Healing Time  (part 2)
An X-Files Story by Jennifer Lyon
Jenni10647@AOL.com
(3/9/95)

-------------------------------
Director's Office
Elaine Corwell Clinic

     Mulder watched out of the corner of his eye as Scully perched herself
on the edge of the desk, shapely bare legs stretched out in front of her.
He definitely preferred the warm-weather version of her wardrobe. Catching
himself before she noticed him staring at her calves, he turned his
attention back to the computer in front of him. As close as their
relationship was, sometimes he wasn't certain exactly where the lines were
drawn - or where he wanted them drawn. He knew he couldn't live without
her, that he was probably very much in love with her, but there remained
the question of their professional relationship. They had already created
more than enough controversy in the Bureau. Mulder briefly entertained the
thought of what Skinner might have to say if Scully and he got romantically
involved and that relationship became public. It was enough to make the
hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
     Scully noticed the shudder that ran through Mulder's frame, and only
barely managed to keep from asking yet again if he was all right. She
didn't want to push him too hard, especially since she was still
appreciative of how well he'd handled her reaction to the Pfaster case.
He'd been both understanding and supportive without pressuring her. She had
to find a way to do the same for him. But it was proving to be hard,
especially when she saw the barely-controlled anguish in his eyes.
     Both agents abandoned their private thoughts as the office door swung
open, admitting an anxious young woman holding a five-year-old girl by the
hand. Both had long blond hair and soft brown eyes. The mother's eyes were
red-rimmed and tired, her daughter's identical eyes were alert but wary.
She was dressed in a small blue jumpsuit and her hair was bound into two
long braids with blue ribbons on the ends.
     "Mrs. Lang?" Scully asked, standing up and offering a handshake.
     "Yes," the fair pretty woman replied, briefly accepting Scully's hand.
"And this is my daughter, Carrie."     
     "Hi Carrie," said Scully gently, "My name is Dana Scully and this is
Fox Mulder. I know this all seems a little strange to you, but we need to
ask you a few questions about this morning, OK."
     "OK," Carrie replied, after a glance at her mother assured her that
this was all right."
     "Please, sit down," Mulder offered, gesturing to the couch under the
window. After they were all settled, he sat back and let Scully ask the
questions.
     "Carrie, can you tell me what you did this morning?"
     "We ate breakfast. Mommy brought me a donut." Carrie responded
hesitantly, as her mother put her arm around her and hugged her close.
"Then Mommy read me a story, then I drew pictures. I drew a big house and a
cat."
     "I bet you draw great pictures," Scully encouraged. Carrie flashed a
quick smile.
     "I like to draw pictures."     
     "What did you do after that, Carrie," Scully prodded gently.
     "Watched TV. Then it was lunch time. We had pizza."
     "Do you remember going into the basement?" 
     Carrie's long pigtails wiggled as she shook her head, no.
     "Are you sure, Carrie."
     She nodded.
     "You never went down the elevator yesterday."
     Another shake of her head. Scully looked over at Mulder who leaned
forward in his chair.
     "Carrie, you were very sick before, weren't you?" he asked quietly.
     "Yes," the little girl frowned. "It hurt a lot, I was hot all the
time, and my belly got all big."
     "They did an operation and now you're better." Mulder encouraged.
     "Yes, I was really scared," she said, opening her eyes wide, "But it
wasn't too bad. I just went to sleep and when I woke up it was all over and
I'm better now. I get to go home soon."
     "Very soon, honey," Mrs. Lang said, kissing the top of her daughter's
head. "Carrie had biliary atresia. "
     "A blockage of bile flow from the liver to the intestines." Scully
translated for Mulder. 
     Mrs. Lang nodded. "They tried the Kasai procedure a couple of times,
to drain the bile directly into the intestines, but it only helped for a
short period of time. Then it would start again, the fever, the bloating.
We put Carrie on the list for a transplant, but the wait was so long.
Finally, about two weeks ago, we got a call from the clinic here, they had
a liver from a donor whose blood and tissue types matched Carrie. They had
another child who was going to get part of the liver, but since liver can
regenerate, and a child's liver is smaller than an adults', they were able
to split it between them."
