DEVIL s ADVOCATE The "Unofficial" X Philes Novel by: CHERYL COHEN and ANNIE REED aka ImAStinker and FancyKatz @ aol.com Koran Soote bounced around busily at his desk, attending to everything from extra cabin towels to lost keys, but he smiled warmly at Mulder as he approached. "Mr. Mulder...everything has been to satisfaction, I hope?" "Everything's just 'peachy', Kor...." If Kor heard the sarcasm in Mulder's voice, he gave no sign. "I'd like to arrange for a ship to shore phone call," Mulder continued, but Kor shook his head sadly. "I am most displeased to inform you that ship to shore communications are unavailable at this time." Kor's voice seemed to express genuine sorrow at being unable to comply with what should have been a simple request. "When will it be available?" Mulder asked. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but ever since the company changed their previously 'filed' course approximately three weeks past, communications on this journey's leg have been sporadic and unreliable." "Kor, you say the company *changed* their previously plotted course?" Mulder asked---just to confirm what he had heard. "Yes, after twenty-five years." "But the company is only twenty years old," Mulder argued. Kor smiled shyly. Ancestry was very important to Kor's family, so when he began working on the ship, he made it his business to learn everything he could about his ship's ancestry. Here at last was a passenger who seemed to know more about this vessel than just what time dinner was served. "Yes, this true. But the line was owned previously for five years before that by Triangle Lines. After several years of unfortunate mishaps, Triangle was forced to sell to Starlight. It was at that time the course was changed as well as the ship's luck. It has remained so until three weeks past when it was changed back to the original course." Mulder was intrigued. "Why was the course changed back?" he asked, now truly engrossed in the story. "As with all things these days," Kor sighed, "to save money. The previous course edged around the Triangle's center....it took more time and of course, more money. Now we must travel through the center." Mulder had no idea this cruise was headed for the center of the Bermuda Triangle. When he found out, Frohicke and the rest of the Lone Gunmen were gonna be green with envy. Mulder eyed him with curiosity. "What were the 'unfortunate' mishaps that occurred on the original course?" "Rest assured that I am not certain." That was one thing that Kor had never been able to find out for sure. Several 'tall tales' had grown up around the ship's previous adventures in the Triangle, but Kor was certain they were only more Triangle lore that grew stranger over the years as the stories had been told and retold. "Perhaps the Captain will allow you to read the ship's logs," he suggested. Mulder was about to ask for directions to the Captain's office when a ball of orange fur went barreling up and over Kor's desk, scattering papers everywhere. Mulder caught a brief impression of teeth, claws, and a bushy orange tail. Mrs. O'Keefe's cat, no doubt. It leapt off the desk and landed on the staircase leading up to the Promenade Deck. Mrs. O'Keefe came huffing along behind the cat, crying, "here, Tiger! Come to mommy, you bad boy," at the top of her lungs while a winded steward followed behind at a slower pace. "Kor!" the steward yelled. "Give me a hand, will ya?" Kor took off from behind his desk, joining the bizarre race. "Hey, Kor, thanks...you've been very helpful," Mulder called after the retreating figure. "Show me your appreciation with your tips," he shouted back at him. Mulder found a ship's map in the mess on Kor's desk and located the Captain's office. He made a beeline for the designated quarters and retrieved the ship's logs for the first five years and the last three weeks. The Captain, in fact, seemed overjoyed that someone was actually interested in the history of his ship. (continued part 6) M&S---EP---Smoker for Scully---------------------------Queen of Angst XAngst Anonymous ELVIS, DEAD AT 42 and Myth Patrol "Oh, no!" Construction Site -- Mulder, "Home" "And I've quit the FBI, and become a spokesperson for the Ab-Roller." -- Scully, "Home" xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner ********************************************************************** _ _ \ / For information on the XAngst Anonymous \ / email fanfic list, please write: X A N G S T Anonymous / \ & xangst@frii.com / \ The Myth Patrol Dean Warner--Founder and moderator - - ********************************************************************** From xangst@frii.com Mon Oct 14 06:24:47 1996 DEVIL s ADVOCATE (part 6) The "Unofficial" X Philes Novel by: CHERYL COHEN and ANNIE REED aka ImAStinker and FancyKatz @ aol.com Fox tucked the collection of books under his arm and headed for the upper deck and his meeting with Scully. Getting there ahead of her, he plopped down in a lounge chair, opened the first book and attempted to read the first entry. He quickly discovered that he couldn't get past the first page because the words appeared to rise and fall in synch with the rolling of the ship. He felt the warm bile watering in the back of his throat and then seep into his mouth as he made a dash to the ship's railing. Dana appeared from around a corner just in time to witness Fox heave what was left of his stomach overboard. She sighed and shook her head as she grasped him from behind and led him back to the chair. "Sit there and don't move," she ordered. A sickly moan was her only reply. "I'll get you a glass of water and a Dramamine.....I believe the Doctor is on the level." "Why don't you give me the whole damn bottle?" he finally managed to squeeze out. "Because it doesn't work that way....and you know it," she lectured him. Mulder closed his eyes....maybe if he couldn't see the ship rolling about, it would help....Fat chance. Scully walked away and returned a short time later with a glass of water and two small white pills that he took greedily from her palm and dutifully swallowed. "So you think the doctor's clean, huh?" he inquired hoarsely while picking up the stack of log books he'd placed on the deck beside his chair. He put the worn looking books in his lap and thumped the top one gingerly with his index finger. "The key to all of this is somewhere in here," he stated with conviction, "I just *know* it!" "What exactly is it that you expect to find?" she asked curiously as she sat on the chair beside him. He replied uncertainly, "I not really sure....but I'll know it when I see it." He filled her in on the information he'd picked up from Kor. "The logs contain the first five years of this ship's run through the Bermuda Triangle before it was 'Starlight Cruises'. Five years that were plagued with what our friend Kor referred to as 'unfortunate mishaps'. This log here," he said, pulling out a newer book from beneath the stack, "contains the entries for the last three weeks. I'm hoping that by comparing the two, I'll find a relevant connection besides the obvious one----the course change that takes this ship through the center of the Triangle." "Do you *actually* believe any of this has to do with the Bermuda Triangle?" she commented with a bemused expression. With the memory of another time flashing in his head, he lifted one eyebrow and meekly uttered in a playful tone, "Scully....After all you've seen----you can still ask me that question???" One corner of her mouth turned up in an effort not to laugh. She replied succinctly in a matter of fact voice, "yes." Mulder chuckled lightly as some of the sparkle began to return to his eyes. He was starting to feel better -- she could tell. Dana really felt sorry for him because he'd been nothing but sick since he first stepped foot on this floating hotel. She also felt just a tinge of guilt at not foreseeing this problem....especially for a man who needed Dramamine just to operate the microfiche at work. She sighed..."Now to get back to your original question---do I think Dr. Johnson is clean? Yes, I think he's legit. His procedures might be a bit sloppy, but in my opinion, he's no killer." She picked up a patch and held it in the light for a closer inspection. "Due to sheer volume, it's common practice to dispense these little suckers from the same container to different individuals. It would be easy for someone who knew about that to contaminate the medication. Doctor Johnson said that your and Oneida's medication came from the same batch. However, when we tried to locate the container, it was----'missing'." "Why am I not surprised?" Mulder quipped ironically. A stiff mid-day breeze had struck up as they talked, flapping the pages of the log book. Mulder sighed. As beautiful and peaceful as it was on deck, it didn't look like he'd be able to get any work done here, and he knew he was on to something. He closed the log book he was trying to read, got up, grabbed the remaining logs, and headed for their cabin. Dana followed, trying to keep up as usual. Sometimes when he was concentrating on a case, he just forgot that *her* legs had to work twice as hard to match his seeming effortless stride. Jason Hubbard was just putting the finishing touches on his power workout when he noticed that old mystery lady...what's-her-name... standing by the door watching him. The reporter, Kopec, had nearly tripped over her on his way out of the weight room. Put money on the table, and suddenly the weirdest people show up in the strangest places, looking for clues that probably didn't exist anyway. But the old broad didn't look like she was searching for clues...she was just standing there watching all the hardbodies work out. Probably the only way the old bat was gonna get her jollies on this trip, he thought with a cruel laugh. He'd heard from some of the other crew that the old lady's cat had led Wilson and Kor on a merry chase all over the ship. The cat was now locked away in Wilson's room for the duration of the cruise, on the Captain's specific orders. Boy, he'd have given anything to see the look on that geeky steward's face while the Captain read him the riot act over the stupid cat. The stewards thought they got to see all the good action on this rust bucket, lurking around the passenger cabins and in the corridors. Action...man, they didn't know the meaning of the word. Here in the gym...here's where all the action was. And he...Jason Hubbard...was right in the middle of it all. Sure, as Activities Director he had to oversee the senior citizens with their stupid shuffleboard games, but he more than made up for it with all the leotard bunnies who showed up to work out in the gym. Those he gave his "personal" attention. And every once in a while he'd strike it rich with some babe who wanted old Jason to help "spot" her while she lifted weights. He was good at that, just like he was good at many other things. That was how he'd met Oneida Darkhorse. Too bad good ole' Oneida had to leave this world so prematurely....what a shame. She'd been one hell of a roll in the hay, and he'd been able to parlay that into a fifty percent increase in the balance of his retirement account. It was always a drag to lose a first rate meal ticket. Guess he'd have to find some other high-profile hubby to bribe into silence---Hey, that shouldn't be *too* difficult, he reasoned, as he flexed his muscles and admired himself in the mirrored wall, checking out the available ladies in the process. Hell, he was feeling good today... why not give the old hag a treat. He laid down on the weight bench and lifted the over-burdened barbells above his head, wondering just how much cash the old broad had stashed away and if she would be worth it. He didn't notice the two small screws that fell from the 'bar rest' onto the carpeted floor. Jason pumped a ten-set and strained with effort as he placed the barbell into the holder. Nobody spotted him because quite frankly, there was no one on board ship that could hold a candle to him when it came to power lifting. The holder quivered under the weight for an instant then snapped without warning, sending four hundred pounds of steel and iron crashing down on his unprotected neck. A sickening snap echoed throughout the room as his head snapped back and blood oozed from his protruding eyes. Mrs. O'Keefe hoped the young man had a beneficiary. She turned slowly and left the room unnoticed. Dana stepped through the cabin doorway, bottle of shampoo in hand. "Next time, remember the toiletries, will ya," she huffed. Typical...he'd bought his brand and hadn't thought that she might use something else. And God only knew that she didn't want to end up with "Mulder" hair. The humidity was making it hard enough to deal with. Fox sat cross-legged on the floor in typical Mulderesque fashion, clothed only in a pair of jogging shorts and a shadowy smile. He rolled his eyes upward to look at her and replied, "If you remember correctly, we *were* in just a little bit of a hurry---so *excuse* me if I didn't get *everything*." "And who's fault was that?" she asked accusingly. He dropped his eyes back down to study the log book that lay open in his lap and mumbled under his breath, "bitch." Then he quirked one corner of his mouth into a half smile. Scully narrowed her eyes ."What?" Mulder gazed up at her innocently. "I said, *which* shampoo do you get?'" "Since *when* are you interested in shampoo brands?" "Since *you* walked in and made it a major topic of discussion," he replied and waited expectantly for the 'Scully retort' that would signal the end of what had become a ritual....the verbal sparring match. He looked forward to the 'make up' sessions that usually followed these mundane, minor squabbles. He watched her nose wrinkle up and her eyes crinkle at the corners as she pondered a comeback. Mulder grinned in spite of himself. He waited---but instead of the usual 'slam', she simply crossed the tiny room and stood over him as he sat on the floor. Dana bent over, cupped his chin in her hand and tilted his head back to face her. She then teased his lips with light, feathery kisses as she whispered softly between breathes, "Mulder.....sometimes......you're a.....royal.......pain.....in....the ass." He reached up behind her neck to pull her down closer as he responded with a low growl into her mouth, "but I'm damn lovable, huh....." She always found a way to keep him off guard and he was never quite certain what she was going to do----funny, she'd often said the same thing about *him*. There was *one* thing, however, of which he was absolutely sure of though... If she didn't desist on her present 'course' right *now*, he was gonna toss the damn log book that rested in his lap onto the floor....and he *wouldn't* need his hands to do it. He gave a shuddering sigh. This may be the place, but it certainly was *not* the time for compromising positions---he had work to do... they both did. He pulled away from her regretfully and was surprised to see the same look of apology in her eyes that he knew was also reflected in his. "Later, Sherlock," she whispered. Dana tousled his hair unmercifully. "Later," he echoed hopefully with a promise written plainly in his eyes. He kissed her forehead and watched her straighten, walk into the bathroom and close the door. He returned his rapt attention to the book in his lap. He thought he was beginning to see a pattern -- a correlation, if you will, within the worn pages. Just a little more to read and maybe it would all fall into place. The answer was here...he knew it. Scully disrobed and turned on the shower, testing the temperature before she got in and closed the shower door. It was a little early for a shower, but after poking around a dead body all morning, she just wanted to feel clean again. The water, the soap, and the *shampoo* felt wonderful and she sighed as the warm water loosened muscles she hadn't realized were so tight. It was going to be difficult to leave the comforting warmth of the shower and venture back out into the real world. However, she hadn't been in for more than a couple minutes when she noticed that the water was a little hotter than it had been just a few seconds earlier. Dana reached up to turn the hot water down and found that the knob spun around uselessly in her hand. The same spinning motion greeted her hand with the other knob as well. Dana squirmed around in the small stall as the water got hotter. She pulled at the shower door and discovered to her dismay that somehow it had jammed and wouldn't budge. The water temperature was becoming unbearable and was beginning to burn her skin. Fear and pain gripped her heart and she screamed, "MULDER!!!! GOD!!! MULDER, GET IN HERE!!!!" She attempted to stay out of the stream of water ....the metal shower head was already too hot for her to try and swivel the spray against the wall. She huddled against the far wall, trying to avoid the water as much as possible, but the drain was clogged and the scaulding water began to rise, blistering her feet. She pounded on the shower door in desperation... Mulder looked up from his reading when he heard her call to him. What now, he thought.... she must have forgotten her towel. He stood up and tried to open the bathroom door but the handle wouldn't turn. He knew she wouldn't have locked it...those days were long past. But the door was stuck and refused to give, even when he applied his full weight into shoving it open. Then he heard her scream, 'sob,' and pound on the shower door. Something was terribly wrong. He shouldered the bathroom door...nothing. He moved back to the far side of the room, ran at the door to build up his momentum and slammed his shoulder into the barrier that kept her from him. The door gave reluctantly and he found himself in a room full of steam.....very *hot* steam. The shower door was just as stubborn as the bathroom door, so he tore the tank lid of the toilet and smashed it through the tempered glass. The water that had collected on the shower floor was ankle deep, and it splashed out over the broken glass into the bathroom, blistering Mulder's bare feet. He reached in to grab Scully from her huddled position in the corner of the shower. The spraying water burned his back as he pulled her to safety, but he ignored it, his only thought being to get her out of there. As soon as they were clear, the water slowed to a drizzle, then stopped completely. Dana shook with uncontrollable sobs as Mulder gently wrapped her in the terry robe that she had left draped over the towel rack. He picked her up easily and cradled her in his arms, murmuring softly to her, "it's alright....I'm here....you're okay now." As he turned to leave the bathroom, another message appeared on the mirror...."I can write too....," it taunted him menacingly. He shook with fury..."You deal with me, you goddamn son of a bitch...not her, not her! I know about you... I'm the one who believes!" he screamed into the empty room. He ran with her in his arm down the hallway and up two flights of stairs, ignoring the startled looks of the passengers and crew they passed. He'd be damned if he'd trust the elevator after what happened to the Boltons. Right now it looked like almost anything on this ship could prove to be lethal. Carrying her into the infirmary, Mulder was oblivious to his state of undress and the pain from his own wounds. The doctor took one look at the both of them and motioned for Mulder to put Dana down on the examination table. As the doctor started his examination, Mulder began to notice the blisters appearing on his own shoulders, feet, and various other parts of his anatomy but he chose to ignore the pain....he'd deal with it later. The exam had given Dana a chance to