From: sonny <sonny@webspin.org>
Date: Tue, 21 Sep 99 09:03:11 +1000
Subject: xfc: Lost Time 15 of 21
Source: xfc

From: sonny <sonny@webspin.org>

Lost Time Part 15 of 21
Date: August 1999
Author/feedback : PLEASE! spider@webspin.org. All parts
posted at www.webspin.org/xfic.htm
Disclaimers: Please see Part 1

*****************
This section: Rated G 
*****************

CHAPTER 14

Day 31 - 5.50pm

The volcano's fallout surrounded them in a miasma of gray
and burnt amber. It penetrated the machine, inching its way
under the cuffs of their clothes and inside their socks and
shoes. Outside, the late afternoon sunlight added a darker
orange tinge to the thickening smog. Gary explained that
the volcanoes created their own microclimate, lending an
almost prehistoric visage to the already primitive
landscape. Giant tree ferns, taller than coconut trees,
were gradually covered in the smog as it crept through the
jungle ravines. Gary pointed to the mountain in front of
them, dark and glowering in the sunset.
 
"I'm gonna have to edge up the side of the mountain here.
I know where the village is and they're expecting us, but
the smoke from the fires tends to flow downhill and sorta
join with the smog creeping up. It may take a few minutes
to find it...I was hoping to get here sooner."
 
His voice sounded flippant, but Scully's fear of flying
returned with a vengeance as the tropical sunset turned day
into night with sickening speed. The helicopter slowed to a
virtual standstill, then edged its way over the treetops at
almost walking pace. As the darkness surrounded them Gary
spotted a small glow about five hundred feet above. He
pointed to it and Scully, unconsciously clutching Mulder's
shoulder, breathed a sigh of relief. He turned a lopsided
grin to his partner and reached across to squeeze her hand.
 
As one light expanded into many campfires scattered around
a clearing, the machine landed and the wispy, sulfur
smelling fog seemed to settle around them, grounding them
for the night.
 
Scully took a few moments to calm herself and Gary
commented, "Another ten minutes and we wouldn't
have made it. We were lucky that time."
 
Scully simply swallowed, not wanting to know what
'wouldn't have made it' meant.
 
As the pilot shut down the machine he warned, "Just wait
here. They know we're coming but there are very
powerful...rules, etiquette in the way they treat visitors.
I hope you're the patient sort because nothing is going to
happen tonight. Tomorrow, though, I think maybe you'll have
some answers without asking too many questions."
 
"What do you mean?" Scully asked, a slight chill of fear
creeping into her stomach.
 
"There are many chiefs in an extended village like this
one, but Kalmantu was a paramount chief. They'll begin
smoking his body tonight and very possibly perform a death
dance tomorrow. I only know of three white people who've
ever seen a kastom death dance before."
 
Scully was about to say something when a shadowy
apparition appeared beside the machine. Gary climbed down
and spoke at length to the shadow figure, who was soon
accompanied by two more forms. Scully could smell an odd
aroma of sweat and dark earth, strong, almost peppery smoke
and burnt charcoal. A powerfully muscled naked brown arm
reached in and grabbed at her bag. Her instinct was to stop
it but a set of white teeth flashed at her in friendly
greeting. Her eyes followed the arm to an equally naked
torso. In fact, as he turned from the machine, bag in hand,
she saw that he was completely naked from behind, except
for a thin leafy strap at his waist and a bunch of colorful
crotons in his black, woolly hair.
 
Scully stepped out of the machine to find herself
confronting two more men, naked except for what looked to be leaves
wrapping their penises. It was hard to make out in the
dying light. Scully felt oddly vulnerable until she sensed the
reassuring presence of a familiar hand on her back. Each of
the men in turn held out their hands to shake Gary's, then
Mulder's and Scully's. She was surprised at their soft,
limp grips.
 
Gary spoke to them in a sing-song, yet oddly guttural,
language. He followed the three men towards a low, thatched
hut that seemed to stretch into the night. Turning to
Mulder and Scully, Gary spoke softly, "It's a little...
uncomfortable the first time you enter a nakamal, especially
one like this, at this time of night, after the death of a
chief. No matter what you feel, we are welcome in the village 
so try and relax, no one will hurt you."
 
Scully looked at Mulder with some trepidation, glad of the
feel of her weapon near Mulder's hand. He was grinning like
an idiot, of course, but his grin faded a little as they
entered the smoke-filled hut.
 
The nakamal, the chiefs' meeting house, was long and wide,
empty but for one old man hunched on a coconut log next to
an open fire. In front of the blaze, a large wooden bowl of
muddy water rested on the ground. A few coconut half shells
sat beside the bowl.
 
The shadows danced and moved in the firelight, hiding the
thatched walls. From the distance, the old man looked up and
lifted his arm in a gesture of greeting. His voice
penetrated the eerie silence as he spoke in clear English.
 
"Pilot...come."
 
Gary motioned Mulder and Scully to precede him while the
three men who had walked them from the machine vanished
silently into the night.
 
Scully felt the hairs on her neck prickle, the sensation
of being watched by a dozen eyes was almost overwhelming.
It was not fear...just a strange evocation of some
primitive sense. Gary held out his hand to the chief as he
stood. The chief held his hand out limply, shaking the
pilot and the agents hands with the same loose softness as
the others.
 
"Sit." The old man intoned.
 
A silence filled the nakamal. Scully felt uncomfortable,
unfamiliar with the rituals of the culture. Mulder was
relaxed, an open mind waiting to be filled with whatever
wonders might present themselves to his almost childlike
curiosity. Scully felt a certain envy towards her partner
knowing that while her mind needed to analyze and
categories, his was emotive, freely accepting whatever came
his way.
 
A solitary warrior appeared silently from the smoky
shadows, causing Scully to catch her breath. She knew it
was an illusion; he must have been standing there the
entire time, his stillness hidden by the dark. He was as
powerfully built as the men who had taken their bags from
the helicopter. Chocolate brown muscles rippled across his
entire body. And like the others, he was naked but for what
Gary would later explain was a nambas, a penis sheath. It
covered only his penis, pulled taught and tucked upright
and into the thong at his waist, leaving ebony testicles
to fall beneath, exposed like the rest of him. But there
was no ugliness, no lewdness or even covert sexuality in
his nakedness. Like the others he was comfortable and un-
self conscious in his magnificent, glistening body.
 
He silently crouched spread legged in front of Scully,
oblivious to the view this gave her. She could almost feel
Mulder's sly smile behind her as the man filled a coconut
shell with kava and handed it to her. He then offered her a
soft green leaf containing a small piece of sugar cane.
 
Scully glanced questioningly at Gary.
 
"Women do not partake in the kava ceremony, but you're
white and therefore outside their cultural taboos. Sip it
then spit the residue back into the bowl and put the sugar
cane in your mouth immediately to cut the effect. Whatever
you do, *don't* smell it or sip it, you don't drink kava
for the taste or bouquet!"
 
Scully took the proffered shell and did as she was
instructed. The thick taste was so foul she almost gagged,
but she dutifully skalled it, spat the muddy residue and
stuffed the cane into her already numb mouth.
 
Mulder followed suit then Gary. The ceremony was repeated
again in silence. When offered a third shell, Gary
declined, motioning to them both that they could also
safely decline. Scully's mouth was numb and her jaws seemed
to chew the sweet cane of their own volition. The kava
bearer stood and retreated silently into the shadows.
Scully's eyes followed and then widened in astonishment.
Mulder let out a barely audible gasp and she felt him jerk
as he saw what her eyes had finally discerned.
 
Her first instinct was to go for her weapon, but Gary,
aware of the FBI agent's concealed guns, was surprisingly
fast in stopping them
 
"I told you, there's nothing to be afraid of. You're
welcome here. Just relax, I know it's kinda spooky," 
Mulder blinked at this turn of phrase "But it's cool, 
just go with it."
 
That's fine for you to say, thought Scully as her eyes
adjusted to the dark. Unbeknownst to her, the narcotic kava
had heightened her senses beyond the normal, allowing her
to see the line of naked men, she could only think of them
as warriors, lined up along both walls of the nakamal. As
her head twisted, both sides of the fire brightened at the
far end of the nakamal and she realized there must be at least
two hundred silently standing sentinels. All of their eyes
were turned to the strangers, but not one twitch, not one
foot scuffle or eyelid moved to break the silence. Then as
one their eyes moved to the raised platform visible now in
the light of the fire.
 
Gary spoke softly "That's the old chief, Kalmantu. They'll
stay here a few hours while his family prepares the smoking
hut, then take him outside and place him there from three
to seven days, smoking the body."
 
Mulder's face asked the question and Gary added "It's sort
of a preservation technique, a desiccation ritual." He was
surprised when neither agent flinched. Most Europeans
generally gagged at the concept then practically ran
screaming from villages at the sight of it. He guessed
since they were law enforcement officers investigating a
murder, and Scully was a pathologist they might be a little
more resilient, at least until confronted with the reality.
 
One of the men who'd met them at the machine entered the
nakamal and Gary stood, nodding goodnight to the chief.
Mulder and Scully followed his lead, grateful to return to
the cooler night air. They both stopped and took a deep
breath, then glanced at each other.
 
Gary grinned. "I was going to warn you, but I figured you
wouldn't freak out...and it's more impact if you experience
it cold."
 
"You can say that again," Scully mumbled under her breath.
"What other little surprises are in store for us?"
 
"Nothing until tomorrow. The women have made dinner for
us, but you'll have to cope with an audience. It's been
four years since the last white person was in the village
so we're a novelty." He grinned knowingly at Scully's hair
and added, "I hope you don't mind kids."

**********************************************
End Chapter 14

Lost Time Part  16 of 21
Date: August 1999
Author/feedback : PLEASE! spider@webspin.org. All parts
posted at www.webspin.org/xfic.htm
Disclaimers: Please see part 1


*****************
This section: PG
*****************

CHAPTER 15

DAY 31
 
Mulder sat huddled with some youths in the corner. They
found him a willing recipient of their stories. Scully
smiled at his good-natured tolerance of their
broken, heavily-accented English. Mulder could turn from
selfish egomaniac to the most giving and compassionate
person she'd ever met, in the blink of an eye. How she was
going to deal with their afternoon's mistake kept nagging
her, but whatever her decision, she must not let it destroy
their partnership.
 
The younger children, emboldened by Scully's gentle
smiles, finally overcame their fear and spent the better
part of the evening touching her and stroking her hair.
Their mothers eventually sent them off to bed leaving
Scully now blissfully alone.
 
She felt gritty and sweaty, the afternoon swim long
forgotten in the tropical night. But the effects of that
swim remained with her in the soreness of her pubic bone, a
stiffening in her inner thighs. Muscles unused for God, how
many years? a constant reminder of what they had done.
 
She and Mulder had made love.
 
Oh.
 
God, it recycled in her brain low a low hum, over and over,
underscoring everything, coloring her perception of the
world without interfering with it.
Could they work like that?
His presence was now a constant innuendo.
But hadn't that always been the case? Six years of
innuendo, in fact.
Then she stopped herself. Talk about egomaniac, it was not
her decision alone, was it?
 
Or not? After all, *this* Mulder had not initiated it, the
younger one had. *This* Mulder would want nothing to do
with something as encumbering as a sexual relationship, one
that involved some sort of commitment and responsibility.
Would he?
 
In that cabin, was it only a few weeks ago? she had
convinced herself his obsessive focusing had nothing to do
with romantic love. But again she considered Antarctica.
Good God, the man had traveled to the most inhospitable
place on the planet and wrested her from...something. Could
any man ever match such selfless dogged determination to
save her? Could she not then call such passion, love?
 
