Chapter Ten

"How do I fit in? Am I being experimented on?" Mulder felt like throwing
up. Not sure if it was the loss of blood or Anna's words.

"You were," Anna answered softly.

"What?"

Anna filled Mulder in on everything she knew from that point. How 
Emelina had been injecting Mulder on the ship, but when they arrived at the 
house it was Peter in the room with the gas hook-up. "Each time Leuzinger
examined your blood, he was furious, saying that something was wrong,
accusing me of messing with it. But when he finally got Mr. Kendall's 
blood he was satisfied, happy, like everything was going right again."

"But...Peter hasn't been sick like I was. How can that be?" The pain in
Mulder's hand was turning his mind to mush and assimilating the 
information he was being inundated with was becoming increasingly 
difficult. He knew he was missing things. Questions he should be asking. 
But the harder he tried, the more he felt the pain and nothing else.

"I don't know," Anna answered. "I don't know a lot of things, as you can 
tell."

"And why the about face? Why confess everything now?"

"Because it's gotten out of hand." Anna laughed at the absurdity of her own
statement. "I know," she continued, "it's been out of hand for a while, but
I've never had to face my own conscience before. Not until I met you.

Mulder didn't answer and Anna continued.

"I've never seen what I do as anything more than a job. Even when the 
men were there being experimented on, the most my responsibilities 
consisted of was cleaning and occasionally, running an errand for Leuzinger, 
like picking up supplies from the clinic and things like that. It wasn't until
recently that I was even trained to give injections."

"Injections?" Mulder was beginning to wish he had stayed in bed.

"Yes. Emelina and I were trained at the same time. In case something
happened to her, I would be able to take over and inject you with
Leuzinger's secret formula and draw your blood."

Mulder shuddered involuntarily. "And at this point you didn't question 
what was going on? The ethics and morality of your predicament?"

"Oh, Mr. Mulder. Is everything in your life so black and white?"

It was difficult for Mulder to dislike this young woman. Although extremely
intelligent, it was obvious she had not been dealt an easy life. She had a
knack for looking pitiful and doe eyed and still not letting you feel sorry
for her. It was a proud streak he recognized and admired.

"One day," Anna continued, "when I was cleaning the lab, Gregory sent me 
to a room in the main house. When I got there Emelina was already there, 
and they handed each of us an envelope with money."

"How much money? And who was there, in the room?"

"Two thousand dollars. And two men I had never seen before and haven't 
seen since. Before we could say anything, we were told we had been 
chosen especially by Leuzinger to handle some very delicate matters for 
him. It was a pretty picture when they were done."

"Even if part of the picture included drugging innocent people with God
knows what?"

"That part wasn't revealed to us until later. We were under the impression
we would be taking care of the men in the lab. The criminals on loan from
the state," Anna added sarcastically. "When Leuzinger told us about the man
we would be injecting on the ship Emelina had already sent her children in
El Salvador all the money they had given her and I had paid for a
correspondence course."

"Anna, what is Barney Jenkins' involvement in all this? I mean, it's his
island. Does he know what Leuzinger is doing?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. Mr. Jenkins hired Leuzinger many years 
ago to find a cure for his son's disease. Apparently he had been very
successful in his research and Mr. Jenkins built the lab, while his son was
still alive, to try and save him. The rumor is that Mr. Jenkins promised
his son, on his deathbed, to find a cure for his illness. I've seen him
talking to Leuzinger when he's on the island, which is only about once a
year, but he's never been in the lab. Leuzinger was always very secretive
about the men that were in there, the ones he was experimenting on."

"But it's Barney's yacht too, and the gas hook-ups you spoke of, how can
Barney not be aware of that? He must be involved somehow."

Anna shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, Mr. Mulder. I really don't."

They were approaching the house and Anna was grateful, because she 
didn't think Mulder could stay on his feet much longer.

"We're almost at the house, Mr. Mulder," she said. "If you wait for me in
the lobby I can go get Dr. Rose to open up the clinic for you."

"No." Mulder stopped suddenly and was holding Anna's coat tightly with 
his good hand. "I need to know who else is involved in this, Anna. You 
mentioned Gregory and Emelina. Who else in the house might know what's 
going on?"

"I...I don't know. I don't know if anyone knows everything, except for
Leuzinger. We all have jobs to do that don't overlap with anyone else's.
And no one is stupid enough to ever talk about anything that has to do with
Leuzinger."

"What about the doctor? Dr. Rose?"

"I don't think she's involved, but I don't know. You have to believe me.
I've told you everything I know."

"I do believe you," Mulder answered, holding his injured hand close to
his chest. The throbbing was incessant and he desperately needed to sit
down. "But you have to understand, at the same time you've given me a lot
of information, you've also raised even more questions. And, right now,
based on what little I know, I can't have everyone on the island find out I
was bitten by a dog. A dog that is tied up behind the lab. It will raise
too many questions of its own.

"So what do you want me to do?"

"First answer me one more question." Anna nodded. "Do you have any idea
what it is Leuzinger is working on?"

Anna shook her head. "I have no idea," she answered earnestly. "I've 
always assumed it was a cure for the cancer that killed Mr. Jenkins' son."

Mulder sighed. "Okay, listen to me. Can you get inside the clinic?"

Anna nodded.

"Good. You wait by the side of the house, over there. I'll go inside and
get Scully, my partner, to come down and meet you. She's a doctor, she'll
know what I need. You take her to the clinic and get her back to the room
without anyone seeing you. You think you can do that?"

"I think so. The guards always go home when there's a storm."

"Okay. If anyone is up I don't want them to see me walking with you. 
Anna?" He had so many questions. "Did Leuzinger give you that gun?"

"I had my brother bring it when he visited last month," Anna answered. "I
guess I was starting to feel like I needed some protection."

"From?"

"I'm not sure, Mr. Mulder. Maybe from myself."

Mulder started to leave, but Anna held his arm. "Wait. What are you going
to do?"

"I don't know. But don't worry. Whatever criminal charges are brought,
I'll do my best to make sure you aren't implicated. You were just doing a
job that turned sour."

Anna smiled weakly. Criminal charges were the least of her worries.

"Oh, by the way," Mulder said, turning around one last time. "When Scully
comes down, please fill her in. Tell her everything you told me, everything
you know. She's an FBI agent too."

It will save me from having to say much, Mulder thought, as he forced
himself to put one foot in front of the other. The adrenaline brought on by
Anna's confession had kept him going, but know he was beginning to feel
nothing but pain and cold. Rabies. He should have asked Anna if the dog 
had had all his shots. He smiled. Scully would think of it.

The entrance to the house was deserted and Mulder made his way as quickly
as he could up the stairs and into his room. Scully was sound asleep and he
wished he didn't have to wake her. In the end, he realized he had little choice. 
They were caught in a deadly game, and unless his hand got taken care of, 
he would be unable to join in all the fun.

Mulder leaned over the side of the bed and shook her gently. "Scully," he
whispered. Nothing. He shook her a little harder. "Scully?"

"Hmm?"

"Scully, you need to wake up." His legs felt like jelly and he managed to
sit on the bed before they gave out on him. It occurred to him that turning
on the light would probably wake her up instantly, but he was afraid of
what she would see.

"Mulder?" Scully still had her back to him.

"Scully, please. You need to wake up."

"What is it?" Scully turned to face him, wondering what he was doing on 
the other side of the bed.

"I...uh..." What was he going to say? There's a madman on the island 
who's been experimenting on Peter and me and by the way, I was bitten by 
a dog?

"Mulder, what is it?" Scully sat up and put a hand on his leg. "Mulder,
you're soaking wet. How did you..." Scully was leaning over Mulder to 
turn on the bedside lamp.

"No, don't turn..."

"Oh my God!" Too late. Scully had a hand over her mouth, her eyes casting
downward slowly as she took in every inch of her partner. "Wha...what
happened?"

"It's a long story, but I was bitten by a dog." Mulder took his left hand
out of his jacket, where he had been hiding it.

"Oh my God, Mulder! How? Where?" Scully was turning the hand over, 
noticing Mulder's reaction whenever she moved it. She felt his forehead. 
"You're freezing. You have to get out of these clothes." Scully was out of 
bed and had Mulder's coat off before he could say anything. 

He was suddenly so sleepy. But he had to warn Scully. Had to tell her what
was going on. She was talking to him and he forced himself to listen.

"...have to call downstairs..."

"No!" Mulder shouted. At least he thought he was shouting. Scully ignored
him and took his t-shirt off, apologizing as she pulled it over his injured
hand.

"Scully, listen to me," Mulder tried again. "Anna, the woman we saw going
into that windowless building a few days ago, is outside. She's waiting for
you just to the left of the house. She's going to take you to the clinic so
you can get whatever you need to patch me up." 

Scully pushed Mulder back onto the bed and he closed his eyes. She was 
taking his shoes off, and his pants, and his underwear. Somewhere in the 
back of his mind there was a crude remark dying to get out, but he didn't 
have the strength or the energy to pursue it.

Oh God, Mulder, what have you done to yourself now, Scully was 
thinking. His pants were so wet it took her forever to get them off. No 
remark, nothing when she pulled off his underwear. He must be in a lot of 
pain, she thought dryly. And what is he going on about? Anna? The clinic?

"Mulder, listen to me. I know there is a doctor on the island. I'll call
downstairs and have her come up. There's blood all over you. You've
probably lost..."

"No!" Mulder pulled Scully down to eye level. "Scully, yes I am hurt, 
but I am completely lucid when I tell you we cannot call downstairs. You 
MUST go down and meet Anna. She will explain everything to you. I 
promise." Mulder's eyes were pleading with her and Scully stopped what 
she was doing long enough to realize he was dead serious. It wasn't 
delirium speaking, something was definitely going on.

"How do you do it, Mulder?" she was saying as she pulled a dry sweatshirt
over his head. "Even on vacation you manage to get into trouble."

"It's a knack," he answered, satisfied that Scully would go to Anna.

"Yeah, well, I wish you weren't so good at it." Scully finished dressing
him in another pair of sweats and socks and held out his hand for inspection. 
"That must've hurt," she mused.

"Uh-huh. Still does."

"He got you twice, from the looks of it."

"Yep."

Scully got up and came right back with a towel. "I'm going to wrap your
hand in this towel until I get back. Please don't take it off. Okay?"

Mulder nodded. He was so sleepy.

"What time is it?" Scully was talking to herself as she hurried and got
dressed. "It's almost five. I'm going to get Chris to come and stay with
you."

"No, Scully. It's not necessary." Mulder's words were beginning to slur.
Was it the pain, the shock, fatigue? All of the above?

"Mulder, please don't argue with me. I'm going to do as you ask, even if
I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing, but I don't want to leave you
alone."

Mulder couldn't answer her. With the rain and the wind gone, there wasn't
much to focus his attention on besides his throbbing hand, and the
intensity of the pain was making him crazy. He wanted to scream, but
instead bit his tongue until he could taste blood. He heard the door open
and assumed Scully had gone to get Chris. Had she said anything else to 
him?

She had been gone forever. How long did it take to get Chris and come 
back? He needed to warn her, to tell her she had to be careful. What if she 
had decided not to get Chris and had already left to find Anna? What if the 
raving scientist had seen Anna talking to him and had followed them, only to
capture Scully when she made her way downstairs. 

Scully would be a useful guinea pig. Mulder could see her tied to a metal 
table, tubes coming in and out of her mouth, her nose...she was screaming, 
calling his name, but he couldn't hear her, no one could hear her. The 
German was leaning over her, laughing loudly as he injected her with 
an unseen liquid...

"Scully!"

***********
End Chapter 10



Chapter Eleven

Mulder bolted up in bed, suddenly remembering his hand and gasping from 
the pain.

"Mulder, it's okay, relax." It was Chris, and she was stroking his
forehead, pushing him back down gently. "Dana will be right back. She 
went to get you some things from the clinic."

"How long?" His throat was dry and his voice sounded foreign. "How long 
has she been gone?"

"About 15 minutes. I'm sure she'll be back soon." Chris smiled and pulled
the covers up around his neck. "How are you feeling?"

Mulder managed a sheepish smile. "Been better," he said, a little embarrassed.

"You've looked better too. You look like shit."

"I'd forgotten your bedside manner," Mulder mused, finding it difficult to
be embarrassed around Chris.

"Maybe you should try and remember it next time we spend any time 
together. I'm seriously beginning to think I'm a jinx."

If you only knew, Mulder thought, closing his eyes. Filling Chris and Peter
in on the situation wasn't something he was looking forward to. "How's
Peter?" he asked.

"Asleep, I suppose. He didn't even stir when Dana knocked. Why?

"No reason." Mulder was having a hard time concentrating, and he knew
telling Chris anything right now was out of the question.

"Yeah, right. Dana was very cryptic when she came to get me, Mulder. 
And the fact that she couldn't call the doctor was odd, don't you think?" 
Chris looked at Mulder for answers, and continued when he didn't respond. 
"I was hoping you could fill me in."

Mulder looked up at her, his hazel eyes starting to get that glazed,
feverish look she had seen once before. "On second thought, why don't
you just try and rest. We can talk when Dana's taken care of your hand."

Mulder nodded, grateful for the reprieve. Dana. Where was she? A smile 
formed on his mouth when he heard the door open, only to be quickly
erased when he saw Scully's expression.

Chris was by her side instantly, trying to size up the situation by looking 
into her friend's eyes. What she saw was disconcerting, if unclear. 
"Dana, what's the matter? Are you okay?"

Mulder gingerly pushed himself up, afraid to put any pressure on his hand.
"Scully? Did you talk to Anna?"

"Yes, I did."

"Did she fill you in?"

"Yes." Scully looked like she had seen a ghost but was trying to keep
herself busy by emptying the contents of the bag she had brought with her.

One look at everything she had and Mulder felt nauseous.

"Mulder, would you like some water?" Chris hadn't missed the exchange.
Mulder only nodded, taking the glass from her.

"Here, Mulder," Scully was handing him a couple of pills. "Advil was the
strongest thing I could get my hands on. Take these."

"Dana, will you please tell me what's going on." Chris had spent enough
time with both of them to know something was seriously wrong. These 
were trained FBI agents, she told herself. If they're upset and scared,
something is terribly wrong.

"Chris, I need to clean Mulder's hand first and see what needs to be done.
I don't want an infection to set in, so we need to work quickly. As soon as
I've taken care of the hand, I'll tell you everything I know. I promise."

Chris nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

"Bring me some clean towels from the bathroom." Chris left without saying a word.

"Scully," Mulder reached up and brought her close. "Did Anna tell you
everything?"

"Yes, Mulder. I think. There was quite a bit to tell."  Scully was all business 
as she began to open some of the supplies she would need to take care of his 
hand. "I don't want to talk about it now. I need Chris to help me and neither 
one of us needs the distraction."

Scully in doctor mode. Mulder had seen it many times. Unfortunately, 
many times directed towards him, and her composure never ceased to amaze 
him.

Chris returned with the towels and handed them to Scully, who immediately put 
one on Mulder's lap. While sitting on the bed beside him, Scully gently took off 
the towel that was protecting Mulder's hand. Chris' gasp startled both of them.

"Okay, Chris," Scully said, ignoring Mulder for the time being. "I'm going
to need you to stay with me here. You okay?" Chris nodded and swallowed
hard. "All right then. What do you say you wet one of these towels for me,
just the end." Chris took a towel and disappeared again.

Mulder had leaned his head against the headboard and had his eyes closed,
opening them briefly when he felt Scully's hand on his forehead. "You 
doing okay too?" she whispered.

Mulder smiled, but kept his eyes closed. "Hmm. I've been better Scully."

"I know. I'll try and make this as painless as possible, but I'd be lying
if I told you it wasn't going to hurt."

Mulder nodded. The throbbing was now going up his arm and he could feel 
a tingling sensation all the way to his shoulder. He thought of mentioning it
to Scully, but decided against it. Why ruin the good mood he had worked so 
hard to attain.