     "Do you know who that other child was?" Mulder asked.
     "Yes, it was a boy named Jeff Fielding." she answered. 
------------------------------------

     "Scully, look at this!" Mulder exclaimed, his voice tinged with
excitement. It had taken some pushing, and some much appreciated
'string-pulling' by Chris Corwell, but they had finally gotten full access
to the children's medical records. 
     "What?" she replied, moving to stand behind him, leaning over his
shoulder.
     "The donor identification number for all three children. It's the
same." He pointed to an eight digit code in the top corner of each file.
"Theresa received a kidney from the same donor as the liver that was split
between Carrie and Jeff."
     "OK, but what has that to do with these murders?" Scully asked, her
voice tinged with doubt.
     "I'm not sure, but maybe that original donor is having an effect on
the children." Mulder suggested, leaning back in his chair and tilting his
head back to meet Scully's eyes. 
     "How? The donor tissues are screened for infection. The children's
health is closely monitored, and there's nothing in their treatment that
could cause psychotic behavior. You met the children, Mulder, they all
appear perfectly normal."
     "I know," Mulder replied, rubbing his eyes. "But they are involved
somehow. And besides their presence here, there's no other link between
them. It is important Scully, I can feel it." He looked earnestly up into
Scully's eyes, willing her to understand. She sighed and pressed her hands
into his shoulders. 
     "Well, we might as well check it out. Is there any more information on
the donor?"
     "No, just the number. But Chris should have a record somewhere."
     "That may be harder to get than the children's records. At least with
them we had an eyewitness claim that they were involved. This is too far
out, we don't have legitimate cause."
     Mulder frowned. He knew she was right, but he was still convinced that
the shared donor was somehow the key. His sense of the paranormal had been
chiming ever since they had seen Gupkin's body. Something extraordinary had
happened in that basement. A sudden thought struck him and he bolted up out
of the chair, startling Scully as he began to circle the room.
     "Suppose, Scully, that the face Chen saw was that of the organ donor.
Maybe when the children are together his spirit is able to return. That
might explain why the children seem normal when we see them separately, and
why the incidents are so random. They only occur when all three children
are in close proximity." He stopped in mid-stride by the window and pivoted
to face Scully, ready to face her objections.
     "Mulder, that's crazy," she obliged him, tilting her head to the side
slightly, the calmness of her face covering the joy she felt at hearing
sound again like the "Spooky" Mulder she knew and loved. 
     "You know as well as I do, Scully," he argued, "that human spirits can
manifest in a very physical way, especially when they have a live person to
use as a focus, such as Emily provided for Lynn. And there have been
reports that transplantees can be affected by the personality of the tissue
donor. It's not uncommon for them to suddenly share memories or personal
traits. It all makes sense."
     Scully had to admit that it did make sense in a very 'Mulderistic'
way. It would explain the phenomena, but there were a large number of other
theories that could do so as well. While she trusted Mulder's instincts
almost more than she trusted anyone else's logic, she preferred relying on
more 'ordinary' explanations whenever possible.
     "It's possible, Mulder, but it's just as possible that a staff member
is doing the killings and is somehow using the children. Maybe drugging or
brainwashing them in some manner," Scully replied.
     Mulder's response was cut short as the door opened, admitting Lt.
Graber and Chris Corwell. Scully relinquished his chair back to Chris,
walking around the desk to take a seat on the couch near Mulder. Graber
perched on the far corner of the desk, removing his glasses and wiping the
sweat off his nose with a large white handkerchief.
     "It looks like the children Ms. Chen identified were responsible for
some of the bites on Nurse Chamber's body. The dental records were a
perfect match." Graber said, shaking his head. "I thought I'd seen
everything, but this frightens me. What would make children do this?"
     "Something evil," Chris answered tensely, his face tight and drawn in
anguish. "I tried so hard to make sure the children here received the best
possible care. I personally interviewed every potential staff member from
the night janitor to the head surgeon. I had their backgrounds thoroughly
checked and I randomly review them. We conduct regular seminars on child
care. I've done everything I could to make sure that no-one mistreated the
children. I would instantly fire anyone I even suspected of hurting a
child."
