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