over the grey and blue bed on The Lady blasted a hole through his train of thought. He had to clear his throat to regroup. "Well, we can do that too." //Unless I explode first.// "But as wound up as you are, do you really think you'll be able to sleep right now?" She considered his point. "No." They turned onto the narrow path that led to the ocean. The night was bright again, but the breeze was swifter and cooler than it had been before. It felt good combined with the heat that'd refused to taper off when the sun had finally set. Cleansing. Mulder led the way near to the tide line, settling them in the dry sand. They sat side by side, knees bent, leaning back on locked arms. The night was perfect. "I talked to Megan and Kyle about staying. It won't be a problem." She gave him the smallest of smiles and then looked back out over the darkened surf. "Thank you." Mulder sat forward and picked at the sand between his feet. "I'm not sure I'm doing you any favors, Scully. You're not looking so great." He wasn't sure if she was going to hit him or not, but he could tell she was contemplating it. "Your shoulders are up to your ears." She tried to shrug him off. "My masseuse is out of town." "Come here." He took hold of her wrist and tugged her towards him. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What?" "I'm going to give you a back rub." There was an awkward moment when she stared at him as if he had hair coming out of his nose. Did he? Mulder's fingers ran over his face. "What?" he asked defensively. Why was she looking at him like that? "What are you thinking?" "That I've got something on my face and you're refusing to tell me about it." "No," she admonished with a laugh. "Before. When you pulled my arm. What were you thinking?" "Uh..." The question wasn't what was he thinking (which was probably about sex, whatever it was. What else had he been thinking about since they'd started their vacation?); but rather, the question was why was she asking? What did *she* think he was thinking? Or even more importantly, what did she *want* him to be thinking about? Mulder had a distinct feeling he'd fallen into a no win situation. No matter what he was going to say, it was going to be wrong. Maybe he should just be honest and shock the pants off of her. Tell her that he'd been thinking of her naked and in hot mud up to her neck. Well, even if it wasn't completely honest, it would still shock the pants off of her. Since he was going to lose, why not go down with a bang, right? "I can't remember." //Coward.// "It's gone." "Oh." She pulled away from him, but managed to keep it unoffensive. "I thought you were coming on to me, for a minute there. It felt like high school all over again." She sounded almost sheepish admitting it. Another confession out of Scully. In less than an hour. Mulder couldn't help but wonder what was going on with her. Where was the cork that she used to keep those things bottled up? Where was her shield? Her wall? "I wasn't coming on to you, Scully." He held his breath and took the plunge. "But what if I was?" She looked at him honestly. "What if you were?" Her lips thinned as she thought about it. "If you were coming on to me, Mulder, for real? Not joking around? Like that?" She shivered a little and glanced back out at the water. "It would be weird." //Ouch.// Hard blow to the ego, twelve o'clock. "It would be like something Eddie Van Blundht would do. Trying to catch me off guard." //Ouch.// Blow number two. "God, that was weird. There you were - he was -" she corrected without missing a beat, "on my couch leaning in to kiss me and all I kept thinking was 'Mulder got me drunk to get me into bed.'" She snorted at the thought. "It looked like it was working." //How bitter did that sound?// "Maybe," she sighed. Mulder's heart sagged in his chest. Visions of him sitting on a rock weeping were floating before his eyes. Why had he suggested the beach, again? //Mental note: avoid beaches.// "But," she ventured a quick glance at him, "it was weird. We've known each other for so long...it just seemed too cheap. Dishonest. Like I'd been set up. You know? Drunken groping on the couch..." Mulder closed his eyes, willing away the new images she was planting in his head. "Clouded sex on the floor..." //Sweet Jesus.// "On the floor?" "An unexpected baby with a tail..." Mulder grimaced. //Now she's just being mean.// "Only there would be no baby." When her face turned to his, highlighted by the soft blue glow reflected from the water, Mulder knew she knew. She knew. "No baby at all." She knew. "Right, Mulder?" He didn't answer; didn't move a muscle. He just sat there waiting for the final, fatal blow. "I waited for you to tell me." She hugged the back of her thighs. "I expected you to tell me. But you never said a word." "Scully..." His mouth opened and shut several times before she asked, "What?" What could he say? 'Oh, so sorry you're sterile, Scully, but good news, I've found your ova, so even if you don't live long enough to actually know them, you can still have children'? What did she *want* him to say? "How...how did you find out?" "Frohike. I would rather you had told me." She pulled on a frayed thread on the hem of her skirt. "I know you don't picture me as a mother, Mulder, but I do want children." "So do I." Mulder didn't know who was more surprised to hear him say that, Scully or himself. From the look on her face, Mulder decided it had to be her. "What? You don't see me as a father?" "No...no, you'd make a great dad. I've seen you with kids." "Then why the look?" "I don't know. I guess I just never expected to hear you *say* it." She bit her lip and considered him. "How many kids?" "Uh..." Half a laugh bubbled out of her in sheer amazement. "I can't believe I didn't know this about you. Sometimes I feel like I know you inside and out, like I've crawled under your skin and I can't rip myself free again. And then sometimes..." She dug her heel into the fine white sand. "Like now, I feel like I never really knew you at all." "Just Agent Mulder, and not Fox, huh?" "I'm not allowed to call you Fox." "Do you want to call me Fox?" "It's a part of who you are. The part of you that you hide from me." "You didn't answer my question." "Yes. I did." Mulder watched her as she laid back in the sand and stretched out. She knew he was looking at her. //What is she thinking?// She just stared up at the sky and sighed. "I wonder what Eddie's doing right now." Mulder was lying on his back, staring up at the wooden planked ceiling of the bungalow. It had been over two hours since Scully had fallen asleep on the beach and he'd walked her back, still half-dozing, and tucked her into bed. She was on his left, curled up on her side, making noises that Mulder had first taken for a nightmare. Little grunts and gasps that gradually turned into moans. Deep, guttural moans. "...Mulder..." And she kept saying his name. Sighing his name. Begging his name for more. //That's not like any nightmare that I've ever known,// he thought with a cocky grin. In the beginning it had been amusing to know that she had sexual fantasies about him. His ego inflated. And it made him feel good to know that he wasn't the only frustrated person on the island. Misery loves company, and all that. But when she started rubbing her thighs together, his own libido woke up. Mulder forced himself out of the bed under the pretense of getting some water from the bathroom - for the second time. It was wrong, he knew, to lay beside the object of so many of his own dream encounters while she was having one herself. Especially when she was his partner. It violated her privacy. //She'd die if she knew that I know.// And yet, he found himself fascinated. Mesmerized. Like watching two people kissing in a park: social courtesy demands that you ignore them and give them privacy, and still you look. Her hand crawled over her belly, and all of the moisture in Mulder's throat dried up. //Mercy.// She was beautiful under the sheet, slowly moving in a sleep-restrained imitation to the scene she was living in her mind. Her lips parted wetly and her mouth opened. Her eyes fluttered under closed lids. And without consciously intending to do so, Mulder found himself back in the bed next to her - though still careful not to actually touch her - staring up at the ceiling. Again. In a fit of frustration, Mulder wrestled with the quandary that must've plagued working partners ever since the women's lib movement had taken off. Before even. Sex? Or no sex? He crossed his arms and legs tightly and tried to ignore the gentle sucking sounds coming from his partner. A task much harder in the doing when his whole heart wasn't really into it. And really, why should he? What was to stop them, anyway? If the attraction was mutual? If he wanted her and she wanted him, then where was the problem? Yes, it would change their partnership, but there was no rule that said partners couldn't fraternize; just the teachers and students in Quantico. After that, everyone was fair game. //The work.// The work couldn't suffer. But knowing Scully's professional drive, not to mention his own obsessive momentum, that didn't seem to be a likely problem. And really, agents marrying agents wasn't an uncommon practice; they both understood the insane hours and the importance of dedication to the work. And while partners marrying partners wasn't an every day occurrence, it had been known to happen. If the couple was strong and could survive the strain and burn out. //Marriage?! Where the hell did that come from?// He was talking about sex, wasn't he? Reasoning why he shouldn't - or possibly should - consider a sexual relationship with his all-work-and-no-play partner. His beautiful, intelligent, brave, professional partner. Who was breathing a little harder than Mulder's piece of mind would've liked. //But,// he reasoned with himself, //if it's just about sex, then shouldn't we just ignore the attraction?// There was nothing better to destroy a partnership than casual sex. And the thought of losing Scully to, well, anything made his insides tense. A part of him remembered the advice he'd given to himself on The Lady: Don't risk it. There was so much more to lose with her than with any other woman. Maybe it would just be easier to actually go out and get a life. Or safer. Even if not completely satisfying. And then the other side of him turned over and considered, //Well, what if it's more than just casual sex?// And in her sleep Scully rolled restlessly towards him and let out a deep sigh. Who the hell was he kidding? He wanted to fuck her. God, he wanted so badly to wrap her smooth legs around his hips and suck on her neck and pound into her until he lost himself inside. He wanted to make love to her slowly and watch her come over and over again beneath him, around him. He wanted to hold her and protect her, and to lie in her arms and have her stroke his hair and kiss his eyes asleep. //Whoa, Boy.// Mulder squeezed his mouth shut, grinding his teeth. //If you're not careful, Fox Mulder, you're going to end up in love with your partner.// And that would be bad, right? Wasn't that what he'd decided on the beach a few nights before? Hadn't he thanked God that he hadn't fallen in love with her? "...Muuuulderrrr..." Her voice stood the hair on the back of his neck on edge. And woke up the monster between his legs. //Great.// She sighed again and his groin tightened even further. He looked down and shook his head. Life was just too complicated to be fair. Mulder jerked awake. Scully over him, holding a blanket and wearing a tired look of annoyance. She draped it over him and turned briskly. "Are you going to try and tell me it was seasickness, again?" Mulder just blinked. It took him a moment to figure out why he was lying on the reclining chaise lounge outside on the balcony instead of inside in the comfortable bed. The morning had a slight chill to it, and it helped clear the sleep from his brain. //Oh, yeah.// He begrudgingly remembered that after his third little jaunt to the bathroom to take care of his uncomfortable condition, Mulder had opted for the patio furniture, rather than tempt fate. After all, Scully hadn't been passed out drunk, she probably would've notice him rolling on top of her in his sleep. And since sex was all he could think about (passionate, heart-stopping sex), it didn't seem likely he'd be dreaming about anything with less than a parental warning sign attached. "For crying out loud, Mulder, it's not like you *had* to share a bed with me." She snapped the lid back on her skin lotion and tossed the bottle in the general direction of her bag. It landed short by several feet. "Hell, YOU checked us into this place. You could've gotten your own room." She fumed for several seconds before she looked at him. Something new had just occurred to her. "Or maybe you want me to get MY own room. Is that it?" Mulder blinked again. //What the hell?// All he'd done was try to save them both some embarrassment while he could figure out the whole 'to do it or not to do it' question. Why was she yelling at him? Scully continued her tirade as she savagely worked the lotion into her knees and calves. "And I believed you, too. 'Oh Scully. I'm so seasick.'" Her eyes shot back to him like brilliant blue spears. "You were just trying to get away from me! Weren't you?" Mulder's brow creased. //Is this a good time to mention the sucking sounds?// "In the cockpit..." her voice wavered momentarily as all the blood drained from her long face. "I thought you wanted to...when we were sitting together I thought that finally, maybe...but you didn't want to be in the same room as me." Her lower lip tensed and she snatched her shoes up from the end of the bed. "Well, you don't have to worry about THAT any more." The sandals slipped easily over her feet. //It may just be me, but I think we're fighting.// Mulder winced. //Not again.// "And for your information, Fox Mulder -" //Yep. Full name. We're fighting.// She raised herself to her full height and declared: "There are plenty of men in this world who would jump at the chance to share a bed with me!" And with that, she stormed out the door. Mulder laid back on the chaise and pulled the blanket up over his head. //Well, at least it's over faster when only one of us is doing the screaming.// The barn stood empty and open in the late morning sun. Most of the horses, it seemed, had been put out in the small fenced-in pasture for the day. There was no one about, so Mulder took the opportunity to do a little snooping around in hopes of finding something that might help explain what was going on. The evidence that they'd been able to collect just didn't seem to add up. The stall that they'd found Taam in had, of course, already been mucked out. It would have been too much to ask for an untouched crime scene the way his week had been going. He'd half expected the barn to have been burnt down all together. A fresh layer of hay lined the dirt floor, and the grain troth had been scrubbed clean. Once again, Mulder remarked to himself that even though the people of Erlona didn't have much, they took good care of what little they did have. Nothing was odd or out of place anywhere in the barn; even the lock on the outside half-door was completely thawed and free moving. //Now would be a good time for a convenient 'She is me' sign scrawled in blood.// Where were the paranormal clues when he needed them? Frustrated, Mulder headed back towards the market place. Megan waved him down from across the street with her perfect teeth shining in her wide smile. "Dude! What do you think?" She held a brightly colored white and yellow sundress against herself in one hand, and a lit cigarette in the other. "Is it me, or what?" "It's nice." He was not in the mood to shop. "Do you know where the school is? I want to talk to Chea." She admired the dress as she held it to her. "You're right. It's rocking'! I've got to get it." She turned back to the squarish woman vendor and nodded enthusiastically, her short hair flying in every direction at once. Just then, angry shouts broke the picture perfect village market tableau, and a herd of people came barreling around the corner. The scene looked like a lynch mob on the hunt. Only they already had their prey. Scully was roughly pushed towards the front of the crowd, her hands bound by coarse ropes, and her face, hands, and knees bloodied. She stumbled from a rough shove, but was caught before she could hit the ground. She was pushed forward again. Incensed, Mulder didn't think, he reacted. "Scully!" he screamed and ran to her, with the full intention of freeing her from the ties and rescuing her from the swarming mob. Her head instantly snapped to him when he broke into a run. Her expression was wild and imploring. The previous anger and humiliation that had been there when he woke was gone. In their place, she wore fright and grief covered with a cool layer of control. Four lean men broke from the mob and intercepted Mulder before he had a chance to reach his partner. They grabbed his wrists, too; binding them in the same way Scully's were tied, before pushing him back and away from her. He fought them every step of the way. Briefly the image of Gulliver being overcome by the Lilliputians came to mind as one of the men kicked his legs out from under him, and Mulder hit the ground hard. He caught sight of a familiar face barreling towards him from a side road. The man wore a look of absolute horror. "Chea! Chea, help us! What the hell is going on?!" It was a wonder that the man was able to hear anything above the riotous roar of the massing crowd, but he seemed to understand Mulder's need for a translator and stopped to ask a bystander. Mulder tried to twist himself around so he could see Scully, but a forest of dark and dusty legs blocked his view. //If they've hurt her, I swear to God, I'll kill every last one of them.// She was bleeding again, that's all he knew. It was enough to make him sick. Beside him, he felt Chea's calming presence as the man knelt close enough to yell into his ear. "They say she's a murderer. That Dr. Juuj is dead." Mulder ignored the teacher's eyes imploring eyes, and shook his head. "No..." Chea pulled a red cloth from his pocket and nodded as he wiped his nose. "I'll find out the details. I will try to help-." Mulder cut in. "Where are they taking her? She's bleeding!" The news seemed to alarm the usually tepid man. "She has a medical condition, Chea. She's very sick." The man seemed to understand. He placed a firm hand on Mulder's shoulder, then stood quickly and started off in the direction of the retreating mob. Without warning, Mulder was yanked to his feet and pushed down the road as well. In the a fenced off square, near the pier, Mulder caught sight of Scully again. Chea had one hand on her shoulder, the other on her face, and he was asking something that she was simply shaking her head to in response. Mulder knew from experience that she was telling him she was fine. 'Oh, yeah. I've been dragged through town by an angry mob while covered in my own blood. But I'm fine.' Sometimes Mulder just wanted to smack her. Of course, she'd smack him right back and then he'd have a bruise for a week. Mulder was pushed through the gathering crowd and ended up by her side at the base of a thick wooden pole. The angry people writhed around them, creating a frenzy of sound and movement. But at last he was close enough to actually talk to her. "Scully, did they hurt-" "No. I'm fine." Her eyes lowered to the area just below his knees; her face was like stone. "Dr. Juuj is dead." Had she been anyone else, Mulder was positive that she'd be in the middle of a crying fit by that point. But Agent Scully was able to hold it together. A truly amazing woman. "I know," he said solemnly. She glanced briefly at her soiled hands and then away at nothing at all. "I tried to resuscitate him, but I'm pretty sure the knife went through his left ventricle." A child of about twelve, a rope tied around his waist, began to climb the pole beside them. The people cheered him on. Scully took no notice at all. "I watched him die, Mulder." He winced at her pain. There wasn't much he could say. "I'm sorry." When the boy reached the top, he laced the rope through a large metal loop and slid down again. Scully was pushed to the other side of the pole, and it quickly became obvious that both she and Mulder were going to be tied to the main rope that hung from the top. With sudden aggression, Scully came out of her daze. "No! NO! Not Mulder!" She searched the crowd madly, continuing to shout at the top of her lungs. "Chea! Chea, tell them! Mulder and I aren't family! They can't do this to him. Chea!" From behind Mulder, where he'd backed away to minutes before, the man answered. "Dr. Scully, my apologies." He had to raise his voice to be heard. "They know that the two of you are a couple." Chea came back to their side. He seemed genuinely distressed. A yank on the intricately knotted rope above Scully's fists pulled her up on tip toe. Her face twisted as her bindings were tightened. She turned to Chea with a look much like the one Mulder had seen many times before; the haunted sadness that made him want to curl up into a ball and cry. "I'm so sorry. I tried..." Mulder's wrists burned from the pinching of the ropes and the angle they were forced into above his head. He bit back a scream of pain and ended up moaning instead. Again, Scully began her protest. "Chea, it's not true. Mulder and I are NOT a couple. They can't do this to him! We're partners - we work together. Your law extends to immediate family, you said. They can't touch him!" Chea gave a sideways glance at Mulder, who felt like a duck in a Chinese meat store. "You share a bed," Chea said, trying to be delicate. "Here, that is considered an out-of-God marriage. It's not discussed, but it is considered a true binding-" "No!" She didn't wait for him to finish. She shook her head fiercely. "We're not lovers, Chea. We work together, that's all. We're not a couple." She pulled hard against the tight ropes that refused to give. For a second, both she and the marked man beside her watched Mulder for some sort of sign; a validation of what she was saying. He couldn't give it. The tension in his throat and chest mounted. He knew she was trying to save him, but the single determination in her eye sliced through him. //Tell him we're friends, at least. Do that for me, Scully. You don't have to love me or sleep with me or any of the hundred crazy things I've been thinking. I can take friendship, if that's all there is. But, Scully, friendship at least.// A minute passed before her gaze became harsh, and with a firm voice she finished: "Chea. Let Mulder go. We're partners. Nothing more." Mulder heart splintered into a hundred thousand pieces. The next few minutes were a blur to Mulder; playing out in slow motion, but too fast for him to actually react. He knew they'd cut his hands free by the slack as his arms fell into a swing from his shoulders. And he knew that the teacher beside him was talking to the villagers in a careful, authoritative tone. And he knew that he was pushed away from the pole, back past the quieted hordes of small people surrounding it, back past the calf-high iron-link fence that lined the grassy square's center. But all he could actually see was Scully's intense eyes burning into his own. And the silent tears that tracked their way down her dusty cheeks. End of 9/17 "Mulder! Mulder, are you all right?" Megan knelt beside him, where he had been thrown half-sitting against a mercantile hut. The sun beat down heavily on him, suffocating him slowly. "Scully..." She was mostly hanging from her tied wrists, which were bound to a rope that was attached to the top of the 10 foot pole. The tips of her sandals scraped into the dusty ground as she tried to gain better footing. Her white tee-shirt stained red and dirt-covered, rode up on her belly, and the blue shorts didn't cover enough of her legs to protect her from the glare of the sun. She was going to burn. Mulder forced himself up and pushed Megan out of the way. He could hear her calling to him, but her actual words didn't register. His mind closed down around two thoughts as he ran to Scully. He had to help her. He had to free her. Two of the male villagers, armed with flat pieces of board, stepped in front of him and effectively blocked his path. "No," yelled the one on Mulder's left, and he pointed with a calloused finger to the fence. Mulder pushed him out of his way. WHACK! The sensation of pain didn't register until after Mulder heard the smack of the board against his lower back. The shock hit him hard and he toppled face first to the ground, his arms flailing ineffectually out at his sides for balance. Pin pricks of water stung his eyes. Again, he heard Megan screaming. In front of him, Scully twisted like a shirt on a clothes line. With a newfound strength, Mulder managed to pull himself up onto all fours and take a crawling step towards his partner. He was slammed hard and low against his back, and went down for a second time. He could hear Scully's screams echoing inside his whirling head. She begged, "Please don't hurt him," and called to Kyle for help. The sound of her voice spurred him on. He had to help her... He had to free her... Seconds later, as Mulder tried to push himself up from the ground, two thick hands clasped tightly over his upper arms and dragged Mulder to his feet. He could see his captured partner twisting against her ties, trying to turn and see what was happening. Her valiant effort only succeeded in losing the little footing that she had, and she slipped head first into the side of the pole. She whimpered in pain. Mulder tried to reach her again. "Scully!" But the hands didn't relent. "Mulder." Kyle's bass voice cut through the shrill cries that swam around him: Megan's, the guards', Scully's... Scully! "Mulder, listen to me. You have to stop this." "Scully!" "Mulder, they're going to hurt her if you don't. Stop now. Mulder, look!" Kyle grabbed the side of his face and forced him to focus on the man poised just behind Scully. A man who was watching Mulder with a ragged breath, ready to pummel his partner if he took so much as a step towards her again. "Don't do this, Mulder. It's not helping her." The other villager came menacingly close to them, screaming nonsensical words and pointing to the fence. His intention was clear. Slowly, step by step, Kyle led Mulder back and out of the square. The guards relaxed their boards a little, and Scully rested her forehead heavily against the wooden pole. She was sweating heavily and panting. "She can't stay there like that." Mulder was pleading with Kyle, without taking his eyes off of her. "I have to help her." Megan came around in front of Mulder. "Chea's gone to try and help. He said someone named Vola would convince them to let her go. He promised he'd hurry-" There wasn't time for diplomacy. "SHE'S TIED TO A FUCKING POLE! She's bleeding!" Mulder's panic was rising again. "Can't you see? SHE'S SICK!" "Mulder, I don't think that's her blood." Megan glanced nervously behind her. "That's the problem. I think it's Juuj's." Chea came running back, an old withered, white-haired woman waddling behind him. The hag favored her left hip and stamped a knobby cane into the ground with each step as if it were on fire. "Bastolon!" Chea cried and the men guarding Scully jumped immediately into a defensive stance. "Bastolon! Cazimaan'dir se meen Vola! Bastolon!" As soon as the tiny woman reached the fence, she raised her staff and shrieked, "Bastolon!" A freak wind whipped through her robes, lifting the bright reds and yellows like billowing sails; but not even a hint of that breeze touched Mulder's sweat-soaked skin. Her one word had more effect than anything the rest of them had been able to do. The guards dropped the boards they'd held like bats and began backing away slowly, bowing in reverence. Or fear. Mulder couldn't tell which. And he didn't much care. All that mattered to him was that the path to Scully was free. He lurched towards her, intending to run gallantly to her side, but ended up on the ground again with only a mouth full of dirt. His back had given out completely. Not that that was going to stop him. He pulled himself up on his elbows and tried to claw his way to her. "Scully!" Megan stepped in front of him and tried to help him to his feet. "Mulder, for crying out loud! Would you give the raging hero bit a rest! Kyle's getting her down. Now help me get you on your feet so I don't have to drag you to the boat." From within the folds of her robes, the twisted woman pulled a short dagger and pressed it ceremoniously to her lips before handing it to Chea. He took it from her as if it were alive, and unsheathed the blade. The metal gleamed almost blue it was so black, and it sliced the rope above Scully's hands in one clean stroke. She crumbled straight down and Kyle was able to catch her just before she hit the ground. Mulder was relieved to see her eyes open and her lips saying something, but he was too far away to hear. With an arm around her waist and another scooping her legs up, Kyle lifted her from the ground and turned towards the bungalows. "The Lady!" Megan insisted before she'd even gotten Mulder off of his knees. "Kyle, let's get the hell out of here!" "Good idea." He made an about face and headed to the pier. "Bastolon!" screeched the strange woman in a tone that, had it been three octaves lower, would have been lethal. She lifted her walking stick and waved it in the directed of the boats, chanting. "I'm sorry," Chea announced with a shake in his voice. "But I'm afraid you can't leave us yet." "Like hell we can't." Megan pulled Mulder up mercilessly, forcing him to his feet. Most of his weight draped heavily over her shoulder. "Chea, we appreciate you helping us get Dana down from the gallows, but I for one am sick of this creepy little island. You can keep your mist and your gods and your anarchy. We're outta here!" "No." He glanced nervously at the hag next to him. Her chanting had stopped and she stood silently, watching them all through pitch black eyes. "It is Vola who does not wish you to leave." "Really," Mulder muttered aloud, "how flattering. And we've only just met." "I'm afraid she has put an incantation on your ship. You cannot leave." Beside him, Mulder felt Megan tense. "The Lady," she gasped in reflex. "What do you mean?" With a controlled slowness she spit out: "What has she done to The Lady?" Almost guilty, Chea lowered his eyes. "Just that. As before. Your arrival here was not an accident. Vola made sure you would need to dock." Megan's head jerked to Kyle and before Mulder could grip her tightly enough, she shrugged out from underneath him and bolted for the pier. His support gone, Mulder hit the ground. Luckily his shoulder was there to break his fall. He howled as the hot pain flared all the way down his arm, and gritted the fine sand between his teeth. //I'm going to kill that woman if I live.