calm down. She stared at the worried, controlled panic that filled Fox's eyes. "I'm alright," she assured him. "It hurts like hell, but I *am* alright." She'd received a first degree burn over most of her body and a few areas of blistering, but the doctor said she was lucky. At the worst, she would only suffer skin damage equivalent to a really 'bad' sunburn. He sprayed her all over with an anesthetic spray and told her to drink lots of fluids, which was the same advice he gave to Mulder. Now that the initial adrenaline had worn off, Mulder was beginning to feel the consequences of his actions. His shoulder ached with a vengeance as it began to discolor to a bluish-purple hue. Well at least he was color coordinated....it kinda matched the color of his neck, he considered as an afterthought. Dr. Johnson taped an ice pack to his injured shoulder, declared it to be a bad sprain, and stuck a bottle of pain killers in his hand. He couldn't afford to take the pills...he'd been bombed enough on this trip already. But he took the bottle anyway and put it in his pocket. Mulder helped Dana off the exam table. She stood unsteadily at first but without assistance. "Come on, Scully, Let's go 'peel' together," he said, trying to ease the tension. "Love your new wardrobe, Mulder," she commented, looking down at the clinging, silky blue jogging shorts "....blue's your color. It matches your neck and shoulder and brings out the color of your eyes." He smiled and drew her close. "The official color of the walking wounded....I knew you'd be pleased---see there?? And you accused me of being color blind." They walked over to a deck chair and sat down. "Alright Mulder, I'll take it back....you're not color blind. You just have incredibly bad taste in ties," she snickered, wincing slightly as she shifted position on the chair, drawing the robe closer around herself. She fidgeted apprehensively....she didn't like sitting around in public in *just* a robe, but she didn't want to go get her clothes either. "If you don't mind, I think I'd like to stay up here for a while. I really don't want to go back to the cabin...just yet." He nodded with understanding. "I'll go back and get us something to wear...." He looked down at his jogging shorts, which were just drying out. They'd certainly seen better days. "I don't know about you but I feel a little silly walking around looking like a wounded, overdone lobster in jogging shorts." Dana laughed softly at the image he conjured up in her mind. Even in the worst circumstances, he always seemed to be able to make her laugh. But then she thought of the writing on the mirror, and of Fox rolling around on the cabin floor fighting an unseen assailant. "Are you sure it's safe to go back there?" she asked in an alarmed voice. "As safe as anywhere else aboard this ship," he replied, happy that he'd lightened her mood, even for a little while. "Just stay here and wait for me....I'll be right back." He stood slowly and walked away as quickly as his blistered feet would let him. Mrs. O'Keefe walked away from the purser's office, Tiger held firmly in her arms. It had taken quite a bit of sweet talk, with a few alligator tears thrown in for good measure, for her to get her beloved Tiger back. The purser had relayed the Captain's displeasure at having a cat run loose throughout the ship. Mrs. O'Keefe had listened patiently while the purser explained that it was a special privilege to have a pet on board, and if she didn't want that privilege taken away, she needed to pay more attention to the cat so that it didn't annoy her neighbors and run loose on the ship. Mrs. O'Keefe had meekly agreed, and had told the purser she was sure that nothing like that would happen again during this cruise. Idiots, she thought to herself. Who the hell did they think they were talking to back there...a school child? The hand supporting the cat tightened around the animal's jeweled collar. Well, at least *that's* still there, she thought, smiling down at the flea ridden fur bag she'd been saddled with. She passed a group of her fellow passengers....back from fun in the sun, no doubt. With her free hand, she stroked the cat's head in a show of loving affection. The cat yowled and hissed at Mrs. O'Keefe. Jake Moorehouse walked briskly across the deck heading toward the passenger cabins. He was contemplating the scene that he'd just witnessed in the gym...it was most definitely not a pretty sight. It was ironic. All those muscles Hubbard had worked so hard at maintaining had done him in at the end. It reminded Moorehouse of a t-shirt he'd seen once...eat right, exercise, stop smoking....and still die. He stopped by the Mulder's cabin, intending to retrieve the little redhead....he was in need of some more medical 'expertise' again. When he arrived, however, he found the door wide open, the cabin empty and waterlogged. On the floor he discovered the remains of several copies of the ship's log. Jake picked them up for a quick look, but whatever information was written on these pages was long gone now. The water had caused the ink to run in such a way as to practically wipe the pages clean. No amount of wishing was going to make writing reappear. ***** continued in 6b M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst XAngst Anonymous ELVIS PRESLEY, DEAD AT 42 and Myth Patrol "Oh, no!" Construction Site -- Mulder, "Home" "Meanwhile, I've quit the FBI, and become a spokesperson for the Ab-Roller." -- Scully, "Home" xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner ********************************************************************** _ _ \ / For information on the XAngst Anonymous \ / email fanfic list, please write: X A N G S T Anonymous / \ & xangst@frii.com / \ The Myth Patrol Dean Warner--Founder and moderator - - ********************************************************************** From xangst@frii.com Mon Oct 14 06:26:03 1996 Devil's Advocate part 6 continued... Moorehouse stood in the middle of the Mulders' cabin holding one of the logs, quickly re-evaluating his opinion of the newlyweds. This Fox Mulder knew a hell of a lot more about this case than he let on... much more than just an amateur trying to make a few fast bucks. What bugged him more was the fact that if this guy was a Fibbie...and it was beginning to look that way.... he was going to have to revise his estimate of Feds in general. Maybe their success wasn't due to all their fancy schmancy equipment after all. He couldn't find *anything* of a technological nature anywhere in the room, not even a lap top computer....and even beat cops had those nowadays. He was beginning to really admire this kid and his little sidekick... and he was glad none of his pals were here to see his lapse in judgment. "What are you doing in here?" Jake spun around, startled by the voice behind him. The kid stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of silky jogging shorts and sporting probably the worst sunburn he'd seen in a decade. Jake found himself stifling a laugh. This kid had to be the quirkiest Fed he'd ever seen. "There was another 'accident' and I was just taking up your wife's offer of assistance," Jake explained, putting the log book down on the bed. "I came to your cabin to get her but the door was open and the place was a little 'damp.," Mulder limped slowly into the room. "Yeah, well, we sort of had a little 'accident' of our own," Mulder commented tiredly as he pulled open a dresser drawer and retrieved two sets of clothes. "I can see that," Moorehouse said as he got a better look at what he had previously thought was a 'sunburn'. The burn was uneven and in splotches--mainly on the kid's back and shoulders, as if he'd been splattered. And to top it off, he had an ice bag taped to one shoulder, and the shoulder underneath it was turning purple. Jake's practiced eye also took in the greenish-purple bruises around the kid's neck, although they didn't seem to be as recent as the ones on his shoulder. He studied Mulder and made a decision... "You're FBI, ain't ya?" Moorehouse said intensely. Mulder didn't respond, but Jake had seen just the slightest hesitation in the kid's movements as he sorted out the clothes he'd taken from the dresser. Anyone else would probably have missed it. "What the hell happened here? Is your 'partner' ok?" Jake knew the Bureau frowned on married couples working together, so he figured the hot little redhead was the kid's partner...and by the looks of things...a very 'close' partner. In his opinion a marriage certificate was probably the only thing 'missing' between these two and sometimes a piece of paper was just that.....a piece of paper. Fox slowly pulled on a pair of jeans and a light cotton denim shirt. Even the light cotton rubbed painfully against his burns, but then, anything he put there was gonna hurt. The motions of getting dressed gave him time to ponder the questions Moorehouse had asked. Procedure required that he maintain his cover no matter what, but then again, whoever it was he was trying to remain incognito from obviously already knew who he really was. For some strange unknown reason, he felt he could trust this big, blusterous loudmouth cop, and he was tired of tripping all over him at every turn, and lord knows he'd never stood on procedure before. Why start now? Mulder turned to look at Jake. "In answer to your first question.....yeah, I'm FBI," he said in a conspiring tone. "Something tried to kill my partner while she was in the shower, and she's a little shook up and burned but she'll be okay....she's tough." "You know, you're pretty good, kid," Moorehouse said with grudging praise. "I pride myself at picking out Fibbies a mile away, but you sure had me fooled." "Don't feel bad," Mulder deadpanned, "I'm not exactly a 'model' agent. In fact, I probably got sent on this case to begin with because they were hoping I'd get swallowed up by a black hole, thereby preventing them from further embarrassment. Following the 'book' is not exactly my forte'." Moorehouse caught the reference the kid made to a "black hole". And what was that he'd mentioned earlier.... that some*thing* had tried to kill his partner...not some*one*. Yeah, this was definitely one different Fibbie. Mulder looked down at the ruined log books on the floor, picked one up and slowly watched the water roll down the cover and drip onto his feet. "Looks like some of your evidence got screwed up....hope it wasn't too important," Jake commiserated. He knew what it was like to lose evidence that could possibly solve a case. "Oh...don't worry about it, Jake....Can I call you Jake?" Moorehouse nodded in reply. Mulder repeated, "really....it's no big deal." "No big deal? There could have been something important in there, else *you* wouldn't have been interested in it," Jake stated with frustration. Geez, this kid was *really* weird. "No, I mean it. It *is* no big deal....I already read them all. The books may have been destroyed but the information wasn't. I have photographic memory. The information is in here," he said, pointing to his temple. "..... word for word...including the ink spill on page 32 and the ketchup stain on the upper left hand corner of page 147." "I never met anyone with that before...how's it work, Fox? Uh...can I call you Fox?" Moorehouse had seen the kid flinch at the sound of his first name...probably had the pants teased off him in school over a name like that. "Call me Mulder, okay? The way my memory works is kind of complicated...can I explain it later? All you need to know right now is that it *does* work." Mulder picked up the remaining log books off the floor. "You said there was another 'accident'....did it involve strangulation is some way?" "Well, yeah, I guess you could call it that....how did you know?" "Because all this has happened before, more than once." Moorehouse's look made it clear that he didn't understand. This was gonna be kind of difficult to explain. Mulder decided to start with the tangible evidence he'd located in the ship's logs. "In comparing the entries in the log books, I discovered that the first ship that made this voyage suffered the same 'misfortunes' as we're experiencing now." Mulder briefly explained to Moorehouse what he knew of the ship's ownership history. "Those first cruises used the exact same course we're now using, which cuts through the Bermuda Triangle instead of skirting around the outside edges." "Wait a minute..." Moorehouse interrupted. "Are you saying that the Triangle is causing all these deaths on this ship?" "Indirectly, maybe," Mulder conceded. "There's a lot of speculation concerning the events that have been reported to occur in the Triangle. This particular area of the ocean is a little bit peculiar in that there's....well....sort of a dimensional - timeline confusion here... I don't know quite how to explain this, but there are several theories which basically state that present time coexists with the past and the future, but on different dimensional planes. There is speculation that the Triangle contains a gateway or portal that could allow one or all of the dimension to interphase with one another. In other words, if all three dimensions must meet somewhere, especially with what's been happening around here, I've got a feeling that this is it." "You're not exactly a *normal* FBI agent, are you?" Moorehouse asked. The kid was bright, no doubt, but Jake guessed that he probably had a standing appointment with the Bureau's shrink. "I warned you," Mulder said with a smile. At least Moorehouse was still listening. That was more than he could say about ninety percent of the agents back at the Bureau. "It might make you feel better to know that I'm not the first one to make this connection," Mulder continued. "Someone else recognized what was happening and changed the ship's course twenty years ago......and for twenty years there were no further 'incidents'. Until now. When I checked on our course, I found out that three weeks ago this ship was routed back to it's original course through the Triangle. The log reflected that the orders came directly from corporate headquarters, no doubt neatly disguised as an efficiency measure." "Three weeks ago," Moorehouse muttered. That's when all the accidents had started. Damn...he would have liked to look at the records of the accidents of twenty years ago just to be sure, but it looked like the kid was on to something. "Yeah, quite a coincidence, wouldn't you say?" Mulder responded. "The question is why wouldn't the company notice the correlation between the course and the accidents on this ship? A simple solution would have been to change the ship's course, but they didn't. Instead they stage this elaborate 'game' and call in the 'Spooky Squad.'" "Spooky Squad?" Moorehouse asked. "Inside joke," Mulder muttered. Moorehouse had the feeling it was not a very funny joke. "So someone had to know about all this." Mulder continued, working out the logic as he spoke. "Someone in power at the corporate level decided to return this cruise to its original course, knowing full well what the consequences would be. I would suggest that it's probably the same individual who requested the investigation in the first place. Anyone actually requesting an investigation would, more than likely, be automatically precluded from suspicion. It's a good bet that they were counting on that fact, since a 'conventional' Federal Agent would never suspect or even consider the possibilities that I've mentioned. All the deaths that happened on this cruise would have been listed as accidental or unexplained.....just like they were the first time.... and the killer would be home free." "If that were true," Moorehouse reasoned, "why in the hell did the Bureau send you? From what I can see, your ideas are about as 'unconventional' as they come." Mulder pondered that question for a moment then grinned. "The 'Bureau' didn't exactly send me....my boss did. Let's just say that I have a feeling he's tired of burying their underhanded, bureaucratic bullshit for them." Skinner, you sly dog, he thought with a certain amount of glee. They told you to send somebody but never in a million years would they have *ever* guessed that you'd send me......way to go, Walter. He suddenly had a whole new respect for the Bureau's Assistant Director. "So we're looking for a murderer, not something connected with this 'timeline' theory you were talking about before?" Moorehouse had no problems admitting to being confused...it was probably written all over his ruddy face. "Probably both," Mulder replied. "Look at it this way. What better way to murder someone than to make it look like an accident and slip it in with all the other 'accidents' that have occurred on board? There is a real, human murderer on board...but he is using this phenomena to cover his tracks and in the process, many other innocent victims will die. I want this bastard, Moorehouse." "You're not the only one, kid," Moorehouse growled. "Not only him...I want the maniac that's bouncing around in this continuum...." Mulder could tell by Moorehouse's look that he'd probably lose his credibility with the good sergeant over this, but this other thing was real, whether anyone else believed in it or not. "I've felt it, Jake. It's real....it's evil..... and it's sadistic....worse than any serial killer I've ever encountered. It tried to kill me," Mulder said, pointing at the bruises on his neck. Moorehouse had to admit that they looked like extremely large fingerprints, now that he thought about it. "And it just tried to murder my partner. I can sense it...I don't know how or why, but I can. It murders for pleasure and thrives on our fear.....and it's getting stronger." "So if what you say is true...and I'm not saying that I believe in any of this mumbo gumbo you just spouted," Moorehouse was quick to add, "how do you plan on stopping this other 'thing'?" "I dunno," Mulder admitted. "I have a feeling, though, that when the time comes, I'll know what to do. As for reward money? You can keep it....the Bureau wouldn't let us accept it anyway. Besides, no one would believe or accept the second half of what I just told you anyway....so you work on the part of the case that you *can* prove and I'll wrestle with the 'spooky squad' stuff...okay?" "Nice of you to bring me my clothes, Mulder." Both men spun toward the icy voice that stabbed at them from the cabin door. "I got worried when you didn't get back within a 'reasonable' length of time....and here you are with Sergeant Moorehouse, having a nice little chat." Scully was more than just a little miffed. "You don't have to go over your little explanations again for me...I heard. And I wish you'd stop making major decisions without consulting me first," she glared at Moorehouse and narrowed her eyes at Mulder. Jake sensed that the kid was in the proverbial 'dog house' and he didn't want to stick around when the fur flew....yep, just a piece of paper, he thought , feeling sorry for the kid but laughing to himself when he saw the way she stood with her arms crossed over her chest, impatiently tapping one foot. He knew that pose...he'd seen it many times before. His mom used to get it before he got spanked when he was a kid....and the last time he'd seen it was when his ex-wife locked him out of the house for the last time. Jake had the impression that it was an ingrained female genetic trait. "Ma'am, when you're done here....I'd appreciate some help with the latest so called accident." There, he said what he'd come here to say in the first place. Moorehouse took one final look at the fire in Scully's eyes and decided it was way past time for him to leave. He made a quick exit out the door and down the hall, chuckling to