Faith of the Heart by Kathy Williams Ribbons@aol.com Okay guys. This is *not* a sequel to "Whispers of the Soul". Maybe I'll do that later, but the idea of the first crossing of that romantic line is so powerful, I just decided to do it all over again in a different story, in a different way. Please be nice. Constructive criticism is welcome at Ribbons@aol.com Spoilers: Fourth season, "Terma". Pretty substantial spoiler, too, so if you haven't seen it, you might want to save this till later. Classification: MSR and an X-Files. (Guess that's MSR and X, for all you archivists). All non-shippers, this will definitely make you heave. Rating: PG-13. Summary: Mulder and Scully go deep into the Everglades seeking to solve an ancient curse of the Seminoles. After his treatment in Russia, Mulder finally realizes what is important. Now if he can just convince Scully. Author's Note: I try very had to stay on character with my stories. Please let me know if I do. Disclaimer: Everybody sing to the tune of Jingle Bells, since this is Christmas (Oh, ho. Do I need a disclaimer for mentioning Jingle Bells? So, get in line, unknown composer. ) Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are not mine, they belong to 1013 Productions and Chris Carter. (Way to go, Chris.) I'm just taking them out for a little run. Thanks are in order to David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson for providing us with the wonderful body language and personal touches that have made these characters so real that idiots like myself sit up nights filling in the spaces Chris and crew left out. For when we read Mulder and Scully's names here, it is David and Gillian's images we see. Thanks, guys! Archivists: You may archive this as long as my name stays with it. Thanks for your efforts! Here we go! Play nice guys. Santa's watching! ************************************************* "I wish I knew where they found the bag of stones," Mulder said, kicking at an abandoned sieve. The afternoon sun was dipping behind the tall trees, casting the island into an eerie twilight. "Look here." Scully squatted and ran a finger around a small, round hole in the ground. The soil at the edge was blackened. Mulder knelt at her side. "Could be some sort of ceremonial pit. Sacrifice, maybe. Could be where they cooked." "There's no trace of wood or other combustible inside, Mulder. It wouldn't have washed out, it would only have collected in the bottom and more added from the trees above." She pointed over their heads where cypress branches waved in the dying light. "We better get a fire going while we can still see." Mulder made a pile of the sieves, wooden crates, sticks and branches. "We'll see about getting out of here in the morning." Scully glanced around her. The image of the alligator that crossed the road last night flashed before her. "I wonder if this is alligator nesting season?" Mulder paused in lighting the fire. "Worried about being eaten by alligators?" His eyes snapped and he laughed wickedly. "Nothing daunts you, does it, Mulder?" Scully stood, wishing she felt half as brassy as her partner sounded. "Yes, some things." He stared in the new flames and Scully instantly regretted her words. She moved to place a hand on his back and he caught her fingers. "Some things do. Or the threat of not having some things." He caught her again with that questioning look that always begged the same question. Before she could think of something to say, a noise off to their right interrupted. Mulder pulled his gun and stepped in front of Scully. She pulled her own weapon and moved to his side. "Alligator?" she whispered. Mulder shook his head. "Not a big enough splash." The already small island suddenly felt much smaller. Scully moved until their backs were together. "Just an animal." Mulder holstered his gun. Scully turned, placing her Sig in the leather holster at her waist. Dancing shadows from the fire flickered across Mulder's face as he stepped closer. Suddenly, she wished she was anywhere but here. Somewhere she could sit down and sink her face in her hands and try to think. She couldn't think here, not with him so close, touching her, protecting her, crawling inside her thoughts. "I can't think when you do that," she said as his arms gathered her close. "I don't want you to think. I want you to feel. Just turn lose, Scully. Disengage that reasoning process of yours and follow your instincts." She put her arms around him, feeling the softness of his shirt, the hard, cold metal of his gun -- all that was him. Rolled into one. Combined. Her cheek rested on his chest, where it had so many times. In comfort, in fear, in joy. The decision welled up in her, but she pushed the possibility away. No, there was more to consider here than their feelings. There was their partnership, their