Chris arrived with the wet towel and Scully began the task of cleaning
Mulder's hand, causing him to pull his hand back instinctively when the
cold fabric came in contact with the open wound. Scully held on to it and
continued, not daring to look at him. "It's okay," she whispered. "Just
take a deep breath. That's right, breathe deeply, let it out...breathe
again."

Breathing became difficult and Mulder could barely hear Scully's words 
deep in the back of his mind. He felt a stabbing pain and gasped, once again
pulling his hand away. Scully gently took his hand back and continued.

"That's the worst of them," she said calmly, hoping her voice would have 
a soothing effect. "You're lucky the skin is still attached there, but the
rest don't look that bad."

"Easy ...for you to say."

"True." Scully had stopped cleaning his hand and was just staring at it,
trying to assess the situation.

"Am I going to live, Doc?"

"That depends," Scully said, "on whether or not you'll let me give you a
few stitches."

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, not really. There's a couple of places where it looks like he tried to
get you and just scratched the surface. But in two places, here and here,
you need stitches," Scully pointed to the area just below his left thumb
and to his wrist, two inches further down.

"Unfortunately, Mulder," Scully was finally looking at him. "I couldn't get
my hands on anything to numb the area." Mulder's eyes widened with the
realization. "I know," she said, once again brushing the hair away from his
forehead. "I'm sure the stuff was there, but most of the cabinets had locks
on them. Anna had a key to get me in, but that was it. I didn't think
breaking a lock would have helped our situation any."

Mulder smiled. "Dr. Rambo...It's okay, Scully. Don't worry about it. Just
do what you have to do."

Scully forced a smile and looked up at Chris. "Okay, Chris, this is where
you come in."

"Anything, Sly, just tell me what to do."

"Go around to the other side of the bed and sit next to Mulder. I'm going
to need you to hold his hand steady while I sew him up."

Chris did as she was told and put her hands around Mulder's lower arm,
noticing immediately how warm he felt. His face was flushed, and she 
prayed the Advil would help.

"Just my luck. In bed with two women and OW! What the hell are you 
doing?" Mulder was sucking in his breath, hoping it would make the 
burning sensation go away.

"Mulder, I'm disinfecting the area. Please try and hold still."

"Damn, Scully, you could have given me a warning."

Okay, sorry. Just hold still."

Mulder took ragged breaths, ignoring the warning from Scully that he was
going to hyperventilate. Maybe if he did he would pass out and wake up 
when it was all over.

"Mulder, I'm going to start the stitches now." His eyes were closed, and he
said nothing. "Did you hear me? Are you ready?"

"Yes." He spoke through clenched teeth, wondering just how much more 
pain he was about to feel. More pain didn't seem possible. He heard Scully 
say something to Chris and her grip on his arm tightened just as the needle 
pierced his skin and his head exploded.

"Take a deep breath, Mulder. I'm almost finished." Scully was synchronizing 
her voice to her movements and Mulder tried to follow the sound. But the 
pain wouldn't let him follow anything but the needle and thread invading 
his skin, setting it on fire and leaving it again. 

Over and over and over again. 

Stab, fire, pull. Stab, fire, pull. 

He could feel every inch of the thread as it travelled through his skin on the 
way to holding it together. When he couldn't take it anymore he banged his 
head hard against the headboard, hoping pain in his head would make him 
forget the pain in his hand.

Scully stopped and put her hands on his shoulders. "Mulder, I have one 
more stitch to do and then I'll be done with the first one. You're doing 
great, just focus on your breathing."

Mulder didn't hear her. Nothing could register beyond the incessant throbbing.
He opened his eyes to look at Scully, to reassure her that he was all right, but 
his glassy stare betrayed everything he was feeling. She sighed and went back 
to work.

On the last stitch Mulder bit his lip so hard it bled, bringing Chris to
tears. She took a towel and wiped his mouth, then his forehead. He had lost
all semblance of color and his skin was clammy and pasty.

"Dana, is he okay? He's shaking." Chris was whispering, but the fear in 
her voice was evident.

"It's a reaction to the pain," Scully answered, positive Mulder couldn't hear 
her. "Give me that pillow behind you so I can elevate his feet a little." Scully 
lifted Mulder's feet and noticed they felt like dead weights. Wrapping the 
blanket tightly around his legs she immediately went back to work. "I'm  
almost done, Mulder," she whispered, mostly for Chris' sake. "I need to sew 
up this second cut here. It doesn't need a lot of stitches, but it's too deep to
ignore. I can see the bone."

Chris shivered at the thought and wiped Mulder's forehead one more time.

Mulder managed a crooked smile, suddenly feeling a surge of energy.
"S'okay, Chris. Hang in...there."

"Same to you, buster."

Scully looked at Chris and nodded, her cue to regain her position around
Mulder's arm.

"Mulder, I'm going to start the second set of stitches, okay?" Mulder
nodded slightly and she could feel his body tightening beside her.

Stab, fire, pull.

Stab, fire, pull.

Mulder was trying, he really was, but he couldn't stay with them. He heard
Scully's voice in the distance, she was almost done. Chris was a blur, mere
inches away. He was so cold. He was shaking. Shaking uncontrollably. He
couldn't stop. Couldn't stop himself from crying out, from shaking.

Stab, fire...

Mulder slumped against the headboard and his body relaxed.

"Thank God," Scully whispered. "I thought he'd never pass out."

"Is he okay?" Chris was terrified, still hanging on to his arm for dear 
life.

"He will be, eventually. But he already has a slight fever. I need to get him 
on some antibiotics to fight infection. And some painkillers. That hand is
going to kill when he wakes up."

"What about the dog? Do you know if he had all his shots?"

"Yes. It was the first thing I asked. Apparently there's a veterinarian on
the island that takes care of all the animals."

"Of course, there is," Chris said sarcastically. "This is paradise, after all."

Scully looked up and smiled. "All done. Poor Mulder passed out on the last
stitch. You can let go of his hand, now. He's not going anywhere."

Chris let go slowly and wiped Mulder's face one more time. She waited 
until Scully had finished bandaging Mulder's hand before demanding an 
explanation for what was going on.

"Help me bring him down, Chris, and then we'll talk."

The two women slid Mulder down the bed and laid him on his back, his 
hand resting on his stomach. Scully felt his forehead and frowned. If he 
was awake, she'd make him take two more Advil.

Without further excuses, she could no longer avoid Chris, and motioned to 
her friend to join her on the couch.

"Dana, you're scaring me. You look a little too somber for comfort."

Scully took a deep breath and told Chris everything she knew. Everything
Anna had told her. Stopping only when Chris had a question.  Unfortunately, 
most of her questions were the same ones Scully had. Including how could 
they be sure Anna was telling them the truth. What if she had made the whole 
thing up? And why would she to begin with?

"And Peter," Chris was saying. "It wasn't my imagination. Something has
been going on with him. And Mulder's illness on the ship...and the 
problem with his sight a couple of days ago..."

"As it is, I only knew of the one incident with his sight. Anna told me it
happened while they were walking, too."

Chris felt a chill. "So what do we do now? We have to get off this island."

"Right. We need to get to a phone and get some arm of the law out here. If
everything Anna said is true, we'll need some protection before we can get
off the island. Trouble is, we don't know who we can trust."

"Don't even know if we can trust Anna, for that matter."

Before Scully could answer her they heard Mulder stirring, restlessly
moving around. Scully was by his side instantly, her hand on his forehead.
"He's burning up," she said.

"I'll get a compress." Scully remembered that Chris had a small child,
easily the best training for emergencies.

"Isn't this awfully quick for a fever, infection?" Chris handed Scully the
compress and sat down next to her.

"Not considering he was outside, in the storm, for probably an hour after
he got bitten. I'm sure he lost quite a bit of blood, and he had nothing to
cover the hand with, other than putting it inside his coat. And the hand
was filthy, covered in dirt. The tropics are full of nasty little bugs
everywhere, too." Scully sighed, deep in thought. "And who knows
what's been pumped into him during the last few days, possibly
affecting his immune system. I'm afraid Mulder doesn't know how to do 
a simple injury."

"I hate to say this, Dana, but if things get very complicated in the
morning will we be able to count on Mulder? I mean, will he be okay 
if we need to make a run for it?"

"You've been watching too many MacGyver reruns," Scully said, taking 
Chris' hand. "Mulder will be sore and feverish until he can start taking 
some painkillers and antibiotics, but he'll be fine. And I'm sure getting off
the island won't be that difficult. All we need is a phone." Scully knew
her oldest and dearest friend could read her mind. She knew Chris could see
the doubt in her eyes as she spoke, but she said the reassuring words
anyway, because she felt they both needed to hear them.

"Now," Scully said, getting up, "why don't you go back to your room and 
try and get some sleep. It's almost daybreak and regardless of what happens
tomorrow, it's going to be a long day."

"You think I can sleep?"

"No, but maybe you can rest. And be there when Peter wakes up in case he
needs you. Try not to wake him, though. If he is being drugged we have to
be on the lookout for all kinds of side effects. Waking him too soon may
not be the right thing to do."

Chris shuddered. "Peter...poor guy. To think I was so mad at him for not
wanting to have sex. I told you something was wrong." Chris laughed in
spite of the situation, reminding Scully how she had won her heart so many
years ago. It was her sense of humor, above and beyond everything else.
"You sure you and Mulder will be okay?"

"Yeah, we'll be fine. If I need anything I'll get you. It's almost six now.
What do you say we meet back here at eight?"

"Okay." Chris gave her friend a quick hug and left, afraid that if she said 
anything else her fa‡ade would crumble. 

Scully turned her attention back to Mulder, who was still sleeping fitfully. 
Even in sleep his expression was pained, and she was not looking forward to 
dealing with him when he woke up. 

She was climbing over him to lay down when she heard a knock on the door.

"Dana, it's me, open up."     

"Chris?" Scully opened the door and found a hysterical woman standing in 
front of her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Peter! He's not in the room. He's gone."

***********
End of Chapter Eleven



Chapter Twelve

"What do you mean he's gone?" This was not what Scully was expecting.

"Gone. As in out of here. As in someone probably took him." Chris was
frantic, pacing the room, tears streaming down her face.

"Chris, calm down. Let's try and think this through rationally." Scully was
pacing beside her friend, barely containing her own panic. "He probably
couldn't sleep and went for a walk."

Chris' eyes widened in disbelief. "This is Peter, Dana. The guy needs me
and three alarm clocks to get him up in the morning. The only time he 
wakes up on his own is when he can sleep in 'til noon." Chris tried her best 
to remain calm.

"But we know, at least we think we know, that he's been drugged." Scully
said. "If that's the case, his internal clock may be all screwed up. You
yourself have said he's been acting strange for the last couple of days."

Chris took a deep breath. "Oh God, Dana, I thought we would be okay. I
really did. Because in the back of my mind I thought the four of us could
pull everything off. Get out of here in one piece. But now..." Chris was
still crying, wiping the tears furiously off her face. "Now Peter's gone.
What if they've hurt him. Oh my God. I...I can't live without him, Dana."

Chris had stopped pacing and was standing in front of Scully, crying softly
as the implications of life without her best friend flashed before her.
Scully hugged her tightly and let her cry for a few minutes, until Chris
pulled back, wiping her face angrily.

"Okay, I'm going to get dressed and go downstairs. Maybe he couldn't 
sleep and is down there playing pool or something." Chris was suddenly a
different woman and Scully could see the successful professional slowly
emerge. "I take it the best thing to do right now would be to elicit no
suspicions?"

She looked to Scully for confirmation, smiling softly when her friend nodded.

"Okay, I'll get this G-man stuff down if it kills me. Knock on wood," she
said, kissing her knuckles and gently tapping on the dresser. "Funny how
superstitions are the first thing to fill a cluttered mind when you're scared."

"You're one of the most superstitious women I've ever known," Scully
teased. "You must spend half your life scared."

"You should speak. Your Catholic upbringing was a little more rigid than 
mine."

"And what does one thing have to do with the other?"

"Oh please, superstitions were invented by Catholics too guilty to deal
with their conscience."

"Hmm, that statement is going to give me food for thought."

"I know," Chris sighed. "I'm getting dressed and going downstairs."

Scully forced a smile. "I bet you find him right away," she said, trying to
inject some optimism into her voice.

Chris saw right through her. "I'll be okay, Dana. I'm sorry for the
outburst. If he's not downstairs, I will become so good at this FBI shit
I'm going to give you a run for your money. Mulder may put in a request 
for a new partner." Chris turned around and walked out of the room.

Scully was going to ask her to look for any signs of a struggle in the
room, but thought better of it. If she came back without Peter she would
conduct the search herself.

The rain had stopped, but she could hear thunder in the distance. Great day
for an escape, Scully thought bitterly, throwing her head back and rubbing
her eyes. Where had she gone wrong? What had she done to bring so much
excitement into her life on such a frequent basis? Mulder, she knew, would
see it as something she had done in a previous life. Cosmic Karmic payoff.
A scary thought when she imagined the worst she had done in this lifetime
was shoot a snake when she was a little girl. Previous lives were so out of
her control, she couldn't believe they could be responsible for her experiences 
this time around. No, it was the snake incident with her brothers. She was 
sure of it. That little snake was responsible for all the anguish she had been 
through during the last four years.

She heard Mulder groan and wondered what she had done to deserve him. 
Was it a good thing or a bad thing?

"Scu...lly..." Good question, she thought, as she walked over to him.

"Hey, how's the hand?" she asked, sitting down beside him.

"Hand? What...hand?" He could only stay serious for a moment before
offering a crooked, half smile. "It's a little achy."

"Achy? Mulder, you're scaring me," she said, feeling his forehead. "You
sound like you're stuffed with painkillers and I know for a fact Advil
doesn't make people say...achy."

"Immaculate consumption."

"Very funny. First Chris and now you with the religious metaphors. What,
Billy Graham died and is looking for a new host?"

"Where's Chris?" Mulder was trying to push himself up with one hand and
almost succeeded. Doctor Scully felt he should stay in bed for a while, since
rest and sleep would offer the only reprieve from the pain. Unfortunately,
Special Agent Scully knew that wasn't an option. The sun was yet to come 
up and already the day was not shaping up well.

"She went looking for Peter," she finally answered, helping Mulder up.
Agent Scully had won the round.

"What?"

"She went to her room, and Peter was gone."

"Were there signs of a struggle?" Mulder was rubbing his neck, trying to
clear the cobwebs that had settled so well.

"I don't know. Probably nothing obvious or Chris would have mentioned it."

"Is she okay?" Chris and Mulder had forged a friendship based on trust and
mutual admiration during the trip to California, and his concern for her was
heartfelt.

"She wasn't and then she was," Scully said, smiling at the thought of her
best friend. "You know Chris, she can pull it together when she needs to."

Mulder nodded. "You think he's downstairs?"

"I honestly don't know, Mulder. I'm at a total loss here. I have no idea
what to think. Thirty minutes ago I would have told you that I was on my
way downstairs to find a phone and get us out of here. But if Peter *is*
missing, well... I don't know. Anything can happen now. If he's been 
taken somewhere, and we call the police, what do you think the chances are 
we'll find him alive? From what I gathered, this guy Leuzinger has been 
working on his little experiments for a long time. You think he's going to let 
us mess with his life's work, just walk out of here. 'Oh and by the way,
here's Peter, take him with you?' I don't think so." Scully took a deep
breath and realized she was trembling..

Mulder reached up and stroked her arm gently. "Scully, we've been in 
worse predicaments."

"I know, Mulder. But if it was just you and me to worry about..." Mulder
started to get up. "Where do you think you're going?" Scully asked, putting
a hand on his chest.

"I'm going to go search Chris and Peter's room. I guarantee you Chris isn't
going to find him."

"Mulder, you have a fever, your hand is probably already infected..." It was a
weak argument, one that she made to allay her conscience. She felt the same
sense of urgency that Mulder did, and, unfortunately, couldn't honestly
keep him in bed.

Mulder managed a smile and gently kissed the top of her head. "I'll be fine," 
he whispered, slowly making his way to the bathroom.