himself the whole way.....he had the distinct impression that Agent Mulder was in for a serious ass chewing. Scully shut the door behind Moorehouse. As soon as she was sure he was out of earshot, Scully turned slowly toward Mulder, took a deep breath and blasted, "what the hell did you think you were doing?!? All this time we've bent over backwards to maintain a believable 'cover' and now you go and tell one of the 'suspects' who we are!!!!!! A few hours ago I could have blamed it on the drugs, but not now. I hate it when you do things like this. Mulder, it's just like that time in the forest..."she trailed off, trembling slightly as she flashed back to the time when millions of microscopic green insects had nearly killed her. "Sometimes you just don't stop to think about how what you do and say could affect those around you. Now, could you at least tell me why you blew our cover?" Mulder eased himself down onto the bottom bunk and sat silently for several minutes. Yes, he knew that he'd been wrong that time in the forest when he didn't consult her---but goddamn it, he'd been right about the guy. The man had come back for them...and had died as a result.... a fact that she always conveniently failed to mention. This time....this time he stood by his decision. She hadn't been there and he'd had no time to wait for her to decide what to do. Fox raised his eyes to her and stated in a calm, quiet voice, "Dana....the man was in the cabin when I arrived. He saw the log books on the floor and put two and two together. He may be an oaf in some respects but he's not stupid. He came right out and asked me if I was FBI." Mulder looked down and studied the blisters on feet. "Dana...." he continued softly as he raised he eyes to gaze directly into hers, "Look at me." She held his gaze and asked questions with her own puzzled eyes. "What kind of liar am I?" he whispered in frustration. "Could I look that man in the eye and lie to his face....especially when my instincts tell me that I can trust him, in spite of his abrasive personality? Do you actually think that he'd believe me? This is an NYCPD detective we're talking about. He's probably been lied to for over twenty years by a lot of people who were a lot better at it than I am. " Dana had to agree with him there...Mulder was a terrible liar. But she wasn't ready to quit being angry, not just yet. They were partners, dammit...and he'd just made a major case decision without her.... again. "There's something else to consider and I'm sure it's crossed your mind, too," Mulder continued. "It seems pretty obvious that whoever or whatever we're trying to keep our identity from already seems to know who we are anyway. Our cover was already blown. You weren't here, Scully. I was forced to make a split second decision and unfortunately I had to do it without the luxury of your input on the matter." Mulder sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands. God, he was just so tired and he didn't want to fight with her. Dana's eyes softened as she walked over to where he sat. Perhaps this time he'd been correct, she thought evenly. She *had* blasted him before she'd had all the facts, but she also felt that she had a 'good' reason to 'jump to conclusions'. It was typically 'Mulder' to run off on his own without consulting her and this impulsive tendency really frightened her. She knew it grew from the years he'd worked alone without a partner. But she *was* here now. She was just afraid that one day he'd go off on his own and she wouldn't be there to pull his ass out of the fire. Mulder felt of her fingertips lightly ruffling through his hair as he felt the mattress sink down beside him. He turned his face to one side and discovered an impish Scully face giving him the once over. "You may have been right this time," she conceded. "But in the future...if at all possible....please let me know what you're up to, okay? It's scary when you go off on your own because I can't help you if I don't know what you're doing and I can't be there for you if I don't know where you are. I don't want you to get hurt, Fox." Fox Mulder smiled and cautiously embraced his partner in a gentle hug, being careful not to press too much on their mutual burns. He looked at their skin and remarked devilishly, "this could present a real challenge....don't you think??" She laughed. "I've never known you to 'flinch' from challenge, I'm sure you'll think of something," she pursed her lips, kissed him softly, and then gave him a gentle shove. Dana stood up, put on the soft cotton dress that Mulder had gotten out for her and slipped on a pair of sandals. He watched quietly as she went to the mirror to brush the tangles out of her still- damp hair and marveled at how lovely she looked---even with beet red skin and blisters. Silently, he thanked every deity he could think of for her continued presence in his life, and he was exceedingly glad that they had ended this last argument on a positive note. Mulder's mind played back to another scene from not too long ago... he'd become frustrated and left Scully's office at Quantico in a huff. He hadn't even said good-bye.....he'd just gotten up from her desk and walked out. Afterwards, she'd disappeared, and more than anything else the memory of his indifference tore at his heart and had haunted him throughout the whole ordeal. How could he have been so callous? If she had *not* been returned to him safe and whole, it would have remained like a lead weight upon his soul till he drew his last breath. Mulder vowed, then and there, that he would *never*......*ever* leave her in that manner again, and so far he'd been able to keep that promise. Dana felt his eyes follow her appreciatively across the room and she allowed his longing gaze without comment. The thought that he could still desire her even when she looked this 'bad' warmed her heart. Sure, he could make her angry with his obsessions and impulsive carelessness, but he was an inately 'good' person and his 'decent' qualities more than outweighed his flaws. She finished removing the last tangle from her hair and crossed back over to Mulder. He was trying, without success, to get his sneakers on over his swollen feet.....he hadn't bought sandals for his replacement wardrobe. Finally, giving up, he just slipped on a pair of socks, muttered "fuck it" under his breath, and stood up. Bad idea, Mulder, he thought belatedly as the weight of his body popped the blisters on the soles of his feet. "Shit," he grimaced when the dampness soaked through his socks. He wasn't certain if the wetness was from the blisters or the water-logged carpet....all he knew was that it stung like hell. He looked down at Dana's red but relatively unharmed feet. "How come yours didn't blister?" he complained. "Just lucky I guess," she replied warmly while taking out an extra pair of his socks from the dresser. "Come on," she soothed, "looks like I have another dead body to examine. We can drop by Dr. Johnson's on the way and get some antibiotics for those 'boats' you call feet." She paused momentarily, then quipped facetiously, "God, I just *love* our 'vacations'." (continued part 7) M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst XAngst Anonymous ELVIS PRESLEY, DEAD AT 42 and Myth Patrol "Oh, no!" Construction Site -- Mulder, "Home" "Meanwhile, I've quit the FBI, and become a spokesperson for the Ab-Roller." -- Scully, "Home" xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner ********************************************************************** _ _ \ / For information on the XAngst Anonymous \ / email fanfic list, please write: X A N G S T Anonymous / \ & xangst@frii.com / \ The Myth Patrol Dean Warner--Founder and moderator - - ********************************************************************** From xangst@frii.com Tue Oct 15 07:31:50 1996 DEVIL s ADVOCATE (part 7) The "Unofficial" X Philes Novel by: CHERYL COHEN and ANNIE REED aka ImAStinker and FancyKatz @ aol.com Moorehouse had already made his investigation of the scene in the gym. He'd roped off the area from the other passengers...they'd just have to get their exercise some other way for the duration of this trip. He figured that the agents would be occupied for awhile with ironing out their 'differences' and he didn't want anything disturbed by any of the 'amateur' sleuths on board, although their number was rapidly dwindling. However, the Mulders had shown up more quickly than he had anticipated and the kid still seemed to be in one piece and in a decent mood at that. Jake observed with fascination as the hot little redhead....she'd introduced herself to him this time as Dana Scully, but reminded him that she was still Mrs. Mulder to everyone else.... painstakingly examined the body from gory head to toe without so much as a 'flinch'. Mulder, he noticed, was just as competent as he scanned the area with equal fervor and concentration. He knelt down by the victim's head and carefully removed the two screws that had fallen on the floor and placed them in a zip lock bag he'd picked up from the kitchen. Then he began to pick at something that had evidently stuck into the carpet and placed it in the bag with the screws. Jake thought it looked like metal shavings....How the hell could he have missed that? Dana completed her work and looked up to see two expectant faces staring at her for a report. She almost had to laugh....she hated to admit it but in many ways Jake and Fox were a lot alike. They were both incredibly stubborn, opinionated, and used to having their own way. Jake, however, was more boisterous and openly crude, while Mulder, even though he could make a crude remark now and then, was more subdued with a refined, softer edge. She could understand why Mulder might trust this guy. "Well," she finally commented, "The cause of death is fairly obvious....the man's throat was crushed, and the pressure from the sudden weight forced his brain into his cranium and out of his nasal cavities, mouth, ears, eyes, etc.....see...." she said pointing to the floor. "The cranial fluid has pooled on the floor and the eyeballs were forced from their sockets." This woman is amazing, Jake thought. He'd seen a lot of gruesome murder scenes but hearing her talk about it this way was starting to make even him.....queasy. Mulder, on the other hand, lifted one eyebrow and commented with a grin, "ya mean like the roadkill I saw the other day when I jogged by your place? I think it was a squirrel....kinda hard to tell sometimes when they're flat like that." Moorehouse looked at him in utter disbelief for several seconds, then roared with laughter. He liked this kid.....he really did, weird ideas or not. Dana's only reaction was to give them both a pained look and state with patient resign, "Mulder, you have an acutely *sick* sense of humor. Now for our next problem....how are we gonna get this barbell off of him so we can put him in the deep freeze with the others? There must be at least four hundred pounds on that thing." Fox shrugged his shoulders. "Don't look at me..... if I try to lift that thing, we'll *both* be sorry." He favored Dana with a sideways glance and winked covertly. "What about you, Jake?" Moorehouse shook his head with a definite "no". Mulder snickered in spite of himself....this was such a ridiculous problem to have. Back on shore he never had to worry about getting the body away from the scene of a crime...the coroner's office took care of it. Yup, his *sick* sense of humor was definitely kicking in here....probably some kind of a mental pressure release valve. "What?" she asked. "Well......I don't know.....It's just that I keep getting flashbacks of that movie, 'Weekend at Bernies'. Maybe we could put a towel over his face and pass him off as a new kind of eclectic 'gym art'. If we play our cards right....everybody will want one." One look at Dana confirmed that she didn't think the idea was nearly as hilarious as he did. He tried to get serious, but it only resulted in a case of those snorting type giggles....the nasty ones you get when you're *really* trying not to laugh. The harder he tried to not to laugh, the worse they got...Shit, he might as well say it and get it over with. "Okay, then," he managed to slip in between gasps, "how about if we put out a ship-wide call for anyone who can lift Roseanne Barr....ya know....shades of 'The Sword in the Stone'? Whoever accomplishes the feat gets to rape and pillage the Tiki Bar, win a kiss from the princess and a free one-day, 'life-time' pass to this wonderfully 'safe' gymnasium." Even Jake snickered a little this time, but Dana just stood there looking at him with an 'I can't believe I'm hearing this, Mulder' look on her face. "Okay...okay....I'm losin' it," he admitted. "The pressure's finally got to me......I give.....Dana, I don't *know*! How do we get this guy out from under this *damn* thing.!?! Maybe a lever...Jake can push down and we can pull him out....by the feet. I'm not touching what's left of his head." Mulder stacked several round weights on the floor to make a fulcrum, then looked around and spotted a steel bar at another weight bench. He carried it over, placed it under the barbells and over the stacked weights for leverage. With Dana and Jake pushing down on the bar he managed to pull the body free. Soon thereafter, Jason Hubbard took up his new residence in the deep freeze next to his former lover, Oneida Darkhorse and, of course, the Boltons. As they slammed the freezer door shut, Mulder observed glumly, "I've got a feeling if we don't solve this thing soon....we're gonna run out of freezer space and be forced to hang up a 'No Vacancy' sign, or thaw someone out." He studied Scully and Moorehouse and theorized out loud. "In spite of my somewhat 'unconventional' theories about what's happening on this cruise, I believe that at least Hubbard's and possibly Darkhorse's murder was committed by an all too human criminal. Markings on the screws suggests that they were forced with a screwdriver of inappropriate size for the screw head and the shavings confirm that the screws were stripped when they were removed. We also have reason to believe that Oneida Darkhorse was drugged by the means of a Scopolomine patch, although we don't have the lab facilities on board to test the drug levels in the patches. Entities don't need screwdrivers and I don't believe they would push drugs. So if these two murders were committed by a human criminal, they have to be connected in some way. And if what Oneida projected to me yesterday is any indication of her 'inclinations', I can almost guarantee what that connection was. My first suspect would be her husband, but since he's not on board we should consider the possibility that he hired someone to take care of the problem." "What about the Boltons?" Dana asked. "They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time," Mulder replied. "I have a gut feeling that the entity is behind the Boltons' deaths. There was no physical evidence of human involvement in that 'accident.' Whoever the murderer is, he...or she....isn't quite as clever as they think. They've been leaving little clues behind." Jake nodded in agreement. "Mulder, since Hubbard was the Activities Director on board this ship, maybe we can get some of his fellow employees to rat on the bum about his suspected fling with Darkhorse. I saw him up on deck during the volleyball game, making a move on a couple of the girls. He sure looked like the 'bragging' type to me. If I could borrow your partner for a couple of hours, we could probably interview most of the staff and maybe come up with some leads." Jake shot Dana and inquiring glance and stated in a sincere tone of respect, "I could *really* use the help of an experienced interviewer....." Dana glanced briefly at Mulder for his opinion and he nodded a reluctant affirmation. "I have a few 'unusual' leads to follow, myself. I want to meet with the captain and see if we can't get this barge turned around....I'd even be happy with a change in course," he added as he turned to leave. Karl Kopec sat nursing a drink in the Tiki Lounge, listening to what had to be the worst rendition of "Tiny Bubbles" he had ever heard in his life. What was it with lounge singers on cruise ships...they all thought they were Don Ho. Normally he'd already be drunk by this time of the day and the singer wouldn't have bothered him. But he was too nervous to drink today. He was afraid that if he passed out drunk on this tub, he'd wake up dead. And after all the things he'd done in his life, he wasn't looking forward to where he'd be spending eternity. Something was different about this cruise... he felt it. The other cruises hadn't been a piece of cake, either, but then again he hadn't felt personally threatened then. Now he was in an elite class of passengers... one of the "finalists" in this little hunt and seek game. And the number of contestants was rapidly dwindling. Karl figured he now knew what the bald eagle felt like being on the endangered species list. Add to that the close call he'd had this morning while walking on deck. He'd been down in the gym earlier and had seen all the girls working out in their tight leotards. Of course, none of them had seen *him*... they'd all been too busy eyeing the Activities Director, drooling over his muscles, no doubt. Well, they say it's never too late to get in shape. So he decided to take a quick stroll around the deck. After all, wasn't walking supposed to be good for you? He'd been passing by the lifeboats when a cable must have broken loose. All he knew was that one minute he was walking along jauntily, and the next minute he was hugging the deck for dear life as a steel beam swung over him exactly where his head had been only a moment earlier. Karl had a vivid imagination... it came from years of working as a reporter and seeing all the gore he'd reported on. He had no trouble imagining himself lying lifeless on the deck, his head smashed to smithereens like some watermelon dropped off a high-rise. That had been the end of his experiment with aerobics. He'd come straight to the bar and ordered a double. Except now he was having trouble finishing it. He wasn't sure the money was worth all this....maybe nothing was. Screw up here and you're dead, he told himself. And what was that other saying... he should know. In his career he'd managed to squeeze into his stories all the hackneyed expressions he'd ever heard in his life. Oh, yeah.... something about lying down with dogs. Karl grimaced and finished his drink in one non-stop swallow. "Bartender," he said, "I believe I'll have another after all." If you gotta go, he thought, you might as well go in style. Mulder had no idea what argument he could possibly use to persuade the captain to change the ship's course, at least not any argument that the man would believe, anyway. All he had was an outrageous theory and no proof--as usual. They were in International Waters, so he couldn't force or demand compliance with his wishes. He didn't have the authority. While pondering this unlikely dilemma, Fox found himself walking purposefully toward what he 'thought' was the Captain's office only to discover with embarrassment that he'd somehow gotten on the wrong deck. Funny...he didn't remember descending to the Lido deck. He could hear her now---'Fox Mulder, not only do you screw up North, South, East, and West, but you can't tell 'up' from 'down' either. He wandered down the corridor aimlessly for several minutes, searching for the stairway that would take him back to the upper deck..... He saw the fluffy white of the clouds overhead and felt the soft, damp sea air on his face...but he also saw the dark corridor with the artificial lighting overhead, casting eerie shadows on the walls as he passed by. As he watched, the clouds disappeared and were solidly replaced once more with the artificial lighting....what the hell??? His mind reeled with the effort of trying to sort out two converging realities....his brain just was not set up for this kind of sensory incongruity.... A small tiny voice prodded his intellect---he knew the voice. It was his own. 