Title: A Rose Is Not A Rose

Author: Moonshadow

E-mail: foo_fighter101@hotmail.com

Rating: PG13 (language)

Classification: Adventure, UST, Angst

Disclaimer: Chris Carter and Ten-Thirteen own all.  No 
profit, no infringement.

Summary: Mulder and Scully hash out some stuff while on an 
impromptu vacation in Sunny Florida.


A Rose Is Not a Rose (By That or Any Other Name)
By Moonshadow

6:47 p.m.
Annapolis, Scully's Apartment

Dana Scully slid her key into her apartment door, and 
tumbled through, carrying her purse, her soft-sided 
briefcase, a cardboard filing box, and a bag of Chinese 
take-out.  Her keys in her teeth, she waddled into the 
living room where she deposited the food on the coffee 
table, the box on the floor, and the briefcase on the 
couch.  The keys were returned to her purse, which would be 
later emptied onto her dresser; her cell phone and I.D. 
badge were removed from her coat, which was hung up in her 
closet; and finally, her clothes were removed and put into 
their respective places and replaced by jeans and a 
comfortable button-down shirt.

She padded into the kitchen, frowned at the cupboards, 
vetoing plates and silverware in favor of using the 
disposable chopsticks and eating straight out of the 
cartons, and grabbed a cold can of diet soda and some paper 
napkins on her way back to the couch. *No wonder Mulder's 
kitchen looks like it does: he lives like this every day,* 
she thought, rubbing at her thawing nose.

Digging into the schezwan chicken with cashews and opening 
the bags of egg rolls and cream cheese wantons, she opened 
up the first file in the box, and began reading, making 
occasional notations on a small pad from her briefcase. 

	

12:34 a.m.
Scully's Apartment

It was well past midnight when she found herself dozing in 
front of her laptop.  Muttering quietly to herself, she got 
up and turned on all the lights in the apartment, including 
the bathroom; next, she went into the kitchen to nuke up 
some knacks, and then emptied two cans of highly 
caffeinated soda into a large sports bottle filled with 
ice, and immediately began sucking on the straw; she then 
changed into one of her younger brother Charlie's ratty old 
sweatshirts and a pair of plaid sleep shorts, and finally 
settled herself back onto the couch, pulling the laptop off 
the coffee table and onto the couch to her side and turning 
to face it, tucking her legs under her.  Finally, she 
turned the volume up on her stereo and let the music of 
Three Dog Night flood her living room.  Shoving a gooey 
chip into her mouth, she began to type, and then stopped, 
only to reach for a band to tie her hair back in a sloppy 
ponytail.  Just as she was slipping into a familiar mode, 
the phone rang.  

"Scully," she answered, not pausing in her report, though 
she did hit the mute button on her stereo remote control.

"Oh, you *are* still up."

"No, Mulder, I'm just sleepwalking.  If you have something 
else for me to do, please, do yourself a favor and don't 
tell me until tomorrow.  If you tell me now, I'm gonna have 
to hurt you."

"Scully, you wound me, you really do.  Why do you 
automatically assume that I want anything else than to hear 
your lovely voice?"

"Mulder, I've actually regressed into my med school days in 
order to keep myself awake.  I'm eating junk food, dressed 
in boxers and a sweatshirt, listening to rock music at top 
volume, and I'm drinking Volcano Lava for goodness' sake . 
. . "

"Wow, you must be desperate, that stuff tastes like pee; 
kinda looks like it, too."

"...And as much as I would love to hear the story of how 
you came about the knowledge to make that comparison, I'm 
really not in the mood at the moment.  I'd like to finish 
this report before I turn forty, and in order to do that, I 
need to concentrate on it."  A pause.  "That means I need 
to hang up, Mulder."

"Oh, well, I won't keep you long, then.  I just wanted to 
tell you that I need you to catch a flight down here by--"

She sighed.  "Where's `down here,' Mulder?  If you're 
calling from Antarctica, I'm not coming, I'll tell you 
right now.  My last trip there wasn't all the brochure 
promised."

"Good news, it's nice and warm.  I'm in southern Florida, 
Scully, and right on the ocean, so bring your swimsuit--"

"Mulder, if this is some kind of giant octopus eating 
locals, I'm not going to be happy--"

He snorted mirthlessly.  "Trust me, you're not even close--
"

"Then what is it?"

"If you would stop interrupting me for just a second, maybe 
I could tell you!"  A pause.  "Thank you.  Now, evidently, 
a Senator Stone--"

"Nebraska?"

"Yes.  Can I finish?  Thank you.  Senator Stone's daughter 
saw something kind of . . . weird, and it involved bright 
lights and some guy's dead.  I just got back from the site 
of the incident, and it's too late to investigate any 
further, but I've talked with Skinner, and he'll let the 
report from our last case be delayed until this one is 
clear- I think the Senator's been pulling some strings."

"Why didn't you tell me before I worked on this damned 
report for the past six hours!?"
"Well, the Senator herself called me just after you left, 
and practically begged me to look into it.  I called 
Skinner after I realized it was a bit more involved than 
just a simple siting.  See--"

She cut him off, closing her laptop.  "Fine, I'll call the 
airlines and get a redeye down there, you can tell me all 
about it then--"

"No need, just pack and go to bed.  You have an eight-
fifteen out of Dulles.  I'll pick you up at the airport."

She softened.  "Thank you.  I'll see you tomorrow, then.  
You said there was a body recovered?"

"Yeah, I've got the autopsy report right here.  There's an 
all-night gas station just up the road that has a fax, I 
think.  Is your fax machine working again?"

"Yeah, actually, one of the reasons I've been up so long is 
because Langly stopped by to fix it, and then Frohike 
stopped by to talk with Langly about something `very 
important,' and it took me forever to get rid of them."  
Mulder chuckled.  "I think he was playing with my laptop--
Frohike, not Langly, I like *him* well enough.  I'm gonna 
have to change my passwords again."

"Well, remember, numbers and letters, nothing that can be 
found in the dictionary.  Actually, try about ten set 
passwords, and rotate them once a week.  Change the 
rotating pattern each time, and change the actual passwords 
after three months.  They haven't broken into my stuff in a 
while."

"How do you know, for sure?"

"Well, Langly can't resist leaving a signature of some 
sort.  I know Frohike's style, and Byers is too polite to 
break into my stuff without permission."  She laughed.  
"Well, I'm gonna fax that stuff over for you to read on the 
plane, though it's pretty straight forward, even to me."  
There was no question that she might want to use the 
airtime to sleep; he knew she'd be glad to have something 
to do.

"I can probably finish the report, too.  I'll see you 
tomorrow, then.  `Night, Mulder."

"Sleep tight, Scully."



11:23 a.m.
En route to Jerri's Bed and Breakfast


She stared out the car window and shivered again.  

"You cold?"

She thought for a moment.  It was eighty-seven degrees out, 
the sun was bright in the sky, and her palms were slightly 
sweaty, but she felt cold from the inside out.  Her skin 
was warm to the touch, except for her fingers, which felt 
like thin icicles attached to her damp palms.  Something 
just felt wrong.  "I'm fine."

"No, we can kill the air," he insisted, reaching for the 
air-conditioning controls.

"No, I'll just have some coffee when we drop off our bags."

He was silent for a moment.  "Look, I saw a gas station not 
too far from here before.  We'll get you some coffee there-
-"

"Mulder, stop worrying over me--"

"--'Cause I have to pee anyway; too many iced teas at the 
airport while I was waiting for your flight."  He flashed 
her a grin, and pulled off the highway.

She bought the coffee while he disappeared around the side 
of the brick building, armed with a giant key chain (to 
dissuade would-be bathroom-key stealers, presumably).  At 
the counter, she saw a bag of sunflower seeds, and grabbed 
it, saying, "These, too."  She gave the woman a ten-dollar 
bill, and was waiting in the car when he returned.

He saw the seeds sitting on the dashboard.  "For me?  
Scully, you really *do* care!"  He feigned shock.  She 
merely raised an eyebrow at him over the rim of her 
Styrofoam cup.  They were silent for a while.  She grimaced 
past the last dregs of the bitter stuff.  "Better?" he 
asked as she put the cup in a bag on the floor, one she'd 
automatically placed there for him to put his shells in.  

"Much.  Thanks," she lied.  She was still chilled beyond 
all reason.  She decided to change the subject to keep her 
mind off it, and turned to the case file.  "Mulder, you do 
realize that the man who was found died of a stab wound, 
and there was evidence of a struggle . . . I don't know 
many aliens who go around mugging their abductees."  

"I never said this was the work of aliens, Scully."

"But last night you said there was a bright light, and . . 
. "

"And I thought that's what it was, until I got a good look 
at the site last night."

"Before you called me?"

"Yes.  Scully, I didn't call you here to help me find proof 
of an alien visitation, I called you here to help me 
*dis*prove it."  He glanced at her blank expression.  "The 
Senator lured me here through misinformation, but she had 
some reasons for it, I've been informed."

"Skinner sanctioned this?"

"Not entirely willingly, I think.  See, the Senator's 
estranged husband, who lives here in Florida, got a little 
excited when his teenaged daughter was found on the side of 
a road near the body of a middle-aged man whose car had 
broken down approximately two miles from where they were 
found--it's believed he was walking to a gas station.  Now, 
when the young Miss Stone was brought in for questioning, 
after her father was notified, she began babbling about 
bright lights.  Her father, who has a history of being a 
rather fanciful alarmist, took this to mean that she'd been 
abducted.  I spoke to her yesterday, and I believe she was 
definitely traumatized, but not by anything supernatural or 
extraterrestrial.  I think she was walking along the side 
of the road, why is still unclear, and she witnessed a guy 
being mugged.  The bright lights and the roaring noises 
she's been talking about probably refer to a motorcycle 
gang, although they are usually pretty nonviolent."

"So why does the Senator want us here, if her ex-husband is 
just a kook?"

"Precisely because he is.  He told the papers all about it, 
and now the Senator's constituents are a little nervous--
keep in mind, we're talking cow mutilation country, here, 
Scully--and she wants us to officially debunk it."

"Because we're the experts, right?"

"You got it.  But look on the bright side . . . we get this 
done today, we've got the next three days to bum around on 
the beach.  It's warm here, the sun is shining, and there's 
an *ocean.*"

"Mulder, you get seasick."

"Who said anything `bout getting on a boat?  I wanna 
*swim,* Scully.  I haven't been swimming in the ocean in 
years.  Well, not willingly, at any rate.  You brought your 
suit, didn't you?" 

"No, I did not bring my suit.  I'd fry in this sun."

"That's what sun block is for.  Look, we'll get you a suit, 
I'll even put spf 400 on your back for you--it'll be fun!  
Trust me, Scully."

"Mulder . . . "

"Scully . . . " he mimicked.

She sighed.  "Fine.  Whatever.  Let's just get to work."



11:17 p.m.
Jerri's Bed and Breakfast


Scully stumbled into her room, leaning back against the 
door to close it.  She flopped on the bed, spread-eagled, 
and realized she was too tired to move again.  She mentally 
ticked off things on her to-do list: the report could wait 
`til morning, she'd taken good notes; she could shower in 
the morning; her suit needed to be cleaned anyway, so 
sleeping in it would be only be uncomfortable instead of 
expensive.  She squirmed a little to make herself a little 
dent in the mattress, and was all set to doze off when she 
realized she was too exhausted to sleep.  Her eyes simply 
wouldn't stay closed, and kept drifting open to fasten 
themselves on the ceiling, which was starting to look 
awfully fascinating, when there was a knock at the door.

"G'way," she mumbled, unable to get her mouth to work 
properly.

"Scully?  Hey, do you--" Mulder let himself in, then 
stopped as he saw her, spread out, with all the lights on, 
and completely out of it.  "Whoa.  You okay?"

"Din I tell you ta g'way?"  That came out almost human-
sounding.

"Scully, come on, get out of the suit.  Let's get you into 
bed," he said gently, going over to the bed and tugging on 
her arm, unbuttoning her suit coat.  

"Doan wanu," she wined, but allowing him to baby her.  It 
felt kind of nice, to have someone take care of her.  

"You should have said you were getting this tired.  We 
didn't need to get everything done today.  Our flight out 
isn't until Friday--we have all week.  Skinner wanted to 
give us a break."  He didn't say that it was really Scully 
to whom Skinner wished to award the break.  Although 
Skinner didn't know all of what had gone on in Antarctica--
they'd left some of the more colorful (unbelievable) things 
out of their report to the OPR--he knew that she'd been 
through hell: a kind of suspended animation that not even 
the doctors could explain.  That, however, was sort of par 
for the course--a day in the life of Mulder and Scully.  
The result was that the two men were both still a little 
nervous, though all her tests showed her to be fully 
recovered, and she insisted the same.

"No, I wan'ed to ge'it done."  Her words were still 
slurring, but it was getting better.

"Here," he said, opening up her suitcase and hunting for 
her pajamas.

"No," she said, shaking her head, finally coming around.  
"I can't sleep anyway.  I'm too exhausted, and it's kind of 
turning into a second wind.  What did you want?"

"Oh, I was just going for a midnight swim, but if you're 
this tired, maybe . . . "

"Mulder, I told you, I didn't bring a suit with me--"

"Ah, but we've got that problem solved!"  She realized that 
he was dressed in a pair of swimming trunks, thong sandals, 
and a sweatshirt, with a beach towel slung over one 
shoulder.  One hand was hidden behind his back.

"You didn't--"

"But I *did!*" He produced a bag with a flourish.

She glared at him, and opened her mouth to speak.  "Okay," 
she said, surprising both of them.  Blinking, she grabbed a 
pair of cutoff shorts and a sweatshirt, took the bag from 
his hand, and headed into the bathroom to change.

She pulled the suit on warily, and was pleasantly surprised 
to find it was quite modestly cut.  A racing suit with a 
high neck, it dipped just down to the small of her back, 
and covered her seat adequately; she expected something 
positively indecent from Mulder.  Then again, he did seem 
to have a big-brother-protective attitude towards her.  She 
turned to look at it from the back, glad she'd shaved just 
that morning.  Then she caught a glimpse of herself full 
on.  And her jaw dropped.  

