Here's a story I worked on for about 11 months, give or take a few 
months in between when writer's block prevailed. 

The story was finished in January 1997, with weeks of editing during
and after. I can't help myself. Every time I look at it, something 
changes. It was sent out on EMXC and XA some time in March but never 
quite made it to the newsgroup. I've done a lot more editing since 
then, but if you've already read it it's basically the same story.

Summary: Mulder and Scully take a vacation with friends and become 
involved in their very own X-File. Mulderangst galore because it's so 
much fun to write.

The story follows the events that occurred in Sudden Encounters, my 
previous saga, but you don't need to have read that one to get this 
one. 

And yes, M&S are a couple in this one, but it's definitely an X-File 
over relationship. I find couplehood for the dynamic duo very 
convenient. For instance, it lends itself perfectly for nightmares 
(Mulder's, of course). But trust me, there is no mush in here. None 
whatsoever!

A huge, bigger than big, thank you to my cyber editors. Who, I know, 
are grateful I am so painfully slow with this writing thing. A story a 
year is about all they can take from me! <g> LuvPat for her expertise
in everything and the intrinsic analness that rivals my own, to 
Vickie, the Evelyn Wood star pupil for her thoughts, suggestions and 
cheerleading, to Taura, the brilliant and equally 'retentive' 
participant, and lastly, to Sharon, the comma queen, for meeting her 
self-imposed deadline and making the story that much better in the 
process. You guys are great. 
Thank you a million times.

Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and the X-Files belong to Chris 
Carter, 1013 Productions, Fox Broadcasting, etc. No infringement is 
intended. You can have them back when I'm done. Mulder might be a 
little worse for wear, but hey, it's fiction! All other characters and 
the storyline itself belong to me. Please ask me before distributing.

Classification: If I remember the rules, I think it's X, A. I'd say 
it's PG13 for some violence and a sprinkling of bad words!

Please archive anywhere and everywhere, just don't list it as a 
Mulder/Scully romance! (Thankyouverymuch!)

And, I know, I'm almost done, please write and let me know if you 
enjoy the story.


The Bermuda Experiment

by Esther Walker
cenergy@earthlink.net


Chapter One

Fox Mulder was not a happy camper. Actually, had he been camping, he 
would probably be a lot happier than he was right now. Not once, not 
even for a minute, did it occur to him that he would enjoy the 'luxury 
cruise' Scully had talked him into taking.

Yet here he was, on the deck of a beautiful 100 foot yacht, owned by 
Barney Jenkins, one of the wealthiest men in Hollywood, and all he 
could do, all he wanted to do, was lean over the railing and throw up. 
For the fourth time that day. He had been seasick before, but this 
didn't seem right. He shook his head slightly to clear the nagging 
thought that maybe there was more to his bouts of nausea than simple 
seasickness.

He heard footsteps come up from behind and slowly pulled his head out 
of his hands. Heavy footsteps, not Scully's. He sighed with relief. It 
was to make her happy he had agreed to this vacation, if he dared call 
it that in the first place. If she knew how seasick he was feeling and 
just how miserable he really was, it would no doubt ruin her vacation. 
Not to mention the lecture he would get for sparing her the gruesome 
details of his frequent trips on deck.

"Mulder?" He turned around to see Peter Kendall standing behind him, a 
look of sympathy, and probably pity, Mulder thought, on his handsome 
face. It was Peter, the film producer husband of Scully's best friend, 
that had secured this luxury vessel for himself and his wife, Chris; 
she in turn had invited Mulder and Scully. 

In addition to the four of them, there was a handful of crew members, 
or staff, as Barney had called them. The staff was responsible for 
everything from navigating the damn thing to preparing meals, turning 
down the beds and anything else they could think of to make their 
guests happy. Everything but how to ground the yacht in cement, Mulder 
thought wearily.

"Mulder?" Peter was getting a little closer, fearing for his friend's
well-being when he saw how pale he was. "Are you all right?"

Mulder shook his head and closed his eyes, forcing himself to swallow
before he could speak. He nodded slightly, not trusting his voice not 
to waver. "Just can't seem to get my stomach to join the rest of me on 
this thing," he said.

"Are you taking anything?"

Mulder nodded, grounding himself against the railing as another wave 
of nausea hit. "I'm taking Scopolamine. Heavy duty prescription Scully 
got for me before we left, but it doesn't seem to be doing any good."

"No, it doesn't," Peter said, shaking his head in sympathy to his 
friend's discomfort. "Maybe there's something else she can give you. 
You know Dana, she's more prepared than most Boy Scouts."

"No." Mulder put his hand up in protest. "I don't want her to know the
stuff she gave me isn't working."

"Mulder, you don't think for a minute you can go the rest of the week,
sneaking around, puking your insides out every few hours and not have 
Dana know. If you don't tell her she's going to figure it out 
eventually, and then she'll be furious with you."

Mulder managed a smile. That she would be, he thought. "Maybe the
medication just takes a while to get into your bloodstream. Maybe by
tomorrow I'll be fine."

Peter looked at his friend with exasperation clouding his vibrant blue
eyes. "And I suppose," he said, "the subject is off limits. I'm not
supposed to say a word about this to either Dana or Chris?" Peter knew 
the answer before he asked the question. Mulder's glare only confirmed 
it for him. "Fair enough," he said, trying not to come down too hard 
on the weakened man in front of him. "But if you're not feeling 100% 
better in the next two days, I will personally make the arrangements 
to get us off this boat and finish this vacation on solid ground."

"It's a deal," Mulder replied softly, turning to follow Peter back 
inside. "We better get back before they start looking for us," he 
added. For an instant Mulder thought he saw something move in the 
direction of the stairway. Had he been feeling better he might have 
pursued the thought and ventured over for a closer look. Instead, he 
comforted himself with the fact that he was on vacation and not on a 
case, easily dismissing his suspicions.

The two men found Scully and Chris in the dining room, already seated 
in front of a smorgasbord prepared just for them by the master chef on 
board.

"There you are," Chris said, holding up a glass of wine, her brown 
eyes sparkling with a hint of the alcohol. "You won't believe what 
Jacques prepared for us tonight. Pheasant under glass, grilled 
vegetables, rice pilaf with a combination of walnuts and mushrooms..." 
Chris' dark brown, curly hair sat gently on her shoulders and it was 
all Mulder could see in an attempt to concentrate on something other 
than the food. His stomach had done a flip the instant he sat down and 
saw exactly what he had been missing. Her descriptions, in conjunction 
with the scent of food emanating from the room, was almost more than 
he could handle.

Peter caught the color leaving Mulder's face, what little color had 
been there to begin with, but, as promised, ignored it and said 
nothing.

The two men sat down and started serving themselves portions of 
everything. Mulder felt what was left in his stomach turning. He 
really was hungry, and maybe forcing down some food would make a 
difference. Maybe, but he doubted it.

"Mulder, where've you been?" Scully asked in between mouthfuls. She 
was slowly sipping her second glass of wine and was radiating a 
carefree serenity and beauty she seldom allowed herself on the job.

And on-the-job lately had not been a pretty picture. They had been 
tracking a serial killer for three months before cracking the case 
wide open just two weeks before. The killer had been particularly fond 
of widows, killing them with an elaborate concoction of black widow 
spiders, and Scully was deeply affected by the thought that her own 
mother could be a potential casualty of such a madman. They had shared 
many sleepless nights, in her apartment as well as his, going over 
every clue they had on the case until, eventually, they would fall 
asleep, exhausted.

Since their trip to California the previous year, an off the record 
X-File investigation they had taken on as a personal favor to Chris, 
they had been inseparable. Although the week on the west coast had 
been relatively traumatic for everyone involved, the emotions stirred 
during that time had a profound impact on their relationship. The 
realization of their mutual love for each other had only strengthened 
their working relationship and now, more than ever, Fox Mulder knew 
Dana Scully needed a vacation.

A vacation with Chris and Peter Kendall had seemed like the perfect 
solution. Both were two of Scully's oldest and dearest friends and 
Mulder himself had become very fond of them. And the fact that a 
friend of Peter's, a man with more money than he knew what to do with, 
was willing to let them use his yacht to cruise the coast of Bermuda 
for a week, had also seemed like the perfect solution...to Scully.

Mulder wanted nothing more than to please her. And although Scully 
knew he was prone to seasickness he had assured her he would be okay 
with the proper medication. Eager to make the whole thing happen, 
Scully didn't even question his resolve. Which is how he ended up 
where he was, on the second day of an eight day cruise, barely able to 
stand.

"Mulder!" He was forcing a bite of rice into his mouth, willing 
himself to eat it and had forgotten Scully was talking to him.

"What? I'm sorry, Scully. What did you say?" He eagerly looked up at 
her, hoping to forget the mental image of the rich food before him.

"I was asking you..." Scully paused for a moment, carefully looking 
into his eyes, "where you've been." She finished her sentence softly, 
suddenly becoming aware that something was wrong. "Mulder, are you all 
right?"

He quickly thought of his options and decided an outright lie would 
never work. Not with Scully anyway. He glanced at Peter, his resolve 
quickly fading. "Well, actually Scully, now that you mention it," he 
answered sheepishly, "I'm seasick."

"Oh, Mulder," Scully's eyes were brimming with sympathy. "Aren't you 
taking the medication I gave you?"

"I am Scully. I've been taking it 'as directed' since before we came 
on board. It probably just takes a while to get into the bloodstream," 
he added quickly, instantly noticing Scully's demeanor change from 
light and happy to concerned and worried. Precisely what he had hoped 
to avoid by sneaking out on deck.

"No, no," Scully said thoughtfully, shaking her head. "It's pretty 
strong stuff, Mulder. It should be working by now. I didn't realize 
your motion sickness was so severe. I'm sorry."

"Scully, don't." Mulder reached over and covered her hand with his.
"Please. It's not your fault. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. 
This is why I hadn't said anything." His words spilled out all at 
once. He hated himself for being seasick, for not being able to keep 
anything from her.
For ruining the good mood she had attained and so deserved. "It'll
pass," he managed, not being able to look her in the eye. 

"And if it doesn't pass within the next couple of days," Peter added,
trying to lighten the sudden somberness in the room, "Mulder and I 
have decided we'll just make other arrangements for the remainder of 
our vacation.

"A couple of days? He can't go on like this for two more days. At that 
point we might be looking at dehydration, among other things. If it 
doesn't pass by tomorrow morning we have to get him off this ship." 
Scully's jaw was set, her manner fierce and determined.

Mulder cleared his throat in an attempt to remind Scully he was still 
with them. She, however, was on a roll, and was oblivious to the fact 
that she was referring to him as if he wasn't even there.

"We need to get some liquids into him. We need to ask Jacques if he 
has some chicken broth. That should help. For starters."

"I'll go talk to Jacques," Chris said, pushing her chair back. "I'm 
sure he's got something."

Mulder looked at Peter, dread in his eyes. Peter looked back at him 
and shrugged his shoulders. He couldn't help the smile that was 
beginning to form on his lips. Mulder was the victim of two very 
powerful women attempting to control a situation. A situation he, 
unfortunately, was caught in the middle of.

"Chris, wait." Mulder grabbed Chris' wrist as she was backing away 
from the table and heading out the door, in search of the ship's cook. 
"I'm not going to keel over in the next 30 minutes. Please sit down 
and finish your dinner."

"Mulder, it'll just take me a minute to find Jacques and see if he has
anything for you. I'll be right back."

"No Chris. Sit down. By the time you get back your food will be cold."

"He's right, Chris," Scully interrupted. "You sit down and finish your 
dinner."

Mulder's smile was short lived.

"I'll go find Jacques."

"Scully, sit down!" It wasn't often that Fox Mulder raised his voice. 
And to his recollection he couldn't remember ever directing it towards 
Scully. But he had had enough. Maybe if he wasn't feeling so miserable 
the scene unfolding in front of him might have been slightly amusing. 
But right now it was more than he could handle in a civilized manner. 
His heart stopped when he saw Scully's expression. He had startled her 
and as the fear left her face all he could see was the hurt. "Scully, 
I'm sorry." I just can't win, he thought, noticing, as if for the 
first time, the food in front of him.

"It's okay," Scully finally managed. "I deserved that. I was acting 
like you weren't even here. Like..." 

Mulder was out the door, hand covering his mouth, before she could 
finish  her thought.

"Poor guy," Peter said. "I think I'll call first thing in the morning 
and arrange to have a helicopter pick us up. I'm sure there's several 
beautiful islands nearby that would be glad to put us up for the rest 
of the week."

"Good idea," Chris answered, squeezing his hand but looking at Scully.
"Dana, why don't you go ahead and make sure he's okay. We'll be in the
 bar after dinner if you want to join us."

"Okay, great," Scully answered, half listening. She was out of the 
room within seconds.

Once she was on deck Scully was able to find Mulder easily. He was 
leaning against the railing, his head in his hands, when she came up 
from behind and put her arms around him. He shuddered slightly at her 
touch. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't startle me," he answered dryly. "I heard you coming. I'm 
just cold."

"Mulder, why don't we go back to the cabin. I understand if you don't 
want to eat anything, but at least lie down for a while. Sleep will do 
you good."

Mulder started to answer her, to say something sarcastic that would no
doubt hurt her feelings, when he caught himself and said nothing. He 
was smart enough to realize he wasn't mad at her. Or at himself for 
that matter. Just at the circumstances. The truth was, he didn't feel 
well and maybe laying down would help. He almost smiled when he 
realized he was learning to hold his tongue. "You're right, Scully," 
he finally said. "I think I should lie down for a while. Maybe I'll 
feel better when I wake up."

He pictured the wheels turning in Scully's head. She wasn't used to 
him holding his tongue either. After a moment's hesitation she just 
nodded and took him by the arm, leading him to their cabin one floor 
below.

"Scully," Mulder whispered, halfway there, "I am only going to do this 
if you promise to go back and spend some time with Chris and Peter."

"Mulder..."

"I mean it Scully. I feel badly enough as it is about this. I am not 
going to let my motion sickness ruin everyone's vacation. If you don't 
go and try to relax and have a good time, at least for a while, I 
won't go in the cabin. I'll go back on deck right now."

She started to protest, but thought better of it. At least she would 
make sure he was in bed and resting before she went back up. She knew 
that was the most she was going to get from him right now.

Once inside their luxurious quarters Mulder quickly put on a pair of 
sweats and got in bed. He didn't realize how tired he was until he was 
under the covers.

"Mulder, drink this." Scully was handing him a glass of water.

"Scully..."

"Don't argue with me, Mulder. Just drink the damn water." 

Mulder smiled and did as ordered.

"What's so funny?"

"You," he answered, putting his head back on the pillow and closing 
his eyes. "And your bedside manner."

She brushed some hair off his forehead and smiled. "It's a good thing
you're not constipated, Mulder." He made a face, and Scully noticed 
his shoulders relaxing, along with his jaw and the rest of his body. 
He was already half asleep when she kissed him gently on the lips.

"No taking advantage of me, Dr. Scully." His words were slurred with 
sleep.

"You wish," she answered gently. "Now go to sleep."

"You leave, Scully. Can't stay."

"I know, Mulder. I know. I promised." She kissed him on the forehead 
and turned off the light above the bed. "I'm going to leave the light 
on in the bathroom in case you need to..." She didn't bother 
finishing. He was sound asleep. 

Scully quietly closed the door behind her and headed to the bar to 
join Chris and Peter. Mulder was right, she could use a drink right 
about now. 

Mulder...she was deep in thought about the enigmatic man that had
recently become her lover when she walked right into Emelina, the 
ship's Salvadorean chambermaid. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry." She had been carrying a stack of towels that were 
now all over the floor. "Here, let me help you with that."

"It's okay, Miss Scully. I will pick them up. I wasn't watching where 
I was going." Emelina's accent was thick and to make up for it she 
articulated very carefully.

Scully was on the floor, picking up towels. "You're too kind, 
Emelina," she said. "But I'm sure I was the one who wasn't paying 
attention." She  stood up and handed the portly woman her small stack 
of towels. "Are these  for our room by any chance?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I was just headed there."