Scully closed her eyes. If she paid him too much attention, she would be 
forced to send him back to bed.

Mulder closed the bathroom door and leaned heavily against it, eyes tightly
shut, silently berating himself for getting hurt. His hand was a painful
throb, but the fever made him weak, and what strength he'd managed to
regain during the last couple of days had all but disappeared in the last
couple of hours.

He took a deep breath and made his way to the sink, unprepared for what he 
saw in the mirror. Poor Scully, he thought, running a hand through his
matted hair. No wonder she looked so worried, I look like death warmed
over. Mulder splashed his face with cold water, a futile attempt to rinse the
fever from his eyes.

Scully was putting on her shoes when he came out of the bathroom. "You
going to look for a phone?" he asked.

"Yes. Even if we don't find Peter right away, I think we'll stand a better
chance if we can get some help to the island." She found her gun and loaded
it, leaving behind once and for all any pretense that they were on vacation.

"Okay, be careful," Mulder warned, fumbling with his shoes.

"Here, let me." Scully leaned down and tied his shoelaces. "I took your gun
out of the bag, Mulder, and loaded it. Make sure you take it with you."
Mulder nodded, feeling Scully's hand on his forehead, again. She shook 
her head. "Advil's not doing a thing," she said, and handed him two more.

Mulder didn't bother answering her, knowing full well she wasn't looking
for any answers, just a chance to release some frustration. He squeezed her
hand and got up, picking up his gun and putting it in his sweats. "Come
on," he said, holding out his hand. "Let's get this show on the road."

They walked out of the room together. "Be careful what you say to Gregory
if he's down there," Mulder whispered. Scully nodded and squeezed his 
hand before letting it go in front of Chris and Peter's door.

Mulder watched Scully disappear down the stairs before going inside the
room. At first glance everything appeared to be in place. No obvious signs
that anything was wrong. If anything, he thought, Chris and Peter were the
neatest people he had ever seen on vacation. No clothes on the floor, very 
few personal items on the dresser. The bed clothes were crumpled, but not
unusually so, and he found no blood anywhere. Good sign, he thought, 
looking under the bed, the closets. He would need Chris to look in the 
closet and see what clothes were missing. There were no tennis shoes in 
sight and Mulder remembered Peter wearing some. Another good sign. If he 
was taken against his will his captors had the decency to make sure he had 
his shoes on. Which also meant he most likely walked out of the room.

Next, Mulder stood on a chair and fiddled with the air vents in the room.
Without a screwdriver to take off the grates he couldn't tell much, but
for all intents and purposes, they appeared to be your everyday heating 
and air conditioning vents.

Mulder got down from the chair and sat down. His hand was pounding, the
slightest movement sending hot spikes through his arm, and he was starting 
to feel dizzy. This is not good, he thought wearily, forcing himself up.

Okay, Mulder, just take it easy and you can get through this. He left the
room in search of the timer Anna had told him about. "It looks like a fuse
box," she had said. It was easy to spot, at the end of the hallway, right where 
Anna had said it would be.  

Mulder casually looked around before opening the box. It was still early
and he could make out few footsteps beneath him. He doubted anyone 
would venture upstairs this early. After all, only the 'guests' were up here.
Guests, he thought, turning the word over several times.

The door to the box opened easily, and Mulder was surprised no key was
needed. But there it was, right in front of him. A timer, pure and simple.
Now, how to try this out, to verify the validity of Anna's story. 

They were running out of time and the priority had to be to find Peter, but 
Mulder figured he had a few minutes before Scully and Chris returned. And 
a few minutes was all he needed.

Without stopping to think of the consequences, Mulder set the timer for 
90 seconds and ran into Chris and Peter's room. While holding his breath 
he closed the door and locked it, running to the back door and opening it 
before he dared to breathe.

Mulder looked up to the vents in the room. He saw nothing, smelled 
nothing, heard nothing. Exactly what he had expected. He looked at
his watch. Twenty seconds. 

He looked at his watch again. Thirty five seconds. 

His hand came down in slow motion. He looked down and felt the floor 
disappearing from under him. Oh, shit, it's working. He wanted to shout, 
but couldn't. He couldn't move. He panicked. Only the foolishness of his 
actions giving him the surge of energy he needed to shove his body through 
the French doors.

Mulder landed hard on the concrete, forcing himself to take deep, ragged 
breaths in an attempt to clear his lungs of whatever toxin he had just inhaled.

What was I thinking? he thought, berating himself for taking such a chance.
True to his nature, it wasn't himself he was worried about. Instead, he was
concerned with the fact that Scully might have found him unconscious inside 
the room. One more thing she didn't need to deal with.

He was on his hands and knees when a frightened Scully found him and 
helped him up.

"Mulder, what's wrong? What are you doing out here?"

Mulder tried to answer her but it was all he could do to stay standing. 
The gas was making him sick to his stomach and he frantically searched
the patio for a place to vomit. 

Scully saw the color drain from his face and grabbed a small trash can from 
inside their room just in time. It was at least five minutes before Mulder was
finished. Five minutes of torture for both of them. Mulder was wishing he
was dead and Scully felt completely helpless as she watched her partner.

When he was finished Mulder glanced at Scully briefly before staggering 
into the bedroom and throwing himself on the bed, forgetting the injured 
hand until the pain forced him to remember. He curled on his side, the 
hand held tightly against his chest.

***********
End of Chapter Twelve




Chapter Thirteen

"What happened?" Chris had just entered the room.

"I don't know," Scully answered, sitting on the bed beside Mulder. 
"Mulder, what's wrong? What happened out there?"

Scullly's voice was a distant roar and even without hearing her words, he
knew what she was asking.

How the hell did I paint myself into this corner?

"I...tested the gas...in the other room," he groaned, staring up at the two 
women. Their worry was mixed with anger, and he recoiled a little when 
they both looked him in the eye.

Chris spoke up first. "I can't believe you did that!" Once again he had proven 
that there was very little he wouldn't do to get to the bottom of something. 
His lack of self-preservation baffled her and endeared him to her even more.

Mulder managed an awkward smile. He definitely felt worse than before 
and he found himself agreeing with her.

"At least now...we know," he managed, practically coughing out the 
words.

Scully got him a glass of water and helped him up to drink it, too angry to 
say anything. Mulder wanted nothing more than to lie down again, but he 
couldn't. Too much was at stake. He was certain now that whoever was 
behind this twisted game had gone to a lot of expense and effort to get 
what they wanted. And they weren't likely to give up without a struggle.

"Any sign of Peter?" he asked Chris.

"No. Nothing. I asked a couple of the housekeepers if they had seen him,
but they just shook their heads. The earliest shift is 6:30, and no one saw
him leaving after that. It was still dark at 6:30. Where could he have gone?"

Mulder rubbed his eyes. He desperately wanted to lie down. "I don't know,
Chris, but don't worry, we'll find him." He turned to Scully, hoping he 
could pretend nothing had happened "Any luck with the phone?"

"The lines are all down. Seems the storm caused major damage to the phone
system." Scully was hard pressed to hide her concern.

"Who'd you ask?"

Several people. And I found a couple of phones myself and tried them.
They're all dead."

Mulder closed his eyes and tried to formulate his thoughts as he spoke. "I
think we need to get out of the house," he said, his voice barely above a
whisper.

"Mulder, you need to lie down." Doctor Scully was in.

"Scully, there's no time for that. This whole house might be booby trapped.
There may be another timer somewhere in the house that can start pumping
gas into this room at a moment's notice." Mulder resisted the urge to close
his eyes, not sure that he could open them again if he did.

Scully and Chris exchanged glances, confirming expressions that Mulder 
was right. They were sitting ducks if they stayed. 

"Mulder..." What could Scully say to him that would improve the situation?
That would make him feel better and get them out of danger at the same
time? Nothing. Damned if you do and damned if you don't.

"You're right," Scully finally said, defeated. "Just let me take a look at
your hand before we go any further."

Mulder began to argue and found he didn't have the energy. Awkwardly 
and against his better judgment, he held out his hand to Scully, biting his 
lip as the bandage came off. Scully forced herself to stay neutral. To stay 
calm. And, most importantly, to keep herself from screaming. The area 
surounding the stitches just below the thumb was already inflamed, with 
spidery red streaks all around it. The other bite, near his wrist, was holding 
its own, but Scully knew it was just a matter of time before it too got infected. 
She looked at Mulder, who had been staring at the hand along with her.

"It's infected," Scully said blandly. "How does it feel?"

Okay, Mulder knew, would not cut it. He opted for a semi-truth. "Hot," he 
said.

"You mean burning? Stinging?"

How did she know? How did she do it? It was uncanny the way Scully 
could see right through him. Mulder nodded. It's no use, he thought, she's 
got my number.

"And how's the rest of you?" Her expression said don't fuck with me, 
Mulder, and he tried to heed the warning as best he could, but in the end, 
he didn't have the strength to be polite.

"Scully, I feel like shit, okay? My hand hurts like hell, my head feels
like it's about to explode, and I want to crawl under a rock. Is that what
you want me to say? Are you happy now?" He sighed in frustration and 
stood up, feeling dizzy the instant he did so. Chris was right there to steady
him, but Mulder quickly pushed her away. Scully had her back to him and 
he didn't want her to see the exchange.

"Chris," Mulder began, wrapping up his own hand. "I need you to go in 
your room and see if you can figure out what clothes Peter was wearing 
when he left. I couldn't find his tennis shoes, so I assume he's wearing 
them. Was he sleeping in anything when he went to bed last night?"

"No." Chris took the bandage from Mulder's fumbling fingers and finished
wrapping it herself.

"Okay, 'cause I didn't see pajamas or anything else on the bed."

Chris looked up from the bandage, her eyes starting to well up again.
Mulder wanted to say something reassuring to her, anything at all that
would make her feel better, but found himself at a loss for words. A
standard statement, like the ones he was used to making when he was on a
case, didn't seem appropriate. Instead, he brought her close and gave her a
hug. "It's okay," he whispered. "We'll find him."

Chris nodded and pushed him away, wiping the tears she couldn't stop.

"Okay, I'm going," she said.

"When you're done looking through Peter's clothes," Mulder added, "make
sure you're wearing some comfortable shoes, socks, pants, no shorts 
today, and bring along a jacket. Better yet, get your backpack and put in 
there a change of clothes, including extra socks."

Chris nodded and headed out the door only to come right back in. 
"Mulder?" she asked sheepishly. "What about the gas in the room?

"Don't worry about it, it wasn't pumped in long enough to leave any
lingering effects."

"Okay."

Mulder turned to Scully, who hadn't moved and was still sitting on the bed.
Not now, he thought to himself, I can't deal with this now. He made his 
way to the nightstand and pressed the intercom button for the kitchen.

"Yes, may I help you?" It was a woman's voice, young and pleasant.

"Yes, this is Fox Mulder, would you mind preparing a picnic lunch for four
that we can pick up in the next 20 to 30 minutes?"

"Why yes, Mr. Mulder. That would be no problem. Luckily the storm only 
affected the phone lines this time and our kitchen is at your disposal.
Do you have any requests, sir?"

"No, thank you. Anything you prepare will be fine. We will, however, be
horseback riding today, so if you could put it in bags that would be easy
to carry we would appreciate it."

Scully got up and started filling her backpack.

Mulder pressed the intercom button for the stables.

"Yes?" A man's voice this time.

"Yes, this is Fox Mulder. My friends and I thought we'd like to go
horseback riding today and were wondering if you could have three horses
ready for us within the next half hour?"

The voice on the other end hesitated before speaking. "Mr. Mulder," the
older man said, "that would be no problem. But as you know we had quite a
storm last night, with more rain expected throughout the day and, well, the
island is quite a mess this morning."

"Thanks for the warning," Mulder said, feigning the voice of the ignorant
tourist. "But that's exactly why we thought of horseback riding today. 
We'd like to ride around the island and check out the damage for ourselves."

"Suit yourselves," the man answered. "I'll have the horses ready when you
get here. You said three?"

"Yes, three. Thank you."

Mulder sat on the bed and began rubbing his temple. How far did he think
he could go when he couldn't have a two minute conversation without 
having to sit down?

He looked up and was startled to see Scully standing in front of him.
"Here, take these," she said, handing him two more Advils and a glass of
water. Mulder took them and started to speak, but Scully shushed him. She
put her hand on his forehead and left it there for a long time, moving it
down slowly  to caress his cheek.

"Mulder," she said, kneeling in front of him and placing her hands on his
knees. "I need to tell you this, for my own peace of mind and for your own
well-being. You are burning up, with a fever easily close to 102, 103. Your
hand is infected and the pain will only get worse until you can get a
strong dose of antibiotics started. I know we can't stay here and I know we
need to find Peter before we can consider getting off the island, but I
need you to take your medical situation into consideration when you decide
to execute whatever plan you have inside your head."

Mulder closed his eyes. He was so tired. "I will," he said, forcing them open
again. "Scully, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be sorry anymore, Mulder. Just, please, be careful."

"Okay," Mulder said. "Now, just to prove that I can let you help me, will
you help me get these sweats off and my jeans on. If it starts to rain
while we're out there I'd rather have the jeans on."

"Any excuse for me to take your pants off, Mulder."

Chris walked in on them just as Scully had Mulder's jeans halfway up his 
legs.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I mean...hey, what the hell are you two doing? This is no
time..."

"What does it look like we're doing, Einstein? You want to help?" Scully
asked mischievously.

"Why is it that all such opportunities arise at inopportune times?" Mulder
wondered.

Both women ignored him and Scully finished pulling up his pants in 
silence. "Okay, let's go," she said, grabbing her backpack and handing 
Mulder his. "It's all in there, Mulder."

"Thanks." Mulder flung his backpack over one shoulder.

"Where are we going? What are we doing?" Chris asked.

"I'll go over everything outside," Mulder said. "Right now all you know is
we're going horseback riding and planning on having a picnic somewhere,
after we've caught up with Peter."

"O...kay," Chris answered. "I think I'll let you two sleuths do the talking.

"Good idea," Scully said, leading the way.

Gregory was already at his usual place by the front door when they arrived
downstairs. Mulder made sure to hide his bandaged hand in his jacket 
pocket and smiled when he saw Gregory. "Good morning, Gregory," he 
offered.

"Good morning Gregory," Scully and Chris said in unison.

"You're all up early today. Is Mr. Kendall still in bed?"

"He beat us to it," Chris answered, surprising even herself. "I guess he
couldn't sleep this morning so he went for a walk. We thought we'd do 
some horseback riding and catch up with him."

"Splendid," Gregory said. "Will you be having any breakfast before you 
go?"

"Nah," Scully said, anxious to get away from the man with all the teeth.
"We ordered a picnic lunch. That should do us."

"Yes, it's right here." Gregory handed Mulder the bag and Chris intercepted
it.

"I'll keep it," she said, looking at Mulder. "You're liable to eat it all
before we stop for lunch.

Gregory laughed and looked at Mulder. "Mr. Mulder, is everything all right? 
You look a little flushed."

"Allergies," Mulder answered right away. "I think the storm kicked up a lot
of stuff, because I spent most of the morning sneezing."

"Ah, yes, storms do tend to do that. Would you like something from the
clinic for it?"

"No I'll..."

"Actually," Scully interrupted, "that would be a great idea. Why don't you
two go on out to the stables and I'll stop by the clinic and see what they
have."

"Good idea," Chris said, taking Mulder by the arm. "Then maybe Sneezy 
over here will leave us in peace."

They left the house and parted ways, Scully promising to catch up with
them as soon as she could. Not only did she want to get something for 
Mulder, anything she could get her hands on, but she wanted a chance to 
look around the clinic, make sure Peter wasn't being hidden in there.

She put on her obnoxious doctor, just have to see the clinic, the entire
clinic, face and entered the small facility.

***********

Scully had been gone for over 20  minutes and Mulder and Chris were 
about to go looking for her, when they saw her walking towards them.

"What the hell took you so long?" Chris asked. "G-man here has been
chomping at the bit."