She sighed and looked down at her hands. Could she live
with such manic behavior? God knows she had lived with him
walking out on her, oblivious to her passive needs, for
years. Nothing in that regard would change if they
maintained a sexual relationship. She could live with that
aspect, but by allowing him that, allowing herself that, it
automatically closed off any vague hopes she might have
entertained of a normal life with a normal man.
 
And since when, Dana Katherine Scully, did you ever decide
that a normal life was something you wanted? She shook her
head in confusion. She trusted Mulder with her body and
soul, but not her heart.
 
"A penny?"
 
Scully smiled as she felt Gary sit by her on the coconut
log.
 
"I had no idea that places like this still existed on the
planet...is that why you like it?"
 
He chuckled "It's raw and primitive, earthy and
frightening and amazing. Wait until tomorrow. There are
thousands flocking in from the surrounding villages and
nearby islands. They'll be paddling all night and walk up
here before dawn."
 
Scully blinked, not understanding, but then her attention
was distracted by a nearby roar as Maroum let out
an exceptionally loud blast. She turned and gasped. The
smog suddenly cleared as the wind changed direction and the
twin volcanoes became visible in all their hellish glory.
As the last wispy tendrils swept away, the glowering light
of the volcanoes lit the entire village in harsh shadows.
She could see shapes silently moving everywhere.
 
Scully turned, wanting Mulder to see this but he had
already sensed her unease and strode from the hut to where
they were seated. His eyes opened in fascinated wonder as
he, too looked back down into the village and beyond to the
awful peaks.
 
"I can understand how living in a place like this breeds a
darkness of the soul."
 
Gary sat back and lit a cigarette, watching the two
Americans with something akin to curiosity. They were
nothing like the tourists he normally dealt with, more like
the dedicated anthropologists, volcanologists and
geologists he'd ferried across the islands. He was vaguely
curious about their relationship. They didn't act like a
couple, yet there was an inbred familiarity born of long
standing companionship. That they constantly checked each
other's position, making eye contact, a touch of the
bodies, all reeked of intimacy. Yet he had done his tour of
duty in Vietnam and he knew what it was like to watch your
partner's back and to depend on them watching yours. These
two were definitely accustomed to violence.
 
"So do you want to tell me exactly what's going on? You
might have gathered by now you're going to need an
interpreter and if I have a better idea what you're after,
I might have more success than fumbling around blindly."
 
The agents looked at one another and the pilot detected a
subconversation not unlike the one he and his photographer
wife shared. Yeah, these two definitely had something
between them.
 
Scully spoke softly "We have evidence to link the death of
the roving U.S. ambassador to a series of deaths over the
last two months, seven in total, all on U.S. soil."
 
Gary's interest perked up and he flicked his cigarette to
one side. "Go on."
 
Mulder sat beside his partner and added, "In fact
considerably more than seven people have died. It appears
that in each case, the victim kills his family, then
himself dies within three days. But what ties with 
Ambassador Gordon's death is their post mortem 
condition." Mulder's expression showed he clearly 
deferred to his partner and Scully took up the tale, 
relating how the body cavities were emptied and
filled with straw or grass.
 
The moment she finished her description Gary rocked
forward on his feet, stood up and rubbed a hand through his
hair "Oh brother...so you're the one who did the autopsy. I
shoulda guessed, you being a doctor and all. I'm surprised
news hasn't spread...or maybe it has, I didn't go out last
night after leaving you guys...no chance to pick up the
gossip. Shit, I wasn't wrong then, it's happening again."
 
Scully and Mulder stared at one another.
 
"You guys have heard of zombies, right?" Crane continued.
 
They nodded and Scully replied "It's been reliably
documented that the so called zombie is the result of an
extract from the..."
 
"Yeah, yeah, I read New Scientist, too -- a puffer fish
poison that induces a near death state, followed by the careful
application of hallucinogenic drugs." 
 
Scully blinked and raised her eyebrow, but Gary 
ignored the warning signs and continued. 
"You said straw...well let me tell you about Vanuatu 
zombies.
"You can see what sort of place this is, dark and gray.
Everything's dirty all the time from the ash fallout. The
gardens are wrecked by acidic rain and the kids starve, or
the mountain blows up and rains death on them, or the
village is wiped out by lava flows or mud flows in a
cyclone. And no use asking me why they stay. It's their
life, and they're tied to the land and the spirits in a way
I can't begin to explain. I'm not saying its real, but I
can tell you that these people believe in zombies.
 
"They say that magicians, magic men, can call a man from
his home with tam tams -- those split gong drums you see
everywhere. The man alone hears the drums and when they get
him to come to their magic place, usually a killing ground
for something else, bad karma I guess, they gut him like a
pig and fill his belly with straw. Then they send him home
to kill his family. A zombie can only exist for three days,
then his body starts deteriorating so fast, it's no longer
mobile and can't function anymore, hence he finally 'dies.'
 
"Now, that's the short version. You find yourself a few old
people tomorrow and they'll tell you the five-hour version.
If you're lucky I can find you one who speaks enough
English for you to get the gist of it."
 
But the agents simply stared at one another in unspoken
understanding.
 
Mulder was the first to break the silence. "What do you
mean, it's happening again?"
 
"'Bout eight years back Vila was terrorized by a series of
killings within a certain tribal area. Nothing the tourists
or expatriates had anything to fear, purely kastom, a
ritual thing, so it never made the papers. There were seven
so called kastom shark attacks and about six more
disappearances of pikininis from beaches, also presumed
shark attacks, up around Paama and Epi Islands, all from
the same two extended families. In Vila, from these
families, a total of eighteen girls and young women were
found dead over the course of three months. All had been
raped, although that's a relative term in this country."
 
"What do you mean?" Scully scowled.
 
"Women are chattels, possessions. There's no such thing as
rape, except when a father is involved and even that's only
cause for a public wrap on the knuckles. Most girls are
sexually used from about the age of ten or twelve, but in
this case, the women were so badly raped they were
literally torn apart. Finally, a couple of brothers from
another volcanic island, Tana, figured out which particular
magician was involved. They cornered him, a guy named
Kati, one afternoon, away from his magic grove and beat the
crap out of him. They also invoked some special kastom
leaves, ruining his magic powers. The deaths ceased
straight away. The magician ran back to his home 
island -- here on Ambrym, swearing revenge.
 
"About three years later, the killings began again, but
this time, fathers and brothers would kill their entire
family then drop dead within three days. I guess you've
figured by now that we don't have undertakers. The extended
families always look after burials. Each swore that the men
and boys had their organs removed and bellies filled with
straw."
 
Mulder's eyes were dancing as he leaped from his seat and
began pacing up and down. "So what happened?"
 
Gary shrugged. "It just stopped one day, about a year after
it began and everyone figured the revenge, whatever it was
for, had finished, or the unnamed magic man perpetrating
it, had gone overboard with the spirits who in their wrath,
turned on him.
 
"Now word got around that Kati, unable to perform magic
any more, had poured his powers into a cooking pot and gave
the pot to a missionary after he'd returned here, to Ambrym
and that the second wave of killings resulted from that."
 
"A missionary?" Scully asked in disbelief. "You still have
missionaries?"
 
"They still swarm through the islands doing their
damnedest to save the sinners. Anyway, the story goes that
at a special Presbyterian inauguration, about two hundred
people ate from this cooking pot. Kati claims his powers
were spread to each of those two hundred people but that
one in particular 'ate' most of his powers and became a
magic man with the power to create zombies. The feeling 
was that this second magic man who inherited the powers, 
was responsible for the second wave of killings."
 
"Any other incidents after this? Any unexplained deaths?"
Mulder asked.
 
Gary laughed. "As I said before, there ain't no such thing
as a natural death in this country, even old age is blamed
on spirits. But...no, I can't say I've heard of any zombie
cases in a couple of years until two weeks ago, just before
Gordon turned up dead. There was another expatriate guy, a
man named Owens who ran a kava-exporting business,
disappeared for three days. His wife, a ni-Vanuatu girl,
ran screaming from the house when he came home, swearing
that he'd tried to kill her and that he wasn't really him.
She ran next door to get away but he didn't follow. When
they came back to the house with a few of her brothers in
tow, they found Owens on the back porch. He looked and
smelled like he'd been dead for about three, four days."
 
Mulder glanced at Scully.
 
"What did the police report say?" Scully asked.
 
"Nothing much...you hafta understand that without an
autopsy, cause of death is always heart attack if the doc
can't find anything obvious to say otherwise. I know it's
hopeless policing, but for the most part the cops are happy
to pass it off as a kastom thing and let the various
families make reparations where necessary. In this case he was
white, had no relatives living here or overseas, so no one
could be blamed for his death.
 
"Her family took the body for burial and when they dressed
him, they found a huge scar, tied together with fishing
line, running the full length of his belly. They cut the
nylon and found all his organs had been removed and
replaced with straw. I wouldn't have put any faith in it,
but my wife knows the family and asked if she could take
photos simply because it was so unbelievable. Pretty
gruesome stuff."
 
Scully's mind was racing and she stood up and asked "Was
he buried here? Can we have the body disinterred for
examination?"
 
"Well, I dunno, but it makes no difference now because of
the cyclone that just passed through. You saw all the damage
from the air. Most of the bodies were washed away when the
river flooded next to the village cemetery. But my wife has
the photos if you want to see them."
 
Scully's mind was racing now. Though photos would not be
nearly enough, she wanted to see them. If there was a
connection between these deaths and...but that didn't help
find the killer.
 
Mulder spoke up. "Is there any way we an talk to this Kati?
Does he live any where near this village?"
Gary chuckled. "You sure pick 'em. Old Kalmantu was Kati's
uncle."
"You mean Kati's father's a magic man too? The same one
who supposedly set the kastom shark on that boy you
medivaced this afternoon?" Mulder asked, his eyes
slightly rounded in anticipation.
"The very same."
"Well...aren't you...I mean, you're not worried that by
saving the boy's life you intervened in..."
"Nah! No, no, no," replied Gary, chuckling. "Y'see, I'm
white, I'm outside the equation. It's like letting Dana drink kava.
They'd never let one of their own women near the stuff, but
because you're not of their culture, it doesn't count."
"So...they would never normally work their...uh...black
magic on a white man."
"Nope, they know it simply wouldn't work."
"Well then how does that explain the deaths of Owens and
Gordon?"
Gary looked up through lowered eyelids, pursed his lips
and lit a cigarette.
Mulder noticed that his match was shaking.
"You got me there."

***********************************************************
End Chapter 15

Lost Time Part  17 of 21
Date: August 1999
Author/feedback : PLEASE! spider@webspin.org. All parts
posted at www.webspin.org/xfic.htm
Disclaimers: Please see part 1


*****************
This section: PG
*****************

CHAPTER 16

DAY 32 - 5.45am
 
The heartbeat of the earth reached into her dreams like a
life force. Blood pounded through Scully's veins as the
drumming increased its cadence, mesmerizing her into a
deeper sleep. The pounding now became heard as well as
felt, urging her to move, to follow its hypnotic rhythm.
 
"Hey Scully, wake up!"
 
Adrenaline coursed through her body at electrochemical
speed, her response no less fast as she reached for her gun
and sitting bolt upright, cried, "Freeze!"
 
"Whoa!" Gary's eyes opened in shock and he almost
staggered backwards. His hands shot up in the air in a
gesture of submission, even though the gun was not aimed at
him. To his amazement, the person in its line of site
chuckled.
 
Mulder saw his partner's eyes immediately recognize him
and her gun point to the ceiling.
 