The suit was just the perfect shade of blue to set her eyes 
off, and her hair looked like shimmering fire.  It had been 
quite a while--before the cancer, actually--since she'd 
felt at all attractive.  She'd gotten "looks" from men, but 
actually *feeling* attractive was nearly a forgotten 
emotion.  She grinned to herself as she pulled the shorts 
on and grabbed a towel off the rack.  Mulder was going to 
be knocked flat on his butt.  

"Does it fit?  I wasn't sure--" He broke off abruptly, 
staring openly.  "Wow."

"I'm impressed, Mulder.  You actually have some taste.  
With your tie collection, I was beginning to wonder."  She 
pulled on a pair of sandals and grabbed a hair clip, 
slipping her room key into her pocket.  "Let's go."

"Umm . . . okay."  He followed her to the beach.

Down on the water, they shed their clothing in a small 
pile, and Mulder started to ask her when the last time 
she'd been swimming was, when she bent over to remove her 
shorts, and he found himself at a loss for all rational 
thought, let alone words.  She stood up, turning around to 
face him.  "What?" she asked.

She realized he was staring at her very intently, and saw 
something in his eyes that she'd seen only a few times 
before, and she wasn't at all sure she was ready to deal 
with it just then.  In sudden need for the coolness, and 
cover, that the water would provide, she took off running.  
"Race you!" she called, catching him off guard.

He was nearly at her side when the water started to swirl 
around her thighs, and she hissed as the salt water bit 
into a tiny cut that she'd procured that morning shaving.  
He turned toward her at the small sound of distress, and 
then promptly disappeared under the water with a strangled 
sound of surprise.  He came up spluttering, and started to 
complain when he stopped cold, realizing she was giggling, 
and then started to smile himself.  And disappeared once 
more, this time silently.

She abruptly stopped giggling.  "Mulder?"  She felt a 
slight current just before he grabbed her leg and pulled 
her under.  Shrieking with delight, she broke free and 
proceeded with her own attack.

When they were finally out of breath, they realized they'd 
drifted out much farther than either had originally 
planned. *The tide,* Scully realized.  They stopped, 
treading water.  "I wonder why that drop-off wasn't 
marked," Mulder mused.

"I don't think it's an actual beach.  I'm not sure we're 
supposed to be swimming here; I think there's that dolphin 
research center just over that way," she nodded her head 
over to her right.

He frowned.  "You mean, there isn't a reef or anything?"

She grinned.  "I don't think you have to worry about any 
giant octopuses, Mulder."

"I'm more worried about--" He froze suddenly.  She wondered 
briefly if he was teasing her, then decided against it.  
His face wouldn't have paled like that unless he was really 
scared.

She slowed her movements immediately, tensing 
instinctively, and spoke in low, calm tones.  "Keep 
treading water, slowly and smoothly.  Where is it?"

"Ten o'clock," he whispered.

She turned slowly to her right, and spotted what he'd been 
staring at, and relaxed immediately.  "It's a dolphin."

"How do you know?" he whispered, still not letting his 
guard down.

"Well, see the fin?  It's curved, rather than sharp and 
pointed.  And the movement is different.  A shark's tail 
moves side to side, while a dolphin has a fluke that flaps 
up and down.  If you watch each swim, you can see the 
difference.  It's not smooth, but . . . bobs, a bit, see?"  
The dolphin was closer now, and poked its melon out of the 
water, flashing a big grin at them, clicking 
enthusiastically.  She laughed.  "There's that, too."

He stared in awe as the creature moved slowly toward 
Scully, until its nose gently touched her own.  "She's 
beautiful," he whispered, not wanting to break the magic of 
the moment.

"He," she corrected absently, causing Mulder to look at her 
sharply.  But he was distracted from questioning her as the 
dolphin chose that moment to duck its beak into the water 
to splash him.  She laughed gently at the admonishment.  
"There you go, little guy."

Wiping the water out of his eyes, Mulder looked at her 
wryly.  "Not many guys like to be called `little,' Scully."  
But the dolphin didn't seem to care, instead locking its 
gaze with her again.  

"Hey, don't these guys usually travel in pods?"

"They're out there," she said distractedly, nodding her 
head in the direction the dolphin had come from.  Mulder 
squinted out across the water, and noticed a faint 
glimmering that *might* have been wet bodies leaping 
playfully in the moonlight . . . but Scully hadn't even 
*glanced* out there, so how . . .?  Something was weird 
here, and for once, Mulder was feeling left very out of the 
loop.

Mulder was silent for a moment, then spoke softly.  "Sorry 
to interrupt the two of you, but just how do you know it's 
a male--" he broke off as he sensed a sudden urgency in her 
body, only a few inches from his own in the water.  "What's 
wrong?"

"It's a shark," she hissed.  "We've got to get to shore," 
she added.  He didn't question how she knew, but simply 
trusted her.

Mulder was very close to panicking.  They were much further 
out than they should be, and it would take time to swim in.  
Time they apparently did not have.  Another dolphin 
appeared by his elbow, and he started slightly.  He looked 
over to Scully, who was grabbing onto the dorsal fin of the 
dolphin she'd befriended.  "Grab on, they'll tow us in," 
she hissed as it started to pull her quickly away.  

The other dolphin was beginning to nudge his arm 
impatiently.  He was leery, but gripped the fin in his 
right hand, his elbow draped across the dolphin's back.  
And the ride was so smooth he didn't realize just how fast 
they were traveling until he noticed the rapid approach of 
the shore.  They slowed abruptly, near the drop off, and 
Mulder, very shaken, had to rely on Scully's insistently 
tugging hand on his arm to lead him to shore.  "What's 
going on?" he whispered hoarsely, looking at her intently.

"Shh."  She was staring out at the sea, and Mulder followed 
her line of sight, squinted for a moment, then looked back 
at her only to see her eyes out of focus.  

"Scully!"  He caught her as she fell.



1:27 a.m.
Jerri's Bed and Breakfast


Scully swam up from distorting black fog, toward Mulder's 
face, which was gazing down at her worriedly.  She blinked 
slowly, trying to get her bearings.  "What happened?" she 
asked her partner, before trying to recall herself.

"You . . . fainted, I think.  Your pulse was okay, and you 
were breathing regularly, so I didn't call an ambulance . . 
. " he trailed off uncertainly.

She realized she was in a bed, or rather on one, in a motel 
of some kind . . . oh, right, the B&B.  She frowned.  "We 
were . . . swimming?"

"Right.  And then the dolphin arrived--"

It came rushing back.  "Oh, God," she whispered, sitting up 
abruptly, only to be sorry for it as dizziness overwhelmed 
her.

"Woah, slow down.  You fainted, I think you'd better watch 
it."  He pushed her gently back onto the pillows.  "Close 
your eyes for a minute.  Try to think about what happened."

She sighed, then took a deep breath, doing as he'd asked.  
She realized, somewhat irritatedly, that he was using his 
"witness" voice . . . but, of course, that was what she 
was, wasn't it?  She'd witnessed something neither of them 
could readily explain, and she seemingly held a key to it . 
. . somehow.  But it still irked her that he was treating 
her like this, almost patronizing her, though it was 
something she'd never thought Mulder capable of.  He'd 
always treated her as an equal, even in the last stages of 
her cancer relying upon her.  She felt . . . wrong, there 
wasn't another word for it, about this new treatment.  She 
realized that he was still talking, his voice soothing her 
utterly, and she found herself ready to obey his every 
whim, though still vaguely unsettled by him . . . using her 
this way.  

"Okay, the dolphin arrived, you just gave me a marine 
biology lesson, remember?  Now, I'm saying that `she' is 
beautiful, when you correct me--"

"Because it's male," she finished, her voice sounding 
strange to her own ears.  It almost didn't sound like her.  
As though someone else were speaking, and she was merely an 
observer, not really involved at all.

"Good.  That's right.  Now, Scully, what made you say 
that?"
"Because it was male," she said again, sounding like a 
child.  A very literal child, she thought detatchedly, 
still the observer.  

"That's right," he reassured her, and the observer thought 
it strange that he was being so gentle with her.  "How did 
you know it was male?"

"He told me."

"Who told you?"

"The dolphin."

A long pause.  The observer wondered what he was doing.  
The observer heard a scratching noise, like a pen on paper.  
"Okay, good.  Did he talk to you?"

"No."

"How did he tell you he was male?"

A small noise of frustration.  "He just did!"

"Okay, that's okay.  You're doing really well, Scully, 
don't worry, okay?"

"Okay."

"Did he tell you about where the pod was, too?"

"No."

"Who told you about the rest of the pod?"

"They did."

"Did they talk to you?"

"No."

He paused.  "They told you like the dolphin told you he was 
male?"  His words were careful.

"Yes."

"And the shark?"

She made a sound of fear.  "She was so scared," she 
whispered.

"Who was scared, Scully?"

"The baby."

"What baby?"

"The baby dolphin."

"Where was the baby dolphin?"

"She was coming toward us.  The shark brushed past her, and 
she got scared and panicked and choked on the water and 
then her daddy came to help her but there was blood and the 
shark smelled it and then they all got scared . . . "

He stopped her.  "It's okay Scully, we're safe now.  
They're safe now.  It's not happening now.  Now, where did 
the blood come from?"  

She was still breathing fast, the observer noticed.  She's 
panicked.  "There was a tuna that one of the pod had 
dragged in too far.  He was young, and didn't know any 
better.  His mommy was mad . . . "

"How do you know that his mommy was mad, Scully?"

"I don't know."  The question seemed to calm her, allowing 
her to ground herself, pulling her away from the terror of 
the moment, the observer noted.

"Did someone tell you?"

"Kind of . . . "

"Okay, Scully, this is going to be a hard question.  I want 
you to try to answer it, but if you can't, that's okay.  Do 
you think you can try for me?"

"Yes."

"You've said that the dolphins told you things, but not by 
talking.  Can you tell me how they told you?"

"I don't know . . . "

"Why can't you tell me?  Is it because you don't know how 
they told you?"  It seemed to the observer that he was 
asking questions he already knew the answer to, like 
getting a small child to explain something more clearly by 
asking them elementary questions to help them focus the 
notion better.

"No . . . "

"Then why?"

"I don't know if you can understand."

"Try, and if I don't understand, that's okay.  All right?"

"All right.  The dolphins . . . they put pictures in my 
head, only they weren't really pictures.  Not like a movie, 
but more like remembering a movie."  The observer heard 
furious scribbling.

"That's good, Scully, I think I do understand.  Now, I'm 
going to count to ten, all right?  And when I get to *ten*, 
I want you to wake up and remember everything that was said 
here, okay?"

"Okay."  The observer was on the verge of figuring 
something out, but wasn't entirely sure . . . 

"One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six 
. . . " Maybe it had something to do with the way he was 
talking, almost like speaking to a child, his tone very low 
and gentle . . . 

"Seven . . . eight . . . nine . . . " Oh, God, he couldn't 
have--

"Ten.  Scully?"  

The observer and Scully rejoined, and she found herself 
blinking rapidly.  She felt groggy, like being awakened 
abruptly from a short nap.   She sat up, glaring at her 
partner.  "You hypnotized me."  It was a definite 
accusation.

He frowned, blinking himself.  "I'm aware of that, Scully."

"Well, I wasn't!  Mulder, you didn't even ask me!"

"But, you slipped into it so easily . . . "

She was furious.  "Mulder, you took advantage of the fact 
that I was tired and my defenses were down, and you--"

The confusion left his eyes, and anger began to seep in.  
"Now wait just a minute, Scully.  A person cannot be 
hypnotized against her will . . . and you know me better 
than that!"  

"I thought I did, Mulder!"

He sighed.  Some of the hurt she obviously felt was making 
itself known in her voice, something that surprised Mulder, 
because Scully *never* let anyone know that she was 
hurting.  "Look, Scully, just calm down, okay?  Let's talk 
about this rationally.  Now, have I ever taken advantage of 
you in any manner, shape or form since we were first 
partnered together?"

She met his eye.  He really hadn't.  Oh, sure, he'd 
manipulated her into doing things for him that she wouldn't 
ordinarily have done, but he'd never violated her in any 
way.  "No, of course not," she admitted in a very small 
voice.

He ran his fingers through his hair, still damp from the 
salt water.  She realized that her own must be getting 
rather gross by now, as she hadn't rinsed it get.  Or her 
new suit.  But Mulder was talking again.  "I apologize if I 
didn't make it clear that you were slipping into a trance-
like state--"

"Trance-like?  Mulder, face it, you hypnotized me.  I was 
out of it, totally and completely."

He shook his head.  "No, Scully, I didn't hypnotize you.  
Think back.  You've been hypnotized before; you'd have 
noticed, trust me.  You fell into it all on your own.  I 
only asked the questions."

She met his eyes, realizing that what he said was true.  
"But . . . how is that possible?"

He chuckled.  "Scully, this one is no X-File, trust me.  
People self-hypnotize themselves all the time.  As a 
doctor, you must have learned about it in medical school," 
he entreated.  "The most common use of self-hypnotism is in 
natural childbirth."

She frowned, thinking back to her classes.  "You're right.  
A woman can focus on something in the room, concentrating 
on it so completely that she literally forgets about the 
pain until after it's over.  But we never referred to it as 
hypnosis, Mulder."

"Well, whether you called it that or not, that's what it 
is.  It can be taught, too.  I once saw this documentary 
about a little girl who had to have a series of spinal 
taps--lumbar punctures, you know."

"Extremely painful," Scully admitted.

"Evidently.  It just about killed her mom to have to say, 
`you're going to the hospital now, and I'm making you do 
something that makes you scream in pain, and there isn't a 
single thing I can do about it.'  But a psychologist taught 
her how to imagine a TV in her mind, and turn the pain down 
like it was the volume control."

Scully nodded.  "Okay, I've read about similar things.  So 
I hypnotized myself.  Why?  Why didn't I just tell you what 
had happened?"  She ran her fingers through her damp hair, 
grimacing at the salt she found there.