// Kyle's agitating hop from one foot to another caught his attention. He looked like he didn't know what to do: follow Megan or take Scully back to the bungalow and out of the sun. If it was possible, he would've gone in both directions at once. "Kyle," Mulder warned, afraid Scully would lose out and be dumped in the dirt like he'd been. Quickly he turned, heading for the bungalow, and swearing. "Damn it! Meggie! Always running off, getting into trouble..." Mulder lost sight of him as Chea knelt in his view. "I am truly sorry about everything that has happened." "Yeah," Mulder closed his eyes and tried to think cool. The sun was beating directly on him and it was eating through his eyelids, adding pain on top of pain on top of pain... "Me too." "Will you allow me to help you," he asked, wary of Mulder's response. But Mulder wasn't in any position to refuse help. When Chea finally got Mulder to the bungalow, Scully was lying on the bed, holding an empty glass against her flush cheek. Her eyes were closed. She was bathed in sweat and brown, caking blood. //Not her blood.// Kyle rushed out from the bathroom with several wet towels before Mulder could even make it to the other side of the bed. He pressed one to her forehead and grabbed the glass from her hand. "More water?" He didn't wait for a reply. As Mulder, with Kyle's help, lowered himself onto the mattress, a whole new set of pains ricocheted up and down his spine. His back itself didn't hurt - there was no feeling there at all. But he could feel his pulse in the agony that radiated out from his back. His legs, arms and neck felt like they were going to leap off of his torso of their own accord. "AHHH!" He knew his face gave away the pain that coursed through him, so there was no attempt to play it cool. "Slowly!" he begged through gritted teeth, even though the speed had little effect on the actual level of the pain. "Mulder?" Scully's voice broke around his name. She sounded tired and dry and like she'd been screaming. Mulder lied through his teeth. "I'm okay, Scully." He didn't want her to worry; after all, she wasn't in the greatest shape herself. Well, that and the fact that he was embarrassed that he'd lost it so badly out there. And he was mortified with himself for being within second of having her beaten as well. If Kyle hadn't been there to stop him... The man in question returned with a full glass of water, and Mulder could hear his partner gulping it down. Until his pelvis actually touched the bed, that is, and he shrieked like a cat in heat. "Mulder!" Her voice was muffled by the raging pain. The world dipped to the right and for a second, Mulder thought he was going to pass out. He had no such luck. He felt his sweat-drenched shirt lifted from his back and heard the gasps all around. Kyle mumbled a small, "Holy flaming cow..." "Chea." Scully's voice was sharp, even as it rasped, "Help him onto the bed. On his stomach. Kyle, the pills in my bag over there." The bed came into view, with a pink Scully kneeling anxiously on top. "You look like hell, Scully." "You haven't seen your back, yet," she stated dryly. "Tomorrow you're going to think I was a beauty queen." Chea was careful to lower him slowly to the mattress, and Scully took the opportunity to unbuckle Mulder's belt and unbutton his shorts. "Really, Scully, I have a head ache-" "Shut up," she snapped. "You've done some real damage, Mulder." He took that as his cue to cut the witty banter. //Fine. I wasn't up to being charming, anyway.// When his face hit the bed, his shorts were slipped down to his ankles. And to his humiliation, his briefs followed suit. "Uh, Scully-" "Oh, Mulder." He could hear the tears in her voice. "Kyle, give him two of the pills." There was a brief clink of plastic. "There's only two left." A sigh from his partner, and then. "Give them to him." "No, Scully. I won't take your last two pain pills-" "That's my decision to make, Mulder." "Like hell it is." "As your doctor, Mulder, I'm ordering you..." Her voice tapered off and he twisted against the agony to catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. She was bracing herself with her arms, her head hung low on her shoulders, her face twisting in a pain of her own. "Kyle," Mulder insisted, "give *her* the pills!" "No." There was almost no force in her tone. "They're Mulder's..." "You two really DO belong together!" Kyle's exasperation burst and he slammed the glass down on the nightstand. "You can deny it and lie to yourselves all you want, insist that you're just friends until you're blue in the face, and seeing as how stubborn the two of you are, you probably will. But it makes me crazy to see two people so obviously in love stand behind bravado and duty and pretense rather than just admit the truth. I could care less which one of you takes the damn pills. I've had it. I'm going to find my wife, and you two can just lay there and suffer." He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Mulder felt the reverberation in minute detail as it tingled its way through his limbs. Scully slowly crawled beside him and lay quietly, her eyes still forced shut. "You're going to wish you'd taken those pills when you wake up," she whispered. "You'll be stiff and aching for weeks, probably." The door opened and shut again, and Mulder's mind registered that it was probably Chea leaving the room discreetly. "Why won't you take them, Scully? They're meant for you." "Because I'm dizzy and nauseous from the heat. They'll make me feel worse." He knew she was lying close to him; he could feel the heat radiating from her, and smell the salty sweat that was drying on her face. He could even feel the slight rock of the mattress as she breathed, she was so close. He ventured to open his eyes a fraction, and saw her wet eyes studying him critically, not three inches from his face. "Mulder." There was no voice in her whisper, but it wavered anyhow. "Today...today I..." She blinked slowly, and a tear ran over the bridge of her nose and pooled in the other eye. One of her slender hands wove its way into his, and she squeezed gently. "Scully," he said, trying to reassure her, but her name came out a whimper instead. He wanted to say something else, but the words eluded him, and he figured it was just as well. He didn't have the strength to cry at that point, and he was sure that he would if he tried to explain how much she meant to him. Her eyes watched his lips open and shut wordlessly for a moment. Her own mouth opened and her breath was hot and wet. A smudge of brown streaked across her chin, and her face was blotchy and dirty. But when she closed her eyes and leaned into him, barely rubbing her bottom lip against his, all he could think of was how beautiful she was. She didn't close her mouth over his to seal the kiss, and there wasn't a demanding pressure for him to do so, either. Just her lips resting lightly against his, with a light sweep of breath escaping with her unhurried inhales and exhales. Not a real kiss, Mulder realized with sudden clarity. But enough to reassure; enough to comfort. Her lips were dry and cracking, and they caught gently on the ragged crags of his own. The sensation was hardly erotic, and yet Mulder found his body responding, despite his injuries. The added blood flow to his groin brought with it a strange prickling throb that boiled up into his abdomen and then around his hip to just above his bare ass. //Oh, boy.// He wanted so much kiss her for real, to roll her beneath him and sink himself inside. He wanted to ask her to pull his pants back up, but she wasn't in any condition to sit up, let alone anything that required actual physical strength and dexterity. More than anything he wanted to slip his tongue into her mouth. There wasn't anything stopping him, their mouths were open, waiting... And then the tip of her tongue met with his almost timidly, and he felt her body swell next to his with a sigh. This new connection wasn't anymore urgent than their lips had been. But the taste of her, the feel of her tasting him, made his mind reel. If only he could make his arms move without blasts of pain riveting his spine, so he could touch her face...her body... How could he feel so serene and such rabid desire and pain? //Love...// he heard the word as if it had been spoken aloud. //I love her.// And at that instant, she pulled away just far enough to rest her head on the pillow beside his, never once opening her eyes to monitor his response. Her face was calm in its own right. She sighed again and slept. //I love her...I love her...I love her...// "I can't see it, Scully. How bad...?" He was still in the same position he'd fallen asleep in hours before. And with Scully studying over him, he felt incredibly self-conscious - his shorts were still around his ankles. "Bad bruise." The dry tone she elected told him that 'bad' was an understatement. "I'm going to have to touch you to see if there's anything happening inside." "Happening? Like what?" "Internal bleeding, kidney swelling, broken bones...what does the pain feel like?" Her clinical detachment bothered him. Hadn't they been kissing earlier? Or had that just been some wonderful dream? "Like someone hit me in the back with a board." He wasn't in the mood to play dutiful patient to her Dr. Scully. "Warn me before you - AHHHHHH!" Her fingers shot all the way through him like burning spikes. He screamed and tried to roll away in reflex, but she stayed with him, applying a merciless pressure to his lower back. "Mulder, hold still," she snapped. "You're going to make this harder." "You're...killing...me!" he gasped and tried to breath through the pain. It didn't help. "You feel okay," she mumbled distractedly. The second her hands lifted, their absence spread a blanketed dull ache over him, quieting the previously shooting pain. "I'm going to want to know if there's any blood in your urine, though." He heard her inhale heavily, and then there was a minute or so where neither of them said a word. His self consciousness slipped back and the muscles in his ass tightened in reflex. Was she checking him out? Mulder tilted his head just enough to catch a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye. She was sitting on her calves with her head down and her eyes closed. Her hair hung wet and limp against her neck, having just been washed, and she wore a pair of loose-fitting knit pajamas. Blue. Very blue against the red/blue, raw flesh that surrounded her wrists. The delicate skin there had been bruised and torn away in places. But he ignored all that were ignored when she cupped her forehead and sighed. "Hey, Scully. You still feeling bad?" Earlier as she'd been climbing out of the bed to take a shower, she'd admitted reluctantly that even though she felt better, she was still a little dizzy. She's assured him it was just a left-over side effect from the heat stroke, and nothing more. Could it be something more? "No." Her head lifted and she offered him a wan smile. "Just tired. It's late." He took her words as sincere. He understood her fatigue. "How late? I was hoping for a shower, too." The grime and sweat from the afternoon ordeal was starting to itch, not to mention stink. "Are you up to that, Mulder? Do you think you can stand?" The thought of moving his back was unappealing, to say the least, but he closed his eyes and tried to brace himself against the onslaught of pain. Slowly, very slowly, he slid his hands underneath himself and pushed up onto all fours, trying to keep his back as straight as possible. The clothing was slipped from his ankles by his attentive partner. //Too attentive. She's gonna get an eye full now.// And he managed to slide one leg over the side of the bed. Mulder grimaced and bit the inside of his cheek against the searing pain. After a minor pause to take in a cleansing breath, Mulder was able to push himself off the bed and stand upright. More or less. He could feel his back catching, where before the muscles simply weren't there. Yes, he could make it to the bathroom, but he wasn't sure he'd last through a whole shower on his feet. His partner had turned her back to allow him a certain amount of modesty. Mulder wasn't as relieved as he'd expected to be. "Scully, maybe you could put the chair in the shower for me." The high-backed chair that sat against the wall probably wouldn't suffer too much in the water, he guessed. //Or maybe you could strip down and join me...// Scully, at the end of the bed with her back to him, shook her head. "I don't want you sitting down. At least for a couple of days." It was awkward for him that she'd turned away. It felt as if she was putting a distance between them, stating in body language that she didn't feel she had a right to face him in his current state of undress. Or didn't want to. Or couldn't bear to. Of course he didn't want her to stare - that would be embarrassing. But he didn't want her to avoid looking, either. //I'm too tired for this.// "I'll make it quick." He headed to the bathroom. No hair washing, shaving, or teeth brushing and he might be able to get in and out in under a minute. Another minute to relieve his bladder, and he could be back in the bed again, and for the next couple of days he hoped. Mulder was drained. When he emerged from the bathroom, wearing a fresh pair of boxers and a clean tee-shirt, he discovered that Scully had stripped the stink-covered comforter from the bed and was spreading a white, sunburst quilt over it. "I found it in the wardrobe," she said as she turned to look at him. She studied the way he was waddling. "How's the back feeling now?" "The heat helped. Better, believe it or not." "Hm." She grunted critically. "Ready to take those pills, yet?" "Nope." Mulder crawled head first onto the bed and rested his head gently on the feather pillow. She gave a frustrated sigh and crawled on to the bed beside him. His heart rate doubled. Another kiss? She rolled on her side to face him and regarded him with a long face. It was plain that she was tired, too. She gazed, blinking more than usual, into his eyes. Mulder tried to swallow. //I love her.// She looked so much like the partner he'd worked beside, fought beside, lost beside; and still there was something more. Something in her eyes, in the way her mouth moved when its edges curved up into relief as she sighed, "You get it, now. Don't you." She was looking straight into him, past the cocky facade and the dodgy wit. She was seeing him as he was, not as Mulder or whoever the hell he was always trying to be for people. It was Fox that she was watching...seeing...and it made him tremble from the inside out. He knew that she knew. //I love you.// Her left hand raised and cupped his cheek, smoothing over the stubble of the day. There was something brewing behind her dark pupils. Her teeth worried over the inside of her lower lip. She released his face and rolled onto her back, eyes open and staring at the blank ceiling. Then she rolled over to the night table and turned the lamp's key. The room was doused in a night that was darker than outside. "Mulder?" she asked almost timidly. A bad sign. It meant she had something to say that she wasn't really comfortable with. Couldn't they just go back to the ease of the moment before? "Hm?" "The other night on the beach -" "Which?" "The first night." "Okay." "I said some things I didn't mean." His ears perked up. "About the trust thing?" he asked hopefully. "No, I meant that." "Oh." "No, I'm talking about the part about me being an ally and not a friend." "Oh. That part." "I was angry." "Yeah, me too." "And then today, when I thought... I thought they were going to kill me, Mulder. Or at the very least scar me. Badly. I had visions of me with only half a face." "Mhm," he grunted grimly. "I couldn't let them do that to you. Not if I could stop them. That's why I denied you. Denied what you mean to me." She turned to him with a face that strained with grief. "And then afterwards when they dragged you away, I was so afraid I would die before I had a chance to rectify what I'd done. That you'd watch me be executed and think that you were anything less than my best friend. More, even." She turned back to the ceiling and her moist eyes searched the white plain for the words struggling to get out. "In the last couple of years, besides my family, you've become my best friend. My only friend, Mulder. I need you to know that." "I do know it. I mean, I'll admit, when I heard you say it...a part of me believed you. A part of me has to believe you, no matter what. But hearing you tell me this, now...I remember that I know it." "Don't ever forget." "I won't." "Mulder, I need you to remember." "Scul-" He couldn't finish her name. Her mouth was suddenly covering his, crushing his face against the force of her kiss. Her lips were both open and closed at once, suckling his, demanding that he kiss her back. It only took a few seconds for the shock to melt before he did. Her hands clutched at his hair, forcing his head closer to hers. His back protested, but not as loudly as his groin. He plunged his tongue into her mouth and the incredible sensations from the night before curled up into a loose ball at the base of his stomach. She was pulling his face with her as she laid back, knowing that the rest of his body would have to soon follow. Dimly he registered the silky feel of her legs against his, as his lips smoothed over her cheeks to the fine line of her jaw. //Sugar.// Her skin actually tasted sweet in his mouth. He couldn't get enough of it. He moved from her chin down to her slender neck, nipping and sucking. He was encouraged by her ragged breathing; by her fingers weaving through his hair. Roughly, she pulled him back to her mouth. Mulder moaned as her tongue smoothed over the inside of his teeth, his tongue, his lips. "Scully," he breathed and broke the kiss. "Scully, wait." He pulled back a little, and his back twinged and spasmed. "Agh!" His ears started ringing from the pain. Her hands refused to release him, but she did allow him to move away from her a few inches. He could hear her trying to catch her breath. "Mulder," she whispered between pants, "is it your back?" The desperate energy in her noticeably eased into concern. "Uh, yeah." Then she let him go, and he resettled on his stomach next to her. The second he was able to relax the muscles in his back, the pain ebbed back down to something tolerable - still there - but tolerable. He groaned. "I'm getting too old for this." Laying on his stomach wasn't completely comfortable, however. His semi-erection was threatening a nice case of blue balls - and there was no way he was going to be able to make it to the bathroom anytime in his near future. "Are you sure? Just your back?" Mulder gave her a sarcastic chuckle. "Isn't that enough?" "Is this back pain...the way it was seasickness before?" He couldn't hide his agitation. Her accusation left him perturbed. "You think I'm faking this?" "No." There was a full minute of silence before she quietly added, "I don't want you getting out of bed in the middle of the night. Again. I'll sleep on the chaise-" Mulder closed his eyes. "Stop." Moving as slowly as she was, she hadn't even been able to sit up before he stopped her. "Really, it's OK. I understand." "Understand? Scully, I know you think I'm avoiding -" "Mulder, please. My head is swimming. I can't fight with you now." "So lay down and go to sleep." She pulled herself up to sitting. "So that I can wake up and find you've spent the night outside? There's no way I'm going to let you so that to your back. You're going to hobbling around for weeks as it is." He was too tired and he hurt too much to keep hiding the truth from her. He needed to know that she was going to be taken care of before he could sleep, and he needed to sleep. "Scully. Stay." He took a breath. "The truth is that I couldn't sleep. Just listening to you breath...all I could think about was you." "Me?" She sounded startled, but the darkness hid any expressions she might've had. "Well, you and me. And then you alone. And then you with a gallon of butterscotch sauce." He waited for a gasp or a slap or a laugh or some kind of response that would tell him what do or say next. The simple fact of the matter was that Mulder wasn't in his top form just then, and even if he had been, he wouldn't've been able to tell what was going on in her head. "It just seemed like a good idea to not tempt fate," he concluded simply. How could she argue with that. "So, you think it's fate that something will happen-" "Has happened," he quickly corrected. "Was stopped," she amended for him. "Does that mean that you don't want this, Mulder? Not tempting fate? Is *that* why you've been so..." "What have I been?" "Dense." "Dense?!" "Is it, Mulder? I mean, I know it's difficult to swing one's perception; and we've been strictly working partners for so long." "And friends." "Always." She swallowed a lung-full of air. "But I want to be very clear on this: are you wanting to fight this...attraction? It's important that you be honest with me, Mulder. I'm a big girl. I can handle it. I think. As long as it's the truth." Mulder replayed his own questions in his mind. The dark made it easier to ask, "Is that all it is, Scully? A physical attraction?" He knew for him, it had ceased to be that alone. But he needed to know where she was coming from before he could tell her that. She'd seen it, he was sure, but he couldn't voice it. "If that's all it is...no matter how powerful...or convenient...shouldn't we fight it in hopes of keeping our friendship and partnership-" She didn't wait for him to stop. "What if it's more?" "More?" His throat contracted. "How much more?" She was very still beside him. A little too still. "I-I...don't..." Her voice broke, and Mulder cursed himself for pushing her. "I know you feel this, Mulder. You can't deny it." The sheets ruffled under her legs as she flipped over, turning her back on him. "I don't deny it." Her tone became harder. "Is that what you mean by trying not to tempt fate? You want to go on denying?" "I don't... think I can do that, now, Scully. Now that I've kissed you." She didn't move; and so, despite the muscle spasms running up and down his spine, he pushed himself over to her and pressed his lips against the base of her neck. He won a gasp of pleasure from his partner. //And friend. And more...// "Scully," he said trying to soothe her with his voice, "we're tired. Exhausted. Please, let's sleep. We'll wake up late and have a leisurely breakfast and talk about this some more then." It sounded reasonable, even to his strained and throbbing head. "And after that, we'll find Chea and get to the bottom of this mess, and then we'll go home and take a two week vacation from this vacation." She chuckled for him, and it made all the difference in the world to his psyche. He slipped an arm loosely around her middle. Her hand clasped it to her securely. She sighed through a yawn, "Sounds like a plan." End of 10/17 Mulder woke to a light tap on his shoulder. The morning was a brilliant white light and a salty breeze swept through the bamboo shades. But he was warm snuggled in the bed. His cheek, he slowly came to realize, was pressed against the flat of Scully's stomach; her night shirt had ridden up in her sleep. His head gently rose and fell as she breathed. His right arm snaked over her thigh and rear, and he held her to him like a child with a stuffed bear. God, he loved it when women wore boxer shorts. Granted, they matched the top, so technically they were pajamas. But Mulder let his mind drift to a wonderful image of Scully in his underwear. His boxers and nothing else. //Oh, yeah...// Her left knee was bent, fitting snugly under his arm. Both of her arms were bent above her head, and her hair fanned out over the pillow like rays from the sun. She was still pink from her ordeal from the day before, but it wasn't even close to being a burn. Luckily. Another tap and Mulder jumped, startled by the dark form standing over him. Even after he recognized Chea, it took a few breaths to ride out the adrenaline rush. Beneath him, Scully didn't move. The teacher eyed him and his sleeping partner suspiciously. "Is there something I can help you with, Chea?" Mulder's back twinged when he lifted his head. Taking a step back, the normally calm man gritted his teeth and bit out in a low, rumbling tone. "Vola's dead." There was a wild pain in his black eyes that sharpened Mulder senses from out of the haze of waking up. He felt his stomach tighten. "We must talk." Chea motioned to the wall that connected their room to the one that Kyle and Megan shared. "Can you walk?" //Good question.// Carefully, Mulder untangled himself from his partner. The pain was definitely there, but it was nothing like it had been the night before. And he found that standing wasn't an impossible ordeal. He would remain upright as long as speed wasn't a factor. In the next room, Megan sat on the bed, breakfast platter before her, picking at the culinary delights that the island had to offer and smoking a cigarette. Next to her was an oversized cloth pack that Kyle was carefully stuffing with clothing and what-nots. "What's going on?" Mulder was stiff and groggy, and still much too tired to deal with whatever it was that his friends had a head-start on. Between slow, controlled puffs, Megan informed him, "We're getting the hell outta here." Mulder hobbled over to the food and eyed it. //Did I eat at all yesterday?// "How's the boat?" "Fine," Kyle answered. "I don't know what that old witch was supposed to do and I'm starting to suspect nothing at all. There's nothing wrong with The Lady except for something that looks like blood smeared all over the cockpit." Mulder winced, remembering. "That's Scully. She was on The Lady when her nose bleed hit the other night." Megan seemed genuinely disturbed by what he'd said and looked to her husband. "That's what I thought," he said and continued his packing. Casually, as if they were discussing the weather over Cleveland, Kyle mentioned, "I had a dream last night." Mulder studied him intently. "A dream?" What must it be like to catch glimpses into the future or the past? It was a concept that both fascinated Mulder and left him a bit...apprehensive. "Tell me." "Pack clothes. We're going to need warm clothes. And some food." He paused for a moment to measure the weight of the pack. "And Dana's going to need her medication." "You saw Dana sick?"Megan demanded. "You didn't mention that before." He shrugged. "I just remembered it." He stopped and turned to Mulder. "I'm not sure, but I think we have to go down into the caves." "What caves?" This time, Chea chimed in from a wooden chair in the corner. "There are ancient caves that lead from Omani into the heart of the volcano. They're haunted." "Something tells me there's a story to that," Mulder moaned. The possibilities of slipping back into that comfortable bed with Scully were slipping farther and farther away. "Right," said Kyle commandingly. "Then Chea will tell us on the way down to the Lady." "The Lady?" "You have warmer clothes there, right? And food. And Scully's medication." Mulder was startled by this bit of information, almost as much as he was startled by it coming from Kyle. "She left it on the boat?" Kyle nodded. "On the drawers by the bed." Impressed, Mulder couldn't suppress a small grin of astonishment. "That's really amazing. Can you see it? Or do you just *know* it's there? Sometime I know things in my dream without having actually dreamed them." "She told me yesterday," Kyle replied. "She told you?" "I asked." He flung the pack's straps over one shoulder and kissed his wife's head. "I'll bring you back a present," he whispered almost playfully in her ear. "Tell me again why we can't just pack up and go home," she demanded curtly. "We can navigate without the electrical equipment if we have to. I know I could get us back to the Florida coast again." "Because," he said into her hair, "Chea..." Mulder looked to the small man, sitting so calm and removed, and for the first time Mulder noticed a fresh bandage on his left forearm. And raw bands around his wrists. Had they tied him up like they'd done to Scully? "And because of Taam. And Dana." Megan pursed her lips at her husband. "You know why she needs to do this. How can we not help?" With a defeated sign she grunted, "I know," and popped a piece of fruit in her mouth. "I know." "Well, then could one of you explain this to me, then, because I'm lost." Mulder had meant the remark to be light-hearted, but the people in the room took it gravely. "Let's get going." Kyle was terse in his glare at Mulder as he headed out the door. And Mulder couldn't help but think it wasn't a good sign. //What did I do now?!"