From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Sun, 11 May 2008 07:10:00 -0500 (CDT)
Subject: Body of Evidence 1/4 by NoraC
Source: direct

Reply To: nick_nora_charles@yahoo.com.au


BODY OF EVIDENCE

Classification: M/O, S/O, MSR, UST/RST, XA, NC17 (There 
is sex and naughty words folks)

Spoilers: Set s6 before Two Fathers. Special reference to ep Gender 
Bender Season 1. Bonus points for identifying specific episodes 
sprinkled throughout the story.

Summary: An increasingly estranged Mulder and Scully are assigned to 
solve the death of an American tour guide on a South Pacific island 
where sexual tension is off the Richter scale.

Author's Notes: I am not an FBI agent, Australian Federal Police 
agent, travel agent, lawyer, doctor, scientist or porn star. Neither 
is Body of Evidence written for personal gain (only satisfaction). 
Full acknowledgement to 1013 Productions, Fox and all other 
appropriate copyright holders.

This story was inspired by a 2001 holiday to Norfolk Island, the 2002 
murder on the island of Janelle Patton, the 2003 news from 
acquaintances in the know about the sexual proclivity of young 
Islanders, the 2004 sex crimes prosecution of Pitcairn Islanders, the 
2006 arrest of a suspect in the Janelle Patton case and 1993-2002 the 
TV series, The X-Files.

The stories and characters are pure fiction and reside only in the 
head of 2302 and in a bunch of zeroes and ones on the Internet.

Special thanks to: My own one in five billion, my touchstone, my 
perfect opposite. My protector and endangerer.

Also to other fanfic writers whom I've long admired.

 
PART 1

Cock Pit Falls
Norfolk Island
Australian Dependent Territory
South West Pacific
September 15, 9.45am

Australian Federal Police agent Jack Porter looked at his 
cell phone and cursed.

It was second nature to reach for the device and after 
three days he had still get used to the fact that he 
wasn't on the mainland. Things are done differently here.

Norkfolk Island was charming. 

It drew newlyweds for the pristine coastline, romantic, 
isolated picnic spots and the duty free shopping.

And attracted the 'nearly-deads' for encounters with 
friendly islanders - all descendants of the Bounty 
Mutineers - and the early convict ruins that rose starkly 
on the southern side of the island. 

Norfolk Island was deadly.

At least it was for Wendy Millard, an attractive 32 year-
old tour guide, late of San Diego, California, USA, late 
of the land of the living. Her naked and brutalised body 
had been found 200 metres down the trickling waterfall 
called Cock Pit Falls on the northern side of the island.

Elderly sightseers found her and it appeared for a day or 
two that the locals might have to bury two instead of one 
as the 79-year-old New Zealand man who found her was 
hospitalised with heart palpitations and shock.

Porter took a final drag of his cigarette while he 
watched one more set of waves crash on the rocks where 
the bottom of the falls met the sea, before turning to 
start back up the rise.

With long athletic strides, he picked his way around the 
dark brown basalt boulders at the edge of the drop before 
with following the cattle-trampled path back to the road.

Wendy was 10 days dead and they were still no closer to 
identifying the killer.

He chuffed. It should have been straight forward, even 
for the mainland cops permanently stationed on Norfolk.

How hard could it be to find a killer on an island three 
miles by five miles in size with a population of 2500, 
half of whom were frail and elderly tourists?

'Well, you're the hotshot profiler, you went to Oxford, 
you work it out,' inferred his superiors. 

If only it were that simple.

FBI Headquarters
Washington DC 
September 15, 9.45am

"You're the hotshot profiler, you work it out."

For Special Agent Fox William Mulder the day, which had 
already started badly, really turned to shit.

It started at 8.35am when he arrived at work to find on 
his desk, along with his pay cheque, a form detailing his 
immediate transfer out of domestic terrorism and back to 
the Violent Crimes Unit and a summons to see the 
Assistant Director.

The day worsened when he looked across the desk at his 
partner, Special Agent Dana Scully, MD to see she had 
received a similar inter-office envelope.

He watched her as she examined the contents. 

Her blue eyes widened and her mouth parted slightly 
before her customary cool, in control mask returned. It 
took seconds. No one else noticed. 

But Mulder did.

He waved his matching yellow envelope at her.

"Snap. VCU."

"Quantico."

"Hell of way to start the day, Scully."

Thirty minutes later, he and his partner were standing in 
front of the desk of their supervisor  AD Kersch.

The imposing black man stared back implacably.

"It is not your place *Agent* Mulder to question 
personnel decisions," he intoned.

"VCU wants a profiler, Quantico wants a forensic 
scientist and your respective talents are not being used 
to maximum efficiency in domestic terrorism. Your 
objections are noted and will be taken under advisement."

"But it's The X-Files that *needs* us." Mulder hoped to 
God that sounded impassioned and not whiny.

"You are well aware that is an option no longer open to 
you," said Kersch firmly as he leaned back in his leather 
chair to take in both agents.

Mulder's face bore the indignation he felt, Scully was 
more difficult to read. Either she took the news with 
quiet resignation or she was ready to stubbornly dig in 
with her partner... make that former partner.

"You have a choice. Accept the reassignments or resign. I 
trust you will make the *wise* decision."

Mulder turned to stalk towards the door. 

"I'll take it under advisement," he muttered turning on 
his heel.

Sensing Scully following behind, Mulder stepped back from 
the door to let his partner exit before him.

Kersch called.

"Agent Scully, you are not dismissed. There is another 
matter to discuss."

Scully glanced at Mulder who raised his eyebrows in 
question. A slight shake of her head told him that she 
had no idea what was next either.

"You may close the door Agent."

Without breaking eye contact Scully reached for the 
handle and gave an almost imperceptibly nod.

Message received and understood. Mulder walked into 
Kersch's reception and watched the office door close.

Cock Pit Falls
Norfolk Island

Porter watched a car door close up ahead of him as the 
first load of sightseers for the day descended to the 
picturesque spot.

While taking long strides to ascend the last 50 or so 
metres back to his car he reviewed the facts he did have.

Wendy, world traveller, one time travel agent was 
popular, well liked, had a boyfriend, even if the guy's 
teenage daughter didn't like her much. 

She was tall, a brunette, slim, quite pretty in that 
exaggerated American way.

She had an extremely active love life. Tracing her sexual 
history since she arrived on the island three years ago 
required a detailed spreadsheet - possibly even a 
genealogist, he mused.

That wasn't unusual admitted the island's senior 
sergeant, a former lover.

As a resident, if you were healthy, could get it up and 
were thrilled numb by the arrival of the twice weekly 
flight from either Australia or New Zealand, partner-
swapping was one hell of a nice way to pass the time...

But Wendy's murder was savage and uncontrolled, judging 
by the variety and depth of the stab marks that left 
little of her well-toned stomach unmarked, thought 
Porter. 

It spoke of betrayal and revenge, something quite 
different to the picture that had been painted for him of 
an easygoing society where locals never locked their 
doors, cars, wives or daughters and worst criminal 
offence was occasional shoplifting.

It was clear Wendy had been killed somewhere else on the 
island. There was not enough blood at the scene, although 
an overnight rainstorm had washed evidence of footprints 
and drag marks away.

While they waited for results of tox screens and other 
blood work to come back from the nearest forensic testing 
centre in Brisbane, 2000km and two hours away by jet, 
Porter and his partner Murray Birch had reinterviewed 
everyone who knew Wendy.

All expressed the appropriate amount of shock at her 
death, articulated their desire to assist in any way 
possible and agreed to supply DNA samples.

Porter ran a hand wearily across his handsome, tanned 
face. Surely he was missing obvious connections and it 
irritated him. 

He was certain the killer was male but there may be more 
than one according to the confused samples obtained by 
the preliminary rape kit.

The motive was revenge he posited, based on the savagery 
of stabbing and evidence of torture but now... now he 
wasn't so sure. He had been so clear on his profile when 
he left headquarters in Sydney three days ago. Now 
nothing made much sense. 

Perhaps he was distracted by the beauty and isolation of 
this place or haunted by the violence of Norfolk Island's 
convict past. Porter shook his head clear.

The spring morning air had warmed somewhat by the time 
Porter reached the island-issue mini 4WD. He wound down 
the driver's window before reaching for the two-way 
radio.

"Mobile 1 to base, have you seen Murray today? He was 
supposed to meet me at Cock Pit, over."

"That's a negative Jack. He's not been in the station 
this morning," answered Sen Sgt Steve Thompson. "There's 
the flight from Brisbane due at 010.00, perhaps he's at 
the airport. Over."

Porter sighed.

"Okay Thommo, I'll check."

Despite a speed limit of 30mph on the island's narrow and 
occasionally unpaved roads, Porter arrived at the airport 
just as Flight 142 from Brisbane disgorged its complement 
of holidaymakers.

He watched faces as they were processed through customs. 
The elderly were part of package holidays and they 
flocked together in groups like pigeons, the young were 
more like doves, cooing at each other at every 
opportunity.

While the story had received mainland coverage - after 
all, the first murder in over 100 years is news - the 
arriving passengers didn't care that someone's daughter, 
someone's lover had been murdered.

But Porter did and it was beginning to bother him.

First rule of profiling - concentrate on the perp not the 
victim. But that was becoming more and more difficult as 
he thought about her lifestyle.

Two live-in lovers, four short term relationships and 
casual encounters in various forms with at least another 
seven men - that they knew of - in three years is pretty 
good going for an island of 1800 permanent residents.

In a typical community, Wendy would be ostracised as a 
slut, but here it didn't raise an eyebrow, although none 
of the women who knew her were as candid about their own 
sex lives in the police interviews. They just shrugged 
and remarked 'It happens'.

Porter glanced at his watch, at 10.30am Murray, a 
slightly built man in his 20s, a few inches shorter than 
Porter exited the customs room with a large package.

"Where the hell were you?" Porter grumped.

The younger agent shrugged. 

"We've been to the Cockpit every day this week Jack, I 
didn't see any point in going over old ground, so I 
decided to get a headstart on reading some of the 
preliminary forensics." He waved the open package in 
front of him.

They ignored the throng of visitors waiting for buses and 
cabs and walked to the car.

"Anything interesting?" asked Porter after a minute. 

"Nothing out of the ordinary. I don't think the labs are 
going to be of any help."

Porter shook his head in disgust. Could this day get any 
better?


The Reflecting Pool
Washington DC
1.10pm

Could this day get any better?

Mulder mused the same the same thing cynically as he 
stared out at the welling numbers of visitors and office 
workers enjoying the last gasp of autumn warmth before 
winter blew in.

He hadn't bothered to go back to the bullpen after he 
left Kersch's office. He'd sat on this park bench for the 
past two and a half hours radiating enough anger and 
hostility within a three-foot radius to repel all-comers.

A petite female figure caught his eye, 5"4', red hair, 
burgundy skirt suit and heels, striding purposefully 
forwards him. He turned his attention away from her to 
watch a gaggle of Germans consult a tourist map.

"I'm thinking of taking a lease here," Mulder deadpanned 
as Scully sat beside him. She shifted his discarded coat 
and placed it on his lap.

"So, which was it? The 'ditch the loser, you're risking 
your career' or the 'play the game and you're back on the 
fast track' speech?"

When she didn't answer he turned to look at her. Scully 
stared straight ahead at the lake.

"Neither. It was neither." Another pause.

"Scully?"

"Kersch expressed great concern for my mental health. He 
says he's seen this with agents before, particularly 
male-female partners."

"What?" Irritation flared. Mulder already knew he wasn't 
going to like the answer.

Scully turned to look at him, her blue eyes sparkled with 
anger as well as unshed tears.

"It is," she sighed, "his considered opinion that I am 
the victim of a form of emotional and psychological abuse 
at your hands."

Mulder nearly burst out laughing until he saw she was in 
deadly earnest. Nausea pooled in his gut instead.

"That your forceful and dominant personality has turned 
me a mindless acolyte unable to express or act upon my 
own will and desires.

"The worst part was he called in Dr Karen Kossoff who 
spent an hour talking about breaking the cycle of abuse.

"I didn't know whether to express my desire for them to 
shut-the-fuck-up or act on my will to commit grievous 
bodily harm.

"Nevertheless, I've been ordered to limit unnecessary 
contact with you."

Mulder slumped further down the bench.

"Shit."

"Double shit."

There seemed little else to say.

#end part I
PART II

Norfolk Island
Australian Federal Police compound
September 17, 5.30pm.

"I don't know what else to say Jack," said Senior 
Sergeant Steve Thompson, laying a sympathetic hand on 
Porter's shoulder.

"We appreciate the time that you've spent out here 
looking for new evidence, but this was not going to be 
the easy investigation Canberra thought it was going to 
be. 

"I don't think whoever killed Wendy is still on the 
island. I honestly believe they took that Brisbane flight 
out the next day. There's still 25 people we haven't 
accounted for amongst the locals, not to mention the 
tourists and the crew from the last flight in.

"The best chance is to begin the investigation back on 
the mainland."

"I still don't along with that Thommo. The murder was too 
brutal, too specific, you don't exhibit that level of 
violence without a trigger. Whoever killed Wendy knew her 
well."

Thompson blinked. Porter was becoming angry and tapped 
the faded laminate counter with his lighter.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," the cop interrupted. 

"Jack, I've been stationed here for 10 years. I know 
these people. These are not mass murdering serial 
killers, they're decent, hardworking people. You're 
reaching...."

Thompson shook his head in genuine sympathy.

"I've phoned the mainland, spoken to the AFP and we'll 
keep searching for more clues. We promise mate, as soon 
as we find anything..."

Empty platitudes, but that's all anyone was offering on 
this godforsaken rock.

"Let us look after you on your last night here," said 
Thompson as he switched off his computer and headed 
towards the door.

"Becky and I are going to the sports club for a few 
drinks. Join us. 

Porter returned the smile he was offered. He found 
himself wavering between spending his last night 
wallowing in self-recrimination and taking up the 
invitation.

Thompson sensed the indecision. He played his card.

"We'll make sure you get to the plane on time. Police 
escort if necessary."

Porter agreed and followed him out of the police station. 

Getting obscenely drunk sounds like fun, he thought. 
Because tomorrow all the same crap will still be waiting.


Violent Crimes Unit
FBI Headquarters
Washington DC
September 17, 5.30pm.

All the same crap was waiting for Mulder from the moment 
he stepped back into the VCU.

A brutal sadist in Baltimore was taking teenage girls but 
he was breaking accepted offender habits thus rendering 
all accepted profiling theory useless.

All girls were from different ethnic backgrounds and 
different socio-economic groups. Although investigators 
discovered that all the girls came from a five-mile 
radius, when it came to Baltimore, that was a hell of a 
population density.

The perp was maliciously raping and in some cases 
disfiguring the girls but the wounds were done in such a 
way that with timely discovery and medical intervention, 
three of the five victims were still alive.

Two of the girls had been awoken from medically induced 
comas and given a description. Each completely 
contradictory. Yet the MO was exactly the same.

The squad were on a high when the latest victim, 
Stephanie Shaw was found alive too. 

They were convinced they were close to a breakthrough; 
the doer was getting sloppy, it was just a matter of time 
before they caught him.

Mulder had not been convinced at the briefing and he 
certainly hadn't changed his opinion now.

The first two days had been spent interviewing the 
victims. He played nice with fellow agents, ignoring 
whispered asides in meeting and the useful advice that 
aliens, zombies and vampires are words that should not 
pass his lips during this investigation.

He buried his inclination to tell them that they should 
open their minds to extreme possibilities if they really 
wanted to bring justice to these girls and if they 
didn't, they could all go to hell.

And he would have done it too if Scully were partnered 
with him. She would have restrained the worst of his fury 
and smoothed over the ruffled feathers of his colleagues 
and supervisors.

But he didn't, so he hadn't, focussing instead on the 
certain knowledge that he could help bring impartiality. 
A theory was beginning to formulate and he needed the co-
operation of the unit to make it happen.

The only brightness in the three days of misery since he 
and Scully had been permanently separated was the 
forensic report he had requested from Quantico.

It was a report analysing the blood work of all of the 
victims. Its official typewritten report was accompanied 
by a woman's handwritten note. He smiled sadly.

'I'm impressed. An obscure but effective drug was used to 
subdue the victims. You'll see findings of significance 
on pages 5,6 and 12 - DKS'.

Mulder had always been of the belief that nothing could 
be worse than imagining the victim's terror at the hands 
a violent serial offender. He was wrong as the victims 
recounted the days they had been held captive.

Perhaps it would have been a greater mercy if the 
sonofabitch had killed them. Maybe the suffering would 
end.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned so loudly it echoed in the 
office space. It may have only been 5.30pm but in the 
absence of new leads, these men and women were still 
public servants and they were happy to clock off.

Slipping on his reading glasses and reaching for the 
switch on the adjustable desk lamp, Mulder pulled across 
the text, A Psycho-Sexual Analysis of Anglo-Celtic and 
European Fairytales and began reading. 

He was sure he could discover something else about this 
case.


Island Warriors Sports and Leisure Club
Norfolk Island
September 17, 11.47pm

Porter discovered something else about Norfolk Island.

Not only was partner swapping a much beloved activity by 
the locals, so was drinking. While the staples, which had 
to be brought in by sea or air were more expensive, duty-
free delights including alcohol were cheaper since the 
Norfolk Island parliament deigned to make this a little 
tax-free haven.

Encouraged by Thommo and his girlfriend Becky to drink 
the Alphabet - anisette to zambucca - washed down by 
beer, Porter was a little hazy about what happened 
between Drambuie and Frangelico.

Sitting under the stars on a faded blue deck chair, 
blowing smoke rings and staring across the sports fields, 
Porter took a deep breath between drags, savouring the 
way the late evening breeze cooled the sweat caused by 
too heavy drinking and the too crowded club inside.
His mind returned to the lab reports Murray had opened. 
He was right, they were an absolute mess, nothing made 
sense. Unidentified residue in the stomach contents, 
unexpected DNA results all added up to either the lab 
fucking up big time or sloppy evidence gathering.

Neither possibility was appealing. 

And as for Murray, the little bastard looked at him as if 
he were certifiable when he suggested taking one more 
look at Cock Pit Falls and retracing Wendy's last known 
movements. 

Again. 

No wonder he'd disappeared for the rest of the afternoon.

About eight others milled under the verandah awning, 
several were smokers who chatted quietly and indulged 
their habit, others were an indistinct tangle of arms and 
legs as lovers coupled in the shadows.

Porter watched one couple as they staggered hand in hand 
down the side of the building, the man murmured something 
in his companion's ear and she giggled, pulling the strap 
of her tank top back to her shoulder.

They made their way to a tree-lined ridge that marked the 
beginning of a reserve that slopped gently down to a 
point overlooking the sea.

About 10 minutes later a man wandered in the direction of 
the darked pine forest.

"Murray!"

The man had cleared the ridge before he was two-thirds 
across the football pitch.

"Godammit Murray wait up!"

Light from the sports club was hidden completely from 
view forcing Porter to stop as his eyes adjusted to 
moonlight.

"Murray!"

At the sound of a snapping twig Porter looked right and 
saw a narrow worn path. He followed it at speed for 
several hundred metres, then he spotted her - strikingly 
pretty, petite, brown eyes and skin, long dark straight 
hair, about mid-20s.

"Where'd he go?"