He did a fairly good imitation of her, raising an eyebrow 
and giving her a pointed look.
"Don't you know?"

She scowled.  "Well, I wouldn't be asking if I knew, now 
would I?"  She had a very strong urge to hurt him.

He sighed.  "Okay, fine, we'll play this your way.  Scully, 
you've just had a paranormal experience--"

"I have had no such--"

"Scully," he admonished, "really, do you truly believe 
that?  Explain to me how this story can be told in 
scientific terms."  He crossed his arms.

She opened her mouth, then closed it.  Gathering her 
thoughts, she began again.  "Well, that the dolphin was 
male was obviously just a guess, and has not been proved by 
anything else--"

"Except that the dolphin himself agreed with you!"

"--By playfully splashing you at a coincidental time.  I 
realize that dolphins can understand some human language, 
but not to that extent. `Boy' and `girl,' perhaps, but not 
the subtleties of pronouns!"

"Fine.  And the shark?"

"I saw it, okay?  And it just didn't register.  I'm 
overtired, Mulder, and the atmosphere was rather . . . 
intoxicating.  Or maybe there wasn't really a shark at 
all!"

"Good, those are perfectly reasonable explanations for 
those events.  Now try the towing incident."

She was silent for several moments, and Mulder began to 
grin.  "No, wait.  That isn't fair, Mulder.  I'm not an 
expert on dolphin behavior.  I'm sure that if we speak with 
someone tomorrow, at the research facility, we'll find out 
more."  She was quiet for a few more seconds, thinking.  
"In fact, I think I do remember hearing about dolphins 
saving swimmers from drowning.  My father used to tell me 
and Melissa and the boys stories at bedtime . . . " She 
closed her eyes, drifting, and then snapped them open.  
"Mulder, I'm too tired to do this tonight.  I need to 
sleep."

He surveyed her drawn face, the tired eyes, and the tense 
line of her shoulders.  "Okay," he agreed, sighing.  "But 
we'll be visiting that research station tomorrow."  He 
stood, and then leaned down to kiss her forehead, 
surprising her.  "Sleep tight," he murmured, pulling the 
door between their rooms almost closed, but open enough 
that either could hear the other easily, for whatever 
reason.

Scully simply stared at the crack of light, watching 
shadows move across the carpet of her room as he moved 
around, getting ready for bed.  Then, shaking herself, she 
stood and set about the same task herself.

 
10:17 a.m.

Carlton Research Facility

"Mulder, is this really necessary?"

He grinned at her.  "Unless you are willing to admit that 
those dolphins communicated telepathically with you, yes, 
it is."

She scowled at him.  "Why can I never have a normal 
vacation?"

He frowned.  "What about that time in Maine?"

She sighed, shutting her eyes.  "You honestly do not want 
to know about that, Mulder.  Believe me."  She slammed the 
car door decisively, ending a conversation that he would 
have likely pushed farther than she wanted to take it.

They walked into the building, which looked something like 
a community center of sorts, and found the front desk 
deserted.  Frowning, Scully surveyed the area quickly, and 
saw several darkened rooms, an empty lounge furnished with 
a folding table and matching chairs, a refrigerator and 
microwave, and two antiquated vending machines, and a 
hallway leading toward the back of the building, which 
faced the ocean.  She tilted her head in that direction.  
"I guess they can't afford a receptionist," she remarked, 
leading the way, with Mulder on her heels.

They wound up outside, walking past pools of various marine 
life, a few sheds in need of paint, and finally a dock 
leading into the ocean.  "They're not here," Mulder 
concluded, brilliantly.

But Scully was squinting out at across the water.  "I don't 
think they'd have left everything unlocked.  I saw some 
fairly sophisticated equipment in one of those rooms, 
Mulder.  Oh.  There's a boat out there," she pointed.

"Hey!" a voice called out, and they turned around, 
surprised.  A girl, perhaps twenty years old, was making 
her way toward them.  "Who are you?"

Scully cringed as Mulder pulled out his badge and 
identified them as FBI agents.  The girl, however, was 
suitably impressed.  Scully hastened to reassure her.  
"We're not here on official business, actually, just a few 
questions we were hoping to get answered."

"Questions?  `Bout what?"  She tilted her pony-tailed head 
to the side, smiling at Mulder.  "By the way, my name's 
Sandy."

"We wanted to ask some questions about the dolphins you're 
working with here.  Is anyone here who can help us?"

Her smile faded, then she straightened her shoulders and 
lifted her chin.  "Sorry.  My name is *Dr.* Sandra Bindle."  
Scully took in the girl's cutoff jeans shorts, the sporty 
tank top, and the dock shoes she was wearing.  She couldn't 
possibly be old enough to have acquired a doctorate.  Sandy 
gave Scully her own appraising glance, and then shook her 
head.  "I'm sorry, I don't mean to seem offended.  It's my 
own fault.  I know I look young, but I'm twenty-six, and I 
sort of sped through school."

Mulder tried to smooth things over.  "Then you can probably 
help us, Sandy.  Are you the head of this project?"

She shook her head.  "No, this is actually my first post-
grad work.  The boys are out on a dive right now.  I'm more 
of an assistant . . . " she ducked her head for a moment, 
then looked up again.  "But I'm not shy about admitting 
that many of the ideas here are mine, and while it takes a 
while for a team to warm up to my . . . style, I think that 
the next grant I ask for will be awarded me."

Scully had to bite her lip to keep from smiling.  Mulder, 
on the other hand, was utterly confused by this forthright 
confession.  "Uhm . . . okay.  Then we could ask you our 
questions?"

She nodded eagerly, smiling winningly at him.  "You bet."  
She glanced back at the building.  "But can we go inside?  
I left something running."

Mulder nodded, following the girl's lead.  "Sure, no 
problem.  Sorry we kind of barged through, but it didn't 
look like anyone was inside?"

"Oh, not a problem, really.  My fault, actually.  See, we 
don't get many unscheduled visitors during the week, and I 
was rather . . . immersed in my study."

"Of what?" Scully asked as they reentered the building.

"The clicks and whistles of the dolphins, and how the 
patterns compare to other mammal sounds.  I tried to 
compare them to whale song, but it's simply too dissimilar.  
So I expanded my venue a little."  She led them into a 
darkened room, and turned on the light, revealing a 
recording system that reminded Mulder of his time spent on 
surveillance.  Sandy stopped the machine and put the 
earphones away.  "I keep the lights off to help me focus."  

She joined the two agents out in the hallway and they 
proceeded to the open lounge.  Mulder started to rummage in 
his pocket for change when Scully stepped in front of the 
soda machine and fed coins into it.  "I think it safer if I 
get the drinks this time, don't you?" she asked.  He 
grinned.  

Sandy raised any eyebrow as she sat down, one foot on the 
chair next to her hip.  "Do you guys run into a lot of Coke 
dealers?" she joked.

Mulder laughed, slinging his suit jacket across the chair 
on one side of him as Scully took her place on his other 
side, sliding a soda at him.  Sandy opened the bottled 
water she'd retrieved from the `fridge.  "Something like 
that.  Well, Dr. Sandy Bindle, my partner and I had 
something of an experience last night."

Sandy smiled, her eyes sparkling as she leaned forward.  
"Let me guess.  You went for a late-night food run, and 
aliens abducted you, and told you that dolphins should be 
the true leaders of the world."

Scully decided she liked this girl, and smiled back.  "Not 
quite.  We were swimming about two miles that way," she 
directed, pointing, "and--"

Sandy frowned, and straightened.  "There isn't a beach 
there, and even if there were, it wouldn't be open at 
night, Agent Scully."

Scully pursed her lips.  "Well, it wasn't the smartest 
thing we've ever done, but that isn't the point."

Sandy looked at Mulder.  "You guys could get in serious 
trouble for that, you know.  There isn't a reef protecting 
the water from deep-sea creatures.  Jeez, haven't you ever 
seen an episode of *Baywatch*?"

Mulder leaned forward and crossed his forearms in front of 
him on the table, leaning on his elbows.  "Never miss it.  
And we did run into some deep-sea creatures, Sandy.  A pod 
of dolphins."

Scully jumped in.  "Actually, one dolphin approached us, 
from the direction of this facility, though much further 
out.  We were enchanted, and played for a few moments, 
until another joined us, and they seemed rather insistent 
that we return to shore."

"They towed us back in, " Mulder elaborated, looking at 
Scully pointedly.

She took a deep breath, careful to avoid Mulder's gaze.  
"Can you think of any reasons they may have done that?"

Sandy was silent for a moment, staring at Scully frankly, 
and then she turned to Mulder.  "I'd like you to tell me 
that same story, from your point of view, Agent Mulder."

Scully blinked.  "Agent Mulder will corroborate my story, 
Dr. Bindle--"

"Look, I'm not accusing you of lying, Ms. Scully, and 
please call me Sandy."  She took a swallow of her water 
without breaking eye contact.  "I simply think you may have 
left a few things out of that little . . . narrative.  
Mister Mulder?"

Mulder was surprised, but apparently `going with it.'  "All 
right.  Scully and I were in the water, and had drifted out 
a little farther than we'd planned to.  A dolphin made an 
appearance, and when I made a remark about how beautiful 
*she* was, Scully corrected my error."

"How did you know it was male, Ms. Scully?"

Scully was looking intently at her soda can.  "I'm not even 
sure it was.  I was extremely overtired, and it was very 
late . . . "

Sandy looked to Mulder, who went on.  "I thought it was 
strange at the time, but decided to let it pass after he 
splashed me for calling him a girl."  Scully hmphed.  "But 
then they were . . . I'm not quite sure what they were 
doing, but Scully was looking into its eyes with this very 
intense look on her face, like it was telling her 
something."

"Was it emitting any noises?"

"Not a one."

"Go on."

"I was starting to get a little nervous, when Scully 
panicked and all of the sudden we were being towed back to 
shore by two dolphins.  Scully said it was a shark.  The 
two dolphins swam away once we were close enough to shore, 
and then Scully fainted."

Sandy frowned.  "Does she do that often?"

Scully glared, and Mulder hastened to reply.  "Well . . . 
Certainly never without cause."  She relaxed.

"And after she came to?"

"She was woozy.  She fell into a self-induced hypnotic 
state, and I was able to question her--"

Sandy held up a hand.  "Wait a second.  You hypnotized your 
partner?  What was this, some kind of a slumber party?"

Scully spoke up.  "Actually, it's *Drs.* Mulder and Scully.  
Ph.D. and M.D., respectively."  *Ooh, a little catty, 
Dana?* she asked herself.

"Oh.  A shrink, huh?  Okay, sorry.  Go on.  What did she 
have to say?"

"That the dolphins were telling her things, without 
speaking to her.  She got agitated when I asked her to 
explain how they told her these things, but I finally got 
her to say it was similar to `remembering--'"

"Remembering a movie," Sandy finished.  Scully jerked her 
head up to stare at the girl.  "Oh, don't be so surprised, 
Ms. Scully.  It's something that I've been trying to 
experience for quite a while.  That's why I went into 
marine biology.  I've spoken with many people who have had 
similar things happen to them."

Mulder looked at his partner, then back to Sandy.  "You've 
communicated with dolphins in this fashion?  Is that what 
this research project is about?"

She smiled indulgently.  "No, Mr. Mulder.  That will take a 
little more work on my part--likely a lifetime of it, to 
build up the credibility I'll need to ask for a grant to 
study *that,* though it certainly isn't a new idea."

Mulder eyes were bright.  "Sandy, I think that--"

Sandy jumped, then pulled a small black object from her hip 
pocket and glanced at it.  "Oh, sorry.  It's set on 
vibrate, and it's a little . . . startling.  Uhm, I need to 
get out to the dock.  The boys are on their way back in."  
She stood to leave, and then turned back to Scully.  "The 
pod usually follows them back in, kind of to stop and say 
`hi' to whoever stayed behind.  Do you think you'd be able 
to recognize the dolphin you were . . . in contact with 
last night?"

Scully blinked, and Mulder spoke up.  "I have an eidetic 
memory--if Scully can't identify him--"

"Or her," Scully piped up.

"I might be able to," he finished, shooting her a glance, 
which she studiously avoided.

"Great!"  She looked at their business suits.  "Uhm . . . 
do you have any other clothes with you?"

Scully shrugged.  "Yeah, actually."  Mulder shot her a 
surprised look.  "Don't look at me like that, I saw you 
digging through my stuff while I was in the bathroom this 
morning."

He looked a little sheepish.  "I was planning to surprise 
you with a boat trip later this afternoon.  I didn't think 
you'd want to wear that," he said, gesturing at her suit.  
He went out to the car to get the bags he'd packed.

Sandy smiled as he left.  "How long have you two been 
together?"

"`Bout five years, now."

She raised an eyebrow.  "And you haven't got a ring out of 
him yet?  Jeez, you need to get cracking!"

Scully laughed, blushing a little.  "No, sorry.  We've been 
*partners* for five years.  Nothing more."

"And you let him dig around in your things?"

"Okay, we're friends, too.  Close friends.  And it honestly 
doesn't occur to him that he's invading people's privacy 
when he does things like that, so it doesn't do any good to 
scold him."

"So . . . he's free?"

Scully crossed her arms.  "Umm . . . "

Mulder came back in at that moment.  "Here you go.  Where 
can we change?"

They were soon clad in the clothes they'd worn the night 
before (Scully's suit was still damp, and she grimaced as 
she donned it) and walking down the dock, wearing tennis 
shoes.  Scully used the hair claw she'd found in the bag to 
sweep her hair off her neck.

Sandy was tying the modest houseboat up to the dock.  She 
then stepped onto it and began depositing equipment on the 
dock.  "Hey, guys, here they are!" she hollered as Mulder 
and Scully approached.

There were two men on the boat, unloading equipment.  The 
first, a stocky man of middle age, perhaps forty-five, 
stretched out a hand to first Mulder and then Scully.  "Dr. 
Tom York."

"Dana Scully," she replied warmly.