"I got a tour," Scully answered. "No sign of Peter, unfortunately, but I
told her I had a bladder infection and got some Erythromycin. Not exactly
the strong stuff you need," she said, looking at Mulder, "but it's better
than nothing."

"Thanks," Mulder said, hesitating slightly.

"What is it?"

"You didn't by any chance, I mean, did you...did you get your hands on 
any pain killers?" There, he said it. Why it was so hard for him to admit he
needed pain killers, he didn't know.

"I'm sorry," Scully said, her face full of concern. That's why, Mulder
thought, when he saw Scully's solemn expression. "I tried. I told her I was
having terrible cramps and needed some Vicodin, but she didn't have any.
She gave me more Advil, the strongest thing she had. She's due a shipment
from the pharmacy today or tomorrow."

"But did you get the allergy medicine?" Chris wanted to know.

"Yes. Quick thinking, Mulder. I almost forgot to get it, too."

"Let's get out of here," Mulder said.

They made their way down the horse path until they were out of sight of the
stables, then quickly criss crossed through the island until they were in
front of the servant's housing. Making sure to stay off the main walkway,
they hid near some trees and waited for Anna to come out.

***********
End of Chapter Thirteen




Chapter Fourteen

"How do you know Anna's still in there?" Chris asked.

"I've seen her arrive at the house near eight every morning," Mulder
replied. "She's got to be coming out of there any minute now."

Sure enough, less than 10 minutes later, Anna came out of the building. Her
long hair was tied back harshly, exposing wrinkle lines on her forehead and
dark bags under her eyes. Her appearance reminded Scully of someone who 
had done a lot of crying. Mulder ignored the throbbing in his hand and 
quickly got off his horse.

"Anna," he whispered when he was close enough to be heard.

Anna looked like she had seen a ghost and kept walking.

"Anna," Mulder tried again, still whispering. "If you don't come talk to me
I will be forced to follow you until you do."

Anna stopped and looked around her. Satisfied that no one was watching, 
she left the path and joined Mulder behind a clump of trees.

"You don't look very good," Was the first thing she managed to say. She 
had hoped he would leave her alone today. Would get himself and his 
friends off the island without involving her any further. For some reason, 
this man had touched her in a way that was unfamiliar, and she could no 
more turn her back on him than she could continue the charade with 
Leuzinger.

"I'm fine, Anna. But listen. I, I mean we," he corrected himself, motioning
to Scully and Chris to join him. "We need your help."

"Haven't I already done enough? Can't you just get off the island now?"

"No, Anna, we can't. The phones are down because of the storm, at least
that's what we've been told."

Anna nodded. "It's true. They're all down."

"And," Mulder continued. "Peter is missing."

"What?" Anna was stunned, and Mulder knew without a doubt that she 
wasn't involved in his disappearance.

"Gone. He disappeared sometime this morning between five and six." 
Scully and Chris had left their horses and were now standing beside him.

"But how?" Anna was frantically trying to think of anything she might have
seen, or overheard that could shed some light on this new development.

"There was no sign of a struggle and some of his own clothes were 
missing, so we don't know if he got dressed and walked out on his own, in 
some drugged stupor, or if he was carried out, unconscious after inhaling 
gas that was pumped into the room."

"I can't help you," Anna said flatly. "I've done enough, and I don't know
what else I can do. I'm afraid you're on your own."

Anna started to walk away and Scully stopped her. "Anna, helping us out
here could mean the difference between jail time and no jail time."

"Helping you out could mean the difference between life and death, Miss
Scully." Anna was terrified, but she made an impression by holding her own.

"Yours or Peter's?" Chris asked solemnly.

Anna made eye contact with Chris for a second, unable to hold the other
woman's gaze for very long. "Look, if I knew anything I would tell you. 
You have to believe that. I have no idea where your friend could be."

"We believe that, Anna," Mulder was rubbing his eyes as he spoke, hoping
the movement would clear the haze the fever was causing. "But we still 
need your help."

"How? How can I help you?"

"By checking out the lab and telling us if Peter is in there."

Anna's eyes widened. "I...I can't." Her terrified expression sent a wave of
panic through Chris.

"Why not?" Scully was getting impatient. "You work there, don't you? You
show up for work, look around, come out and tell us if he's in there."

"It's...it's not that easy."

"Why?"

"It's a huge building. With many rooms. Most of them locked. Unless Mr.
Kendall is in one of the main rooms, I would never see him."

Chris was getting to the end of her rope. "Anna, this is my husband we are
talking about. The father of my eight year-old daughter. If he's in there
we need to know. We need to get him out. You have to help us. Please."
Chris was pleading, shamelessly and desperately, and once again Anna felt
an overwhelming desire to make things right.

Anna felt her resolve fading. "Mrs. Kendall...I...I don't know that I could 
search all the rooms without being caught. But I suppose I could try."

"Good," Chris answered, offering Anna a weak smile.

"But I'm not due there until noon, when I take Leuzinger his lunch. I
definitely can't go early. He would want to know why I was there and the
people I work with at the house would notice too."

"You're right," Mulder said. "We'll keep riding around the island looking
for Peter, in case he's wandering somewhere, and we'll meet you near the
south side of the lab, just before noon."

"And what if you find Peter?"

We won't find him, Mulder thought, holding his tongue for Chris' sake.
"We'll meet you there anyway."

Anna nodded and walked away. She had nothing else to say to them.

The next four hours were spent searching for Peter all over the island, with
no sign of him to be found. They had discussed briefly splitting up, but in 
the end decided they should stay together. Scully had made Mulder stop twice 
to drink some water, dehydration now being a concern as well. His fever was
raging when they arrived at the rendezvous point and she begrudgingly
gave him his eighth Advil in six hours. Advil overdose would soon be an
issue.

Scully got off her horse first and held out her hand to Mulder, who hesitated, 
but took it.

"You okay?" she whispered.

Mulder nodded, too tired and sore to say anything.

Scully looked around for a dry patch of land and quickly found a small
area, underneath a dense tree, that was perfect. She threw the picnic
blanket down and called Mulder over. "Come sit down for a bit. Chris, you
too," she added. God forbid Mulder felt it was just him she was worried
about.

Mulder leaned against the tree and closed his eyes, asleep within seconds.
Chris and Scully said nothing, both fearful of interrupting Mulder's much
needed rest. Even if he hadn't been asleep, there was very little left to
say to each other. They had rehashed everything they knew for hours until
all three could no longer think coherently. Mulder was convinced Barney 
was behind everything, finding it impossible to believe that so much could
happen on his island, and his yacht, for that matter, without his knowledge.

Chris couldn't believe in a million years that Barney had anything to do
with their predicament. He had been nothing but incredibly generous and
nurturing to both Peter and herself for many years. He was practically a
member of the family and had even spent the last five Thanksgivings with
them.

"But how could his yacht and his mansion both have rooms set up with a 
gas pipeline and he not know about it?" Mulder had asked.

Chris had a simple explanation for that as well. "Mulder," she had said,
"when you lose something in your apartment, you don't worry very much 
about it because you know eventually you'll find it. It's all you've got. That
and your car. Now, if you buy a vacation house and you spend every 
weekend there, all of a sudden you have two places where things can be and 
after a while of forgetting your toothbrush or your roasting pan, you'll just 
get two sets of those things, so you no longer have to think about what's
where. Now, picture someone like Barney, who owns 12, yes 12, houses 
all over the world. And three yachts. Even if he spent equal time in all of
them every year, you're talking less than one month at each place. Every
one of those dwellings is fully stocked with everything he needs for when
he drops by. Like the house on Kieran. Full staff, everything. He can go
anywhere, at a moment's notice, and be right at home. Everything he needs 
at his fingertips. This decadence does not come cheaply. And by
cheaply I mean not only financially, but emotionally as well. Basically,
Barney's entire life is run by the people around him. You think he hires
the people that maintain his properties year round? You think he even 
knows half their names? Their backgrounds? Mulder, the guy employs 
about 10,000 people. Leuzinger being one of them. God knows how many 
people take advantage of him."

Scully could see it going both ways. With Barney knowing what was going 
on and with him being in the dark. Her gut told her he knew something, if 
not everything, but she couldn't come up with a motive. Like why 
would he want to hurt Peter? Or Mulder, for that matter. Who was 
supposed to be drugged and why? And why had Mulder gotten so sick and 
not Peter? It had occurred to her that maybe the Scopolamine Mulder had 
been taking for motion sickness interfered with the drug he was given, 
possibly throwing all blood samples askew. Peter, Chris had confirmed, 
was taking nothing, therefore providing the madman a clean slate to work 
with.

The hours of bantering back and forth, of volleying possible motives and
scenarios, had taken their toll on all of them, which is why Scully and
Chris didn't notice Anna walk up until she was practically on top of them.
Both women recovered quickly and stood up, taking the young woman 
away from Mulder so they could talk without waking him.

Anna couldn't take her eyes off of Mulder. "Is he going to be okay?"

"He needs to be in a hospital," Scully said, wanting to impress a strong
sense of urgency. Some drugs and a bed would do, but Anna didn't need
to know that.

"But will he...Is he going to..." Anna couldn't bring herself to finish the 
thought.

"He's in a lot of pain," Scully continued, emphasizing the word pain and 
simultaneously feeling guilty for laying it on so thick. "And he has a high
fever, which is why we need to find Peter and get out of here."

Anna wanted to ask how they intended to do that, but decided she didn't
want to know. "I'll do my best and will come out as soon as I can, but
sometimes I'm in there for a couple of hours before I can take a break.
Will you wait for me right here?"

"We're not going anywhere." Scully answered. "Just hurry...and be 
careful."

Chris took Anna's hand and looked at her for an instant before saying thank
you. Anna said nothing and disappeared through the brush.

Chris looked at Scully, unable to form the words she wanted to say. Fear
and worry had a strong grip on her and she was leery of opening her 
mouth. Of expressing her concerns. It was easier to deny the truth when it 
was unspoken.

Scully reassured her, for the tenth time, that everything would be okay.
But again, both women recognized the words for what they were, one 
friend trying to comfort the other. Too much was still in the dark for either 
one to be certain of anything.

Mulder stirred and groaned a couple of times, but it was almost an hour
before he woke up. He was arching his back, trying to get the kinks out,
when Scully noticed.

"Hey."

"Anna?"

"She went inside about an hour ago. No sign of her since."

Scully handed him a glass of water and Mulder drank slowly. He was 
feeling the effects of the fever, that misearable achy, leave-me-alone, even-
my-eyes-hurt kind of feeling and wished there was a way to hide it from 
Scully.

As if on cue, Scully reached up and felt his forehead. She said nothing.
Didn't have to. Mulder took the silence as an opportunity to change the
subject.

"We need to come up with a plan to get Peter out of there." He was almost
sorry he had spoken, his voice was so strained. Clearing his throat, he
continued. "Are the two guards still out there?"

"You're assuming Peter is in there." Chris was making a statement, not
asking a question.

"I am, Chris. I can't imagine that he's anywhere else."

"But why?"

"The idea of Peter, getting up in the middle of the night, getting dressed,
and walking out into the storm doesn't fit. The idea that he was taken here,
to protect their experiment, does." Mulder was forcing his mind to
concentrate on the conversation.

"What do you mean?" Ignorance was Chris' best defense mechanism. She 
was a smart woman, and she could, if she tried, put the pieces together. But 
she didn't want to. She would make herself crazy if she tried.

"I think maybe someone saw me come in this morning. Or saw Scully 
coming in. I don't know, but someone was alerted that something was awry 
in paradise. If they were keeping an eye on us, they probably got suspicious
when Scully went to get you." 

Mulder leaned his head against the tree. Sitting up and talking was taking 
more effort than he had in him. I have to shake this fever, he thought.

"So they got suspicious and took Peter before we could put all the pieces
together. Before we could get to him ourselves." Scully finished Mulder's
thoughts and he smiled his approval.

"Which means they're onto us," Chris said, suddenly feeling very cold. 
"But why let us go?"

"Why not?" Mulder asked. "Where are we going to go?" He could no 
longer couch his concerns to protect Chris. She had to know all the 
ramifications.

"On the other hand," Scully suggested. "Our trip is scheduled to end
tomorrow. Maybe this was supposed to happen today all along. Maybe part 
of the plan was to take Peter this morning. Chris noticed changes in him
immediately after he got the first dose of the drug. On the second day, the
changes were more pronounced, even we started noticing," she continued,
looking at Mulder. "Maybe the change today would have been too radical to
overlook." Scully hated thinking out loud this way in front of Chris, but
she had no other option.

"Maybe," Mulder said. "It's a better scenario for us too. If that's the
case they won't get suspicious as to our whereabouts until early evening."

"So let's assume Peter is in there," Chris began, fighting the terror.
"What do we do then?"

"We figure a way to get him out and find a hiding place until we can get to
a working phone." Easier said than done, Mulder thought, closing his eyes
against the pain shooting up his arm. Scully didn't miss any of it and
shifted her position to take a look at his hand.

"Scully, it's okay, it just hurts a little."

"Uh-huh." Scully continued taking off the bandages. "And I've been signed to
play for the Lakers."

"As a cheerleader, maybe," Mulder teased. "But no, scratch that, I think
they have height requirements too."

Mulder gasped and jerked his hand away when Scully gently touched the 
area around his thumb.

"Sorry, Mulder. The infection is getting worse. That's why your fever
hasn't broken, even though you're on the verge of OD'ing on Advil."

"I knew you'd get rid of me one way or the other."

Scully made a face and covered up the hand. Her helplessness infuriated her
more than anything. He was to the point where he needed intravenous
antibiotics and they were sitting by a tree, trying to formulate a
daredevil action plan to rescue Peter. The preposterous situation didn't
escape her and had she not been so worried, she might have laughed.

"I hear someone," Chris said, getting up and moving closer to the sound.
"It's Anna."

Anna's expression was solemn and Chris held her breath, her heart in her
mouth. "Is he in there?" she asked. "Is he in there?"

Anna nodded. Mulder stood up, pushing Scully away when she tried to 
help.

"Is he okay?"

"Where is he?"

Chris and Mulder spoke simultaneously.

"I think he's okay," Anna said. "But he's unconscious, so I'm not sure. He
looks okay. He's in one of the rooms near the back of the lab."

"Near the back door?" Mulder had visions of the dog that guarded that door
and shuddered.

"Yes."

"Anna is Leuzinger doing anything to him?" Scully was hoping to assess
Peter's condition.

"No. He was in the lab, looking at things through his microscope the whole
time I was in there. He was so engrossed it was easy for me to wander and
search the building."

Anna was clearly uncomfortable, shaking slightly, and Mulder wondered if 
she was close to a breakdown.

"Anna, you have to help us get in there."

"Mr. Mulder, please don't ask me to do that." She was pleading, her eyes
watering as she spoke.

"Anna, you have to help us." Scully decided to take another tact. "Mulder's
hand is seriously infected. Just look at him, he's burning up and
desperately needs to get to a hospital. But we can't even attempt to get
off this island until we have Peter with us. It's too great a risk for
Peter if we alert the authorities and he's still in Leuzinger's hands."

Anna took a shallow breath and glanced from Scully to Mulder and then 
back to Scully again. "I...I don't know," she said, tears streaming down 
her face. "I can't..."

"You have to." Scully was imploring her with her eyes. "You have to help 
us.

Mulder coughed and Anna jumped. He hadn't intended to get that response. 
As a matter of fact, he was uncomfortable with Scully using him to get to
Anna, even if it did seem to be working.

Anna looked at Mulder. His glassy eyes, full of fever and pain, an
agonizing reminder that two lives were now at stake. And possibly four.

She had been a master of detachment, but it had become increasingly
difficult to maintain that aloofness once she was forced to put faces and
personalities to the people involved. It was impossible to think straight,
let alone consider the consequences of her actions, when all she could hear
was Mulder's ragged breathing.

"All right," she practically shouted, a useless effort to quiet her conscience.
"Just tell me what you want me to do."