"Scully cut it out, I'm not trying to get into your
panties, I just want you to wake up."
 
Gary did a quick rethink of the FBI agent's relationship.
Maybe they weren't lovers after all. Shit, he'd have a hard
time getting it up for someone who pulled a gun on him just
for tweaking her toe.
 
Scully glared at her partner then lifted an apologetic eye
at the pilot.
 
The dirt floored hut they'd shared the previous night was
not much larger than the main room of their basement office,
however the sickly Coleman light barely illuminated the
interior.
 
Gary smiled weakly and said, "Morning" to Scully.
 
Scully rolled her eyes, ready to take a piece out of her
partner for waking her like that, when she realized the
pounding through the earth was real and not an echo of her
dream state. "What's that? What's going on?"
 
"Scully c'mon!" he grabbed her hand. "Ya gotta see this!"
 
Her bladder demanded a Coleman-lit stop to the noxious,
outdoor bush toilet first, but Scully hardly took any
notice at the lack of facilities with the shake of the
earth and the pounding of drums throbbing through her body.
 
Gary had already gone ahead and Mulder impatiently grabbed
her hand as she made her way back around the coconut frond
walls of the toilet. As they carefully walked through the
overhanging trees and came into a clearing, Scully noticed
a tinge of orange dawn to the east. But that registered
only briefly in her mind, for the sight before her drew a
gasp. She instinctually pulled back.
 
They stood on an elevated hummock above a huge clearing on
the far side of the kava nakamal. Dozens of fires lit the
circumference, illuminating what she guesstimated to be
well over a two thousand naked men pounding the earth in a
rhythmic cadence beyond anything she'd ever experienced. In
the heart of these men, women, perhaps a thousand of them,
dressed only in colorful grass skirts and amazing red face
paint circled in counterpoint to the men.
 
They chanted, not a haunting melody, but a discordant,
raw, primitive chant, in time with the beating of strange
rounded baskets.
 
"Basket drums," Gary told her as she approached the pilot
"They're padded with chicken feathers. Not much in
themselves but you get three or four thousand of them at
the one time and it produces quite a sound, huh? The deep
bass drumming is from the tam tams."
 
Scully gaped while Mulder stared in wide eyed fascination.
 
As the sun came up quickly, the sheer scope of the dance
took her breath away. Dust climbed through the ranks,
obliterating those furthest from view. Shafts of sunlight
fought through the thick clouds generated by thousands of
pounding bare feet until a passing rain shower dampened the
earth once more.
 
For almost three hours they sat, entranced by the
primitive scene, unable to speak, unable to do anything but
succumb to the raw power. After a time, Gary enticed Scully
to descend with him to the edges of the arena. But she had
been unable to stay long. The men encircling the women
dancers had formed into a continuous circuit of unstoppable
naked ebony muscle, pounding past her with a ferocity that
made tidal waves seem insignificant. The men surged outside
the boundary and Gary and Scully were pushed back. Mulder,
not so lucky, was momentarily caught up in the powerful
fray. He escaped with bruised feet and somehow, a lost
shirt and torn trousers.
 
This was no dance, it was a controlled riot of thousands
of body builders hypnotized by their own cadence, oblivious
to their surroundings. God help anyone if they'd fallen
beneath their feet.
 
Scully finally pulled back and Gary, taking the hint, led
them back to the crude sleeping hut. Scully had not really
seen it the night before, which, she supposed, was
undoubtedly a good thing. The three rough pieces of foam on
the floor were each covered in a piece of cloth loud enough
to make into Hawaiian shirts. A couple of chickens wandered
about, pecking at the floor. These were no fluffy white
hens, but robust bush animals with legs that would have
done eagles proud. A small black razor-backed pig snorted
through the bedding and Gary pushed him aside, rescuing the
bag of muesli bars he'd thought to bring from the chopper.
 
Scully raised her eyebrow and pursed her lip at the sight
of an eight-inch centipede was attacked and fought over by
the chickens.
 
"Sorry about the breakfast." Gary shrugged. "There's plenty
of food being prepared and cooked for the feast later, but
for now all the women's huts will have is day old bread and
sugary tea. I figured these would be more appetizing."
 
Their dinner the previous evening had been presented to
them in a large bowl fashioned from a banana like leaf.
Filled with a delicious mixture of freshly caught fish and
crayfish seeped in coconut cream, it came with a side order
of sweet fat cooking bananas and locally roasted nuts.
Scully was hesitant to eat, but Gary pointed out the fish
would have been caught only hours before. She had been
pleasantly surprised at the absence of nocturnal trips to
the bush toilet.
 
The muesli bars were consumed on the walk to the women's
hut for tea. They passed various near-naked people coming
and going, all flashing toothy smiles. Soon, an entourage of
laughing children collected in their wake, deftly catching
the boiled sweets from Gary's large pockets. However, all at
once everyone disappeared and a low keening replaced the
omnipresent pounding of the earth.
 
Suddenly everything...stopped.
 
"Quick!" Gary grabbed Scully by the hand and tore off onto
a side path. Mulder followed, cursing the prickles tearing
at his newly donned shirt. They burst onto what Scully
surmised was the far side of the dancing grounds. She could
see the helicopter's rotor over the heads of hundreds of
men. Without warning, the crowd parted to allow the three
visitors through.
 
Scully had never felt so small and helpless before,
despite the proximity of Mulder and Gary. The crowd filled
the gap left by their path, blocking any thoughts of
escape.
 
The powerful smell of a thousand unwashed bodies
penetrated her nostrils. Yet it was unlike any smell she
was accustomed to from human beings. This was far more
earthy, richer, peppery...primitive. Their light chocolate
flesh glistened with perspiration. Raw power seeped from
their very pores. Mulder turned to her with his eyes
alight, totally unafraid. Scully very much wanted to clasp
his hand, but he reached for her and brought him around to
stand in front of him, in direct line of sight of the
procession.
 
In the clearing, a rough platform of tree boughs had been
erected. A fire pit had been dug beneath and wisps of smoke
shimmered, telling of the heat below. Above the platform a
roof of thatched pandanus leaves had been erected. Although
crude in appearance, the leaves would keep out even the
most insistent tropical downpours.
 
A line of men a dozen abreast, emerged from the dust. The
top halves of their bodies were colored a vivid orange
while the bottom seemed encased in black. Once again the
tam tams began their rhythmic beating and the line of
orange and black surged back and forth, heads down,
chanting and stamping a mesmeric dance. From behind,
flashes of powder blue coalesced to become a slim young
man, perhaps a tall youth. His dance was different, more
intense to the chorus provided by the orange and black.
Mulder and Scully stood rapt as Gary explained the death
dance. Performed perhaps once or twice a decade after the
deaths of significant chiefs, the boy himself could
possibly die after the dance, for the tiny blue circles
that covered his entire body were from a poisonous flower.
Scully looked on, somewhat horrified at this possible human
sacrifice, as Gary explained the millennia old culture.
 
Many villages, he explained, made a practice of burying
people alive with the bodies of chiefs, as accompaniment to
his afterlife. In this island, however, the sacrifice was
of but one. But if the spirits were happy with the
sacrifice of pigs that would take place later in the day,
perhaps the blue boy might live. Perhaps. As hard pressed
as Scully was to reconcile the possible death of this boy,
it was impossible not to be moved by the dance.
 
The blue boy's dance took him in and out of the lines of
orange and black dancers. His arms would soar, parodying a
bird, then his body hunch down, like a pig. He came close
enough for them to see his hands and feet, neck and face
were covered in the same orange pigment as those behind
him. Two large rings of orange emphasized his nipples.
Elsewhere, the blue tiny circles covered him entirely, they
could see when he crouched that the inside cleft of his
buttocks and his testicles were also painted. His penis was
covered in a snowy white nambas made from eagle feathers.
Single feathers erupted from each finger and toenail and
the sides of his mouth, speared in place under the quick
and through his cheeks. A cluster of white feathers
sprouted from his head.
 
As the dance continued four men, the local equivalent of
pallbearers, Scully realized, carried the dead chief into
the clearing. An awesome keening filled the air and grew in
crescendo till it peaked somewhere in the base of Scully's
skull. She felt Mulder's firm arms surround her, gripping
her, steadying her..steadying him. Gary placed a hand on
her shoulder. The effect was too powerful to remain aloof
and indifferent.
 
Time passed as the procession carried the body of the dead
chief around the inside of the dancing ground. A sea of
hands reached out to touch the body as it was slowly
carried by. Gary indicated that Scully and Mulder must do
the same. The procession slowed in front of them and they
respectfully placed their hands on his cold and withered
body. An old woman, frail, with flattened breasts long since
dried, swinging like paper against her chest, grabbed
Gary's hands and lifted them, then pulled him to touch her
husband's face. He later told the FBI agents it was because
he was a pilot. His hands would give wings to her husband's
journey, so that he might pass safely through the underworld
and beyond. It mattered not that he was of a different
culture. At that moment in time the old woman took whatever
comfort she could get.
 
Finally the old chief was placed reverently on the smoking
platform. There he would rest for days, as the heat and
smoke desiccated his body.
 
Within minutes, the dancing ground cleared. Now was the
time of gifts. Each man and woman would bring with him a
cow or pig, bag of rice or bolt of cloth, a penance to the
family of he who had died. The old woman and half a dozen
keening younger women sat by the dead man's side. Every now
and then one would get up and pat the body, adjusting the
leaves around him.
 
"They'll stay there for at least three days, then take
turns looking over him until it's finished."
 
Scully sensed Mulder's restlessness as the gift-giving
ceremony looked to be dragged out for hours. The bodies
surrounding them began to thin and Gary found a coconut log
to sit on.
 
"In a minute, someone will come by with some lap lap. It's
ground taro baked in coconut cream and wrapped in island
cabbage. Sticky as all hell and bland. Eat it and then you
can talk, and ask your questions."
 
"Through you?"
 
Gary rolled his head. "Word's out and some of the old
magic men are unhappy with their secrets passing out of
their culture. We'll see...depends on who talks to you but
most likely they'll understand your question and just need
to answer in their language."
 
Not more than a few minutes passed before and an old man
shuffled by, sitting himself on the ground at Mulder's
feet. He said nothing, simply holding his hand out in a limp
greeting. Over the next few minutes two more old men
repeated the greeting and squatted on the earth. Finally, a
middle-aged man, his arms all but covered in completely
circular pigs' tusks, carried a banana leaf heaped with
steaming dark green leaf covered lap lap. He motioned for
each of the visitors, then the older men to accept a piece.
A boy followed and offered each a green coconut, sheared at
the top to allow them to drink.
 
Scully bit hesitantly into the thick leaf covered lap lap.
It's taste was somewhat bland, smoky, but not unpleasant.
The green coconuts however were delightfully sweet and
refreshing.
 
When each had their fill, the boy cracked the coconuts and
cut a spoon-shaped scoop to wrest the soft meat from the
shell.
 
It cleansed the palette and cleaned their teeth of the
sticky lap lap. The boy then wrapped the broken shells 
and old leaves and uneaten lap lap in a large leave and 
carried it away.
 
Gary then pulled out a packet of strong-smelling stick
tobacco and handed a stick to each of the men. Each took a
mouth full and began to chew. The one resplendent with pigs'
tusks wadded a piece in his cheek and asked a question of
Gary in the oddly melodic language.
 
Gary replied, "Yu no savee English."
"Si, mi savee, be mi no tok tok."
 
Gary turned to Mulder and Scully. "Okay, he understands
you, but keep it in simple terms, nothing technical. He'll
answer you in his language."
 