"Mulder," Mulder responded, turning to shake the next man's 
hand.

"Greg Hunter," said the fair-haired one, who was taller 
than Dr. York but still far shorter than Mulder.  He looked 
to be about twenty-one, but Scully wasn't trusting her 
judgement with age today.  She turned out to be right, 
however.  "I'm an intern."
"So, you wanna play with the pod, huh?" York asked, 
grinning.

"Something like that, " Mulder replied, peering down at the 
dolphins who were eagerly trying to attract Sandy's 
attention.  "We met a couple of them last night, promised 
to call, and forgot to get their numbers."

"Come on," Sandy urged, shucking her shorts, tank, and 
shoes.  The agents, glancing at each other, followed suit.  
The dolphins backed away from the dock, giving the three 
plenty of room to slip into the water.  The two men 
continued to unload the boat, ignoring those in the water.

Scully was feeling extremely nervous, and Mulder picked up 
on it.  "What's wrong?  Don't you want to do this?"

She shook her head.  "No, that's not it.  It's just . . . " 
her voice trailed off as another dolphin surfaced a little 
way off.  "Oh . . . " she whispered, pulling away from the 
group as she went to it, while it stayed remarkably still.

Mulder stared, amazed.  "I think that's him."  He had an 
idea.  "Can you tell if it's male or female?"

Sandy nodded.  "That's Rocky."  She smiled.  "He likes to 
pick fights with his friends."

"Can dolphins understand what we say?  Last night, I said, 
`she's beautiful,' and he splashed me--did he understand 
that I called him a girl?"

She grinned.  "Actually, he may have.  It's largely 
underestimated what some dolphins can understand of the 
spoken language.  Though it's more difficult for them to 
reciprocate, the longer they have spent in contact with 
humans, the more they can understand the nuances of our 
speech--though some contend that it isn't our speech that 
they understand."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, body language, for one thing.  And there's a certain 
. . . chemistry between creatures.  A dog, for instance, 
knows when his master is sick or sad.  You and Agent 
Scully, I've noticed, seem to read each other fairly well, 
without ever saying a word."  He glanced sharply at her.  

She tilted her head wryly.  "And I know things about the 
two of you without you telling me.  Agent Scully was 
recently injured, or she was very ill--you're extremely 
protective of her right now.  She's the rational one of 
your partnership, while you tend to follow your heart."  
Well, that wasn't new--many people could pick up on that 
easily enough.  "There is a great pain in your heart, 
somewhere--it's never far from your consciousness."  She 
paused, studying him.  "More than one, though there is a 
thread of . . . something, emotion, almost, connecting 
them."

He stared at her.  "Are you psychic?"

She grinned.  "Not at all.  I'm just good at observing.  
Your body language, the way you react to certain things 
that are said . . . I'm not even sure myself, it's just 
something that I've always been able to do--but I'm not 
conceited enough to think that I'm all that unique for 
having this ability."

He smiled at that.  "Okay, you're right, I suppose . . . 
one of the things I do, at the Bureau, is track down 
seriously deranged serial killers.  I profile them.  That's 
similar to what you just did with me."

She shrugged.  "I've read enough mystery novels that I can 
identify with that concept.  Sure.  Sounds good."

He laughed, and turned his full attention back to his 
partner.  "I think we've given them enough time alone, 
don't you?"

She nodded, and started swimming over.  Scully ignored them 
until Sandy spoke up.  "Hey, Rocky," she said softly, 
holding out her hand, which the dolphin promptly nuzzled.  
Scully blinked, as though coming out of a dark room or a 
deep sleep, and turned to Mulder, who was watching her with 
definite concern in his hazel eyes.  "I didn't see you," 
she said lamely.

"You were a little . . . engrossed," he agreed, still 
watching her closely.

She frowned.  "Stop looking at me like I'm going to keel 
over at any second!  I'm fine.  I was just absorbed in . . 
. Rocky, here."

"I see."

She shivered.  "I'm getting cold.  I'm going to go dry 
off."  She broke away and started swimming back to the 
dock.

"She's in denial about something," Sandy confided.

"I noticed," Mulder replied, following his partner in.

Once they were back inside the building and dressed once 
more, Sandy shook her head, staring at the two of them.  
"You know, you remind me of someone my cousin used to 
know."

"Which one of us?"

"Well, it's not that simple.  See, my cousin met a guy.  He 
was some kind of law enforcement, I'm not sure what brand.  
She was . . . involved, sort of, with a case he was working 
on.  He was . . . I'm not even sure how to explain it."  
She thought for a moment.  

"Okay, you know that Sarah McLachlan song, *Building a 
Mystery,* the one about that really screwed up guy that 
she's fallen for?"  Scully nodded, smiling softly.  Mulder 
to a T.  "Okay, so you see the resemblance, then.  That's 
what she told me he was like.  Actually, I think, somehow, 
that song is about this guy.  Right down to the cross she 
said he wore."

Mulder blinked.

"It wasn't his, which is where you come in, Dana," Sandy 
continued.  "He was wearing it as a reminder of a friend.  
My cousin could see the pain in him, and it seemed to 
radiate out from that necklace.  I think, somehow, that if 
the two of you were ever separated, that's how you would 
be, Mulder."

He swallowed thickly.  "Your . . . cousin?  Where did she 
live?"

Sandy stared at him.  "California.  Why did you use the 
past-tense?"  Scully's jaw fell open as she began to 
interpret the look on his face for what it was.  "How do 
you know she's dead?"

Scully, terribly lost, spoke finally.  "How did she die, 
Sandy?"

"It was about four years ago.  She was killed in a fire.  
It was during this case where she met the cop.  We were 
really close, and she called me once a week--she told me 
about him the night before she died."  She was quiet for a 
moment.  "She was really screwed up, at that time.  I think 
maybe it wasn't so much of an accident.  She practically 
told me good-bye in her last phone call."  She turned to 
look at Mulder more closely.  "*Was* it you?  Her name was-
-"

"Kristin," he finished, hoarsely.

Scully gripped his hand, hard.  "Mulder?  While I was . . . 
gone?"  

"Yes."  He didn't elaborate.

Sandy started to speak again, but Scully silenced her with 
a look.  He'd never told her just what had happened during 
his cases just after the X-Files had been reopened.  But 
she'd always had the impression that whatever it was, it 
wasn't something he wanted to discuss with her.  The 
whiteness that had replaced his usually healthy color 
seemed to suggest this might have something to do with 
that.  Well, she wasn't about to drag him back there.  If 
he wanted to talk about it, if he volunteered anything, 
that was fine.  She'd listen, and she wouldn't judge.  But 
she wasn't going to let Sandy draw him back into that dark 
place.  He'd had enough darkness in his life, and he was 
forced to relive so much of it by the very nature of their 
work.  It was *not* going to happen now. No matter how much 
her curiosity was piqued.  She was angered by some of his 
omissions, but this somehow felt like something that 
couldn't be touched. 

Dr. York approached them.  "I hate to cut this short, 
Agents Scully, Mulder, but we're on a schedule today.  If 
you could schedule a time to return tomorrow, or perhaps 
later in the week . . . " he suggested tentatively.

Scully extended her hand to him.  "Thank you so much for 
your time.  We appreciate it--"

Mulder broke in, apparently willing to allow the change of 
subject to continue unchallenged.  "We would like to come 
back, though.  Would tomorrow at two o'clock be convenient 
for the three of you?"

York shifted uncomfortably, but Sandy jumped in with a 
bright smile.  "That would be wonderful.  We'll look 
forward to it."  

As they made their way to the car, Scully could hear the 
beginnings of a heated argument brewing between the 
academics, and she looked up at Mulder.  "Give me the 
keys," she said under her breath.

Frowning, he handed them to her and went around the 
passenger side.  "What?" he asked as he adjusted the seat 
to fit his longer frame.

"Do you even have to ask that question?  Mulder, this is a 
waste of our time.  I thought this was supposed to be a 
vacation!  Why must everything turn into an X-File with 
you?"

He sighed as she pulled recklessly out of the parking lot, 
recalling the last time she'd driven while angry with him.  
"Okay, point taken--and conceded."  She switched lanes 
without signaling and was honked at.  "Uhm, Scully, can we 
talk about this over lunch?  I'm getting a little hungry."  
He was desperate.  "I'll buy."

They were seating in a cute little cafe, awaiting their 
sandwiches, when Mulder began the conversation once more.  
"Look, Scully, I think that you're overlooking some 
evidence here."

"Am I really?"  She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, you are.  Something very odd happened last night, and 
the fact that you're so willing to dismiss it disturbs me!"

"What's so odd?  We met up with a cute little dolphin--"

"He's male," Mulder provided helpfully.

"With a name like Rocky, I sure hope so.  But it doesn't 
mean anything.  I had a fifty percent chance of getting 
that right."

"In standardized card tests, the average person gets 20 
percent of the questions right.  You've got them beat by 
far."  She glared at him.  "Sorry, Scully, but you've gotta 
admit, if one of us were to have a psychic experience, it 
would probably be you."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

He stirred his iced tea and took a contemplative sip.  "It 
means that, for one thing, you're a woman."

"Thank you ever so much for noticing," she replied snidely.

"Women are far more intuitive than men, statistically 
speaking.  Two: you've had...stuff happen to you."

"You mean the experiments--which could just as easily have 
been conducted by humans--"

"No, I'm referring to Kevin Kryder.  Those quadruplets you 
investigated."

"Both of those incidents are religious in nature.  Not 
psychic."

"Why must they be mutually exclusive?  And what about 
Luther Boggs?  Or Harold Spuller?"

She bit back a reply as the waiter set down their meals.  
Mulder took a bite of his Philly sandwich before 
continuing.  "Three: your family has exhibited signs of 
psychic ability."

She snorted.  "Mulder, I loved Melissa, but she was a 
little...loopy.  She was never able to provide me with any 
proof that--"

"Before you were...taken, and missing those months, did you 
ever tell her about me?"

She frowned.  "Melissa had been out of touch for about 
three years before then.  She was `finding herself.'  Why?"

He met her eyes steadily.  "I met her while you were in the 
hospital, and the first thing she said to me was `I've been 
told not to call you Fox.'  At first I didn't even know who 
she was," Scully raised an eyebrow.  "Too tall," he 
explained with a wicked grin.  "I asked her who told her 
that, and she said, `Dana.  Just now.'  You were deep in a 
coma, Scully.  Your mom came in, surprised to see her.  So 
who told her who I was, or that I prefer to be addressed as 
`Mulder'?"

Scully was silent.  "Maybe she'd been talking to Bill.  
They were always close.  I don't know."  But she didn't 
believe it.  And she also recalled a comforting voice that 
had identified itself as "Nurse Owens."  She bit the inside 
of her lower lip and looked down at her club sandwich.

"Your father may have tried to contact you from the 
afterlife, and your mother--"

She snapped her head up.  "What about Mom?"

He blinked.  "Just before you were taken, she had a dream 
about it."

"She told you this?"

He nodded.  "We spent a lot of time together, while you 
were missing.  I...wasn't in a good place, Scully."

He seemed deeply ashamed of something, but Scully didn't 
press him.  "She never told me."  Her mother was going to 
get the grilling of her lifetime when she got back to D.C.  
Perhaps she knew something about Kristin, too.

He paused, then took a thoughtful bite of his sandwich.  
"She wanted to call you, when she first had the dream, but 
confided that you didn't really believe in that sort of 
thing."  He chuckled.  "Have you ever told your mother what 
you do for a living, Scully?"

She blushed.  "Just because I work with you doesn't mean 
that I believe--" She caught his struck expression.  "No, 
Mulder, I didn't mean it that way."  She sighed, sipping 
her drink.  "I'm sorry.  I've been pretty awful the past 
two days, haven't I?  I keep shooting down everything you 
say."

He frowned.  "Scully, that's what you do.  I mean, that's 
what I *need* you to do.  Most people wouldn't bother to 
argue out the details of my theories, they'd simply laugh 
at me and walk away."

"Diana Fowley wouldn't," she replied, very softly, rolling 
an olive around her plate in tiny circles with a fingertip.

"Diana's...different."

"How different?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you were more than colleagues, weren't you?"  He 
was silent for a moment, and she sighed again.  "I went to 
see the Gunmen, before the office was destroyed, Mulder.  
They told me that you were...involved with this woman, 
seven years ago."

He closed his eyes for a moment.  "While I was working with 
Diana, everything we did together seemed to go like 
clockwork.  We'd finish each other's sentences, we always 
knew what the other was thinking--which was often the exact 
same thing.  Our personal relationship was much the same.  
We were too much alike, Scully, and opposites attract.  
Being married to her was like being married to myself, 
sometimes, and nobody can live--"

Her head snapped up.  "*Married?*" she whispered hoarsely.

His eyes shifted nervously, flicking over hers.  "Oh, 
Jesus, Scully, I thought--the guys didn't tell--I didn't 
mean--"

"No, the guys didn't tell me.  They didn't tell me 
something that you've had *five years* to tell me.  Five 
years of opportunity to tell your *best friend* that 
crucial bit of information, Mulder!  How could you keep 
this from me?"

His jaw was set.  "Now wait just a minute.  Where do you 
get all this 'opportunity'?  Since when do we actually talk 
about our personal lives?  We never really open up to each 
other."

She shook her head, and he was surprised to see tears 
glistening in her eyes.  "Wrong, Mulder, *you* never open 
up.  And I've tried to get you to talk about your personal 
life."

"Really?"  Now he was the skeptic.

"Okay, fine, you want examples?  How about on the Tooms 
case--the second time, I mean, in the car?  Or in Georgia, 
while we were on that rock in the lake?  I was trying to 
have a serious conversation with you, and all you could do 
was joke around!  Or even after you shot Modell!  I tried 
to get you to talk to me then, but you retreated into this 
shell--"

"I had to deal with the fact that I'd nearly shot you, 
Scully!  Jesus, I almost killed you!  Every time I looked 
at you, I kept seeing that revolver aimed right at your 
face, your eyes were so wide, that tear dripping down your 
cheek--!"