***********
End of Chapter Fourteen




Chapter Fifteen

Reluctantly, Anna had agreed to the plan. It was simple and straightforward,
and required very little on her part, but she could not be convinced to
initiate anything before sunset. The young woman was terrified, certain
daylight would alert everyone on the island that something was going on.

The agents had argued that they needed to get Peter out before the staff
sent out a search party for them, but she wouldn't budge. Scully argued
that they were wasting precious time. Time Mulder, and possibly Peter, did
not have, and still Anna could not be persuaded. She looked at Mulder with
large brown eyes and spoke volumes without saying a word. It was at this
point Mulder had agreed to wait until the sun went down. Anna had been
pushed as far as she could go without falling apart, and they needed her if
their plan was going to work.

They realized when Anna returned to the lab that they had to buy some time.
The last thing they needed, if no one suspected them already, was to arouse
suspicion simply because they had been out all day.

Chris was unwilling to leave the area near the lab. It was her way of
staying close to Peter, and the two agents agreed it wasn't such a bad idea.
They didn't think Peter was going anywhere, but at this point they weren't
assuming anything.

The trip back to the house was quick, neither one comfortable with the idea
of Chris alone. After dropping off their horses, including Chris', they
managed to get inside their room with only a wave of the hand and a swift
hello to Gregory.

Mulder sat on the bed and regretted the action immediately. Getting up was
going to be a problem. Scully ignored the temptation to force him under the 
covers for an extended rest. We don't have the time, she sighed inwardly, 
going to the intercom and calling the kitchen.

They bought themsleves more time by ordering another meal from the 
kitchen and saying they were planning an early dinner on the beach.

That taken care of, Scully called downstairs and requested a couple of golf
carts. Mulder had been iffy on the horse and she was hoping he could drive
a golf cart back to the lab. If they had to, it would also be easier to
drag an unconscious Peter out of the lab and into a golf cart than onto a
horse.

"How long?" Mulder asked. His upper body was now laying on the bed,
his feet still on the floor. Scully didn't like the way he was holding his
hand, protectively near his chest.

"Couple of minutes for the carts, half an hour for dinner.

Mulder didn't answer, but felt Scully come near him. Her next action he
could have predicted, and smiled inwardly when he felt her hand on his
forehead.

"I'm beginning to think you like that part of my body more than others,"
Mulder mused, eyes closed.

"Like you've given me an opportunity to get to know any others during this
week," Scully teased, ruffling his hair.

"Story of my life," Mulder mumbled. "What did they say when you asked 
about the phone lines?"

"Still nothing. The woman in the kitchen said she thought they'd be 
working some time soon. The golf cart guy said it could be hours, could be 
days. They don't know,"

Scully looked down at Mulder and debated with herself before continuing 
the conversation, knowing where she was headed and afraid of adding to 
Mulder's stress level, but in the end decided she would explode if she 
couldn't talk to him and share her concerns.

"Mulder, I feel like I'm working in the dark here. We have no idea what
we're up against. If Anna carries a gun, I'm sure quite a few people on the
island have them, not to mention Laurel and Hardy standing guard at the
lab. And even if we manage to get Peter out of there, how long do you think
we've got before they find us? Before you can't go on. Before..."

Mulder sat up and put a hand to her lips. "What do you say we take it one
step at a time," he whispered. It was a testament to the stress they were
both under, when it had occurred to neither one of them that their room
could be bugged. Mulder looked around and Scully instantly knew what he 
was talking about.

"Kinda late, Sherlock," she whispered.

Mulder smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "I know. And I don't think it
is," he continued, still whispering just in case.

"Me either," Scully answered. "Everything was too well planned. Who
knew you can't sit still and would go snooping around on day one?"

"Scully, I have an idea. I think we need to head for the beach when we get
Peter."

"The beach?" Scully's wasn't following. Why go to an open area?

"Yes. We need to get to the yacht. We can get through to the Coast Guard 
on the ship's radio and at least have a place where we can barricade 
ourselves until they get there."

"What about the Captain? Bates? He's on board. Who's to say he's not in 
on the whole thing."

Mulder shrugged. "Who knows. We'll assume he is and take it from there."

"Okay. It's a good plan, Mulder," Scully said, ignoring the nagging thought
that getting Peter out was not going to be easy. "But how do we get to the
ship? You feel like swimming in the moonlight?" She regretted the sarcasm,
but couldn't help herself.

Mulder ignored the tone. "Ski boats, Scully. We haven't used them, but
they're out there." He had felt a little respite from the pain and had
allowed himself to ignore the effort thinking and talking were taking, but
now his hand was throbbing again and he could think of nothing else.

Scully could see the agony in his eyes and bit her lower lip. "You okay?"

Mulder nodded, in too much pain to trust his voice.

"Lie down."

"Scully, we don't have time..."

"We've got at least 20 minutes. Lie down."

"Scully..."

"Mulder, your fever hasn't broken. If we can just bring it down a little,
you're bound to feel better." Mulder started to object but she wouldn't let
him. "Please, it's better for all of us if you don't pass out from fever
and pain while we're sneaking into the lab."

Mulder couldn't argue with logic like that, and did as he was told.

"Unbutton your shirt for me," Scully said, disappearing into the bathroom.

"Some new medical breakthrough, Florence Nightingale?"

"I'm a doctor," Scully said, bringing in the last of the clean towels.
"Florence was a nurse. Now, unbutton your shirt."

"Oh, sorry, Dr. Quinn." Mulder fumbled with the buttons until he was done.
He heard Scully taking things out of the mini bar and cringed. Whatever she
was planning, he didn't think she was fixing him a drink.

Scully came back to the bed with a silver bucket filled with ice water.

"And this is for?" Mulder couldn't hide his concern.

"I'm going to rub you down with ice water," Scully said, soaking a hand
towel in the freezing water. "An ice bath would be better, but we don't
have time for that."

"You really have a way with men, you know that Scully?" An ice bath! He
would have laughed if she hadn't looked so serious.

Mulder saw the towel come out of the water and sucked in his breath just as
Scully placed the freezing cloth on his chest. With the towel in place,
Scully busied herself by soaking a washcloth to rub on his face.

Within seconds Mulder was shivering uncontrollably. Scully took the towel
from his chest and soaked it again, repeating the process until she didn't
have the heart to continue.

For his part, Mulder was easily lost in a sea of pain and fever. He could
feel the fever fighting the cold and his body reacting fiercely as the
war was waged. He wanted to speak, to beg Scully to stop, but his teeth
were chattering too fast, and his mind refused to let him make any coherent
sounds. He thought he heard himself whimpering and told himself to stop.

After what seemed like hours Scully took the towel off and dried his chest.
Mulder wasted no time and turned on his side, curling into a fetal position
and rocking himself back and forth in a dismal attempt to get back some
body heat. Scully felt his forehead and sighed. He was still very hot, and 
she wasn't sure if the cold had made a difference.

"Sorry, Mulder," she whispered, convinced he couldn't hear her. She pulled
the covers up around him and checked her watch. Ten minutes. Not nearly 
enough time, she thought ruefully, as she looked at her partner for any signs 
of improvement. He was still shaking. Shaking and rocking, in a stupor all 
his own. Scully sat on the bed beside him and rubbed his shoulder absently. 
It was an action Mulder didn't notice, but one that made her feel like she 
was doing something constructive. Anything to alleviate the feeling of
helplessness that was threatening to consume her.

The next time Scully looked at her watch twenty minutes had gone by and 
she jumped from the bed, startling Mulder, who had finally steadied himself 
and fallen asleep.

"What's the matter?" Mulder asked, forcing himself up. He felt like roadkill,
and if Scully's expression was any indication, he looked equally as bad.

"I fell asleep," she said, feeling his forehead for the fiftieth time. "You're not 
as hot. But..."

"But I'm still hot," Mulder finished for her. "I know, but I feel better,"
he lied, swiftly pulling his feet over the side of the bed. Mulder put his
head down for a moment and took a deep breath before standing up and
buttoning his shirt. His mind was a little clearer. If only he could stop
his hand from throbbing.

"You ready?" He reached out for Scully and took her by the hand. The fear
in her eyes, the fear he knew she was feeling for him, made his heart sink.
Nothing he could think of to say, nothing that was the truth, would make
that look go away, so he forced a smile and led the way out of the room.

Gregory was busy talking to a couple of housekeepers when they arrived
downstairs, but managed to excuse himself before they could leave.

"I've got four dinners ready for you right here," he said, handing Mulder a
large bag. Mulder took the bag with his right hand, careful to keep the
other hand concealed.

"How are those allergies coming along, Mr. Mulder?" Gregory was looking 
at Mulder closely. "Did you get some allergy medication?"

"I did, but I'm afraid they're not doing the trick."

Gregory shook his head. "Perhaps you should stay indoors today, by 
tomorrow some of the pollen in the air should have settled."

"I would," Mulder answered, eager to get away from the man. "But 
tomorrow's our last day on the island, and I had promised Dana dinner and 
a sunset before we left."

Gregory smiled. "Understood," he said, opening the door for them. "The 
golf carts are ready for you around the corner."

Scully felt herself shivering when the door closed behind them. "That man
knows everything," she whispered.

"You think he knows everything? Like everything that's going on with
Leuzinger and the experiments?"

"I meant he knew about the carts," Scully answered. "I'm not sure what 
else he knows. Anna said he hired her to start working for Leuzinger and 
he's the one that called her to the house for the meeting with the two
strangers. What does that make him?"

"An ignorant middle man or the brains behind the big bash. Someone on the
island has to be organizing everything and Gregory's as likely a candidate
as anybody else."

They each got in a golf cart and sped away, eager to put some distance
between themselves and the house, and Gregory, and everything their entire
vacation was beginning to represent. Lies and hidden agendas. They only
hoped they could survive while they attempted to unravel the truth. Before
the truth unraveled them.

***********

It had been over an hour since Mulder and Scully had left, and Chris was
beginning to panic. In the back of her mind she had considered the
possibility that they wouldn't come back. That they would be detained by
some force she had quickly learned to dread but was unable to pinpont. But
she hadn't allowed herself to consider that possibility until now. After
she had exhausted all the positive reinforcements her brain could conjure
and before she realized negative thoughts were so much easier to come by.

She stopped pacing and sat by the tree, only to stand up almost
immediately. Sitting down gave the gray matter way too much free time,
and she was beginning to curse the wild imagination she had always been
so proud of. It was during a particulalry intense moment of panic that she
heard a noise, practically jumping out of her skin before she saw Mulder
and Scully pull up beside her. It wasn't until she felt her shoulders slump
and her body relax to the point of exhaustion that she realized how tense
she had been.

"I don't know how the hell you two do what you do for a living," Chris
mused. "This kind of excitement can easily kill."

It very well might kill us this time, Scully thought, looking in the
direction of the lab. It was a notion she knew Mulder could read from her
mind and one she was grateful Chris was too distraught to consider.

"You get used to it," Mulder said, dragging himself out of the golf cart.
It was only 3:30, roughly three hours before they could put their plan into
action, and he was beginning to wonder when, if ever, his hand was going 
to stop pounding.

Chris mumbled something about why anyone would want to get used to
such a thing when she noticed Mulder's frame, deliberately making his way 
to the tree to sit down. She looked at Scully and raised her eyebrows. "He 
doesn't look good," she whispered when he was out of earshot.

"I know," Scully said, leaning against a golf cart. "I'm sure that hand is
killing him but it's the fever I'm really worried about. I tried bringing
it down, but it only did a little, not enough to make much of a difference."

"Tell me honestly, is he going to be okay?"

"It all depends on what happens during the next few hours, Chris. I'd be
lying if I told you we're in no danger. It's not just Mulder I'm worried
about."

"I know that, Dana, but Mulder's hurt and I can't help but think we should
have tried a little harder to get him taken care of."

"Mulder won't even consider it until we get Peter back," she said, forcing
a smile. "Why don't we sit and go over the plan a couple more times to 
make sure we have it down." It was a simple plan, due to their lack of 
options, and they had memorized it the first time it was discussed, but 
having something to do would make the three hours move a little quicker.

The two women joined Mulder and began dissecting their strategy for the third
time, until Mulder could no longer think straight. He knew damn well they
would get inside the lab, if they even got that far, and everything they
had planned could change without a moment's notice. It was a part of their
job he and Scully had become fairly adept at dealing with. He only hoped
Chris could hang on for the ride.

***********
End of Chapter Fifteen




Chapter Sixteen

Anna came running from the lab, her eyes bulging with fear, her frantic
screams alerting everyone around her that something was horribly wrong. 
She yelled something to the guards and they ran inside, ignoring the blood 
that was covering her once beautiful face.

Mulder met Anna at the edge of the brush, her expression, her screams,
incoherent as he held her tightly.

Scully ran to their side. Chris was right behind her. They caught sight of
Leuzinger running out of the building, his hair dishevelled, his face
askew, giving new meaning to the word madman. He was recklessly 
searching the area for Anna when a guard walked out with an unconscious 
Peter thrown over his shoulder. Leuzinger yelled something and the guard 
dropped Peter at his feet. The madman pointed his gun and pulled the 
trigger, laughing hysterically as the young man's body jerked several times.

Chris screamed, unaware of her own actions as she ran out of the dense 
brush and into the open. Scully called her name and ran after her, never seeing
Leuzinger pointing his gun at her. The scientist fired expertly, two rounds
in quick succession, and threw his head back with a demonic wail when the
two women fell a few feet away from him.

"Noooo," Mulder tried to run to Scully, to Chris, but Anna wouldn't let
him. "Let me go!" he shouted.

The young woman was restraining him, holding him still. Mulder pushed 
with all his weight until he could break her grasp, only to feel himself being 
pulled back, another set of hands coming from behind to hold him in place. 
"Let me go!" he shouted again and again. But it was useless, the fever and 
pain had taken their toll and he had no strength left. He saw Chris and 
Scully's still forms and began sobbing. A deafening cry that obliterated 
everything around him.

"Mulder!"

"Anna..." he could barely get anything out, the pressure in his chest was
so intense.

"Mulder! That's enough!"

She was shaking him, trying to get his attention, but he didn't want
to hear what she had to say. It no longer mattered. He kept his eyes
tightly shut against the pain. No desire to run, to get away. It had taken
mere seconds for his life to become meaningless, empty beyond
comprehension, worthless by all accounts.

"Mulder, please!"

"I can't," he mumbled, "I can't." He couldn't hear the words that left him,
only the sobbing and the emptiness, fighting for attention in a body no
longer worth protecting.

She slapped him hard and he forced his eyes open, straining to catch the
vision before him. Anna's dark features smoothed themselves out, until her
complexion changed, got lighter, her hair shorter...

"Scu...lly?" He gasped so hard his stomach ached.

"Take it easy, Mulder. Here, have some water." Scully handed him a cup, 
but he was shaking too much to hold on to it. She put her hand on his to 
steady it. "Just a little bit, Mulder. A little bit at a time."

Mulder's eyes were clouded with fever and tears as he looked from Scully 
to Chris and back to Scully again. He held out a trembling hand and touched
Scully's hair, then her face, until he could be sure it was her, all of
her, and in one piece. His movements were slow and measured as the 
echoes of his dream slowly hid in his subconscious, gradually reducing the
strain from his mind and bringing it back to his body.

"That was quite a dream, Mulder," Chris whispered, suddenly releasing her
own tension.

Mulder looked at Chris and tried to say something but nothing came out. 
He attempted a smile, reassurance that he hadn't gone completely insane, 
but wasn't even sure he could move a muscle, much less the ones required 
to make a smile.

"You want to talk about it?" It was Scully talking to him this time, gently
brushing the hair off his face.

It was a minute before Mulder could shake his head. Before he could get the
image of Scully and Chris falling to the ground out of his mind. It was the
only part of the dream he couldn't forget for any length of time. He shut
his eyes and leaned against the tree, silently berating himself for his
predicament. He knew it was a fever dream, but he couldn't for the life of
him remember ever being so terrified, so alone. And he shuddered when he
thought how frightened Scully and Chris must have been, his demons 
coming so close to the surface. So close to them.