A round of introductions followed. The agents learned the
pig-tusked man was in fact the younger brother of Chief
Kalmantu. He was the magic man who had purportedly sent
the 'kastom' shark to attack the boy that morning.
 
Despite disbelieving in it, Scully bristled, but she
reminded
herself that this was not her country, nor her culture. In
fact,
it was a hell of a long way from her century. Ambrym was
called the magic island, but the tourist brochures called
it
the land lost in time.
 
"Nem blong mi, Sirivi." He called himself.
 
A strange conversation took place over the next hour, one
Scully could not become involved in, and one she could not
accept. But within the context of the story unveiled, it
made sense. A delighted Mulder left convinced they had
found the answers.
 
Gary and Mulder talked animatedly as they collected their
few things from the sleeping hut, said their farewells and
returned to the helicopter.
 
As the pilot shook hands with an interminable number of
people, Scully took Mulder to one side and said "You don't
seriously believe any of this, do you Mulder?"
 
"C'mon, Scully, it all makes sense! It's the only thing
that ties it all together. It won't take that long to track
down every white man that attended that Presbyterian
ceremony."
 
"Look Mulder, in the unlikely event that some sort of...of
power was transferred," she attacked with her left eyebrow
to emphasize the point "I can't believe I'm even having
this conversation."
 
Mulder took her by the elbow and drew her to one side of
the machine. "Scully, I have at times questioned your faith
and your religious convictions. I'm not trying to draw a
parallel here, but if you accept that evil can manifest
itself in material form, then keep an open mind on this.
When we get back, why don't you let me run a check with the
Presbyterian Church and you follow up on licensed kava
exporters. Let's see if we can find a match. It's our
strongest lead so far."
 
She pursed her lips in annoyance at his gullibility.
Nothing ever really changed.
 
On the return flight, Scully successfully managed to ignore
the constant thrum on her subconscious, the low level
reminder of what she and her partner had done the day
before. But no matter how she sublimated it, it remained
with her, like a suddenly-acquired extra sense, an
underpinning to her very existence. God, it had felt so good
to hold a man in her arms, not just the act of sex, but to
feel his warmth and smooth firm flesh against her...The
slight tickle of chest hair, the smell of Mulder, feel of
his soft back and her fingers running through his thick
hair,
the taste of his....God, no!
 
No! This was all wrong, dammit! They could not risk this,
it would inevitably destroy their partnership.
 
The closer they came to Vila, the further she tried to
distance herself from what had happened. And Dana Scully
was nothing if not an expert from distancing herself from
emotions.

********************************************************

End Chapter 16

Lost Time Part 18 of 21
Date: August 1999
Author/feedback : PLEASE! spider@webspin.org. All parts
posted at www.webspin.org/xfic.htm
Disclaimers: Please see part 1


*****************
This section: Rated PG 
*****************

Chapter 17

DAY 32 - 3:00pm
 
It was almost three p.m. when the machine landed at Vila 
airport. All Scully wanted was to get back to the hotel 
and sink into a long, hot tub. "So do you guys still 
want to see my wife's photos?" Gary asked as they walked 
back to the hanger, "She's back about nine tonight, then 
we're both going up to Malekula tomorrow. After that, it 
will be a coupla months of back and forth...eh, I guess 
it will have to later tonight or very early tomorrow."
 
"Tonight if you're sure she wouldn't mind?" Scully asked.
 
"No problem, we're only a few minutes from your hotel, 
so I can pick her up here first then grab you on the way 
home."You're gonna want to catch up with the Marketing 
Board, huh? Better do it today, it's a public holiday 
tomorrow."
 
Mulder asked "Are they the ones responsible for 
exporting kava?"
 
"Yep, they'll have all the names of registered growers, 
buyers and exporters. They're right near the offices of 
the Presbyterian Ministry." He added helpfully.
 
"Ah, Mister Crane," Scully sounded overly formal after 
three days calling him by his first name. 
 
"Don't worry, guys," he added before Scully could go on 
"I'll keep my trap shut. This town is so damned small 
though, I wouldn't wait too long before you start asking 
what you need to know, 'coz you can guarantee the 
Chinese whispers have started. And before you ask, no, 
but I had to let the control tower know I'd dropped you 
when I did the medivac. All the pilot's woulda heard...
and they're all married."
 
Mulder gave Scully a resigned look.
 
Scully sighed, wishing she could get cleaned up first, 
but a part of her was determined to eliminate Mulder's 
line of reasoning. The sooner the better.
 
Gary gave them a ride to the central parking lot in Vila. 
His own office was only half a block away while the 
Marketing Board and Presbyterian Ministry were each 
within a hundred meters or so. Scully was reluctant to 
enter a government office dressed in grubby khaki shorts 
and a less than white shirt, until Gary pointed out she'd 
just attract attention in anything better. Although 
Scully did not avoid Mulder's eye, she sidestepped the 
hand placed at her back as he ushered her to walk ahead 
of him between parked cars. 
 
Mulder mentally grimaced, knowing now that the small 
amount of physical contact they were accustomed to was 
in danger of being lost. There had been absolutely no 
opportunity to be alone since those magic, heady hours 
at the volcano. He feared the longer things were delayed, 
the more distance Scully would put between them. The 
agent's agreed to meet back at Jill's caf, where Gary 
would drop their overnight bags.
 
Scully had waited almost an hour in the caf, then 
hunger overtook her. She took a bite of the freshly baked 
bread and caught his jaunty step out of the corner of her 
eye. Scully couldn't suppress a slight smile and unwelcome 
rush of arousal at his boyish enthusiasm, especially with 
is hair sticking out in all directions from the ubiquitous 
afternoon shower. He grinned and pulled out a chair, 
motioning the waitress with raised eyebrows.
 
"So what'ya got, partner?"
 
The waitress came and he took one look at Scully's half 
eaten bowl of chili and ordered the same.
 
"Well, a lot more than I expected. Up until twelve months 
ago, the Board was the sole licensed agent for kava 
exports. Since then, no fewer than twelve licenses have 
been issued, all against the recommendations of the 
manager, one Amos Scanlon."
 
Mulder's eyes danced "Ooooh, Scully, I'm getting very 
turned on."
 
To her horror, Scully blushed and she went to snap at 
him, but realized it was not meant as a risque remark. 
It was just Mulder being Mulder. His hands were unfolding 
a grubby, photocopied bunch of papers.
 
"You're not going to believe this, but Amos Scanlon was 
one of the three hundred attendees at the Presbyterian 
convocation..."
 
"You're right Mulder, I don't believe it...do you mean 
to tell me you've managed to get a copy of the names of 
those who attended and memorized every one of them?"
 
He looked at her blankly, wondering why she would 
suddenly question his eidetic memory.
 
"I'm sorry Mulder," she looked flustered and waved her 
left hand in dismissal "I'm just hot and sticky an
dirty and grumpy. I've got about four hundred mosquito 
bites that itch like crazy and..."
 
"Wanna let me take a look ?" he leered at her and she 
glared back "Ah c'mon Scully you've never been 
reluctant to show them off before."
 
Now she was getting seriously angry. Her eyebrow lifted 
in a familiar threatening gesture so he turned the 
conversation left "Amos is not a common name," he broke 
off as the bowl of steaming chili and hot fresh bread 
rolls were placed in front of him.
 
Scully continued where she'd left off "It seems Mr. 
Scanlon, an American citizen, just returned from a 
marketing conference in L.A., about a week ago. Then he 
flew to Ambrym with Ambassador Gordon."
 
Mulder caught her eyes "Anyway you look at it, " he said 
between mouthfuls "I think we need to have a little chat 
with Amos Scanlon."
 
"He's flying back from Espiritu Santo tonight, same 
flight as Craig's wife. His secretary gave me his home 
address."
 
"I suppose it would be too much to hope he hasn't heard 
about us yet."
 
"I told the secretary we needed his assistance to 
eliminate certain avenues."
 
Mulder nodded and grinned.
 
"Mulder, I'd like to get back to the hotel as soon as 
possible and call up D.C. I want to run a background 
check on Amos Scanlon. It'd be nice to have something 
before the seeing him tomorrow."
 
Mulder swallowed a mouthful of soda. He was forever 
thankful that although Scully disbelieved him, she would 
make every effort to pursue his offbeat reasoning. "Look 
Scully, I know you have some misgivings about the 
possibility of black magic in these incidences. If we 
can nail Scanlon for the murders, I can live without 
proving the methods employed. But I don't seriously think 
we have much choice. If, as I suspect, he killed each 
victim anywhere up to three days before they slaughtered 
their families, it's going to be impossible proving he 
did it using conventional methods. In fact I'd bet my 
Elvis sunglasses he was probably in a different city, 
if not different country when most of the victims were 
running around killing their families, providing himself 
with a perfect alibi."
 
"Why would that be? If revenge was part of the scenario, 
wouldn't he want to be close by to see his victims 
massacre their families?"
 
Mulder chose to ignore the fact that Scully was at least 
in part agreeing with his theory "I don't think his 
original motive was revenge so much as a warning to 
others, but now he has a taste of the power, he's 
becoming taken with it. You heard our tame Magic Man, 
too many deaths will turn the spirits back onto the one 
wielding the power. C'mon, let's go back to the hotel 
and get cleaned up." He glanced at his watch "It's 
only six, another three hours at least before Crane 
collects us. Should give you enough time to soak out 
the last of the volcano." He grinned at her, but she 
ignored him and went to pay the bill.
 
*******************************************************
End Chapter 17

Lost Time Part 19 of 21
Date: August 1999
Author/feedback : PLEASE! spider@webspin.org. All parts
posted at www.webspin.org/xfic.htm
Disclaimers: Please see part 1


*****************
This section: Rated NC17  Please note this is most definitely 
not for the underaged or those who find sexually explicit 
material offensive.
*****************

CHAPTER 18

DAY 32
 
Scully eased her toe into the bath water. It was hot, so
wonderfully hot in a room she'd set to arctic freezing a
half-hour before. She sent a silent prayer of thanks that
although the hotel room service wasn't, at least they had
baths and icy air conditioning. And hot baths were best
enjoyed with ambient room temperature somewhere south of
the eighties.
 
She sighed and leaned back into the gentle bubbles,
allowing sheer physical pleasure to overtake her. She
rubbed her hands along the smooth flesh of her stomach and
closed her eyes. God, it felt like weeks since the last time
she'd bathed. In fact it had only been the day before....
 
Her eyes shot open at his voice.
 
"Hey Scully?"
 
Oh...oh, no. Goddammit, couldn't he leave her alone to have
this one small pleasure in peace?
 
But her body betrayed her, remembering what other
pleasures were attached to that voice.
 
"Scully? Are you in here?" His voice deepened as he walked
between their adjoining doors then into the bathroom.
 
Dammit, she'd forgotten to close the bathroom door.
 
"Mulder, " she used her best *don't mess with me* voice in
the vain hopes of dissuading him, "can you give me half an
hour, please?"
 
Scully kept her eyes closed, praying her ostrich mentality
would work. But she felt his damned presence and could
picture him leaning against the sink with his damned smug
arms crossed and an insouciant smile on those damned lips.
 
Damn.
 
Damn!
 
"Dammit, Mulder, I'd like a little privacy."
 
"Sure you would, Scully."
 
Her eyes flew open in shock as she realized he was
kneeling by the bathtub, sponge in hand.
 
"That's okay, Scully, keep your eyes closed."
 
"Mulder!" Anger burst into her eyes. "Look, don't think
for a minute..."
 
"I'd take your own advice, Agent Scully, and stop thinking
for a minute." His eyes flashed something not unfamiliar,
but also not yet recognized.
 