"Maybe you shouldn't," Scully hesitated.

"Is everything okay, Miss Scully?"

"Yes," Scully smiled. "Everything's fine. It's just that Mul...Mr. 
Mulder wasn't feeling very well so he's lying down. But that's fine. 
He's sound asleep. I'm sure if you're quiet he won't even know you've 
been there."

"Are you sure? I can go in the morning."

"No, no. That's fine. You go ahead. I don't want to throw you off your
schedule."

"Very well Ma'am," Emelina answered, almost saluting Scully. "I'll be 
very careful not to disturb Mr. Mulder."

"I'm sure you will, Emelina. I'm sure you will." Scully smiled at the 
woman  and continued on her way to join Chris and Peter. She glanced 
at her watch. It was a little after 8:00. Poor woman, she thought, 
8:00 o'clock, and she's  still working.

***********

Emelina quietly made her way to Mulder and Scully's cabin, stopping a 
few feet from the door, in front of what appeared to be a fuse box. 
She carefully unlocked the box and found herself staring at a small 
timer in the center. 

The first time she had seen the white timer it had occurred to her 
that it looked just like the one she had on her refrigerator back 
home. She set the timer for three minutes and listened intently as it 
gently clicked away the seconds. Her hand rested against the side of 
the box, ready to close it if she heard footsteps. She had been told 
two minutes was more than enough time, but she didn't want to take any 
chances. She shuddered at the thought of Mr. Mulder or Miss Scully, 
when she was in there, waking up while she was in the middle of doing 
her job.

When the three minutes were up she felt inside her right pocket and 
smiled. She held her breath and quickly entered the cabin. Almost as 
quickly she pulled a cotton mask out of her pocket and placed it over 
her nose and mouth. This was another precaution she was told she 
didn't need to take. But again, Emelina thought, you could never be 
too careful. If whatever was pumped into the room every time she 
turned on that timer was powerful enough to knock out anyone 
unfortunate enough to be in there, who knew what it could do to her. 
She was taking no chances.

Mr. Mulder looks so peaceful, she thought to herself, quickly putting 
the towels in the bathroom before making her way to his bedside. She 
preferred coming in the middle of the night, when they were both in 
the room, but she had been asked to do it as early as possible 
tonight. She went to work immediately, fearing Miss Scully might 
realize she forgot something and
walk in on her.

Emelina quickly pulled the covers down to Mulder's waist and pulled 
his right arm towards her. Feeling inside her left pocket, she pulled 
out two syringes and a cotton swab already soaked in alcohol. She 
found a vein and hastily rubbed the cotton over it. She took the empty 
syringe and swiftly, almost professionally, filled it with Mulder's 
blood.

Mulder flinched slightly and moved his head as the needle pierced his 
skin. She had been warned this could happen: <Although he will be 
unconscious,> they had said, <he can still feel pain.> But even the 
warning didn't prepare  her for the chill she felt. She would prefer 
to think he felt nothing.

She waited a moment to catch her breath, fearful of allowing herself 
even a second, before looking for another vein. 

Emelina held the second syringe in front of her, pushing the plunger 
until a tiny amount of the clear liquid inside squirted out. Quickly, 
with slightly trembling hands, she injected Mulder with what remained. 
She held the cotton over his arm before allowing herself to look at 
him. He was a very handsome man, she thought. And in sleep, this 
peaceful, dreamless sleep she knew he was experiencing, he looked 
almost childlike in his innocence.

Emelina pondered, not for the first time, and certainly not for the 
last, why she had been asked to do this to Mr. Mulder. She had noticed 
him leaning over the railing several times today and had wondered if 
her injections were the culprit. 

She shook her head. She didn't want to know the answers. She was 
already afraid of the questions. She was getting paid very good money, 
enough money to enable her to send for her three children. The three 
children she had left in El Salvador so many years before. 

She didn't need to know what  she was injecting into Mr. Mulder, or 
why they needed a sample of his blood on a daily basis. 

She didn't want to know.

***********
End of Chapter One


Chapter Two

Nine a.m. and Mulder was still sound asleep.

It was a comforting thought to Scully, who had been awake for over an 
hour, reading quietly beside him. She knew the seasickness was bound 
to make him tired and restless, and sleeping in, no matter how unusual 
it was for Mulder, was bound to do him good.

He stirred briefly and Scully thought she heard him groan.

"Hey," she whispered, not wanting to wake him if he wasn't already.
Nothing, no response. And then she heard it again, another groan.

"Nooo." She could barely hear him, his voice muffled by his pillow.

"Mulder?" Nothing. For an instant Scully noticed his breathing was 
becoming erratic, almost wheezy, but, just as suddenly, he was 
breathing normally again. He was sleeping soundly, no trace of a 
nightmare. No trace of anything, just steady breathing.

Scully felt his forehead. Normal. Nothing about the sleeping form next 
to her indicated anything was wrong, but her gut told her otherwise. 
She couldn't pinpoint it, couldn't logically explain why she felt the 
way she did, but something was nagging at the back of her mind, 
something didn't feel quite right. 

Lacking any evidence to validate her concern, she sat back and picked 
up her book. It was nothing, she assured herself.  Mulder's lack of 
sea legs had given him a couple of miserable days and if he wasn't 
feeling better when he woke up, she would make sure they were on solid 
ground as soon as possible. The thought that she could take action and 
provide a solution comforted Scully to no end. She lay one hand gently 
on Mulder's shoulder and continued to read.

***********

"Hello, my friend, we've been expecting you." 

The voice was familiar, but Mulder couldn't place it. The direction it 
came from was somewhere in front of him, but the room was dark, and he 
could only make out shadows.

Someone was holding him. No, two people were holding him, one on 
either side. He was surprised to see he was standing. He couldn't 
remember standing. Couldn't remember how he came to face the man in 
the shadows to begin with.

"Who are you?" His voice was strained. How did he strain his voice? He
wanted to lunge at the shadow before him, but he couldn't. Even if the 
two goons on either side of him weren't holding him back he doubted he 
had the strength to move. What was happening to him? Why did he feel 
so ill? And where was Scully? She had promised to come back early.

"You'll never know the answer to that question," the voice mocked from 
a distance. "But don't worry, my friend, in a short time you will no 
longer care."

"You son of a bitch." His tone was mild, almost weak, and Mulder was
shocked at the sound of his own voice.

It was at that moment that Mulder realized the men on either side of 
him weren't there to restrain him. They were there to hold him up. To 
keep him from falling. 

What the hell? His mind was a jumbled mess. The realization of his own 
weakness sent shivers through every fiber in his body. But nothing 
scared him as much as the fact that he didn't remember how he got to 
that point in the first place. Last thing he remembered was...

"Let him go!" The timing was perfect, and the order coincided with the
release of the young agent. Mulder felt himself falling, too weak to 
fight it, too tired to put his hands out for protection.

"Noooo." His voice was shaky, almost a whisper, but this time Scully 
had been watching him intently and had heard enough muffled cries to 
know it was time to wake him up. Sleep, no matter how necessary, would 
do him no good this way.

"Mulder...Mulder, wake up." She was nudging him gently, and realized 
he had shifted back to an easy slumber once again. No, not this time, 
she thought to herself. "Mulder, wake up."

It took a moment of prodding before Mulder finally rolled onto his 
back and stared up at Scully, confusion clouding his eyes. "Scully?"

There it was again, that voice, strained and distant. Where had he 
heard that voice before? 

The dream. The memory of the dream struck Mulder like a dead weight 
and he couldn't help the sudden jolt his body gave.

"Mulder? You okay?"

Mulder didn't hear her. He was too busy moving his hands over his 
legs, feeling them slowly and making sure he had the strength to move. 
It was just a dream. 

"Mulder?"

"Sorry," he answered, his voice once again his own. "I just had the
strangest dream." He was cataloging the memory while the dream was 
still fresh in his mind. He wasn't sure why, but he felt a need to 
store this one. Intuition had served him in the past, and he wasn't 
going to question it now.

"Want to tell me about it?" Scully was on her stomach, her hands on 
her chin.

"Nah, not now. Maybe later." He was smart enough to know he was still 
too wrapped up in the dream to repeat it without reliving it.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly. 

Unfortunately, it wasn't enough of an answer for Scully, who was 
arching her eyebrows and contorting her face in an attempt to get more 
information. 

"Honest, Scully. I think I'm okay, but I thought so yesterday morning, 
and it wasn't until I got up that I felt terrible."

"Terrible? You felt terrible and didn't say anything?" 

She was hurt. He'd felt like shit for two days, sneaking around, 
trying not to worry her or ruin her vacation while puking his insides 
out and still she managed to make him feel guilty. How did that 
happen? Why did her feelings matter so much to him?

"Sorry," he answered apologetically, still not sure why he was 
apologizing but positive it was the right thing to do.

"Mulder, I just wish," Scully tempered herself, getting angry with him
would only make him feel worse. "I just wish," she began again, her 
tone softer, gentler. "You felt comfortable enough coming to me. It 
hurt me that you weren't well and didn't say anything."

"Scully." Mulder tried to sit up, but the room began to spin 
instantly, forcing him to put his feet quickly on the ground in an 
attempt to make it stop.

"Mulder, I know what you're going to say." Scully sat up and faced 
him."You were going to say that you didn't want to ruin my vacation, 
that you thought it would pass, that... Are you okay?" Scully noticed 
all the color draining from her partner's face even before Mulder 
realized what was happening. When he did, he had just enough time to 
cover his mouth and run to the bathroom.

There was nothing left in his stomach, and so he heaved violently to 
no avail. Nothing came up, but his stomach wouldn't let him stop. It 
was turning and churning, forcing him to clutch his midsection in 
agony.

"Mulder?" Scully had waited as long as she could before coming up from
behind and gently putting a hand on his shoulder. He jerked away
involuntarily, forcing her to step back.

It was a while before the pain in his stomach settled to a queasy roar 
and the dizziness passed. "Scully?" Even with his back to her, he knew 
she was there, hovering like only Scully could get away with.

"I'm right here," she answered softly, bending down to help him up.

"Scully, I'm sorry." His words came out in short gasps. "But I have to 
get off this thing. I..." Another wave of dizziness forced him to shut 
his eyes tightly and hold on to the sink in front of him for dear 
life.

"Come on, Mulder," Scully said after he had regained his balance. 
"Let's get you back in bed." 

Mulder didn't have it in him to answer her, instead he just let her 
lead him by the arm. She was pushing him down on the bed when he 
managed to raise a hand and stop her.

"Scully?"

"Hmm?" She didn't want to make small talk. All she wanted to do was 
find the captain and get a helicopter sent to them immediately.

"I've been seasick before, you know." Mulder was having a hard time 
putting the words together

"Uh-huh."

"But I've never felt this badly. You think there's more to it?"

Scully thought carefully about the question before responding with 
some questions of her own. "Did you feel sick at all before we left? 
Was there anything bothering you, physically, anything at all, before 
we came on board?"

"No." He was dizzy again, and had his eyes closed in a vain attempt to 
make the nausea go away.

"Then I wouldn't worry about it, Mulder. It just seems like a bad case 
of motion sickness." She looked at her partner's pale form and quietly 
added, "A very bad case."

"I'm sorry, Scully."

"Stop apologizing, Mulder. It's not something you can help." Scully 
helped him get in bed and pulled the covers up around him when she 
realized he was shivering. "I'm going to go talk to Captain Bates 
about getting a helicopter out here," she added. "I bet we can be off 
this thing by midday."

"I hope so," Mulder groaned. The slightest movement sent his world 
spinning, and he shut his eyes tightly, wondering again how he had 
managed to avoid such crippling motion sickness in the past.

"Stay put, Mulder," Scully said, hastily throwing on a pair of shorts 
and a T-shirt. "I'll go take care of things and I'll be right back."

Mulder grunted his approval, not daring to open his eyes. "Hurry 
back," he mumbled, but it was too late. Scully was already out the 
door. Hurry back, he thought to himself. Why did I say hurry back? And 
it suddenly dawned on him that he didn't want to be alone. Didn't feel 
safe alone. 

But why? What was he afraid of? 

He tried to turn on his back, but found he didn't have the strength or 
the energy to do so. And then he remembered his dream, the one he had 
so carefully archived for future reference.

***********

Scully was relieved to see Peter and Chris on deck, enjoying the kind 
of breakfast only people on vacation had the time for. She hated to 
interrupt what seemed like a blissful experience, but her concern for 
Mulder overrode everything and she barged in on them like the old 
friend that she was.

"Peter, Chris, have you seen the Captain?"

Chris was about to say 'and a good morning to you too', but stopped 
short the instant she looked up and saw Scully's expression. "Dana, 
what is it? What's wrong? Is it Mulder?"

"No time to discuss it, Chris. Sorry. But Mulder's motion sickness is 
only worse. I'm afraid if we don't get him off this thing soon we 
might be looking at a hospital stay."

Peter was already on his feet. "I'll get the Captain, Dana. You go 
pack. Chris, you go pack for us too."

"No, Peter, wait." Scully had grabbed her friend's arm before he could
get away. "You and Chris don't need to leave. You're having a great 
time, and you need this vacation."

"Who said anything about ending our vacation," Peter shot back. "We're 
in the Caribbean, Dana. Some of the finest resorts in the world are 
probably only minutes away. We'll just have to continue our vacation 
in one of those." Peter didn't bother for a response and was soon out 
of sight.

"Chris..." Scully didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry. I..."

"Dana, stop it. It's not your fault. Or Mulder's. Poor guy, he must 
feel terrible enough as it is. You go pack, and I'll do the same. By 
this time tomorrow, we'll be recovering from a hangover. The kind you 
get from having too much to drink while skinny dipping in the middle 
of the Caribbean."

Scully managed a smile. "I hope so," she said and headed back to her 
cabin.

"Scully? Is that you?" Mulder was in the exact position she had left 
him in, on his side with his back to the door.

"It's me, Mulder. How are you doing?" Scully walked around the bed and 
knelt in front of him.

Mulder opened his eyes slowly, afraid the world would begin to spin 
again if he moved too fast. "Been better, Scully. I can barely move. I 
have zero energy. I think something's wrong..."

"Mulder, you've been throwing up for two days, which means you've had 
no nourishment for two days. Of course you're going to have no energy 
and feel weak. As soon as you're on solid ground your sense of 
equilibrium will come back, and you'll be able to tolerate some food. 
Once your stomach is full you'll be good as new."

Mulder forced a smile and felt foolish for adding his irrational 
worries to Scully's.

Scully managed a smile of her own and playfully tousled his hair 
before getting up to start packing. "Peter's taking care of the 
helicopter, so I'm going to pack and make sure we're ready to go when 
it gets here."

"Where are we going?" Mulder had shut his eyes again.

"Peter says we're surrounded by great resorts, so I guess we're going 
to one of those."

We should have gone to one of those to begin with, Mulder thought, 
forcing himself to concentrate on Scully's voice instead of the 
pounding in his ears. A headache was all he needed to complete his 
agonizing ensemble.

"Mulder?"

"What?"

"I said, I can only find one of your tennis shoes. Any idea where the 
other one might be?"

It was a simple question, one that should required a simple answer, 
and apparently one that she had asked before. But Mulder's brain was 
turning to mush, and he had to roll Scully's words over and over in 
his mind before he could make sense of them.

"Mulder, the shoe."

"Try under the bed," he finally managed.

Scully was beginning to worry. She didn't think anything other than 
the motion sickness had made Mulder ill, but she was now certain it 
had made him very ill. She was concerned a hospital stay might be 
necessary in order to replenish his body fluids quickly and safely.

No use saying anything to him now. Just making him think about his 
missing shoe had caused him undue stress. Mentioning a hospital to 
him, while on vacation no less, was bound to send him into a tailspin. 

No, she would wait on that suggestion. Once he was off the boat, she 
would assess the situation carefully. If he needed a hospital, it 
wouldn't be a suggestion.