'Why not?' it teased excitedly. He traveled down the dark hall and stood before a large heavy door marked 'Laundry'. For some reason he felt compelled to enter. He reached out to turn the door handle when a familiar stench assaulted his nose and a heavy dread once more draped itself over his shoulders. It's evil weight forced him to his knees but somehow he managed to open the door. Willing himself to look up, he beheld the hideous creature that he'd remembered from the previous night. It turned to face him, snarled tauntingly, and lifted the still, slight figure of his friend, Kor, into the air before shoving his head into the pants press and pulling the lever. "NO!!!!!!" Mulder screamed in shocked horror and rage as he rushed toward the thing with clenched fists. "You do not belong here, boy," its growl echoed mockingly in his head. "Ah....you think you can threaten me, human garbage?" It laughed demonically as he approached. "You will fear me, like all your kind fear me....you'd better." It swung one great clawed appendage at Fox, swatting him away like a gnat and sending him sprawling into the far wall. Dazed and bleeding from a ragged gash in his side, Mulder stubbornly tried to stand, but a voice he trusted forbade him and a gentle hand restrained his movement. He watched helplessly as the demon dropped Kor to the ground and moved swiftly into the lower reaches of the ship. A long, dark shadow pursued the fleeing apparition into the darkness. "*You* should not be able to do this...*you*, my dear boy, are an enigma," Dr. Jay's voice soothed gently. "Stay out of this my dear, dear Fox.....you are in over your head on this one. Now he will come for you, too." Dr. Jay carefully laid his hand atop Mulder's bowed head, patted it as he would an obedient child, and then affectionately stroked the silky strands of hair back from his forehead. "Oh...Fox, my boy...." Dr. Jay groaned quietly, "you are a never ending wellspring of unexpected surprises and a constant source of worry for those of us who care for you...do you know that? You have proven to be more dangerous to him than either of us had anticipated. Now that he knows you can sense his presence and track him down, he will try his utmost to make certain that you are unable to do either." Noticing the potential seriousness of the nasty looking slash, Dr. Jay gently massaged Mulder's temples and perceptively alleviated some of his confusion and pain. Then he reached up and pulled the fire alarm. "I can not stay with you at this time," he said, "but I am quite certain that someone will be here presently to assist you." Mulder raised his head painfully and in a semi-lucid state tried to thank Doc for his help only to find himself looking into a dim vacant hallway where Dr. Jay had stood only moments before. "Who are you???" he slurred into the shadows, absently clutching at his side with his right hand. The warm, rich liquid oozed stickily between his fingers and pooled into a crimson puddle on the cold floor beside him. Each individual cell in his body shrieked in protest against the duality it had been forced to endure. Being in neither one reality nor the other, Mulder felt as though he'd been ripped apart on a molecular level and thrust simultaneously into two entirely different modes of existence. This combined with the stress of trying to cope with a situation that he did not fully understand left him exhausted. Closing his eyes to the artificial light in the room, he finally succumbed and accepted the painless peace of the surrounding darkness that slowly enveloped his senses. Scully assisted Jake in what was now their tenth 'interview' of the various ship's personnel who'd worked with and for Jason Hubbard. Personally she was beginning to think that this whole endeavor was nothing but a waste of time and effort. After the first two interviews it was obvious that virtually 'everyone' knew of Oneida's little affair with Jason Hubbard. Hubbard was just the last entry in a long list of 'flings' that had paraded through Oneida's relatively short life. Her husband *had* to know about her many extra-marital activities....Dana was sure of it. One or two indiscretions could have possibly been hidden from him, but *not* the volume of lovers that this woman had collected. If her husband had known about *all* of those, why would he 'target' his wife now....and just one particular lover? Jason's on board karate instructor, Tieng Yan Soo, provided them with a probable answer to this question. During his interview, Moorehouse managed to get some pretty scandalous material from the man. Dana thought. It seems that Oneida had hopped into the sack one two many times and gotten herself pregnant. In addition to that startling bit of information, he also got Tieng to admit that Jason had been spending a lot of money that he shouldn't have had given his salary... spending it like a 'drunken sailor,' according to Tieng. After they finished questioning the last employee on their list, Moorehouse guided Scully by the elbow to a table by the pool side bar. "Well, what's your theory, Ms. FBI Agent?" Jake clipped in his gravel- gruff, sometimes annoying voice. Scully tilted her head slightly and squinted her eyes. "I think....I think that Jason was blackmailing Oneida about the baby. It's plausible that she told her husband that it was his. So shortly after she tells him about the baby, he notices large sums of money disappearing from their accounts. He puts two and two together and gets three. Faced with the good chance of another scandal involving his lovely wife, he decides it would be in his best interest just to get rid of them both and start over. And what better way to do it than on a cruise that's being plagued by so-called 'ghost' murders to begin with." She stopped and looked at Moorehouse. "So what do *you* think?" she asked pointedly, just daring him to punch holes in her theory. Jake gave a hearty laugh. Man, this one really *was* a little spitfire. He'd bet his last dollar that no one ever swatted *her* fanny in the bullpen and got away with it. "I agree whole heartedly with what you said....For a Fibbie, you're ok," he replied in his usual boisterous and crude manner. "So we know what the motive may have been and the identity of maybe one of the suspects. The only problem I see is that Oneida's big shot hubby, the good Senator Weston, ain't on board this tub...so who axed the stupid bitch and her boyfriend?" "I have this uneasy feeling that the answer is lying here right under our noses...." Dana muttered. A copy of the National Inquirer fluttered unnoticed on the table next to her iced tea. She picked up the glass to take a sip but nearly dropped it in her lap instead when the ship's fire alarm began to blare on all decks. "Relax, cupcake," Jake leered, "it's probably just one of those idiotic fire drills." Scully glared at him intensely. "First of all ....I am *not* a 'cupcake'." She paused for emphasis, making sure that Moorehouse got her point. "And second, this isn't a drill...." Dana pointed at two crew members who raced past them, struggling to get into fire gear. "I don't know about you, but I'm gonna go find out what the hell is going on *now*...." For once, Moorehouse agreed. They found the captain and Moorehouse expertly pried the information from him as the alarms were silenced. Crew members already suited up for a fire were taking off their gear. "See, I told ya it was a false alarm," Moorehouse grumbled. "The sailor boy, there, says that somebody must have pulled the fire alarm in the laundry room cause the electronic fire fighting stuff says that there ain't no fire." "I'm gonna to check it out anyway....somebody had to pull it!!!" Dana insisted...she had a 'feeling' that this wasn't just a false alarm, and if there was one thing she'd learned while working with Mulder, it was to follow her instincts as well as her mind. Moorehouse reluctantly agreed to go with her and the first mate to investigate the false alarm. The alarm box that had been pulled was in, of all places, the freaking laundry room. This broad was one of the pushiest dames he'd ever met. He wouldn't admit it to anybody else, but he found her stubbornness uniquely appealing. In her own way, she was just as intense as the kid. The trio traveled down the hot, dimly lit hall toward the laundry room. The shadows seemed alive with their own malevolent energy, and Dana found herself wondering why the hell there wasn't more light down here. They became aware of a still, fairly large shadow apparently slumped up against the wall ahead of them. As they approached cautiously, Dana suddenly realized that the shadow was resolving itself into the the all too familiar profile of Fox Mulder. Her heart in her throat, she began to run the remainder of the distance to the limp figure. The others were hard pressed to keep up with her short, slender legs and they made it to the laundry room a few seconds after she did. The first mate took one look at the situation and headed back down the hall to get some help. Moorehouse just loomed overhead while she knelt by Mulder's side. Mulder was slumped in a semi-reclining position of the floor. Dana noticed the blood-soaked shirt and the thick puddle that had formed on the floor beside him. She immediately tore the shirt away from the wound to get a better look. What greeted her was an ugly gash of torn flesh and a section of exposed bone from a lower rib. He was conscious...but in a 'punch drunk' sort of way....probably from blood loss and mild shock. "Moorehouse," she ordered, pointing to the laundry room, "Get me a clean sheet or towel....anything....I've gotta stop the bleeding." Moorehouse dutifully ran off in search of what she needed. He returned a few seconds later with a white sheet that seemed to match his complexion. He handed the sheet to Scully. "Hope there's room in the deep freeze for one more. We got another corpse in there," he said in a subdued tone, pointing toward the laundry room door, "and it ain't pretty." Mulder stirred at the sound of their voices and managed a slurred whisper. "It murdered Kor, Dana....It just killed him...no reason....except it...it wanted to." His voice quivered weakly, catching in pain as he tried to draw a breath... "It enjoyed the fear... horror... when he died....." he trailed off and Dana had to lean in closer to hear what he was saying. "It's evil...evil...Scccuullyy...I can feel it.....Dr. Jay's right--I know how... find......it." She noted with concern that his words were becoming more and more incoherent and his irises were trying to roll back into his head. "Mulder!!!!" she shouted into his ear..."stay with me ....Come on, Sherlock. Just think...I've had to wrap you up in a sheet, twice in one day. Stay with me and we'll do it for fun some time. Mulder...don't pass out....you hear me....Fox!!! You pass out and the deal's off....Where did this thing go? Where's Dr. Jay? Mulder, answer me....." Mulder's head tilted back limply as his eyes rolled back in his head. "Shit!!!" she exclaimed. "What??" Moorehouse asked in alarm. "He passed out..... Damn it Mulder. Didn't I just tell you not to pass out? You never listen to me." She looked at Jake in exasperation. "He never listens to me...." "Damn," Moorehouse commiserated, "give the poor guy a break, will ya? I mean, so far on this tub he's barfed his guts out, been poisoned, strangled, par boiled, had to use his shoulder as a battering ram, and now some multiphasing demon troll thing just tried to rip his lungs out without even the benefit of a good stiff drink. Personally, I don't think this is one vacation he's gonna want to remember so I'd forget about the 'Kodak' moments if I were you." Jake looked down at the pale, young man on the floor and then back up at Scully. "Hey, is he gonna be all right?" he asked with what appeared to be genuine worry. Dana returned his gaze, trying not to show her surprise at his obvious concern for her partner's condition. . "It's a nasty wound, but it could've been much worse," she replied. "Luckily for him this 'thing' struck bone instead of a lung or he'd be in some major difficulties right now. As it is, he's not gonna be running any races anytime soon. It's gonna hurt like hell, though, and he should take it easy. But if I know my partner...and I do, give him a couple hours and he'll be up trying to track this thing down with a vengeance. That is, if we can get some help down here and get him to the infirmary." Dana looked down the hallway expectantly. "Where the hell is everybody?" she growled impatiently. Jake's eyes darted nervously as he continued to survey their surroundings, his search stopping momentarily at the laundry room entrance. He remembered all too vividly what was inside. "Listen, Ms. FBI, I ain't a doctor like you, but it doesn't take an expert to figure out that your other half, there....he ain't lookin' too 'good'. I know you don't wanna move him around, but whatever did this just might decide to come back for a return engagement and I for one don't wanna be here if it does....you catch my drift?" Dana was momentarily indecisive. Moving Mulder improperly could worsen his condition, but then again, waiting for help could prove fatal to them all. Moorehouse stared at her, waiting for her decision. Shit, he was a big, hulky guy and he didn't think that it would be all that difficult to carry the kid. Mulder was tall but with a slender strength that didn't lend itself to a tremendous amount of bulk. Jake shot Dana an impatient yet understanding stare. "I promise....I'll be gentle," he snorted with a grin. She nodded her head reluctantly and Jake knelt down beside Mulder and gently lifted him from the ground with a loud grunt and cradled him in both arms. "Jesus, he's a lot heavier than he looks," Jake complained as moved cautiously down the hall. The trip to the ship's infirmary seemed maddeningly slow. Every now and then a low moan would escape Fox's lips when Jake was forced to shift Mulder's weight in his arms. Dana had noticed that once more a slow, steady flow of blood began to leave a trail on the floor behind them. Dr. Johnson took one look at his returning patient, sighed deeply and pointed to the examination table. "Mrs. Mulder, just have Detective Moorehouse put him on the table....I've taken the liberty of reserving the cot in the corner just for him, since he seems determined to spend the balance of this trip occupying that space." The doctor walked over to his patient and studied him for several seconds. Dana became alarmed at the doctor's seeming inaction. Mulder needed attention, and he needed it *now*. She assumed that the ship's doctor was unused to seeing this type of violent injury and maybe he didn't know where to start. Exasperated, she finally decided she had to do something. "Dr. Johnson, I am also a medical doctor and although my specialty is pathology, perhaps I may still be of assistance," she suggested helpfully. Taking her comment as a condescending remark, Dr. Johnson turned around and glared at her. "Look," he replied with some irritation, "I may be a 'ship's doctor', but I *am* qualified. Excuse me for being a little surprised, but I don't usually see this kind of wound on a cruise ship. How in the *hell* did this happen?? I haven't seen anything like this since I worked the ER at Boston General." Dr. Johnson walked over to the sink and began methodically scrubbing for surgery. "I spent ten years repairing the results of man's inhumanity to his own kind and became weary of fighting a losing battle," he continued. "So I accepted a staff position at the Mayo Clinic thinking I could escaped the carnage, but it wasn't any different.... As a last resort, I came here and found a chance to think things out. It helped not having to treat anything more complicated than hang nails and motion sickness.....now.....now you bring me this..." he said pointing to the limp form covering the exam table. Dana stared at the floor in embarrassment. "I really didn't mean it the way it sounded," she apologized. "I...I'm just worried." Dr. Johnson looked up from scrubbing his hands. He was going to need assistance with this one....the cruise line didn't keep a nurse on board...and it looked like he'd just gotten a volunteer. "Well, if you're going to assist me," he stated with resign, "you'd better scrub too. I know it probably isn't a real priority in pathology....dead bodies don't complain about infection," he snickered in good humored retaliation, "but living ones most certainly do." Moorehouse decided then and there that he'd seen enough blood for one day. Besides, someone had to take care of the remains in the laundry room, and he guessed that someone was him, if only by default. It never gets any easier, he thought to himself as he walked off in search of someone in authority. (continued part 8) M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst XAngst Anonymous ELVIS PRESLEY, DEAD AT 42 and Myth Patrol "Oh, no!" Construction Site -- Mulder, "Home" "Meanwhile, I've quit the FBI, and become a spokesperson for the Ab-Roller." -- Scully, "Home" xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner ********************************************************************** _ _ \ / For information on the XAngst Anonymous \ / email fanfic list, please write: X A N G S T Anonymous / \ & xangst@frii.com / \ The Myth Patrol Dean Warner--Founder and moderator - - ********************************************************************** From xangst@frii.com Wed Oct 16 06:14:53 1996 DEVIL s ADVOCATE (part 8) The "Unofficial" X Philes Novel by: CHERYL COHEN and ANNIE REED aka ImAStinker and FancyKatz @ aol.com Dana emerged about forty-five minutes later and smiled at Moorehouse for the first time since they'd met. "He's gonna be okay," she said with relief. "Thanks for your help. Doc's got him in his 'reserved' cot snoring away and has promised to keep an eye on him for the next couple of hours. Fox has a tendency to 'wander' off without informing concerned parties of his intentions or whereabouts. So if he so much as flinches in an unauthorized manner, Doctor Johnson has promised to let me know. Now....where were we before this disaster struck???" Once again, Moorehouse was impressed. She just finished stitching up her partner and here she was, raring to go. "Well, I'd say we've got a least two more people that I'd really like to interview," he replied. "O'Keefe and Kopec." "Mrs. O'Keefe You suspect that little old lady? Mulder did, too," Dana mused. "I don't know if I'd call her a 'suspect' or not, but a couple of people in the gym put her there at the time of Hubbard's accident, and she wasn't working out." Dana raised one eyebrow at that. What in the world would Mrs. O'Keefe be doing in the gym....she wasn't even one of the finalists, so she wouldn't have been in there looking for clues. "Unfortunately, I have no idea where either one of them might be at this very moment," Moorehouse continued. "I haven't seen Mrs. O'Keefe or Kopec since the incident in the gym. From what the stewards tell me, Mrs. O'Keefe seldom leaves her room. I'll bet ten to one odds that Kopec is warming a bar stool somewhere. Bar hopping....terrific. Just what she needed on top of the day she'd already had. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ward off the headache tht was threatening to descend. Moorehouse looked at her closely. He was getting to know her well enough now that he could see the tension in the tight lines around her eyes and her mouth. "Hey, how about a break before we get going again?" he suggested. "I don't know about you, but I could use a little fresh air." Dana readily agreed, and they headed for the pool. The follower was gaining ground, growing stronger with time. It still had trouble sensing the hunter, but with the unexpected help of one of the beings on this vessel, it had nearly caught him this last time. But at the last second the hunter had backed off from this being and fled into the darkness of the ship. The follower had paused just long enough in its pursuit to register the presence of the observer. That in itself was surprising....the follower knew that its actions, as well as those of the hunter, were being observed, but never before had it seen the observer. Something was different this time. The follower drew stength from that fact...maybe it meant that this time it would be victorious over the hunter, that its millenia-long struggle would be at an end. The follower did not want to contemplate the alternative. Dana sat down at a table by the pool to momentarily rest her feet....even though they hadn't blistered like Mulder's, they were still sore. She idly picked up the National Inquisitor and thumbed through the rag while Jake went to get her a desperately needed iced tea. She was just about to toss it on the chair next to her when an article caught her eye...an article in the scandal sheet section written by none other than Karl Kopec. This wouldn't have normally been a big deal since Kopec *did* work for the infamous tabloid....but the article was about Oneida Darkhorse and her 'sordid' love affairs. Dana quickly read the article. Perhaps this was the connection that they'd been searching for. Of course, all of these people would have known each other from taking this cruise for the last three weeks. But this paper was last months issue. Which meant that Kopec had known about Oneida *before* he'd met her on the ship. And he'd written one damnable article about her various sexual escapades. How odd that Oneida didn't seem to know about the article or the man who wrote it. Odder still was the fact that everbody's brother seemed to know about her affair with Jason and her pregnancy, but Kopec didn't even appear to be the least bit interested with this new, *really scandalous* aspect of the story. Why not? Unless....unless someone had paid him to keep his mouth shut about that. And if he took monery to keep himself quiet, it wasn't that big of a stretch to believe that he would take money to keep someone else's mouth shut...maybe two other mouths. Dana tried to think of all the times she'd seen Kopec on this cruise, to visualize what he'd been doing. This little exercise only served to point out to her that she hadn't seen that much of Kopec at all except when he was hanging around the murder scenes. When Jake returned, Dana showed him the article and voiced her suspicions about Kopec. "I don't know, Jake. I just can't shake the feeling that Karl Kopec is somehow involved in all of this. Maybe we should check him out next and see what we can turn up." If Mulder were here, he'd probably have made some incredible leap in logic and had the whole thing worked out already....sometimes his 'insight' really *was* 'spooky'. Dana had to remind herself that this wasn't Mulder -- this was Jake -- and she wasn't exactly sure what his reaction to her theory would be. So she waited patiently for him to sort things out and give her his opinion. Kopec, huh? Jake found himself really liking that idea. There was a certain neat logic involved here. Karl'd been seen in the gym, too, right before Hubbard died. Put two and two together, and you had opportunity and motive. The little weasel probably *was* responsible for at least two of these so called accidents. The thought of cuffing and arresting that rumor-monging terd warmed him from the top of his head right down to the tip of his toes. He grinned at Dana and nodded, "Well, if you have a hunch about this guy, maybe we should just pay him a 'friendly visit' and see what kind of slime spews outta this nut when we crack him." Dana viewed Jake with a patient skowl. "Moorehouse, you're just so damn descriptively poetic...Mulder can't hold a candle to you in terms of grossness." "Hey, was that a compliment?" he asked gruffly. "Who the hell knows," she sighed. "Let's go find Kopec....on second thought, maybe we should wait for Mulder. He's one of the best interviewers I have ever known....and Jake, I'm not just saying that because he's my partner....it's true. I'd feel a lot better if he could be there." Jake snorted and replied, "hell, I know the kid's good....but it's only been an hour since you were stitiching his guts back together, and I doubt Doc Johnson's gonna let him outta his sight for a least another hour. By that time Kopec could very well ditch the evidence...if, of course, there is any.... and we'd be left with nothing but suspicions that we can't prove. I think Mulder would tell you to 'go for it'." "Well, in that case Detective Moorehouse, what do you suggest we do first...a little 'bar hopping' or a quick visit to Kopec's quarters?" she inquired, knowing from Jake's reaction to the reporter that he'd probably already done a study of the man's habits. Jake rubbed his stubbled chin, checked his watch. "I'd say he's more than likely visited every lounge and bar on the ship by now and is 'resting' in his cabin," he replied thoughtfully. "But that's just a hunch." "Now *that* I can deal with," she laughed suddenly. "My partner puts a great deal of faith in 'hunches' and I hate to admit it, but most of the time.....he's right. We'll play your hunch, Jake....Let's go." Mulder could sense the creature even within his drug-induced dreams. It stalked the ship's corridors, unseen by the innocent victims that it hunted. At first, Mulder had feared this evil monster, this horrid being that fed off of the terror and pain of those it destroyed. But now...now, even though there was still fear in his heart, there was also anger. The instinctive protectiveness of his nature took over and a righteous rage overpowered his fear. He remembered seeing the 'other' shadow that had pursued this predator...he could also feel its presence close by....and was surprised to find that it reminded him...of himself. He sensed its determination to win this final showdown....and something inside of him knew that it was 'indeed' final. He wanted to help, he *needed* to help...he could not simply stay still and silent on the sidelines while this momentous battle raged on about him, not while innocent people were being slaughtered. He opened his mind to the other, begging for an opportunity to help it in this battle....and his call was answered. To his surprise, he found that he was not 'helpless'...he could do something, and he would. For all of the "other's" great strength, it could not always locate the hunter....but Mulder could. He could 'feel' his presence in the air...smell the stench that radiated from this being. He didn't know why....but he could. But there is danger here, the follower warned. The hunter knows you can sense him....he will attempt to lure you to destruction. But Mulder didn't care about that....it was his job to protect the innocents from predators, both from within and without this world's physical boundaries. He was not about to stop now. Mulder would follow the hunter....and so would the 'other'. If the 'other' needed him as 'bait', he would comply....no other innocent beings need die at the hands of this monster. It will be soon, the follower told him. They were nearing the center...and the hunter would come to eliminate him, for a creature as evil as the hunter could only be returned to hell while they were in the center. And the hunter would risk no threats to his continued existence in this world. Fox awoke slowly, remembering his vision. He could not remain here....there was so little time left and so much to do. He was stiff and in a great deal of pain, and he winced as he carefully pushed himself up from the cot into a sitting position. The noxious odor of burned flesh permeated the room. Mulder twisted his body slowly to discover the source. The partially blackened figure of Dr. Johnson was stiffly propped up against the bottom cabinets of the washup sink, the crackling hiss of the sterilizer's electrical voltage as it met filling the air with ozone. Fighting the urge to vomit, Mulder stood swaying unsteadily on his feet. He put out a hand on the counter to steady himself and noticed the words scrawled on the countertop. He read the message that had been written into a thick layer of powder that had spilled over the counter's gleaming formica surface. "Dana's doomed...in the engine room" "Asshole thinks he's a fucking literary giant," he mumbled under his breath, with disgust. "He wants me to go to the engine room," he shouted out loud to what appeared to be an empty room...but he *knew* the 'other' was there...he could almost see him, too. "Just who do you think you're talking to, my dear boy?" Dr. Jay's voice echoed behind him. "You know damn well who I'm talking to, so don't feign ignorance with me," Mulder growled. "If I turn around are you still gonna be there, or am I gonna have to look at empty space again?" "Oh, I'll still be here," Dr. Jay mused. "Not too fond of my exits, eh?" Mulder turned around and faced the little man. "Oh, I'd say I'm about as fond of your exits as your 'entrances'. You know about all of this don't you? Who the hell *are* you? What is this 'thing'?" Dr. Jay thought for a few moments, pondering exactly how much he 'could' tell Mulder, and came to a decision. After all, the boy was right in the middle of this situation, like it or not, and as with all intelligent beings, he did have the right to know at least something about what he was getting into. "Yes....I do know something about what's happening here," Dr. Jay admitted with a sigh. "I am what you might call an 'observer'. I am not supposed to get involved, only report the outcome. And you, my friend, make that *extremely* difficult." Dr. Jay looked over at the charred remains of the ship's doctor, shaking his head sadly. "This 'thing' as you call it...the hunter....well, I suppose it is somewhat akin to *your* version of an escaped 'serial killer'. The 'other'--the follower, as you think of him, performs the same task as you do in this dimension....and I must say that he does his job with the same ruthless determination. You would like him. In another reality, the two of you would be friends. Perhaps that is why it took time from its pursuit to try and warn you," Dr. Jay mused. "You mean those messages in the mirror, and the hallucinations I had involving danger, were warnings from the follower?" Mulder asked. Dr. Jay shook his head yes. "And as you have no doubt deduced, this time and place is the follower's last chance to capture this fiend and return him to his prison. I had not expected you to be involved with this my dear boy...I should have known." With a stern look of resolution, Mulder accepted Dr. Jay's explanation. He'd always had a feeling that the little man wasn't quite what he appeared to be. He found that the revelation of the reason behind Dr. Jay's presence here was not in the least bit surprising. He gestured toward the countertop. "This thing says Dana's in the engine room...and it wants me there." "It's a trap, you know," Dr. Jay commented. "Of course I know," Mulder snapped. "I may not be of a 'higher' alien intelligence, but I'm not a total retard either." "Don't sell yourself short," Dr. Jay countered. "You don't have all the information." "In any case, if this thing wants me....it's gonna get me....Let's help the 'follower' go kick some ass. Are you coming or not?" Mulder asked tersely. He didn't wait for a reply, just stormed out the door, holding on to his side. He'd begun to bleed again, but he was beyond noticing. "Right behind you, dear friend," Dr. Jay retorted. Dana and Moorehouse stopped in front of Kopec's cabin. Moorehouse moved over to the side...covering their back, Dana noticed with approval. She knocked on the door. "Mr. Kopec, this is Dana Sc....Mulder. Could I have a few words with you, please?" There was no immediate response to her knock. They waited patiently for a few minutes. Dana was just about ready to try knocking again, only a little harder this time, when the door slowly opened, revealing a very disheveled and obviously hungover Karl Kopec. He smiled generously when he saw Dana, but as the door opened wider to reveal Moorehouse, a decidedly ominous frown appeared on his face. "What do you want?" Kopec growled. "I'm a very busy man." "May we come in and ask you a few questions?" she asked politely. "Sure, why not? He's a cop," Kopec said, gesturing at Moorehouse. "He's gonna come in one way or another, so we might as well make this cordial....Like I said, what do you want? Decide to pool your resources to solve this little mystery?" "Something like that," Jake grumbled. "We'd like to ask you about your relationship to Oneida Darkhorse," Dana said in a leading tone. "What relationship?" Kopec asked nervously. "I met the woman on the cruise...and she died...that's about it." Dana walked over toward the small dresser that sat along the far wall. On it she noticed a small motion sickness patch, unused. Now that she thought of it, she'd *never* seen Kopec *ever* wear one during the entire cruise....what was this one doing on his dresser? She bet that if they searched his room, they'd find the rest of the package of Scopolomine patches. And she had a 'hunch' that on closer inspection, they'd find the screwdriver that ushered in Jason Hubbard's demise too. It had to be about money, she thought. As far as she could tell, he had no ' personal' reason to off the couple.....unless someone had threatened him or 'paid' him in some way. Moorehouse cut in, "if you didn't know her before the cruise, how is it you were able to write a very 'detailed' article in your rag mag last month about the woman's love life?" "You'd be surprised how much I can write about someone I don't know," Kopec insisted. "All it takes is a few interviews with the right people, a little money in the right hands...My boss isn't exactly a stickler for getting an 'official' reply from whoever he decides to skewer. I never had to meet the lady." "So much for honest journalism, eh, Kopec?" Moorehouse scoffed. "Mr. Kopec, do you get seasick often?" Scully interjected. "I didn't notice you ever wearing a patch." She held up the offending patch and examined it more closely for effect. "You wouldn't happen to have a screwdriver just lying around in here too...would you?" Kopec paled at the question...Dana could smell the sour stench of alcohol pouring off the man as his forehead broke out in a cold sweat. She had him on the run and decided to pull what she referred to as 'Mulder'. "Mr. Kopec....why did you kill Oneida and Jason?" she asked with positive certainty. Kopec's knees nearly buckled when he heard the question...."You think *I* killed those two?" he managed to ask through his suddenly dry throat. His eyes darted back and forth between Jake and Dana, looking for all the world like a deer caught in the headluights of a speeding car. "You can't be serious!" Moorehouse glanced over at Dana before he returned his attention to Kopec. "Oh, I think we're pretty serious alright. How about you? Are *you* serious?" Jake asked, advancing on the cringing reporter. "Murder is a serious business, Mr. Kopec. And Mrs. Mulder there is holding some serious evidence that can put you away for a long, long time, you scumbag. So if you've got something to say to us, you'd better say it quick, before I suddenly remember that we're in international waters and I don't have to answer to my captain for my actions." Kopec quit backing up when his butt hit the cabin wall. He felt trapped....literally. Moorehouse may have been about the same height as he was, but the detective was bulkier and obviously had a lot of practice using that bulk to his advantage. Karl didn't know how he'd get out of this one. Considering what had nearly happened to him this morning, maybe a nice, safe jail cell wouldn't be so bad. At least he'd still be alive. He was spared that decision when his cabin door flew open and a yellow blur pounced into the room and bounded onto his bed, yowling at the top of its lungs. Dana burst out in a fit of sneezes, and Moorehouse turned around to glare at the intruder. Kopec saw his chance, sidestepped Moorehouse and flew out the door and down the hall. Jake took off in pursuit. Dana shoved the patch into her pocket and followed Moorehouse, sneezing and trying to see through her watery, itchy eyes. Damn cat, she thought. A lone figure appeared in the doorway of Kopec's cabin and entered the room. "Bad kitty...now look what you've done," Mrs. O'Keefe scolded as she retrieved the patches from the dresser. She rummaged quickly through the drawers until she found the screwdriver, which she placed in the pocket of her sweater, along with the package of patches. "I don't believe Mr. Kopec will be needing these, do you?" she mumbled in an unfamiliar gravelly voice. The cat yowled in response. "No, I didn't think so," she said with a sinister laugh. She picked up the cat from the bed, her fingers playing absently with its jeweled collar. "Come on, you worthless fleabag. Although you did earn your keep this time," Mrs. O'Keefe said, scratching the cat under its chin. The cat flattened its ears against its skull, its eyes dark and round with feline anger, a growl building in the back of its throat. "Let's go take care of some 'unfinished' business.....I do believe I know where he'll go." Mrs. O'Keefe walked hurriedly down the corridor in the opposite direction. On arriving at her destination, she expertly circumvented the lock on Oneida Darkhorse's old cabin and slipped inside. Mulder painfully picked up his pace in an effort to get to the engine room before what Dr. Jay referred to as "the hunter" could harm anyone else...specifically Dana. The thing had mentioned her by name and he had no doubt that it would use her to draw him out. What the hunter didn't know was that he wouldn't come alone. He would bring the 'other' and Dr. Jay with him. Granted, Dr. Jay was ordered to remain neutral. But somehow he also sensed that his unusual friend was growing dissatisfied with his 'duties' as they were dictated to him. In the end, and if it became necessary, Mulder felt that Dr. Jay might surrender to his urge to act. Mulder sincerely hoped that wouldn't be necessary...not only for his friend's sake, but also for his own. Because if Dr. Jay had to act, that would mean that Mulder couldn't, and there was only one thing that was going to prevent him from fighting this battle...his own death. Karl stopped in a darkened hatchway for a moment to catch his breath. He should have taken up aerobics years ago, he thought. You never know when you're gonna have to run for your life, and being in shape would have made it a hell of a lot easier. Although in his case, adrenalin had been a good substitute. He risked a peek into the corridor...no one seemed to be following him. Maybe he'd lost them. Now if he could only stay lost until this damn ship docked. Once on dry land, the contacts he'd made over the years would help him stay lost permanently. He'd just have to stay alive until then. His contacts....he snorted with disgust. One in particular had certainly played