jobs, their sanity. Could intensity ever mate with intensity? "Better feed the fire." He released her and stepped away, leaving a void behind. Scully dragged a crate up to the fire and sat down. She stared at him across the flames as he poked absently at the embers. "What do you suppose the stones are?" she asked, hoping to change the mood. He shrugged with one shoulder and continued to stare into the fire. "I don't know. Something left by extraterrestrial travelers? A product of volcanic action? Osceola's tears? Some artifact from the Mayans? The Mayan ranged all through the southeast for trading, you know." "Who do you suppose has them?" Mulder raised his eyes. "My guess is that they're back in the hands of the Seminoles." "You think the Seminoles stole them?" "No, I think someone realized the destructive power they had in their possession and wanted the stones back where they would cause the least trouble." "Mulder, you have no reason to believe that those stones have any power at all. No one has mentioned that. No one has confessed to seeing anything unexplained connected with those stones except that they are missing." "Don't the facts add up to you, Scully? The lights sighted over the swamp, the missing stones, dead archaeologists?" Scully shook her head. "This is another of your leaps off the cliff of logic." "Jump off with me, Scully." They were separated by the fire, by the flames, but his gaze held her as tightly as his arms would have. He looked away first. "We should try and get some sleep. You sleep first and I'll keep watch." Scully moved to his side of the fire, aware that he watched her. She lay down near him, the soft sand cushioning her body. Mulder sat inches away, hands clasped around his knees, staring off into the night. Scully cradled her head with her arms, trying to read his thoughts, but felt nothing. Chin resting on his hands, he looked like a little boy, staring up into space, wondering. His hand reached out for her, brushed her side, then withdrew. "Mulder, I'm not going anywhere. Not away from you. Ever. No matter what we decide personally, I'll always be with you for as long as you'll have me." Even as she said the words, she knew she wouldn't convince him. Fox Mulder didn't listen with his ears. He listened with his heart, listened with that invisible net around himself with which he analyzed the world. Part instinct, part emotion. He needed to reach down inside her and read her emotions, read her heart. Scully caught the tail of his shirt in her hand, running the fabric through her fingers. Maybe she was just as bad as he. Needing to know he was near. She'd been frantic while he was in Russia, while trying desperately to maintain a cool exterior. His life depended on her maintaining that veneer, not only in front of Congress, but in front of Skinner, and whoever else might be watching. "They did something to me, Scully," he said softly. "What?" Scully raised up on one elbow. "They did something to me. Some tests." He shook his head, his voice catching. "I don't remember much." Fragmented fear flooded her, memories of her own abduction, memories of rapes she'd investigated. His voice sounded like the women she'd interviewed then. Invasions, all. How long had he intended to keep this from her? "What kind of tests?" She sat up and moved closer. His face was open, his eyes large, frightened. Mulder, frightened? But it was there, plainly written across his face. Scully placed a hand on his arm and his eyes followed her hand. Then, he pushed back his shirt sleeve. "There." He pointed to a tiny scar on the inside of his elbow. Scully moved his arm closer to the fire. The mark was tiny, well healed. New. She knew all his scars. "What do you think they did?" Dread became palatable. She could taste its tinny presence on her tongue and she suddenly wanted to envelope him within her and protect him from the world that thrashed him regularly. "I remember being . . . confined. I couldn't move. Something was over my face. I felt strange. Then, I woke up on the floor of the cell. I can't remember anything else. I thought I was dying." "We'll do some tests as soon as we get back. We'll pull all the reports and read them again. We'll pull the lab results on the men who died in the lab. We'll . . . ." His hand on hers reminded her she was babbling. "You won't find anything. I don't know how I know, but I do." He turned back to the fire, staring hypnotized into the flames. "I was scared to death. I went to sleep at night with the sound of my own sobs echoing in my ears. It was the helplessness. I couldn't help myself." He turned toward her. "I couldn't help you and I knew you'd be next. I promised myself that if I ever got away, got out, that I'd never let you get away from me. Never let them near you." Scully felt his emotion, cascading through