// The walk down to the dock was infinitely longer with Mulder's stiff and aching back and legs. And the scowl that Chea insisted on blasting in his direction every couple of feet was helping to stretch out that distance even more. Finally the dark man muttered low and sharp what was on his mind. "She said you were partners and nothing more." He slipped his hands into the worn jeans that sagged a little around his slender hips. "And?" Had he been talking to Kyle? Why the hell was everybody interested in his relationship with Scully? "And that's why you were released. I lied to my people." "And that's somehow my fault, and you're angry with me?" A backward logic for a backwards culture. //Why the hell aren't we getting off of this island?// "I believed her. But she lied. You both did." One hand slid out and covered the bandage on his forearm. It was clear that the wound was hurting him. "And you've used me just as they said you would." "Who said...? Look, Chea." A deep seated fury heated in Mulder's chest. How dare anyone breath even the smallest slight against Scully after what she'd just been through, let alone a man whom Mulder considered one of the good guys? His indignance blared even with his hunched posture and uneven gait. "If you're referring to what Scully said while she was being TIED TO A POLE after being DRAGGED through town by an angry mob of people screaming at her in a language SHE DIDN'T UNDERSTAND, then you're wrong." He kept his eye focused forward, ignoring the nervous glances from Kyle that warned him to stop. "She said we weren't a couple - that we're not lovers..." Mulder had to swallow to open his suddenly dry throat. "She didn't lie." Chea's stride and tone were dangerously level. "I saw you in bed this morning-" "What!" Kyle was nearly beside himself. "That's wonderful!" "It's not true." Mulder wondered if Kyle's jubilance wasn't partly a vain attempt at derailing the tension. "What you THINK you saw," he barked to Chea, "isn't what really happened. Not that I OWE you any explanation." "You held her like a lover-" "Not a lover!" Mulder's snap brought a look of narrowed disbelief from his accuser, and an inward hesitation of shock at just how vehemently he'd spat out the words. He took a breath and regrouped. "At least not yet." Kyle didn't venture another word on the subject. They turned on to the main pathway that led through the trees and undergrowth, and down to the pier. Mulder noticed the frightened and even hateful stares of the few people that they passed. No one offered a greeting of any kind, instead giving the three of them a wide birth. Not that he'd expected anything else after what had happened the day before. He hadn't been sure what to expect from the natives, but his best guess was something along the same lines. Breaking the tension, Mulder asked: "You said Vola was dead. What happened?" Chea ran a hand over his face in one cleansing sweep and shook his head. "Stabbed. Like Dr. Juuj. Through the heart." He seemed reluctant to reveal anymore, and Mulder guessed it had something to do with Chea's new-found mistrust. A concept Mulder was very familiar with. Kyle tried to help. "We think it was probably the same person or persons who killed Juuj. And we're assuming that everyone else here will draw the same conclusion." "But they think that Scully killed -" Mulder froze in his tracks. "If they suspect Scully, she's in danger!" He was ready to start off running, not even sure how his body would react to the physical strain, when Kyle caught his arm. "Mulder, this isn't the time to play hero." Chea supported Kyle. "Especially now. Rash actions might be misconstrued..." "What the hell are you talking about? I'm not going to do anything rash; I want to make sure nothing happens... Someone is purposely trying to frame Scully." The thought popped into his head and he fought the notion, even as he said it. "Kyle. Tell me I'm insane to think that someone is trying to frame Scully." With a shrug, Kyle muttered apologetically, "It does kinda look that way." Mulder continued in his train of thought. "Which means that they would've had to have known that she would be the first person to find the doctor and attempt a resuscitation, since - from what I gather - the only reason they accused her in the first place was that she was standing over him covered in blood and holding the knife... It does sound incriminating, doesn't it?" "Meg is taking Scully down to Omani while we get the things we're going to need from The Lady." "Yes," Chea nodded, "they should both be safe down there. Omani is a haven." Mulder jumped down his throat. "What the hell are you talking about? Juuj was MURDERED down there!" With a little less confidence, Chea replied, "Perhaps not. Dr. Scully suggested that he had been taken there after the attack. Something to do with lack of blood -" The image of a faceless someone dragging that old man's body down the stone steps and through the chambers and hallways to get him into the lab left Mulder with a wince of disgust on his face. "And," Chea added, "if his attacker hadn't meant to deliver the fatal blow, he may have taken Dr. Juuj down to Omani to the spirits to be healed." "Healed how?" With a shrug, Chea said simply, "Spirits can heal. If they choose to." Mulder pressed the heel of his hand to his temple. How long had it been since he'd had something to eat? He was sure if he had a Big Mac - or two - he'd feel a hundred times better, and be able to think clearly again. "Okay. Explain to me why we are going into the caves if there's nothing wrong with The Lady. Can't we just get the hell out of here? Don't tell me it's only because of Kyle's dreams-" "No. Although Kyle has described the Gaal in perfect detail. No, we are going into the heart of Omani because of Taam." //Gaal? What the hell is a Gaal?// Kyle stopped short just before the three of them turned on to the dock. "Mulder." He took a moment to look back over the leering glares of the few people who watched them from the path, and then his eyes hesitated for a moment on Chea's tense frown before gazing out to The Lady, sitting peacefully at the end of the pier, waiting for her owners to return. "Mulder, this morning Taam's parents...cut...her forehead and banished her from their family." "Has the whole WORLD gone insane?!" "They're trying to protect their other children. They believed that by excising Taam from their family, they would save the lives of their other four kids." "You've got to be kidding!" "Not at all. This is all very serious." "This is insanity! These people physically abused their daughter and then disowned her?! Where is she now?" "Omani. She ran." Chea shifted uneasily. "But I know where she's going." "Where?" "Taam is going to the Heart to ask for forgiveness." "What the hell for?" "For allowing Her to take the Mare instead. The horse was the first animal frozen. Taam believes, as do her parents and the community, that She had intended to take her." "This is ludicrous! So what is she..." Mulder was beginning to understand. "She's offering herself as a sacrifice?" "That's what we're afraid of," Kyle said solemnly. "And she's going to the Heart of Omani, wherever the hell THAT is to do it?" "That's what we're afraid of." "So, why aren't we running after her now?" Chea started them towards the boat again. "The caves are dangerous. That's why people are forbidden to go in there." "I thought they didn't go in because of the ghosts," Mulder muttered dryly. With a half-grin, Kyle quipped: "Where do you think all of the ghosts came from?" "Actually, the Heart used to be burial catacombs, but people kept falling down ravines and being swept away in the underground rivers." "Which is why we're getting ropes and flashlights and nifty 20th century gadgets to help us." From the corner of his eye, Mulder caught the excited smirk on Kyle's face. The man was actually excited about the whole spelunking angle. //The man's crazy. They're all crazy. Hell, I'm crazy for following along.// When they were heading out again to Omani, and both Kyle and Chea were loaded with large canvas back packs, Mulder's eye caught on the bandage wrapping the marked man's forearm.. "What happened?" "A punishment for involving Vola. Asking her to help Dana was not considered a 'correct' thing to do." "How so?" "It would be like asking the Dalai Lama to personally free an American prisoner from death row." Mulder's veins ran cold for an instant. "They were going to kill her?" "The only punishment for death is death." "But she was innocent!" "Which is why I begged Vola to intercede on Her behalf. As inappropriate as it may have been, I knew it would work. And apart from watching an innocent woman die, I knew that Dr. Scully's exectution would have tremendous consequences for Erlona and my people. I was educated at Columbia University; I have a Doctorate in Educational Political Science. And I'm very aware that your government makes it a point to get involved whenever its citizens are killed by foreign hands. Without a government here, that would mean certain colonization or at the very least annexation. Save the world for Democracy with tyranny. That is how the U.S. has always worked." "Apparently no one else saw things your way?" Kyle said lightly. "They rarely do. Very few Erlonians have ever been off the island. And the handful that have don't come back." "You came back," Mulder pointed out. "Of course. This is my home." Home. He said the word with such reverence that Mulder forgot for a moment about the backward, primitive life that Chea lived. The man loved his home. For all of its faults and failings, he defended it. Even the people who had scarred him all of his life, marking on his very person every reason why he should hate and despise Erlona, he protected from invaders. He protected them from themselves. The only reason why he sought out Mulder again after another such marking was that Chea understood only too clearly how out of control things had become in his island world and that there was no one there who could set it right again. In the darkness of the cavern, deeper into the twists and knots of Omani than Mulder had ever been before, Scully sat on a low rock with an arm cradling her stomach. Her head hung forward from her shoulders. "Scully?" She looked up. "Hey." She'd pulled her hair back into a sloppy pony tail, and she wore jeans with rolled-cuffs and a long sleeved shirt that Mulder had never seen before. He assumed they were Megan's. "Scully? You okay?" "Yeah, fine." She smiled for him. "I ate too much breakfast." Beside her Megan snickered her opinion of just how much Scully'd eaten, then stood up to greet her husband with a warm kiss. "Did she come out?" Chea asked hopefully. "Didn't see a thing." Mulder was painfully aware that his partner hadn't taken her eyes from him. "What?" He asked her quietly while the rest of the group organized who was going to carry what. "I was worried when you weren't there this morning." The concern that weighted her brow didn't ease. "I can see your back is still hurting." "Actually, it's better. Stiff and sore, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to live now." His light joke hit the cold rock floor like a ton of bricks. "Hey, Scully, it's me. I always survive these things. You know that." She allowed a nod, and stood with her own oversized load as the group picked up the various bags and began to follow Chea to the ornate twenty foot archway. Kyle stopped for a moment just staring at the intricately carved figured columns that framed their entrance. Long ago there may have been paint that decorated the interlacing of foliage and people, but it had long since decayed in the cool moisture of the cave. "Meggie." He smiled. "Didn't I tell you it was beautiful?" Chea turned to them, his face distant and almost haunted. "This is Gaal. It is the entrance to the Heart of Omani." Then, he faced the threshold. "I cannot explain to you what our intrusion here means. Except to say that I consider this ground more sacred than the Vatican. More holy than Jerusalem. Please," he whispered, but Mulder could hear his word as if he'd spoken directly in his ear. "For my soul, tread softly." Scully gave a wary sideways glance at her partner and followed the marked man through the archway. Kyle and Megan followed with Morg tied to a length of rope at Kyle's belt. They looked like tourists on a sightseeing trip that had gone awry; each not really wanting to go forward, and still forcing themselves to do it with a morbid eagerness. Mulder's stomach rumbled, and he shook his head. //It's a safe bet this wouldn't have been on the Disney World itinerary.// The moment they were all through Gaal, a terrific wind rushed from the blackened tunnel head, kicking up dirt from the cave floor and sending hands and arms flying to protect delicate eyes. "What they hell was THAT?!" Megan wiped her face against her sleeve. "At least we know this cave isn't a dead end," Scully supplied helpfully. "The spirits know we're here." Chea's voice became flat. He checked over his faithful crew, and once again Mulder noted to himself how Chea's calm and intelligence made him a natural leader. Scully retrieved the lantern that had dropped from her hand. Mulder grabbed the bag that was at her side, but she stopped him before he had a chance to slip it over his shoulder. "I'll carry it." "Scully, you're tired." "So are you. And don't try to tell me you're not. I'm not blind, you know." "Scully, let me carry the bag." "Stop being a pig, Mulder. I'm perfectly capable of carrying my share. While you on the other hand, are injured." She yanked on the shoulder straps and got them away from his grasp. He couldn't help but notice again the raw skin and bruises cuffing her delicately small wrists. "Can I at least carry the lantern?" She tossed him a look of tired frustration, and handed it over. They'd walked for the better part of two hours through the cave, darkness looming all around them, making very little progress. The path that they followed through the maze of boulders and fallen rocks was uneven, and the gentle ramps, in places, dropped off into drastic slopes with jagged edges. The ceiling was unpredictable as well, jutting up into the void of the shadows, only to spike down as stalactites again. And it seemed to Mulder that every ten minutes or so, the temperature dropped noticeably. They reached the rocky shore of another underground river - or maybe it was the one they'd managed to cross earlier - and Chea called for a five minute break while he tried to decided the safest way over the wild current. The rapids were a dull roar in the otherwise silent caves, churning and bubbling as they raced into a hole in the face of the rock wall. Mulder took advantage of the respite to pull a sweatshirt from the large bag Scully dropped at her feet, and then pulled out another for her figuring if he was chilly, she must be absolutely frozen. Scully was always cold. Inexplicably so. "Here." He handed the grey sweatshirt to her, and she took it but didn't put it on. Instead, she tossed it to the ground and planted herself cross-legged above it. It was at that point that Mulder noticed she was panting a little. "The next time I take you sailing, I swear we'll stick to small lakes and ponds." "That's right." A smile blossomed on her face. "We don't have a very good track record with boats, do we?" "Hey, that wasn't my fault," he defended, knowing exactly to which disaster she was referring. "Old Blue rammed and sank that boat." "Mulder, Old Blue doesn't exist. And besides, I believe *I* was driving the boat when we rammed into that rock." She sighed at the memory - an apparently fond memory from the look on her face, though for the life of him Mulder couldn't see why she would have anything but negative feelings about that whole case. But she did. And truth be known, he did, too. Because for however many hours they were stuck out on that rock, he'd had her to himself. Not physically, of course; she'd sat on her life preserver as far from him as she could possibly have gotten. But that night he didn't have to share her with anyone; not even that stupid dog that had gotten itself eaten by that point. Not even the stupid case. And they had talked that night. Really talked. Enough to make Mulder feel a little uncomfortable, in fact. It was wonderful. Why hadn't they talked like that since? "I think we can cross this river without much problem if we're careful and take it slowly. It's not deep at all. But we'll need to be careful of the current." Chea, as usual had everything under control. Pulling a rope from his pack, he knotted off a three foot space down its length and positioned everyone along it in a logical formation: placing himself first, then Scully, Megan, Mulder and Kyle with Morg. On the other side of the river, the rope was put away, and they started on again down a sharply angled and terribly narrow pathway. Single file, they made it down to the bottom at a snail's pace, and once there, discovered that the path led up again. Mulder's legs were really starting to bother him. He was walking with his legs at an awkward angle because of the pain in his back, and the muscles in his thighs were beginning to protest. The trouble was that even when they took a break for a minute or two, he couldn't sit down. The bruising, it seemed, had scored the top of his pelvis and any kind of heavy pressure exploded into shards of pain. So sitting was out. Even Morg, who had been excited at the beginning of their cave adventure and insisted on sniffing everything that she could get her wet nose on, was tired and drooping her long tail. She trailed Kyle faithfully, but didn't bother to investigate anything along their path anymore. In an act of desperation, Mulder called to the man at the front of their group, "Chea! How much farther is it?" He simply couldn't go on much longer without collapsing. The mind was willing; the body was not. On the steep slope, Chea turned, giving Mulder a chance to brace himself against his upper thighs and rest his aching back. "I've never been in here before." "Then how do we know we're going the right way?" Scully, too, was pushing the envelope. Her voice had an edge to it that Mulder recognized as fatigue. "The path is fairly well worn. But no one has been down here in living memory - at least that I know of, so it's hard to say how long it will take to get to the main chamber." He adjusted the lantern in his right hand to give off a larger flickering glow. Kyle scratched at the back of his neck. "Is the large chamber the one with the white pool and the big red and black circle on the wall?" The teacher looked truly shaken. "You dreamt that as well?" Kyle's gaze crept from Chea to Scully, and Mulder's internal alarms began to sound again. "You look like you could use a rest," he said diplomatically. Chea protested. "We must reach Taam as soon as possible. The trip down to your boat wasted a lot of valuable time." Morg gave two excited barks. "We won't find her in the main chamber," Kyle said with a certainty that chilled Mulder to the bone. The man's dreams were starting to fascinate Mulder on a whole new level. At some point he was going to have to sit Kyle down and find out exactly how his special ability worked. But not in the caves. Not with Scully within earshot to roll her eyes and scoff. Or maybe *with* Scully, after all. Maybe if she heard about paranormal abilities from someone she knew, she would be more accepting. "Kyle," Mulder demanded, knowing that he knew, "where is she?" With a small grin, Kyle's left arm raised and pointed to an overhanging rock about 20 feet above their heads. Standing up there in the afterglow of the flashlight and lantern wash stood the small teenager in her thin summer dress, shaking. Her eyes were white in contrast to her frightened face, and she looked ready to scamper away at the first sign of trouble. "Taam!" Chea's voice was overflowing with relief. He spoke to her in her native tongue, calming and coddling his student. Her head shook negatively a few times, but she didn't flee. "She hasn't been any farther than this," he reported in a hushed voice, "and she won't come down here. I'm afraid if I go up after her, that she'll just run deeper into the mountain." "No," Mulder countered. "She doesn't want to go deeper. That's why she's here. Ask her if something happened to frighten her." Dutifully, Chea turned back to Taam, and she nodded slowly. Then, without warning, she threw something at the group. Or rather, beside the group. It shattered on impact. "My God," Scully breathed as she examined the broken remains, "her lantern was frozen solid!" Her eyes lifted in deep concern to the girl up on the ledge. "She's got to be hurt, Chea. Her hand must be burned from touching the frozen metal." It took a few minutes for Chea to talk the girl down from the shadows above. When she resurface from around the corner that the path disappeared behind, he walked on shaky legs, holding her left hand out in front of her. It didn't take a doctor to see that it was badly damaged. The flesh from the palm of her hand was dark and peeling off in great sheets and her wrist and arm were scored with blisters and dead skin. Scully's doctor's impulses sprang to life and she pulled Taam down to sit against a large rock while she dug through her bag in a frenzy. "Don't we have some bandages or something?" Mulder took a few steps back and spared himself the sight, refusing to look even when Scully demanded more light and then a blanket. She had everything under control, and Kyle and Chea seemed to be eager to help however they could. "You okay?" Megan crept up beside him. "From the way you're walking, I'd say your back is hurting more." "The backs about the same. "Mulder gave her a dry smile. "My legs are killing me." The sound of him complaining about his physical pains seemed flat in his ears when he thought about Taam. "She's really holding it together remarkably well." Mulder motioned to the teen with a nod of his head. "I think I'd be bawling my eyes out." "She's in shock." Megan glanced over her shoulder at the progress Scully was making. "It looks like we're going to be here for a while. At least until Taam can recover enough to walk out of here. You should eat something." "I am hungry," Mulder conceded. Megan helped him spread a blanket over the cold stone floor and pulled some bread and fruit from the food bag. "We should eat the fruit before it goes bad." Mulder wasn't about to complain. The orange smelled delicious even still wrapped in its peel. Soon, Kyle and Scully wandered over to join in the small meal; Chea opting to stay with his student while she lightly dozed on the make-shift bed they'd constructed for her. "She's going to be more or less all right, I think." Scully ripped a large hunk from the loaf and stuffed a quarter of it in her mouth. "There will be some scarring, of course. But I don't think she'll lose any of her digits." She adjusted herself down on her belly, in the same position Mulder was laying in, and took another huge bite. "I also dressed the cut on her forehead. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be...speaking of which, Mulder, how's your thumb?" "Scabbed over nicely, thank you." How embarrassing that she would remember his potato pealing accident in conjunction with the wound Taam had. "Oh, good." She reached above her head and squeezed his calf. "And how's your back?" She laid her head on her other arm and closed her eyes. "About like you predicted." "Hmpf." At that point Kyle and Megan moved off of the blanket, clearing the remains of their meal with them. They staked out a flat area between Chea and Taam, and Mulder and Scully, and spread out their own blanket. "You're...you're not going to sleep in *here*?" The look of Genuine disbelief that riddled Chea's face worried Mulder. He wasn't sure he could walk any farther without some rest. "Scully's already asleep," Megan said matter-of-factly. "We might as well rest." Chea clamped his mouth shut and didn't protest as Kyle dimmed the lantern. Instead he offered up a simple prayer and then leaned back against a boulder next to Taam, trying to find a comfortable position. Mulder and closed his eyes and slept. End of 11/17 Mulder woke in confusion and darkness. And cold. His hands fumbled to his face and he found that it wasn't his eyes - he could actually see his hands. Barely. The lantern that sat quietly beside where Kyle and his wife were curled up was set for a low glow; just enough to see the other lanterns when everyone was ready to wake. Which, by the sounds of the steady breathing that broke the absolute silence engulfing him, wasn't going to be anytime soon. The silhouette of Scully's hip drew him closer to her. She wore the sweatshirt that he'd given her earlier, and her jeans-clad legs were drawn tightly up against her chest. It didn't take a genius to see that she was as cold as he was. The cave around them seemed to generate a wet chill that was able to permeate even layers of clothing. Shivering, he crawled over and curled around her before he folded the remains of the blanket over the two of them and tried by sheer will alone to generate more body heat. His back wasn't giving him as much trouble as it had been, and laying on his side actually became a comfortable position. Snuggled up to Scully, how could it not? She gave a high-pitched hiccup in her sleep, settling in against the warmth of Mulder's torso. He kissed her ear and then her neck, and then laid his head on his arm, closed his eyes, and listened to her breathe. Waking up on cold rock was one of the more unpleasant experiences Mulder could remember. The chill in the air combined with his recent injuries and the lack of a cushioning pillow left his battered body riddled with stiff, throbbing aches. It took him half a minute to sit up, and about two seconds to remember that sitting was on his list of things *not* to do. He rolled away from his partner and managed to swallow most of his yelp before it woke the whole party. Chea was up already, though, watching the sleeping Taam with paternal eyes. He pulled her blanket up another inch, tucking it under her rounded chin. When he spotted Mulder, he nodded his head in acknowledgment. On his hands and knees, Mulder crawled past Kyle and Megan cuddled together and breathing in unison. The cold didn't seem to be bothering them. Morg, too, was curled tightly against them, sharing their wealth of heat. The dog opened a tired eye, and seeing it was only Mulder, closed it again. Once he made it over to Chea, reclining against the uneven rock wall, the teacher broke off an end of the long reddish vegetable he'd been nibbling on and handed it to Mulder. Leaning on one hip, Mulder managed to prop himself up and he took the offered food. His stomach rumbled in anticipation. "Pai," Chea whispered. "It is a staple among my people. Very high in vitamins." Mulder sniffed at the vegetable, trying to hide his unexpected revulsion. It smelled like some bizarre cross between a cucumber and rotting soil. He swallowed to keep from gagging outright. "I think I'll pass." "It tastes better than it smells." "It would have to." In the soft light Chea smiled and motioned to the couple in the center of the small chamber. "Earlier, he was crying. Tears." Taking a bite of his Pai, he considered his own words. "I am...concerned." "You believe in his dreams?" "Yes." Clearing his throat, Chea picked up the high-rimmed wooden bowl next to him. "The water in the river is fresh; it feeds into the main water system for the village. Shall we?" He handed the water bowl to Mulder, grabbed a lantern, and stood. The two of them tip-toed around the sleeping bodies, Mulder pausing briefly to draw Scully's blanket up over her shoulder, and they headed off towards the river. Its faint shushing sound led the way through the darkened tunnel. Once they were far enough from the make-shift camp, Chea asked, "You don't believe Kyle's dreams are real?" "Oh, no. I believe very much in prognostication and divining the future. And Kyle's dreams appear to be sincere. I would just like more evidence." Mulder's thumb ran over the smooth lip of the bowl. "Is he seeing the future as it *must* happen, or as it *might* happen. And what exactly are the dreams like? I have a hundred question that I haven't been able to ask yet-" Just as Mulder finished speaking, a blast of cold air shot past them. It caught for an instant in the yellow glow of the lanterns as a white vapor, hovering anxiously as if it didn't know which way to flow before shooting off in the direction is was originally going: towards the river. "Did you see that?!" Mulder's heart thudded in his chest. "It... it LOOKED at us!" Chea's face was fixed in a shocked fear that Mulder hadn't seen on the man before. "The spirits..." "That was a spirit?" "MUUUULDERRRRRR!" Scully's wail ripped through the center of him, sending his heart and his mind into a buzzing panic. Without a second to think, Mulder bolted into a sprint, heading back into the blackness. Chea was right behind him. The "spirit" had come from behind them as they were walking to the river...had it passed through the camp? Was it these spirits that were icing everything they came into contact with? //Scully!