him for a sucker this time around. Sure, the money had been an incentive, but dangle a good job in front of him...that was the real carrot. A job covering the city beat for The Washington Post....heaven for someone like him who'd been buried in the supermarket tabloids for more years than he cared to remember. Well, he could kiss all that goodbye now....he'd be lucky if he wound up pumping gas at some dusty truckstop in the middle of the Nevada desert. He had to find someplace to hide for the rest of the cruise, but he was a little short on options. His fingers dug around nervously in his pockets.....hell, he didn't even have his favorite little flask with him. This was gonna be a dry couple of days. Then his fingers tightened around the key. That was an idea....maybe he could go there. Who would think to look for him in the cabin of a dead woman? Moorehouse stopped in front of the door and nodded to Dana. "Are you sure about this?" he asked with just a tinge of doubt. "I'm not *sure* about anything," she replied with a shrug, "but what could it hurt to check?" "Not a damn thing, Ms. FBI....Not one damn thing..." he grunted as he kicked in the door to Oneida Darkorse's cabin. "Looks like you were right after all....he's definitely here...." Jake stepped back and pointed to the body that was suspended only a few inches from the floor, swaying gently from the ceiling fan. "Guess he didn't want to go to jail," he commented with a snicker. Dana stepped forward and studied the body more closely and then began to wheeze and sneeze...again. Shit. "Jake," she managed to get out between sneezes, "he was dead before he was hung....someone else killed him. Believe me, I'm a pathologist. There are certain physical things that happen when a person is hung...and they're *not* present in this case." She sneezed again and her eyes began to water. "Getting a cold or something?" Jake asked after her third round of sneezing began. She sounded terrible. "No, I just have an allergy to....cats..." she trailed off, thinking about what her body was telling her. She'd had an attack when Mrs. O'Keefe's cat had barged into Kopec's cabin. A quick look around Oneida's cabin confirmed that they were the only ones here, along with Kopec's gently swaying body. "Jake, the only person on this ship with a cat is Mrs. O'Keefe and now I'm sneezing my head off...Her cat was here, and not too long ago either." Another sneeze interrupted her. "I don't usually get this bad unless I'm in the same room as a cat....or if a cat was just in the same room I'm in. And if that damn cat was here, so was Mrs. O'Keefe." She sneezed again. "I gotta get out of here or my eyes are gonna swell up and I won't be any use to anybody. Trust me...it's not a pretty sight." Moorehouse and Dana moved back out into the corridor, shutting the door on the grisly sight. They'd have to haul the body down sooner or later, but right now Dana was more worried about yet another human murderer on board. Jake offered Dana a tissue and she blotted her watering eyes. "Never did see the sense of carrying a hankie," he explained. "Those you gotta wash....these you just throw away. Simpler. Life's already too complicated." "And it just got worse," Dana commented. "Our prime suspect is in there dangling from the ceiling. Someone wants us to think he committed suicide...God, maybe this thing goes higher up than a lowly tabloid reporter out after some easy money or whatever else he was offered." "You think someone was hired to knock off Kopec after he offed Oneida and Hubbard?" Moorehouse asked. Dana nodded. "We made an assumption that someone...more than likely Oneida's husband, the upstanding Senator Weston....hired Kopec to kill his unfaithful wife and her lover to prevent years of blackmail and a potentially disasterous political scandal. If that's the case, he certainly couldn't offord to leave witnesses and evidence lying around that could be traced back to him...could he?" "Come on, Scully...you're joking, right? You're not trying to tell me that the old *Bat* is really a 'hit woman'...." Moorehouse tittered in disbelief. "Kopec wasn't exactly a lightweight. Whoever did that," Jake said, pointing in the general direction of the body, "had to have some pretty good upper body strength." "Well maybe, just maybe, the old bat is not what she appears to be," Dana argued. "Have you seen very much of her on this trip?" "No, now that you mention it, she spent most of her time in her cabin," he replied with suspicion creeping into his voice. "What better place to hide a guy's bulk than under all those little ole lady layers, right?" Dana nodded...her thoughts exactly. "Race you to the old lady's cabin...." Moorehouse said. Dana hung on to the tissue Moorehouse had given her...where they were headed, she was gonna need it. Dr. Jay figured he should pay more attention to his physical training. This young man could 'run', even injured, and he was having a difficult time keeping up. In another reality, Mulder would not have been able to 'touch' him in a race, but here....this was a different story. Having to move through atmosphere could really slow a person down. Mulder made it down to the engine room about a length ahead of him and that was with a nasty injury handicapping him. Mulder was about 50 yards ahead of the good doctor when the explosion rocked the ship. Flames darted menacingly from the entrance and the wails of trapped passengers who had been taking a tour of the engine room echoed hurtfully in his ears. Mulder hesitated briefly, then thought of Dana....trapped somewhere in that hell. He considered all the people who would die if he wasn't there to locate the hunter for the 'other'. This is what he had always wanted, what he was here for...to make a difference... and he *could* make a difference here. Despite his deep seated fear of fire, he rushed forward through the entrance before Dr. Jay could stop him. Searching through the smoke and debris, he came upon the obviously nude body of a woman. The body was the same size and shape as Scully, but the upper half had been burned beyond recognition, the remaining clothes only charred tatters. Mulder dropped to his knees beside the body, the fire around him forgotten as darkness and despair settled in his soul. Dr. Jay came up slowly behind him and rested a comforting hand on Mulder's shoulder. Young eyes turned to look at ancient ones and the absolute desolation that Dr. Jay saw upon his friend's face burned straight through to his equally ancient soul. Mulder cried in anguish as he felt the air grow heavy with the hunter's evil presence. The familiar stench eclipsed the room...even overpowering the smell of burning flesh around him. Fox summoned all his anger, concentrating as he had never done before, and was rewarded as the entity's form shimmered into reality before him. He screamed with rage for the 'other' to hear...."There's your piece of shit! Damnation to Hell is too good for the son of a bitch....make him pay!" he cried. "Goddamn it, you make him pay," he sobbed. (continued part 9) M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst XAngst Anonymous ELVIS PRESLEY, DEAD AT 42 and Myth Patrol "Oh, no!" Construction Site -- Mulder, "Home" "Meanwhile, I've quit the FBI, and become a spokesperson for the Ab-Roller." -- Scully, "Home" xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner ********************************************************************** _ _ \ / For information on the XAngst Anonymous \ / email fanfic list, please write: X A N G S T Anonymous / \ & xangst@frii.com / \ The Myth Patrol Dean Warner--Founder and moderator - - ********************************************************************** From xangst@frii.com Thu Oct 17 07:07:14 1996 DEVIL s ADVOCATE (part 9) The "Unofficial" X Philes Novel by: CHERYL COHEN and ANNIE REED aka ImAStinker and FancyKatz @ aol.com Moorehouse stood in front of yet another cabin door. He looked to Dana with a somewhat sheepish expression as he brought his foot up to kick it in. Dana put her hand up to stop him. "Before you knock it down...at least see if it's open," she suggested. "Why would the moron leave the freaking door open?" he commented doubtfully. "So they could have a good laugh when morons like you take the extra time to kick it in," she countered with a grin. Dana tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. Mooreshouse merely shrugged his shoulders as they entered the empty room. Empty that is, except for a wig, a dress, several pairs of support hose, a pair of boxer shorts, and a very complicated latex mask sitting on a styrofoam wig holder. An empty wig holder sat on top of the dresser, along with jars of heavy pancake makeup. "Great...by now whoever this is has probably dumped the disguise. Looks like we don't know *who* we're looking for now...." Jake commented with just a little confusion. Dana walked over to look at the makeup jars. "I don't suppose our suspect was the helpful type who left us a few good prints to work with," she said, stifling a sneeze. At least she wasn't sneezing her head off....that meant that the cat wasn't anywhere near here, either, and hadn't been in some time. And that confused her as well. If this wasn't the *real* Mrs. O'Keefe, why the cat? Maybe she should just sniff everyone they met, and the one that made her sneeze was their suspect. Better than nothing, which is what they had now. Dana was just about to mention that to Moorehouse when they felt the ship rock with what appeared to be an explosion from several decks below. Momentarily forgetting the dilemma facing them about Mrs. O'Keefe's true identity, they raced down the stairs two at a time in the direction of the blast. Within the dark shadows of the engine room, amid flame and smoke, two entities finally came together to battle for dominance. They had reached the center, the place where the follower was finally as strong as the hunter. The hunter was savage in his fury....he did not want to leave this place and would fight to the death for his right to stay. But the follower was full of righteous anger and that anger gave it strength. The air around them crackled with electricity and had a liquid feel to it. They wrestled in their eternal battle, unseen by everyone save one strange little observer and his unconsolable friend. Mulder dropped his head in sorrow and turned to leave the beings behind. He'd done what he could to help....now he had to trust the follower to finish the job, just as he'd trusted Dana time and time again to do her job. Dana....Oh god. Passing by her body, he could not help but kneel to touch her one last time. He reached out his hand and stopped suddenly, his hand hanging in mid air as realization made it's way to his brain. He stared up at Dr. Jay, smiling....laughing.... "It's not Dana," he shouted with joy, tears streaming down his face. "How do you know that?" Dr. Jay responded. Mulder looked up at him again and smiled....no grinned wildly, relief flooding through him. "No graffiti!!!" he giggled giddily in between gasps. He was just starting to explain to a clearly puzzled Dr. Jay when the entities collided a final time, and a second explosion ripped through the engine room. A tremendous force lifted Mulder into the air and slammed him unmercifully into the bulkhead, his arms raised before his face against the blast. He felt hot metal tear into his body but he wasn't exactly sure where, and a dark, rich, stream of blood flowed fiercely down his face and into his already stinging eyes. He couldn't see. Superheated air burned into his nose and throat and his lungs felt as though they were burning a hole through his chest. He vaguely felt himself being lifted and carried through the inferno and out towards the light....a bright light. Dana and Moorehouse arrived at the scene minutes later. The engine room was fully engulfed in flames, thick black smoke pouring from doorway. Somehow the crew had managed to rescue a few passengers, and they lay about on stretchers lining the corridor. Most had obvious burns, and one woman was bleeding freely from a head wound. This looks like a war zone, Dana thought. She looked for Dr. Johnson to see if she could help him, but she couldn't find the doctor. All of the sudden she had a very bad feeling about this. Dana headed toward the open dooway, but Moorehouse grabbed her arm and stopped her. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" he demanded. "Mulder's in there...I know it," she replied, straining to get away from his grasp. "I've got to find him...." "What.....are you nuts? Nothing could survive in there." Dana struggled briefly, then stopped, her shoulders sagging as she acknowledged that he was right. Even where she was standing the heat was almost unbearable....if Mulder was caught in there.... "Oh, god...." Dana breathed, her eyes going wide with shock and surprise. Moorehouse followed her gaze into the inferno, then blinked rapidly trying to clear his vision. Surely he wasn't seeing what he thought he was seeing. Dr. Jay was walking toward them through the flames carrying Mulder's limp body in his arms. The fire backed away from them, and they emerged untouched through that vision of hell and out into the corridor. The odd little man seemed to support Mulder's larger mass effortlessly. He walked down the corridor and laid Mulder down gently on an empty stretcher, like a father lovingly putting his child to bed. Dana ran over to Mulder, horror and despair etched on her face as the extent of his injuries became clear. His burns, though not widespread or immediately life threatening, were mainly second degree....the most painful. The skin on his arms and hands had peeled away, revealing the raw and bloody skin beneath that resembled melted wax. Although the burns were serious, what concerned Dana more was the amount of blood he was losing due to what looked like shrapnel wounds, and most particularly the damage done to his respiratory system from the superheated air that he had inhaled. She could hear his strangled attempts to breathe as his throat and nasal passages began to swell, cutting off his oxygen supply. Chances were that he would suffocate or bleed to death before she could do anything to help him. Tears streamed down her face as Dr. Jay had Mulder transported to the infirmary and placed on the exam table. Unable to touch his hands, she settled for stroking his hair. Normally silky and soft beaneath her fingertips, it was stiff and charred brittle....little pieces broke off at her touch. For once in her life, Dana wished she wasn't a doctor....then she wouldn't know that Mulder was dying....she could still have hope. Mulder needed immediate treatment in an intensive care ward, and he wasn't about to get it on this ship. And he wouldn't last until help arrived from the mainland. Looking toward her tear-stained face, Dr. Jay came to a decision. It was going to cause him problems, but he didn't care. These two didn't deserve this. Dr. Jay took Dana by the elbow. "Come, my dear," he said, gently ushering her out of the room. Before she could protest, he shut the door forcefully behind her, locking her out. "Noooo!!!" she howled as she pounded her fists on the door. How could he do this? How could Dr. Jay keep her from him....Fox needed her help, needed her to be there with him. Why would he keep them apart? "Let me in...please, please....let me in," she begged, but the door remained firmly closed. Dr Jay studied the battered figure before him. "You do not deserve this," he repeated. "Our mission here was successful...we won, my friend, and part of that success was because of you," he whispered sadly. "I can not condone neutrality in this case...so I will do what I must. If I am punished for my disobedience, so be it. Making you pay for our mistakes is a sham of justice and I will not be a part of it," he vowed angrily. Holding his hands over Mulder's prone body, Dr. Jay closed his eyes. A bright glow grew in the room, seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. It surrounded the two men until their shapes were indistinguishable from the light. In a flash the light disappeared, and all that remained was a blood covered table and an empty room. Enlisting the help of several passengers, Dana finally broke into the infirmary. However, she did not find what she expected..... There was nothing here...the room was empty. Just like the test scenario, Dana thought, the men had vanished from a locked room with no obvious means of escape. Moorehouse insisted on conducting a ship-wide search for Mulder.....after all, in reality no one could vanish from a locked room, not to mention a cruise ship out in the middle of the ocean. But the search was to no avail.......Dana wasn't surprised...she hadn't really thought that anyone would find him. You couldn't hide a critically wounded man on a ship...and have him survive. Along with a couple of doctors from the passenger list, she helped the ship's personnel care for the injured.....Familiar tasks kept her mind occupied. But when the last victim was attended to, there was nothing else to do. Dana felt like a lost soul, aimlessly wandering the corridors. After spearheading the search for Mulder, Moorehouse had made himself scarce. She had a feeling he couldn't deal with failure, or maybe he just wanted to give her some space to let her deal with her grief in her own way. In any event, Dana evetually found herself on the deck where she'd watched the sunrise together with Mulder. She leaned heavily on the rail and cried bitterly, giving in to her grief. "Shush," a familiar voice admonished from behind her. "You cannot go to him in this condition, my dear. He is going to need all the cheering up that you can give him...especially when those burns start to itch." Dana whirled suddenly and looked Dr. Jay dead in the eye...after all they were nearly the same height. "I took the liberty of calling for an air lift, the little man continued. It seems that ship to shore is now....functional, shall we say." "Where have you been?" she asked in a mixture of anger and relief. "Why did you take him? How did you take him?" "Dear lady, suffice it to say that one should sometimes *not* ask too many questions...just accept 'what is' and be thankful. Dr. Jay s expression turned serious, and Dana felt her heart leap into her throat as he continued. But be warned...he is not completely out of danger, my dear. There are some things that even *I* can't fix. He has an insatiable will to live, however, and with the proper medical facilities, I think he'll make it. He s back in the infirmary. Go to him...he needs you." The little man turned and walked around a corner. Dana ran to the spot, but he had vanished once again. Remember, Dana, she told herself, don't ask too many questions... just accept what is and be thankful....and she was. She turned and ran toward the infirmary. The door was now open and upon entering, she spotted Mulder's long, lean silhouette lying peacefully prone on the examination table. All the equipment had been expertly utilized and was performing all the necessary functions....she could not have done it any better herself. The heart monitor showed a steady sinus rhythm, the ventilator hissed with regularity, and the IV dripped monotonously through the clear surgical tubing. Dana rechecked the equipment a second time, took his vital signs, and concluded that though he was still critical, his condition was at least stable...a feat that she had thought would be an impossibility when she'd first examined him at the scene. It was during this second examination that she noticed the strange, green, gel-like substance that seemed to ooze from his nose and mouth. It also covered the