Mulder had a fair idea Scully would try to ignore or at
least evade what had passed between them the day before.
He had twenty-four uncomfortable hours controlling his body's
urges after managing just fine for six years.
 
Well, no, he hadn't managed just fine, but he'd coped,
he'd resisted.
 
Until two days ago.
 
Shit, until two days ago he was lost. The man that had made
love to Scully was a different, more foolhardy person.
 
As angry as he'd been with himself, there was the question
of what had brought his memories back. Surely not sex, not
even the mind blowing orgasm.
 
Surely not.
 
Hell, why not?
 
So if he'd used his brains for a change he might not have
recovered his memories?
 
Okay...what's done is done. But they could not go on
pretending it had never happened.
 
Scully was about to demand he leave her bathroom, then she
felt the soft sponge arc across her stiff, slightly
sunburned neck and gritty shoulders. It felt so good she
couldn't help but lean her head slightly forward to
encourage more of the same.
 
She should get rid of him, really, this was all wrong.
 
Why, Dana?
 
Since Emily died, she felt herself hardening a little more
every day. Then the events surrounding Cassandra Spender
had given her pause to think. Was the planned move back to
Quantico to escape him...or herself? Scully had never
envisaged becoming a dried and withered sexless spinster,
but that was exactly what was happening. Staying with
Mulder guaranteed that course would continue.
 
Until two days ago.
 
But was it attraction by default, or real?
 
Did she love him for the right reasons, or because there
was simply no one else to love?
 
No matter how much Scully tried to rationalize it, she
knew in her heart that, unlike many friends she had
known, she was not in love with the idea of being in love
and therefore ripe for any man showing her attention.
 
She was in love with Mulder.
 
And he was her partner.
 
And in the vast scheme of things she valued that
partnership far more than any romantic relationship.
 
But oh, the sponge across her body felt sooo good.
 
For once, Scully let someone pamper her, allowing her mind
to drift, to pretend it wasn't her partner doing this.
 
Her legs and feet, arms and hips, stomach, all lightly
caressed with the sponge.
 
 
Some instinct told Mulder to keep his ministrations from
becoming overtly sexual. He brushed the sponge across her
breasts and between her legs as quickly and efficiently as
other, less tempting areas. In fact he lingered longest on
her legs and feet in order to wash away the accumulated
black ash.
 
He washed her hair, but did not massage as he had before.
This time, the act was affectionate, not erotic. He wanted
Scully to feel safe and relaxed around him, without fearing
that every contact would be sexual.
 
Certainly, bathing her was not the way to go about it, but
at least she was not stopping him.
 
When he finished, Mulder wordlessly held out the thick
hotel robe for her, not allowing his eyes to move from her
face. But his peripheral vision could not ignore a naked,
wet, slightly bubble-covered Dana Katherine Scully. Despite
his best intentions, his nostrils flared and his eyes
darkened. But he could also see something change in
Scully's eyes.
 
Good God, he still found it hard to believe they had
actually made love. That she had done the things to him
that she had.
 
Unbidden images of Scully's red hair caressing the inside
of his thighs as her lips... Oh, God in heaven. He swallowed
and closed his eyes briefly, trying to control the events
unfolding south of the border. Jesus, he had to get a grip
on this situation.
 
"Scully...after all this time, why did you let me make
love to you? Was it because it wasn't me?" An ungracious
image of Eddie Van Blundht filled his mind.
 
Scully wrapped herself in the robe and exited the bathroom
without looking at him. His comment had cut to the quick.
"Mulder," she replied softly, knowing this conversation
might destroy a partnership that neither the full resources
of the FBI, the Consortium, mutants, alien horrors, nor the
deaths of those they loved, could ruin.
 
Friends could forgive where lovers could not.
 
She lowered her head and slowly shook it back and forth,
terrified of words yet unspoken, wishing it all to go away.
Wishing she had ordered him from the bathroom.
 
Scully walked across to the small lounge and sat, aware of
Mulder moving behind her. A few seconds later she felt his
arm over her shoulder. Her eyes opened to a frosty glass of
white wine. She glanced up to see he had a beer in his
other hand and a fearful look on his face.
 
Her heart moved.
 
This was Mulder, this was her partner, a man she loved
more than she could ever have imagined. A man that so
infuriated her and encompassed her that at times she had to
walk away to regain herself.
 
He told her not to run away from the truth.
 
"You're right. I'm so sorry, Mulder, but I think you're
right."
 
He let out a breath and slumped down beside her. He took a
long swig from the tiny bottle, half-emptying it in one go,
and wishing it would fill the aching hollow that flooded
his belly.
 
How many conversations had they had over the years without
saying a word? But he steeled himself. They could not undo
what had been done. And they could not forget it, it would
drive them both mad with frustration and longing.
 
And that would destroy them.
 
He knew Scully knew that. He'd caught her glimpses. He'd
even caught her becoming aroused at the sight of him
getting out of the pool that morning. The water had been
warm and he'd been feeling kind of loose and easy after the
long swim, a mild buzz giving small life to his penis. Not
offensive, even in his tight Speedos, but enough to draw
her eyes. Enough for her to run her tongue over her lips.
He'd heroically managed to control himself at that sight
and turned his back to towel dry his hair, then wrap the
towel around his waste.
 
But of course Scully would deny it, even to herself.
Instead she'd start to get snappy in her frustrations. And
he'd eventually snap back.
 
Hell, he didn't have to be a psychologist to see where
that would go. In truth they had started on that road long
ago. But he had, for once, applied a small portion of his
psychology degree and a good portion of his profiling
skills to Scully during the last few days.
 
Scully had succumbed to being a woman. She had succumbed
to being attracted to him, to familiarity with him and to a
Fox Mulder who had still known what it was like to let his
dick drive his brain. Christ he'd never given much thought
to women before. He flirted a little, well, maybe a lot,
and landed in bed easily with an assortment of fellow
students, secretaries and assistants. Falling in love, however,
had come harder and invariably resulted in painful endings.
So of course the brilliant and petite redhead was a sure bolster
to his ego when Diana had just left him.
 
Well done, Mulder.
 
He'd gotten over his marriage, glad in fact to put such
emotional ties behind him. Frohike had given him a handful
of videos soon after Diana left. That year, his regression
hypnosis plunged him into a dark nightmare of confused
memories that still haunted him. The odd casual encounter
finally withered to nothing after Kristin Kilar and the
realization it was necessary to abandon all encumbrances
with women.
 
Except for Scully. She had given him all the companionship,
all the humanity he needed from a woman, without any of the
demands.
 
He dared to look in her eyes and saw that same familiar but
unrecognized look pass through them and bore into him.
 
It was her decision as much as his younger self's
seduction. She had not made love to *him*. Scully had made
love to a different man, to his younger self, who had
metamorphosed into something unexpected, just like Eddie
Van Blundht.
 
And something unwanted? Had he turned into a loser by
choice, as Eddie said?
 
No.
 
Not unwanted, unattainable.
 
Because Scully must main control, and that control would
never allow her to give in to Mulder's base needs. Or her
own.
 
He must rectify that, right now.
 
He put his beer bottle on the coffee table in front of them
and turned to her. Taking the glass from her hand, he
also placed it on the table.
 
Scully would only concede control if he took it, she could
never do it on her own.
 
Mulder's eyes darkened and he very deliberately lowered
his face to hers, his eyes brooking no refusal.
 
She found herself looking into the identical expression in
his hallway that day, so very long ago. It was one of
profound respect, of a love far richer and greater than
anything merely sexual. And she could not deny him, for she
would be denying a truth. It would be an insult beyond any
words she might utter.
 
Why had she denied herself this for so long? Was it so very
wrong to love him? Would he be any more demanding, any
less selfish than he was now?
 
Mulder's lips softly caressed his partner's. He deepened
the kiss until he felt her moan softly, then he pulled away
a few inches and said, "This is *me* Scully, make love with
*me*." And before she could gain control and refuse him, he
used his lips once more to pacify her mind and arouse her
body and soul.
 
When her tongue became as demanding as his, he knew she
would no longer deny them this. His hand loosened the soft
belt of her robe and slipped across her abdomen then gently
cupped her full breast. The feel of its soft, firm weight in his
hand, the touch of an even firmer bud at its apex, was enough
to drive him wild.
 
God, he had Scully's breast in his hand!
 
The softness of it, they way it rolled beneath his fingers, the
way the soft flesh enveloped his palm was exquisite
 
He pulled back and looked down in fascination, almost
disbelieving the moment. Her face had been a little flushed
from the heat of the bath. Now it was darker, the flush
spreading downwards. As he drank in that extraordinary
vision, his hand ceased its gentle caressing.
 
Scully finally allowed herself to succumb completely. If
she was going to do this, it would be just as completely as
she had two days before. No more games, no more dishonesty
to herself, or him.
 
The sense of freedom this decision gave her was
extraordinary. Years of verbal foreplay, of touches and
caresses from her partner gushed out in an arousal that
demanded more from him that this gentle attention. Scully
placed her own hand over his and pushed it firmly against
her soft flesh, demanding a deeper fulfillment.
 
Mulder growled in his throat and his nostrils flared. She
was his now, and she would take her pleasure from him. That
fact aroused him to the point of dizziness.
 
Scully opened her eyes and licked her lips. She glanced
down at his other hand then very deliberately opened her
legs and arched slightly upwards, allowing the folds of the
robe to open and a thatch of burnished bronze hair to appear.
 
"Scully."
 
But he sat frozen, watching her, enraptured by this vision
of an aroused Scully. He felt like a kid standing at the
door of the biggest candy store in the world. But he took
so long just savoring it all, Scully's own desire tired of
him frozen at the entrance. She slowly reached down with
her other hand and slid her fingers beneath the edge of the
robe still partially covering her.
 
Mulder sucked his breath in anticipation, unable to see
exactly where her fingers were going. He clutched her
breast in reaction, kneading it almost harshly, then hissed
when she arched her back and let her fingers disappear
between her legs.
 
He was all but panting now, desperately wishing the robe
would drop aside and let him see exactly what her fingers
were doing. And then she arched again and spread her legs
wider, forcing her knee against him, moving rhythmically.
 
"Fuck." He hissed in disbelief, his eyes almost completely
black with raw lust. Jesus, he was out of his fucking mind
if he thought he was in any way controlling this situation.
 
This was Scully.
 
God help those poor bastards that thought she was some
sort of ice queen.
 
God help me, he thought.
 
He desperately wanted to kiss her, to bury his face in her
folds, but her gentle, slow undulations held him in thrall.
 
Then the robe finally parted as her glistening fingers
moved away.
 
He swallowed hard, drawing a ragged breath and wondered
how much more of this he could take, when she leaned across
and snaked her tongue down his neck. She pulled at his free
hand and pushed it down into her soft, swollen folds
demanding his larger, rougher fingers. He instantly turned
and captured her mouth, driving his tongue in, instinctually
mimicking his body's primal needs.
 
Then he felt wet fingers on his stomach. Wet from essence
of Scully. They edged lower, creeping under the waistband
of his jeans.
 
He couldn't help himself. Years of being a passive
observer had reduced the act of sex to primarily visual
stimulation, with the final relief from his own hand. He
had to see this. He had to watch his fingers reach into her
forbidden core and her hand reach down the front of his
jeans.
 
Jesus, his fingers were inside Scully.
 
And Scully's hand was groping for him, her fingers inching
under his jeans. He whimpered as her fingernails scraped
the top of his silk-covered erection.
 
"Scully if you don't get me out of there soon," he croaked
hoarsely, "some serious damage might result."
 