"Well, then what about here in Florida?  When we took that 
little detour from the seminar?  God, I had it all set up, 
a nice quiet evening, and we could have gotten all the 
stuff that had gone on in the last months out in the open, 
talk about our *feelings* about what had happened instead 
of listing the facts in an official report!"

He bit back a reply about the Mothmen when he realized they 
were attracting attention.  Then, in that moment of 
silence, he came to a realization.  "That's what he did, 
wasn't it?"

She blinked, still upset, though he'd calmed considerably.  
"Huh?  Who?"

"Eddie Van Blundht.  That's how he got to you, isn't it?"

Her eyes widened even farther.  "*Got* to me?  What the 
hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I mean.  When I finally got 
there, he was halfway to seducing you--"

"How *dare* you insinuate--"

He snorted.  "Don't, Scully.  We both know that was his 
plan.  That's what he got off on, seducing women under the 
guise of someone they trusted.  But it's not his motive I'm 
interested in at the moment.  It's his method."

She was looking intently at her food.  "I thought he was 
you, Mulder."

"I'm aware of that.  I'm also aware of the fact that you 
don't spend a lot of time making out with me on your living 
room couch."

She blushed.  "He never actually kissed me.  You--burst in, 
just before."

He was quiet for a moment.  "What was it, that even let up 
to that moment?  I don't think he would have tried to kiss 
you unless he thought he had a chance of a positive 
response."

Her eyes met his firmly.  "He came over without any agenda 
other than spending time with me.  For once, it wasn't 
about a case or a lead on Cancerman--it was about being a 
good friend."  

They were both silent for a time, and the waiter returned 
to ask about dessert.  Scully started to decline, then, 
acquiescing to a stern glance from Mulder, ordered a piece 
of French silk pie.  Mulder ordered a fudge brownie sundae, 
planning to force Scully to eat at least half of it for 
him.  She placed her fingers on her lips for a moment after 
the waiter left.   He didn't look at her, seemingly 
mesmerized by his reflection in his spoon, as he spoke 
again.  "Am I really that bad?"

She sighed.  "Oh, Mulder, you're one of the most important 
people in my life--I'd go to just about any lengths for 
you, including dying for you.  And I know that you'd die 
for me.  You're a wonderful partner; you know that.  I 
wouldn't work with anyone but you.  I just wish that you'd 
put a little more effort into our personal relationship.  
You were so reluctant to go to that workshop here in 
Florida, but I wonder if it wouldn't have helped us."

He fidgeted in his chair, and she longed to look in his 
eyes, to see just what he was feeling.  "I know that I run, 
sometimes.  But you run, too, you know.  You're so 
desperate to know what I'm feeling and thinking, but you 
lock me out, too, when it comes to your heart.  You don't 
like to loose control, Scully."

She touched her tongue to the corner of her mouth, a 
nervous habit she'd had for years.  "Is that so wrong?  I 
don't know anyone who *likes* to loose control."

He smiled, finally meeting her eyes.  "It's okay to loose 
it a little, on occasion.  I can count on one hand the 
number of times I've seen you cry, Scully."

"I cry.  I just don't like people to see me cry."

"Okay, fair enough.  But sometimes you *need* to share that 
part of you.  Like Donnie Pfaster."  She stiffened.  "I 
needed to hold you, having come that close to losing you, 
as much as you needed to *be* held, Scully."  He closed his 
eyes for a minute.  "That's why it killed me for you to 
walk away after that freak Schnauze."

She shook her head.  "Fine.  But that still doesn't explain 
why you never told me that you'd been married, Mulder."

"Why does it matter so much?  We were only together for a 
year--we don't even stay in touch!  I honestly hadn't 
thought about her very much until a few months ago."

"But you shared so much with her!  Your life, your heart, 
your soul--!"

"I could say the same thing about you, Scully," he said, 
very softly.

She flushed.  "We're not married, Mulder," she reminded 
him, not meeting his eye.

He swallowed a large mouthful of ice cream, shoving his 
fingers through his hair.  "Look, I think we're getting 
into dangerous waters, here."

She wouldn't be distracted.  "This hurts, Mulder.  I'm hurt 
that you didn't share this part of your life with me.  I 
feel like I know you so well, but to find this out kind of 
throws my whole perception of you."

"How?  How does this make me so different?"

She shook her head, unable to articulate what she was 
feeling.  "I don't know, it just does!"  She laughed at her 
own words.  "Listen to me, I sound like a petulant child."   
She shook her head, then met his eye.  "Mulder, I need to 
know that my best friend feels he can talk to me.  And that 
I can talk to him."

He reached out his hand under the table, curling his 
fingers around hers.  "Scully, I want that, too.  How about 
we try to talk more?  Maybe set aside some time every week 
that's just us.  No aliens, no theories, no mutants.  Just 
you and me."  He grinned.  "We'll bond, okay?"

She frowned.  "Mulder, I don't want this to be a clinical 
thing.  I wanted it to be a natural progression of our 
friendship.  That we could just...flow into this, without 
it being a big deal.  I hate that this is coming out a 
fight."

He laughed.  "Scully, you're a romantic!"  He was amazed to 
see her blush, and held tight when she tried to free her 
hand.  "Scully, even the best of friends can't read each 
other's minds.  That's simply asking too much.  Maybe 
you're right, that convention might have helped us.  Not as 
partners, but as friends.  We need to be honest with each 
other, about the things that tick us off, about the things 
that make us feel good, too.  I don't like it when you tell 
me you're fine and your obviously not."  She started to 
protest, but he gripped her hand tightly to quiet her.  
"Even if there's nothing to be done about it, it wouldn't 
hurt you to say, `No, Mulder, I have a headache and I'm 
bloated and I have cramps.  How're you?'"

She chuckled.  Not many guys would have gotten away with 
that, but Mulder's grin effectively lowered her hackles.  
"Okay, fine.  I don't like it when you ditch me."  She was 
heartened by the fact that he met her gaze steadily, 
willing to listen to what she had to say.  And, as he had, 
she gave him a means to change his behavior.  "I can't tell 
you how good it made me feel, when I was in the hospital, 
and even though you'd made up your mind, you still came to 
me to tell me what you'd decided to do.  I wasn't left in 
the dark, and I felt that you trusted me."  She'd been so 
surprised, she'd actually asked him why he was telling her. 
*Because I knew that if I was making a mistake, you'd talk 
me out of it...* "You weren't asking my advice, you were 
just including me."  He took a breath, feeling her words 
deeply, and she continued.  "Even if it's a call from the 
road, I need to know what's happening to you."

He was quiet for a moment.  "I can't promise that I'll 
never leave you in the dark again, because I feel 
responsible for you, Scully.  I know that it isn't 
rational, it isn't PC, but then again, it has nothing to do 
with your gender.  And one of the reasons I've been 
reluctant to tell you things in the past is the element of 
time, and the fact that you argue with a lot of what I do."

"And you always try to *fix* what's wrong, which is why I 
don't tell you in the first place," she pointed out, not 
backing down.  "I'm your partner, Mulder, and what you're 
saying now is that I hold you back--"

"Scully--"

"Which is exactly what you convinced me wasn't the case, a 
very few weeks ago."  Her firey blue eyes met his warm 
hazel ones.

He started to argue again, but stopped.  "Okay.  You're 
right.  I'll make an effort."  She was surprised, and 
pleased.  She gotten more than she'd hoped for, and began 
to wonder if this wasn't going to turn out to be one of 
Mulder's better ideas.

She picked up her spoon and took a large spoonful of his 
sundae, ignoring his amused grin.  "You know," she said 
around the mouthful, "you were gonna make me eat this 
anyway."

He nodded.  "Right again, O Mystical Oracle of Scully.  
What's your next prediction?"

She sucked the fudge off her spoon thoughtfully, savoring 
the dark chocolatey flavor fully before replying.  "I seem 
to recall you saying something about a boat trip?"

"Yeah, but that was supposed to be a surprise.  Now that 
the surprise is ruined, it wouldn't be any fun," he teased.  
She scowled.  "Okay, okay.  You do know how to sail, 
right?"  He already knew the answer to that question.

Her whole face lit up, starting with her eyes, which seemed 
to glow, and finishing with a surprised and delighted 
smile.  "So that's why you packed our suits," she mused, 
and then sobered immediately.  "Mulder, you get seasick!" 
she admonished, looking somewhat crestfallen.

He grinned at her expression.  "I had my yearly physical 
two days ago, remember?"  
She'd been double-checking even the most routine of medical 
procedures performed upon him for some time now.  She 
nodded, realizing that she'd seen a notation on his chart.  
"That new form of Dramamine?  Are you sure it won't knock 
you out?"

He shook his head.  "I took it this morning, and I haven't 
felt drowsy yet.  I won't be able to stay out too long, 
though.  Just a few hours."

She stood, straightening her suit as he picked up the bill.  
"That'll be plenty of time, don't worry," She had an grin 
on her face that made him wary.

"What?" he prompted, fearing the answer.

"To make you into my very own Starbuck!"


1:32 p.m.
Gulf of Mexico


"Here!  Tie this down!" Scully called, tossing Mulder a 
thick rope, which he promptly tied down, using the knotting 
technique she'd painstakingly taught him earlier.

He wiped sweat off his brow, squinting at the sun from 
beneath his sunglasses.  Although the wind was strong, and 
was evaporating the sweat nearly as quickly as they could 
produce it, under the hot sun, Mulder was worried that 
Scully might burn.  "Put your shirt back on," he told her, 
holding it out.

"No way!  This feels great!"  She stretched up on tiptoe to 
adjust the thick cloth of the sail.

He swallowed hard, having to turn away for a moment. *This 
was a really, really bad idea, Fox.* Ignoring himself, he 
reached for the sun block he'd purchased.  "Then come here.  
You've probably sweat all this gunk off by now."

She secured the sail, then plunked herself at his feet, 
feeling like a child.  "Isn't this the kind that's supposed 
to resist water and sweat?" she asked, picking up the 
bottle as he began to massage the cream into her shoulders 
and back.

"Scully, I don't think you've had anything resembling a tan 
in all the time I've known you.  I'd feel more comfortable 
letting a newborn baby out in this sun than you!"
She harumphed.  "I don't know, Mulder.  I think you just 
get a kick out of copping a feel every hour."  He froze for 
just an instant, then continued.  She couldn't be further 
from the truth.  It was taking all of his control to avoid 
lingering.  She went on.  "Besides, you've only put 
sunscreen on twice, and it was only spf 15, and *you're* 
not burning."

He held out his hand for more of the lotion, and she 
obediently squirted more of the thick substance onto his 
palm.  "There are several reasons for that, Scully, and you 
know it.  I don't have red hair, my skin isn't alabaster 
white, and I'm not the one who just got over a nasty case 
of frostbite!" he finished, squatting down in front of her 
to apply a generous glob to his partner's pinkening nose.  
"Anyway, I'm just trying to avoid listening to you whine 
for the rest of our vacation."

"Oh, come on, whining is one of my great charms," she 
cajoled, grinning at him.  Her head whipped around suddenly 
as she noticed the wind picking up again.  As she shouted 
an order at him, he smiled to himself, marveling at her 
trust in him.  She was arguing about protecting her skin 
for sport, knowing full well that he wouldn't allow her to 
get burned. *She looks so beautiful,* he couldn't help 
thinking as she turned the boat into the wind.  

His moment of reverie was interrupted by a shrill trilling 
noise, and it took him a moment to realize it was his cell 
phone.  "Mulder," he answered.  "Sir...yes, she's right 
here...we're sailing, Sir, relaxing a little...I'm fine, 
Sir...just a minute."  He handed the phone to Scully, a 
quizzical look on his face.  "It's `Dad.'" She grinned.  
"He wants to talk to you."

She took the phone and pressed it to her ear, pulling the 
sail in first.  "Sir, Scully here."

"Agent Scully, I need you and Agent Mulder to return to 
shore immediately," Skinner told her abruptly.

She turned to glare at Mulder, who raised his eyebrows.  "I 
was under the impression we had the rest of the week off, 
Sir."  She was a little annoyed that work was encroaching 
on this special time--it wasn't very often that she and 
Mulder actually got to have fun together.

"Circumstances have changed a little, I'm afraid.  Mulder's 
doctor called, a little frantic."

"What's wrong?"  She went immediately into doctor mode, all 
thoughts of annoyance fleeing her mind.

"It appears that when his blood work came back, he had an 
overabundance of white blood cells."

Scully absorbed the information, and then looked at Mulder 
critically.  His eyes were overly bright, she noticed, 
wondering it if was something beyond the excitement of 
sailing.  "Thank you for calling, Sir.  We'll head straight 
in.  Did he have any suspicions as to what sort of 
infection this might indicate?"

"Any number of things, but appendicitis is a likely cause.  
A hospital visit would seem prudent, Scully."

"I agree.  We're about three miles out right now.  I'll 
call you as soon we get to a hospital."  

Mulder's eyebrows shot up at that.  "What's going on?" he 
mouthed.  

She shushed him.  Skinner was speaking again.  "Why the 
hell are you sailing, anyway?"  He sounded annoyed.

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you been listening to the news?  There is a 
hurricane that might hit!"

She paled.  "We're on vacation, Sir."  She'd thought the 
wind was a little strong, but hadn't imagined it was 
anything like this.  "And it doesn't look so bad out.  Only 
a little wind.  The skies are clear."  She knew full well, 
however, that a storm could hit in a matter of moments.

"Well, that may be, but the weather down there can turn on 
you in an instant.  I'd suggest that you get to shore as 
quickly as possible.  I'll expect to hear from you before 
the afternoon's out, Scully.  Good luck," he added.

Mulder took his phone back, placing it in his waterproof 
bag with the rest of his things.  "What's going on?" he 
repeated, at full volume this time.

"You're doctor called Skinner.  Mulder, how are you 
feeling?"

"Fine."  He frowned.  "What did he say?"