"Who? You mean Murray, the name you called out?"

Porter wanted to throttle her but he was still waiting to 
catch his breath. She made direct eye contact.

"Murray isn't here Jack. It's just me," she whispered 
softly. "I know you're upset but there's nothing to worry 
about."

She took his hand and started rubbing it slowly with her 
thumb.

Although the Fed's presence on Norfolk was no secret, 
Jack wondered how she knew him and he didn't know her at 
all.

As the girl continued stroking his hand, he started to 
sense the last surge of adrenalin ebb from him leaving a 
pleasantly numb feeling before he experienced a tingle 
across his skin, like static electricity.

He swayed slightly as the girl moved towards him, lifting 
both arms around his neck, drawing him closer to her 
already parted lips.

The first kiss was soft but intense. Instinctively Porter 
followed, tasting her mouth with his tongue as she 
stretched herself along his full length.

His body automatically responded. One arm brushed the 
bare skin exposed by her halter neck dress, the other 
dropped to caress her bottom before pushing her closer to 
his swelling cock.

She purred into his mouth and rubbed her breasts against 
his chest in approval. The girl broke the kiss and smiled 
before reaching for his neck with her lips and his shirt 
with her hands.

Laving his neck with her tongue and trailing with tiny 
nips and kisses down his opening shirt, she sank slowly 
to her knees. Porter tingled with sensation as he threw 
his head back and moaned.

The pull of his belt drew his attention. He placed his 
hand on her shoulders and shook them slightly.

"What are you doing," he whispered hoarsely.

"What does it look like?" she smiled without stopping her 
task of unbuttoning his jeans and tugging his underwear.

He closed his eyes and sighed as her fingernails lightly 
scored his fully engorged member and followed it with 
light licks of her tongue. Porter's hands released the 
button at the neck that held her top. At that she stood 
and let the material fall to her waist.

God she was magnificent, he thought, reaching out to 
flick her tight budding nipples with his thumb. Urgency 
surged through him, his fingers weren't enough, his hands 
weren't enough, his mouth wasn't enough.

The girl whispered her encouragement when Jack became 
aggressive, grinding his pelvis against hers.

He pushed her against a tree and hoisted her on top his 
hips, pushing aside skirt. She wasn't wearing underwear.

'Dear Christ what's happening?' wondered the fleeting 
electrical impulse buried somewhere in his higher order 
brain, as he plunged into her tight, wet warmth.

Porter could feel the girl's own climax growing around 
his dick, she egged him on in curt syllables and groans 
before a keening wail left her throat. It sent him 
bucking harder and harder until he too came.

As his heart rate slowed, an odd feeling, akin to panic 
coursed through him. The girl eased herself off and Jack 
staggered back from the tree, his knees buckling. 

His throat constricted forcing him to gasp asthmatically. 
The girl eased him back onto the grass and stroked his 
brow.

"It's okay, it's okay," she whispered near his ear. 
"You'll be fine, shh, just relax."

The pleasant electrical tingle he felt in the first place 
intensified. He felt pins and needles along his entire 
length and he struggled for breath.

He could no longer hear the girl as the edges of his 
vision drew dim.

Jack had one last coherent thought before he last 
consciousness completely. 

This isn't right.

#end part II
PART III

FBI Headquarters
Washington DC
October 29, 2.57pm

This isn't right, mused Scully as she strummed her 
fingers impatiently along the armrest of the seat in AD 
Kersch's reception.

She waited alone, the blonde bitch of a receptionist 
wouldn't tell her anything about the purpose of the 
summons, but she suspected it had something to do with 
Mulder.

Scully wondered what it could be. The only professional 
contact they had was a request for blood work. It was an 
approved application, going through official channels.

Even before this enforced separation he started keeping 
his distance from her - not physically, Dr Kossoff was 
right when she observed that he was always invading her 
personal space - but emotional distance, starting months 
ago when she was unable to back up his theory in front of 
the FBI's professional conduct panel about the alien 
origins of Gibson Praise's DNA.

What did it say about her that she missed the intimacy 
with Mulder's mind even more than his physical presence?

This was worse than the first time they were separated, 
when Mulder's paranoia as much as the official orders 
kept them apart.

Had she not taken the drastic step of engineering a 
clandestine meeting with him Scully might have never 
uncovered his plans to investigate solo. He could have 
disappeared forever at Puerto Rico.

But it was different now. He trusted her then, he didn't 
any more.

They worked long hours in their new roles. The only time 
she had seen him in six weeks was a fleeting glance on TV 
two days ago during a press conference in which Baltimore 
District Attorney Adam Washington announced they arrested 
a suspect in what the media had dubbed The Sleeping 
Beauty rapist.

It was Mulder's profile that caught David Eugene Powell. 
He drugged girls with a powerful but little used narcotic 
to put them in a coma. He would try to awaken them, with 
a kiss before raping them. He told police he was Prince 
Charming.  Powell would slap them if they didn't awaken 
on cue and cut them in the search for their real inner 
beauty.

Scully was shocked by Mulder's appearance on TV. He was 
thin and under his eyes were as dark as bruises. She was 
still concerned.

As she rose to pace the room, Kersch's inner door opened 
and Scully was beckoned in.

Mulder sat with his back to her but he didn't look around 
to acknowledge her presence. She unsuccessfully tried to 
quell a trickling edge of apprehension as she took the 
seat next to Mulder's.

Scully glanced at him quickly but his eyes remained fixed 
at the back wall over Kersch's shoulder.

"I want to commend both for your fine work over the past 
six weeks," he started.

"It is gratifying to see you have obeyed directives and 
begun to appreciate the importance of discipline. There 
is hope yet you might be rehabilitated into the bureau 
mainstream."

By now Mulder would have made some smart-ass comment that 
would have raised Kersch's blood pressure but he remained 
silent and that alarmed Scully all the more. 

She spoke: "With all due respect sir, what is the purpose 
of this meeting?"

"The purpose of this meeting is to answer a request from 
one of our counterparts in Australia requiring the 
assistance of the FBI to solve the murder of a San Diego 
woman who was working on Norfolk Island, an independent 
Australian territor which is located two hours east by 
air of the state of New South Wales and three hours north 
by air of New Zealand."

Kersch passed Scully the file that had background on the 
woman, crime scene and autopsy photographs. She glanced 
at it. It was very thorough.

"It's not a major case," he said, then nodded at Mulder. 
"Nor is it as grand as high profile captures but it is 
important to me.

"I want to see if you can be trusted working together. I 
am mindful of your solve rate on the X-Files and I want 
to see if we can replicate that in more... productive areas 
of Bureau investigation.

"I consider inter-agency co-operation vital." Kersch 
stood, picking up papers on his desk and walked to 
another door to their right.

"Your flight leaves tomorrow afternoon. 

"Don't embarrass me agents." 

Scully rose slowly. Mulder still hadn't moved.

"Who requested our involvement?" Mulder looked at 
Kersch's retreating back, acknowledging him directly for 
the first time.

"A senior profiler with the Australian Federal Police, 
Jack Porter," Kersch answered without looking back.

Mulder grinned for the first time in months.

"What?" whispered Scully, noting the change of 
disposition.

"Sometimes there's a silver lining after all."

"Mulderrrr?" she asked, drawing out the last syllable of 
his name.

"I'll tell you on the way back to your place. It's time 
we got packing."



Sydney International Airport arrival lounge
Australia
November 1, 10.37am.


Porter almost missed him in the throng of jet lagged 
looking passengers that had now cleared customs. 

Although he'd not kept a close track of the career of his 
friend and former drinking and skirt-chasing mate, he was 
surprised to see a more careworn face than he remembered 
from Oxford.

You don't get to smile a lot any more do you, he thought.

Porter mentally shook himself and swiftly moved forward 
with a fixed smile.

"Look at ya, you old bastard, you're still as ugly as 
ever," he called from a few feet away.

The agent turned and the smile that broke was genuine. "I 
see you don't believe in mirrors, I've always been better 
looking than you."

"Mulder, are you sure *this* man is your friend?"

Porter noticed that Mulder turned to the redhead beside 
him who had observed the exchange with surprise.

"Ahh, where's your cultural sensitivity Scully? This is 
how Australian males show affection. It actually means 
we're blood brothers."

She folded her arms and gave him *the* look, a twist of 
the mouth, a raise of the eyebrows, with which the other 
man appeared very familiar. He chuckled and raised his 
hands in mock surrender.

"Honest injun."

Scully shook her head to conceal a half smile and turned 
to their host with an outstretched hand.

"Excuse the old bastard his lack of manners, I'm his 
partner Dana Scully."

Porter took her hand shook it warmly. He liked the woman 
already.


******

Scully had to admit she was impressed, not only by the 
city but also the accommodation Jack had secured for the 
day and a half before they headed back to the airport for 
the two hour jump to Norfolk Island.

The apartment suite at Darling Harbour boasted two 
bedrooms separated by a common lounge and dining space. 
Sliding glass doors onto the balcony accessed an alfresco 
dining setting for four.

Floor to ceiling windows framed the view of Sydney 
Harbour and its iconic bridge.

Peak hour was growing steadily as the last light of the 
afternoon cast a soft rose glow over the city. As the day 
turned to night, neon-like red and white streaks from 
traffic overpowered the spotlights that outlined the 
bridge's distinctive coat hanger span. 

Despite the 12-hour leg from Singapore to Sydney, Scully 
felt surprisingly alert, helped by a four-hour sleep and 
a soak in her ensuite spa.

She pulled her attention from the view as Mulder and 
Porter entered the suite. Mulder seemed entirely 
untroubled by the long flight, she noted ruefully.

It was no surprise that Mulder and Porter were friends. 
From the couple of hours Scully witnessed this afternoon, 
they shared the same incisive wit and offbeat sense of 
humour. She could also see how they broke hearts across 
England in the 1980s.

Even now, with similar heights and athletic builds they 
turned heads. In terms of mannerisms and energy, they 
might even pass as brothers, she mused. But that's where 
the similarity ended. Jack's blond hair, blue eyes and 
golden tan contrasted sharply with Mulder's dark hair, 
hazel eyes and paler skin.

The sun god and the dark prince... Scully frowned, where 
did that thought come from?

"Hey Scully, you're up," said Mulder as he bounded over 
to take a place opposite her on the couch. "Jack says 
he's taking us to one of the best seafood restaurants in 
the city.

From her vantage point she could see the momentary look 
of surprise on Porter's face that indicated that he'd 
said no such thing. 

"Yeah, but it's Mulder's shout since he was telling me 
how much more a G-man earns than a poor old Aussie 
agent," he rejoined quickly.

"What kind of host are you? What about inter-agency co-
operation?" Mulder shot back, his demeanour showing a 
lightness that Scully noticed had been missing for many 
months.

Porter laughed. "Okay then my treat, but you're picking 
up the wine."

Later that evening Scully admitted defeat, unable to 
finish the dessert, a lime cheesecake served with vanilla 
icecream rolled in pistachio nuts surrounded by a swirl 
of berry coulis.

Content to sit on the sidelines and watch Mulder and Jack 
to catch up on the years, she mentally congratulated 
herself that she had packed at least one thing more 
suitable than work wear. Her soft green summer dress was 
a last minute decision - and a perfect one for the balmy 
spring evening.

She sipped her glass of Hunter Valley chardonnay and 
listened.

They discussed Phoebe Green, now a Scotland Yard 
Inspector, whom they both seemed to know rather 
intimately. 

She noticed Mulder glance at her as he deftly skirted 
answering detailed questions about his former partner 
Diana Fowley before steering Porter's direction to how he 
and Scully first met.

Fowley is a deceitful cow, Scully mused bitterly. 
Claiming to be on Mulder's side in preserving The X-
Files. Lying slut. All it takes to reel Mulder in is an 
open mind and open legs.

Then Porter's next question focussed her attention to the 
present.

"So, what are The X-Files again? Some kind of cold case 
squad?"

Mulder dropped his eyes for a moment as he recalled 
reactions of other law enforcement when he told them. He 
looked up and pinned Jack with a stare.

"No, the X-Files specialised cases involving unexplained 
or paranormal phenomena that everyone else had either 
given up on or deemed unworthy of investigation."

There was none of the incredulous reaction or derisive 
laughter Mulder encountered with past colleagues, just as 
slight narrowing of his eyes and Porter turned 
investigator.

"Past tense. Does the X-Files no longer exist?"

 "No, they're there," answered Mulder softly. "We're just 
not investigating them any more."

"I still investigate monsters but the ones I profile are 
of the very human variety."

He knew with the acute awareness of a psychologist that 
the other man was leaving a lot more unsaid but Porter 
nodded in sympathy. Monsters were in his job description 
too, although nowhere near the same scale. Not that it 
made it more palatable.

It wasn't his place to ask for details and he knew his 
mate wouldn't tell. He was Mulder's friend, not his 
psychoanalyst and besides, for this investigation he 
needed an investigator, not a basket case.

"You are now I guess... investigating an X-File that is."

That got Mulder and Dana's attention, Porter observed 
with satisfaction.

"Because what's been happening on Norfolk Island is not 
covered in any investigator's handbook.

"And before we fly out, I need to tell you... something 
happened to me when I was there."
 
*****

Later that night, Mulder ran through Porter's story in 
his head again. 

Especially intrigued by the girl and her ability to 
render unconscious a man a good six inches taller and 50 
pounds heavier with a good fuck.

He was reminded of the cult that he and Scully had 
encountered about five years ago, an Amish-type colony 
who largely kept to themselves until one of their order 
went on a murderous sex spree. 

He would select one victim, have sex, which would kill 
them, before somehow changing genders and striking again.

Scully would have been a victim too had he not burst 
through the doors as she and one of the cultists were 
about to do the horizontal mamba.

The way Jack described the way the girl rubbed his hand 
was familiar, but the rest of the encounter was all 
wrong.

Perhaps these people had adapted - what better place to 
settle than an island that they could control?

What of the murdered girl? Had she discovered who they 
were? 

He turned to discuss the idea with Scully and remembered 
that she had gone to bed hours ago. Mulder rolled over 
and settled on the bed.

He missed her and not just since their partnership had 
been dissolved. Their professional and personal 
relationship had been on tenuous ground ever since that 
bombing in Dallas.

He had been scared to death that he had lost her in 
Antarctica when Scully had been infected with the virus. 
After their rescue he was ready for more from this 
relationship, but then Diana had set him straight.

"Ask yourself why Agent Scully won't back you up when you 
most need it Fox," she had told him.

He knew the reason. Scully had been at pains to explain 
that the data didn't support his conclusion. But he *was* 
right - an alien virus, an alien conspiracy and 
colonisation like a ticking time bomb.

It still galled him that she refused to back him up at 
the OPR hearing.

"I don't doubt what you saw, Mulder. I don't doubt you," 
she had told him afterwards. "I'm willing to believe, but 
not in a lie and not in the opposite of what I can prove.

"It comes down to a matter of trust. I guess it always 
has."

Unfortunately it wasn't enough.

Mulder licked his wounds by keeping his emotional 
distance from Scully and drew comfort from Diana, even 
though her proprietorial claims on him bridled.

He knew Scully was hurt but he wasn't quite finished 
being a prick enough to forgive her.

End of part III


BODY OF EVIDENCE

Headers and disclaimers can be found in Part 1 and now...
on with the story

PART IV

Norfolk Island International Airport
November 2
7.50pm.

Since they would be landing in darkness, there was not 
much to see from the windows of their mid-size jet. 
Mulder fell asleep within half an hour of take off, so 
Scully busied herself reading through some of the Norfolk 
Island tourist literature.

The crime scene photos really don't do the place justice, 
she thought.

They landed on an airfield first established by the US 
Navy during World War Two.  The island was an important 
refuelling and supply post to support the allied forces 
driving the Japanese out of the South Pacific.

In fact the road from the airport to the island's only 
town, Burnt Pine was named after General Douglas 
Macarthur.

Captain James Cook first mapped the uninhabited island in 
the 1770s - although there was evidence that Polynesian 
sailors made the island a stopping point. Norfolk was 
then settled by convicts, male and female, deemed too 
violent and irredeemable even for the Sydney penal 
colony.

In the 1850s Queen Victoria offered title to the 
descendents of the now forgiven Bounty Mutineers, known 
as Islanders, after it was determined Pitcairn Island 
could not support its several hundred residents.

Some of its famous, non-islander residents include author 
Colleen McCullough and singer Helen Reddy.

Today, access to the outside world is largely by smaller 
jumbo jets. Norfolk Island is not on the cruise ship 
route, although small private yachts do drop in on their 
way to New Zealand, Australia or the major south Pacific 
islands groups of New Caledonia, Fiji and Vanuatu. 

Many of the island's major goods are supplied by ship but 
have to come in by special tenders, known as lighters. 
Satellite Internet access is available but not 
widespread.

"You'd be surprised by the autonomy of the Norfolk 
Government," said Porter as they made their way out to 
their micro compact hire car.

"A year or so back, a film star was holidaying here but 
the media found out and came in on the next flight. As 
soon as they arrived, the government refused them entry 
as undesirables. And they were ordered back on the next 
flight.

"Priceless," he chuckled.

"With that much authority it could be an easy matter for 
Wendy Millard's killer to simply leave if he or she were 
known to one of the government members," whispered 
Scully, mindful of keeping out of earshot.

Porter raised a finger to his lips.

"Everything has ears here. We'll save the theorising for 
the house."
  	
Mulder and Scully's accommodation was two miles from the 
township, a fibreboard beach holiday home, vintage 1960s, 
that belonged to a lawyer from the mainland who rented it 
out for much of the year.

It was small with only two bedrooms, but it was fully 
self-contained and well provisioned.

Porter explained that he would be staying with senior 
sergeant Steve Thompson and his girlfriend Becky at Burnt 
Pine. Smart casual dress was the accepted on-duty dress 
code here, but firearms were not. They would have to be 
locked at the police station in the morning and would be 
returned before the flight out.

"Settle in folks," invited Porter as drained the last of 
his black coffee. "I'll organise another car tomorrow and 
start with a 9am briefing with Thommo.

"We'll do a tour of island and the crime scene so you can 
get a feel for the place. Dana, I'll introduce you to the 
hospital staff. The chief doctor is also the island's 
surgeon."

Scully nodded and stifled a yawn. 

Yes, a good start in the morning would be best, she 
agreed.

"Mulder, I think you and I should go through the suspect 
list to see if there is any connection to Wendy that 
you've managed to source from her history in San Diego."

"Sounds like a plan. Tomorrow it is then." 


The Highland Fling Cafe
Fern Road
Norfolk Island
9.35pm

The powerfully built man rocked back on his chair as he 
listened to the conversation richochet across the room. 

"I can't say that I'm thrilled about this. We've gone too 
far as it is."

"It's the FBI for godsake. The more people we involve the 
less chance we have of this mess quietly going away."

The front legs landed sharply on the timber floor and all 
other conversation ceased. 

Mike glanced across to those assembled, both seated and 
standing, before turning to the tall shadow who had been 
leaning against one of the posts apart from the group.

"You know them, how they think, what should we do?"

Murray Birch stepped out of the shadow to observe the 
other conspirators - two men and three women.

The discussion had been spirited but the argument had 
been lost. Porter and his FBI colleagues were to be dealt 
with starting tomorrow.

"I don't know how you talked me into this, any of you," 
Murray grumbled. "I'm federal agent for crying out loud.