Scully chuckled. "To whom, Mulder?"
 
"My damned jeans." He sounded strangled.
 
Scully shot him a smirk "Pretty full of yourself, aren't
you?"
 
"Not nearly as much as I'm going to fill you, Agent Scully."
 
His fingers were sending waves of pleasurable anticipation
through her, but his words burned, and she jerked at his
zipper. But the force of his erection stretched the
material taught, making it difficult to maneuver the zipper.
"Ooh...I believe..."
 
Mulder chuckled until she finally freed him, but then his
jaw slackened at the sight of her small, still wet but
unbelievably hot fingers wrapping themselves around him. He
almost gasped as she took them away and thrust them back
inside herself, joining his own stroking digits. He finally
groaned aloud when her slickened fingers wrapped her
moisture all around his cock.
 
Just the sight of her hand on him would have been enough,
but this, this was beyond belief. There was no playing now,
no gentle touches and teasing hints as in the pool, this
was full on, her small hand exerting surprising power.
 
He was so close to losing it he had to distract her,
distract himself. "Jesus, Scully, who was your firearms
instructor?"
 
She chuckled, then, slipping out of his loose grasp, lowered
herself between his legs and sat back on her heels.
 
He knew he had no hope of surviving this onslaught.
 
Scully knew it too, "Wait," she said softly in his ear,
then stood and walked away.
 
Mulder had no idea where she was going, but he was
physically incapable of moving his head, except to flop it
back on the lounge. He took a few deep breaths and began to
recapture some sense of control. Looking down, he realized
how ridiculous he appeared. His jeans were unzipped but
otherwise completely encompassing the lower half of his
body, while his erection stood out like some demented
flagpole from the side of a building. His white T-shirt
was bunched up around his chest. Christ, all he needed was
his trench coat and he'd look like some perverted flasher.
 
Mulder sat forward and ripped off his T-shirt, but Scully
returned and stopped him from lowering his jeans. He shot
her a quizzical look, but then realized the sight of her
sucking him while his trousers were still in place was
unbelievably erotic.
 
Scully was giving him a blow job.
 
Oh, fuck me! Lord, I have most definitely died and gone to
heaven.
 
It mattered not one little bit that she had done something
similar two days before. She had not done it to *him*.
Although he remembered every minute detail, the fact
remained it had not been *him*. At the time he saw her only
as someone he'd known a few weeks, not Scully who he had
desired and loved for six long, dry years.
 
And let's face it, Mulder, it had not been similar, these were
Scully's thick lips slowly spreading around his engorgement,
sliding up and sucking strongly, the tingling anticipatory fear
of what those ivories could inflict, the withdrawal and slick
sheen, the bronze hair mussing her face...Scully was doing
this to him
 
Oh, God, he was going to lose it again...no! "Scully!"
 
He went to pull her face away, but in that instant she
pulled taught on the skin of his penis, not enough to hurt,
but it somehow exerted a back pressure. Simultaneously, a
bolt of pure electricity shot up through his testicles into
the base of his spine. It was not pain, it was a weird
shrill pleasure that nevertheless managed to instantly
prevent the fluid coiled in his balls from erupting.
 
The sensation flooded him, then her hot tongue gave
counterpoint to what his raw nerves finally identified as
ice cold.
 
Ice.
 
"Doctor tricks. I shoulda known. Fuck, Scully, you tryin'
to kill me or something?"
 
"It's just ice, Mulder." She chuckled, unable to keep a
wicked grin from her face.
 
He stared down into her eyes as she opened her mouth wide
and ran her tongue down his length again, simultaneously
running the ice cube down the other side of his penis.
 
"Good Christ, you've known how to do this for six years?"
his words came out strangled, disbelieving.
 
He'd avoided this for six fucking years?
 
He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.
 
Instead, he settled for gathering what strength he could
muster and pulling her from between his legs, pulling her
robe from her shoulders and carrying her the three steps to
the bed.
 
"Payback time, Agent Scully."
 
Instead of climbing on the bed with her he decided to take
a small risk and do something he was aware many women found
repugnant. Given her actions to date, he suspected Scully
was in the other camp.
 
He watched her face carefully as he stood at the foot of
the bed, then he slowly reached his hand around to grasp
his penis.
 
Scully gasped and licked her lips, her eyes never straying
above his belt. Emboldened he begin to stroke himself,
slowly, gently, far more gently than the rough ministrations
he would normally employ. He walked around to the side of
the bed where she lay, watching her hips arch rhythmically
a little in response to his hand movements. She reached up
and pulled his jeans and silk boxers onto the floor while
his hand continued to pleasure himself. As much as he would
have preferred it to be her soft, firm fingers, he realized
she was as turned on by him doing this as he had been
seeing her pleasure herself.
 
Suddenly, he found himself being swung onto the bed, her
small body straddling his. "Oooh, Scully, have I ever told
you how much I love it when you get physical?"
 
But the feral look in her eyes quieted him, especially
when she ground her hips against his. He tried to rise in
counterpoint but she dug her knees in, forcing his body to
remain motionless. Then she leaned back a little and
reached down to herself with two hands. With one, she
pulled back on the flesh of her mons, exposing the dark and
swollen lips. With the other, she reached her fingers to
spread the lips, then, arching back, lowered herself onto
his full length in one exquisite motion.
 
She sat there unmoving for seconds, but he could feel
small shudders echo through the soft, firm walls that
grasped him. Although he deliberately kept his body still,
he equally deliberately flexed his penis with small
muscular motions.
 
Scully's eyes widened in shock. "Did you do that
voluntarily?" she croaked.
 
He grinned and did it again.
 
"How...how can you do that?"
 
"Ah, c'mon Scully, you're a doctor."
 
"Yes, but..."
 
"Scully...later, mm?"
 
She grinned down at him, then, and leaned back, making
certain he could see everything, then lifted herself entirely
off him, leaving him gasping at the loss.
 
Then she lowered herself just on his tip and back out
again, teasing, teasing, always teasing until it became too
much and his hips started bucking.
 
Once again, she quieted him with her knees, then leaning
over she kissed him long and sensuously. He tickled her
with the motion of his penis and she responded by firmly
grasping him with her own pelvic muscles. Mulder grunted
something unintelligible and Scully knew she could not play
this game anymore. Grabbing at his chest she pounded into
him as hard as she could, sliding herself down into his groin
as she completed each thrust, feeling his surprisingly soft hairs
course across her clitoris, then the soft pressure of his scrotum
against her thighs as she arched up and back down again. In
only a few strokes she was grasping his chest, losing herself in
his hazel eyes, then unbelievably hot pleasure tipped reality into
a new dimension.
 
He fell with her, trapped beneath her legs, bewitched by
her body and enraptured by her face as she finally gave up
all control.
 
****************************************************************

End Chapter 18


Sonny Whitelaw
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Lost Time Part  20 of 21
Date: August 1999
Author/feedback : PLEASE! spider@webspin.org. All parts
posted at www.webspin.org/xfic.htm
Disclaimers: Please see part 1


*****************
This section: Rated PG
*******************

CHAPTER 19
 
DAY 32 - 8:30pm
 
 
As Mulder nuzzled Scully's neck, he glanced at his watch,
grateful to see it was only 8:30. He figured they had a good
forty-five minutes before the pilot arrived.
 
Pulling himself back from his partner's loose embrace, he
smiled at the sleepy expression on her face. With sudden
insight, it struck him that she appeared genuinely happy.
Happier than he had seen her in...well, a long time. Oh,
there was no overt smile, but it seemed to rest just below
her smooth face.
 
Scully opened her eyes and the smile burst out, across her
eyes and down to her cheeks. It was not a huge grin, but a
soft, glowing smile that warmed his heart.
 
God, he loved her. Maybe this was a good idea, maybe, just
maybe it would be all right.
 
"Hey," he grinned down at her.
 
"Hey, yourself." Her eyes remained steady on him.
 
He wanted to say so much, to tell her all that this meant
to him, but it seemed superfluous for he could see it
reflected in her eyes. They didn't need to analyze what
happened with volumes of spoken words, the conversation
between their souls said it all.
 
Everything has changed.
 
Nothing has changed.
 
We are still who we are. Stubborn, proud, professional,
strong-willed, opinionated, determined, dedicated, caring,
loving...
 
"I do love you, you know." He wondered if she'd ever
understood it wasn't the drugs.
 
Scully smiled that small, golden smile he lived for. "I
know...I knew then, too but..."
 
"I know." He lifted her into a sitting position,
dislodging himself from her gently in the process. "Scully,
this is no easier for me than you. You of all people know
that."
 
Scully nodded and they shared yet another long, wordless
conversation with their eyes. Finally, she sighed and said
"I *am* glad...I thought, at first...but no, I *am* glad.
And not simply because I have loved you for a very long
time."
 
His whole face smiled. Oh, he'd been quick to flash grins
and smug looks, even a harsh laugh or genuine chuckle. But
this smile made him look all funny, like his whole face was
falling over itself.
 
She laughed in reply and hugged him. "God, for two such
normally eloquent people we really are hopeless, aren't we?"
 
"Yeah, but we got each other, Scully, we got each other."
 
"And that's enough." Scully replied.
 
 
 
They showered together, aware that the strong smell of sex
could not leave the hotel room with them. They exchanged
few words, but constantly looked at each other and broke
into the silly grins of old friends who have become new
lovers.
 
They each suppressed a thousand questions, how would this
affect their partnership? How would this affect their work?
And yet each time they looked at one another, they could
see the answers. They would still debate and bicker, even
squabble. He would still tease her with barbed witticisms
and she would still attack with her disbelieving eyebrows.
They would skirt around each other and allow the sexual
tension to build, yet give no ammunition to the ongoing pool
in the bullpen as to whether they were or weren't. Scully
would still hide behind her science and Mulder would still
be frustrated at her painful logic. But from this point on,
they could take comfort in one another's arms, as well as
eyes.
 
Scully realized her fears had been for naught. Mulder
would not suddenly become any more protective of her that
he was. She was still his partner and the fact that they
shared a bed gave him no special rights. If anything, he
might be less protective for the same reasons that Scully
knew she would display a little less hostility toward
people like Diana.
 
Nothing like being fucked silly to improve one's
disposition, she thought dryly. Maybe, just maybe they
would be less snappy, even better partners.
 
 
As they dressed alone in their respective rooms, Scully
knew the hardest thing would to keep their all too frequent
disagreements out of the bedroom.
 
"Mulder," she ventured as he walked silently into her
bathroom to watch her apply makeup.
 
"Hmm?"
 
Lipstick in hand, she turned and said, "I'm not going to
change. My opinions are not..."
 
He took two quick strides to her and put his arms around
her. "You better not, Scully. I need you, I want you just
the way your are, all piss and vinegar."
 
Her eyes rounded in shock at his description, but the
silly grin on his face stayed put as he added, "And I'm not
going to change, either. What's really important to me
changed a long time ago, with a bounty hunter on a bridge."
 
Scully blinked slowly in recognition of what he had given
her. But still the small fear...
 
"So often, people fall in love with little quirks that,
over years, change from endearing to tolerable to hated."
 
"Scully, we've already had almost seven years to sort that
out."
 
She smiled again and looked at him in the mirror. There
would be difficulties, but they had each other to take
comfort in, now, and as long as they remained true to
themselves, she thought it just might be okay.
 
*********
 
Scully felt a pang of guilt as she watched Gary and his
wife, Suzie, put her bags down in their living room. Suzie
was clearly exhausted.
 
"I'm sorry to ask this off you at this time of night Mrs.
Craig," Mulder spoke softly.
 