She felt his forehead, and his cheeks.  "I don't think you 
have a fever, which is a good sign.  Mulder, your blood has 
some extremely high levels of white blood cells.  That 
probably means that your body is trying to fight off an 
infection.  It could be appendicitis.  I need you to tell 
me if you feel at all strange."

He shrugged.  "I honestly feel just fine.  If it were 
appendicitis, wouldn't my side hurt?"

She nodded.  "Probably.  But it could be something else.  
Anyway, I'm not taking any chances.  Let's get into shore."  
She pulled the main sail in, folding down the mast.  "By 
the way, how exactly did you arrange this little excursion 
of ours?"  They'd arrived at a small arena that was free of 
people, and found the boat waiting for them.  But it seemed 
unlikely that a rental service would have let them go out 
if there were reports of a hurricane.

"I mentioned our visit to a friend, who left his boat out 
for us.  I assured him that you knew what you were doing, 
and he owed me a favor.  Why?"

"Did he happen to mention that there was hurricane on its 
way?"

His eyes widened.  "Are you kidding?"

She shook her head solemnly.  "I guess he didn't.  What 
kind of person would leave a boat like this in the hands of 
someone he'd never met?" she wondered aloud, sitting behind 
the wheel and starting up the motor.  The wind was starting 
to pick up a little more than she liked.

"Katz is a little on the strange side.  He's probably never 
actually set foot on this boat in his life.  He just likes 
having it.  And he's not in Florida right now, he's in 
Egypt."

She raised an eyebrow.  "Oh?"

"He's got a house here, and a hired hand set out the boat 
for us.  It's likely Katz has no idea there's a hurricane 
coming, " he finished, looking up at the sky.  "It doesn't 
look stormy."

"I know," she sighed.  "That doesn't mean a whole lot, 
though.  It could get bad real quick."

He nodded.  "Okay.  What can I do?"

She frowned.  "Sit down.  Drink some water.  We're taking 
you to a hospital, mister."
"Scully, I feel really good--"

She shot him a glare.  "The last time you said that, you'd 
just suffered a major seizure due to a hole drilled in your 
head!  Sit down," she ordered.  He didn't refuse this time.

It was as though the call from Skinner had been a catalyst.  
The waves were crashing against the bow of the boat, and 
rain was beginning to pelt against the cabin.  "Mulder, I 
want you to get the Coast Guard on the radio.  Give them 
our position," she pointed to the appropriate meter on the 
console, "and let them know we're attempting to get back."  
She watched him swallow convulsively as he tried to find 
the frequency on the radio, and realized that while the 
motion-sickness medicine might have worked before, it was 
no match for a storm.  He wouldn't be much use in a few 
minutes.  She'd have to keep him busy, so he wouldn't think 
about the nausea.

He was shaking his head, now.  "I'm not getting through.  
The storm must be interfering."

Great.  "Keep trying," she shouted over the noise of the 
rain and wind.  It was getting hard to hold course.  The 
wind was making her fight for the wheel.  The boat was 
rolling continuously now, and Mulder was looking positively 
green.  The waves were growing, and she was wondering just 
how in hell they were going to make it to shore when a 
particularly large wave hit the boat and flung her out of 
her seat, where her head made sharp contact with corner of 
the console.  The storm dissolved into darkness and she 
dimly recognized Mulder's voice calling her name until 
silence descended.


Unknown Island
Unknown time

"Come on, Scully, wake up.   Please, wake up!"

She could smell something acrid invade her nostrils, and 
she began to rise from the foggy sleep she was in.  "Wha--" 
she murmured as her eyes fluttered open.

Mulder's face loomed above her, framed by a startlingly 
blue sky.  She realized she was laying on a beach, the 
fine, soft sand cradling her body comfortably.  One leg was 
elevated on something, and when she tried to sit up, her 
head throbbed painfully.  "What happened?" she asked, 
starting to recall the storm.

He pushed her back down.  "You hit your head.  The storm 
got pretty bad, and the boat was being rocked pretty badly.  
I got as much stuff together as I could, put us both in 
lifejackets, and abandoned ship.  It capsized a few minutes 
later.  I don't know how long we were in the water--it 
seemed like hours.  You were totally unresponsive.  Then 
Rocky showed up."

"The dolphin?"  She was really curious about her leg; her 
ankle was starting to hurt a little, but not too badly.  
There was a sharper pain further up her leg, however, but 
she wasn't ready to sit up and look just yet.

"I'm pretty sure it was him.  It was hard to tell.  He and 
a few of his friends got us here, somehow.  He stuck around 
until I got you into that grove of trees back there," he 
jerked his head over his shoulder, but she wasn't about to 
try moving again, "and then disappeared."  He frowned.  "I 
think the storm lasted about another hour.  That was about 
two hours ago.  Everything's all cleared up, now," he 
pointed out, gesturing towards the brilliantly blue sky.  
"I think we were just hit by a little edge of the storm."

"Where, exactly, are we?"

He shook his head.  "I have absolutely no idea.  I haven't 
explored much--I didn't want to leave you.  I got tired of 
waiting, and used the smelling salts from the survival 
kit."

"What do we have?"

"Lots of bottled water, both our bags, and the survival 
supplies from the boat."

She was afraid to ask the next question.  "I don't suppose 
your cell-phone survived?"

He shook his head.  "No such luck.  All of our things got 
royally soaked."

She frowned, then met his eye firmly.  "My leg?" she 
finally asked.

He grimaced.  "I'm not sure what happened.  Maybe it was 
all the jostling on the boat.  You're ankle is severely 
swollen, and there's a nasty cut along your shin."

She nodded, which she instantly regretted.  "My ankle 
doesn't hurt too badly."

"That's a good sign, right?"

"Nope.  A sprain is usually more painful than a break, and 
I can't wiggle my toes."  

He swallowed.  "I'm sorry."

She laughed.  "For what?  Saving my life?"  She shook her 
head.  "I'm the one who should have thought to check the 
weather, and it was dumb luck that nobody was around the 
docks to warn us.  Let's focus on the tasks at hand, okay?  
Help me sit up."

He got behind her and levered her into a sitting position.  
The cut was indeed nasty, as well as red and irritated from 
the exposure to salt water.  "I cleaned it," Mulder 
offered.  "I wasn't sure if it was better to bandage it or 
not, though."

"It needs one."  He got out the kit.  "Is there any kind of 
antibiotic cream in there?"

"Neosporin," he announced, handing her the tube, which she 
opened and applied generously, and then covered the wound.  
"Is it infected?"

She shook her head.  "Not yet.  I'd like to keep it that 
way."  She turned to him suddenly.  "Are you okay?"  She 
felt supremely guilty for not asking sooner.

He grinned.  "So nice of you to ask," he teased.  "Just 
some bruises."  He focused on her ankle.  "Is it broken?"

She began to prod at it with ginger fingers.  "I think so."  
She sighed.  "I think it's a clean break, though.  Nothing 
feels out of place.  Is there--"

He was one step ahead of her, and held up the splinting 
materials.  "Yep.  Okay.  How do we do this?"

She grinned.  "You've been injured often enough, don't you 
know?"

"I'd prefer a trained opinion."  He gave her a half-hearted 
smile.

"Okay.  We need to set the bone.  If it's a growth-plate 
fracture, as I think it is, we need to set it at an ninety-
degree angle."  He recalled when he'd broken his own ankle, 
and the pain of moving his own ankle into the very position 
she was describing.  He reached out a hand, which she 
gratefully squeezed for a moment.  "Here goes.  Be ready to 
apply the splint," she warned.

That finished, she sat back on her elbows for a few 
moments, catching her breath.  "Are you in pain?" he asked.

She shook her head.  "A little, but not too bad.  I don't 
want to take anything yet.  My head still aches, and if I 
get sleepy, I want to know if it's something we need to 
worry about."

His eyes widened.  "You think it's a concussion?"

She shrugged.  "I'm not sure.  I'm not nauseated, and my 
vision is clear...how about my pupils?"

He studied her eyes carefully.  "Both are the same size."

"I managed to stay unconscious throughout the time we were 
in the water, though, which is odd.  We'll have to see."

He nodded thoughtfully.  "Okay.  So, basically, don't let 
you sleep, right?"

"Right.  But I'm not too worried."  She frowned.  "I am a 
little worried about you, though."  She felt his forehead 
and cheeks.  "Still no fever.  Still no nausea?"

He shook his head.  "I'm a little sore, but only from the 
bruises.  Is there any chance that there isn't anything 
wrong with me, that the high white blood cell count was 
just a fluke?  I mean, it's been several days since I had 
the blood drawn, and I haven't felt at all strange since 
then."

Scully sighed.  "Yeah, it's possible.  I think it's likely, 
actually.  But if you feel at all strange, I want you to 
tell me immediately, okay?"  She scanned the horizon.  "I 
think you'd better take a look around, see if there are any 
signs of civilization."

He shook his head.  "I'm not leaving you alone.  What if 
you do have a concussion?"

"I don't have any symptoms, yet, and besides, we need to 
know where we stand."

He sighed.  She was right.  He pulled on his sneakers, 
which had been drying in the sun and were still damp, and 
stood, looking around.  "I'll check back soon," he 
promised.  "You'll be okay?"

She grinned at his reluctance.  "I'll be fine, Mulder.  
I've got everything I need right here.  Go find us some 
help, okay?"

He returned two hours later, from the opposite direction.  
Scully had scooted herself back against a tree, her leg 
still propped up, and her eyes were closed. *Oh, God.  I 
shouldn't have left her...don't panic, don't panic, don't 
panic...* "Scully?" he managed to call in a surprisingly 
calm voice.

Her eyes flew open, then narrowed.  He sighed in relief.  
She'd only been dozing, and her gaze was clear and sharp.  
"Didn't you head off from that direction?" she asked warily 
as he approached, tossing her head in the direction he had 
indeed started off in.

He nodded grimly.  "I followed the shore," he admitted, 
crouching down next to her.

She groaned.  "Great.  An island.  A small one, too, unless 
you ran the whole way."

He grinned suddenly.  "Well, I didn't turn out to be much 
of a Starbuck, but how does `Gilligan' sound, Skipper?"

Scully rolled her eyes, unable to keep an answering grin 
from her lips.  "Okay, let's think about some shelter for 
the night; the sun will be setting soon."  She chewed her 
lip thoughtfully.  "The good news is that Skinner was 
expecting to hear from us by now.  Someone will definitely 
be looking for us by morning."

"Well, then, let's get settled in."

After constructing a lean-to, Scully and Mulder settled 
down in front of a modest fire facing the water.  "Did you 
ever go camping, when you were younger?" Scully asked, 
allowing her eyes to relax and gaze into the fire, feeling 
the warmth spread through her limbs comfortably.

He forced down a smart crack, and allowed himself to 
reminisce.  He smiled.  "Yeah, once.  Samantha was about 
five, and I was nine.  My uncle took us one weekend, and 
when he realized we'd never been camping, he was 
scandalized.  I remember him telling us all kinds of 
stories about Mom and how much she used to hate camping..." 
he trailed off, apparently lost in thought.  

She sighed, and shifted to make her elevated leg a little 
more comfortable.  "My father's schedule was...hectic.  But 
somehow, every summer, he'd get enough leave to take us all 
camping.  We'd catch our dinner by fishing, and, as we got 
older, hunting, and eat beans right out of the can for 
lunch.  If you can manage to catch us a rabbit or something 
tomorrow, I'll teach you how to clean it.  Sleeping out 
under the stars, s'mores over an open fire..." She smiled 
softly.

His eyes crinkled.  "You sound like you really miss it."

"I don't know if it's that, or just having the whole family 
together...I mean, holidays are so weird, now, just Mom and 
me and the boys.  But it was already getting weird, even 
before Dad died...We all grew up, I suppose.  Christmas 
just doesn't seem like Christmas without a six-person game 
of Risk."

He sighed.  "Things got weird, around my house, after Sam 
was taken.  We didn't know what had happened, and my father 
blamed me.  That's why it hurts so much that they may have 
known a lot more about the whole situation than they ever 
told me."

She watched his face carefully.  "You do know that it 
wasn't your fault, don't you?"

He laughed.  It wasn't a merry sound.  "My head does, 
Scully, but my heart still feels like a paralyzed little 
boy who couldn't protect his little sister.  I don't think 
that will ever go away."  He changed the subject.  "So, you 
can shoot a shotgun as well as a Sig Sauer, huh?"

She allowed him the deflection away from his personal 
demons.  "Oh, I'm a crack shot.  But I could never actually 
shoot the game.  Gutting and eating didn't bother me so 
much, but actually taking it's life..."

He smiled gently.  "While you were...gone...your mom told 
me that you were a tomboy, shooting your BB gun with your 
brothers--"

"Oh, not the snake story," she groaned.

"Yeah, the snake story."  His smile faded as he recalled 
the reason Mrs. Scully had brought up that particular 
incident. *That day in the woods, I felt for my daughter; 
but at this moment, I know how my daughter felt.*  

"She tells that story to everyone.  She thinks it's the 
turning point in my life, when I decided to become a 
doctor."  She snickered.  "She hasn't figured out the FBI 
part yet, though."

"Why did you join the FBI?  I mean, I know you were 
recruited, but why did you accept?"

She was silent for a moment.  "I always wanted to help 
people.  Medical school seemed the answer.  But I was 
bored.  It didn't challenge me enough.  Honestly?  I got 
hooked on the spiel they gave me."

He grinned.  "I was kind of drawn to profiling.  I had this 
talent for it, at Oxford, and when they told me I could 
turn it into a career, I was excited by the possibilities.  
I wonder where I would be right now if I hadn't stumbled 
across the X-Files."

"Head of the VCS," she responded without hesitation.  She 
paused for a moment.  "And possibly in a psych ward 
somewhere babbling about a demon gargoyle."  She shivered.
"Yikes."

He ignored the second part of her answer.  "You really 
think so?"

She snorted.  "Mulder, you're brilliant.  You know that.  
Nothing would have stopped you."  She paused.  "I wonder if 
we'd have met, if you'd never found the X-Files."

He watched firelight glinting in her hair, the way it made 
her eyes sparkle and her skin flush slightly from the heat.  
"I think, somehow, we would have."