Scully handed him two more Advil and an antibiotic, more for show than
anything, she thought miserably. Nothing he had taken so far seemed to be
helping.

Mulder took the pills and cleared his throat, thankful Scully hadn't asked
him how he was feeling.

"What time is it?" he asked, knowing the effort to raise his hand and look
at his own watch wasn't worth it.

"It's just after six," Chris answered.

Mulder sat up and tried to rub some of the sleep out of his eyes.

"Mulder, sit back for a while," Scully was gently pushing him back 
against the tree. "You need to rest."

"No time, Scully. Anna should be coming out of there any minute."

"Mulder..."

Mulder's solemn stare stopped her mid-sentence. Even feverish his eyes
could penetrate hers and instantly get his point across. He was right, of
course, they had very little time before having to spring into action, and
none of them had any choice.

Mulder ignored Scully's attempts to help and stood up on his own, giving
his legs a much needed stretch. Sheer will gave him the strength to walk 
back and forth until he could feel the tightness in his muscles dissipating.

Scully and Chris sat by the tree, their hearts in their mouths, as they
watched Mulder psyche himself up for what was coming. They cringed 
every time he grimaced, certain the expression could become a permanent 
one if he wasn't careful.

Mulder could feel two sets of eyes watching his every move and fought 
hard to ignore them as he slowly made his way around a tiny area. If he
concentrated hard enough, he could almost forget the pain in his hand.
Almost. He found himself wishing Anna would come out once and for all, 
since he didn't think he would be feeling better any time soon.

As if on cue, he looked up and saw Anna exiting the building, speaking
briefly to the guards before waving goodbye.

"She's coming," Mulder said, turning to Scully and Chris.

Anna came through the brush and was startled to see Mulder waiting for 
her.

Chris didn't give her a chance to open her mouth. "How's Peter?" she 
asked nervously, not sure if she was prepared for all the possible answers.

"As far as I know, he's still in the room. Still unconscious. I didn't get
another chance to look at him, but Leuzinger hasn't left the lab all day.
He's only gotten up to go to the bathroom."

"Is there anyone else...in the lab with them?" Mulder asked. The fever
was clouding his mind, making the simplest thoughts difficult to
process.

"No," Anna answered. "I guess, I guess now's a good time...as good a 
time as any," she said, hesitating. "I took Max, the dog, already, and tied 
him up a few hundred yards from the lab. I left the back door unlocked and 
turned off the security system." Anna began to stammer when she realized 
the implications of what she was doing. Of what was about to take place.

"You're doing the right thing, Anna," Scully reassured her, taking her
hand. "You know that, don't you?"

Anna nodded and looked at Chris. "I hope your husband's okay," she said 
meekly.

"Me too," Chris replied softly.

Anna looked at Mulder next and at first found it difficult to meet his
gaze. "Mr. Mulder..." The young woman hesitated. She had come to have 
very strong feelings for this man. This man who only a few days before had 
been a total stranger, befriending her with an innocence she envied at the 
time.

She had since discovered there was nothing innocent about him, but was
still impressed with who he turned out to be. "Take care of yourself." Was
all she could say before awkwardly putting out her hand to shake his.

Mulder took Anna's hand and brought her close, giving her a hug she freely 
returned. She too had stirred a lot of feelings in him, and he was smart enough 
to recognize them for what they were, big brother feelings he never had the 
opportunity to share with his sister. "Take care of yourself," he whispered, 
letting her go and offering  a crooked smile.

Anna nodded in return and quickly disappeared. She didn't want to be 
around when they got inside the lab. The thought alone terrified her.

"Better get this show on the road," Mulder said, throwing his backpack into
one of the golf carts and placing himself behind the wheel. Scully joined Chris 
in the other cart.

They were near the back entrance of the building within minutes, parking
the carts behind a clump of trees not far from the door.

The twilight gave the building and its surroundings an eerie glow, and as
they made their way to the door all three found themselves wishing total
darkness would suddenly descend on them.

Mulder and Scully drew their guns before reaching for the door. Just as
Anna had promised, it was unlocked and opened easily, leading them into a
small kitchen, Leuzinger's personal one. It was as sterile as they imagined
the lab would be. Nothing was out of place and the stove looked like it had
never been used.

Anna had given them a diagram of the building and Mulder, having quickly
memorized it, was leading the way. Unfortunately, the fever had slowed 
everything down, particularly his memory, and the trek through the back
of the building was a slow one. 

The kitchen led them to a tiny hallway with bare walls, and Scully wondered
how anyone could live in such a barren environment for so long.

They heard nothing as they made their way down the hall, a slightly
reassuring omen that Leuzinger was still in the front of the building,
working away in his lab.

Just as Mulder reached for another door, the one that Anna promised would 
lead them to Peter, they heard footsteps. Mulder quickly turned around, 
pushing the women in the other direction and back into the kitchen. The 
footsteps stopped and they heard a door open before they made it outside. 
Mulder peered out the kitchen door and saw Leuzinger walk into the room 
Peter was in.

"He's in Peter's room," he whispered.

Chris sucked in her breath. "Oh, God, what is he doing to him?" It was a
rhetorical question she couldn't help asking.

Mulder looked out again, quickly stepping back when he heard another 
noise. It was the sound of wheels. He waited until the sound was further 
away before looking again. Leuzinger had his back to him and was 
pushing what appeared to be a hospital bed. A hospital bed holding Peter.

"He's taking Peter," Mulder whispered.

"Is he okay?" Scully asked for Chris, who was temporarily speechless.

"He's unconscious. There's no way of telling."

"We have to get him out of here." Chris was regaining her composure and
beginning to feel the adrenaline pumping through her body.

Mulder nodded. "Let's go."

Anna's diagram had stopped at Peter's room, leaving the whereabouts of 
the lab undisclosed, and making their search through the building nerve 
racking as they stopped to listen in front of every door. When they reached 
the last door, Mulder put his ear to it and nodded.

"This is it," he whispered. He held up three fingers to Scully, who nodded
and placed herself on the other side of the door. Mulder pushed Chris
behind him, out of the line of fire, and held up one finger, then two, then
three.

Scully said a silent prayer as Mulder turned the doorknob and kicked open
the door.

"Freeze!"

Leuzinger was caught red-handed, with a syringe in one hand and a piece 
of cotton in the other.

"What is the meaning of this?" True to himself, like the arrogant man that
he was, Leuzinger could not believe anyone had the audacity to interrupt
him in his lab.

"Put the syringe down and put your hands up," Scully shouted.

Leuzinger looked at Scully, then back at Mulder, and then at Chris, who had
just come out from behind. It took only a moment for him to figure out who
they were.

The other guests, he thought bitterly. But where did they get the guns? And
how much do they know?

Leuzinger didn't budge and Scully had to take the syringe from him, noting
instantly it was full. They had stopped him just in time. Peter appeared to
be sleeping peacefully, although she knew it was an induced sleep he was
enjoying. There was no obvious trauma on his body and Scully sighed with
relief. At least his appearance wouldn't send Chris into a tailspin of her
own.

"Put your hands up!" Mulder shouted again, gingerly leaning against a wall
for support. 

The scientist did as he was told, making a mental note of the man holding
the gun. He did not look well, a promising discovery on the madman's behalf.

Scully was desperately wishing she had a pair of handcuffs with her as she
searched the lab for some rope or wire, anything she could use to tie the
man's hands.

An extension cord running along the floor caught her eye and she yanked on
it until she pulled it out of the socket. This will do, she thought dryly as she
pushed the large German onto a chair and tied his hands securely behind his
back.

Chris had been too scared to move until then but finally got the courage to
go to Peter. She tried to rouse him to no avail.

"What have you done to him?" she shouted, unable to stop the tears.

Leuzinger said nothing.

Scully checked Peter's pulse and then his pupils. "His pulse is okay, 
Chris," she said. "He doesn't seem to be in any immediate danger."

"That's what you think!" Leuzinger sneered. "He will be in danger if he
doesn't get that medication." The German turned his gaze to the syringe
Scully had taken from him.

"You're bluffing," Mulder said, getting close enough to smell the man's
breath. "Tell us what you've done to him."

Leuzinger didn't respond, only shifted his gaze downward.

"Listen, you son of a bitch." Mulder went to grab Leuzinger by the collar
when he realized he could barely move his left hand. Instead he shoved 
his gun into the man's throat until he could hear him gasping for air. 
"Either you tell us what you've done to him or I will shoot you right
here, right now. No witnesses. No one to say it was anything but self
defense."

Leuzinger had seen the look on Mulder's face many times before. Both in
this lab and in his lab back home. The man was ill, bordering on psychosis
brought on by pain. A dangerous combination when the victim had a gun.

It was then that Leuzinger caught site of Mulder's bandaged hand, lying
limply by his side. Without skipping a beat and without considering the
possible consequences, the large man shoved himself back against his
chair, thrusting his feet up in the air and landing a solid kick against
Mulder's injured hand.

Mulder's world exploded, and he vaguely heard his gun go off. Something 
hot and sticky splattered all over his face and he heard Chris screaming in 
the background. 

Scully? Where's Scully?

His head was pounding. His eyes were open but he couldn't see anything.
Were his eyes open? Doors were opening and shutting, people were 
shouting, screaming. His hand was on fire. It was on fire and he couldn't 
put it out. He forced himself to see, to see what was going on, and this time 
he could see Anna, her mouth open, her face streaked with tears. Anna? I 
thought she had left. She ran to him and shoved him hard, his head 
exploding again and again as he slammed against a metal cabinet. 

More gunshots. One, two, three...four shots. 

Scully? Scully, where are you?

***********
End of Chapter Sixteen




Chapter Seventeen

It was deathly quiet and Mulder felt himself sliding against the cabinet,
unable to keep his knees locked. Four gunshots. He had counted four
gunshots. Why didn't any of them put me out of my misery? He felt a hand 
on his shoulder and jerked his eyes open. The light sent spikes through his
head but he strained against the pain until he could see Chris coming in
and out of focus. Where is Scully? Awareness suddenly struck him, and he 
frantically tried to get up, to speak, to move. He had the energy for none of 
it. Where is Scully?

"She's dying."

It was Scully's voice, coming from behind Chris, and Mulder felt himself
relax. She's dying...she's dying. Scully's words were echoing through his
head when he forced himself to look beyond Chris and to Scully, who was 
on the floor holding Anna.

Mulder saw Anna running towards him, could hear her screams, could feel 
the pain when she shoved him against the cabinet. When she pushed him 
out of the way. The memory of her actions gave him the strength to move, 
to get past Chris and to reach Anna just in time.

Mulder died a thousand deaths watching Anna's face go from tortured to
peaceful when she saw him. "You're okay," she whispered.

Mulder nodded. "Why?" It was all he could say, all he could think of.

Anna smiled. "The angels were calling."

"Thank you," Mulder whispered, putting his hand against her cheek.

"No, thank you." Anna took one last breath and closed her eyes.

Mulder kept his hand on Anna's cheek for a long time, until Scully put her
down and reached for him, taking his chin and holding his head up. He 
was covered in blood, Leuzinger's blood, and it was obvious what he 
had just gone through, physically as well as emotionally, had taken its toll.

"Mulder, we have to get out of here," Scully said, helping him up.

"What happened?"

"Your gun went off when Leuzinger kicked you, shooting him in the face 
and alerting the guards. They came in through the front just as Anna came in
from the back. One of them pointed a gun at you, and Anna pushed you out 
of the way." Mulder cringed at the memory. "I shot him right after that."

"And the other guard?"

"He shot at me and missed."

"And you didn't."

Scully nodded, deeply regretting the loss of innocent lives. She knew
the security guards had no idea what Leuzinger had been up to in the
lab. For that matter, she wasn't sure that anybody knew, or would ever 
know.

"Peter?"  Mulder looked around the room and saw Peter on the bed, still
unconscious and completely oblivious to everything that had just happened.

"We've got to go," Scully said again. "If anyone was nearby when the guns
were fired..." She didn't bother finishing the thought. Instead she
grabbed the syringe she had taken from Leuzinger and a couple of 
notebooks she found by the microscope in the hopes they could shed some 
light on the experiments the scientist had been conducting.

Scully looked down at Mulder's blood stained hand and cringed. He was 
pale and sweating profusely, in so much obvious pain she was surprised 
to see him still standing. The doctor within her argued that she had to take 
a look at his hand, fix it, do something, anything to stop the bleeding and 
alleviate the pain.

But Scully the special agent was shouting, screaming at the top of her
lungs to be heard above the compassion.

No time! There is no time! You have to get out of here! Her dueling alter
egos were staging a battle she had no control over, until one of them won.

"Let's go," she said, unable to look at her partner. Scully the Agent
apologized to Scully the Doctor as they walked out of the room.

Chris had had no luck trying to rouse Peter and they had been forced to
wheel him out of the building and all the way to the waiting golf carts.
Getting him off the bed and in a golf cart was no small feat. Under
different circumstances Mulder could have handled the strapping six footer,
but Mulder could barely carry himself across a room.

With Peter safely in the cart Chris turned to Mulder and Scully and asked
the burning question. "Now where to?"

"We thought we'd try and get to the yacht," Scully said, getting behind the
wheel of a cart and motioning for Mulder to join her.

"The yacht?" Chris couldn't hide her fear.

"We don't have time to discuss it now," Mulder said, barely above a
whisper. "Let's get out of here and we'll talk about it when we get to the
water."

Chris sighed and got in the cart next to Peter. She had loved and respected
Dana Scully since her college days, and had learned to love and respect Fox
Mulder during his trip to California last year, but this week, particularly
tonight, their determination, endurance, and proficiency in the face of
adversity had elevated them to sainthood in her eyes. She was certain that 
had she been alone to figure it all out, to find Peter and get him to safety, 
they would both be dead by now. She may not think the yacht was the 
answer, but she wasn't about to question them now.

Grateful for the darkness, Scully sped along the island, hoping no one
would notice the lights coming from the carts. She tried turning them off
once, but it was too dark and she didn't want to take the chance of crashing 
into a tree.

Scully stole a glance at Mulder and wished she hadn't. His right hand was
tightly wrapped around his left arm, just above the elbow, and she wasn't
sure if it was a feeble attempt to stay warm or to stop the pain. She guessed 
it was a little of both. It was a mild evening, in the 70's, but his fever 
wouldn't let him get warm. Scully put a hand on Mulder's leg and he 
jumped, startled by the touch. He looked at her, but made no discernable 
expression. Even for her sake, he didn't have the strength to make one.

"How you..."

"I've been better, Scully," he interrupted.

"Maybe one of the small boats on shore will have a radio on board. We can
call the Coast Guard from the island."

"I doubt it." Mulder wanted to sound hopeful, to make Scully feel like they
still had some control over the situation, but he felt himself slipping,
losing control over his own body. No, I can't, he shouted, loud enough 
so only he could hear. He forced himself to sit up and even managed to give 
Scully a smile. At least he hoped it was a smile.

Scully was pretty adept at reading her partner, and could see the wheels
moving in his head. Slowly, she thought, they're moving a little slower
than usual, but they're moving. At this point, she was certain only his
concern for her and Chris and Peter was keeping him conscious, but she
didn't care what it was. As long as he didn't give up, he stood a chance.

The coastline was quiet and Scully was thankful she had made all the right
turns. She could see the yacht in the distance, no more than a half mile
from shore. A few lights were on and she wondered once again if Captain 
Bates was the only one on board.

Scully turned off her lights and motioned to Chris to do the same. They
were out in the open now, driving near the shore on the sand, and the half
moon, without the density of the brush on the inner island, offered enough 
light. She assumed whoever worked the ski boats wasn't around at this 
hour, but she was taking no chances.

Mulder was the first to spot the boats, three of them. Top of the line
powerboats in mint condition. He wondered if Barney had them replaced 
with new ones on a regular basis. Whether they had ever been used or not.