"That's okay." Suzie waved her hands. "Gary would never
have known where to find them, but if you'll excuse me I'm going
to just leave them with you while I have a shower." Suzie
Craig sent a slightly chagrined look to Scully, whose eyes
answered in rueful reply.
 
"Don't blame you."
 
"Hey, can I get you guys a drink or some coffee?" Gary
asked.
 
"Coffee would be fine," the agents replied almost in unison.
 
Scully sat at the dining room table and began to spread
the photos. The quality was exceptional, far better than
the normal autopsy photos, but then Suzie was a commercial
photographer. She'd even had the good sense to show the
scale of those organs or partial organs that had been
recovered, by placing a common ballpoint pen in the photo.
 
"Do you think I could get a copy of these prints, with
some enlargements?" Scully asked.
 
"Sure," Gary replied. "The lab here can scan in the negs
and cut them on CD ROM if you like."
 
"That would be perfect," Scully replied with some
satisfaction.
 
"Now, " Gary asked, "before I go off tomorrow do you want
to let me know what you found out today?" He looked at them
earnestly.
 
As much as neither of the agents felt at liberty to discuss their
suspicions, Mulder glanced at his partner and received a tacit
agreement. The pilot had proven helpful beyond all their
expectations. In the back of Mulder's mind was also the thought
that he owed the man something far more, his memory -- and
Scully.
 
"Mr. Craig, although we'd normally be unwilling to discuss
this..."
 
Gary nodded and interrupted, "We've been through this.
Suzie and I keep our mouths shut about a lot of things. And
we both want to see this resolved before anyone else is
killed. I gotta say she's even more skeptical than me, but
the fact that it's expatriates dying, people outside this
culture, has given us the willies. And I hafta tell you,
Jag Mahiney, up at Santo estate, went nuts the other night
and was found dead with the same nylon line tying up his
gut."
 
Mulder glanced at his partner. Scanlon had been in Santo.
 
Just at that moment, Suzie returned and placed an
affectionate hand across her husband's neck. He smiled up
at her and motioned her to sit while her poured her coffee.
 
Mulder presented the information they had in hand, adding
his opinions, and also adding the fact that Scully did not
subscribe to his conclusions.
 
"But it makes sense," Gary replied. "Scanlon is a bad
bugger. You know he half beat his ni-Vanuatu wife to death
once? Police didn't prosecute. All Scanlon did was pay
retribution -- a few pigs and stuff -- to the girl's father and
that was the end of it.
 
"He's also a known pedophile," Suzie added, her nose
crinkling in distaste.
 
"Now, c'mon, Suzie, you know there's no proof of that."
 
"Sure, there is, I've seen what he's done to some of those
kids up on the islands. He just pays the family to shut up --
you know what it's like. And he almost had a seizure when
the first export license was issued to Peter Joffee."
 
"Did you say Joffee?" Scully interrupted.
 
"Yeah, he's the owner of the cattle plantation up in
Santo. It's run...it was run, by Jag Mahiney. Joffee's a
partner, but he's in the States -- with his family I think."
 
"I'm sorry, did you know him well?" Scully asked.
 
"Jag or Peter Joffee?"
 
"Either."
 
"No, well... I knew them well enough to have a cup of
coffee with them, but not, y'know, bosom buddies."
 
"Peter William Joffee died after murdering his family
about three weeks ago."
 
Suzie's face paled and Gary's darkened.
 
"How did he die?" Gary asked "Was he one of the victims
you mentioned before?"
 
Mulder nodded and told them the names of the other
victims. Gary glanced at his wife and grimaced. They did
not know all of them, but of those familiar, all had
public run-ins with Scanlon.
 
"Are there any people around town who can testify to
that?" Scully asked.
 
"Sure, most of the guys who hang around the Waterfront
Bar. Look Dana," he turned to Scully, "I'm skeptical, too,
but I hafta tell you, with the evidence you have in hand,
the local police would be more than happy to make an
arrest. I dunno what extradition agreements this country
has with the States, but here, you can get prosecuted for
black magic, as long as there is evidence to back it up.
And it seems to me you got all the evidence you need."
 
Scully's eyebrows shot up and Mulder looked on in disbelief.
 
"You mean a trial here would be preferable to having him
extradited?" Mulder asked.
 
"No, forget the trial, just get the bugger locked up. It
will only take five minutes for word to get around and
then, well, justice will take its own course."
 
"What do you mean?" Scully asked, her brows now furrowing.
 
"You think your jails are bad, you don't wanna see what we got
here. Scanlon is a pedophile, but he's also a wimp. He can dish it
out, if you get the picture, but..." Suzie trailed off.
 
Mulder's eyes said he understood.
 
"There are some big pretty boys in that prison," Gary
added. "And it's a sure bet that a couple of the big Ambrym
magic men will, you know, maybe rob a house or something
and get themselves jailed for a bit."
 
"Why?" Mulder asked in confusion.
 
"Payback. If Scanlon has acquired magic and is misusing
it, he has to be destroyed. They'll get in there, get the
job done, be set free on a presidential pardon come
Christmas and Scanlon will no longer be able to do any
damage."
 
*****************************************

CHAPTER 20

DAY 33 - 3:00am
 
"Thanks for getting organized as fast as this, Colonel."
Mulder turned to the British adviser to the police
commissioner.
 
"My pleasure. I think we'd all like to see this tied up as
soon as possible."
 
Mulder stood close to his partner and glanced at his
watch. It was close to 3 a.m. There was nothing stealthy
about the truckload of police running to surround the
house. No SWAT team, no bullet-proof vests, no
precautionary maneuvers. Mulder grimaced at the lack of
professionalism but held himself in check when he realized
this was probably the most excitement the sleepy town had
seen in ten years.
 
The sound of smashing timber filled the night air. Shouts
and a scream of shock, not pain, incited a dog to bark.
Within minutes, a cacophony of dogs joined chorus in the night.
Lights in surrounding houses turned on and curious, berobed
figures emerged from front doors.
 
Mulder had his first look at Scanlon as Scully went inside
the house, donning latex gloves as she walked.
 
"What the hell is this?" screamed the orange-haired man.
"What's going on?"
 
Mulder noticed that no one bothered with a local version
of Miranda rights. He turned to follow Scully into the
house when he heard a whhhoof sound. Glancing back he saw
Scanlon doubled over and throwing up.
 
"That's enough!" Colonel Anderson berated the two burly ni-
Vanuatu police. "Don't touch him again or you're likely to
find yourselves like Gordon."
 
The ni-Vanuatu police shrugged. Scanlon was white, his
magic could not hurt them.
 
Mulder saw Anderson's face change slightly, "And I'll have
you out on your asses so fast you won't have time for a
piss on the way. Now get him up to Namba Tu and process
him. And keep your bloody black fingers off him, understand?"
 
Mulder blinked at the obvious disregard for procedure, not to
mention the racial slur.
 
Anderson gave Mulder a look as he caught up with the agent.
"Bloody ni-Vanuatu, just can't wait for a chance to shove
it to a white face. I tell you, I'm not renewing my contract
next month."
 
Mulder found himself grinning, "I thought this was a nice
little place."
 
"Yeah, bloody lovely. They're scared dickless to enforce
the law, but get someone in custody and they beat the crap
out of them. You can't train it out of them, they're like
viscious children."
 
Mulder grimaced, but turned his concerns to the inside of
the house. The police had been ordered to capture Scanlon,
then leave the premises immediately. Forensic work was
unfamiliar territory to a country whose police still had no
idea how to collect a fingerprint.
 
 
An hour was all it took -- glass jars, filled with human
organs, buried under a manhole in the old servants'
quarters at the rear. Enough evidence to hang a conviction.
 
"Thirteen," Scully announced as she snapped the gloves
from her fingers and wiped her sodden hair away from her
face. "There are a total of thirteen sets of organs, which
means there are more bodies to be found.
 
"Or a coupla of zombies still on the loose," Mulder
answered grimly.
 
Scully glared at him, unwilling to accept that the
gruesome jars were anything other than evidence that would
see Scanlon jailed for life.
 
 
*****
 
 
Scully lay her head on her arms in a smelly detective's
office at the police station. God, she was tired, but happy.
They could get a flight out of this lousy, hot, sweltering
country in a few hours. Either that or wait three days for
a connecting flight via New Zealand. She sat up as Mulder
entered the room.
 
His face was black with rage and her heart sank, What now?
 
"What is it?"
 
"He's confessed to every murder we're aware of, but
refuses to tell us who the last victims were. And the
interrogation techniques and the manner of his arrest
virtually guarantee he'd walk if we extradited him and
tried him in the States."
 
"So, the local authorities are going to prosecute?"
 
"Oh, yeah." Mulder slumped on the next seat next to Scully.
"Yeah, they'll convict him for sure, despite the sloppy
procedures. I guess that's one thing to be said for a place
like this. According to Anderson, the judge won't accept
bullshit psychobabble about Scanlon's rights and police
brutality, from expensive lawyers. What happens after
he's tried locally is between the State Department and the
Vanuatu government.
 
"C'mon, Scully," he tugged at her elbow "We got an hour to
get packed and changed and to the airport. Let's go home."
 
*********************************************************
End Chapter 20

Lost Time Part 21 of 21
Date: August 1999
Author/feedback : PLEASE! spider@webspin.org. All parts
posted at www.webspin.org/xfic.htm
Disclaimers: Please see part 1


*****************
This section: Rated PG 
*****************

CHAPTER 21

Day 36 - 5:20pm
 
Mulder sat with his feet on his desk, his chair leant back
at an impossible angle. His eyes were closed and he rubbed
one hand over the stubble on his cheek. He'd shaved the
night before, between dropping his bags and dropping
himself into bed, but this five o'clock shadow was twelve
hours older than normal.
 
"Yeah, yeah, my boss is used to those sorts of reports from
me," he replied to the person on the other end of the phone.
 
"No," he added, shaking his head unnecessarily, then sat up
straight, "Shit, really?" His eyes were wide open, now, and
he stared at his now-alert partner.
 
Scully saw his sick grin, the one he wore when he knew one
of his wild theories had been vindicated in the worst
possible manner.
 
"Yeah, well, I appreciate the call....glad to be of help,
just try and organize it for winter next time, will ya?" He
chuckled then hung up the phone.
 
"Vanuatu?" Scully asked, a slight frown of concern
crossing her brow.
 
"Yeah, Colonel Anderson. Scanlon won't be brought to trial."
 
"What?!" Scully's outrage could be felt through the
floorboards.
 
Mulder held up his hand and waved it in a negative gesture
as he shook his head. "No, nothing like that. He's dead."
 
Scully frowned, waiting for the explanation.
 
"There were two more 'straw men' found dead in the last
two days in Santo. Both connected in some form or another
to the Santo plantation where they were growing, I might
add, huge crops of kava. Both managed to butcher their
wives and kids before dying." Mulder's face grimaced.
 
Scully stood from her desk and went to him, taking his
hand from his face and holding it. "It's not your fault,
Mulder. We had no way of knowing who those men were."
 
"We should have stayed, Scully. We knew there were two
more victims. I could have figured it out and their families
could have been saved."
 
Scully stood silently holding onto his limp hand, refusing
to let him wallow in this guilt. She could not reconcile
having held the glass jars with the viscera of victims,
only to be told those same victims had murdered their
families some days later.
 
"Mulder, they were dead. No matter what people thought
they saw, those men were dead. Scanlon clearly organized
their slaying through an accomplice, setting it up to make
it look like black magic, to perpetuate the myth."
 