***********

"Yes, this is Captain Bates, may I speak with Mr. Jenkins please." The 
middle aged Captain waited patiently to be put through to his boss. 
Jerry Bates had spent 25 years in the Navy before running into his old 
high school buddy, Barney Jenkins, and taking him up on his offer to 
run his luxury vessel. 

It was a dream come true for Jerry, who was injured during the Gulf 
War and had been pulling desk duty for two years. Two years when he 
thought he would go insane. Jerry loved the sea like nothing else in 
his life and Barney had put him out there again, where he belonged. 

To top it off, the yacht was rarely in use by anyone. Barney himself 
was only on it once or twice a year and only occasionally did he offer 
it to friends like he had this week. The rest of the time, Jerry and a 
small crew lived on it in sheer bliss. He pitied the poor fool who 
couldn't enjoy the grandeur of the ocean without motion sickness.

"Jenkins, here."

"Barney, this is Jerry. We seem to have a slight problem." The captain 
was a gruff man by nature, with a minimum of social skills, and 
whether he was speaking about casualties in a war or what he had for 
breakfast, his  tone never wavered.

"What is it, Jer? Is everything okay?" Barney's voice was full of 
concern.

"Yeah, everything's fine. It's just that one of our passengers is 
suffering from severe motion sickness, and all four have requested to 
get off the boat. ASAP."

"Where do they want to go? Where *can* they go?" Barney was mulling 
over the situation.

"To any resort that'll have 'em," Jerry replied. "They want me to get 
a helicopter for them."

"How far are you from Kieran?"

Jerry glanced up at the nautical map he kept behind his desk. After a
moment, he was ready to give a conservative answer. "Four hours if we 
push at full speed."

"Get there in three, Jerry. Peter hasn't had a decent vacation in a 
couple of years, and I don't want something like this to ruin this one 
for him." 

It was times like this that Jerry understood how his old buddy, the 
same one he used to throw hoops with back in Madison, had become one 
of the wealthiest men in America. He could be pushy and arrogant as 
hell, but underneath it all everyone knew he had a good heart.

"Right, Barney, no problem," Jerry answered, almost military style.
Twenty-five years of saluting your superiors were hard to forget. 
"What about staff, Barney? You need any of us to stay?"

"Hmm. Not a bad idea, Jer, if you don't mind. There's some staff there 
now, but this time of year a lot of them are on vacation themselves. 
You can stay on the ship if you want or in the house. Whatever's more 
comfortable."

"I'll stay on the ship," Jerry answered. 

Kieran was just too big for him. The last time he was there he got 
lost on the bike path. Not a pretty sight when he finally made it back 
to the house after midnight.

"Fine," Barney said, ready to get off the phone. You didn't get rich 
by making small talk. "Keep me posted if anything else develops."

Jerry heard the other end click before he could answer him. He had
his orders. 

Now it was time to set sail for the world's largest, privately owned 
island: Kieran. 

Where every detail was painstakingly adhered to in a successful 
attempt to maintain a true balance between nature and the lap of 
luxury. Where a mansion sat amidst the lush tropics that were the 
Caribbean, and where one could spend years without having to venture 
to the outside world. Where people could disappear, and no one would 
ever find them.

***********
End of Chapter Two



Chapter Three

Scully was not pleased when she heard it would be three hours before 
they set foot on dry land. Mulder was clearly uncomfortable, and she 
was feeling guiltier with every passing minute. If only she hadn't 
pushed the cruise as hard as she had. They could have taken a simpler 
vacation close to home, and they'd be enjoying themselves right now. 
Instead, the man she loved more than anything was feeling miserable, 
and she was cooped up in a tiny cabin holding his hand.

At least he finally fell asleep, she thought, looking at her watch for 
the tenth time in as many minutes. Well over three hours had already 
passed, and she could still feel the ship moving, rocking gently from 
side to side. Having spent most of her childhood on or near the ocean, 
this was something Scully rarely noticed. The swaying of a boat hardly 
ever registered on her brain. But sitting next to her partner, 
wondering what part of his physiology made him susceptible to motion 
sickness, she found herself aware of the ship's every nuance. If 
anything, it relaxed her and made her sleepy.

Poor Mulder, she thought, wistfully looking around their cabin. It 
wasn't until the second day on the ship that she realized they had the 
master cabin. Peter and Chris didn't have a Jacuzzi tub in theirs. 
Another guilty pleasure. If only she and Mulder could have enjoyed it.

The knock on the door startled her out of her daydream. "Come in."

"Hi." It was Peter, looking ever the gorgeous film producer in a pair 
of khaki shorts and a dark blue T-shirt that matched perfectly the 
color of his eyes.

Scully recalled the day she met him. It was the first day of biology 
in her sophomore year of college and she and Chris had been too busy 
scouting the room for good looking guys to notice Peter walking up the 
row between them. 

When they finally noticed him, Chris was so shocked she spilled her 
hot coffee all over his leg. His bare leg. He was wearing shorts very 
similar to the ones he had on today and she could still see a scar 
from the scalding coffee. He had been such a trooper that day. Chris 
cried all the way to the infirmary, insisting the whole time that he 
needed a wheelchair. Within two weeks they were going steady and had 
been together ever since.

"We're here," Peter was saying. "How's he doing?"

"Better now that he's asleep," Scully mused. "But he'll be happy to 
know the room won't be spinning any more."

"You need any help?"

"Nah. I think Mulder's embarrassed enough as it is. Let me try and get 
him up and out on his own. I'll come get you if I need help."

"Okay. We'll wait for you on deck."

Scully waited for Peter to close the door before trying to rouse 
Mulder.

"Hey," she said, gently tapping his shoulder while making sure not to 
move him. It was motion that got him here in the first place. "Mulder, 
wake up. We're here."

"Hmm? What?"

"We're at Kieran."

"Kieran?"

He didn't remember the earlier conversation they had had with Peter. 
She and Peter had reacted the same way. Both of them had heard of 
Kieran. Read about Barney's oasis, where no expense was spared to 
create a comfortable paradise within paradise. They had both been 
excited at the prospect, and Mulder had followed the conversation, 
throwing in a comment here and there.

Of course, if she remembered correctly, Mulder's comments were more 
like snippets he threw out for anyone that was interested. Things 
like, "I heard he preserved the jungle. Armed security guards to 
protect the guests from the forces of nature." Probably stuff he had 
read in an in-flight magazine and had never managed to forget.

"Mulder, get up. We'll talk about it in a few minutes. Right now you 
need to put some clothes on, and get off this damn thing."

It took him a minute to focus, but when he was finally willing to keep 
hiseyes open, he realized the horrible nauseousness had passed. There 
was still a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach and his head was 
pounding, but the debilitating dizziness was gone. He sat up slowly 
and marveled at the beautiful sight Scully in focus could be.

"What are you staring at?" Scully couldn't help notice the smile that 
was curling the right side of his mouth.

"You," Mulder said, stroking her cheek. "You're a sight for sore eyes. 
Was I asleep long?"

"No. Just about an hour. How are you feeling?"

"Better," he said, slowly getting up. The dizziness may be gone, but 
he remembered it well enough not to risk bringing it back.

Scully hovered, but she kept her distance. She needed to observe his
movements, his progress, if she was going to make an accurate 
assessment of his needs. If he needed a hospital, now was the time to 
send for a helicopter. Kieran, she knew, albeit paradise, had no 
hospital.

"What are *you* staring at?" Mulder asked, putting on the shorts 
Scully had left out for him.

"Nothing." If he knew how close he had come to being shipped off to a
hospital, he'd never forgive her. "You do look a little better."

"I feel better," he countered. But his movements told more than he was
willing to admit. He was slow and methodical. Gingerly doing what he
needed to do to get out of the cabin and out of Scully's probing 
vision as quickly as possible. 

He was well aware of how close he had come to being carted off to a 
hospital. Hell, for a few minutes there this morning that's exactly
where he wanted to be. But now that he could see straight, literally, 
he remembered how much he loathed hospitals, and he didn't want to 
give Scully any more ammunition than she already had for one day.

"Where's our luggage?" Mulder asked when he was dressed and ready to 
go.

"Julio came and took it while you were sleeping. It's probably already 
on the way to the house."

"Well then, I guess it's time to go."

"Guess so."

Mulder couldn't remember when was the last time he had been so happy 
to see the sun. The confines of their cabin had become claustrophobic 
earlier that day, when he thought he would never again have the energy 
to move. Much less venture outdoors.

"Hey, Mulder, you think it's me? You think I'm a jinx?" Chris was so 
happy to see him she couldn't help but tease.

"My sentiments exactly," Mulder shot back. "If I recall, the last time 
I spent any amount of time with you almost killed me."

"Yeah, well, you gave me a heart condition I'm still trying to recover
from. So we're even, smart ass."

Mulder laughed. It was Chris' sense of humor that had easily won him 
over during their trip to California. That and the fact that she was a 
very powerful woman, like Scully, and just as beautiful.

Just then, Captain Bates arrived with a list of instructions for 
Barney's guests. "Ah, Mr. Mulder, I trust you'll be feeling better 
soon?"

"Starting to already," Mulder replied, still eager to get off the ship 
but certain Scully was still watching him like a hawk. Whatever he 
felt that wasn't right, he would have to keep from her until the 
hospital scare would be too big a hassle.

"Good," the Captain replied. "I'm glad to hear that. I think you'll be
pleased with the accommodations at Kieran, the ground won't sway under 
your feet while you're there."

"You mean no earthquakes? I might as well have stayed at home." Chris 
mused.

"There'll be plenty to keep you entertained, Mrs. Kendall," Bates
continued. "I just have a few guidelines I need to let you know about
before you leave the ship." Everyone's attention was given to the 
Captain. "As you may or may not know, when Barney built his property 
on Kieran he took great pains to blend with nature rather than clash 
with it. To this end, he did a magnificent job, as you will see on 
your trip to and subsequent arrival at the house. What this means to 
you is that wandering around the island in sections that are not 
designated are not necessarily safe. There are marshes and swamps 
complete with crocodiles. Monkeys galore, and although for the most 
part they're harmless, they have been known to attack if they feel 
encroached upon. Not on Kieran, mind you. There has never been an 
incident of any kind on the island, and I'm sure Barney would like to 
keep it that way."

The Captain looked down at his notes before continuing. He didn't want 
to miss anything. "There are bike paths, as well as bikes you're 
welcome to use, and armed security guards that will be glad to escort 
you to any part of the island you may not feel comfortable tackling 
yourself."

"Even areas not designated safe?" Scully's curiosity was piqued. She
couldn't wait to get home and tell her mom where she'd been.

"Yes," the Captain replied, a serious expression on his face. "Even 
those areas. However, there is so much to do on the property itself, 
you may find the week is over before you've had time to venture very 
far."

"Such as?" Now Mulder's curiosity was piqued.

"Let's see..." The Captain was trying to remember everything he had 
seen during his last visit. "Of course, there is a swimming pool, 
tennis courts, sand volleyball court, a complete gym with sauna, 
screening room with hundreds of movies to choose from, the bikes and 
bike path I mentioned earlier, a games room with a pool table, dart 
board, air hockey game, water sports..."

"I think we get the picture," Peter interrupted. "I'm sure we won't 
have time to do everything in a week."

"Right," Bates smiled. "Now, let's get you off the ship and onto a 
jeep for the ride to the house."

Scully could see Mulder's shoulders relax and she couldn't help but 
smile. Just the mere mention of getting off the ship and his demeanor 
had changed. She was still worried about him, but felt a hospital 
wasn't necessary. The fresh air and the many possibilities for romance 
Kieran had to offer were bound to improve his health. She would see to 
it herself.

"There is a staff that lives year-round on the property," The Captain 
was saying. "However, since some of them are on vacation this week 
Barney has requested that the ship's staff stay with you as well to 
ensure your every comfort."

"That's really not necessary," Peter protested. "I'm sure we'll be 
fine."

The Captain put his hand up. "Mr. Kendall, surely you know that 
whatever Barney Jenkins wants, Barney Jenkins gets. And his orders to 
me were to make your stay as pleasant as possible. That includes 
leaving my staff at your beck and call. Now, let's get Mr. Mulder off 
this ship before he has another relapse." 

There was no humor in the Captain's voice, and Mulder got the distinct
impression he had become more of a nuisance than anything.

The others seemed to get the same impression, and followed the Captain
quietly, the rest of their questions left unanswered.

It wasn't until they were comfortably seated in the last two rows of a 
jeep bus that Scully spoke up. She had sensed the Captain's arrogance 
towards Mulder, but left it at that. Arrogance. Her experience with 
her father and his own sea cronies had taught her that men like Jerry 
Bates had little tolerance for anyone with Mulder's predisposition to 
motion sickness. And if it wasn't for Mulder, and the important role 
he played in her life, she would have never given it much thought 
herself.

Still, Mulder felt badly enough as it was, and she wished the Captain 
had been able to show a little more sympathy.

"What I want to know," Scully said, hoping to focus the attention away 
from Mulder for a while.  "Is how we managed to pull an invitation to 
Kieran? The last thing I remember reading about this place was that no 
one had been here, other than Barney Jenkins, for over ten years."

"It's true," Peter said, turning around to face her. "Apparently this 
place was a Mecca in the early eighties for the who's who of the 
world. From what I've heard, Barney used to throw some wild parties 
here."

"What happened to change all that?" Mulder was half listening to the
conversation, wildly interested in the scenery they were passing. The
vegetation was lush, in various shades of green, and every few hundred 
yards he could see a stream that seemed to run the length of the 
island.

"Barney's son, Tom, died." Chris said. "It was very sad, from what 
I've heard. Peter didn't meet Barney until after Tom died. But the 
story goes that Tom was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, and 
Barney spent millions trying to find a cure. He bought a hospital full 
of Swiss researchers and kept throwing money at the medical community 
in the hopes of finding a cure."

"And he didn't," Scully stated.

"No, he didn't," Peter continued. "Tom spent his last year on Kieran. 
It was the place he loved the most, and Barney spent it with him. No 
one has been invited here since."

"Why do you suppose we're here now?"

"Beats me," Peter answered. "Maybe Barney is finally getting over 
Tom's death."

"I think there's more to it than that, honey," Chris put her hand on 
her husband's lap and once again turned to face Scully and Mulder. 
"Barney took an immediate liking to Peter on the set of his first 
movie, when Peter was just a production assistant, and subsequently 
gave him his first production deal when that picture was over. It was 
unheard of back then, still is, really. That kind of thing just 
doesn't happen. Luckily, Peter is brilliant and was up to the task." 
Chris smiled at her husband before continuing. "Peter and I would lay 
awake during that first picture Barney let him produce and wonder why 
us? Why Peter?"

They had arrived at the gates to the main entrance and were waiting 
for security to let them through. The black gates towered above them 
to form a stunning backdrop to everything they had already seen. When 
the massive steel gave way the four guests were awestruck as they got 
their first glimpse of the main house.

Surrounded by palm and coconut trees, the house appeared to be smaller 
than it really was, which only added to its charm. Its pale pink 
facade stood out just enough to form a striking balance between the 
multitudes of color in the gardens that circled the entire mansion. A 
white veranda stretched from either end of the house on the second 
level, connecting four French doors from what appeared to be bedrooms. 
The grounds were immaculate, and it was obvious the property was 
maintained around the clock.

Maybe it was the line of work they were in, but both agents couldn't 
help but tense when they saw the armed guards stationed throughout the 
grounds of the house.

"Hell of a lot of security for a vacation house out in the middle of
nowhere," Mulder said under his breath.

"Hmm," Scully agreed quietly. "Why do you think it's necessary?"

"Maybe it's not. Maybe Barney's paranoid. You can't be that rich, and 
not have *some* quirks."

"Or maybe the threat from the jungle is worse than Captain Bates was
willing to admit."

"Nah... " Mulder was looking at the guards casually, trying not to 
arouse anyone's curiosity. "You can't become one of the richest men in 
the world without making a few enemies along the way. My guess is 
Barney's just protecting what's his."