// He had to get to her. After the initial scream, there hadn't been anything more. Nothing to tell him what was happening. His feet pounded against the ungiving earth below him, ignoring the brief blasts of pain each time contact was made. When he entered the small chamber again, Scully sat upright on the blanket where he'd left her, clutching her hands to her chest. Kyle stood over her, shifting from one foot to another, trying to decide what he should do. Megan knelt not far behind him. "Scully!" Mulder slid to the ground beside her. "What is it? What's wrong?" He found his hands gripping her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. "Nothing. I'm sorry." In the dim light, her face was flushed in humiliation. She tried to pull away from him. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine." Her eyes fell down to her lap, and she tried to hide her face behind her fallen hair. "Nightmare?" "Where did you go? I could've sworn you were...behind me..." A cockeyed grin broke out on Mulder's face. He couldn't help it. His normally stoic partner was having a severe attack of embarrassment. It was adorable. He pushed the hair that was falling in her eyes behind her ear, but she shook her head, breaking his hold. "I've had a rough couple of days." "We've had a rough couple of years." Before she could duck away from him again, he slipped his arms around her and pulled her up against him. He kissed her then, sealing everything between them. Love, anger, frustration, acceptance; his hand slipped behind her head and he opened his mouth wide over hers. He could taste the heat in her, the passion, the trust. The belief that no matter what happened between them, they would always be stronger together than apart. Tears prickled in his eyes, and he kissed her to reassure her that he was there, behind her, one hundred percent. He kissed her to tell her that he loved her. He kissed her because her lips, even dry, felt so good against his own... right...hot. It was Scully who pulled away first, out of breath and eyes wide with a brightness that Mulder recognized and loved. Behind him Taam whimpered, reminding where they were. Scully pushed herself from his arms, making it to her feet with a bad case of stiff back herself. But Mulder took great pride in her initial moment of hesitation. She hadn't wanted to leave him, even in her doctor mode. It wasn't until then that Mulder noticed Chea staring at him with a look of...destain? Like a dog befriended with the promise of food, and when it gets close enough to get its jowls around the treat, it finds a plastic squeak toy instead. Turning his back on the glare, Mulder yanked the blanket off the ground and shook out the dirt. After all, it wasn't his fault Chea had it wrong. And he wasn't about to defend his relationship with his Scully - which was none of Chea's business - when all that had happened were three kisses. Three wonderful, promising kisses... "Hey, Dude," Megan came up behind him and took the folded blanket from his hands. "You zoned out for a second there." Her smirk left a shy half-grin on his own face. "You about ready to get outta here? Dana says Taam is good enough to walk." "Uh, yeah-" "Good. 'Cause I want to get the hell outta Dodge." From the corner of his eye, Mulder saw Kyle inch up behind his wife and take a deep breath to bolster his courage. "Meggie..." When she turned to see the look of chagrin on his face, Megan seemed to know what he was going to say. "Oh, no," she countered. "Do NOT make me get out my pointy boots." "Meg, be reasonable." He tried to rest his hands on her upper arms, but she jerked away from him. "No! We are LEAVING THIS CAVE, THIS ISLAND, AND THIS INSANITY!" "The Heart, Meggie." "Don't you 'Meggie' me!" She snatched their blanket from the floor and folded it furiously. "I don't care what your damn dreams are telling you! UGH! I need a smoke!" She stormed over to the bag she'd been carrying and pulled out her soft pack. "And don't feed me that line about what Dana needs, either. You don't KNOW that being in the Heart, or the Lung, or the Small Intestine of this godforsaken hell hole will change anything. You said yourself that you can't remember!" A wince on Kyle's face covered a genuine look of anguish. "Meggie, please." "NO!" Her emphatic answer stopped him in his tracks. Kyle smoothed his hands over his head in frustration. "We're going in." Scully's calm control sent a shiver down Mulder's spine. "What?" he asked in disbelief. "Scully you can't be serious." "I am." "But...why? Shouldn't we get Taam to a hospital or something? For the burns? Even if it is an Erlonian hospital?" "What is that supposed to mean?" Chea's indignance seemed out of place to Mulder. Scully met his steady gaze. "We're going in." "You may be," Megan said, taking a huge drag off her cigarette, "but I sure as hell am not." Her conviction level was low. With a shrug, Scully lifted her bag and a lantern. "Suit yourself." Beside her, Kyle swung his own bag over his shoulder and let it fall heavily on his back. Mulder knew what was happening. There was no way in hell that Megan would let Kyle stay in the cave - let alone travel to the mysterious Heart - alone. No more than Mulder would with Scully. It was a crude manipulation, but it worked. Kyle, Chea and Taam headed for the far opening in the rock, with Scully leading the way. Beside Megan, Morg whimpered her distress at the apparent split of her two beloved parents. She looked from a disappearing Kyle to a furious Megan with equal imploring. Finally, Mulder shrugged and followed the group, knowing that Megan would follow, albeit under protest. "Look at it this way," he said as he flashed her a light grin, "if nothing else, this promises to be a great show." "Don't you find it odd that Dana wants to go in there?" "Not really. She wants to understand what's been happening to the people on this island. It seems like a logical place to look." "Why?" Megan's question left Mulder quiet for several minutes while he tried to formulate an answer. "You know, it's odd," he admitted, "but we don't really know anything about the Heart, do we? Except that Taam wanted to go there to sacrifice herself -" "Which, in my book, is a good reason to avoid the place all together," she snapped, flinging her cigarette butt against a bunch of huddled rocks. Mulder had to admit she had a point. "There's always Kyle's dreams..." "Yeah, and he's been very cryptic about them. Granted, he doesn't always remember them clearly - or at all - but why would he be so dead set on going to a place if he didn't remember it well?" "I don't know." "Neither do I. But I *do* know that I don't think it's a great idea to go barreling into something that could most definitely be a one-way street." "I'm starting to agree with you." "Finally! Someone thinking with their head and not their heart!" Mulder couldn't help a snort. "Scully is usually begging me to use my head while I'm trying to get her to open to the extreme possibilities that you can't find in science and logic." And once again she was playing his part, and he was left flapping his arms, not sure what to do. "What did you mean when you said that Kyle didn't need to remind you about Dana? He said something similar in the bungalow before we left; something about not needing to remind you about why this was so important to her." Her expression strained when she looked at him. Megan quieted. "You know. The cancer." "What about it?" "I'm sure she's told you." Mulder grabbed her arm, stopping them both in their tracks. "What? Tell me." Had Scully confided in this woman and not him? Had she told him that there had been no change, when in fact the cancer had progressed? It seemed impossible to think, and still he forced himself to demand, "Tell me!" Looking both guilty and concerned, Megan glanced at the group moving farther away before she turned back to Mulder. "On The Lady, she had mentioned that with her illness it was difficult to work effectively, and of course at that time I didn't know it was cancer. But then, afterwards, after the horrible nosebleed, the morning before the whole pole incident, we met for breakfast before she went down into the lab. I'd questioned her about being up so early and why wasn't she just enjoying herself." A mischievous grin fluttered across her face. "Suggesting you and a bed I think..." Mulder's expression didn't change and she forged ahead. "And she said that when she got back to DC she was going to resign. That she was a threat to you, as your partner. And that helping these people would be her last act as an investigator and a doctor." Megan's chin trembled a little and she brushed it off, nodding to the group. "We'd better catch up." "Why didn't she...?" "'Don't know. I don't know how she holds it together, either. She nearly had me bawling that morning." "She's strong. She can beat this." "Is she trying?" "Uh...no. It's inoperable, and the chemo she did try made her...she didn't want to do that again." "I can't say I blame her. So why do you think she'll beat it?" "Because. She has to. Because she's Scully." "Jesus, Mulder! Do you even hear what you're saying? Dana isn't a super hero. She's a woman who has a terminal disease. She can't possibly live up to the expectations you lay on her." "I *know* that. I don't put anything on-" "It's hard, you know. Watching someone you love and respect lose when they're fighting so hard. And they do fight. They fight like demons because that's what we expect. But how do you fight something that's inside you? When you have no control over any of the players?" Mulder didn't want to talk anymore; at least not with the conversation hitting so hard, so close to home. Megan continued. "I had three miscarriages before the doctors discovered the cancer in my uterus. How they could miss it is beyond me. I tried the chemo and radiation. I knew how badly Kyle wanted children. How badly *I* wanted children. I was never one of those people who worried about bringing another person into this world. I knew that when I found the right man, I'd be the perfect mother." She shrugged. "But the cancer spread to my ovaries and there was nothing I could do. They had to take it all out." "So you *did* beat it." "No. I'm alive, but the cancer won. It took away all of the children Kyle and I might've had." "But you're alive." "You're missing my point, Mulder." "Which is?" "Why do you think she told me about retiring and not you?" "I...I don't know." "Well, think about it." The archway that led into the Heart was more incredible than the Gaal had been. Finely carved faces and figures were intricately woven up and down the four columns that supported the low granite ceiling. The detail work reminded Mulder of ivory carved Chinese figurines, stacked top to bottom in a never ending pattern, spiraling up to the flat rock above. Each person and creature wore their own facial expression, each leaf had distinguishable veins. The arch itself shone a brilliant grey in the pinkish light that poured from the chamber within. It stood no higher than six feet, but the effect was breathtakingly grand. The stone wall it was carved directly onto was polished to a slick shine that reflected the emerging glow. Scully mumbled a stunned, "I don't believe it," under her breath. Inside the archway, the play of light was diffused. It poured red/orange from the sunset outside through a hollowed out vent slanting into the ceiling; bringing the warmer evening air with its salty taste in as well. The warm breeze felt luxurious. The walls of the large room were covered in a pale red crystal that seemed to grow from the ceiling down. Enormous stalactites hung like icicles, glowing with the stuff. The overall effect was very much like the inside of a heart, complete with valves and veins. Towards the back of the room there was a smallish bubbling pool of a thick white liquid. A thin veil of steam hovered over it, churning and bubbling in its own right. The pool was lipped with stones that had been smoothed and rounded. Just above the pool, against the far wall, an enormous circle was carved and painted black and red in alternating layers. The figures in the circle wore crystal-like stones in their tiny eye sockets, and they sat or stood frozen in their individual tasks, watching with glittering eyes as the group entered the room. Around the circle, rays snaked out, covering the whole wall. Mulder split his focus between the power of the beauty that surrounded him and the look of awe on his partner's face. She could peel her eyes from the milky liquid. "No...NO!" The vapors that had previously been circling over the pool suddenly changing their course to swarm like hungry seagulls over the group. There were exactly five seconds to think before Mulder was hit. One second to see the vapors hurling towards them, one second to push Scully down to the floor with a shove that would've leveled a man twice her size, one second to raise his arm up to shield his face, and two seconds to gaze down into her horror ridden eyes as her lips parted in a shrill cry that Mulder knew he would never forget as long as he lived. In the sixth second he died. He hit the ground hard enough to raise a puff of dust. If he had been able to smile a giddy smile at the actual sensation of death, he would have; it was nothing like he'd envisioned. There was pain, of course, a brief freezing agony that sliced through him, and then that was over even before it really had begun. And the odd ache of his heart stopping in his chest - he really had not expected to ever feel that. His eyes froze open, so he could see the swarming wisps zip away; though it was like looking through an ice cube. His hearing was a lot like that, too: muffled and distorted. People were screaming, both male and female voices. And then Scully, crying over and over, "No no no no no no no..." She lifted his head from the ground and cradled him in her lap, smoothing his frozen hair from his frozen forehead. //She's burning her hands by touching me. Why is she burning her hands? Why do I *know* she's burning her hands?// Mulder was frozen, of this there was no doubt. He couldn't move, couldn't feel, couldn't respond. And yet, he *knew* she was weeping, and that her chest was heaving with the force of her sobs. He could see her leaning over him, tears streaming down her red face. He could hear other voices, like bees humming in a hive. Was this death? Confined to a lifeless body and forced to know and observe without the possibility of ever responding again? Her head dipped low, but before she could graze her lips across his, she was yanked up and away from him; he slammed back to the rock floor. "Dana! Are you crazy! Look at your hands!" It was Megan's injecting some reason into the chaos. "Let me go!" The view of the ceiling became obscured and Kyle's out-of-focus form took its place. His face was twisted and tears streamed down his darkly stubbled cheeks as he leaned in closer. "Oh, man. Mulder. I didn't know...in the dream, this wasn't how it happened." He shoved his thumb and forefinger into his eyes in a vain effort to staunch the flow; the tears rolled through anyway. //Kyle. My friend...and it's funny in a way, but I didn't even realize until now how much of a friend you truly are. Kyle, take care of Scully for me. See that she gets back to DC - to her family. See that she's comfortable. Taken care of. She deserves better. She deserves more.// There was another male voice. It had to be Chea's, Mulder reasoned, but it sounded strangely low and grumbling. Then Kyle stood and stepped away from him, and he was left with the flat stone ceiling once again. Time for Mulder held no value. It could've been days, weeks or minutes until another face came into his distorted realm of sight; a dark, scarred face with a sad curiosity gleaming from its black eyes. Chea knelt beside him, and he spoke in a low, slow voice: "Help me move him to the Milk." "Are you crazy? He's frozen solid!" "Don't you touch him! Leave him alone!" "Why the Milk? *What's* the Milk?" "The Milk of the Earth. It holds the spirits of the dead. Help me move him." Scully's beautiful face came into view again, contorted by grief and tears and a raw emptiness in her eyes that killed Mulder to see. A small trickle of red ran from her left nostril and over her upper lip, but she didn't bother to wipe it away. She just stood, staring into his iced eyes until one of the wool blankets was dropped over him and the world became a shroud of darkness. The sensation of movement was non-existent. He couldn't feel anything. And still somehow, Mulder knew that he was being carried. There were feet scuffs and a wavering mixture of voices and grunts, but nothing that made much sense to him any more. He felt himself fading; dislodging from the self that had died without him. The blackness evaporated and the soft glow of the fading sunset filled him with warmth. The ceiling refracted the light, shining and glowing with it. And Mulder found it getting closer. Much closer. He was floating up, caught in the heated breeze from outside the cave. Drifting. Above. And with no effort at all, he was able to twist himself around and look down over the heads of the people in the room. Scully stood at the lip of the basin, her arms holding Mulder's frozen, wrapped head as they lowered him into the white liquid. Chea and Kyle held the rest of him, both stepping into the pool in order to keep him from dropping completely in. They held the body with such care. Mulder could see the anguish on Scully's face as his dead self was lowered into the pool. There was no doubt of her pain - he felt it, too. The loss. The emptiness. The overwhelming need to touch her and kiss her and hold her in his arms. He wished he could cry for them, as she was, just to vent some of the rage of having the world balanced so promising on his fingertips. Scully had been so right on that evening Melissa had died. There was no justice. He could see in her heart that she was thinking it again. Not far behind her, Megan held Taam tightly. Both were quietly crying and watching the scene unfold, just as Mulder was, with a mixture of horror and hope. //What do they expect to happen?// It wasn't like they were going to be able to save him. Hardly. None of the other people had been successfully thawed and returned to life. The pool boiled with fat, angry bubbles the moment his frozen form touched the surface. It was odd to see himself that way, dead and covered. More surreal than it had been in New Mexico only a few years before. So long ago... When Scully's hands were completely submerged, the liquid around her wrists became alive with a boil that startled her. She yelped and fell backwards, hitting the floor hard with her back. Her hands were held out from her body, and she stared wildly at them. Large, uncontrolled tremors racked her body. "My god..." Megan was beside her in an instant, helping her to sit up and inspecting her palms. The previously ragged burns melted in front of their eyes, leaving large layers of white flaking skin. Then the dead skin dried and fell from her hands leaving pink, raw flesh in their place. But the new skin was smooth and healthy, free from blemishes. "Holy flaming cow!" "Is she okay?" "She's better than okay!" "Quick!" Scully's face came to life. "Taam, put your hand in the pool!" The girl stood stone-still, tear tracks lining her confused face. She looked from Scully to her teacher for guidance. "Huus ne Kilje haern gaan se!" Chea's words were excited. He smiled broadly at his student and coaxed her to the pool with a nod of his head. Slowly she responded with an uncertain stride, and knelt down to dip her injured hand into the liquid. Just as it had with Scully, the bubbles rose to the surface and when she pulled her wrapped hand out, Megan carefully removed the bandages and dead skin. Taam bent her fingers in wonder and whispered her awe. "She says the pain is gone," Chea translated for the group. And then, disrupting his view of the room, from out of no where, a powerful wind caught the wisp of Mulder and spun him around and around. The floor and ceiling dipped and churned, and it was impossible for him to right himself. He was spinning out of control, with no clear direction. And then, all at once he slammed into the pool of milky water and the world became quiet and still once more. End of 12/17 //The shitty thing about death,// Mulder decided, //is that you *know* that you're dead.// He was acutely aware of his own state of being - or not being, as the case was. And as there was really nothing better for him to do, he spent his eternity endlessly listing his regrets; and all of the ones near the top had to do with his ex-partner: never telling her exactly what she meant to him, never admitting that he'd felt guilty about the women she'd caught him with (whether anything was happening or not), never buying her a real gift that she could hold on to and know that it came straight from his heart... And then there was the grief of Samantha. Would Scully take up his quest and find his sister for him? Hell, what was he thinking? Scully was dying herself. She didn't have time to worry about his long lost sister. She was going to end up like him, like all of the other people he'd come into contact with - in a blank nothingness that stretched out into infinity. And he wasn't even going to be reunited with her in the afterlife - since now he was pretty sure there was an afterlife - because there was just *nothing* there. No spirits, no god, no possibility of parole for good behavior... //Those Jehovah's Witnesses are wasting their time.// After Scully'd had her near-death experience, she'd described feeling an overpowering sense of contentment and tranquility. All Mulder felt was depressed. And pissed. And a wonderful smoothing sensation somewhere around his feet. //Feet?// His eyes cracked open without him consciously trying to do so, and the yellow glow of the morning sun caught in the fiery red of her hair. The image of her sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed with his feet in her lap seared into his brain. She was wearing a dark shirt that burned white into the negative image on the inside of his eyelids. Her head was down in concentration as she rubbed some sort of salve into the sole of his left foot, and the faint breeze that swept cool over his lotioned body tossed the strands of her hair that covered her face. Mulder thought his heart was going to burst in his chest. And that thought over joyed him, because it meant he was alive. He forced his eyes open again, needing to reassure himself that she was real and he was real and that the image he'd seen wasn't some sort of dementia brought on by...well, by being dead. But she was there, working her thumb into the arch of his foot, smoothing in the clear pasty gel that she scooped from a wide-mouthed jar. Her hands were slick with it, and briefly Mulder fantasized about her naked and covered with the stuff. That's when he noticed that he was lying on the bed in their bungalow, naked and covered with the stuff. Completely covered. Inclusively. A small hand towel was laying across his groin area; apparently Scully had decided that was all the modesty he needed. Finishing with his left foot, she placed it carefully on the bed and shifted the right into her lap, glancing up briefly to check on him, and obviously not expecting any real changes in his condition. When she saw him peering back at her she jumped, startled. Then a beautiful wide smile spread over her face. "There you are." She slipped off the foot of the bed and pulled a chair up next to him. He could feel her hot breath on his slicked cheek when she asked, "How are you feeling?" Mulder tried to tell her he felt like death warmed over, but he couldn't get his mouth and breathing to work in tandem. All he was able to get out was a squashed, "Uugha." He rolled his eyes over so that he could see the concerned expression on her face, but he couldn't move his head or neck. His body was too heavy and his brain was too tired. "You've been through a lot, Mulder. Just try to rest." He looked into her eyes, wanting to tell her everything that he hadn't before, so there would be no doubt for her ever again. She seemed to see and understand, and her face grew long and pale and her eyes watered a little. "Uh... You lost the top two layers of your epidermis from just about 100 percent of your body from what I can tell. The salve I'm coating you with will keep the new skin from drying and cracking, and should keep the scarring down. I don't know if it'll help with the itching or not..." Mulder closed his eyes. He had to tell her. She saw but she didn't hear. He had to say the words. The need pressed firmly against the inside of his chest and erupted on his slimy lips in a harsh whisper: "Ssscuuul..." She moved closer to him, he knew, because he could feel the mattress bending under her weight. He could feel the heat of her breath on the side of his face. It was euphoric to have sensations again. "Scuul," he started again, forcing himself to concentrate on the words; refusing to allow himself to fail. "Sculllee...luuuv...yooou." Air rushed back into his lungs and, spent, he slipped back into the clutches of sleep. There was nothing more he could do, he was simply too tired. But as he sank, he felt something distinctly warm and wet drop onto his cheek and work its way down to the opening of his ear. //I love you, Scully.