damp bandages on his arms and hands. Reaching out, she touched it with her fingertips and felt an odd, tingling sensation. It almost felt like some kind of .....living material. She raised her fingers to her nose, sniffing the green goop, but it seemed to disappear into thin air as soon as she brought it close to her nose. Having dealt in the past with numerous 'other' types of living organisms, many of which she would just as soon forget, she was at first alarmed by the presence of this unknown substance. In the end, however, she came to the conclusion that Dr. Jay would not use anything on Mulder that would cause any harm. She attempted several times to remove a sample for study, but without success. Each time she tried to gather some for a slide, it dissolved without a trace within seconds. Dana finally decided that whatever it was, it must accelerate the healing process....sort of a topical super-antibiotic tissue regenerator, if such a thing was possible. In that event, it was highly probable that the goop was geared to respond only to the host in which it was introduced. At least it didn t seem to have an adverse affect on her. "How's the kid doin'?" Jake asked gruffly as he stood hesitantly in the doorway. I d heard somebody finally found him. "He's hanging in there," she replied, worriedly pacing the floor. "It seems he's been here all along." "Yeah, sure..." Moorehouse scoffed. "And if I believe that one, you've got a great bargain on Manhattan you d like to run past me, right?" Dana smiled...funny how they'd come to this unspoken understanding not to talk about Mulder's strange rescue from the engine room, not to mention the mysterious Dr. Jay. She listened as Moorehouse filled her in. He'd searched Kopec's room, then Oneida's, and last but not least Mrs. O'Keefe's... or whoever the hell she/he was. Not surprisingly, he d found absolutely nothing to connect Senator Weston with the murders of his wife and her lover. If they were dealing with a government assassin, and Moorehouse had every reason to believe that they were, there would be no evidence. These guys were ruthless...not to mention thorough. However, he'd found all sorts of incriminating evidence against Kopec still in his cabin...some coincidence, huh? Yeah, right.... "I think you should go with him when the choppers get here," Moorehouse said, gesturing at Mulder. "We've gone as far as we're gonna get with this investigation. I've notified the authorities to meet the ship at the port when we dock. Whoever bumped off Kopec is long gone...or died in the engine room explosion... and every lead is a dead end. We both know that Senator Weston was behind at least two of the murders, but all the evidence has conveniently 'disappeared'. Just try to prove that kind of charge against the good senator with what we have and we'll have the whole damn 'hill' down on our necks." Moorehouse paced back and forth in the small room. It was clear that he was frustrated by not being able to nab the real culprit. But he'd been around long enough to know that eventually you had to stop banging your head against a brick wall cause you're the only one who's getting hurt. "I've got enough evidence to prove Kopec's involvement," he continued. "It's more than enough to get the reward. And as your partner so eloquently informed me...no one will believe the identity of the other murderer. If I hadn t seen some of this stuff with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it either. I m still not sure that I do." "I know the feeling," Dana said sympathethically. "I've always been the skeptic. Mulder's had to drag me along all the way on that score, kicking and screaming. I may believe on occasion, Jake...I'm just a lot less likely to than Mulder." "You know, Mrs. Mulder," Jake said, emphasizing her name ever so slightly...kind of like an inside joke. "Since you were the one who made the connection and forced Kopec's hand, part of this reward belongs to you and your partner." "We can't take a reward for performing our duties while on an official case," Dana replied. "But how about you take 'our share' and set up some kind of charity fund. Pick one that needs the money the most," she said almost as an afterthought. ******* continued in part 9b M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst XAngst Anonymous ELVIS PRESLEY, DEAD AT 42 and Myth Patrol "Oh, no!" Construction Site -- Mulder, "Home" "Meanwhile, I've quit the FBI, and become a spokesperson for the Ab-Roller." -- Scully, "Home" xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner ********************************************************************** _ _ \ / For information on the XAngst Anonymous \ / email fanfic list, please write: X A N G S T Anonymous / \ & xangst@frii.com / \ The Myth Patrol Dean Warner--Founder and moderator - - ********************************************************************** From xangst@frii.com Thu Oct 17 07:07:51 1996 Devil's Advocate part 9 continued.... Moorehouse nodded with admiration, agreeing with her suggestion. "I'll take care of the loose ends here. You know...if you're ever in need of a new partner....look me up." He stared at Dana, whose gaze had never left Mulder during the whole time he'd spoken to her. "I know, when hell freezes over..never hurts to ask," he muttered under his breath. He walked over to the table, patted Fox lightly on the head and grinned. "Better get used to her bossin' ya around...looks like you're stuck with her." The trauma hawks came within the hour bringing medical personnel and airlifting many of the more seriously injured passengers to the waiting trauma teams at Jackson Memorial. Mulder had been one of the first to be taken and Dana, being a doctor, was allowed to accompany him. As promised, Jake stayed behind to handle the details of the 'provable' murders. For three long days Mulder fought an uphill battle for his life. Already weakened by his previous illness and injury, he balanced precariously on a tight rope between life and death. This rope had to be tread carefully, for there was 'no' net to catch him if he fell. On several occasions he'd nearly lost his balance and tumbled into the chasm. Dana recalled everything with vivid clarity....the crash-carts, tubes, needles, and machines. She was heartbreakingly reminded of just how many ways modern medical science could violate a human body, and she found herself on an emotional roller coaster ride. She soared with joy when Fox's condition stabilized, and then sank with despair hours later when his vitals plummeted, resulting in a cardiac arrest. They'd brought him back....twice... and he'd stabilized yet again. She was exhausted....physically, mentally, and emotionally. The strain was evident in her posture and displayed itself clearly in the deepened lines and shadows beneath her bloodshot eyes. Her voice echoed with anxiety and stress when she spoke to Margaret on the phone that second nerve-wracking night......needing her mother's strength, yet reluctant to ask for her support. Dana had always been a strong person, dependent on no one, and she prided herself on that strength--- Then she'd met 'him' and as with everything else, he'd thrown a monkey wrench into the cogwheels of her life. Mulder had always respected her, she realized...right from the start he d valued her opinions and cared enough to argue with her when he thought her opinions were wrong. He accepted her strength and when necessary, he relied on it without reservation. Fox was one of the few 'men' she'd ever met who didn't seem threatened by her 'drive' or her intelligence, and in fact, almost seemed to 'enjoy' providing her with challenges for both. He was possibly the 'smartest' person she'd ever known--and at times one of the most troubled. She couldn't exactly pinpoint when it happened, but over the last two years, she'd grown to love this man...obsessions and all. Somehow in her heart and mind, she just couldn't picture her life without him in it. Pacing a scuffed path in the shiny white tiles of the hospital floor, she walked to the window and back again, wishing with all her heart that she could impart to him the same strength, openness, and love that he'd given to her in her own struggle for life. Finally, physically exhausted, she simply flopped herself back down into the small, comfortless chair next to Mulder s bed. She absently reached out and lightly traced the fine contours and angles of Mulder's face with her fingertips. Her touch lingered tenderly over his soft, sensual lips, now rudely separated by the cold unyielding plastic of a ventilator tube. Memories flooded her mind......"There's nobody down here but the FBI's most Unwanted".....mischievous eyes..."Do you think I'm 'Spooky'?"........teasing smirks..."I think it's plausible someone might think you're 'hot'.".....softly sincere..."If there's an ice tea in that bag... could be 'love'"......eyes crinkling in mirth..."that only happens when I eat Dodger Dogs."....fleeting smile, knowing looks.....words of comfort....passionate embraces.... The visions wouldn't stop and threatened to overwhelm her, but she struggled to remain in control. Dana bent low over his ear and whispered a phrase that seemed vaguely familiar to her. "I don't know if my being here will bring you back....but 'I'm here'." Resting her head on the bed beside him, Dana drifted into a fitful sleep, only to be awakened several hours later by the choking sounds of Mulder trying to expel the tube from his throat. He'd improved around midnight and his gagging reflex kicked in, prompting the doctors to remove the ventilator and place the thin oxygen tubing beneath his nose instead. Dana sighed in relief....this was a definite improvement. She allowed herself to hope. Margaret Scully paced the the floor in ICU angrily. She glanced frequently at her daughter who had seated herself in a chair by Mulder's bed. "You informed his parents?" she asked yet again. Scully nodded in affirmation one more time. "I told you, mother...they can't make it," she repeated, thoroughly understanding her mother's anger. She had felt some of the ire that her mother was openly venting. "His mother is in New York with some business appointment--she left a number where she could be reached if there was any change, and his father is in Paris. His cousin Alex and his wife Catie will be here as soon as they can find, or shall I say, 'bribe' someone to watch the kids." Dana snickered out loud, "Although I wouldn t hold my breath if I were you... zoo keepers are in short supply these days." Her mother'd had no trouble recognizing the unspoken need in her daughter's voice when they had spoken on the phone the night before. She'd flown in that morning and immediately began playing mother hen to both of them. Scully had to admit she was just a little surprised at her mom's maternal instincts toward Mulder at first. Margaret was genuinely ticked off at his family for their indifference to him and pestered the nurses often if she thought that he wasn't getting enough attention...which was totally absurd, since the nurses did nothing *but* pay attention to him. Her mom and Mulder had *obviously* become very close during her absence and she had 'adopted' him as her own. Dana smiled. Boy, would he be in for it now, she thought. Three Scully women, picking on him...pestering him....caring about him.....he was about to discover what a *real* family was like---God help him. "You mean to tell me that with her only child at death's door, this woman prefers to keep a *business* appointment????" Margaret fumed, then huffed for effect. "How in the name of heaven could someone as caring and empathetic as Fox *ever* come from people who are so...." she paused momentarily searching for the correct word. ".....callous? Do you still have that number?" Scully dug out her notebook. "Yeah, it's right here." She held the notebook up for emphasis and jumped in surprise when her mother quickly reached over and snatched it from her hand. "Mother, what are you doing?" Dana inquired anxiously. "Mother....." "As one mother to another...I'm going to give this woman a piece of my mind," she replied obstinately, reaching for the telephone. She then shot her daughter a look that dared her to try and interfere. Dana remained where she was. She knew her mother's moods and this was not one that would appreciate rationality. She'd once been told that all Scully women were stubborn, opinionated, and very protective....personally, she couldn't *imagine* why anyone would think such a thing...Yeah, right. She could almost hear the 'lock and load' before the blast and was more than grateful that she, Dana Scully, was not going to be on the receiving end of *this* phone conversation. "Hello? Mrs. Mulder? This is Mrs. Scully. My daughter is your son's partner. Her mother was being extremely polite... that was a very bad sign. "Yes, there's been a slight improvement. Frankly, I was surprised not to find you here...I ve been looking forward to meeting you. Her mother paused briefly, no doubt listening to Mrs. Mulder s excuse for her absence. "Yes, I *heard* about your *business* in New York. That is what I want to talk to you about. What I want to know is how a *business* appointment can take precedence over your child's welfare." Her mother paused to listen again...Dana could just imagine the other end of this conversation, probably something about minding her own business. Dana cringed...that phrase never failed to push her mom s buttons, especially when Margaret Scully knew she was right. "Oh, you don't...do you? Well, let me tell you something...I have never met anyone as intelligent, gentle, and kind as your son...and one of these days you may find that he's gone...and that you never even took the time to know who he was. And that, Mrs. Mulder, would be a *real* shame. If you know what's good for you, you'll get your butt down here and be a mother ... What kind of person am I?!?" Margaret repeated indignantly. "I was about to ask you the same question....your son needs you." Mrs. Scully's face took on an expression of disbelief. "Your needs?!!?? What??? Pardon me, but perhaps the poor boy was adopted after all, because I can't for the life of me picture him as *your* son. You've shut him out because seeing him reminds you of what you've lost....That's not fair to him.....or to you. Yes, well same to you. Goodbye." She slammed the receiver down as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Bitch," she mumbled softly. Margaret Scully looked at her daughter and grinned guiltily. "If that doesn't bring her...nothing will, and in that case, he's better off without her. Whew!!!" she uttered in an exaggerated sigh. "I feel much better." Mulder stirred slowly on the bed and began to cough up some of the odd green liquid. Scully wiped it from his mouth only to watch it disintegrate from the cloth in her hand. The strange smelling stuff had been driving the doctors batty trying to figure out what it was. They had an idea of what it did, although they couldn't even begin to imagine *how* it did it or where it came from. New skin had already begun to form on his hands and arms and his respiratory system had also begun to heal in the same manner. What ever this green goo was, it worked and she didn't give a rat's ass if they could figure it out or not. She said a silent 'thanks' to Mulder's guardian angel, Dr. Jay....whereever he was... and hoped that he wasn't in too much trouble. Scully watched as Fox slowly opened his eyes. She could tell that even though his eyes were open, they were glazed and slightly dilated....he wasn't all there yet, but it was a start. His other injuries still worried her. He d lost a lot of blood and had begun to experience system failure from hypovolemic shock when they d first arrived at the hospital. That fact along with the basal skull fracture he d received fed her overly cautious paranoia concerning his condition. He moaned quietly and whispered, "Mom?" Dana brushed the hair from his eyes as her mother bent over him. "Yes, it's mom," Margaret said in a soothing tone. Mulder looked at her and in his confused, semi- conscious state, whimpered softly, "please don't hate me, mom. I didn t mean to... I love you." Margaret held back her tears. "Oh, dear...I could *never* hate you....I love you too. Now go back to sleep..." She kissed him lightly on the forehead. A contented smile formed upon his lips as he drifted off to a warm, safe place. "Dana, dear," her mom whispered softly as she turned to leave, "I'll be back later to relieve you for a little while so you can get some rest, and don't try and argue with me about it....I'm your mother. I think you're as bad as he is," she said, glancing at Mulder. "I don't think anything less than dynamite could have moved him from *your* side at the hospital," she smiled in remembrance. "He's a very, very, stubborn young man...." she said out loud as she walked through the door. "Who obviously loves you very much," she added quietly under her breath. Margaret was halfway down the hall when she realized she'd left her purse in the chair in which she'd been sitting. She headed back to the room, intending to duck in quickly and retrieve it. Pausing at the door, she peaked through the window just in time to see her daughter bend carefully over Fox, tenderly stroke a stubborn lock of hair from over one eye, and lightly kiss his full, soft lips... green goo and all. Mrs. Scully grinned in spite of herself and made a mental note to stop harassing her daughter about 'dating'. She couldn't have come up with anyone that even came close to Fox. No wonder Dana hadn't shown any interest. She went back down the hall...she had her ATM card in her pocket, after all. She'd just take a cab. Scully remained in ICU after her mother had left for the motel. She watched Fox sleep... a deep, healing sleep. When the doctor came by on his last rounds for the evening, he confirmed what Dana already suspected...that Mulder s condition had improved enough for them to confirm that he would indeed survive. She'd been nearly frantic with concern for the past two days...and rightly so. That man was gonna give her gray hair and ulcers.....well, that is unless she gave them to him first. Glancing up to check him every now and then, she took out her lap top computer and began to make her report. It was late but she didn't care...she just wanted to finish the one last detail and put this case behind them. Surprisingly, Skinner hadn't pressed her for it. In fact, he d called the hospital a couple of times to check on Mulder s condition, and he d told her to take as much time as she needed. Maybe Fox was right again and Skinner wasn't such a bad guy after all. She sat and stared at her keyboard for what seemed like hours. Should she write what she 'knew' was the truth...or only what she knew that she could 'prove'? The only proof they had implicated Karl Kopec and she was certain that *he* was murdered by someone hired by the *good* senator. This someone, she believed, was whoever had been disguised as Mrs. O'Keefe. Since there were no fingerprints and nobody had seen this person out of disquise, he or she would be next to impossible to find, let alone connect to Senator Weston. Either way, the *real* human guilty party would escape prosecution due to a convenient 'lack of evidence'. Dana had no doubts that Senator Weston was behind the murders of Oneida and Jason and had used the 'unexplainable' murders to his advantage. But without the concrete evidence needed to indict or convict him, they were powerless to connect him with the crimes.....so once again....they were left with the injustice of knowledge without proof. Dana wanted to scream. "Don't do that," a quiet, familiar voice whispered from the shadows. "Hospitals notoriously frown upon loud noises...especially late at night." "Are you a mind reader, too?" she asked in startled surprise as Dr. Jay stepped forward into the light. "How did you get in here? Don't tell me...let me guess. Scotty beamed you down and you're exiled on this quaint little planet for screwing with the prime directive." Dr. Jay favored her with a quisical look...she d inadvertantly come pretty close to the truth, with just a few of the details wrong. "I'm sorry...." she apologized, "I'm just a little frayed. I should be thanking you---you saved Fox's life," she murmured, pointing to the hospital bed surrounded by the whirring and beeping machines that kept diligent surveillance on the pale being who was safely tucked in between the crisp white sheets. "Oh, I'm not offended, dear lady," he replied gallantly. "Actually I thought your remarks were...quite humorous...and not too far from ...'truthful'. I did get into a 'spot' of trouble for my interference with your partner's dilemma. However, the powers that be recognized the necessity of my actions and cleared me completely. You see.....Fox's continued existence is, shall we say, 'required'. He is slated to have a full, long, and very productive life ......if all is to turn out as it should." He stared at Dana once more with a cryptic grin. "You'll have a lot to do with that, so please be careful and take care of yourself, too." Dr. Jay walked over to the bed and rested his hand gently on Mulder's forehead. "Do try not to be so impulsive, my friend. My superiors tend to frown upon my absconding with their medical equipment. In fact, it makes them absolutely livid." Mulder twitched under Dr. Jay's touch and moaned softly in reply. ******** continued in part 9c M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst XAngst Anonymous ELVIS PRESLEY, DEAD AT 42 and Myth Patrol "Oh, no!" Construction Site -- Mulder, "Home" "Meanwhile, I've quit the FBI, and become a spokesperson for the Ab-Roller." -- Scully, "Home" xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner ********************************************************************** _ _ \ / For information on the XAngst Anonymous \ / email fanfic list, please write: X A N G S T Anonymous / \ & xangst@frii.com / \ The Myth Patrol Dean Warner--Founder and moderator - - ********************************************************************** From xangst@frii.com Thu Oct 17 07:08:28 1996 Devil's Advocate part 9 continued... "There, there....no need to get so touchy" he spoke to the now aggitated young man beneath his hand....."Do not think that your pain was pointless. You accomplished much more than you can ever be allowed to realize. The human demon will eventually reap what he has sown...