"Neither thought is really comforting," Scully mused.

Mulder smiled. "Why Agent Scully, you're becoming almost as paranoid 
as your spooky partner."

Scully squeezed his hand and smiled. He had regained some of his 
color, but was still a little too pale for someone who was on 
vacation. She would insist that he take it easy for the rest of the 
day, making sure he got plenty of fluids to fight the dehydration she 
could see had already begun.

They arrived in front of the house and were immediately greeted by two 
men, dressed in all white, who seemed eager to make their 
acquaintance.

"Your luggage is already upstairs in your room," the taller of the two
said. "We will show you to your rooms and then the staff and the house 
are at your disposal."

The guests got out of the jeep just in time to see two more jeeps pull 
up behind them. Emelina was the first to get out. The woman's 
expression was serious, and Scully's heart went out to her. During the 
two days they were on the ship, not once had Scully seen her sitting 
down. And now, as another man all dressed in white came to help her 
with her bag, she fended him off, almost in a panic.

That woman needs to learn to relax, Scully thought, before turning
her attention to the beautiful house and the vacation she hoped was 
taking a turn for the better.

***********
End of Chapter Three


Chapter Four

Mulder was surprised at how difficult it was for him to get out of the
jeep. A part of him had assumed the minute he set foot on dry land he 
would feel better. But then again, that was the part of him that was 
trying to forget the last two days had ever happened.

"You okay?" How did she always know? It was uncanny how Scully 
managed to be there whenever he felt the slightest twinge.

"Fine," he said, giving her a gentle brush-off but a brush-off 
nonetheless.

Scully felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Chris standing 
close, her expression mirroring her own feelings. It was time to lay 
back, give Mulder some breathing room. He seemed okay. He would be 
fine. Chris' smile was all Scully needed to realize it was the right 
decision. Funny, she thought to herself, how close he came to a 
hospital visit just a couple of hours ago.

"This way, please." Gregory, the servant who had greeted them, was 
making his way inside the house and the four guests were more than 
eager to follow. What they saw only enhanced their enthusiastic 
anticipation.

The reception area reminded Scully of a small hotel, complete with 
servants scurrying about looking occupied and professional. There were 
tropical birds everywhere and their chatter blended beautifully with 
the two story waterfall that began on the west side of the room and 
continued down into an incredibly realistic river bank. From the river 
bank came a stream that wound itself around the large room until it 
disappeared from view. On closer inspection, Scully realized the river 
bank, and the waterfall, were real. The house had been built around 
them. It was in a state of awe that she followed the group up the 
stairs. She couldn't wait to go exploring.

The grand staircase was opposite the waterfall and was covered in ivy.

"It's hard to tell where outside stops and inside begins," Chris 
whispered to no one in particular.

"It doesn't seem like outside was ever stopped." Scully answered. 
"This is amazing."

Gregory had stopped in front of the first bedroom, and it caught 
Scully and Chris by surprise.

"This," he was saying as he opened the door, "is Mr. and Mrs. 
Kendall's room." The room was surprisingly large, with a fireplace on 
one end and a Jacuzzi, big enough to hold a group, on the other. The 
walls were painted a pale green and a stunning mural, in the style of 
Rousseau and his jungle themes, adorned the ceiling. The wall across 
from the door consisted of floor to ceiling French doors that opened 
to an outdoor balcony and views of the island and the ocean. Sheer 
curtains offered a small amount of privacy.

Gregory didn't wait for a response. Instead, he simply moved out of 
the way and began walking down the hall, expecting Mulder and Scully 
to follow.

The two agents were busy admiring Chris and Peter's room, and it 
wasn't until they heard Gregory clearing his throat that they realized 
he was no longer beside them. They smiled sheepishly and quickly made 
their way down the hallway to their own room.

Slightly smaller than Chris and Peter's, the room was decorated almost
identically, down to a similar mural on the ceiling. There was a 
fireplace in one corner, but no Jacuzzi.

"Your luggage is in this closet right by the door," Gregory said. "If 
you need anything while at Kieran, please don't hesitate to let us 
know." The young man turned to leave when he noticed Mulder taking out 
his wallet. "Tipping is not allowed on Kieran, Mr. Mulder. Pretend you 
are at a friend's home and put your wallet away for the duration." 
Gregory smiled and disappeared without waiting for a reply.

"So efficient," Scully said, distracted by her surroundings. "You 
notice he knew our names? Very professional."

"Yeah. Kinda spooky, if you ask me."

"What? What do you mean by spooky?"

"I don't know... Something about this place gives me the creeps."

"You sure you're feeling better, Mulder?" Scully was eyeing him 
curiously. "What could be creepy about this place? This is as close to 
paradise as I've ever come."

"Gee, Scully," Mulder teased, putting his arms around her waist, 
"that's not what you said last week in my apartment."

"Very funny, Mulder. I take it you're feeling better?"

"Uh-huh." Mulder was looking around the room. "How come Chris and 
Peter get a Jacuzzi and we don't?

"Because we had one on the ship, and they didn't."

"We had one on the ship?" Mulder whined in mock surprise.

Scully laughed, pulling away from him. "It figures, doesn't it?"

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to unpack before everything gets wrinkled. I didn't do a 
very good job of packing this morning, and I suggest you lie down for 
a while." It was a suggestion, but her voice betrayed her underlying 
concern.

"Scully..."

"Mulder, you're still pretty pale and definitely dehydrated. If it 
wasn't because I know you couldn't keep it down, I would be making you 
eat something right now."

The thought of food made Mulder's stomach turn, and he couldn't hide a
grimace as he gingerly wrapped his arms around his body. Scully smiled
tenderly, once again feeling guilty for all that had passed during the 
last 48 hours.

"I'll make you a deal," she said. "You go sit outside and at least 
rest for a while. Give your brain a chance to focus on the solid 
ground underneath your feet. That alone will make a huge difference in 
how you feel. I'll unpack and then we'll head downstairs and see what 
kind of trouble you  can get into while we're here." She finished with 
a smile, but the expression in her eyes told him to do as he was told.

"Can I at least help you unpack?" It was a mild attempt to refuse her, 
and they both knew it.

"No. Go outside, take a book or something, and just relax."

Mulder sighed, knowing when he was defeated. He pulled the book he 
bought at the airport out of his backpack, along with his binoculars, 
and headed for the French doors. 

It really was a beautiful day and he found himself wishing Scully 
could share the exquisite scenery with him. Leaning against the white 
wooden railing he realized he could see practically the entire island 
from where he stood. 

There were a couple of smaller buildings off to the left of the main 
house, probably staff lodgings, Mulder guessed, and one more building 
quite a distance behind those. Through his binoculars, he could see 
what looked like armed guards stationed in front of the building that 
was furthest away.

Must be where Barney keeps his secret stash of gold, Mulder mused.

He found himself feeling for his gun, out of habit, and held his 
breath for an instant when it wasn't there. It's in my bag, he 
remembered, chastising himself for the paranoia that had crept into 
his life during the last few years.

Mulder turned around and could make out Scully unpacking her suitcase. 
Her efficiency made him smile. He couldn't remember when was the last 
time he had actually unpacked anything when he was on a trip. 
Especially a vacation.

Mulder walked to the other end of the balcony, in search of other
suspicious buildings, he kidded himself, when he realized he was 
standing in front of Chris and Peter's room. The sheer curtains on the 
French doors did little to hide the silhouette of the couple in bed 
together. Mulder smiled, a little envious of their predicament, before 
heading back to a lounge chair in front of his own room.

He pulled up his book and wondered what had compelled him to buy 
Stephen King's The Langoliers. He hated Stephen King. Didn't know why, 
he just did. Something about having to buy something in a hurry, he 
remembered. 

He sighed and began reading, hoping the pain in his stomach would 
subside as soon as he ate something. But the thought of food made him 
gag and he wondered if he would ever want to eat again. It was his 
last thought before falling asleep, two pages into the book.

***********

Scully was taking her time unpacking. Mulder needed to rest. Really 
rest, not that pseudo thing he had tried to do for the last two days. 
She looked out the window and saw him leaning over the balcony. Her 
first inclination was to run outside and make sure he was okay. Make 
sure he wasn't vomiting on the natives below. But she forced herself 
to stay in the room, convincing herself he was being Mulder and just 
curious.

The next time she looked out the window she could have sworn she 
caught him looking for his gun. That automatic reflex she had seen a 
hundred times when circumstances made him a little jumpy. A little 
nervous. What could possibly make him nervous around here? she 
thought, shaking her head at her partner's uneasiness.

She recalled his vacant eyes earlier that morning, wondering if there 
was something wrong with him. Something more than a simple bout of 
seasickness.

It wasn't like him to question that sort of thing. If anything, he was 
the one to always underestimate how sick or hurt he really was. She 
was sure it was nothing more than a severe case of seasickness, but 
promised herself to keep a watchful eye out for any other symptoms. 
What symptoms to look for she had no idea, but she would hover anyway, 
just in case.

Scully finished unpacking and went outside, smiling inwardly when she 
saw Mulder's book on the ground. She had deliberately left him outside 
for an hour and figured he had been asleep for most of it. She could 
see his eyes moving underneath the lids and wondered what he was 
dreaming about as she sat down on the lounge next to him and began 
reading a magazine.

***********

"It is almost time." 

It was that voice again. Why did that voice sound so familiar?

"Time for what?" he shouted, pleased to have his voice back.

"Time for you to reign supreme."

Mulder looked around for any clues that might tell him where he was. 
But the room was dark and only a shadow in the distance told him where 
the eerily familiar voice was coming from.

"Who are you?"

"Soon, you will never forget that," the voice chided. "Soon you will 
belong to me."

"What do you want from me?" Panic was creeping up on Mulder. He was 
strong this time, unlike the way he felt in his last dream, yet he was 
unable to move. Instead, he felt an undeniable force pulling him 
toward the mysterious voice. He wasn't sure he could resist the voice 
for much longer.

"I want nothing from you." The voice continued. " I want to give 
something 
to you."

"What if I don't want anything?"

"You will," the voice taunted.

Before Mulder could respond a bright array of lights assaulted him, 
burning neon images into the back of his mind, blinding him in the 
process.

"Noooo!" Mulder bolted up, hands clasped tightly around the arm rests 
of his chair. His knuckles white from the pressure.

"Mulder!" Scully was by his side, one hand on his shoulder. She had no 
idea he was having a nightmare until she heard him shout and saw his 
eyes, bulging, staring into thin air. "It was just a dream, a 
nightmare."

Mulder's breathing was erratic, and his eyes were wide, terrified, 
looking right through her.

"Mulder, it's me, Scully. Can you hear me? Mulder, try to take a deep
breath." Scully had moved in front of him and was now gripping both 
his hands, amazed at the strength of his own grip around the arm 
rests.

Mulder could hear Scully's voice. Could hear the panic in it, but 
couldn't stop gasping for air to reassure her. He couldn't reassure 
himself. He couldn't see her. Only fragments of neon stood before his 
eyes. He could hear Scully's steady breathing, feel her hands on his, 
but he couldn't move.

"Mulder, talk to me." His breathing was slowing down, but his eyes 
were still a million miles away. "Mulder, please." Scully was stroking 
his face, his arms, his hands, anything to help him calm down.

"Scu...lly."

"I'm here, Mulder. It's all right." Scully was breathing again, albeit
slowly. Mulder was still staring into thin air.

"Scully?"

"Yes, Mulder. I'm right here."

"Scully, I..." Mulder paused, closing his eyes briefly in an attempt 
to make the lights go away. When he opened his eyes he was relieved to 
see  the lights weren't as bright. They were dull shades of pastel. 
"Scully, I'm having trouble seeing."

"What?" Scully was holding his face in her hands, intensely looking in 
his eyes. He didn't flinch when she put a hand in front of him or when 
she waved her fingers back and forth.

"It's better, now," Mulder said cryptically. "It's not as bright."

"What's not as bright, Mulder?" Scully was amazed at the calmness in 
her own voice when all she wanted to do was scream and run.

Mulder sat back, eyes closed, and tried to recall his dream. What 
about his dream had made this happen? Scully was speaking to him, but 
he couldn't listen. He had to remember his dream. Every detail, every 
word. He referenced the dream to the one from earlier that morning. 
The voice in both dreams was the same. But what was it about that 
voice? It not only sounded familiar, but felt familiar as well.

Scully was still talking to him, and he caught the tail end of her 
words just as he felt her stand up. Hospital. He'd heard her say 
hospital. He opened his eyes and fumbled for her hand, catching her 
just in time.

"Scully, wait."

"Mulder, I can't. Something's wrong. You need to get to a hospital."

"No." Mulder blinked a few times, relieved to see the pastels make way 
for a few blurry images. "It's getting better, almost normal."

Scully sat down next to him again and held up her hand in front of his
eyes. His pupils moved with her this time, but slowly. She knew she 
was a blur at best. What the hell was going on here?

"Mulder, something's wrong. Even if your sight is clearing. Even if it
comes back better than before, people don't usually have nightmares 
that leave them vision impaired."

"Scully," Mulder teased, in a vain attempt to lighten the situation, 
"After everything you've seen? Why can't you believe...in the weird, 
the strange, the nonsensical?" Even to Mulder, the explanation was 
unsatisfactory.

"Mulder..." She didn't know what to say. She couldn't even begin to 
figure out what was going on. She decided to take a different tack. 
"What can you see right now?"

"I can make out most of you," he said somberly. "You're a little 
blurry, but I can see where everything is," he smiled.

"Like?"

"Your nose, your eyes, mouth, etc. They're all where they're supposed 
to be."

Leave it to Fox Mulder to joke at a time like this. "Can you see 
beyond me?"

Mulder flinched when he looked in the direction of the sun. "I can 
make out some trees in the background," he answered quietly. "But the 
sun is, um, a little painful to look at." Painful was an 
understatement.

"Mulder, I want you to close your eyes for a minute. Don't open them 
until I tell you to."

Mulder nodded and did as he was told.

Scully looked at her partner curiously. She had read cases of patients 
with severe psychosis who would wake up from a nightmare screaming 
that they couldn't see. At first they had suspected pure hysteria was 
the cause, but further studies had concluded that the patients 
actually suffered a temporary sight loss. Additional studies 
identified the actual stress signals the brain sent when this event 
occurred and had proven that the response could only happen in the 
presence of an odd combination of drugs.

The type of drugs that individuals with both severe physical and 
mental handicaps might need. Looking over at Mulder's tight features, 
she shook her head. Certainly, he was nothing like the persons 
identified in those studies.

Scully looked at her watch and made him sit, eyes closed, for two 
minutes. The tension in Mulder's face betrayed the calm fa‡ade he was 
putting on, no doubt for her benefit. The fact that he had stopped 
making jokes, had actually stopped talking altogether, told her he was 
as concerned as she was.

"Okay, Mulder," she said, her hands placed reassuringly on his 
own."Open your eyes slowly."

Mulder hesitated. Too many thoughts had crowded his brain for 
attention during the last couple of minutes, and he was still trying 
to sort them and figure out what the hell was going on. He leaned 
forward and opened his eyes slowly, blinking a couple of times, 
forcing himself to focus.

Neither one said anything for a few seconds. Mulder's expression gave
nothing away.

"Well?"

"You're a little sharper," Mulder admitted. "But not much." He leaned 
back and closed his eyes again. "Let me just sit here for a few 
minutes, Scully. I think it's going to be fine."

"Mulder, you need to be seen by a doctor. Something is not right. You 
might have a head injury. Maybe even..." she paused, now was not the 
time to frighten him. But then again, she knew how stubborn Mulder 
could be. She had to make him understand where she was coming from. 
"Mulder," she started again, "you might have some kind of brain 
tumor."

Mulder didn't move, didn't flinch, and refused to open his eyes. 
"Scully," he answered calmly, "a brain tumor would be prefaced by 
severe headaches. For days if not weeks."

"Not necessarily, Mulder. I've..."