// She heard. Five days later, Mulder was sitting up in the bed, the sheet pulled defiantly up to bunch at his waist, and his arms firmly crossed above his pink bare chest. He'd had enough of Scully's babying - not that she actually babied him; he was sure a prison nurse matron would have a more empathizing bedside manner. Scully refused to let him scratch, dress, or even get out of bed for longer than it took to relieve himself in the bathroom. Not that he was complaining about the sponge baths. Or even the salve massages - except when she insisted on lathering up even the crevices that weren't meant to be touched by human hands. She spouted some nonsense about scarring and healthy skin needing the enzymes in the gel. But after three days of feeling solidly well again, he'd decided enough was enough. He could damn well lotion his own privates, thank you very much. "Stop being a baby." "Scully, you know I'm trained in hand to hand combat. Put the jar down and step back." And on top of making him lay in the bed even when he was feeling fine, he was sure she was filtering the information he was getting about what was happening in Erlona. She answered most of his questions with one or two words. "Now, Mulder. Be reasonable. You were dead a couple of days ago. It takes a long time to recover from something like that." She pulled the wide cork top from the medicinal jar and sat beside him on the bed. "I'm not risking your health just because you're bored." "I'm FINE! I feel great, Scully, and I'm NOT going to let you slop that shit on me again." "The new skin will dry and crack if you don't." "Tell me what happened with Taam." A frustrated furrow raised Scully's brow and she sighed heavily. "I'll tell you if you let me slime you." "You can do my left arm," he tempted, hoping she'd agree to the compromise. She studied his face before she turned her attentions to his arm. "By the time we made it back to the Village, the only sign that she'd ever been marked was a thin off-color patch where the cut had been. That, of course, will fade." She spoke slowly as she worked, being sure to knead the lotion in deeply. Working from his shoulder down to his elbow, she continued, "When her parents saw her, god Mulder, it was like they'd seen a miracle. They both fell to their knees and cried and cried..." Her face remained focused on the work in front of her, but he could tell from the look in her eyes that she was reliving the event. "They believe that She, their merciful and just goddess," sarcasm snapped dully over her words, "returned their daughter to them because they proved their devotion in an ultimate act of faith." "You don't buy that, though." "Mulder, the only thing that save that girl was a group of people who cared enough to go into the caves to get her, and that Earth Milk pool." "Speaking of which," Mulder said, stopping her hands to get her attention, "I want to go back there." "Forget it." "If that pool can bring me back to life and heal both your burns and Taam's injuries, then what's to say that it can't cure you, too?" Both of her hands flew from him and she sat rigid, obviously trying to control a flare of anger. "What you're suggesting isn't scientifically possible -" "Neither is freezing a man solid only to thaw him and have him as good as new two days later, and yet..." He raised his arms as if to say, Look at me. "No. End of subject." She grabbed him once again and finished down to the wrist, hand and fingers. When she reached for the other arm, he jerked it away. "Another arm, another question." He knew he was pressing his luck, she still hadn't recovered from her first bout of anger. She reluctantly growled, "What?" Placing his right hand in hers he asked, "So why haven't the locals come knocking on our door and strung us up on the pole yet?" He watched her work steadily, leveling her emotions as she smoothed the ointment. "They're convinced that we're sent by their Goddess. That we were the ones who 'revealed' the lost secret about The Heart to Chea." "That's not true." "I know. I think that's what Chea told them, though." "But why?" She bit her lip, refusing to say more. For a few minutes she massaged his biceps and shoulder and he closed his eyes briefly to enjoy the sensation. God, it was so wonderful to feel again, to be connected physically to the world around him. And to have her so close, smelling so...feminine. She finished abruptly. "'Why' will cost you your chest and stomach." "Just chest." "It's a compound answer. I want both." The way she said it made him feel like he really was giving parts of himself to her. And that erotic realization sent a bolt of energy straight to his groin. Well, he wasn't going to worry about losing *that* physical response to the freezing process. "Then I want to do you, too." "What? I...uh, I don't need the salve." "Will it hurt you?" "No...but there might not be enough..." "I'll take that risk." His ultimatum had been laid: she could have him - all of him - but he wanted her, too. He needed her. "Chest and stomach?" She seemed almost shy as she considered his terms, when she had touched and fondled every possible inch of him repeatedly over the past few days. It was incredible to him how the layers of her personality kept unraveling, and beneath them there was still more Scully. "Chest and stomach and 'why'." "I think you're getting the better deal." "So. Refuse me." The glare in her eye told him that she was going to do no such thing, and he knew it. She reached for the hem of her shirt to pull it over her head, but Mulder stopped her. With a light tug at her hips, he pulled her closer to him. "Come here." When she was straddling his lap, he ran a long finger down the side of her questioning face, along her jaw, and finally across the neckline of her shirt. "I want to." When she didn't move to stop him, he slowly lifted the shirt up and over her head and arms. She sat on him in her white, functional bra and waited to see what he would do next. It was unbelievable, her trust in him. Knowing full well that he had every intention of turning her medicinal ministrations into a sexual experience for both of them, and still allowing him to do what he wanted. Letting him make the first move and set the pace. She was truly amazing. "Did I tell you that I'm in love with you?" he asked as his finger ran lightly atop the thin lace trim of her bra. "Uh...you told me you love me." "I do." The small, white plastic clasp was staring at him, begging to be opened. His fingers toyed with it. "But I'm not going to do this if you're not comfortable-" "I'm a big girl, Mulder. I can handle myself." "But can you handle me?" "I can take anything you can dish out." Her smile was contagious. "I bet you can." With a flick, the clasp released and his hands slipped under the cups to hold her bare breasts in his palms. Her skin was so soft next to his new flesh, and smooth. And her nipples hardened into tiny pebbles. She watched the play of emotions that was spilling across his face with urgent fascination. When the bra was removed completely, he scooped a handful of salve from the jar. Scully followed and began her ministrations once again. "I'm not exactly sure why Chea told the villagers that we gave him the answer, when he had it all along. But the real question is why, if he had it all along, didn't he do something about this before? When over a hundred people died that could have been saved." She smeared her hands across his chest as she talked. "I have a sneaking suspicion that our friend Chea..." Mulder was staring. Her breasts bobbed and swayed as she worked on him, their faint brown tips hanging out and away from her body as she moved. Her nipples were so much bigger than he'd been ready for, and his mind couldn't get past it. The deeper color created large, thick circles. With his gooped-up hands poised and ready to smear, he sat ogling with his mouth open like an idiot. "What?...Oh." She looked down and when she saw the source of his attention, she sat back. "Yeah. They're weird." "They're beautiful," Mulder managed to choke out with sincerity. The delight that registered on her face only dimmed a little as she began to talk and work again. "Anyway, I haven't gotten to talk much to Chea, but I get the feeling that there's a lot more going on with him than we're supposed to believe. Like..." Finally, Mulder raised his hands to her shoulders and smoothed slowly down to knead her swaying breasts. She held her breath for a moment before pressing on. "Like...how was he so sure that Taam was going to the Heart, if no one was supposed to know about it. And why, if he knew that the Milk was the answer to the freezing didn't..." Mulder squeezed her erect nipples in unison, and she had to close her eyes against the pleasure of it. Her own nails grated against his new flesh. "Continue," he coaxed and resumed his massage moving down below her breasts and on to the flat of her belly. "Uh... I don't remember where I..." "What do Megan and Kyle think?" The pure pleasure of watching her squirm above him was only compounded by the friction she was creating over his rising erection. "Do they think he's sincere in wanting to help the island?" "They think...Kyle, uh. He thinks that Chea is not to be trusted. Megan just says that someone who went through the pain and torment he's had in his life either really loves Erlona, or hates it." "Saint or demon?" "Something like that...oh..." Mulder had found the waist band of her shorts and managed to open them enough to get at the top part of her panties. She shifted above him . "So what are they doing while we're in here, being medical?" "They're helping...the villagers are trying to figure out a way of getting the Milk down to the village without having to take the frozen bodies back to the heart. After all, you were frozen...OH!" When he cupped her between her legs, she rose up over him, hips bucking. One of her slick hands clamped down on his wrist and pulled him out of her panties. "Mulder, we can't...I can't...your skin isn't ready for intercourse." She was breathless over him, her eyes were closed and her face was troubled. "I'm ready, Scully." He reached up and cupped her face and her eyes opened to stare down into his. Her brilliant blue irises retracted to just a sliver of their normal size. She was ready, too. The kiss she attacked him with told him as much. Then, in the middle of that sensuous kiss, just before Mulder was able to slip his hands back under the waistband of her shorts and rid her of the rest of her clothing, the disaster siren sounded again. As soon as the siren sounded the door to their bungalow slammed open. Kyle and Megan froze just inside, with Morg on a leash just behind them, not sure how to handle the tableau they'd walked into. Megan's jaw hung open in shock, and Kyle, well, he gallantly turned his back once the lopsided grin appeared on his face. "Shit." Scully pulled her hands from Mulder's thigh and chest and crossed her arms tightly in front of her. She looked back down at him with disappointment. "I'll get your clothes." She crawled off of him, reaching into the suitcase against the wall and pulling an oversized sweatshirt from the heap of clothes inside. "We, uh...we thought maybe you'd need some help with Mulder," Megan tried to explain. But Kyle already had her by the arm and was trying to push her out the door. "It looks like she's taking good care of him," Kyle said, trying not to laugh. "We'll be outside if you have any trouble." Well, at least the man was trying to afford them some decency by keeping his back to them. Something his wife, it seemed, hadn't thought of. "But hurry! The fog didn't take long the last time it came ashore." The door shut on them leaving Scully hovering over the clothes, with a pair of his jeans in one hand and another sweatshirt in the other. Her shoulders sagged visibly once they were alone. "You think if we ignore them, they'll just go away?" he asked. She tossed him the clothes. "We could try, but I'm not risking getting stuck out in the fog and having you frozen again." Her face was suddenly hard, blank and unreadable. And sallow. "Do you think you can get dressed by yourself?" "Of course. I'm fine, remember?" "Right." She turned then, went into the bathroom and shut the door. Mulder, lying on the bed, covered from the waist down by the sheet, looked up at the ceiling. The wail of the siren continued to blast incessantly. "I think I hate this place." The thick, cumulus fog was almost upon them by the time they made it back to Omani. Once again, everything was the picture of order. Each person had done his or her job so many times, that transferring the village into the underground oasis was as smooth as a transition of that magnitude could be. Except for the infirmary, which was still smashed and bloody. Mulder noticed that Scully made no attempt to help out this time, letting the villagers handle all of the medical cases. She even tried not to look in that direction as they passed by. In their private room, Scully dropped the small duffel she'd packed, and fell heavily onto one of the beds. She seemed to age years before his eyes - the droop of her lids, the weary posture in her shoulders. He wanted to ask if she was all right, but he know the answer she'd give; it was pointless. "What do you think causes the fog?" Her face was drawn in concentration. "We know what's freezing everything, but I can't see the connection between the wisps and the fog. And on second thought, what are the wisps? Maybe some sort of crystallized liquid nitrogen that's picked up by the air currents?" "They're souls." Without looking at him, she pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. He caught the brief flash of classic Scully. It faded again too quickly. "Maybe Chea knows more about this, too. That guy-" "I was a wisp." Her eyes locked with his. "What are you talking about?" "When I was dead. I was a wisp." "Mulder you were frozen solid, not a-" "I saw you, Scully. From above. I was one of those wisps." "Mulder, that's impossible." "I saw you. I saw you lower my head into the Milk and I saw it bubble up around your hands, and I saw you fall backwards just staring at them." He climbed onto the bed next to her, inching as close to her as he could. "Then this wind came in, and I was thrown back into the Milk." Her eyes widened. "That was you?" She searched his face as if to find some trace of the little cloud within him. "I saw..." Her voice broke and she didn't finish the thought. Instead she looked down at the chipped nail polish on her right hand. "I must look awful; no make-up, no sleep-" She sighed heavily and when Mulder reached out to touch her, she looked up before he had a chance. "I don't care what I saw. I don't care about this horrible island. When the fog lifts, Mulder, I want to go home." "Home," he agreed with a whisper and gently kissed her lips. "And I want to order in a pizza." "With olives and sausage." He kissed her again. He was getting good at kissing her. The way her lips moved against his was quickly becoming addictive; as was the flutter near the base of his stomach when she pulled him closer and deepened the kiss. And how it took her a moment after the kiss ended for her to collect herself enough to talk again. God, he loved that. "Mulder," she sighed, brushing her cheek against his where the stubble was more sensitive for the raw skin it covered. "What's that noise?" Until she'd mentioned it, Mulder hadn't heard anything except her rapid breathing and his own pounding heart. But once his attention was brought to it, there was some kind of commotion outside their room. Kyle poked his head in through the curtain. "Knock, knock." He seemed a little unnerved. "You guys may want to come out here." Sticking his head outside the curtain to see what all the hubbub was about, Mulder nearly knocked heads with Megan, who was doing the exact same thing. The passageway was that narrow. And sardined into the skinny hall was half of the population of the island. "What the hell?" Scully was under his arm. "What do they want?" And then, something in her snapped and she sucked in a breath and ducked back into the room. "Scully?" "Are they coming for me again?" Her eyes began to glass over as she tried to get her fear under control. Mulder glanced back at the mob in the tunnel, but they didn't advance - and frankly, didn't look all that upset. "I don't know what they want, but they're not getting you," he insisted, playing the hero, regardless of the need. "Mulder, I want to go home now." She stared off into space. "Please. Take me home." A lump hardened in Mulder's throat. She was doing it again: her mind, spinning like a top, was blurring her contact to reality, phasing out consciousness without actually passing out. He knelt before her, running his hands soothingly over her knees. "Scully?" She didn't respond. "Scully. Dana. It's all right. No one is going to hurt you." A red droplet ran from her left nostril and pooled in the crevice between her lips. Her haunted face didn't register its existence. //It's the people,// he tried to tell himself. //She's just flashing back to before when they tied her to the pole.// "Kyle!" Mulder's yell was tinged with a deep seated panic. When his friend leaned in the doorway, Mulder crawled up on the bed behind Scully. "Kyle, get those people outta here!" "Holy flaming cow..." "She's going to be okay," Mulder said, more for his own benefit than to dismiss the other man's worried tone. He leaned heavily against the rock wall and pulled his partner bodily into his lap. When Kyle began to duck out of the room, Mulder called him back. "Kyle, she needs more blankets." "Right." "And maybe something warm to drink." The worried glint in Kyle's eyes mirrored Mulder's own. "Shock?" Mulder stroked the hair back from her face and tried to press himself around her as much as possible. "She's shaking." Kyle nodded grimly and disappeared behind the thin curtain. Careful not to disturb her, Mulder pulled his hand through the sleeve of his sweatshirt and dabbed at the drying blood under Scully's nose. She didn't even blink when he touched her face. "Dana," he murmured into her hair, "what's happening with you?" Where was his strong, never-daunted partner? Where was the woman who could look murderers and mutants and monsters in the eye without even a second thought? How could it be that she'd been reduced to sad, haunting looks and blank stares? What was going on inside her head when nothing at all registered on her face? The commotion outside died down and Mulder could hear Kyle ushering the people away. Megan, with two blankets under her arms, inched in slowly until Mulder nodded to her that it was okay to enter. She watched Scully critically as she unfolded and draped. "She's exhausted." The way she said it made him realize she was speaking from first hand experience. "What can I do?" His sotto voice barely filled the silent closet-of-a-room. With a caring hand, she smoothed the blanket down Scully's hunched shoulders. Then she glanced up at Mulder over the rim of her glasses. "Hold her. Until it's time to let go." It was several hours later, when the whole cave was bathed in an impenetrable darkness, that her seizure started. Mulder was completely unprepared for it, and when her body began spasming violently, it took him almost a full minute to get her flat on the bed with his body pressed over hers to keep her from flailing herself into an injury. "Help!" Mulder called into the blackness. "Kyle! Help me!" Scully's throaty noises scared him. He couldn't see her body as it tried to lift itself from the cot, or her face as her head lurched against the hold he had on her forehead. Misjudging in the dark, Kyle slammed his shin into the end of the wooden cot and cried out in pain. "Kyle, she's seizing! Stuff something in her mouth before she bites her tongue off!" "What's going on?" Megan's sleepy question became a sober, "I'll get some lights!" once the situation hit her fully. A few seconds later, Mulder felt Kyle's hand as he tried to feel for Scully's mouth. Her cries became more muffled. "I used one of Megan's socks. I think." "Can she still breathe?" "Yeah." Kyle felt down along her body. "I've got this arm," he offered, obviously not sure what to do with himself. Mulder shifted and let him hold her down, which freed his hand to run soothingly at her hair line. "Dana, I know you can hear me," he began as calmly as his rapid pulse would allow. "Dana. Try to breathe through it. Focus on relaxing and just breathe." She jerked and bucked and the seizure showed no sign of letting up. And between his arm and her cheek, a hot wetness began to pool. "Oh, God, no." "What?" Kyle demanded breathlessly. "She's..." Mulder's voice broke, "Nose bleed. Bad." He didn't bother to try and brush the blood from her face, instead he turned her head and held it down so that she wouldn't choke or drown. It was so wrong for her body to betray her like that. Someone as strong as Scully, with as much integrity, deserved something more dignified. Not thrashing about, covered in her own bodily fluids. His eyes closed against the certainty that the wetness soaking through his jeans was urine. "Oh, Dana." He placed a solid kiss through the blood on her face. "I love you. I love you." And still she shook. End of 13/17 A small eternity passed before Mulder could hear the distant powering up of the generator, and the lights in the hall flickered alive. Below him, Scully's tremors fought hard against his and Kyle's restraints; her eyes were rolled to the back of her head, her mouth was propped open with a blue sock and her swollen lips curled back from her perfectly straight teeth. Her face and upper body, like his own, were covered in a thick coating of vibrantly red blood. The veins in her neck and forehead stood out from the rest of her marbled, pale skin. Her hand fisted convulsively, opening wounds in her palms where her fingernails dug out grooves in her flesh. And from her throat the most tortured sob Mulder'd ever witnessed reached out and clung to him. The sock was spit from her mouth and a gasped, "Muuuuuuuuuul," signaled the abrupt end of all movement in her body. No more tremors. Not even a twitch. With open, sightless eyes peering from her dead face, she lay perfectly still and limp beneath him as if she were nothing more than a life-sized doll of his partner. Only the shallow rise and fall of her middle told him that she wasn't gone completely. Mulder's mind flooded with grief. Megan's entrance and shocked gasp at the sight she found only dimly registered through the sluggish numbness of his mind. He heard himself say, "Scully?" as if he half believed she'd sit up and tell him that she was fine. Because Scully was always fine. "Dana?" He slapped her cheek. "Dana! Wake up!" He was watching himself from the inside, seeing and feeling but not able to control himself. "Damn it, Dana! Wake up!" Kyle's fist caught his. "Mulder, stop." "Fuck you!" Mulder pushed Kyle hard enough for his friend to lose his balance and hit the floor hard on his ass. It was the expression of resolute sadness from the other man that snapped him back. All at once the distorted world slid back into clear focus: Scully beneath him, Kyle on the ground at the foot of the cots, Megan standing above him and staring in disbelief. The mere whimper of the dog from somewhere behind the other curtain across the hall broke the stunned silence. Mulder lifted himself into a crouch over her, trying to right her arms and legs into a position that she might've found comfortable. Head shaking, arms trembling, Mulder wiped at the mess of tangles and blood and sweat that matted across her face and neck, needing to put some kind of order into the insanity of what had just happened. But all of his smearing only made the mess worse. Had she known that a seizure was coming? Was that why she begged to go home? Was the cancer finally pressing into her brain? Mulder couldn't see any other reason, and yet he found it hard to put his mind around the idea that Scully had known that something of that magnitude could happen without warning him. Unless she was in severe denial herself. Megan's thin fingers squeezed at his arm, and Mulder found that she'd brought a large metal basin brimming with warm water. With the soft rag she placed in his hand, he began to wash away at the filth on her face and neck. Kyle, when Mulder hadn't noticed, must've slipped away. "Tell him...I'm sorry," Mulder muttered to the woman. "I didn't mean..." "Do you need help?" She was an anchor of calm. He needed her with him, not so much to help, but so that he wouldn't feel so horribly alone. There was something terrifying about being in a room with Scully and sensing he was alone. Megan was able to neutralize that feeling. Together they undressed Scully, cleaned her limp body, and dressed her in another sweatshirt and jeans that had been packed in the duffel. "Do you think..." Megan couldn't bring herself to look at him as she asked, "that this is just some temporary...that this is just shock?" "I don't..." Mulder understood what she was asking. She wanted to know, as he did, if Scully was going to be a shell until the cancer finally took away her ability to breathe, too. He had seen people with cancer. He knew how it destroyed the body; it invaded with a relentless indifference. But for her to lose her mind...to be nothing more than an empty vessel... She would never want to exist like that. "Has she had seizures before?" "No." "Did you...know this could happen?" "No." For a few minutes the two of them sat over Scully, watching her breathe. Hoping. "Mulder. You need to clean up." "No." "I'll stay with her. I'll fix the bed again..." She touched his shoulder. "If she wakes up and sees you like this, she's going to be upset." Mulder looked down at the mess of his shirt. "I don't want to leave her." "I know. She said the same thing about you a few days ago." Megan's eyes were brimming with unfallen tears. She smiled and bumped her shoulder sluggishly into his. "We'd just pulled the last of the dead skin from your body...God, that was nasty. She'd been up all night, and she hadn't eaten. It took a lot of convincing to get her to leave your side long enough to go to the bathroom." A small snort of remembrance from the woman next to him left pinpricks on the back of his neck. "She ate the food I brought her right beside you. She insisted that the first time she left you to eat, that would be the moment you'd choose to wake up." "She's had a lot of practice sitting at my bed side." "So I gathered." She closed her hand tightly over his, letting him draw on her energy and strength. "Go clean up. And bring us back some food." Mulder saw that the tears had finally fallen and she was fighting to keep her smile on her face. "It's going to be a long night for the both of us." Megan had fallen asleep cross-legged on the corner of the cot, her narrow shoulders crammed into the rough corner. Mulder, beside her, with his knees drawn up to his chest, was grateful for her company, even sleeping. Because Scully's cold stare unnerved him. It was worse than all the times she'd looked at him in anger, because at least then her eyes showed some life. The dull gaze held nothing - not even a passing boredom. And nothing ached. There was a rustle of movement beside him, and Mulder looked up to see Kyle pushing the curtain to one side. He looked first from his wife to Mulder, and then from Mulder to the unmoving Scully. "No change." There was no need for Mulder to affirm what was so painfully obvious. Kyle recognized that and laid a firm hand on Mulder's slumped shoulder. "Maybe tomorrow," Mulder whispered. Nothing more was said, and Kyle retreated to his own cubby across the narrow tunnel (to Mulder's infinite relief) without his wife. Morning brought with it a new sense of panic. Not once in the night had Scully moved a muscle. It was increasingly becoming clear to Mulder that the seizure had been more than just a random fit. //A stroke? An aneurism?// The medical attention on the island minus the doctor was nothing more than a few medicine women and island-schooled nurses. There was no way Mulder was going to let any of them near the woman he loved. And yet, he knew without a doubt that he had to act. That her time was counting down, and that soon he was going to lose all of her completely. Forever. There was only one thing he could do. Without another thought, Mulder crawled off the bed and gathered his lifeless partner in his arms. Megan woke when he jostled the bed and demanded to know what he was doing. "I don't think you should move her, Mulder." "I have to do something!" Her head was laying against his shoulder. He was startled at how slight she seemed even as dead weight. When she'd had that horrible nose bleed on their first night on the island, she'd been much heavier. "Mulder stop. You shouldn't do this!" He started running aimlessly through the tunnel halls. The Heart was somewhere off the main tunnel that led from the first chamber. But there had been a series of cut-offs and forking tunnels that they'd traveled through before they'd even found Gaal. At the time, Mulder'd been in too much pain to care one way or the other. "Mulder." Kyle poked his sleepy head out from his room. "Mulder! Where are you going?!" "The Heart..." He turned a corner and hit a dead end. He spun, breathless. Clutching Scully's limp torso to his, Mulder knew he looked like a madman to the couple who'd run after him. But that didn't matter. Nothing in the world mattered at that moment except getting Scully to the pool in the Heart. Nothing at all. "Please," he begged shamelessly. "Please." "She's not frozen," Megan began. "Mulder, think about it." "My back," he gasped. "My back hasn't bothered me since I was in the Milk pool. That injury wasn't a result of the freezing-" "Mulder, what if you get hit by another of those wisps?" "Then I'll be no worse off than I am now. Help me." For a long moment, Kyle and Megan looked at each other, silently deciding what to do. "Kyle." Grasping at straws, Mulder pleaded, "You said before that my being frozen wasn't supposed to happen. That that's not how it happened in your dream." The man before him gaped. "How did you..." He turned to his wife, "Did you tell him that?" She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that maybe what you dreamed hasn't happened yet. That what was SUPPOSED to happen still will!" With wide eyes, Kyle nodded. "If that's true, then we need Chea again. He was there in my dream." "I'll get Chea and more lanterns," Megan said. "But Mulder, I need you to promise me something." "Anything." At that point, he would've sold his soul to the Devil to get Scully in that pool. "That when the time comes, you'll let go." //Anything but that.