     "No-one doubts that, Chris," Mulder reassured his friend. "You did
everything you could. You can not hold yourself responsible for the actions
of a psychotic.  And sometimes they're VERY hard to spot. Scully and I have
learned that the hard way more than once." His face darkened, his eyes
solidifying into solid obsidian. "Besides, I'm not convinced that a staff
member is involved."
     "You said yourself that it had to be someone with intimate knowledge
of the clinic, who could come and go unnoticed." Graber interjected. "It
has to be someone here."
     "Of course," Mulder replied. "It is 'someone' here....well, sort of
here."
     Chris and Graber stared at him in confusion. After a glance at Scully,
whose eyes said 'it's your theory,' Mulder squared his shoulders and began
to explain.
     "Scully and I discovered that the three children involved all received
transplants from the same donor, number F45698E2. I believe he was what
Chen saw. Unfortunately, the kid's files don't have any information on the
donor besides blood and HLA types."
     Graber and Chris spoke at once:
     
     "Number F45698E2...let me see what I can find out. "Chris began to
type vigorously on the computer keyboard.
     "How can that be. The donor is dead, isn't he? You're not seriously
suggesting that his ghost is killing these people?" Graber stared
incredulously at Mulder.
     
     Mulder met Graber's chocolate eyes directly,  his head just slightly
tilted to the side, unsmiling and calm. That was exactly what he meant.
     "That's crazy!" Graber exclaimed, echoing Scully's words.
     "Maybe, but it fits the evidence," Mulder insisted. "The children each
received a piece of the donor's body, when they're together the combined
pull of that tissue may be enough to allow the donor's spirit to manifest
physically. A requirement for all three to be present would explain the
sporadic nature of the crimes, and the duration and frequency of the events
may be increasing as the children regain their strength and the donor
tissue integrates better into their systems. If we could get a picture of
the donor, Chen might be able to identify him."
     "You're saying that these children are possessed, like the girl in
'The Exorcist?'" Graber asked, finding himself drawn in despite himself.
Mulder's calm exposition almost made this seem possible.
     "In a way, yes," Mulder said pacing over closer to Graber. "I
think..."
     "My God, you may be right, Mulder," Chris interrupted, his eyes wide
with shock as he stared at the computer screen.
     "What did you find?" Scully asked, swiftly leaving her seat to stand
beside Chris. Mulder and Graber soon joined her in a tight cluster behind
the desk.
     "The donor is Michael King Harris." Chris responded, tapping on the
mouse to enlarge the information box on the screen.
     "Are you sure," Graber said, his voice rising in surprise.
     "Who is he?" Scully asked.
     "A serial killer, Scully," Mulder replied. "He was killed in a
shoot-out with the police. I consulted on the case briefly. He was
psychotic - near void. Killing was like having lunch to him. A minor
pleasure."
     "How on earth did his organs get transplanted into these children?
Didn't they do an autopsy?" Scully questioned, her blue eyes focused on the
computer screen. Her hand on Chris' shoulder trembled slightly as she began
to accept the possibility that Mulder was right.
     "He was shot by two officers in full view of a TV camera. They should
have done an autopsy, but there was no doubt of the cause of his death. I
guess it got lost in the shuffle." Graber shook his head, his hand
nervously twisting the end of his mustache. 
     Chris leaned back to meet Mulder's eyes. "Apparently he had filled out
the donor section on his drivers' license."
     "A true sense of public responsibility," Mulder replied, his humor
tinged with heavy irony.
     "If this is true," Graber's voice still held doubt, despite his
surprise over the identity of the donor. "What do we do now? We can't
exactly arrest a ghost. And how do we stop the killings from continuing?
Call in a priest?"
     "Maybe?" Mulder said, "But as far as I can tell, the children seem
fine when they are separated. We might be able to end things simply by
sending them home. Their families live in widely different parts of the
country." He pushed the bulky Graber aside and squeezed around the desk
towards the window. The others stood mutely watching him as he stared
fixedly out the window at the palm trees and busy South Florida traffic.