Scully was out of the golf cart the instant she stopped and was checking
the ignition of the second boat by the time Mulder reached her.

"You aren't going to find any keys in there," he ventured.

"You're right," she said, standing in the third boat. "Now what?"

"I guess I'll have to hot wire one of them. Take your pick."

"The red one," Scully answered with a smile. Her partner's survival
skills never ceased to amaze her. I must be tired, she thought, as she got
out of the boat. I should have known Mulder could hot wire anything.

Mulder appeared to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders as
he slowly made his way to the red boat. He was trying to focus on his
breathing, on putting one step in front of the other, on anything but his
hand, but the throbbing was unrelenting and it was hard to think of
anything else.

"You need any help?" Scully asked in passing.

"I'll probably need a flashlight."

Scully nodded and went to get hers out of her backpack. It was a small
flashlight she had thrown into her suitcase at the last minute and not a
very good one. She told herself never to complain again about the big,
heavy ones that were standard bureau protocol.

Scully walked over to Chris and checked Peter's pulse one more time. "Has
he stirred at all?" she asked.

Chris shook her head. "No. Nothing. Dana, I'm really worried."

"His pulse is okay, Chris and he's breathing fine. Leuzinger probably gave
him a heavy duty sedative. Those things can knock you out for days."

Chris looked in Mulder's direction. "How's he doing?"

"Not good. The bandage is soaked in blood. Leuzinger must have torn 
out some of the stitches when he kicked him."

"He was shaking back at the lab. Is he in shock?"

"On the outer fringes. No doubt pain is what's taking him there. But he's
holding his own. I better get this flashlight over there and see if we can
get one of these boats going."

It took Mulder less than two minutes to hot wire the boat and get it
started. Unfortunately, it took considerably longer than that to get Peter
out of the golf cart and into the back seat of the boat. As it was, he was
sure to have some bruises when he woke up.

Scully drove the boat right up to the yacht, circling it until she found a
ladder attached to the side that almost touched the water. She stopped the
boat and started to get out when she felt Mulder's hand on her arm.

"Let me," he said.

"Mulder, no..."

"Scully, please. If something goes wrong up there you have a better chance
of getting Chris and Peter out of here than I do."

Scully was torn. She didn't want to send Mulder on board alone, but neither
did she want to leave her best friend with her comatose husband.

It was all the hesitation Mulder needed. He was half way out of the boat
before Scully realized it.

"Mulder..."

"If I don't come back within five minutes get the hell out of here."

"Be careful," Scully whispered, fairly certain he didn't hear her.

Mulder was relieved to see that no one was on deck, giving him an
opportunity to scan the area and figure out where the lights were coming
from. As far as he could tell only a couple of rooms were lit and if he
remembered correctly it was around the main sitting and entertainment area.
The rest of the huge yacht was dark, giving the large vessel an ominous
presence.

He was almost positive Captain Bates was the only one that had stayed on
board, but was taking no chances as he quietly made his way to the lighted
corridor. Mulder checked his gun and decided to leave it hidden. No use
alienating anyone from the get go.

As he approached, Mulder heard voices. It sounded like several, but as he
got closer he could only discern two. Was it television? It was hard to
tell, but he didn't remember seeing a television in that room. Doesn't mean
a thing, Mulder, he told himself. You didn't remember your cabin had a
jacuzzi either.

A jacuzzi. The thought struck him hard. He and Scully's cabin on the yacht
had had a jacuzzi. And a fruit basket addressed to Chris and Peter. There
was an identical basket addressed to Scully and him in Chris and Peter's
room. At the time they hadn't thought anything of it, but now Mulder
realized they had been in the wrong room. It was Peter all along who was
supposed to be drugged, experimented on. But why?

Had it been him, he could think of thousands, well, maybe hundreds of
people, mutants even, that would want to hurt him. But Peter? The guy had
one of the best reputations in the film industry, and was generous to a fault. 
Who could he have pissed off so badly? Barney? Surely if he had done
something to upset Barney the guy wouldn't be spending all his major
holidays with Peter and his family.

Maybe it was random. Maybe Leuzinger was on the verge of a medical
breakthrough that needed to be tested on a human guinea pig before
eventually making him millions. In comes Captain Bates, who Leuzinger 
knew had the run of the yacht. Installing gas pipelines that lead into the
cabins would be no problem for the Captain. He was a military man after all,
and had probably installed the pipeline himself. But why not continue using
the guinea pigs Anna had told him about? Why something so elaborate? No,
Peter had been chosen for a reason. But what?

And how did Barney fit in? Did he fit in? The trip to Califronia had taught
Mulder to trust Chris implicitly and to respect her instincts without
question. She was adamant that Barney wasn't involved and practically
considered him a member of the family. Chris was a professional, a
businesswoman with a successful public relations firm. Her entire career
was based on her interpersonal skills. Could she be missing something?
Could she be so off base about Barney Jenkins?

Mulder's head was reeling as he tried to finish the puzzle that was still
missing several pieces. He was certain that, had he been feeling better, he
would have found some of those pieces by now. He shook his head to clear it
and proceeded to open the door before him.

***********
End of Chapter Seventeen



Chapter Eighteen

Captain Bates was sitting directly in front of the door, a drink in his
hand, in the middle of a sentence, until the sight of Mulder startled him
out of his seat.

"Mr. Mulder, what are you doing here?" The Captain was obviously shocked 
to see him. To see anybody, actually, and couldn't take his eyes off of Mulder.
He had seen more than his share of tragedy in his 25 years in the Navy and
he knew when a man was hurt and in pain. Mulder looked worse than some 
of the casualties of the Gulf War he had witnessed.

Before Mulder could open his mouth to answer him, the Captain's 
companion stood up directly in front of him and turned around. Mulder 
was speechless when he saw Barney Jenkins looking straight at him.

"Mr. Mulder, is everything okay?" Barney didn't wait for an answer. "Well,
no, of course not. Look at you. You're not okay. What's going on? Where are
Chris and Peter? And your friend, Miss Scully?"

Mulder glanced at Barney and tried to profile the little man in the two
seconds he had. He was a short man, no more than five feet, six inches
tall, with a portly body and a balding head. His stature, Mulder concluded,
probably contributed to his success. An overly ambitious short man, no
doubt suffering from a Napoleon complex, could be quite a contender in 
any undertaking.

It was all too much for Mulder, who was beginning to think coming to the
yacht was a bad idea. He thought the Captain had been in on the whole thing
just a moment before, and wasn't sure about Barney, but mostly because
Chris was so adamant that he wasn't involved. And now here they both stood,
smiling kindly, looking at him compassionately. Quick, Mulder, think. 
He was starting to feel dizzy and could see the room spinning. Not now,
Mulder, he begged himself, not now.

If I tell them I came alone, that Chris and Peter and Scully were killed on
the island by Leuzinger that would buy them a little time to get away. But
no, Scully would never leave without him. She would wait five minutes and
then come looking for him.

And maybe they're not involved at all. Maybe only one of them is. But 
which one?

He leaned against the door frame for support before speaking. "We had a
problem on the island," he finally said, gauging his every word for a
reaction. "Chris, Peter and Sc...Dana are outside in a small powerboat.
Peter is unconscious and we need to get him up here and to a hospital
immediately."

"Peter is unconscious? What happened?" Barney's concern for Peter was
sincere, there was no doubt about it.

"It's a long story," Mulder said, not prepared to say much of anything.
"But please, we need to get them up here and call the Coast Guard to send
out a helicopter for Peter."

"Absolutely. Jerry, let's go."

Barney walked past Mulder and onto the deck, demanding to know where
everyone was. Mulder didn't answer, choosing instead to walk past him 
and lead the way. When he reached the stairs he started to climb down, only 
to feel the Captain's hand on his arm.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"To let them know everything's okay. Dana and Chris are pretty shaken up."

"You're in no condition."

"I'm fine," Mulder said under no uncertain terms, and continued down the 
ladder.

"Who's here?" Was the first thing Scully asked.

"Bates and Barney, as far as I can tell."

"Barney's here?" Both women asked in unison.

Chris seemed to relax a little upon hearing the news. The first time she
had been able to do so in hours. Scully, on the other hand, became a little
more tense than she already was.

"Both of you," Mulder said in a whisper when he saw the Captain coming 
down the ladder, "volunteer no information."

"Miss Scully. Mrs. Kendall." The Captain was so civil it was surreal.
"What's wrong with Mr. Kendall?"

"We're not sure," Scully offered. "But we need to get him to a hospital."

"I can see that," Bates answered, taking Peter's limp body and effortlessly
thrusting him over his shoulder. The Captain was experiencing a feeling of
de'ja vu. How many times had he carried unconscious men over his 
shoulders? He couldn't remember, but he realized carrying one up a ladder 
on the side of a boat was a breeze compared to carrying one while dodging 
bullets and land mines.

Chris, Scully and then Mulder followed the Captain out of the small
powerboat and onto the yacht. Chris and Barney were in the middle of an
embrace when Mulder reached them. When they separated, Chris 
was in tears and Bates and Scully were 20 feet away. Mulder gently touched
Chris' arm and began walking, making sure she was right behind him.

"Chris, what happened? What's wrong with Peter?" Barney was clearly 
distraught.

"I don't know, Barney. He's been unconscious for hours."

"But how?" No one was telling him what had happened, and Barney was
beginning to get anxious.

They arrived in the large entertainment room and found Peter on the couch, 
still out to the world. Scully was talking to the Captain.

"We have to call the Coast Guard so they can send a helicopter for Peter 
and Mulder," she was saying.

Barney stood silently in front of Peter, and Mulder would have sworn the 
man was close to tears.

"My helicopter is here," Barney said, his gaze not leaving Peter. "I had
planned on picking up the four of you tomorrow. I can get Peter to a
hospital."

"Barney, do you know where the nearest hospital is?" The Captain was 
trying to get Barney's attention and was not succeeding. He continued 
anyway. "If we call the Coast Guard they'll send out a helicopter equipped 
with medical facilities and will alert the nearest hospital that they're 
coming."

"Good idea," Mulder said. "Where's your radio? I'll go call them."

"I'll do it," Bates answered, leaving no room for argument.

Mulder and Scully exchanged glances. What the hell is going on, they 
both wanted to know. Who was in on it? Who wasn't? Was it possible
neither one knew what Leuzinger had been up to?

Mulder couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there was another piece to
the puzzle staring him in the face. Something in the room was at once
familiar and foreign. But the harder he tried the more distant the feeling
became.

"No," Barney said, startling everyone. "I will take Peter to the hospital."

"And Mulder," Scully chimed in. "Mulder desperately needs to get to a
hospital."

Barney looked Mulder over and seemed to notice him for the first time.
"Yes," he said, his voice low. "And Mulder."

What is it? What is it? WHAT IS IT? What am I missing? Mulder was 
screaming at himself to figure it out, but it was to no avail. The room was 
spinning again, and he found himself looking for a place to sit.

Scully saw him start to waver and discretely led him to a chair. Only Bates
caught the exchange. He was looking at Mulder, about to say something, 
when Peter groaned and all eyes turned to the man on the couch.

Chris was kneeling by his side instantly. Calling his name, stroking his
hair. Peter groaned again and turned his head in Chris' direction. It was
almost a minute, a minute of troubled silence, before Peter opened his eyes
and looked at his wife. Chris couldn't help but smile as she continued to
stroke his hair.

"Peter? Can you hear me?"

Peter looked at Chris for a long time without saying anything, without 
any discernable expression. Chris recognized at once that something 
was wrong, the smile that had graced her face lasting mere seconds.

"Peter?"

"He doesn't recognize her," Mulder whispered to Scully.

"That's normal," she whispered in return. "He's disoriented."

NO! NO! Mulder shouted, but again only he could hear his frantic cries.
Something is wrong. Something is terribly, terribly wrong. Mulder looked 
at Bates, who was watching Chris and Peter with morbid curiosity. Then he 
looked at Barney, who seemed to be in a state of shock as he stood behind 
Chris. Barney looked like a broken man. Like someone who had lost 
everything. He was more distraught over Peter's condition than Chris. But 
how can that be?

Peter looked up from the couch, beyond Chris, and caught Barney watching
him. Suddenly, there was a spark in his eyes.

THAT'S IT! OH MY GOD!

Mulder jumped up from his chair and pulled out his gun, only to have the
Captain tackle him off his feet and onto the ground, his gun skidding
across the room. Scully pulled out hers, but Barney was right behind her,
his own gun pointed at her head.

"Put the gun down and turn around slowly," he said. "Or I will kill you
before I do the same to your friends."

Scully closed her eyes and did as she was told, silently praying that
Mulder had survived this last attack. She didn't see him moving as Bates
pulled himself up from on top of him.

"Barney? Barney, what's going on?" Chris was still kneeling by Peter,
afraid to leave his side.

Barney held Scully by the arm and turned to face Chris. "I'm sorry, Chris,"
he said. "I never intended for you to get hurt."

"Wh...What are you talking about?"

"Both of you," he said, pointing his gun at the two women. "Sit down."

Chris looked at Peter before doing as she was told, but still she got no
reaction from him.

They sat on a couple of chairs and anxiously looked from Barney to the 
Captain, who was helping a very dazed Mulder get up.

"Jerry," Barney said, as he knelt down beside Peter. "Have Mr. Mulder join
his friends, and keep an eye on them for me."

Bates shoved Mulder into a chair beside the two women and picked up
Mulder's gun. He could not envision any of them making a run for it, but
stood a few feet away, gun in hand, just in case.

Barney leaned over Peter and stroked his hair. Peter smiled for the first
time, recognition written all over his handsome face.

"Dad?"

Barney put his head on Peter's chest and began to cry. Peter responded by
rubbing the man's back tenderly.

"Dad, are you okay?"

Barney composed himself and looked up, wiping the tears from his face.

"I am now," he answered, stroking Peter's face gently.

"Oh. My. God." Chris felt her chest constricting and thought she was going
to have a heart attack. She was taking in short breaths that were only making 
her feel worse.

"Breathe deeply," Scully whispered. "Deep breaths. You're hyperventilating."

Chris managed to do as she was told, feeling better almost immediately. 
She looked at Scully, eyes wide with terror.

"That was the plan all along," Mulder rasped, his voice barely his own.

Bates said nothing, and Barney was too entranced with Peter to hear him.

"But how?" Chris was still dumbstruck by the events that were unfolding
before her.

"Who knows," Mulder answered. "Genetics, gene splicing, DNA substitutions. 
As complex as it sounds, it's possible. They're cloning sheep you know."

"Mulder..." Mulder glared at Scully. At least he hoped it was a glare.
The pain in his head was making him see double, and he wasn't even sure 
that he was speaking coherently. How could she question what was 
happening when it was happening right before her eyes?

"Scully," he interrupted, "it's obvious Leuzinger's work all these years
was to attain this result." Mulder looked in the direction of Peter and
Barney. "All those men Anna said were in the lab, having experiments
conducted on them, they were mere understudies in a rehearsal until
the star showed up. Or, more likely, until the formula was perfected."

"But Mulder, modern medicine is nowhere close to achieving what you are
suggesting."

Why, why, why was it so difficult for her to believe?

"Scully, look for yourself."

"I can see what's happening, Mulder. And I think it's a form of hypnosis.
Something so powerful it has Peter believing he is Barney's son."

Mulder shook his head, instantly regretting the action.

"Mulder, take it easy," Scully said. "Your hand is bleeding again. I'm sure
you've lost a lot of blood in the last couple of hours."

Scully looked up to Captain Bates, who met her gaze for an instant.

"He needs to get to a hospital," she said.

Bates didn't answer her, and Barney was too busy with Peter to notice.

"Scully, listen to me. Hypnosis, although quite powerful, is too
unpredictable."

Why did he insist on having this conversation now? They had to get out of
there and rehashing theories wasn't going to get them anywhere.

"What Leuzinger accomplished is far better than the results he would have
gotten with hypnosis. You think for a second Barney would settle for
anything less than perfect?"