// Kyle must've read the look on Mulder's face, because he put a restraining hand on his wife's shoulder. "Meggie. Get Chea." "He's not prepared," she told her husband. "He's going to break." "Not if my dream comes true." She ran a loving hand over his rough cheek. "You've made him believe in miracles." Then she pulled away, and without a further glance at Mulder, she set off in search of his last hope. After nearly an hour of winding their way through the dark caverns, Kyle stopped the group and placed a firm hand on Mulder's shoulder. "Let me carry her for a while." "No." Mulder cradled Scully like a baby in his arms, trying desperately to ignore the limp way her arm hung down his back. "I've got her." "Mulder, you're exhausted. Your arms are shaking." "I'm fine." "You're going to drop her!" "No!" Mulder couldn't express why, but he needed to carry her. Just the thought of her lying helpless in another man's arms...friend or no...it was excruciating for him. "Then we will sit and rest for a while." Chea's teacher-voice squashed any further complaints. The group settled for a respite, on a large slab of granite. Mulder protectively laid his partner down, careful to cushion her head in his lap. He caught Megan looking dejectedly at Scully, and then turned as if the sight burned her eyes. It was easy to empathize with her reaction. Without Scully's brilliant mind peering out of her beautiful eyes... Kyle caught Mulder's attention when he leaned over and brushed at her cheek with the sleeve of his shirt. A pang of jealously knotted his throat before Kyle could explain, "She was...drooling..." He closed his eyes against the powerful urge to hug her body against his own. His arms were too tired and his heart was too heavy. And they were wasting valuable time. "Kyle," Mulder croaked, "carry her." No one said a word, seeming to understand what it cost him. Chea took up the lead again, carrying the lantern before him like a beacon in the cold, damp false night. The arch was just as they'd left it - bold and impressive. But before, the room had nearly hummed with colors and life, but what Mulder saw before him - the painted red circle, the crystallized walls, the murky pool - looked just as lifeless as Scully. She was lying in Kyle's arms just as still as she had with Mulder. Something inside of him had half expected her to protest being shifted to someone different. And a piece of his heart fizzled and then blinked out of existence when she hadn't. There was no sign of the wisps. Presumably they were roaming freely in the mist, coming into contact with lanterns and the wayward horse or two. Mulder wasted no time in pulling his partner from Kyle and heading straight for the pool. He heard Megan whisper and tried to ignore it, but her words reached his ears with stunning clarity. "Was this in your dream?" No audible answer came. For a moment, Mulder held his partner close to him, trying to memorize the angle of her straight nose, the proud chin that swept into perfect ears. The lips that he'd become so fond of kissing... Had it really been only a day since she sat topless, straddling his sheet-covered body? Only a matter of hours since he kissed her and touched her so intimately, sure that he was finally going to make love to this woman whom he loved so deeply? If they hadn't come to the island, would she still have had the horrible seizure? Or what if they hadn't gone sailing all together? What if they had gone to Disney World instead? Waiting in line for Mr. Toad's Wild Ride? Or home? //Home.// She knew. She had to have known. Maybe he would've known, too, if he'd been a little more observant. If he'd spent more time listening to what she was saying instead of trying to protect himself. Maybe if he'd... "Mulder?" Kyle's voice filtered through his self-recriminations and pulled him back to the present. "It's now or never." "God," he whimpered. "What am I doing?" "You're trying to save her life-" "What?! By dunking her in this shit?" He nodded to the pool at his feet. "I've lost my mind!" Kyle stared at him, dumbfounded. "If she knew, GOD! If she knew I was even thinking of doing this, she'd be furious. She'd call me crazy." Mulder snorted to himself and had to shift his partner in his arms. "No, she'd want to be in a hospital-" "She wanted to be here, Mulder. That's why we stayed, remember? If she had wanted to be anywhere else, she would've been." It took a moment for Kyle's simple logic to sink in. She *had* insisted on staying on the island...and if she'd known... Maybe Scully believed more than she let on; or maybe she believed more than she wanted to. "You ready?" Together, he and Kyle climbed into the shallow pool and then, slowly, with Scully between them, they lowered her into the milky liquid. It was cold and thick, and it clung to them like glue. They let her sink into the pool until only the oval of her face was left. "This isn't right," Mulder muttered nervously. "What's wrong?" "There are no bubbles. Before, the Milk looked almost alive-" "How...how do you know that?" Kyle gasped, stunned. "I remember." Chea cut in. "How can you remember? When we were here last, you were-" "Frozen solid. I know," Mulder snapped. The conversation was superfluous. The Milk, for whatever reason, simply wasn't having the same effect on Scully as it had on him. "Why isn't this working?" Kyle gulped. "She's not frozen..." "Neither was Taam's forehead, but the Milk healed that." "Not until after she dipped her face in," offered Megan. "The cancer is in her head, right?" "In her nasal passage. But if we dunk her, she'll drown." Mulder couldn't help peering down into Scully's blank eyes, trying to visualize the tumor growing against her brain somewhere below the bridge of her nose. God, he hated the cancer. If there was some way to rip it from her... "Then what do you want to do?" The quiet tone of Kyle's question sent a ripple of a shiver up Mulder's spine. The cold of the pool was starting to turn his toes numb. Mulder shook his head. Even suspended in the milk-shake liquid, Scully's breathing remained steady. One second under and she would inhale the goop. Would her gag reflexes work? If he didn't get her up to the air in time, would he be able to save what was left of her? Would he try? Of course he would. //I love her.// "Dunk her." On the count of three, Scully went under. Instantly the fury of the pool came alive, first focusing on the space her face had just vacated and then the whole of the pool bubbled up in a rapid boil. And just as suddenly, Scully sat up right between their arms, choking and gasping for air. "SCULLY!" Mulder cried in elation at the first response she'd shown since the seizure. She lurched forward and gagged, her stomach trying to dislodge what little Milk she'd had time to swallow. When she seemed to settle, Mulder grabbed her and held her firmly against himself, hugging her tightly with all of the love he had in him. And she was hugging him back, that was the wondrous part. Her breathing was deep and her arms were strong around his neck and her cheek nestled wetly in the crook of his neck. But he had to be sure. With more resolve than Mulder thought he had, he pulled her away from him. "Scully?" When her big blue eyes locked on his, there was no doubt in his mind: she was going to be okay. More than okay. The smile on her face and in her eyes was more complete than Mulder had ever known. And it was for him. She was smiling for him alone. When he kissed her then, it wasn't out of passion or lust. He pressed his mouth firmly against hers, and she pressed back, telling them both that the danger was past and that together they were stronger for it. It was the kind of kiss, Mulder was positive, that only existed between people who belonged together. And no one belonged together more than he and Scully did. "Mulder," she muttered as she gently pulled away. "What happened?" She blinked repeatedly and rubbed at the milky residue that was still in her eyes. "You seized. Badly. I brought you to the Heart to try and heal you." "And it looks like it worked!" Kyle and Megan were by their side; Kyle with an elated grin plastered across his face, Megan with tears streaming down hers. "This thing is better than the fountain of youth! It's the fountain of health!" Mulder ran a hand down the side of Scully's face, pushing her wet hair back behind her ear. He'd have to get her back to a hospital in DC, of course, to see just what the liquid did to the cancer...to see if it shrank it - or (please, God) cured it all together. But for that instant, in his arms, it was easy to tell himself that she was fine. Because she looked it. She looked wonderful. "Mulder, where are we?" Her face was alive with curiosity and confusion. "We're...we're in the Heart." Mulder couldn't help the look of concern that filtered through when her brows rose in question. "Do you remember coming to Erlona at all?" "Of course," she mumbled looking around, obviously seeing the room for the first time. She didn't remember. "Scully." He tugged at her chin to get her attention. "We said we weren't doing that anymore." A tinge of fear registered in her eyes. "What?" "Holding back. No more 'I'm fines', no more yeses when you mean no." She searched his eyes, looking deep and long. "You kissed me," she said on an inhale. "Like you've kissed me before." Mulder nodded and was relieved to see the bashful smile just before her head dipped down. Once she had herself under control again, she asked, "And more?" "No." To her credit, she attempted another smile with her accepting nod, but Mulder saw the sadness creep back into her face, and it nearly broke his heart. "No," he amended, "not yet." With his not-so subtle promise, once again her face was abloom, and she hugged him firmly against her. "Then they really aren't together," Chea asked quietly. Kyle shrugged. "I can't figure it out, either." And then he turned and pulled his wife into his arms. "This," he breathed into her hair, placing a kiss on the top of her head, "is what I dreamed." The walk back through the corridor was much slower than before. Scully, who refused to be carried like an invalid, needed to rest every twenty minutes or so. "I'm just tired," she explained, brushing off Mulder's over zealous concern. "I feel good. But drained." Megan found a flat spot close to a thick stalagmite, and plopped herself down. "Then we rest. We're not in a hurry." She seemed perfectly content to spend the remainder of the day in the dark trenches of the cave. "After all, it's not like we're going anywhere." Mulder could see the question in his partner's eyes, but she simply seated herself a few feet from Megan and leaned back against a rising boulder. When Mulder sat next to her, she leaned hesitantly against him. It took her a few moments, but she was able to relax against his arm. She shivered lightly and he curled an arm around her and pulled her closer. "Now, tell me, Chea, how did you know about the Heart in the first place?" When Mulder asked the question, Chea sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat. "One of my students, Taam actually, came across a series of writings that at first I dismissed as legends. But they held certain truths that made me believe that they could've been more. I was right." One of his fingers ran along a yellowed scar that reached from his knee to mid-calf. "That's amazing," Kyle cooed. "A long lost treasure buried in the middle of a mountain." "You know, the population is going to skyrocket once people start using the Heart regularly." "That was one of Vola's fears," Chea admitted. "But I'm sure that as a community we can come to some sort of agreement about the size of households." He gave a confident nod. "Vola knew about this?" Mulder's brain started buzzing. Finally the pieces were slipping into place. "Did Juuj know about the Heart, too?" Seeing Mulder's renewed interest, Chea shrank a little, trying to second guess where he was going with his questions. "He knew." "But he didn't want to exploit the Heart, did he?" "He felt that if the people began to rely on the Milk of the Earth rather than science, Erlona would slip back to a time when superstitions ruled the minds of the people. There had been no reason, then, and without some sort of governing party, the island was a fearful, chaotic place." Mulder nodded. "But still you wanted to use the Heart." "People were dying." "Except they weren't, were they?" Both Kyle and Megan looked from Chea to Mulder in apprehension, following the conversation closely. "They were frozen and not dead. And Juuj knew that, didn't he?" Chea said nothing. "And when their families were ripping chunks of them away before they buried them, these people who were caught in the wisps became trapped. Didn't they? And Juuj knew about it. And Vola?" "She said that it was nature's way of dealing with the population control. But she didn't have a family!" Chea's temper flared. "Neither did you," Mulder pointed out. "My students are my family. And they were being murdered left and right-" "And you couldn't take it any more." "No! It was senseless! And Dr. Juuj wouldn't listen to reason!" "So you killed him." "What?!" Megan screamed. "*You* killed Dr. Juuj?!" Chea froze in a panic; his face was wide with guilt and fright. He shook his head. Mulder continued fiercely, "Chea, it had to have been you-" "You don't understand, they had the key of the Heart in their hands and they refused to help the people. They let over a hundred die this year alone...hundreds over the years. I had to help my people..." "They?" Mulder swallowed the acidic bile that was rising in his throat. "And Vola, too?" "The two of them...together they kept the people ignorant...I had to help my...what could I do? This is not the mighty U.S. with its appeals process and legal protection - and something had to be done..." There was nothing more Chea could do but hang his head. He was too honorable to lie, knowing that he'd been caught. "God, I need a cigarette," Megan hissed. The officer in Mulder wanted to arrest Chea and throw his ass in some dank, dark cell. After all, he'd framed Scully...or had that just been a happenstance? The man in Mulder just wanted to close his eyes and magically whisk himself and Scully as far away from the island as possible. Erlona was out of US jurisdiction. Period. But even if Mulder tried to alert the people, the language barrier would remain an impenetrable obstacle. Without Chea to translate... "Please understand, the two lives will ultimately save hundreds more." "You can't really expect us to let you get away with murder," Megan bit out. " How do we know you're not going to turn on us, now that we know your secret?" "I'm not a murderer," Chea said with a bewildered wail. "I acted to save my people. My home!" "You killed two elderly, unarmed people in cold blood!" "Enough!" When Mulder yelled, Scully startled from her light doze. "What? What's wrong?" she asked disoriented. "Nothing," he said softly to her, "I'll fill you in later." Then he stood, helping his partner to her feet. "I'm taking Scully back to get some sleep. I've had enough of this island and it's screwed up anti-politics." He snapped at Chea, "I don't know what the hell to do with you. And quite frankly, I don't know that there's much I can do. But if you come anywhere near Scully, or Megan and Kyle -" "You're not going to do anything?" Megan demanded. "What do you want me to do? Arrest him? With what law? Throw him in jail? What jail?" "He's a murderer!" Mulder considered the marked man before him, sitting defeated against the rough rock wall, holding his head in his hands. That wasn't the stance of a murderer - more like a desperate, pitiful man. "He's not dangerous anymore." "How the hell do you know that?!" Mulder shrugged. "Look at him." He turned away, leading Scully under his arm. "Mulder," she asked quietly, "did Chea really kill Dr. Juuj?" "You remember Dr. Juuj?" "I think so." They took a few steps, and in the silence of the cave, Mulder heard Kyle and Megan a few paces behind them. Their steps sounded more tired and beaten than angry. They were all going to need a vacation away from their vacation. End of 14/17 When they'd arrived back in Omani, the all clear had sounded signaling the retreat of the fog. So rather than spending another minute in the caves, he helped Scully walk back to their bungalow. "Hey, are you sure you're going to be all right in the shower?" She seemed so completely wiped out that an image of her falling and hitting her head wasn't hard to conjure up. "I'll be fine. I just want to get this stuff off of me." She headed into the bathroom. "Call me if you need me." She stopped in the doorway and turned to him. "Mulder...are you sure that nothing..." She played her fingers over the door frame awkwardly. "Besides the kisses..." If Mulder didn't know better, he'd swear she was blushing. "No. Why?" "I just... I thought I remembered..." She looked at the bed and shook her head. "Never mind." "Scully, wait. What do you remember?" She sighed. "Just..." And then she made some sort of inward decision, because she rattled off all at once: "I was on top, half-naked and there was some sort of body gel or something..." And then her eyes rounded and she seemed to remember more. "And then Kyle and Meg... Oh." "Yeah, they certainly got an eyeful." Mulder chuckled. "Now I remember." She ducked back into the bathroom and quietly closed the door. While she was bathing, Mulder laid out a comfortable pair of her pajamas on the bed and then went out in search of some food. He was starving, and he figured, with as hungry as Scully had been in the past few days, surely she was famished, too. Leaving the bungalow, he ran into his friends. "Hey, is everything all right?" "Yeah," Mulder reassured them. "Scully's showering. I was going to get some food. Should I bring you back something, too?" He was half hoping they'd say no just so that he could back to Scully faster. "I'm just going down to the market." Main Street - two minutes down, a minute to load up on bread ans fruit, two minutes back. Tops. "Mulder," Megan said, trying to stuff her smile, "everyone's still filing out of Omani. The market isn't going to be running for a while." "Besides," Kyle said, shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans, "we were thinking that you guys might want to get away from this island." It was obvious that both he and his wife did. Mulder couldn't blame them. "I guess everything's basically packed," he offered. "But can't we leave in the morning? I want Scully to rest." Kyle and his wife exchanged a wary glance. "We're all tired. Sailing out into the ocean after the couple of days we've had, with no rest -" "It's only been a couple of days?" "He's right." Kyle put an arm around his wife. "We should get a good night's sleep, too." "How can we sleep with the chance of those wispy things floating around? Not to mention a confessed murderer." Mulder studied her face. "You want to leave that badly?" Megan seemed astonished that he was able to ask that question. "You don't?" Mulder looked over his shoulder at the closed door behind him. They probably could leave right away. Scully didn't have any trouble sleeping on The Lady. Mulder, on the other hand, was likely never to sleep again. He couldn't help thinking how wonderful it would be to have her in the big, soft bed in their bungalow, with the cool breeze playing over his arms that would be wrapped protectively around her middle. To lay there until the sun set the following day; sleeping and making love until hunger would over take them and drive them from the bed. Such a nice little fantasy. "Good evening." Mulder's head spun around just as Chea was hesitantly coming up the steps. Behind him, on the walkway, were about fifteen people, all with beaming smiles. Mulder had trouble reconciling what he knew of the mind set of killers to what he knew of Chea. He just didn't seem...insane. And Mulder knew all too well that those were the ones that were the most dangerous, because there was no forewarning. And still, even though he had no proof that Chea wasn't a threat to the people of Erlona, he believed it. Or at least a part of him did. There was no way in hell he was going to leave Scully alone with the guy. But Mulder couldn't see Chea going on a killing rampage and taking out any more of his people. //Any more.// As if two hadn't been bad enough. "I don't believe this," Megan muttered under her breath. To Chea, she bit out, "Get the hell outta here!" He lifted his hands in submission. "Please. I understand your not wanting to see me again-" "You have no idea." Kyle refused to look at the man. "We don't like you and we don't trust you. Get the hell outta here!" "This was not my idea." He nodded apologetically to the group at the base of the stairs. "They're Taam's family. They have asked me to give to you their offering for returning their daughter to them." "Thanks," Mulder said dryly, "but we don't need a reward." "They are offering, regardless." Chea glanced back at the group and they nodded excitedly. "It would mean a great deal of prestige for them, as well, you see. To give you a traditional Erlonian wedding." "A what?" Kyle perked up, still very distrustful of the translator. "A wedding?" "As it seems that you and Dr. Scully truly aren't a couple," Chea averted his eyes in shame, "Taam's family feels it's an appropriate gift." He added as an afterthought, "To refuse would disgrace the family, since it is widely believed that She sent you to us, Herself." //Oh, boy.// "Chea, that's only widely believed because you told them that." "No," he said, "I said no such thing." Megan watched Mulder expectantly, and he started to feel uncomfortable under her glare. "You see, the thing is, we were going to leave tonight." "We're leaving?" Behind him, Scully appeared in her wet hair and blue pajamas. She didn't seem thrilled by the prospect of setting sail, either; although, Mulder was sure that her reasons were more sensible than his. Exhaustion was written in the shaded circles under her eyes. "Actually, that hasn't been decided yet." Kyle didn't look at his wife and missed the cold glare she threw at him. "It seems that our friend Chea," he said with strained sarcasm, "is offering you and Mulder here, a wedding." "What?" Chea quickly corrected, "Taam's family, actually, as a thank you gift for the safe return of their daughter." "A wedding?" She looked up at Mulder with questioning eyes. "Oh, hell." Mulder hated that the subject was brought up by Chea, and he hated that it was in a less than romantic situation with people all around, but once the matter had been laid on the table, there was no pretending that it wasn't there. "We might as well." Scully's whole body drooped. "What a charmer." "No." He grabbed her hand before she could slip back inside the room. "Scully - Dana. Listen. Marriage is inevitable for us -" "Is this another 'tempting fate' talk, because if it is, I'm not in the mood." "No. No, Dana, what I'm trying to say is that I love you." He dropped her hand and looked away. "But you know that already." //Why do we have to have a fucking audience for this?// "That's okay, you can say it again." She wasn't quite smiling, but she wasn't upset anymore, either. He summoned up his nerve, took a deep breath, and in spite of the onlookers, Mulder blurted out, "Dana, marry me." Her mouth Oed. "We'll do a Catholic thing back in the States to make it legal, but I want to marry you here, too." His heart was thumping as if it had just figured out how to truly beat. "Here? Why?" "Because..." //God, why do I want this?// Mulder stopped himself. After all, it had only been two days since these same people had tried to kill her. Why would he subject her to another of their rituals? Wasn't it enough just to get off the island as soon as possible? Mulder shook his head. He was being selfish again. "Because you love me?" Her sweet smile prodded a shy nod from him. "You know I do." Then he turned to Chea. "Look, it's a nice gesture from Taam's family, especially after they tied her to a pole and beat the shit out of me, but we're leaving tonight." Megan sighed in relief. "Thank God." "Mulder." Scully's face was calm, and her voice was as smooth as satin. "Will you marry me?" When the excitement of the proposal finally died down, the moon was high on the horizon. Mulder sat on the balcony's chaise lounge with his bride-to-be nestled snugly in his arms; in the same position they'd inadvertently discovered on The Lady. Mulder smiled up at the stars in the clear sky, no longer wanted to escape with them. Everything that made him happy and whole was curled up in his lap at that moment. Life was good. He played with the bits of tangled hair framing her face. //Such perfect hair.// In a lazy stretch, her hands smoothed across his shoulders to meet on his chest, and she pushed herself up enough to look in his eyes. "Hey," he whispered, "I thought you were sleeping." Her head shook no. "You uncomfortable? You want to move to the bed?" He hadn't meant anything suggestive, but she laughed at the way his question came out. And then her head shook again. "Well, then-" She reached up to his cheek and her small fingers scraped against his stubble. "Your skin's healed nicely." "And quickly, too." "Yeah." Her fingertips dragged down the side of his neck, causing Mulder to swallow convulsively. "And how's your back?" "Uh..." It was difficult to focus on what she was saying when it was so mesmerizing for him to watch her watching her own hand as it snaked down from his neck to inside the collar of his shirt. "Not even a twinge since the whole Heart thing." "That's good." "Yeah..." Her palm stopped over his heart and she stared at it as if she were waiting for something to happen. "Scully?" Her eyes lifted to his. "When you asked me to marry you, you called me Dana." Mulder had to think back. "Yes, I guess I did. That's your name." "What about Scully?" //Where is she going with this?// "Scully's your name, too," he drawled out. "No. I mean what about the person, Scully. Your partner. The woman you work with day in and day out. Are you asking her to marry you, too?" "Well, that depends." "On what?" "On which of them answered yes." He waited a long while for her to respond. She sat still between his bent legs, studying his eyes and face, her hand still firmly placed on his chest. A niggle of doubt wormed its way through his ego, telling him that she was getting ready to change her mind. But he stuffed it back down again, refusing to believe that his Scully would do that to him. Or his Dana, either. "No," he breathed. "It doesn't matter. I want all of you." And then, without giving her any more time to think, he leaned forward and kissed her hard on the mouth. Her lips, sliding against his in repeated kisses, curled up into a smile. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. She tasted hot and spicy after the dinner they'd eaten, and it woke his body with a rush of blood. Mulder could feel himself hardening where her hip shifted against his jeans, and he slipped a hand down over her other hip to cup her ass closer to him. She jolted in his arms. "Mulder," she breathed heavily against his cheek as he continued to place wet, nipping kisses down her throat. "I...oh, God...Mulder...my body..." Her hands clutched convulsively on his shoulders. "Is the most beautiful body I've ever seen," he managed to get out as his lips roamed even farther; his other hand unbuttoning the pajama top as he worked his way down her front. "No...Mulder..." "Oh, yes..." And then it occurred to him, through his passionate haze, that maybe she was trying to say something other than bedroom talk. She had, after all, stopped kissing him. The niggle of doubt reared its head again. When he looked up there was a strained expression on her face, something between pain and hesitation. "Dana? What's wrong?" But then, in the time it took for him to say her name, her face changed again and she smiled a reassuring smile. "Nothing." She pulled his head to her and opened her mouth over his. //Oy vey.// His tongue played with hers, stroking and coaxing, doing amazing thing to the rest of his body. He worked his hand inside her top and found a fleshy breast bobbing against his palm. The second his fingers played over the tip, she inhaled sharply, pulling the air from his lungs. His groin tightened even more. She broke the kiss, and panting, looked down at his hand. She licked her swollen lips, watching as his hand started a kneading massage, pinching gently at the erect nipple as he worked. //She's watching me touch her,// he realized with electric fascination. Mulder had never known anything so erotic in his life. Suddenly, he wanted to perform for her; he wanted to make her as hot as she was unintentionally making him. With his eyes glued to hers, he lowered his head to her chest and took her hard nipple between his lips. Her face tensed in excitement when he ran the tip of his tongue over her sweet flesh - and it did taste faintly sweet in his mouth. The more he tasted her, the more he had to have, and the gentle tongue flick became an urgent suckle. He wrapped his hands around her back to press her against his face. He could feel her pulse on his lips. She rose to her knees then, straddling his legs, raising her breast to his eye-level. //Oh, yes...