Then he spun to face them, his face shadowed, "The question is, where are
the children now?"
---------------------------------
Third Floor Cafeteria
     
     Nurse Harriet Rolley kept one eye scanning the room as she pushed the
wheelchair containing a pale twelve year-old boy into the small cafeteria.
The children who weren't already confined to the ubiquitous padded, metal
wheelchairs, settled into their seats quietly and quickly. Many had a
drug-induced unfocused stare, others were alert, but subdued. Some trembled
with fever or weakness, others had the bloated bellies characteristic of
biliary atresia or the yellowed skin and eyes of jaundice. It saddened her
heart to see them like this, when they should be out laughing and playing
in the sun. But she reassured herself with the thought that the clinic had
a very high success rate. Just this morning she had sent a boy home with
his parents after a highly successful bone-marrow transplant. He wasn't out
of the woods yet, but  the transplant had given him a much better chance of
surviving.
     She placed the straw-haired young boy at a table not far from the door
and weeded her way around the room, unaware of the three sets of eyes that
followed her every move. Carrie, Jeff, and Theresa remained silent
throughout the meal, mechanically lifting food to their mouths, chewing and
swallowing by rote. Her face shadowed by a wing of dark hair, Theresa's
dark eyes darted in their sockets tracing the Harriet's white-clad form as
she flitted about the room, occasionally stopping to wipe a dirty mouth,
pick up a dropped fork, or check the pulse and temperature of a shaking
child. Jeff sat back in his corner, inconspicuous, his eyes apparently
glazed, his mouth slack. Carrie shrank down in her seat, her small delicate
left hand toying with the end of her braid, her brown eyes focused moving
from Harriet to Theresa to Jeff. 
     Waiting.
-----------------------------------
Third Floor Nurse's Station
Recovery Section

     "They just finished dinner, Sir." A young black nurse, her short hair
neatly cornrowed under her starched white hat, looked up into Chris'
craggy, hardened face. She glanced worriedly at the bulky police detective
standing off to the side, his tan suit accentuating the dark color of his
skin, which stood in sharp contrast to the pale coloring of the two federal
agents framing him. Scully's peach-toned face, surrounded by her rich
auburn hair, was drawn and anxious. The sharp planes and angles of Mulder's
face were stark and cold, his usually generous mouth pursed tight and thin.

     "They should be back in the wards by now," the nurse continued to
explain, her heart beginning to beat faster. After all the deaths in such a
short period of time, it was hard not to be scared. 
     "Which wards are Carrie Lang, Theresa Vilegros, and Jeffrey Fielding
in?" Graber questioned.      The nurse nervously scanned the ward lists,
replying quickly, "Theresa and Carrie and in Ward Six, Jeffrey is in Ward
Seven. They are assigned to a ward by sex and severity of illness."
     Scully breathed a sharp sigh of relief. "They're separated."
     "Do the wards eat together?" Mulder spoke up from behind Scully and
Graber.
     "To some extent," replied the nurse, her eyes wide and questioning.
"We have one cafeteria for the children ambulatory enough to not require
confinement to their beds or I.V. feeding."
     "Where are Wards Six and Seven?" Graber's question was never answered
as a sudden loud scream broke through the clinic air. Mulder was the first
to react, racing down the hall, his long legs propelling him at a faster
pace than the other could match. Scully and Graber took off after him
simultaneously, both automatically pulling out their weapons as they ran.
Chris paused long enough to fire rapid instructions at the frightened young
nurse.
     "Tell security to batten down the hatches. I don't want anyone
entering or leaving the building. Have them get two officers up here on the
double. Page the doctor on call and warn him to stand by in case someone is
hurt." Chris yelled the last sentence over his shoulder as he followed the
others down the hall. 
----------------------------

     Harriet's footsteps echoed on the floor as she walked purposefully
back into the cafeteria. She was reasonably sure that all the children had
been safely settled into their beds in the various wards, but she'd learned
by experience to always check. Letting the door slide shut behind her she
stepped into the center of the room and righted a chair that had been
knocked over earlier. The cafeteria staff had already cleared the tables,
and the room was so quiet she could almost hear her own heartbeat. A sudden
ice-prick of fear chilled her. So much had happened in the last few days,
and she couldn't get the sight of Regina's body hanging like a slab of beef
in a meat-locker out of her mind. Take it easy, Harriet, she told herself.