*You* have assisted in slaying a much larger dragon.....I am embarrassingly proud of you." Dr. Jay smiled thoughtfully and Dana watched breathlessly as he stroked Mulder's hair tenderly, dropping his fingertips to linger momentarily on Fox's cheek. "I have to leave now....please endeavor to behave yourself." The strange little man turned around to face Dana, and for the first time she noticed that he was holding a cat...in fact, it was Mrs. O Keefe s orange cat. Now why had t she seen that before? And why wasn t she sneezing her head off? Where did *that* come from? Dana asked, pointing at the cat. She could have sworn he didn't have the cat when she first saw him. This delightful creature? Dr. Jay asked mischeviously. He scratched Tiger behind the ears, and the cat closed its eyes contentedly, purring up a storm. It never ceases to amaze me what so-called intelligent beings will do to each other, he said, shaking his head sadly. I think this one has suffered enough, don t you? Besides, he has a present for you. Dr. Jay took the collar off the cat and held it out to Dana. Cats...intelligent beings?!? Surely he must be joking. Cats were...well, cats. She shook her head at him. "I can t take that ...I m allergic." Dr. Jay quirked an eyebrow at her. Are you now, my dear. He chuckled, then dropped the collar on the table by Mulder s bed. Amazing stuff, that green goo...but now I really must go. Dana recovered her composure and quickly asked, "will we see you again?" "Oh....I'll be around. You can count on it...the two of you could give an old man 'green'...I mean 'gray' hair. By the way...." He paused and produced a small flask of the strange tea he'd given Mulder the last time they'd met. "This tea is very good for just about everything...but especially for an upset stomach...it could come in handy." "Thanks," Dana replied, taking the flask of tea from him, all the while eyeing the cat warily. Was there something going on behind those golden eyes? Naw... she was imagining things...a cat was a cat. But I don t think we ll be taking another cruise any time soon, she told Dr. Jay. Dr. Jay grinned broadly. "No, I suppose not." Dana took the flask that she had taken from his hand and set it on the small end table beside her chair. When she looked back up.....Dr. Jay and the cat had vanished once again into the shadows.... Strange. . . Dana, she thought to herself, don't even ask. She shook her head slowly, retraced her steps back to Mulder's bed and seated herself carefully on its edge. He looked much better, she noted with satisfaction. A small tinge of pink had returned to his cheeks and the odd green substance had vanished without a trace, leaving no sign that it had 'ever' existed in the first place. Thinking of Dr. Jay, she looked up, briefly expecting him to pop up out of nowhere. Somewhat relieved to find themselves still alone, she spoke to Mulder out loud, "I must say, Fox Mulder.....you *do* attract some of the *strangest 'friends'." Upon lowering her gaze, she was surprised to find that Fox had awakened and was contemplating her face from beneath heavy-lidded hazel eyes. Dana smiled in joyous relief as Mulder moved his lips and tried to speak. His first attempt resulted in nothing more than a strained whisper and even though the effort appeared to exhaust him, he persisted. Tears welled hauntingly in his eyes, then overflowed and traveled silently down his cheeks as the shock of his ordeal caught up with him. Mulder met her gaze. His countenance suggested a plea for comfort as a low strained voice, hoarsely laced with pain and emotion echoed what was clearly displayed on his face. "Hold me?" he asked in a strangled whisper. "For as long as you want me to," she replied quietly. Dana carefully lowered herself to lie beside him on the bed. Very, very gently, she adjusted wires and shifted tubing as she placed her arm lightly across his body in a tender caress....a position in which she remained until her mother showed up to relieve her the next morning. Scully stopped typing in the middle of her report, removed her glasses and set them on her desk. She rubbed her eyes gingerly, then took another sip of hot tea before resuming her task. This report really needed to be finished---she knew that. She'd started on it several days ago while she was watching over Mulder in ICU, but found that at the time she just didn't seem to be able to concentrate on writing it. But now with Mulder steadily improving day by day it was time to get on with business. Dana still wasn't exactly 'certain' of what it was that she *should* write...so she had basically stuck with the facts as she knew them. Putting her teacup down, she continued typing: 'As previously stated, evidence found in Karl Kopec's cabin suggests that he, indeed, committed the murders of Oneida Darkhorse and Jason Hubbard. Mr. Kopec's fingerprints were found on both the screwdriver used to loosen the screws on Mr. Hubbard's barbell stand and on the package of patches used to drug Mrs. Darkhorse and Agent Mulder. Chemical analysis of the patches confirmed a potentially 'fatal' dosage of the common motion sickness drug known as Scopolomine. The only thing lacking in the proof of Mr. Kopec's guilt, however, is 'motive'. Both Agent Mulder and I feel that Mr. Kopec did *not* act on his own initiative. Our investigation has revealed no prior contact between Mr. Kopec and the victims, outside of Mr. Kopec s somewhat inflammatory article concerning Mrs. Darkhorse. However, Mr. Kopec denied ever having met the woman prior to writing the article, and we have been unable to prove otherwise. Our opinion is further based on the fact that Mr. Kopec, himself, was also murdered by an unknown assailant who disguised himself or herself as Mrs. Charlotte O'Keefe. *NOTE*: The authentic Mrs. O'Keefe had been in residence at her estate in Maine during all three cruises, a fact attested to by numerous eyewitnesses. Therefore, she could not have been on board the ship. 'It is our belief that Mr. Kopec was recruited by an outside source to eliminate Mrs. Darkhorse and her lover. Although Agent Mulder and I suspect who that source might be, without the proof needed for conviction, arrest and prosecution of our suspect would be a useless endeavor. We will, however, continue to monitor this 'suspect' covertly in an attempt to obtain the evidence and information necessary to link this individual with the crimes.' Dana paused in her report to finger the collar Dr. Jay had taken off the cat. Dana had given the collar to the forensics lab to run tests on it. The lab report was sitting on her desk...Dana just hadn t decided what to do about it yet. As it turned out, the collar itself was unremarkable...easily purchased at any pet store in the country for about six dollars. However, one of the jewels imbedded in the collar had turned out to be a computer microchip. Encoded on that chip were columns of numbers and dates. This was important...Dana knew it. Maybe Mrs. O Keefe's imposter had encoded that chip as an insurance policy of sorts to protect him or her from whoever had ordered Kopec s murder. Too bad it hadn t turned out that way. But maybe someday they d be able to trace the numbers and dates back to Senator Weston, although for the life of her, Dana couldn t figure out how she would ever be able to prove the chain of custody on this particular piece of evidence. For now, she decided to leave it out of her report and she continued typing: 'Mr. Kopec's murderer still remains unidentified. However, since all passengers and crew have been accounted for, it is this Agent's opinion that the assassin perished in the same engine room explosion that critically injured Agent Mulder. It is Agent Mulder's contention that the 'outside source' knowingly used the existing deaths on board the cruise ship vessel to confuse and hinder any ensuing investigation. To paraphrase a saying that he seems quite fond of quoting..'A lie is most convincing when place between two truths.' As for the other 'murders' aboard this and the previous cruises of the past several weeks, no evidence of 'foul play' could be proven. I tend to lean toward the assumption that this particular section of ocean in some manner, perhaps due to environmental changes, detrimentally affected certain susceptible individuals, inducing a form of psychosis, causing erratic behavior and possible hallucinations. This, in turn, prompted 'unusual' accidents that would not have normally occurred. It should be noted that once the cruise line initiated a course change correction which avoided this particular area of ocean, no further incidents occurred. Studies done in several universities would tend to back up the aforementioned theory. For example, lack of ultraviolet light may cause depression, high frequency sound has been known to produce irritability in some persons, etc. I submit that although this is a 'possible' explanation for this phenomenon, it is not necessarily the *only* one, and could not be proven without extensive research which was not possible during this investigation. Therefore, without concrete proof, I am forced to 'officially' classify X-file number 4305-6 as unsolved.' She knew Mulder wouldn't 'officially' agree with this classification....and she had to admit that she didn't either, but she also knew that he would grudgingly accept her judgment in the matter. Dana took one last sip of tea, turned out the light and headed for bed. Scully spent the better part of the next day at the hospital, and she was exceedingly pleased that Mulder continued to improve. When she'd arrived that morning, they'd even propped him up in bed. The IV dangled from his arm and she still thought he looked too pale. Although the monitors beeped and hummed reassuringly, she fought the urge to check his vitals just one more time. The only thing holding her back was the fact that he was talking incessantly. She couldn't get him to shut up, not that she 'really' wanted him to. It was a pleasure to hear his voice again, and the fact that he was running his mouth proved to her that he was feeling pretty good, considering the circumstances.. Pulling the chair up closer to Fox, she sat down with a wide grin on her face. If it hadn't been for the tragic circumstances that had 'landed' him here, she would have considered the scene before her as 'comical'. All right....in spite of everything, it *was* comical. The skin on Mulder's arms and hands had begun to peel profusely, and in an effort to prevent him from scratching and infecting himself, the nurses had brought in a pair of long, white evening gloves with little pink embroidered roses running down the sides for him to wear. They'd customized them by cutting out a space for the IV and taped the tops securely around his upper arms so he couldn't 'accidentally' pull them off. She d have to remember that technique the next time he was sporting a cast...she didn't even want to think about all the trouble he d caused with the last one. Mulder recognized an impish grin when he saw one and merely raised one questioning eyebrow, just daring her to comment. A nurse strolled in and unceremoniously dropped his chart at the foot of the bed. "What?" he repeated out loud, as Dana continued to snicker. "Oh, I don't know....." she offered with a wry smile as she glanced up at the nurse. "I was just wondering....how did you get him to put 'those' on without putting up a fight?" she inquired, pointing at the gloves. "Oh, he *did* put up a fight," the nurse said sweetly, giving Mulder a wink. ".......he lost." "You guys *cheat*," he grumbled. "Cheat?" Scully asked in confusion. "We knocked him out," the nurse chuckled with satisfaction. "*Never* give the *nurses* a hard time," she admonished as she left the room. "Mengele's granddaughter," he mumbled accusingly under his breath as she walked through the door. Dana laughed out loud. That infamous Mulder sense of humor was back...that was a *very* good sign. She studied him for several seconds. There'd been something she'd wanted to ask him....something she'd wanted to know but she'd wanted to wait until his mind had cleared and he was feeling better---perhaps now..... "Mulder," she ventured cautiously, "do you remember *anything* from the time of the explosion until you woke up here?" Fox knitted his brows in concentration. "Not much," he admitted, "....and yes, it does bother me," he added before she could ask. A haunted look clouded his features and the memories that he 'could' recall replayed themselves in his mind. "I remember mostly *pain*," he continued, "waves and waves of pain....and 'joy'." "Joy?!!?" she sputtered disbelievingly. He lowered his eyes and his voice. "*It* lied to me....it implied that you were in the engine room....that you were dead.... When I discovered that the 'body' I found wasn't you......I felt....joy." He quickly continued his narrative before she could respond. "Things get pretty vague after that and I'm not sure what was real and what was imagined. I have a brief and fuzzy recollection of hearing Dr. Jay's voice, being naked, seeing a green haze, and the sensation of being submerged in. . . warm jello? I seem to remember that at first I was afraid I would drown... I panicked and tried to hold my breath. Then Dr. Jay said that it was ok to breathe....and it was. It was the weirdest dream I've ever had, Dana. It was like breathing under water. Everything tingled and the pain stopped for a little while. I don't remember anything else after that until I woke up here." Scully thought about what he'd said, and then asked the question that she'd been leading up to. "Mulder....don't you feel 'cheated' at not being able to remember what happened to you?" He knew she was referring to her own feelings at being unable to remember what had happened to her as well as his own. His eyes suddenly crinkled with amusement as he considered his answer. "No, I don t, he said. What I feel most is gratitude that we're both *alive* to contemplate feeling 'cheated'. Anyway, speaking as a person who's been cursed with remembering everything that I've ever seen in my whole goddamn life.....being able to forget something is a freaking.....luxury. His face took on a pained expression, and Dana was just about to call for the doctor when he stopped her. "No, it s not that, he said. I just remembered that your mom was here earlier. She *insisted* that my feet looked 'cold' and put socks on them." He wiggled his toes for emphasis. "Could you please take 'em off and tell her that I'm a big boy and I don't *want* socks on.....please*?" he asked with a pleading look in his eyes. Dana chuckled loudly. "Is she coming back today?" "Yeah, this afternoon," he grunted. "In that case it would be in your best interest to smile graciously, leave the socks where they are, and don't contradict her.....arguing with my mother is a no win situation." "Sort of like arguing with you," he intoned softly. "What?" she asked suspiciously. "I said, 'she's a lot like you'," he corrected smoothly. Dana knew that wasn t what she d heard the first time, but she decided to let it slide. After all, he *was* still recovering. "Melissa said that she'd stop in tomorrow to see you on her way to Key West," she told him, settling into the chair beside his bed and reaching out for his hand. He nodded in acknowledgment and thought with trepidation about having three 'Scully' women in one place at one time..... He was surrounded by them...hell, he was up to his ass in them with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Shit, falling into a black hole suddenly looked pretty damn attractive. Nah... deep down inside, he knew he loved them all----one in particular... Fine. Can you believe it?? Stinker's "speechless"... or at least too tired to write something here, so you all are stuck with me. We didn't intend for this story to be sooooo long when we first started... or we may never have started at all. Somewhere during the second month of writing, we started calling it the "unofficial" X Files novel, which I changed just a tad in the sub-title as a way to acknowledge all the wonderful fellow Philes I've met on line... including Stinker, my writing partner. Wonder if Morgan and Wong got started this way??? See you all on line... Annie.... January 31, 1995 M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst XAngst Anonymous ELVIS PRESLEY, DEAD AT 42 and Myth Patrol "Oh, no!" Construction Site -- Mulder, "Home" "Meanwhile, I've quit the FBI, and become a spokesperson for the Ab-Roller." -- Scully, "Home" xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner ********************************************************************** _ _ \ / For information on the XAngst Anonymous \ / email fanfic list, please write: X A N G S T Anonymous / \ & xangst@frii.com / \ The Myth Patrol Dean Warner--Founder and moderator - - **********************************************************************