"It's not a brain tumor, Scully," Mulder interrupted. "Whatever it was 
it probably has to do with the state I was in when I fell asleep. Who 
knows," he ventured, "the last couple of days have certainly taken 
their toll physically. They were bound to affect the psyche." Mulder's 
voice trailed off. He wasn't buying it himself and certainly didn't 
think Scully was.

When he opened his eyes again he was pleased to see everything was 
clearer. Only the outer fringes of his sight were still a blur. He 
forced himself to smile. Reassurance for both of them.

"I take it, it's better?" Scully was not happy.

Mulder nodded, mindful to avoid looking in the direction of the sun.

"Mulder, I can't let this go," Scully began again. "For my own peace 
of mind, I need you to be seen by a doctor."

"I'm sorry Scully, but I can't do that. Let me rephrase that. I won't 
do that. I'm on vacation and for the first time in two days I'm 
feeling okay. Not great, but okay. Certainly well enough to stay away 
from a bunch of doctors and a hospital."

"But, Mulder, you have to see a doctor."

"No," Mulder said, a little more forcefully than he intended to. "I 
don't have to do anything."

"Mulder, I'm worried about you. Can't you see there is something wrong 
with..."

"Damnit Scully!" Mulder was up and out of the chair instantly, an 
action he regretted as soon as the room began to spin. Scully stood 
when she saw him sway, but Mulder held his hand up, effectively 
keeping her at a distance.

"I don't need you to mother me," he said, swallowing the dizziness. "I
asked you this morning if you thought there was something else wrong 
with me besides being seasick, and you said no. I believed you. Still 
do. I had a nightmare. It happens. God knows it happens. They're 
usually intense, and this one was no different."

"But Mulder, it was. Unless you've been waking up blinded for a while 
now, I'd say this nightmare was different. It probably wasn't even a 
nightmare. It was probably a physical manifestation of something else 
going on..."

"Look," Mulder said, angrier than he could remember being in a long 
time. "I've had it with all this crap. I've had two miserable days and 
I only went on the damn ship in the first place to make you happy. 
Now, make me happy and leave me alone." 

He regretted his words the minute they left his lips, but it was too 
late.

The pained expression on Scully's face only confirmed his fears. She 
stared back at him, mouth open in shock, fighting back tears. Mulder 
turned and headed inside, stopping briefly at the French doors to look 
at Scully.

"Please don't discuss this with Chris and Peter."

Scully nodded numbly and watched him disappear into the room. A few 
seconds later she heard the door to the room open and shut. Slowly, 
Scully gathered herself and her thoughts and went inside. She sat on 
the bed and quickly went through her options, easily dismissing her 
battered feelings. She knew Mulder regretted what he had said, just 
like she knew he would berate himself for it for days, if not weeks, 
to come. It was time to assess the situation objectively and 
clinically.

Scully began by reviewing the events of the last two weeks, forcing 
her mind to recall every conversation she and Mulder had shared. Every 
action her partner had taken during the dreadful case of the Black 
Widow Stalker. She was searching her mind for something, anything at 
all that might have indicated something physically adverse was 
happening to Mulder.

Although the case had been hellacious, it was an emotional hell they 
had endured. Other than a lack of sleep, neither one had suffered 
physically in any way. She wracked her brain but came up with nothing. 
Nothing about Mulder's attitude or physical presence jumped out at 
her. If anything, he had been much calmer since they had started 
seeing each other. She couldn't remember when was the last time he had 
even had a nightmare.

Could everything that was happening stem from a bad case of motion
sickness? Maybe it was the Scopolamine. Maybe Mulder had a sensitivity 
to the drug they didn't know about. Certainly that would account for a 
lot of the physical problems. But the nightmare, the sudden blindness. 
Nothing could account for that.

Scully leaned back on the bed and closed her eyes. I don't have a lot 
of options, she thought dryly. Dragging Mulder to a hospital, when he 
didn't want to go, would be near impossible. And doing what she had to 
do to  make it happen would probably end their relationship. As 
friends, as lovers, and ultimately as partners. She resigned herself 
to hovering, her only viable option. Scully opened her eyes and looked 
around the luxurious suite, wondering where her partner had gone. 
Hoping that wherever he ended up, he would be smart enough to stay out 
of trouble.

***********
End of Chapter Four



Chapter Five

The suite had felt stifling and Mulder knew he would have to leave
before he said something neither he nor Scully could ever forgive him 
for.

His sight wavered a little when he had first stood up but was now
fairly clear, only his peripheral vision was still poor and he had to 
turn his head in order to find the handrail on the staircase. A few of 
the servants smiled when they saw him and he smiled in return. Gregory 
was standing at the front door when he arrived.

"Mr. Mulder, can I get you anything?"

"No, thanks," Mulder answered hastily. "I thought I would go for a 
walk, if that's okay."

"Absolutely," Gregory replied, bright even teeth showing when he 
smiled."Just make sure to stay on any of the cobblestone paths, 
there's hundreds throughout the island. That way you'll easily find 
your way back to the house and um," Gregory paused, "stay out of
the jaws of nature."

Mulder looked at him, eyebrows raised, "Jaws of nature?"

"Mostly overly eager monkeys, really," Gregory answered, still 
smiling. "We had some guests a few years ago venture into the center 
of the island only to be terrified by a pack of harmless monkeys 
wanting to have some fun." Gregory laughed at the memory. 
"Unfortunately, the guests didn't find any part of their experience 
amusing and since then Mr. Jenkins has been very specific about where 
his guests can and cannot go."

Mulder nodded. "No arguments from me," he said, going through the door
Gregory had already open. "I'm sure the cobblestone paths will provide 
more than I need." Mulder forced a smile and was on his way, leaving 
Gregory wondering about the man's purpose.

Once outside Mulder couldn't help but notice the beauty of the island.
Every inch looked exotic and he found himself laughing inwardly. What 
about an unspoiled island wouldn't look exotic to someone who lived 
and worked in the nation's capital.

Instinctively, Mulder headed in the direction of the building he had 
seen from the balcony. The building with the armed men posted in 
front. Having a purpose on his walk forced him to put his concerns 
over Scully's feelings and his physical state aside. He needed time to 
clear his mind, breathe some fresh air and try to put everything that 
had happened into perspective.

If he had the strength he would go for a jog. That always helped just 
about anything. But a jog right now would probably kill him, he mused. 
His peripheral vision was still not what it should be and he was 
turning his head from side to side constantly, trying to make out the 
unusual sounds that surrounded him. He had yet to see any animals, but 
had encountered enough tropical birds to deem the island part aviary.

It was a slow 10 minute walk before Mulder found himself in front of 
the first two buildings he had seen from the balcony. Both buildings 
had two stories with lots of windows throughout. Behind them was a 
large playground, complete with swings and slides. Mulder caught up to 
a young  woman leaving the building and easily struck up a 
conversation.

"Hi," he said.

"Hello." The young woman was in her early twenties and quite 
beautiful, with long dark hair and large brown eyes.

"I'm visiting the island. Just got here this morning."

"Yes, I know," she answered. "I saw you arrive. Can I help you with 
anything?"

"No, not really," Mulder answered. "I was just going for a walk and 
thought I might be lost," he lied. "What building is this?"

"This is where all the servants live," the woman answered.

"These buildings are huge," Mulder said, exaggerating his surprise. 
"How many people does it house?"

The woman smiled, the kind of friendly, unhurried smile people raised 
in the Caribbean were so easy to offer. "There are over 100 employees 
on the island. Most of them couples with families," she said. "The 
buildings each have about 30 rooms in them with communal bathrooms and 
kitchens."

"That's a lot of staff for a little island."

"It may be a little island," the young woman replied, "but there is 
always so much to be done."

"I bet. From the looks of it everyone is doing a great job." The woman
smiled at the compliment. "Are there any other buildings besides these 
two and the main house?" Mulder added nonchalantly.

"No."

"I thought I saw a building near here from my balcony."

"Oh, yes," she answered quickly. "That's just a storage building. 
Hardly anyone ever goes in there."

"Storage?" Mulder felt the woman's smile fading. He was pushing his 
nosy tourist luck and he knew it.

"That's what I've been told. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm running 
late for my shift."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mulder apologized sincerely. "It was nice meeting 
you..."

"Anna."

"Anna. I'm Fox Mulder. I hope I see you around."

Anna smiled and disappeared to his right.

Mulder continued along the cobblestone path in the direction of the
windowless building, until the cobblestones veered to the left, a
direction he knew would not  take him where he wanted to go.

Decisions, decisions, he thought to himself. At this point he was 
still feeling pretty shaky, hungry, and irritable. Not doing as he was 
told was only par for the course. How much worse could things get? He 
ignored this last thought and gingerly stepped off the path, putting 
his left foot down slowly, almost anticipating the blaring of alarms 
to echo throughout the island as he did so. Satisfied that nothing had 
been set off, that quicksand wasn't around the corner, Mulder 
continued his trek off the marked path, into uncharted territory.

***********

"This can't be. Something is wrong!" The tall man's thick accent 
became harder to understand when he raised his voice, forcing the 
young woman before him to strain in order to make any sense out of his 
words. "Where did you get this?"

"From Emelina." The young woman stared at the ground as she spoke.

"You stupid bitch," the man shouted and the woman attempted to blend 
into the walls. "Something is wrong with this blood. Did you drop it 
on your way here?"

"No." The young woman could barely contain her tears. "I got it from
Emelina in the sealed container I gave you." The woman felt her hands 
begin to shake. She had seen the German lose his temper on several 
occasions and she didn't care to witness it again.

"God damn it, can't trust anyone to do a decent job these days." The 
man moved away from the young woman, his contempt for her clearly 
visible on his dark features. Deep down he knew she had done nothing 
to his current blood sample, but the implications of the alternative 
were more than he could fathom. Too many years and too many lives had 
already been wasted perfecting the procedure and now, when he was so 
close to achieving his goal, a misstep would surely cost him dearly.

He turned back to his microscope and once again stared at the blood on 
the slide. He shook his head and looked at it again. For two days now 
he had seen the same thing, and it reminded him of the first blood 
samples he had taken so many years ago. So many helpless victims 
before this one. Before his own genius had perfected the formula.

Whatever had gone awry needed to be corrected immediately, before the
entire project unraveled before his eyes. Before his became one of 
many lives destroyed on the island of Kieran.

***********

Mulder was beginning to think he had made a wrong turn when he 
discovered the windowless building, no more than 40 feet from where he 
stood. It was a simple, square building, gray and dour looking, and it 
stood in sharp contrast to the architecture on the rest of the island. 
The dwelling had been constructed amidst a dense part of the island, 
making it easy to miss from a short distance.

Mulder counted two men armed with hunting rifles standing near the 
building.

"Damn, Mulder, get a grip," he whispered under his breath. "You're on
vacation." Anna had told him it was a storage facility. Logic told him
Barney was simply protecting what was his. Intuition made him wish for 
his gun.

What could be so important that Barney Jenkins would have to protect 
with armed guards? On his own private island? Especially if what Peter 
had said was true. If no one but Barney and the staff had been on the 
island in the last 10 years. Maybe Barney didn't trust his staff to 
stay out of his liquor cabinet. Mulder was tossing several scenarios 
around when he saw  the door to the building open and a visibly shaken 
Anna walk out.

"Okay, this isn't helping the paranoia," he whispered to no one in
particular. Anna had implied that she had never been in the building. 
That she only knew it was a storage facility from what she had been 
told. Why had she lied? And what was she so upset about?

Mulder decided to follow the young woman. He rubbed his temple,
hoping the action would miraculously restore the rest of his sight, to 
no avail. 

Anna was walking at a steady pace, like someone who needed to get away 
but didn't want to arouse any suspicions, and Mulder forced himself to 
ignore the issue with his sight in order to keep up with her.

The brush and vegetation towered over both of them and it was easy for 
Anna to be followed without her knowledge. The young woman was 
obviously upset and distracted as she slowly distanced herself from 
the building.

Mulder had a feeling she was headed home, to her room in the servant's
building, and realized unless he made himself known, he would never 
find out what was going on.

He decided to run ahead of her and summoned what strength he had left 
to jog through the brush. Just as he had hoped, Anna was so 
preoccupied, she didn't notice anything until she came upon him tying 
his shoes. His appearance made her gasp and the shock was obvious.

"Hi," Mulder said, looking up and smiling. "I'm sorry. Did I scare 
you?"

"No, uh, well..." Anna was struggling in a valiant effort to keep her
composure. "I'm sorry. It's just that, well, we don't get a lot of
strangers on the island. And...the path..." Anna's voice trailed off 
as she looked helplessly around her for a way out of the conversation. 
Out of the area altogether.

"I know, the path," Mulder said innocently. "I saw the most incredible 
red bird heading in this direction. I was hoping to get a picture of 
it but by the time I found it I remembered I'd left my camera back at 
the house." Mulder sighed for effect. "Then I realized I'd left the 
path and, um, think I got myself lost." He smiled sheepishly, hoping 
his attempt at innocence was endearing him to the frightened young 
woman that stood before him.

"It's easy to get lost around here if you don't know where you're 
going." Anna answered matter of factly.

"Were you coming from the house?" Mulder asked, pointing to the 
direction Anna had come from.

"No," Anna answered quickly. "No, I was just heading to the house."

"You said earlier you were going to be late for your shift. Do you 
work on the grounds? Outside?"

"No! I mean," Anna stammered. "I work in the house. I was just, um, 
running an errand." It was obvious Anna was lying and whatever she was 
covering up was making her uncomfortable.

Mulder wasn't sure how far to push it, or whether in the end whatever 
was going on with the young woman concerned him at all. For all he 
knew she had just had a fight with her boyfriend. Certainly nothing 
that would be any of his business.

He tried to dismiss the nagging thoughts that were making him 
suspicious and reminded himself he was on vacation. "You mind if I 
walk with you back to the house?"

"No," Anna answered slowly. "That would be fine."

Mulder nodded amiably and began walking beside her. Whatever was going 
on, she didn't want to share. He decided to try another angle. 

"So what exactly do you do on the island?" he asked. "What's your 
job?"

"What?" He might as well have accused her of murder, her reaction to 
his trite question was so extreme.

The rise in her voice caught him by surprise but Mulder managed to 
ignore it and continued. "Do you work in the kitchen? In housekeeping? 
In..."

"Housekeeping," Anna interrupted, a little calmer. "I'm responsible 
for the public areas, like the atrium and the... Are you all right?"

Mulder had stopped walking and was leaning heavily against a tree, his 
eyes shut tightly.

"Mr. Mulder, is everything okay?" Anna's voice was edgy, concern and 
fear blending into one.

Mulder couldn't answer her. One minute he was asking questions, 
listening to her half answers and the next his head was pounding and 
neon lights were flashing through it. Just like in his dream. Except 
this time, he wasn't dreaming.

"Sir, should I go get some help?" Anna couldn't believe this was 
happening to her. First, she had to endure the daily humiliation from 
the German, and now this kind guest, this innocent looking man, had 
become ill right in front of her. 

After three years of working in the lab she had seen enough to 
understand the implications of Mr. Mulder's sudden 'attack.'  But this 
man was nothing like the others. Why him?

Mulder swayed a little, and Anna reached out to him, steadying him 
with one hand and gently pushing him down to the ground with the 
other. His eyes were still closed.

"Mr. Mulder, we're not very far from the house, I'm going to go get 
help."

"No." Mulder pulled his knees up and buried his head between them. 
"I'm fine," he said. "I just got a little dizzy."

"But Sir..."

"Really, I'm fine." Mulder kept his head buried between his legs and 
his voice was muffled. "I've been told I'm hypoglycemic," he offered, 
"and I haven't really eaten anything in a couple of days. That's all. 
I'll be fine as soon as I eat something."

"Should I go and get you some food? Some hot tea?" Anna felt her anger
rising. She had never had a conversation with any of the others. Had 
never really seen them except from a distance. But this man had smiled 
at her. Had treated her well. And was obviously completely unaware 
that he was the object of a madman's quest. The others had all been 
criminals paying their debt to society. At least that is what she had 
been told.