You're just tired and there's no-one else here.
     Dismissing her fears, she straightened her back and turned to leave
the room. Her breath caught in her throat at a sudden movement by the door.
"Good heavens, children, you startled me!" she cried, pressing a hand
against her chest. After a brief gasp, she relaxed and smiled warmly at the
three small figures facing her.
     "Come on now, let's get you back to your beds," she told them gently,
stretching out her hands to them. They backed up away from her, neatly
blocking the door with their bodies. Their eyes were set like stones in
their impassive faces.
     "What's wrong?" Harriet asked, the trickle of fear beginning to itch
its way up her spine.
     The children didn't speak, just stood watching her like three marble
statues.
     A sudden gust of air brushed the back of her head and she spun around.
Her eyes widened in shock as she watched a small floating cloud slowly get
darker and larger - black, blue and red streams of color mixing and
swirling in one large, bloated mass. She backed up away from it until she
was almost touching the children, never taking her eyes off of it as it
began to assume a distorted human shape.
     Electric currents raced through the room while objects began to fly
around. One table imploded, crashing to the floor in a mass of splintered
wood and metal. Two chairs flew up and crashed against the wall, while
sparks flew out of the roiling tornado. In the center of that mass a
glowing, recognizably human face appeared. Harriet felt her blood run cold
as those icy blue eyes focused directly at her, and a thin mockery of a
smile twisted those evil lips. 
     She screamed loudly as a sudden shove in the small of her back sent
her stumbling towards it, her voice rising into a shriek as her knees and
hands hit the floor. Terrified, she didn't even bother getting back to her
feet. She crawled towards the door only to be confronted by the children.
"Nooooo!" she screamed again as small feet pounded into her face and chest.
     
     Fox Mulder raced towards the closed cafeteria door, praying he was not
too late. Grabbing the doorknob he twisted and yanked with all his
strength. It wouldn't budge.
     "Open dammit!!!!" he yelled, his nerve endings scraped raw by the
terror echoing in the screams coming from behind the stubborn barrier. He
refused to fail this time. Drawing back, he tensed himself, then threw
himself forward with all his strength, using his shoulder as a battering
ram, striking the door. It shuddered, but held.
     "Get back," shouted a voice behind him. Mulder turned and leaped out
of the way as Graber and Scully came running up behind him, guns in their
hands. Scully skidded to halt beside Mulder, who reached out a hand to
steady her. She leaned against him briefly, re holstering her weapon, while
Graber hammered powerfully at the door. It finally gave way, just as Chris
caught up with them, breaking off its hinges and toppling over into the
room.     
     Mulder jumped over Graber who had fallen over on top of the door,
racing into the center of the room. Chris and Scully each paused to each
take one of the heavy detective's arms and yank him to his feet. Once
Graber was fully upright, all three froze in amazement. Harriet was hanging
upside down; her barely-still -attached nurse's cap brushing the floor,
hands desperately trying to shield her face and breasts from the children
who were bludgeoning her with broken pieces of furniture and their feet.
Above her floated a violent raging miasma, centered around one huge
glowing, red-limned, blue eye. 
     Mulder never bothered to stop. In one swift graceful lunge he threw
himself at Harriet, grabbing her around the calves and tumbling her to the
floor, knocking Theresa and a chair aside as they fell. 
     "Get the children out of here!" he shrieked, covering Harriet's
broken, bleeding body with his own. "Get them apart! Hurry!" He continued
to scream, his voice breaking into a cry of pain as Theresa struck him in
the back with a broken chair-leg.
     Scully, Graber, and Chris broke into action, each reaching for a
child. Scully seized little Carrie, who struggled with surprising strength.
"Ouch!" Scully yelled as Carrie bit deeply into her hand.
     Graber knocked into Jeff like a middle linebacker tackling a running
back. The former marine took hold of the boy's right arm and dragged him
upwards, flipping him like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. 