He didn't notice the blush that made it's way across her 
cheeks at the tone in his voice; or, if he did, he 
concluded that it was the fire.  "I hope so."  She shivered 
a little.

He noticed that.  "Cold?"  She nodded.  "Here, I think our 
jackets are dry."  He stood to pull their suit jackets down 
from a tree branch and slid Scully's over her shoulders.  
"Better?"  He slipped into his.

"Thanks."  She wrapped the black coat around herself 
tightly.  It was dry, if a little stiff from the salt.  It 
smelled strongly of brine.  "Maybe we should go to sleep."

"Yeah..." He looked thoughtfully at the lean-to.  She 
wouldn't be able to crawl into it without jostling the 
splint.  "Okay.  Here," he said, bending down to slide his 
arms under her knees and shoulders.  He managed to scoot 
them both into the lean-to, and he lay down next to her.  
"Comfy?"

She chuckled.  "You sure know how to show a girl a good 
time, Mulder."

He laughed.  "Thanks.  I try."  She shivered again, and he 
snaked an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close so 
that her head rested on his chest.  She tensed.  "Shhh," he 
whispered, kissing the top of her head.  "Go to sleep."

The warmth of his body was seeping into hers, and she was 
starting to feel sleepy, too.  "Good night, Mulder," she 
ventured uncertainly, settling her cheek against his 
breast.

"Sleep tight," he murmured in response, cradling her 
against his side.

They slept dreamlessly.


Day 2
Island X (Mulder's little joke)


Mulder was awakened early on the second day.  This was 
primarily because Scully was moving, and making small 
noises in the back of her throat.  He looked down at her, 
and noticed that her face was flushed and her breath was 
coming rapidly.  Startled, he touched her cheek to find her 
skin clammy. *Oh, Jesus.* "Scully!" he murmured.  "Wake up, 
Scully!"

Scully was running, but something was pressed against her 
chest, impeding her movement.  She tried to yell for help, 
but her throat was constricted.  And it was so hot!  She 
was having trouble breathing.  She tried to wriggle away 
from her assailant, who was now touching her face, and 
could hear a familiar voice calling her name.  "Help!" she 
shouted back, but it came out as a strangled whimper.  
"Please, help me!"

"Shh...Scully, it's me.  You're okay, you're safe.  You're 
having a bad dream.  It's me.  It's Mulder.  You're just 
having a bad dream."  He was stroking her sweaty hair away 
from her face, talking to her in a soothing voice.

She slowly became aware of her surroundings.  "What...?" 
she asked, her voice fuzzy with sleep.

"Scully?  Do you know where you are?"

"Uhm...we were sailing, right?"

"That's right," he said encouragingly.  "Do you remember 
what happened next?"

"Oh, God.  The storm.  My head hurts, Mulder.  I hit my 
head, didn't I?"

"Yes.  You were unconscious and Rocky helped bring us 
here."

"Roky?  That guy who wrote `The Truth about Aliens?'"

"Huh?"  Oh, right, Lord Kimboat.  How could he have 
forgotten *that*?  "No, Scully, Rocky the dolphin."

"Oh."

He was quiet for a minute.  "Scully, you did hit your head 
yesterday, but you were okay.  What's wrong?"

She thought desperately.  Something *was* wrong.  Mulder 
sounded concerned.  They were on an island, she remembered 
suddenly.  She tried to sit up, and discovered there was no 
room to do so.  She panicked, and tried to flail her arms, 
but Mulder caught them.  "Scully, it's okay.  We're in our 
lean-to, remember?  Come on, let's get you outside."  He 
crouched down and lifted her up.

"What the hell are you doing?" she protested, wriggling 
free of his grasp.

"If you try to crawl out of here, you're gonna bump your 
ankle, Scully.  Just calm down."  He managed to get them 
both outside, and propped her up against a tree.  "Scully, 
you were okay when you went to sleep last night, and all of 
yesterday afternoon.  You look like you have a fever.  
Why?"  He was scared.  She was the doctor.  If she flipped 
out on him, he wasn't sure he would be able to do anything 
about it.

"My leg hurts."  She sounded like a small child.

"That's right.  You broke your ankle yesterday, remember?"

"My *leg* hurts, Mulder," she whined.  

Oh. *Shit.* "Okay, Scully, you got a cut yesterday, too.  
I'm going to look at it right now, okay?"  She allowed him 
to pull the bandage off partway, and he winced at the sight 
that greeted him.  And swallowed against the bile that rose 
in his throat.  "Okay, Scully, I need you to stay with me 
for a minute, okay?" *I'm saying "okay" way to much here,* 
he scolded himself.  "The wound is red, and there's a clear 
puss kind of oozing out of it.  The skin around it is 
puckered, and the patient has a fever along with confused 
speech.  What's the diagnosis?"

"She needs to get to a hospital."

"Not an option."

"Uh..." Her eyes were slightly unfocused, and he felt fear 
rise in his throat.

"No way, Scully, you are not going to loose it, you 
understand?  I *need* you--"

"Are you gonna kiss me again?  I don't like bees, Mulder."  

He couldn't help it, and laughed. *Wonderful, she 
associates kissing me with being stung by bees.  Well, who 
can blame her?*  "I'm not particularly fond of them, 
myself.  There aren't any bees here, Scully.  I promise.  
But we do have a problem.  You're sick, Scully, and you 
need to get better.  How do I make you better?"

"Antibiotics."

"We don't have antibiotics."  She didn't answer, and he 
realized she was slipping into a daze again.  "Come on!"

She blinked suddenly, her gaze sharpening.  "Mulder?"

"Scully, we don't have any antibiotics.  What can I do?" he 
asked again, strengthening his voice and his grip on her 
hand.

She frowned.  "Is my leg infected?"

He started to laugh.  She was back.  "Yeah, it is, Scully.  
You have a fever."

"Oh, God, I do."  She leaned forward to look at her own 
leg, her face carefully impassive.  "Give me three 
aspirin," she ordered, prodding gently at the wound.  

"I thought you didn't want to--"

"My head is fine, I want to get the fever down."

He handed her the pills, and a bottle of warm water.  "Are 
you okay, now?"

She met his gaze firmly.  "I might become incoherent again, 
Mulder.  We need to get off this island."

"Skinner will have sent a search party out for us by now.  
I don't think there's much more we can do."

She was silent for a moment.  "Mulder, how well do you know 
the friend who lent us his boat?  Katz was his name?"

"Yeah.  I went to college with him, over in England.  Why?"

"Because I think it's a little strange that whoever he 
hired to leave the boat out didn't warn us about the storm.  
And Skinner called us literally moments before the storm 
hit."

"Scully, I don't--"

"Just listen.  He called about some blood work that seems 
unlikely, considering that you've shown no signs of an 
infection--I'm the one who's sick, now."

"What are you saying, that Skinner set us up?"

"Possibly."

"Scully, I think you hit your head harder than we realized.  
Skinner's our friend."

"Do we really know that?  Because I'm not convinced.  I 
feel like he's lied to us, Mulder.  I can't pinpoint the 
feeling, but I feel like we've been deceived."

"Scully, after that bogus EMT crew abducted you, and I was 
shot, Skinner helped me get out of the hospital so I could 
find you."

"No, he allowed it.  He knew that the guys would help you 
anyway.  He had no way of knowing that you'd actually be 
able to find me.  He didn't know that one of his own would 
turn on the group--"

"One of his own?  Jesus, Scully, he's *not* in league with 
Cancerman!  Trust me on this."

She looked at him closely.  "Why do you trust him so much, 
Mulder?  What has he done to prove himself?  What aren't 
you telling me?"

He swallowed.   "Scully, I there are things about Skinner 
that you don't know.  Can't you trust that *I* trust him?"

She shook her head.  "Mulder, I would love that.  But I 
need proof.  You know that."

*And I've been wrong about trust in the past,* he thought 
without malice, seeing her side.  "Okay, fine.  Remember 
that cover-up I investigated while you were in the 
hospital, that time?"

"Which one?" she teased, then sobered.  "I remember it," 
she affirmed.

"The person who was covering everything up was Skinner."

"*What?!*"

"Settle down.  Just listen.  He was doing Cancerman's dirty 
work, Scully--"

"You just said that he wasn't--"

"Because he's *not.* Scully, he was working for that 
bastard for a very simple reason: He wanted to save you."

She paled, then shook her head.  "No, Mulder, that doesn't 
excuse anything.  I can't believe that you'd trust him 
after he'd so blatantly showed you his divided loyalties--"

He took her hand in both of his.  "No, Scully, you don't 
understand.  He was saving me as much as he was trying to 
save you--"
"Why do you think that dealing with Cancerman saved you?" 
she implored.

"Because I would have done it, to save you," he answered 
without hesitation, meeting her gaze fully, firmly.   "I'd 
gone to him, when you first learned of your cancer, Scully.  
I told him I was willing to deal for a cure.  He didn't let 
me, and when I caught him covering up those deaths, I knew 
why."  

She stared at him, flabbergasted for a moment.  "Jesus, 
Mulder..."

"I'd do anything for you, Scully, you must know that by 
now."  He squeezed her hand.  "I trust him, Scully.  I 
actually trusted him before that, believe it or not--"

She smiled softly.  "I know you did.  You were so sure that 
he was innocent, in that murder case--the prostitute, 
remember?  When we met his wife?"  

"Yeah, I remember it."  He chewed on his lip for a moment, 
and she hid a grin, realizing he didn't have any seeds to 
munch on.  "When you were in the hospital after your 
abduction--the first one," he clarified with a mirthless 
grin, "I resigned, you know."

"Excuse me?"

"I printed up a letter and signed it and everything, 
Scully.  I was packing up all my things when Skinner came 
down to see me."

"To protest," she guessed.

"Not quite.  More like to rip it up."

She smiled.  "Let me guess.  `This is not acceptable,'" she 
mimicked, dropping her voice an octave.

He laughed at her imitation.  "Hey, that's not bad.  But, 
yeah, basically, that's how it went.  But his method of 
convincing me was rather . . . enlightening."  He chewed at 
a fingernail for a moment.  "Did you know he was in 
Vietnam?"

"Yes.  I found out around the time we met his wife."

"Oh, right.  Well, that wasn't the first *I'd* heard of it.  
He told me the same story he told me at the police station, 
the one that I related to you."

"About the woman who saved him?"

"Yeah.  But he told it to me without the woman, and merely 
described it as an O.B.E.  Scully, he told me was afraid to 
look beyond it, but that I wasn't.  I hadn't had that kind 
of . . . faith, from a superior, in so many years, that it 
kind of shocked me."

She was quiet for a moment.  "Why didn't you ever tell me 
what he'd done?"

He avoided her gaze.  "God, Scully, I...I wanted to.  But 
he made me promise. *He* didn't want you to know."

"*Why?*" Her voice was laden with pain.  He realized that 
perhaps she felt guilty for mistrusting someone who'd gone 
to such lengths for her, fruitless or not.  "Why wouldn't 
he...?"

"Scully," he admonished gently.  "It was inappropriate.  
Not to mention unethical.  He did something that came from 
his heart, and it could have cost him his job, or even his 
freedom.  If it had been a matter of duty, I don't doubt he 
would have no inclination to hide it.  But this...it's not 
something you go shouting to the heavens.  I found out 
because of an investigation; he did not tell me of his own 
free will."

She frowned.  "But the both of you let me go on thinking 
that he was dirty--"

Mulder smiled sadly.  "I think he was rather hoping you'd 
realize on your own that he could be trusted."

She closed her eyes.  "I didn't want to believe it, ever, 
Mulder.  It made me sad, every time that it was shoved into 
my face that he was a part of it all.  Because I saw 
something in him, I guess.  I don't even know what."

He laughed softly.  "I know, Scully.  He's been playing 
both sides.  It's hard to know..."  He frowned.  "You know, 
he's a double agent, like some Bond movie.  The Gunmen, we 
don't even have to think twice about trusting them, because 
they make no effort to hide their loyalties.  But it also 
distances them.  Skinner's able to get on the inside."

She smiled, and started to speak, but broke off in a moan.  
"What is it, Scully?"

Here eyes were shut tightly, and she was clutching her 
lower lip between her teeth, hard enough to make him wonder 
if she was going to bite through it.  "My leg hurts," she 
managed to grind out.  "Mulder, I need to get to a 
hospital.  I don't know if we can wait to be rescued."

*Goddammit.* "Goddammit, Scully, what the hell do you want 
me to do?"  He was scared, and taking it out on her.

She appeared unruffled by his language.  "Rocky."  She took 
a deep breath, forcefully pushing the pain into the back of 
her mind, where it throbbed, like a headache in the base of 
her skull.  But it was less distracting.  "He saved us 
before.  Maybe he can get to Sandy, somehow lead her to 
us."

He sighed.  "Come on, Scully, come back to me.  I need you 
clear."  He started to wet a corner of his tee shirt, 
intending to try to cool her down by applying it to the 
back of her neck.

She shook her head.  "No, I'm not flipping out again, 
Mulder.  I'm still not ready to...to believe what you think 
happened that night really happened.  But I do feel some 
sort of connection to that dolphin, and he saved our lives 
before.  And if he really does understand us, than he might 
be able to get Sandy's attention."

"You mean like *Flipper?*"

She glowered at him, and he relaxed, sure that she wasn't 
slipping away from him again.  "Skinner will have contacted 
the Coast Guard by now.  We're probably all over the news.  
Sandy will have recognized our names."

He frowned.  "Why are you so willing to rely on her?"

She grinned.  "`Cause she has a crush on you."

He flushed. *Runs in the family,* he thought cynically.  
"Fine.  How do you propose we find Rocky?  Or do we just 
assume he's reading your mind and has already done all 
this?"  He was purposely trying to make her mad.  If she 
was mad, she wasn't going to flip out--she'd be too busy 
arguing with him.

"Cute.  I can't go into the water, so you'll have to.  I'm 
hoping that he kind of hung around."

"Will he understand me, though?"

"He understood when you called him a girl!" she shot back.