"Everyone thinks I'm back in Sydney."

"You know why," snapped the older of three women, an 
elegant brunette with fashionably short hair. Murray knew 
her. They went to high school together, although she was 
a couple of years older.

"Our culture is at stake, in fact our entire way of life. 
If this isn't stopped now then it will be more than the 
six of us facing court.

"Do you want an investigation into our sex lives like 
they're planning on Pitcairn? Lives will be ruined and it 
will be just the excuse needed for the Australian 
Government to strip the island of its independence.

"Your parents would never have wanted that."

Murray glowered at her.

"Low blow Sylvie."

The woman sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? But the fact 
remains that you know as much of what going on as the 
rest of us. And you're up to your eyes in it.

"We need to you to help us. If we can use this... this 
gift, this reaction, we can get rid of the police... FBI...
whatever they are and go back to the way things have 
always been."

Mike spoke next. He was slightly older than the others in 
the room and thus was elected leader of sorts. 

"That's the point I'm trying to make here Sylvie," he 
sighed.

"Things stopped being the same when they found Wendy's 
body. Do you really believe the authorities will let go, 
that they'll forget?

"We will always be under suspicion - each and everyone on 
the island who knew her."

"Are you blaming me for dumping Wendy, because I didn't 
see any of you upright citizens helping me that night," 
hissed another man who stood behind Sylvie. 

"No Rob, we've been through this, we're not blaming you," 
said the first man.

"This goes deeper than the death of Wendy Millard. I 
think we can all agree on that. Something is happening to 
us, to the islanders and it's affecting everyone we're in 
intimate contact with.

"We need to control it or contain it, otherwise it really 
will be the end of everything.

"I just don't want to risk further exposure. It increases 
the chances of us getting caught."

"We can do this but you all need to do exactly as I say." 
All eyes turned to Murray.

"We mustn't forget we have a lot of friends here. They 
may suspect that you are all involved in Wendy's death 
but they fear the threat to their... to *our* way of life 
more.

"Although I've only known Porter for as long as we've 
been assigned to this case, I think I know him well 
enough as an investigator. And we've seen how effective 
the gift is.

"Janine said she was impressed, in more ways than one."

Sniggers in the room turned to nervous laughs and the 
tension was broken.

"What about the other two? The Americans?" asked Rob. 

The youngest, a girl in her late teens spoke.

"I was on customs duty tonight and I had a quick look at 
their entry and passport details," she said.

"He's a psychologist like Jack and she's a doctor of some 
kind."

"We need to find out more," said Birch. "If we're going 
to use the gift we're going to have to find out more 
about their background and get into their heads.

"Anyone here know a policeman?" he smiled.


Sea Mist Cottage
Three Mile Road
Norfolk Island
12.57am

Anyone here know a cable guy? If he'd known that was no 
TV, then he wouldn't have signed on for this gig. 

Mulder flicked the TV off in disgust and stretched out on 
the bed as the distinctive sound of the closed-for-the-
night station ID pierced silence.

Norfolk Island had one TV station that produced basic 
local programming, mostly advertisements for the duty 
free shops. After hours it would screen the occasional 
out-of-copyright movies and close promptly at 1am. 
Tonight it had been an Ed Wood film, a classic - Glen Or 
Glenda.

Local residents watched mostly satellite television but 
the cottage's owner didn't spring for that luxury here.

He turned on his side and watched the gentle rise and 
fall of Scully's chest as she slept beside him.

He missed this.

Since being grounded on domestic terrorism they weren't 
on the road as often and he had forgotten how much they'd 
settled into a routine.

Mulder stroke her cheek softly before settling himself 
beside her.

He wasn't sure when it started or who started it. Maybe 
it was her nightmares, his nightmares, exhaustion after a 
day's investigation or a subconscious acknowledgement of 
mutual loneliness - whatever justification fitted the 
day.

They would end up together asleep in one bed until dawn, 
when one or the other would leave.

It was what they did - no awkward examination of feelings 
- just the unspoken acknowledgement that they were halves 
of the same whole.

He wanted that back but Diana had driven a firm wedge 
between them. 

The truth was he wanted them both.

Diana was comfortable and predictable - her unquestioning 
belief in him and his quest, her soft, ready, 
uncomplicated warmth while Scully was uncompromising and 
demanding - she challenged, irritated and excited him to 
the point where he believed his only choice might be to 
either slap her or fuck her.

Diana he could control, compartmentalise, keep away from 
his core but Scully would consume him.


End of part IV



PART V

Seamist Cottage
Norfolk Island
November 3, 5.45am

Scully opened her eyes and breathed deeply. The riot of 
birdcalls roused her from an exceptionally deep sleep. 
She woke up alone, as she always did.

Although not fully light, she could see that the shrubs 
bearing unusual yellow flowers outside the window were 
home to chattering crimson rosellas who were watched 
serenely by a pair of emerald-hued green parrots perched 
higher on trees that bordered the yard.

She smiled at the sight as she opened the sliding glass 
door. Two of the nearest rosellas screeched their 
displeasure at being disturbed at their feeding.

The breeze was tinged with the slight tang of salt, so 
Scully went to investigate, discovering a sandy path at 
the end of the yard.

The journey ended at a tiny sandy beach, bordered by 
rich, chocolate coloured volcanic basalt rocks. To her 
right was one of the small outlying islands she'd read 
about on the flight over. 

The tiny island just a half a mile from Norfolk was 
uninhabited and had been used by early settlers as 
grazing and hunting ground as well as further convict 
punishment. Today human activity was limited to 
government reafforestation programs, and organised 
camping and fishing tours.

Scully picked a place on a rock and fingered a smooth 
round pebble watching the sky change from grey, purple, 
rose, and gold as she thought about last night.

She could almost believe that she and Mulder were back to 
'normal'... well, as normal as they ever got. The closeness 
disappeared after Antarctica, after Diana Fowley was 
appointed to the X-Files.

Despite what Mulder wanted, she in all good conscience 
wouldn't abandon what could be proved, but it didn't mean 
she didn't believe... in him, the work, in what she could 
substantiate to support his beliefs.

Scully threw the pebble back into the sea. 

Maybe Dr Kossoff was right after all, perhaps her life 
was too intertwined with Mulder's, maybe she did need to 
re-establish her own identity as a professional... a 
person... a woman.

Yet last night, as she fell asleep with Mulder beside 
her, she clung to hope that maybe things didn't have to 
change after all.

But it would have to wait until this case was solved. And 
that was a problem, she realised. 

They drift from one case to another and put off talking, 
*really* talking, betting against the house that one or 
the other of them wouldn't be consumed with the graveside 
regret of having words unsaid and feelings unexplored.

But reality, in the here and now, is that a woman was 
dead.

It really would have to wait.

*****
7.45am  

"Coffee's fresh," Mulder pointed with a piece of toast to 
the pot on the stove.

He was in a rare mood, focussed, full of energy, 
travelling at a million miles a minute. 

"I've been through Wendy's background from the San Diego 
field office and there are a couple of leads that I'd 
like to make a start on today," he said between bites.

"Did Jack say what time he was going to pick us up? 
Because I definitely want to check out..." he paused to dig 
out a map that was buried under file notes.

"Cock Pit Falls and possibly the refuse disposal station 
on the western side of the island.

"I'd be interested what you can make out from your 
medical investigation. There's something in the odd DNA 
samples that the original investigators obtained..." 
Mulder stopped as he looked at his partner properly for 
the first time.

"What?" he asked.

Scully stood at the kitchen door, rolling the stem of a 
pink hibiscus flower between her fingers.

She gifted him a smile. 

"Good morning to you, Mulder," she said airly before she 
crossing the kitchen to pour herself a coffee.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise at her 
uncharacteristically flirtatious greeting.

"And a good morning to *you* Ms Scully," he replied, 
doffing an imaginary cap.

"Ahh, it is true after all," Scully acknowledged the 
salutation with an exaggerated nod. "Manners do maketh 
the man."

Mulder good-naturedly tossed a tea towel in response.

Scully caught the cloth with one hand. It should always 
be this easy between us, she thought wistfully.


1.45pm
Cooks Point
Norfolk Island

Mulder and Porter sat on a picnic bench at a park perched 
on the northeastern edge of the island.  The wide-open 
park was bordered by denser rain forest that marched its 
way up to a tall rocky peak, Mt Bates. At 318 metres it 
was a popular climb with adrenaline junkie adventure 
seekers.

After a briefing meeting with Senior Sergeant Steve 
Thompson, which ended in an invitation to dinner, Porter 
had taken the agents on a tour of the island to visit 
'sites of interest' in the case.

Following lunch, Scully taken the second car to the 
hospital to review the DNA and forensic results gathered 
thus far in the investigation into Wendy Millard's death.

Sitting in the dappled shade created by the shadows of 
large Norfolk Island Pines and other rainforest giants, 
the park at Cook's Point was a refreshing contrast to the 
midday heat.

"You weren't kidding about circumnavigating the island in 
an hour and a half," said Mulder. "I've been in traffic 
jams longer than that."

Porter tapped his cigarette lighter on the table.

"I've been copping a lot of flak from my supervisors. 
They were expecting a quick result but they don't 
understand that most of the residents here are related 
through blood or marriage.

"They may have their suspicions but they're not going to 
dob in family.

"It's the reason why I want to confer with you here. If 
we met somewhere in town or even at the police station 
everyone would know our business before we stepped out 
the front door.

"My working theory on Wendy's death is that this is more 
than a crime of passion. In her peer circle, which is 
roughly half the island population, these people have 
more lovers than Elizabeth Taylor has diamonds.

"No one sees anything wrong with that, it's been island 
culture since the Bounty mutiny days. The attitude is 
sexual activity is almost a resource."

"Share and share alike," added Mulder.

"Exactly. I still believe that sex is the reason why 
Wendy was killed but it was because she had been involved 
with someone or knew something that would damage the 
island as a whole.

"If it were an 'ordinary' crime, like drugs or theft she 
could have gone to the police or anyone of the island's 
members of parliament. But she didn't, she wanted to get 
away. She had a one way flight to Brisbane the next day."

Mulder nodded, the reasoning was sound. He could 
appreciate Porter's frustration with the lack of 
progress.

"I think I may have something."

Porter leaned forward with interest. 

"The field office in San Diego started a detailed 
background on Wendy when we were informed of her death. 
According to some of her friends, Wendy had quit her 
travel agent's job after a falling out with new 
management.

"Officially she wasn't working for six months before she 
left the United States to explore the world."

"Prostitution?"

Mulder shook his head and handed over the file.

"The next oldest profession. It seems that Wendy 
subsidised her severance pay by making a number of cheap 
porn flicks under the stage name Randy Wilde."

Porter burst out laughing. Mulder grinned.

"Yeah, well what she lacked in imagination she made up in 
volume - six titles over those six months."

"Yet Wendy travelled across Europe, south-east Asia and 
Australia for nearly 18 months before arriving on Norfolk 
Island," Jack frowned, flipping through some of his own 
notes.

"She would have been just about broke, yet she had enough 
money wit her to satisfy immigration and her 
job application was sponsored by Rabs Warren."

"Rabs? As in Rabbit?"

"Real name is Andrew Peter Warren. His son is Peter 
Andrew Warren, he has a cousin also named Andrew Warren. 
There are another three Warren families on Norfolk, so 
it's accepted Island policy to use nicknames for informal 
identification," Porter explained.

"It based on either a variation on a first or last name, 
looks, personal habits or occupation.

"Warren put an employment ad in an international travel 
magazine. He said he was impressed with Wendy's 
credentials and sponsored her application. We can't find 
any other connection.

"And the guy is 77 - he's not a suspect either."

Mulder made additional notes.

"What do you know about the TV station?"

"It's owned by a husband and wife, Shaun and Clover 
McKenzie. They're nice enough - he was a lawyer and she 
ran a New Age healing centre on the mainland before 
arriving here. They specialise in documentaries 
around the south Pacific. The Island broadcast is more of 
a sideline really."

"Perhaps it's not their only one."

Jack frowned. "Norfolk Island has never come up on our 
radar as a centre for porn production." 

"It's perfect - an independent close-knit community, 
liberal attitudes to sex with a 'don't ask, don't tell' 
philosophy that would make the US military proud.

"Perhaps Wendy was continuing her film career here. We 
should check it out."

Jack shook his head. "Drop me in town, there's something 
else I want to look into first."

Mulder raised his eyebrows in question.

Porter looked away, concentrating on the sound of the 
ocean crashing on rocks 10 metres below them.

"I've got to find that girl... I haven't been able to 
stop thinking about her since that night," he said 
softly.

"I'm going to go back to the sports club and ask the 
staff there, see if they know her, recognise her."

"Have you seen a doctor? Because what you describe 
happening after you had sex is not normal, there might 
have been some residual..."

He was cut off with a shake of the head. "I've been 
thinking about it some more.

"Mulder, I was drunk, upset and angry. Those things 
account for what happened."

"You can't be sure Jack, that's all I'm saying. Scully's 
a doctor, let her run some tests."

"Speaking of Dana, what's the real story with you two?" 
Porter asked, seeing an opening to change the subject. 

"Our relationship is," Mulder paused to capture the right 
word. "Complicated."

"So you two never..."

Mulder shook his head.

"She's an outstanding doctor, a fine investigator and the 
most honest person I know. It's the healthiest 
relationship I've ever had with a woman. 

"I'd be crazy to screw that up."

"Don't give me that sensitive new age guy bullshit. So 
you're telling me you're not attracted to her? Man, I 
wish I had a partner who looked like that."

"I've thought about it," Mulder conceded. "But it's just 
never happened. Perhaps it never will."


Norfolk Island Base Hospital
2.15pm

The Norfolk Island Base Hospital comprised of three 
single storey buildings that sat squat and unassuming two 
streets back from the shopping streets of Burnt Pine.

The hospital was constructed of large painted concrete 
blocks and connected by covered breezeways.

Scully had followed Dr Neil Schofield, Norfolk Island's 
senior doctor along one of these walkways. The doctor was 
deeply tanned and only a few inches taller than Scully. 
And although aged in his mid-40s, he maintained a well-
muscled physique that would do a wrestler proud.

The first building was a clinic, which also doubled as 
the administration and makeshift accident and emergency 
centre. The second was a general ward and labs while the 
third housed maternity and recovery wards. 

Patients requiring intensive or critical care were flown 
by charter jet to either Sydney or Brisbane, explained 
the doctor.

"We're fairly well equipped to handle the basics - 
general illness, injuries, falls, marine stingers, that 
sort of thing," he expounded. 

"If it's critical we can stablise a patient until medivac 
arrives. That's usually in the form of an Royal 
Australian Air Force medical transport plane."

The covered walkways were bordered by gardens filled with 
birds of paradise, hibiscus and gardenias while rolling 
lawns had large fig trees standing like islands out of a 
lush green sea.

Six people, new mothers and their infants, patients in 
recovery as well as hospital staff either strolled across 
the grass or enjoyed the late afternoon on park benches 
located under the larger trees.

It seemed as though those who were ambulatory were all 
outside. 

Scully and Dr Schofield entered the second building and 
walked to the hospital's basic pathology department. 

Scully took a quick glance around. It was as promised - 
well kept but basic. As the doctor said, this hospital 
was designed to give general care.

"I'm presuming Wendy Millard's autopsy wasn't performed 
here?" she asked.

"It was performed in Brisbane. That was the first flight 
off the island," Dr Schofield nodded in affirmation.

"I gave her an external examination when the police 
recovered her body and the cause of death seemed self 
evident.

"I photographed, took swabs and drew blood samples to 
protect what evidence there was, but as you can see we 
are in no position to conduct an autopsy especially one 
sophisticated enough to find meaningful forensic 
evidence.

"They were packed up along with the body for the flight 
back to Brisbane."

Scully nodded. She appreciated that back in Quantico she 
could access some of the most cutting edge equipment in 
the world and draw on the expertise of the best 
technicians.

"Did you know Wendy?"

She was on the receiving end of a mild admonishment.

"Agent Scully, everyone knows everyone here," he said 
blandly.

"Yes, I knew Wendy but not terribly well, she was a good 
15 years younger and mixed more with her peers. She was a 
nice girl, very popular."

Nice, pleasant, friendly - all safe words, mild words 
that Scully had seen cropping up again and again in the 
police interviews with Wendy's friends and associates. 

Scully was becoming convinced that they were euphemisms.


Coral C Productions
2.30pm

'Our office hours are between 10am and 2pm Tuesday, 
Thursday and Friday unless we're on assignment. Have a 
joyous day!', informed the printing on the cheery apricot 
coloured paper taped to the inside of the glass door.

Coral C Productions occupied a house on a rise about a 
mile out of town. Like the name of the company, the two-
storey fibreboard house was a coral hue but the oxidation 
on the siding had caused the pigment to soften further.

Despite being in the right place at the wrong time and 
the wrong day, Mulder checked the door anyway and was 
mildly surprised to discover it unlocked.

The lights were switched off in reception but there was 
enough daylight to make out the photographs on the wall 
of spectacular landscapes or broadly smiling South 
Pacific Islanders. 

Mulder took a step closer to view each one.

There were two people in common in each of the 
photographs - he was in his early 40s, beard, dark brown 
hair curling to his shoulders. She was about the same 
age, her shock of black hair stood out at angles. Shaun 
and Clover McKenzie.

Mulder tried an internal door but found it locked. 
Undeterred he walked around the back noting that all 
windows on the ground floor were boarded up.

The white picket gate groaned softly in protest as Mulder 
opened it. 

He followed a flower border around to an expansive back 
garden to see a nude woman 12 feet away emerge from a 
stone clad swimming pool.

She stretched languorously, brushing her fingers through 
long gold hair.

She was breathtaking. 

The gentle curve of her waist and hips hinted that her 
full breasts were natural. Her skin was a soft tan - all 
of it, no hint of tan lines anywhere. There was no 
telling if she were a natural blonde either.

The Venus saw him and made eye contact quite 
unselfconsciously, making no attempt to cover herself.

"If you're the extra, you're overdressed and if you're 
not, you've just spoiled this take," she called.

So much for the element of surprise, Mulder thought 
ruefully. He held up his badge for the benefit of his 
audience.

He took in the six other people in the yard - two men in 
their 20s stripped to the waist wearing what looked like 
buckskin trousers and shouldering replica muskets while 
at their side was willowy brunette eyeing him with 
unabashed interest. She wore a white cotton bodice 
unbuttoned to the waist with a thin skirt that was 
transparent in direct sunlight.

The other three people were fully dressed. One man with a 
beard shouldered a camera, ayounger man leaned against a 
boom microphone and a woman with wild black hair sat 
cross-legged with a large make-up kit and a TV monitor 
beside her.

"Special Agent Mulder, FBI," he called as he walked over 
to Shaun McKenzie. "I want to talk to you about Wendy 
Millard.

****
Norfolk Island Base Hospital

"This is interesting," remarked Scully as she compared 
the spotted bands of DNA on the light box.

"What is?" Schofield asked. He left his microscope to 
walk over to the bench where Scully had set up her 
research.

"There appears to be a variation here carried on the 
female line and to a greater or lesser degree it's common 
to many of the men who were tested. Had you noticed 
this?"

Dr Schofield smiled. 

"No, the film only came back two days ago. I haven't 
looked at them, but I can solve the mystery Agent Scully. 