     Chris reached out for Theresa who was still pummeling Mulder's back
and shoulders. She let out a horrific screech as he twisted the chair-leg
out of her hand and pulled her back away from her intended victims. 
     As the three small fights continued to rage, no-one noticed that the
spectral apparition overlooking the scene was growing larger and brighter.
No-one noticed, until it exploded in a bright flash of light and deafening
thunderclap. Adults and children were thrown like feathers across the room.
Scully and Carrie were lifted three feet in the air and dropped. Graber and
Jeff slid across the floor in a tangle of limbs until they crashed into the
wall. Chris and Theresa flew into an overturned table, then were pelted
with a rain of debris. Mulder remained huddled over Harriet in the eye of
the storm, his long arms and legs wrapped around her, her head cradled
against his chest. Only a small whimper indicated that she was still alive.
     The tornado raged randomly for a few moments, then a sudden calm hit
the room. A column of blue light surrounded the small huddle of flesh that
was Mulder and Harriet. Scully groaned and lifted her head just in time to
see a large, white hand materialize out of thin air right above the back of
Mulder's head. Too terrified even to scream, she felt for her gun, never
taking her eyes off the huge spectral hand as it closed into a tight fist,
and  began to descend down towards Mulder's head.
     Wincing in pain she freed her weapon from it's holster and fired
repeatedly at solidified ectoplasm. A load roar shook the room as her
bullets pierced the hand. It shook wildly, beginning to disintegrate,
burping out a few pieces and dribbling a whitish goo onto Mulder. At the
same moment, a bolt of electricity laced out from the boiling mass and
struck her. The weapon fell from her fingers as the skin of her forearm
burned black. Scully cried out in pain and collapsed to the floor
unconscious.
     However, Scully had provided both Chris and Graber enough time to
recover. Each slung an injured child over his shoulder and raced from the
room, nearly crashing into a pair of wide-eyed security officers. Chris
dumped Theresa into the arms of one of one of the startled guards. "Get
these kids out of here, and keep them separated!" he ordered.
     "What??" responded the second guard as Graber strung Jeff's body over
his shoulder.
     "MOVE!!!!!! NOW!!!!!" Chris and Graber yelled simultaneously.
     Bearing their wiggling burdens, both guards backed away, not wanting
to challenge their big, angry boss. Reacting more quickly, the young nurse
who had followed the security officers after completing Chris'
instructions, grasped the arm of the officer carrying Theresa and pulled
him down the hall. "Bring her this way!" she commanded. Chris and Graber
breathed a short sigh of relief as they watched the children being carried
away, before a sudden crash from the room behind them sent them racing back
into the room.
     Chris ran over to Scully who was sprawled on the floor, partially
draped over Carrie. Graber stepped in closer to Mulder and Harriet, staring
up defiantly at the still whirling cloud. Lightning raced around the edges
of it as it continued to float for a moment. Then it began to shrink in on
itself, a deep whine slowly growing louder and higher as fell inward upon
itself.
     "Get down!" Graber didn't even here the voice from below his feet, he
was too astonished by what he was seeing. Mulder reached out to grab at his
ankle. "GET DOWN!!!!"  This time Graber heard him, and reacted instantly,
military experience having taught him that when someone tells you to hit
the deck, you do it.
     Just as Graber dived for the floor the air mass tightened down into a
small pinpoint, then exploded in a fiery flash of light.  A hurricane-force
wind blew outwards in every direction, slamming every object in the room,
people included, into the walls. A wave of sound, like a thousand jet
engines roaring at once shook the building, then screeched into abrupt
silence.
     
     Slowly, Mulder, Chris and Graber began gingerly to move, peering up
under elbows and hands to see if it was finally gone. It was. The air was
clear and still and silent. Slowly they began to come to their feet. Mulder
handed Harriet over to Graber and stumbled over to Scully, panic striking
his heart as he saw her laying a motionless heap on the floor. As Mulder
kneeled down beside his unconscious partner, Chris gently scooped up
Carrie, moving her out of the way. 