"He's right, Dana," Chris chimed in. "This is a man who can only enjoy the
best life has to offer." Chris was whispering, but realized she could have
been shouting at the top of her lungs and Barney wouldn't have been the
wiser. He was in a world all his own. A world he quite literally had created
and one that now included her husband.

"Now he's got you believing his wild theories!"

Mulder ignored her. "And the best that life has to offer wasn't worth
anything without his son. Don't you see it, Scully. He was so distraught
when Peter was unconscious, when he thought something was wrong. This
wasn't the outcome he was expecting tomorrow. The outcome he's been
expecting for the last decade. It's no wonder Chris never suspected Barney
was in on anything. His love for Peter, who he's probably been thinking of
as his son for years, was genuine. As sincere as anything."

Mulder put his head back and closed his eyes. Why did he even bother with
Scully? He knew the answer to that, but refused to give her the satisfaction 
just now. She was a good anchor for his often lofty interpretations of life, 
but occasionally, especially when the evidence was staring her in the face, 
he wished she could throw caution to the wind and immerse herself in the 
incredible.

"Let's go."

Mulder opened his eyes and saw Barney helping Peter up.

"Barney, what are you doing? Where are you taking Peter?" Chris' eyes 
were pleading with a man she thought, until a few minutes ago, was a dear 
friend.

Peter looked up at the mention of his name, but looked lost and confused by
the sound of it. "Who's Peter?" he asked.

"It's you," Scully shouted. "You are Peter. Peter Kendall."

"Shut up!" Barney was on his feet, in a rage and about to hit Scully when
he stopped himself, inches from her face.

Mulder was halfway out of his chair when he felt Bates' strong arm pushing 
him back down.

"I don't want to hear another word from you," Barney shouted, his face a
passionate display of lunacy. He turned to Peter, who was now standing
beside him. "Tom, let's go."

"Where are you going?" Chris briefly pondered the consequences of 
speaking, of saying anything to the madman that had become Barney 
Jenkins, but she would rather die than let Peter go without a fight.

"Chris, I already told you I never meant for you to get hurt. I'm sorry it
had to come to this." Barney had regained some of his balance and on the
surface appeared to be quite rational.

"So the intention was to make us believe Peter was dead, while you took 
him away and pretended he was your son for the rest of your life." Shorter
sentences, Mulder told himself, catching his breath from the exhausting
task of speaking.

Barney managed to control himself, but only just, and only on the exterior.
It was obvious a great deal of inner turmoil was taking place. He avoided
Mulder and turned to Peter.

"Tom, please wait for me outside. I'll be right there."

Peter started to do as he was told, stopping only when he heard Chris'
voice, crying softly as she pleaded with him to stay. As she pleaded with a
man named Peter he didn't know but felt he should.

***********
End of Chapter Eighteen




Chapter Nineteen

Peter looked at Chris sadly as he left the room. She was beautiful, and he
wondered why he felt a pang of guilt at leaving her behind, and what exactly
had she done to make his father so angry.

Barney waited until Peter had closed the door behind him before speaking
again. "Jerry, please take care of these three."

The Captain cocked his head in Barney's direction.

"Kill them, after I've left. I'll send someone to pick up the bodies tomorrow."

Chris gasped and Scully took her hand. A gesture she hoped would comfort
both of them.

Barney looked at Chris one last time before heading for the door. "I'm
sorry, Chris. But I have waited for this moment for nearly a decade. It's
all I've lived for. I promise you Carly will be well taken care of."

"You bastard!" Chris was halfway out of her chair when Scully held her
back. "You leave Carly out of this. Don't you ever go near her!" The
thought of her only child, orphaned at eight, was the last straw for Chris.
She slumped back in her chair, sobbing.

Barney shook his head and turned around, headed for the door.

"Don't you want to know why we came here tonight?" Mulder taunted.

Barney's hand froze on the doorknob. Did he want to know?

"Don't you want to know what happened?" Mulder continued, using every 
ounce of strength he had left to keep his voice from wavering. To keep 
himself from losing consciousness.

Barney turned and faced him. "If this is a ploy to buy yourselves some
time, Mr. Mulder, it's not going to work." Barney turned to leave.

"Leuzinger's dead."

The words stopped Barney cold, having the impact Mulder was hoping they
would. He braced himself for the onslaught.

When Barney managed to turn around, his eyes were practically bulging out
of their sockets, and his stubby hands were shaking, unable to contain the
electricity that was cursing through his body.

"You're bluffing." Was all he could get out.

"No, I'm not," Mulder answered, slowly, methodically. "It's his blood that's 
splattered all over me."

Barney was silent, and the transformation taking place was frightening to
everyone in the room.

"You needed him to continue treating Peter, didn't you?"

Barney didn't answer and Mulder persisted, in spite of Scully's hand on his
leg, a warning to tread lightly.

"Whatever formula he developed needs to be administered on a regular 
basis, doesn't it, or 'Tom' becomes Peter again, doesn't he?"

Barney took a step towards Mulder, his entire body visibly shaking from 
the stress of the information he was trying to assimilate.

Mulder wouldn't, or couldn't, stop himself. He wasn't sure which it was. 
But he felt that if he was going to die, he might as well die with some 
knowledge.

"Leuzinger's death means nothing," Barney said, barely above a whisper. It
was taking all his effort to remain neutral, in control. "There were many
steps to the process. Many that were started two years ago with Peter."

Chris gasped but Barney didn't hear her. He was in his own world. A world
he created for the return of his son and it was obvious he wasn't coming back.

"In order to build Peter's tolerance to Tom's life form he has been on a
very specific regimen of medications. Medications he has been taking in his
coffee every morning for the last two years. On the ship and on Kieran, he
has been hearing my voice, subliminally, to enable him to transition as
effortlessly as possible. The injections this week were the final step."

His voice. It was Barney's voice Mulder had heard in his dreams. But his
dreams were nightmares. Mulder hadn't been primed like Peter. Peter 
dreamed of waterfalls. Mulder thought someone was trying to kill him. 
The pieces were finally falling into place.

Barney turned to walk away, satisfied that his temper was under control and
his years of perseverance were finally coming to fruition, when Mulder spoke
again.

"But Peter didn't get all the injections this week. Scully and I were put in 
Peter's cabin by mistake and the first two were given to me. He hasn't had 
all his shots." Mulder couldn't help his last comment, and Scully was ready 
to kill him if Barney didn't do it first.

Barney was now officially derailed. It was obvious in the way he stood, the
way he breathed, and the way his face turned a bright shade of red. With
any luck, Scully thought, he would keel over from a heart attack at any
moment.

But as luck would have it, that wasn't going to happen. What happened 
next took no more than a minute and when it was over, no one would
recall all the details.

Barney was in front of Mulder in an instant, easily pulling the injured man
to his feet. Mulder had very little fight left in him, and was dizzy the
moment he was up. Whatever he had said, and right now he couldn't 
remember, he wished he hadn't. The room was spinning, and if Barney 
hadn't been holding him he was certain he would be on the floor.

"Stop it! Leave him alone!" Chris was hitting Barney on the back,
screaming, unable to contain her own despair. Barney turned his
attention to her long enough to shove her across the room. Years of pent 
up frustration were at the surface, giving the little man a strength that 
seemed impossible.

Scully was on her feet as well, but she was more concerned with holding on
to Mulder than anything else. His knees buckled under him just as Barney
had let go and she was doing her best to keep him from falling.

Barney's attack on Chris was the impetus Mulder needed to stay on his feet
and swing the little man around. He had Barney in a head lock just as Peter
came back into the room to see what all the commotion was about.

Peter was in the fray instantly, pulling Mulder away from Barney, his
'father', and shoving him as hard as he could. Mulder heard something 
in his shoulder snap as he slammed against the wall, but gritted his teeth 
and stood up, avoiding Chris, who was curled up in a corner of the room,
sobbing incoherently.

Mulder threw himself against Barney, who was brandishing his gun near
Scully with a deranged look plastered all over his face. The smaller man
fell easily and struggled to keep his gun away from Mulder. Under
different circumstances Barney would have been no match for the agent, but
Mulder's injured hand was now only a liability. Completely useless and
limp, it refused to do anything at all.

Peter went to Barney's rescue but was pulled back by Scully, who kept
shouting his name over an over in a useless effort to bring him back.

The action only served to confuse him, and Peter shoved Scully away from 
him in a desperate attempt to make her stop. Scully fell to the floor just as
Barney had overpowered Mulder, his gun pointing at her partner's head.
Barney cocked the trigger and Scully shut her eyes just as the shot rang
out.

The silence in the room was deafening, with only the sound of Chris'
tempered sobs to remind Scully where she was. She had no fight left in her, 
and was praying her death would come as swiftly when she felt a hand 
on her arm.

Just shoot me right here, she wanted to scream, but instead forced her eyes
open. She was surprised to see Captain Bates standing over her, helping her
up while keeping his gun, Mulder's gun, on Peter.

"I think Mr. Mulder could use some help," he said, keeping his eyes on 
Peter.

Scully looked away from the Captain and saw Barney Jenkins' body on top 
of her partner. Mulder wasn't moving, but she could see his chest rising.

Scully looked at the Captain, her eyes asking all the questions.

"I was hired to run this ship, Miss Scully, by an old friend I thought I
knew well."

"You didn't know?"

Bates shook his head. "Nothing. Everything I heard tonight was a revelation."

"What took you so long?"

Bates shrugged. "I suppose I thought I could save everyone."

Scully heard Mulder groan and her attention was immediately diverted.

Captain Bates turned his focus to Peter, who had been standing still,
staring into space, and led the young man to the couch. To be safe, he took
some rope and tied Peter's hands behind his back. Peter sat motionless, his
brain a garbled mass of inconsistencies shouting to be heard.

The Captain then went and got Chris, who was still sobbing gently in a
corner. Bates helped Chris to the couch and sat her down next to her
husband. Peter stared at her for a long time until something clicked, a
vague familiarity that enabled him to relax slightly and lean his head
against her shoulder.

Mulder was barely conscious when Scully reached him, but he was 
struggling to get Barney's weight off of him and was groaning with the 
effort. 

Scully dragged Barney off and immediately checked his pulse. 
The Captain's bullet had entered his skull and there was no pulse
to be found.

She then checked Mulder's pulse and was pleased at the steady rate. 
It was weak, but she had felt worse.

"Sc..."

"Shh, Mulder. It's okay. Don't talk." She stroked his forehead gently and
knew his fever was dangerously high.

"Captain, we need to get Mulder to a hospital."

"I'm on my way to call the Coast Guard, Miss Scully."

Scully nodded and let her attention drift back to Mulder, who was fighting
to keep his eyes open.

"It's okay, Mulder, close your eyes. You won't feel the pain if you let
yourself go."

"What...pain?" Mulder couldn't get the words out without coughing, an
experience that left him feeling worse than he already was. But he had so
many questions.

"What...happened?"

"It's a long story, Mulder, but suffice it to say, Captain Bates was not
part of Barney's little scheme."

"Knew it...all...along." Mulder teased, his attempt at a smile turning into
another vicious coughing fit.

"Coast Guard is on its way," Bates said as he entered the room. "They'll be
here within five minutes."

"You hear that, Mulder? You'll be in a drug induced slumber before you 
know it."

Mulder didn't hear her. He was already enjoying his own self induced
slumber. An attempt by his body, if not his brain, at self-preservation, and
an accomplishment Scully welcomed gratefully.

***********


Three months later
FBI Hoover Building
Basement office


Scully sat at her desk, tapping her fingers lightly while she waited for
her modem to get her online. So much of the bureau's paperwork was 
now done via e-mail, she found herself using it more and more.

The return address on the first message made her smile.

"Hey, Mulder," she said, "we got an e-mail from Chris."

"What's it say?" Mulder leaned back on his chair and took off his glasses,
delighted with an excuse to stop reading the latest issue of the Lone
Gunmen newsletter.

Scully printed the page and pulled up a chair beside Mulder. No matter how
much she loved e-mail, she still preferred a printed page to read from.


Dear Dana and Mulder,

Well, Peter was officially given a clean bill of health this morning. All
tests have come back negative and there isn't a trace of anything in his
system that's not supposed to be there. He still has no memory of our
lovely trip to the island of Kieran, other than from the first day, but I
say that's not such a bad thing.

I still think it's amazing that no one on the island has been arrested for
anything, especially after a fire destroyed the lab on the day we left. But
Peter thinks I should let it go and I'm working on it. On a brighter note,
Peter's assistant, the little bimbo that had been making a mint by spiking
his coffee every morning, will be arraigned next week. So that too will be
a nice chapter to put behind us.

The analyses on the powder she was putting in his coffee are still
preliminary, but they think it had the effect of strengthening his immune
system, thus preparing him to take on all of Tom Jenkin's traits, including
the ones that made him ill. Which, I suppose, is why Mulder got so sick 
and Peter just lost his sex drive. Peter tells me the sex drive bit had nothing
to do with the injections, but he's not doing a very good job of proving it!

Anyway, samples of the powder, along with the contents of the syringe 
taken from the lab and Leuzinger's notebooks, are providing a field day for
researchers at the NIH. I think when the dust settles Leuzinger will emerge
a brilliant man. A lunatic, but brilliant nonetheless.

But, of course, the most interesting news comes from the reading of
Barney's will, which took place yesterday. I would have called, but our
phone didn't stop ringing once the will was made public.

Barney had no family and he left the majority of his estate to various
charities, primarily those dealing with cancer, which is what killed his
son. And, I know you'll find this interesting, he left 100 million dollars
to the Foundation for the Blind. It turns out Tom spent the last six months
of his life sightless. So, Dana, I think it's safe to assume now that
Mulder's blindness on the island had nothing to do with waking up next to
you in the morning and that sudden flash of red!

But, get this, he left us 50 million dollars. I kid you not! The three of
us had a ball last night deciding how to spend it.

We're giving all of it to charity, since we don't need the money, and even
if we did, I am a little too superstitious to keep it. We had a hell of a
time convincing Carly we could not make a million dollar contribution to
her Brownie troop, even though her argument, "We'd never have to sell
another cookie again." had a lot of merit. We compromised and are giving a
million to Girl Scouts of America. Which they will no doubt use to create a
state of the art video on how to sell cookies!

And since you lived to tell the tale with us we have decided to donate a
few million to some charities in your honor. Peter, Carly and I think we
know you fairly well, but please let us know if these choices aren't
appropriate and we'll make amendments.

In the name of Margaret and the late William Scully, we are donating five
million dollars to the American Heart Association. Tell Maggie to expect
some heavy duty mail from them once the donation is made! And Dana, 
when you talk to your mom, ask her if she still thinks I'm a bad influence.
After all, the nose ring incident barely left a scar!

In the name of Samantha Mulder we are donating five million dollars to the
Center for Missing and Exploited Children. That ought to stir up those
black guys you've mentioned before. Or is it guys in black?

In the name of Queequag, we are donating a million dollars to the Amanda
Foundation. An organization that rescues animals from shelters just before
they are put to sleep. This contribution, however, comes with a stipulation
from Carly. She states, and I quote here, "If Aunt Dana ever gets to name
another pet, she is not allowed to use a name from a Godawful piece of
literature." Yes, I know she's only eight, but she does have a higher IQ
than Einstein and she read Moby Dick six months ago.

In the name of Fox Mulder, we are donating five million dollars toward the
restoration of the Playboy Mansion, that antiquated 70's icon that
desperately needs an overhaul. I believe, Mulder, that with the donation
comes a lifetime membership to the Playboy Club, and your very own bathrobe.

In the name of Dana Scully we are donating five million dollars to the
Bring the Pope to L.A. campaign. Which, we believe, guarantees you a seat
in the bubble car when the Pope makes his way around the Coliseum. A dream 
come true, I know.

Now, if you two decide the Playboy Mansion and the Pope's visit are not
worthy, call us and give us some other charities. Any charities. And if you
want more money, tell us that too. We're easy. But tell us soon, before
Carly finds another charity on the Internet!

Hope you two are well.

Love,

Chris



The End


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