Mulder pulled his head up and slowly opened his eyes. Anna was 
kneeling in front of him, inches away and a total blur. He closed his 
eyes again as he spoke to her.

"Anna, I'm fine. I think I could find my way to the house from here. 
Why don't you go on ahead. I don't want you to get in trouble for 
being late."

"I won't get in trouble," she whispered. "You're a guest. The rule is,
guests come first." Truth be told, she had never seen a guest on the 
island before today.

Mulder continued to argue with her, the whole time keeping his eyes 
closed, until he gave up and leaned against the tree. "Suit yourself," 
he finally said. "But I may be a while."

"It's okay," Anna answered softly. "I can wait." She sat across from 
the man who refused to open his eyes and stared intensely at his face. 
She found him very handsome, which only fueled her anger. Maybe he 
wasn't part of the equation. Maybe he really was hypoglycemic and was 
just suffering the effects of an empty stomach. She half smiled when 
she realized she was trying to rationalize her way out of the truth. 
She might be young, but she wasn't stupid. She sat on her hands in an 
effort to keep them from shaking and waited for the man in front of 
her to open his eyes.

Mulder's thoughts were racing. Whatever was happening to him was not
normal. Once, after a nightmare, was disconcerting enough. But he had
experienced the spectrum when it came to nightmares and the blinded by 
the light scenario hadn't concerned him very much. The mind was 
capable of many things, and if someone could die from fear then 
certainly he could experience alteration in sight from a terrifying 
nightmare.

But this time around there was nothing happening to send his brain 
into overdrive. If anything, he was starting to feel better. Better 
than he had felt in nearly 48 hours. But the lights came, out of 
nowhere, to throw him into a tailspin once again. 

Was Scully right? Could he have a brain tumor? He did feel a sharp 
pain in his left temple right before he saw the light. But now it was 
just a mild throbbing. Not the intense pain he would expect if he had 
a tumor. No, he was fairly certain it wasn't a tumor. But he was 
certain of little else, other than the fact he would sit there, 
underneath the tree, for as long as it took him to regain his sight. 
He refused to give Scully anything else to worry about.

***********
End of Chapter Five



Chapter Six

It had been over two hours since Mulder had stormed out of the room. 
Well, maybe not stormed, Scully thought sullenly. Walked out with a 
purpose was more like it. That purpose, she knew, was not so much to get 
away from her as to keep *himself* away from her.  To her dismay, no 
matter what might be happening to him, Mulder always managed to think of 
her first. She was about to go looking for him when she heard the door 
open.

Scully looked him over casually, in search of any signs of wear and tear,
before allowing herself to say anything. When she realized he was fine, it
was difficult to contain her anger.

Mulder smiled sheepishly and walked inside. It was so easy for him to read
her that he instantly felt guilty. "I, um...sorry," he finally said. "I
didn't mean to worry you, but I just needed to get out. I feel like I've
been cooped up in one room or another for days, and, I don't know, it
seemed like the right thing to do at the time." He gave her an apologetic
grin and shrugged his shoulders.

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay."

"How's your sight?" Simple questions, Scully reminded herself, trying to
keep her anger in check.

"That's okay too," Mulder answered. "My peripheral vision is still not
where it should be, but it's getting there." He decided he was better off
giving her a few details rather than glossing over everything. If his sight
faltered again, chances were Scully would be with him, making it almost
impossible to keep it from her. He decided to cross that bridge when and if
he got to it.

"Mulder, I know you don't want to go to a hospital, but..."

Mulder put a hand up. "Scully, please. We've already been through this.
I appreciate..." There was a knock on the door before Mulder could finish.

"Hey you two, what do you say we go downstairs and check this place 
out?" Chris' voice was the excuse Mulder needed to get out of the 
conversation. Without looking at Scully he opened the door and let Chris 
and Peter in.

"What'd you have in mind?" Mulder asked.

"We thought maybe we'd get some bikes and ride around the island," Peter
answered.

"How are you feeling, Mulder? You feeling better?" Chris was giving him 
the once over, just like Scully had moments before.

"I'm fine, Chris," Mulder answered, ignoring the look on Scully's face as he 
continued. "A bike ride sounds great. Scully, you up for it?" Mulder wasn't 
sure he was up for the excursion so soon after his last attack, but he was tired 
of all the unwanted attention and couldn't bear to be the focus of everyone's 
concern any longer.

Scully was exasperated, but she knew continuing the discussion about the
hospital would get her nowhere. "Let me get my shoes on," she sighed.

Chris picked up on Scully's mood immediately, but Peter, in an animated
conversation with Mulder about the adventures that awaited them, was
oblivious that anything was wrong.

It was an hour later, on their way back from exploring, before Chris had a
chance to ask Scully what was going on. By this point she had picked up
enough clues to know for sure something was wrong. Scully had been 
fairly removed from most of the conversations and seemed to be watching 
Mulder like a hawk. More so than usual.

"So, Dana," Chris finally said, slowing down to distance herself from 
Mulder and Peter. "What's going on?"

"Hmm?" A quick glance at her friend and Scully knew she would be hard
pressed to lie. But she would try anyway, for Mulder's sake. "Nothing,
really."

"Yeah, right. Let's try again. So, Dana, what's going on?"

Scully smiled for the first time in hours. There was no mincing words
around Chris and she decided, in spite of Mulder's request, she could use
someone to confide in. "Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Mulder took a 
nap earlier, had a nightmare, woke up and couldn't see."

"What?"

"I'm serious, Chris. He woke up from a nightmare and he couldn't see."

"But...how? I mean..." Chris was at a loss. "Does that happen? I've never
heard of...but..."

"I guess it happens," Scully answered quietly. "Although it isn't something 
I'm familiar with."

"But now he's okay?"

Scully shrugged her shoulders. "I guess so. I don't know. He seems okay.
But I'm worried. He stormed out of the room when I suggested he go to a
hospital to be checked out."

"Yeah, I could see that one going over well." Chris was thoughtful for a
moment. "You think he's coming down with something? Maybe he wasn't 
seasick after all."

"I don't know what I think anymore," Scully said matter of factly. "All I
know is I wish we were back home. Fighting mutants and looking for little
green men."

Chris laughed, but stopped suddenly when she saw Scully's expression.
Following her line of sight, she realized that Mulder and Peter had left
the bike trail and had disappeared. "Where'd they go?"

"This way," Scully answered, leaving the path herself to follow them. Chris
had no choice but to follow.

"What the hell are they doing?" Chris was not amused. "We were given
specific guidelines as to where we could and couldn't go. Don't you think
those rules were for our own safety?"

"Probably," Scully said, intent on catching up to the two men. "But rules
never stopped Mulder before. Come to think it," she said, looking at Chris,
"they never stopped Peter before either."

"Yeah, well...hey guys," They had caught up to them, but Chris was 
shouting for effect. "Where the hell are you going?"

Both men stopped riding, and Mulder quickly turned around and put a 
finger over his mouth. "Shhh."

"What's going on?" Scully was still too angry to say much and decided to
just sit back and listen.

"When I went for a walk earlier I spotted this odd building near here. No
windows and a couple of armed guards posted in front. I thought maybe 
we'd check it out."

"Check it out for what?" Chris was a little incredulous.

"I don't know." Mulder was still whispering. "Don't you think it's odd? 
No one but staff has been on the island for years and Barney's got armed
guards in front of a building that looks like a warehouse?"

Chris looked at Peter, who was doing his best to earnestly agree with
Mulder. "And I suppose you thought this undercover trek was a good idea,
Watson?"

"Come on Chris, you have to admit it is a little unusual."

"Well, yeah, but it doesn't negate the fact that we're guests on this
island. Barney's island. And as such we should do as we're told. It's 
not as if we've been asked to do a lot to begin with."

"True, But..."

"But we're almost there now," Mulder interrupted. "What do you say we 
take a look, just a look, and head back. They won't even know we were 
there."

Chris looked at Scully, who just shrugged her shoulders. She knew Mulder
well enough to know nothing she or Chris could say would deter him from 
his current mission. It wasn't worth the effort to lodge a complaint.

"Let's just hurry," Scully finally said.

The four got back on their bikes and followed Mulder, whose estimate as to
the location of the infamous building was fairly accurate. Once there they hid 
behind the brush, comfortable in the knowledge that no one could see them 
as they scoured the area.

"Wow. Those guards look pretty intense." Peter felt his heart beating
faster, like a boy who was doing something he wasn't supposed to.

"Pretty intense security system, too," Scully said, her training getting
the best of her. "See that keypad by the door? Pretty sophisticated as far
as alarm systems go."

"I told you it was suspicious."

"Mulder, you think everything is suspicious." Scully was still too angry to
look at him and was staring at the building as she spoke. "Hey, look,
someone's going in there."

It was Anna, who simply had to nod to one of the guards before being let
in. "Her name is Anna," Mulder said quietly. "I met her earlier and then
she 'accidentally' bumped into me after making a hasty exit from the
building."

"My, you have been busy," Chris teased. "Did you get her to tell you what's
inside?"

"Couldn't even get her to admit she'd been in the building. But who knows,
maybe she's having an affair with some guy who works in there."

"Like you really think that's what's going." Scully couldn't mask her sarcasm.

Mulder looked at her, regretting once again what he'd put her through the
last couple of days. "I have no idea what's going on in there," he said.
"But you're right, I don't suspect it's anything all too innocent."

"But what could Barney be involved in that's not on the up and up?" Chris
asked incredulously. "The man's a gazillionaire. Where his money came 
from, to begin with, is well documented. What he's made later in life is 
mostly in real estate."

"Maybe Barney has nothing to do with this," Mulder said. "It's a big
island. Maybe others are using it and Barney's not even aware of it."

"I don't know," Peter said, shaking his head. "Barney's a smart man. I
can't imagine anyone would take him for a fool."

"Whatever it is," Scully interrupted, "it's none of our business. We're
guests here, remember? I say we forget about it and try and enjoy what's
left of this vacation."

Just then, a tall, dark haired man walked out of the building. His
expression was grim, his thick glasses and white lab coat offering little
protection against his dour fa‡ade. Ignoring the guards, he walked around
the back of the building and disappeared.

"He looks a little too old to be Anna's lover," Mulder whispered.

"I don't care if it's her illegitimate child and this is a story for the
Enquirer, Mulder. It's not going to make a difference. We're still on
vacation and we shouldn't be spying on anyone."

Chris nodded, and spoke up before either of the two men could protest.
"Dana's right, Starsky and Hutch. It's none of our business. I, for one,
don't want to know what's going on in there. I like Barney and would 
rather not know what nefarious activities, if any, he's involved in. Now, 
let's get back to the trail before someone starts looking for us."

The men looked at the women and realized an argument would be in vain.
Quietly, they got on their bikes and made their way back to the house.

No sooner had they dropped off their bikes that they found Gregory, 
waiting for their arrival, by the front door.

"Did you have a pleasant ride?" he asked, all teeth and smiles.

"Wonderful," Chris answered for the group. "It's a pretty amazing place,
this island."

"That it is," Gregory replied. "I trust the four of you must be hungry?"

"I'm starving," Peter said, looking at the others. "You guys hungry?"

Everyone nodded. Even Mulder, who earlier that day thought he would 
never eat again.

"Good," Gregory said. "Our master chef has prepared some wonderful 
dishes for you. If you'd like to wash up first I'll inform the kitchen staff 
that you'll be down shortly."

"Perfect," Chris said. "Just give us a few minutes."

Gregory smiled and disappeared, leaving the four visitors alone.

"You think I have time to call Carly?" Chris asked on her way up the stairs.

"You spoke to her yesterday," Peter said in mock protest. What few
vacations they had taken without their eight year-old daughter had always
included a daily phone call to her. Chris didn't even bother answering him.

"Give her my love," Scully said as she walked past them.

Once inside their room, Scully looked at Mulder closely, happy to see that
he had regained most of his color. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better."

"And your vision?"

"Almost normal." She looked so small and vulnerable and worried, 
Mulder felt incredibly guilty. Guilty for causing her to worry. Guilty 
for not telling her about the last episode with his sight. "Scully...I really 
am sorry for the way I acted earlier. You think we can put it all behind 
us and have a good time for the next five days?"

"Only if you promise me you'll see a doctor when we get home."

Mulder opened his mouth to complain but thought better of it. "Okay," he
said. "I promise. Now if you don't mind I think I'll take a quick shower
and get ready for dinner."

Scully nodded and found herself smiling in spite of the way she had been
feeling most of the day.

***********

Dinner, as expected, was perfect. The chef, James Moll, had been trained at
a prestigious Paris culinary academy and had obviously been dying to try
some of his dishes on someone other than the staff. He practically joined
them for dinner, he was so excited to have new people try his creations and
admire his work.

After dinner the guests were shown to the games' room, where they played
pool and darts until they could barely keep their eyes open. It was well
past midnight when they headed back upstairs to their rooms.

Mulder didn't realize how tired he really was until his head hit the pillow. 
All the tension of the day seemed to rise to the surface, until the weight of
it forced his eyes shut. He was asleep before Scully got in bed two minutes
later. She smiled and got close to him, putting an arm around his waist and
closing her eyes.

***********

Emelina was exhausted. She had been warned that her job might take her 
back to Kieran, but she never really expected it to happen. When she had 
been told that morning that they were headed to the island she considered
refusing to go along. But she knew the choice wasn't hers. It had dawned 
on her the night before that she had relinquished her right to make any 
decisions the instant she had accepted the first monetary installment. She 
was theirs now. Theirs to do with as they pleased. If they told her to go to 
the ends of the Earth, then she would have to obey.

Her exhaustion stemmed primarily from paranoia. Anna had been very 
shaken up when she had returned to the house earlier that afternoon and 
from what Emelina had gathered, the German had not been pleased with the 
blood sample she had extracted from Mr. Mulder. Her official training had 
lasted no more than an hour and she was fearful she had done something 
wrong. But after replaying in her head the visits to Mr. Mulder's cabin a 
dozen times, she could remember nothing out of the ordinary. She was sure 
she had done everything exactly as she had been taught and was fairly 
certain she had made no mistakes. But she knew the German and she knew 
a lot was at stake. She would be an easy scape goat if anything went wrong.

Emelina cleared her mind as best she could and walked quietly up the stairs 
of the main house. It was not unusual for the servants to be working at all 
hours, and she was thankful no one paid her much attention. She quickly made 
her way to the fake fuse box at the end of the hallway and set the timer for 
three minutes. Again giving herself an extra minute as a precaution. When
the timer clicked off she hurried inside the room, holding her breath until 
she could place the cotton mask over her nose and mouth.

Briskly, she walked over to the bed and turned the sleeping man to face
her. What she saw stunned and shocked her. Her audible gasp sent shivers
down her spine.

She looked around the room, in a near panic, before composing herself and
sitting down on the bed. With trembling hands, she did her job. First she
drew blood, then she injected the clear liquid. She was out of the room
within two minutes, not daring herself to look back before closing the door.

***********
End of Chapter Six



Chapter Seven

It took all her strength to walk calmly out of the main house, but the
instant she was out the door Emelina began running, stopping only when 
she reached Anna's tiny one room loft. Careful not to wake anyone else, 
she knocked gently, controlling the enormous urge to pound her fists on the
door.

It was an eternity that lasted no more than several minutes before a groggy
Anna opened the door and let Emelina in. The older woman was so visibly
shaken Anna began to shake with mutual apprehension.

"Emelina, what is it?" she asked. "What's the matter? Did you get caught?
Did somebody see you?" Anna had been given the same training as 
Emelina, as a backup, and each one could do the other's 'job' if they had to. 
They were the only ones they could trust on the island.

"No, no," Emelina said, trying to catch her breath. "It's Mr. Mulder..."

Anna's heart sank. After their encounter that afternoon she had suspected
he was the new guinea pig, but had denied herself the truth. He had been so
kind, so innocent, she had hoped against hope that she was wrong. "Is he
the one?" Anna asked meekly.