     Mulder slowly, carefully drew Scully up into his aching arms. Please
God, he prayed, let her be all right. He couldn't loose her now, not after
all they'd been through. He hadn't even had a chance to tell her he loved
her.  She stirred, moaning as the pain from her burnt hand jolted her
awake. Tears of relief slid down his cheeks as her eyelids flickered and
opened.     
     "Easy, Scully, don't try to move." Mulder whispered to her softly,
smoothing the hair out of her face. "Just lie still for now. You're going
to be fine."
     "Mulder...what?"
     "Its okay, Scully. Its over."
     "The children," she murmured, her eyes trying to focus on his face
through a veil of pain.
     "They're okay, too." he replied.
     "Good," her voice was barely more than a whisper. 
     Closing her eyes she relaxed into his arms.
----------------------------------
Corwell Estate

     Dana Scully looked at the bottle of sunscreen in her hand and frowned.
Two days in the Florida sun and Mulder had bronzed into a deep even tan.
Two days, and she looked like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Raindeer. It just
wasn't fair, she thought.
     "Want me to do your back?" Mulder's voice broke into her thoughts. She
leaned back in the pool chair and found herself smiling up at him. He was
wearing a pair of red swimming trunks with a bright pink and purple
flamingo towel draped over his bare shoulders and a clashing bright green
and orange Miami Dolphins hat jammed down over his forehead. His eyes were
hidden by a pair of Mickey-Mouse sunglasses, but his smile seemed to fill
his face. She couldn't help laughing.
     "Mulder...since when were you a Dolphins fan? I thought you were a
Redskins fan."
     "I am! But I've always liked the Dolphins, too. Don Shula and Dan
Marino. An unbeatable combination!"
     "The 'winningest' coach in all of football," she replied with a bright
grin, handing him the suntan lotion and moving to sit on the edge of the
chair.
     "'He'll beat yours with his'n and his with your'n.'" Mulder laughed,
stepping over the chair to sit behind her. He unscrewed the top of the
bottle and squirted the greasy white cream into his palm. Scully gasped
slightly as he applied the air-conditioner-chilled goo to her sun-baked
flesh. The gasp settled into a sigh of contentment as he massaged her back
and shoulders, his fingers simultaneously gentle and strong. 
     "How are the children doing?" Scully asked, closing her eyes and
leaning back against Mulder as his hands massaged her shoulders.
     "They seem to be fine," answered Mulder. "They all arrived home safely
and their doctors report they are recovering quickly. The children have no
memory of any of the deaths, thank goodness, and the separation seems to
have prevented any more incidents. Corwell Industries will cover the rest
of their medical expenses, and is quietly keeping a close eye on them just
in case."
     "Good," Scully sighed, her ability to concentrate slipping further
away with each stroke of her partner's hands on her flesh. Mulder traced
the length of her spine with delicate fingertips, enjoying the soft texture
of her skin. Her hair glowed a bright orange-red in the sun, and the blue
of her bathing suit reminded him of the matching sea-blue depths of her
eyes. 
     Mulder leaned closer to her. Being able to sit here in the bright
sunshine so near to the woman who meant more to him than life itself,
without an immediate threat hanging over their heads - this was heaven. Or
almost heaven. If only he could taste her mouth just once, he thought,
leaning down to breath in the smell of her hair, a fragrant mixture of
coconut and perfume. If only... 
     He jolted back away from her, fumbling with the cap to the lotion
bottle. It slipped out of his trembling greased fingers and rolled under
the chair. "Damn," he muttered, leaning down to reach for it.
     "What's wrong?" Scully asked, a slight tinge of worry penetrating the
haze of her contentment.     "Just dropped the cap. I got it," he replied.
Despite his nonchalant air, she immediately sensed his withdrawal.
Frustration coiled through her belly.
     "Mulder, please - don't," she said, her voice soft and pleading. She
stood up to turn around and sit down facing him, then reached to pull the
sunglasses off his nose.
     "Don't what?" he asked, pretending he didn't have any idea of what was
she meant. Putting aside  the bottle of lotion, he rose to his feet, still
avoiding her eyes.