"I think you'll find that all of the men who have the 
variation are descendents of the original Bounty 
mutineers. The Polynesians have been intermarrying for 
years without the usual cases of genetic defects showing 
in children."

Scully paused, taking in Dr Schofield's skin colour, 
build and deep brown eyes.

"Like yourself."

He grinned broadly. "Absolutely, I'm a direct descendent 
of one of the crew." 

Leaning in closer, he added more soberly, "But I also 
have an alibi for the night of Wendy's murder in case you 
were wondering."

Hair stood to attention on the back of Scully's neck and 
arms as he stopped just inches away. She could feel his 
breath tickle her cheek. 

Collecting herself, Scully met his gaze head on, despite 
being unsettled by his proximity and annoyance at the 
stab of intimidation she felt.

Scully took a step back to regain some personal space, 
wishing for the first time that she were not unarmed.

"Fine. We'll leave it at that shall we?"

Schofield shrugged and headed towards the door.

"I've got rounds. You can page me if you want anything."

Scully sighed, wiping a hand across her face as she 
turned back to her notes. 

Schofield had answered her question in part, but the 
explanation didn't explain the fact that there was 
something else, a virus, in the blood tests that affected 
all of the men tested, not just the ones born on the 
island.

On a hunch Scully reached for Wendy's file and quickly 
scanned pages until she found the serology findings. The 
technicians had been thorough; no mistakes had been made. 
There, half way down on the third page was the answer 
Scully had hoped to find.

Wendy had the virus too.

Opening a fresh page in her notebook, Scully started 
writing.

'Each test indicates the presence of an unidentified 
virus. It is not known how it was contracted, nor can it 
be determined at this point what purpose it has. 

'It was also found in Wendy Millard but not to the same 
degree as the islanders. Some of the men tested who are 
not islanders but who have lived on the island almost 
exclusively for past three years or longer also show that 
they too have the virus, but not the genetic variations 
found in those descended from the Polynesians.

'It appears well accepted that these islanders have some 
form of genetic immunity to the medical defects found 
with interbreeding. Could this virus play some part in 
this remarkable example of nature's pragmatism?

'This is a medical mystery which may find a conclusion as 
a result of this investigation, however it does not help 
answer the question of who was responsible for Wendy 
Millard's death, nor why she died.

'To answer the second, we must uncover the first. To 
answer the first we must examine the evidence in front of 
us - reason and an intimate knowledge of the human psyche 
- to recognize those who have the means, motive and 
opportunity and then employing science to identify the 
guilty.'

Reclipping her hair in a short ponytail, Scully bent to 
read through the notes that accompanied the information 
on the virus. Frowning, she lifted the DNA film up to the 
light again.

Spreading the results of prime suspects in front of her, 
she methodically compared blood tests with DNA swabs.

After analysing the sixth test result, Scully started to 
formulate a theory. 

What if all of the men had contracted some kind of 
sexually transmitted virus that didn't present with any 
illness but whose sole purpose was to eventually alter 
DNA structure?


End of part V


PART VI

"Dr Scully I presume?" 

"Be right there Mulder," Scully said without looking up, 
absently as she tried to decipher the protein code of the 
virus she had identified

"It's not Mulder." Porter grinned as she looked across 
the bench. Scully blushed as she realised her mistake.

"Sorry, force of habit," she smiled.

Porter shook his head. "Think nothing of it.

"But I did wanted to talk to you alone."

Scully raised her eyebrows in question, inviting him to 
continue.

"Mulder's convinced me that I should talk to a doctor 
about my, er, close encounter," he stated matter-of-
factly.

"I take it he's told you his theory about this alien sex 
cult thing that you've apparently dealt with?"

Scully nodded. "Mulder and I disagree about the specifics 
of the case, but he is right about one thing. You should 
have seen a doctor before this."

"I suppose I should confess - I don't like doctors much. 
No offence," he offered.

She turned physician, scanning the man in front of her 
with a clinical eye. 

"None taken," she smiled. "Just ignore what I'm doing, 
talk to me instead. 

"Now that I've heard about the crazy things you and my 
partner used to get up to, tell me how you met." 

Porter sat patiently as she took his blood pressure and 
temperature while told her about growing up in the steel 
manufacturing city of Newcastle, north of Sydney and his 
mother's struggle to raise him after his father was 
killed in an industrial accident when he was just 14.

He had been an angry and confused young man until a minor 
run in with the police and some timely advice from the 
family priest made him realise the best way to keep his 
father alive was to honour his memory. From there he had 
returned to school becoming the first in the city to 
apply for and be accepted to Oxford.

"That's my story, pretty much," he finished.

"Do you mind if I ask you something Dana?"

"Sure, ask away," she said pulling out a syringe and 
several vials for blood tests.

"Tell me about you and Mulder"

Scully sighed, where to begin, she thought, as she probed 
for a vein on Jack's arm.

"Our relationship is somewhat..."

"...complicated, I got that."

Scully inserted the needle.

"Ouch."



The residence of Steve Thompson and Becky White
7.55pm

She would never look at a night sky the same way again 
Scully vowed as she gazed heavenward. 

The sky was a rich, inky black, untainted by light 
pollution. She'd forgotten that there were so many stars. 

Under her breath Scully rattled off constellations as she 
identified them, although they were upside down. She 
closed her eyes and inhaled the briny freshness of the 
easterly breeze and with a slight pang recalled childhood 
memories when the Scully family would go camping. Her 
father used to tell stories about ancient heroes and 
medieval explorers who navigated using the stars as their 
guide. 

Scully started as she heard her name called. She opened 
her eyes and found herself looking directly into 
Mulder's.

They stood outside the home shared by Steve Thompson - 
Thommo and his girlfriend Becky White.

Mulder smiled indulgently as he reached across to place a 
hand at the small of her back to guide her along the path 
to the front door.

It was a familiar touch, something he did often over the 
years, but somehow tonight it was different. Everything 
was different here. 

No, Scully mentally corrected herself, everything was 
right here. She smiled.

"Beautiful."

Scully turned to Mulder questioningly.

"It's a beautiful night," he whispered.

She couldn't agree more.

Porter opened the door and led them through to an 
expansive timber deck at the rear of the house; climbing 
bougainvillea and its raspberry coloured flowers framed 
the rafters while the light breeze carried the thick 
scent of jasmine from elsewhere in the garden.

"Thommo is cooking his specialty tonight - barbecue," 
grinned Porter, as they made themselves comfortable 
around a large octagonal jarrah wood table.

Steve Thompson stepped through the sliding glass doors 
carrying a large plate of meat. He waved briefly to his 
guests with barbecue tongs as he made his way to the 
grill.  

A woman carrying a tray of salads and bread rolls 
followed Thommo.

"Dana, Mulder, I'd like you to meet my better half 
Becky," he introduced.

Mulder's eyes widened in shock - the blonde at Coral C. 
Recognition flared in Becky's eyes too, but she quickly 
hid it behind a smile as she welcomed Mulder and Scully 
warmly.

Porter had joined Thommo at the barbecue. No one else 
noticed the exchange.

"Can I get you a glass of red or white wine?" she asked.

"Bring 'em both," called Thommo.

"I could use a hand," Becky appealed to Mulder.

He followed her to the kitchen.

"I could say it's nice to see you, but I ready have," 
Mulder intoned as he gathered a corkscrew and wine 
glasses from the bench.

Becky glared at him as she held a bottle of red in one 
hand and a white the other.

"Don't tell anyone, please," she hissed. "No one else 
knows about this - not even Steve.

"I promise I'll tell you everything I know about Wendy, 
but later."

Scully hadn't seen Mulder's face but her investigator's 
experience told her that her partner and this woman had 
met before.

As they returned from the kitchen, she caught Mulder's 
eye. He shook his head briefly - don't ask now.

The evening passed pleasantly, a decent amount of wine 
was consumed and a great number of tall tales were told.

Thommo was an ebullient host and he and Porter competed 
to tell the most outrageous stories.

Scully participated enthusiastically. The two Australians 
reminded her of brothers Bill and Charlie so she matched 
their good-natured banter with a carefree lightness that 
she had not felt in a very long time. 

It was a little sad though, that she couldn't remember 
when she had this much fun. 

Scully tamped down the memory of Dr Kossoff telling her 
that she ought to consider finding a wider circle of 
friends.

As the evening grew later Mulder and Becky slipped away 
from the group unnoticed. They sat on an ornamental 
garden bench just out of sight of the pavilion.

"There is something you need to understand about how 
things are on Norfolk," Becky began softly. "I grew up 
here."

She didn't look at Mulder, instead staring out at the 
garden

"Yes, we have liberal attitudes to sex but we also have a 
very strong code of behaviour. Everything is done with 
discretion. Affairs aren't flaunted and everything that 
happens - threesomes, voyeurism, BDSM - is all 
consensual."

"Did Wendy break the rules?"

Becky sighed and turned to him.

"Wendy... that's say she threw herself into the lifestyle 
here enthusiastically. She'd join us whenever the mood 
took her at Coral C's. She kept her mouth shut about 
*that* but she wasn't very smart when it came to her 
affairs."

"Jealous husband or jealous wife?"

Becky shrugged. "All I know is what Wendy told me - that 
she and her latest lover Rob argued a lot and that it was 
beginning to get physical. Rob's daughter Cherie 
instantly took a dislike to her but Wendy was trying hard 
to win her over."

"Have you spoken to anyone about this, to Thommo, Jack or 
his partner Murray?"

"No, Agent Mulder, I can't. Like I said before, I never 
talk to Steve about what I do or who I meet and he's 
never asked. We both know his job would be in jeopardy if 
the mainland ever found out what I did with the 
McKenzies. 

"I've never told Steve that I knew Wendy as more than 
just someone I saw around the island."

Becky took Mulder's hand and looked him directly in the 
eye. Unshed tears glittered in the dimness of the starlit 
garden.

"I swear to you, Steve and me had nothing to do with 
Wendy's death and we don't know who killed her. I've told 
you everything I know."

Mulder nodded as he processed the information, only 
peripherally aware at first of the prickling across the 
back of his hand and wrist.

"Promise me Agent Mulder," she urged.

Becky continued to gently stroke his arm. The tingling 
hit his groin and his cock twitched in response. Mulder's 
arms and legs felt heavy and his breathing became 
shallow. 

He mustered the rising panic into action as Becky's 
stroke grew bolder, her fingertips travelled up to his 
bicep when he stilled her hand.

She tried to pull her hand away, but Mulder was stronger. 
His eyes bore into hers as his hand remained clamped over 
hers.

"Enough," he murmured. "That's enough."

Porter observed the last part of the exchange from a 
discreet distance away as he took a full drag from his 
cigarette. 

They sat closely, heads bowed conspiratorially and Porter 
certainly didn't miss the way Becky's arm stroked 
Mulder's.

He shook his head briefly.  'I sure hope you know what 
you're getting to mate,' he mused.

After stubbing out the butt, Porter turned to walk back 
to the house. He saw Scully step down from the deck to 
the backyard towards him.

"Have you seen Mulder?" she asked, looking past him into 
the darkened garden.

"We should get going if we're going to get a good start 
in the morning."

Jack reacted quickly, placing his arm across Scully's 
shoulder to turn her around and lead her back to the 
house.

"Yep. Just saw him. He's coming."

****
Becky and Thommo smiled and waved as their guests left 
for the evening.

He kissed her on the cheek softly and again softly, 
closer to her mouth. On the third try, their lips met.

"I'm just going to tidy up outside, then why don't we go 
to bed," he hummed into her ear.

Becky grinned. "I'll see you there, lover."

As Thommo moved out of sight, Becky reached for the phone 
in the hall.

Rapidly dialling a series of numbers, she paused as she 
waited for the other line to pick up.

"Murray? I can't speak for long, but they've gone," she 
whispered urgently.

"So, what did you find out?" he said, matching her tone.

"I tried him tonight. He's particularly vulnerable, but I 
really couldn't tell so much about her, she's quite self-
contained. I don't know about them together though, 
they're close, but not lovers as we thought.

"She seemed to be particularly relaxed in male company 
but I think she'll be put off by the direct approach, so 
tell Mike will you? If she's going to be reached, it will 
have to be indirectly."

"Good work. Keep them distracted for a little while 
longer. I'm working on something that will get them off 
the island for good."

*****

"So that's the theory anyway," explained Scully.

"I don't know if I can narrow down a suspect for Wendy's 
murder from the evidence I've found, but it may begin to 
explain an additional motive as well as the symptoms Jack 
said he experienced.

"The only problem is that we won't be able to get the 
pathology reports back for a few days."

She put her hairbrush down and looked at Mulder through 
the reflection in the mirror. He was lying on her bed 
propped up on his elbow.

"Jack said you were investigating a lead this afternoon. 
Find out anything?"

Mulder shrugged awkwardly.

"Not really. I spoke to someone at the TV station who 
knew Wendy and was pointed to the boyfriend as a 
potential suspect," he yawned rolling onto his back. 

"But that's hardly a surprise. He's already been 
questioned but I'm going to talk to him myself in the 
morning."

He stretched out an arm across the bed to snare the 
remote for the TV. The Wasp Woman opening credits rolled.

"Was it Becky?" Scully tried to keep her voice neutral 
but even to her own ears it sounded like an accusation. 

It was not her imagination that observed the flash of 
recognition when Mulder and Becky were introduced and she 
knew they had disappeared for a time during the evening.

Scully moved to the other side of the bed and lay down 
beside her partner.

"Hmmm?"

"That you spoke to. At the TV station."

"Becky? No, it was a woman called Summer."

Mulder avoided looking at his partner by manufacturing a 
yawn. Conversation over. 

It wasn't exactly a lie and Mulder justified it by 
telling himself that the use of Becky's 'professional' 
name wasn't breaking a confidence nor was it hampering 
the investigation.

He could tell Scully wasn't convinced even without 
looking at her. Skepticism simply radiated from her like 
body heat.

Mulder was irritated that she hadn't accepted his word, 
although the irony of the misplaced emotion wasn't lost 
on him. 

It was irrational to keep the truth from her, this need 
to mete out only bits and pieces on information whenever 
they were on a case.

But was the only thing he could control about their 
relationship and even then he felt he had given Scully 
far too much already.

End part VI

PART VII

Captain William Mulder, known by his company as The Fox, 
dismounted from his sable coloured horse and led it down 
to the cool green canopy of trees the lined the brook.

He'd spent all morning on the hunt for a murderer, a 
convict who had killed and horribly mutilated a guard. 
Mulder had combed his sector thoroughly, but there was no 
evidence to be had that the escapee had even come this 
way.

His assignment had been a waste of time and he had told 
his colonel that, but the man would not be persuaded to 
let him back performing his other duties.

As Mulder drew closer to the water he heard a splash that 
was too loud to be caused by anything other than a 
person.

Swiftly tying his mount to a tree, he unclipped his 
pistol from his belt. He also felt for his dagger.

Moving stealthily towards the sound, keeping to the 
shrubs and overhanding branches, he approached the pool.

To his surprise a naked woman glided through the water, 
her silky blonde hair shimmered like a gold thread in the 
wake behind her. 

It was the governor's mistress, a woman who had been sent 
to the colonies as a harlot and who had now parlayed her 
skills into a comfortable life. 

He envied the governor.

He sensed that she noticed his presence and was 
continuing her display for his benefit. He put his pistol 
back in its holster.

"What are you doing here," asked the voice behind him 
coolly.

Mulder reacted but not quickly enough. The petite flame 
haired woman on her own was no match for his size and 
strength but the small pistol aimed at his chest equalled 
the odds.

"I could say I was enjoying the view but I fear that 
would earn me a musket ball to the shoulder... or some 
other place," he replied.

There was a slight twitch of amusement in her lips but 
the woman straightened the pistol to let him know that 
she had not let her guard down.

"It is your good fortune that your fears are unfounded. 
For today at least," she replied. "What brings you here 
captain?"

His amusement evaporated.

"A convict has escaped and a detachment has been sent to 
hunt him down," he spoke gravely. "He is considered 
violent."

He watched as the woman absorbed the information. It 
seems she too had not been long out of the water. She was 
dressed in a plain cream cotton shift that matched the 
complexion of her skin. The opening dipped across her 
breasts. Where the wet ends of her hair met the fabric 
was transparent.

Her soft skin was not reddened or weather-beaten as other 
female convicts who had been assigned fieldwork. She 
appeared to have been chosen to serve as part of the 
governor's domestic staff. 

"Has there been a sighting near here?" she asked.

Mulder shook his head. "There has not but it is likely 
that he will be on the move."

Weighing the risks, the woman nodded her head.

"Then you should escort us back to the compound," she 
replied.

He nodded, mentally applauding her judgement and the 
calmness with which she assessed the situation.

"Katie? Katie, who is this man?" It was the mistress who 
was now more or less clothed who joined them. Her fussy 
apple green dress was slashed dangerously low across her 
decollete.

"Mistress, this is Captain..." She raised her eyebrows to 
the man.

"Captain Mulder, mistress, at your service."

Rebecca smile coquettishly, she liked the look of the 
officer.

"He has come to escort us back," Katie answered. 
"Apparently there is an escaped convict."

The blonde pouted. "I am sure we are perfectly safe 
here."

"Be that as it may, it would be wiser to return now."

The woman shrugged. It was useless to argue with Katie 
when she had made up her mind. She turned her attention 
to the captain.

"Will you help me mount?" she appealed, stroking her hand 
along his arm.

Her nipples were hard against his arm and the gentle 
rocking motion was arousing him further when Mulder 
awoke.

He savoured the sensation a few moments as sleep and the 
memory of the dream receded. 

Opening his eyes, he familiarised himself with his 
location - a double bed, his arm across Scully's T-shirt-
clad chest, a morning erection that was more substantial 
than usual at her back.

'No good, this is no good', Mulder thought to himself as 
he slipped out of bed hurriedly, watching his partner for 
signs of wakefulness. 

This is what he wanted to avoid, one more chink in 
armour, another breach in the wall that kept he and 
Scully separate, necessarily apart.

Mulder walked to the shower.




The Police Station
Norfolk Island
November 4
9.05am

"You look like shit," said Porter amiably as he watched 
Mulder rub darkened eyes. He walked to the coffee 
percolator and poured his friend a generous amount of the 
black liquid.

Mulder sneered at the comment but accepted the coffee 
anyway. He snagged a file from the pile to his left and 
half-heartedly examined the notes from the interview 
conducted with Rob Davenport, Wendy's last boyfriend.

He admitted that he and Wendy argued and the alibi for 
the night of the murder was not exactly watertight.

Rob had been seen drinking at the sports club until 10 
and he was seen driving towards home a little after 
10.30pm. He said he was so drunk he staggered into bed, 
alone and didn't awaken until Steve arrived to give him 
the news of Wendy's death.

"I want to talk to Rob again. He was never asked if he 
knew anything about Wendy's 'extracurricular' activities 
at Coral C - I'd like to know if he did," intoned Mulder, 
not looking up from the notes he was making.

"Sure. Did Becky shed any light? What's Dana's take on 
all this?"

Mulder looked up at the use of his partner's first name 
and considered the man in front of him.

"I saw you two in the garden last night." Porter answered 
the unasked question.

"Scully's back at the hospital this morning," Mulder 
shrugged ignoring the first part of the inquiry.