her like a waterfall. Fear. Vulnerability. Fierce protectiveness. Love. Scully let her forehead fall to rest on the round of his shoulder. His body shivered and she ran a hand down his spine. "Scully." His tone changed instantly. She raised her head and followed his gaze. Two bright, green lights quivered near the edge of the lagoon. "Do you see it?" he asked breathlessly. Scully nodded, unsure of what she was seeing. The blobs of light began to move, hovering, quivering, until they poised just over Mulder's backpack, lying at the edge of the sand. "What the-" He rose, shaking off Scully's hand. "Mulder, don't." Scully scrambled to her feet, reaching after him. The two lights were joined by three more, outshining the glow from the campfire. Mulder crossed the ground, crouched, until he reached their bags. He picked up his, unzipped it and reached inside. He removed a cloth bag, laced through the top with a leather thong. "How did you get the stones?" Scully was on her feet, a step behind him. "I didn't. Walter must have had them and put them in my bag. They just want them back." He dropped the bag on the damp sand and backed away. He plowed into Scully and she moved with him, one hand on his back. The lights approached the bag, then separated, rocketing into the air, through the trees, all around. Mulder had insinuated himself in front of her as they crouched near their fire, watching. Suddenly a loud mechanical thrum vibrated the night. The tops of the trees waved, dancing on the sound. A large craft moved into sight, hovering on the tree tops. The lights returned, clustered around the bag. Then, a single shaft of brilliant light shot down, encompassing the bag, and it disappeared. The blobs of light followed it up and the craft was gone as quickly as it had come. Silence filled the void, heavy and deafening. Mulder turned wondrous eyes on Scully. Then, he started to laugh. "Tell me you didn't see that, Agent Scully." He shot to his feet, shirttail flying, and turned in a circle like a delighted child, arms aimed at the heavens. Scully didn't trust her legs to stand. The experience had knocked through all her lines of defense against following Mulder over one of his cliffs of faith. What had she seen? Mulder's hand gripped her shoulders, hauled her to her feet and into his arms. "Tell me what you saw, Scully. Let me hear the words." Scully smiled into his enthusiasm, letting her eyes flicker across his face, memorizing his joy. "Tell me, please." His voice dropped into that soft, pleading tone that would get him anything, if he just knew it. "I saw an Unidentified Flying Saucer, Agent Mulder." ************************************************* Scully stared into the mirror, frowned, then scrubbed off the lipstick she'd just applied. Too dark. Sighing, she flung the tube back into her make up kit and picked up the shade she wore everyday. Soft, barely-there color. Stepping back, she nodded. That looked more like it. So much for being glamorous on the most important night of her life. "Are you ready?" Mulder stepped through the adjoining door. "What if I wasn't, Mulder?" Scully leaned out the bathroom door. "What are you going to do someday when you come in here and catch me stark naked?" He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at her from beneath thick lashes. "You want a list?" Scully laughed. Well, at least he'd come out of this one none the worse for wear. The park ranger had shown up at dawn with a force of local officers. Walters had confessed to stealing the stones, although he never told how he beat the museum security systems. When his daughter disappeared, fulfilling the curse, he realized enough of local myth to know to put the artifacts back. So, he'd seen her and Mulder as his avenue to that. He'd placed the bag in Mulder's pack when he picked them up with the air boat. "I'm starving. Let's go." Mulder wore one of his suits, a somber gray that matched his eyes. Just before he turned, Scully saw a flash of sorrow in their depths. She'd wanted to tell him on the dance floor, to draw him out as he'd done her, to complete their circle. But she couldn't stand another minute of that look of resignation. Besides, as unpredictable as Fox Mulder could be, she'd better tell him in private. "Mulder?" "Yeah?" He turned, his unbuttoned jacket whipping around him. Scully took a deep breath and started forward, her self confidence already in full retreat. Mulder's eyebrows shot up as she neared and a small smile quirked at the corners of his mouth. He took a step backwards, his eyes fixed on hers. When his back was against the wall, Scully stopped, her shoes touching his. She raised up on tiptoe and planted both hands against his chest. His arms enfolded her, drew her against him. "Agent Mulder, let's start with item one on that list." end.