// Her chest heaved with her haggard breathing, and his body ached for more. He sucked and tugged and licked as if he could milk more of her essence that way. She ran her hands slowly through his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp. They dragged down his neck and into the back of his shirt and she bowed over him, bending herself over his mouth in supplication for more. All he could think about was giving her more; more pleasure, more love. His hand smoothed down her trim back and over her hip, snaking around to the front of her. He pressed at her belly, finding it feverishly hot, the whole time his mouth continuing to work her breast with tight, suckling kisses. She didn't moan - or make any sound for that matter, besides her labored breathing - but her body writhed with the pleasure he was giving her. //More...// He slipped inside her pajama bottoms, and with his hand cupped, he buried his finger deep within her. Scully inhaled sharply, grabbed his wrist, and bit her lower lip all at the same time. In surprise, Mulder released her breast and sat back a little. With closed eyes, she gently and slowly pulled him from her, trying to minimize the friction. A lump hardened in Mulder's throat. He'd expected to find her hot, wet and ready. "I'm sorry," he started to whimper, but she silenced his apology with a firm kiss. Then she sat back on her heels and turned her attention to his pants. She unbuttoned his fly with a sly grin. "There's more than one way to skin -" "Scully, stop." She froze and her face dropped. "Why?" He could see a worried fear flashing behind her blue eyes. "Just because I'm not -" "Why aren't you, Scully?" That was what he was really worried about. Was she still sick? After all, it had only been a matter of hours since she'd been lying catatonic in his arms, unresponsive to the world. "How are you feeling?" "I'm feeling good," she insisted, even past his skeptical expression. "Really good. But I'm tired." She managed a weary smile. "The heart's willing but the body -" "Needs sleep." She ran a hand up the inside of his thigh and roughly came across his lump of erection. "You on the other hand..." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand up to his face so that he could press a kiss against it. "I can wait for you. When you're ready." She sighed. "This is so frustrating!" Then she brightened with an idea. "Maybe we can find a lubricant here, somewhere..." She tried to leap up from the lounge, but the altitude change caught her by surprise. Mulder caught her before she lost her balance. "Careful." //She's too tired. She needs to sleep.// Scully laughed it off. "All that heavy breathing...too much oxygen on the brain." "Dana." He caught her attention by clasping her hand. "Come here." Mulder tugged her gently to him, and she dropped back down to him willingly. "Lay with me." He scooted over on the chaise and she crawled on beside him, lengthening herself along his lanky form. She curled one leg over his. Mulder caressed it protectively. She pulled her top closed, but didn't bother with the buttons. He left his fly undone. There was no need for assumed modesties between them, and so they ignored pretense and simply laid there together until the moon disappeared behind a cloud and sleep overtook them. After breakfast and a refreshing shower the next morning, a group of women showed up at the bungalow with Chea in tow, explaining that they were going to make Scully's dress for the wedding the following evening. So Mulder was kicked out for the day - but not before he made sure that Chea wasn't sticking around. There was no way that Mulder was going to let that man within a hundred yards of Scully unless Mulder was there, too; no matter how harmless Mulder thought the marked man might be to the villagers. With Scully, he wasn't willing to take chances. In the market, the villagers' attitude towards him had made a 180 overnight. They seemed genuinely excited to see him, and pushed food and drink at him all day long. When he finally met up with Kyle, he was so gorged with Erlonian delicacies that he could barely walk. They found a spot in the shade near the beach, and Morg sat placidly between them in the grass. "So where's your better half?" "Getting fitted for her wedding dress, I'm told." "Ah. Does this mean I'm responsible for throwing your bachelor party?" Mulder laughed. "Where's your better half?" "She's checking on The Lady, doing inventory, getting her ship-shape. How's the day after tomorrow for setting sail?" "Well, we can always leave right after the ceremony tomorrow night. I know Megan is anxious to get back out into open water." "What? And have you seasick on your wedding night? Dana would never forgive me." Mulder laughed again. "When we do the real wedding in DC, I want you to be my best man." Kyle was genuinely taken aback. "I would be honored." Having shared a moment of male bonding, the two friends lapsed into an awkward silence. Then Mulder asked, "What day is it, anyway?" "Uh..." Both men tried to tally the number of nights they'd been on the island. "Eleven days? in Erlona, and thirteen since we set sail." "It feels like months." "Tell me about it." Kyle lazily scratched along Morg's spine, and the dog began to pant happily. "So what are you and Dana thinking? Back to the mainland? Or on to Bermuda?" "You've got to be kidding!" Mulder feigned horror. "Another island?!" Kyle shrugged and looked out over the water, and after a moment mumbled thoughtfully, "Weirder things have happened." He looked at Mulder. "Like an FBI agent allowing a confessed murderer to go free." Mulder winced. "It's really not as simple as that." "It seems simple enough," Kyle said without pushing. "The guy killed two people." Mulder jammed his heel into the grass. "Okay. Fine. I break every Federal code and interfere out of US jurisdiction and I arrest him. Then what? There are no laws here, so I'd have to take him to the US for trial - except they won't try him, because he's not a citizen and the crime was committed outside US soil." "No, we tell the villagers what he did! We can't just let him get away with murder!" "Kyle, think for a second. Chea made a drastic decision -" "He's a murderer!" "Let me finish. He saw his students and their families being picked off, one by one. Frozen solid. And, even though their families think they're dead, Chea knows they're not...and Juuj and Vola...and he watches as student after student, parent after parent, is hacked to pieces before their premature burial." Mulder couldn't get the image of his own frozen form being lowered into the Milk pool out of his head. "They knew, Kyle. The victims, I mean. When I was frozen, I saw you all. I heard. I watched." "My God." Kyle suddenly found it difficult to swallow. "So they saw themselves being chopped up?" "Gruesome, isn't it?" After a moment Kyle shook his head. "Then why didn't Chea just tell them?" "I'm not sure he had a choice. Tradition and ceremony count for a lot here. But even if he did, then what?" "Then the villagers know about the Heart; then they use the Earth Milk." "Maybe that's what Chea had in mind." With agitation, Kyle shifted and crossed his legs. "What? Now you're just speculating." "Exactly. None of us know all of the inner-workings of the non-politics on this island." "Why are you defending him? Do you think he's right?" "No. I'm not defending anyone. I'm just - look. Do you know what it takes to kill some one? I don't just mean thinking about it, or even plotting someone's demise. I'm talking about actually taking a knife and with your own brute strength plunging it into a living body of someone you know - someone you grew up knowing - through skin and muscle and bone. Do you know how much passion and belief in your cause you have to have, how much determination you must possess in order to break through the natural instincts to turn and run away?" Kyle peered at him. "You sound like you're talking from personal experience." "Chea is suffering. I believe he's basically a moral man who believes that the lives of two aged people were worth the lives of all the others that will be saved by the Heart." "Why do you say that?" "Well, he couldn't stand idly by and watch Scully publicly executed for a crime he knew she didn't commit. And the new cut on his arm. The fresh one that appeared after Vola was found. It was self-inflicted." "What? Well, that just proves he's psychotic!" "No. Remember, Kyle, that's an accepted form of punishment, here. He's conditioned to that." Hanging his head, Kyle slumped forward over his knees. "This is insane! So you think he should go unpunished then? That's why you aren't doing anything." "I'm not doing anything, because there's nothing I can do. If we tell the villagers, only one of two things will happen. A - he'll be killed, as execution is the only punishment for murder. Chea said that himself. Or B - they'll consider him a hero for getting the Earth Milk for them, and set a new precedent for murder. And for a place with no laws, that could be *very* dangerous." "So you *do* think he should go unpunished!" "I think he killed two people and he should go to jail for the rest of his life. But I also think that these people need an educated man if they're to survive. And I believe, that had there been a government here, there would have been other avenues he could have chosen." "Assuming that he's telling the truth." "Yes. I have to believe him. The other option is unthinkable." "Which is?" "That we're going to leave this island with a serial killer on the loose and no one with the knowledge and ability to stop him." And suddenly, the day seemed darker to Mulder. He wanted to see Scully. He wanted her to hold him. When Mulder was finally allowed back into the bungalow, Scully was visibly exhausted. But there was a healthy color in her face that kept him from worrying too much. When she said, "I'm fine, just tired," he found himself believing her. "How about dinner, then?" Mulder, himself, wasn't the slightest bit hungry, but he wanted to make sure she was eating right. "Only if we do it here." She stretched out on the bed. "Or possibly the beach." //Avoid beaches,// popped haphazardly into his head. "I'll get something and bring it back." They laid on the bed, talking about nothing and picking at the food between them. It was an easy sort of night, reminiscent of a hundred others that he'd spent with her, except that none of those had ever ended with Scully pushing the remains of the dinner they'd shared off of the bed and then crawling over him. He liked the new twist. Completely on top of him, arms locked so that her head hung above his, she smiled down at him. "You were there when I woke up this morning. It's behavior I definitely want to encourage." She lowered herself just enough to lightly touch his lips. "Oh, I'm encouraged," he murmured between kisses. "How are you feeling tonight?" There was no sense in getting hot and bothered - and incredibly frustrated - if she wasn't up to the sex of her life. And he wasn't going to push her. He wanted everything to be perfect for their first time. A bubbling chuckle spilled out of her. "Frisky." That's what he wanted to hear. Mulder flipped her over in a motion that was meant to sweep her off her feet, but instead was sluggish and clumsy because of his full stomach, and they knocked heads. "Ow!" //Oh, yeah, Mr. Suave. Show her how it's done.// With her flat on the bed and him lying at her side, he pulled her hands from their protective hold of her head and placed them on his shoulder and waist. Ever so gently, he kissed the small bump on her hairline. A shiver ran though her. Then, with a wicked grin, she grabbed him and pulled him down on top of her. Her lips and hands were on him in urgent tandem, pulling and rubbing and nipping across his skin. She found his mouth and thrust her tongue into it. Beneath him, her legs parted and he slipped neatly between them; right where he'd always wanted to be. Suddenly remembering that he had hands, too, he helped her pull his tee-shirt free from his jeans; and eventually, after some minor readjusting, they were able to get it off of his body. Barely. She immediately went to work on his jeans. Mulder continued to kiss her mouth, unable to get enough of her, his fingers working at her knit shirt. He was able to raise it up to the bottom of her bra when he felt her hands sink into the front of his briefs and grab him. He lurched in her hands; and feeling himself move, he hardened even more. //Oh, God, it's happening! It's really happening!// She held him tightly, both at his base and tip, as she kissed him. How she'd managed to yank his jeans and underwear down past his mid-thighs, Mulder had no idea. He was still working on her shirt. Moving his lips and hands at the same time was proving more difficult than it had in the past. But then, never before had he been so giddy, either. When she started pulling on his length, smoothing up and down his shaft, he abandoned the whole shirt idea and worked furiously at her jeans. She stroked him roughly, her own hips rocking in the same rhythm, as he yanked furiously at her jeans. The damn things wouldn't open. And it didn't help that his hands were shaking and his palms were sweaty. "Hurry," she whimpered, her fingers starting to clutch as well as rub. Her eyes were closed. "Oh, Mulder...hurry..." His blood was running thick and hot and he knew that as close as Scully was, he was infinitely closer. He whipped one of his hands down in a useless attempt to still hers, but when he roughly grabbed her arm, it startled her enough to squeeze so tightly that it triggered his release, and there was nothing Mulder could do to hold back the flood within him. With a muddled cry, his whole being froze in a painful climax, trying to stop the inevitable gush. His hips bucked involuntarily. He closed his eyes in humiliation. //Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.// Below him, Scully was stone-still and he loathed to open his eyes to face her. But it wasn't like he could avoid her, either. And then with a whole new sense of mortification, he realized she was still holding him. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, too embarrassed to say anything else. She didn't respond. So, despite the nagging voice in his head urging him not to, Mulder opened his eyes to survey the damage. Scully lay staring down at her opened hands, his newly limp member, and half of the bed covered in the remains of what was supposed to be the best sex of her life. Wasn't that what he'd promised for her? When she looked back up at him, her face was like a six year old's who'd just inadvertently pulled the wings from a butterfly. "Oops." End of 15/17 He stood on the mat for what seemed like hours, in the red reesa that Chea had given him to wear. Mulder still couldn't believe that he'd put it on. He was sure that the moment Scully saw him wearing the short towel/skirt she was going to either laugh hysterically or worse: tease him incessantly about it for the rest of his natural life. "It's not a skirt," Kyle had said, "and everyone is going to be wearing them. They're traditional." "Are you wearing one?" "Hell no." It had taken the two men nearly half an hour to figure out how the material was supposed to wrap low around Mulder's hips and tie at just the crucial spot to give him enough modesty to be reasonably comfortable. "Well it may be traditional," he'd said to Kyle once the reesa was in place, "but it's definitely a skirt." "Hey," Kyle had teased, "you've got nice legs!" But an hour later, in the heat of the early afternoon sun, they'd told Mulder to stand on the heavy mat that'd been laid out on the sandy beach as the hundreds of villagers talked and laughed amongst themselves and the banquet that had been set up under the trees that lined the edge of the shore. Kyle was right about one thing: everyone did seem to be wearing reesas. Eventually, Kyle came back out of the crowd and joined Mulder on the mat. "Hey, you okay? You're not looking so good." "I'm not feeling so good," Mulder bit out. "I'm hot and burning. What the hell am I waiting for?" "Well, they're having a little trouble with Scully-" "What?!" Mulder demanded. "Is she sick?" Was that why he'd been on the verge of vomiting for over an hour? Had he instinctively known she was ill? "No no no," Kyle assured him. "It's just that the dress they want her to wear doesn't cover as much as she'd like. You're going to fall over when you see her." "You've seen her already?" "Yeah. Megan's trying to calm her down. She seemed to feel better knowing you were wearing a skirt." The goading grin on his friend's face didn't help his mood at all. "Oh, thank you very much." Then the whole island erupted in drum beats and the crowds parted to reveal Dana Katherine Scully in all of her glory, standing bare footed and elegant in a blood red dress. She took Mulder's breath away. The neckline was as low as it could possibly be, sweeping from thin straps over her shoulders. Her midriff was completely bare, gleaming whiter than white in the bright sun. The skirt was just about the same length as Mulder's reesa, ending mid-thigh and tieing low on her hip. Her hair was pulled back into coiled rows and braided with small red and yellow flowers that softened the self-conscious scowl she wore. "My God," Mulder heard himself saying, "she's beautiful." When she saw Mulder, her face cleared. They drew strength from each other, like always, with nothing more than a look. Chea cleared his throat nervously, and stepped forward along with an older couple. "This is Jool and Ghan, they are the longest married couple on the island. They will be performing the wedding," Chea explained. Mulder nodded at the couple, and they smiled agreeably back. "Are the two of you ready?" Mulder looked at Scully beside him, and took her hand. "Any second thoughts?" he asked playfully. Her momentary hesitation doubled his heart rate. "No." "You had to think about it?" "No." She looked down at his hand and then squeezed it. "No, there are some things we've never talked about, though. Things that we should air before we get married back in the States." Mulder swallowed. "Like what?" "Like I'm not doing your laundry," she said dryly. "Like I can't have children and I know that you want them." She played with his knuckle. "Like how you're going to deal with my death," she quietly added. "You're not going to die, Scully." "Mulder, I know it's not something you deal with very well, but it's a reality we're both going to have to-" "No." She sighed and looked away. "We can talk about this later." "No." He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her over to the nearest tent. Gasps and disruptive murmurs from the crowd told Mulder that his action wasn't taken well by the villagers. He didn't care. At that moment there was something more important to deal with. Inside the cloth tent, out of the brutal sun, the air was a little cooler. Scully yanked her arm away and barked out, "Don't you ever do that again!" He got in her face. "And don't *you* ever throw your cancer in my face again!" She looked shocked. "I wasn't doing...Mulder," she sighed and started again in a reasonable tone, "There are some inevitabilities that are inherent in my condition. I want to marry you - I want to be with you - but not if it's going to make things harder for you in the long run." "The Milk, Scully..." And as what he was alluding to sank in, her face transformed to her professional Scully ceramic mask. "Is that what you think? That being in that pool means that I'm cured?" "Yes." "Mulder -" "Scully, you were vegetative when we put you in there. If it could heal-" "How do you know it had anything to do with my recovery? There were no tests run, no physician examined me. How do you know that I didn't recover on my own?" Mulder bit the inside of his cheek. She was asking him for proof again, and once again he didn't have any. It was the story of their partnership. "Because, Scully, I was there. I saw you. I held you in my arms." He took a breath. "You. Weren't. There." She wasn't sure how to respond, so she shifted her weight and tilted her head and refused to meet him eye to eye. "Do you not want to do this today?" He knew he had to ask, even though he didn't really want the answer. He had to giver her a way out gracefully, if he was going to keep any of her. And so what if they didn't get married? That didn't mean they couldn't be together. "Of course," she grumbled. "Why else would I put on this dress?" "Because you look amazing." "I do?" He ran a single finger down the side of her cheek. "More beautiful than the first day I met you." The wedding ceremony consisted of very little ceremony at all. There was about ten minutes that Chea interpreted for the old Erlonian couple as they relived the worst moments of their marriage - so that Mulder and Scully might guide their lives away from similar troubles, though Mulder was fairly sure that goats, no matter how troubled their marriage might get, wouldn't factor highly in their lives. Then there was a dance that was performed by the new bride and groom that imitated the moves of the older couple, as an offering to Her. After that, Mulder was placed directly in front of Scully, and the vows were exchanged. First the older man spoke, with Chea translating, and Mulder recited: "Today I give you my life, my hopes, my all and we are one. May we find Her together." Scully released a small gasp at the perfect double entendre. Then it was Scully's turn. "Today your life becomes mine, your hopes become mine, your all is me and we are one." But she deviated from the text that Chea fed her and added with tears in her eyes, "I believe...we will find her together. I've always believed that, Mulder." Mulder reached to cup her face and seal the vows with a kiss, but Chea stopped him. "Not yet. There's one more thing before the ceremony is over." The Erlonian couple took a wooden bowl from the table behind them and scooped a yellowish liquid from an ornately carved bucket. Each of them sipped from the water bowl, and then handed it to Mulder. The brew smelled like burned citrus. "Take only a sip," Chea instructed. "What is it?" "A lemon brandy that is used in all ceremonies. The recipe, it is said, came from Her, Herself, and carries within it luck and good fortune." Mulder tasted it and nearly choked. "Ugh! It's terrible!" With an over done show of glee, he handed the bowl to Scully. "Here, try it." "Thanks," she said dryly. "Now, Dr. Scully, you must finish the rest." Her brows lifted. "Why do I have to drink it?" Chea shrugged. "Tradition." "Brilliant." She eyed the bowl warily and then in one amazing effort, drained it. She gagged from the taste. "Ugh!" The crowd of villagers that circled their large mat erupted in cheers and chants and the drums started their rhythmic beating once more. "Now what?" Mulder turned to Chea. "Is that it?" "Now you and the bride go into the tent." He pointed to the large tent behind the smaller two. "And do what?" Chea smiled and shrugged. "What ever comes naturally, I'm told." The husband and wife who had conducted their ceremony were smiling brightly and nodding their heads, pointing to the tent. Scully studied the bowl. "Can I get some more of this?" "Scully, you can't be serious. That stuff is disgusting." Chea seemed pleased. "The women always want more," he said to Mulder, before turning back to Scully. "Of course. The rest is intended for you." Mulder's face soured as he watched his partner - wife - down bowlful after bowlful of the liquid, emptying the entire pail. "Scully, if you're thirsty, I'm sure we can get you some water or something." "This is fine," she managed to get out between swallows. "Well, slow down. It's alcoholic at the very least -" "I've tasted something like this before. Recently. I know I have." "I certainly hope not." When the brew was finally gone, Scully made a bee-line for one of the banquet tables. "Uh, Dana? Where are you-" "Aren't you hungry?" She ripped a chunk of sticky bread from a loaf and promptly shoved it into her mouth. "I'm famished." She picked up food left and right, and without bothering with a plate or utensils, began to stuff down everything in sight. The crowd continued to mingle, but as people passed the gorging Scully, they would smile and point and nod encouragingly. "Try this, Mulder, it's fabulous!" He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to him. "Scully, what the hell is the matter with you?" The hunk of meat she'd had in her hand fell to the ground and, from head to toe, one huge convulsion racked her body. Then, with her eyes closed, her knees gave way and she grasped Mulder's forearms to keep from crumbling to the ground. "Oh..." All of the old fears that he'd managed to let go so quickly flooded through him in an instant. //Please, please, please don't let her be sick. Not again. Please, please, not again.// "...Mulder..." He crushed her to him, and she convulsed again. "Ooooh!" "Scully!" His panic was making his shake. "Dana, talk to me. Don't pass out, Dana. Stay with me. Please!" "Mulder?" She raised her head sluggishly, and with the most lopsided grin Mulder'd ever seen, she mumbled, "That was incredible." "Scully?" "I've heard stories about women reaching orgasm with simple casual contact, but I never thought..." Mulder brow furrowed in confusion. "Scully?" "Kiss me Mulder." Her eyes seemed a little glassy to him, and her face was definitely flushed, but other than that she seemed as healthy as he'd ever seen her: no nose bleed, no pale skin. So, he did as she asked and pressed his lips against hers, and to Mulder's delight and infinite amusement, his partner shuddered beneath him with a gasp. From out of the crowd, Kyle and Megan appeared; both all smiles. Scully managed to pull herself together enough to turn to their friends. "May I be the first to kiss the blushing bride?" Kyle was so chivalrous. Mulder wanted to punch him. The flood of jealousy came out of no where, and there was nothing Mulder could do to stop it. "No!" Both Scully and Mulder yelled in unison, much to the utter shock of their friends. Scully tried to cover with, "we're going to the tent." "In this crowd?," Kyle asked cheerfully, quickly recovering from what he clearly thought was odd behavior from his friends. "You're going to need a bulldozer. Let us help." He turned to the villagers and jovially called out, "Make way for the bride and groom!" And as the curious people turned - most of who had no idea what he'd just said - Kyle placed a friendly hand on Scully's shoulder. She twitched and pressed her body against Mulder, riding out the brief climax. Kyle's face dropped to serious concern. "Hey, is she okay?" Then he touched her face to be sure she was conscious. She came again. "You son of a bitch!" Mulder lost it. His fit of jealousy colored his vision and Mulder jerked his new wife out of range of Kyle's wandering hands and decked the guy. Kyle never saw it coming. "What the hell is the matter with you, Mulder?!" Megan's fury boiled. She stepped between Mulder and her husband, daring him to hit her the same way. Panting, he realized what he'd just done. Mulder backed up a few paces. "I'm...sorry. Sort of," he mumbled, not at all feeling an ounce of sorrow. "You didn't know." //You touched her, you goddamned asshole!// Even though Kyle was on the ground, and Mulder knew intellectually that he hadn't meant to cause Scully's "reactions", Mulder still wanted to clobber the guy. He didn't understand the violent impulse, but he tried to quell it. "Know what?" Kyle demanded. "Uh..." And Mulder was once again at a loss of words, wrestling with his inner turmoil and Scully's fondling hands. She moaned from behind him. "Mulder..." Her voice was raspy with desire. "Mulder, touch me..." Her lips kissed the plea into his spine. His libido when into overdrive. //Oh man, oh man, oh man.