"I...I don't know," Emelina stammered. "I thought so. On the ship, he was
the one I injected. The one I drew blood from. But tonight, when I went
into his room, it was the other man in the bed. Mr. Kendall."

Emelina's words registered slowly, and when they did, Anna's fear intensified
to match that of her friend. "Oh my God, Emelina. How can that be?"

"I don't know." Emelina was crying softly now, too frightened and 
confused to do anything else. "Something got mixed up somewhere. Only 
one cabin on the ship and one room in the house has the special gas hook-
up."

"What did you do?"

"I did my job. I drew his blood and injected him with the liquid." Emelina
pulled out the small vial containing Peter's blood and held it up, hands
shaking. "I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't not have blood for
Leuzinger to look at in the morning..." Emelina's voice trailed off as she
searched Anna's eyes for approval.

"No, you're right," Anna answered quietly. "You did the right thing. I...I
just don't know what to say. He needs to know...but I don't want to tell
him..."

"I...I can't, Anna, please. I can't tell him. I need the rest of the money they
promised me, I've already told my children I was sending for them..."

Anna looked at Emelina and took a deep breath. "I know, Emelina. I know 
how you feel, but I can't tell him either. He terrifies me. I say we don't say
anything."

Emelina's eyes widened.

"Wait, hear me out," Anna continued. "I'll give him the blood in the
morning and wait around while he looks at it under his microscope. For the
last two days he's been upset because the blood hasn't looked right. Maybe
it should have been Mr. Kendall all along. Maybe the blood will look the
way it's supposed to tomorrow."

"And if it doesn't? If Mr. Mulder is the one, and we continue to inject Mr.
Kendall? What will happen then?"

Anna shuddered involuntarily. "I'd rather not think about that," she whispered.

***********

It was almost ten o'clock the next morning when the four guests made their
way downstairs for breakfast. Scully had noticed Chris' mood was a little
somber and she pulled her aside after they had eaten.

"What's the matter?" Scully asked. "You barely said two words during
breakfast. I hate to tell you this, but you, subdued, is highly unusual."

Chris surprised Scully by smiling sadly. "I don't know," she said. "Peter
and I got into a bit of a thing this morning." Scully raised her eyebrows.
"No biggie, really. The more I think about it the more I think maybe I'm
blowing it out of proportion."

"You want to talk about it?"

"It was nothing, really. I wanted to have sex, he didn't."

"Peter Kendall didn't want to have sex?" Scully couldn't hide the disbelief
from her voice. It was a known fact that Peter could have sex anytime,
anywhere. She was sure, that if records were kept of such things, Chris and
Peter would have broken all of them long ago.

"I know," Chris said smiling. "Not once in the 12 years we've been 
together has he turned me down. If anything, I turn him down. But it 
wasn't just that he said no, I just got the impression he really didn't want 
me."

"Oh, Chris, really. You're spoiled. The guy turns you down for the first
time in 12 years and you think he doesn't love you anymore."

"No," Chris said, shaking her head. "It wasn't like that at all. He was
completely unresponsive. Like I was a foreign object. I can't explain it,
Dana. It was strange. I almost felt like I was intruding on his space."
Chris' eyes got moist as she thought about the events from earlier that
morning.

"Did you ask him about it?"

"No, I was too hurt. I just got out of bed and got in the shower."

"Did you get into a fight last night?"

"No, nothing. We even made love before we fell asleep."

Scully looked astounded. "How many times did you do it yesterday?"

"Three." Chris answered sheepishly.

"Did it occur to you that maybe he's tired or," Scully smiled mischievously, 
"maybe he needed to reenergize."

Chris laughed. "Peter? Reenergize? Nah. I don't know, Dana. I feel stupid
for making such a big deal out of it. It was just strange, that's all."

"Well, he seemed okay at breakfast. I bet by lunch time he's trying to
usher you upstairs."

"I hope so," she said, taking her friend by the arm. "We better go see what
they're up to before they've signed us up for something we don't want to
do...like hang gliding!"

Mulder and Peter were having a lively conversation and didn't even know 
the women were still inside until they showed up beside them.

"So what are the plans for this morning?" Scully asked.

"Peter wants to go horseback riding," Mulder answered.

"Horseback riding?" Chris sounded surprised. "Peter, you've never even 
been horseback riding."

"Yes I have."

"When?"

Peter thought for a moment. "When I was a kid," he answered hesitantly.

Chris gave him a funny look and decided not to press the issue. "Horseback
riding sounds good to me, as long as I get a good, slow horse."

"Me, too," Scully said. "I haven't been horseback riding since summer camp
when I was 12."

"You know," Mulder said, "in England they call it horse riding. The English 
feel it's obvious you're going to ride on the horse's back."

Everyone laughed. "They're such snobs," Chris said. "Even if they are right."

Horseback riding was uneventful and Peter proved to be very good at it,
leading the other three all over the island. They investigated another part of
the island from the one they had explored on their bikes the day before and
were truly mesmerized with its sheer beauty by the time they arrived at the
ocean. Barney's yacht was anchored not far from shore.

We're not going back in that thing are we?" Mulder asked dryly.

"I think it's just there to take the servants back at the end of the week,"
Peter answered. "If I know Barney there's a landing strip somewhere on the
island and he's already arranged to have one of his jets pick us up on
Saturday."

"Good," Mulder said, maneuvering his horse to face the other direction.
"What do you say we head back via Fort Knox."

"No," Scully answered adamantly. "We're on vacation, Mulder. Guests, if 
you recall. Leave that building alone."

"But Scully..."

"Forget it," Scully said, cutting him off. "I say we head back to the
house. I'm starving."

"Me too," Peter said, surprising everyone."

"You don't want to check out the little compound?" Chris asked. "You were
so enamored with it yesterday."

Peter hesitated, unsure of his answer before finally shrugging his
shoulders. "I guess I'm not anymore," he said, turning his horse to face
Mulder's and leading the trot back to the house.

Scully and Chris exchanged glances before silently falling behind the men.

***********

Anna handed Leuzinger the vial of blood and instinctively pulled her hand
behind her, almost afraid the scientist was going to bite. Leuzinger was
aware of the fear he was capable of instilling, and regarded the young
woman's behavior with amusement. Intimidation, after all, was a talent he
treasured, one that had gotten him very far in his chosen profession.

The young girl prayed silently while she busied herself straightening the 
bookshelves lining one side of the lab. From the corner of her eye she could 
see Leuzinger putting a drop of the blood under his microscope and held her 
breath as the large man leaned over to look through the lens. The German 
said nothing, but stared at the blood for a very long time. When he was done 
he lifted his head, no discernible expression on his face. No anger. No joy. 
Nothing. His mannerisms and movements betrayed nothing as he took a small 
vial from above his workspace and added a drop of liquid to the blood on the 
slide. He leaned down and looked at the blood again. A small grunt escaped 
him. 

Anna tensed, slowly moving near the door in case she had to run. The large 
room was becoming very small, almost suffocating. Leuzinger grunted again 
and Anna felt herself reach for the door knob.

Leuzinger looked up from his microscope and smiled, if only to himself,
unaware that Anna was still in the room. "That's better," he said, quickly
jotting down information on a notepad. He looked at the blood again and
shook his head. It was finally looking the way it should, and for that he
was grateful.

Why the first two samples had been so far off was still a mystery and the
nagging thought that he should further study them persisted. It was
something he promised himself he would get to later. But now he had a lot
of work to catch up with. They had lost two days and he wasn't sure he
could gain any time. He just hoped he could have everything in place
for the big event.

He laughed out loud when he realized an entire decade of his life had come 
down to the results he was counting on in the next 72 hours. His laughter 
grew until it surrounded the room and made it impossible for him to hear 
Anna leaving.

***********

It had been a long day, full of activity and food, and by all accounts he
was exhausted, but for some reason, Mulder couldn't sleep. Most of his
sight had come back throughout the day, although once, while reading by 
the pool, he had felt a dull ache and saw a few lights flash before him. It 
was nothing compared to the two bouts from the previous day, but it was 
enough to keep him awake now, wondering what the hell was going on 
with him.

Mulder looked at Scully's sleeping figure beside him and smiled, 
wondering what he had done to deserve her. Whatever it was he hoped he 
could do it again, when they were back in DC. Their dream vacation had 
turned into a nightmare and he wasn't sure how much salvaging power he 
had in him. After all, they only had three days left in paradise.

Paradise. He thought about the meaning of the word carefully, deciding to
get out of bed to see what paradise looked like in the middle of the night.
The grounds surrounding the house were lit so inconspicuously, the light
appeared to come from the moon. But the moon was hidden by clouds, with 
a storm heading their way sometime over the next couple of days. Mulder
smiled at the thought. Of course there was a storm coming. He would have
been disappointed if Mother Nature hadn't joined in to complete the perfect
vacation.

Mulder walked the length of the balcony for nearly 20 minutes, hoping the
exercise would tire him out and make him sleepy. He was tempted to go for a
run, but even he could see the stupidity of such action. With the way
things were going he'd be eaten by a lizard within 100 yards of the house.

Just as he was heading back inside Mulder caught something moving from
inside Chris and Peter's room. It was dark, and he could only make out a
shadow. He chastised himself for looking, but curiosity, among other
things, had propelled him into the X-Files, and old habits were hard to
break. He looked at his watch. 3:15. They had parted ways with Chris and
Peter almost four hours ago. What were they doing still up? The shadow was
sitting on the bed, leaned over and then quickly stood up. Mulder was
caught by surprise and quickly moved away from the window. He felt like a
voyeur, and didn't want to face Chris and Peter if he was caught staring 
in their window at three in the morning.

He headed inside his room just before the door to the main house was 
opened from downstairs, missing Emelina entirely as she ran through the 
grounds, away from the balcony where he had stood just seconds before.

***********
End of Chapter Seven



Chapter Eight

By the time Mulder and Scully arrived downstairs on Wednesday morning,
Chris and Peter had already eaten and were reading the local paper by the
pool.

"Since when are you two up and about at a reasonable hour when you don't
have to be?" Scully asked, remembering the college days when Chris and
Peter would lay in bed until two minutes before their first class. Morning
people they were not.

"Since we ran out of things to do in bed," Chris answered sarcastically.

Peter had just gotten up to get some more coffee and missed the comment,
but Mulder, unfortunately, didn't. Feeling a little like a third wheel, he
excused himself and joined Peter by the breakfast buffet table.

Scully pulled up a chair and faced her friend. "Chris, what's the matter?
What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing," Chris answered, a little embarrassed. "I think I just scared
Mulder."

Scully laughed. "Mulder has a high scare factor."

"Yeah, for mutants and serial killers, maybe, but probably not for middle
aged horny women."

"You're probably right," Scully said, glancing back at Mulder and Peter.
"But at least he was smart enough to run when he had the chance, 
something he tends to forget to do when the mutants are closing in. So 
what's going on?"

"Your segues are so smooth," Chris teased.

"And you're so smooth at avoiding what's bothering you."

"What do you think is bothering me?" Chris asked, her brown eyes darker
than Scully had ever seen them.

"I take it you guys didn't have sex last night."

"Bingo. No sex yesterday morning, no sex yesterday afternoon, no sex last
night. And then, well, this morning..." Chris' voice trailed off as her
eyes started to water.

"Oh, Chris, how can you be this upset over not having sex in the last 24
hours? You and Peter have probably had more sex in the last three days than
most people have in a month."

Chris managed a smile. "Dana, something is wrong. This just isn't like
Peter. Twice since I've known him he's been too sick to have sex. But he's
not sick. Look at him, laughing with Mulder. This morning he didn't have
two words to say to me. It was like waking up next to a stranger."

"Did you talk to him?"

"I tried, but..." Chris looked up at her husband. "Dana, he was so
completely unresponsive to me. And I don't just mean sexually, 
unresponsive to me as a person too. I can't begin to explain it. I just got up 
and took a shower. Then he took one and we came downstairs to have 
breakfast. We said nothing to each other. Nothing."

"And you're sure you didn't get into a fight about anything? You didn't say
anything that made him angry?"

"I know we didn't get into a fight. And as for saying anything that might
have made him angry, who knows. I tend to say whatever's on my mind, 
but God knows Peter's never kept quiet when I've pissed him off."

"True," Scully answered softly, recalling many heated discussions between
two of her oldest friends. "Maybe he's coming down with something. 
Maybe he doesn't feel well."

"And he couldn't just say that?"

Scully's response was cut short by Mulder's reappearance with a plate full
of food. 

"Scully, there is enough food over there to feed an army," he said, sitting 
down across from the two women. Mulder looked at Chris and smiled 
sheepishly, at a complete loss as to what to say. Based on his conversation 
with Peter, things couldn't be better. Women, he thought, who can figure 
them out. On the other hand, his conversation with Peter had consisted of 
what to do for the day. Chris' name never came up.

Scully squeezed Chris' hand and excused herself to get some breakfast,
leaving an uncomfortable Mulder behind.

"Sorry about my remark earlier," Chris said.

This woman does not beat around the bush, Mulder thought, remembering 
it was one of the many qualities he liked about her. "No problem," he 
answered, his mouth full of bacon and eggs.

"Mulder, tell me," Chris was leaning into the table, closing the gap
between them. "You've seen a lot of odd behavior in your life, right? In
your line of work?"

Mulder tried not to choke at the understatement and simply nodded,
wondering where Chris was headed.

"Well, and be honest with me. I didn't ask Dana this because I know how 
she is. She would think I was crazy. But you, well, you know..." Chris 
smiled apologetically before continuing. "I guess after the experience with 
the Brownies in California it's easier for me to see things the way you see
them. To accept the unusual with more questions rather than denial, like I
used to. Like Dana can, or tries to when her beloved science can't find the
answers."

Mulder raised his eyebrows, still not sure where the conversation was
headed but interested nonetheless.

Chris was obviously uncomfortable, but managed to continue. "Have you 
ever seen any kind of personality disorder, maybe something on the fringes 
of Alzheimers, where people become disassociated with those around them, 
but that isn't gradual?"

"I don't follow you, Chris."

"I know," she said, sighing deeply. "I don't follow myself either. It's
just that, well, Peter is not himself. Something is wrong and I can't
pinpoint it."

"You think he might be developing Alzheimers? Or something of that 
nature?"

"No...not Alzheimers...it's hard to explain, Mulder. But you have to trust
me." Chris looked up to see Scully and Peter heading towards them.
"Please," she whispered right before they sat down.

Mulder nodded slightly, his mind quickly going over Chris' words. He had 
no idea what she was talking about, but felt that he knew her well enough to
take her concern seriously.

"Anybody want to go for a swim?" Chris asked. "Before it starts to rain."

"Yeah, what happened to that storm Gregory warned us about yesterday?"
Scully asked.

"Caribbean weather," Peter mused. "One minute the sun's out, the next
minute you're caught in a downpour the size of a monsoon."

"Like you've spent any time in the Caribbean," Chris said, under her 
breath.

Peter looked at her but didn't reply, instead he got up and felt the water
in the pool. Chris looked at Mulder, imploring him with her eyes. Begging
him to see what she saw. Whatever that might be.

"What's going on?" Scully whispered, catching the tail end of the exchange.

"Hey Peter," Mulder called out, ignoring Scully. "How did you get that scar
on your leg? Was that a burn?"

Peter looked down at his legs. First his right, then his left, looking for
the scar Mulder was talking about. After a few seconds he found it and
looked up, dumbfounded. "Don't know," he answered, casually joining the
group. "Must have been when I was a kid."

"Peter, you don't remember how you got that scar?" Scully was shocked. 
That scar had been a conversation piece of theirs for years. It was the reason
he and Chris had met in the first place. Chris was speechless and could
only stare at her husband.

"No, I don't," he answered earnestly. "Should I?"

"No," Chris answered hastily, wishing she could go back to her room and 
stay in bed until their vacation was over.