But Mulder was shaking his head. "No Scully...you're wrong.
There was no accomplice and even if there was, we'd never
find him now. Scanlon died at the exact moment the last
victim collapsed. The local doctor decided to try an
autopsy, just to be certain the cause of death was cardiac
arrest."
 
"What did he find?"
 
"Nothing."
 
"Well, I'm not surprised, they have absolutely no idea how
to...'
 
"No, you don't get it, Scully. They found nothing inside of
him. No liver or heart, no kidneys, intestines...nothing."
 
Scully sat on the edge of the desk, collecting her thoughts.
Someone had obviously gotten to him in the jail, just as
Craig predicted.
 
"Anderson said the word around town was that thirteen
zombies surpassed his quotient."
 
"You mean..."
 
"Yep, Craig said it, the evil consumed Scanlon. Thirteen
was the last straw...man before he himself was consumed."
He smiled grimly at his attempted pun.
 
Scully didn't respond but he knew she got it by the look
of bland indifference on her face. He closed his eyes again.
 
"Are you ready?" Scully asked softly.
 
"No, but I don't see any choice. I owe her that much."
 
Scully wanted to snap out that Mulder he owed his ex-wife
nothing, but she refrained. However, she was now able to
offer him something that she could not only a week ago.
 
"Do you want me to come with you?"
 
He slowly opened his eyes and looked at her lovingly. God,
she would do this for him, even though things were going to
be said that would no doubt hurt her. But he could not hide it
from her. He wanted her to know that in this, there could be
no secrets between them. That would hurt her more than the
knowing.
 
"Yes, you need to know as much as I need to know."
 
 
*******
 
 
"As you are aware, Agent Mulder, Agent Foley has an
irrefutable alibi for the period during which you were
missing. Both Agents Cowper and Fortune verify she was in
one or both of their presences at all times. Searching for
you."
 
Mulder compressed his lips as A.D. Skinner spoke.
 
"But I heard her. There was absolutely no mistaking that,
sir. And what about Cowper and Fortune? How do we know
they're telling the truth?"
 
The grim, look on Skinner's face could be read in any
number of ways. Scully held her breath as she waited for
the A.D. to refute such accusations against another agent,
but they were not forthcoming. Their lack told both Mulder
and Scully a great deal.
 
"Be that as it may, Agent Mulder, I myself had been
willing to concede your amnesia was chemically-induced.
However, I have been assured that the return of your
memories, although someone outside what are considered
normal parameters, was expected."
 
"What about the trace chemicals found in my blood?"
 
Scully looked uncomfortable before replying, "It seems that
the original sample was contaminated by faulty procedure by
a technician. He's been fired."
 
Mulder shot up from Skinner's chair, glaring at his partner.
"Oh, so another piece of evidence just conveniently slips
through the cracks, huh? Same ol' same ol'..."
 
"Agent, sit down." Skinner did not need to raise his voice,
the tone was sufficient.
 
Scully sat with her lips compressed. Without proof...
 
"We have absolutely no foundation to continue investigating
Agent Fowley. I requested you come here this afternoon
because I believe an apology is in order before we release her."
 
Scully watched her partner, waiting with held breath for
him to go completely apoplectic. Somehow, he held it in and
through gritted teeth replied, "Yes, Sir." He stood and
strode from the room before Skinner could dismiss them.
 
Scully looked at Skinner questioningly. He graced her with
a stiff glance "That will be all, Agent Scully." Then he
turned back to the papers on his desk.
 
She had to run to catch up with the stiff-backed form of
her partner as he took the stairs.
 
"Mulder," Scully called.
 
He did not answer, did not even recognize she was there
until they reached the room where Diana was kept. Mulder
motioned with his eyes for Scully to go into the adjoining
observation room.
 
 
"Fox," Diana Foley walked up to her former husband and
tried to take him by the hands. He was familiar with the
hurt, proud look on her face and something inside of him
faltered for a moment. He pushed it aside and deliberately
separated himself from her, pulling out a chair on the far
side of the table. From that angle, Scully could see them
both in profile.
 
"Why, Diana, what was the point of fucking over my
memories?"
 
Diana winced at his expletive. "Fox, I was never there.
You must believe me, I have never done anything to hurt you."
 
"So what was it, Diana, haven't been able to get laid
recently and figured good ol' Mulder was an easy hit to get
your jollies?"
 
Both Diana and Scully were stunned at his viciousness.
Scully watched Diana and for a second, an almost impossibly
short moment, saw fear arc across her face. But then it
changed.
 
Diana sat up and arched her neck regally, a proud, hurt
look plastered on her face. "That was beneath you, Fox, and
beneath me."
 
Mulder had the grace to look chagrined, then he closed his
eyes in pain and rolled back his head in frustration.
Scully wanted to go to him, wanted to put a bullet in this
woman who caused him so much pain.
 
Diana spoke again, "I know what you think. Skinner told me
everything. But it's not true, Fox. If you truly believe I
would do such a thing to you, why on Earth would I be
present at the time and leave myself open for this?" Her
eyes became bright with unshed tears. "Do you know what
this is doing to me?"
 
Oh, Christ, thought Scully, she knows just which buttons to
push.
 
"Do you realize I didn't go to bed all that weekend? I was
searching for you frantically...and do you know what it
does to find that you had, obviously still have, forgotten
what we had once more become to each other?"
 
Scully felt the adrenaline course through her body. What
the hell was she trying to pull?
 
Mulder looked into her eyes "You lied to me, Diana."
 
"No! Not once."
 
"Bullshit! You led me to believe we had rekindled our
relationship. That's crap, I told you when we first picked
up Gibson Praise that I'd done okay without you, that I
didn't want that kind of relationship with you again."
 
Scully's heart soared as a dozen unanswered questions were
resolved. But she froze at Diana's next words.
 
"How can you be so cruel, Fox? You were never heartless
before, damn you! We made love that night before going to
El Rico and you deny it?"
 
Mulder sat back and shook his head "No Diana, you kissed
me, we never ended up in bed."
 
"You can't remember!" Diana all but shouted now, but still
holding herself in the same dignified manner Scully
recalled seeing his mother use. Righteous indignation at
its best. Oh, yeah, she knew all about punching Mulder's
buttons. To her horror Scully saw a look of confusion pass
over Mulder's eyes.
 
Diana attacked the crack mercilessly. "How do you know if
the memories you have back are real? You've forgotten about
us, you recall an incident that never happened. God, you
even accused me of organizing an annulment when you
yourself suggested it."
 
Scully saw Mulder wince. Yeah, it was just likely he'd
been considering Diana's career and done just that.
 
"I remember that, now," Mulder replied in a small voice.
 
"Doesn't that prove to you there are other memories you
don't have back yet?"
 
Scully saw Mulder's shoulder's drop in resignation. Scully
closed her own eyes for a minute, watching an Academy Award-
winning performance drive her partner, her lover, another
step towards the delicate edge of his sanity.
 
But it was his battle. He knew she was watching, all she
could do was continue to observe.
 
"Fox," Diana went to him. She ran her hands through his
hair and he flinched away. Diana moved back and a solitary
tear coursed down her cheek. Scully childishly prayed her
mascara would run.
 
"Fox, I love you. I have always loved you and I can't stop
that. I would never betray you, you must believe me. I...I
realize now that your recent memories of us together are
gone, but I live in hope that one day they may return. I'll
always be here for you, you must know that. The door will
always be open." She risked a quick kiss on his cheek
before making a dignified exit.
 
 
Scully waited a few minutes before entering the room.
Mulder held his face in his hands, aware of his partner's
entry, listening to the scrape of the chair from the table.
She waited patiently for him to speak.
 
"Scully."
 
"Mulder...I just have one question. Why did you go on a
three day drunk in Cansby?"
 
Mulder slowly lifted his eyes and stared at his partner.
Scully watched a range of emotions cross his beautiful,
torn face, then like a light, his eyes cleared and he
answered.
 
"Because I thought I'd lost you. Because I figured you'd
finally had enough. Enough pain, enough crap from me.
Just...enough....I know I've asked this before, but not
before recovering my memories. Why did you want to
transfer to Quantico for three months?"
 
"For the same reason that just left this room. I can't
compete with that kind of dissembling, Mulder. And I can't
trust working with you if you trust what I know to be false."
 
"But can you say honestly that what Diana says is false?"
 
"I have no proof and therefore I must answer no, despite
what I believe, what I know."
 
Mulder stood and pushed his coat back. Placing his hands
on his hips he turned and paced to the window, watching the
Washington traffic below.
 
"You've never lied to me, Scully. But then neither has
Diana. But Diana is the past and what I felt for her in
that way has long since died. I'm not even sure if I was
ever really in love with her."
 
He turned and looked at Scully with bright, sad eyes. "But
I am in love with you. I can't promise you anything other
than what I am, you know that. And that includes the fact
that I still count Diana as a friend. I can't change that
and I won't, otherwise I'd be lying to you. I think I have
all my memories back, but there is an element of doubt. I
don't know anymore if the amnesia really was just an
accident compounded by too much alcohol....shit." He turned
back and rested his hands on the window sill until he felt
her warm presence behind him.
 
Scully placed a hand on his shoulder. "Mulder, I love you.
I told you before that I wouldn't change and I expect....I
want nothing different from you. All I ask is you respect
my feelings that Diana cannot be trusted. I don't need to
be vindicated and I'm not asking you to choose between us,
I just need to know that you will take my opinion into
consideration when dealing with her in the future, that's
all."
 
He turned and took her hand. He cupped her cheek with his
other hand and looked into her eyes, knowing how
unconditional her love was. God, he loved her so much it was
almost overwhelming to know she returned those feelings.
 
"Come home with me, Scully?" he asked in voice cracked with
emotion.
 
"Sure, G-man."

***************************
EPILOGUE

DAY 36 - 11.50pm
 
"Did he believe you?"
 
"He doesn't disbelieve, but I'm not sure if he still trusts me."
 
"Don't worry, we'll give him something to get that back."
He lit another Morley and squinted his eyes at the raven-
haired woman in front of him. "I'm sorry to have put you in
that position with him. I realize it was...distasteful."
 
Foley shrugged. "I was married to him, it makes no
difference, it really was the only way."
 
"Yes. A ten-day enforced bed rest, healthy dose of
antibiotics to clean out his system and decent, nutritional
diet were certainly sufficient to improve the quality and
quantity of his sperm. And the entire exercise was
interesting."
 
"Now we know alcohol can interfere with the exact timing
of regression."
 
"Yes, further study will be required, that was cut almost
too fine. And he should have stayed under a few more weeks,
enough to collect more batches, but we froze six straws --
almost twice our expectation for the first run. You covered
the situation so nicely and to collect that much was an 
unexpected bonus."
 
"I was lucky, he normally tosses condoms in the toilet but
what with the knock on the door...."
 
"Yes, we can be grateful to Miss Scully. I'm curious what
event triggered the recovery. I'm not absolutely certain it
was just the original effect of the alcohol."
 
Diana shrugged. "Does it matter?"
 
"Everything matters." He stubbed out the cigarette and left.
 
 
END
----------------------------------------------------------
 
These words have been in their own inadequate way, my need
to express the intense camaraderie of those who go to
battle against evil, who sacrifice themselves and all they
love for the greater good of mankind. I can only let the
great bard himself summarize with ones far more eloquent:-
 
"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers 
For he today that sheds his blood with me 
Shall be my brother 
be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition 
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed, Shall think 
themselves accurs'd, they were not here 
And hold their manhood's cheap, whiles any speaks 
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's Day."
 
King Henry the Fifth Act 4 Scene 3: William Shakespeare
 
 
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