"She and the local doc are going back over Wendy's cause 
of death. Also she seems curious about the virus she 
found in the suspect DNA samples and in Wendy... and in 
you, apparently.

Mulder watched as Porter nodded, taking in the 
information. And then: "Any luck finding the girl?"

Porter straightened but kept his arms folded.

"Janine Gardener, 23, teachers's aid. Left for Sydney a 
week ago to finish her teaching degree. Clean criminal 
history, no known connection to Wendy," he responded 
swiftly.

Mulder didn't respond.

Porter sighed. "We still don't know what the virus is. I 
feel fine, the hospital hasn't reported any epidemic. 
Whatever this virus is, it's not an illness and there's 
no ongoing effects."

Mulder tapped the end of the pen on the desk and nodded 
slowly.

"Since you're feeling so good, you can drive."


Norfolk Base Hospital


Scully closed her eyes for a moment to give them a rest 
from the autopsy notes and photographs in front of her.

Despite running through the analysis from the mainland 
lab, she found herself drifted back to breakfast with 
Mulder.

Scully had seen Mulder in moods many times before. This 
morning over bacon and eggs she recognised classic Mulder 
mood number three: 'I know something that I don't want 
you to know'. 

That, of course, was opposed to the shit-eating grin of a 
mood number four: 'I know something you don't know and I 
can't wait to tell you'.

Mood number three was the prelude to the ditch, something 
which with Scully was depressingly familiar over the 
years. It usually resulted in him taking dangerous risks, 
putting himself and her, in danger.

Again, she could only guess what her partner was keeping 
from her. Certainly it was something to do with this 
woman, Summer, and his meeting at the TV station.

"Penny for your thoughts," a voice whispered softly at 
her ear.

Scully jumped and turned to the grinning face of Dr 
Schofield.

She took a deep breath and reflexively placed her hand on 
her chest, before indulging in a rueful half smile.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were that deep in 
thought," he laughed.

"No... I'm mean that's all right, I was just in a 
daydream, that's all."

It took Scully a moment to realise that Dr Schofield had 
a hold of her other hand and was rubbing it. She pulled 
it away and immediately felt the prickling that caused 
goosebumps across her arms and across to her belly 
subside somewhat.

"What were you thinking?" he asked lightly but his mood 
had sobered, matching Scully's as he watched her reach 
for Wendy's autopsy results.

"There was signs of strangulation before she was 
stabbed."

Silence reigned for a minute. The sounds of the air 
conditioning and the rattle of a passing trolley seemed 
unnaturally loud.

Dr Schofield frowned.

"The cause of death was blood loss from multiple stab 
wounds."

Scully nodded, "So the question is, why try to strangle 
her too?"

There was silence from her colleague. In a beat, Scully 
answered her own question.

"Because there was more than one person present at her 
death."

Dr Schofield's eyes widened further.

"You see, it makes sense," rushed Scully, no longer 
focussed on Schofield, her attention now on the mortuary 
photographs, a theory beginning to coalesce.

"There were at least two people present at her death. The 
strangulation marks were made pre-mortem because the 
bruising around the stab wounds suggests that there was 
blood circulating at the time she was cut.

"Also, despite the fact that there were a large number of 
burst blood vessels around the eyes there was no foaming 
around the mouth or fluid in the lungs consistent with 
death by asphyxiation."

Dr Schofield nodded, leafing through some of the pages of 
the report.

"It makes sense, but how does that bring you closer to 
the killer?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, but it means we have to change the profile 
and possibly examine additional motives for the killers," 
she suggested. 

"According to the AFP report, everyone was working under 
the assumption that it was just one perpetrator involved, 
most likely a man because Wendy was moved from the 
location where she was killed to where she was found at 
Cock Pit Falls.

"The whole investigation may need to be reframed."

"Dr Scully, I don't understand what that has to do with 
the virus mutations you were so interested in yesterday. 
I can't see a connection."

"I was primarily interested in those because I thought... 
we all thought, that Wendy's cause of death was straight 
forward - but the marks around the neck change things 
completely.

"There may not be a connection at all, although I've 
arranged for blood tests for someone who has been on the 
island recently who believes they may have been infected.

"What if the virus we've discovered is not benign and has 
some psychotropic effect over a period of time..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, do you have any idea how crazy that 
sounds?"

The incredulous tone from Schofield pulled Scully up 
short.  She blinked as she realised that this wasn't 
Mulder she was talking to, the man who encourages her 
crazy ideas when nothing else really makes sense.

She had borne witness to enough of Mulder's wild theories 
to not dismiss them lightly. 

Scully still had problems with *extreme* possibility, but 
exploring 'slightly out there' possibilities was 
beginning to suit her well.

Dr Schofield folded his arms. He was not convinced.

"I think it's a waste of time. The virus has no 
deleterious effect. How can it when no other symptoms 
have emerged and as you yourself noted, so many people 
appear to have it?"

"I don't know," conceded Scully. "But I have learned over 
the years as an investigator to not dismiss anything out 
of hand."

"Well... good luck with that I suppose." Schofield shook 
his head and moved to the door.

"Oh by the way, I came here to do this morning was to 
invite you, your partner and Jack to a party on Saturday. 
Locals and invited guests only."

He nodded his head toward a flyer on the bench, 
'Convicts And Colonials 
Saturday from 8.30pm to dawn
Food, drink, music and dancing under the stars
Costumes Available from Faerie Realm, Harbour Road'



The offices of Deep Blue Game Fishing Charters
Harbour Road
10.45am

The buzz and clack of the old wall mounted fan provided 
only a faint breath of relief from the morning sun 
heating the tin shed which housed Rob Davenport's fishing 
charter business.

Mulder had abandoned the suit but couldn't quite bring 
himself to follow Jack's lead and wear a polo neck shirt 
while on duty. Mulder's concession to the warm, sub-
tropical spring day was to wear a business shirt without 
the tie and with sleeves rolled to the elbows.

Davenport was dressed more casually still, a pair of dark 
blue board shorts and a patterned singlet were filled out 
by his surfer's physique. He was a handsome man in a 
rugged outdoors way, deeply tanned with sun bleached 
hair. He was also full of pent-up energy, Mulder noticed. 
He had difficulty remaining still in his seat, bouncing 
his left leg at a jackhammer pace on the cement floor. 

Conscious of the poor presentation he was making he took 
a deep breath, stilled his leg and turned to Mulder.

"I don't know what I can tell you that I already haven't 
told him and the other one," said Davenport, nodding to 
Porter. He sighed and closed his eyes, rattling off the 
answers to the questions he'd been asked a dozen times or 
more in the past six weeks.

"Yes, Wendy and I were together on the night she was 
murdered. But I left her about 7.30pm. No, she didn't 
come back to the house. No, I didn't go after her. Yes, I 
went to the sports club. Yes, I got shit-faced drunk. Yes 
we always argued about my bitch daughter. Yes, I also 
yelled with my daughter that night. No, I did not murder 
Wendy. I heard about her death the same time everyone 
else did."

Davenport opened his eyes and looked directly at Mulder. 

"Anything else you want to know?"

The intensity of the stare was matched. Mulder didn't 
speak immediately, allowing a good few seconds to pass, 
noting with some satisfaction that Davenport's bravado 
wavered some before he broke off eye contact.

"What do you know about what happens at the Coral C?" 
Mulder asked softly.

The question was unexpected. Davenport frowned.

"They make documentaries, Shaun and Clover McKenzie 
occasionally charter my boat for some of their 
documentaries. You know, underwater footage of coral, 
sharks, dolphins, turtles."

"Wendy accompany the crew on these trips?"

"Not really, maybe occasionally, she had a job of her own 
you know."

"Did she ever tell you that she wanted to get back into 
acting?"

"Acting? Like Hollywood?" Davenport shook his head in 
disbelief. "Wendy's never been an actress."

Mulder tapped his case file.

"No, not like Hollywood, I suppose, but before she left 
the US she did spend a few months working as an actress."

Davenport leaned back on his chair and folded his arms, 
looking more confident than at any other time during the 
interview.

"That's crazy. If she wanted to be an actress, she didn't 
say nothing to me about it. Anyway, why would anyone come 
to Norfolk Island to be actress?"


****

"Well it tells me that people are very good at keeping 
secrets from one another on this island," said Mulder as 
he and Jack reached the car.

"It seems everyone involved in the McKenzies' second line 
of business has kept their mouths shut about it."

Porter adjusted his sunglasses and put the car into gear.

"I find it hard to believe that no one knows what's going 
on there considering how sexually charged this place is," 
he mused.

"Obviously the talent is being paid well enough to keep 
it a secret and the titles don't seem to be finding their 
way back to this part of the southern hemisphere from 
what we know - most porn in Australia is either home 
grown or imported from the US or Europe. 

"Like I told you, Norfolk Island has never cropped up on 
the radar as skinflick central. 

"The only thing I can think of is the final editing and 
distribution is being done elsewhere and the island is 
simply a location. Raw footage could easily make it back 
to either Australia or New Zealand on the international 
flights."

"Made even easier if you already have customs clearance, 
thanks to an insider," agreed Mulder.

"Which brings us back to exactly where we started," 
Porter sighed.

"One victim, an island full of suspects, multiple motives 
and nothing to tie anyone to the crime. There has to be a 
motive we're not seeing. I want to contact Sydney and get 
more information on vice rings.

"We also have the chance to observe everyone more or less 
in the one place at Saturday's Convicts and Colonials 
party. It will be interesting to see who spends time with 
who."

Mulder tongued a sunflower seed and stared at the passing 
scenery. 

"Suspects who hide in plain sight... Hey Jack, after the 
interview with Rabs, drop me at the Coral C, I want to 
see if I can talk my way into getting a hold of some of 
the McKenzies' coming attractions."

Porter glanced at him and chuckled. "Purely for official 
business, of course."

"If they're any good I might buy shares," Mulder grinned.



Deep Blue Fishing Charters
12.15pm

"Calm down Rob," demanded Sylvie.

"No I won't fucking calm down, we're supposed to be in 
this together and I have to hear from some Yank cop that 
Wendy was... doing God knows what with you and the others 
at the Coral C," Davenport dragged the phone's extension 
cord around the boat shed.

"I mean it's one thing if you and she want to do that 
kind of shit but to film it? My God, you're sick woman 
Sylvie."

Anger spread down the phone line. Sylvie collected her 
thoughts and her temper.

"Look, I had no idea she was going to have such a violent 
reaction - that's never happened before. All the other 
times it was fine. I've told you before I thought she was 
dead after the convulsions."

"I want a meeting with the others. I want something done 
about the Americans and Jack Porter. Now dammit!"

Davenport slammed the receiver and rubbed his face 
willing himself to calm down in order to face the 
afternoon charter passengers who had just arrived.


End of part VII



PART VIII

Emily Bay
2.35pm

Emily Bay was the safest of Norfolk Island's beaches. 

Originally Turtle Bay but renamed for the Governor's 
wife, the inlet was almost circular in shape and 
protected from large ocean waves by a rocky reef that 
stretched along this side of the island. It  had been 
regularly used since settlement. And today Scully had it 
all to herself.

She had re-read the tourist literature. Until the early 
20th century the bay's primary purpose was to supply 
seawater for the salt distillation - an operation vital 
for curing and preserving meat. 

The disused structure lay 400 yards from the nearest 
convict ruins in the village of Kingston, Norfolk 
Island's original settlement and officially its capital. 
The Governor's House built in the Regency style of the 
1820s, had been magnificently restored and worked as the 
island's seat of Government. 

Despite the hard work of the islanders and Australian 
Federal Government's funding for restoration projects, 
only a quarter of the original buildings had been 
restored, such as the original customs house, now museum 
and the doctor's house, which had been converted into 
golf club.

Most of the other buildings, including the jail and the 
soldiers' barracks, which lined the waterfront next to 
Emily Bay, were mere sandstone shells.

Scully felt a twinge of guilt as she lay her towel on the 
sand and furtively glanced back up the road to the ruins 
of Kingston and Governor's House beyond.

There was still a good three hours of day light in which 
she could research infectious agents, sexually 
transmitted viruses and Wendy's medical history but here 
she was, in a turquoise bikini, an impulse purchase from 
one of Burnt Pine's stores, walking towards to the clear 
blue water.

Scully needed time to think through her viral infection 
theory and try and make sense of what appeared to be a 
mutation. She also needed to get away from Dr Schofield. 
There was something about him she didn't like. 

He was professional and courteous but whenever he stood 
close, her investigator's instinct started sparking on a 
subconscious level. 

Although not particularly tall, he did have a strong 
physical bearing. Perhaps that was it. Although well 
trained, Scully knew that being unarmed against a man 
several inches taller and a few stone heavier put her at 
a disadvantage.

She thought about all the other times she's been put at a 
disadvantage and had to rely on her partner for help. 
That brought her thoughts full circle. Walking towards 
the clear blue water she willed herself not to think of 
Mulder at all.

Scully's stomach clenched as the cool water reached her 
midriff. From there she took long, powerful strokes 
towards the pontoon anchored in the middle of the bay.

Mike watched her, hidden the shadow of the trees that 
stood a few metres away from the waterline. Dana Scully 
was magnificent, more so than her conservative work 
clothing would suggest. She was well-toned but with the 
physique of a woman, not a girl. He revelled for a moment 
in the throbbing arousal she stirred in him.

He had received a call from Sylvie. It was time to call a 
meeting. Rob was getting twitchy after being interviewed 
by Agent Mulder and his questions about Coral C. And he 
wasn't happy to learn about Agent Scully's mutating virus 
theories either.

While it started to explain a lot of things about Wendy's 
death, they were disturbing on a number of different 
levels and everyone had the right to know what they were 
up against. 

Something had to be done about Porter, Mulder and Scully 
soon. 

After one last look at the woman swimming towards the 
pontoon, Mike returned to his car and drove back to town. 
Murray had called some favours in, sources who were only 
too happy to share the gossip about the FBI agents and 
their run ins with authority and their lukewarm 
reputation within the Bureau.


*****

Her stomach knotted as she watched them lean intimately 
into one another, their hands clasped. She turned away 
from the door and walked swiftly down the hallway knowing 
that she had not been seen.

She had news to tell Mulder. Important information he had 
been seeking but then this woman came giving him words he 
wanted to hear and it had turned his head. 

Impatiently she brushed the tears and ran a tired hand 
through her red hair. Twin frissions of shame and fear overwhelmed 
her. 

Embarrassment that she had allowed her growing feelings 
of attraction towards him turn to jealousy, humiliation 
that she felt intimidated in the presence of his 
'chickadee'.

Katie exited the side door and stopped, resting her cheek 
against the smooth stone of the Governor's House.

A small boy about the age of 12 emerged from the gloom of 
a late afternoon drizzle.

"You there," she called. "I need you to run an errand."

The boy nodded and held out his hand; profiteering 
techniques were learned early in the colony. He was 
rewarded with a coin.

"Do you know Captain Mulder?"

Again the boy nodded.

"Tell him Katherine has important news and she wishes to 
meet him at Bloody Bridge at his earliest convenience. Be 
discreet."

She ignored his knowing leer and watched him enter the 
building. She turned to run towards the stone bridge that 
lay to the east of the settlement.

The drizzle turned into rain and Katie sheltered under 
one of the bridge's supporting arches. She was soaked 
through. Shivering slightly, she clutched her grey 
woollen shawl around her tightly and closed her eyes.

She opened them again with a start. The late afternoon 
had turned into early evening. William placed a hand on 
her arm and rubbed it, bring warmth with his touch.

"It's not wise that we're seen together Katie." 

He looked at her tenderly and Katie swallowed the desire 
to touch the face and caress the lips that were near 
hers. Reading her eyes, he obliged by moving his body 
against hers, whispering in her ear, "We are being 
watched."

She allowed herself to be completely aware of him as a 
man. Her nipples hardened and arousal settled at her 
core. She put her arms around his back and felt evidence 
of his attraction to her.

"So we should make this assignation look convincing," he 
said kissing her neck. "Talk to me Katie, why am I here?"

Katie swallowed and collected her thoughts.

"I've overheard that the man you've been seeking has a 
hideout, a cave somewhere in the peak. They say it is 
hard to find without help."

William pulled back slightly and frowned at her. "Who 
told you this?"

"As I said, I overheard it. I was cleaning the anteroom 
Colonel Spender's quarters when he and his sergeant 
entered," Katie's voice was swift and urgent. "They 
didn't know I was there.

"They're planning a mutiny against the governor. Spender 
arranged for Hawkins' escape to allow him time to win 
over some of the worst brigands. I think other officers 
are involved too. That's why the patrols come back with 
nothing, some of them have been meeting in secret."

William looked at her thoughtfully and saw her 
earnestness.

"Why have you not gone to the governor yourself?"

"I would but for his mistress - she's been keeping 
company with Spender too."

The hands which had warmed her a second ago gripped tight 
and pulled her out of the embrace.

"No. That cannot be true."

Katie ignored the pins and needles now coursing to her 
fingers and looked at him directly, her voice firm.

"I saw her myself today Captain, leaving his chambers 
before dawn."

William released her swiftly, shoving her against the 
wall. 

"I don't believe it Katie, I know this woman."

"Be that as it may, but she has been keeping secrets from 
you."

He stepped back out from the shelter of the arch, away 
from her. "Jealousy has affected your judgement." 

Kate's cheeks flamed as she followed him out into the 
rain. She called to his retreating back.

"It comes down to a matter of trust, I guess it always 
has."


******

Coin-sized drops of cold water landed on Scully's back 
bringing her out of a dream.

"You'll burn," advised Porter. "The sun's more fierce 
here."

Scully mustered the energy to open her eyes and found 
herself looking into a pair of intense blue ones. Jack 
was treading water, resting one arm effortlessly on the 
edge of the pontoon.

"I don't care," Scully murmured. "Especially considering 
where I spent the summer."

Porter looked for an explanation. Despite the 80-degree 
temperature Scully shivered momentarily shaking off the 
memory of Antarctic snow and cryo chambers.

"Doesn't matter - long story," she dismissed.

To her relief Porter too seemed happy to leave it at 
that.

"Where's Mulder?" 

This time Scully was fully awake. She shifted to sit 
upright and enjoyed the contrast of warm sun at her back 
and the cool water as her legs dangled in the water. Jack 
pulled himself up joined her on the edge of the pontoon. 

Scully found herself watching the water drops fall from 
his shoulders, down his chest and shimmer briefly off his 
black Speedos but quickly pulled her attention back up 
when Porter spoke.

"We finished interviewing Davenport, his daughter and 
Warren. We didn't turn up anything new.

"Mulder was going to review case notes again and get a 
start on the report."

Scully raised an eyebrow. "That's got to be a first," she 
smirked.

"This case must really be bugging him, Mulder's not one 
for volunteering to the do the paperwork."

Silence sat between them comfortably for several minutes.

"What was Mulder like in college?"

Jack tried to study her mood; Scully didn't give much 
away. She turned her slightly pink face out to sea.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Mulder and I have been partners for six years, there are 
times I feel like I know him better than I know myself. 
Other times, he's a complete stranger to me.

"And this is one of those times?"

Scully didn't answer directly.

"Mulder's always been passionate, brooding, intense, 
brilliant... especially about his work but I wondered 
whether there was a time in his life where he... I don't 
know... had any joy in his life."

Porter answered her question as honestly as he could.