// Apparently judging that Mulder was no longer a threat to her husband, Megan backed off her protective stance and bent down to help Kyle up from the sand. "You're a lunatic, Mulder!" A crowd had gathered around them, catching Scully's attention. The second Mulder felt her arms slither from his torso, he turned to see her reaching for one of the small ogling men on the sidelines. Mulder snatched her hands before she could make contact with the villager, and crushed her to him. "What the hell are you doing, Scully?!" She shook in his arms. "Ahhhhh..." "CHEA!" Mulder knew he was going to kill the lying son of a bitch murderer when he got his hands on him. "Chea! Damn it, where the hell are you?" Scully hungrily kissed across his chest before her mouth latched on to his right nipple. He gritted his teeth and pried her lips from his skin. "Scully, stop it." His firm hold on her face gave her another strong climax and her legs gave out again, and when he caught her, she cried out in exquisite pleasure, "AHHHHHHH!" "CHEA!" When the marked man finally broke through the crowd, his eyes went wide at what he found. "Chea, what kind of drugs were in that lemon brandy?! What did you give her?" "No drugs," Chea insisted, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is the effect it has on women, but never to this extent." He glanced at the tents. "I'll help you get her inside-" "Chea, I swear to God, if you touch her, I'll kill you where you stand." He froze and swallowed, seeing Kyle's quickly swelling lips and picturing Mulder's words literally. "Right," he said, "I'll clear the way." Mulder scooped his wife into his arms, much to her sensual delight, and followed Chea as he parted the way through the mob of people. Inside the large tent there was a huge wooden bed, tables of food and drink, and a thick carpet covering the sandy floor. Mulder dropped the protesting Scully in the middle of the bed and went to the side table to pour her some water. "I'm not thirsty," she complained. "Mulder...come here." He glanced over his shoulder at her seductive tone, just in time to see her undoing her skirt. She unfolded the flaps of material and laid them flat on the bed. To Mulder's surprised excitement, Scully hadn't worn any panties. The sight of her slender white legs flowing smoothly up into gently rounded hips, and the nest of thick hair in the shallow valley between them, sent his own body soaring with heat and lust. Her nimble fingers fanned over her abdomen, moving slowly lower. She moaned. "Mulder...please..." The glass fell from his shaking hand, and he ripped at the knot at his own hip. In the three strides it took him to get over to the bed, he'd managed to rip the reesa from his body, and drop his briefs to his ankles. He stepped out of them and climbed on the bed. Her legs parted for him. "Hurry..." He was hard so penetration wasn't going to be a problem, but the romantic in Mulder screamed to take things slowly; to build up to their first joining with kisses and foreplay. "Hurry, Fox..." He crawled over her, careful not to touch her in fear of sending her flying again, and looked down at her glowing face. Foreplay was tricky when physical contact was restricted. And damned impossible when she grabbed his ass and slammed him down on top of her. He tried to right himself, and in the seconds it took him to recover, she'd grabbed his erection and positioned him. Then she leaned up and kissed him, sliding her tongue against his, and he lost all desire to do anything but sink inside her. The kiss had brought another orgasm for her, and as he was swallowed up by her body, her muscles milked and stretched him convulsively. It was all he could do to get his hips to respond enough to set up a rhythm. Anything fancy would have to wait. Scully didn't seem to mind. With each plunge he made inside of her, a new climax shuddered through her. It was only a matter of minutes before she lay still beneath him, unable to respond anymore to the explosions of pleasure that were repeatedly tormenting her body. She relaxed limply, too exhausted to do anything else, and watched him make love to her through slitted eyes, allowing her involuntary muscles to continue to twitch and contract around him. The result was wildly erotic. She studied his face, seeing the ecstasy in his eyes, knowing what her body was doing to him. A sleepy grin parted her lips. Mulder broke into a sweat. There really was no need to stretch things out, so when he felt the pressure in his groin building, his pumping hips increased their pace and he rammed into her hard as his own release swept through him. Knowing that she was watching him come, he kept his own eyes open as much as he could. And the expression on her face transformed, going from sedate interest and amusement to one of absolute wonder. Her eyes were wide and brimming with tears by the time he finished emptying inside of her. He gave a final thrust, and she climaxed again, crumbling beneath him, clutching his shoulders in a painful grip. He waited nearly a minute for her last orgasm to die down before he lifted himself from her and withdrew. The tears had managed to escape her eyes and trail down the sides of her face. He was moved to kiss one. "Tell me it wasn't that bad," he joked lightly. "It was great for me." She turned to look at him with the same child-like awe in her eyes. "Scully, what is it?" "I love you," she said simply. The pin-pricks in his own eyes watered his vision. She'd said it. Yes, of course, he'd known that she loved him...but to hear her say it... "I knew that I did," she continued, placing a hand on the side of his face. "I've known it for years...and still..." The words escaped her. "I love you." She pulled him back down to her then, and he let her hold him while he drifted in and out of a contented sleep. When he finally woke, the tent was dark with night, but the festivities outside sounded as if they were still in full swing. Mulder managed to climb out of the bed without waking his partner, and grabbed his discarded underwear and reesa. The briefs he had no problem with. The reesa, on the other hand, needed an instruction manual. He peeked out the tent flap, hoping to find Kyle, and spotted both him and his wife lounging on the outskirts of the party on a large blanket. They both seemed contented with the evening, sharing a plate of something and sipping wine. The earlier non-guilt turned into full-fledged shame. Mulder'd managed to deck one of the few human beings on the planet who he knew for a fact was his friend. And it wasn't Kyle's fault that he didn't recognize Scully's...condition. Hell, Mulder hadn't caught on until the third or fourth time either. //Aw, shit.// Megan spotted him from the corner of her eye, and she poked at her husband and then pointed to Mulder. Kyle stood, brushed off his pants, and headed for the tent. Mulder made a quick jump to the bed and covered his sleeping bride with a blanket before Kyle scratched at the outside flap. "Hi." He opened the flap enough for his friend to enter. "How's it going?" "Not bad." Kyle grinned at Scully and then discreetly avoided looking at her for the rest of his visit. "You tired her out." "Well, something like that." Mulder sighed, "Look. About the punch -" Kyle raised his hands in surrender. "Say no more. Meggie and I figured out what must've happened." He pocketed his hands in his jeans. "And now she's hitting up Chea for a couple of gallons of the stuff." He looked less than excited. "Luckily Chea is forbidden by custom to give out either the recipe or the brandy to anyone outside of a traditional ceremony." He winced. "Once she heard that she started making plans to come back here to renew our vows. And I'm telling you, I don't buy that she just wants to be married to me in every culture in the world." Mulder chuckled. "So, I guess you're going to need some clothes." Kyle gestured to Mulder's state of undress. "Scully, too. Something not quite so revealing." Both men smirked. Kyle headed for the exit. "Oh, I don't know if you're aware of this or not, but the bride and groom are expected to go for a midnight swim in the ocean." "We are?" "It signals the end of the wedding festivities, so everyone can go home to get some rest. No one can leave until you guys go skinny dipping." "And what's the ceremonial relevance of that?" Kyle shrugged and grinned. "I think they just want to see the two of you naked." With a laugh, Kyle popped out the door. Scully slept and slept. Her breathing was deep and even and comforting to Mulder. It was nice to see her face free of the usual pain and tension she'd grown accustomed to carrying with her. She slept on her back, arms and legs skewed, her head turned off center. It was a position that spoke volumes about her trust for him and for his ability to protect her. Not that she couldn't take care of herself - Mulder was very aware of just how capable she was in that category. But while she slept in the bed with him, after they'd made love, she trusted even subconsciously that nothing would happen to her. //GOD! What was I thinking? How could I have ever doubted?// He rolled closer to her, studying the perfect way her neck sloped into her shoulder. The skin there was so smooth, he simply had to brush his lips across it. She didn't stir. So he kissed her next to the first kiss, wetting her collarbone with his nipping mouth. She didn't move. Mulder moved lower, pulling the blanket down to her belly and ran just the tip of his tongue across her rising nipple. This time, when he looked up, she wore a smile on her face. "It's so nice to wake up to you." Her murmur turned into a yawn. She rolled to him, her face radiant and happy. "Mr. Scully." Mulder laughed, and her smile brightened even further. "My God, you're beautiful." Tears sprang to her eyes. She turned her head and blinked, slapping at him. "Stop that, Mulder." "Stop what? Telling you that you're beautiful? I won't." "No. Stop catching me unprepared. I don't like being this out of control." She sniffed back the emotion. "When you're going to be sentimental, I want you to warn me." There was a scratching sound on the outside of the tent, and then Kyle's voice. "Mulder? It's midnight." Scully's natural modesty whipped the blanket up over her. "Okay Kyle. We'll be out in a minute." She looked at him quizzically. "So, Scully," he said as if he were starting a new topic off the top of his head. "You feel like a swim?" End of 16/17 The water was cold. Gritty from the kicked up sand and salt, and cold. But the tide was weak and the waves were minimal, thank God. Mulder had no desire to lose Scully to an under tow once he finally had her exactly where he wanted her: pressed up against him, clinging to his shoulders because her feet didn't reach the bottom; her breasts freely brushing up against his chest as the current shifted, his own member bobbing between her legs seeking more than just the casual contact. And Mulder was sure that if the water wasn't so damn cold, it would get it. Her hair was slicked back from her face, leaving the half moon to cast drastic shadows on the sharp angles of her cheeks and nose. And her mouth, //God, her mouth,// so full and ripe with droplets of water beaded on her lips. //So beautiful...// On shore, the lights had faded and the party had finally trickled out. Several of the Tiki torches were left to burn so they wouldn't have trouble finding the tent again. It was just the two of them, holding each other, moving with the water that surrounded them. "You're not seasick, are you?" "Nope." "It's because you're not fighting it. You're letting the current move through you." "It's because I have you in my arms." She kissed him, reaching up and pulling his head closer to her. Her salty tongue dueled with his. //May I never get enough of kissing her.// He felt her hands slide to his back, locking around his neck as she pulled herself closer to his and locked her thighs around his hips. "Have you ever made love in the water, Mulder?" Her velvet voice sounded coy in his ear. "You mean with someone else?" She nipped at his ear. "Don't you know that playing with others is more fun?" //Damn the cold water!// "Don't you want to go back to the tent? Aren't you cold?" She shook her head. "The water's cold, but I'm hot." He knew that she was making a bawdy joke, but with her belly pressed so firmly against his, he could tell that she was, indeed very warm. "Aren't you usually inexplicably cold?" "See what you do to me?" Her hand reached between them and found his root. Mulder managed to stifle most of the grunt. "Oh, I see," her brows dropped. "*You're* cold." "Geez, Scully. You sure know how to lift a guy's ego." Her eyes danced with mischief. "Oh, that I can do." The she slipped from him and pushed herself from his grasp. Her head immediately went under. Panic, pure and simple ripped through Mulder, and he grabbed her unceremoniously by the arms and pulled her back above water. "Scully!" "Mulder, let go. I know what I'm doing." When she slipped under a second time, it took everything in him not to reach for her again. What the hell was she doing? With her gone, and him standing alone in the water, he caught a glimpse of just how lonely his life used to be. The sound of the water moving around him made him nervous. Were there people on shore watching? It was only seconds later that he felt her hands on his thighs, and a warm softness encircling his penis. Mulder went very still. "Scully, I hope to God that's you." Then there was a tongue and the barest pressure of a set of perfect teeth. And when the hands slid up and cupped his ass, fixing her head firmly over him, the gentle sucking began. //Holy flaming cow...// It took a matter of seconds for his erection to bloom, not much longer than that for Scully to resurface, and then a slight thrust that embedded him deep within her. She was like fire in ice, circling him so tightly. Her thighs and legs used his for leverage as she slowly began to lift herself on his shaft; and when she did, the flood of cold water brought an aching pain to the heat of his erection. And then he pushed her back down on to him, and her warmth returned. "Jesus." They set up a rhythm like that, her pushing up, him pulling down; the rest of their bodies trying to compensate for the water and the waves, their mouths meeting in passing - a nip here, a brush of a lip there. They even made love as a team. "Mulder," she managed to gasp between thrusts, "I don't...want this...to end." //What? Does she think I'm some sort of super man?// "I'm afraid...to go home..." She'd said it with such a raw sincerity that he showed their rhythm and looked her in the eye. She looked at his chest. "I'm afraid that when we get back, you're going to remember all about your quest for truth and justice - and your sister - and forget me." //Was she serious?// "How could I possibly forget you? You're part of that." "No, I mean this part of me. The Dana me. Now that I have you - that I know I really have you - I *am* afraid of losing you. Mulder it terrifies me more than anything else ever has." "Scully - Dana - today I gave you my life...my hopes...my all. We are one." He kissed her forehead and then the tip of her nose. "I believe..." "I believe..." Her kiss then was soft and warm, sealing any doubts she had away from sight. They continued to make love, both in the water and on shore, until they were spent and tired. And then they crawled back to the comfort of the bed, pulled the blankets up over their heads, and slept cocooned together in their own little world. The following morning, on the deck of The Lady, Mulder and Scully stood side by side and waved to the hundreds of well-wishers that had packed the dock and beaches. Kyle untied the massive boat and Megan steered them away from land. Morg the dog, panting happily at Scully's side, offered two farewell barks as they motored away. "Did they get the electrical equipment working?" Scully asked beside him. Mulder slid his arm around her shoulders as the people on the island became smaller and smaller and their cheers were drowned out by the sound of the wind and surf. "Megan found two busted fuses, but she swears that they looked fine before we docked." Scully's face darkened a little. "Theories?" "None." He smiled down at her and pulled her completely into his arms. "I'm on vacation." She laughed giddily until he pressed his mouth against hers. //Home.// The following fourteen days were spent on the several islands surrounding Bermuda and in the water between them. Mulder grew more and more convinced with every passing day that the substance they'd encountered in the Heart of Erlona had had a drastic effect on Scully's cancer, though he refused to broach the touchy subject with her until they stepped foot again on the mainland. But her energy was up, she was sleeping and eating like it was going out of fashion; and most importantly, when they were intimate, he could feel the life in her. It was a palpable energy. In his mind and soul, Scully simply wasn't dying. "YAHTZEE!" Mulder looked down at his own sheet and winced at the pathetic scores. Scully was too good at the game. She'd won 8 out of 8 games that day alone, and it looked like she might win 8 more. Mulder picked up her pad. "You've got to be adding this wrong. How can you keep winning?" "It's called skill, Mulder." She tossed her pencil in the game box and leaned back on her elbows. She was filling out her baby blue bikini much better than she had weeks before, and her skin was tanner and her hair a much more brilliant red. She looked good enough to eat. It was too bad Kyle and Megan were sitting just inches away from her on the deck of The Lady, or he would've tried. "Enough Yahtzee," she announced. "The sun feels too good." "I second that," Megan said with flair. She pulled off her glasses and let the heat and cool breeze play over her face. "Let's swim to shore and bake on the beach." "Sounds good to me." Scully was on her feet and ready to dive before Mulder could stop her. Megan was right on her tail. The two of them made a beautiful streamline dive into the clear shallow water of the cove they were anchored in and surfaced smoothly. "You'd think they've been friends forever," Kyle said watching them. "Megan doesn't have a lot of female friends." "Neither does Scully. I'm glad we met you guys." He headed down below to grab some sunscreen and one of the water-tight bags for towels and fresh water. "Doesn't she look healthy to you?" "Very." Kyle pulled out a camera from one of the cabinets. "How about a few snap shots for posterity?" "Absolutely." He sealed the bag and headed back up to the deck. "She's gaining weight, too." "I wouldn't worry about that." Kyle smiled out at the women who were climbing out onto the white sandy shore already. "That's normal." "No, I'm not worried. She'd gotten so thin...I'm thrilled she's putting the weight back on. It's nice to see her actually eating again." Kyle laughed. "And how!" Mulder dove in the water, and it was cool and refreshing against his sun-kissed skin. It was going to be hard for him to get back to the cold rainy fall of DC. Back to life in reality after he'd tasted paradise. They sailed into the harbor in Miami just before dusk. In the marina, they had a slow, relaxing dinner with good friends and casual conversation. Scully excused herself before the after-dinner coffee arrived to visit the ladies room and call her messages. Mulder dreaded having to wade through over a month of unanswered calls. When she returned her smile was a little more strained than it should've been. "Everything all right?" Mulder tried to ask casually, knowing that there was indeed something behind the tension in her brow. "Fine," she said. "There was just a message from Skinner. There was a break in the last case we were on, and they've asked for us back." Mulder wasn't thrilled with the prospect of going back to the case, either. There hadn't been any evidence of paranormal phenomenon involved in any aspect of it. Just your standard serial killer preying on sick and dying children. "So they think they caught the guy?" She nodded. "Actually, they want you there to do the interrogation and match the profile. I told Skinner I wanted to go along. There was some discrepancies in some of the findings of the last three victims. I want to check it out." Mulder nodded. "When do we leave?" "Uh..." She looked at her watch. "In about two hours. There's a forty-five minute layover in DC, so there won't even be time to run home. They've been trying to get ahold of us for the last week or so." She picked at the coffee cake that was set before her, and then pushed the plate away. //Great. There goes her appetite again.// "Dana." Megan looked at her as if she was expecting her to say something more. "Not now, Meg." Scully sipped at her coffee. Mulder checked out Kyle's confused expression and was relieved to find he wasn't the only one left in the dark. "Scully, what's going on?" She gave Megan a look and then inhaled sharply, sat up and turned to her partner. "Nothing. Nothing's up." She sipped her drink self-consciously. "So there's nothing up." Scully didn't lie well. Megan gave her a hard look and must've decided that it wasn't worth pursuing any longer, because she went back to her dessert, too. It royally pissed him off that she was keeping something from him that she'd already deemed Megan worthy enough to know. He threw his napkin on his desert plate and pushed his chair back from the table. He wasn't feeling hungry anymore, either. "I'm going to check my messages," he grumbled and marched to the bank of pay phones just outside the restrooms. No one stopped him. Once he'd punched in the numbers to his calling card and got his answering machine to start replaying the messages, he tuned out the voices and looked back at the table. Scully's back was to him so he wasn't able to read her expression, but she was slouched over her elbows, holding her head in her hands. Megan was leaning in close from across the table and obviously saying something that Scully didn't want to hear because she repeatedly shook her head until her hands flew up and she yelled, "Enough!" Kyle was sitting quietly, not wanting to get involved. So, there was something that she wasn't telling him. Something that Megan thought he should know. It burned Mulder's stomach to think that she was still keeping secrets from him. What was it about him that she couldn't trust? He hung up the phone. The messages would still be there when he got home - assuming he would ever get back to his apartment again. Suddenly DC seemed an immeasurable distance. He went into the men's room to wash his face. Three hours later, after soulful good-byes were said and promises made for future visits, Mulder sat next to his partner in the coach section of the MD-40. She sat rod-straight in the chair and hadn't said more than single word sentences after they'd boarded. Mulder's anger and frustration grew. When the captain turned off the Fasten Seat Belts sign, she turned to him deliberately and placed a gripping hand on his arm. "Okay," her voice was low and breathy, "I'm going to say this only once, so you'd better be listening." She sat back in her seat and took a deep breath. "Before, when we were working on the Make A Wish case - before, actually - I hadn't been feeling well." Mulder nodded. "That isn't news to me." "Right. Well, I had decided that that case was going to be my last." She looked down to her clasped hands and played with the tips of her thumb nails. "I didn't tell you because...I don't know why. I guess because I was afraid you'd agree with me." Her faint smile was halfway hidden by a lock of her hair. "And I really didn't want my retirement to be the first thing that we agreed on." "Did you put in the paperwork? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" "No. I was going to handle everything once the case was solved. I didn't have the strength to deal with both at once." She looked into his eyes. "But, Mulder, I feel good now. Stronger. I'm not going to retire." Her expression reflected both determination and trepidation. "Good, because the thought of trying to get a temp who can perform an autopsy *and* run in those heels, quite frankly, makes me shudder." She rolled her eyes. "Mulder..." "Seriously, though, I don't understand the problem. Why didn't you just tell me this? Why could you tell Megan this and not me?" Scully shrugged and looked out the window. "I wanted to tell you, but you were always so...stifling. And every time I'd sneeze you'd look at me with these I'm-sorry eyes. Do you know how hard that is to live with, Mulder?" "I'm sorry." "And now that I feel almost myself again..." The way her voice trailed off told Mulder that they were finally getting to the heart of the matter. "And now?" "Well. Now we're going back. To my last case." "But you just said you're not retiring -" She closed her eyes in frustration. "Look for the symbolism, Mulder." Then she sighed and offered him an apologetic smile. "I don't know. Maybe it's nothing." She was scared. It was written all over her face. He took her hand in his, and gave it a supportive squeeze. "This isn't your last case, Scully. This is our first case *together*." He lightly kissed her knuckles. The rest of the flight was a blur. His mind and heart raced towards new possibilities. When he jerked back to reality, the plane was making its rough landing on the ground and rain was beading down the small passenger windows. Another stormy day in the nation's capital. The loud speaker crackled to life. "On behalf of myself and the entire flight crew of Continental Airlines, we'd like to thank you for flying with us. To our passengers who are continuing on, we wish you safe journeys to your final destination; and to those of you whose final destination is DC...welcome home." End of 17/17 EPILOGUE: "Hey, Scully!" Mulder called to her from the kitchen where he was stirring the chicken noodle soup and looking through the mail that was tossed haphazardly on the counter top. "Huh?" Her congested effort to respond made his stomach twinge. She'd been sick for something like a week, though she'd refused to *admit* she had the flu until she'd actually thrown up on him in bed. An experience he made her swear would never happen again. "This card is addressed to the both of us." He lifted the plain white envelope. The return address was a PO Box in Miami. "Hey! I think it's from Megan and Kyle!" He wandered into the living room where he'd propped her up on the couch. Her medication was lined up on the coffee table, as was a glass of water, the remote control, and a fresh box of Kleenex. "Read it to me." He slipped his finder under the flap and ripped the envelope open. Out slid a card than knocked Mulder for a loop. He stared down at his partner, her cheeks alight with fever. "Scully, is there something you're not telling me?" Her brows lowered. "What does it say?" "Congratulations on the expectation of your new bundle of joy." Her complete look of shock and the drawing of the naked baby on the cover of the card left him conflicted. He continued. "We want to be the first to congratulate you on your first child. Kyle says she's beautiful. Can't wait to see her. Much love, Megan and Kyle." "Why would they think... Did you tell them we were pregnant?" "Scully?" "What? Don't you think you'd be the first person I'd tell if I were?" "Scully..." "This is cruel." She sneezed and blew her nose loudly. "Megan knows I can't...that I'm sterile. We talked about it." "Scully, it said that Kyle -" "I know what it says, dammit." Mulder backed off. She was sick and cranky and upset. He went back into the kitchen to turn off the soup, his mind spinning. They hadn't bothered with protected sex since there didn't seem to be much point. Both of them had been in and out of the hospital so much that there was a complete blood work up for every possible disease imaginable - VD wasn't an issue. And since Scully couldn't... Except maybe she could. The Milk had cured her cancer, why not her sterility? "Mulder." She stood at the door of the kitchen, leaning heavily against it with her hip. "I know what you're thinking. But the female body doesn't work that way. We're born with a set number of eggs. Once those are gone, they're gone. We don't make any more." "But you can't tell me it's impossible that the Heart-" "That's what I'm telling you." He was thinking on his feet; always a bad idea when talking about a touchy subject with Scully. "What if I go out now and get one of those home tests. Then we can be certain-" "Mulder, I'm not taking a home pregnancy test." "Please?" Her top lip thinned a little and she sighed. "I can see how much you want this. But I think it's just plain cruel to get your hopes up-" "Women often display symptoms of the flu in the first trimester." "Rarely." "But they do. You admit it." "Of course. It's a scientific fact." "Scully. Will you take the test? Just for me?" Her eyes closed and her face displayed the weary grimace she always formed when she was about to give in on something she didn't want to do. "On two conditions." "Name them." "First, you never ask me to do this again." He nodded reluctantly. "And two: we talk about other options." "Other options?" "Adoption, artificial insemination with a donor egg, a surrogate..." "What?!" "I'm just asking that we talk." She sneezed three times in a row and then retired back to the couch. "I'll pee on a stick for you if you're willing to meet my conditions." Mulder grabbed his jacket from the closet by the door. "I'll be back in fifteen." Half an hour later, the stick turned pink. End of Erlona's Heart. Acknowledgments: First I need to thank my beta team (Lisa, Karen, Madeline, Shannon, Lee, Kathy, Allegra, Dia and BeckyD) for sticking by me through the months that it took to write this. Well, most of you did. OK - half of you. ;P And also a huge thank you to Lee and Kathy for their helpful comments and observations. But it wouldn't be fair to go a step farther without thanking Dianora, who came to my aid and edited the crap out of this baby, giving line by line notes in order to get it into shape and shave a good 20 pages off the finished product. All of the hard work and effort that you put into this project of mine means the world to me. And to Lacy, for everything.