He wasn't completely sanguine about leaving her alone.  
"Maybe if we just keep your leg out of the water--"

"Mulder, cut it out.  If I become incoherent again, it 
won't matter if you're here or there.  It's not like I'm 
mobile.  I don't really think there's much trouble I can 
get into."  Mulder, on the other hand, would certainly have 
found a way. *Thank goodness for small blessings.*

He reluctantly agreed.  He slipped a short ways into the 
woods in order to relieve himself and change back into his 
swimming trunks.  Wading into the water, and then swimming 
out with clean strokes, he hung in the water for a time.  
Nothing.  He turned back towards the island, and Scully 
waved at him from the tree line, reassuring him of her 
lucidity.  He sighed, and gazed out across the calm water.  
And jumped about eight feet in the air when he felt 
something brush past his legs.  He froze, terror running 
ice-cold through his veins.  He'd been sweating under the 
warm sun before, but now he was sweating for a completely 
different reason.  He nearly had a heart attack when he 
felt something poke him in the back, and swung around, 
knowing he didn't have a chance out-running a shark.  

Rocky was facing him as he turned, his jaw dropped in an 
unmistakable delphine chuckle.  "Oh, such a joker," he 
muttered, the adrenaline that had surged into his body 
serving now to fuel his anger.  "That's not a nice thing to 
do!" he told the amused creature.

He felt a...tickle...in his mind.  And, exactly as Scully 
and Sandie had described, he felt as though he was 
remembering a movie he'd seen years ago.  Rocky was sorry, 
and just wanted to play.  It wasn't told to him in words or 
pictures...it was...just what the movie had been about.

"It's okay.  I forgive you.  But I need your help."

Rocky was ready to help, eager.  

"Scully's really sick.  I need to you to bring Sandie here.  
She'll listen to you.  Show her where we are.  Can you do 
that?"

Rocky was sad that his new friend was sick.  Rocky would 
help.  Rocky would bring his friend to help. 

"Not real big on proper nouns, are ya?"  Nothing.  "Never 
mind.  Go.  And please, hurry."

Rocky will save his new friend.  

The dolphin dove and disappeared.  Mulder, sighed, turning 
back towards shore.  


Island X
Afternoon


"Scully, I'm telling you, he was in my head.  Just like you 
said he was in yours."

She sighed, unwilling to fight him any longer.  "Mulder, I 
just don't think this is something we should investigate.  
I don't--"

He smiled.  "I don't want to investigate it."

"Huh?"

"Scully, nobody was killed, there isn't any sort of 
conspiracy here...actually, I'd rather like to keep this to 
a limited group.  I don't want this to...well, to be 
dramatic, to fall into the wrong hands."  She snorted.  
"No, Scully, think about it.  Can you even imagine the 
experimentation that would take place?  Rocky gave us a 
gift.  He trusted us.  It needs to come about slowly, the 
way that Sandy can work on it--as a legitimate research 
project, not some governmental investigation."

She stared at him.  "I never thought I'd hear you turn down 
the chance to delve deeper into the paranormal, Mulder.  I-
-" She closed her eyes suddenly.  "Oh, God.  Do you hear 
that?"

He did.  A motor. *Thank you, Lord.* Scully's fever had not 
dropped once, and it was a struggle to keep her lucid.  He 
was nearly hoarse from talking.  "It's them, Scully.  
You're gonna be okay," he told her, standing up and seeing 
the boat moving in quickly.

She sighed, resting her head against the trunk of the tree 
she was propped up against.  "Good.  Mulder, I think you 
should have them radio for a helicopter.  I don't think--"  

He looked down.  Her eyes were closed, her breathing harsh.  
He swallowed thickly, crouching beside her.  "It's gonna be 
okay, Scully, I promise.  Just hang in here," he told her, 
stroking the sweaty hair away from her face.  He waded out 
to meet the boat.

"Agent Mulder!" Sandy shouted, cutting the engine on the 
boat.  She gave him a hand and pulled him into the boat.  
"God, you're really here.  I've been following Rocky, 
believe it or not--"

"I believe it.  I sent him."

"He... talked to me.  Sort of--"

"Like a movie, I know," he cut her off, impatient.  "Please 
tell me that this radio works," he begged, looking at the 
control area.

"Hell, yeah," she told him, mildly indignant.  "Where's 
Agent Scully?"

"Back in the tree line.  Radio the Coast Guard, and get a 
helicopter out here, immediately."

"You two are all over the news.  You're supposed to have 
appendicitis or something--you don't look sick," she 
pointed out.

"I'm not.  But Scully is.  She has an infected cut on her 
leg."

"Oh."  She turned towards the radio.  "You know, someone in 
the FBI has as much of Coast Guard looking for you as they 
could muster, with the clean-up from the storm.  I heard 
he's camped out at the headquarters or something.  An 
Assistant Director, I think?"

He nodded.  Skinner worked fast.  She got through fairly 
quickly.  From what he could hear, just outside of the 
control room (it wasn't large enough for two people), they 
couldn't spare a helicopter right now, but were dispatching 
a very fast boat.  The man she was speaking to was 
instructing her not to move "the victim" but to wait for 
the team they were sending out.  Mulder pushed her aside 
and grabbed the radio.  "This is Special Agent Fox Mulder.  
To whom am I speaking?"

"This is Jon Grender.  I'm a dispatcher here.  Do you have 
any sort of medical training?"

"No, but my partner does.  She's the one who's been 
injured.  A broken ankle coupled with a severely infected 
laceration to the same leg.  She specifically asked for a 
helicopter."

"She's lucid, then?"

"Not anymore.  She's currently unconscious, and the longer 
I spend talking with you, the longer she's left 
unattended."  Sandie took the hint, and dropped an anchor.  
She slipped into the water, carrying a box that he assumed 
contained some first-aide supplies.  "I need a helicopter 
out here immediately."

"Sir, I appreciate that you're very worried, but--"

"Is Assistant Director Skinner there?"

"I believe there is someone from the FBI here--" He could 
hear muffled voices in the background.  

"Agent Mulder?"

"Sir!  You have to arrange for a helicopter immediately--"

"Are you all right?  I'd like to speak with Agent Scully."

"I'm not sick, sir," he said, getting annoyed.  "I know 
what my blood tests indicated, but I haven't experienced 
any symptoms--Scully even agreed with me."

"I'd still like to speak with her, Mulder--"

"You can't because she's unconscious!  Dammit, sir, she was 
injured, her leg was cut very badly.  It's infected.  The 
Guard isn't willing to spare a `copter, but with her 
medical history, I think that--"

"Say no more, Agent Mulder.  I'll pull whatever strings I 
have to, but we'll get her to a hospital as soon as 
physically possible.  You gave the dispatcher your 
coordinates."

"Yessir.  Thank you, sir."  He slumped against the wall of 
the control room, turning off the radio.

As he slipped back into the water, a friendly, anxious, 
wiggling body was waiting to greet him.

Will Rocky's new friend be okay?

"Yes, I think she will.  Thanks to you."

Rocky helped his new friend.

"Yes, you did.  Thank you."  He reached out to scratch 
gently at Rocky's chin as he'd seen Scully do.  "Will you 
let Sandy study you?" he wondered.  "Will you let her find 
out how you can talk to us like this?"

Rocky's friend will understand when she's ready to 
understand.

Mulder grinned.  "Don't let anyone try to tell you 
otherwise, you hear?"

Rocky hears.

Laughing, Mulder swam back to shore.


St. John's Baptist Hospital
9:49 am


Scully woke slowly, her eyes fluttering open, to be met 
immediately by Mulder's smiling face.  "Hey, there, 
sleepyhead," he said softly.

She came completely awake in an instant.  "What time is 
it?"

He laughed at her.  "Ten o'clock in the morning.  Just 
disgraceful."

"God, Mulder!  Where are we?"

"You're safe and sound in St. John's.  Skinner came 
through, after all, once he knew where we were.  He's down 
in the cafeteria right now, getting some coffee with 
Sandy."

"They're both here?"

"Yeah.  Skinner came down to personally over-see the search 
for us, but it was Rocky who led Sandy to us."

She tried to sit up, and Mulder helped her readjust the 
pillows behind her.  "I don't have a fever any more...?"

"Nope.  They've been pumping you full of antibiotics since 
late yesterday afternoon.  In fact, you should be released 
tomorrow morning."

She braced herself.  "Did they tell you why it hit so 
quickly?"

He frowned.  "They don't know.  Skinner and I think that it 
has a lot to do with what happened to you recently, though.  
Your immune system was decimated, just like it was when you 
showed up in the hospital four years ago."

She shuddered.  "I *hate* bees."

He laughed.  "Hey, I promised that no bees would get you 
while we were on the island, didn't I?"

She stared at him in confusion, then blushed as she vaguely 
recalled the fever-induced conversation she'd had with him.  
"Oh, God--"

He turned serious.  "Scully, we haven't really talked about 
that."

She avoided his gaze.  "No, we haven't.  Mulder, I--"

Skinner entered at that moment, carrying a cup of coffee 
and an egg and sausage sandwich.  "Agent Scully!"  An 
actual smile crossed his face.

"Hello, Sir."  She put as much warmth as she could into her 
answering smile.

"I'm glad to see you awake.  How do you feel?"  He pulled a 
chair up to her bedside, and handed the food to Mulder, who 
dove in hungrily.  Scully suspected that he hadn't left the 
room once since they'd arrived.  The way he was holding his 
neck suggested that he'd spent the night in the hard 
plastic chair he was sitting in now.

"Much better, Sir.  Thank you for all your help."

He nodded briskly.  He turned in his seat as Sandy entered 
the room after a perfunctory knock on the door.  "Hi, 
Dana!" she said softly, closing the door behind her.

"Sandy..." Scully began, not quite sure what to say.

"Thank you," Sandy said, coming around the other side of 
her bed.  

Scully frowned.  "For what?  I should be thanking you!"

"For sending Rocky to me.  I still can't study what 
happened, officially, but I can work towards it.  Once I 
get the kind of credibility I need, I can make a real 
difference in the way humans and dolphins communicate."

Mulder leveled his gaze at her.  "Sandy, make sure you take 
Rocky's position into all of this."

Skinner was staring at the two of them like they were nuts.  
He turned to Scully.  "Who's Rocky?"

Scully grinned.  "Just a friend, Sir.  Once I'm released, I 
might introduce you.  I need to thank him for his help."

Sandy continued as if they hadn't spoken.  "I have no 
intention of sharing this information with the public, 
Mulder.  It's how I'm planning to open a dialogue, that's 
all."

"I don't understand," Scully jumped in.

Mulder smiled.  "I think I do.  Rocky understands what we 
say because of his unique abilities--I don't think he 
actually understands verbal communication.  She's going to 
teach him human language, and she's going to learn his."

Skinner paled.  "*Human* language?"

Mulder seemed amused.  "Rocky is a dolphin, Sir.  He led 
Sandy to us, on the island."

Scully took a breath, glancing briefly at Mulder before she 
continued.  "He made... contact...with us.  We went to Dr. 
Nindle's research facility, hoping to learn more."

"Define `contact,' Agent Scully," Skinner demanded.

She frowned.  "This isn't a Bureau matter, Sir.  This was 
simply...a leisure activity.  Agent Mulder and I are, after 
all, on vacation."  

He held up a hand.  "I apologize, Scully.  You're right."

She smiled.  "For your edification, however, contact means 
that he approached us, and I...felt something.  He sort 
of...talked to me.  That's what Sandy wants to explore."

Skinner started to probe further, but Sandy cut him off.  
"I really don't think this is a good time to discuss this, 
Agent Scully," she said pointedly, glaring in Skinner's 
direction.

Scully shook her head.  "Don't worry.  Mulder and I have 
put our trust in Skinner before, and I can't say that he's 
let us down yet."

The doctor returned, and chased everyone out.  At least, he 
attempted to, but Mulder refused to budge.  He talked with 
Scully about her condition for a few minutes, and then 
left, with an emphatic order for rest, giving her a mild 
sedative and glaring at Mulder, who had the grace to look 
mildly chagrined.  

"That was a good thing, what you just did with Skinner," he 
told her softly.

She smiled, a little sadly.  "I wish I'd done it a long 
time ago."  She was caught by a sudden, gigantic yawn.  

Mulder laughed.  "I think someone needs a nap," he said 
gently, moving around the bed to close the blinds.

She met his eye in the dim light.  "I don't want you to 
think I'm avoiding talking about..."

He kissed the top of her head.  "We'll talk about it when 
you wake up.  It's not going anywhere."  He paused.  "Will 
you be okay here?"

She grabbed for his hand, already half-asleep.  "Are you 
leaving?"

He shook his head.  "No way."  He laced his fingers with 
hers and settled himself back in his chair, watching as she 
fell asleep.  "Sleep tight, Scully."

"Mulder?"

"Yeah, Scully?" he asked softly.

"Have *you* slept?"

"I'll be fine, Scully.  You can barely keep your eyes open.  
Go to sleep."  He closed his eyes, squirming to find a 
comfortable position in the chair.

"Mul-der," she admonished, slurring her words just 
slightly, peering blearily at him.  "You're gonna hurt your 
back sleeping in that chair," she pointed out.

"I've spent the night in a hospital chair before, Scully.  
I'll be fine."  She gave a surprisingly strong tug on his 
hand, and he toppled out of his chair and onto the bed with 
her.  "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

She scooted over on the bed slightly, making room to 
accommodate his lean frame.  "Go to sleep, Mulder."

*Jesus.  Is she joking?* "Scully, the doctor'll kill me--"

"Shhhh!  You're being really loud," she whispered.  She was 
snoring, very softly, a few seconds later as he fumbled for 
a suitable response.

He tried to extricate himself from her grip, but she 
whimpered in her sleep and tightened her hold on him each 
time he tried to move.  He finally gave up, and settled his 
head on the pillow next to hers, allowing an exhausted 
sleep to overcome him.  His last thought, as he was falling 
asleep, put a grin on his face: she was gonna be really 
embarrassed when she woke up.


The End