"Joy? Impossible to say."

Scully turned to him, her face serious.

"Oh, don't misunderstand me, Mulder and I had fun, a lot 
of laughs - but joy is another creature altogether. Joy 
is self-determined.

"I do know his parents' divorce and his sister's 
disappearance cut deep, though."

"How?"

"Because he never talked about it to anyone."

Scully nodded and turned contemplate the hypnotically 
rhythmic roll of the small waves churning white over the 
coral breakwater.

"Can I ask you a question?" Porter asked gently.

"Hmmm?" Scully turned towards him.

He leaned in for a breath of a kiss. Scully didn't pull 
away. Emboldened Porter intensified the contact, moving 
softly, sweetly over her salt tinged lips.

Tentatively she returned the kiss, savouring the 
sensation, opening her mouth to his. Trembling awareness 
of him travelled across her body and sank lower.

She was slightly breathless as the kiss ended.

"What did you want to ask?" she breathed.

"You've told me everything I needed to know."


End of part VIII

PART XI

Bloody Bridge Road
5.15pm

The shock of foot meeting pavement was a pleasurable, 
primal feeling for Mulder. It was strong, regular and 
tangible. He could concentrate on his heart rate and 
breathing.

It was one of the few times he could exist without 
thinking. Not even sleep could give him that kind of 
release. 

It was an apt metaphor for his life really. Just keep on 
running - either towards the truth or away from those who 
want to end that search.

His dreams were becoming more vivid and when they turn 
into fantasies of his partner doing wonderful, 
unspeakable things to him, it's time to run, put some 
distance between them that makes their professional 
partnership one of the longest running and most 
successful in the Bureau.

It also didn't help that he'd just watched 12 of the 15 
videotapes from Coral C.

Each smack of shoe on tarmac was an admonishment. 

Save the sex for the anonymous models in his videos and 
magazines. Save the sex for Diana because it was easy, 
safe. Scully was not easy and not safe - his quest, their 
work were not easy, not safe.

He wanted Scully, all of Scully - the investigator, the 
doctor, the skeptic, the friend, the woman, the lover - 
but he wanted too much. He tamped down those feelings.

As Mulder followed the curve of the road and its slight 
incline, he felt a light shove on his right shoulder.

"You're it," Becky called before putting on an extra 
spurt of speed to move ahead of him.

She turned her pony-tailed head to see if he was trying 
to catch up. He wasn't, he kept his pace while frowning 
curiously, so she laughed at him.

"C'mon old man!"

That stirred Mulder's competitive drive and he added to 
his pace. This was a race.

Becky laughed in delight as she found Mulder catching up 
to her with each of his long athletic strides. She veered 
off the road, climbing a grassy knoll off to the left of 
the pavement.

Her unexpected detour took Mulder by surprise for a 
moment, but rapidly he had matched her direction. Becky 
had cleared the top of the rise as Mulder reached it.  He 
stopped.

"What the hell are you doing?" he yelled.

"Catch me," she called back.

Mulder shook his head and against his better judgement, 
headed down the grass towards the line of trees that 
followed the line of a creek.

He followed after her at full throttle. Just as his lungs 
were about to burst he caught up with her.

Becky stumbled on the uneven grass. Mulder dropped to her 
side concerned that she may have injured herself.

But the uneven breathing and the broken sounds were that 
of laughter bubbling to the surface.

"That felt great," she gasped as she rolled up on to her 
knees.

"You're a strange girl," Mulder puffed in response.

Before he knew it, her hands were on him and rubbing his 
shoulders underneath the sleeveless shirt he had worn to 
go jogging. The pins and needles started to radiate from 
where her fingers touched skin.

The constriction in his chest came on rapidly, 
exacerbated by the run.

"What are you doing?" he gasped.

"Shhhh, just relax Mulder."

Becky moved forward and kissed him softly full on the 
lips. He found himself unable to move. The kiss was 
light, Mulder exhaled, unaware that he'd been holding his 
breath.

She brought both hands to his face and kissed him more 
fully, her tongue slid between his teeth and roughly 
explored his mouth.

She felt him stiffen as he tried to resist. She moved her 
hands to the hem of his shirt and ran her finger nails up 
the length of his bare chest.

He groaned as the sensation went straight to his cock. 
Becky pushed him on to his back and straddled him. 
Fingers then caressed the bulge in his shorts and she 
smiled knowingly.

"It's all right. I want you; you want me. There's nothing 
wrong with that Mulder," she kissed him on the temple.

"Fox." A roll of her tongue on his ear.

"Mulder." Another kiss on the lips.

Mulder was fully erect, aided by the heat he could feel 
between her legs.

"There is no right, no wrong," she went on as she removed 
her tank top. Becky went braless. 

"All that matters is how we feel. What are you feeling 
Mulder?"

Mulder felt intoxicated as she watched her fingers leave 
his chest and slowly work their way across her thighs, 
her belly and up to her breasts where her fingernails 
scored lightly over her nipples that budded rose.

He closed he eyes, mind and body at war. 

The conscious mind was losing the fight against the 
sharp, almost painful thrumming of his nerve endings that 
seemed to cover him from head to foot and the tightness 
in his chest that refused to allow him enough oxygen to 
stop his head swimming.

Half-heartedly straining away from her but hands he had 
intended to use to shove her away from him were rising 
higher on her thigh.

Becky sighed her approval and rubbed herself against his 
crotch.

"Look at me Mulder," demanded Becky. Mulder responded, 
his eyes unfocussed she leaned forward, placing her 
breasts in front of his lips. Mulder reacted 
automatically licking and sucking each breast in turn.

He was only dimly aware that she'd pulled his shorts and 
hers down to the knee. And in one swift moment she had 
impaled him.

"Oh God...Scully...," he pleaded.

Becky tightened herself around him and rocked her hips. 
Mulder was cut adrift, unable to fight the current of 
pleasure in which each synapse fired simultaneously.

Instinct took over and so did his natural aggression. 
Hands rubbed determinedly across the bare skin of her 
back before reaching her shoulders. Mulder shoved her 
back, concentrating the sensation around his cock.

Becky's eyes sparkled with lust as well as satisfaction 
as she observed how aroused her lover had become. She 
felt his hands scrape down her chest and settle between 
her legs. Dear God the man was magnificent, she reflected 
as each flick of her clit brought her closer to her own 
orgasm.

She rode him harder and wasn't surprised that it was his 
partner's name the man cried out in climax.



 
When Mulder was a boy, he wanted to be an astronaut and 
feel zero gravity for himself. 

He would work hard to swing as high as he could on the 
park swing and as soon as he reached the apex of the arc 
he would let go of the chain and begin to feel himself 
float for a millisecond or two before gravity exerted its 
rightful influence.

It was the same now, except the free fall seemed longer. 

After gulping down several deep breaths Mulder willed his 
head to stop spinning. For a second he wondered whether 
he'd fallen off the swing and had winded himself, as he 
sometimes had done as a kid.

Awareness came swiftly. 

He had been jogging. 

There was Becky, there was Scully, there was....  oh 
fuck.


*******

Bligh's Steak and Seafood Restaurant
7.52pm

Porter spotted the tension between them immediately. None 
of the easy camaraderie or casual affection he'd observed 
earlier in the week was evident.

Scully sat straight and stiff in her chair and making a 
show of looking through the window at the night sky. 
Mulder's shoulders slumped and appeared to find the 
tablecloth thread count fascinating.

Yeah, he thought. This is going to be fun. Porter 
plastered a goofy grin on his face and approached the 
table.

"Sorry I'm late, who died?"

Mulder and Scully started at him blankly. Mulder was the 
first to recover.

"No new victim, just a long frustrating day," he said. 
Scully nodded in agreement. 

A quip about Mulder's afternoon research hovered around 
Porter's lips and died. He decided to leave the matter at 
that, especially as he had news of his own.

"We've discovered the identity of one of Millard's co-
stars. It's Rebecca White. I got off the phone to the 
vice squad on the mainland. They made the ID this 
afternoon"

"Steve Thompson's girlfriend?" asked Scully 
incredulously.

Porter nodded, keeping his eyes on Mulder.

She absorbed the information and started to speculate out 
loud.

"Coral C produces pornographic movies? Well, that's a new 
lead to investigate right there. We could be wrong about 
the perp being a local. What if it was organised crime?

"Someone could slip in and out relatively easily. They 
don't even need to fly in. They could have charted a 
boat, stage the crime to give us conflicting evidence, 
sail on to New Caledonia, Vanuatu or Fiji. Maybe even 
back to Australia, up to Cairns and fly from an 
international air..."

Scully stopped when she realised that no one was 
brainstorming with her. "What the hell's going on?"

"I've already checked out that connection," answered 
Mulder quietly. "The murderer is definitely someone on 
the island."

He faced his partner.

"I became aware of Becky's moonlighting yesterday."

Scully chuffed and folded her arms.

"Let me guess. Her stage name is Summer."

Mulder nodded.

"I don't believe this," Scully quietly seethed. "Mulder, 
why didn't you tell me last night when I asked you?"

"Because she asked me in order to protect her boyfriend."

"You read the background - Thompson was one of Wendy's 
former lovers and then he learns that his girlfriend and 
his ex are making porn together..."

Mulder interrupted. "I'm fully convinced that the little 
blue movie racket has nothing to do with the reason why 
Wendy was killed."

"How can you say that?" Scully refused to hide her 
annoyance or frustration. "That her death was a crime of 
passion makes even more sense now."

Mulder gritted his teeth to keep his voice soft.

"Listen to yourself Scully, there's something else going 
on here. You uncovered the evidence of a sexually 
transmitted virus which is altering the DNA of people 
here on the island. You've told me that a further 
mutation may be taking place..."

"Mulder, Wendy was stabbed to death and possibly tortured 
before hand. She did not die from a virus and... and if 
there was immediate danger from the virus, why does Jack 
not show any ongoing reaction?"

"That's what you've got to find out because that's where 
the cover up begins. We don't know the effect that this 
virus has. Maybe that's why Wendy was so keen to get off 
the island.

"Her own boyfriend Scully, knew nothing of her 
moonlighting and he should still be a suspect, but not 
our only one. There is a conspiracy of silence here and a 
group of people who will do anything to cover it up."

Porter observed the exchange and wondered if this is how 
they handled all their cases. He decided to intervene.

"Then why the sloppy killing?" he asked.

Mulder took a deep breath and some of the radiating 
tension left him.

"I don't think they intended to murder Wendy. It just got 
out of hand."

Turning to back Scully he asked, "Please... you're on the 
right track with the virus, but we need to know what is 
causing the mutation and why it's emerging now."

His partner sat back in her chair, eyes still bright with 
anger.

"You lied to me Mulder."

"Yeah? Well, here's something else you're not going to 
like. You're going to have to test me for the same virus 
exposure as Jack."


Sylvie observed the two men and woman at the corner table 
and their quiet argument. She had to admit, their 
composure was remarkable. No one else in the restaurant 
had noticed anything amiss.

Sliding around the corner into a side office, Sylvie 
dialled a number on the cordless phone.

"Two down, one to go, Mike," she said. "Tell Becky she's 
done a good job on Agent Mulder. She's done a real mind-
fuck on him and his partner.

"None of them seem to have much of an appetite for 
dinner, they'll probably leave in 20 minutes. I'll see 
you all in half an hour."

End part IX




PART X

Norfolk Base Hospital
9.58pm

Asking extensive questions and taking notes, Scully was 
brutally thorough in her physical examination of her 
partner. 

Apart from blood pressure which was a little below normal 
and a slightly elevated temperature, Mulder showed no 
serious ill-effects from his encounter.

He had told them the whole story and Scully wanted to 
believe him, did believe him, and yet struggled with 
mind's eye images of Mulder and Becky together; of Mulder 
and Diana. She swallowed her feelings and mustered her 
concentration into professionalism.


She took a blood sample and insisted that Porter provide 
another sample for comparison.

"I guess the question is how well can we trust anyone on 
the island," stated Scully as she walked about the lab 
putting away a small privacy screen and setting up 
syringes, slides and a microscope. "I mean, how deep does 
this conspiracy go?

"Jack's just told us that Thommo has an alibi for the 
night of the murder. He was on a teleconference, 
Davenport has an alibi, albeit a shaky one..."

"Scully, you're starting from the position that there was 
a conspiracy to murder," interrupted Mulder, rebuttoning 
his shirt. "I just don't see that.

"The conspiracy is in the cover up and that could include 
people who were nowhere near the scene of the crime when 
it occurred."

Scully slapped a tray of equipment on the bench and 
turned to the two men.

"Well here are facts I think we can agree on," she 
sighed. 

"You and Jack have been exposed to a virus after sex with 
two women whom you claim left you in capacitated for a 
short time with all the hallmarks of anaphylactic shock. 
The same virus is in the body of Wendy Millar.

"I want those women brought in for questioning."

"And don't forget just about every virile man of the 
island Dana, they have the virus too."

Scully turned to Porter and gave him a look that had 
quailed many a man into submission. Mulder himself was 
only partially immune.

"But only two people have used it as a weapon. These 
women are key to this conspiracy."

"Well there's no question that we have to question Becky 
White," Porter glanced at Mulder. 

"I'll do it and we'll have to have Thommo there, there's 
no way we can keep him out of this now..."

"No. I'll question her," broke off Scully. "Attempts at 
harm, of a sort, have been made against the both of you 
during this investigation. I'm the only one who's not 
been compromised. 

"Besides," she paused. "Perhaps I'll get more information 
out of her talking woman-to-woman."

Scully received Porter's non-verbal assent and she turned 
to Mulder, who returned her directness with a curt nod.

"Janine isn't expected back to the island for quite 
sometime, so I'll give Murray Birch a call in the morning 
and tell him to find and question her," volunteered 
Porter.

Mulder saw the slight slump in the shoulders and the 
bruise-like darkness that settled her Scully's eyes and 
was about to comment on it when Porter spoke first.

"Perhaps you should call it a night Dana," he advised 
softly. "Maybe we all should.

She gave him a wan smile and patted his arm.

"Thanks, but I want to get a basic blood work analysis 
done straight away, anything that can give us a clue has 
to how this virus works might also tell us what happened 
to Wendy."

Mulder stood, the sound of his scraping chair unnaturally 
loud in the quiet hospital room and walked towards the 
door.

He stopped in front of Scully using his height advantage 
to tower over her.

"Let's go, Scully."

"No Mulder," she said with a sigh of resignation. 
"There's still too much to be done tonight. Get some 
rest, you're still running a temperature."

He worked his jaw as if to argue before shaking his head 
slightly and barging past her out the door.

*****

"I know why you're angry," called Porter as Mulder 
reached the car.

Mulder stopped, waiting as Porter unhurriedly walked the 
last 10 metres.

"You were sexually assaulted today and that's hard enough 
to admit without the fact that it was done by a woman 
whom you should have been able to physically stop," he 
added.

"But that's not why you're angry."

Mulder shook his head and thrummed his fingers on the car 
roof for a second before disappearing inside the vehicle.

"You're angry at Dana." 

Mulder said nothing, glaring at him through the open car 
window. "I'm a psychologist too remember." 

"You blame her for not backing you up when you needed 
her, you also blame her for not being Becky... or Diana."

"Shut the fuck up Jack, you don't know anything," Mulder 
warned in a low voice as he brutally shifted the car into 
gear.

Jack was not intimidated.

"You're in love with your partner but scared in case she 
feels the same."


*****

It was the sound of the horses that roused William from 
his sleep. 

Although he had dismissed Kate's warning out of hand, he 
didn't trust Colonel Spender and that alone was enough to 
make him bivouac with his squad on duty tonight instead 
of take his usual accommodation in the barracks.

Whinnying of distressed horses was overwhelmed by the sound 
of repeated musket shots and shouts.

The stables were aflame and men and women ran to avoid 
panicked animals as well as the masked men on horseback 
sweeping through the compound at a gallop torching tents 
and smashing fences and pens as they went.

The men didn't speak or wear any identifying markings.

While the guards on duty chased the faceless intruders 
the Governor's House would be vulnerable.

Holding his sword in one hand and fully loaded musket in 
the other, William ran towards the Governor's house, 
taking cover to avoid the riders as well as stray musket 
balls.

The outer kitchen building was completely aflame, as was 
the governor's own stables. The only building immune was 
the four-storey high water tower that stood like a beacon 
400 yards up a steep embankment. The round castellated 
structure also held a safe room where the guard's wages 
and other spoils were held.

Like Rapunzel's tower, it could hold people too with 
enough stores and, of course, plenty of water to 
withstand a siege or attempts to set it ablaze.

Now a weak light illuminated one of the windows.

William grimaced and turned back to the house. Kate was 
right after all.

He kept in the moonlight shadows until he found the back 
serving entrance. The sounds of women's screams, yells, 
crashing glass and porcelain and slamming doors filled 
his ears as he moved stealthily from one floor to 
another.

"The Governor is not in the house, we've checked every 
room. He must be in the strong tower." 

Through a door slightly ajar William watched the profile 
of an agitated man make his report - face obscured by a 
kerchief over his mouth and nose and a black broad-
brimmed hat sitting low over his eyes.

He knew who he was reporting to without seeing him. The 
thick distinct odor of cigar smoke told him of Spender's 
presence.

"Bring the girl out here."

From a room adjoining Katie emerged, arm gripped by 
another of the mutineers. She wore a thin robe covering a 
cotton nightdress. 

Hair fell away from her face as she raised her head to 
meet the gaze of her interrogator. The beginnings of a 
bruise coloured her cheek.

Spender stepped forward and fingered the bruise with his 
gloved hand.

"Eavesdroppers rarely hear anything to their advantage."

A swift and brutal backhand would have brought Katie to 
her knees if not for the man who held her immobile by 
both arms.

William swallowed an outburst and closed his eyes forcing 
the adrenaline to ebb. Even with one ready primed shot, 
the odds weighed against him in an intervention.

"Call the others to retreat. We'll take stock and 
regroup," Spender announced.

"What about her?" The man who held Kate shook her 
brutally.

"She knows too much about our plans. Take her with us. 
She still has some uses."
William saw a flare of panic in Kate's countenance as 
both hands were bound behind her with length of cord.

A target emerged, the man who made his report. William 
fired a round and stepped into the room avoiding the 
crimson flood from the fallen man's body.

In one swift motion William had retrieved the dead man's 
pistol and had it pointed at Spender's face.

"Let her go."

The older man was unmoved, pointing his own pistol at 
Kate and the man who held her.

Kate's struggle against her captor ceased. One large 
gloved hand clamped over her mouth kept her face steady.

"Do you play chess Captain Mulder? 

"Sometimes you have to sacrifice a pawn to advance 
towards checkmate; a calculated move to render even the 
most powerful of your opponent's pieces impotent."

"I will kill you," William vowed.

"I have no doubt you will," Spender acknowledged. "But 
not today.

"I have to two sage pieces of advice for you Captain. 
Take the queen and you control the board and don't forget 
- some pieces can take you from behind."

Spender nodded and William's head resonated like Sunday 
church bells as a new assailant pistol-whipped him.

Sinking to the floor, his vision sparking like lit black 
powder, William watched helplessly as Kate is dragged 
away by the two henchmen as Spender followed behind.


Sea Mist Cottage
6am

Mulder had never been a big fan of sleeping. 