     "Don't run away from me, Mulder. We need to talk." She grasped his arm
and restrained him from leaving. With a sigh, he sank down into the chair.
     "Okay, Scully, talk," he said abruptly.
     "I'm worried about you. We used to be able to talk about everything.
But since Michigan, you won't tell me anything. We both know you're not
sleeping and," she gathered up her determination and plunged ahead. "I know
you've been watching my apartment at night."
     "I...unh, Scully, I..." he floundered for a moment, then flushed
slightly beneath his tan. "I'm sorry, Scully," he said softly.
     "It's all right. I'm not angry. At least, not very angry. But you have
to learn to trust me to handle my share of the responsibility and the risk.
We can't function in our jobs if you're preoccupied with trying to protect
me."
     "I don't feel I have to protect you, Scully," he protested weakly. She
looked him straight in the eye, not dignifying that with an answer. "OK,
maybe just a little," he corrected himself, flashing a grin that died
instantly as she continued to gaze solemnly into eyes.
     "Mulder, there are moments when I feel the same way about you. You
scare me half-to-death sometimes. But we can't function as an effective
team if we can't accept each other's ability to do our jobs - and handle
the risks involved."
     His diamond eyes were moist and sincere as he replied, "I know that,
Scully. I do." He leaned back and lifted his hat off his head, rubbing his
forehead with the side of his arm. Dropping the hat by his side, he met her
eyes directly. "I promise I'll try not to be so protective."
     "Good!" she said, reaching up to brush at his hair which was sticking
out in every direction. "Now, I just have to learn to do the same thing for
you." 
     "You don't have to worry about me, Scully," he insisted, though his
eyes slid away from hers.
     "Mulder, you have to admit that you've given me good reason to worry."
She studied his face anxiously. "Are you sleeping at all?"
     "Well, not much," he admitted honestly. "Look, Dana, I know I gave you
quite a fright the other day, but I'm getting better. Really. God knows,
I'll never forget what happened with Claire, but I think something finally
clicked while I was trying to convince Chris not to feel responsible for
the clinic deaths. I suddenly realized I was echoing your words to me." He
smiled warmly down at her, and reached out to cup her cheek with the palm
of his hand. "You're a very wise lady, Dana Scully."
     "Glad you finally realized it," she responded, rubbing her cheek into
his hand.
     "I'm slow, but I get there sooner or later." He gave her a toothy
grin.
     "How about sooner this time," she responded, her heart beating faster
as she closed her hand around his and drew it down to her mouth. Her eyes
sparkled mischievously, as Chris' words raced through her mind: "You can
make it work - together." Maybe it was time to start trying.
     "Scully?" Mulder questioned, his eyes widening in surprise as she
nibbled at the fleshy side of his palm.
     "Yes?" She gave him a teasing half-smile before sliding her tongue
between his fingers. He drew a sharp, almost whistling breath through his
teeth, then as swift as a lightning, he seized her face in both hands and
possessed her mouth with his.
     Scully moaned deep in her throat and reached out to press her hands
against the warm, smooth slightly-furred skin of his chest. She traced her
way over his shoulders, down his shoulder-blades, then back up to finger
the silky darkness of his hair. As she opened her lips to allow his hot
darting tongue to penetrate the depths of her mouth, she locked her arms
around his neck, clutching him tightly against her.
*****
     Chris Corwell walked casually out onto the pool deck, carrying three
glasses of lemonade. When he caught sight of his friends clasped in a tight
embrace across a pool chair, a slow grin crept over his face, until it
stretched from ear to ear. Humming under his breath, he turned and slipped
back into house, his steps light as a bird. After he had safely closed the
door behind him, he deposited the lemonade on a table and laughed. All of
his subtle and not-too-subtle pushing had finally paid off. 
     Moments later, he was reaching for the telephone. He had a faint
memory of seeing a for-sale sign on that nice little adobe mansion down the
street. If he recalled correctly, it had a pool, lots of yard space for
children, and a dock on the canal. He dialed rapidly, another smile
breaking out on his face. The small waterfront estate would make a great
gift. 
     There's nothing like the power of positive thinking, he thought
happily.
     Mulder was going to be furious.

The End