"I had the strangest dream last night," Peter said, easily and unintentionally 
changing the subject. "I was walking around the island, and I found an area 
full of waterfalls. Unbelievably tall and beautiful waterfalls. I think we should 
ask Gregory how to get there."

"It was a dream, Peter," Chris was losing her patience.

"But it was so real. I guarantee you they're here. I know they are. I
dreamed about them all night. It was one of the most peaceful night's sleep
I've had in a long time. I slept straight through until this morning."

Yeah, me too," Scully answered. "I think it's all the sun. Wears you out."

Mulder was about to lie and agree when he heard Chris say she had slept
straight through as well.

"Do either of you sleep walk?" Mulder asked casually.

"I don't think so," Chris said, giving him a funny look. "Why?"

"I don't know, I just thought I heard someone moving around in your room
last night, around three."

"What were you doing up at three?" Scully asked.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Well, you must have been dreaming," Chris said. "Dreaming that you
couldn't sleep."

"Probably." Mulder's paranoid brain was working overtime, trying to piece
everything together. Only problem was, he felt like he had the pieces to
several puzzles, not just one, and he didn't know if any of them had
anything to do with each other. Or even, he had to admit, if there were any 
puzzles at all that needed piecing together.

"What do you guys say we go looking for those waterfalls?" Peter asked.

"The ones from your dream?" Scully asked, arching her eyebrows.

"Yep," Peter answered, missing the skepticism. "I'll go ask Gregory how 
to get there." Peter was gone before anyone could say anything else.

"You see?" Chris said, looking at Mulder and Scully. "Don't tell me
something is not wrong. How could he not remember where he got that 
scar? I've been kissing that scar every night before I go to bed for the last 
12 years."

"You have?" Mulder was even more confused.

"Yes, dammit. It's the reason we met, sort of. And I've been kissing it
forever, except for last night, because he was so shut off from me I
couldn't get near him."

Mulder was lost and looked to Scully for an explanation. He had certainly
questioned Peter about the scar intentionally, testing Chris' theory, but
he didn't realize the scar had such a deep history.

Scully filled Mulder in on the scar, and how Peter had gotten it, agreeing 
with Chris that Peter's reaction had been odd.

"It's more than just odd, Dana," Chris said, her voice breaking. "It's
strange, it's scary, it's, it's not possible for him to have forgotten how
he got that scar."

"Unless," Scully said, "he's just pretending not to remember."

"What? Why?"

"To get back at you for something. Because he's mad..."

"That's not like Peter," Chris answered sadly.

"I know, Chris, but people tend to do strange things when they're angry."

"It's not like him," Chris repeated.

"Gregory made me a map," Peter shouted from the other end of the pool.
He was waving a piece of paper in the air and smiling broadly.

***********

Leuzinger was beyond pleased with the second blood sample. The progress
surpassed even his most optimistic expectations and dwarfed his
conservative estimate. If the rate of cell change continued at its current
speed, he was certain of meeting the predetermined deadline. He looked at
the calendar above his desk. Only two more days. Two days and his life
would change forever. He laughed at the irony of the situation. Others'
lives would change as well, just not the way his would.

***********

Mulder was having trouble sleeping again and the thunder and lightning
wasn't helping any. Peter's words from that morning were echoing through
his head. A monsoon. That's what it sounded like outside. The wind was
fierce and he could hear the trees swaying all around him.

He looked over at Scully and marveled at her ability to sleep through
anything. Definitely something he envied. Just as he was throwing his
pillow over his head in an attempt to block out the storm, Mulder thought
he heard a door open and shut. After everything he had seen and heard in
the last couple of days, he was leaving nothing to chance and quickly made
his way to the door. Like a kid who shouldn't be out of bed, he opened the
door and peered outside. A small housekeeper, one he recognized from the
yacht, was making her way towards the staircase. Mulder glanced around.
There were no other rooms on this side of the house besides Chris and
Peter's.

But what could that woman be doing in their room? He could hear Scully's
voice, telling him he was being ridiculous and to get back in bed.
Unfortunately, his own inner voice, the one that nagged him incessantly
about many things, was a little louder than Scully's. He hastily
decided to throw on some shoes and a jacket and follow the woman outside.

The housekeeper was out of sight by the time he made it downstairs, 
and a quick scan of the area revealed no guards in the vicinity. No doubt 
the storm had sent everyone indoors for the night. Mulder assumed the
housekeeper was headed toward the servants' housing and followed 
the path that would lead him there. He was grateful the path was lit, 
otherwise the attempt to follow the woman would have been futile.

The sky was completely black, covered with clouds, and the wind was 
making it increasingly difficult to stay standing, let alone see exactly where 
he was headed. Mulder wondered why this woman was out on a night like 
tonight.

What could have been so important that couldn't wait? The house had
virtually been deserted when they headed upstairs for the night. The locals
knew what was coming their way and had made sure to be home before the
storm hit. Smart people, Mulder thought, wrapping his hands tightly around
his body.

It was hard to imagine that earlier that day they had been swimming in the
waterfalls from Peter's dream, as Chris had taken to calling them. It was
uncanny, but Peter had described the waterfalls exactly as they were.
Scully, of course, decided that Peter had seen them in an article about
Kieran a long time ago. So long ago that he had forgotten. Chris, who
thought she knew everything there was to know about her husband, 
but was beginning to seriously doubt herself, wasn't satisfied with that
explanation and had been goading Peter most of the day. 

Mulder wasn't  sure what to think, although there were a couple of 
instances during the day when he too thought Peter was acting a little 
strange. But, like Chris, he was having a hard time pinpointing what 
was wrong. 

Mulder could see lights in the distance and realized he was perilously
close to the servants' housing. The last thing he needed was for the little
housekeeper's husband to catch him following her.

Grateful for the howling wind, Mulder continued running towards the
building, completely undetected. When he was a few feet away he saw 
Anna come downstairs, the little woman from the house already waiting for 
her. What the hell? Mulder's mind was spinning. More pieces to find puzzles 
for. 

Mulder threw himself on the ground and waited.

The two women were speaking to each other, neither one looking very 
happy. The small woman gave Anna something and Anna promptly put it in 
her coat pocket. They spoke for another 30 seconds before Anna nodded 
and walked outside, heading in the other direction.

Now where to? Mulder mused silently, picking himself up and following 
Anna through the darkened island. His clothes were soaked through to 
his skin, and although the tropical rain was warm, he was beginning to
feel very cold. The thought of Scully, if she knew what he was up to, made
him even colder. He would never hear the end of this one.

This path was not lit and Mulder was forced to follow the beam of Anna's
flashlight to stay on course. He was following fairly close, but the wind
was so loud, the young woman was completely unaware that anyone was 
nearby.

Just as he had expected, Anna arrived at the windowless building, nodded 
to a guard and went inside.

Two guards, three in the morning, Mulder thought dryly. And Scully thinks 
I should leave well enough alone! He smiled and wished Scully was with 
him, at least together they would stand a better chance of getting in the
building. The old distract them routine would come in handy right about 
now.

Mulder thought about his options for two seconds before he realized he had
none. He was unarmed, in the middle of a storm with zero visibility,
wondering how he could get past two men with big guns. He decided to 
bide his time and wait for Anna to come out. 

He wanted to confront her, but knew she wouldn't trust him if he revealed 
himself tonight. If she realized he had been following her. No, he would 
question her tomorrow, in the light of day. But now he needed her, or rather,
he needed the beam from her flashlight, to get back. Either that or he'd have 
to wait until the sun came up before he could get back on his own. 

Neither prospect was very appealing, since the rain was now coming down
in torrents and he was starting to lose all feeling in his hands, they were so 
cold.

Twenty minutes passed and there was still no sign of Anna. Mulder had
gone from crouching to sitting and was now certain every part of his body
was soaked through to the bone.

In an attempt to find some shelter he decided to walk around to the back
side of the building, a decision he regretted the instant he turned the
corner and got a little closer.

***********
End of Chapter Eight



Chapter Nine

Without warning, Mulder was knocked to the ground by what he assumed 
was a large dog. The assumption came based on the barking he could hear 
very close to his ears. The attack was so sudden, Mulder barely had a 
chance to put his hands in front of his face, protecting one part of his body 
while putting another part practically in the dog's mouth.

The initial sting from the animal's sharp teeth was excruciating and Mulder
wondered what it would feel like if his hands weren't numb from the cold.

The shock from the bite to his hand lasted mere seconds, but long enough
for the animal to move down the hand to the wrist and sink his teeth again,
pulling angrily at the loose skin until Mulder was able to kick out from
under him, temporarily throwing the dog off. Mulder shoved himself
backwards with his hands, ignoring the stabbing pain, and forced himself to
his feet. 

The dog lunged again, yelping loudly as he caught the bottom half of 
Mulder's sweats. Mulder pulled on his leg, wondering why the dog hadn't
jumped him again when he realized the animal was tied to a pole. 

Leave it to me to get just a little too close, he thought wearily. The dog 
continued to pull on Mulder's pants until he found a large rock he was able 
to throw at the animal's head. The dog yelped again and let go of Mulder 
long enough for him to retreat further back.

The angry dog continued to bark incessantly and Mulder had just enough 
time to hide in the brush before one of the guards turned the corner to see 
what was going on. The dog kept barking madly in the direction Mulder had 
gone, but the guard assumed he was spooked by the wind and paid little 
attention to the area. 

Anna suddenly appeared from around the corner as well, wanting to see for 
herself what all the commotion was about.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"I think the wind is getting to him," the guard answered, kneeling down and
petting the animal.

Anna looked around cautiously, obviously with more to hide than the 
guard, Mulder thought. He was close enough to hear their exchange, and 
was hoping they couldn't hear his breathing, which was beginning to sound 
loud and erratic to his ears. He hadn't had time to look at his hand, instead 
had placed it inside his coat and pressed it against his body, hoping to stop
the throbbing.

"So, what are you doing here so late?" the guard asked, standing up and
ignoring the still barking dog.

"Leuzinger needed something."

"And it couldn't wait?"

"I guess not."

"He's been acting pretty strange," the young guard continued, obviously
smitten by Anna. "Hasn't left the lab in over two days. No one has even
seen him. If it wasn't for your visits, we would have thought he wasn't in
there."

"He's in there all right," Anna said distantly. She was still looking
around, stopping suddenly when she caught a glimpse of something.

Mulder caught her stare and sank further back. Did she see me? He wasn't
sure that he cared at this point. His hand was throbbing mercilessly and he
was freezing, both contributing to the slight disorientation he was feeling.

Anna continued to make small talk with the guard for a couple of minutes
before saying goodbye and heading off in Mulder's direction. She was
purposely slow and waited until the guard disappeared before entering
the brush near Mulder.

She's pretty good, Mulder thought, certain now that she had seen him.

"Put your hands up in the air," Anna whispered.

Mulder turned around and did as he was told, surprised to find Anna holding 
a gun directly in front of him.

"You," she said, a little incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"Jogging," Mulder said sarcastically. "What are you doing here?"

"In this storm, in the middle of the night? I don't think so." Anna ignored
the question and kept her gun trained on Mulder.

"And why not?" Mulder continued. He could feel warm blood trickling 
down his arm and realized Anna hadn't noticed. "I have to put my hand 
down," he said honestly.

Anna looked up and took a sharp intake of breath. "The dog?" she asked.

Mulder nodded and slowly brought his hand down, hugging it tightly to his
chest. Anna continued to hold the gun on him.

"You need to tell me what you are doing here." Her voice had softened but
the fear was still in her eyes.

"I followed you here," Mulder finally replied. He was starting to feel
faint and realized playing games was not in his best interest.

"What? How?"

"I saw your friend, the older woman, leaving my friends' room, so I got
curious and followed her. Which is how I ended up here." Mulder looked at
Anna for an expression to his lie. Her eyes widened with shock, acceptance,
but not the confusion he would expect if she didn't know what he was
talking about. The woman *had* left Chris and Peter's room.

Anna was speechless. She wanted to run. She wanted to shoot the man in
front of her. She wanted to put him in bed and take care of him. The injury 
to his hand was difficult to see, but if his expression and his voice were 
any indication, he needed help.

"You shouldn't have followed me," was all she could say.

"And your friend should have been in my friends' room at three in the
morning?" Anna didn't answer. Couldn't answer. What was she going to 
say? "What was she doing in there?" Mulder continued. "What did she hand 
you that you had to bring to...Leuzinger?"

Anna's face became distorted with too many questions. What did he know
about Leuzinger? And about her?

Mulder began to sway and Anna put her gun down and steadied him. "You 
need to get your hand taken care of."

"I'm fine," Mulder answered through clenched teeth. He had no idea how 
much blood he had already lost, but when he felt his hand he could feel 
jagged pieces of skin in several places. Stitches for sure. Scully would be 
so angry. The thought made him laugh, startling Anna once again.

"You need..."

"I need," Mulder interrupted, "you to tell me what's going on here." The
young woman was torn, obviously a pawn in some game she had very little 
to do with. Mulder weighed the situation and decided he had to take 
advantage of it. It was time to bring in the cavalry. "Anna, I am an FBI 
agent and I can tell you right now that I could easily arrest your friend for 
what I saw. At which point I can get the information I need to arrest you 
and everyone else that's involved here."

Anna looked stunned. "FBI...agent?"

"Yes, FBI agent. Now, why don't you tell me what's going on." Mulder 
took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It wasn't easy being the tough
professional when he thought he was about to pass out.

"I...uh..." Anna took one look at Mulder and made her decision. When she
first got involved, she had no idea what she was getting into. And when she 
realized she was in over her head, it was too late, her own life had no longer 
been hers to control. Now maybe she could have some of that control back. 
Even if doing so might be the end of her.

Taking Mulder by his good hand, she brought him closer, under her 
umbrella. "I'll tell you what I know on the way back to the house. You need 
to get your hand looked at."

"Start from the beginning."

Anna nodded. "My involvement came about three years ago," she began. 
"I had been working in the house for six months when someone approached 
me about working for Leuzinger."

"Who? Who approached you?"

"Gregory. He approached me. I was told Leuzinger was working on a 
very sensitive medical breakthrough and if I was interested my salary 
would double."

"Why you?"

Anna laughed a slow, painful laugh. "Probably because I was too young 
and stupid to question what I would see."

"Which was?" The wind and rain had slowed, but by now Mulder was 
bitterly cold, and he was having a hard time getting the words out without 
shivering.

"I, um...at first I was there mostly to keep the lab clean."

"Is that what's in the building? A lab?"

"Uh-huh. a huge lab, with all kinds of equipment, and a couple of rooms,
like hospital rooms, along with Leuzinger's house. He lives in the
back part of the building."

"And then?" Mulder asked, prodding her to go on. Anna was working on 
the assumption that Mulder knew who Leuzinger was and possibly more, 
so Mulder held any other questions he might have had.

"Then men began showing up. Men he was conducting experiments on."

"What kinds of experiments?"

"I don't know. But...well, the men would come and go. It took me a while 
to figure out that the ones that left weren't getting out alive."

Mulder took a deep breath. Not in a million years would he have guessed
anything of this nature was going on.

"How are you doing?" Anna asked.

"I'm okay," he lied. "Keep going."

"Leuzinger told me once, when the second man had shown up, that he was
using prisoners on loan to him by the state. That they were all volunteers.
And," Anna faltered for a moment before she could continue. "I believed
him. I guess I needed to believe him. It wasn't until this week I even
questioned if those men were really prisoners...or volunteers."

"What made you question it now?"

Anna stopped and looked at Mulder. "You. When I ran into you a few days 
ago and you had that problem, you said you were dizzy, but it was your 
eyes, wasn't it? You were having a problem with your sight, right?"

"How did you know that?"

"Some of the early experiments had the same problems. The men would see
bright lights and then, eventually, go blind. I only know this because 
sometimes I was there when Leuzinger would question them." Anna began 
walking again, still holding on to Mulder's arm, controlling the situation as 
best she could, by leading him to safety. 

Or so she hoped.

***********
End Chapter Nine