It was when the strange dreams and nightmares would come 
to haunt him - of the sister he couldn't save or the 
partner who needed his help but was always out of reach.

So he was fully aware when Scully opened the door to Sea 
Mist Cottage at 12.40am and dragged herself to bed. He 
was equally conscious when she rose at 4.30am and made 
herself coffee before departing at 5.15am.

But he lay in his bed staring at a slow revolving ceiling 
fan, unwilling to move his head that pounded with 
migraine like intensity.

Perhaps it's a symptom, although Jack never mentioned it.


Norfolk Island Base Hospital
7.45am

"They're for you."

Scully raised her eyes from her laptop to see a small 
riot of red hibiscus flowers obviously hand picked from 
the shrubs around the hospital.

"Umm, thank you Dr Schofield,"

"Neil, please."

"Uh, I appreciate the gesture Neil but..."

Scully is stopped by Schofield's laugh.

"I'm sorry, I bring you these flowers with only 
honourable intent. I think they're another piece in the 
puzzle. A clue."

Scully examined the tropical flowers carefully.

"These particular flowers or hibiscus in general?"

Dr Schofield nimbly lifted himself on the bench before
sliding over type written notes.

"I was inspired by your research and have done some of my 
own. 

"Hibiscus is said to have aphrodesiac properties and with 
the wide use of Kava all across the South Pacific, you 
have a very potent mix."

Scully nodded for him to continue.

"I was thinking a lot about what you were saying about 
the virus and how it seems to be mutating. What if these 
flowers help create a trigger?"

"You mean something along the lines of an allergic 
response?"

"Perhaps, I'm just guessing here."

Her eyes skimmed over the medicinal effects. 

Use of the hibiscus plant has been well document not only 
as a contraceptive but also as an ingredient in 
contraceptive and abortion potions, treatment for kidney 
and menstrual conditions - even diabetes.

Kava from the shrub Piper methysticum, is native to the 
Polynesian Islands and used by the Islanders as a 
religious and visionary herb and aphrodisiac. Then 
blended with coconut milk, kava is fermented to produce a 
potent beverage used for important rituals. The effect of 
the drink is to relax spinal activity, producing an 
euphoric state of relaxation but without impairing mental 
activity.

A theory starts tumbling into cohesive order in Scully's 
mind.

"Hibiscus pollen is inhaled, or perhaps somehow the 
ingredient is ingested causing an immunological response 
which the virus uses to infiltrate the body and begin its 
changes to the DNA."

Schofield sits back, impressed at the rate Agent Scully 
has assimilated the facts and turned them into a working 
theory.

He took him hours last night to draw the same conclusion 
and share it with the rest of the group. They were more 
worried than impressed when he couldn't answer what long-
term exposure would mean.

But he was just a doctor, not a pathologist with a wide 
experience in toxicology. Schofield looked to Scully for 
answers. He wasn't disappointed.

"At a guess, and mind you this will have to be proven, 
long term exposure to the mutating virus may mean 
increased risk of asthmatic-like illness or anaphylaxis 
especially after sex," she speculated.

"Although female to male infection is rare, it is 
certainly not unheard off especially in people with 
frequent sex partners. I'm not sure whether ongoing 
exposure will be deadly to everyone in the long term, but 
it's going to be impossible to say without further 
examination.

"I think Mother Nature is closing the door on 
promiscuity."

END PART X


PART XI

Norfolk Island Police Station
8.40am

Fate isn't usually kind to Mulder but with its perverted 
sense of humour, it smiled on him today. 

Steve Thompson wasn't on rostered duty this morning which 
spared the discomfort of having to work with the man 
whose girlfriend screws him over by screwing *him* over.

Half an hour's distraction in reading over Porter's notes 
from last night is enough to remind Mulder that Jack was 
nowhere to be seen and he wasn't about to phone Thommo to 
find out where he might be.

Not knowing where else to try, Mulder decided that Porter 
would have to come into the station sooner or later. 
Mulder would prefer sooner, especially after the 
conversation he had with the Australian Federal Police in 
Canberra an hour ago.

His mood wasn't improved when Porter sauntered in 
casually. Godammit, he was actually humming to himself.

"What's got you into a good mood this morning?" Mulder 
snarled.

Jack raised an eyebrow in surprise and then grinned. 
"Practicing my interrogation technique."

"On whom?"

"Uh-uh, a gentleman never tells."

Seeing the expression of Mulder's face, Porter continued.

"Don't worry, I wasn't ambushed. It was completely 
consensual."

"What about the virus Scully found?"

"Well she hasn't found the virus is doing any harm and if 
it heightens sexual pleasure, then who cares?"

Porter took in Mulder's look of disbelief.

"C'mon, don't tell me that sex wasn't mind blowing with 
Becky. Just imagine that experience each and every time. 
Scrap that, you've been using your imagination alone for 
too long."

Mulder started to flush at the memory of he and Becky. He 
shook his head swiftly and folded his arms. "Don't make 
this about me buddy, this is about finding who killed 
Wendy."

"We've agreed to let Dana interrogate Becky, so what else 
we got? Anything come in from Murray this morning?"

It was the opening Mulder needed. "How well did you know 
him?"

Porter frowned.

"It was the first time I'd worked with him but I've seen 
his name around at conferences and the like," he 
shrugged. "He lives in Sydney, been with the AFP for ten 
years..."

"...raised on Norfolk Island."

"Shit."

"I pulled the full personnel records on Birch on a hunch 
after I was told he'd been on leave since you both came 
back from Norfolk Island.

"He was actually born in Sydney, apparently there were 
some minor complications with the pregnancy; he was 
delivered Caesarean. He went to primary school on the 
island but was a boarder at an Anglican Boys' College for 
his secondary schooling.

"I'm convinced he's back on the island orchestrating this 
whole cover up, if not the murder itself."

"Does Dana know about this?" asked Porter quietly.

"I haven't spoken to her today," Mulder admitted.

"Perhaps we should before she talks to Becky."

"We'll pick up Scully from the hospital and head back to 
the cottage because there's something else. I need for 
her to see a section from the pile of tapes I borrowed 
from Coral C. 

"It's about Wendy and how she died."


******

Sea Mist Cottage
1pm

"Play that back one more time," Scully asked. 

Mulder obliged, running the tape back 10 minutes. The 
three of them had already watched the tape seven times 
over. Porter had seen enough, wandering outside for a 
cigarette and to call on the two-way for a woman, a local 
restaurateur to be brought in for questioning.

Scully had ceased to be discomforted by the action on 
screen. It was the equivalent of surveillance footage 
now. One man as yet unknown and one woman identified as 
Sylvie Harper were suspects. The third woman, Wendy, was 
the victim.

Mulder had explained that this tape, unlabelled, was not 
part of Coral C's usual unedited footage. In fact Shaun 
McKenzie was appalled when Mulder confronted him with it 
earlier in the morning.

McKenzie pointed out that the recording was made on just 
a basic domestic quality video camera. There was no 
editing time code. None of the 'actors' were in make-up 
nor was there professional lighting.

Indeed the man turned green when he saw the final 10 
minutes.

The setting was somewhat utilitarian, no warmth, just 
featureless painted cement block walls. The camera was 
trained on a bed where Wendy lay naked. Her wrists 
manacled and stretched above her head, her ankles were 
also shackled. A close fitting collar circled her neck.

Just visible in shot, on the other side of the bed was a 
rack filled with sex toys.

Mulder kept an eye on the VCR counter. He went back only 
so far. There was no need for Scully to run through the 
whole hour-long tape to watch the menage a trois with 
overtones of bondage unfold.

His own porn collection was hard enough to keep from 
Scully without having her learn that this scenario 
somewhat appealed to him too somewhat. Scully bound, 
doing whatever he told her - maybe with Diana - giving 
his partner no choice but to trust him completely...

The last section of the tape told a different story which 
his partner insisted on watching over again.

With a clinician's eye Scully observed the woman in 
centre frame as her breathing went from post orgasmic to 
distressed. Sweat broke out across her increasingly 
flushed body.

Then the convulsions started, wrenching Wendy violently 
off the bed restrained by her bonds. As the camera and 
tripod are shoved out of the way and fall making the 
image tilt bizarrely before going blank, it records for a 
few seconds Sylvie and the unknown man rushing to the bed 
ineffectually trying to halt the seizures. 

"That explains the bruising on the neck, wrists and 
ankles as well as haemorrhaging we found in the autopsy," 
Scully sat back from the screen and finished writing her 
notes.

"Wendy's blood pressure was through the roof. This 
footage explains almost everything about her death."

"Except how she acquired the stab wounds. You want to 
hear a theory?"

Scully turned to him for his response.

"From what you've found and this footage would I be 
correct in saying that seizure would have sent Wendy into 
non responsive state?"

"That's right. I think I see where you're going with 
this," Scully nodded. "Wendy's two companions panic and 
decide to dump the body, but she begins to recover 
consciousness..."

"...having talked themselves into concealing a body and 
possibly having already made attempts to dump her, they 
panic further when she begins to revive. She is stabbed 
in a frenzy by everyone who is at the scene, which 
explains the different types stab wounds."

Scully tapped her pencil against her note pad 
thoughtfully and watched Mulder pace the room. She took 
comfort in this familiar routine.

"Because of her prolific sex life, Wendy had such a high 
exposure to the virus but instead of developing an 
immunity to it, she had a severe allergic reaction," she 
added.

"But I don't know who else is going to be a candidate for 
this type reaction or whether standard forms of treatment 
would have stopped Wendy's seizures or anyone else's for 
that matter.  

"The good news is the virus' effects are short lived 
unless there is repeated exposure. I would venture to say 
that if we pulled another blood test, you'd be just about 
back to normal - just like Jack's second test."

Mulder nodded, he wasn't going mention Porter's more 
recent nocturnal activities.

"Everyone involved in this is going to be on their best 
behaviour to avoid arousing any suspicions," added 
Scully. 

"All the suspects are likely to be in one place at this 
party tonight," Mulder mused. "It's all very Agatha 
Christie."

******

Highland Fling Cafe
5.55pm

Mike slams a sheaf of papers on the counter followed by a 
fist. That got everyone's attention. He looked at the 
assembly with disgust. 

Davenport was white as a sheet and Sylvie in tears being 
comforted ineffectually by Davenport's skank of a 
daughter now dressed respectably in her customs uniform 
ready for her evening shift.

Then there was Becky whose unwelcome news brought 
everyone here.

Mike caught Birch's eye and shook his head.

"You could arrest these fuckwits now and still be a 
hero," he offered.

"No," he shook his head sadly. "I'm an Islander and we'll 
see this through together. Besides I'm already an 
accessory after the fact.

"Mind you, if Becky had destroyed the video tape as she 
was supposed to..."

Becky scowled at him. "Well, you're the cop. Isn't it 
mitigating circumstances or something because the tape 
shows that Wendy had some kind of fit? She really killed 
herself you know."

Murray's laugh was bitter.

"You stupid bitch, she didn't stab herself. The only hope 
is if everyone keeps their mouth shut because there is no 
way to prove who out of the five you delivered the death 
blow.

"There is just enough room to manoeuvre to set up 
reasonable doubt if it gets to a trial."

"But that's not going to be enough is it?" The question 
came from Mike.

"No, it's not but we have to do what we've been doing -
destroying the credibility of these agents. Porter's 
compromised because of me anyway," answered Birch.

"Becky has to get to Mulder again and this time it has to 
be on tape, he can either be blackmailed into keeping the 
case unsolved or we'll go public, claim he demanded sex 
to keep Becky's moonlighting a secret.

"According to my contacts, Mulder's boss is just looking 
for one more screw up to throw him out of the Bureau."

"Leave Agent Scully to me, I think she wants me," Mike 
nodded with a wry smile. "I'll keep her occupied while 
Becky goes to work."

"I'll deal with Porter myself," agreed Murray. He turned 
to Sylvie and Rob.

"And as for you two idiots, you're going to this party 
tonight and you are going to stay where at least 100 
people can see you at a time. You don't take a leak 
without a witness.

"If we pull this off, we have a shot of getting out of 
this. No matter what the outcome tonight, everything you 
do will be under a microscope at your trial.

"Piss off, the lot of you and don't fuck this up. I've 
got a phone call to make to my mate Porter."

END OF PART XI

PART XII

Sea Mist Cottage
7.15pm

Despite misgivings Scully put on her costume, half 
listening to a conversation Mulder was having on the 
telephone in the other room.

Murray Birch had turned up. Porter was going to meet him 
at place Birch had insisted upon - Cock Pit Falls at 
11pm.

Scully examined herself in the bedroom's full-length 
mirror. Her outfit was a simple full-length dress in 
apricot lawn, short sleeved, falling wide across the 
shoulders and low across the breasts. A lace-up bodice in 
black cinched in her tiny waist.

Staring critically in the mirror for a moment and she 
tugged at the gaping front of her neckline. Putting on a 
pair of flat shoes, ideal for running in, Scully walked 
into the living room.

She paused. Mulder had his back to her, finishing up the 
call with Jack. He was dressed as a captain of the guards 
in buff breeches, white shirt and red coat. She paused - 
the sight of him affected her viscerally but she didn't 
know why. She reached for the back of the sofa for 
support.

Mulder at that moment turned and his eyes widened. A 
fleeting vision of he and Scully intertwined as lovers 
punched him hard in the gut. He closed his eyes and tried 
to recapture a dream that seemed as real as a memory.

A touch on the arm was almost his undoing.

"Are you okay?"

Mulder opened his eyes to see the Scully he was familiar 
with, the friend, the agent, the doctor.

He nodded and gave a weak smile clasping her shoulder in 
appreciation.

"You?"

"I'm fine."

"Then let's go."

********

Cook's Point
Convicts and Colonial Party
9.45pm

Guests arrived by foot, walking a quarter of a mile from 
the car park to the point where a large covered marquee 
dominated the open parkland. Long trestle tables and 
benches filled two-thirds of the space, a folk band set 
up on the corner while the rest of the space was filled 
with drunken revellers fumbling their way through 
traditional dances.

The smell of spit cooked meat and roast vegetables filled 
the air as did applause and calls of delight from those 
observing jugglers and acrobats in the cool, clear 
evening.

The atmosphere was more a medieval fair than a costume 
party and everyone attending threw themselves completely 
into the event.

For the first hour after arriving Mulder and Scully 
searched the party perimeter looking for Sylvie and 
Becky. 

Instead they encountered Sylvie and Davenport seated in 
the main marquee.

"Mind if we join you?" asked Mulder setting his plate 
down next to Davenport. Scully flanked the other side 
next to Sylvie.

The pair glanced at one another but said nothing.

"Great party, we're having a marvellous time. Aren't we 
Scully?"

Mulder's partner nodded, spearing a piece of jacket roast 
potato. Mulder joined her by tucking into a large slice 
of roast pork. 

"So tell me," he asked between bites. "Why didn't you 
call a doctor after Wendy went into convulsions."

"I did," whispered Sylvie, who would have said more had 
Davenport not hissed at her.

"You do know that you're not under arrest.  Frankly I 
don't know or care if this place has a Miranda rule," 
Mulder managed to make and eye contact with Sylvie. 

"I just want to know the truth."

Davenport drank his beer, refusing to look at either the 
agents or Sylvie but surprisingly he was the first to 
speak.

"It was an accident, just a horrible accident."

"Are you ready to make a statement?" Scully asked gently. 
"I think Wendy deserves that much."


******

Despite the revelry around them Scully struggled to 
muster find enthusiasm for the surveillance. She was 
desperately keen to question both Sylvie and Davenport to 
put together a narrative of Wendy's last hours as well as 
find out from Sylvie who the man was that she and Wendy 
were with on the tape.

It wasn't Davenport, the man on the tape was more deeply 
tanned and stockier.

She curbed her impatience knowing that the pair of them 
will still be waiting at the police station when she and 
Mulder were done.

Now they were sitting watching the folk band and a group 
of 40 enthusiastically dancing a reel, at the same time 
keeping an eye out for Becky. Davenport's daughter had 
been picked up for questioning at the start of her shift 
at the airport.

Mulder stood and Scully looked up at him wondering if he 
was going to ask her to dance as he did a year or so ago 
at a Cher concert. Then the tune finished and the dance 
caller announced the band was going to take a 15-minute 
break.

"Where are you going?" she asked as he stepped away from 
the table.

He winked, "Secret men's business."

"I'll go with you, we haven't seen any of our target 
yet." 

Scully started to rise but was stayed by Mulder's hand at 
her shoulder.

"We've verified that she's here tonight. Becky will have 
to pass through here at some point. A quick split up will 
allow us to cover more ground."

Mulder noted the look of scepticism on his partner's face 
as he started to walk away. 

With a placating raise of his hands, he added, "I'll be 
back in five minutes and you have my word as an Indian 
Guide that I won't talk to any strangers."

"You're not leaving already are you?"

The agents turned to see Dr Schofield with three tankards 
of beer. Dressed in simple dark blue trousers and a loose 
fitting paler blue shirt open at the dark, he looked 
rather dashing. 

Approaching the table, the doctor set on the table two 
mugs he had managed to carry in one hand down and took a 
large swig out of the other one he had in his right hand.

"That looks good doc, just let me get rid of the last one 
and I'll be right back," Mulder excused himself.

Schofield took Mulder's vacated seat.

"Cheers," he saluted, taking another mouthful. Scully 
returned the gesture with a sip of her beer.

"A draught? " she enquired, drinking some more. "It's 
very good."

"It's a little heavier than the lager but it has a richer 
taste," he offered. "You don't really strike me a beer 
connoisseur."

Scully smiled. "Navy family - my father and both 
brothers, you quickly learn to develop a taste."

Despite the misgivings of being so close to Dr Schofield 
at the hospital, Scully felt relaxed here surrounded by a 
large crowd enjoying themselves. 

After spending the first hour feeling self-conscious 
about her costume Scully started to realise that she was 
enjoying how it felt against her skin, aware of the 
impression she made. And she liked it a lot. 

A pity Mulder hadn't returned yet, she'd be interested in 
his opinion on the subject. 

Recalling how he looked at her earlier that evening in 
the cottage, Scully decided she wanted him to look at her 
like that again and demand that he make good on what she 
saw in those bedroom eyes of his.

Schofield noticed the woman beside him scan the crowd.

"How's the case going, any breakthroughs - well, that you 
can talk about at least."

"I'm sorry Dr Schofield, I can't, not that this stage."

"Neil."

"I'm sorry?"

"I hope we've at least progressed to a first name basis 
by now," he chided.

"Neil. Right. Yes, I suppose we have."

"Thank you Dana."

The sound of Scully's first name sounded strange to her 
ears, although she couldn't understand why. But the 
mystery of it vanished as the band returned to the stage 
and played the introduction to another fast dance.

The caller announced it as the final set of the evening. 
Half a dozen eager, although somewhat tipsy couples 
immediately took their positions on the dance floor.

"Would you care to dance, Dana?" Schofield asked as he 
stood offering his hand.

Scully pondered her half empty glass. "Mulder will be 
back soon."

"Then he can have the next dance."

Unable to think of a reason to decline tactfully, Scully 
slowly stood, allowing Schofield to take her hand and 
lead her to the floor. 

After quickly mastering the steps, Scully found she was 
enjoying herself immensely. She had found her second wind 
and so threw herself into the dance.

****

Mulder started back towards marquee in no particular 
hurry, pausing for a second to stretch his arms and take 
a deep breath to wake himself. As his lungs filled he 
tasted a stronger tang of brine evident in the air as a 
westerly breeze stirred.

There'll be rain before morning, perhaps even a storm.

The entertainers had finished for the evening and a 
number of partygoers had already made moves to depart, 
leaving the ground surrounding the marquee filled with 
small pockets of people talking, smoking and drinking 
quietly in groups. 

Darker two headed shadows of couples intertwined were 
heading further away from the torch and lamplight towards 
the dense rain forest covering of the adjoining national 
park.

A flash of blonde hair caught Mulder's attention as its 
owner walked past a spirit lamp.

Becky walked purposefully along one edge of the marquee, 
avoiding the guy ropes before turning a corner and 
disappearing. She was wearing an apple green gown with an 
elaborate ruffled neckline that stretched off the 
shoulders. Mulder allowed himself the advantage of the 
long shadows and set out at a jog to trail her.

She was heading towards the car park when he caught up to 
her.

"I want to talk to you," he whispered in her ear. He put 
his arm around a bare shoulder, bringing her tight up 
against his side. Mulder steered her off the path into 
the dark spindly Norfolk pine forest.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Becky enquired 
huskily.

Mulder stopped abruptly and spun her to face him, his 
hand gripping her shoulders tightly.

"Let me show you what I want."

Mulder kissed her savagely, pushing her back against a 
tree, invading her mouth with his tongue before she could 
react.

Becky demonstrated her approval at his aggression by 
pressing herself against him and kissing him back 
thoroughly. Her arms twined from his hips to his back. 

Mulder responded in one swift motion, shoving away her 
arms and capturing both hands.

"No." he growled. "This time I'm in control."

END OF PART XII


PART XIII

Cook's Point
Convicts and Colonial Party
12.30am

Three swift dances in succession and one and a half mugs 
of beer was making Scully's head spin, so she readily 
agreed to sit down when Schofield suggested an 
intermission.

"As soon as I catch my breath I'm going to look for 
Mulder," she announced to him, almost daring him to argue 
with her.

"That's probably not a bad idea, but you may as well 
finish the beer before we go look for him," he suggested, 
taking a swallow from his own.

"I'm his partner, I'm supposed to cover his back," she 
offered.

Schofield nodded. "While you finish the drink, I'll ask 
if anyone has seen him."

He called out to a dark haired man in his late 30s, his 
handsomeness somewhat dulled by the softness caused by 
too much beer consumption. He was dressed in a prison 
uniform of loose white pants, white long sleeve shirt 
painted with black arrows.

"Hey Mirror, have you seen that FBI agent Mulder?"

The man walk toward them, he shook his head but grinned 
wolfishly when he realised that Scully had caught him 
staring at her cleavage.

"Not for about half an hour of so Mike. He was outside 
when I last saw him. But I did see what's-his-name the 
Australian... Parker?"

"Porter," Scully corrected.

"Yeah Porter, that's it. Maybe the Yank is with him."

Mirror jumped, having been pinched on the ass by a 
voluptuous woman whose quite ample bosom wobbled 
precariously over her low cut blouse. He followed his 
admirer leaving Scully and Schofield on their own again.

"Neil? Why did you call that man Mirror," she asked.

"Watch him, he'll be checking himself out on any shiny 
surface. He thinks he's a ladies man - but he may love 
himself more," Schofield chuckled.

"So why did he call you Mike?" Scully's eyes started to 
narrow.

"There's no great secret, just about everyone has a 
nickname they're known by here," he shrugged.

"As a kid I always wanted to be a doctor and as soon as I 
got my first chemistry set my microscope and I were 
inseparable, so by the age of 13 I was known as Mike.

"I actually prefer it to my real name, but sadly, I've 
just managed to persuade you to call me Neil."

Scully smiled broadly. "Mike suits you. I think I like 
Mike."

****

Becky sighed with pleasure as Mulder's mouth left hers 
and travelled across her cheek and neck. 

He pressed Becky harder against the tree, her breasts 
squashed flat against the hardness of his chest. He still 
had her arms pinned behind the trunk.

Mulder returned to her mouth again with renewed ferocity. 
Becky murmured words of encouragement. His hands slipped 
lower until one hand captured both wrists.

The spare hand dipped into his coat pocket and returned 
with handcuffs which were put to use on Becky's wrists.

"Hmmmm," she whispered, grinding herself against his 
groin. "I think I like you a lot."

Mulder jumped back as if scalded, putting two feet 
between himself and the woman he had just arrested. He 
bent at the waist fighting the cramp in his lungs, 
gasping against the humid evening air. This is what a 
heart attack must feel like, he thought wearily. 

"Your turn to talk Becky," he gasped. "What the hell's 
going on?"

"What? What the hell are you doing Mulder?" Panic 
replaced passion on her face.

"I'm taking back control."

"You sonofabitch."

"Now, now, that kind of language will get you nowhere," 
he mocked. 

And then, more gently: "It's over Becky. We have it 
pretty much pieced together. We know that Wendy had a 
severe reaction and went into convulsions. She was making 
a private fetish flick with Sylvie and another man.

Becky lowered her head and slumped against the tree.

"I wasn't there, you have to believe me. I only found out 
in the morning, when Thommo got the call. After he left 
Sylvie shows up, gives me the tape and begs me to destroy 
it," she answered softly.

"Then everything got crazy and I just hid it where Shaun 
puts all of his outtakes. I never even looked at it. I 
couldn't.

"I just figured I could go back to get it when things 
went back to normal. But they never did."

Mulder's hands burned with pins and needles. He stuck him 
in his pockets to hide the tremors. He mustered his 
strength and stood upright.

"Who was the man filmed with Wendy and Sylvie. Was it 
Davenport?"

Becky shook her head.

"Mulder!" 

Mulder turned to see Jack Porter emerging through the 
scrub. Thommo followed behind him.

Becky saw them both and groaned, turning her head away 
from the man whom she betrayed.

Thommo pulled up short and stopped. 

The officer glanced at the two agents. It was far worse 
than he imagined. He wanted to thow up.

"I'm going back to the car," he bit out. "Call me when 
you're done."

He didn't trust himself to look back at Becky. He turned, 
shoulders slumped and disappeared into the blackness. 

"You okay?" enquired Porter quietly turning to Mulder.

"Just peachy."

******

"I need to get out of here," Scully whispered urgently, 
fighting the wave of dizziness that caused her to clutch 
a marquee post for support. 

The medical professional in her took a quick inventory 
and wasn't happy with what it found. Lethargy washed 
through her and she wasn't sure if she could support her 
own weight.

Neil, Mike, Schofield... Scully couldn't quite remember 
what his name was supposed to be. Whoever he was looked 
at her with the appropriate degree of concern.

"You don't look too flash. I think we'd better go outside 
for some fresh air."

Scully nodded finding it difficult to muster the energy 
to more fully respond. Mike held Scully at the waist and 
slowly walked her outside.

The air was thick with moisture and the stars that greeted 
the evening had disappeared under the first whisps of 
cloud heralding the upcoming storm that  was still out to 
sea but whose fanfare could be seen in the sheet 
lightening and heard in the rolling thunder.

Mike lead her away from the madding crowd to the far side 
of the clearing towards the edge of the rain forest.

Part of her mind rebelled at being man handled. Scully 
hated it or at least she thought she should hate it. 

No, she did hate it, if it wasn't Mulder. It was a dirty 
little secret - Scully liked the way his hand rested on 
the small of her back, the way he leaned in far closer 
than necessary to talk to her. Almost like he wanted to 
kiss her.

Scully wanted him to kiss her very, very much but she 
struggled with the words. Over six years whenever she 
mustered the courage to hint at more Mulder would make a 
joke, put himself in hospital or otherwise do something 
to make her angry and the moment would evaporate.

She was beginning to think it was personal. Dammit no 
more.

"I want you to kiss me now." And she was obliged. The 
kiss was nice but different to what she thought and a 
frission of disappointment rattled through her.

It was better that she didn't open her eyes but she 
wished that she could stop walking and just sit and clear 
her head of the cotton wool that settled thickly across 
her senses.

Scully was too tired to express her thoughts and so was 
delighted when she was eased onto some grass.

"Mulder?"

"Shhhhh," came in response and its lips claimed hers 
again. 

They could have been kissing for a few seconds or a 
couple of hours, Scully couldn't tell. Now she was only 
concious of her dress slipping down her shoulders and the 
cool breeze across her exposed breasts.

She shivered but the lips were there adding mositure and 
warmth. She moved close to the warmth until her body was 
sharing the heat of the other.

"Dana," his voice whispered gently at her ear, words 
matching a touch which ran along the length of her leg.

Dana? Mulder never called her Dana unless she was hurt, 
or he was teasing her. 

Scully forced her eyes open.

Mike smiled and rolled his weight on top of her.

********

"There's something you should know about Becky here," 
Porter spoke urgently

"She set you up and was instructed by Birch to set up 
another 'encounter' tonight. It's about damaging your 
reputation - particularly with your arsehole boss back in 
the States."

Porter nodded over at Becky raised his voice for her to 
hear.

"Birch is in custody and I think he'll tell us the full 
story in the morning.

"He's undergoing treatment for minor injuries sustained 
while resisting arrest," he finished flatly.

Mulder caught friend's eyes and held the look for a 
second before noddingly slowly.

"I have a preliminary statement from Sylvie and 
Davenport. It's as you and Scully suspected. After 
Wendy's seizure they tried to dump her body off the 
rubbish dump into the water but she momentarily revived, 
they panicked and stabbed her.

"Curious thing though, Davenport maintains he wasn't the 
guy in the video and Sylvie's no use, she's so hysterical 
she's been hospitalised."

Mulder turned to Becky who was beginning to softly weep.

"You know don't you?"

"Wendy was dead, they were supposed to stay calm until 
they could decide what to do with her, but Rob showed up 
at the hospital," she rushed, her pretty features marred 
by thin streaks of black mascara.

"It was Mike. Mike was there."

Jack nodded. "According to Davenport, it was Dr Schofield 
who told him that Wendy had the seizure."

"Mike is Neil Schofield?" Mulder was incredulous.

"I've only just found out myself."

"Scully's with him now." 

"Mulder?" Becky broke in, her voice thin and reedy. 
"You'd better go, he has a thing for your partner."

Scenarios cycled through Mulder's mind like a rapid-fire 
slide show and all of them ended badly. He glanced behind 
him where the lights surrouning the marquee glowed above 
the forest. 

"I gotta go." 

*****


Adrenalin surged through Scully, banishing her stupor to 
the far recesses of her brain. Survival mode switched on 
intuitively.

The heel of her hand connected with the bottom of her 
assailant's chin at the same time her knee found its mark 
between his legs.

Lightning illuminated the writhing man as he howled but 
the cry was lost against the sound of accompanying 
thunder.

In her head she could hear the sound of men on horseback 
approaching and it wasn't safe to stay. She had to find 
somewhere safe to hide until William could find her.

Blinking into the sudden darkness, Scully followed her 
instinct and ran further into the forest chased by rain 
of the now breaking storm. 

END PART XIII


PART XIV
Cook's Point
National Park
1.15am

Mike accepted the hand that appeared in front of him and 
allow it to haul him to his feet.

And despite the slick of the rain the hand wouldn't let 
go and the grip was painfully tight. He raised his head 
to confront its owner.

"Where is she?"

Mike shook his head and was rewarded with a right cross 
to the side of his head.

"Not good enough!"

He flinched for another blow. It never came. The hand 
that pulled him up dropped him back to the ground.

"Mulder!"

The doctor wiped his face clear of water and watched the 
American man turn to Porter who had just joined him.

"I've got to find her Jack..." he warned.

"You heard the man Schofield, where's Agent Scully? A 
quick answer is a good answer because if Mulder here 
wants to take another swing I'm not going to stop him."

"I don't know! She kneed me in the gonads and took off."

 Mulder wrenched the shorter man to his feet and patted 
his pockets as Porter cuffed him.

Mulder fingers closed on a small open vial. He sniffed 
it. The few remaining drops inside were colourless and 
odorless.

"Rohypnol?" asked Porter

"Gamma hydroxybutyrate - GHB," admitted Mike.

Mulder lunged, gripping him by the collar. "How much did 
you slip her you sonofabitch?" 

"No more than three grams, I swear!"

"Go after her Mulder, I've got him."


The heavier the rain - the higher Mulder's anxiety, but 
he trudged further into the forest, slipping occasionally 
on slick, wet leaf litter.

He'd read about the effects of Gamma hydroxybutyrate. 

Although favoured as a mood enhancer by some young 
nightclubbers along with Ecstacy, its properties also 
made it one of the most prevalent date rape drugs - 
surpassing even Rohypnol in use.

Mulder mentally ran through a catalogue of less pleasant 
side effects.

'Consumption of 1 to 2 grams causes a strong feeling of 
relaxation and slows the heart rate and respiration. At 
this dosage level, GHB also interferes with blood 
circulation, motor coordination, and balance. 

In stronger doses, 2 to 4 grams, pronounced interference 
with motor and speech control occurs. A coma-like sleep 
may be induced, requiring intubation to wake the user. 
When mixed with alcohol, the depressant effects of GHB 
are enhanced. This can lead to respiratory depression, 
unconsciousness, coma, and overdose.

Side effects associated with GHB may include nausea, 
vomiting, delusions, depression, vertigo, hallucinations, 
seizures, respiratory distress, loss of consciousness, 
slowed heart rate, lowered blood pressure, amnesia, and 
coma.'

Mulder grimly marched on, calling his partner's name, 
hoping she could remain conscious long enough for him to 
find her.

******

The tall figure blocked the light. Katie looked up at the 
captain from her seated position at the edge of the creek 
where she dangled her ankles; her pale skirt gathered to 
her knees.

"I do not know whether I should be talking to you," she 
said turning to watch the sunlight dance patterns on her 
submerged feet.

"And why not?"

"I do not trust you, captain."

"Call me William."

"I do not trust you, William."

Captain William Mulder laughed, unbuckling and dropping 
his sword and pistol. He lay carelessly beside the petite 
red head and stroked her arm. She looked at him sharply.

"The irony. I am a guard and you are a convict."

"Which is even more reason not to trust you. Especially 
since you do not trust me in return."

"And yet you are here."

"And yet I am here," she sighed.

"So why are you here, sitting all alone with a man you do 
not trust?" 

Katie pulled her feet out of the water. She noticed they 
were pale and wrinkled from the soak. 

Tears she had promised herself not to reveal welled 
unbidden anyway. Her answer came at whisper.

"Because I have no one else to trust."

*****

Scully awoke with a start, her lashes wet with tears. She 
wiped her face and breathed deeply. The early morning was 
black and silent.

Out of habit she reached towards the centre of the bed. 

It was cold and vacant. So was she.

Dropping back onto the pillow, she sighed to no one and 
squeezed her eyes shut willing the pain in her sola 
plexus to ease.

She forced her eyes shut before willing another deep breath to 
stop her from crying aloud.

Then the matress dipped beside her and a warm strong arm 
drew her close.

"Shhhh, you're safe now," a beloved, familiar voice whispered in 
her ear. 


*****


"We cannot keep doing this Katie," sighed William as he 
rolled on to his back. The sea breeze flooded his open 
shirt cooling him.

"You have to let yourself believe."

"I believe plenty," Katie replied stridently, 
concentrating her attention on tying up the loose stays 
of her bodice and straightening her clothing.

"You believe in your strength and your wit. It's got you 
through this far but you have to trust someone else. 

"Look at me."

Katie hesitated for a moment before giving him a direct 
look. William smiled. It wasn't returned.

"You couldn't save me from what happened before," she 
whispered. "And you cannot save me from what's out there 
now."

"I'm not a white knight that can save the damsel in 
distress. I'm just a man trying to uphold the law and to 
know the truth."

"I know the truth. What I want is justice."

William looked down and reached for his dagger.

"I want your trust."

He sliced his palm. Katie's eyes widened.

"I can't do it without you, I don't know if I want to. 

"Do I have your trust Katie?"

She nodded silently.

Swiftly he grabbed her left hand and drew a line with the 
dagger point. She hissed in surprise as the cut bloomed 
red. The sting dissolved completely as his much larger 
hand engulfed hers.

"We are one now, a blood covenant more thorough than a 
vow before a priest, we are bound forever.

"Do you believe me?"

Tears flowed freely down Katie's face.

"I want to believe."


*****


Sydney International Airport
November 10
8.45am

Porter hugged Scully longer than approprate for a just a 
mere acquaintance. Mulder wasn't sure he liked that 
especially since she seemed to be enjoying it.

Jack knew it too and answered his friend's look with a 
knowing grin before breaking away and shaking Mulder's 
hand warmly.

"Twelve years is too bloody long between drinks," he 
said.

"Too long," Mulder affirmed. "Since you've discovered 
where the airport is, it's your turn to spend 24 hours 
cramped in economy class."

"Cheapskate. I'll see you in first class."

"Oh no you won't," Scully chimed in, answering the raise 
of Mulder's eyebrows with a smile.

The final call for boarding crackled over the PA and 
Mulder and Scully followed the line of passengers down 
the ramp.

"Do you believe in reincarnation Scully?"

She snorted. "What do you think?"

"Well, what about dreams then? The very, very vivid dreams?"

"I remember you telling me once that dreams are answers 
to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask," 
answered Scully as she settled down into her seat.

"Do you believe two people can share dreams?"

"Sure, I suppose people who are close share a common 
purpose that can be said to..."

"No, no. I mean actually dream the same dream."

Scully shifted to face him.

"Dreams are caused by the subconscious accessing various 
memory centres. 

"Sometimes it creates a narrative that is useful in 
problem solving so I guess it's not inconceivable for 
people who have shared the same experiences to have 
similar dreams. But they can't be the exactly same 
because each individal is also drawing on unique 
experiences."

Mulder looked at her as is memorising her features for 
future reference. Scully blushed and dropped her head.

He leaned in closer and whispered close to her ear.

"I knew where to find you. A cave I couldn't know existed 
and I knew you were there because you told me about it."

His partner raised her eyes in surprise.

"You might not be ready to admit to it, but I think you 
know it's the truth. You've had these dreams too."

Scully shivered and opened her mouth wordlessly.

Mulder placed a finger on her lips.

"Don't say anything now, just think about it. We'll talk 
about it when we get home.

"I promise."

Scully nodded and as the aircraft taxied Mulder settled 
back into his seat scratching the centre of his palm 
absently. 

For some strange reason it itched brutally.

THE END

Author's Notes: I hope you enjoyed Body Of Evidence. I 
wanted to write a real MSR love scene but those two 
characters had a mind of their own. I was always 
intrigued by the push and pull complexity of the 
relationship between Mulder and Scully and I hope I've 
managed to capture some of it. I also wanted an 
explanation between Mulder's relationship with Diana and 
why he would choose to believe his ex-lover over his 
present partner. After the events of Two Fathers/One Son, 
leading into Arcadia, I also wanted to have an 
explanation for Mulder's 'spooning like baby cats' 
comment and the scene where Mulder looks comfortable on 
the Petrie's bed and the most logical conclusion was that 
they had done it before. Please forgive any medical 
leaps. I just make the story up as I go along. I would 
love feedback. I can be reached at nick_nora_charles-at-
yahoo.com.au